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brittle-doughie · 2 months ago

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Tribute Day (Cookie Kingdom)

Y/N Cookie: “Yet again, it is Tribute Day. The time of the month where kingdoms and villages with their cookies send their gratitude and admiration with gifts.”

Dumpling Cookie: “You’ve grown a reputation across the land, Y/N. It’s not out of the norm that the cookies simply wish to give their thanks. It would be rude of us to decline them, they even just got here.”

You sighed in acceptance as you lay back in your throne.

Y/N Cookie: “Alright, alright. Let’s see the tributes this time, advisor.”

Dumpling turned back to her cohorts, Salsa and Crowned Cupcake, who proceeded to bring in the tributes.

Salsa Cookie: “The tribute of the Hollyberry Kingdom is 50 crates of juice, your Majesty. They had plenty during harvesting this year.”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “Darling, the Dark Cacao Kingdom has sent you 8 crates of weaponry! Sharpened and polished for the best possible cutting and stabbing!”

Dumpling Cookie: “The Golden Cheese Kingdom sends their tribute of 8 chests of gold and treasures.”

Y/N Cookie: “I can see which of the three is trying to win my favor…”

Salsa Cookie: “The Pure Vanilla Kingdom sent…bags of raisins. Hmph, talk about a tribute…”

Y/N Cookie: “Hey, Puré Vanilla stepped down as king, the PV Kingdom is for everyone there. I don’t care if they sent me dirt, the fact they even sent anything at all is surprising enough.”

Salsa Cookie: “You’re right, I’m..I’m sorry for speaking out of line, Y/N Cookie. I promise I’ll do better….”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be against my darling’s word. Because if you did, I might have to kill ya~”

Salsa Cookie: “Back up, you lunatic.”

Dumpling Cookie: “If you guys are going to kill each other, please do it outside so that it’s easier to clean. That would be great, thanks.”

Y/N Cookie: “Alright, alright. That’s enough, you three. Let’s see…a tribute from the Silver Kingdom?”

Salsa Cookie: “It’s a cart of plants that are native in that region. White Lily Cookie had figured it would look nice in the garden…”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “White Lily Cookie? You mean that impudent wretch trying to get at my darling? Ooo hoo hoo, silly mistake~”

Dumpling Cookie: “Do not start swinging that sword around.”

Salsa Cookie then reached into one of the potted plants and fished out a letter.

Salsa Cookie: “Is this…a love letter-CRUMBS!”

Salsa Cookie is spooked when a dagger is suddenly thrown at the letter she was holding, pinning it to the wall.

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “My hand slipped.”

Salsa Cookie: “The hell is wrong with you, psycho?! You could’ve chopped my hand off!”

Dumpling Cookie: “Please stop shouting, you’re making a scene!”

Salsa Cookie: “I should have half a mind to chop your head off right now!”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “You wanna go, tough cookie?”

Y/N Cookie: “Maybe I should’ve invited Financier to do tributes this time…”

#cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cookie run #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #cookie oc #oc cookie #brittle’s cookies #crowned cupcake cookie #salsa cookie #dumpling cookie

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merakiui · 9 months ago

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Hello! Could I request flower bouquet from the miscellaneous menu.. And as for the dynamic, I'm quite indecisive on that regard, but I recall you saying it's fine to let you chose? Forgive me if I'm wrong. I'd like to order that with red velvet cupcakes & banana pudding from the midnight menu for Jade Leech, with an AFAB reader. If you are unable to do this, it is completely understandable. I hope your day/night goes well, and may you take care.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping, slight angst, royalty au (princess!reader x butler!jade) note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

It’s well past midnight when Jade finds you in the garden. He spots you milling about aimlessly beneath a stone archway. Greenery twists up the rough surface; vines spotted with tiny flowers drape like fruit from a bough. Moonlight paints you in strokes of silvery magnificence, a breathtaking sight even the most skillful painter could never hope to replicate on a canvas. Even though it’s the middle of summer, there’s a fierce bite to tonight’s temperature. It’s in his nature to protect, a bodyguard and a butler in one, which is precisely why he frets when he notices you’re dressed in a thin nightgown and a silk robe.

You’re stunning regardless of your attire. He’s always thought so. A hopeless observation, for you have never belonged to him and thus those words will remain a scandal under lock and key.

“My lady?” He approaches with even steps, his voice a gentle whisper. Despite his best efforts, you still flinch at his sudden arrival. He bows respectfully, a hand held over his heart. “Forgive me for startling you. I noticed you weren’t in bed when I came to check on you, and so I thought I might find you here.”

“Am I really so predictable?”

“Quite.” He chuckles at the pout that twists on your lips. “Admittedly, my advantage is rather unfair. I’ve known you long enough to commit all of your habits and haunts to memory.”

“You’re too good. It’s not fair…”

“Is everything all right?” Jade moves to shrug his tailcoat off, aiming to drape it across your shoulders for extra layering, but you stop him. “My lady?”

“I’m not cold. Thank you, though.”

Jade nods slowly and slides his arms back into the sleeves. “May I ask what’s keeping you up? It’s unlike you to visit the garden so late.”

“It’s nothing major. Just thinking too much about too many things. If that makes any sense…”

He hums in acknowledgement. You fidget on your bare feet. Some days Jade thinks you’d wander to your death if it weren’t for him. Having suspected this, he made sure to bring your shoes. Guiding you to the marble bench at the end of the pathway, where the space opens into a clearing enclosed with shaped shrubbery, Jade lowers to his knees.

“A princess shouldn’t dirty her feet so carelessly,” he reminds you, taking hold of your foot and gingerly sliding your shoe on.

You frown at him. “Does it matter?”

“In polite society, yes, very much so.”

“Polite society is the worst. How am I meant to frolic in the flowers as the fairy tales intended if I can’t even take my shoes off for such a thing?”

“You may do so in your dreams.”

“It’s not the same.”

Jade gazes at your legs from where he kneels. Should his gaze climb any higher… He snuffs that thought before it can take root. “Perhaps not, but the world within a dream is lenient and lawless. You’re free to break every rule you desire.”

He offers you his arm and you take it. Lifting you from the bench, he walks with you and admires lush blossoms alongside you. Sweet is the night breeze, bringing recollections of a childhood that has long since fled. Watching you, future heir to the throne, from afar, an unimportant butler-in-training… You’ve always been his world—the center of his vision. The single flower in a garden infested with weeds.

What he’d do to pick you and put you in a pot of his own making. To keep you solely because it is the whim of a selfish heart caught up in foolish, one-sided limerence.

“What would you do? In your dreams, I mean. If you could experience any dream, what would it be?”

Jade peers at you, taken aback. “You’re asking me?”

“No, I’m asking the flowers.” Playfully, you reach up to pat his head. He leans down to meet your hand halfway, a smile gracing his features. How fervently he wishes you would touch him with more purpose. If only your individual stations were not so far apart. If only he could become your equal just for tonight and know rapture under your fingertips. “Yes, Jade, I’m asking you.”

