#feed pickles to creature

[unlocktheaskblog]

hereeees part two!

it’s a bit shorter but i wanted to post it while the stuff in it was still relevant

@ask-shutter-ghost @askdaisydandfriemly @askbananapie @ex-king-sombra @trixielawyer @ask-melissa-and-the-band @askhugsworthy @feed-pickles-to-creature @unlocktheaskblog @crypkit @askalbinopie @the-endless-archive @ask-narratordoe @asklittlecheese @asklostcelestia @rainbowdashsmailbagthings @asktwiligheclipse @ask-summer-epos

#mlp #my little pony #unlock the ask blog #oc ask blog #vine comp #mlp ask blog #mlp vine comp #mlp ask blog vine comp #ask blog #shutter ghost #daisyandfriemly #bananapie #ex king sombra #trixie lawyer #ask melissa and the band #hugsworthy #feed pickles to creature #crypk #ask albino pie #albino pie #endless archive #narrator doe #ask little cheese #ask lost celestia #rainbow dash mailbag things #twilight eclipse #summer epos

[askmidnightspell]

Shed of pickleish wiggling

#Midnight Spell #Creature #Feed-Pickles-To-Creature #Shed of pickleish wiggling #Pickles #Ask 45 #*Wiggles in the tags*

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023| DAY 1 | Roommates

Christmas Sweaters In June | @envydean Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,500 Main Tags/Warnings: Laundromats, Ugly Christmas Sweaters, First Kiss, Secretly in love with each other, Mutual Pining Summary: “Love,” Cas says suddenly in his ear. It makes Dean’s heart jump and his lungs constrict. “Wha-what?” Dean stutters, head turning to Cas whose eyes are still fixated on the screen. “L-O-V-E. Love, it’s the one you’re missing from this round.” Dean looks back down at his screen and sees Cas’ finger linking the letters together. “Oh,” Dean breathes.

Take a Chance on Me | @nickelkeep

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,186 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, They were roommates!, Idiots in Love. Summary: After what could possibly be the worst date that Cas has ever had, his best friend Dean is there to help make things right. And how Dean makes things rights? It's the last thing Cas ever dreamed of.

You Are Safe Here, You Know | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,739 Main Tags/Warnings: Normal Human AU, Human Cas, Teacher Dean, Getting Together, Mental health issues, homelessness (past), minor injuries (past) Summary: In which Castiel has a bad day at the Gas N' Sip and his roommate, Dean, cheers him up

light my candle | @demonmary

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,798 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Teasing, Jealous Dean, Friends to Lovers, Dirty Talk, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Getting Together Summary: Dean held out his hand, the perfectly dripped circle of dried wax laying in his palm. “You into candle wax, buddy? Never thought you’d be that type in the bedroom.” He remarked casually, fighting against the onslaught of images this new information provided the part of his brain that housed his Forbidden Cas Fantasies. Cas finally looked up into Dean’s gaze, and Dean was surprised to see the challenge presented behind those stupidly beautiful blue eyes. “Well then, Dean, could you tell me exactly what type you did take me for while you were contemplating my preferences in bed?”

Just Turn Around And Go | @porcupine-girl

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,320 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Brief mentions of other past relationships for both of them, Pining, No actual infidelity happens, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers Summary: Dean should be happy. His best friend and housemate of five years, Castiel, is moving out to live with his boyfriend, Balthazar. Dean's career is going great, so he can easily afford the house on his own now. This is just growing up, moving forward to the next phase of their lives. It would be awesome, if he weren't in love with Cas. Well, here we go, he thinks as he opens the refrigerator and digs around for sandwich supplies. First day of the rest of your life. Time to move the fuck on. As he slams his meat and mayo and pickles down on the counter, he considers adding the bottle of whiskey he knows is hiding in the cabinet, but decides that he has enough self-respect to wait 'til five. Then he'll get fucking blackout drunk. Yep. Awesome.

Cuddlibus | Destielshipper4Cas (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 14,566 Main Tags/Warnings: Creature Castiel, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Bottom Castiel, Top Dean, Alpha Dean, Omega Castiel, Happy Ending Summary: As a cuddlibus—a subspecies of incubi—Cas needs regular cuddles to survive. Dean is more than happy to let his best friend feed off him.

And they were ghostmates | @whichstiel

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 16,071 Main Tags/Warnings: Quarantine, Ghosts, Implied temporary major character death, Alternate universe Summary: Castiel moves into his new house, looking for a fresh start. With cosmically bad timing, as quarantine descends he learns his house is haunted by the ghost of Dean Winchester.

Crush My Heart(Love on Tour Version) | Maetheheller (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17,493 Main Tags/Warnings: John Winchester A++ parenting, top Castiel/bottom dean Winchester, idiots to lovers, bossy Castiel, dean Winchester wears panties, Lisa and dean break up, past Castiel/mick Davies, Cas and dean go to a Harry styles concert Summary: After responding to an ad, Cas Novak finds himself with the perfect roommate. Only, he’s not as perfect as he could be. Dean Winchester is every man’s wet dream— handsome, rugged, a good cook, and an even better person to be around. Only problem is, he has a girlfriend, who doesn’t like Castiel very much. Despite all that, Cas enjoys his company and through their budding friendship, maybe Dean can realize how good Cas can be for him. Through movie nights and bonding over Harry Styles, they’ll have to see what they make of living together.

Lucky Winner | @natmoose

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 31,741 Main Tags/Warnings: Roommate AU, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Rommates to Lovers, Summer Vacation Summary: Dean wins a trip to Paris. In and of itself, that’s an amazing thing, but the problem is: he isn’t in a relationship with Lisa anymore, and the trip requires a romantic partner. The obvious choice is Cas, his roommate and best friend of 3 years, but coming with that are some very very complicated feelings and things Dean absolutely doesn’t want to deal with. But Dean isn’t selfish and also really wants to give his overworked best friend a well deserved holiday, so the only and best solution is to take Cas to Paris, romantic theme be damned. What Dean doesn’t know is that their whole trip will be documented by a photographer from the company - so to avoid their vacation being cut short, Dean and Cas will have to convincingly play a couple.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2023 #destiel #fanfic #omg they were roommates

[toki-is-the-king]

Dumb Dethklok Headcanons:

I had a dream last night that somewhat inspired this, but I also keep thinking about it because a bug attacked me the other day and I screamed like Skwisgaar and fell

What happens when there’s a cockroach in Mordhaus:

Nathan: kills it. No questions asked, no hesitation. Either stomps on it with his giant boots or smashes it with his bare ass hands. Then gets grossed out by the mushy bug particles and pukes blood out of disgust, but not fear.

Murderface: also kills it, but has to let everyone know he’s not afraid, he’s a warrior! Murderface uses one of his old civil war weapons to obliterate the shit outta the roach, accidentally catching the living room on fire or blowing a hole through the wall with his shot gun.

Pickles: Dude isn’t bothered by much. He was a punk in the 80’s, he’s slept on lice infested mattresses behind dumpsters, he’s seen it all. Pickles catches the roach and then releases it outside somewhere. Probably tries to get it high before releasing it, puffing a cloud of smoke on it from his blunt and it dies. Oh well, he tried. Great way to go out, death by marijuana.

Toki: Growing up in the icy mountains of Norway, Toki never saw too many bugs. He loves all creatures, no matter how ‘ugly’ they are. Sometimes Toki’s naïveté gives him no fear, because he doesn’t understand the American cultural norm of fearing certain animals or insects. Toki puts the roach in a jar covered in stickers and makes it his new best friend. He cries when it dies because he forgot to feed it or give it oxygen.

Skwisgaar: My guy. Skwisgaar is the one that for whatever reason, bugs like to attack. Maybe it’s because he’s so tall that they assume he’s a tree. (cicadas often land on people for mistaking them as trees), but he is terrified of them. Skwisgaar’s only reaction when seeing a roach, beetle, spider, etc is jumping on the nearest chair or person and screaming bloody murder until someone removes the threat. After it’s taken care of he goes quiet and pretends he didn’t lose his cool over a bug and gets offended if you laugh.

Charles: Captures the roach for testing. You never know if it’s a secret camera sent by government officials to spy on Dethklok and gain information. To be on the safe side he wipes it’s memory and has the Klokateers transport it somewhere far away from Mordhaus.

*BONUS*

Rockso: eats it or shoots it while having drug induced psychosis.

#these are so stupid #i’ve been laughing for ten minutes #metalocalypse #dethklok #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #william murderface #charles offdensen #dr rockso the rock n roll clown

[t-tomuras]

♔ ─── • 𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x F!reader

Warnings: Zombie AU. guns, death, canon typical violence, depiction of panic attack, vaginal penetration, creampie

Wordcount: 9.3k

Notes: Reupload. Selfship coded

You’re skittish, careful long since becoming an understatement when it comes to your cautiousness. You carried light, always emptied your backpack before supply runs, never took more than you could carry and brought spare cloth to mute the possibility of clinking canned goods within your pack. Stayed near the tree line but never too close to the trunks themselves lest you risk being grabbed or worse, hair always tied closely into a bun even as you keep it choppily cut short. What did looks matter when the world was already in ruin? 

But still, you miss the opportunities to dress in skirts and fishnets, crop tops or even your old baggy hoodies anymore. Black clothing that clung like a second skin was all you ever wore now with the reasoning that less fabric meant less chance for noise and the possibilities of getting snagged. 

At what point did the cautiousness become paranoia, though? When the crunch of dead leaves or snapping twigs no longer seemed like the fauna that flourished despite the undead that craved flesh. The creatures that took back their forests had some reprieve, less likely to be prey to humans now even with the scarcity of packaged foods. There were much less mouths to feed and the mouths that craved only craved people. The hierarchy had changed and now more than ever humanity knew what it felt like to be fresh game. 

Your stomach growls now, too loud for your liking. It didn’t matter how few and far between you ate, how you did everything you could to ration your minuscule resources. Wandering from place to place because you were too afraid to get comfortable expended energy that, much to your dismay, required refueling. You pull at your pockets for anything to subdue the ache but come up short, a crumbled up granola bar that you have been saving for the times you needed something sweet. You squeeze at the wrapper, warring with yourself over something that was once trivial. 

Your fingers grip at the foil, moving to open it when you finally reach the peak of the sloping hill, met with a convenient store that seemed mostly untouched. You were happy you mostly roamed the rural areas in moments like these, finding abandoned stores that were nestled between miles of rolling plains previously designated to livestock. You tuck away your treat, adjusting your bag as you survey your surroundings before breaking into a light jog to the crumbling concrete walls and overgrowth of flora; Mother Earth intent on reclaiming her surface back little by little with the passage of time. 

You make quick work of checking the perimeter, taking another flickering gaze to the surrounding woods before you carefully slip inside the cracked open back door. Knife in hand, pathetic flashlight in the other as you skulked through the dark storeroom, crouched low because that's where you had the advantage. You peek into decaying boxes, looking for anything edible only to have to fight the mounting feeling of disappointment with each trashed or empty contents. 

The door from the storeroom to the main lobby of the building was wide open, something that made your heart race when you were finished with the barren room. You didn’t like open spaces, didn’t like the possible confinement of it with the walls that surrounded you. Your heartbeat felt too loud in your ears, thundering as you continued on to look at shelves that still, thankfully, had some product on it.

Packages of chips that made your mouth water but the crinkle they’d create urged you to reconsider. A last resort if anything. You crawled along the floor, careful not to make a scuffle as you looked at jars of pickled tomatoes, radishes, jalapeños and quail eggs. None of them sounded particularly appetizing aside from the tomatoes but food was food regardless of the taste, pickiness having always been your problem before hell broke loose. 

You have never been happier to be in the country, though, convenient stores in the area always having off the wall contents for sale.

You only take two jars, the eggs and the tomatoes, meticulously shoving them into your bag with the fabrics inside thoughtfully encasing them to keep them from shattering or making noise. 

But as you round the next corner of shelving, it takes everything in you not to let out a sob. Canned goods and packaged ramen still on the shelves that made you believe there was still a god looking out for you. You fight the urge to cry as you scoot your bag once more, quickly shoving as much as you could carry but sure to save some for the next poor soul that could come along. It was irrational, something you certainly shouldn’t do but you will never let go of your consideration for others. 

It makes you smile at the thought of someone else reacting the way you did as you leave a decent share. What you have will sustain you long enough with your current eating habits. 

But your joy comes crashing down around you at the rocking of the shelf above you, quickly toppling over and almost pinning you beneath it had your reflexes not been sharpened. You roll away with your bag in your arms, fumbling to swing it over your back as the shelving crashes and clatters loudly; glass shattering onto the ground around you. 

