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pinkiipeachiikeen · 5 months

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Feline Antics

Kuroo x GN! reader

This was the first thing I've written specifically to post on tumblr, and was originally on my other 'fanfic only' blog, pinkipeachiikeen (one 'i' after pink) but I decided managing two blogs was too time consuming and decided to merge with my original account (pansexualproblemchild) and keep the name. TDLR: it's def not my best work and if it looks familar, no I didn't copy anyone's work but my own

This fic was inspired/dedicated to @taeyamayang and her little black cat momo and my little black aria (mimi)

WC: 717

Summary: Kuroo tries.... and fails to convince y/n that he is a dog person with his cat like antics

“So what did you get?”

“19/20, beat that, loverboy.” I tease, shaking my phone at him.

“Read it and weep, honeybunch.” He dangles his phone in front of my face. “Read it and weep.”

“What?” No way. I snatch his phone. “Lemme see.” The four numbers mock me.

20/20.

“I guess i’m just the better partner.” Kuroo gloats. “I could’ve told you thaAAT-” Kuroo ducks, almost falling off the couch, as i wack him with my stuffed animal, a comically large stuffed goose Kuroo gave me as ‘thinking of you’ gift since geese are small and cute. It Would have been sweet if he didn’t follow that with “needlessly loud and aggressive.”

I wacked him with it then too. Then named it Mr Honk.

“How embarrassing,” he teases. “After you begged me to take this little relationship test too.”

“I didn’t beg!” I whine, crossing my arms. “I don’t beg!”

He raises his eyebrow. Don’t do it. He smirks. “You sure did last-”

“OH MY GOD!” I cut him off before my face can heat up anymore as he cackles. I’m dating a man child. “Whatever.” I scoff as I scroll through all the questions and my eyes finally land upon the damn question that determined Kuroo was the better partner. Question 12. Does your partner prefer dogs or cats? A simple question. A no brainer. Cats, obviously. Except the red ‘x’ too it says otherwise.

“Aha! That’s why!” I exclaim.

“Hmm? You found out why i am the superior parter?” he teases as he settles down next to me, feeling safe now that my weapon of choice (Mr. Honk) was out of my hands. I roll my eyes playfully. “You wish.” I tossed him my phone. “You pressed the wrong answer, dummy.”His eyebrows furrow as he retorts; “No, i didn’t?”

“Yeah you did! You pressed ‘dogs’ instead of ‘cats’. Therefore, we tied!” I said smugly.

“Except, I did press the right answer. I’m more of a dog person.” I roll my eyes he explains

“Bullshit!”

“Wha-” he sputters. “How are you gonna tell me what animal I prefer?” he reasons. “Is this because I was the captain of Nekoma? With my suave graceful movements and agaile abilities?” He pridefully boasts, looking like the cat that got the canary.

“Yeah the same agileness that broke three different lamps. Two in the same day, as well.”

Kuroo scoffs, offended by the facts. “I’m tall, Y/n! My lanky limbs have to go somewhere!” He pouts, wiggling said lanky limbs for effect.

“Yeah, but they couldn’t have been lanky anyplace besides right next to my nightstand? Or my coffee table, or my-“

“Ok, Ok I get it!” He whines. “All of that only helps plead my case.” I state.

“You mean the one that I’m a cat.”

“Yes. Cats break shit left and right too.”

“Okay, left and right is a little excessive!”

“But not wrong. Let’s also talk about the fact how you hiss when I sprayed water on you.”

“Anyone would when you spray water on them!”

“People don’t hiss Tetsu! You full on hissed like a vampire in the sun!

“….So like Kenma.”

“I’m not scrappy, i’m resourceful and resilient!” He corrects.

I blink, once, then twice. “You’re scrappy”. I deadpan. “The scrappy little black cat antagonizing and teasing everyone always causing a ruckus and always needs attention and affection. No matter how much they deny it.”

“I don’t demand nor need your attention!” He huffs.

“Tetsu?”

“Yes, love?”

“You are literally laying on my right now.”

Kuroo looks down to realize that he is indeed laying across my lap and is silent for a moment, Before he snuggles closer into me.

“The fact that I’m laying on your lap means nothing.” He pulls up the blanket over his lap. “Now shh. I’m sleeping now.”

I smile and roll my eyes once more, something I find i’m doing more and more ever since my cat-like boyfriend (clumsily, and awkwardly) waltzed his way into my life. “See? Demanding.”

“Shh!”

Thanks for reading! Reblogs, likes and comments are always greatly appreciated! ❤️

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu #kuroo tetsurou #maevesoriginals

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legends-of-apex · 2 years

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‘Only If For A Night’ Ch. 4 | Tangerine x Reader

{Click here for series masterlist}

Rating: M for blood, injury detail, profanity, mentions of a pet rat dying

Word Count: 3,750

Chapter Summary: You finally reach your destination: The Sunrise Hotel. Despite reaching the supposed place of luxury and safety, tensions are still running high and Tangerine’s arm still needs stitches. Lemon heads out to get some food for the three of you, leaving you and Tangerine alone. The reader is not referred to as being any specific gender

A/N: Just realised I forgot to mention before the start of the last chapter! Momo is a character from the Bullet Train book who wasn’t in the film and Maria is Ladybug’s handler, in case anyone was wondering <3 hope you enjoy

‘Don’t look at me like that! Keep your eyes on the bloody road, you bellend.’ Tangerine grumbled.

Lemon just grinned with about as much glee as a Cheshire Cat upon witnessing his brother's unusual softness. He’d seen the way he shrugged off his jacket and immediately used it to shield you from the cold, how he even reached over to adjust the fabric so it covered your shoulders.

