#it's this whole thing i gotta actually elaborate on some time

[majormeilani]

i literally don't talk about it much but i do often think about the cut ahit character, tim the time ceo. he had a rather silly (yet somewhat relatable) backstory and concept for his character but it would have been neat if we could see more characters from where hat kid comes from.

also i really liked his design:

he seemed like such a lovely character

[pomefioredove]

Saw you took specific requests. Here's mine:

Jamil with a religious reader who gives him a protection talisman.

Fun fact, prayer beads are used in multiple religions as they help count prayers (Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, etc).

So let's say reader comes from a world where magic exists but it's exclusively on religious grounds. Meaning if you wanna do magic you gotta pray to the right god or make a deal with some form of mythological creature.

Reader knows that Jamil's is always in danger due to the constant assassination attempts on Kalim, so they make a set of prayer beads and ask a diety to bless it in order to protect their boyfriend (could be Allah, Indra, Shiva, Buddha, Susanoo, whichever). Jamil accepts it and heads back home appreciating the sentiment but not really believing.

Except any form of danger keeps getting thwarted. Drink/food he's trying is poisoned? Conveniently spills over/has a whole in the bottom. Accident happens? Conveniently pushed out of the way. Someone tries to hurt him/kill him? Struck by lightning and straight up dies.

Not even his own parents are safe. They try to slap him to "discipline him" then they get zapped (lightly tho).

you know!!! I love this prompt so much... I'm a religious studies major so this kinda stuff is so ^w^ to me I get so excited.

summary: giving jamil a protection spell type of post: short fic characters: jamil additional info: reader is gender neutral, the existence of religious beliefs in twst is. confusing. so we're keeping it vague, not proofread, reader is yuu

Perhaps it was because your world was still considered "magicless" by Twisted Wonderland standards, or perhaps Jamil was never superstitious to begin with.

Either way, he wasn't exactly as excited as you'd been hoping for.

"It's nice. Did you make it yourself?" he asks, inspecting the beads. "A bracelet?"

"Prayer beads, actually. And yes, I did,"

"It's well made. What's the purpose?"

You hesitate. The nature of religion in this world is still confusing to you, although you can surmise there's got to be some kind of belief system. It's best not touching on for now.

Besides, Jamil has never been much of a believer in higher powers. For good reason.

"For protection," you explain. "Not that I think you can't handle yourself. But I worry about you over break, you know..."

He's quiet for a moment, inspecting the gift in the palm of his hand. And then he tucks the beads away in his pocket and smiles.

"I'll keep them with me, then. Thank you,"

Even if he's not exactly keen on the idea that these things will make his life any less terrible, they're from you.

And so he keeps his promise, and tucks them away after you part.

By the time he's "home" (back in Kalim's family home) he's all but forgotten about the little blessing at the bottom of his pocket. Not that you can really blame him- "vacation" is more of a title than a reality when he's back.

The first incident happens not even a day after.

The al-Asim summer mansion is certainly nothing to scoff at. Though it's only one of many, this one in particular houses a large sum of physical treasures, line with gold and ivory, stuffed full of spices and all the makings of a feast that could feed thousands, a shining jewel of the desert.

Jamil is not all that impressed.

Especially when it comes to navigating such an ornate building on orders. The polished-to-perfection floors present a challenge when you're carrying three crates worth of grain to the kitchen on the lowest floor.

Damn these stairs.

Though Jamil may not be a religious man, he still asks whatever deity may be up there to smite the slippery spiral staircase he's descending.

His arms strain to uphold the weight of the boxes, and his legs strain to keep a good footing on one of the many long and elaborate and narrow servant passages designed specifically so that the unwanted workers of the family can slip by undetected.

Quiet, diligent, and he has to be quick, too. Kalim is expecting him for a game in one of the many lounges soon.

Another unfortunate "vacation". How he'd much rather be spending it with you...

For a brief moment, Jamil swears he can feel the beads in his pocket warm against him, reminding him of their presence.

And then he slips.

The crates free themselves from his careful grasp and tumble down the stairs, creaking and thudding but mercifully staying intact.

Jamil, however, isn't made of wood. He winces as he feels himself tilting forward- and then... somehow, a strong draft pushes him on his back.

He lands just shy of his tailbone, luckily not hurting anything, except for his pride.

What a turn of luck.

The next happens at dinner.

Jamil keeps his earlier blunder to himself. His pride is damaged enough as it is, after all, and so he tries his best to conceal how shaken up the experience left him by moving swiftly across the kitchen.

"We have a dish ready for you to test," someone shouts.

He sighs. How many more evenings of this will he have to endure?

Though, he reminds himself- this may always be his last.

The thought makes Jamil chuckle as he's handed a hot dish and a clean fork. He can only stop to smell the roses for so long, so there's no chance of savoring such an exquisitely prepared meal before he's off to another part of the kitchen.

Just as the fork digs into the food, the dish slips out of his hand and shatters on the kitchen floor. Everyone falls silent.

His eyes widen. "How- ugh. My apologies,"

Now this is just getting ridiculous. How clumsy can he get in one evening? He's usually much more careful...

"Look," the head chef says, the whole kitchen crowding around the food as it dissolves.

Jamil's stomach lurches. Cyanide. It has to be. If he'd eaten that dish right there and then...

The kitchen is swiftly cleared out, and he's sent back to the lounge.

it only gets stranger from there.

What Jamil initially wrote off as clumsiness and luck seems to become a pattern-

a flying arrow at the archery range just narrowly misses him when he bends down to fix his sandal.

The al-Asim family tiger (because of course they have one) chooses to toy with a visiting prince rather than him in the courtyard.

A strong draft pushes him on his rear end seconds before a sandbag falls from an under-construction part of the mansion.

He would call it fortune if he believed in such a thing.

By the end of the vacation, everyone is absolutely perplexed by his string of good luck. Jamil isn't unfamiliar with how dangerous his family's position in life is, and he's had his fair share of injuries as a result, but this time all he has to show for it is a slightly lesser sense of annoyance than usual.

It's only the end of the trip where he ponders (unfortunately aloud) about the string of coincidences, and the beads in his pocket.

Kalim goes on to babble about Jamil's "good luck charm" to anyone who will listen, much to his annoyance.

"Oh, I want one too! Can you ask them to make me one, too?" he says, folding his hands in a pleading motion. "It's so pretty!"

"It was a gift. But... I suppose I can ask..." he sighs, and then smiles to himself.

Of course you'll come up with some excuse to say no. Because, for once, this charm is all his.

[disciplined-cornfed]

Rome wasn't built in a day

Alex had never expected his college life to take this kind of turn. He’d moved to New York for school, planning to live on campus like most students, but when he found a better deal on an off-campus apartment that financial aid would cover, he jumped on it. The apartment was in a decent neighborhood, close to the subway, and the landlord didn’t ask too many questions. Seemed like a win.

What he hadn’t planned on, though, was Frank—his new roommate.

Frank was… something else. The guy was like a time capsule from a decade ago, straight out of Jersey Shore. From the gelled-back hair, the deep tan, ridiculous yelling at football and ufc matches every weekend, the flashy chains, to the relentless love of tank tops and gold watches. Alex wasn’t sure if Frank was for real or if this was just an elaborate, extended joke.

But here’s the thing: despite his douchey exterior, Frank was actually a pretty nice guy. Sure, he blasted club music at ungodly hours and flexed in the mirror every time he passed it, but Frank was always chill. He’d offer Alex food whenever he cooked, made sure the apartment was clean, and always gave him a heads-up when he had people over. Plus, Frank clearly knew what he was doing in the gym. The guy was shredded, and Alex had to admit, Frank’s discipline when it came to his diet and workout routine was impressive.

It didn’t take long before Alex’s curiosity got the best of him.

One day, after weeks of seeing Frank pound protein shakes and head to the gym religiously, Alex asked him for some advice. He had always been a casual gym-goer, but seeing Frank’s dedication made him wonder if he could up his own game.

“Yo, Frank,” Alex said one afternoon as they sat in the living room. “What do you usually eat for those gains, man? And how do you stay so consistent?”

Frank grinned, pausing the DJ Pauly D remix playing on his speakers. “Bro, it’s all about focus foods and the right lifts. Stick to lean meats, eggs, beans, lots of veggies. And you gotta hit the weights hard. No shortcuts.”

Alex nodded, scribbling down some notes on his phone. “Got any recommendations? Like content or something I can watch?”

Frank’s grin grew wider. “Oh, for sure. I’ll send you some stuff. There’s Dom Mazzetti, Vinny Guadagnino—some good shit, bro. But hey, I’ll send you my playlist too. Got a WAV file I use at the gym that keeps me hyped.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “A playlist?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s got some fire tracks. Also, I threw in some personal affirmations underneath it, helps me stay focused during my lifts. You probably won’t even notice them, but they help, bro. Trust me.”

Alex wasn’t really buying into the whole “subliminal affirmation” thing. It sounded like some weird self-help nonsense. But Frank was shredded, and if these little tricks worked for him, maybe they were worth a shot.

Later that evening, Alex plugged in his headphones and hit play on Frank’s WAV file. It started with “Lucky, Lucky, Lucky Me”—a male cover that felt oddly calming. The song transitioned into upbeat remixes like “Fireball” and other club tracks that seemed to pump adrenaline into his veins. Somewhere in between, Sinatra’s smooth voice made an appearance, bringing a strange, nostalgic energy to the mix.

As the playlist played, Alex caught faint whispers beneath the music—barely noticeable. “You love the gym. You crave the weights. Tanning makes you feel amazing. You rep the Italian pride with every lift.”

He chuckled to himself. This subliminal shit can’t be real, he thought. But, whatever—Frank swears by it.

The playlist ended with “Lucky, Lucky Me” again, and as Alex dozed off that night, the tune echoed faintly in his head.

The changes didn’t happen overnight, but as the days went by, Alex began to notice subtle differences. It started with his workouts. He’d always been someone who worked out occasionally, but now there was something different. One morning, as he walked past the gym on his way to class, he felt an urge—a need to lift. It wasn’t just about getting in shape anymore. Something about the weights called to him, pulling him in.

He ended up inside, grabbing a set of dumbbells and diving into a full workout. By the time he finished, he was drenched in sweat, but instead of feeling exhausted, he felt exhilarated. There was a rush—an energy that coursed through him, leaving him wanting more.

From that point on, the gym became part of his daily routine. At first, he didn’t even realize it was happening. He started following Frank’s tips—lifting heavier, focusing on compound movements, and pushing himself harder with each session. His muscles responded quickly, growing faster than they ever had before. His shirts started to fit tighter, hugging his chest and arms in ways they never had before. Every time he looked in the mirror, he couldn’t help but flex, admiring his progress.

It wasn’t just the gym either. One afternoon, Alex caught himself in front of the bathroom mirror, noticing how pale his skin looked under the fluorescent lights. Without thinking much of it, he booked an appointment at the tanning salon down the street. After his first session, he looked at himself in the mirror, marveling at the golden glow on his skin. It made him feel good, confident—like he was stepping into a new version of himself.

Tanning became part of his routine, just like the gym. He started looking forward to that golden glow, the way it made his muscles stand out more, and how it just felt right.

One weekend, Alex found himself wandering into a clothing store, drawn to a section of tank tops with bold prints—Italian flags, American flags, vibrant colors that screamed confidence. He picked up a few without thinking twice, the fabric feeling perfect against his newly defined arms. When he got home and slipped into one of the tanks, he stood in front of the mirror, flexing his biceps. The tank hugged his body in all the right places, and as he admired his reflection, a grin spread across his face.

Damn, I look good.

It wasn’t just the clothes that made him feel this way—it was the pride, the feeling of representing his heritage with every lift, every flex. It felt right.

The most surprising change came with his voice. At first, it was barely noticeable—a slight shift in his accent, a few new words slipping into his vocabulary. But as the weeks went on, the transformation in his speech became undeniable. His voice took on a thicker Jersey inflection, and words like “bro” and “yo” started slipping out naturally, almost without him realizing it. He spoke with more confidence, more swagger, his words carrying a weight that hadn’t been there before.