You weren’t sure what was happening but you look frantically around you, making a grab at your discarded knife when the blade is kicked away and a boot covers your hand painfully. You whirl, looking up at the figure that towers above you when the barrel of a silencer is pointed directly to your forehead. You swallow thickly, splaying your fingers open on the hand not stuck underfoot to signal submission. 

“Give me the bag,” the man husks, muffled with the gas mask he wears with unruly ivory locks sticking from its sides. When you shake your head the man twists his boot enough to make you yelp. 

“I wasn’t asking, give. Me. The bag,” grinding his foot in a way that makes you hiss to punctuate his demand. 

“I left food, there’s plenty to share,” your voice is soft, wavering with your terror. Not because of the gun pointed at you, that’s happened enough that it feels like a common greeting. No, you’re terrified of the noise the man created and if there were any of the undead around to hear it. You didn’t know if the front door would open and the back door would quickly become a fucking bottleneck. You’d be trapped. 

The man apparently doesn’t like that answer, pressing the gun more insistently to your forehead but his finger wasn’t even on the trigger, carefully held to the side like he’d had proper training with firearm safety.

“There’s more than half to take under that shelf I promise, I only took enough to make it to another run.” You’ll have to make a mental note to have a gun holstered at your hip or find one that you could have below your armpit instead of in the bag you carried. If you make it out of this situation alive, that is.

You hardly used it, anyway, usually able to talk your way out of situations like these the handful of times it occurred and avoided the walking corpses well enough that a hatchet and buck knife were plenty. 

You’re sure he’ll reach down to take your bag by force when you’re both interrupted by the gurgling of the living dead behind you, your assailant cursing at the noise. Four hobble in the doorway you’d entered from and two come from around a door behind the counter, bending dumbly at the waist to crawl through between the plexiglass and countertop. 

He removes himself from you to flip up the shelf, boxing in the two from the counter; allowing you to use the time to grab your bag and fumble for your gun. You load the weapon as you break for the front door, slamming into the metal framing the glass with all your weight but even with your momentum it doesn’t budge. Doesn’t even groan to signal you’d done anything at all so you rattle frantically at the frame in the hopes of getting free. 

The man behind you grabs wildly at the ground, stuffing whatever he could into his hoodie pocket before one zombie fumbles over to grab him. It falls to the ground as he dodges, sending his boot with force into its skull to crush it and kicking it away from himself. Another three start to file in from the door and he settles he won’t be getting out that way, whirling to see you throwing your shoulder into the door up front. He rolls his eyes at you, making his way to you and pushing you out of the way, paying no mind to your wild eyes as he replaces you. 

Your head is on a swivel, watching as the man makes some headway in scraping the door along the floor but not enough as the corpses quickly approach. You look around desperately when you finally move to the broad windows, taking out your gun before covering one ear and firing three deafening shots close to one another; kicking at the glass for it to fall away. Moving to step through it when you chance a glance at the man that just tried to rob you, seeing him clutch at his ears when a zombie nears him. 

“Hey!” You yell and it garners his attention, pointing your gun in his direction and his eyes go wide behind the clear plastics of his mask, ducking down when you fire another shot and a body drops behind him. He doesn’t get a chance to fully register what just happened when your hand fists his hoodie at the chest, yanking him along, “c’mon!” 

You climb through the glass first, carefully avoiding the shards and he follows behind you. You both look around, seeing shuffling corpses slowly drawing their attention to the living pair from around the fringes of the building. The man grabs your  wrist and before you can thrash for freedom he’s telling you, ‘this way’ as he practically drags you along before you attempt to match the stride. 

Feet thudding against the ground for who knows how long, until your lungs burn and sweat slicks both of your clothes to your skin. Finally reaching a rolling field, climbing over a barbed wire fence and settling you’ll be safe enough as you finally stop for breath. 

Though your senses are quick to come back to you, remembering this man fully intended to rob you moments ago. You draw your own gun, pointing it at him now and in the clear light you can see his hoodie is filthy, covered in blood you assume isn’t his own with rotting hands gripping at his arms and shoulders. 

“Gonna shoot me now?” It’s almost comical to him, the role reversal even though he didn’t intend to kill you, considering it a waste of bullets. 

“No, but I don’t want to get robbed,” your voice is even, no trembling in your hands as your adrenaline crashes and your body feels like lead. You’re exhausted, just wanting to get something to eat and get a few hours of sleep before resuming hell another day. 

His hands go up, palms out and you watch warily as he reaches for his mask to remove it. Pushing it up, he shows peculiar crimson eyes, one that bears a scar that matches the one decorating his lip. Ruggedly handsome, if you said so yourself, but you won’t discount the fact he both tried to crush you, stomped on your hand and held you at gunpoint. 

“Tomura,” he offers without prompt, swiping the back of his hand over the dampened locks sticking to his forehead. “Yours?” 

Your head tilts, wondering his angle, obvious with how you squint but you give him your name nonetheless. 

“How about this, then,” Tomura starts, chuckling almost breathlessly as he smirks, “I’ve got a silencer to trade if you’ve got some food to share.” 

And for some reason, with the shift in the interaction and the expression on his face paired with his tone, it makes you laugh. A tinkling sound that makes his heart hasten in pace the slightest bit as you lower your weapon, tucking it into your boot. 

“I’ll take a holster as a thank you for not letting you get bitten too.” 

It’s strange how seamlessly you coincide after such an unsavory first interaction. You’re more than aware just how foolish it was to break bread with a man who had no qualms about possibly killing you or even leaving you pinned just to steal a few morsels. You argue, mostly with yourself anyway so it wasn’t like it really mattered, that both of you saving one another’s life in the midst of the crisis outweighed the initial meeting. 

Plus, in a world once so polluted with noise gone deathly silent, having another person to talk to was reason enough to overlook almost anything. 

And your new life isn’t so bad, you both discover, when it’s actually shared with another person. Just two seemed like enough, splitting your hauls the times you went out separately, which steadily become seldom the longer you’re together. You and Tomura compliment each other well, your hyper vigilant caution only marginally outmatching his own. With how easily you seemed to work together one never would’ve guessed you’d met with weapons drawn and his intention of robbing you blind. 

You help pick the runs, reset all the traps around the shared bases and could get into smaller spaces and creep quieter than Tomura though he never let you risk too much before long. 

You start to keep each other in check as well, optimizing one another's survival. Tomura teaches you the value in keeping a maximum of three bases with divided supplies not too close together until the surrounding area is tapped of resources and you help him with medical care and rationing. It gives more stability too, makes you feel like you’re living, not just surviving. 

Conversation was few and far between before you both came together, it feels better to fill the deafening silence to remind one another that the world still turns on its axis. Continues to orbit the sun, reminding you that even though everything seemed frozen in time, like it stood still, the earth certainly didn’t. Your time still ticked on, however long you had left.

So you learn about one another as time passes, might as well, right? Dress it up however you want, whether it be to further breed trust or to seek companionship, whatever feels easier, less awkward. To feel less like strangers even though you’d been traveling together for three months now, at the very least. It’s been so long you feel like you forget what topics people once discussed, opting simply to just talk about whatever came to mind at the time. 

The first thing you think to tell him is that you were raised in the countryside, mentioning it only after suggesting pickling certain rations. Tomura had inferred that anyway, it made the most sense with how well you knew the land or how excited you became upon finding wild onions or tomatoes. Quick to pick and tell him they’re perfect for planting as you teach him the proper conditions for the plants to thrive, though you learn quickly his thumbs are far from green. 

Tomura offers you some insight on himself in turn, telling you that he’d moved to the states from Japan when he was a young boy because of his fathers work. He talks very little about him besides that his name was Kotaro but he mentions having an older sister, Hana, who’d been working as a nursing student and how his mother, Nao, was a kind woman. 

You probably shouldn’t, but you assume that’s who the rotting hands he wore for protection, to mask himself a bit amongst the dead, belonged to. Inherently feminine in structure despite the decay, obviously once delicate appendages now gnarled claws he keeps in trash bags when you both aren’t scouring the land for resources to keep the stench at bay. They’ll be skeletal before long but you think better of mentioning it, you know he’s probably aware of it too and you’re wholly unsure of how attached to them he may be. 

Tomura speaks only of fond memories of the both of them before there’s a slight shift in his demeanor, the slight upwards curl to the corners of his lips falling away as he clears his throat before he snubs the flame of your oil lamp with the excuse that it’s getting late. 

You don’t protest, not that you would, ever eager to rest. That’s another reason you’re glad for Tomura’s companionship, now always able to sleep more with him around. Especially with no longer having to sleep in shifts after the base fortifications he made. You needed a lot more sleep than you wanted to let on, something Tomura stopped questioning after a few too many dodged answers, drained and dragging by the end of most days. Thankfully, Tomura didn’t consider it a burden since he liked to stay awake late into the night. Not sleeping much meant he dreamed even less, reducing the chances of his brain tormenting him with images he’d rather forget; but, still, you couldn’t stifle the guilt you felt thinking of him just staring at the ceiling in silence. 

“I want to go on a quick supply run,” Tomura wakes to the sound of your voice, unsure of when he’d even nodded off. Still groggy as he sits up to watch you lace up the ratty combat boots you’ll certainly need to replace before long. 

Another day just like all the others, waking without knowing how long he’d been asleep but usually to the sound of your voice now. Tomura finds he doesn’t hate it, even if he was still tired no matter how long you’d let him sleep in. 

The sun is yawning overhead, forcing Tomura to cup his palm to shield his eyes as he looks up, using the position of the blazing star to roughly judge what time it was. Surprised it was at least mid morning, close to noon, for him to have slept this long he must’ve dozed off just before the birds chirped in the cool twilight. 

You hit a few houses in an area neither of you had explored yet, the weathered homes scattered between vast farmlands devoid of any livestock with overgrown weeds and wheat. Tomura leaning over towards you every so often to verify the location from the ‘x’s’ marked innocuously in fading red ink by a marker at the end of its life. Most of the houses so far were a bust, stripped of most essentials from people fleeing with the thought of there actually being somewhere to go. 

“This is a bust, let’s head back, not walking back in the dark,” he stretches, tilting back to look at the sun’s position once more, estimating it to be around at least five pm. 

“One more, promise I’ll be quick,” pleading with him, earning a questioning quirk to his brow before a relenting sigh. Tomura ignores your grin, adjusting his pack on his back that only houses a few miscellaneous goods. Discarded matches, an almost empty bottle of isopropyl and hello Kitty bandaids you had to convince him to keep. 

Anything is better than nothing. Felt like an easy con to him, sure he’ll be the first forced to wear one for you to get enjoyment out of. 

A barely there, ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips from the mental image before it falls away with realization. He’s gotten comfortable, something he never expected and knows from experience could lead to tragedy. It makes Tomura pause without halting his stride, calm crimson eyeing you as you pull ahead as a raggedy home comes into view. 

Tomura has to push down any unsavory memory revolving around the tragedy of carelessness wrought that attempts to resurface. Raking his nails slowly over his throat and when you turn to ask him what’s wrong as you step into the creaky porch he curses the mosquitos as an excuse, taking longer strides to catch up to you. 

He goes about the usual routine, peeking into the windows with you first. Meandering carefully along the wrap around porch, shimmying each window to see what would open before you make a sound the mixture between a whistle and a hiss, signaling to him to come to you. 

“First floor looks clear, hold up,” Tomura makes his way back to the front door, reaching at his thigh for the sheathed knife he keeps for a quick draw. Tapping the steel loudly against the glass and the doorknob to make enough noise before listening for any potential shuffling of lumbering feet. Essentially holding his breath for a solid minute before he nods to himself, coming back around to lift the windowpane enough for you to shimmy through. “Make it fast, at this rate we’ll just barely make it home before dark.” 

You don’t think too heavily on his word choice, nodding as you step through and out of Tomura’s sight to rummage. Giving him time to mull over what he’d said and what it means to him. 

Home. 

Reminding, reprimanding himself rather, of the dangers of feeling security in the current hellscape. Inhaling as he counts slowly to urge away the gnawing sensation beneath Tomura’s skin that begs to be cleaved free in the form of warm crimson with the jagged cut of his nails. 

Focusing on standing guard, diligently watching the treeline and circling the perimeter of the house as you ransack the abandoned home in the rurals you insisted on sticking to. Time creeps on and he starts to grow impatient by the tenth pass around the porch, stopping at the window you left open with a snarl to his lip. You shared a rule, thought up after the first month of traveling together; no looting longer than thirty minutes in one place. 

And you’d gone well past that, making Tomura click his tongue as his foot taps against the ground impatiently. He debates silently if he should go inside, make sure that you’re alright even though he hasn't heard any struggle or a scream. He’s pacing before he realizes it, brows furrowed as Tomura decides to come get you himself when you appear again. Coming to crawl through the open window with a big grin on your face. 

