#✧ ... poundcake writing

[poundcakecrm]

Ichigo noticing it one random evening, when their sore bodies are still sewing themselves back together in the healing springs and the false sun of Urahara Shoten is still 'hanging' yellow and golden in the sky (just why the shopkeep decided it was necessary to install the dawn and death of each new day with the actual planetary orbit was beyond him, but hey, at least it was a mere oddity and not a threat this time).

His hands are exploring chiseled muscle that seems to never tire, and pale skin that never tans, taking advantage of the fact that he'd kicked Grimmjow's ass hard enough that the Arrancar doesn't throw him halfway across the room on the spot. Ichigo figures he has about five more minutes soaking in the springs before that happens, and so he makes dutiful use of his time. His fingers just barely graze as they move, down from the nape of the other's neck where blue hair lays plastered, and ghost over bruised shoulders before heading down his torso.

Grimmjow watches, silent, both arms propped lazily over the edge of the pools but his eyes are still as sharp as they'd been during their actual sparring match. They watch every movement with frightening focus, and Ichigo doesn't miss the way his fingers twitch every so often; but he doesn't stop him. They've seen too much and touched too much by now for that, this is skin carrying the memory of years of friendly sparring now, not just battles. But Ichigo still treads carefully, as always; just as watchful, as always.

That is how he notices it for the first time, the way blue eyes suddenly narrow to mere slits when his hands cross over the scarred tissue carving down Grimmjow's chest, so fast it was like a flash bomb had gone off. It's an entirely silent reaction, followed yet another subtle twitch of the Arrancar's hands, but even that is enough to make Ichigo pause almost instantly - because Grimmjow doesn't react, not to touch. Not to the featherlight human-level touch Ichigo uses even outside his body whenever they aren't crossing blades. He's mapped out an impressive amount of the former Espada's skin by now, with rough holds and lazy caresses, and Grimmjow bats an eye to none of it. It's the hierro, Ichigo had eventually figured out. Also spite no doubt, and battleworn experience, and stubbornness; but mostly the hierro. Ichigo was pretty sure he could smack a mace across the fucker's back and it wouldn't do anything but put the Arrancar in a sour mood.

Grimmjow never reacted because Grimmjow didn't feel touch half the time. Until now. Until blue eyes narrow so quick it can be nothing but a reaction. Ichigo doesn't comment, but he stares with fiery curiosity and Grimmjow doesn't comment, but he glares with cold warning that he'd better not.

So he doesn't. Ichigo remains silent even when his hands begin moving again, this time tracing the path from the other's neck all the way across his chest, his abdomen, down to dip of his hips. Grimmjow's hands twitch a few more times, droplets of healing water lazily dripping off onto the rocks; but the Arrancar does an impressive job of keeping absolutely still and silent until Ichigo's hands are satisfied with their discovery.

There's no hierro. Or at least, practically none, not anywhere where the skin has turned dark and rough from natural scarring. Anywhere his Getsuga Tensho or Nnoitra Gilga's zanpakuto had touched had devoured the layer of protection like acid, leaving nothing but mere flesh in its wake. It was a crack in the shield, a gaping seam in the system, and it was everywhere it was most vital. And he'd left it. "Left it" being the proper, consciously-chosen wording because it'd been long enough that Inoue actually baked Grimmjow his own set of cookies around the holidays even if the Arrancar never ate them, and had even offered to force Ishida into knitting him a stocking once. And even before, back when their interactions were far from pleasant, Grimmjow had made Inoue heal his Sexta Espada tattoo once. She could heal anything, reverse any damage. Grimmjow could have had the scar, his hierro, healed at any time over the span of years by now.

But he hadn't, and Ichigo's curious eyes just continue to ask "why" while Grimmjow's deadly glare just continues to warn "don't."

So he doesn't, not today anyway. His hands eventually draw back to him, and Yoruichi eventually speaks up from where her perverted-self is hiding amongst the rocks, and Grimmjow eventually launches himself from the springs shamelessly in the nude to gut her with his claws. Ichigo will stay sitting there in the water, shameful in the nude, and watch.

And he'll try not to wonder if his is the first real touch that's managed to slip past the Arrancar's defenses, ever since he'd slashed himself an opening all those years ago.

[enigmagp]

Poundcake and Circumstances is a story I’ve been working on for months, a modern fantasy setting, following a trio of adventurers in the world of Exicara, as they work to uncover a shadowy mastermind who guides their world to the brink of apocalypse after apocalypse, without letting their own lives fall apart in the process.

Serra Pyrreb, thirty-two, is a war demon of the nine hells, who spent her first adult years summoned to pointless conflicts by wannabe warlocks and middling masterminds. Quitting her job, Serra battled her way out of hell alongside Meiko, now Tatakai, her oldest friend. On the surface, she befriended other adventurers and fell in love with her girlfriend Seren Hart, a minor spirit with whom she now lives.

Warning! Very long design and backstory ramblings below the cut.

Serra is a demon, and her appearance reflects that, being a muscular woman of 7’3” with pure white skin, marked by scars. She has an absolutely massive pair of curved horns, while spines burst from her back down her spine to the sharp tip of a thick, powerful tail. She has deep black eyes with burning white pupils and long, curly, wild black hair. In her sides are a set of slit vents, three openings on either side that help her draw in more air.

Serra’s colors are white, paired with seafoam and pink. She wears a stolen and defaced military uniform, a seafoam overcoat cut above the midriff and worn open over a pink crop top, decorated by simple white epaulets (no tassels!) and a white fourragère on the right shoulder. She pairs them with matching seafoam pants with white stitching, a pair of white fingerless gloves and bare feet. On her left hip she carries a pair of oversized katana in pink wooden sheathes and white wrapped handles, she’s been trying to name them but consistently changes her mind. She also carries a pair of revolvers (based upon colt navy revolvers) in a pair of harness holsters under her overcoat.

Serra Pyrreb was born and raised in Hell. Hell, as it turns out, is not the best place to live, and Serra developed a skill for violence from a young age. Taking a job as a summonable minion at sixteen, Serra worked under various wannabe villains for the next six years.

Living in a cluttered apartment much too small for herself, Serra’s patience slowly wore thin, as her frequent summonings showed her more and more of a world she wanted to be a part of.

Donning a stolen military uniform, and spilling her own blood on a pair of equally stolen katana, the twenty-eight year old Serra imbued the blades with her own willpower and recruited her friend Meiko, then twenty-four, to reverse Dante’s Inferno out of Hell.

Their mission, taking the better part of seven months, was barely successful, and they split up not long after escaping. While Tatakai would go on to join Kaeru, a story for another time, Serra would make her way to New Diagory City, where she was quickly able to pick up odd jobs.

During this period, Serra, now twenty-nine, met Seren. The two grew to know each other and began a relationship, eventually moving in together when Seren realized Serra did not have a house.

Unwilling to let Seren manage the rent on her own, Serra found an ad by Autumn for a startup adventuring group, accepting the position. The crew quickly grew close and have run dozens of successful missions together.

Now, some three days before Serra’s thirty-third birthday, Autumn’s research has gotten them ahead of something big, a conspiracy to use the Knights of Unending End and awaken a Harbinger, prophesied to end the world. Time is running short, and the trio race against the clock to put this Harbinger down before it fulfills its role.

