#it's very entertaining and very questionable

[hyukascampfire]

𝓖INGER & 𝓢NAP ` ꕀ. k.th

you were the last person taehyun expected to appear on his doorstep. sweet and fluffy and oh-so-proper; he never thought he’d see you again. but... there you stand. and, much to his own chagrin, he fears that nobody else could get him more bothered. ׄ ⋆ ִ

་༘ ՚՚ ꒰ 🪵 ꒱ ･ 7.9k

ρairings gingerbread!taehyun x frosty puff!reader

𝒢 ‧̥ smut, fantasy, strawberry shortcake au

⍵arnings brat taming, brat tamer!taehyun & brat!reader, his cum is frosting, creampie, ofc no sex ed in strawberryland, thigh riding, oral m!receiving, cumming into mouth, cum eating, corruption of innocence & innocent!reader, banter, chubby!reader and buff!taehyun, manhandling, he throws her around a bit and she's so into it, they don't like each other but also def do, he likes to teach her manners, reader is also spoiled & rich and taehyun is not, hair pulling, he gets mean, no protectiom, let me know if i missed some!

✎୭ ashlynn's note this collab has been seriously so fun. writing fics is fun, but there's something about talking your friends and scheming all the yummy ways you can incorporate certain things into your fic. @thetxtdevil mae baby, thank you so much for being the best and even coming up with this idea. your mind amazes me... like actually. everybody did so unbelievably good, and i'm blessed to have been a part of it. now... let's get foody and smutty lol. some of this was written in a benadryl haze, but that's the fun part. i'm sorry mine came out a lil later than everybody else's, but hopefully it's still fun!

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

Raising your fist to the door, your knuckles rap against it with a few thick knocks. The door is frosted around the edges in little swirling white puffs of icing, framing the gingerbread door. It’s the same all around his house: gumdrops and candy canes and the like, all twinkling with sugar crystals.

It’s all so sweet—unbelievably so. The man that calls it home is the very antithesis of sweet. He does not take after the gumdrop, nor the sweetness of the icing, and most definitely not the brown sugar and molasses of the gingerbread. Taehyun is the quick snapping of a leg, or the sharpness on your tongue when you get to the cinnamon and nutmeg. 

You loathe it. Even being stood here, knocking at his door, you hate. He is everything uncouth and abrasive—he is everything you should not entertain. 

Here you are, entertaining it. The door swings open. Your fingers and toes have begun to slow with the cold, like frosty-whip in the fridge. Through the forest, stepping over sugar bushes and cocoa streams, you had fought the bite. Why did he have to live all the way out here? Secluded, as though the rest of Strawberryland were beneath his meddling. You know why: it’s that he believes it. He is exactly as your parents told you he’d be, all those years ago. Of course, they were right. They always are.

When he catches sight of you at his door, his distant eyes morph, and his lip tugs into a scowl. The rise of his brows ruffles your feathers with an infuriating ease. “Is there something you want?” he asks. His tone is infuriating, too. It’s the kind of question that means much more beyond the words said. You catch exactly what he means—how he intends to get under your skin.

Hidden behind the door, he has one hand on the handle. It's an unspoken thing, too. He wants you to remember that he could close it. You can’t let him, or else you’ll have drug your pretty new furry winter boots through the powdered snow for him to slam a door in your face. “Yeah, actually. There is.” You run preening fingers through the ends of your hair. “We’re partners for the bake-off.”

“I don’t do the bake-off,” he says. His eyes would be chocolate and smooth if it weren’t for the way he wields them sharp. “Sorry. You’re gonna have to find somebody more your speed for that.”

Barking an incredulous, perhaps even snobby, laugh, you look around. Snow comes down on the ground, sweet and creamy. It’d been enough of a battle to come here. If you were going to give up so easily, you would’ve turned your little bottom around perhaps two hours ago. Does he think you hadn’t considered that? It was a long walk; you had plenty of time to mull over the many things he might do. Sometimes, you imagined him diplomatic and affable. You stomped those wispy thoughts out. Perhaps it’s been years since you’ve spoken with him, and perhaps what happened between the two of you is dusted over, but you know better. Here he stands in front of you: bitter as ever. 

“You’re just gonna leave me without a partner?” you say. Your jaw trembles, seized finally by the cold. “Everybody is already paired up. Literally everybody.”

Shrugging, he says, “I don’t see how that’s my problem. I didn’t sign up for it.”

Your brows knit. That means somebody else had signed him up. You have a sneaking suspicion who might’ve—Blueberry Kai always tells you that he just feels excluded. It’s hard not to laugh when he does. Taehyun? Excluded?  He is exactly where he wants to be. Where most are sweet in Strawberryland, the snappy gingerbread finds it easier to justify his bitterness when he lives off in his little gingerbread home, out and away in his own neck of the forest only to be found by a winding gumdrop road, where he can pretend he’s above it all.

It’s entirely ironic. Him, better than you? Gingerbread, and all his ruggedness? His unpolished edges? Once, you’d believed that the two of you weren’t so different. That you could be friends, even. Seeing what he’s grown to be, you think you understand why your parents stepped in. Back then, though, as just that soft little girl who followed the charismatic boy around with crystal stars in your eyes, it had been the worst thing to ever happen to you. He had been so gravity-defying, moving through the soft, marshmallow edges and the sugar-whipped reality of Strawberryland as something different.

No. Not gravity-defying. Rather, in the powdery and sweet sweet Strawberryland, you think that he is the only thing with gravity.

“That’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” he echoes, letting a little patronizing laugh out along with it. “That’s sweet.”

It’s hard not to shift or cross your arms over your chest, abraded by the dripping sneer.

“What? It’s not. It’s not fair that, just because you don’t want to at least give it a try, I can’t participate,” you say. Really, you should just crawl back home and beg to join somebody’s duo, but you can’t lose like that. You can’t lose to him. If you leave it like this, then he’ll have gotten the better of you. 

“Can’t get everything we want, huh?” he says, straightening up and taking the door in his hand once more. “Just because everybody else has bent backward to give you what you want doesn’t mean that I will.”

“Wait,” you say, sighing in a white swirl. “Don’t close the door. Don’t you know your manners? It’s rude. You’re just going to let me freeze out here? I walked all the way out here, and even got snow all over my new boots, just for this, just for you to slam a door in my face? I mean, a gentleman would at least invite me in to warm me up.”

Lips twitching into a laugh and his eyes suddenly alight, he says, “A gentleman, huh?” He pulls the door open a little further. The warmth from his home, warm and spiced and oh-so-inviting like oven-warmed gingerbread, brushes over your twinkling skin. “Sure. Show me your manners, then. I want you to ask me nicely.”

