#croissant’s writings

[croissantatwaitrose]

After escaping prison dream somehow gets shrunk. He gets found by tommy who decides to be a better person.

Tommy keeps dream(And try to help him) and dream Is having a stressfull and confusing time.

(Not sure whether this is a prompt or asking for an opinion… but I’ll take it as a prompt!!)

Dream was not having the best time of his life. Sure, he’d finally managed to escape prison. Feeling free for the first time in… however long it had been, was a blissful feeling he wished he could’ve held onto for longer. However, fate was not so kind to him, and he’d been hit with a shrinking potion from a witch.

To say the very least, to be reduced to such a small size was nothing short of humiliating; the only emotion he could feel whilst staring at his tiny limbs was frustration. Was this the karma that every other player had been waiting for him to finally receive?

He kicked a glass shard from the potion bottle, whatever good that did him. When his anger didn’t cease or fade, he settled on walking. Where to, he had to idea. He just wanted to walk in an attempt to at least forget the situation he was in, just for a moment.

And it was odd as hell.

Walking through tall blades of grass and sidestepping pebbles that were twice Dream’s own width and length felt like nothing short of a fever dream. It felt impossible, yet here he was. Jarring as it was, there was some fascination to the way he viewed his current surroundings - this felt like an entirely new view on life - a powerless one yet one that was oddly pretty. Was this how everyone else felt - powerless and weak, and so resorted to appreciating that which was natural? It sounded pathetic.

Something suddenly snapped dream out of his thoughts. No, someone. Someone who, evidently, had already spotted him. That someone squatted down in front of him and- oh. Of course. Bright blue eyes stared back at him, an expression nothing short of bewildered on his face.

“Go away, Tommy.” The teen did not obey Dream’s words, but, to be fair, Dream wasn’t in much of a position to make threats. He had no advantages over Tommy this time.

“Man, you really look like shit.” Dream raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t need your assessment to know that.”

“What the fuck even happened to you, man?” It seemed like Tommy was more taking the piss out of Dream than being genuinely curious. Dream simply glared back, choosing not to answer; he didn’t need to be mocked more than he already was.

Seeing Dream’s reluctant answer, Tommy paused, seemingly debating on whether he should ask something.

“…do you need help?”

The words took the smaller completely aback. He looked up at Tommy’s face, yet there wasn’t even a hint of insincerity or mockery. The teen genuinely wanted to help him.

“Why… why are you offering?” Slowly, Dream sceptically asked. He didn’t believe that this offer was malicious-intent-free, not for a single second. However, Tommy simply shrugged.

“One of us has gotta be the bigger man, yknow.” And he had a point, which made a first. Metaphorically and literally, Tommy was being the bigger person, and Dream wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. Confused, mainly. He always took Tommy to be quite an immature person, yet here he was, offering help to his biggest enemy. It didn’t make sense to Dream, and he was still unsure if he should take this offer.

But what other choice did he have? It was much too dangerous out there for someone his size, and since he’d just escaped prison, he was sure that none of the other server members would be quite this merciful with him. The idea of staying with Tommy didn’t sit right with him in the slightest, but he’d rather that than die out in the open.

“Sure, then.” He grumbled, still not keen on this whole ordeal. Then, without warning, Tommy had scooped him up onto his palm, leaving the smaller incredibly disoriented.

“Wh- what the fuck-?!” Dream sputtered out, glaring up at the teen.

“My bad, big- i mean, little man.” Tommy grinned down at him, clearly resisting the laugh. Dream didn’t retort, not wanting to give Tommy the satisfaction of knowing how much the comment had annoyed him.

Whilst Dream was still having begrudging feelings, there was a twinge of gratitude towards the teen. Being saved by an enemy was better than dying out in the open.

Anything was better than dying out in the open.

(I think i might make this into an au; im calling it on the run au 🔥🔥🔥)

[nkogneatho]

toji likes the nastiest head, yeah? look, you can paint him as good guy that had bad stuff happened to him or even argue that he was always the bad guy, but it still won't change the fact that this man likes his dick to be devoured. he would always have you on your knees on a cold tile floor because he likes the way you complain about your legs hurting. because that way, you get even more desperate to make him cum so he would free you and finally take you to the soft matress on the bed. initially, he'd let you try to take him whole (although you always fail), but then he feels you're playing too safe. what? you scared his dick is gonna make you gag? he rolls your hair in his wrist and pushes your head forward. this man won't let go that push for atleast a good 15 seconds even if your nails are digging in his thighs.