If you'd like to read Poundcake and Circumstances, it's available right here on Tumblr and over on Tapas.

[poundcake-and-circumstances]

-P&C Table of Contents-

Chapter 1 - The World Doesn’t End

Chapter 2 - A Brush With Disaster

Chapter 3 - Rest and Refocus

[triglycercule]

swapinverse posting again tell me why crash is like. a rebound for error after he totally fucked things up for swap in askerror. why am i writing these guys in vice.ser's lore to have error compare crash to swap ALL THE TIME and say he's lowkeyBETTER than the dumb berry,,,,, bro,,,,,, swap come get your mans the error version of cross is STEALING HIM. oh shit wait you're in the omega timeline living your best life while your ex friend is sulking over his guilt my bad king keep grinding ‼️

even in another multiverse cross remains the most perfect shippable man im afraid. i already got lowkey crink in this what's next crerror??? i havent made the muse twins meet crash yet but if they did it would be cream and crossmare (but better because melpomene's not a total cunt compared to nightmare)

[loulovingho]

Tommy never had a birthday cake growing up because his dad was against sweets in the house, so his mom would take him to a local bakery for a birthday cookie from ages 4-10. She died before he turned 11 but he walked himself to the bakery after school, got as far as the door, and couldn’t go inside. His dad wasn’t a fan of birthday celebrations at all, so there was nothing after that, then he joined the army, and the closest to a cake he got was an MRE vanilla poundcake with a match sticking out of it that one of his commanding officers gave him and, while it did make his heart swell a bit, he never got to eat it because they were alerted to an attack on base.

After the army he didn’t really care to celebrate his birthday at all, and he felt dumb buying himself a cake, so he never did. He bought cake for other occasions though, just because cake was delicious and it was like he could feel his dad getting angry every time he took a bite. He got a cake when he left the 118 and he smiled every time he opened his fridge and saw the leftovers. He even put some in his freezer and kept it there for a couple years because it actually meant so much to him.

And maybe he should’ve realized with dating Evan that he was definitely going to have a birthday cake, but the thought truly never crossed his mind until it was on the table in front of him. All their friends gathered around the table while he stared at this cake like there is no way it’s real. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring so long until they’ve finished singing happy birthday and the candles are still burning and Evan places a hand on his back and nervously asks if he’s okay.

He’s nervous because he made the cake himself and it was his first time making a chocolate/vanilla marble cake with buttercream frosting and he’s not great at writing on cakes or decorating so it looks a little funky but Tommy mumbles out mid Evan-rant that he’s never had a birthday cake before and the room falls silent.

There’s tears in his eyes when he turns and takes Evan’s head in his hands and pulls him in for a kiss. Tells him the cake is beautiful. No, it’s perfect, and asks if they can take some pictures before they eat it.

Evan nods, says of course, blinks his own tears away and says they have to put new candles on now cause the other ones already completely melted.

Howie yells for him to make a wish before he blows the candles out but he doesn’t even know what to wish for because for the first time in his life he feels like he has everything.

[kinq-sleazee]

ok ok , so i don’t want to write a full blown structured ficlet with all the bells and whistles so can we maybe just chat a bit about poly krbk tings?

E. Kirishima X K. Bakugo X Reader

TW! MDNI - Poly , Aged Up, poor writing, seggs

Imagine being best friends with KRBK and just inserting yourself into their lives as a sort of “platonic” third until it’s not really platonic anymore.

Like these two men love you and respect your friendship but the irrepressible attraction between the three of you is just getting too hard to ignore. Especially after a night out at the bar leads you back to their shared apartment.

And maybe the alcohol makes you a little bold and you make some silly little joke like , “let’s just fuck it out of our systems” but you soon quickly realize that you’re the only one laughing.

Between the two of them you never really stood a chance.

Katsuki holds your chin—thumb slowly pressing into your mouth while peering down at you with those fiery eyes. He looks bored almost. Only quirking a brow when you swallow around the digit and moan at the taste. Sweet. From his quirk , no doubt. He talks down to you. As if admonishing a pet. Calls you names. Whore. Slut. Claims that you’ve been planning this all along—secretly waiting for the day to choke on his cock. “That’s all you are. A hole”. At this point he’s pushed three fingers in your mouth. Slowly fucking into your throat while saliva runs down his arm. “I wish you could see yourself, cupcake. S’fucking pathetic how desperate you look”. You want him so bad right now. It’s embarrassing, so you can’t help the tear that falls. “Fuck— you cryin’ , cupcake? So damn cute. Want ya to cry sum more. Fuck that little kitty so hard… turn ya into a poundcake.

Eijiro is nicer than his lover, at least it seems that way at first. He holds you against his front, you can feel his erection pressing into your back. Kissing from the nape of your neck to your shoulder. Bite marks and bruises littering your skin. However, your focus is on the deft fingers skimming up your thighs , rising the fabric of your dress above your hips and running the pad of his finger over your clothed clit. You can feel him smile against your skin. He calls you beautiful. His angel. Perfection. All while fucking the fabric of your panties into your needy hole. “Think you were made for me, darling. Gonna feel so good wrapped around me. That’s what you want , yeah ? Wanna squeeze on daddy’s dick, baby girl ?”

It’s not nearly enough stimulation and you’re literally begging them for something. Anything. You need it at this point.

They oblige. Swiftly undressing you and positioning you in your hands and knees.

Eijiro rubs his meaty cockhead against your quivering hole. It’s big. Painfully so. You whine and attempt to move earning a sharp slap to your thigh. “Didn’t you ask for this, darling ? Why are you running ? Tryna disappoint me ?” And you’re overwhelmed. Chest heaving , eyes blurry and babbling apologies. The redhead hums in acknowledgment and pushes in fully with one powerful thrust.

Bakugo doesn’t really care to hear your cries so he shuts you up with his cock. With a hand buried in your hair he pistons in and out of your mouth, setting a brutal pace. He stops ever so often to let you breathe or spit in your mouth but then it’s right back to choking on his cock.

They use you for their pleasure this first time. Rutting into you carelessly, sloppily chasing their orgasms. Of course they make you cum— Eijiro rubbing your clit and Katsuki pinching your nipples — but it lacks finesse.

When the post-nut clarity settles their able to really tend to your needs. Katsuki settles between your legs, whispering sweet praises to your “pretty little pussy” then running the flat of his tongue through your cum coated folds. Eijiro joins him, drinking up his own spend while sucking on your pleasure point and massaging Bakugo’s tongue with his own.

You’re dead tired and sensitive when you cum again but much to your despair and pleasure these two are just getting started.

[historixally-accurate]

hi gold how does one get into mcsr

OH HELLO ANON! OH BOY DO I GOT SOMETHING TO TELL YOU.

for starters, thank you for taking your time to get into mcsr.. very small community I think, i havent been here long.. HOWEVER! I WILL DO MY BEST TO TELL YOU HOW I GOT INTO IT :] more under the cut.

mcsrblr PELASE do not pelt rocks at me, I am probably sure that there's better and different ways to get into mcsr.. I'm just giving my experience. thank u. godbless. yall are super nice. :')

first, I got introduced to mcsr because of a fanfic called dolorem, which is written by my good friend alyx vibesoda :]

you don't need to know all the characters and speedrunners in here, I walked into this fic COMPLETELY blind. however, if you want to do background check, this is where my second piece of advice comes in!!!