He even noticed how loud he’d become, but it wasn’t obnoxious—it felt like he was owning the room. His friends started to comment on it, but Alex didn’t mind. It felt like the way he was supposed to talk, like his voice was finally matching the rest of his transformation.

One night, Alex found himself scrolling through YouTube, where he came across a Dom Mazzetti video. He clicked on it, expecting to laugh at the over-the-top persona, but something else happened. As Dom joked about gym culture, diet, and lifting, Alex found himself nodding along, relating to the lifestyle. The gym wasn’t just a place to work out anymore—it was part of who he was becoming.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Alex’s days revolved around the gym, tanning, and repping his heritage with pride. He found himself following more content creators who embodied the same mindset—guys who lived for the grind, the lifts, and the pride in who they were.

His roommate Frank noticed the changes, too. “Bro, you’re looking jacked,” Frank said one afternoon as Alex flexed in the mirror before heading out to the gym. “You flexing the gains hard now.”

Alex grinned, running a hand through his hair, which he’d started gelling back every morning. “Yeah, man. It just feels right, you know?”

Frank clapped him on the shoulder, a proud smirk on his face. “Told ya. Once you get in the groove, there’s no going back. You’re one of us now, bro. Tanning, lifting, and heritage. Welcome to the crew.”

Alex chuckled, feeling Frank’s words sink in. Wasn’t just about the workouts or the diet no more. It was the whole package—the attitude, the pride, the way he carried himself. He’d become confident, bold, and unapologetic. The gym had become his temple, and every flex in the mirror, every perfectly tanned muscle, reminded him of how far he’d come.

He spoke with more confidence now, his voice carrying a thick Jersey accent that seemed to come naturally. Words like “bro” and “yo” slipped out effortlessly, and he found himself embracing the louder, more assertive side of himself. Even his walk had changed—there was more swagger, more presence.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Alex and Frank were sitting in the living room, scrolling through profiles of potential new roommates. Their lease was ending soon, and they needed to find someone to fill the third room. Frank leaned back in his chair, sipping a protein shake as he swiped through a list of candidates.

“Yo, check this one out,” Alex said, pausing on a profile. “Marco Ricci. Italian last name.”

Frank raised an eyebrow and leaned in, studying the screen. “Oh shit, an Italian? That’s promising.”

They opened Marco’s profile, but instead of seeing someone flexing or rocking a tan, Marco looked... pretty regular. He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t exactly lifting heavy either. Pale, with a pretty average physique, he was the kind of guy who didn’t seem to spend much time at the gym. His shirt was plain, and his expression, while friendly, was far from the confident swagger Alex and Frank had come to expect in their circle.

Alex chuckled, nudging Frank. “Dude’s kinda pasty, huh?”

Frank smirked. “Yeah, bro. Definitely needs some work. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, you know? He’s got the Italian blood—that’s what counts. We can mold him.”

Alex nodded, his mind already racing. Marco might not be there yet, but with the right guidance, who knows? The guy had potential. He just needed some direction.

“Yeah,” Alex said, swiping right on Marco’s profile. “We’ll get him there. If he’s down to move in, I have the perfect playlist in mind."

Frank chuckled deeply, shaking his head. “Bro, he won’t know what hit him.”

Alex grinned, flexing in the mirror nearby. “Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day, right?”

Frank laughed again, raising his protein shake in a mock toast. “Damn straight, bro."

WANNA BECOME A GUIDO FOR REAL? Try this subliminal:

Guido Subliminal (Accent, Mindset, Discipline, Extreme Confidence)

[batneko]

bowuigi love spell idea

Some wannabe Big Bad got it in their head that the reason Mario is so successful is he's got the Ultimate Sidekick in his own brother. What better way to defeat him than to kidnap Luigi and cast an elaborate unbreakable love spell on him? Romantic love will beat brotherly love, right??? (No.)

Obviously this doesn't go well, Mario rushes to Luigi's rescue and beats the snot out of the villain along the way. But it just so happens that one of the many complicated components of the spell was stolen from Bowser, and he barges in to get it back just as the spell is reaching its peak.

Nobody notices what happened at first. Luigi is so happy to be rescued that he thinks he's just feeling especially grateful to Bowser, even though his help was accidental. On their way out Bowser finally sees the magic circle on the floor and the items placed at various points and mutters "isn't this a waxing moon heart prison?"

Later, when Luigi is lying in bed wide awake thinking about Bowser of all people, he remembers that Bowser had known the name of the spell. No need to worry Mario about this. Surely if Luigi just... asks nicely? (And he really wants to see Bowser too, that's a bonus.)

Bowser thinks the situation is hilarious, but doesn't hesitate to help Luigi when he asks. Unfortunately he's lost track of the book he read the spell in (Luigi politely doesn't ask why he was reading about love spells in the first place) and can't remember all the details. They search the castle but find nothing.

Luigi comes back a week later. They do some more searching, try out a couple curse-breaking methods. Nothing. Bowser offers to let Luigi come back again, and finally Luigi asks why Bowser is being so nice about all this.

"I know what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you back. Wouldn't wish that on anybody."

So Luigi comes back the next week. And the next. And the next. At one point he accidentally refers to it as "date night" and Bowser laughs at him but starts calling it that too.

It's nice spending time with Bowser like this. It's REALLY nice. Sure, the feelings are artificial, but that doesn't stop him from feeling them. Having Bowser's attention, making him laugh... it feels good. Luigi almost forgets he's trying to STOP feeling this way.

It goes on for months, until finally one day, after one more failed curse-breaking attempt, Bowser asks, "What if it never works?" "I'll leave you alone," Luigi says. "I'll get out of your hair for good." "Would that be so bad?" Bowser asks. "Is it really so AWFUL being in love with me?" "No..." Luigi admits. "But you deserve someone who loves you for who you are." "You're the only one who thinks that and that's just because you're cursed," Bowser says. "I mean it. Not just because of the curse, I don't think there's anybody who doesn't deserve to have somebody love them." "Then stay," Bowser says. "Be that somebody." Luigi finally realizes what Bowser's saying... what he's been hinting at for weeks, actually, and Luigi refused to see it. "I could be good to you," Bowser says softly. "I could make you so happy." Luigi gets up and leaves without a word.

It's the hardest thing he's ever done, but he tells himself it's for the best. What if the spell does break one day? He'll stop loving Bowser and shatter his heart. And even if that doesn't happen, it's not good for Bowser to settle for artificial love.

So Luigi goes straight to Mario (okay, after ice cream and a cry sesh) and tells him... most of the truth. He lets Mario believe that Bowser has been annoyed with the situation this whole time. Mario knows a lot of people who know a lot of people, so one quest later they've finally found an Old Master Wizard who remembers the spell.

"Just wait it out," the guy says. "Don't make any rash decisions, and you'll be good in a month." "...what." "Yeah the waxing moon heart prison only lasts until the moon is in the same phase it was when it was cast, then you've gotta top it up." "Is... it possible to top the spell up by accident?" "Not a chance, it's nearly as complicated as casting it the first time. Don't worry! You'll be back to normal in four weeks."

It's been four MONTHS. And Luigi never noticed his feelings changing... much. They seemed to go from infatuation to something deeper but he can't remember when exactly.

Did he fall in love with Bowser for real?

Did he break Bowser's heart by leaving for nothing?

On the way back Mario keeps staring at Luigi, waiting for an explanation, but Luigi can't give him one. He shakes Mario off before they reach home and makes a beeline for Bowser's castle.

It takes a lot of apologizing before Bowser will see him, and even after explaining that the spell has been broken for a long time now Bowser still doesn't seem interested in anything Luigi has to say. So Luigi gives a big flowery speech about all the things he likes about him while Bowser glares in silence, but at last Luigi ends it with, "I love you."

It's the first time he's actually said those words. He's talked about "the love spell" and "my feelings," but he's never said "I love you" to Bowser's face.

Bowser picks him up and kisses him.

"I love you too." "Oh! Great." "It's gonna be a while before I can remember that it's not magic making you love me." "I understand." "So you'll need to tell me. A lot." "I can do that!" Luigi says.

He's got a lot of time to make up for.

[dmwrites]

“Yo.”

“Jev!” Gem said excitedly, clutching her phone to her ear.

“Gem?” Jev asked. “Did you get a new phone or something? I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I’m not in Hermitcraft right now, I’m away on another server.” Gem explained.

“Ohh.” Jev’s voice got distant for a second, like he’d pulled the phone away from his mouth. “Modded server area code, I see. Cool. So, what’s good, Gem?”

“Well, okay, so, it’s a bit of a complicated story so I’ll summarize it for you. Basically, I’m on this server, it’s a modded, oh wait you already said that, but yeah it’s a modded server run by Scott Smajor- you know Scott, right? Eh, that’s not actually too important to the story; so in this server we get different origins every time we die, and there are like six lives total, like a cat but… less, I suppose. Anyway, so first I was a swarm of bees which was super cute and so cottagecore, then I was a blaze and I was so hot, and now I just fell off a building and now I’m a slime! Like you!”

Gem took a deep breath and waited for Jevin to say something. It took him a few seconds to respond.

“Uh, yeah, okay, sorry, was just processing all of that word soup… so you’re a slime now, like me. That’s… what it comes down to?”

“Yeah!” Gem said with a smile.

“Well, slimes are the coolest mob out there, so, uh, congrats on that.” Jev replied.

“Yeah! I’m, like, translucent and colorful and I can produce children!” Gem said excitedly.

There was a very pregnant pause from the other end of the phone, so long that Gem had to check and make sure that she was still in the call.

“… produce children.” Jev finally repeated, sounding a little shocked. “Care to, uh, elaborate on that one?”

“I just like… I dunno, pop them out! Like cells reproducing. Do you produce children too, Jev?” Gem asked.

“I- hm, no, can’t say I’ve… no. Must be a modded thing.” Jevin said.

“Well, anyway, all of that silly stuff aside, I wanted to ask you an important question.” Gem continued. She looked out over her lands, a small frown coming to her face. “It’s important.”

“Okay…” Jevin replied cautiously.

“Are there any like slime secrets I need to be aware of? Slime code or something?” Gem whispered it into the phone.

Jevin snickered, then cleared his throat. “Oh, Gem, you called the right guy. Slime. Whatever. Yes, there is a very secret code of the slimes that must be obeyed by all slimes at all times.”

Gem gasped. “I knew it! What is it?”

“I dunno, Gem…” Jevin trailed off. “I mean, it’s super secret… and what if you turn into something else and then tell someone else our secret?”

“I promise! I won’t tell anyone!” Gem cried. “Oh, please, Jev!”

“Okay.” Jevin said. “Gem. The one and only code of the slime is as follows: all slimes must fart when they enter a room. It can be silent, it can be loud, but it must be a fart. For whole slimes, it’s easy, they practically make wet fart noises every time they move. For slimes like us, we just gotta fart.”

“Fart? Really?” Gem asked, frowning. “I never hear you farting when you walk into rooms.”

“Oh yeah. It’s very important to slime culture.” Jev said importantly. “If you don’t, other slimes will really look down on you. And I have mastered the silent fart, that’s why you don’t hear me.”

“Okay.” Gem said, nodding her head. “Farting. Every time I enter a room. Got it. Thanks Jevin! What would I do without you?”

——

“Who was that?” Cleo asked when Jevin sat back down next to her in Cub’s TCG arena.

“Gem. Who’s winning?” Jev replied, nodding at the TCG match between xBcrafted and VintageBeef below.

“On a numerical level, Beef. But on a spiritual level, xB.” Cleo replied. “So what did Gem want?”

Jevin snickered. “So she’s a slime origin on some modded server she’s playing on right now, and asked if there were any, like, rules of slimes. I just lied and told her that slimes have to fart every time they enter a room.”