"shhh. don't panic. i know my good girl can take it." he finally lets go and you repel away so fast, head so dizzy that it takes a few second for it to come back to the scene. the drool on your lips is connected with his dark brown tip. when you finally took a few normal breaths, toji is yet again having you in the same position but this time he starts thrusting.

"that's right, baby. relax it for me, 'ight? gonna give that slutty little mouth what she deserves." his pace is so inhumane, you feel like you're running out of oxygen. not even a milisecond to let you breathe before he his plunging in your mouth again. you try to say something but it just comes out as a blabber. all he could hear was "gawkgawkgeffrmmhmgawkgawk"

"shit. can't even speak, hmm?" he mocks you. "fuck, gonna make me cum sweetheart. that sweet little mouth of yours is doing such a good job." you cry looking up at him. you are suck a cocksleeve when it comes to him.

"gunna take it lik—angh! fhhuuck!" he yells and conjoins his cock with your throat, your nose pressing against his pubes. "takeit takeit takeit." he looks at you as you roll your eyes back. shit his dick is twitching so much. so much load being emptied in your mouth. he pulls out halfway through his orgasm and shoots the remaining load on your face. the spurts cover your cheeks, lips, your eyelashes. he holds his dick by the base and runs the tip on your face, spreading his cum all over. you are too facefucked to even argue or comprehend what he is doing at this point. your mushed up brain compels you to just moan mindlessly and take whatever he gives. that's the power this man (and his cock) holds on you.

[entwnii]

it was supposed to be a short trip.

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔 keeps telling himself those eight words as he steps out of his convertible car, making his way towards your shared house’s front porch, arms filled with a bunch of vegetables, fruits and argentinan food.

what is he gonna tell you ?

tooru sighs, ruffling a hand through his chestnut locks, looking over at the large wooden crates sitting on the back seat. he lifts two of the crates, placing them under his left arm and grabbing the last crate with his right hand, making his way to the house’s front door.

the brunet manages to find his keys in the back pocket of his pants, opening the front door and stepping inside of your shared residence. tooru place his keys inside of the light-pink, ceramic, hibiscus-shaped trinket bowl you made at very start of your pregnancy, a few months ago. the chestnut-haired man smiles as he remembers the day you came up to him, a bright smile on your plump lips as you showed off the small object you had just made.

tooru kicks his shoes off, sweeping them somewhere towards the front door, before walking over to the kitchen.

he places the three crates on the soapstone countertop of the kitchen island, the white gold metal of his engagement ring tapping against the counter. he sighs, putting his hand on the side of his neck, cracking his neck, a breath escaping his slightly chapped lips. he places his arms behind his back, cracking the bones of his arms and back.

he grabs a large wooden bowl, placing it next to the sink. he takes the lemons off the fruit crate, rinsing them under the sink’s water and drying them before placing them into the wooden bowl. he does the same with the apples, limes, mangos, passion fruits and the other citrus before onto the vegetables : avocados, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomatoes and spinash. he grabs the freshly washed vegetables, opening the fidge to stock them into one the fridge’s drawer.

tooru turns on the water, washing his hands in the kitchen sink when his ears perk up at the sound of bare footsteps against the laminate floor of your shared house, which makes a smile appears on his slightly chapped lips.

“g’morning, princess.” your fiancé greets you when he feels your arms wrap his torso, turning off the water, drying his hands with a towel. you mutter a small ‘morning’, snuggling your head deeper against tooru’s back, which makes him laugh.

he loosens your grip from his muscular torso, earning a whine of protest from you — which makes him chuckle. he turns his body around, now facing you, gently resting his arms on each side of your neck, his hands resting on the back of your shoulders — fingertips drawing random patterns against your skin.

“how did ya sleep ?” he asks you softly, watching as you tilt your head upwards, your eyelashes fluttering open as you look up at him, slightly scrunching your nose as he places a kiss on the tip of it.

