#tofu writes

[sushimoosh]

SWITTIES

thank you for listening

[soymimikyu]

Cleaning the Stovetop

hssssssss*click*click*click*fwoosh*

hssss*click*click*click*fwoosh*

hsss*click*click*click*fwoosh*

“Just one more…..,” she muttered pointing her wand at the last ritual burner.

hsssss*click*click*click*click*fwoosh*

The scent of sulfur grew faint as four small blue flames flickered in front of her bringing just enough light to reveal the shiny, black metal at their center. She dragged a finger across the metal only to have it quickly catch in a sticky, tar like substance. “Ewugh…this is so long overdue….”

Her wand pointed at the center of the flames she proclaimed, “COME HITHER LORD OF THE BLACK PATINA. I SUMMON THEE!”

Nothing. Only silence and the dim light of the burners filled the room.

“Hmmm, maybe they are gone. Makes my job easi—”

“What do you want now?” echoed from the darkness. 

“I have an ultimatum for you.”

“You? An ultimatum with me? Don’t make me laugh….I would snort and roll my eyes at you if I had such useless extensions. You will simply need to settle for my tone. I believe you people call it indignation.”

With fatigued exasperation to match, she replied, “The ultimatum is that you must go on vacation.”

“A...vacation?”

“Yes a vacation. Or a sabbatical. Maybe a study abroad. I don’t particularly care as long as you are no longer here for the foreseeable future. You may return eventually. When I deem it appropriate.”

“A preposterous request, but entertain me. What brought about such bold stupidity? Was it the moon? Perhaps some moldy cheese?”

Wishing dearly that this disembodied voice from the dark had a neck to throttle, she paused to bottle her frustration. “The high council is visiting and appearances are of the utmost importance. They needn’t see the unsightly mess that is my pet.”

“YOUR PET?!?,” the voice erupted. “You have no right! Do you even know who I am? Do you have any idea how much I do around here? How critical I am to your existence? I bring flavor to things! I am flavor!”

“All the same things could be just as easily said about a sourdough starter….”

*bling*

“What was that?,” the voice peeped.

“Dinner.” 

“You can’t prepare dinner without me. I make things tasty. I’m irreplaceable…”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Definitely irreplaceable. You have until I’m done with dinner to vacate. Otherwise you will be vacated. But don’t worry too much, you will be able to come back eventually.”

“I won’t leave! You can’t make me do anyth—”

With a flick of her wrist a sudden breeze blew out the flames and with them the voice. Once again she was surrounded by only darkness and silence.

Using her wand to illuminate her surroundings, she stared at the pile of cleaning supplies in the corner.

“Dinosaur nuggets and vegetables first. Then cleaning. Can’t clean hungry.”

[tofuwrites]

ℝ𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕆𝕡𝕖𝕟~

Masterlist here~ {requested prompts/drafts are at the bottom}

- For now I will only be writing for One Piece ( Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Kid, Law, Doflamingo and Ace)

- Certain stuff I don’t write for are

Mink (reader part)

Polyamory

Gore

- I will be writing for free.

- Be polite when requesting~

- I will delay the request if I don’t have inspiration for it...

- Press here if you want to provide Ko-fi soy beans for Tofu~

PLEASE BE PATIENT I’M A SLOW WRITER..

[binibinitofu]

On a Tuesday Evening

Rating: PG

Word count: 1.2k

Pairing: AbeMiha

Tags: Future Fic, Domestic, Established Relationship, an attempt at Hurt/Comfort was made, Abe is studying in university to be an Athletic Trainer, Mihashi is a pro baseball player, they live together and they’re gay

Summary: Mihashi is worried that one day Abe will get tired of dealing with him; Abe doesn’t think that’s even possible.

@dream-without-dreamer i was your secret santa this year for @oofurixmas! you asked for soft abemiha, them just living together and maybe some hurt/comfort so i hope i delivered! merry Christmas! (fic under cut)

or you can read it on AO3 (click here)!

From his seat at the study desk in his bedroom Abe hears the sound of the front door clicking open and closed again, followed by the distant rustling and thuds of baseball gear being put back in place.

