#cookie headcannons

[crumbling-cookie-imagines]

Can we have some Licorice + Onion headcanons?

Reluctant older brother figure, go!

He'll pretend he doesn't care that much about her, or pretend he's completely indifferent about her existence, but always ALWAYS checks for ghosts and monsters whenever asked (which is very frequent)

Onion clings onto his robes and follows him around Everywhere, whenever she can

Licorice always does his best to keep her from crying; there is little he won't bend over backwards to do

Half the time Onion plays with his Licorice Servants, summoned especially to keep her company

Has tried to teach her chess to no avail

Onion has gotten him to play dolls with her, but always gets upset whenever he starts an evil monolouge ("No, they're princesses going to princess school and being best friends and defeating the evil puppy with friendship! There's no hate, they're all best friends!")

[angel5ofp0rn]

Young!Price x f!younger!reader

where u and ExHusband!Price first meet 🤭

TW (?) age gap. legal (21&30-something), but still an age gap

got a lil lazy at the end; just a dash of secks

“Jus’ one more.” You giggle to your friends, making your way through the crowd and over to the bar.

Another one more.

The bartender shakes his head when you approach.

For the fourth time.

“What’ll it be this time, kid?”

“Dunno,” You shrug animatedly. You giggle again, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. “How about…”

You turn to one of the men sitting at the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” You point a manicured finger at a tall, balaclava-wearing man with dark eyes.

He glances towards you for just a moment before looking straight ahead again, mumbling a “whiskey” under his breath.

“Eww.” You scrunch your nose. “No, not that.”

You lean over a bit, hands on the bar, looking past the scary masked man and to the man next to him.

The… gorgeous, blue eyed, clean shaven man next to him.

“What’re- whoa.” Your eyes widen for a moment. “You’re, like… whoa.”

The man exhales a small, slightly amused chortle.

“Would you, like, ‘scuse us?” You ask the scarier man.

He stares you down for a moment.

You blink, waiting for him to move.

“F’r fuck’s sake…” The big guy grumbles, standing up from the barstool and disappearing somewhere in the bar.

You happily hop onto the stool once he’s gone.

You extend your arm to the gorgeous man, your tipsiness making you more fearless than usual.

“Hi. It’s m’birthday.”

“Is it, now?” His smooth, English voice drawls out as he shakes your hand.

“Mhm!” You nod, your grin growing.

The man nods, seemingly amused with your young, drunk self.

“Are you, like, an army guy or something?” You ask, glancing up and down at him in his fatigues.

He snorts.

“I am an army guy or something.” He confirms. “John Price.”

“John Price…” You tilt your head to the side, your long hair falling over your exposed shoulder in that tiny going out top you decided to wear.

“Price is cute. Y/N Price sounds good, right?” You ask aloud, not really to anyone in particular.

“Already planning on taking my last name, are you?” He raises his eyebrows at you, entertained by all of this.

Women come up to him all the time. Can’t really go anywhere without a few flirting with him, batting their eyelashes, playing coy about how badly they want to fuck a man in uniform.

But they’re never this bold.

Usually not this young, either.

You’re a good ten years younger than him, at least; the hell do you want with him?

“Y’know,” You continue, ignoring his question. “You have the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”

He smirks.

“Y/N!” Your girl friend calls out, waving you over to her from across the room. “Let’s go dance!”

“Oh!” You grab John’s bicep. “I love dancing. Come dance with us!”

John shakes his head, dismissing the idea.

“Don’t dance.” He takes a swig of his beer. “But, eh… Kyle here-“ He pats the shoulder of another, younger, man on the right side of him. “-Kyle likes to dance. Don’t ya, Gaz?”

“I don’ wanna dance with him.” You shake your head with a frown.

“He’s a handsome young lad.” John continues talking up his buddy as if he’s a car salesman trying to sell you the Buick. “Why don’t you-“

You cut him off, rolling your eyes as if that was the dumbest suggestion you’ve ever heard.

“What’f I dance with Kyle and he r’lly likes me?” You slur a bit.

Kyle grins.

John snorts.

“Then he likes ya.”

“No!” You groan.

Drunken you really resembles a fussy toddler.

“I don’ want Kyle’s babies, I want your babies.”

John laughs.

Kyle chokes on his drink.

“You wanna have my babies, eh?”

“Uh-huh.” You nod confidently. “I wan’ a hundred blue-eyed babies tha’ look Just. Like. You.” You poke his chest in sync with the last three words.

John raises his eyebrow at that, taking another sip of his beer.

Your friends pull you to the dance floor by your arm.

You stumble off with them, looking back at John Price and what’s-his-name.

The men don't even glance back at you once you're gone.