“good until i woke up to a cold bed.” you answer your fiancé’s question, a subtle pout on your plump lips, still annoyed with the fact that he left you, his five months pregnant fiancée, all alone in your king-sized bed.

the chestnut-haired man laughs at your words, muttering a small ‘sorry about that’ as he presses a small peck on your forehead. “ya smell s’ nice. . . ” he mutters, closing his eyes as he snuggles his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent. “ya took a shower ?”

you nod your head ‘yes’, opening your mouth in order to answer him when you spot the large wooden bowl placed next to the sink, the fruits almost falling on the countertop. “tooru.” your fiancé cringes at the tone of your voice, knowing damn well that he’s in trouble. “what the hell is all this ?”

“just— listen to me, ‘kay ?” he sighs, placing his left hand on the soapstone countertop, watching as you let go of him, taking a red apple in one of your hands. he tubs the back of his neck with his right hand. “i went to the market downtown this morning, y’know the small local market that ya love.” he starts, glancing a you. “the locals were sweet, as always, and kept asking me pictures about ya, how ya were nd all. when i told ‘em that there was only four months left before our little girl comes they shoved a bunch of products in my arms.”

you can’t help but smile as tooru explains the whole story, your heart swelling with deep fondness at the thought of the locals’ sweet actions.

the chestnut-haired man chuckles as he watches a timid smile appearing on your plump lips, noticing how the red apple is still in your hand. “want me to cut it for ya ?” he suggests, moving closer to you. “so that ya can have it for breakfast.”

“i want. . .” you think out loud, glacing downwards at the large apple in your hand. “. . .cheesy apple swaddles.”

a weird silence settles between the two of you right after those words left your lips. a stunned expression appears on tooru’s face, visibly at a loss for words. “cheesy apple swa— baby, the hell is that ?!” he asks, not believing your words, which makes a subtle pout appearing on your lips.

“cheesy apple swaddles.” you repeat, insisting on each syllables of the three words before sighing. “canned croissant dough, apple slice, brie cheese slice, honey. you swaddle it up, like a baby, butter, cinnamon sugar and bake it.”

“bake it ?” tooru repeats, one of his eyebrows raised as he rubs his chin with his right hand, glancing down at you. “then eat it.” you add, nodding your head as you speak.

“sometimes i wonder what’s happening in that silly head of yer.” he says before sighing, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips. “but i’ll make that for ya.”

the subtle pout on your lips disappears as the last words leves his lips, the corner of your lips turning into a bright smile. you place your hands on each side of his face, the white gold metal of your engagement cold against his warm skin, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, muttering a small ‘thanks, you’re the best !’ before moving over to the large couch in the living room.

tooru lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances down at the red apple you placed on the soapstone countertop. He moves over to the fridge, opening it with his free hand. he grabs a can of pre-made croissant dough, a stick of butter along with some brie cheese. he closes the fridge, opening one of the kitchen’s drawers, taking the small jar of cinnamon sugar and the pot of honey.

the chestnut-haired man opens the canned croissant, unfolding the pre-made dough and cutting it in five small triangles. he cuts the red apple in ten slices, along with the brie cheese. he places a slice on apple on one of the dough triangles, followed with one of the cheese slices and a trail of honey before rolling the swaddle up. he does that for more times, putting a bit of butter in the microwave, just enough time for it to melt, before covering the five swaddles in melted butter and cinnamon sugar and placing the in the oven.

while waiting for your craving to bake tooru decides to make the both of your your favorite morning drinks : a lungo for him and a mocha for you. right after adding some whipped cream on top of your drink, the chestnu-haired man walks towards you, placing his drink on the coffee table and handing you the mocha, smiling as he sees the home decor mag on your lap, your new obsession of the moment.

“thanks, tooru.” you say as you grab the mug he’s handing you.

just as your fiancé leans down to sit next to you, the time alarm rings, making him groan in annoyance. you chuckle as you watch tooru make his way to the kitchen, opening the oven and placing the five swaddles on a plate, cutting the rest of the apple for him. he then walks back to you, a plate in each of his hands.

the chestnut-haired man places the two plates on the coffe table, grabbing the television’s remote, turning it on to watch the news. as he leans back into the couch, tooru wraps an arm around your shoulders, watching as you take a small bite out of one of the swaddles, a pleased hum leaving your lips as you nod your head.