A soft “I’m home” calls out to the apartment, and like always it brings a smile to Abe’s face. Home. 

He looks down at his notes and decides Kinesiology can wait; he pushes back from the desk and stands, stretching his limbs out to force the stiffness out of his joints, taking extra care when it comes to his knee. As he makes his way to the living room the “welcome home” leaves his lips as natural as the breath he takes afterwards, familiar and right. He smiles warmly at the man who had just slipped his shoes off at the entrance, taking in the unruly and endearing mess of honey brown curls and those bright hazel eyes of his boyfriend, Mihashi. Mihashi smiles back, hesitant, his eyes darting this way and that the way they do when he’s overthinking.

“How was practice?” Abe asks, gently pulling Mihashi’s hand into his own, frowning when his lover’s clammy skin meets his own heated palm. Abe’s fingertips move purposefully, feeling up those callouses, both the ones that existed long before they met and the ones he helped develop, stroking along the palm, fitting his own fingers into the spaces between Mihashi’s. 

Mihashi makes a strangled sort of chirping noise instead of giving Abe an actual answer, which causes Abe to immediately tear his attention away from those cold fingers to Mihashi’s face. His grey eyes study Mihashi as he tries to decide what to do next. Even after all these years Abe finds there’s still a small part of him that urges him to move cautiously and slowly with Mihashi, a small part of him that’s still afraid their relationship is one misunderstanding away from completely falling apart. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Comes Abe’s solution, his voice slow and steady, his eyes still carefully observing the other man. He can almost see the gears turning in Mihashi’s mind; his hazel eyes keep glancing from side to side and a bunch of soft, frustrated thinking noises escape his chapped lips. 

Abe waits. 

And he waits. 

And then, “It’s okay if you don’t, you know. I wanna help; just let me know how.”

“I-” Mihashi starts and Abe reaches out with his other hand to gently rub the top of Mihashi’s hand that is still cradled in his own in a silent sign of encouragement. “I-I...I...Ta-taka-takaya do you...are you...you tired of me?”

Abe’s heart sinks to the depths of his stomach, heavy and cold, and he swears it makes an audible, hollow thud when it hits the bottom. Tired of him? Tired of Mihashi? Abe's mind whirls as he tries to imagine a world where he would grow tired of this man. How could he ever not crave Mihashi with his whole heart the way he does now? How could he not want to wake up to a warm body snuggled into his side and see horrendous bed hair peeking up from the covers every morning? How could he not want to take that rough, cold hand he knows better than his own and feel pride swell up in his chest every time those fingers start warming up? 

A world where he grows tired of Mihashi scares him, it makes him feel unsettled right down to his core.

But that's too heavy, much too heavy for Mihashi right now, so instead Abe just pulls his lover into a tight embrace.

"Ren," he breathes out, low and even, against Mihashi's neck. 

"Taka-takaya, w-w-what-" Mihashi is cut off by Abe abruptly pulling back, hands firm on his shoulders, intense grey eyes boring into his own wavering hazel ones.

"I love you." Abe says this with so much certainty, with so much weight, that Mihashi can't help the tears that slip down his cheeks as he feels the knot of anxiety in his gut slowly become untied. "Do you know that I love you?" Mihashi nods almost immediately. "So what brought this up?" 

Oh. I messed up. Mihashi knows Abe loves him, he's known it for so long, and he knows it's the truth, so why? Why did he doubt him?

"The team, they said—some of them said that I'm too...too dif—too diffi—too much work. That I need to be careful because, because my lover might get tired of-of-of-of dealing with me...because I'm too much work."

Abe closes his eyes and forces himself to take deep breaths to quell his anger. If I ever see those teammates it's over with. "You aren't too much work, Ren. You're a lot of work but you're not too much. And I knew you were a lot of work, I've known it for years, yeah? And I'm here because if you weren't a lot of work you wouldn't be you, and I love you."

"But I am a lot of—lot of work," Mihashi mumbles, eyes flicking away from Abe's to look at the ground. 

"And I'm a workaholic," Abe shoots back, grin easy and warm on his face.

"But you could get tired one day."

"I really don't think I ever could."