They just laugh it off and continue chatting.

But you? You're not giving up that easily.

You let yourself be distracted for a while; dancing, shots, bathroom selfies, whatever.

But when you see John standing up from the bar, slapping some cash down for the bartender and heading towards the exit; you follow.

"John!" You grin, arms outstretched for a hug once you meet him in the parking lot.

"Christ, you're persistent, aren't ya?" John rubs his hand over his jaw.

Your arms hook around his neck, stumbling into him. He places his hands on your waist, steadying you so you don't completely fall.

“Can’t help it,” you sigh. “I go after what I want.”

You tilt your head back to see those crystal blues that made you talk to him in the first place.

John takes a step back, gently disentangling himself from your embrace. His expression is a mix of amusement and something else…

Perhaps a hint of concern.

That’s fair; you’ve just drunkenly followed a strange man outside at night.

"You're a bit too young for me, sweetheart," he says softly. "I think you should go back inside and enjoy the rest of your birthday with your friends."

"But I like you," you protest, your arms crossing over your chest.

He sighs, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, love, but it's best if you forget about me. I'm not the right guy for ya."

Your lower lip juts out. A proper pout.

“Ah, c’mon. Don’t give me that.” John chortles, crossing his own arms over his chest now. “Look, this isn’t what you want. Tomorrow mornin’… you’re gonna wake up without a single thought of me in your pretty li’l head.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, missing the point completely.

John looks as if he could laugh, but he doesn’t.

“I do.” John nods curtly. “I think you’re fuckin’ beautiful… but you’ve had too much to drink, haven’t you? Why don’t you let me get you an Uber, at least. Make sure ya get some safe ‘n sound.”

You reluctantly accept his offer, standing by his side as the two of you wait for your rides.

Ride.

Because you might as well share one, right?

And once you get to your place, he might as well walk you up.

You’d just be plain rude if you didn’t invite him in; he’d be a jerk if he didn’t accept the invitation.

Sure, he’ll help you remove your heels, but then he really should get going.

But then your hand touches his face when his head is near your knees.

He looks up. You rub your thumb over his jaw.

“Look-“

“‘m jus’ looking at you.”

He really, really should get going.

“Stay with me.” You beg.

“I can’t stay with you, love. I’ve gotta go now.”

He pulls the covers over you, brushes the hair away from your face, he has you text your friends to let them know you’re okay, and he’s gone…

…until the next morning, when he knocks on your door bright and early because, wouldn’t you know it, he accidentally took your phone home and he’s here to return it.

(He totally didn’t pocket it so he’d have an excuse to see you again.)

Since you’re both awake and have no plans, you might as well go to breakfast, right?

“I’m not going anywhere.” You groan, rubbing your puffy eyes.

“Go on. Get showered.” He sits on your sofa, hands folded behind his head. “I’ll wait.”

You didn’t even make it to breakfast.

Ended up having him pull over behind some trees along the way, straddling him in the driver’s seat, bouncing on his thick cock while he murmured praises about how well you’re taking him.

<< prev next >>

[imaginariumwanderer]

Height differences

[cosmicwhoreo]

Can I interest you in some guppy Black Pearl art in these trying timez? (with a hint of Grand Reef Cookie, of course!)

believe it or not, I had these doodled before the update! Granted, bp was colored slightly different than now, but it's easy to fix that with pixels~! Frankly my ideas on how my shining grandpapa Grand Reef haven't changed much! In fact, I think the conformation that bp has (or had) sisters helps me! All that really changed is that merbabies leave the reef at a certain age to go with their pod of siblings to their kingdom and be a good citizen or whatnot-

AND BECAUSE I'M ME~

Yes, I know logistically there is no way in HELL these two would have ever met as kids; But that's what AUs are fooooooooor~~~~ SO SHUSHH

[fluff-n-cookies]

Hey, love! I’m new to this, so sorry if I’m doing this wrong :) You can call me Moon btw. I love your writing and appreciate how it’s all platonic!!!! I was wondering if you could do Aizawa (and maybe Mic or whoever else you want) with an introverted teen he took in asking to braid his hair, and getting lost in thought and humming while listening to him complain about work or something. It’s fine if not <3333

Hi Moon! It's nice to meet you! I am so so so so sorry for replying so late. I was feeling burnt out and just really needed a break. I hope you understand. I was also hoping I could use this prompt for other characters so if you’ll give me permission I’d love to use your idea again for different characters. :)

Aizawa never liked coming home. He never liked the blinding white light bulbs that came with his crappy apartment and was too lazy to change, he didn’t like the smell of coffee and dirty dishes he felt were too overwhelming to do. He used to only have the energy to eat some soggy cereal and pass out on the couch before getting up to do hero work in the morning, or 2 am, or come home at 11 pm but that didn’t matter, it was just the same thing every day. 