“it’s good ?” tooru asks you as he turns his head towards you. “so good !” you exclaim, licking the tip of your fingers. suddenly, he leans down, taking a large bite out of the snack in your hands, to which you shout a protest, hitting his chest with your fist.

“it’s kinda weird but not bad.” your fiancé declares, shrugging his shoulders, unfazed by the light hit on his chest. “guess that‘s cuz i’m the one who made it.”

you slap the back of his head at his cocky words. “shut up.”

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

melt

artwork credit: "Croissant au Beurre" by Julian Merrow-Smith

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~960

summary: wine drunk and with fresh croissants from the bakery you're having French breakfast and sex with Dave

warnings: smut! reader is able bodied, no y/n, established relationship, pussy pronouns, French pet names (mon coeur=my heart, bébé=baby), food is involved but only inserted into the mouth, so kinda foodplay-ish, unprotected p in v, implied creampie (éclair, hehe), implied cum eating, wine drunk Dave dirty talking in pastry is a warning on its own, dm me if I missed any

a/n: I'm in France rn and eat my bodyweight in croissants. This stuff makes horny. Thanks @guiltyasdave for beta reading again. Sending croissants and baguettes your way 💛

divider: @saradika-graphics

Flaky. Smooth. Rich. Decadent. You rip off a piece of the croissant, put it onto your tongue and it melts.

“Is it that good?” Dave asks from beneath you, words slurred from the night at the beach and the two bottles of red.

“So good,” you hum, slowly reaching for the glass with homemade strawberry jam and twisting it open. “Getting croissants straight out of the oven before the bakery even opens? Best idea you ever had, Dave.”

His hands find your waist, then your hips and he adjusts you to his liking. The way you mold in his hands, like the sand you both dug your toes in all night. But you're warmer. Wetter.

“Gimme some,” he orders and you can't decide what exactly he wants some of. You place the glass with jam on his naked chest and dip one tip of the pastry into the smooth strawberry spread.

“Open wide for me, handsome,” you giggle as you repeat what he says to you so often.

His lips, stained from the wine, part, his tongue peeks out and his fingers dig into your skin when all you do is drag the croissant over his tongue and not let him have a bite.

He jerks his hips, letting you feel how hard he has already gotten for you just from you sitting on him.

“Let me have it.” Dave frowns and holds you in place while he grinds up against you, his cock trapped between your bodies.

You whimper each time his movements drag over your clit and you give in. The tip of the croissant, coated in the strawberry goodness slides into Dave's mouth and it melts on his tongue.

Nothing ever tasted better than this, he thinks, dipping his tip into your smooth sweetness.

“Gimme some,” you say, your mind hazy from the wine and the laughter tonight and from the need to feel filled with decadent, rich deliciousness.

He takes the croissant out of your fingers, dips it into the jam and holds it up to your face.

“Spread your lips, mon coeur.”

Your wine stained lips open for him and when the flaky dough slips into your mouth, his cock slips between your folds and into your heat. And you melt.

“Is it that good?” Dave's words are slurred from the wine and your whines, from the smooth and tight heat he slowly dips into and slides out again. In and out, each time a little deeper.

“So good,” you hum and lick the crumbs from your lips. Strawberry sweet, buttery, salty like the sea air. “So… so fucking good, Dave.”

You try to sink down fully, you need him whole, the tingling liquid feeling in your guts demands that you are stretched around him. But Dave won't let you.

“Let me have it,” you breathe softly with pleading eyes.

Dave drags the croissant along your lips, enjoying the way you mindlessly open your mouth for him.

“Manners, mon coeur,” he hums and his restraints slowly crumble like the pastry in his fingers.

“Please. S’il te plaît, Monsieur,” you whisper, your red wine colored tongue licking at the golden flakes.

“That's it.” His hips snap up, one solid harsh thrust filling you, knocking a moan out of your lungs and the jam off his chest. He doesn't care, he knows you'll be licking his skin clean, tipsy and hungry for him.