“Hope you found something good with as long as you took, gettin eaten alive out here,” an ironic choice of words all things considered but you only giggle. 

“I did,” you chirp, already rummaging through your now loaded down bag, pulling out the real prize of this venture before Tomura could peek, hoping to give him something to do on the nights sleep eludes him. “You like this book right? Ruination?”

Tomura takes the old book from you wordlessly, well worn and had certainly seen better days but you’d remembered the time he’d mentioned liking a game called League of Legends. Stunned so thoroughly that you’d remembered something so innocuous, let alone kept your eye out for it in a random run in consideration of him, that he can only blankly stare at you. 

Your face falls after the beat of silence, suddenly sheepish as you tentatively reach for the book, misconstruing his shock as disapproval. “You don’t like it? I can leave it, I just thought—“

Tomura cuts you off, reflexively jerking the book in hand out from within your grasp as he pulls you to him by the waist with the other. You make a small noise of surprise that he’s quick to smother, lips ghosting over yours almost timidly. Only growing in fervor when you melt against his chest, Tomura’s hands cupping your face as he presses you into him. Tilting his head with an exhaled sigh that fans against your cheeks, deepening the kiss; unhurried in nature despite Tomura’s earlier insistence of returning to base. 

But that can wait now, the sound of your pretty sigh igniting a fire in his veins the only you could quell. He pulls away after a moment, leaving you chasing his lips with fluttering lashes before you’re ushered to crawl back through the window; shutting it quickly before Tomura is on you again. Your bag falling away as he pushes at your clothes and his own. Holding your face with each kiss as if you’d pull too far away from him if he didn’t. 

Corralling you through unfamiliar surroundings with his fingers cradling your jaw while the other unbuttons your pants to shove beneath your layers of fabric to roll two lightly calloused digits over your clit. Relishing in how your lips fall agape and a shudder wracks your form at the feel, sliding his fingers through the gathering slit to prime you enough to take him. Teasing at your entrance when the backs of your knees hit the arm of the ratty sofa, tumbling back with a giggle as Tomura keeps his balance.

His fingers hook into your belt loops, tugging the thick denim and delicate lace of your underwear down thick thighs in one easy motion. Resting his hands on your knees when you instinctually bring them together, “you okay?” 

You nod slowly, heat rising to your cheeks as you spread your legs for him to slot between. Tomura’s own nimble digits working at his zipper and pushing away his bottoms before kicking them off his ankles, grasping his shaft while he hovers over you. Pumping languidly as your thighs frame his hips, reaching for his shoulders to pull him towards you for another kiss. Swiping your tongue over his bottom lip, against the seam of them before he opens his mouth to you. Humming at your taste and swallowing the slight keen he’s rewarded with when Tomura runs his flushed tip through your folds, gathering slick before his cock catches on your entrance. 

His hand comes to settle on the other side of your head after pulling away, leaning up as he pushes his hips into yours. Watching how your lips part and your back arches as you take each inch of him until the wiry hairs of his pelvis run against your puffy nub. 

You wrap your arms around Tomura to bring him closer as he sets his pace, rolling his hips into yours, filling the otherwise quiet room with pleased sighs and the wet slap of skin. Pushing your fingers into his shoulder blades and locking your ankles at the small of his back, heels digging into the base of his spine to aid in the force of his thrusts. 

Tomura pants after each thrust with time, sheen of sweat gathering on you both from the effort and closeness. He cants his hips, worsening the awkward angle he was already bent in with the position on the couch but your face contorts in ecstasy from the change. The absolute pleasure you feel as he prods at that patch inside you that makes your thighs tremble around him, cunt fluttering and gripping his length sinfully. 

He’ll blame it on the lack of physical contact. That his hand could never compare to the feel of your velvet walls; and it can’t, truly, and it’ll never be enough after this, as Tomura groans through his climax. Tumbling into bliss because of your own, painting your perfect cunt in sticky white as his forehead comes to rest on yours. Tacky with sweat and humid breath fanning your face again as he rolls his hips slowly to prolong the highs. The necklace Tomura usually has tucked beneath his shirt falling away to dangle in your face, swaying with his motions; the sun's dying rays as it dips below the horizon catching the metal and making it the twin bands on the old chain glint beautifully. 

A quiet falls over the room after he pulls out of you, forgoing getting dressed again as he wedges himself between you and the couch cushions. Fishing and forcing the fabric draped over the furniture so at least something can retain the collective body heat through the night. 

You open your mouth to speak once he settles, turning slightly to allow some comfort when Tomura answers the question you haven’t asked, “not walking back in the dark. We’ll leave at first light.” 

Which you’ll probably wake before then, he knows that the new environment is likely to make you jumpy from whatever strange noise the aged house made as it settled. You’d told him once you could never sleep past dawn, assumedly in perpetual flight mode but in the recent months you feel more rested. Safe, ironically, with a man who initially greeted you with violence. 

Cramped together on the couch was far from uncomfortable, Tomura can see in real time how you steadily succumb to the toll the day takes. Resting your hands on his chest as you turn into him, lids fluttering as you fight the ever losing battle. Chest taking in steady breaths, rising and falling evenly to show you’ve been caught in the undertow of slumber, making Tomura smirk at the sight he’d seen countless nights. 

He nods off in the same fashion as he always does, unexpectedly and (thankfully) dreamlessly. The only differences now were how you’re tucked against his chest and that Tomura didn’t spend several hours staring at the ceiling before sleep takes him. 

The shift in your relationship is well timed with the seasonal change, the days growing shorter as it ushers in cooler days; using the dropping temperature as a flippant excuse to share the same mattress and multiple covers. The one left unused now utilized as a barricade, sealing you in the room together until morning comes. 

Your supply runs become less frequent, gathering a few frivolous items but you mostly focus on rationing what you did have now as Tomura made mild repairs to one of the bases you’ll be staying in. It rained often, worsening the chill that steadily blanketed the environment, but he’d collected enough tarps to keep the roof from leaking through the missing shingles. 

Tomura weather proofs the house to the best of his abilities before autumn bleeds fully into winter, choosing the better insulate the room you’ve both come to share. You’ve collected enough small tea lights and terracotta planting pots for a makeshift heater, setting it up near the low lying mattress as well as storing plenty of freshwater containers within the small closet. 

With the joint effort, you’re both the most prepared for the winter months you’ve ever been before. Dried meats from the few times you’d tried your hands at hunting and a rainwater collection system as a backup plan. 

Once you’ve both ascertained you’ve done all you can to prepare you allow yourselves time to relax. Recuperate and settle into the drastic changes you’ve experienced over the last several months. 

Didn’t put a name to it, didn’t make anything definitive (as if it mattered), but it never stopped him from worrying calloused pads over the set of wedding rings that hung around his throat. 

He’s tugging at them absentmindedly as his eyes scan over the familiar sentences but doesn’t absorb the words on the pages he reads. Tomura looks down at you, using his lap as a pillow for another impromptu nap. Brushing stray, fall away hairs from your face before holding his hand beneath your nostrils to make sure you were still breathing when you rouse. You stretch slightly, something akin to a cat without withdrawing from him, turning your head to see what page he was on. 

“Rereading it again? What about the other books I got you?” Your sleepy tone pulls him from his musings, his hand falling away from the sentimental necklace to rest on your crown. 

“This one’s my favorite, nap okay?”

You only stretch in response, making a cute sound in your throat as Tomura watches you move. Hearing stiff joints pop and muscles crack in ways he’s almost certain aren’t normal but he supposes that comes with the steady incline of aging as well as the ever active lifestyle you have now. Plus sleeping on old second hand mattresses, futons or even the occasional floor with a measly sleeping bag would do that to you. The wear and tear sure to catch up to you both with the rare relaxation the season has enforced. 

You sit away from him, straightening your spine completely with your arms raised above your head in the final procession of your post nap routine. Moving to settle next to Tomura and rest your chin on his shoulder to more easily see the book he holds in his hands, “what’s it about, anyway?”

A gentle warmth radiating beneath your skin as his held tilts with a slight smirk to his lips, the feeling carried through your veins to every cell in your body that doesn’t come from the makeshift heater a few feet away. It comes as you watch him simply be, inhaling like he’s about to recite a dissertation before flipping the delicate pages of his tattered book; Tomura’s fingers come back to thumb over the smooth metal. 

“I love you,” you say it feathersoft, unable to hold it back even if you tried, as Tomura explains the love between Isolde and Viego but the phrase gives him pause. It feels like his ears ring, gaze unfocused and far away. 

He thinks of how he just read the weeks on end that Viego sat at Isolde’s side while the king's wife only declined in state. As she lost all the light in her eyes and her skin grew gray and clammy with sickness, how she sweated through sheets and left food untouched; wasting away before her love slowly. How healers far and wide could only shake their head at Isolde’s state as Viego only grew more desperate and enraged at the thought of the inevitable. 

And then Tomura sees his mother, sees her chest heave with ragged breaths and tears in her eyes as an infected Kotaro mauls her. How Nao’s delicate fingers grip at her monster of a husband to keep him to her as once warm pools of milk chocolate despair at her son's horror, hoping to protect him from the same fate for even a moment longer. Lamenting even as she’s gored over the grizzly scene Tomura was left to return home to, his sister in a heap of blood and viscera with furniture overturned, surely from the struggle.

His mothers last words as she died in his arms after putting his father down a watery but equally hushed as your own admission, “I love you.”

The memory of Nao in his arms, slick with sweat and the color drastically draining from her face shifts to you then. Cradled limp in Tomura’s arms while he tries in vain to stop the bleeding that is the worst of your issues. Tomura thinks he’s sure to empty the minuscule contents of his stomach before he feels dropped back into his own body. Heavy, sick, with you leaning against him. 

The old urge to claw at his skin resurfacing with a vengeance, bony digits twitching in anticipation before Tomura succumbs to the desire. Give himself some relief. 

“Take it back,” his voice a shaky hiss, like if you rescind the sentiment it doesn’t make it real. Like his worries would never come true. “Take back what you said.” 

Tomura doesn’t turn to look at you but your features slowly contort from confusion to hurt, gut twisting painfully at the rejection. 

“What?” Soft, too soft, it doesn’t even feel like your voice. Like the words would shatter from the tension that’s blanketed over you both. 

His scratching worsens, hastens in its severity until he’s left raw and dotted with flecks of blood and irritated skin before he raises his voice at you. Head on a swivel with a wild look in his eye, one you hadn’t seen before, “take it back! You don’t love me.” 

You can’t. 

Loving and being loved by Tomura was a curse, to him at least, sure to end in tragedy. He’s willing himself to calm the heaves of ragged breaths through clenched teeth but the edge to him remains, tense like a startled feral cat. 

Recovering from your initial hurt you react in the only other way you know how, anger. Hot tears unshed burning in your eyelids as you jerk away from him like a wounded animal, adjusting to rest on your knees to face him fully. There’s a distance now, between the two of you, gaping further in the figurative sense, the embarrassment that heats your skin fueling your reaction. 

Your mouth opens and closes several times but not a word is uttered, unintentional sputtering the only thing you can muster with your racing thoughts. Every instance of intimacy you’ve shared that you believed transcended simply seeking physical relief, mitigating the miserable existence even marginally. A relationship of some sort, whether it remained unlabeled or unspoken, that felt like more than just mutually beneficial.

Enriching one another’s lives with little gifts and amenities such as the books or figurines you’ve gathered for him; or the little trinkets he would swipe for you that decorate each base, some that you carry with you because of the sentiment. Like the small plush bat that lays discarded at the end of the bed that Tomura had surprised you with months ago after seeing you toy with it fleetingly on an unplanned scavenging trip. 

The silent stalemate becomes overwhelming, the weight of his unwaveringly heavy gaze too much, standing to your feet with a frustrated growl. Stomping your feet petulantly despite knowing better making Tomura speak up then, voice gravely but you only allow him to say your name and the beginning of the word stop before you whirl on him. 

Pack swung over your shoulder after you’ve shoulders the mattress out of the doorway, gripping the doorknob too tightly as you hiss, “Shut up, leave me alone.” 

You’re certain he didn’t miss the slight quiver in your voice, shoving down and swallowing the resurgence of emotions after looking at him again. Despite your anger, you shut the door quietly behind you, contrasting how aggressively you pulled it closed. Tomura cringing in anticipation at the noise but it never comes, shoulders falling as he rests against the pillows he used to prop himself up. Deflating as he listens to your receding footsteps, craning his neck to watch you stomp away from the house from the side window. 

He assumes you’re heading to one of the other safe houses to stew in silence, though it does little to abate the guilt that gnaws at his intestines, curdling his stomach acids and worsening the itch that has yet to subside beneath Tomura’s epidermis. 