Your jaw tightens. Sending him a once over, sharpening your eyes, you decide to just do it. His tone is nasty, but you don’t want to be disqualified for not having a partner. Even if he’s the worst you could’ve been paired with in all of Strawberryland. Or maybe the best, because it’s a gingerbread house competition this year. “Will you just do it?”

“I said ask nicely. Say please.” 

He wears a mean smile—he’s having fun watching you squirm. So, you make a conscious effort to straighten up. “Will you please be my partner for the competition?” you say, making your voice sugary and batting your eyelashes in an overdone way. He thinks he’s funny.

Stepping out of the doorway, he motions you inside. It might look gentlemanly if it weren't for the sting in his eyes. You swallow down petty words and push through, your arms full with supplies. Arms aching, you finally let them clatter down over the countertop. The inside of his home is fresh-baked and spiced, aromatic like a true gingerbread cookie straight from the oven. You’re sure the glowing fire helps carry the smell in warm air. It wraps your cold bones up and smooths over some of the frayed edges. You’d been out there for so long… Nobody else had to walk that far for their partner.

Better just to get this done as quickly as you can. You just have to put up with him today, and you’ll be done, and then you can have fun with the competition. He won’t even show up for it; you’re sure. 

“I’ll do it all if it’s that big of a deal,” you tell him, laying out the walls and warming the icing between your palms. “You can put the peppermint on, I guess. So then we can say we both worked on it.”

Hair the fluffy brown of true gingerbread and dusted with snowflakes like powdered sugar. Taehyun shakes his head, and it moves with him. “No,” he says, the corners of his lips still turned up as though he knows something you don’t. He rolls the sleeves of his gaudy, knitted Christmas sweater up to his elbows. The corded muscle there, flickering with movement, catches you off guard. Gingerbread, built like that? Tearing your eyes off him with the effort of metal tearing itself from a magnet, you watch him approach the kitchen counters. “I’ll help. We’re partners, right?”

No matter what he says, there’s a twist of something sparkling in those sharp eyes that has you watching him closer—has you trying to gauge exactly what he’s playing at. “Uh… Yeah. Sure. If you want to, I guess.” You gesture at the walls. “Two for us, and ten for display. Can you start the walls?”

“Ten?” he says. “We’re making twelve gingerbread houses?”

With your lips pulled taut, you say, “Yeah… Twelve. Is that too much? I didn’t think any amount of gingerbread houses would be too much for you. That’s a little ironic.” Everything is warm in his home—even when you look down at your own hands to tug off your white woolen gloves, your skin that usually sparkles like frost rests just beneath the surface is tinged with the warmth.

“I can handle it just fine,” he says, taking the wall and base sections of one. “Just wouldn’t want you to ruin your pretty outfit. Twelve is a lot of icing.” He spits the word pretty out like it tastes bad. On his tongue, you’re sure it does. He never cared for pretty things the way you do. Your mommy always said that he was just jealous, but when the both of you were little, before your parents’ meddling, you learned that it was just a different lifestyle. One that you don’t understand, perhaps. Who doesn’t enjoy dressing themselves in lush furs and sugar crystals over their necks? 

“I’ll be fine,” you say, snipping the tip of the piping bag open. “I wore these knowing they’d get dirty. They’re my baking clothes. My boots already got all messed up…” 

“Oh,” he says. “You put on cashmere knowing you’ll get it dirty. Mommy and daddy paid a pretty penny for that, huh? And it’s your throwaway outfit?”

“Look. If you like it so much, I’ll let you have it when we’re done, yeah? Maybe you’ll make a pretty penny off selling it.” You ice a warm white line down the length of a wall. “Can you hurry? I’m already icing. I don’t want to be here all day.”

There’s  a few long, thrumming moments of quiet, where only the sound of your piping back crackling fills his home. Finishing a wall, you tear yourself away from your work to spare a glance his way.

Taehyun’s jaw is tight, a muscle flickering where he grits his jaw in the low light that washes over him. There’s a fire blazing in his eyes, and though he doesn’t turn them on you, the smoke rolling from them is enough to make your skin warm. You’d successfully gotten under his skin. Why stop here, when seeing that look on his face is so fun? He looks as sour as an apple; as spiced as cinnamon. “Wall?” you say, sharp and haughty as you offer your hand out to him in an impatient demand.

Snapping his head up, he hands you a wall with the heat of a thousand ovens in his face. You feel the scald he intends for you with it, and you revel in it.

You bark commands at him, watching his shoulders grow tense and his lips twitch with each. Crush the candy canes, you tell him. Melt the icing. Sprinkle these over that. Soon enough, you’re sitting back and watching him work more than anything.

He doesn’t say a word. You see them brimming in his eyes, but he doesn’t let them burst out all venomous like you know he wants to. It’s quite the show. 

“Would you at least help me hold this up?” he says, holding the walls of a house together with one hand. His hands are a mess of runny sugar and powdered sugar for snow, and yours are perfectly clean. You can at least help a little bit if you want to claim any part in the competition. 

You reach for the piping bag, fat with the sweet sweet icing, and straighten a wall up. You trace the seams with it, thick and like glue. With a bit too much pressure, the side of the bag bursts. White rivulets of slow icing run down your fingers and over the table. You curse, dropping it to the counter. That’s all of your icing, flopped down and deflating over the surface all sad-like. It’d been so much, that you thought it would last you each house and then some. Of course, you hadn’t brought extra.

Bringing your sticky fingers up to your mouth, you suckle the mess off. It’s so very sweet—warm and weeping, nutty and spiced with something like nutmeg. It’s Taehyun: the smell of it, the way it spreads over your tongue… You stick your tongue out to catch it where some drips down your forearm. “Mmm,” you say, sticky-armed. “Tastes good.” That’ll be good on the gingerbread houses; maybe the two of you do have a chance at winning. 

When you look up to Taehyun, he stands frozen in place, his hands still holding up a half-constructed gingerbread house. His eyes are different. It’s a look you don’t recognize—a look you’ve never seen before. Rather than deep and warm, his eyes are blackish and heavy. A swallow goes down his throat; a tense, barely contained thing.

 You frown, your lips still a sugary mess. “I didn’t mean to make a mess. Sorry. I’ll clean it up…”

Clearing his throat, Taehyun says, “Yeah…”

He watches you clean the counters, where the icing had pooled, and now the bag is empty, with the same intensity. You can feel it on your skin in a foreign, itching way. You swipe and scoop and work at the spill, and still, he watches. He does not speak. 