It wasn’t like him. Tangerine never showed anything other than contempt for anyone but his brother. Yet here he was using his precious Saville Row jacket to shield you from the chilly morning air. It wasn’t like him but it suited him, Lemon thought.

It was morning by the time Lemon pulled the car up at the base of the hotel. The clouds took on a pinkish hue beyond the hulking building as the sun crawled her way through the sky. The hotel was a detached building of about a half dozen floors encased in solid grey stone. The rain had clearly worn away most of the details that would have once stood proud along the ledges but some nestled beneath thick ledges kept their engravings.

Right at the top, in bright white and curly neon letters read ‘The Sunrise Hotel’.

Tangerine surveyed the empty parking lot, his elbow bent out the open window so the cold chewed his forearm. ‘Bit of a shithole, innit?’

‘Just cause it’s not your glass fuckin’ fishbowl of a penthouse?’ Tutted Lemon, tired and irritable having driven so far for so long. He needed his eight hours of rest which he sorely did not have.

‘Well, look at it!’ Tangerine blew smoke from the corner of his mouth so it dissipated out into the morning air. ‘The place probably has rats crawling about everywhere.’ And yes, he also missed his glass fishbowl of a central London penthouse. Not that there was anything in it to miss, really.

Lemon gasped only to be shushed by his brother for being too loud as you slept. ‘Everywhere has rats crawling about everywhere! Don’t you remember Stevie?!’

Lemon couldn’t believe his brother referred to rats so distastefully, least of all when they themselves made a pet out of a rat that lived in their shared bedroom when they were seven. He wasn’t a pet by nature but they made him one by feeding him bits of stale crackers they found at the bottom of their schoolbags.

‘Fucking hell, Lemon. Course I remember Stevie, God rest his soul.’

Tangerine was offended Lemon thought he’d ever forget the poor sod. How could he? The clever thing had somehow survived the rat poison set down on almost every inch of the cramped apartment by their foster parents, or at least he did for a month or two. The twins had a funeral for the rat in a patch of grass around the corner from their home. They played football on that green after school most days with a patchwork ball so haphazardly taped together that it couldn’t really be considered round anymore.

Lemon had been so upset that he couldn’t do anything except sit on the grass, clutching the makeshift coffin in his tiny hands and weep. Meanwhile Tangerine, through his tears, dug a crude little trench with a flat-edged stick.

Stevie was laid to rest within a cardboard Nokia phone box in a grave about as shallow as a child’s thumb. But the twins were only little, they couldn’t have known the importance of digging graves deep in a neighbourhood full of urban foxes with painfully hollow bellies. They still left wilting buttercups on that spot every day until they had to move homes again, even after foxes desecrated the grave.

‘Exactly. So shut your mouth and go wake up sleeping beauty.’

When you awoke it was to Tangerine gently shaking your shoulder. ‘Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. That’s us here.’ He spoke quietly, his lips and moustache upturned at your grogginess.

It was time to say hello to The Sunrise Hotel.

‘Hi, there! You alright?’ Lemon waved to the receptionist as he approached the desk. ’We have a booking for room-‘

‘Room 601. Correct?’ She asked abruptly, barely even looking up from her paperwork.

Tangerine’s hand flew to his gun instinctively. But he didn't draw it. The way the woman smiled when she looked up made him falter.

‘Uhm, yeah…how’d you know?’ Lemon asked, thick eyebrows raised above calculating eyes. The old vinyl record blasting through metallic speakers seemed to wobble as he spoke, as if it too was nervous.

From his tone of voice, Tangerine could tell his brother was immediately suspicious and probably analysing the shit out of the woman as he spoke. He waited for a signal that something was wrong, even going so far as to step in front of you slightly to keep you out of sight of the woman. But the signal never came.

‘I was told to expect two dashing gentlemen and their acquaintance possibly arriving today.’ She said simply, stepping out from behind the smooth wooden desk. ‘Follow me. Let me show you to your room.’

‘Dashing?’ Lemon mouthed to his brother who simply shrugged his shoulders before wincing from the wound on his arm. Neither of them had ever been accused of being dashing before.

Tangerine let his hand fall back to his side, away from his gun. Instead, he shoved his hand in his pocket, sliding his fingers inside the knuckle duster that nestled there. Just in case.

‘Stay close.’ He told the both of you, quietly.

Tangerine was just as on-edge as you were, his entire body tensed. He eyed every corner of the hallway, every doorway, like he was daring some potential threat to step out and try something. Even the passing bellboys were not immune from his analysing stare, despite their friendly smiles. It was nice to have someone else so fiercely paranoid around even just because it meant you weren't the only one worrying about danger lurking around every corner. Lemon seemed calm, as he always did. He had a quieter was about his suspicion.

The receptionist led you to the elevator, its edges encrusted with shimmering brass. ‘So what brings you to the area? Business or pleasure?’ She asked, awaiting the ding.

‘Bit of both, I suppose. You know how it is.’ Tangerine replied, his tone overly friendly. His mouth upturned into a forced, closed-eyed smile before dropping back to normal the second she turned around. He was overcompensating for the strange way he had his jacket hung over his shoulder like a cloak to hide his arm’s bloody stain.

After ushering you in before her, the receptionist pressed the button for the sixth and final floor with the tip of her nail. Her ring and middle finger were cut shorter than the rest, you realised. Her other nails could have almost been mistaken for neon pink talons, like they would slice anything they touched.

‘You’re very lucky, you know. We have prepared the finest suite for you.’ No one replied so Lemon asked her about a mini bar to put an end to the uncomfortable silence.

You stood beside Tangerine and he looked over as you fidgeted lightly with your hands. When you caught his gaze he blinked slowly and smiled just a little, like he was trying to reassure you that you were going to be okay.

And you were going to be okay if he had anything to say about it.