(ps, if you do read it, and if you do finish dolorem, there's a sequel fic alyx is writing on ao3 called iterum which you should read ONLY UNLESS YOU HAVE READ DOLOREM.)

second, recommended from a friend, a few mcsrs you can watch are couriway, feinberg or fulham for proper videos on mcsr or on Minecraft speedrunners.

(ps, WATCH COURIS HOUSE OF NIGHTMARES VIDEO. it was a great way for me to get into silverrruns and talkingmime :3)

for clips (which are a lot easier to find), I recommend the talkingmimefunny, silverrrunsfunny, feinbergfunny or feinberg rocks, vice president poundcake, hackingnoises funny, HBG highlights, HBG lowlights (tho there's only one video), or HBG clips.

if you have time for vods, theres feinberg's vod channel, couriway's vod channel, silverrruns' vod channel and respective twitch channels for most mcsrs, like talkingmime!

lastly, I heard the mcsr community on both tumblr and Twitter do NOT bite, and are extremely welcoming in terms of new fans. make a couple of friends i guess. lol. if you are a lifesteal watcher who may be interested in fein because of him being vip on lifesteal, read this post! and keep in mind that mcsr works kind of differently from lifesteal.

in conclusion, it's really all up to you to find out which speedrunners you really enjoy, whether it be by fics, clips, or videos. it's all exploration and finding friends who can recommend you their silly guys.

anyway rant over. big big mongey

[brownsugarwrites]

Poundcake.

✰ pairings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x black!fem!reader

✰ warnings: none! fluff with a liddol bit of suggestive content. reader cooks soul food (no debate)

✰ a/n: this was soooooo yummy to write! I hope I can write more ghost in the future I love this man.

There was a click of the knob at the door. “He’s home, you thought, eyes coming away from the TV as you stood behind the stove.

Hearing the door perch open, you hear his heavy boots stepping into the house as the smell of pound cake infiltrates his nose.

“I'm guessing my princess is in the kitchen, right?”

“Hi, baby!!!” You greeted him gleefully before shuffling your feet towards him and hugging him. Firm arms wrapped around your thick waist, crushing you slightly.

“I missed you around here,” you told him, pouting as he gave you a light pat on your head.

“I missed ya too, sweetheart. Food smells divine,” he compliments

You blush a little as you give a little thanks, telling him you’d been cooking all day for him, waiting for him to get back

It was something you started to do for him about a year into actually living with each other, and now that you were engaged, it became a habit

“Well, I'm going to make me a plate-“ he started

Your face scrunched up in disgust. He knows you make him shower before he can eat.

“Simon…. I dont know why you come up in this house acting brand new. You know to get in the shower before you sit at the table,” you responded with attitude, popping your hip out.

“But sweetheart-“ he began

“But sweetheart, nothing. Get cleaned up and put your clothes in the laundry room. Your plate will be ready when you come downstairs.”

Huffing like a child, he took his bag and lugged himself up the stairs to get into his house clothes.

As you watched him go up the stairs, you quickly turned your attention back to the oven, opening it to take the cake out to let it cool.

While he showered, you set the tray tables and queued the TV to another episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta.

About a good hour later, you turned your head to the heavy footsteps that came down the stairs to meet you in the living room.

You watched as his shirt clung to his body, showcasing his physique. To you, he looked a little more...fluffy than usual. You noticed in his abdominal area he was losing some defintation. Which you found cute and a little sexy, knowing he could still probably fold you into a pretzel while fucking you.

"What do you want on your plate, big boy?" you asked playfully, a smile gracing your face.

His cheeks were turning pink as he told you he was okay to make his own plate.

"Si, you've been gone for four months. What makes you think I'm not going to make your first plate back?" you said, standing up and going to meet him where he was at

"tell me what you want," you said, looking up at him so innocently

What he wanted was to take you upstairs and have his face in your cunt till the sun rose until he heard his stomach growling.

"A little bit of everything is fine, princess," he told you, hands moving down your waist, effectively cupping your ass with his big hands.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled away from him, going to the kitchen to make you and his plate.

Coming into the living room with the warm, fragrant food, you sat it before him as he drooled over it.

"lemme get you something to drink, ok," you said before scurrying to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water and a pop.

Seeing that he had already started eating his food, you giggled as you watched him stuff his face full.

"Is it good?" you joked, plopping down next to him and giving him his drink.

"Spectacular," he managed to get out before taking another bite

Pressing play on the TV, the two of you watched Real Housewives as y'all ate. Once Simon was finished, he sat back on the couch, rubbing his stomach in content

"You're gonna make me fat with all this good cookin', princess." he laughed

"Good!" you smiled at him

Seeing his eyes get heavy, you knew the food was sitting in, and he was getting the itis.

"You want a piece of pound cake, big boy?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

"No, thank you, sweetheart." he simply stated before cuddling you on the couch. "Thank you for the food, my love. I'm happy to be home." 

[enretrogue]

𝗔𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 𝗙𝗜𝗖 𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗦

༝༚༝༚ = Black/POC Works ⎢ 24’ Fic Rec M.List

ATTACK ON TITAN:

Reiner Braun

Slut Me Out Mama — @wintrrxxo ༝༚༝༚

CALL OF DUTY: MW3:

Multi-Character

Throuples Shit with Alejandro thee Stallion and Rodolfo Parra — @lxvvie ༝༚༝༚

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Toxic Baby Daddy!Ghost⎢Part 1⎢Part 2⎢Part 3⎢Part 4⎢Part 5⎢Part 6⎢Part 7 — @kechiwrites ༝༚༝༚

Baby Daddy Ghost (Time Skip) — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Teasing — @babeyvenus ༝༚༝༚

Poundcake — @brownsugarwrites ༝༚༝༚

Older BF!Simon — @backwzzds ༝༚༝༚

Ghost and Nanami [ft. Kento Nanami] — @merakidoll ༝༚༝༚

Haunted Hearts — @berberriescorner ༝༚༝༚

Bitter and Sweet⎢ Stay at Home Dad!Simon — @theebussyqueensblog ༝༚༝༚

Ex Husband!Ghost — @utilityknif3 ༝༚༝༚

Roommates — @aforestescape ༝༚༝༚

Help and Care — @apricityxoxo ༝༚༝༚

Her — @crystlizabeth ༝༚༝༚

FORMULA ONE:

Lewis Hamilton

The Princess and the Race Car Driver⎢ Ch.1⎢ Ch.2⎢ Ch.3⎢ Ch.4 — @emjayewrites  ༝༚༝༚

Under His Influence⎢ Ch.1  — ^ ༝༚༝༚

Keys to the Kingdom — @saintslewis ༝༚༝༚

Dirty Diana — @laneywrld ༝༚༝༚

JUJUTSU KAISEN:

Multi-Character:

But You Still Lick the Wrapper — @nydascienceguy ༝༚༝༚

Touching You When You’re Mad — @goxjo

Fushiguro Toji

Toji Begging for Forgiveness — @iiiiiiis-things ༝༚༝༚

Toji Taking Your Ability to Walk — @wonderthor

When You First Showered at Toji’s Apartment — @makismei

“Baby- it’s too hot for this shit…”— @list4r

Gojo Satoru

Just In: Satoru Gojo Just Found Out He’s a Chubby Chaser Like the Rest — @salaciousdoll ༝༚༝༚