It’s not a calculated risk, for he knows the outcome will never be in his favor, but he acts on impulse anyway. He seizes your hand. You flinch away, surprised by this forthright display, but he holds firm. He’s determined to see this through to the end, even if it lands him a heart more shattered than when he began.

“I would become a prince and marry you.”

Much to his chagrin, you laugh. “That’s quite the lofty dream. A funny one, too.”

He squeezes your hand, insistent. “That is the truth.”

“It’s not.” You meet his mismatched stare. “It… It’s not, right? Surely you jest.”

“I have always admired you, my lady.” Testing his limits, he brings your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles. “Though you may be forever out of my reach and I may be but a mere servant, that does not stop me from loving you any less.”

Your face falls. There is no reciprocation to be found in your gaze. He suspected this from the beginning, but it does nothing to soothe the sting.

He grasps your other hand, hoping to bestow a kiss to it as well, but you jerk away so quickly that you trip over your feet and land in a heap on the grass. He doesn’t make any move to help you up. Not yet, at least. Lying sprawled on your back, you watch him with uncertain eyes.

“How long?”

“The day your father rescued me and brought me in—you offered your hand to me, and you told me I would never know the dangers of the sea again.” Jade stands over you, observing the many emotions flickering on your face, before lowering to your height. He straddles you with ease. “I had never known such kindness until then.”

“Ah, right… I remember that day. You were injured so severely they put you on bedrest. You had to learn how to walk all over again.”

“In spite of everything they told you about me, you visited me regardless. Every day, at every hour, to bring snacks and toys. To cheer me up. To wish for my swift recovery. To act as my crutch. For that, I am forever grateful.” His hands slide your nightgown up, and he feasts on the sight of your panties—on the way you draw your thighs together to hide from him. “I have always stood dutifully by your side, hoping to repay you for all that you’ve done for me.”

You look delicate in the grass, your robe slipping from your shoulders. Like a pinned butterfly or an angel having just fallen from the sky, you’re a sugared fantasy brought to life.

“Jade.” You grab at his shoulders and push back weakly; he doesn’t budge. “We… We shouldn’t. I can’t. If someone were to see—”

“They won’t.”

“Yes, but I—” you turn away from him, worrying your lip between your teeth— “I can’t, Jade… I’m betrothed. F-Furthermore, it’s not safe without…protection. You can’t.”

He smiles fondly, so sickly, stupidly enchanted. With the moon just behind his head, framing it like a hazy halo, you might mistake him for an angel. His actions suggest he’s anything but.

Lifting his index finger to his lips, he shushes you. “In that case, let’s play pretend for tonight—just as we used to—and trap ourselves in a dream.”

Your refusal falls on deaf ears.

Hands crawl along the expanse of your body, feeling everything within reach. He’s overjoyed to behold you, to press down on the space between your legs and savor your staggered breaths. You plead with him all throughout it, begging him to cease now and he’ll be spared. But Jade can’t. If it kills him, he wants to have died knowing he was on cloud nine.

This has always been his dream.

For tonight, he is neither prince nor butler. For tonight, he is simply a monster—the same monster your maids warned you against when you were little: “That cursed child is no good. He will bring ruin to your father—to you, Your Highness. You must keep away, for a child of the sea is a child of destruction and agony.”

The same monster who looked on with a single golden eye, lying in wait like the perfect predator and wearing the skin of a human to hide his true identity. The same monster who took to training as if it were second nature, honing his skills as a butler and a bodyguard. Hardening a heart that has never had the capacity to care for anything other than himself and the ones who have since departed.

The same monster who loves the human he ought to hate, for it is your kind who hunt the waters he was conceived in. Who spear merfolk with harpoons and feast on their flesh and eggs like it’s a sacred delicacy. Who arrange their skeletons in aureate frames. Who mount their taxidermied tails to the wall.

The same monster who, in some distant fairy tale, could have been a king if not for the devastation of his family tree.

Dewy grass sticks to your skin. The scent of moist earth envelops you in its verdant embrace. Jade sinks in slowly, holding you down by your hips. You squirm and cry, but he persists. He could be cruel and callous, rut into you like an animal instead of a lover, but he refrains. He loves you too much, and that hurts more than any pain he could inflict on you.

You dig your nails into his shoulders. If they were sharper, you might have been able to tear through his uniform. Sweet, soft moans spill from pretty, plush lips. He kisses you, adoring the hold your walls have on him when he rolls his hips to fill you deeper.

“Jade… Jade, please,” you ramble, breathing hot and heavy in his ears. It’s musical, the way you sing for him through your tears. “Oh, please pull out. I—aah—can’t… We can’t. Please, Jade.”

Perhaps it would have been easier to hate you and your father—detest the kingdom who has rendered his home an aquatic graveyard. Surrounded in a garden of exotic blooms, Jade thinks that’s impossible. Love born from hate is thorny, impossible to quell once it’s come to fruition. It’s dug its roots into his heart and given way to the most fearsome flower.

He should have killed you. He should have held that pillow over your face all those years ago when he snuck into your bedroom, silent as a shadow. He should have, but he didn’t—couldn’t. And now he’s here, towering over you without the pillow. His hands stray towards your throat, but instead of an execution he drags you against his chest. He can’t.

Years later and he still can’t fulfill his one and only childhood dream.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his eyes glittering. “How I wish you were as ugly as your heart…”

Raindrops spatter your face, a quiet downpour spilling from heterochromatic hues.

You fall apart beneath him, ruined in ways polite society would deem grossly impure.

Now we’re the same, Jade thinks, bowing his head when he reaches his peak. He groans lowly, his eyes squeezed shut. Monsters without homes.

Come morning, the palace is in a panic. The princess has vanished, seemingly whisked away into the night, and the only one who may have any information on her whereabouts has gone with her. Jade doesn’t worry.

No one will find you at the bottom of the sea, unrecognizable as a mermaid in an abandoned coral kingdom.

On his empty throne, he knows of no better place.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere jade leech #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere jade #n/sfw #tw: noncon #lunar love hotel 2023

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

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Could I get an interaction between Riddle and Gidel please?

I imagine that maybe Gidel sneaks off while Fellow is busy schmoozing the other students during a croquet match or something and finds the kitchens and proceeds to just devour the beautiful strawberry tart in the fridge with his hands. But then, poor Gidel gets caught red-handed (lol) and with stuffed cheeks by none other than Riddle himself? Thank you!

Riddle and Fellow duke it out in a passive aggressive croquet game :DD

So tell me, do you wanna go?

Gidel had never been to a party before. When Fellow told him that they’d been invited to one, his little heart vibrated with excitement. He had heard many stories about the dancing, the music, the chatter, the games, the food—and longed to live those tales.

“You don’t have to do anything, Giddie. Leave the schmoozin’ to me and just enjoy yourself,” Fellow had told him.

And so here they were now, in a lavish rose garden.

Gidel was seated toward the front--a guest of honor, according to the dorm leader--but he was too short to properly reach the table, so the students had stacked a few books to boost him higher. He kicked his feet back and forth, taking in the liveliness around him.

Gidel was used to crowds (they were where he and Fellow often found their victims), but there was a fresh energy to this one. The conversation was giddy and effervescent, like the sugary drinks that came in metal cans and tickled his nose when it went down.