Instead it only worsens as his head rests on the window even though you’d long since disappeared from his sight. Jagged rubies looking equally as dull as the dreary sky he stares emptily at as gray clouds swirl threateningly. It’ll rain again soon, strengthening the biting chill that follows and Tomura thinks of how ill equipped the other bases were. Most of the supplies gathered moved to the house you both chose to dwell in for the winter months so there were no blankets in either of the other houses either to keep you warm. 

Nails raking slowly at his collarbone too as he considers that getting caught in the rain is also the least of your possible worries, imagining you running from a collection of lumbering dead and slipping—

Tomura snarls, gripping at the matching bands that hang around his necklace out of habit, curling his lip at the gruesome images that threaten to appear in his mind's eye. The scowl he wears deepens as thunder sounds in the distance, echoing in the vast emptiness and his eyes fall on your favorite plush bat that lies seemingly pathetically on the edge of the bed. 

“Damn it,” cursing quietly to himself as Tomura reaches for the plush. Rising from the bed to yank on his pullover, shoving an extra one along with the stuffed animal into his pack, readying to retrieve you. 

Your feet carry you to the nearest safe house, the one you both use the least but at least you’ll be alone. The rain only drizzles down for a bit, only dampening your clothes but little more for the better part of the trek. It’s welcome, cooling the scalding embarrassment that still stings the skin of your cheeks and the back of your neck. 

Take it back? Take it back? What the hell did he think that would accomplish in the first place? What sort of rejection was that? You always thought the worst response to that admission was silence but  the universe loved to be cruel to its inhabitants it seemed. One way or another.

Growling to yourself as you wipe at the angry tears that yearn to spill free, groaning louder when the soft sprinkling shifts suddenly into a torrential downpour. Drenching you to the bone is seconds, giving you pause. 

The universe was a comic it seemed, dramatically theatrical and thematic with its timing at your look up to the sky. The once lush canopy of trees that concealed the path to the secondary home that could shield you from the elements now only barren, gnarly branches. 

“Today fucking sucks,” hissed to yourself in defeat, heaving a bereft sigh before continuing to the meager shelter that’s just within view for the night. 

Shoulders sagging as the frigid droplets wear at your frame, the raggedy boots Tomura had already told you to replace allowing water to soak into your socks. You feel a modicum of relief the moment you step beneath the small awning of the house before the scuffling of shoes inside forces you into alertness. Holding your breath, you step to the side of the door, crouching low to peek as you sneak around the side of the house. 

More footsteps can be heard as you make your way around to the back of the house, loud, coordinated. Multiple sets, from what you can glean, biting back your curse the second you round the corner and see the back door hanging ajar. Manhandled with a power that damaged the old hinges, making the old wood settle crookedly against the small slab of concrete. 

You’re smart enough not to stick around, cutting your losses over the house. The last remaining base was further away, on the other side of the nearby town, but it still felt better than returning to whatever atmosphere awaits you back at the home you fled from. 

If Tomura was even still there. 

Striding carefully and quietly, breaking into a jog the moment you’re far enough from the house you won’t be heard. 

A gunshot rings out, the bullet just missing your shoulder, reflectively ducking to cover yourself like the brass couldn’t pierce through you regardless. Breaking into a sprint but you glance over your shoulder to see the shooter, spotting two men standing in the window of the house while a woman fires off another shot, timed perfectly with another crack of thunder, from behind the front door of the house. 

“Shit,” cursed as you weave between the trees, hoping for some cover as the surge of adrenaline gives you a much needed head start on your pursuers. 

Leaving a trail of multiple footsteps in the mud and two spent casings for Tomura to find. 

Never slowing despite how the crisp air burns your windpipe and numbs your lungs, the muscles in your legs screaming for relief as you reach the nearest abandoned town. The decaying buildings are a welcomed sight as you duck into an alleyway, hopping up to grab at the rickety fire escape to scale the side of the old library. You’ve cleared it before on a run with Tomura, barred the entrances so the only access point was the roof. 

You give yourself time to breathe the moment you’re safely within the building. Muscles trembling from the exertion while you work to even your breathing, hand splayed over your chest as you rest against the closed door, locking it with your other hand. 

Once you’ve calmed down enough to stop wheezing, you slide against the door until you’re sitting. Crashing from your adrenaline, curling within yourself with your arms wrapped around your knees, ready to feel the full weight of your day when the door jolts behind you. You scramble forward, taking a few of the steps down the stairs when the door trembles again, groaning from the force applied to it. 

Fumbling, you toss your bag off your back, forcing open the zippered teeth to rummage around for your gun. You don’t bother searching for the silencer, taken off recently after you’d cleaned it. 

You load the magazine, turn off the safety, cock the gun, tilting your head close to the shoulder of the arm holding the gun while you cover your ear with the other. Your finger rests over the trigger, waiting as you stare down the sight as the door is rammed again, setting your aim when you finally pull the trigger. 

Click. 

Click, click. 

The gun jams, and the door is seconds away from being breached, “Shit shit shit, fuck not now.” 

All you can do now is hope you have the advantage of knowing the layout of the building. Hurriedly taking the stairs two at a time as you round the corner down the second set to the library that was once available to the public. Tiptoeing carefully as you hear the door clatter open the floor above followed by thickbooted footfalls. 

The sound of splinter wood can be heard below, likely shouldered through the same as the one upstairs. You do your best to quell the thundering of your heart, to remain level headed in this situation but it’s growing increasingly difficult with the way you’re effectively cornered. 

You move to the very end of the second floor, trying to find a spot where you can stay hidden long enough to fix jam to give yourself a fighting chance. 

All while the raiders taunt you, whistling for you to come out with empty promises of ‘we won’t hurt you’ like you’re some stray dog to be coaxed. Your fingers shake as you work at your gun, clutching it closely to yourself with your hand over your mouth when a floorboard sounds like it creaks too close for comfort. 

It becomes too quiet after a moment, the downpour overhead petering off into a gentle shower as the clouds slowly roll over the town. You hold your breath instinctively, listening for any sign that you’ve been found when you hear a dull thud downstairs after a muted shot. One of the men’s cry of shock snubbed as quickly as it sounds by a second shot and you discover just how close you were to being discovered by thudding footsteps away from you. 

The man on the level with you moves to the railing of the second floor, ducking quickly as another shot is fired; narrowly missing a hole between his eyes. 

Crouching as he hollers, “who the fuck are you!?” 

No response, only another shot from a different angle. Your pursuer racks the bolt of his rifle, standing up to fire off his own round and you see your opportunity. Leaping over the short bookshelf you were using a shelter and closing the distance between you with long, hurried strides. Shoving all of your weight into his shoulder as the wooden banister gives way, sending the man tumbling to the ground below. 

If the fall didn’t kill him, the three shots Tomura fired into his skull at point blank range certainly did. He turns quietly, pointing his gun at the two other bodies he’d felled and does the same until his gun clicks with the telltale sound of an empty mag. 

“Tomura?” Quietly at first, peeking over the splintered wood to see familiar ivory locks, “Tomura!” 

The emotions that surge within you are overwhelming, lip quivering as you watch the impassively cold expression on his face morph into obvious relief the second he lays eyes on you. A sob threatening to rip from your throat when he tosses his gun down and takes the stairs to you, falling to his knees to press you to him. One broad palm cupping the curve of your skull to press your nose into his throat, uncaring of the equally sopping clothing you both wear as his other hand snakes around your waist. 

“I’m sorry, sorry that I left M—my gun jammed,” you start, losing your voice in the wavering from the tears you can’t fucking fight anymore. Fisting his hoodie as you find comfort in his presence, “sorry I told you I loved—“ 

“Don’t,” firm, with a deepness to his voice that makes you shiver before you pull away. Intent to look at him and gauge his reaction when he repeats it again, no room for rebuttal before his lips are on yours. 

Tomura’s fingers fist gently into the wet mop of your hair, keeping you pressed to him like he was afraid you’d pull away. He doesn’t have the words to say right now, not with everything that’s transpired, only action, only a few words uttered shakily as he parts for air. Husked against your lips before Tomura dips lower to attach to your throat. 

“Don’t take it back.” 

You gasp at the sentiment and his ministrations, threading your fingers through Tomura’s hair to scrape gently at his scalp. Nodding slowly, craning your neck to the side to give him more skin to lavish in attention as he lays you down. 

Again, there’s little time for him to fully undress you but the passion is telling, the urgency. Tomura’s nimble fingers fumbling with his belt to free his cock from the soaking denim and boxer briefs while you shimmy out of your own pants that feel like a second skin with the weight of the water. Sitting up enough to finally get them off of your ankles before you take the lead. 

You replace Tomura’s hand over his shaft, running your thumb over the flushed tip until you feel the slit bead with pre. Melding your lips with his, swiping your tongue over his own when your actions earn a light groan from him. Sucking on his tongue as you pump languidly, watching him with a lidded gaze as his hips jerk into your touch until he grips tightly at your hips. 

Tomura adjusts your bodies until you’re straddling him, his thumb rolling a semi-circle into the juncture of your hip and thigh as you hover above him. Running his tip between your folds to gather just enough of your wetness before aligning him with your entrance, sinking slowly to relish in the delicious burn little prep gives you. Cunt molding to the shape of his girth and gripping each inch greedily as your hands find purchase on his shoulders. 

His head lolls back at the feel, crimson hues rolling at the tight fit and roll of your hips into his as soon as you’ve taken all of him. Tomura holds your upper thighs, squeezing the fat of them but he lets you set the pace. Tucking into your throat to nip at your collarbones, sinking his teeth in to mar your skin with the divots of his teeth but not enough to break skin. He drinks in the sound of your breathless sighs that crescendo into soft moans each time he thrusts into your heat, giving a shock of friction to your sensitive clit. 

The slow, sensual rolling you’d set gradually bleeds into a more desperate pace the closer to get to euphoria. Tomura leaning back to lay flat as he brings you down with him, pushing his pants down lower so he can plant his feet onto the floor and thrust into you properly. So he can make you jolt each time his engorged tip nudges into the pallet of nerves that makes you gasp and flutter around his cock. 

You arch against him, lips falling agape in the start of a moan as your orgasm washes over you when Tomura’s hand grips carefully at your cheeks. Pressing into the hollows that makes you twitch at the suddenness. 

“Say it again,” he demands, softly at first, leaning up on his forearm but never slowly his pace as he chases his own high. “Tell me what you told me earlier.” 

You’re confused for a moment, another sweet sigh ripped from your throat from a pointed thrust like it would make you focus. “Again, I need to hear it.” 

“I love you?” 

He groans at the admission, hips jerking out of rhythm so you say it again with more confidence, “I love you, Tomura.”

Another groan rumbles in his chest, Tomura pulling you to him for another bruising kiss with the final utterance of the sentence. Muffling it, swallowing it whole as he reaches his own climax and pulling another of your own; spilling into you with a long, drawn out moan as your walls pulses around him. 

Tomura ruts up lazily into you to prolong the feeling until your thighs tremble at the attention, whining against his lips as you pull away. Sitting up with his softening cock still nestled snugly within your heat, a satisfied smile on your face, running your fingers along the chain of his necklace until you reach the wedding bands. 

“We have to find a new safe house. Raiders have never been out this far before.” 

Tomura nods, tapping your bare thigh as he sits up himself as signal to get dressed, “we’ll start looking tomorrow.”

You both dress quickly and quietly, gathering your things before following him down the stairs; stopping at the bottom for Tomura to grab his gun as he turns to you, “Give me your mag, I used all my ammo.” 

It makes you smile, because he’s always referred to the expense as a waste, but apparently not when it comes to saving you. 

Tomura wakes alone, sheets kicked away from his body in his slumber in a likely attempt to cool himself off. Light filters in through the open window, a breeze following to tousle the drapes that adorns the frame. He groans, blinking the sleep from his eyes only to squint at glaring beams of the afternoon sun. 

He’s sleeping in more with the late spring temperatures, burning daylight but he hasn’t a thing to do anymore. Tomura feels around the bed, grasping at emptiness with a gruff noise of disappointment as he lifts his head from his pillows as if you’d suddenly appear. Surveying the room to still find no evidence of you, groaning as he rises from the mattress, now eye level with the open window. 

And he sees you, knelt around flourishing crops, however small they may be, as the breeze from the surrounding water of your new home tousles your clothes wildly about. Tomura leans against the windowsill, watching simply with his arms folded over his bare chest, feeling light. Feeling full.

You stand with a full wicker basket, carrot stems and beet roots sticking over the rim as you turn at the feel of eyes on you. Smiling fondly as you push hair from your face that the wind continues to whip with its whims, a dainty golden band that once hung around Tomura's neck glinting in the sunlight as it decorates your ring finger. It catches his attention, fills him with the urge to reach for the chain that no longer hangs around his throat. 