“Wake them up. Let them hear your… pretty… filthy… sounds.” Each word accentuated with a hard thrust, each thrust making you moan out loud and lewd.

You cunt clenches, now that she has what she wants and Dave grunts. He gathers jam with his thumb, rips off another piece of croissant and fills your mouth as well.

“French breakfast, mon coeur. Eat up.”

You do, suckling on his thumb, swallowing the dough, the sweetness, the tang off his skin, your tongue enveloping his finger, your pussy his cock.

Your mind is filled with Dave, your mouth is filled with Dave, your cunt is filled with Dave, your heart is filled—

“Are you good for me, a good girl? Let me fill you up?”

You nod your head in the rhythm in which he fucks up into you, moaning around his thumb, pulsing at the thought of Dave dripping out of you and into the French linen.

“Ever heard of an éclair?” He asks and leans up, his one hand cupping your ass and holding you up for him to keep pumping in and out of you. His rhythm changes from fluid to stuttering and he licks some golden flakes off your salty skin, nipping at your squished tit.

“Another pastry. Filled. Filled to the brim, mon coeur. Fucking love eating the filling out of them.”

His red wine mouth leaves a stain on your chest, somewhere over your heart, you think.

“Éclair?” He uses too many words, your mind is too hazy, all you know is his name and the heat melting your core. All you see is his sun kissed skin and his eyes. All you hear is his breathing and the squelching.

“Will turn you into my own little éclair. Eat the filling out of you, bébé,” he huffs with a wine heavy mind and strawberry-sticky skin. You look so beautiful, so utterly fucked and sated and you didn't even come for him yet. He'll make you come, with his face buried in your sweet pussy.

He grips your chin, his hips stuttering against you. You feel him grow harder, throbbing, ready. “Say it.”

“Fill me. Fill me up, please,” you whimper and watch amazed how his face contorts and his eyes roll back as he fills you with his salty sweetness, his smooth, decadent cum, you watch him as he melts into you.

find my general masterlist here

thank you for reading, you'll get to be Dave's éclair when you comment or reblog.

find my Dave York masterlist here

[a2zillustration]

Buddy we literally JUST read a scroll about hubris AND you were just inspired about something called "Don't let history repeat itself," that 10 wis stat is really coming through.

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[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

alrite

I just KNOW this bitch had an extra croissant for lunch today to celebrate the ultimate demise of all mages (knowing full well what would go down later that night) 🤡 You know, as a treat for the special occasion…

[zolanort]

Hyrule is a fine cook, you guys are just mean.

I will start by pointing out that Wild says the ham water is really tasty. Who is going to be a better judge of the ham water? The one who has eaten nothing but pastries and croissants his whole life?

The lord of pumpkin spice? The army guy who probably lived off of MRE equivalents? The rancher who chugs literal grubs?

Or the one person who is so good with food that he is universally recognized as the cook?

Kudos to you if you chose the grub chugger, nothing wrong with eating bugs, but the correct answer was Wild; Wild is the best choice for judge. Partially because he has 1000x more experience with food variety than the others (statistics taken from my own save files), but mostly because no one else in the group has any significant experience with cooking their own food. Twi did his best helping with that stinky fish for Yeto's soup but it doesn't count.

As the croissant eater points out, the meat looks old.

For it to be old but not have started rotting, it would have to be cured meat (we’ll say ham because what better way to spite Ganon than by eating pig for lunch). Hyrule has probably even upgraded since his first adventure and it’s not just your basic salted ham food (which already costs about the same as a magic shield in game), it’s probably the Hyrulian equivalent of Jamón Ibérico de Bellota from his buddy pal Zelda(s) at the castle. I know I’d give someone a fancy ham for saving my kingdom twice. Hyrule is basically a gourmet at this point. You need quality nutrients to grow healthy hair, as our traveler pointed out, and who has the bestest most fluffiest hair? Hyrule does. Look at the fluffy:

It is absolutely possible to make tasty soup from the most basic 100 rupee cured ham. That’s a real thing that real people do in real life. You can even do it with 50 rupee ham in a can if you’re desperate (I say 50 rupee instead of 25 because of inflation). Hyrule put the bone in too so not only is there the salty flavor from the cured meat, he very well could have been making a nice bone broth for his injured colleague (he could have put other ingredients in off screen too but that’s beside the point). Ever heard of broth based soup? Probably not if you are a croissant eater who never had to cook ham water for yourself on the road. Croissants aren’t even that good unless they have chocolate in the middle, and that’s just because of the chocolate. If you’re going through the effort of laminating all that dough you should just go all the way and make something actually good like pastéis de nata.