You found his attempt at reassurance odd only because he seemed so on-edge himself. He didn’t believe that you were safe and yet he wanted you to feel like you were. Maybe it was just wishfull thinking? He probably just wanted this job to be over.

What set this particular hotel apart from others was the carpets. They weren’t patterned in gaudy tones or uneven beneath your feet. In fact they were immaculate and beautiful to the point where you almost felt bad walking upon them. The carpets didn’t look like they were supposed to be tread upon. The entire hotel didn’t really look lived in or occupied at all.

It was an older building. Her bricks reminded you of some Hollywood actress from the 1930s in that they were old but forbidden from ever showing it in anything except wisdom. The same could be said for the dangling light fixtures dotted like golden willow trees along the flowering ceilings. You wondered just how much of a pain they must have been to clean.

When the receptionist ushered you all inside room 601, the space opened into a wide room with couches crowding around a deep-set fire pit on one side and a kitchenette on the other. Right at the room’s centre hung the biggest chandelier they could have possibly crammed into the room. Its size made the endlessly high ceilings almost look small in comparison, the crystal daggers hung and twinkled so grandly that you had to avert your eyes lest they feel like burning.

‘If you need anything during your stay, please don’t hesitate to ask. Dial number one on the room phone for the front desk and ask for me. My name is Alicia.’ She tapped her name tag with a single pink talon. ‘Dinner is from 5 pm in the restaurant on the ground floor. Come at your leisure.’

With that and a soft click of her heels, she was gone.

‘Don’t hotels usually ask that you book dinner?’ Lemon questioned no one in particular.

No sooner had the door shut behind her did Tangerine’s phone ring. He excused himself and walked into the nearest bedroom, closing the door behind him.

‘Well done.’ Their employer's voice grated through the phone as Tangerine dumped his travel bag on the bed closest to the window, peering outside at the view.

There were two beds in the room, both generously-sized doubles with fine white cotton covers and inviting pillows. It felt strange that he and Lemon suddenly had the privilege of staying in such places only after they started killing people for money. It felt even stranger that such a beautiful looking room came with an escort job, they never usually had such perks. But you were a high-value target, he supposed.

‘I was a piece of piss, really. I told you we’d handle the journey.’ He picked up his bag again and instead placed it on the bed closest to the door. It was childish but he liked being closer to the door in case anything nasty came knocking. It was a habit he’d had since he and Lemon were kids. ‘It’ll be keeping the package safe here that’ll be the hard part.’

His employer hummed, a frighteningly deep sound that didn't match his flowery accent. ‘You let me worry about that. Your work here is done. I shall transfer you the rest of the payment once you’ve left the hotel. It was a pleasure doing business with you.’

Tangerine frowned, dragging a hand back through his hair before wincing as the movement stung his wound. ‘So that’s it then? We’re just supposed to leave?’ He cleared his throat to hide the hiss of pain, his voice now stern.

‘That is what I paid you for, yes?’ The man sounded impatient but robotic. Tangerine couldn’t have cared less about his annoyance.

‘No. You paid us to keep the bloody target safe.’ He heard his voice rising as his arm kept stinging. The wound must've opened up again due to the lack of stitches. ‘If we leave, what’s stopping the Blackjacks or any other fuckin’ gang from waltzing right here in and blowing their brains out then eh?’

‘Because I own the hotel.’

That gave him pause. Tangerine had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about the bricks.

‘I couldn’t give a rats arse if you owned the fuckin country, mate. That doesn’t make the place invincible.’ Tangerine flexed his fingers in irritation. ‘My brother and I have a reputation to uphold and dead packages don’t look good on our resume.’

The hotel just looked like any normal high-end hotel, even if it was a bit quiet. He couldn’t understand why their employer was so sure that you would be safe here.

The line was silent for a moment. Their employer sighed, his breath heavy. ‘What do you propose?’

‘Have us stay until you get here. I don’t see any security running about and I doubt your fucking bellboys would be any good in a tussle.’ He heard a sharp intake of breath over the other end of the phone, a sign of wilted patience. ‘Look, we’re not asking for any additional payment. We just like making sure the job’s done proper.’

At the promise of not having to fork out any more cash, the man caved. ‘Very well then. I suppose I shall see you soon.’

‘Yeah, I guess you will.’ Tangerine hung up the phone and chucked it on the nearest bed.

‘Arsehole.’ He uttered.

In the meantime Lemon had been going through a nearby restaurant’s menu with you since he heard your stomach growl. It would be hours until dinner so when Tangerine came back he slipped out to get some food for you all. Tangerine disappeared into the bedroom again, leaving you to get settled in your own.

After setting your bag down on the large oak desk at the foot of your bed, you got changed into some more comfortable clothing and looked around the room. It was set up in an older style, not as old as the hotel herself but still older. Most of the furniture looked like it cost a small fortune with its detailed etchings and fine finishes. The sprawling bed at the room’s centre looked especially expensive with its curved frame, dark wood and solid. Thankfully it didn't creak when you sat upon its edge.

What an insane twenty four hours you’d had. You’d gone from staying on your own in your tiny little safe house, alone and afraid, to being driven to perhaps the most luxurious hotel you’d ever been in by the Twins. You’d been shot at and hunted but most importantly you’d been protected and despite everything, you allowed yourself to feel just the tiniest bit safer than you did by yourself.

About a half hour later, you sought out Tangerine, calling out his name from the open bedroom doorway.

‘In here!’ He called out, his voice disintegrating into a groan. You frowned and walked inside.

The first sight that greeted you was the bed where his clothes lay folded pristinely next to his open travel bag. There was a gun nestled atop the perfectly pressed fabrics. The other bed housed Lemon’s belongings, strewn neatly but more carelessly than his brother’s.