Instead, his thumb smoothes over the matching band of polished gold now adorning the third finger on his left hand.

#vixen writes #hiatus: on queue

[finniestoncrane]

uhh the riddlers reactions/opinion on their s/o having a pet rat? Or just an uncommon pet

Uncommon Pet

Riddler Headcanons ok anon i think overall the riddlers would LOVE an uncommon pet that they can spill facts about, so when i was writing this... they all kinda felt the same way! and i didn't want to write nothing, so i thought ok which weird pet would they each prefer? and so i gave all the riddlers uncommon pets instead i hope that's ok! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: fluff, snakes, spiders, birds, rodents, uh fish?

zero year

he needed a pet that made potential partners go "ooooh" or "eeeeh" or "aaaaaaah"

just something that made them think he was different

dangerous and cool maybe?

and also represented his obsession with phallic symbols

so he is 100% a snake boy

and he will ask if you want to see or stroke his snake and then make horrible suggestive puns afterwards

but he's actually a complete sweetie with his little serpent baby(s)

calls himself their daddy, makes weird comments about how they're just like him when he feeds them mice (like it's obvious he's making some comment about predator and prey but it's weird)

he's not a fan of using them as a prop, so he won't be seen out with them around his neck and using them as a symbol of fear

just in case they get hurt or stressed

gotham

oh ok he is absolutely a bug boy for sure

insects have always been his jam, they are his childhood hyperfixation

man was in love (me too ed) with grissom from csi and wanted to be an entemologist at one point

he got bullied a lot for his love of insects at school, but he found comfort in them

the lesser creatures that were killed without thought

he's owned a variety of different bugs over the years

never any arachnids (too scary)

his favourites were his orchid mantis, his hermit crab, and the butterflies he helped to coccoon one year

right now he's super into snails

he has two giant african snails that he loves with all of his little soul called dill and pickle because of their slight and unusual greenish hue, which is why he chose them duh

arkham

i think i got this exactly right, because he could have had rats, he could have any number of the night time trash animals actually

but he wouldn't have a pet intentionally

it would have to be something that kind of existed in the same space as him, that he vaguely related to

that he caught doing it's thing one night and it just resonated him as their little eyes caught one another and they slowly went back to their own sneaky business

and that's how he ended up becoming the reluctant but semi-caring not-really-an-owner of imp, the possum

he doesn't live indoors with eddie, and he comes and goes as he pleases

but he frequents the dumpster right outside the entrance to the water company

and eddie feeds him leftover scraps and sometimes buys him enrichment toys from pet shops if he's feeling particularly soft

imp probably has some kind of disease, so eddie has never petted him, but he secretly wants to (he could keep his gloves on!)

but it's fine, he sees him more of a colleague anyway, one that is comparatively intellectually equal given how many times he broke into the dumpster

telltale

you know what, i didn't think he would be into pets

and then i looked into his eyes and though

spider boy

something creepy, that is misunderstood but so valuable to society, there's a lesson in there for people to learn about him

slender, poised, quick and strong but nimble

he has a definite preference for the more dangerous species

anything poisonous or completely deadly is something he would be keen to add to his 'collection' at some point

he's spent a lot of time learning how to handle them carefully and respectfully and sees them as little works of art more than pets

and he won't let anyone else touch them or handle them, because no one can be trusted with them

so there's an element of feeling towards them there, definite admiration of his little beasties

unburied

he went into a pet shop and said "what's the spiciest, littlest thing i can get that is also cute"

and he walked out with four terrapins and everything he'd need to give them the best little domestic life possible

they're weird but cute, and so small, but they bite

and he looks at them all the time with adoring eyes like

"they're just like me u-u"

plus he likes how many facts come with terrapins, and that cute thing they do when they stack themselves on top of each other

plus they are absolute catnip for partners

those terrapins have got his dick sucked more than he imagines a puppy would have

hot people like cute sea creatures, who would have thunk it?

but aside from them being a magnet for potential partners, they are also his pride and joy

twojar

ok so he wwanted a tiger, he thought that would be cool as fuck

strong red head just like him? perfect!

but the idea of catwoman on his ass about it put him off

plus having to tame a wild beast? he'd hate for someone to do that to him *wink wink omg shut up eddie*

then he wanted a komodo dragon, cos dragon >:)

but he settled on a monitor lizard, one that had been rescued from some terrible place that had no idea how to care for them properly

and now it lives like a spoiled poodle

it has it's own bed and free range rule of his office

and he swears that it responds to it's name and kisses him on command, which is debatable but god help you if you say anything

he also denies letting it sleep in his bed with him but... yeah

dano

duh, rats, but i think we all knew that

i think it fits him well though

they're misunderstood, they have blame placed on them for things they didn't do (looking at you black plague)

they're the villains of every city, more so than the other pests

but they're geniuses, so clever, capable of intense emotions and acute reasoning

but to look at them, people are either scared or don't think twice

and that's how eddie has lived his life

so taking comfort in knowing that he's there with them, the other outcasts

two lonely creatures sharing in each others space, and their intelligence, and their sadness, and their inevitable entrapment

it's very on-brand for him

btaa

no campy little crime artist would be a true villain if not for his stereotypical dangerous pet

and he really did his research, trying to think about what would be the coolest to have

and which ones weren't already in use by other villains

because god forbid he look like some copycat hack

which is how he ended up with his dramatic fish tank filled with his precious pirahnas

they're an exccellent threat, they're a wonderful water feature

and he genuinely has a lot of feelings towards them

plus the looming threat of having to clean their tank out keeps miss tuesday in line... kind of

also, he's found that people really like the way he rolls his "r" on pirrrrhana

plus he likes how his desk looks in front of it, the lighting really brings out his skin tone and how bright his eyes are

young justice

his desire for companionship and someone to chit chat with

something to stave off the loneliness, to satisfy the need for friendship

and more importantly, that won't leave him or abandon him any time soon

so, while it's not super unique, it is kind of uncommon

that he has a precious little african gray parrot waiting for him at home when he's been beaten up by children

or hogtied by children

or imprisoned by children

or mocked by children

there's someone waiting for him who depends on him

and he doesn't love anything more than his little bird friend

#finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #gotham riddler #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #telltale riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler #btaa riddler

[flashtheponyofwind]

Day 14 of November

"CREATURE"

November gets a visit and a pickle from a peculiar guest.

Today is Creature Day!

Feat @feed-pickles-to-creature

#creature #mlp #fim #pony #mare #november gale #november challenge #pickle #pegasus #sketch

[directdogman]

Hey dog, are you alright with naming my catter

My family is planning on naming MY CAT Mr poopy butthole, but I think it deserves better than that.

you're handing FAR too much power over your life to a drunk masquerading as a dog mutant person online, if you truly wish for me to possess the power to name a small creature that you'll encounter daily for years to come. You may have to say this name EVERY day of your life, you know. Hell, i named my cat 'salvage' because i literally just FOUND HIM ON THE GROUND. to teach you a lesson, i'll have to give you a name so bad you'll definitely never actually use it. Let's see, now...

alright, here's my plan. so, in the 1920's, this old fart named Calvin Coolidge was prezzy of the United States of A. He was famous for how much he hated talking to people or had a face that looked like it had been 'weaned on a pickle'. When informed of his death later on, a woman named Dorothy Parker famously remarked: "How can they tell?" Perfect opening, we've got a truly fucked up guy to look to as a source of pet-naming inspiration.

So, let's move onto his cat naming conventions, shall we?

While in office, Coolidge was gifted a pair of adorable lion cubs and in his immense wisdom, decided to name them 'Budget Bureau' and 'Tax Reduction', which are profoundly ill-fitting names to give to a pair of baby lions that have been forced on you. You can't even use them in a threatening way against visiting foreign leaders. Imagine threatening to feed a foreign ambassador to a lion cub with brittle baby teeth, and best of all, the fuzzball's named Tax Reduction. You'd be ridiculed.

My instruction for you is to flip a coin. Heads, your balding hairy kid is named 'budget bureau', tails: 'tax reduction'. you only brought this upon yourself.

[warcats-cat]

Autumn's Bounties

A/N: Another gift fic for @muppenthings based on her delightful OC-verse with my favorite found family, Snuffy and Hilda! Posting a little late for Christmas, but oh well. My apparent writing style is "Better Late than Never"... 😅

This one is short and sweet. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. 💜 As always please let me know if I missed a tag!

Or if you prefer you can read this on Ao3.

-----

Autumn.

Autumn meant cool breezes, the end of the warm summer nights. Little creatures storing up their food supplies and preparing for a long rest ahead. Autumn was the mark of the Earth itself preparing to sleep.

Autumn was humans bringing in great harvests, preparing meals for the entire village at a time. Sweet spices and warm drinks. Cozy fires and late nights telling tales of old.

Snuffy flicked his ear. He loved summer, but he really loved Autumn.

It was barely dawn, and the grass near the house was crisp with frost. He could smell rain in the air, coming in in a few hours perhaps. If the storm got too bad, Hilda would invite him inside; they would build a little fire and, if Snuffy was lucky, she would make cinnamon rolls or pancakes. Maybe even potato dumplings.

Snuffy licked his lips. One of the kids in town had been teaching him ‘puppy eyes’ for even better effect.

Hilda would knit, and Snuffy would watch; the soft yarn weaving carefully between long wooden needles. He loved just watching her work, all of the clever little things humans could do with their hands. He loved visiting the craftspeople in town with Hilda, inspecting colorful fabrics and shining metals.

As he got used to the humans, they got used to him. The mail-carrier hadn’t jumped upon seeing him move in at least a month now!

There was a girl in town who liked to visit, just to see Snuffy and ask him about his home and family. The way he had grown up. She had taken a few scales from the yard that he had shed, which at first he’d thought was a little weird, but she never seemed malicious about it, and she had brought back little necklaces with beads and a scale on each one. It was endearing, if odd.

It was nice, at least, to be making his own friends in town.

There was a festival coming up that they had already been invited to; Snuffy received a personal invitation, and was informed that he was now being considered as a member of the community, and was there anything he wanted to bring or would need accounted for? Last year’s Yule celebration had been such an interesting event, and now he was being included in even more.

His tail twitched, and he smiled. The forest around them was getting colder, but in defiance, the humans became warmer.

Out of storage came the warm quilts and thick clothes, ready to defy the sharp winds of winter. Heavy curtains hung to keep the chill from seeping through cracks around the windows. Tall boots replaced thin shoes in anticipation of snow.

Yes, it was barely dawn, now, but the day was already full of promise and excitement. He and Hilda could exchange stories of family and celebration. They could go into town and she could shop while he played with the village kids in the rain. And if he came back with a sniffle, he could just use his ‘puppy eyes’ to ask for warm apple cider.

Time moved past lazily until, much closer to midday, Snuffy found himself watching from the side as Hilda and several other villagers worked; pulling ripe vegetables from the soil, dusting each off with gentle hands, and placing them in different baskets. The community gardens were close to the heart of the village, and everyone was buzzing with excitement for harvest festivals and feasts. Something close to the Yule festival in size, with a massive table for everyone and enough food for everyone to bring guests from other places. Pickling and stewing would begin in preparation for winter, and warm, thick stews would be made to feed the less fortunate among them.

Snuffy’s tail thumped idly against the grass. He had offered a hand, but even in his more human-shaped form, his claws needed somewhere to go. He’d cut a handful of the more delicate vegetables (and of course, they were all delicate compared to his strength), and though the others had laughed with mirth and not malice, and though Hilda had patted his cheek with a warm smile and leather-soft hand, he had decided he would be more effective help keeping larger animals away.

The funny girl was there, too, in the garden. Her boots were caked in mud, and she huffed with the effort of carrying heavy pumpkins and armfuls of tomatoes, but she was smiling brightly. She was singing to herself, the notes soft and lilting. It was quiet; too quiet, perhaps, for the other villagers to listen, but Snuffy twitched a sensitive ear in her direction to catch the song. It was clear this was a song she knew by heart, perhaps had sung many times before. He wondered how she would react if he hummed along.

Hilda was taking a break, now; sitting closer to Snuffy and helping to clean dirt off freshly pulled crops. He thumped his tail again, happily, and let out a low grumbling noise as she leaned against his side.

He liked it here, he decided. Not just living with Hilda, or being in the village. He liked being with the village, sitting comfortably with his favorite people close by. He liked being a part of their community, accepted for all of his quirks and celebrated in spite of misunderstandings. His village was warm, his friends were sweet.

They were his blanket to keep the world’s chills away.