Ryomen Sukuna

Sweet Temptations — @suksatoru

A Gentle Madman — ^

Newborn Love — ^

Missed Marks — ^

Period Pains — ^

Mornings and Kisses — ^

How to Train Your Demon⎢ Part 1⎢ Part 2⎢ Part 3⎢ Part 4⎢ Part 5⎢ Part 6 — @minimomoe ༝༚༝༚

Freaky Ahh Old Man — @chososprettyprincess

RESIDENT EVIL:

Carlos Oliveira

Girl Dad!Carlos⎢ Part 2 — @wehaveimagineshere

Newlyweds — ^

Overstimulating Carlos — @thecherubangel

NSFW Alphabet — @bombsquad9

The Usual — @hotelstreets

Poker Face — @bitbugbites-re

Long Night? — @hellopeeeeps-blog

Touch — @acapelladitty

Don’t Play Dumb — @dean-samw67

Sweating Bullets: Werewolf!Carlos — @who-knew-a-sheep-can-write

PEAKY BLINDERS:

Alfie Solomons

The Wall Between Them — @hottpinkpenguin

“Ask me to stay” — ^

Head Over Heels — @wonderlanddreamer

Family Trust — @dyns33

Prompt Request — @murdockcastleslut

Run Away With Me Darling — @muneca-lemon-steppa

The Night Watch — @loulouwrites

[allureasdiary]

Hi darlings,

I'm @msallurea this is my secondary blog, I'm aiming to have my primary one strictly focused on manifestation. This blog I'm dedicating to all things girly and femininity. This is meant to help me be more organized since I don't want 1000+ things all in one blog it makes it a little fonfysing for me. The main things this blog will cover are:

🎀Beauty

🎀Femininity

🎀Womanhood/Sisterhood

🎀Girly content/My girly side

🎀Mood boards

🎀Fashion

🎀Makeup

🎀Self-Care

🎀Bimbo content

🎀Girly manifesting (mostly scripts)

🎀My personal femininity/dream girl journey

Though this blog is mainly for the girlies, in the near future I'm hoping guys can also feel attracted to my blog as well to learn ways to care for themselves as well. Anyways that's all I hope you all love this just as much as I do.

🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸

🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸💋🌸

Allurea's Profile

💋Zodiac: Virgo 🌞, Cancer ⬆️, Aries 🌙

💋Likes: pink & purple, astrology, manifesting, soft sweets like Donuts, pinterest, decorating, creative writing/journaling, baking, dolls, poetry, love letters, makeup, fashion, music, princess tiaras, dolls, early 2000s-2010s, strawberry poundcake, gourmand scents/sweet notes, cherry blossoms/Sakurai, Magnolias, cheetah and leopard print, fur coats, hello kitty, mocha sanrio, bunnies, butterflies, Chinese food, Lipgloss>>Lipstick

💋Fav movies: Twilight movies, Bratz(all of them), Jennifer's Body, Mean girls, cheetah girls, Cinderella(all the movies), Princess and the frog, Bambi, Dreamgirls, Care-bears "The sugar plum fairy and the nutcracker", Mr. And Mrs. Smith

💋Fav shows: Bratz, Winx fairies, Care-bears, Strawberry Shortcake, barbie (technically they movies but yall know)

💋 My fav blogs that inspired me to even wanna make this separate blog in the first place are people like @dreamgrlarchive @kittysdiary @sugarybisous @pinksugardollz @prettyvixenavenue @blackmalibubarbie @babyphat05 @bootobeneficiary @2pretty @thevirgodoll and many more!! All these blogs are literally so sweet and so special in there own unique way and they are all very helpful to become your best dolly dream girl, despite me knowing loa I still want to feel at my best self and these blogs are the epitome of feeling absolutely surreal literally just for existing 😭 so shout out to them.

💋That's all for now, please enjoy remember to be nice being mean is ugly and we don't do uglies over here

[softguarnere]

HEY BABY GIRL!!!!

It's your girl, your sweet cheese, your good time gal (someone please shut me up omfg). Now...you know i am a Joe Toye lover, and if you've seen me recently...he is the only man on my mind. I was wondering if you might indulge me a little with a Joe Toye x reader where they're besties since young and both end up being paratroopers together but then something happens and he thinks he's lost her but she's actually fine and maybe like fluffy reunion...idk tbh i'd take anything you write and eat it up so do whatever. Love youuuuu xx

Seven

Joe Toye x reader

A/N: OMG BELLA I MISSED YOU!!!! 💖 WELCOME BACK BABE! And of course we have a fic with a T Swift reference for you hehehe (This is written for the fictional depictions from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) Thanks so much for the request, and I hope you like this 💕 Warnings: mentions of war, death

You would kill him if you knew where he was right now. And yet, here he is. Trying to reassure and comfort your mother while sipping coffee from her finest set of teacups. The same teacups, he’s now realizing, that you used to serve him water in as children, calling it tea while the two of you played house, discussing the workplace as if you had any idea what went on there, while the adults around you struggled through the lack of those very places during the thirties. It could just be a coincidence, but after spending most of his life around her, Joe Toye would like to think that he knows your mother better than that.

“And you know how hardheaded she is,” your mother is ranting, cutting a fresh slice of poundcake and placing it on Joe’s plate. “She isn’t going to listen to me. Or anyone for that matter, now that her mind is made up.”

Oh, Joe knows exactly how hardheaded you are. In no small part thanks to the times that he accidentally clobbered that very head during neighborhood football games.

“(Y/N) feels good about this, Mrs. (Y/L/N),” Joe says, unsure of what he’s supposed to say during your mother’s hour of need. She’s right, after all – your mind has been made up, and it will not be changed.

“But do you?” Your mother fixes him with a hard gaze, raised brow and all.

You were with Joe when he went to enlist. He had watched your eyes sparkle when they fell onto the sign stating that women should inquire within about an exciting new opportunity that would allow them to serve their country like never before. And he had been by your side when you both left the building, both holding papers and smiling at the thought that you would be becoming paratroopers – together.

“Yes. (Y/N) is strong. She’ll be good in – “

“Joesph,” your mother interrupts. The façade finally falls as she collapses into the chair across the table from him, head in her hands. “She’s my baby! What if something – oh, God forbid! – happens to her? I couldn’t live with myself.”

Joe is by her side in an instant. When he announced that he was joining the Airborne, everyone had clapped him on the back and congratulated him. You have not had the same experience. While everyone keeps assuring Joe that he’ll do great things, the same people have been cautioning you to be careful. Some have even warned you that you should just give up now. And it’s all only served to strengthen your determination, with every underestimation making you more sure that this is what needs to be done.

All that is to say, Joe has no clue what to say to your mother. She needs to be comforted. But he’s out of his depth.

“I’ll watch out for her,” he finally manages.

Beneath the comforting hand that Joe has placed on her shoulder, your mother freezes. Watery eyes gaze up at him. “You – you will?”

“Of course.” The two of you have grown up together. You’ve always been friends. Why would he stop looking out for you now?

Your mother throws her arms around his neck, wrapping him up in a tight hug. “Oh, thank you!”

Joe is struggling to come up with something more to say when the sound of the front door opening and shutting saves him. Your footsteps echo through the front of the house as you call out in greeting.