‘Everything alright?’ He called out and you kept walking until you reached the bathroom’s entrance. White light streamed out of the ensuite doorway, casting golden rays on the opposing wall.

‘I just wanted to make sure your arm was okay.’ You offered.

He just laughed. That was funny given the blood coating his hand.

He stood so his wounded arm faced you but that wasn’t the first thing you noticed. His waistcoat lay discarded on the sink’s edge and he only had one arm in his shirt. The fabric hung off him almost like a side-cape, his wounded arm and half his bare torso were fully on display before you.

He peered into the mirror, a needle and thread clutched between his fingers as blood seeped down his arm and slicked his hand. His dress trousers hung low on his hips and every thick, deep ridge of his chest and stomach was evident beneath the harsh white light. The skin stretched tightly over the muscle there as he moved and flinched. You tried not to let that distract you.

He jolted suddenly, eyes scrunching shut and sucking air in through his teeth. His golden necklace swung back against his chest as he moved so sharply, the pendant twinkling in the light.

‘Do you need some help with that?’ You asked.

He spared you a glance, giving you the once over before looking back to the mirror. He looked like he was irritated by your question, his eyebrow raised. But something you would soon come to learn about Tangerine was that was just the face he made when he was thinking a little too hard about something, he just happened to stare disapprovingly at the nearest thing in his field of view.

He was thinking about letting you be that close to him, about how much he liked the thought.

‘I’m alright. Thanks, love.’ But as he said it he winced and fumbled the stitching again.

‘Here, let me.’ You touched his forearm gently, reassuringly before you moved to the sink.

Such a gentle touch made his stomach drop. He didn’t protest as you washed your hands and took the needle from between his bloodied fingers, just quietly observing. It looked like he’d dipped his hand in a tin of red paint, blood collected in vein-like vines along the surface of his golden rings and pooled slightly at their base.

He leaned back against the sink so you could get a better look, inviting you into his space. He clutched his forearm to keep himself steady for you, his bare chest bulging as he did.

Again, you tried not to let that distract you.

Instead, you stepped in even closer to him, examining his arm. You were close enough to smell his cologne and the faintest hint of the cigarettes he smoked. He must have bought the expensive kind of both because the smell wasn't at all unpleasant.

‘You’ve made a right mess of yourself.’ You huffed.

‘Yeah, I never was the best at fixing things.’ He usually preferred to be the one making a mess. He said it like he was talking about sewing a button back on, not like he was stitching up a gash in his own skin.

‘Stay nice and still for me?’ You requested and he did so without hesitation. You felt his body tense as the needle pierced the torn skin but he didn't so much as utter a curse. Lemon always said he never listened but he found himself listening to you like a song. Stubbornness seemed to drain from him with each word that left your lips. It was probably just the blood loss.

You decided to keep talking just to keep his mind off the pain. ‘Stitches are less of a permanent fix and more of a helpful nudge in the right direction,’ You reassured him. ‘Your body has to handle the fixing part all on its own and yours looks like it’s had plenty of practice.’

The numerous scars that littered his upper body hadn’t escaped your notice. One in particular on his shoulder caught your eye as it intersected with one of his tattoos. A scorpion stretched from the flat part of his shoulder with its tail etched in a beautifully straight line along the sharp edge of his collarbone. The tail flickered over his shoulder and about a quarter of the way down its dark, curled tail sat a jagged scar where something had once cut deep into his skin.

His tattoos especially longed to be touched, to be appreciated for how beautiful their penmanship was. Where you were standing you could only see an English bulldog with a monocle, a swallow on his forearm and the scorpion on his shoulder. There was one of his ribs too but you dared not let your eyes linger any longer in case he noticed.

‘This line of work was never without its- fucking hell.’ His eyes widened as you drew his skin together tightly like a corset. He gripped the bathroom sink with his free hand, knuckles white, and swallowed a groan.

‘I know it must be really sore. I’m sorry,’ Your voice was soft, gentle. It wasn’t a tone he was used to being on the other side of. You placed a hand on his arm again in comfort and he liked it being there. The touch let him focus on something other than the pain.

Between tattoos and bullet wounds, his skin was used to the cold sting of a needle. That usually didn't mean stitches ever hurt any less. But he was surprised at how little your needlework hurt and how gentle you were until now. He barely felt anything compared to the times he’d tried to stitch himself up or when Lemon helped.

‘If I’m still alive after all this, I owe you one for that.’ You pointed to his arm, the stitches now tied off.

‘Just another to add to the collection, love. And it’s when not if.’ He corrected you. ‘I have absolutely no intention of letting anything bad happen to you.’

You looked up at him just for a second as you dabbed some blood off his arm. He was sincere, it seems. As you found he always was. ‘It's not your intentions that I’m worried about.’

‘You don't trust our employer…’ He trailed off in thought.

Lemon didn’t either and he was always the intuitive one. Even if he did have to relate people to cartoon steam engines, he was never wrong about the feeling he had about someone. Ever. Tangerine trusted his brother’s judgment significantly more than his own.

‘And you do?’ You asked him. Of course you didn't trust the guy who paid to have you kept safe when everyone else wants you dead.

He dodged the question only because he sensed that wasn’t really what you were asking. ‘I won't let anything bad happen to you. I promise.’

‘Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to make promises you might not be able to keep?’ You asked, daring to look up and catch his gaze again. The blue in his eyes swam the way warm oceans did when kissed by the sun.

‘I don’t.’ He replied and he meant it.

There was something in his eyes then that you couldn’t place. But it was gone all too quickly as you both heard Lemon’s muffled voice through the walls shouting to say he was back and that the food was still warm.

You stepped away from Tangerine and he from you.