Above his head were strings of little flags and lanterns, and the tablecloths were so clean and free of holes. Few of the chairs and silverware matched, like the patterns in his clothes and the few items he owned. Such a thing, he had learned, was a source of shame and ridicule. "People don't like things that stick out. They look at 'cha dirty if you are," Fellow would grumble. Yet no one here seemed to be bothered by it. They lounged casually in those chairs that didn't match and drank tea from cups that had completely different designs.

More food than Gidel had ever seen in his life appeared as if by magic. It was served on tiered stands and in fancy pots. Finger sandwiches, elaborate cookies, cupcakes, clotted cream, jams, scones, and tea in various shades. An older boy in a hat and glasses had even ferried in a massive upside down cake, wider at the top and tapering into a narrow bottom. It defied all laws of gravity and had live sparklers stuck into the top. The server caught the curious glint in Gidel's eyes and offered a crooked grin.

Not the look of someone seeking revenge for almost being turned into a puppet. but the look of a mischievous older brother.

"Haha, excited to dig in? I'll cut you an extra big slice then," Trey whispered, "but remember to brush your teeth well afterwards. We'll get started after they finish up the croquet game."

Gidel followed his gaze to the open lawn.

Several students had gathered there, each grasping a live flamingo. Fellow casually leaned on his, talking in an animated manner with a short redhead in a crown. Riddle was angling his mallet on a curled up hedgehog--the ball--to force it through a series of grounded hoops.

He swung. His ball rocketed, clearing five hoops. The other player's jaws dropped. Fellow’s, most of all.

Riddle smirked. "Naturally."

“What the heck, how are you that good?!” Fellow demanded. He looked again, just to make sure that he was seeing things correctly.

Yup, that ball had still cleared 5 hoops.

“These are the results of much studying and practice. I do not lose.” His cold stare cut right to two boys—one with a diamond painted on his face, and the other, a heart. “Unlike some people, I do not sneak off of campus on school nights to seek thrills at an amusement park.”

Ace coughed into a fist and refused to meet his dorm leader’s eyes.

“Ehhhh~ No way, Riddle-kun! Who would do that? Sooo irresponsible of them!”

“D-Diamond-senpai, upperclassmen shouldn’t blatantly dodge responsibility like this…” Deuce muttered.

Riddle rapped his mallet against an open palm like a gavel tapping patiently before a sentencing. "In any case, Fellow-san… Would you care to go next as one of our esteemed guests? And to be clear, I will be keeping a close eye on you. There will be no foul play on my watch.”

Fellow gulped, but kept his cool. "Sure thing. Let’s have an honest and fair game, gentlemen!”

"Go easy on the poor guy, Riddle," Trey called to him. He left the table and wandered onto the field, clapping his friend on the back.

“I don’t see why I should,” Riddle retorted. He sounded vaguely irritated, but there was the trace of a held back laugh in his words.

Gidel smiled to himself. It was nice, the two’s camaraderie.

The sky was clear, the sun was shining, and the birds were singing. The roses were in full bloom.

It was a lovely day.

Gidel practically melted in his seat. He could stay at this party forever.

Bright blue fluttered in his vision. A tickling sensation filled his nose, and he rubbed at it to dispel the feeling. Had a piece of the sky fallen onto him?

Flap, flap.

A butterfly lazily floated off of Gidel.

The boy sat up straighter.

It was mesmerizing, that butterfly. With the sunlight streaming through it's papery cerulean wings, it almost resembled stained glass.

Pretty...

Gidel extended his arms out toward it, attempting to cup the bug in his palms. It evaded, dipping in the air and heading toward the Heartslabyul dorm.

He hopped out of his seat and trailed after the butterfly, waving his arms in an attempt to coax it back. But no--it vanished inside, and Gidel, like a foolish child being lured to a candy house in the woods, followed.

Gidel didn't pay any mind to where the butterfly led him. He only knew that he wanted to catch it, and so he would tread wherever it went.

Soon enough, he had wandered into the kitchen, fumbling around for the butterfly in the dark. For a heartbeat, the creature landed on a handle and rested there. Gidel pounced--but missed, and the butterfly, startled, hurriedly flew away.

He tried to go after it, but his sleeves, ensnared in the handle, caught and tugged something open. Cold light spilled out from the inside of a box, and Gidel knew this was called a refrigerator.

He peered in, wondering if the older brother from before had stored more goodies inside. Indeed, there were more sweet treats stashed away. Tall trifles, wobbling jellies, and...

Gidel's eyes fixated on a beautiful strawberry tart. Its crust, golden and ruffled like intricate lace. The custard filling, thick and creamy. Glistening red fruit had been sliced thin and meticulously laid out, the strawberries shaping into a blossoming rose.

His mouth watered.

He reached for the tart.

Before Gidel realized what he was doing, he had plunged his fingers into the innards. Scooping out custard and strawberries by the handful, he deposited them in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, then went back for more.

So sweet, so delicious. He wanted more and more.

He broke off a chunk of the shell and bit into it. It was tough and crumbly. Gidel decided that he liked it better after dunking it in custard and eating it with a slice of strawberry.

Right as he had assembled a piece, a person appeared from the hallway. They stood in the doorway to the kitchen, their figure shadowed. Gidel squinted.

Whoever it was, they were short and wore a crown on their head.

The kitchen lights flickered on.

Riddle Rosehearts came into view. He wore a stern expression as he approached, steps brisk and sharp. "So this is where you ran off to. You had your guardian so worried he dropped his flamingo to look for--"

He skidded to a stop, staring at the mess of juices and crumbs at the feet of the fridge. Gidel crouched nearby, hands and clothes sticky and red or covered in traces of his crime.

Rage hit him like truck--speedy and sudden. Rules, broken? Decorum, ignored? His entire face turned crimson, steam threatening to pour from his ears.

Riddle's voice came, low and menacing. "You ate the strawberry tart meant for the unbirthday party and you made this mess?"

He advanced on the boy, raising his scepter.

Gidel blanched. Trembling terribly, he shrank into his oversized clothes like a turtle retreating into its shell. Warm wetness prickled his eyes. He whimpered without a single sound.

Riddle's scepter froze, as did his resolve. The fire that was his anger came in and out like the flame of a candle exposed to wind.

A sad little child. Scolded for having eaten a forbidden tart. Apologizing, sobbing, begging to not be punished.

Now who does that remind you of?

A dull pain radiated from the recesses of his heart. The plant called Pity had germinated, its roots opening a home for itself in his chest.

You aren't in the right here.

Riddle sucked in a breath through his teeth.

Like his therapist had advised him to do, he started at 10 and slowly counted down from it. Slowly, slowly, his fury subsided, like air being released from a balloon. Anger management magic.

When he spoke again, he was softer, gentler.

“… You are forgiven."

He wasn't used to it.

Riddle awkwardly offered a hand. “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up in the washroom. We can’t have you returning to the unbirthday party in this state.”

Gidel stared inquisitively at it. At him. The stranger with the temper, the stranger now asking for his trust.