Mihashi is smiling now too, soft and shy still after all these years, and Abe hopes that one day Mihashi will be able to love him without the nagging fear that he'll grow tired of him, and he hopes that one day he himself will be able to trust that he can talk with Mihashi without fear of destroying everything with a few sharp words. Well, we have the rest of our lives to get there though.

"Takaya, can—can—can—can I kiss you?" And how could Abe say no to those big eyes looking up at him, full of wonder and affection and admiration only for him? So he laughs out a "yes" that is stopped by the chapped yet soft lips that press themselves against his own without hesitation. Abe smiles into the kiss, wrapping his arms back around Mihashi's waist and pulling him close. Mihashi's lips have left his to let the cutest giggles Abe's ever heard in his life escape from them. He buries his face in Mihashi's neck.

"God, I love you," Abe murmurs against Mihashi's skin, relishing in the way Mihashi's breath hitches when his lips drag against the spot right below his ear. 

"I love you too." Mihashi brings his arms up to cradle Abe's head against himself, so gentle and tender Abe can feel the love bubble up in his chest so violently he's afraid he'll explode.

How could he ever grow tired of this?

[confused-tofu]

Le Cirque des Rêves - Chapter 8

I spend the next days familiarizing myself with the circus, blending into the crowd and visiting tents as a guest, as well as practicing magic. The latter proves to be rather difficult; I pass the hours before the circus opens in the evening in the company of Leo, Louis, or Byron as they attempt to teach me to guide my magic. Their lessons are fascinating; they each have their own style.

“Think of magic as your dancing partner,” Louis tells me as he shows me how to turn a leaf into a lizard. “You lead and follow, give and take, moving together in harmony. Let it flow through your body like the rhythm of a waltz, reaching every part of you, filling you up, and then direct it.”

“Magic is power,” Byron says during his own lesson, “and you must use it responsibly. You must make sure your magic knows that you are in charge, but you must also let it have slack. It is your job to balance your magic’s own will with your own.”

Under their tutelage, I am able to create a rose out of thin air, turn it into a bird, and speak with it. Once I am alone in my room, however, I find it extremely difficult. I can only conjure a single leaf and turn it into a ragged feather.

Every few days, Giles finds time to speak with me about the circus and magic. I tell him about my struggles, and his brow knits as he ponders.

“It would seem,” he begins, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms before him, “that you have a limitation to your magic.” I tilt my head. He holds his chin in his fingers, thinking. “There are some cases in which people with magic have a sort of catch to using it. For this reason, many who have magic never realize it, as it never presents itself to them.”

“So I suppose that’s why I never knew I had magic?” I ask with a small smile.

He returns my smile. “That would not be an unreasonable assumption. So the question now becomes: what exactly is your limitation?”

We stare at the table between us, considering everything. “Well,” I think aloud, “I am always able to do magic during my lessons. It’s only when I practice on my own in my tent…”

“Could it be the environment?” he asks softly, looking at me with friendly eyes, face downcast. I shake my head.

“My first night here, with Leo…” He nods.

“Ah, yes. Your feast.” I flush as he chuckles. “In that case, I have reason to believe your limitation is that your pure magic is quite weak. While you are capable of achieving many types of magic, what you can do is not very strong. Unless, however, you are in proximity of another magic-user. It would seem you are able to siphon magic from a stronger source and use it as your own.”

I look at my lap, considering this new information. “Could I practice and strengthen it?” I wonder, my eyes tight.

“Of course you should practice.” His smile looks almost sad, his eyes downcast. “However, I must be honest with you, and I do not believe you will ever be able to use your own magic at your potential strength.”

My fists tighten where they rest on my thighs. “So I’ll be a burden to everyone, then.”

He looks up suddenly, blinking at me. “Of course not. What gave you that impression?” I only sigh and look away. “You are of great help to us. Your magic is special and should be treasured. As are you.” Surprised, I meet his eyes. I don’t know what I expected, but they feel genuine. They soften as they watch me smile and nod, and I feel a warmth spread through my heart.

That night, I make my way to a section of the circus I have not yet visited. I wind through tent after tent, pushing past pedestrians and the black-and-white-clad dreamers. They treat me much more politely than they did on my first visit.