Tangerine tag list: @icy-spicy @simpingforclaudette @cockete @padfoot-1959 @revenstaz @family-video @multifandomfanfic @robertdowneyhiddlesbatch @ashyyslashy @ifilwtmfc @ayoyouyo @noz4a2 @jo-noodles @vi0letblu3s @thelooneytoon @4ng3l-0n-34rth @sjprongs @stardustworlds @willowpains @chanooopy @elizabeth-skywalker @queenofstarsanddarkness @vampire-teeth7 @andfreeshipping (please feel free to let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3)

#tangerine x reader #bullet train #tangerine bullet train #bullet train 2022 #aaron taylor johnson #only if for a night #series #fic #mywriting #k.exe

336 notes · View notes

baiika · 8 months

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Originally, this was going to be about Momo's fighting style, & it still is to an extent, but it became more about how ruthless Momo is.

Momo primarily relies on guerilla warfare. I think most people understand what guerilla warfare is, but I'll give a rundown of what I've gleaned to be its basics: sabotage, raids, ambushes, terrorism, hit & run, petty warfare, etc.

Some of this doesn't apply to Momo. I don't qualify Momo as a terrorist the way white nationalist groups, Islamic extremists, or private security agencies like the Wagner Group are. I think the Gotei as an institution is Horrible, but let's be real, Momo hasn't had the opportunity to enact or be complicit in that shit the way Sousuke, Genryusai, Retsu, Kenpachi, & Mayuri would be, & I don't think she would knowingly do so either, given her internal conflict over fighting Toushirou in chapter 131.

I'll look at it later how this encounter is unusual for Momo. However, the point as of now is to ascertain Momo isn't blase about the use of violence. Why else would she be weeping when she wholeheartedly believes she's avenging a loved one? It's sufficient evidence for a conscience.

Her jail brake in chapter 127 lends credence to this as well. Like, look at what she did in chapter 129.

Momo very easily could've killed this man. She could've blown a hole through him as easily as she blew through several iron bars & left no witnesses. But she didn't.

I think it's safe to say Momo has a conscience & isn't a terrorist.

However, she does use guerilla warfare.

Momo set traps & ambushes. Most famously, Momo sets up a web of kidou to incinerate the Tres Beastias in 334.

Like, there's a lot that's impressive about this shit: the scale of it, the fact she's able to set it up where no one is caught in it before the right moment, the fact she's ENTIRELY undetected by like two dozen people while setting it up.

However, Momo is mostly seen ambushing people. We see in chapter 333 that her entrance is an ambush.

This is the first time we see her ambush, but it isn't the last.

In chapter 556, Momo ambushes Bambietta after Shinji is incapacitated.

We see her ambush, like, a half dozen Soldat to save Marechiyo in chapter 581 as well.

No forewarning. Just a remorseless, summary execution.

& like, as a small sidebar, this isn't out of character for her. In chapter 335, Momo explains her kidou net, but pay attention to her expressions.

Momo is entirely unbothered that she's incinerated three people. Like, she's smiling. I know she's unwell at this point & I know it's war, but she's in the same battlefield as someone who's made her life miserable for DECADES & she's smiling. Rangiku & Momo are confident enough that Momo's trap worked that their guard is lowered enough for some rumination. & Momo is bragging. After believing she's summarily executed three people.

Like, it's a fucking miracle the guard from chapter 129 where she breaks out of jail. Yes, she has a conscience but demonstrates no compunction with murder.

I think what's most impressive about Momo's capabilities as a guerilla warrior is her kyokkou.

Like, Bambietta is a competent person. We see in chapter 558, after her defeat, that the Femritter don't even approach her until after she's down.

I'm not an expert in Bambietta & I don't purport to be. However, I'm fairly certain that if Bambietta is more powerful than four Sternritter at their best, I feel like it can translate into notable reikaku.

Her skills in kyokkou are cemented early on, as seen in 335 where no one senses her or her trap, no one knows her position after her jailbreak in chapter 127, and Toushirou doesn't realize that she's busted out of his barrier in chapter 168.

Yes, it proves she's a master of kidou, but that's not the point of this post. The point is: why is she so good at kyokkou? It's because she's partial to quick & quiet. It's something she's deliberately nurtured.

Like, I think if it weren't for Sousuke arranging to have her graduate into gobantai, Momo would've been placed in niibantai or found her way into the onmitsukidou.

#momo hinamori; i am the fucking fire starter

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pinkipeachiikeen · 2 years

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Feline Antics Kuroo x GN! Reader

Ahhh! I’m so excited to finally post something I have written online!!! This is a big step for my anxious ass. Anyway, thank you @taeyamayang for encouraging me! This drabble is dedicated to Aria and Momo my fav scrappy black cats

It’s def not my fav work i’ve written- but it’s a start.

Word count: 705

Summary: Kuroo tries.... and fails to convince y/n that he is a dog person with his cat like antics

Likes, reblogs and comments are much welcomed!!! Gives me writting fuel!!!

“So what did you get?”

“19/20, beat that, loverboy.” I tease, shaking my phone at him.

“Read it and weep, honeybunch.” He dangles his phone in front of my face. “Read it and weep.”

No way. “What?” I snatch his phone. “Lemme see.” The four numbers mock me.

20/20.

I wacked him with it then too. Then named it Mr Honk.

“How embarrassing,” he teases. “After you begged me to take this little relationship test too.” “I didn’t beg!” I whine. “I don’t beg!” He raises his eyebrow. Don’t do it. He smirks. “You sure did last-” “OH MY GOD!” I cut him off as he cackles. I’m dating a man child. “Whatever.” I scoff as I scroll through all the questions and my eyes finally land upon it. The only question I got wrong, the one that gave Kuroo another reason to tease me, if he didn’t have enough of those already and an even bigger head. Question 12. Does your partner prefer dogs or cats? A simple question. A no brainer. Cats, obviously. Except the red ‘x’ too it says otherwise.