You survey the houses you’ve managed to finish. They’re pretty, and absolutely competition ready: looping swirls of icing like shingles on the roofs, peppermint chunks all red and white catching light where you’d sprinkled them into the frosting, gumdrops lining the paths true to Taehyun’s own home, and powdered sugar sifted over the entirety of it like snowfall. It’s all great, but there are only four.  “What are we supposed to do now?” you say, lips pouty. “That’s all the icing I brought. We literally can’t make any more.” You wipe at a smear on your cheek. How’d that get there? “I think I’m gonna have to come back tomorrow… Can you hold on to the houses for me?”

“Yeah—yeah, sure. Tomorrow,” he says, blinking something away. He straightens. “It’s a long walk. I think you should get going.”

You want to say something snarky or ask him why he wants you out of the house so fast, but it’s true. Night’s creeping over Strawberryland, and you have no icing, and tomorrow’s the last day before the bake-off. If the two of you don’t work harder tomorrow than you did today, then you won’t even make qualifications. You’ll lose before even starting.

You never lose. Not like this, and certainly not to the man standing before you. 

ꕀ

“C’mon. You can do better than that, can’t you?” Taehyun says, drooping icing from rooftops like icicles as you sprinkle crushed candies over the top. 

You grit your teeth. If he’d been snappy yesterday, he’s made it his mission to be your worst nightmare today. You think it’s his sort of revenge for ordering him around how you did. “What would you like, then?” you say. Maybe it’s feeding right into what he wants, but your life has lent you a short fuse. “You don’t even care about winning. Why does it matter? Let me do it how I want.”

He’s in another sweater. The sleeves are bunched up to the elbow just like yesterday, but you think he’s making a point with it this time. The shifting of his muscles is a bit too intense for piping icing. You’d made it through three more houses, wrangling your inner demons with each passing snide remark or nasty smile the whole time. It doesn’t help that he keeps his home terribly toasty, and you run cold down to the core. You melt and melt until all that is left of your temper is a puddle on the floor beneath you. Gone. 

“We’re partners, remember?” he says. He doesn’t even look at you as he says it. “I don’t do things half-assed, Frosty.” 

You’re sent reeling with the old nickname. It’d been sweet then, back when it was just the two of you against the world, but now it’s gone sour like milk. It even comes from his mouth soured. It’s something that you thought you’d left a million lifetimes ago, never to hear again. With Taehyun, though, it’s hard to pretend that you are no longer that. 

He will not let you forget that, at one point, the two of you were friends. An unlikely pair, especially looking at you now. You thought it was all nothing to you, but seeing him has kicked up dust. 

“You don’t?” you say, shooting him a quick glare from the side of your eye. “That’s funny.”

Strong brows shooting up, Taehyun quits mid-piping to look at you. “Funny? What’s funny about it to you?”

You can’t settle the obnoxious smile that curls at the edges of your mouth, mean and taunting and falsely sweet. “Oh, nothing.” You shake a sifter full of powder against your palm. It falls like true snow down over the house. 

“No, tell me,” he says, his eyes trained and heavy on your dismissive shrug. “Tell me what you think of me. I wanna hear it.”

Oh, this will be good.

“It’s just that,” you say, “you’re not really known for doing things the best way, you know? Living all the way out here, an ass when anybody tries to talk to you… Well, really, it’s just that nobody likes you. But, don’t worry! I’m sure there’s at least somebody that does.”

His face falls, the twinkle of delight at taunting you that he’d been holding in his eyes gone away. All that’s left is the peaking of something deeper and roiling from out of the cracks. You get the funny feeling that maybe you’ve taken it a step too far.

But, you never lose.

“Is that what it is?” he says. “I work for my shit. You? Everything you’ve ever had has been handed to you.” He measures his words delicately. Like a measuring cup full over the top, he cuts the excess words and coarseness off. He doesn’t say all that he thinks, but you see all he leaves unsaid toiling furiously behind his eyes. 

His eyes. They’re clear and, sharp as they are, they pin you. It’s a reflection of that look he gave you yesterday: deep and swirling and wild. It’s more than that, this time, though. It’s laced with anger and bursting at the seams of him. You’re not sure he’ll be able to hold back whatever it is that storms just beneath his skin, this time.

“It is,” you say, punctuation your words concisely. “It’s exactly why my parents said I shouldn’t hang out with you. They said that I’m above… all this.”

Oh, you’ve absolutely taken it too far now. You don’t really mean it. Sure, that’s what they told you, but you don’t really believe it. For some time, you did, but not now. It’s too late for sorries, though. Taehyun’s jaw goes tense.

For a long, awful moment, you just stand there and burn in his silence. It’s worse than any words he might spit. It’s hot—hot, hot, hot, and you turn liquid in it.

In a blink, nothing more, you collide against his countertop. Something clatters and thuds behind you. The gingerbread houses? That doesn’t matter right now—all that your dizzy mind can manage is his body crushing you and his fingers biting into the plush of your cheeks.

Where he had fractured, like true gingerbread, he snaps. You can see it in his eyes; even you know when you’ve pushed too far. Perhaps you ought to have seen this coming.

His knuckles curl white around the edge of the counter beside you, and his fingers dig deeper into your face. He’s oh-so-hot up against you. “I’m sick of your fucking mouth,” he snarls. His breath is hot as it fans over your face, too. “Someone needs to put you in your place. Where are your goddamn manners?”

Your heart thrums in your chest, and your pulse goes wild in your neck. You can’t form the words to answer him.

“Quiet now, huh?” he says. The husk in it makes the place between your thighs feel weird. You don’t know what’s wrong with you.

He shut you up real quick. You’ll give him that.

That funny feeling does flips, roaring to life when his fingers hook under the waistband of your bottoms. “That’s your problem.” His eyes send a chill up and down your spine. “You’ve never been told no. You’ve always gotten what you wanted.” Peeling down all the layers, he tugs your knitted stockings and your little fur skirt, and your sweet frosty panties, too. They bunch at your feet. Between your thighs, right where those foreign, throbbing waves reign, cool air laps at a wetness there. The hair all over your body rises. You’ve never felt anything like it. “Not with me. I'll set you straight. I don’t put up with spoiled brats.”

“I’m not a brat,” you say. “You’re just an ass.” They’re the first words that come to you. Damn your temper.

With the same hand he’d been holding your face in place with, he curls his fingers right into your scalp and yanks hard, baring your neck to him. You lose a strained squeak, tears pricking the corners of your eyes at the sting. If your heart had been racing before, it runs wild, now. You strain your eyes to look at him and his curled lips. Painted with a sneer, he says, “Watch your mouth.”

A swallow goes down your throat hard. It’s all unfamiliar: the aching between your thighs, the burning in your blood, and the dazing of your thoughts. “Taehyun, I… I feel weird. It feels weird.”