But now, he had you. Being the sole survivor of a strange house fire at 1 am and having no memories whatsoever and having been considered shy and introverted. You were one with no guidance, no past and a future unknown and uncharted. And while you had been proven to have the intelligence of a child your age and then some, you had little to no knowledge of much else. You were a young girl in need of love and protection. (at least to him.)

So he took you in, begrudgingly, at first, but he soon felt a sense of comfort in your presence, a sense of happiness even. 

He even decided to pick up a parenting book or two, and found some mommy bloggers as well. I mean, what else is a man to do except try and be a good parent to a child he loves ever so dearly?

He learned he needed to make food for said child, instead of living off take out and what he can find at the convenience store next door. Children also need to live in a clean environment, so that is what he did, he tries to at least do the dishes and laundry regularly now. 

Guess he needs to listen too, because he often finds himself listening to your rants about school and homework, as well as the rants of your hobbies, about what you did today, how you felt today, so many things. And I guess, just a hunch, that his life was finally falling into rhythm. 

But it remained mostly the same.

Tonight was no different.

It goes;come home, take off shoes and coat, check if you’re awake, make some ramen (and some for you too if you are awake.) complain, go to bed. 

So here he is, tiptoeing to your room at the end of the hallway, careful not to wake you if you are asleep. Only to find that you are, in fact, awake. The warm light bulbs he installed in your room peaked through the crack in the door you had left for the cat to come at the ungodly hours of the night. You could also see the various trinkets and hobbies you had picked up over your 4 years of living together and made your room the heart of the whole apartment. Lively and bright. And there you were, hunched over your desk watching a video on your computer, fiddling with a piece of origami paper, attentively following the instructions from the video to try and make an origami frog. 

It took about 10 seconds to recognize he was there, smiling, happily at your antics. You smiled a little, but that smile made it all worth it to do what he does, be a hero and a single parent both at the same time, a smile that could light up even the darkest of nights. You did a little run too, you ran a little run to get to him but still tried to be light on your feet so as not to bother the neighbors.

Always so considerate. He thought. 

It was a regular routine really, for him to get you from your room and make some ramen, but as you two sat on the couch, TV was buzzing with the latest new stories (who needs a dining room table? Just use the couch! Why waste the space? It is the perfect space for your plants so for your plants it will be!) Something different happened today. 

For in the smallest little voice, he heard you squeak out,

 “c-can I braid your hair.” a slight tremble in your voice 

Now that was a surprise,

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m sorry, I meant it as in can I do your hair, I’m sorry I shou-”

“Sure.” he replied nonchalantly.

“What?” 

“You can braid my hair. Go on, the hair ties are in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” there was a pause. “Okay.”

Here he was, out in the dead of night at 12 in the morning, a young girl braiding his black locks of hair while he complained about PresentMic’s antics while eating convenience store ramen. For once in his life he felt at peace, as the world slowed down he felt himself slowly understanding. Understanding that it may be over, the repetitive nights of the never ending loneliness. It’s over.

And it starts here, with you, with tonight where you braid his hair and listen to him rant about the outside world. But here it’s safe, in this crappy apartment with the cool light bulbs and the distant stench of dirty dishes and the coffee he had this morning. It's okay. Life is okay.

Maybe he wasn’t doomed to have the same routine every day over and over again.

[damagedghoulette]

Ghoul cookies part 2

Three’s/Damaged thoughts - Part 12

Some of them got smooshed while moving or I didn’t press the cutter hard enough (so we don’t show those)

But tada! 🎉 Sugar cookies

Make them here

[kalopses-sonderes]

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Ft: Pure Vanilla Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie, Eclair Cookie, Madeleine Cookie, Espresso Cookie, and Lilac Cookie

A/n: first post back! Wanted to start small with headcanons to get back into the groove before doing full fics again

Pure Vanilla Cookie

He smiles and cups your cheeks. He quickly agrees saying he’d love you no matter what form you have. He’d hold you close and kisses you.

“Of course I’d love you if you were a worm!”

Dark Cacao Cookie

He’d just stare at you, not sure how to answer that question. Are you about to turn into a worm? Is there is something you’re not telling him? Is this a joke? He doesn’t give you clear answer.

“…what?”

Eclair Cookie

He’d stop what he was doing and slowly looked at you. He started to think over history if anyone has turned into a worm. He does look for transformation books, hoping to stop the transformation.

“Are you turning into a worm?!”

Madeleine Cookie

Similar to Pure Vanilla, He’d pick you up and kiss you. He’d hold you close and show off his beautiful smile.