“That’s why!” I exclaim.

“Hmm? You found out why i am the superior parter?” he teases. I roll my eyes. “You wish.” I tossed him my phone. “You pressed the wrong answer, dummy.”His eyebrows furrow as he retorts; “No, i didn’t?” “Yeah you did! You pressed ‘dogs’ instead of ‘cats’. Therefore, we tied!” I said smugly. “Except, I did press the right answer. I’m more of a dog person.” he explains“ Bullshit!” I roll my eyes.

“I’m telling the truth! Is this because I was the captain of Nekoma? With my suave graceful movements and agaile abilities?” He pridefully boasts, looking like the cat that got the canary. “Yeah the same agileness that broke three different lamps. Two in the same day, as well.” Kuroo scoffs, offended by the facts. “I’m tall, Y/n! My lanky limbs have to go somewhere!” He pouts, wiggling said lanky limbs for effect. “Yeah, but they couldn’t have been lanky anyplace besides right next to my nightstand? Or my coffee table, or my-“ “Ok, Ok I get it!” He whines. “All of that only helps plead my case.” I state.

“You mean the one that I’m a cat.”

“Yes. Cats break shit left and right too.”

“Okay, left and right is a little excessive!”

“But not wrong. Let’s also talk about the fact how you hiss when I sprayed water on you.”

“Anyone would when you spray water on them!”

“People don’t hiss Tetsu! You full on hissed like a vampire in the sun!

“….So like Kenma.”

I pause for a moment. “A little bit, yeah I guess. He’s like a cat too, but that’s a whole different story. He’s like a old calico cat, just minding his business while you are a little scrappy black cat. Causing chaos and mischief.” “I’m not scrappy, i’m resourceful and resilient!” He corrects. “You’re scarppy”. I deadpan. “The scrappy little black cat antagonizing and teasing everyone always causing a ruckus and always needs attention and affection. No matter how much they deny it.” “I don’t demand nor need your attention!” He huffs.

“Tetsu?”

“Yes, love?”

“You are literally laying on my right now.”

Kuroo looks down to realize that he is indeed laying across my lap and is silent for a moment, Before he snuggles closer into me.

“The fact that I’m laying on your lap means nothing.” He pulls up the blanket over his lap. “Now shh. I’m sleeping now.”

I smile and roll my eyes once more, something I rarely did before my cat-like boyfriend waltz his way into my life. “See? Demanding.”

“Shh!”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #Kuroo fluff #kuroo drabble #Haikyuu x reader

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aromanticannibal · 2 years

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because I belong to this idea, here's my headcanons for poly 1-a. theyre dating susan.

the very first couple is momojirou. aizawa doesn't like having a couple in his class but he thinks. heh those two are tame it's fine.

little did he know. it was only the beginning.

kaminari says something about how he wishes he could date jirou. both jirou and her gf say they wouldn't mind if kami dating her. they become a trouple, as kami def loves momo as well and momo gets attached to him easily.

then it goes downhill from here. the bakusquad slowly comes into it. sero makes out with kami. jirou is into him too. he joins in. kirishima is next. then mina. bakugou doesn't come in yet, theyll have to wait for him to be a little more comfy with the idea, cuz he's aro and gay and doesn't conceive this can be platonic too.

then the dekusquad. momo kisses uraraka. uraraka has her good ol' crush on midoriya, she basically drags him in. he crushes hard on kiri and kami so he's fine with it, just disappointed kacchan isn't there (:<)

then todoroki. he holds iidas hand all the time for comfort purposes and accidentally makes him part of the polycule

tsuyu is a lesbian and just wants to date all the girls. she's just there for the gals man

aizawa looks at the twelve (12) dumbasses holding hands in the hallways. he internally weeps.

it gets worse/better when shinsou gets in the class. everyone wants to date him.

satou confesses to momo with cookies and is accepted into the polycule with open arms from everyone. ojirou and hagakure reveal they'd been dating in secret and both have a crush on kaminari, because obviously.

koda and tokoyami first get into a qpr just the two of them, before being swallowed by the polycule.

shinsou has warmed up to the class. he is a cat sitting on everyone's lap but is too nervous to ask the 1-a polycule to date him.

aoyama really wants to date basically everyone, and he's smart. he knows the polycule is the way. he goes in

I'm talking about this like it's the mafia what is wrong with me

shouji gets in without realizing. everyone just loves cuddling with him so much.

only bakugou and shinsou are left. everyone is plotting against them.

aizawa is mentally praying they stay out for his mental health. he cannot deal with the full power of a 1-A polycule.

shinsou has no idea whats the difference between romantic and platonic is he just wants to have people to cuddle and make out with and these ones are very neat. he rambles to bakugou about this. bakugou tells him about how he wants to be there too but is scared they'll ask things he doesn't want from him. shinsou says if they do he'll beat their asses, and they both confess.

aizawa is on the border of tears. he's so unhappy rn. he's the shadow of a man

his students are thriving tho. cuddling, making out eventually. some like neither but simply having the company of the others is so great.

momojirou are joked to be the moms of the polycule. they were the first ones dating, after all.

they would kill people for each other. they very much would.

if u have any headcanons for poly 1-a I am begging u to send me an ask or reblog this and tell me

#mha

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ninhaoma-ya · 2 years

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Chapter 1053 — The new emperors

And it’s here! The final chapter before the break.

Feelings, both high and low, as well as revelations are in store. So without further ado, let’s delve in!

Morgans is my fave.

Nothing more to add.

(CP0-name! Guernica? Interesting… reference to Picasso in general or the painting in particular or Spain in very detailed focus?)

Edit: HUGE THING TO ADD!