But he had tried, hadn’t he? Tried, and succeeded in controlling his anger.

A moment’s hesitation, and Gidel slipped his strawberry-stained sleeve into Riddle’s palm. He nodded to the dorm leader.

Let’s go.

To where everyone is waiting for us.

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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

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A Question of Seman-dicks

A/N: I wrote this under the influence of alcohol, edibles, and the funniest conversation in the history of Discord. Happy Friday!

Pairing: Hardcase x GN!Reader (platonic with a twist)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 960

Warnings and tags: suggestive language, terrible puns

Hardcase spotted you striding purposefully down the corridor of the Resolute, and he sped up to try to catch up with you. You turned a corner abruptly, and by the time he rounded it, you were nowhere to be found. The corridor was empty; there was nothing there but a bank of escape pods. He peered into the porthole of each one until he finally spotted you, pacing back and forth in the small space and talking animatedly. Intrigued, he opened the hatch.

You whirled to face him, guilt written plainly across your features, but when you recognized his distinctive tattoos, you relaxed.

“Oh, it’s you,” you sighed with relief. “Thank the Force.”

“What are you doing in here?” he asked curiously.

“Nothing!” you said. His expression was dubious, and you knew he wouldn’t let it drop until you told the truth. “Hiding.”

He gave you a sympathetic look. “Admiral Ice Queen?”

“I came in here to scream,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Good choice,” he said. “Conveniently close to your office, private, and most importantly, soundproof. I approve of your strategy.”

“Except I’m not supposed to be in here, and if anyone caught me, I’d be in huge trouble.”

“Someone did catch you,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t rat me out,” you replied. “You’re more likely to come in and hide with me.”

“Great idea!” he said with a grin. He stepped into the pod and sealed the hatch, then flopped down on the floor and patted the spot next to him. “Tell me all about it.”

“You know there are perfectly good seats in here,” you said.

“True, but if I sat in one of those, there wouldn’t be room for you next to me, and you look like you could use a hug.”

“Good point,” you said, sitting down with a thump.

He immediately draped his arm over your shoulders, and you leaned against him. “So what did the bad-miral do this time?”

“More of the usual,” you replied. “I swear she sets me up to fail on purpose, and then she takes an evil delight in being a massive Taungsday about it.”

“Taungsday?” he asked, baffled.

“You know, a C-U-Next-Taungsday?”

“I don’t get it,” he said.

Even though nobody was around, you leaned in and whispered the explanation in his ear. He reared back in surprise.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to say that word,” he said.

“What word would you prefer?” you asked, amused at his reaction, but still too upset to laugh.

“Lady garden,” he replied.

You snorted. “Seriously?”

“It’s more respectful,” he said with dignity.

“I don’t want to be respectful!” you complain. “I want to call her a cu—”

“Love tunnel!” he exclaimed, interrupting you before you could get the word out.

That time, you actually laughed. “What is this, a bodice ripper? I don’t need a romantic euphemism for a—”

“Hidden treasure!” he cut you off. “Or cupcake! Those are delicious.”

You let out an inelegant cackle, and he gave you a wounded look that only made you laugh harder.

“Hardcase, I had no idea you had so many words for a woman’s—”

“Honey pot?” he asked insouciantly.

“You can just say—”

“Nether regions?” he offered. “I don’t like that one. It sounds spooky. Like some vast, uncharted part of space.”

You tried to stifle your laughter, but it came out as an embarrassing snort, which only made you laugh harder.

“Still, it’s better than ‘penis fly trap,’” he mused. “But not as good as flower. You know, because it has petals and is also used in reproduction. I would definitely rather put my tallywacker in a flower than in a nether region. Higher probability of survival.”

By this point, you had both hands clapped over your mouth to try to muffle your shrieks of laughter as tears streamed down your face. You couldn’t even remember why you’d hidden in the escape pod in the first place, much less why Hardcase was regaling you with a comprehensive listing of every colloquialism known to the galaxy for a—

“Notorious V.A.G.,” he said. “Whoever came up with that one had obviously never felt the touch of a woman.”

You doubled over and buried your face against his chest as you howled with laughter, so you missed his pleased smile when he realized he’d successfully distracted you from your horrible boss. Unfortunately, you’d been gone long enough that you knew your absence would soon be noted.

“I wish I could hide in here with you for the rest of the day,” you gasped once you caught your breath.

“Me, too,” he said, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “Probably ought to get back to it, though.”

You nodded and wiped away your mirthful tears, hoping that you looked at least somewhat presentable. Hardcase stood and offered you his hand, pulling you to your feet with ease, and then he opened the hatch of the escape pod. The two of you spilled out into the corridor, only to run smack-dab into Jesse and Kix.

Jesse took one look at your disheveled appearance and punched Hardcase in the shoulder with a devilish grin.

“Nice, vod,” he said. “You finally made your move.”

Hardcase looked mortified. “That’s not— We weren’t—”

“Relax, brother, we won’t tell the Atrocious Admiral,” Kix laughed. “I’m just glad you decided to do something other than pine away after all this time.”

Hardcase stared at you with panic in his eyes as he watched understanding dawn on your face.

“I—” he began.

On impulse, you leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks for everything, big boy,” you said. “Be sure to stop by my bunk later, and I’ll show you how well I can swallow your baloney pony.”

#clone trooper hardcase #hardcase x reader #hardcase x you #gn reader #sw tcw fanfic #clone wars fanfiction #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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violetsandfluff · 2 years ago

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You Flower, You Feast 🌻

concept from @pancakerry: harry coming home to y/n making dinner !! very domestic blurb:)

word count: about 600

a/n: i actually love this lol

“Pretty woman,” Harry hummed, sidling up beside you at the stove. He placed a hand on each of your hips as he peered over your shoulder into the pot you were stirring.

“Harry,” you chided teasingly before whirling around, spoon in hand, still dripping with scalding hot chicken broth. “You know the rules. No peeking when I’m the cook.”

Harry shook his head incredulously, stepping back and holding his hands out as a sign of resignation. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Cut up some strawberries,” you instructed, gesturing to the counter where they sat on a damp paper towel. “They’re already clean.”

Harry nodded, barely listening to the words rolling out of your mouth. He was preoccupied with taking you in. He admired the sparkle in your eye as you scolded him for peeking at the soup, the daisy tucked behind your ear and forgotten about, and the outfit you were wearing. It was nothing too revealing, but he could tell how comfortable and confident you were wearing it.

“Harry. The strawberries?” she called over her shoulder when she turned back to the soup, sprinkling some homegrown herbs into it for flavor.

“The strawberries?” he mumbled numbly, trying to remember what you had asked him to do with them. He scooped them into his hands and brought them over to the sink, emptying them into a pasta strainer and running them under a stream of cool water.

“I told you they were already clean, Haz,” you explained in exasperation.

“Oh,” he said slowly, grabbing a second paper towel to dry them in. “What do you want me to do once I cut them?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you chuckled to yourself. “Now seriously. Earth to Sous Chef Styles? Cut up the strawberries, please and thank you.”

Harry used his minimal knife skills to cut the strawberries into small, disfigured hearts. He transferred them into a small, milky glass bowl and handed them to you.