Cleo cackled so hard that Joe Hills, who was moderating the game, threw a trident at her to shut her up.

“Oh my god, Jev! You didn’t! Gem is going to murder you when she finds out the truth.”

“Whatever. Worth it, tbh.” Jev replied, and joined Cleo in laugher.

[ariesqueencobra]

what we used to be | Xll

Pairing: Eli Moskowitz x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kreese begins slithering his way into Cobra Kai and you're not so sure about it. It only makes matters worse when your friend gets hurt and your boyfriend can't be there for him.

Warnings: swearing, kissing, slight bullying, mentions of assault and battery, mentions of stitches, play fighting, sparring, mention of a dick pic

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This is when things start getting good!

Thank you to those who already reblog and comment, I see you and I love you all for it!

I don't consent to this work being copied, translated or reposted.

“You gotta understand, the Mogadishu in the ‘90s was a hellhole,” Kreese explained. “Warlords controlled whole swaths in the city. My team and I were charged with cleaning the place up.”

You sucked in a breath, only imagining the hell Kreese went through while in the military.

“How many warlords did you kill?” Eli asked, smiling as he took interest in the conversation.

“You keep track of every ant you stomp on?” Kreese questioned.

“Woah,” you and Aisha said at the same time.

“Badass,” Eli grinned.

Kreese began another story, your attention span dwindling as you couldn’t picture where Kreese was as he listed other countries.

“They were outgunned, we were outmanned. I tell ya, Rwanda was no joke,” he sighed.

“Don’t you mean Somalia?” Miguel stood up. “Mogadishu’s in Somalia, Rwanda’s a whole other country,” he pointed out the man’s mistake.

“Of course, Somalia. I spend so much time in the sandbox, it all just bleeds together,” he said, cautiously stepping around his next words.

You nodded, attempting to understand.

“Listen up!” Sensei ordered, drawing your attention to him. “I see we got some new recruits,” he scanned over the crowd. “Everybody fall in. In neat rows and lines,” he said.

You caught his elaboration, a big step up from your first day. You face forward, face slack but you were giddy inside, already catching a few girls in the class.

Sensei stalked between the students until he paused, talking to someone. 

You heard an older voice and turned your head to see a grown man was present. He wanted to learn karate. You sent a glance at Eli, interest piquing you.

“I thought my last group was pathetic but if you do what I tell you to do you’ll at least have a chance of becoming a fighter,” Sensei boomed. “But to do that, you gotta fight. So who has the balls to take on the champ?”

Silence filled the room. 

“I’ll take him on,” a girl’s voice spoke up. 

You turned around to see a blonde with brunette roots stand in the back, her aura radiated power and dominance. You already liked her.

“I saw your little demo at Valley Fest. You guys put on a good show, but can you actually fight?” She smirked.

Oh, you definitely liked her.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Sensei said, taking a few steps closer to her.

“I like a challenge,” she responded.

Your smile grew, glancing at Aisha who shared the same sentiment.

“Mr. Diaz, show Little Miss Hotshot here what Cobra Kai is all about,” Sensei ordered, turning around and walking back to the front.

Miguel nodded but hesitated when he approached her. “Look, are you sure you wanna-,” he didn’t get the chance to respond when she charged toward him, kicking him square in the chest. He chuckled before he got serious. “Game on.”

They began fighting, Miguel having to block most hits. This girl was intense and she managed to stay even with him. 

You could also sense the heavy tension between them. 

It was cute. 

She body-slammed him onto the mat before he swept her legs out from under her. He stood up, offering a hand. “My name’s Miguel.” 

“Tory,” she breathed, grabbing his hand before she flipped him over, pinning his head to the mat. “With a y,” she said.

You snickered, impressed.

After class, you were in the mini-mart, getting some snacks before you headed off for a date with Eli. Aisha sighed behind you, staring at her phone. 

“Let me guess, dick pic?” Tory walked passed her.

You laughed, grabbing your favorite candy from the shelf before you joined both of them. 

“No, my mom wants me to go to the beach club with her,” Aisha sighed.

You and Tory stared at each other before laughing. 

“That sounds so miserable,” Tory mocked. 

“It’s not that,” Aisha smiled. “This girl Sam’s gonna be there and she and I are not on good terms,” she said. “Anyway, I’m Aisha, this is Y/N,” she jutted towards you.

“Tory,” she smiled at you two.

“That’s a cool bracelet,” you pointed at the spikey one. 

She smirked. “This? It’s not just for show. Some creepy guy at the mall tried to grab me once, but I managed to block him and give him a gift he won’t ever regret,” she jabbed her arm.

“Absolute badass,” you said, amazed. 

“You seem like you know how to kick ass pretty well, why did you join Cobra Kai?” 

“I’ve taken a few kickboxing lessons but I always wanted to smash boards blindfolded,” she mocked. 

You laughed. 

“The secret is poking little holes in the blindfolds,” Aisha whispered. 

“Cool,” Tory said. She walked towards the front of the store before Aisha stopped her.

“You guys wouldn’t mind joining me at the beach club? It’d be nice to have some backup,” she said.

“I’d love to, but Eli is taking me out on a date,” you smiled.

“Eli?” Tory furrowed her brows.

“Mohawk,” you said.

“You’re dating him?” She was surprised by it. “Seems intense,” she joked.

“Keeps me on my feet,” you responded.

“Well I guess I can suffer through a day at the beach,” Tory smiled, turning to Aisha.

“Have fun you guys, but we should all hang out together soon, it’s nice to have another girl on the team,” you grinned at Tory. You left the two, paying for your snacks before walking out.

Eli was leaning against the pillar outside, putting his phone away as you approached, talking to Miguel about something that clearly wasn’t making the other boy happy. 

“What’s going on?” You asked enthusiastically, glancing between the two boys. 

They glanced at each other, Miguel sending Eli a look that was only understood between them.

“Just talking about Kreese,” Miguel sighed. “I don’t trust him,” he admitted. 

Understanding, you nodded, patting Miguel on the shoulder. “Hopefully he doesn’t stick around much longer.”

Miguel agreed before he walked back inside the dojo, leaving you with Eli.

He kissed you on the lips, wrapping his arm around your shoulders before making his way to his car.

~

“Tory can kick ass, she proves girls are stronger than boys,” you snickered, ducking under a tree branch. 

The weather was sunny, with not a cloud in the sky. It wasn’t windy so it wasn’t that hot. It encouraged a good mood that your conversation drifted into one in which sex was stronger. 

“Sure she beat Miguel, doesn’t mean shit,” Eli retorted.

“I can beat your ass any day of the week,” you scoffed, stopping dead in your tracks. 

He was pulled back by your resistance, his brows furrowed at your words. “In your dreams, babe, I’m stronger than you, it’s okay to admit it,” he sucked in a breath, tugging on your hand to pull you along. 

The dock on the lake came into view and you were glad no one was around. This made this moment even more perfect.

“You’re on,” you pulled away, shrugging your backpack off.

He looked at you confused before he realized. “Winner gets bragging rights?” He smirked

“Definitely,” you grinned, raising your fists. 

He did the same but you didn’t even give him a chance until you were swinging your first punch. He blocked it, swiping your arms out before he aimed for a kick to your stomach.

You reacted, blocking him easily. You threw another punch, distracting him and managing to sweep his legs from under him. 

The leaves rustled under him and as he rolled onto his back, you swung your leg over, hovering over him. He was taken aback, visibly gulping. 

“Told ya,” you hummed, hands pressed onto his chest. The shit-eating look you had in your eyes was swiped the instant he flipped you over, a yelp escaping you.

“Wouldn’t call a victory that soon,” he grinned, hands holding him up on either side of your head. “Better luck next time, babe,” he smirked, moving off you and offering a hand.

You frowned, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Does the loser get a kiss?” You grabbed onto his hand, your other wrapping around his forearm as you brought him close. 

He smirked, leaning in to kiss you but the next second, you grabbed him, throwing him over your shoulder and flipping him onto his back. He hissed in pain. 

You laughed. “Pucker up, loser gets a kiss,” you smirked, still holding onto his hand. 

A few minutes later you were now enjoying a tranquil day out on the dock, your leg crossed underneath you while the other dangled over the ledge.

Your stomach fluttered as Eli’s hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head to the side as he kissed you. Your hand rested on his wrist, the other pressed against his chest. No matter how many times you kissed him, you grew giddy, your face growing hot. It was a feeling you didn’t want to go away. 

“I think if we keep kissing, our lips are gonna fall off,” you snickered.

“Shh, I’ll take that risk,” he smirked against you, pulling you closer. 

The moment was beautiful but was cut short when your phone buzzed. This was the fifth time in the last ten minutes and you grew worried about who it was.

“Hang on,” you paused, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

“Just ignore it,” he brushed off, chasing your lips. 

“It’s Demitri,” you said, growing worried, knowing he only called for emergencies. 

Reading the messages he sent previously helped you relax, but seeing his urgency told you it was important.

“He’s probably only calling to bitch about something,” Eli scoffed, wrapping his arm around your waist to stop you but you pushed a hand against his chest. 

“Stop it,” you furrowed your brows, straightening and facing out onto the lake as you answered. “Are you okay?” You asked your friend.

“Eli didn’t tell you?” He asked.

“No, tell me what?” You furrowed your brows, sending your boyfriend a look.

“Your new Sensei attacked me in the dojo the other day, I had to get stitches,” he explained.

Your eyes widened. “He what?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” he said. “I thought Eli would’ve told you, but I guess I was wrong,” he sighed. “I wanted to let you know.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll stop by when I can, do you need anything?” You chewed on your lip, a feeling bubbling in your chest.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he said before hanging up.

“I told him to let it go,” Eli spoke up.

“Eli, our friend got hurt!” You exclaimed. “I knew Kreese had something off about him,” you said, thinking back to his slip-up at the dojo today. “Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve been checking on Demitri like good friends instead of coming out here,” you gestured around you.

His brows furrowed. “Demitri will be fine. Besides, why would you put him over me? I thought our dates were important,” he argued.

“They are but things happen, he’s our best friend,” your voice cracked. “You should’ve told me,” you stood up, walking towards your backpack.

“Why are you acting like this? He’s the one acting like a bitch,” he sneered, standing up and following you. 

You couldn’t believe what he had said. “No, he’s not!” You turned around to look at him. “You’re the one acting so insecure! I’m not choosing him over you and it hurts that you’d say that,” you huffed.

You hated that you were arguing again. It’d been a while since the tournament but you hoped you were past it.

“Babe, stop,” he reached for your wrist, pulling you back. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he sighed. 

“I don’t want to fight about this,” you breathed. “I just want to see Demitri and make sure he’s okay,” you gulped. 

He was reluctant but after a beat, he agreed. “Okay, I’ll drive you.”

~

Disappointment filled you when Eli didn’t want to come inside to visit Demitri. First, it was the “nerd shit” stuff at the victory party but being so insensitive when he was assaulted?! 

You were trying to understand why Eli was losing himself. It hurt you in more ways than you could imagine.

After his mother let you in, you made your way to his room. You found him sitting at his desk, playing a game and when you knocked on the door, he turned around, showing you the bandage on his nose.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know,” you went over and hugged him. “And I’m sorry for how Eli reacted, I didn’t think he’d be defensive about it.” 

He nodded, patting your shoulders as he moved to sit on his bed. “It’s not your fault, at least one of my best friends still cares about me,” he shrugged.

Your gaze dropped, knowing you couldn’t even argue it. 

“I’ll talk to him,” you said. 

“Didn’t you already?” He looked at you. “It’s obvious he won’t change his mind. I’m just a big pussy according to him,” he sighed, licking his lips. 

“I think Kreese is getting into his head. He hasn’t been around long but he’s already slithering his way into Cobra Kai. I gotta be honest when I say I don’t like it,” you frowned. 

Valley Fest was his idea, he punched Demitri, and now your boyfriend is getting swooped up into his ideologies. Sure, he was Sensei’s sensei, but you had a feeling he was trying to revert Cobra Kai to its original state. 