Something knowing passes over him. “Yeah?” he says. “Show me where. I can help.”

Show him? You hesitate, searching his eyes for an ounce of joke or aversion. You find none, and that pounding is syrupy-sweet, and he says he can help. That’s all you want; all you need. Taking a trembling hand, you bring it down your body, running the palm down the planes of your belly and resting it just over the spot where the lower bit gives way to the apex of your thighs. Going any further—the thought tightens your throat and pinkens your cheeks the color of strawberry frosting. “There. It feels weird there.”

Taehyun smiles a snappy, spiced smile. He likes that. “Want me to make it feel better?”

Your thoughts feel replaced by something powdery and weightless. You give him a dumb nod.

“Say please.”

Something bratty crawls up your throat, but you want help, and he’s the one who will give it to you. He’d meant that: teaching you a lesson. Melted around the edges already, you say, “Please, help make it feel better.” Your voice wavers.

“There we go. That’s how good girls talk. That’s how you ask to get what you want.” He nudges your thighs apart with a knee and slots it between them, pressed right up against that coolness. Right up against that need. “Grind down on it.”

Neck aching at the angle, you say, “Grind?”

He brushes his clothed thigh right up against you. The friction is delicious—sweet and melty and just what you need. It shoots yellow sparks throughout you.

It feels so good. Your mouth waters in anticipation.

“Grind,” he says. It’s harder, this time. Not a sweet suggestion.

You bring yourself back down on it, gasping at the contact, and you do. You grind, tummy tightening at every brush of the fabric hard and delicious. Your chest constricts, one hand flying up to dig your fingers into his shoulder and the other fighting the hand he has still in your hair. It aches and hurts, and so does the friction as you grow more gaspy and frantic. 

It feels so, so good. You want more—you want him to touch you there and everywhere else. He smells just right all over you, nutty and musky like a gingerbread twist. “Taeh—hyun,” you mewl. It burns, but something slick eases the burn a little bit. Just enough for you to enjoy that burn.

“That’s it,” he coos. It’s not a sweet coo; it’s the type of sound one might make when you play right into their mean game. It’s mean. “Make yourself a mess on my thigh. I don’t even have to touch you. What would mommy and daddy think of you now, huh? What would they think if they saw their precious princess fucking herself on my thigh?”

No. That would be the end of you. You whine, thighs twitching. Something twists in your center, scary and foreboding, and still you chase it. None of your thoughts are solid enough to stop. Each time he flexes a muscled thigh or presses it harder into you, you shudder and curl your fingers into his shirt harder. 

“Don’t like that, huh?” he laughs. “Then you haven’t learned your lesson. You’re no better than me; I mean, look at you.”

You want to cry when he pins your hips back to the counter, stilling your wild bucking. Squeezing your eyes shut, you claw and reach for that wave, even as it recedes from you. “Why?” you say, voice thin. It’d been so yummy—the sweetness still rests on your tongue. Your heart thumps hard, longing for it.

“I said, look at yourself,” he growls, taking his hold on your hair to crank your head down.

Right where you’d been on his thigh, there’s a sticky, marshmallowy mess. Your mess. 

Taehyun releasing his grip on your hair is almost a relief, but he doesn’t even give you time to relish it. The walls of his house blur around you. All that you register in between the motions is his shoulder in your belly and your limbs dangling from you. You dig your hands into his back to balance yourself, but he’s got you.

He has you slung over his shoulder. He’s carrying you like you weigh nothing at all. That place between your thighs flutters anew. In all your life, you never worried too much about the plushness of your belly or your thighs. It is who you are; all mallow and soft around the edges and starkly sweet. But you did get nervous when somebody tried picking you up. Usually, you protest and giggle it off. Watching somebody strain to pick you up when they lift other girls like sacks of flour is just something that makes you feel a little strange.

But, Taehyun does not strain. He doesn’t huff; he carries you right down the hallway and into his room, and he even manhandles you down onto the bed with a bounce without so much as a sound. He is a solid pillar beneath you, and then he is a solid, muscled chest above you. With strong fingers, he pins your hands to the mattress above you. With the other, he leads your shirt up.

He’s so warm against your cold skin. His breath like waves from the oven over your mouth, he says, “You think you’re so much better than me because you have all this?” Curling his fingers around a necklace circling your throat, he tears it off with a clattering of a few snow-drop beads.

 You gasp, glaring right into his eyes. “What the hell?” you hiss, arching your chest to wiggle beneath him. Your necklace. Who does he think he is, breaking your stuff? That was one of your favorite necklaces, and now it lies all over his floor. Still, your center pounds and longs for the return of his touch. Everything about him just calls for more from you. You don’t know how you went so long without him, or how you made yourself forget just how drawn you are to his magnetism. Maybe he is just what your parents turn their nose up at, and you too, but that does not make him any less a powerful personality. 

He knows exactly who he is and what he wants, as solid as the gingerbread cookie. And you, plush and impressionable as whipped marshmallows, take to him just right. It’s something you once knew, but the sneered words of adults obscured that memory.

“Don’t whine,” he says. “I want to see your pretty neck without all that shit. That’s your problem: you’re spoiled.” He reaches down to mess with his pants.

His length springs free. Cheeks flushing, you take it in. You can’t look away, even as embarrassment crawls spindly legs over your skin at the interest you take in the sight. You’ve never seen anything like it—long and hot and weeping something thick and white from the slit at the pinkish tip. A pearl of it dribbles down, landing on your belly in a string where he holds it.

Taehyun collects that wetness and then urges more from the tip with a few drags down the length of it. Wrapping his fingers around it, he begins to slowly work his fist up and down it. It’s nothing short of impossible to tear your sights off it—it’s another thing that inexplicably fans the flames of something roaring in your center. “Do you want to touch it?” he says, watching your tongue dart out to wet your lips. 

The sight of him growing restless over his pumping fist is enough to get you nodding. 

“Fuck,” he says, sharp and under his breath. He lets his hand off it. “Go ahead. Touch it. I won’t tell anybody you did.”

When he frees your pinned wrists, you reach out a slow hand. You curl your fingers around it the way he had. Your fingers don’t even touch around jt. The weight and warmth of him in your palm makes your blood tingle. Looking up, you search for guidance in those intelligent, swirling eyes. His bangs hang over his eyes as he watches.

Placing his hand over yours, he drags it up and down his rigid length the way he had been doing a few beats ago. “Like that,” he says. “Just like that.”

You pump your closed fist up and down him, encouraged to squeeze harder and flick your wrist faster with each tight breath he lets slip. The skin of your palm gets stickier and stickier, the slick sounds sending your ears and core burning just the same. You like that it makes him feel good—that he’s making those noises just for you. 