“All of the hearts to the love of my life,” he said proudly, and you chuckled to yourself as you tried to decipher the shapes of the berries.

“Go make yourself useful setting the table,” you giggled, handing your husband a handful of silverware and napkins.

As he left, you uncovered the muffin tin that was hidden on the counter beneath a loaf of bread. You decorated each cupcake with a dollop of whipped cream and a few strawberry “hearts” before covering the pan back up and hiding it before Harry turned around.

You scooped the steaming soup into two bowls and carried them carefully to the kitchen table opposite the stove, setting them on the hay-colored tablecloth between the antique silverware and chipped coffee mugs, both of which held red wine.

“Are these flowers from the garden?” Harry asked, fingering a pink rose petal. “All of the rain has been really good for them.” He picked up his chair and soup and repositioned himself beside you so he could see out the west window where the sky was ablaze with fiery orange clouds. A cool breeze drifted in, stirring the flowers and your hair.

The steaming soup was enjoyed alongside steamy kisses and buttery rolls as the sun set. Harry’s hand enveloped yours as you ate, and he fingered the pearl on your ring finger beneath the table as if it were some precious secret.

~~~

taglist: @madybeth21 @groovychaosavenue @fishingirl12 @sortingharryshairclip @mrspeacem1nusone @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cayleyhannha-blog @whitemancumslut @xxrosebunny @hsdaydreaminghaze @madeintheniamh @daisyharry

#harry styles #harry styles concept #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #farmer!harry #???#harry styles x you #harry styles x pregnant!reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x plus size reader #flutterfly alley #yellow 💛 heart #week of blurbs

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extra-stout-stories · 1 month ago

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Full Moon

The couple from last year's Werewolf / Sweater Weather enjoys some bedroom fun on their favorite night of the month. (SSBBW, SSBHWW -- that's "big handsome werewolf." CW: The fine line between desire and fear; explicit sex, but mostly implied rather than descriptive.)

Here's my belated contribution to Day 10 of Feedist Kinktober '24. This one is a few weeks late, but as soon as I saw the "Full Moon" prompt I knew what was going to happen.

As long as @fatguarddog keeps giving us an annual list of Kinktober prompts, this fictional couple will keep making appearances. I might bring them back before the month is over, if I have the time to write.

Monsterfucking isn't a kink of mine, but using a monster character to think about some of the primordial forces that inspire our kink was an illuminating exercise. This one was a lot of fun to write. Reblog if you enjoy it.

He gets hungry when the change hits. Hungry for her cooking. Hungry for her.

Sometimes, on these nights, he'll leave the house to hunt. But sometimes, when the snow is piled up in meter-high drifts, he stays indoors.

She knows what to do then. For a few days beforehand, she'll cook and cook and bake and bake until every surface in the kitchen is covered with food. Meats, lots of them, beef and mutton and venison, roasted and grilled and fried, stewed and sizzled. Always rare, always tender and dripping.

Bread, loaves and loaves of it. Cakes. Cupcakes. Puddings.

The kitchen is right next to the bedroom, and she can hear him moving around, ravenous, devouring.

When the change hits his appetites seem even more bottomless than they already are.

She feels vulnerable then, in a way she rarely feels around him otherwise. He's as much beast as man when the moon is full, and sometimes he's more beast than man. When that happens she can see the struggle in his eyes, the struggle to hold both sides of himself in balance, to regard her as his lover as well as his prey. The beast is very different from the man, who is as unfailingly as tender as he is strong, unfailingly kind to her and others even when his strength would allow him to be cruel.

The beast is different. And she is so vulnerable.

She's just as fat as he is. Or maybe he's just as fat as her. They've made each other this fat.

But while his rolls of fat and quivering belly are layered on top of powerful muscle, hers are nothing but softness. It's not that she doesn't pull her weight. On an isolated homestead in the woods there are always chores to do, and not just the cooking. She stretches and even lifts light weights to stay mobile, mobile enough that she can get around the kitchen and the garden. But by the end of the day the effort has left her ready to beach herself in bed and eat and eat.

Like she's doing now. He's not the only one with a hunger. She lifts a forkful of blueberry pie to her lips. She can hear him in the kitchen, tearing through the beef stew and the chops and the pot roast. She can imagine the trails of grease dribbling down his chins, stubble and sweat, ferocity, appetite.

They've made each other this fat. If it were entirely up to him, if the duties of the real world didn't intrude, her fat would be nothing but an ocean of immobile softness. When the moon isn't full, when the change hasn't taken him, his lovemaking is kind, eager, attentive. Pampering. He loves to spoil her, to satisfy her. To see her grow and grow and grow, rolls folding over onto rolls, all for him.

Warm. Soft. Pampered. Endlessly inviting.

Tender. Easily winded.

Unable to run.

Prey.

She's made herself so vulnerable. There's a cold fear inside of her, dancing in circles with the heat of her excitement. She eats to still the fear and to stoke the excitement. I trust him, she tells herself. He can control the change. For me he can control the change.

Some people would think it was madness. To give up a career and a condominium and designer handbags to live in a cabin in the cold, dark forest, miles from the nearest town, hours from the nearest city. But she had known from the moment she first set eyes on him that she would do it if he asked.

He was so kind, so thoughtful. So fat and so hungry, for her cooking and for her.

He didn't ask her to move in with him until he had explained to her about the change.

And she still did it.

I've made myself so vulnerable, she thinks, shoveling the last of the blueberry pie past her lips, her own breath ragged with fullness. I'm not sure I could even get up from bed right now. The stuffing has pushed her over the edge; when she's this full, she feels as if she might lose her mobility entirely. The thought makes her burn with heat. The thought makes her freeze with fear.

So soft. So tender.

So appetizing.

When he crashes through the door, beast and man are one thing. His strength is supernatural now. It moves with the same rhythms of the full moon that move the tides, that pull great waves of force up from the depths of the ocean until entire coastlines, in places far away from their ice-cold forest, drown in a surge of water and heat.

She's drowning too. Her breathing, ragged with fullness, grows shallow with fear. Heat and moisture, sweat and desire, churn like the ocean around the cold knot of fear at the pit of her stomach as he crashes through the door, hunger in his eyes. His belly is swollen and taut underneath its softness, filled to the brim with the tender dishes she spent days preparing.

On another night she'd rub it gently, smile, run her fingers through the hair of his chest and nuzzle her face against his stubble until she felt the softness of his chins yielding to her kiss. On another night she might comfort him, tease him. Did my hungry boy eat too much?

But there's nothing boyish in him now. Not a boy and not a man, or not only a man. A man and a beast, two hungers at war with one another.

Looming over her.

"Can you really control the change?"

She had asked him that after seeing it happen for the first time. So frightening but so exciting, like something out of an old and terrible legend.

He nodded. "It's difficult but I can do it. It's like… I know I want you, but I have to remind myself why I want you. Does that make sense?"

She nodded. "I think so. It's scary to see you like that." She pulled him in closer, feeling the strength beneath his fat as he relaxed and let himself sink into her softness. "But it's also hot."

"I'm glad." He grinned and squeezed her. "A lot of girls would run away the first time they saw that."