“At least you’re not getting assaulted because of it,” he spoke.

“I know,” you nodded. “I guess you’re not joining Cobra Kai then,” you stated the obvious.

He shook his head. “I’m thinking of joining Miyagi-Do,” he confessed.

Your brows raised in surprise. You knew if Eli heard of this or anyone from Cobra Kai did, they’d be pissed but all you could find yourself doing was feeling proud of him. 

“Their demonstration did seem pretty cool,” you smiled. “I think you’ll fit right in,” you beamed. “And I promise I won’t say anything to Eli.”

“Thanks,” he sighed out in relief. “What about you?” He asked.

“What about me?” Your face scrunched in confusion. 

“Isn’t Kreese one of your sensei’s now? Don’t you want to get out before it’s too late for you too?” His voice was filled with so much concern. 

“He’s not my sensei,” you shook your head. “I don’t agree with what he believes,” you said. “Besides, someone needs to watch Eli, right?” Your tone was playful. 

He agreed. “Sure, I guess. Until he turns completely toxic and takes it out on you,” he warned. 

“I’m strong enough to not let that happen,” you cocked a brow. “Miyagi-Do will make you strong, so don’t worry about Eli, I’m proud, okay?”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he smiled.

Later, he offered for you to stay for dinner, which you accepted. It was a nice distraction from the worry you held when it came to your boyfriend. You just hoped he’d change once you talk to him.

~

The next day at the dojo, practice ran like usual.

“The back thrust kick works like this,” Sensei demonstrated. 

“What about if your opponent attacks you from behind?” Eli asked.

“Excellent question,” Sensei pointed. “Sensei Kreese, you wanna take this one?” 

You frowned slightly, eyeing the older man. Where were you when he was appointed as a sensei? You weren’t sure about this.

“Certainly Sensei Lawrence,” Kreese said, uncrossing his arms and making his way to the front.

“The key to making this move is to trick your enemy into thinking you’re retreating,” he began. “But just as they’re letting their guard down, that’s when you strike the hardest,” he demonstrated the kick. 

You took in the lesson, but the glance you shared with Miguel told you all you needed to know.

[thewallsaretalking-again]

you know what?? Fuck it, there's something I've GOTTA talk about:

(don't worry this isn't like a serious post or anything. also its gonna be really badly written with grammar errors because I'm just really excited to finally be talking about this and I'm shaking like a leaf) (also, if you don't agree with this that is completely fine; everybody ships different ships, this is just one that I personally love and me explaining how it came to be and how I image it. I'm not trying to convince anybody of anything, this is just for fun. If you don't like, that's fine! All I ask is that there is no hate and that you just move on. Thank you!)

I love rairpairs. Like, LOVE them. Anyone who's seen my old transformers art knows that I ship DreadOp which is like, a nonexistent ship. like, the ship equivalent of being an endangered species (there's like 10 fics about it on AO3, so you KNOW it's rare). There's a few examples of me being like this but this is the best example that i have.

But this has gotten to the point where i have done something absolutely ridiculous: I have created an entirely new ship- no, TWO entirely new ships (I'm only going to be focusing on one rn). AND I'VE GOTTA TALK ABOUT THEM because honestly? I love them! so, what monstrosity have I created? Whoo... prepare yourselves (especially you, dark cacao cookie fans...)

Yep. Don't hate me. Please hear me out because honestly iv'e seen more heinous ships in my time on the internet.

so, first of all, the white dude is known as the milk village elder in CRK, and we only see him once in the entire game (that i know of). I love taking npc's and giving them characters, so this is kinda how this happened. I'm gonna start by talking about the milk dude and how i headcannon/ imagine him because it will come into play later.

I gave the milk village elder the name Whole Milk Cookie, because i couldn't exactly call him Milk Cookie; that names already been taken

Whole Milk Cookie isn't actually anyone's grandfather, despite him being called grandad/ grandpappy in the actual game. We never see anyone his age in the milk village, and I like to imagine that its sorta like an honorary title. Like, he acts like everyone's grandpa, so everyone calls him grandpa but no one is actually related to him.

Whole Milk Cookie is like, ungodly sweet. Like, diabetes kind of sweet. its ridiculous. there are only a few ways to get him angry; and trust me, you don't want to...

He's strong. Like, think Hollyberry type strong. Gives the BEST hugs too.

Nobody knows exactly how old he is, but people suspect that he's actually much older than he looks. This could be caused by his extreme talent with the milk that comes from the villages well; if its used right, the milk can cure disease, help pains, or even extend someone's lifespan/ help retain youth. either that or he's some sort of demon but hey, who's counting?

got all that? good. Now the question everybody's asking; why the hell do i ship this? What's the story here? What's the origin? Well hold onto your pants folks because this is where we get into me overanalyzing shit.

behold the line that started it all:

This is so SO vague. why the hell did they put this in here it is SO VAUGE. what does he mean by "THAT king"? you know what it sounds like? someone reminiscing of their time with a loved one who has now changed....

they never elaborate on what exactly this line means and this is the very last line we hear Whole Milk Cookie say in the main story

wondering where exactly he's gone instead of wondering when he's coming back? idk man you sound worried about him...

also saying "laid your eyes upon" just sounds so gay/loving and i don't know why. yeah your laying something thats for sure glfbnvbrfnjkrb (im so sorry)

There's also this line:

The ally thing is kind of given, but why and how isn't this guy talking shit about dark Cacao? Like, he has EVERY right to! but he's not.... its almost like he cares.... and sure he mentions the generation thing but just because your parents were friends with some dude doesn't mean you necessarily like them right? so what gives??

Then there's the matter of Dark Cacao Cookies SON:

who is DArk CHOCOLATE

now Dark Chocolate usually doesn't have any milk/dairy in it, but it DOES need a fat, which whole milk DOES have!!

So, in theory, it would make sense for cacao and milk to make chocolate of some kind, AND it would account for Dark Choco Cookie having a lighter skin tone than his father (lighter eyes and the double white hair streak too)

I also like the story implications outside of cannon:

two people who would generally not be allowed to be in a relationship due to differing status keep a relationship going for years behind the backs of their communities

Dark Cacao Cookie taking full responsibility for taking care of their son, only for everything to become too overwhelming and he begins to remove himself from everything emotionally, wanting to give his son over to his other father to be properly taken care of but can't due to the dangers that poses for everyone in his family

Dark Choco nearly kills him and Dark Cacao has to exile him and (because of a mix of psychological manipulation, grief, and regret) locks up the citadel, leaving Whole Milk Cookie out of the picture entirely

Whole Milk Cookie stews in anger due to everything that's happened and Dark Cacao cookie not taking proper care of their son but eventually falls into guilt as well because he saw the signs of stress and overworking from his partner and didn't step in, assuming that everything was fine (but is still mostly mad at Cacao because he REALLY fucked up and it's not an excuse)

Gingerbrave and the crew comes strolling up and gets the citadel open, and Dark Cacao admits to Dark Choco that he didn't care enough and that he should have done things differently, and that he loves his son. Dark Choco leaves the cookies of darkness and begins a journey of recovery while Dark Cacao vows to do better for his family and kingdom in the future.

Dark Cacao meets up with Whole Milk Cookie to truly apologize to him, admitting everything he's done wrong and that he should have done far, FAR better. He tells WM that he deserves better than him

Whole Milk is obviously still angry and will never forgive Dark Cacao for what he's done. but he still loves him despite everything and would much rather the two of them work together to fix things (not necessarily romantically, more just not hating each other wise) moving forward instead of breaking things off and stewing in grief and anger.

The two of them take things extremely slow and carefully because it's been a long and difficult process, but they, eventually, get back to where they were.

Their recovery process takes years, but by that point Dark Cacao has improved himself exponentially, wanting nothing but the best for his partner and kingdom (and now knowing exactly what NOT to do) They also eventually find Dark Choco Cookie and fix things with him, but that's a whole other can of worms I'm not going to open here.

Just generally a story of two very different people, who despite goin through unimaginable hardships, do their very best despite the circumstances. they love each other more than even they realize and the fact that they are able to fix what was broken by their own hands is a testament to that, despite all of the arguments and tears along the way.

TLDR: Dark Cacao fucks up, his husband is mad but still loves him because he knows him better than anyone else, Dark Cacao actually makes an effort and succeeds to be much much better, and the two of them eventually figure things out. An unlikely love story :)

Ok, wow, that was a lot and kinda sad. But there are a few thiings that i couldn't fit into the rest of this so imma just stick them here:

Whole Milk Cookie finds Immense joy in picking up his husband and throwing him across his shoulder like some kind of really important sack

Whole Milk calls Dark Cacao "Cacao bean"

Dark Cacao loves Whole Milk Cookies cooking to a stupid extent

Dark Cacao loves playing with his husbands fluffy hair

the two of them will often help each other do their hair because they both just have SO MUCH of it

Dark Cacao, despite popular belief, is a flustered mess around his husband and can very often be found blushing like a madman whenever Whole Milk uses his strength

these two have the ABSOLOUTE WORST bedheads. Like, Cacao HAS to braid his hair before going to bed because otherwise the two of them will wake up tangled in it. And Whole Milk will just have an untamable afro.

uhh anyways. thanks for coming to my ted talk

[missmeinyourbones]

YOU WISH IT WAS ME, DON’T YOU? 

cw: fake dating, wedding cake testing, friends to lovers, mutual pining, so sweet i suddenly have a cavity, oikawa is a big fat nerd pass it on

You don’t think you hear him correctly the first time. 

But when he repeats himself, brashly confident and clearly enunciating his syllables between teeth and tongue, you know you’ve heard him right.

You can’t stop yourself from blurting out a genuine, “And why the fuck would we do that?”

Your words are harsh but granted, it is a stupid request.

Oikawa has officially decided the two of you should go to a bakery for wedding cake testing—to pretend to be an engaged couple. In public. As friends. Platonically. For fun. 

He must’ve gotten hit in the head at practice. 

“For free cake, obviously,” he shrugs, clearly not seeing an issue with his brilliant idea. “Come on, there’s gotta be a brain somewhere in that pretty little head of yours. You should use it every now and then.”

You ignore his backhanded tease (and the way your heart skips over the word “pretty” leaving his lips in reference to you.) 

You pray your poker face is decent enough as you send him a glare that’s meant to be intimidating. However, the smirk growing on his face let’s you know it’s mediocre at best. 

“Tooru, that doesn’t even make any sense,” you try to reason with the idiotic proposal. His head innocently turns to the side in confusion, so you begrudgingly elaborate. 

“We can just buy a cake,” you rationalize, as any normal person would. “I’ve seen your paycheck and trust me, you can afford it.”

His tongue prods against his cheek in amusement (and pride) at your dig before he continues with his act, whining like a child and pouting his stupid lips. 

“But that’s not the point,” he drawls the word out for at least three full seconds. 

He takes a dramatic inhale, “This makes it more exciting, it's like—a whole extravagant thing!” His hands fly out by his sides, showcasing the grand gesture of how fancy the idea seems in his puny little mind.

While he thinks he’s painting an intricate picture, you aren't seeing his vision. 

“It’s a silly and overdramatic ordeal, all for some lousy cake.”

At your pessimism, he scurries his way over to where you mope on his kitchen barstool. He’s never been one for utilizing personal space, but the conversation topic at hand has you overthinking every single thing he does. He’s so close you can feel the wind of his movements, the air of his dramatic exhales. You do yourself a favor and choose to look anywhere that’s not his face. 

Stopping right before you, his hands clasp together in a begging formation as he borderline pleads. 

“You won’t need to worry about anything, I’ll handle it all. I’ll book it, drive us in—I’ll even pay if they actually saddle us into buying something!”

When you finally pull your gaze away from your fidgeting fingers and up to his face, his eyes are glimmering with excitement. Though your stare would appear exasperated to most, he knows there’s love behind it. He can feel it. 

“All you need to do,” he whispers with a knowing smile, “is come.”