He twitches under your fingers. “Feels just like I thought your pretty hands would…” he says, stomach tight. “See—what happens when you give up that bratty fucking act? Shit… harder—give it to me harder, Frosty…” Shivering at the name, you oblige him. You reach your thumb up and collect more of that beaded liquid from the slit, and you work your arm harder. Faster. Your forearm begins to burn, but you don’t let it slow you. All you want is more of this; more of him. Finally, he lets sounds out from his chest freely. He grunts and hisses through his teeth, letting his head fall back. “Holy shit. I’m gonna—gonna ice your face, okay?” he says. “You said you liked the taste, huh? Wanna taste it again? Give me your tongue…”

Whatever that means, you push yourself up and situate your face in front of his length, your tongue out. Taehyun’s sounds tighten, and his hips begin to stutter and chase your hand. He picks his head back up to look down at you half-lidded—to watch. With only a few last runs of your palm down his length, skin so slick that your hand just slips and slides up him, he growls through gritted teeth. The weight of him in your working hand twitches once more, and from that weeping tip he shoots dancing ribbons of white. It lands on your tongue hot and sweet, melting out all spiced and snappy.

Snappy like gingerbread. Like gingerbread icing. Swallowing it down, you meet his gaze. He pants, chest rising and falling, but there’s something clear and knowing in his heavy eyes when you do. You think you know now, why he’d been so dazed as you made a show of licking that same sticky icing off your hands and said how good it tasted. 

When you release him from your palm, it glistens with his sweet essence. He softens in front of your eyes just the littlest bit.

Eyes just as hungry and still catching his breath, Taehyun says, “Open your mouth. I wanna see your tongue.”

Belly doing wicked twists, you do. You stick your tongue out for him, still laden with the headiness of his taste. He does taste good. 

“Swallowed it all down?” he says, eating the sight of you with your mouth dropped open up. “You really are so nasty. They all think you’re so sweet—you think you’ve got them all wrapped around your finger.” He pushes you back down to the bed with a palm. “Well, not me. I know that you’re just as filthy as you are spoiled. Somebody had to deal with you.”

Like always, snarky words swirl in your mouth. All it would take is letting them fall off your tongue. But you don’t—not with the feeling between your thighs, and not with the way your blood, frost turned to snowmelt, begs for him to fix it. Not when you know that all it will get you is more of Taehyun’s wrath. 

It’s not like what he says is true, or anything. That’s what you tell yourself anyway.

“Taehyun, please. I need it…” He takes a marshmallow thigh of yours, pressing it up so that it melds with your belly. Cool air reminds you once more of that strange wetness between them.

Dark, blown eyes catching the sight of it, his lips quirk into a scoff. “Need what?” he says, reaching a hand down. At the contact of his fingers, just as they had against his thigh, your hips jolt and an explosion like the breaking of sugar glass shoots down the muscles of your thighs. He scoops that stickiness up from its source, bringing the soft cream up to his mouth. Tongue darting out, he has a taste of you just as you had tasted him. “Shit—you taste good too, frosty. You’re so sweet, how’d you turn out like this? That’s okay. I’ll deal with you, and then you’ll be just as sweet as you taste.” That fat tip of him presses flush to the source of all your want. “I’ll straighten you out.”

You don’t know what that means, and you are absolutely sure that you don’t deserve it, but any sass is staunched with the utter sweetness of the stretch in your center. Taehyun presses his hips up into you, slowly and internalizing the dropping open of your mouth, the pinching of your brows into a worrying line, and the press of your palms to his broad chest. He takes it and metabolizes it down like cream cake or the plumpest fruits, and he gives you more. More, all the way up until there is no length of him left to give, and nowhere else for him to go.

You feel so, so full. No amount of twinkling jewels or new skirts hold a candle to this. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t know why Taehyun knows, but whatever. Who cares? Breathing out a shudder, you squirm beneath him to search for that dazzling feeling he’d made you feel earlier.

“Stay still,” he barks, steadying himself beside your head with a sturdy, powerful arm. When had he lost his sweater? You don’t know. You might drool over the definition and warm skin there if he didn’t pull the length of him out until just the tip of him threatens to pop out, and then drive right back in before you could. A gaspy breath falls from your mouth, devolving into mewls and whimpers when he does the same over and over and over again, quick with snapping hips and the smacking of his skin against the soft skin of your bottom. Your thigh quivers in his hold, his fingers digging into the fluff of your thigh as he holds you into it. 

Each and every time he slides up against something inside you that makes you feel different. Different from what you felt when you were on his thigh, and different from anything else you’ve felt in the entirety of your life. It’s deeper, right at the very bottom of your belly, sending your veins lazy and your hips twitchy. You want to chase it as much as you want to hide from its power, so all you do is stay in a hazy limbo of sharp gasps and long, drawn out mewls for more.

“No,” he says, his face right in yours. The smell of him, manly and so very sweet like oven-warmed gingerbread, settles over your bones and wiggles its way through your thoughts. It does something to your melted mind, planting a need to cling to him right in the center. Your hands perch all over him: the hair at the back of his head, his working waist, his biceps that flex and strain with his effort, and finally around him so that you can push your cheek to his chest and feel his heart racing there. “You’ll take exactly what I give, and thank me for it. You don’t get to ask for more; not with your mouth.”

“Why?” you say, whining. “I want it—so bad. Please? I’ll be so… so good…” Your voice bounces with each collision of your bodies, and your toes flex and curl at the twisting in your core. Nonetheless, you want more. Whatever this is—this syrupy, pure goodness—Taehyun has shown you something that you will never be whole without again. He has bloomed a flower right in the chest of you, something hungry that will want and want this, and you fear that he will be the only one able to satiate it. 

The thought of the smile he’ll wear, should you come crawling back to his doorstep just for this… 

Taehyun stops, pushing off you with a curled lip. “What will it take to get you to fucking listen?” he says. He pulls himself from you, leaving you to whine and long for that feeling once more. You want to complain and pull him back over you, but with the fire churning in his dark gaze and the sight of his length, covered in that same white, whipped stuff you’d left all over his thigh. 

You’d made a sticky, frosty, frothed mess all over him once again. Really, what would people think of you now? Your mom? Your dad? 

Manhandling you again, he flips you onto your hands and knees and shoves your face into the bed. Any yelp or gasp that tears from your chest is muffled into the sheets. Taking the swell of your hips, his fingers like bites against the powdery, soft skin there, his voice comes from behind you. “Won’t you just listen to me? If you’re gonna be mine, you’re gonna have to start learning how to hear no.” Curling your hair up and pulling it like a handle, he snaps your head back into another stinging, awful tug. It turns the arch of your back into something that you can imagine is a sight to be seen. If the burning where you feel his eyes raking down the curve of it has something to speak of it, that is. You squeeze your eyes shut as if that’ll help you any. “You don’t get everything you want. That’s not how this works.”