She laughed, playfully shoving her belly against his. "Do I look like the kind of girl who runs?"

Now he laughed too. "Nope. You look like a girl who sits and eats. My kind of girl." He kissed her. "Don't worry. I can control the change. You're safe with me."

But she had been so much smaller then.

Beast and man are one thing now and his strength is supernatural. How many hundreds of her pounds does he shift with his sheer brute strength as he takes her and mounts her? He could throw me across the room if he really wanted to, she thinks. The thought is frightening. Exciting.

His belly spilling onto her back rolls, over the sides of her hips. His hands on her thighs, then her shoulders, then wrapping themselves in her hair, pulling her head back. His breath on her neck, ragged and fierce, a wordless growl.

Hunger.

Her heart is pounding. The beast has teeth, she thinks. He could tear my throat out. Tear me to shreads.

Then she cries out as he thrusts, a force beyond human penetrating deep inside her. Wet with sweat and excitement, her fat rolls shake and quiver, crash against him like tidal waves.

Half excitement, half terror. A night that seems to last forever. She wants it to end. She never wants it to end.

His grip growing stronger and stronger, his breath more and more of a growl. His thrusts more forceful. He takes her ferociously, as if he can barely control his desires, the appetites of the beast mixed with the urges of the man who knows every inch of her fat body by heart.

How much she trusted him. To come all this way. Miles from the nearest town, hours from the nearest city. To risk this danger.

To get so fat for him, so fat that she could never leave.

She screams. Half pleasure and half terror. His teeth are at her throat.

Maybe this will be their last night together. Maybe tonight the dam holding back his hunger will finally break and he'll lose the man entirely, lose the man and become the beast.

She screams again.

Can she trust him to control the change?

When she comes it's like wave after wave crashing across the coastline.

And when the sun rises, it's like the storm has passed and her languid body is the surface of the ocean grown placid.

The beast is gone from his face now, thin lines of sunlight giving a golden cast to his pleasantly fatigued smile. She reaches fat fingers for his face, strokes the softness of his chins beneath the stubble.

"Are you hungry, big boy?"

He laughs. "Yeah. I worked up an appetite. And I could use some coffee, too."

She grins. "I set the timer for five A.M. It should be ready by now. Put plenty of cream in mine."

He sticks out his tongue puckishly. "Plenty of cream." He grins back. "Got it. Big girl."

She can see satisfied exhaustion in the way he heaves himself up from the bed, rolls quivering beneath body hair, turning slowly towards the kitchen. "Breakfast's in the locked cabinet?"

"Yup. Just toast the waffles and pop the pancakes in the microwave. There's plenty of butter and maple syrup. I'll cook the bacon and sausages later."

He turns back and bends down to kiss her. "Breakfast in bed?"

She smiles. "Yeah. You wore me out. Once I'm full again I want to cuddle and nap."

"Sounds perfect." He squeezes her thigh and she watches appreciatively as he turns again, his naked body quivering as he moves.

He's all man now. The beast is elsewhere, somewhere beyond the tides.

But she can't wait until the next full moon.

#feedist kinktober 2024 #feedist kinktober #wg fiction #mutual gain #mutual gainer #mutual gaining #mutual feeding #mutual feedism #fat4fat #fat werewolf #weight gain fiction #feedist fiction

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lucienarcheron · 1 year ago

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Tales of the Fox & the Fawn [ Masterlist ]

A series of short snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

| Season I |

[ I ] A Touch of Your Love

[ II ] Rabbit on the Run

[ III ] Territorial and Proud

[ IV ] Inappropriate Interruptions

[ V ] Morning Mischief

[ VI ] Tools of the Trade

[ VII ] The Lucien Effect

[ VIII ] A Family of Our Own

[ IX ] Quickie for Luck

[ X ] Team Ginger

[ XI ] Be My Forever

[ XII ] Ice My Cupcake

[ XIII ] Date Night

[ XIV ] Bringing Sexy Back

[ XV ] Only the Beginning

| Season 2 |

[ XVI ] Bedtime Delights

[ XVII ] Paint Night

[ XVII ] Woo You

[ XIX} Giddy in the Garden

[ XX ] Insatiable

[ XXI ] Party Surprises

[ XXII ] Distractions

[ XXIII ] Home

[ XXIV ] Smiley Pots

[ XXV ] We Are Enough

[ XXVI ] The Games We Play

[ XXVII ] Beauty Meets the Beast

[ XXVIII ] Something New

[ XXIX ] A Vision to Plan For

[ XXX ] 365 Days

#tales of the fox and the fawn #elucien #elucien fanfics #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar fanfictions #will be updated with links as I post them.#gfics #fic: ff #ff masterlist

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naturepointstheway · 2 months ago

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Flufftober2024, Day 4: Market Day (Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer, Cats the Musical)

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer loved when the humans put on market days, the most delightful time to cause chaos and try to collect all the things they wanted without getting busted.

Somehow this ended up turning into writing like it was written in the style of how stories for kids might be back in the mid-1900s or something.

@flufftober

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer delighted in the curious thing that the humans called “Market Day”, where they set up many, many tents with lots of goodies to sell. There were pots to send clanging and flying, food to gobble and steal for later, clothes to claw apart and dump into a muddy puddle, jewelry to send flying off carefully arranged stands, and that was not even a tenth of the delightful trinkets and things that they could send flying into the path of an unaware human, or even a pollicle.

Today was no different as they, giggling like mad things, slunk into the humans’ huge market day early one morning, eager and plotting their next chaotic adventure through the stalls, tripping up feet and pulling down table cloths and teasing pollicles tied up on leashes, unable to give chase but to bark and bark and bark their mad little heads off.

They loved that the most, the way the pollicles got so furious and so frustrated at being unable to chase after the two cats, and Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer would meow and laugh and point their paws at them, until some human or other shooed them off with a broom or a sneaky spray of water (they got drenched by some gardener’s watering can once--they didn’t stop till the whole thing had been emptied.)

It wasn’t much of a spring morning, cloudy as per usual for an English day, and the sun was not bothering much to try to make even the smallest attempt at peeking through the overcast sky. The light was bland and flat, but Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer, now sneaking out from their hiding places, were as bold as any summer day with nary a cloud in sight. Their orange fur, tempered with stripes of black, reminded some of the children of the big tigers prowling around in their local zoo, and their humans quite thought that this unscrupulous pair of cats really ought to be in a cage of their own.

But Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer were notorious for being so impossible to catch, and even now, as they caught the perfect gap in between a human couple’s pair of legs to shoot through, one could swear they were just a blur of orange, streaking to the nearest stall towering with cupcakes, pastries, chocolates, and a three tier cake that was sure to be stale by the end of the day if no one purchased it quick.

Not unless it was “taken care of” by the two cats of course, and sure enough, no sooner had Mungojerrie leaped up on the stall table, the poor owner’s back turned as she was distracted by a friend who had stopped by, then Rumpleteazer clamped her jaws on the cloth and yanked at it like there was no tomorrow.

Splat! Splat! Splat! Went all the cupcakes, tumbling and rolling over and over on the ground, streaks of blue and pink and white icing smearing both cloth and ground. Plop! Plop! Plop! Went the chocolates and the pastries, all flying every which way and raining down on to the ground, quickly stomped on by hurrying feet or rolled over by parents pushing prams and shopping carts.