#warcats writes #muppen friend #friend oc #oc fic #yes I added myself as a character to my friend's oc verse #I won't do much I promise #I just wanna make friends with the dragon ok? #gift fic #original work #ask to tag

[whirlwindflux]

D̷̢̰͇̖̻̻͇̼̠͇̹̱̈́̀̍̉̄̓̐͘o̵̞͂̍͒̉̇͊͒͌̈́ņ̶̡̧̼̰͇̰̰̱̫͈̣̯̞̫̗͉͎̣͍̱͒́͒̓͐̔͜’̸̛̼̭̞̿́̒́͒̂̌̆̔̌̐́̄̓̏͐̾̇̀̇́̔̋͑͘͠t̷̰̜̙̜̒̑̇̂̋͜͠ ̸̛̲̠͔̮͍̜̗̠̮̝̣͕͔̮̝̙̀̓̓̆̌͋̒̐̊͒̎̇̒̈̈́̆́͜͠g̸̢̡̡̡͍̣̙̲̦̗̻̪̯͔̻̱̜̱̟̟̬̳͍̃̍͜͠ͅȩ̷̡̢̨̧̞̭͍̘͎̜̰̥̪͖͔̪̙̱̝̗͚̰̝̃̃̊̚t̸̛͓̖̫̙̳̭̲̯̩͚͒̃̆̈́̓̎͋̐̔̐̌̏̌̏̔̓̚ͅ ̵̧̨̬̻͉͙̪̳̮̙̖̝͈̤̱̇͋̎̓͛̉͐̿̒̊̓̈́̊̚̕͝͝ţ̴̨̢̢͍͈̙͖̖̯̳̪̙̯̞͈͈͖̙̭̮̹̎͐́̌͋̐͆́̂̍̄̈́́̈́͆̓̚͜ͅͅi̸̢̧̛̱̦̟̅̎͑̒̈͋̅͛͋͊̏̊̋̍̔̂̊̕̕l̷̹̖̐͗͊̃̈́̏̐̒̈́̾̌̾̽̓̅̈́͒̃̒̈́̇̋̀͊̒͆̇t̸̡̧̢̧̩̦̦̫͚̤̠̗̳̳̰̼̥̪͓̫͉̖̅̅̊͜e̷̢̛͉̗̫̮̎̈́̈̎́͑̋̊̓̌̈́̌̆̌͆̍̽͘̚d̵̛̦̥̟͙̙̣̭͔̥̳̐̀́͆̔̏͑̊͌̑̀͊̓̉̐͝ ̷̢̛̝͍̼̺͚̙̄͆̓͌̎̇̈́͆͗̈́̓̎̈́̃̇̊͋͌̀̇̕͘̚͝͝ö̶̧̳͚͉̙͍̣̠̖̜́͐̒͌̏͂̍̄̈́̈̄͆̚̚͜͠r̸̨̢͍̲̩̳̞͍̭̙͓̪̙͔͔̮̩̼̜̰͂̅͛̃́̋̔̅͗͛̓̿̀̄͛͑̅̓͌̋͜͠͝ͅͅͅ ̸̧̛̙̣̱̮̪̻̹̬͚̥̳̜͙͙͇͚͎͔̉͆͊͂̀̂͂̈́̑͂̀̎̀̑̀͐̌̀͘̚͝͝͝͠w̷̢̛̺̭̖̣͕̳̤̤̘͉̞͆̃͗̋͋́͑̓̈̑̊̀̑̿ḧ̷̩̺̜̮́̀̉̈́̒̀̏͛̄͐̉̋̕͘͘̕̚͝͝i̴̛̛̱̖̗̣̩̾̅͒̾̒̇̐̈̓̍̑̑͛̾̀̾̄́͆͝͠ř̶̡̡̢̟̤͉̙͕͖̱̝͍͕̣̮̺̣͍̲͉͚̳̲̦͂̎̎͂̓͘l̵̡̜̮̘̝̖̭̞̬͍͍͖̲̞͉͂͂́̿̀͊̕͝͝ḙ̴̡̛̜̯̤̮̠͍͓͉̭̞̤̮̙̩̻̂ͅd̸̨̝͚̰̙̟̳̞̳̜̝͓͙̳̩̱͖̮̬̱̿̏ͅ ̴̢̢̧̛̘̗͑͂̚ư̵̠̱̋̔̈́͂͂̈͋͒̐̓̿̏̔̊̔͆̒̎̇p̵̧̢̥̟̼̪̻̹̩̝͔̤͍̦̻͓̖̺̫̬̘̟̲̫̭͇̿́͜ ̸̨̙̺̞͎̫̃̾̆̈́́͂̆̐̑̍͊́͑̿̀̊̌̂̚̕͝ơ̴̧͖̠̰̙͖̙̰̼̝̅͑͗̿̑͊̽̕͠v̴̢̢̩͕͉̈́͌͆̌͊͛̚ͅḛ̶̩̌̏͑̀̄̐̃̓̈͐̈́̒͠r̷̨̢̛̹̱͕͚̥̭͇̱̜̬̻̗̮̰̙̮̲̟͗̑́̄̔͌̃̄̚͝ ̴̡̧̡̭̟̺̮̯̫̞̟̳̯͔̱͗̇̎ȳ̸̨̖̦̱̪͍͊͊̏̈͑̎̈́͒͐̌̅͂̒̃͗̈́̌̽̎̃͘͝͠o̷̤͛̆̈́͑͆̈́̎̈́͘͝u̸̡͖͍͓̠̱̘̠͇̽̋̇̈́̍̂͊̀͗̈̓̀̏̎̔̿̇͛̕r̴̡̡̡̨̡̛͕͓̫̥̞͍͔̝̩͖̝͉̱̅̏̀̍̐̒̎̐̇̀̐̿͌͌̆̈́̋̉͐̆͒̈̐͘͠ ̵̠͔̤̟̦̬̺̫͚̉̎̀̊̿̏̍̏̈́̀̊̋͐̉̑͝͝b̶̨̨̨̢̡͓͔̱̫̗͇̻̩̩͖̦̹̣̞̥̪̖̟̹̿̋̍̇̍̓̅ͅį̴̪̗̹͎̄̚͘͜ͅr̷̲͍̫̗̯̿t̵̨̡̨̛̼̙̤͈͇̻͔̙̉̒̂̊̔̽͂̈́͊̂̐̐͊̽͆̈̈́̿̈́̋̕͠ḩ̷̨̫̩͕͉͓͎̙̮̳̰͍̮̪̙̘̯̔͜d̸̢̧̨̗͇͍̭̀̿à̶͇̹̙͈̠̬̗̥͖̗̤̯̹͕̉̒̈́̈̒̂̈͗̇y̵̭̻̥̰̝͕̞̩͙̘̮̖̣̰̮͔̠͕͓̋̅͗̆̏̍͗̿̇̀̑͐͒͛̃̈̅̕͝,̵̫̜̗͗̾̐̀̇̊͂͂̇́̚̕ ̷̢̥̓͌̏̈́̂͆͗̿́͘͝f̷̫̳̺̫̣̩̗̭͉͙̽͊̀̑́̐́̋̿̄̈́͊̉̿̽͘͠ŗ̷̨̱̯̝̟͙̹͎̺̘̳̩̩̝̘͎́̀̐̓̌̉̋̎̾̓͊̈̔̓̆̽̄͐̀̈́̈̔̂̔͜͝ḭ̶̡̨̧͈̫̬̚ė̶̜͍̰̝̰͂̀̆̃͆͐̍͝ņ̷̹̳̖̯̖͙̟̥͈͔̹͈̲̻͚̭̺̼̞̦͆̽͆́̓̕d̷̢̛̛̺͕̫͍͍̟̹̯̲̝̫̘̺͓̻̞̳̲͎̼̤̒̑̋͌͑̔̇͋̊̈́̒̀͌́̊̾́̚̕̚͘ͅ ̸̡̪̼͙̤̦̦̦̹̪͙͛͗̃̎̄̀͆̈̂̍̇̈̉̈̋́̉̐̈́̇̈̚͘͠

Mod: Thanks to everyone here on Tumblr who made my birthday feel special!

Absolutely amazing art from:

@thelunararmy @randomgurustuffs @flashtheponyofwind @doeblossom @temper-temper @daintydoilypon @feed-pickles-to-creature

Birthday wishes from:

@ignus108 @asktwilighteclipse @nopony-ask-mclovin @themarvelhorse @foodielovethealicorn @an-immortal

#mlp oc pony #mod pony #crafty code #so many amazing people here on Tumblr!

[yandere-writer-momo]

Monster F-er here to ask;

If the Baki Men (And Marisa) were Mythical Sea Creatures, what would they be?

- Baki: Sea Lion/Seal (It’s his cuteness that reals you in)

- Jack: Great White

- Katsumi: Orca

- Kaoru: Great White

- Jun: Bull Shark

- Marisa: Blue Whale (Gentle Giant to her Darling only) or a Giant Squid

- Kureha: Octopus (Sea Witch)

- Oliver: Sperm Whale (Big Toothed Mammal that can eat Giant Squids)

- Darling is a Marine Biologist (Or a Marine Cryptozoologist) that helps with treating their wounds, feeding, health, etc

Marisa would be a nurse shark! They’re very cuddly.

Pickle would be megalodon.

Baki would be a sea lion

Olive would be a whale shark

Hanayama would be a lemon shake. They’re possessive

[birbinky]

A Silly Rambling Segment

@sonicranger1 well if you insist >:] (sorry for the @ tho I hope I wasn't disturbing you TvT)

I'll be info dumping about my silly ridonkculous story au thing I made when I was in 5th or 6th grade (a.k.a it's cringy) so read at your own will.

INTRODUCTION :

The story starts out with a human girl named Tiara. She shares her love for art and is a skilled artist. However she was struggling with finding a job she likes. Even though she can make money from her art, it's not like it'll be enough for her living expenses. She didn't want to be stuck with a boring office job, or meet sketchy individuals from behind the 24/7 convenience store cashier, or get a complaint that the pickles were suppose to be on the right side of the bun from a middle aged woman.

However one day she accidentally go transported into another world called Shaydeon (don't ask about the name, I used a name combiner tool on google to get that). The world was filled with anything you can imagine, literally. As long as it has been on paper or any art medium it can exist in this world.

THE HUMANS :

If you've ever made art with your full heart and passion, then in the world of Shaydeon you can be called a creator. They're usually artists like painters, illustrators, sculptors, etc.

THE PEOPLE :

The citizens of Shaydeon are essentially fictional characters and creatures that have been made by humans/creators. Rather than people they're usually called characters. They're born because of the care and love they get from their creators. They say the more attention you give them the more lively they get.

THE HEROES :

In this world there's a specific job that everyone always praised, that is being a Guardian. A character can enroll to a Guardian Academy and train themselves to become the next protectors of Shaydeon. In a way they're kinda like the army or police, just more flexible? However their number one enemy has always been the Corruptors.

THE MONSTERS :

Corruptors can be born in 2 ways (atleast from what I remember). They're either born from drawings that were made with hatred or drawings that were scrapped and thrown away. When they're born into the world of Shaydeon they'd attack any character and then feed off of them, or a saying that's popular in Shaydeon "corrupt them". Reason why is because inside they feel empty and incomplete. Their desire to feel loved urges them to feed on any character with the most love to fill that empty void.

THE MAIN CAST :

Like I said the story had 4 main characters. Originally they were Tiara, Molly, Cuphead and Bendy.

Tiara : The Human Girl

Cheery

Out-going

Curious

She's the golden retriever of the team and also plays the leader role. After finding out about Shaydeon she did not hesitate to explore more and end up training to be a Guardian herself. However at times she can find herself in a sticky situation cause of her lack of self-awareness and overwhelming curiosity.

And I hear you asking "what's up with the cat features then?" There are no lore related explanations for that....it was a phase okay :,D

Molly : The Moon Angel

Studious

Perfectionist

Goal-oriented

The nerd of the team a.k.a Molly. She wears a black dress, a black and white scarf around her shoulders, and a blue pendant around her neck. She also usually does her hair in pigtails.

She's very passionate when talking about her future of being a Guardian, being honored by characters from all around Shaydeon. She trains her agility, strength, and intelligence everyday, wanting to surpass all her peers and be the best. But that's what made her competitive and sometimes even think lowly of others around her.

She also likes baking, so yee :D

Bendy : The Ink Demon

Charming

Talkative

Nonchalant

Inky boy Bendy, as we all know. In this universe he's a popular performer or widely known as a beautiful singer. His outfit changed through time but he always wears his iconic white bow. He's very used to the fancy celebrity life that whenever he goes on a mission to defeat a corruptor he'd be the most scared one out of the four.

Not gonna lie, his motivation on why he wanted to be a Guardian was because he had a crush on Molly. Which at the time really made him look like a simp.

Cuphead : The... The Cup Man

Okay I'm not even gonna bother giving him key traits cause most of the time his story was just sad.