I catch a whiff of a familiar scent - musk and hay and something like ink - wafting from a tent to my right. The tag says “STAFF,” and I hesitate.

From inside, I hear Byron’s voice. “Nico, please calm down. Al, stop pouting and eat your food.” I suppress a giggle, picturing Nico bouncing around, and a disgruntled Albert with his arms crossed in a corner. Without thinking about it, I step inside.

Byron stands on the hay-covered ground in the middle of the tent. One of his lions butts its head against Byron’s leg, and he holds a large slab of meat out of its reach. The other lion sits facing away from him at the edge of the tent. Byron looks at me, and I glance around the tent, confused.

“Did you name your lions after Nico and Albert?” I ask. “That’s so cute!”

The lion in the corner snorts. Byron gives me a kind smile.

“Hiya, Katja.” I jump and cry a loud “oh!” Byron’s lion has disappeared, and Nico stands in its place - completely naked. I turn around quickly, my face beet red.

“N-Nico! What… um, I…”

Byron heaves a sigh. “We have a show in five minutes, and now I have to turn you back.”

Nico gives a small laugh. “Sorry about that. I just got excited.”

“So,” I say, now that my shock has for the most part dissipated, “Nico and Albert… are your lions?”

“What did you think they were?” Byron asks, the hint of laughter in his voice.

“Not that!” I say shrilly, indignant.

“You can turn around now. He is a lion again.” I do so, cheeks still pink. Nico-lion rolls around in the hay. “Now, I’m afraid we have a show. If you would excuse us, Miss Katja.” He bows me out of the tent. I wave to the three of them and exit, still a little shaken.

Next, I choose a tent towards the edge of the circus. The label only has a single white flower, dried and pressed onto the surface. The inside of the tent is, at first glance, a beautiful garden. Thousands of colorful flowers spill over a narrow path, winding up the sides of the tent, small butterflies and birds flitting about. As I walk down the path, enthralled, I notice that each butterfly and bird is made of flower petals. A calla lily bird cleans its leafy wings from a perch on an ivy vine. Two peony butterflies dance with each other about the tent.

I stroll down the path, watching ferns curl and buds bloom before my eyes. Whose magic made this? “How curious,” I say to myself.

“May I ask what is curious, miss?” I gasp, whirling to face the voice, my skirts swishing the leaves at my feet. A man stands before me in black and white evening dress. A black silk top hat perches over slicked-back brown hair. A red camellia rests in his lapel. As my skirts settle, he tips his hat, giving me a polite bow. “Forgive me for startling you.”

“Oh, no,” I shake my head. I move to bow, switching to a clumsy curtsy when I remember I am no longer a boy. “Are you a dreamer, sir?” I ask, gesturing to his red flower.

He glances down at it, chuckling. “Is that what you call us?” He gives me a friendly smile. “I am… a bit of an enthusiast.”

“How are you enjoying the circus?” I have never talked with a dreamer before. He exudes an air similar to that of the circus, as though he too belongs within these tents.

His eyes narrow, but his smile doesn't waver. “There is no doubt that this circus is powerful,” he answers. I get the sense that he is choosing his words carefully.

“There are some really beautiful tents. This one is gorgeous.” His face softens.

“Yes, I suppose there are some works of art, aren’t there?” He reaches out to stroke a bluebell bird, sitting on an enormous sunflower and watching him. “One just has to be careful…”

“Sorry, what?” I blink, unsure if I heard him correctly.

The bluebell bird hops onto his outstretched finger. He gives me that gentle smile again. “It can be easy to lose oneself in a place like this. That’s all.” Raising his hand, he releases the little bird; it flutters above my head, past me. I turn to watch it.

When I look back to ask him what he means, he is gone.

[sushimoosh]

Random thought

I gotta see Phantom in the prequelle era uniform

PLEASE

[sushimoosh]

After my head kept me awake

I now need to see a feral Rain and a feral Ant :3

someone knock me tf out please

[sushimoosh]

I read your pathetic excuse for a book. You're a satanic whore! You will burn in hell

I will fuck a demon without a second thought