Say what you will about reddit, but those historically-accurate-dudes do have their eyes with them! There’s a wild Sabo in the background! Looking all kinds of angry! WILL THE REVERIE-MYSTERY BE REVEALED AFTER THE BREAK?

Love the new bounty pictures! Kid is rising, rising, rising in my esteem, lovely little unhinged ball of metal and punk that he is.

And great subversion of expectations to give them the same bounty! Well played.

Proper, well-bred Jinbe. Love his patience and manners.

And the chaotic energy radiating from the others!

Yamato is clearly one of the team, although this could also be a “he’s enjoying his first real festival before he stays at Wano to help Momo”-type of Vivi-esque thing going on as well. Although Yamato has said repeatedly that he wants to leave and go adventuring, so that’s what I expect he’ll do.

Robin found her poneglyph! Just hoping for her to find the red one as well, although that might be this one with the shading as well. We’ll have to wait for Word of Oda for that.

Although I wish he could stop with his messiah-tendencies regarding dead people.

I get it, it’s not nice when people die. But in a story, they sometimes die for narrative purposes and bringing them back just makes the reader question the whole plot. “Welp, what was all that for?” is a question that springs to mind.

So of course Tengu-san can’t just be a sword smith. Of course he has to be the long-dead Kozuki Sukiyaki who also somehow managed to smithe several cursed blades that are still somehow good enough to be of exceptional quality that they are included in guide books on cool swords?

Seriously, not a fan of resurrecting people who (1) died in a flashback and (2) for a very good reason.

Oh well, looking forward to learning more about Pluton, at least.

Okay, new admiral is creepy and has some very unsettling daddy issues going on.

This whole spread is light an joy and pure delight. Have it all! Strawhats! Akazaya-members! Minks! Hamlet and Horselina! And oh, my weeping heart, the visual silence surrounding Kin’emon and Tsuru who are finally reunited.

And more heartwarming close-ups! This time of the rival crews, partying with the rest!

Really like Kid’s crew! Truly the most diverse one out there.

And then, the sweet little twist at the end of the Christmas cracker: the panels that summarise the extremes of my reactions to this chapter.

On one end: called it, with the new admiral being the break’s cliffhanger.

On the other: SWEET BABY GARP, BUGGY’S AN EMPEROR?

WHAT? HOW?

The last we saw of him, he’s egging his followers on after being ousted as a Shichibukai and trying to scarper in the settling dust.

…what happened in those <calculating> SEVEN DAYS BETWEEN THEN AND NOW?

…he’s getting his dream of being on par with Shanks, at least…?

Also, the flowers that spring up behind Ryokugyu are really interesting. Will he leave Wano a bountiful and green nation after the industrial wasteland brought by Kaido and Orochi, or is it a poisoned present?

Great chapter, I give it a bounty of 3 billion berry.

A nice little wrap-up with a cute little twist at the end. Take your well-deserved break, Oda!

#one piece #ch 1053 #opspoilers #one piece spoilers #nin reads one piece

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ao3feed-izch · 5 months

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A Little Madness is Good for the Soul

by Rei_Archer

A cup of tea, a potion that makes you grow small, a pastry that makes you grow big, and a cast of friends straight from a story book. What more could one want?

How about a sword that can slay house sized beasts, powers that make physics weep, and a mouse with a knife? Add to that a mind as sharp as steel, a wit as quick as Hermes, and the guidance of two worlds' greatest heroes and Izuku is well on his way to being a monster of a man.

Words: 2938, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton), Alice in Wonderland (1951), Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Related Fandoms, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M

Characters: Alice Kingsleigh, Midoriya Izuku, Class 1-A (My Hero Academia), Class 1-B (My Hero Academia), Toga Himiko, U.A.'s Big Three (My Hero Academia), Hatsume Mei, U.A. Faculty (My Hero Academia), Past One For All Users (My Hero Academia), Various Alice in Wonderland Characters

Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Toga Himiko, Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Izuku/Yaoyorozu Momo, Ashido Mina/Midoriya Izuku, Asui Tsuyu/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku/Melissa Shield, Jirou Kyouka/Midoriya Izuku, Hatsume Mei & Midoriya Izuku, Hagakure Tooru/Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & U.A. Faculty, Class 1-A & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Various Alice in Wonderland Characters, Midoriya Izuku/Alice Kingsleigh

Additional Tags: Midoriya Izuku Has a Quirk, Midoriya Izuku is a Ray of Sunshine, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku is a Dork, Midoriya Izuku is a Little Shit, Midoriya Izuku Has a Knife, Alice Kingsleigh Returns to Underland, Underland (Alice in Wonderland), Out of Character Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Out of Character Yagi Toshinori | All Might, U.A. is a University (My Hero Academia), Mineta Minoru is Expelled from U.A. High School, Protective U.A. Faculty (My Hero Academia), Bakugou Katsuki is Expelled from U.A. High School, Midoriya Izuku Has Multiple Quirks, Midoriya Izuku Has One for All Quirk, Midoriya Inko's Bad Parenting, Smart Midoriya Izuku, Snarky Midoriya Izuku, One For All Quirk Haunted by Past One For All Users' Ghosts (My Hero Academia), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Toga Himiko is Not a Villain, Toga Himiko is in Class 1-A, BAMF Class 1-A (My Hero Academia), Overpowered Midoriya Izuku, Cryptid Nedzu (My Hero Academia), Cryptid Midoriya Izuku, Polyamory, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead is So Done, so many references, Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Manga Spoilers, Multilingual Midoriya Izuku, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Only in Underland, Post-Canon Underland, Smart Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Yagi Toshinori | All Might is a Good Teacher, U.A. Faculty Actually Do Their Jobs

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53166007

#ao3feed #dekuraka #izch #izuku midoriya #izuocha #ochako uraraka #ochadeku #auto

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taiyona · 7 months

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Weeks in the Womb

Thank you to Unmargin for originally publishing this piece. Bao Phi, love to you for your stewardship.