“Ma! I’m home!” Stepping into the kitchen, you cross your arms, leaning onto the doorframe as you let out a loud sigh. “Wow, you would almost think that Joe is the child that you’re sending off to war instead of me.” You smile, and anyone could see how much you love your mother.

She wipes her teary eyes and pats Joe’s arm as he stands, returning to his seat. “I’m going to miss having someone around who doesn’t get into trouble all the time,” she teases as she cuts a slice of poundcake for you.

Something about the change of topic tells Joe that she would rather not have you find out about their conversation. His watching over you can be their little secret. And a job that he’ll readily accept.

After all, he tells himself as he watches you laugh at something your mother says. You would do the same for him.

--

The adrenaline from taking Brécourt Manor still hasn’t worn off yet. Joe is laughing at something that Guarnere said as they head back down the road. Something about this moment makes him feel invincible. This is why he chose to become a paratrooper, he realizes.

More men and women have congregated in the town since he’s been gone. Finally glancing at his watch reveals that he’s been gone most of the day. Wow, really? It didn’t feel like the assault took that long at all. At least it kept him busy, instead of sitting around here, waiting.

Joe scans the crowd, hoping to catch sight of you. When he doesn’t immediately spot you, he stops one of the other female paratroopers as she passes.

“Hey, Lilian. You seen (Y/N) around?”

Lilian pauses, her pretty green eyes widening slightly. “Oh. No.” She bites her lip, holding back something more.

“What is it?” Joe presses.

Her hesitation is not a good sign. Then she blurts out, “No one has seen her since the jump.”

“You mean – “

“She was supposed to be in my drop zone – but she wasn’t.”

The reality of it all sets in. (Y/N) didn’t reach the drop zone. Did she even make it out of the plane? God, he promised your mother that he would look out for you. Yet, here he is, with no clue where you might be.

He may have only just reached Europe, but he’s already failed his mission.

--

The dust is settling over Carentan when the incongruous cheer and subsequent peel of laughter hits Joe’s ears. Somewhere off in the distance, someone is celebrating. Meanwhile, he’s guarding Doc Roe as the medic moves along the streets, inspecting the bodies strewn over them to see if there’s anybody still alive that he can help.

“Thanks for doing this,” Roe says as he stands once more, moving on to another body.

“Hmm?” Joe snaps his attention back to the moment at hand. “Oh, no problem.”

Except there is a problem. He’s trying to catch a glimpse of every face as Doc Roe checks the bodies. He tries to make out names on dog tags, dreading that one of them might belong to you. He couldn’t stand it if he found you here, like this. What would he tell your mother? How would he ever erase that awful image from his mind? Of the little girl that he once played house with, lying motionless on these cold streets? It’s no better to imagine you going down in a plane doing a fiery corkscrew as it nosedives to the unforgiving soil of a foreign land. But at least he didn’t have to see that.

The terrible job done, he follows Roe back to the rest of the company. Despite everything that just happened, a few smiles can be expected, along with congratulatory words. But this is more than that.

A small group of men mill about, talking, smiling, as they watch a smaller group of the female paratroopers huddled together in a group, all talking loudly and looking excited. From the corner of his eye, he can see Doc Roe glance at him, but before the medic can ask what’s going on, the crowd parts and Joe freezes.

There, in the middle of it all, is you.

“(Y/N)?” It comes out louder than he means for it to, and his feet are already carrying him, double time, in your direction before he realizes what he’s doing.

You look up, your eyes widening. “Joe!” You launch yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him in close.

Something rushes through Joe’s chest like a flash of lightning, too many feelings at once. There’s shock, relief, and something that he can’t quite name. Not caring about getting written up for fraternizing, Joe hugs you back, holding you close, lest you slip away from him again.

“Jesus Christ. I thought I lost you,” he says into your hair.

“I’m fine, as usual. Can’t believe you would doubt me like that.” Your voice is light, teasing, but your grip on him tightens. The usual confident swagger doesn’t leave your voice, but you admit in a quieter voice, “I, uh – I missed my drop zone. Had a hell of a time trying to find the rest of the company. But here I am!”

When the embrace ends, Joe still isn’t ready to let go. He leaves his hands on your shoulders, studying you. And you, for your part, hold onto his webbing. “I was just worried about you, is all.”

You nod. “I was worried about you, too. I – “

“Easy Company!” A booming voice interrupts. “We’re moving out!”

Quickly, while everyone is distracted, you raise yourself up on your tiptoes and press a kiss to his cheek. Heat rushes to Joe’s cheeks. He feels his eyes widen. You just smile at him, casual as can be.

“We’ve been friends since we were seven. You can’t get rid of me that easily, Joseph.” Then, you rejoin your friends, leaving him to replay the scene over and over in his mind.

He turns to watch you go, unable to move his feet from where they suddenly appear to be stuck to the ground. He’s held in place by the weight of his realization – the emotion that he couldn’t name was love, for you.

[poundcakecrm]

grimmichi day sneak peak of a scene from Apostasy: a grimmichi priest/demon au you can read HERE.

He glows, backlit by a stained-glass sunset, bathed in so much red and orange and gold it’s like it’s bleeding out of him – the sun trapped in synthetic skin, just itching to break out. His hair is actual fire and his skin is porcelain. It’s all so fucking holy, venomously so. Nearly enough to wash out the sea of red dribbling down his temples to his neck, staining the white collar still chaining him to this place. Some of it runs into his lips, makes him taste copper. Kurosaki spits onto the tile beneath him and goes back to his useless mutterings, a jumbled mess of prayers and curses. Grimmjow’s patience wears thin. It’s a miracle he hasn’t torched the whole building already, shown just how hot hellfire can rage even after last night’s downpour. But the sun has risen now. It’s a new day. And he doesn’t need any kind of omnipotence to know the cops will be swarming this place within the hour most likely, once the morning commuters discover a corpse in their sacred little town. He tolerates Kurosaki’s pity party only a few moments more before shoving off the altar and slinking forward, scowl twisting deeper, voice sharp. “Enough.” Kurosaki’s nails dig into the tile but his voice dies abruptly, like Grimmjow had slashed his throat instead of just piercing him with his gaze. But he doesn’t pick himself off the ground, off his knees, doesn’t lift his bowed head; and Grimmjow had watched him genuflect and bow and bend his body in all the ways sacred respect commands but never before had he ever watched the fucker crumble, not even for his cross. “Enough.” He spits it like an amen and abruptly grabs a handful of that flaming hair, yanking back, yanking up. Amber eyes meet pyre flame blue and Grimmjow stares, Kurosaki scowls, and they drown in a stained-glass sunrise. Grimmjow casts a shadow over the priest this close actually, a pillar of black that only adds to the DARK twisted into Kurosaki's face. And maybe its the scowl. Maybe its the lingering, reddened swelling from last night's tears. Maybe its the blood. Regardless, standing there before the tabernacle of an uncaring god, Grimmjow suddenly begins to wonder if this is what it looks like. Faith dying. Sirens begin to wail in the distance.

[enigmagp]

-Chapter 3: Rest and Refocus-

It was late at night when Serra and Seren finally settled into bed together, the gentle glow of their digital clock read just past eleven.

Seren, recovering from breathlessness, pressed the palms of her hands onto Serra’s back. Her hands knew every scar and every mark. She traced gently downwards, memories of axes and blades, arrows and bullets, chains and the esoteric wounds of magic.