You ignore how your stomach flutters. His word choice has you blushing and fuck, you can’t tell if he’s doing it on purpose or not.

You sigh with irritation and though Tooru knows you’re not quite done putting up a fight, he’s already won. The look in your skeptic eye tells him you’ve already agreed. 

“If we like the cake, they’re going to expect us to follow up, with, like—actual wedding plans,” you try to reason. 

“So we get married,” he easily concludes with a smile. “Well, maybe. We’ll see how this first date goes, huh?”

You overlook the wink he shoots you and how it makes your cheeks flush hot. “And if we get caught?

“That’s what makes it so fun. Our own dirty little secret.”

Okay, he’s definitely doing it on purpose.

“But that won’t happen,” he casually concludes, shrugging his shoulders with blasé confidence, “I can be very convincing.” 

A silent staring contest ensues and Tooru knows he has you in the palm of his calloused hand. He watches as you struggle to fight off the smile that fights to work its way from the corners of your lips and across your entire face. Serving the final blow, he pokes your side gently and watches the grin take over.

“Do you ever tell the truth?” your eyes roll but your smile makes up for it. 

He shrugs happily, “I like to lie.”

…

“And this is our white chocolate ganache filling.”

You don’t know why you’re here. 

The bakery is small, cozy. A family-owned business that sits on the corner of Main Street downtown. You pass it sometimes on your daily commute to work, allowing yourself to ogle at the pastries in the display window if the weather is nice enough. 

The sweet woman scheduled to run your consultation was waiting for you both by the door when you arrived. She’s an older woman, small in stature but her kindness makes up for it. You can tell she loves what she does by how she’s gleaming at the tiny details of your supposed love.

How Tooru opens the door for you, how he fixes your hair when you remove your coat, how you blush when she addresses the two of you as the soon-to-be Mr. And Mrs. Oikawa.

Eager to get the process started and sit you down, she goes through all of the assortments of flavors in what feels like one singular breath. Af if she’s some kind of dessert-wizard, she begins to list all possible kinds of combinations. Some sweet and fruity, others dense and rich. 

It’s an overwhelming scenario in general, and knowing the truth behind the matter makes it all the more intimidating. 

“It all looks so great,” you sheepishly stutter behind a smile, “I don’t even know where to start, honestly.”

The baker continues to overflow with excitement, “Wherever you want! It’s all yours—but we do have one tradition. For your first bite.”

Tooru indulges, now intrigued by the mystery, “Do tell.”

The woman blushes like a cherry tomato. 

“You have to feed it to each other,” she practically oozes with excitement, “as practice for your actual big day! It’s a good luck thing we like to encourage all of our couples to participate in.” 

She eyes your brief exchange of worried glances before carefully adding, “Only if they’re comfortable, of course!”

The hole you’ve dug yourself in just keeps getting deeper and deeper. 

You slowly nod your head in faux confidence, an act Oikawa clearly sees right through. 

“Yeah, sure,” you reluctantly agree. Almost immediately, a hand is on your shoulder and a pair of lips is skimming the shell of your ear. 

“Look, we don’t have to—”

“Just pick a flavor, Tooru,” you snap. 

He decides on a classic strawberry shortcake blend. 

The tiny sample square is bright and endearing. Vanilla cake covered in a blush white frosting, stuffed with a flavored whip, and decorated with a sugared strawberry sitting bold on top. It looks delicious, almost so perfect that you don’t want to pry your shaky fork into it. But Tooru does, so you follow suit. 

He makes the first move. His grip on the utensil is tight in a way that he hopes comes off as sturdy, as he slowly maneuvers closer to you. Like feeding a child a spoonful of mashed vegetables, he mimics an airplane before teasing. 

“Open wide.”

With a subtle glare, you do. And he does the same. And the two of you are equally guilty of watching one another's lips curl around the metal and savor the airy sweetness dancing on your tongues. 

It’s incredible. It’s delicious. And it’s the first one.

“Oh my god,” your fiancé for the evening practically moans in bliss, “Oh god, I think I died and went to heaven.”

Normally, you’d whack his arm, but given the circumstances (being the faux relationship you need to sell and how delicious the cake truly is), you resist the tempation. 

“Okay, normally I’d call you dramatic, but it’s actually really good.”

Tooru opens his eyes in a daze before placing his hand over his heart in a swoon. 

“And my very own personal angel? Yup, this is definitely heaven.”

...

The afternoon gets easier. You try nearly every flavor the bakery has to offer, every combination the woman recommends. From dulce de leche to lemon raspberry to chocolate mousse, everything tastes incredible and leaves your stomach fluttering with a fullness it's never known. 

At least you think that's the cakes doing, and certainly not courtesy of the man sitting beside you. 

With all flavors consumed and the consensus being weighed, the woman eagerly awaits your thoughts.

Tooru’s hand finds the small of your back as you sit in the cushioned chairs of the bakery. “What do you think, darling? Which one’s your favorite?”

An instant fire dances in the pit of your stomach—burning bright and contagious and terribly loud. 

“I think I like this one the best,” you decide. Pointing at the strawberry shortcake, Oikawa beams.

“Knew you were gonna say that one!” his tongue darts between his teeth as he grins. “Me too. I mean, you do have great taste, after all.”

Tooru generously tips the sweet lady for the free consultation, and you don’t miss how his smile grows in size when she wishes you a happy and healthy life together. He thanks her without a second thought. 

“We’re probably gonna take a day or two to think some things over, but I think it’s safe to say we’ll be in touch!” He practically hollers as he guides you out of the door and back into his car.

Stuffed to the brim with sugar and batter, you're exhausted. Amid the biggest food coma of your life, you crawl inside his passenger seat and immediately close your eyes. Though not asleep, you keep them shut when you hear him curse beneath his breath and close your door. 

“Shit, I think I left my wallet on the table. Be right back!”

…

Oikawa’s car pulls into your driveway. Once the car is shifted into park, he’s removing his hand from the steering wheel and turning to where you ;lazily slump in his passenger seat. 

He raises his eyebrows in amusement at your tired and full appearance. Catching his eye, you groan in response and lean against the window. 

“I’m so full, I can’t even breathe.”

“And you call me dramatic,” he scoffs with a smile on his face. 

You turn to him, sincere and delicate as you ask, “Are you happy? You got your dose of free cake.”

“Ecstatic,” his tone is soft, but he means it. “Iwa-chan’s gonna be mad when he sees my cholesterol levels, though.”

A laugh breathes through your nose, “He’d find a way to be mad at you, anyway.”

After a moment of quiet breathing, you dramatically sit up with a sigh, stretching your body and unbuckling your seatbelt. Tooru uses your movement as a distraction to reach for something in the backseat of his car.

When you face him to say goodbye, a tiny to-go container sits atop his car’s center console. His eyes dart from the box to your face, a silent request for you to open it. 

Your brow crinkles in confusion, so he laughs and answers your silent question. 

“A thank you,” he softly elaborates, “for coming with me.”

You hide your blush, “I think if I look at another piece of cake, I’ll start bleeding cream cheese frosting.”

“Oh, just open it,” he begs.

Inside the box sits a single piece of strawberry shortcake, the very first flavor you tried and your ultimate favorite of the day. It's a tiny slice, but its size isn't what you hone in on—a little frosting heart sits smack dab in the middle of the top, a detail Tooru had personally asked the woman to quickly add when going back into the shop. 

While it’s a small gesture, it’s a reflection of his true intentions. As childish as he is, he didn't bring you along today just for some free cake. He did it to spend time with you—it was just an extra perk that he got to feed you cake and call you darling while doing so. 

You melt in honor at the pretty pastry in front of you. 

It’s no wedding or proposal or confession in the slightest, but it makes you smile, and Tooru hopes it's a step in the right direction. 

[tinybirbwrites]

Guilty Pleasure (Dick Grayson/Reader)

Hello, hi. This started as a vent fic, then it became super silly and fun and longer than expected. No warnings except for some swearing, just silly fluff and crack. Reader is gender-neutral. Also I had Gotham Knights Dick in mind while writing, the game really grew on me lmao.

You often wondered whether Dick had a sixth sense for your mood. Each time you were upset about something, he would either somehow end up finding out about it, or unknowingly comfort you in some way. 

Watched a sad movie while Dick was away? Look at your phone; Dick either just sent you a meme, pun, or a sweet little message to brighten your day. Unhappy about what you saw in the mirror? Just you wait; Dick always seemed to have a heartfelt compliment ready for you. Lonely? Worry not; Dick already made plans to come over and glue himself to you for several hours.

This time was no different. Just twenty minutes after you saw something hurtful on social media, Dick plopped down next to you on the couch and wrapped a casual arm around your shoulders. 

“Hey, wanna watch a dumb movie together and cuddle?”

Hell yeah.

-

The movie did turn out to be super dumb—a crazy woman summoning the spirit of her dead killer husband into a fake christmas tree, who then goes on a murderous rampage as a christmas tree? Really? But it was exactly what you needed at that moment. 

You were crying and laughing through the stupidity of it all, switching between actually paying attention because of what was happening or because Dick was actively commenting on it, and thinking back to the post you saw that upset you in the first place. Dick didn’t ask, but he kept giving you comforting squeezes and rubbed slow circles over your back the whole time. 

As the credits started rolling and you finally got over how weird the movie was, Dick stroked a careful thumb over the tear-trails on your cheek. “Alright, well, now that we’ve gone through all five stages of grief together… You wanna tell me about it?” 

You leaned back with a shaky exhale. “Well, you know how I like to read and write fanfiction?” At his nod, you continued, “Well, there’s a subgenre called ‘reader inserts.’ They’re… basically exactly what the title implies. They’re written with you as the main character, and most of the time it’s with a romantic plot point at the focus. It’s something I like to consume for comfort, because it feels nice to read about yourself meeting your favorite characters and interacting with them, doing things together that you’ll never be able to in real life, right? And there’s a lot of well written fics out there that I enjoy a lot, but of course, as with everything, there’s also not so good ones. And the tragic part is, the not so good ones are the only thing that other people who aren’t interested in this subgenre see and know about, so reader inserts get a pretty bad rep. And I get it, I’ve also seen the bad ones, and there’s… a lot of porn, too. I understand it can be frustrating to see when you really don’t want to, but shaming people for writing and reading it just… hurts, you know? It really hurts.”

Dick was silent for a while, frowning. “Sadly, there’ll always be people who get upset about things they don’t like or don’t understand. Some are mature about it, and some aren’t. I’m guessing you saw someone complaining?”

You sighed and nodded, tiredly rubbing a hand over your forehead. “Yeah.” You didn’t feel like elaborating on what the person said specifically, it would only upset you more. Maybe you’d sent a screenshot to Dick later, but right now you just wanted to forget about it.

Dick hummed. “I’m sorry you had to see that. It really sucks when you’ve gotta deal with people hating something you love and care about. And I know it’s easier said than done, but… don’t focus on that negativity. Focus on the good stuff. You’ve talked about getting a lot of positive feedback on your own writing before, yeah? Focus on that. People love what you write, and you love other people’s writing, that means there’s a community where you can all share what you love with each other, and that’s a beautiful thing. Some people just aren’t into the same stuff, they don’t get it, so sometimes they’ll complain about it to feel better. It’s hurtful, yeah, but remember that they’re not targeting you specifically. It’s their problem, the issues often lie within themselves. From what you said, it sounds like they’re just shitting on something they don’t wanna see because they don’t like or care about it. They’re not offering constructive criticism, so really, you don’t have to concern yourself with them. Try to distance yourself from their words, be proud of what you do and who you are. Okay?”

You mulled over his words for a moment, digesting them bit by bit, and eventually, you managed a smile. “Yeah, okay.” You turned your head and leaned closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thanks.”

When you looked at him, the expression on his face was almost shy. “You’re always welcome. I’m just glad I could help somehow.”