And alas, that poor three-tier cake, down it went! Alack, poor thing, all three layers smooshed down on top of each other, vanilla and chocolate and little iced petals now splattered all over the ground, all those precious hours and hours of loving preparation gone in an instant, a blink of an eye, less than a second’s wink.

Now the stall owner took note and she, furious, shouted and waved her arms at the two cats, yelling at them and cursing as she pointed after them, the two orange blurs now scampering away to another unsuspecting stall--one with jewelry and all those little trinkets everyone loves to wear at the fanciest of balls and parties. Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer delighted in shiny and sparkly things, and how could they not resist a whole table groaning with all of those shining things? The rose quartz and the lapis lazuli and the emerald and the--

Oh! Such pretty little things! How could they resist? Perhaps they could take back some to Mistoffelees or to Tumblebrutus or Pouncival--surely they would delight in such things, especially Mistoffelees, that magical little black cat with his delightful dancing that dazzled all who witnessed it.

This time it was Rumpleteazer who took a running leap and scampered onto the table to Mungojerrie’s cheers and woops, her paws catching in all the bracelets and the necklaces, and her whole body rolling through the necklaces and the tiaras and the pendants and chains, all flying everywhere. An old lady pursuing the wares tried to chase off Rumpleteazer with her stick, but the cat deftly leaped onto her head instead, using it as a launching pad to jump down next to Mungojerrie, who gave her a high five with a paw.

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer crawled their ways under the cloth now hanging half-off to the table, expertly dodging around a searching broom, no doubt wielded by the owner who swore roundly, followed by a quick apology to the old lady, before resuming the searching and the poking around in an attempt to shoo off the cats. Mungojerrie bit his lip hard to stifle his cackling as Rumpleteazer sized up a chunky chain of pearls (fake, of course--even a cat could tell this to be true), pondering if it was worth donning these worthless Woolworth pearls.

Well, why not, she decided and deftly caught up the fake pearls in her mouth, bumping hard into Mungojerrie, signaling she really needed his help. By some miracle, or maybe it was just their prowess at being able to escape being caught by broom or by hand (a couple were waving around under the table now--but no heads poked through to look where those hands were going), the pair successfully slipped away to the next stall to destroy for the fun and hilarity of it.

Mungojerrie was the one who spotted it first: a stall that had racks and racks of dresses and vests and shirts all ripe for tumbling down onto the ground, or even shredding apart with their deft and sharp claws. Rumpleteazer, the necklace of pearls now slung haphazardly around her neck, squealed with delight, running ahead of Mungojerrie to the market stall with its rows and rows of clothes hanging on display.

And toward that stall they ran, the man with the broom shouting, but not giving chase, after them, unable to tell which was which cat, and as sober as he was, could not give a name to either. Not that Mungojerrie or Rumpleteazer cared much--each was so much like the other that they could swap their names around and no one would know the difference (this even extended to the other Jellicle Cats, barring Mistoffelees who could tell with his magic who was who.)

Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer launched themselves up into the air, their front paws outstretched, claws extended as far as they could go, straight at the closest display of coats, which swayed for a second before it came falling down in a great pile of grays, browns, tans, and plaid. The pair of notorious cats found themselves buried under the thick piles of coats, and scrambled to get free, smacking paws and heads into each other, not bothering one bit to hide their delight and laughter. When they finally got free of sleeves and pockets and belts, they shot off to their next target, a rack that was a little too over-full of shirts freshly ironed just last night (with a few last-minute ironings earlier the selfsame morning), and the sounds of ripping fabric rend the air, a symphony of the highest caliber to these two mischievous cats’ ears. A symphony worthy of the ears of the Everlasting Cat, for sure (at least that’s what they believed anyhow.) Mungojerrie nipped off a round brown button with his teeth, spitting it out when he found it didn’t taste that interesting, now ripping out the pocket of that blouse with a satisfied smile at the sound. Rumpleteazer climbed up on his back to pull down as many blouses and shirts as she could reach, and there were several clinking and scraping sounds as the hangers swung off the rail, the clothing crumpling to the ground in a great heap.

Mungojerrie yowled as a withered hand with brown spots grabbed for his tail (a very painful thing to do to a cat, one they will not forgive you for), and swung out with a paw, the human flinching their arm out of the way with a quick reflex. Tail now free, and the blouses and shirts now thoroughly crumpled and torn, he made a dash for the alluring vests all carefully hung with a little space between each one. Mungojerrie really felt he deserved at least the nicest looking vest, a woolen one with stripes of greens of various shades, thick and heavy and definitely not made for cats. Not that he cared of course, and he sprung at the vest display, the weight of his body rolling it along until it crashed into a neighbouring hat stand, knocking into it hard enough to send it tilting over, hats falling off every which way.

He was joined a second later by Rumpleteazer, who quickly warned him of an approaching human, and he, really, really desirous of owning this one green winter vest, hastily motioned at her to help him. Rumpleteazer, naturally, was more than game to do so, helping him to quickly pull his front paws through the holes meant for human arms (and certainly not feline arms, so hung off him comically large.) Mission accomplished, they scooted away off to their next target, wherever that would be, whatever took their fancy--

Oh! That stall with its shiny stones and rocks and gems! Now that was a feast for any discerning feline eyes desirous of pretty things to take home with them, and the vest, Mungojerrie discovered, had very deep pockets in which to carry those shiny and sparkly stones and rocks and gems back home. Yes, that was a perfect next stall to mess up, and they did not waste a second longer, running straight for the glorious goodies.

Mungojerrie, this time, was the one who ran straight at the cloth overhanging the table, and Rumpleteazer stood back and cheered him on, watching as all the gorgeous and attractive gems and stones and rocks tumbled, rolled, flew, and bounced every possible which way over the ground, to the dismayed cries of the stall owners, now both falling to hands and knees to try and rescue their goods. Mungojerrie batted to his pockets as many little round stones as he could, his eyes reflecting the polished surfaces of green malachite and blue azurite and pink quartz and orange jasper and red hematite. It wasn’t long before his pockets were bulging with these, alongside some other things he collected, like a little piece of pyrite (he wasn’t quite smart enough to realize the reason they’re called “Fool’s Gold”), or the curious completely black glassy piece of rock with its curious shell-like grooves, or even a round white stone naturally polished by wind and waves at some distant beach.

While he did all of this frenetic collecting, Rumpleteazer swatted at as many gems and stones as she could, sending them flying in all directions, delighting when they went plop in puddles still not dry from the previous night’s rain, or giggling to herself when a few rolled into a little gutter, never to be seen again by anyone’s eyes, be they feline or human. She couldn’t help but help herself to a little collection of gems as well, choosing a light blue round stone, a strange purple one that looked like it could glow in the right lighting, and a deep ruby stone that reminded her of one brilliant sunset she had seen as a kitten.