Her hands met the familiar, obscuring shroud of wrapped bandages, fresh wounds she would come to know in time. Her wounds had been the worst, even the healing magic of the ancient forest could not completely soothe them. Seren sighed, quietly, and rested her forehead against Serra’s back, appreciating the comfort of familiar musculature, “you know I love you.”

“Course I do,” Serra reached back, taking a handful of Seren’s hip and squeezing gently, “what’s on your mind?”

Seren took a deep breath, massaging Serra’s back gently.

“…love?”

“You’re gone for four days, you come back with new wounds, again.”

“Well, yeah, but…” Serra’s eyes traced the silhouette of their room in the darkness, “that’s the life, ain’t it?”

“Of course, I just… I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry, but adventurin’…”

“Mhm,” Seren wrapped her arms around Serra, gently rubbing her girlfriend’s sides. She felt Serra’s tail, spikes withdrawn, wrap around her leg, “can’t coop you up, where it’s safe, it’s not fair.”

“Safe ain’t all bad,” Serra rolled over, scooping Seren into a huge embrace, pressing the spirit into her chest, “can’t do this without it.”

Even as well as they knew each other, the faceful brought a distinct blush to Seren’s face, “all those wounds and you’re still not tired?”

“Not even close.”

“Good,” Seren smiled.

-

Autumn woke slowly at their desk, the light of the moss and mushrooms outside filtering through the blinds. Their eyes whirred and refocused gently, processing the change.

“Ah, fuck,” they startled back as realization washed over them; a half dissected engine now sat on their desk, where they had passed out the night before. With a deep breath, they stretched their back out, metal creaking and groaning in a simulation of organic aches. A half-dismantled engine lay on the desk before them, parts and pieces of mind-boggling mechanical complexity strewn haphazardly about.

As they stood, joints clicking and cracking into motion, they stretched their shoulders out and swiped their phone off the desk, stepping out of the room. Joy was passed out on the couch, one leg up on its back, her arm hanging off the front. Autumn grabbed a blanket from the armrest and threw it over her, typing a quick message on their phone:

“I could use a break, breakfast at the Nook?”

With a deep breath, Autumn placed a hand on their hip, their eyes drifting from the phone to their filthy clothes below. With a quick sigh, they sent another message and headed for the bathroom.

-

Morning came soft and sweet, its light muffled by the curtains, birdsong announcing its arrival with annoying joviality. A very tired Serra rubbed her bleary eyes, looking about the darkened room. Familiar shapes stood out in the darkness, a wardrobe against the far wall, a peek of Seren’s desk behind the screen they used to separate it, her swords hanging in pride of place above the bed. The alarm clock glowed gently, reading a quarter to nine.

She stretched a little, her tail sliding out from beneath the blanket, eliciting a tiny shiver. She wrapped her arms around the gently stirring Seren, taking a deep breath.

“Slow morning?”

“Slow morning,” Seren agreed in a sleepy murmur, nestling closer to the demon.

Serra’s phone buzzed gently from the bedside table. She retrieved it with a bit of searching, squinting to avoid being blinded by its light.

“Or, brunch? I need to clean myself up.”

Serra smiled a little, sent a message back and tucked the phone safely beneath the pillow, squeezing Seren tightly.

-

Roxie woke herself with a painful thump, rolling out of bed in a thick, pink, cowhide blanket. From the floor she wriggled free, regretfully hauling herself back onto the bed, wings waving slowly. A bass tone played from somewhere within the bedding’s folds, and she slowly produced her phone, rolling onto her back.

“Brunch, Seren. Roxie?”

Roxie sighed dramatically, resting her phone on her chest. She stared at the ceiling for a while, running her fingers up and down her forearms. White scars like lightning now marked her pitch black skin, her limbs had never felt so heavy, a part of her hoped the others would cancel.

After some time in the silence of the room, she sent back a message.

“Lunch? Pls?”

Roxie rolled onto her stomach, feeling her own weight press against her chest and stomach, breathing deeply.

“We will bring you something.”

-

It was just after ten when they arrived at Roxie’s home, sun rising towards its crest. Roxie’s home was larger than either of theirs, with an attached garage, though her car was far too large to fit inside. The oversized sports car sat now in her driveway; a low, long, boxy car with leather seats and interior wood paneling, a gorgeous classic model that she was very fond of.

The automobile-obsessed fairy staggered out to meet them in baggy pants and a torn t-shirt, tucking a mug of coffee between her elbow and torso. She gratefully seized a breakfast burrito, shoving cash unbidden into Serra’s hands.

“Mmm… perfect,” she mumbled through a mouthful, accepting a one-armed hug from Seren, her miniature wings fluttering in delight, “any luck?”

Autumn turned over a cylindrical device in their hands, a piece of the larger engine that, even now, they continued to poke and prod at with what tools they had brought along.

“High end, deep abyssal alloy, dwarven smithwork, six varieties of magic-” Autumn’s screwdriver lit up, its metal head taking on a sudden, bright orange glow, melting into a pathetic puddle on the ground, “...seven. And very, very unwilling to answer questions.”

“So…” Roxie paused to force down an oversized bite, “dead end?”

“I only need more time,” Autumn assured her, “there has to be something, a serial number, or-”

“Oi!” they were interrupted by a shout from the street.

A familiar face had called to them; Amaryllis, an adventurer and old friend of Serra’s, alongside whom she had battled out of hell itself. A demon like Serra, with bright red skin and yellow eyes, but no tail, and only short, nub-like horns. She was slightly taller, but leaner, clad in black armor befitting a classical samurai and carrying a kanabo iron club, though she chose to forego a helmet, displaying locks of wild hair the color of fresh snow, cut just above the shoulder. Beside her stood a towering wolf, more the size of a horse, thick white fur and a perpetually excited expression.

“Ama!” Serra scooped the demon into a hug, “I couldn’t reach you, you got my message?”

“Course!” Amaryllis smiled as she was lifted off the ground, patting Serra’s shoulder, then turned to Roxie, “bringin’ yer wyrm back.”

“Macchiato!” A small dragon, about the size of a moose, bounded forward to greet Roxie. Rich brown scales, marked by white markings like lightning, and burning orange eyes that examined her with delight. Dwarfed by the wyrm, Roxie stuffed the last of the breakfast burrito into her mouth and gleefully scratched its chin, rolling up her sleeves to reveal the fresh scars beneath, “we match now, see?”

“Melted a big ass hole in that compound wall,” Amaryllis laughed.

“And made a fine meal of the knights within,” a tiny man joined the group, tawny skin and short black hair, clad in loose, obscuring fabrics, a blue as dark as the night sky, bound tight at the ankles and wrists, wrapped at the waist. A short, triangular blade like a needle rested on the back of his waist, painted over a matte black to hide its shine. He wore reflective black sunglasses, from behind which yellow eyes betrayed a nature beyond human, “like shattering a crab’s claw for the meat.”

“It is information we require, not meat,” Autumn fumed, turning the mechanism over and over in their hands.

“C’mon, baby,” Roxie patted the side of Macchiato’s head, and the dragon’s form diminished, shrinking till it was barely larger than a housecat, “let’s figure this out inside.”

“Stay, Tempo,” Amaryllis ordered. The oversized wolf planted himself happily beside the door, panting quietly.