Anyway, Hyrule is implied to be a terrible cook and I love that for him. Mostly I just wanted to take this chance to complain about croissants.

[merakiui]

So when are you dropping yandere Rollo stuff to celebrate getting the Catholic guilt Croissant, Mera? XD /j

October. >:D I plan to finish two Rollo fics around that time and post them for the spooky season. One is the dead dove Rollo fic, and the other one is about (sacrificial) goat-boy Rollo. <3 Malleus appears in both of them (much to Rollo's dismay).

[booksandglitter]

✨finished essay 1 of 4 today✨

also loved this café because they gave me hot water with my espresso so I got to choose how strong my americano is ☕️

[croissantatwaitrose]

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of this blog, so to celebrate, for the first time in AGES… HERE’S A FIC!

Nothin too special or original.. just some giant!slime happening to find a tiny!quackity and uh… yeah y’all know the drill ☺️

C/Ws: vore, sorta fearplay, mouthplay blah blah blah all of that

Great. Just fantastic. Of course he managed to piss off all the wrong people, and get himself shrunk down. Quackity sighed. It wasn’t the first time it’d happened, and knowing his luck? It sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. He hoped, even with his shit luck, that he wouldn’t run into any of the wrong people, ones he’d pissed off or not. In fact, he had just decided that he did not want to see anybody until he had returned to his normal height, which was convenient timing to hear that familiar enthusiastic voice behind him.

“Hello Quackity from Las Nevadas! …you are Quackity from Las Nevadas, right?” The one time he did not want to see Slime. Again. Just fantastic. Quackity turned around to see the goopy man kneeling down to get a good look at him.

“Oh good! I knew it was you!” Quackity did admire how, no matter the circumstances, Slime always had that bright sparkle of life in his eye, even behind glasses. It never faded away, and it was the one thing that made him look remotely human. Still, as much as he admired the good spirits the slime hybrid possessed, he’d have to crush them here and now.

The thing was, Quackity had, in the little time and privacy that he got, researched on Slime’s species after the last time he’d been shrunk, and Slime had been acting oddly around him. He’d found out that slime hybrids were prone to experiencing intense predatory instincts, especially towards those of smaller species. What that essentially meant was Slime could and would eat him then and there, mercilessly. Slime wouldn’t have any idea what he was doing either, and slime hybrids, when they spot a vulnerable prey, intentionally or not, could very easily persuade that prey into doing exactly what they want. He didn’t exactly fear Slime, but he knew he needed to stay away from him.

“Look, Slime. I need to be away from people until this stupid fucking potion wears off. No offence, but that still most definitely includes you, and I hate to say it ‘n all, but especially you.” Slime frowned, not really understanding.

“But… you need me to take you back to Las Nevadas, don’t you? I mean, it’d take ages for you to get anywhere at that height!”

There it was, Quackity noted. The subtle persuasion. And although he hated to say it, Slime was right. Where they were currently? Ages away from anywhere, and that problem would be quintupled for Quackity.

“I… suppose you’re right. Take me back with you then.” Quackity tried to ignore his own instincts screaming to run away as he climbed onto the slime hybrid’s hand. To his slight surprise though, Slime didn’t act upon any instinct he may or may not have been having either, and instead walked at a leisurely pace while babbling about god-knows-what.

Quackity took that as an opportunity to get lost in his own thoughts. Well, he was certainly having thoughts of jumping off Slime’s palm, but that would even more certainly break every bone in his body if he did so. So he ruled that possibility out. Or maybe, just maybe, he’d manage to get all the way back to Las Nevadas without being eaten - or better yet - until he was back to his normal height. Quackity didn’t want to just wait to see how things played out, but it was pretty much the only thing he could do.