You don’t say anything. You have nothing good or sweet left to say.

“Say thank you, and I’ll give it to you good, okay?” he says, running a flattened hand down your spine. “That’s all I want to hear. Show me you can be good.”

The last thing you want to do is to thank him. That would mean admitting that you’ve lost, and that ruffles your preening feathers. But you want that goodness back, you want his hips snapping into you and that tight knot back in your belly. You’d do anything for it; even forget your ego.

Your mind is gone, anyway. Whatever your rational self would do, it doesn’t matter. There’s one thing that you want right now, and getting it is so easy. “Thank you, Taehyun. Thank you so much… I’m sorry I’ve been a brat, and I’m sorry about what I said to you. Please, just… help me. Please, I need you so bad.”

You? Sorry? It’s absurd, and yet, you entirely mean it. Maybe it’s your lazy brain talking, or maybe he really has won.

“See? So sweet when you act right,” he says. “Let me show you what happens when you do.”

You could cry real tears when he sets that same pace, his hands bracing on your hips to pull you deeper into each thrust and the front of your body bouncing against the sheets with each. Your cries grow hoarse and beyond needy, and your insides twist and turn even more dangerously.

You are on the brink of something divine. Something that will melt down so well, good on the tongue and as smooth as chocolate, but as sharp as the snapping of gingerbread.

And, snap, he has.

“Yes!” you cry, straining your shoulders as you reach behind you and curl your fingers around the place where he meets your skin. “S..So good! Right there—thank you, Taehyun!”

He doubles down on you. His length hits a spongy spot in your core, pounding up against the walls there and turning your insides against you. It’s almost too good. “There we go,” he says, voice shaking with a growl. The delivery of his thrusts grows sloppy. You think he feels just as good as you do. “That’s what—” Falling over you, he supports himself with each strong arm dug into the mattress beside your head, his solid front melded to your soft back. “That’s what I like to hear. Here you go—fuck, I’m gonna give you what good girls get, okay?”

You hope it’s more of that melty icing he shot from his length earlier. The knot in your belly tightens, just on the brink of a glittery, bright explosion. “Mhm!” you say, your voice cracking. You want it—you want it so bad. The intensity of it, turning over in your veins and rendering your thighs jelly, sings in your ears. It’s a frightening greatness, but you rage against the urge to drop your hips into the mattress and run from it. You need to finally taste what you’ve been chasing. “Taehyun! Right there—please, don’t stop!”

You were demanding more from him again, but Taehyun didn’t stop this time. Not when his growls and whines against your shoulder tell you enough about how he’s feeling. He tongues and nips at your shoulders, the only sounds echoing off the walls of his room, the hollow smack of his hips against your bottom, and the only smell of the sweet mingling of his gingerbread sharpness against your heady marshmallow. It’s good enough to eat.

Crying out with a frantic whine, the feeling deep in your belly changes once more, and you’re writhing and squirming against him. Your hips buck and chase and run, wild and just as explosively as the tightness shooting down your thighs and up through your lower back.

Everywhere. You feel it everywhere. It’s in the continued bouncing of your body, in each nudge of his tip to a sweet, spongecake spot deep inside you, in his breathless pants into your skin, and in the curling of his fingers into your hair when he releases a hip to do so, and in your pleads when he chases his own delicious release. Your throat tightens, and suddenly the sheets are all too warm around you, and you realize with blistering intensity that another one of those knots builds up in your belly. It’s quicker, short, and bright. You’ve barely even made it through the last, but still, it comes.

“Holy shit,” he growls, hips stuttering and then stilling. He reaches a hand down between your thighs and finds a very sweet button. The breath in your throat catches, and in nothing more than a blink of an eye, you crash again, and then your bodies are two twitching, elated things. He presses himself impossibly deeper into you before shooting that same hotness, sweet ropes of sugary icing right into you, and your fluttering insides hold him tight and eat it up. Your heart pounds in your chest, running amok in your ears and your neck, and you try to catch running breaths to no avail.

Occasionally grinding up into you, though there is hardly any space between your joined bodies to do so, Taehyun shoots more lazy spurts for a few long moments. His breaths slow against your skin, and yours do in your chest. Slowly, you recover as two entangled bodies, all clammy and melted like left in the oven for a bit too long.

Pressing hot, wet kisses to the back of your neck, and then down your spine when he pushes off you and pulls himself out, his tongue darting out against your skin for some, he says, “Taste so good… So sweet, even on your skin…” He brushes the wild tangles of hair from your face and adds, “I wonder if you’ve gone all sweet inside, too? You look like it…” The mess of you, your thick creaminess staining your thighs and his runny load pooling from your hole, is all over. It even makes the sheets beneath you dirty with dribbles of his release as it drips. “I told you I’d get you sweet.”

If that sluggish, sugary thing moving through your veins is sweetness taking over you from the inside, perhaps you have gone sweet. Or, perhaps you now have every reason to become his worst nightmare—just if it gets you this.

You’ll play sweet for now. The softer kisses he seasons your skin with are no less enthralling than the delightful goodness still ebbing away between your thighs. You think that, for the first time, you have lost. 

And, to your very own dismay, it tastes so very sweet. 

... back to the masterlist ⌇ back to strawberryland

✎୭ ashlynn's note BRAT TAMER TAEHUN, amirite?

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[fic-dumpster]

immiscible

Pairing: Cat hybrid!Sanzu x Hamster hybrid!Reader

Summary: You were not meant to be. Everything pointed to a disastrous outcome, but Haruchiyo Sanzu refused to let something as dumb as biology dictate his life. He wanted you and that was final.

CW: Hybrid AU, dubcon, PiV, oral (female receiving), mean Sanzu, possessiveness, typical cat behavior. Idk… lmk if I missed anything. Not edited and no beta.

Word count: 2.2K+

A.N: funny how this was inspired by Hamtaro and the pink panther. A very… unexpected crossover.

“Haru, stop bothering her!” Mikey’s voice boomed through the room for the third time.

You were hiding, again, under Mikey’s covers, attempting to stay as far away as possible from Sanzu who hadn’t been as welcoming as you were promised. You were told a good time awaited, but your current situation was not your definition of a good time.

Emma, Mikey’s sister and your owner, had to leave for a trip with her boyfriend and they left you under her brother’s care. You were against the idea, adamant about it. You cried and begged to be left alone or any other person available would do. But alas, nobody seemed to be able to besides Mikey.