Roxie’s home was plenty large enough for the group, spreading out amongst the open first floor. Autumn paced the floor, while Seren and Serra found seats on one end of the living room couch. Amaryllis took over an armchair nearby and Roxie took Macchiato to the kitchen, preparing some leftovers from the fridge for the little beast. Frosch remained by the door, leaning against its frame.

“So, you two were helping with the Knights?”

“Oh yeah!” Amaryllis laughed, leaving her club against the chair.

“More’n them, we had folks all over,” Serra added.

“Shire disposed of an outpost East of Nixielogue, and the Raven Riders ran down troops coming from their main base in the North,” Autumn explained, “and, I believe, reinforced the two of you afterwards?”

“We hardly needed them, the main compound was all but deserted,” Frosch scoffed, “the handful we faced never suspected their ends.”

“And what of information? We need something to go off.”

“I personally surveyed every inch of that compound, nothing more than an abandoned factory turned training grounds. No tracks, no trace of anyone but the Knights.”

“We should ride out! You could take a look, see what retrocognition can tell us,” Roxie suggested.

“Only another way I can fail,” Autumn shook their head, abandoning the inscrutable engine part on the counter, “unless I know when to look, I can’t find anything.”

“What about Shire? Maybe they turned up something?”

“Shire vanished after the assault, they’re hard to contact at the best of times,” Frosch responded, “and the Riders have never cared for detail.”

“Maybe if…”

Autumn left them to their conversation, joining the group in the living room.

“You see they found more things from your mom?” Seren asked, “it was in the news after you left.”

“Another archeologist called, I ignored them. That is the last thing I need,” Autumn sighed, leaning against the back of the couch, “jumped eight thousand years into the past and left me to handle her work. You think they’d get the idea I don’t care to hear about her.”

“Said before, lemme answer next time, they’ll never call again,” Serra laughed.

“Forget it, we ought to focus on the task at hand,” Autumn straightened up, “we’re not tracking the Knights anymore, whoever may be at the heart of this conspiracy is subtle.”

Autumn moved back to the kitchen, picking the engine piece back up, “they almost enabled the end of the world, and I am certain they will make another attempt.”

“They have to be rich, right? You need a lot of cash for stuff like this,” Roxie chimed in, “doesn’t narrow the list much, but it takes it from anyone to someone.”

“Lemme see,” Serra reached a hand out, gently taking the piece.

The demon turned it over and over in her hands, examining it closely. The piece was exquisitely made, but clearly machine-worked, it lacked the imperfections that came with handmade parts.

“Nothing identifying, I’ve looked it over a hundred times, like I have half the accursed machine,” Autumn sighed, “I’m certain I’ll have found nothing when I finish examining the other half.”

“Then let’s retrace our steps!” Roxie suggested, “we had to drop some less important leads, let’s follow up!”

“But where shall we follow up first?”

“Library?” Serra sat forward, “the Knights hit eight places around the city before heading for Nixielogue.”

“In pursuit of the seven pieces of Reverberance Arch, yes.”

“Seven pieces, they never got one from the library.”

“Because it was discovered under the bank.”

“Mhm, but what if they knew?”

“They had the same information we did, the coordinates led to the library, nobody could have known it had been moved to beneath the bank.”

“Hang on, we didn’t know,” Roxie interrupted, “Knights blew the bank floor three days later.”

“Blew the bank floor?” Seren asked.

“Yeah, snuck in four pounds of c4, they’re still patching the hole in the vault.”

“Four pounds into a bank? That sort of operation requires planning,” Frosch spoke up, “they must have organized it well in advance. Three days isn’t enough time.”

“So there was something else they wanted,” Autumn scratched their chin, “the means to another Apocalypse Trigger?”

“We’ve wiped out every trace of the Knights, and found nothin’,” Serra pointed out.

“It could just be info we missed, not physical.”

“Regardless, our unseen foe may be in possession of whatever it is,” Autumn shot up, “then our first stop is the library, either we learn what they’ve learned, or uncover what they’ve taken!”

“Best of luck,” Frosch nodded, “we have a contract in Finadala.”

“Oh, Ama, before you go…”

A bass tone chimed from Roxie’s pocket. She quietly slid the phone out, tearing her eyes from the group to check the screen. A message from an unknown number sat there like a foul omen, “Emrys, we need to talk.”

Roxie quickly swiped the notification away, refocusing her attention on the group, “so! The library?”

“Yes!” Autumn, galvanized by the sudden materialization of a lead, headed for the door.

[venomous-soliloquy]

Stolen from @soliloquent-stark for giggles:

rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 (or however many you have) posted fics and see if there’s a pattern!

I'm limiting this to my Stony fics only, of which there are 8 (finished ones lmao)

1. Quick Thinking and a Dash of Luck:

Now that things had fallen into place—so to speak—it was easier to look back and figure out where their part in the Time Heist had gone so wrong; a prospect that was easier to accept that their plan had fallen to shambles.

2. Reading it all Wrong:

The first time he sees it, Tony is walking toward the shared kitchen after a long night in the workshop.

3. Don't Be Afraid To Look:

It’s stupid to hang onto the feeling.

4. Poundcake:

The first time Tony offers to let Steve eat him out, they’re talking about the things they have and haven’t done in bed.

5. Good Boy:

"Be a good boy for me, Steve. Stay there, keep your hands on your legs… I'll be right back."

6. Calling His Bluff:

"Y'know…" Tony started conversationally, holding his legs against his chest as he watched Steve shuck off his underwear in front of him.

7. Beneath the Tide:

This wasn’t home.

8. The Kiss:

The Quinjet had barely touched down on the helipad and opened for him before Steve’s red leather boots were thudding across the concrete surface, sense of purpose in each step.

Not real sure there's a pattern, but then again who knows. You can let me know if you see one. (All I can tell is that my writing has gotten better)

Tagging: Whomever hasn't had a chance to do it yet!

[moronic-validity]

Blessing

This is a cute little drabble for one of my closest friends, @beetlejewce and ngl, I'm never confident writing PB's dialogue, but we're rolling with it!

Story under the cut!

It had been a lifetime since they met, a lifetime spent growing together, growing apart, and back together again. 

Bonnibel wanted to marry Marceline. 

She and Marcy had discussed it, half-jokingly, over a bottle of wine from before the bombs fell. What marriage would look like for them, if they should even mention the ‘til death do us part’ line. 

The only thing Marceline wanted for sure, was Bonnibel to get Simon’s blessing.

It had been weeks since they had that conversation and she had spent the time rehearsing what to say.

She had never been so anxious for someone’s approval in her life. 

She went to his house, or better said, exhibit, early on a Friday morning before he opened for the day. 

She knocked twice on the garage door and she heard him hack as the door opened.

He beckoned her in and closed the door behind her. 

“Princess,” he greeted, swaying as he sat down on the edge of his bed, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Simon, are you okay?” Her original purpose for the meeting was forgotten. 

She wasn’t used to seeing him look this weak. He was clammy, sweating bullets, and seemed to wheeze with every breath. 

“Oh don’t mind me, it’s just a cold,” He waved off her concern, before turning to cough again, “Now, what's on your mind? Is everything okay?”

Bonnibel opened her mouth to question if he was sure it was a cold, but she knew better than to press him. 