He had been lost in his thoughts for so long that he hadn’t even noticed his slimy companion going silent. His walking had slowed a little, too.

“You okay-”

Slime quickly cut him off.

“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to have someone inside of you, Quackity?” No use of full name. Definitely suspicious. He scoffed nervously.

“Depends uh… what type you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.”

There was a long pause.

“I suppose not.. not really. No.”

“I think about it a lot, Quackity.” His expression was unreadable. Blank.

“Was there a point in asking me this?”

Slime suddenly tightened and readjusted his grip, holding Quackity tightly in his fist. The duck man had the air knocked out of him, now he could barely breathe at all.

“S-slime please let me go- you have no idea what you’re doing!”

“Sure. I can let you go.”

Slime held Quackity over his mouth. It was then that the winged man noticed that the slime hybrid was drooling. Panic swept over him in that moment. How long had he been suppressing this??

“Oh shit- not like that!” Quackity yelled out, but it was already too late. Slime had already dropped him in his mouth. And it was a lot more… wet than he had expected - but then again - he wasn’t sure what he had expected anyway.

He didn’t have time to ask himself that, though, as the even wetter tongue immediately assaulted him: spinning him around, licking him all over, pinning him to the roof of his mouth - Slime was clearly enjoying himself. The loud rumbling of the slime hybrid’s stomach made him even more nervous. He couldn’t taste that good… could he?

Things were going quite fast though. Before he knew it, he was being swallowed to the growling depths below. He tried to squirm frantically, but it made no difference, other than making Slime purr. Was Slime walking now? Maybe. Quackity couldn’t really tell. All he knew was that he wanted to get out of there. He didn’t even know how safe he was, but based off of the situation at hand, he assumed that he wasn’t safe at all.

He chose to fight back rather than wait to find out. He shoved at a stomach wall, but all that happened was his hand going into the stomach wall. Quackity hadn’t even considered that was possible. He would’ve thought that was cool, if it weren’t for the fact he was incredibly scared for his life.

What wasn’t cool was that he could feel Slime patting at him. The fuck? Did he really have to rub it in (punintended 😛)?

