one day shiroba was watching the food channel with his boyfriend in a muzzle and straightjacket.
shib honestly hated cooking shows. they made him hungry though he could eat literally anyhing and never shit it out or gain weight. the benefits of being an anime and satan, but he watched them for the sake of what it looks like in the end.
shirob might have been the mega bitch, and for him, bitches came in three forms. uncanny sadist, teenage girl, and middle aged woman with a lively sex life and a good marriage.
today the bitch godd was the middle aged housewife and he was going to fucking bake.
shiroba was the kind of housewife to want that suburban house that everyone envys and she makes casserole, looks great, and it's like the fucking fifties.
except fifties housewives do not have dangerous rage-consumed husbands who are rotting from the inside.
no one is as condescending, backstabbing, and narcissistic as 50's housewife shirboba fett.
he retrieved an apron
he dialed up horny smurf but he didn't like baking anymore.
not after the incident with trip.
that's okay he probs would have either brought his dog or his band of merry men probably would have followed him and his koujaku is boring.
there are times where shibaba will call his tasteless counterpart up and just talk about their sex lives.
it's bizarre because shiroba will talk about all the fucked up things him and his kou do in the bedroom compared to koujaku and aokabob and their silly vanilla sexy times.
let's put it this way, if aoba lives the vanilla life, shiroba's is red velvet.
speaking of food terms since shiroba didn't have a baking buddy, he just took off kous muzzle offf and actually somehow managed to kiss him on the cheek fast enough to not get a good potion of his face ripped off
it's like that old guy you see on tv who has a large cat as a pet and it could probably maul him at any given time but hes just so careful around it.
shironpa slips a less frilly apron over bekous shoulders, he tolerates it even though he still gives those growls and shit.
she-ra whips up a nice puddingish cake batter type deal without even trying, then tells kojaku to get some marashino cherries and whipped cream
this bitch instead goes over to a random cabinet having no idea where the fuck to really go for the marahchinos and he grabs the cough syrup and shiboa calls to him from the other side of the kitchen
"one cup, maraschino cherries."
kou picks up the measuring cup pours half the bottle of cough syrup in, overflowing the cup, and just dumps it in the bowl, calling it quits.
And of course shirooomba got tuckered himself out of baking for a bit, managed to get himself a pickle. kojakus pickle. in his ass.
the two fucked in the kitchen like dirty animkals THAT IS RWHERE PEOPLE EAT, YOU DIRTY THINGS. POEPLE EAT FOOOD THERE.
THEY FUCKED SO HARD THEY BROKE A FUCKING COUTNER HOR DO YOU DO THAT
YUUOU CANT;, BEKOU WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU CUT DIAMONDS WITH SHIROBAS BONEY ASS TOO.
I can't really say what else went into that bowl aside from sweet things, blood, and I'm sure body fluids.
shiroba put the nearing finished product into the oven, left it there for a bit before getting tired of waiting. when he peeked in the oven, the food wasn't turning out at all.
he assumed it tasted like cherry, it looked like it did. but instead of being some sort of jello pudding, they managed to create a goop.
this goop didn't seep down to the corners of the pan, it stayed in a wet pile.
AND THIS CONCOCTION OF CHERRY AND SAD SOMEHOW MANAGED TO BREATHE IN AIR TO SPEAK.
it just kind of
glubbed out the word
it took a while for shiroba to catch onto what it was.
he was really fucking curious what the fuck was this thing. and he was actually a little bit angry that his food wasn't food. it was life.
"ab"
"aob"
"aoba"
shiroba internally screamed and yanked the pan out of the oven. the heat seemed to just melt to poor thing more.
had the consistency and scent of cough syrup and the liquidy substance on jello that isn't jello but it's colored by the jello and it's gross and you could drink it this little goop dood seemed so fine with literally anything that happened
shiroba, oven mitted hand holding the pan close, used his free hand to boop the little melting homunculus, and to which, when the dainty pale twig of a finger pushed him he jiggled a bit, shiroba expected the thing to actually inch away from his finger, but it immediately clinged onto his finger.
panicked, he dropped the pan, the cherry guy crawled up his finger and up his hand. he actually left a gross snail trail of faint jello juice coloring.
"aoba" it blubbed, crawling up shirobas arm before it decided to settle there.
it seemed ike it didnt' really know what to do as much as it just knew it was set on getting to aoba.
shiroba, being more calm now, eyed kou who did nothing but watch. he was fine with most everything his kou did, and he managed to notice, glancing back and forth from the sentient goop on his arm to koujaku, that the jelly somewhat resembled him.
"it's a jaku... a gross one. how the fuck do i get rid of it." he pretty much said to himself, putting on a fake smile to cover up the fact that he was actually very very appalled by this thing.
"aoba" the meltjaku blubbed to she-ra.
"aoba." he repeated, clarifying that was indeed what the living mistake said.
shiroba eventually mailed meltjaku to aoba, having the slug manage to seep out of his packaging when he made it into the house and live there like a spider.
he just left those gross snail trails on the ceilings, the walls, on desks, everywhere.
ren did point this out but aoba rally didn't care at the time.
meltjakus favourite spot to hang around was any pocket in aobas shirt.
although it was risky being that aoba could just stiick his hand in said pocket and stick his hand into melty.
melt would be okay with that. like his bakemother, he was fine with literally everything and anything the person who he sconsdiered tot be the one did.
So that's how meltjaku came to be. A sad concoction of shit talk about aoba and koujakus relationship, sugar, spice, an overdose of coughs syrup and blood and bodily fluids that were and will never actually be specified, made by shiroba who can baek al ittle.
shiorba never got the food h e dreamed of. poor hshiroba.