“I have a really important question for you Simon,” She began fiddling with the hem of her sweater, “I know how much you love Marceline, and I love her too, a lot. Her and I have been through so much together and through it all, we have stood by each other… and I would like to stand by her for the rest of our lives,” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “Simon, I’d like your bles-”

She stopped mid-sentence, cut off by a loud thump. 

She opened her eyes, only to find Simon convulsing on the floor. 

It took her less than three seconds to get on the ground next to him. She rolled him onto his side and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, trying to make sure there was nothing pressing on his airway.

She watched her watch, timing the seizure. 

It lasted just under a minute. 

His entire body relaxed and he blinked back to consciousness. 

Bonnie pressed her hand to his forehead and frowned.

“Simon, are you awake?”

He nodded, still disoriented and suddenly very tired. 

“Okay, we’re about to go to the hospital. You just had a seizure and it looks like you have a nasty fever,” She pulled out her phone and pressed a couple buttons before looking back at her soon-to-be father-in-law, “I just texted Marceline to meet us there.” 

Simon tried to protest, but he just kept coughing. 

She helped him sit up, his back against the bed. 

“Door, open,” Bonnibel commanded, checking her phone again for an ETA from Finn.

He was parked in front of the exhibit, ducking under the door the second it was open enough. 

They carried the half-conscious Simon into the RV and Finn drove like the Lich was on his heels. 

Sure, Minerva was in the human city, but if the AI hadn’t treated what Simon had yet, she doubted it would now. She firmly believed there was better medical care to be found in the Candy Kingdom. 

Bonnibel didn’t ask questions as to how Finn got the RV in the human city, nor did she ask how he was going to get it down. She had her full attention on keeping upright and making sure he didn’t seize again.

Nurse Poundcake greeted them at the gate and took over Simon’s care, rushing him into the castle infirmary. 

“So…is he going to…” Finn kept trailing off as Bonnie stood just outside the RV, still reeling. 

“I think he’s going to be okay…I don’t know what happened though, he was fine and then he…” she mimed him falling off the bed. 

He nodded and they sat in the silence for a moment. 

“I’m going to go to the infirmary, I need to be able to update Marcy.”

“Just keep me posted,” Finn called as she ran off into her kingdom. He shook his head and backed up, deciding to just drive around until one of his nephews or nieces gave him a call. 

She found Simon’s bed quickly and sat at his side, nervously tapping her foot as the IV dripped. 

From what Nurse Poundcake had told her, he was extremely dehydrated and had a fever well over 100 degrees. She figured it was a respiratory infection that he let go untreated. For now, though, he needed antibiotics, fluids, and sleep.

The princess picked up her phone and called her girlfriend again.

Marceline had been playing bass for most of the day, her phone forgotten on the couch.

She happened to turn around and see it vibrating, so she set her instrument down and picked up her phone.

“Hey Peebs, everything okay?” 

Bonnie took a deep breath. 

“Have you checked your phone?”

“Um…no? I’ve been practicing all day, what’s up?” 

“Okay, you really need to get to the Candy Kingdom infirmary now, Simon is okay, but he did have a seizure and-” 

The line went dead.

Marceline was there in seconds. 

They sat together, waiting for Simon to wake up. 

He was groggy when he finally opened his eyes, unsure of where he was. 

“Simon!” Marceline hugged him as soon as she saw his eyes open.

He hugged her back, still unsure of where he was. 

“Anyone want to fill me in?”

“You had a seizure, why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick?” She still wasn’t letting go of him.

“I had a seizure? I didn’t think it was that bad…” He shook his head, making a mental note to not ignore the next time he had a cough.

Marceline finally let go of him, sitting on the edge of his hospital bed. 

“Oh, Bonnibel, what was it that you wanted to ask me?” He turned his head and gave the Princess a weak smile. 

“I…” She trailed off, looking between the love of her life and her adopted father, “I wanted to ask for your blessing to marry Marceline…” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment, letting the words sink in.

Simon broke the silence with a laugh. 

“Bonnie, I thought you two were already married! Of course, you have my blessing!”

[historixally-accurate]

forward rolls into your inbox :3

good evening.....morning.....teehee....(i am assuming you are seeing this at 9am, which in case....hope you are enjoying your breakfast! and also. wow, that is a healthy sleep schedule for an SG student newly lavishing in the freedom of the holidays.) im rewlly happy you dont mind me rolling into your inbox every day. i love doing it. seriously. like you said, it feels like using Singpost and writing letters. its part of why i love tumblr and its askboxes.

saying that youre struggling with MOE past year papers/different school papers is so damn relatable. i'm just grateful im not in pri sch anymore where teachers woukd be dispensing that shit like water at the water cooler. LMAO

youre a kazuha liker huh? my friend is too. so as a birthday present, i drew kazuha with weed on the class whiteboard once for their birthday. i knew next to nothing about his lore but their expression of utter despair was worth it.

YOU MADE YOUR PLD LOCKSCREEN TALKINGMIME?!?!?!?!? thats kinda genius too. i woukd scream and panic if i saw this in public btw. and flounder in panic and joy like a pathetic fish. blub

Im still pretty new to mcsr in general, but i actually followed an unusual pipeline into it: unlike most people being introduced via couri or feinberg, i actually entered via 21mustard.... more specufically the vid about his online friend trying to find him again. i like 21mustard and zylenox :3 and emerald (ithink), fein, mr lewis fulham, poundcake, fyroah and ofc mr mime. im still exploring though. im charmed by k4's mic peaks. it took me ages to strart putting names to faces and then voices...

as for my own speedrunning, i unfortunately do not play any noteworthy speedrunning games. however, i am currently trying to speedrun Minesweeper! its going pretty well.

as always, i hope youre doing well, whenever youre reading this. - sgmcsr anon

GOOD MORNING.. I'm replying to this a little too late (it's 12pm), but IDGAF LETS ROLL!!

I love opening inbox and answering asks, it's like. you get a silly letter every single day to answer and. i get why the people in the past really fucked w this... it's really awesome. anyway.

about MOE and exams, ohh thank god I'm not in primary school anymore, that PSLE grind was HORRIBLE. having to do like. what, 20 page papers for math (paper 1 or 2 alone!!) and all of them being really difficult questions really fucked w my brain... at least papers now are semi tolerable and I can do them 🤷 I remember in primary school my science teacher handed us like.. 5 past year papers to do over June holidays, and I was COOKED. anyway

about genshin, LMAOOOO FUCK THATS HILARIOUS... I'd be terrified too if I saw kazuha smoking a blunt for my birthday like. the aura that exudes. holy schmoly

about talkingmime, YEAH.. my PLD lock screen is actually that one silly art piece of everyone who played pico park, and on my home screen is a small talkingmime doodle... I am normal, totally! I must be normal! fun fact, my phone lock screen is silverrruns. Hehe. this photo specifically

yeah. Hehe. and my home screen is a really pretty nEmerald drawing... :3

about speedrunners THOSE ARE A BUNCHA GOOD PICKS... k4's mic peaks are legendary.. yay. NEMERALD AND FYROAH.. ohh. I love them very muchie. I even drew them. they're so skibidi to me.

about speedrunning, minesweeper speedrunning is verg cool. I've always wanted to learn how to play minesweeper... but it's always so scarrryyy... I should learn how to play it one day, on skibidi..

IM FINISHING THIS AT 1 34 PM. IM STUCK IN MATH TUITION RN. I love your singposts , thank u sg anon have a skibidi day