So he was trapped in here and he couldn’t struggle? Fantastic.

~~~woo timeskip of 2 hours my bestie~~~

After what seemed like decades later, the walking stopped, then a slight gravity shift occurred. Quackity hadn’t even noticed or cared, he was just so bored of being trapped in this little space. Around ten minutes passed with nothing happening. Then, a hand plunged into Slime’s stomach, and poked around until it found the duck man. This, Quackity did notice. The hand grabbed him, and it was then that Quackity realised it wasn’t a hand at all, but a paw. A fox paw. Fundy had come to save him? How did he even know Quackity was there?

Fundy not-so-gently yanked Quackity out of there. Fundy’s paw and the whole of the duck man were coated in green slime. He patted Fundy’s paw as a non-verbal thanks, before looking around for Slime. He was asleep on a chair. Bastard.

(We are NOT going to talk about how I didn’t proofread this… okay)

[maldupay]

fuck i need to replay isat because i cant remember anything but um something something siffrin's increasingly concerning comments through the acts on losing his appetite -> getting violently hungry -> having tear induced nightmares about cannibalizing his friends

[croissantmusain]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Getting Together, First Kiss, Making Out, Pre-Season/Series 08, Love Confessions, no beta we die like eddie's stache Summary:

Because it’s Buck. Buck who has been unknowingly loves him for God know how long. Buck who has been family long before Eddie decides that he should stop looking for a replacement of Shannon in Christopher’s life. He never has to. Buck has always been there, the line between Buck-the-best-friend and Buck-the-parent has been blurred and erased, and Christopher’s awared when he runs off to Texas, but his parents do not.

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

I wanna know ur Fontaine msq criticisms 👁️👁️👂I’m all ears

I'm not sure if you wanted me to talk about this secretly or publicly but! Here I go!

The TLDR: Fontaine MSQ aestheticised prison, poverty, child abuse, the justice system/court and didn't properly address any of it.

More:

Focalors/Furina has way too much of a sympathetic angle for a dictator who's lets people drown with her inaction.

Neuvillette feels Bad for sentencing some people to death/prison, but that's it. He's one of the most powerful people in Fontaine. If he felt like there are systemic injustices, I.E sending an abused Child to prison, he should be the first person to DO something about it, not just cry and be sad so the audience can be like aw, that's complex character writing isn't it? No it's not! And guilt doesn't absolve you!!!!!!! (These are stuff we deal with in OTCOJ read my fic now /j)

Meropide has children in it, both Sentenced there (Wriothesley) and BORN THERE (Lanoire), and this is just a quirk of the place. Not only that, Meropide accepts prisoners of all genders and crimes. There are abusers and abuse victims in one place. Do you know how bad that is? How much potential for crimes to happen in a place like that— oh wait, Meropide isn't under Fontaine's jurisdiction. If you are assaulted as an inmate it literally means nothing to the court.

Wriothesley had no qualifications when he took over. Depending on how long he lived on the streets, how old he was when he killed his parents, how old he was when he was first taken in by the orphanage, etc, the man might never have more than 4–5 years of formal education. Sigewinne probably had to teach him how to write reports. And do Meropide's spreadsheets. Edit because I forgot to elaborate on this one: This isn't a point brought up anywhere, which is bad, because when poverty and incarceration robs you of a proper education (and the rights to vote in many places too, too, by the way), it reduces your prospects for jobs, reduces many people's ability to get a home etc etc. Wriothesley was just, narratively, Given his position.

Meropide is an industrialized prison, and they portray this as a good thing. Prisoners are paid in coupons for their labour, and this is also portrayed as a good thing.

The One-Meal-A-Day reform was something Paimon gushed about being so great of a perk, that people might want to go to jail for food (could be interesting and reflective of systemic poverty if MHY had brains, but they don't, so I was just Pissed because essentially all Paimon wanted to say was "Prison isn't so bad, but still don't go to prison guys! Prison labour is really hard!"). By the way, in most real-world prisons they are obligated to feed you three meals a day. Because that's how much food a human needs. MHY went with one meal just so they can say "if you want to eat more, you have to work." And then the welfare meal is a goddamn gacha. So imagine you're a starving child who's too weak to work in the fucking robot assembly line, and you wander up for your first meal in 24 hours, only to luck in with a shit one. I'd kill myself.

They wrote Wriothesley, who's a victim of the system, into a guy who's say shit like "I'm the Duke I can do whatever I want" for a cool moment where he choke-slams an inmate (I know he was a bad guy. But also, in copaganda when cops are violent/disregarding protocols, they are always only portrayed to do that against bad guys, so what does our critical thinking tells us about this one?) They wrote Wriothesley, who was an inmate of a prison so bad, so notorious that it is the literal boogeyman of Fontaine, that has a legal (???) fighting pit, with an administrator who abuses his position to be unreasonable, to willingly stay in the place and become an Administrator who would choke-slam an inmate while saying a cool line about how he has the power to do whatever he wants. They wrote him, the guy who had to be fed on the streets by melusines, to think one-meal-a-day was a good enough reform (while he spends god-knows how much on his boat). This wasn't a victim-turns-into-abuser narrative either, they want all this to be seen as positive character growth.

And then, the final kicker is, they gloss over his entire abuse. You can only read about these shit in his profile, which most people don't because they don't Have Him or doesn't care to unlock it/read it online, and they jammed his entire backstory into a flaccid info-dump at the end of his character story quest. This man isn't Allowed to feel abused and neglected and show any reaction to it within the narrative of Fontaine itself, because if they actually Gave Weight to what happened to him, they'd have to confront THE FUCKING JUSTICE SYSTEM they had NO PLANS on criticising. I don't think they ever explicitly said the fucking Crime-Theatre nonsense was Bad either.

I could go on, but this is already so long. But yeah, I hope this gave you an idea.

[a2zillustration]

Well done, Gale.

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[ryctone]

it was money I swear-

[movie-plush-baby]

mildly interesting form for Ruler of the Ephemeral Flow in my Director’s Rift AU.

other forms for these other dumbasses /aff will come soon.