“I’d love you no matter what you look like! But would you love me if I was a worm?”

Espresso Cookie

He makes a disgusted face and shakes his head and continues on with his work. He is very concerned for you and how came up with such an odd question.

“Where did you get that question from? Was it Madeleine Cookie?”

Lilac Cookie

He thinks about how to answer the question. If he says no, you’ll be sad. If he says yes, you’re happy but its weird. He takes a little more time before speaking.

“..Yes..”

Taglist:

A/n: I want to start fresh with my Taglist! Dm me or send an ask to be added!

[justn0t]

Oh my god you are SO REAL for your hc that Burning Spice is hispanic

Like

Shadow Milk - French

Mystic Flour - Chinese

Silent Salt and Eternal Sugar...no idea for those two

I'm gonna use this as an excuse to say what my ethnicity hcs are for all of the virtues as well as the ethnicity of their kingdoms + some reasons why

Pure Vanilla - Greek

Hollyberry - French/Indian (rich food and wine like the french, but a hot, tropical climate with tigers like india.)

Dark Cacao - Korean

Golden Cheese - Egyptian

White Lily - Finnish (Has mythology with paganism, elves, etc)

Shadow Milk - Italian (Carnevale has lots of masks that remind me of him. Most of opera and grand orchestras are Italian also)

Mystic Flour - Chinese (Mandarin specifically, because the Silk Road first brought Buddhism to the north of China, where they speak mostly Mandarin.)

Eternal Sugar - I'm also unsure? possibly Italy as well because of the large Christian significance there.

Burning Spice - Mexican (Aztecs were in what is now Mexico.)

Silent Salt - Unsure as well. I think maybe French, seeing as that is where the concept of chivalry and Knighthood originated.

[theeternalcringe]

Fem Aziraphale smells like a cookie and I will die on this hill.

[hugemilkshake]

Okay I got butter roll, and this man tookEVERYTHING from me- he took my 60 cookie cutters and 6,300 of my gems!!!

And I think we can all agree this man is a little deranged and that he would dissect you if given the chance.

[crumbling-cookie-imagines]

tk and de hc plz

Dark Enchantress has little patience for Time Keeper's riddles, but Time Keeper just sees it as motivation to speak in even more confusing phrases

Bonding over a shared love of chaos, but little else

Dark Enchantress has tried to recruit Time Keeper; sometimes they play along, other times they don't

Time Keeper has a habit at arriving at all the worst times for Dark Enchantress

Dark Enchantress is concerned (much like with Mellenial) about Time Keeper's powers, so she does her best to remain friendly with the other

Dark Enchantress has, of course, been on the receiving end many times of Time Keeper's rants of "Why does it matter? Why do I have to follow the rules? I can fix it, not that I have to."

Otherwise, many of Time Keeper's visits are to the tune of "I know something you don't know!" much to Dark Enchantress' chagrin

[florsial]

Xeno with all his white clothing, untainted with the ways of the high-class pureblood society. Only ever stained with the dirt from nature and the blood from birth, literally and figuratively. This person who is never taught how to be there. Only ever existing within the confines of a maze with overgrown weeds. And being slowly drawn out of his maze with a woman who balances reality and daydreams only for him to delve further into the maze when she is no longer there to be the balance. Pulling their daughter into the maze with them this time. He's a person in a locked room with the only person who held the key six feet underground.

[thebeingmerf]

Bed Rest Art Dump [Part 10]

This will probably be the last one of these for a bit. I’m back to posting more often, so I don’t need to store up my other art as much. I’ll still do smaller art dumps over time though ^^

[cosmicwhoreo]

Apparently I gots to rename what I call this lil bleep

Cuz he's actually a SPONGE (according to a friend 'o mine, dam u squeebus/silly)

blue tube sponge specifically- gonna just call him Blue Sponge for simplicities sake

[hype-blue-fixation]

Okay hear me out.

We know Alastor hates sweet things, but what if his mother was terrible at baking and always made ginger cookies with way too much ginger and clove. Like you take a bite of that and your mouth turns into raw fire.

Alastor associated the cookies with comfort because of his mom, and they're still the only "desert" he likes. And that's why his hair is red (haha get it? I'm a ginger too so fight me)

Also it's entirely possible that they didn't have the money for the "finer" things in life what with the Great Depression and all. So she might have made cajun cookies. Put cajun on freaking everything, girl!

[damagedghoulette]

Want to make your own Ghoul cookies?

Use this drawing, add on your own little features and send them to a custom cookie cutter shop on Etsy!

My cutter is 100mm, Have fun creating your own Ghookies!

Tag/credit me if you do, I want to see! 🩶