-

Days later, Dick came to you with an excited smile on his face, and you watched as he sat down and pulled out his phone. “So, since you told me about reader inserts, I’ve done some research to better understand what you meant. I wanted to know more about what you enjoy.”

Oh no. “Oh. Really?” you said, a lot calmer than you actually felt.

He grinned, unaware of your growing horror. “Yep! So, I wasn’t sure what to look for at first, but eventually I searched for reader inserts that included some of the media I personally enjoy. I found a few I actually liked a lot! But, uh, I get what you meant with there being a lot of porn.”

You hid your face in your hands with a chortle, feeling heat quickly traveling to your cheeks at the mental image of Dick reading smut fics out of pure curiosity to learn more about what you were passionate about. “Yeah…”

Suddenly, Dick brightened. “Also! You won’t believe it, but I found a lot of Nightwing reader inserts! Some got recommended to me because of my search history, and I got really curious, so—”

OH NO.

“I was so amazed at how many there are! Ah, of course, lots of porn too. Can’t really fault anyone for that, I mean, I know people love my butt, so it only makes sense. Still, feels kinda weird. I started reading a few because I just couldn’t help it, and isn’t it kind of funny? It’s like a story about me making out with myself! Anyway, I found a few really good ones, a lot of them were from the same author—”

Oh God, please, anything but this—

Dick scrolled through his phone for a moment, then turned it around to show you what he found. You felt your soul leave your body.

It was your very own profile picture that stared back at you. 

It was your blog. 

It was your writing. 

Your Nightwing fanfics. 

He went on, completely undeterred by your stunned silence. “I know it sounds kind of narcissistic of me to say, but you should totally give this person’s stuff a read! They’re really good! I felt weirdly immersed, reading about being in love with, well, myself. Pining after… myself. Never thought I’d feel so strongly about that, but here I am. There’s one story that I’m hoping will get a second part some day, actually. I’m thinking I should maybe leave a comment. You think it’d be too much to do that with my Nightwing account?” 

Oh. Oh, thank God. Dick didn’t know it was you.

You subtly cleared your throat. “Uhm. Yeah, I think commenting as Nightwing would be a bit much.”

It was an older account—you actually hadn’t uploaded anything for a while now, but most of them were about Nightwing.

It had started off with the usual go-to scenarios of Nightwing saving reader while on patrol, something he’d actually done for you a few times now, which was what inspired you to scroll through the Nightwing x Reader tag in the first place. Then you decided you would give in and post some of your own for the public to see as well. Anonymously, of course. You’d never pin your actual name to that particular guilty pleasure of yours. 

The more you wrote, the more you started to wonder about what if scenarios. 

What if Dick Grayson was Nightwing? You’d noticed that they shared a lot of similarities; a love for puns, a charming smile, a kind heart, perfect hair, and, uhm… A nice body, too. You’d never written out this theory for the public eye, but in your head, you’d started imagining Dick being the one behind the mask, which fuelled your writing even more as you poured your feelings into them. 

You knew it was kind of a No-No to write about actual, existing people. It wasn’t something you usually did, either, nor were you very proud of it. But you just couldn’t help it—you’d been pining after Dick and Nightwing separately for years now, venting about it in the form of self-indulgent writing, until you eventually figured out they were both one and the same person. 

Of course you’d fallen head over heels in love with Dick, it was practically impossible not to; He had a stupidly big heart and a stupidly big butt. Finding out these two ridiculously attractive and caring people were actually one guy? That only served to intensify your feelings by, like, a hundred.

You hadn’t mentioned this realization to Dick, but it got more and more difficult not to as time went on. Until finally, one day, Dick confessed his vigilante identity to you, stating he trusted you and felt it was only fair if you knew. He felt bad about having to lie to you and keep making up excuses about his bruises and why he had to cancel plans every time something big happened that Nightwing had to take care of.

You were too scared to tell him about your feelings, especially after realizing you’d been writing reader insert fanfics about him all this time. It was one thing to just imagine Dick being Nightwing, but it was another to actually know it was him. You were lucky and very happy to even be friends with this amazing guy, and you weren’t about to ruin that by confessing your shameful sins to him.

You knew it was extra weird to write not only about an actual person, but about your friend. You’d never written any smut—that was something you just couldn’t let yourself do, it felt too wrong, even before you found out about Dick’s secret. 

You knew he took all the sexually charged comments on his Nightwing persona in good stride. He actually seemed to glow from all the praise, even feeding into it by laying on the charm extra thick sometimes when on patrol, always insisting Nightwing should never wear a cape so his precious butt wouldn’t be covered up. You also knew that he himself as Richard Grayson was a very popular guy, handsome and charming, a “well dressed golden retriever,” as some people liked to describe him. 

But you also knew that there was a line, and you felt like you were definitely crossing it by writing reader inserts about your best friend and crush. Though you did stop writing them after finding out about who Nightwing really was—it just felt too weird to keep posting more at that point.

Argh, who were you kidding? Either way, it was definitely still weird that you hadn’t immediately deleted your whole blog afterwards. It didn’t matter that Dick was currently unknowingly blowing up your phone with excited comments and likes on several of your Nightwing x Reader fics. You pulled it out and glanced at your screen as it lit up. Ah, he was also sending you all the links so you could read them for yourself. 

Is this how Dick felt when people talked about Nightwing in front of him, not knowing it was him they were talking about? You certainly felt like you had a top secret persona now. 

Despite your conflicted feelings on the matter and the rising shame in your chest, you couldn’t help but smile at Dick’s genuine enthusiasm. And his comments were all very nice, too. 

Maybe… Maybe he would be okay with it, knowing it was you. Maybe he’d laugh about it. Maybe he’d even be flattered. You knew it would be impossible to keep this to yourself forever, especially since Dick was so easy to open up to. But not now. Definitely not now.

-

A few months later, Tim mentioned your username during a group conversation. In his defense, he probably thought it was common knowledge—you knew he wouldn’t reveal something as big as this on purpose if he thought it wasn’t a big deal. You were using the same username for several other accounts on other websites as well, all connected to your second email address, the one you hadn’t shared with Dick or the others, so you hadn’t actually expected them to ever look into it and find out.

How very foolish of you. You just hoped Tim hadn’t read any of your fanfics as well.

While you’d tried to appear calm and unaffected on the outside, you could feel yourself slowly dying on the inside, melting from the sheer amount of mortification you were experiencing.

You couldn’t look Dick in the eyes ever since. 

While he hadn’t mentioned anything directly, you could tell the clogs inside his head had already turned enough for him to connect the dots. He knew. Fucking shit, he knew. 

Several days went by. You kept casually sending messages to him, sharing memes and other every-day things like always, and he did the same. But you could tell he knew and wanted to say something, but didn’t because he could tell you were highly uncomfortable with him knowing. 

He was nice like that. Goddammit. 

And then, one evening, as you contemplated finally deleting your whole account and sending an official apology to Dick (you would definitely have to do that, you just didn’t know what to say and where to start), your phone lit up with a new message. 

From Dick. 

You stared at the notification for a long moment, dreading what you’d find once you opened it, until your eyes started to burn and you had to force yourself to take a few deep breaths and calm down.

Don’t jump to any conclusions now, you told yourself. Just open the damn message and see for yourself.

You procrastinated by going to the bathroom first. Then walked around the kitchen in search of something to eat, only to realize you were too anxious to actually eat anything. 

So you took your damn phone and clicked on the damn notification, holding your damn breath as you read Dick’s messages. 

(Dick) 21:32 : Hey, so, I had some ideas for a sequel regarding your last Nightwing story

(Dick) 21:33 : Hear me out

(Dick) 21:35 : What if Nightwing went over to reader’s place

(Dick) 21:35 : and then…

You waited for him to elaborate, maybe send a GIF or something else, but he wasn’t even online anymore. You frowned and started to type a hesitant, confused response, when there was a sudden knock on your living room window, making you flinch and shriek, almost dropping your phone in the process.

Looking up, you saw Dick in his Nightwing suit outside your window, grinning and waving at you. 

You blinked at him for a moment, then quickly walked over to open the window. “Wha—”

“You haven’t posted in a long time,” Dick interrupted you with a smile. “I thought maybe I could help inspire you.” 

“Ins— Inspire?” you repeated, stunned.

You stepped back a little when he started climbing through the window, taking in his appearance with a sense of awe. You’d seen him as Nightwing a few times now, but you never quite got used to it. He was a sight to behold—he always was, whether he was wearing the suit or just his regular clothes, but having Nightwing standing in front of you in your own home always felt a little unreal. It was so form fitting, showing off his muscles and curves, and the mask hiding parts of his face had its very own appeal that you could hardly put into words. 

“I noticed a theme while going through your stories.” Dick’s voice pulled you out of your stupor, and you quickly shut your mouth, only now realizing you’d been gaping at him the whole time. 

You cleared your throat. “A theme?”

“Yeah.” He stepped closer to you, slowly, as if he wanted to check whether you would move away or not. “Nightwing and reader never actually kiss in any of them.”

You thought your heart was going to burst out of your chest. Then you realized he was waiting for you to say something.

“Oh, uhm. Yeah. I, uh. I just felt kind of weird about that. At first I was just scared you’d maybe find out about my stories some day and be weirded out by them, but later on after you told me about being Nightwing, I also just— It felt wrong to write about kissing you because it felt… too personal? And then I just kinda stopped writing them entirely.”

“Mh-hmm,” he hummed understandingly, stepping even closer, close enough for you to smell his cologne and minty breath. “Not to force my own interpretations onto your writing or anything, but I think Nightwing would definitely be very much into kissing the reader. And seeing how strongly the reader feels about him, I’m guessing it’s something they would want, too?”

You gulped, then managed to croak out a weak, “Yeah.”

He smiled and leaned closer until the tip of his nose shortly brushed yours, pausing for a moment to give you the chance to pull away, then gently pressed his lips to yours. Your breathing hitched, an electrifying sensation running through your whole body, starting from the points where he was touching you. His hands were on your arms, slowly rubbing up and down while he moved his lips against yours just as slowly. Your muscles couldn’t decide whether to stay tense or relax and melt against him, so you did a weird combination of both. 

Unsurprisingly, Dick was a very good kisser. 

After a long moment, he eventually parted from you, leaning back a little to take in your reaction. You couldn’t help but let out a breathless little laugh, stunned by what just happened, and so very fucking happy.

Dick chuckled too, hands gently squeezing your upper arms as if he wanted to hug you. “Was that okay?”

“Absolutely,” you said, without hesitation. “I’m sure all the fics probably gave it away, but I have feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Well, I didn’t want to make assumptions based on fiction alone,” Dick smiled. “But I’m glad, because I feel the same way. About you, I mean.”

Your chest warmed at that. Then you chuckled, an idea hitting you. “What, you don’t want me to write Dick Grayson x Nightwing fanfics next?”

He opened his mouth to retort with something sarcastic, but then his eyes widened. “Oh my God, that’s actually a really genius idea—”

You chortled and knocked your hand against his strong chest. “No, it really wouldn’t be. What if people connected the dots and found out because of it?”

He pouted. “Alright, fair point. But maybe you could write them just for me?” Aaand he was using his puppy eyes on you. Go figure. 

“I’ll think about it,” you gave in. Only a few people were strong enough to withstand Dick Grayson’s charm, and you certainly weren’t one of them. “But, I gotta ask… Weren’t you super weirded out when you found out that I wrote all these stories? Didn’t it make you uncomfortable?” 

If you ever found out that a friend of yours was writing romantic reader insert fanfics about you and publishing them… Well, you didn’t know what it would feel like, but it was definitely weird.

Dick chuckled and shook his head. “If it were someone else I knew, then maybe. But I know you—you’re one of my best friends. Knowing you wrote them, it just… doesn’t bother me at all, no. I understand why you wrote them, I understand why you published them, too. And why you stopped.” He shrugged. You felt a weight fall from your shoulders at his words, finally feeling yourself relax against him. “Anyway, did I manage to inspire you? You gonna write a kiss for part two?”