Instead of accidentally killing Mugman like Q!Cuphead, he accidentally killed grandaddy kettle cause of his recklessness, and that made Mugman leave him. News about a character killing his own kind spread and made people hoped he was a corrupter's next victim.

He turned to the Devil's casino cause no one else accepted him, which made his image worst. Because of this he never liked socializing with people and was scared to use his powers. He hated whoever created him and wished he could take everything back.

But after being a Guardian he did became more confident, alongside with Tiara's emotional support. Which lowkey made me liked the ship.

"It's not that I hate you, you're just a good candidate for unnecessary trauma" - Me at the age of 12

What Happened to the Story?

This story filled most of my childhood and has evolved through time. Some of the concepts and lore I've told has actually been scrapped and or rewritten.

I remember I wanted the remastered version to become an animated series one day. So I replaced Cuphead and Bendy with my own OCs.

Candlewick, which I've shown before

And Peter

I can definitely say they were far more developed. However I haven't finished the story due to burn out and lack of motivation. Which is why I haven't drawn my own OCs for a while.

So yee, have this remastered version of the Shaydeon gang to end this info dump post (Peter is not here cause I haven't gotten around to draw his remastered version yet)

#birby talks #birby ocs #ramblings

[nothingrpgzone]

Dungeon Crawl Meshi

I am a large fan of the manga dungeon meshi. I have been able to read it through my local library. I decided to write up a few things I have seen in it for use with dungeon crawl classics. Never been play tested or anything these are straight out the oven.

Food

Ration Types

Food is essential for proper adventuring, how is one to win gold and glory on an empty stomach.

There are 6 types of rations, categorized into fresh and preserved. Dire and Delightful meals have special effects. A ration counts as enough food for a day.

Rations are expressed as Type| Cost| How long it lasts| special effect

Dire Fresh Rations| NA| 1 week| The consumer must make a DC 12 Fort save or become sickened, suffering a -2 penalty to all rolls for the following day. 

Fresh Ration| 8cp| 1 week| No affect

Delightful Fresh Rations| 15cp| 1 week| Luck rolls made while recovering the body are rolled with a d16, the consumer gains a +2 bonus to all physical rolls for the following day.

Dire Preserved Rations| 1cp| 3 months| Luck rolls made while recovering the body are rolled with a d30, and the consumer is sickened, suffering a -3 penalty to rolls for the following day.

Preserved Ration| 5cp| 3 months| No Effect.

Delightful Preserved Rations| 10cp| 3 months| The consumer gains a +2 bonus to all physical rolls for the following day. 

Making Food

Making fresh rations from foraged or butchered materials requires a Skill check. A judge determines what an appropriate DC for making the meal would be, with a traditional meal made with the highest quality ingredients being a DC 4 and scrounged together meal made from unappetising monster scraps being a DC 17.

Failing the skill check results in a Dire Fresh Ration. Succeeding the skill check by more than 5 results in a Delightful Fresh Ration.

At the judge’s discretion a failed skill check means the ration is standard instead of dire, such as in circumstances with extremely high quality ingredients. Additionally a failed check can also have worse outcomes, such as incomplete removal of a poison sack, or parasitic infection.

Making preserved rations ingredients can be turned into preserved rations via the use of various methods such as sun drying, salting, honeying, dry aging, and pickling. The various methods take various amounts of time as determined by the judge. The quality of preserved rations be them Dire, Delightful, or standard is determined by the judge based on the quality of the ingredients used.

Going Without Food

Day Effect

1 The adventurer does not naturally regain any Ability Score Damage.

2-3 The adventurer does not naturally regain any HP.

4 The adventure begins suffering 1 Stamina damage per day.

5+ As above, but the adventure also suffers 1 point of Strength or Agility damage (determined randomly) per day.

Feeding Hirelings

A hireling’s Morale rolls are modified by the type of meal they last ate.

Dire Fresh -1

Ordinary Fresh +2

Delightful Fresh +5

Dire Preserved -3

Ordinary Preserved +0

Delightful Preserved +2

Spells

Dazzling Lights

Level: 1 (wizard and elf)

Range: 50’

Duration: Instantaneous

Casting time: 1 action

Save: Fort

General: The caster makes a dazzling display to confuse their foes. This spell counterspells Darkness. Sightless creatures are immune.

Manifestation: Roll 1d4 1) the caster’s hands begin glowing before a sudden flash; 2) motes of dust suddenly appear before all bursting into light; 3) a beam of light emerges from the mouth of the caster; 4) the world suddenly becomes bright as if lit from all directions but without a noticeable source.

Corruption: Roll 1d5 1-2) Minor corruption; 3) light begins emanating from the caster’s eyes at all time, illuminating what is 5’ in front of them; 4) any candle the caster touches automatically lights; 5) The caster becomes blinded in one eye.

Misfire: Roll 1d4 1) The caster forgets all passwords they have; 2) The caster lets out a small electronic pulse bit flipping and corrupting all storage within 10’; 3) The begins transferring their thoughts over both radio and bluetooth for 1 turn; 4) The caster accidentally uploads visuals of an embarrassing memory online.

1 Lost, failure, and worse! Roll 1d6 modified by Luck: (0 or less) corruption + patron taint + misfire; (1-2) corruption; (3) patron taint (or corruption if no patron); (4+) misfire.

2-11 Lost. Failure

12-13 A dazzling display flashes in the face of a single target, disorienting them, dropping them to the bottom of initiative order and inflicting a -4 penalty on their next attack.

14-17 Light hits directly into the eyes of a foe, they drop to the bottom of initiative and suffer a -6 penalty to all rolls until the end of their next turn.

18-19 In a flash a single foe must make a Will save or be blinded for a turn. If a creature is blinded it suffers a -5 penalty to Reflex saves as it is disoriented, in addition to a -4 penalty to all other actions for a turn.

20-23 Light explodes all around the caster CL creatures closest to the source of light must make a Fort save or be blinded for a turn. If a creature is blinded it suffers a -5 penalty to Reflex saves as it is disoriented, in addition to a -4 penalty to all other actions for a turn.

24-27 The light is overwhelming, CL + 4 creatures closest to the source of the light must make a Fort save or be blinded for a turn. On a successful save the creatures are only blinded for CL minutes, and suffer a -7 to all rolls in their disorientation for a turn.

28-29 The light burns, CL + 5 creatures closest to the source of the light must make a fort save or be blinded for a day. While blinded the creatures suffer -10 to all checks for the remaining day.

30-31 A single and overwhelming light bursts forth, CL+ 6 creatures of the caster’s choosing must make a Fort save or go blind for a month, only going blind for a week on a successful save.

32+ A wall of blinding light 30’ wide manifests, anything on the business side of the wall that can see is blinded permanently, and passes out.

Warp

Level: 2 (elf only)

Range: Varies

Duration: Instantaneous

Casting time: 1 action

Save: Fort

General: The caster can teleport themselves to places they are familiar with on the same plane of existence. At higher levels the caster can teleport one additional creature and at greater and greater distances. Unwilling teleporters are afforded a Fort save to avoid being spatially displaced.

Manifestation: 1d3 1) The caster simply vanishes from where they are and appear at their desired location. 2) The caster melts into a shadow before their shadow rushes off at hyperlight speed to their desired location. 3) A light mist suddenly surrounds the caster and their desired location, they fade in and then back out of the mist.

Corruption: Roll 1d6) 1) Greater. 2) Major. 3) Minor. 4) The caster becomes slightly translucent, each time this result is rolled the caster becomes more and more translucent until the 6th time and they simply fade some existence. 5) The caster loses their sense of direction, any future attempts to cast this spell has a 25% chance to teleport to the wrong location. 6) The caster becomes spatially unstable, any critical hit scored against them causes them to teleport to a random spot within 60’ of their location, this can include into walls.

Misfire: Roll 1d4 1) A caster shaped chunk of ground or other such material appears above their head and begins falling towards them, DC 14 Ref save to avoid it landing on them. 2) The caster is teleported to a random location within a mile that they are not familiar with. 3) The caster’s memory of the location they wish to teleport to is wiped 4) The caster teleports themselves to where they stood, lying prone and suffering 1 damage from the trip.

1 Lost, failure, and worse! Roll 1d5 modified by Luck: (0 or less) corruption + patron taint + misfire; (1-2) corruption; (3) patron taint; (4+) misfire.

2-11 Lost. Failure.

12-13 Failure, but spell is not lost.

14-15 The caster warps to a place they can see within 60’.

16-19 The caster warps to a place they can see within 60’. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up to 1 round after the spell was cast.

20-21 The caster can warp themselves and one creature they are touching up to to a place the caster knows within 100’. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up to CL rounds after the spell was cast.

22-25 The caster can warp themselves and one creature they are touching to a place the caster knows within 140’. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up CL minutes after the spell is cast.

26-29 The caster can warp themself, and/or a creature they are touching yo a place the caster knows within 140’. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up to CL + 2 minutes after the spell is cast.

30-31 The caster can warp themself, and/or a creature they can see within 10’ to a place the caster knows within 160’. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up to CL + 10 minutes after the spell is cast.

32-33 The caster can warp themself, and/or a creature within 20’ to a place the caster knows within 200’ of their current location. The caster can teleport the other creature into the ground or walls if they wish, displaying the matter 1 for 1 to where the creature once stood. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up to CL turns after the spell was cast.

34+ The caster can warp themself, and/or a creature they can see to a place the caster knows within 400’ of their current location. The caster can teleport the other creature into the ground or walls if they wish, displaying the matter 1 for 1 to where the creature once stood. If they wish they can trigger this teleportation up to CL turns after the spell was cast.

In addition the caster may spellburn to keep themselves spatially fluid, 1 point per 3 turns of fluidity. While spatially fluid the caster may make a luck check to teleport directly behind the source of a would be successful attacker.

Water Walking

Level: 1 (cleric) 2 (wizard)

Range: 10’

Duration: 1 hour.

Casting time: 1 action

Save: Will

General: The caster is able to walk on the surface of water as if it was solid ground, at higher casting the spell is able to bring things from the depths to the surface with a great speed. Unwilling creatures can make a will save to avoid the effects of the spell.

Manifestation: Roll 1d3: (1) water freezes directly under the target and turns back to water as soon as they move away (2) the water underneath the target gently molds and wraps itself to support the creature (3) a faint light shimmers in a hard plane right above the water just where the target stands.

1-11 Failure.

12-13 The caster is able to walk on water at normal speed.

14-17 The caster is able to walk on water with a +5’ bonus to speed.

18-19 The caster and CL allies are able to walk on water with a +5’ bonus to speed.

20-23 The caster and CL allies within range are able to walk on water with a +5’ bonus to speed.

24-27 The caster and CL creatures within range are able to walk on water with a +5’ bonus to speed. In addition any target under water begins rising towards the surface at a speed of 15’ per round.

28-29 The caster and CL+3 creatures within range are able to walk on water with a +5’ bonus to speed. In addition any target under water begins rising towards the surface at a speed of 15’ per round. While rising the targets are encased in a bubble of air preventing them from drowning.

30-31 The caster and CL+5 creatures within range are able to walk on water with a +10’ bonus to speed. In addition any target under water begins rising towards the surface at a speed of 30’ per round. While rising the targets are encased in a bubble of air preventing them from drowning, and are unaffected by decompression.

32+ The caster and CL+7 creatures within range are able to walk on water with a +10’ bonus to speed. In addition any target under water begins rising towards the surface at a speed of 100’ per round. While rising the targets are encased in a bubble of air preventing them from drowning, and are unaffected by decompression. In addition the cleric can raise up medium sized human constructions (eg longboats) to the surface.

Magic Items

Adamantine Cook Shield

+2 AC, -1 check penalty. D8 fumble.

The Adamantine Cook shield is incredibly good at distributing heat, any ray of fire (e.g. dragon's breath, scorching ray) has a 50% chance of leaving the wielder unharmed.

When used by a dwarf for shield bashing an Adamantine Cook Shield deals 1d4 damage, and mighty deeds to push people with a shield are twice as effective.

When used as a wok the shield imparts a +3 bonus to cooking skill checks

Living Staff

A magical staff imbued with life that connects all things. While in the possession of the staff a caster gains a 50% bonus rounded down to spellburn. For example if a caster burns 2 points of strength to cast a spell they gain a +3 Bonus. Additionally the staff has an internal Stamina score of 5, the caster can spellburn this Stamina on a 1 to 1 basis for bonus, the staff regains 1 Stamina per week without spellburn. A caster can utterly decimate the staff, turning it into dust in exchange for +25 to any single spell check.

#dcc #fantasy #dungeon meshi

[the12thnightproject]

IkeSen boys in the Modern World going to an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet

princess-of-the-devildom asked:

May I request a Headcanon of the IkeSen boys in the Modern World going to an All-You-Can-Eat-Buffet with MC pls? (This can be a continuation of the "MC Refrigerator After 3 Months" post, if you want)

Thank chu!