Knowing the pink cat hybrid living under Mikey’s care was an ass, you knew It was a terrible idea. You were a rodent for crying out loud. A hamster hybrid. It was like trying to mix water and oil… an impossible task, and they expected you to share a living space with them for who knows how long.

Yes, you have been in Mikey’s place for less than four days and your life has been in danger more times than you can count.

Sanzu, the feline menace of this house, seemed to find joy in your little squeaks and chubby cheeks puffing even more every time he pawed at you; sending you back and forth to his entertainment. He was just doing that a second ago until you managed to escape and made a run for Mikey’s bed.

“Haru, let her go.” Mikey warned him with a stern voice, “she doesn’t like your games.”

Little did he know those weren’t just games for Sanzu. While you thought he wanted nothing more than to make a snack out of you, he had a whole other plan in mind.

Your small and round face peeked from under the covers and you instantly regretted your decision. Right there, looking straight at you with a wicked grin, was Sanzu. His green emerald eyes shined with mischief as he saw the scared look on your face.

“Ple-please, Haru… I-I do-don’t wanna play…” you stammered. Your heart beating wildly as you scurried deeper into the bed and away from the border where a crazed hybrid stood.

Have you ever tried to make a cat let go of his prey? Hardest thing to accomplish. Mikey knew that, but he also believed in his pet. Overall, Sanzu was harmless, according to Mikey. So when the only human in the room heard his pet hybrid promise to be civil. Well, Mikey believed him.

“I won’t do that again, I promise.”

To his credit, Sanzu didn’t chase you around anymore. There was no reason to run after something that was under his paw.

The first week passed by in a flash and you learned a few things. One of them was how Sanzu loved to see your attempts of scrambling away from him, whining every time he pulled your short puffy tail or yanked your whiskers. You saw the gratification on his face.

He would not leave you alone. So much so that he even gathered your things from the guest room and moved them to his. Mikey allowed such idea; believing in Sanzu’s excuse about hybrid bonding time or something.

Before bed, the cat hybrid would yank you against his warm body, wrap himself around you and nibble on your round ears; every time before bed it was the same, almost like a night routine. You would tremble under his arms, scared of becoming dinner if you made a wrong move.

Things got heated in the third week. Almost a month in and you had your fair share of questions about Sanzu’s behavior. He began to pin you down more often; growling and rubbing himself all over you. Grooming your neck and cheeks, for then to stay in that position for a while. Inhaling your scent and humming and purring in contempt.

Mikey just thought you two were finally getting along well and ignored whenever Sanzu dragged you into his room.

“Yeah, Emma. She’s doing fine. Haru is good company.” Mikey would always speak with reassuring words to his sister. Not lying, just telling his truth. “No need to take her to Takashi’s.”

As the phone conversation went on, in a different room your silent whines told a different story. The spiked tongue of Sanzu’s kept licking your skin, leaving it tender afterward.

“Heard that? You’re not going anywhere,” Sanzu rasped against your twitching ears.

The cat hybrid was ecstatic when he first heard the news from Mikey. You, the fragile little rodent, were going to stay with him? His prayers had been answered.

Sanzu couldn’t help himself, you were just too pretty for your own good. All shy and sweet with everyone else but him. You were a trembling mess whenever he prowled around you, his tail swiftly moving around your hips and legs got you squirming in place. He loved the special treatment you gave him.

The pink menace had begun to behave even weirder lately. Headbutts here and there, making biscuits on your tummy and chest which left you all hot and bothered, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. All smiles and hugs as your mind went from zero to a hundred in seconds. It all left you confused and dizzy at the end of the day.

For things to make sense something had to happen, right? Because such… affectionate behavior wasn’t normal. Well, a few days later when Mikey left to hang out with some friends; it did happen.

You heard a strange sound coming from Sanzu’s room. It was a very loud meowing, almost raw and it seemed painful; and as afraid of him as you were, you couldn’t just leave your only housemate alone if he was in pain.

With shaky steps, ears tuned in to the yowling, you made your way to his room. Stopping at the door, you saw your things still scattered around, but now a bunch of pillows and blankets also shared the space. As your eyes roamed through the room you finally spotted Sanzu. He was a sweating mess—pink hair sticking to his face, wild eyes unblinking and his face contorted in pain.

“Ha-haru? Are you ok—” But before you could say one more word, a strong scent invaded your nostrils.

It hit you with so much force that your eyes watered instantly. The smell was sweet; earthy and cinnamon-like but oh, so suffocating. You gagged and coughed at the burning sensation in your throat.

Suddenly, everything began to spin, but before your knees could hit the ground, you were swept off your feet. The sickly sweet smell surrounding you in waves—enveloping you whole. “S-stop! I ca-can’t brea-breath!”

“I knew you would come,” cooed Sanzu, completely ignoring your pleas.

He had you in his arms, carrying you towards the improvised nest made of blankets. Your body shivered, rejecting the aroma of a different hybrid. It was clear—compatibility? Null. Even your body’s biology refused to accept the idea of it.

Before you could gather your thoughts, you were being dropped on a soft surface and still, the potent scent kept mingling all your senses. Just as fast, he was on top of you; holding your hands above your head and leaning forward with his whole weight pressing down on you.

“You look so pretty… underneath me,” Sanzu sharply whispered against your temple. Nose caressing the border of your face as it traveled to your lips.

Nudging your legs apart with his knees, he nestled himself between them. Slowly but steadily grinding his hips against your clothed core. “You did this, you know? You made me go into heat, you little minx.”

“No! I didn’t know– didn’t mean to!” You whimpered—lips to lips, sharing the same air.

A whirlwind of thoughts passed through your mind. Guilt, fear, anger and… surprisingly lust. The more he rubbed himself against you, the more your body reacted. Your legs fastening around his waist, pulling Sanzu even closer which made the feline purr louder as your little squeaks mixed in between.

You felt the weight of his body—of his clothed cock constantly pressing on your entrance, humping, just rutting in place. Wetness had begun to creep in between your clothes

“We can’t do this, Ha-Haru…”

“You want me to stop?” Sanzu asked with clenched teeth but you shaked your head in denial, “Good, because I don’t think I would be able to…”

The feline eagerly pawed your clothes off, feeling a surge of giddiness born in his stomach. He was so close to you, he was finally touching every single part of you. Sanzu could practically taste the air charged with your arousal.

“You need me here,” he purred, lithe fingers dancing around your gushing entrance. “I’ll have a quick taste and you’re gonna be good and let me.”