You snorted, then hummed, pretending to think for a moment. “I don’t know, I think I’ll need a bit more to really get the creativity flowing.”

Dick’s smile turned knowing. “I’d be more than happy to help.” And then he kissed you again, and it was even better than the first time.

[wisteria-cherry]

forty days and forty nights (day twenty-five!)

“welcome!” you chime.

“fake-ass customer service voice.” bakugo snorted.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what you mean, sir,” you chirp, trying to hide your snickering. “what would you like today?”

“hot caramel latte with skim instead of whole. extra froth made with half-and-half instead of milk, and add hazelnut syrup, and those weird-ass chocolate shavings,” bakugo began to rattle off an annoyingly long order. this continued until you finally relented.

“okay, okay!” you laugh. “can i suggest a medium black coffee instead?”

“can’t believe people actually drink that shit.” bakugo grunted, immediately reverting to his regular self. “too much damn sugar.”

“and black coffee’s way too bitter. it cancels out.” you shrug as he swipes his card.

“you work at a coffee shop and you don’t like coffee?” bakugo raised an eyebrow. “the fuck’s up with you?”

“i do like coffee.” you correct. “just with stuff in it. besides, not everyone feels the need to have the body of a greek god at all given times, so they can afford to have some sugar once in awhile.”

“i don’t ‘feel the need’ to maintain my damn physique and have a healthy lifestyle, brat.” bakugo grunted as he sat down. “it’s called being a hero. gotta stay in shape.”

“wasn’t there that one hero though—“ your face scrunched up as you tried to think of his name. “fat gum?”

“that’s different, that was part of his quirk.” bakugo scoffed. “shitty hair interned with him during ua.”

“did he really? that’s so cool!” you marvel. “did you do an internship?”

“yeah, with icyhot’s old man.”

“and his dad is endeavor, right?”

“yeah.”

“how was it? did you do it with anyone else?”

“one question at a time, geez!” bakugo barked. “it was fine, i did it with deku and icyhot.”

“deku and shoto? but i thought you hate deku.”

“i do.” bakugo grumbled. “but there’s no way in hell i’d let him prevent me from interning with the strongest hero i could.”

“well, i’m sure shoto enjoyed it. i bet it was fun doing the internship with his dad.” you smile.

“he didn’t. he hates his old man.” he replied nonchalantly as he sipped at his coffee.

“he does?” you blink. “why?” bakugo shrugged.

“i don’t fuckin’ know. s’not my business anyway.”

“oh.” you fell quiet before deciding to change the subject. “how’s hiro today?”

“‘s’fine.” bakugo raised his eyebrows at your expression as you stared at him, clearly implying that you want him to elaborate. “…he did a patrol today. beat a villain.” you smile. that’s what you were hoping to hear.

“tell me about it.” bakugo only shrugged.

“nothin’ to tell. he encountered a villain, did his thing and beat ‘im.”

“what’s ‘his thing’?” you ask curiously.

“he’s got a pattern to his fights.” bakugo took a big gulp of his coffee. “he dodges for a bit. he uses the time to let people evacuate in case he wrecks something while fighting and to track down the villain’s weakness. then he exploits it. that’s it.”

“that’s incredible.”

“duh. there’s a reason he works f’r’me.” bakugo rolled his eyes.

“you’ve got high standards, then.” you smile.

“no shit.” bakugo snorted.

“do the high standards apply to your love life, too?” you joke.

“you wish.” he scoffed.

“do you even have a love life?” you squint teasingly.

“obviously!” snapped bakugo. you hold up your hands in surrender. bakugo checked his watch. “i gotta run.” he set his finished coffee down and stood up, rolling his shoulders as he stretched, showing off the aforementioned god-like physique. he began to leave.

“hey, wait, bakugo!” you call. he turned, and you grin. “you got a special someone?”

“you wish.” bakugo smirked and left. you froze. that smirk was different than all the other ones. it was more cocky. it was more toothy.

it was hot, and it was official: you like bakugo.

“do you even have a love life?”

(feel free to comment + leave ur thoughts :)

(he lied he does not have a love life)

@k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity @stevenknightmarc @failingstudents-blog @jazzafaye5294

[giddlygoat]

bro, your hyperfixation thoughts. hand em over

dave and buck are so special to me and here’s why.

in my now quite elaborate and maybe far removed perception of ttcc that is a melting pot of headcanons, i see dave and buck in a very specific light.

they are both here to waste company time. no way either of them are in agreement with the toon war. the way i think of it goes as follows: buck’s fight, for example, is undeniably just that, a fight. he is trying to beat you. he can’t exactly stand between toons and goons and go “hey fellath why don’t we talk it out?” lol. the fight is inevitable, because if he doesn’t do his job he’d get demoted or fired, which would take away any shred of power he had to begin with and render him effectively useless in doing anything about the war.

so what does he do instead? well, i can’t name another boss who has a chance of dropping items on their own team, much less raining jellybeans on the enemy. maybe that’s because my overall knowledge of ttcc is embarrassingly sparse, but i feel the need to point that out.

buck doesn't take anything seriously. he goofs around, turns the battle into a joke. i can’t tell you how much i laughed in my first fight with him, and that’s before i formed any solid ideas about him. he stands out to me because of that. i think he wants to give toons something to smile about, if they’ve gotta fight. if you can’t join ‘em, be a good sport, right?

and dave. oh man, dave! his beginning cutscene is LITERALLY a bunch of goons offering to punch your daylights out in order to get the fight over with, and what does he do? nah, he offers you onstage, gives you a fair fight. makes it into a show. dave isn’t taking this seriously either. he’s a tough hard hitter, but he didn’t instantly wipe you out for a reason. hell, he even fakes his death in the middle of the battle just for shits and giggles. he’s trying to dazzle, to give everyone a good story.

shall i recount the ending cutscene when you beat dave? it actually blows my mind again every time i see it. he offers congratulations in his defeat, respects a good brawl. he even gives you the rose in what may be the single hottest display of robot whimsy on this planet.

buck and dave both know how uncertain times are. they both understand the role they play in this war, and although they’re just cogs in the machine, they know how to feign some rustiness for the toon’s sake.

now as if all that weren’t enough, what can i possibly say about high roller that i haven’t already said a million times. high roller’s high roller, the game show that clowns on itself, the host that dishes out dizzying fun at the drop of a hat! like, is hr trying to get fired??

nothing about the show says ‘cog etiquette’. the whole event screams rebellion, like some sort of impossible, law-defying piano man. what do toons even stand to accomplish by showing up other than having a good time? the theatre is literally full of all kinds of managers and they do nothing. it was never about defeating anyone, it’s about finding a bit of joy in the worst of times. sure, hr loves to win, but she doesn’t particularly like to see others lose.

once you defeat hr, just like that, show’s over. the audience comprised entirely of enemies stays seated, and the toons skedaddle. i don’t know how one could possibly spin this into something truly competitive.

it fascinates me endlessly and i always have more to say about it but i have other things to do today so i have to tear away from the keyboard lawl.

thanks a million times for letting me ramble anon, it means a lot!

[st-asya]

Okay, so my passion is whatever my current hyperfixation is and commenting something everyone has already commented. Here we go.

•••

Pilot

1. Things did not go as planned...

Love the way the colour of the font switches to red instead of staying some basic white as the rest of the text, cause my life always does the same, metaphorically speaking, when shit happens (well if somebody typed everything that happens in my life). It's like honey, red means passion and your passion (one more) is turning every single thing in your life to shit when you wanna change something really bad, so imma change the colour for you not to forget that you're gonna fuck something up. Right off the bat, symbolic. Red is my fav colour btw, wonder why (it's, as fall out boy said, a sign (×5) indeed).

2. Pirate bard (?) sounds pretty nice (and beautiful), I already like Frenchie.

3. The "what we're about do will be perilous" speech.

(Why did I instantly think about Lord Farquaad, what's wrong with me?)

And oh my God, the whole bit where Stede talks to the crew is borderline ptsd-loaded flashback, cause I used to work as a teacher so I had to talk to the kids ofc and say something to a class full of students who looked at me the exact same way.

4. Wee John's raised hand and saying that they gotta talk about whatever they're gonna take part in and Stede's enthusiastic yes, damn that hit too close to home. These kinda students are a blessing, btw

5. "We talk it through as a..." and the reluctant ass "crewwwww", my ptsd horrors persist, but so do I. That's the exact same experience I had at work, there's no difference.

6. "Keep it straight if you can" (they couldn't, in fact, keep it straight). Love the way there's a place for choice, cause it's not an order, it's a pretty mild (gentlemanly, see what I did there, huh?) request. Love the way it's not strictly needed (and completely forgotten as the story goes on).

7. Lucius's face expressions throughout the ep are my normal face expressions, wonder why people don't usually think I'm friendly and always ready to chat actually (that's prolly cause they can't read my mind, that's on them duh).

8. "I'll be your robber here today", we all fell for him right this instant, didn't we?

It reminds me of the time I worked as a shop assistant (my career choices are a mess, I know), cause essentially that's who I was, I just had to word it slightly differently so customers would give us their money willingly.

9. The leg crossing and uncrossing is just... Yeah. Idk how to elaborate, I just get it. Completely in character for the character, let's put it that way.

10. The arts and crafts bit is the school experience all over again, I cannot shake this feeling. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed being a teacher a great deal (that's exactly why I don't work as a teacher anymore, yeah).

11. Going from making dresses to being a pirate sounds precisely like my careers changing plans, really.

12. "Do you think Blackbeard's crew sews?" Holy shit, I'd love to see Izzy sew.

13. The mini speech about cats, why is Frenchie so adorable omg

14. Not killing your captain for the sake of hearing the story in full sounds like a solid idea, ngl

15. The complete collective aversion to Lucius's wooden boy voice pls. Turns out Stede stays alive only cuz the crew doesn't want to hear Lucius read, that's loyalty right there.

16. "I've made a mistake, I'm not a pirate, I'm an idiot". Well, omitting the pirate part, it's as relatable as it can possibly get. Ouch

17. Eye. No thoughts, just eye.

18. Stede hiding from the navy is me hiding from my problems, we've got the exact same style of solving them.

19. "It's always the quiet ones", cause usually it's the quiet ones who have to put up with all the shit there can possibly be and they're usually accused of being soft at the same time, I mean you cannot blame Stede for snapping, that's what Badminton deserved (I sound way too bloodthirsty, don't I...)

20. Oul's "might as well enjoy it while it lasts" speaks to me on more levels than I'd like to admit. I love Olu's levelheadedness (is this even a word)

21. I love the way all the flags are up there, it's important for everyone to be included, love this detail so much.

•••

So that's basically just a retelling of the plot with bits of my tho(ugh)ts, tried not to digress too much and not to make it way too personal (initially there were 31 points😅). I'm just genuinely curious to know what the dynamic of my perception of the series will look like at the end, so dear diary, 🎶be prepaaaaaaaared🎶

[xariarte]

mini jalen x josh ficlet (things you said while we were driving)

“It's okay, I'll take care of it,” Josh said, one lazy hand on the top of the steering wheel while the other rested at the bottom. “You don’t gotta worry about it.”

On the contrary, Jalen felt like he should worry about it, considering Josh’s shit track record with making lunch and dinner reservations. He trusted Josh completely, knew that Josh would pay for the entire meal without a second thought, but his reservations always seemed to go wrong one way or the other. 

“Nah, man, remember what happened last time?” Jalen asked, his mind conjuring up a crystal clear memory of the last reservation that Josh had placed. “You remember.”

“Listen, it ain't my fault that the woman who placed the reservation was brand new! How was I supposed to know that she would get it wrong?”

He twisted his mouth, ignoring the way Josh's hand lifted off the steering wheel. He knew Josh was glancing over at him, his face scrunched up in protest, his eyes wide with disbelief that Jalen wasn’t agreeing with him. He knew, because he knew Josh like the back of his own hand.