Having decided that MC’s refrigerator is a lost cause, MC and the Warlords go out to an all-you-can-eat buffet. A continuation of Warlord's Opening Up MC's Refrigerator (after she's not been home for three months) linked here.

Nobunaga: Is just so curious about the entire concept. Keeps piling dishes on his tray because he wants to try a little bit of everything… and then he finds the dessert buffet and must be talked out conquering the restaurant.

Hideyoshi: Has trouble identifying what, if anything in the place counts as real food. Jello salad? Macaroni & cheese? Tater Tot Hotdish? Does his very best to herd his crew into an orderly line. Tries to get them to eat a balanced meal. Tries to convince Mitsunari that Lime Jello Carrot Salad is worth tasting. Fails on every level.

Kenshin: Can’t find the pickled plums. “Where are they? Where?” Asks to speak to the local Daimyo. “You don’t serve pickled plums?” Upon being offered Canned Peaches in Orange jello as a substitute, he stabs the manager.

Kanetsugu: Keeps trying help Kenshin. Goes into the kitchen to try and find pickled plums for him. Is mistaken for a busboy. Is fired.

Sasuke: Is rushed off his feet trying to help Kenshin and prevent random acts of stabbing. Is mistaken for a busboy. Is fired. Then stabbed by Kenshin for dereliction of duty.

Masamune: Strikes up a conversation with the chef manning the hibachi station. Within five minutes, has talked his way back there to help. Within 20 minutes, a crowd has formed to watch his knife work and cooking skills. Can cook six steaks, eight stir fry chicken breasts, and duel with Kenshin simultaneously. By the end of the night, has been offered a job.

Ieyasu: The food… there’s a lot of it, but he thinks it’s so very bland (this is an all you can eat buffet in Minnesota, so it is, indeed bland). At last, he finds a bin full of packets of hot sauce, soy sauce, and wasabi… takes the entire bin and dumps every packet into his food. The resulting chemical reaction sets the restaurant on fire.

Shingen: Two words: chocolate fountain.

Yukimura: Would really like to make sure that Shingen eats real food and not just dessert. …  “No, ‘I just want to know how it works’ is not an excuse, my Lord. Put the chocolate fountain down, please. Also… put MC down, please.”

Mitsunari: *Crash* Three words: Former chocolate fountain.

Kennyo: Is appalled by the potential for food waste. Smuggles food out in his robes, planning to feed any stray hungry forest creatures. Last seen looking for a forest.

Yoshimoto: Discovers mashed potatoes. They’re… they’re… sculptable! Unintentionally recreates dinner scene from Close Encounters of the Third Kind …. And pottery scene from Ghost. Expresses surprise when told that he’s actually playing with food.

Mitsuhide: Grabs a bowl. Starts at one end of the buffet, and systematically dumps a spoonful from each dish into his bowl. By the time he has worked his way through all the buffets, his bowl has lettuce on the bottom, mashed potatoes and ice cream with caramel sauce on top, and alternating layers of fish, Tater tots, and jello in the middle.

Ranmaru: Dutifully begins at the salad bar, then is traumatized by the concept of canned peaches trapped in blue jello. “It… moves!”

Keiji: FUZZY BLUE THING MUTATED. KILL IT. KILL IT WITH FIRE.

Motonari: Walks into restaurant. Notices the masses of people lined up, all using the same serving spoons to pull food from the giant chafing trays. Nopes the hell out of there.

Kicho: Stayed behind and ordered pizza. Changed the locks on MC’s apartment.

#asks answered #ikemen sengoku #ikesen headcanons #headcanon theater #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen hideyoshi #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen masamune #ikesen ieyasu #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen keiji #ikesen kenshin #ikesen shingen #ikesen yukimura #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yoshimoto #ikesen kanetsugu #ikesen kennyo #ikesen motonari #ikesen kichou #ikesen mc #ikesen memes #fuzzy blue thing

[ikeromantic]

Since I'm stuck in bed with covid...could I request some ikesen Motonari fluff of him taking care of a sick MC? Pretty please.

I hope you are feeling much better now! Here is some soft Motonari taking care of his Ava. Approx. 1200 words

Motonari was awake and out of the cabin before Ava as usual. The sun wasn’t even up yet and the last of the stars still glittered above the ocean to their west. He gave orders, checked their stores and supplies, and checked on the state of his crew and ship. Then he sat on the railing to watch the sun rise over the water. 

The light washed the sea in gold and turned the sky a rosy hue. Ripples sparkled in expanding circles from unseen creatures swimming just beneath the surface. A high wind creaked in the upper reaches of the boat’s sails. This, he thought, was peace and freedom. And he could finally, truly appreciate it. Because of Ava.

He imagined her still nestled in their sheets and smiled. He was off the railing and headed back to his quarters before his mind caught up with his body. Motonari slipped into the room, quiet as a mouse in the larder. 

Ava was right where he left her, tangled in the sheets, her hair fanned out on the pillow, one foot sticking out from the bottom of the blanket. It was only when he leaned down to kiss her that he realized something was wrong. Her forehead was hot to the touch, and her lips were pressed together in a firm little frown instead of her usual care-free smile. 

She made a little noise and her eyes opened, blinking and bleary. “Moto . . . nari?” Ava started to sit up and then laid back down. 

“Are you alright?” Motonari’s voice was harsh, the gruffness hiding the cold fear that suddenly gripped at his heart. 

“Just dizzy.” She rubbed at her face. “And my head hurts.” Her voice was more nasal than normal, he noticed. “I think I have a head-cold,” she added reluctantly. 

He nodded as if this made perfect sense. Ava didn’t seem worried but he still felt a tightness in his chest. “I’ve got just the thing,” he told her. Though he wasn’t sure what ‘the thing’ was exactly. Only that he would do whatever it took to make her feel better again.

Motonari kissed her forehead again and then walked over to his cabin kitchen. He started with some tea. Tea always made him feel better. And then he made her a fish soup with ginger broth. And rice with pickled radish. 

“That’s . . . a lot of food,” she eyed the tray as he walked over. 

“Got to keep up your strength. Feed a cold.” He grinned. “Keep them flowers in yer head growing.” 

Ava pouted. “I don’t have flowers in my head!”

“Yer sure?” He leaned down to peer into her ear. “Looks like flowers to me . . .”

She started to laugh and then sneezed. Twice. 

Motonari waited until she settled again and then held her tea cup out to her. She tried to take it but he didn’t let go. “You just lay back and let yer favorite sailor take care of you.”

“I’m pretty sure I can hold my own tea. It’s only a head cold.”

“Mhmm.” Motonari held the cup closer to her lips, one eyebrow raised.

Ava sighed. “Fine. Just don’t spill on me, ok?”

He carefully tipped the cup as she set her lips at the edge. Slowly, slowly . . . his whole body tensed as he watched her face for signs that she had enough. He held his breath until the moment came and he took the cup away. He felt quite proud of himself. Not a drop spilled, even on the slightly rocking ship. “Hungry?”

“Not really. Maybe a little?”

Motonari got a spoonful of the soup. “Open wide, princess.” He thought she might refuse but she went along with it, from the first bite until the spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl. “Got some pickled radish for you.” He lifted a bit of radish and rice.

Ava shook her head. “No. I don’t think I can manage another bite.” At his crestfallen expression, she added, “Maybe a little later?”

“Alright.” He put up the food and cleaned up his cooking space. When he turned around to see if she’d like some water or more tea, Ava was fast asleep. Motonari wanted to sit down here with her so that he’d be right to hand if she needed something. But he should be on deck. He stroked her hair, feeling the soft strands catch on his calloused palms. 

It was still a wonder to him how such a lovely creature could have fallen for him. He felt sure he would wake up one day from this dream and find that Ava was only a fantasy. A life he imagined with a woman too good for a scoundrel like himself. But here she was, in his bed. As real to the touch as the ship beneath his feet. 

He crept out of the room as quiet as he could. The crew were all working, even without him. Experienced sailors that needed only a bit of discipline and direction. He caught a few giving him a wink and a smile. “What’re you lookin’ at? Got something in your eye?” 

They quickly turned back to their tasks, grinning. Motonari wondered if they all had flowers on the brain. 

The next few hours were smooth sailing as they made their way to the river mouth. Things would be trickier headed up the river but the best deals were further up from the coast. Every hour or so, he would pop down to check on his beloved. Adjusting her pillows, fixing her blankets, getting her water or tea. 

Every time he saw her, he felt reassured that she would be alright. Especially when, a little before sunset, she cracked a smile and asked, “What are you cooking for dinner, Nurse Motonari? Please tell me there’s no jello.”

He looked at her, his expression all grim-like and very pirate-captainical. “Jello is all we’ll be having until you’re well, ya flower-head.” 

Ava tried to pout but ended up laughing. “I better get well soon then. I hate jello . . .”

Motonari kissed her cheek, and then at her request, wrapped her up in her warmest blanket and carried her up to the deck to watch the sunset. A couple of sailors whistled or whooped at them, glad to see the lady up and around. Ava handled it well, with a wave and a smile. She was used to their enthusiasm by now. 

“Ya can only be out here for a little while. The night air’s not good for illness.” He hugged her tight to his chest, reminding her that she wasn’t all better yet. 

“I know. I just wanted to be out of the room for a little bit.” She snuggled, laying her head on his shoulder. 

He held her like that until the last golden edge of the sun dipped below the waves on the horizon and the first stars glimmered on the eastern edge of the sky. “It’s too bad yer still sick,” Motonari whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “This is the perfect moment ta kiss ya, and take ya to bed for a proper loving.” 

Her cheeks flushed and she wriggled a bit in his arms. “I’m actually . . . feeling a lot better!”

Motonari chuckled. “Heh. Well, I dunno about that. Still feel a little peaky to me.”

“I’m not!” She protested the whole way back to his cabin. But she didn’t mind a bit when he just snuggled into bed beside her and pillowed her head on his chest. Motonari kissed her hair and held her close until she fell into a restful sleep, which he soon followed her into.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen motonari #motonari mouri #oc tag #otome guys #otome #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff

[muppenthings]

What's an average day like for Snuffy and Hilda?

To not make it too long, I'll limit it to an average spring day! :)

More under the cut because it got long anyway. xD

Hilda always wakes up at 5 in the morning to start her morning routine, washing off in (cold) water and getting dressed. She'll then fire up the wood stove to boil some water for her tea and prepare breakfast consisting of oatmeal with some lingonberry jam. She'll also have bread with pickled herring or cheese.

When everything's nearly done, she'll open a window and tell Snuffy (he's always curled up nearby a window) good morning, which he politely returns (shortly afterwards unleashing a massive yawn because it's just way too early to be concious).

Then she'll have her breakfast by the table at the window, giving Snuffy a portion too. He's tried telling her it's not necessary but she's not having it. If she's eating then so is he.

While Hilda takes care of the dishes (and then feeds her murder of crows and other forest creature) Snuffy will go to the nearby lake and bathe. Scrubbing his scales with the sand and pebbles. If needed he'll bring a tree for Hilda and break it into manageable fire wood! :)

After breakfast they will continue with the everyday chores! The chores for the day varies. If Hilda needs to restock something she and Snuffy will walk to town. This trip happens once every week at least. Snuffy will politely wait at the outskirts while she gets everything she needs. Often it takes a while so he'll end up napping, he doesn't mind. ;)

Hilda bakes everyday however! Be it bread, pies, sugary cookies etc. Snuffy will be close by to taste test everything! Other times she'll be pickling vegetables or herring.

If there's anything in the garden that needs to be farmed then she'll do that, idly talking with Snuffy of all the things one can do with the veggie/herb/etc. She'll often go off tangent and tell a story from her travels which Snuffy's very happy to listen to!

If it's laundry day then Snuffy will help Hilda carry it to the little stream nearby. She always insist on doing the washing herself but he'll help her hang it up to dry! Then he'll keep guard over it so the water sprites doesn't "borrow" anything.

They'll have lunch together and after that, Hilda will take a nap. And so does Snuffy. He loves naps. xD

After that there's afternoon tea with whatever baked goods Hilda's got! And the chores continues. If they're done early then there'll be some quality time where she plays a record on her phonograph. This also involves nose rubs and scratches for Snuffy.

Hilda finishes her day with dinner and goes to bed pretty early, often around 8PM. She needs her beauty sleep after all! She wishes Snuffy a good night, and good hunting. Because that's when he heads out to get his fill. He's away for a few hours before returning to curl up by the cottage for the night. :)

#Ask #smolcomfycat #oc Hilda #oc Snuffy #thank you for the ask :3 #I hope I'm making some sense #work is grinding me to the bone #food mention