When Mungojerrie at last nosed his way out from under the table, his pockets full, his grin wide and joyful, Rumpleteazer showed him her own little collection, and he snatched them from her paws, wanting to help her keep them safe, seeing as she had no pockets of her own. This earned him an enthusiastic thank you and another shared high five, before looking around to see where they could go next--

--and look there, another stand with all those fun cacophonic pans and pots and cutlery and oh, what utter irresistibility! Naturally, both, now having entirely forgotten all about the fun little gems, hared for the stall, Mungojerrie’s pockets clunking and clattering the whole way, slowing him down so that Rumpleteazer had to stop to let him catch up a couple of times. But before long, they were making a beeline straight at the pans and the pots and the cutlery calling out to them, to also send them flying, when--

They ran straight into a wall of gray striped fur, and both screeched to a halt, looking up to see the most unimpressed silver tabby Maine Coon cross they had ever seen in their lives, blue eyes glaring down at them, one huge paw effortlessly scooping deep into Mungojerrie’s pocket to pull out a bunch of the ill-gotten gems and stones.

“Explain yourselves.” Munkustrap said.

Ah! Alas!

Busted, once again!

Next time, they promised themselves. Next time, they would not get caught by Munkustrap or anyone.

Next time, they definitely would not get busted again.

Not like the last five times they were busted by Munkustrap every time, anyway.

#cats the musical #flufftober2024 #Day 04 #Mungojerrie & Rumpleteazer #Mungojerrie #Rumpleteazer #it feels like my BatB muse came over to my Cats muses for a cup of tea #because this style of writing is way more reminiscent of my BatB fanfics #(BatB being Beauty and the Beast)

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katiechristiansen7916 · 4 months ago

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EPCOT’s Garden Grill Restaurant offers an all-you-can-eat family-style feast inside a rotating restaurant with views of the Living with the Land attraction.

The salad features fresh veggies with a delightful, light vinaigrette. The cornbread is so delish it doesn’t even need the honey butter, but have at it if it floats your boat.

Macaroni and cheese, turkey, steak, mashed potatoes, green beans and seasonal vegetables (from the EPCOT greenhouses) make up the entree skillets. My favorites: All of the veggies and mashed potatoes.

Dessert is a seasonal pie, so we had a classic apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream. For kids, there’s a chocolate Farmer Mickey cupcake served in a gardening pot.

The food makes this feast worthwhile, but the character interactions add value to the overall experience. More on that tomorrow.

#disney #disney world #disney parks #walt disney world #food #epcot #garden grill restaurant

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amethyst-ghoul-backup · 1 year ago

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While I work on some requests here are some Era 4/5 Ghoul cooking and baking headcanons:

(Includes Mountain, Aether, Dew, Rain, and Swiss)

Mountain: Absolutely AMAZING at both cooking and baking but prefers baking, memorizes recipes really easily and enjoys testing out any new recipe he finds, loves making pastries with choux dough and his favorite thing to make is eclairs but finds puff pastry to be really annoying to work with.

Attempted to make a croquembouche (basically a tower of cream puffs held together with a kind of caramel) once, ONCE, but then he accidentally bumped into it and it collapsed and he cried for like 40 minutes. Aether sat with him and tried to comfort him as he sat in disappointed silence and REFUSED to talk about it.

Aether: Okay at baking but pretty good at cooking, likes getting recipe ideas from cooking shows, he and Mountain cook most of the group meals for the ghouls, he loves making any kind of Italian food but his favorite thing to make is bread, he makes a really good herb and sea salt focaccia, with fresh rosemary and thyme from Primo’s garden of course.

He found an old Emeritus family cookbook while cleaning out a storage room one time and made one of the recipes he found for Terzo and he loved it (and maybe cried a little bit because it reminded him of the food his mother used to make). He cooked for Terzo at least once a week after that because it filled him with so much pride when Terzo complimented his cooking. After Terzo’s death, Aether left the cookbook on his bookshelf and didn’t touch it for a year. One time Dew had a cold and refused to eat because even the idea of eating anything was making him nauseous. Aether offered to make him anything he wanted and Dew quietly admitted that he would eat Pastina if Aether made it. After that, Aether brought some of the recipes back out and makes them for the pack occasionally.

Dewdrop: Absolutely ATROCIOUS at cooking, somehow kind of good at baking, doesn’t like making pastries because of how exact the measurements have to be, loves making muffins and his favorite to make are blueberry but would never admit it.

He also enjoys sitting in the kitchen while Mountain bakes and helps a little bit sometimes, but really just likes to lick the spoons and bowls (and steal some cookie dough when Mountain isn’t looking). Every so often, in the early morning when the rest of the pack isn’t up yet, Mountain will ask Dew to make muffins for the pack while he makes the rest of their breakfast.

Rain: REALLY bad at both cooking and baking, like he could burn a pot of water if left to his own devices even though it shouldn’t be possible, has ruined multiple pots and pans, accidentally set the stove on fire once and screamed so loud Aether, Mountain, and Cirrus RAN to the kitchen because they thought he was being attacked.

Doesn’t have a favorite thing to make because everything he makes comes out burnt, but LOVES to eat. Will be the taste tester for anything and everything the others make, can and will fight Dew for the leftover batter from whatever Mountain makes. One time Copia was passing the ghoul wing and heard loud growling, worried that something happened he burst into the common area only to find Dew and Rain in a standoff over who got to lick the bowl covered in brownie batter that Mountain was holding.

Swiss: Possesses a little skill in both areas of cooking and baking but isn’t awesome at it, boxed mac and cheese and pre-prepared baking mixes are his go-to, but he can make the basics like scrambled eggs and a decent grilled cheese, likes to spontaneously bake boxed brownies or cupcakes because it’s little work for what, in his opinion at least, is a delicious reward (no hate to boxed baking mixes I love them too Swiss).

He does make great edibles though, like he is the go-to if you want an edible that doesn’t taste like weed, which can be dangerous. Accidentally left a pan of STRONG weed brownies unmonitored in the kitchen one time and when he came back and they were gone he panicked a little bit. On the plus side, they didn’t make it out of the ghoul wing so he didn’t have to worry about stoned Siblings of Sin or a pissed-off Sister Imperator. On the downside, they were very strong and so Swiss had a whole pack of stoned ghouls on his hands. Luckily Aether and the ghoulettes ended up sleeping it off but Dew, Rain, and Mountain did not. Rain went back and forth between staring at himself in the mirror and eating anything he could find in the kitchen. Dew chased his own tail for 40 minutes and then joined Rain in the kitchen and microwaved a bunch of string cheese because he “wanted fried mozzarella sticks but all there is is this stupid unfried mozzarella so I’ll fry it myself in the microwave.” (which is not how that works.. at all) Mountain almost gave Swiss a heart attack because he was just sitting in the dark facing the wall and Swiss is pretty sure he didn’t move or even blink for almost 3 hours.

#nameless ghouls #nameless ghouls headcanons #ghost the band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band #mountain ghoul #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #ghost the band headcanons #the band ghost headcanons #ghost bc headcanons #ghost band headcanons

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