“Fine, fine,” Jalen said, letting go of that one, because it had been out of Josh's control, and Josh had settled it in the end. “But what about that time Mikal visited and you placed a reservation for all three of us?”

Josh snorted, trying to keep it together. 

This time Jalen looked at him, shooting him a glare. It hadn't been a laughing matter...at the time. Mikal had shown up early, with Josh and Jalen showing up together five minutes later…only to realize that Josh had gotten the locations all mixed up. The actual reservation had been across NYC, in an entirely different location. Mikal had been so flabbergasted that he’d simply stared at Josh, unable to understand how that had happened, while Jalen had given him a piece of his mind. Josh had tried his best to fix the situation, to transfer the bookings, but the restaurant had refused to budge.

“Man, I said I was sorry,” Josh protested, turning his head towards the window, away from Jalen’s glare, just to let out a wheeze of laughter. “You and Mikal never gonna let go of that one. It was an accident!”

Jalen knew that Donte was never gonna let it go either. He hadn’t come, but Jalen had told him later on what the hell had happened. He’d giggled on the other end of the phone until he hadn’t been able to breathe, never mind talk, and Jalen had to tell him to quit giggling so that he could continue the story. Josh had been furious at him telling Donte all about it, but there had been no way that he would have kept it a secret from him. 

Donte had threatened to tell the whole team if Josh hadn’t quit being furious with them, but he’d still steamed over it for a whole twenty four hours, snapping at the both of them before fully recovering the next day. Mikal had stayed completely out of the entire thing, but Jalen knew he'd told Cam. Those two were twins, thick as thieves, and there was no way that Mikal had kept the events of that adventure from him. 

“We had to cancel and eat at some random ass restaurant instead,” Jalen argued, sticking out a hand in protest. “You hadn't even checked when I'd told you to!”

Josh only wheezed some more, then glanced at him with a big, annoying grin. He glared back at him, knowing that it would only make Josh grin harder. His grin widened, and Jalen pressed his lips together, keeping himself from giving him another piece of his mind.

“I learned my lesson, didn't I? So it's all good. What you want me to do about it?” 

Jalen bit his lip and shook his head. Why he kept dealing with Josh's shenanigans, he didn't know—well, he did know. But he wasn't gonna elaborate on it anytime soon. If he dared to speak them out loud, he might die of embarrassment and mortification, and then Josh would make fun of him for the rest of time about it.

And that could never happen, not while he was still alive.

“Okay, but what about that time when-”

“Man, what kind of conversation is this? I told you. If anything goes wrong, I'm gonna take care of it. You don't have to do anything.”

Jalen could think of a few times when he’d actually had to step in and do something about it. In fact, he could think of at least three different times when he’d had to take over for Josh.

“Actually—” he began, but Josh cut him off.

“Come on! You were the one who wanted to hang out with me. I could have stayed at home.”

“You could have said no, then. Why’d you make reservations then?”

Josh didn’t bother to answer. 

Jalen rolled his eyes, knowing the truth. 

Josh’s complaints about them hanging out too often - whatever that meant - always meant nothing in the end - it was his actions that told Jalen what was up, what he was really feeling. And Josh never really said no to him. He always picked up the phone when he called, always had time for him. 

Jalen appreciated that.

Even if he would never say it out loud to him.

“You excited for seafood?” Josh asked, changing the subject. “Google kept recommending it to me on the Vision Pro.”

“You still using the Vision Pro?”

“Of course I am!”

Jalen rubbed his temples as Josh launched into another spiel, then glanced at the GPS through his fingers. Man, they still had another ten minutes of traffic to get through! Jalen let out a long sigh, then resigned himself to Josh’s explanations about the Vision Pro. 

But he didn’t really mind. He never really did.

[sephirthoughts]

2 and 5 for the ask meme please

yayyy inbox games!!! dee is getting so tagged in one of these

2. an excerpt of my writing that makes me laugh

i happen to think i am very funny, but only a few things i've written have made me actually laugh aloud. among them are pretty much every interaction between tom and fred in the fic i wrote in my friend's universe. actually the whole fic is pretty good even if you don't know the original universe. 😂 the scene i excerpted is basically a normal office situation but these two idiots are trying to keep their co-worker from leaving work early

Today, the two materialized in front of his desk, yet again. This time to ask for his draft picks for the office fantasy foosball league. They even came armed with an elaborate, full-color bracket, drawn on a huge piece of white paper, pinned to a corkboard. All the available players were represented by sticky-notes with their names on them. “I’ve never heard of the office having a fantasy foosball league,” he said doubtfully. “Actually, I never heard of there being a pro-foosball team.” “Well, it’s definitely real and not something we made up,” Fred assured him. “Look at the big board!” Felix was looking at it. He couldn’t not look at it. It was currently blocking his path to the exit. But…they’d clearly worked very hard on it, so he may as well humor them. He’d just pick some players at random and then get out of here. “Ok, I guess I’ll take Peter Venkman and…Egon Spengler?” Felix gave them a look. “Are you guys serious?” “It’s a coincidence,” Fred said deadpan. “Yeah, lot of people named Peter and Egon in the world, don’t think about it.” Tom urged. “We gotta give everyone in the office a chance to play, so make it snappy.” “This one says Marty McFly.” “Ooh, fantasy…foosball?” Marjorie said, pausing as she passed by. “Is that a real thing?” “Beat it, Marjorie! This doesn’t concern you!” Tom said, trying to block the board, by standing in front of it with his arms spread. Marjorie planted her hands on her hips and stood her ground. “I just heard you say you were giving everyone in the office a chance to play! Are you excluding me because I’m a woman?” “No, it’s because you’re an accounting nerd, nerd!” Fred fired back. “No nerds allowed!” “What about Felix?” she retorted. “He’s a programmer. He’s like, a thousand times nerdier than me! Look at him, he’s probably still a virgin!” “Aw…come on,” Felix said, to which no one paid any attention.

5. an excerpt of my writing with a description i'm proud of

oh man this is harder. i don't think my descriptions are my strong suit. i'm proud of this one, though! i think it's pretty good! it's from a fic i wrote for Death Stranding and i just now realized is four years old

Towers of ice rose like jagged teeth from the black ocean, where they creaked and cracked with each swell and lull of its surface. The waves broke and dispersed into foam across the slate-colored sand, drawing back to rise and fall and break again, performing the steps of their endless dance with the serene forbearance of infinity. At the shoreline, an old man stood, gazing out over the timeless sea. Though years had stripped the mane from his hoary head, gnarled his hands and mottled his skin, he stood unbowed, his thin, bony shoulders thrown back and his bald head held high. For he had lived a life upon which he could indeed look back with well-earned pride. He had lived honestly and simply. Kept his own by the labor of his hands, and shared generously with others from what bounty nature bestowed. He had given much and taken little, loved and lost and suffered the slings and arrows of fortune without bitterness of heart. Though he had done no great deed of heroism, nor fought valiantly in any war, he would take his place among his fathers unashamed.

[sillydumbdoll]

Wouldn't you make such a fun Alex, in a skin-tight catsuit with built in heels? I'm sure a few accessories could be hidden under the suit to make the cosplay more exciting for you too.

How do you feel about cold, clinical captivity? Picture a scientist obsessed with turning girls into dolls, treating you as a test subject, taking down precise notes as they subject you to every torment and test they can think of?

How do you feel about an owner altering your body? Changing the size and shape of your breasts, or shortening your calf muscles so you can only stand up on your toes.

Since you're so clearly desperate to be humiliated with this question, I'll indulge you. What was that about the pee fantasy you mentioned? I want you to elaborate in excruciating detail.

1. YES 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 Now I will admit, this is a scenario I think of when I’m in a rare mood because I’d rather my kidnapper be obsessed with me, but the idea of them wanting me to just be a doll, my only purpose to be experimented on and turned into an object is still hot…

2. I like this idea sometimes but other times it freaks me out! With bimbofication, I sometimes think about my body being altered to be more like a Barbie doll body, like the things you mentioned, but other times the thought is scary!!

3. Oh no…. So this one is actually so common for me to think about which is actually embarrassing but clearly I can’t resist telling everyone everything about me so here we go…

I’m in a very pretty dress and innocent sweet pair of lacy panties kinda like the outfit a certain anon got me off my Amazon wishlist 🤭 and sometimes in the fantasy, I’m in front of a group of people, but sometimes instead I’m being recorded on a livestream. I’m tied up, and I’ve been tied all day, I’m obedient and I’m being told by my owner to drink water so they hold the bottle up to my lips and I drink, they say more so I drink the whole thing. Some time passes, I’m still tied but I look a little uncomfortable. Before I get to ask anything, I’m gagged, and as more time passes I’m struggling and begging to be let out and being teased by my owner (if in a group, my owner and the others in the group) about how they can’t understand what I’m trying to say. I try to hold it but I can’t, and after a while of begging and crying and struggling to no avail, I finally begin to pee all over my pretty panties and dress while being made fun of my owner and the group/or chat about how I made a mess all over my pretty outfit, how dirty and bad I am for making such a mess and not asking to go, even though I couldn’t. ……

uhhhhhhh brb I gotta go do something 😋

[rubra-wav]

Your headcanons about Vox were amazing! Ironically the part about where you explain how the relationship would be toxic was what caught my eye the most. I was wondering if you would elaborate on how Vox would be with a s/o who's basically a yes man, like they just want Vox to be proud of them in every way and not tarnish their reputation and stuff. Like legit, never complains and bottles up stuff for his sake, at the same time they wanna make him feel powerful and in control cuz that's how he wants to feel. BUT his s/o actually tries and prones him into not keeping a façade near them, kind of a thing "Use me however you want, I will be silent, obey and not judge you" kinda thing. I'm really curious about how that dynamic would be :3

Absolutely, I can 🙏

TW for abuse

With a submissive, yes-man partner in general: Vox would treat you as a doormat. I do not doubt that for a second. He'd use your willingness to let things slide and not call him out to just violate your boundaries, trust, etc. Even worse over time.

You've gotta threaten this man with some sort of consequences, or he's going to take advantage of and use you in every single way.

He knows how to read people to get what he wants from them, so when you just keep giving him what he wants again and again and again, he's gonna be so used to the dopamine hits he gets from you praising him and being able to exercise complete control and bad behaviour over you that he will just take it further and further because he knows you won't do anything.

And, when he sees that you are trying to make him proud of you and be good for you? He's going to absolutely use that against you to just control you farther. Would manipulate you to do what he wants using your desire for praise.

He'd use you and abuse you until you break down and inevitably snap at him - and considering through your whole relationship you haven't treated his behaviours with any sort of criticism at all and have just been feeding his ego without any directly negative response to him the whole time?

He's gonna be an absolute asshole about it.

He's insecure and extremely reactive to criticism (perceived or actual) at the best of times from a partner who calls his shit out, but you exploding after ages of letting things slide and forgiving his behaviour and building his constant need for positive attention and reinforcement the whole time? It's gonna be such a 180 that he's gonna be absolutely furious about it.

With a combination of being a yes-man and affirming him though provided he does open up to you? I'd say it might actually turn out even worse ngl.

I'm a strong believer that Vox needs love to get better, but also its gotta be tough love with hard consequences for bad behaviour, or he just will not change at all.

He would confide in you, use your willingness and encouragement of a complete lack of judgement. But also he'd use that.

You letting him unfurl all his God awful behaviours and insecurity with no judgement like at all, he's just gonna openly express said shit behaviour and not attempt to remedy it at all.

You show him that he can be absolutely vile and you won't go 'uhhh, actually that's not okay' at all, (or at least not firmly say that) and he'll see the opportunity of a lifetime to very overtly be awful.

He needs a loving partner who will not judge his real self and real concerns (to a degree) and take care of him, treat him properly.

But

He also needs someone who will not take his shit and someone to hold consequences over him when he's behaving terribly, so he actually does change and mend those abusive/toxic behaviours he's got going on.

Because he will most likely become and stay abusive towards you if otherwise, covertly or overtly.