Weeks in the Womb

By Taiyo Na

Written for our first born child, who was in my partner Sarah’s belly for most of 2020 during the COVID-19 pandemic.

It’s April. 20 weeks in your mother’s womb, when she and her sister take a walk through the neighborhood park, a man calls them “fckin chinks" and spits towards them. Such occasions mark your beginning.

The man’s hatred and delusion doesn’t notice the baby inside her, that there is life on top of life in her body, so if he had a knife or acid to throw like some other lost souls in this city, he would have ripped you open or burned through twice the sanctity of my family. This marks your start.

10 weeks prior in the womb, we share momos and taro buns with Malaya who is visiting from San Jose. We talk Duterte, the plight of the people, Rapsody, D Smoke. We satiate the meal, talk about the 20 years between us. When he leaves, we hug. I clean the plates, notice purple crumbs that smile.

10 weeks prior in the womb, your mother and I weep over the film Queen & Slim. We stand in the lobby of the theater, arms wrapped and sobbing, braced in the heartbreak of a fictional reality we know to be true. This is your first movie.

8 weeks prior in the womb, Annie and Mas have their baby shower for your baby buddy Dash. This is your first party. 9 weeks prior in the womb, my old bandmate Takenori plays his Wes Montgomery fingers over his hollow body guitar at Tomi’s. I know you heard that reverb by the way you dance in the womb. This is your first concert.

Our friend Abe plays drums, delivers lines and belts at the Signature Theatre like we’ve never seen him before, like audiences have never seen before. Cambodian Rock Band, this is your first play.

At a Day of Remembrance at the JA Church, you and your mother love the inarizushi. You come from a long line of people who love inari, across seas through barbed wire fences.

The Lakers went on a run in March, only to be stopped by Brooklyn. We are on the couch. Your father watches the games on the TV while your mother naps. We rest while caressing you over your mother’s belly. These warm hands, your first blanket.

20 weeks in the womb, we are alive during a genocide through federal neglect. Over 10,000 dead, and no sign of the number slowing down. From Queens to Brooklyn, Detroit to Chicago, New Orleans to Newark, there aren’t enough beds, ventilators, masks, gloves, scrubs, care, compassion, generosity to adequately deal with this pandemic.

20 weeks in the womb, those nurses, doctors, grocery store clerks, farmers, delivery folks on the frontlines continue to go to work. Their courage moves us. Your uncle, the baker, lost his job, like millions of other people in this country. He, like all of them, did not deserve this. He's still baking though, making tutorials online. He makes a dough as tender and beautiful as his heart. His bread is waiting for you. Your mother persists, too, holds space for her team. Your father holds space for his students. As best we can in virtual spaces.

20 weeks in the womb, the earth is reshaping itself. We are breathing in an age where there is a shortage of breaths. You take your breaths amidst water, through a cord to your mother, underneath the cocoon of a belly, soft like milk bread.

21 weeks in, your mother starts experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions, brief cramps that are said to prepare her body for your birth. Nature, true to her programming, invites us into signals of what is to come before it is fully present.

The deaths keep ballooning. Public school staff. MTA staff. Folks in prison.

Arundhati Roy once spoke about the era of New Genocide, a byproduct of globalization. New Genocide occurs when human imposed conditions lead to mass death without people actually going out and killing other people. An example would be economic sanctions against Iraq when in ‘97 and ‘98 US sanctions on Iraq claimed more than half a million children's lives. New Genocide is created when there is a purposeful withholding of necessary resources for a population.

You are in the womb during a New Genocide. Its capital is the city of your father’s birth. Your parents’ friends and colleagues are losing their fathers, mothers, friends, grandparents. These are swift, pummeling deaths. Cleaved lungs and vocal cords, like Eric Garner, say their names: they can’t breathe.

By the end of May, we know the names of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery and more. Something cracks open. The streets flood with protestors. Statues fall, statements and more statements fly. Former students lead the way while we quarantine with your mother. A tipping point, a rebellion and reckoning in response to double pandemics. Black/American Spring. This birthed here right before you.

30 weeks in the womb, your mother and I decide a name for you: Jayu. In Korean, it means freedom. Free. Both noun and adjective. You are jayu, can be jayu, feel jayu. May you know what this year means, this moment, and may it be in our mother's tongues.

At 36 weeks, we welcome a monstera deliciosa to add to our plant family. The “swiss cheese" plant grows holes in her adult leaves so light cascades to the smaller leaves below. What holes will we grow to let love shine through to our young? What do we let go to give space for?

Week 41. Contractions accelerate. Muscles tighten and release in the rhythm of a storm. Divinely dangerous, the labor which begets all labor, the work that precedes all work. Rings of fire.

Week 41, you're here. Jayu is late, is on time. Wednesday, August 26th. The Milwaukee Bucks, an NBA team goes on strike, the first time for any professional sports team to do so. The Sunday before, Wisconsin police hail seven bullets and paralyze a 29 year old Black father Jacob Blake in front of his children. At a protest in Kenosha, two protestors are shot to death. Other major sports athletes also act in solidarity with the Bucks. It's four years to the day when Kaepernick first kneels in a game. Freedom contracts. Freedom cascades.

When you first slide out of your mother’s womb, you take a moment and realize you’re no longer in a world of amniotic fluid. You wail. Skin to skin with us soothes you. Your mother can’t believe how small you are--a miniature nose, feet, hands. To think we were all that tiny once, small bundles turning into tall things.

#writers #poetsandwriters #poetry #poets on tumblr #original poem #poems and poetry #writers and poets

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