Not soon had you felt his hands let go, ignoring his previous words, you tried to scramble away. On your hands and knees, you made a big mistake. Sanzu felt your cotton-like tail hit him in the face and it just made him latch onto you even harder. His hands grabbed your thighs, pulling you back and at the same time wrangling you back into your last position just to directly smash his face against your cunt.

A hollow scream erupted from your raw throat once you felt his tongue practically forcing its way in. His fingers digging into your skin, the force of his sucking lips and never had his tongue stopped moving inside you. You were ashamed to admit he felt too good, your bucking hips constantly hitting him but Sanzu didn't even notice. Too focused, too drunk on your hypnotic flavor.

A straight lick later and a moan of satisfaction from the pink feline had you in almost tears. “You were already wet enough, but I couldn't help myself. You’ve made me… a voracious beast.”

You felt his fingers open your lower lips, heat radiating from your center smearing his digits. You don't know when or how he discarded his own clothes but as your eyes refocused, you saw his skin almost glowing, radiating scorching warmth on top of you. Unhurriedly, Sanzu guided his cock inside, stretching your opening to mold him, to take him. You were so soft, so warm that it almost hurt with how sensitive his tip was.

“I promise to—fuck… aah— mount you properly next time,” he growled at the thought of having you—ass up squeaking for him again, “but I need to see your cute face right now.”

Sanzu hissed at the contact and gave a final push of his hips; entering you with force. In return, your face contorted at the intrusion, you were a squealing mess under him. The sudden action wasn’t as pleasant as the previous activity. Your insides burned as your walls tried to push the foreign object out. But Sanzu persisted, holding you in place as he slowly retracted and moved back in. Inch by inch of his cock with no hurry.

He repeated this action until he felt almost no restraint on your part. Your cute little cunt had finally gotten used to him. He went in and out smoothly and your sounds had changed to mewls and puffs of air—full of need. Your hands traveled from his chest to his shoulders, no longer trying to stop him. On the contrary, you were pulling him in, scraping his neck with a sudden need to have him closer.

The feline purred loudly as he absorbed the change in your demeanor. Your half-lidded eyes were calling to him. His words failed him, he couldn’t even tell you how good you felt. All that left his lips were groans and beastly sounds.

“Fa-faster, Haru!” You moaned out without shame. Gone was the timid little rodent.

His chest reverberated once again, an instant answer to your plea. His tail moving wildly behind him, his ear twitching at the sound of your voice. All his body automatically responded to your calling.

His hips hitting you with abandon. Your pussy lips are swollen from the constant friction.

“M-mine.” He heaved with furrowed brows; fingers gripping tightly at your soft and plush skin.

Sanzu wasn’t even sure he was speaking out loud, too lost in the overwhelming feeling of finally being buried deep in your heat. Nothing could take him away from you.

─────── · · ·

“Get your furry fiend away from her!” Emma was a red from rage, “Manjiro Sano! I am serious!

“He doesn't wanna let go!” Mikey looked over at his friend, Emma’s boyfriend, for help, “Ken-Chin, tell her!”

Meanwhile, Sanzu with flattened ears and a swatting tail had you under his body; hissing menacingly at the three humans trying to take away his mate.

Of course, you had tried to explain but your meek voice wasn't heard in the middle of all the shouting.

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

The Hell of Wait

Imagine this: You are the Queen of Ithaca. You gave birth at most like 5 months ago and your husband is gone to fight a war. You are now to raise this kid by yourself. The war itself takes ten years. You get the news he won, and the other kings are back in their homes, but yours is still there. He probably died. Now you have to entertain suitors who believe he and all the 600 men he took to war died and they turn out to be the a gang of assholes that pester you and your son. You wait.

You and your mother in law still believe he will come but he takes so fucking long she dies of a broken heart. You keep waiting.

You are forced to keep serving the suitors, forced to spend stupid amounts of money everyday on food and wine, throw banquets, parties, allow your home to be desecrated and is forced to house the freeloaders, no matter how much unsufferable they are, because of divine law. And you can't even complain because said divine law is the only thing that protects you from them aswell, at least for now, but you know it's only for a while. They are dangerous power hungry monsters, led by a fucking sociopath who bullies your teenage son and jokingly threatens to SA you on a daily basis, and he is so bold he does it to your son's face. Still you wait, no matter how much it hurts, you wait.

Yes, you know Zeus will punish them if they do anything, but the punishment means the crime has already been committed, so you are fucked either way. The safest thing to do would give in, but you refuse. Instead you risk your life and plot a whole scheme to fool those men and buy time for his arrival, if he's still even alive. Night after night you unthread that shroud, knowing that if any of them see you do it you are done for (ayyy). But you do it because you have faith, and you prefer to suffer the consequences that forsake the man you love. You choose to wait some more

The day you feared the most finally arrives, you have to pick and there's no running from it anymore, but you still find a way to buy more time, even if it's a few more days: The Challenge. String a bow, shoot an arrow through some axes and voilá. Perfect plan, doable enough so they can't question it but hard enough so they won't be able to do it. It works, but now the suitors are pissed and are about to raid the castle. It's over. But still, you remain waiting. if that's the last day of your life, you will spend it steadfast, unbroken, unwaivering. Waiting.

I love this part, not only because it's beatiful, but because we see that she is fucking pissed. She is very fucking angry at all she's been through these goddamn 20 years. Miraculously your husband arrives just in time, and deals with the situation, the wait has paid off, You can finally see the man you love after 20 years, you can finally RELAX and the first thing he does is fix his lips to question your love? Shit, i'd be fucking pissed too!

And i love how Ody gets angry at the bed thing but instantly recognizes her feelings when she claps back and he just pipes down and shuts up. He recognizes that he might be just a man, but she is just a woman too. She was fighting monsters and storms of her own, and she knows that if he went through half of what she's been through (and she can see he's been through A LOT) and fought as hard as she did for their love, then it doesn't matter what horrible things he has done, cause if she was in his shoes, she'd do 10x worse.

I fucking love this damn musical.

[buskingalbatross]

AmazingPhil channel marathon musings

during a pre-show q&a back in november, in response to a question about what show someone should binge next, dan said they should watch all of the AmazingPhil channel from the start. I was not the person who asked this (nor was I at this show), but regardless I did decide I wanted to take dan’s suggestion seriously. just a few days ago, I finished watching all of AmazingPhil in chronological order. and now i really want to talk about what it was like and why I would recommend marathoning his channel to pretty much anyone—because it was a blast.

I watched all of the 369 currently public AmazingPhil videos over the course of 35 days, which is from my perspective a pretty casual marathon. 369/35 = roughly 11 videos a day, though due to algorithm and monetization policy stuff, phil’s videos became longer in duration around 2015-2016; for many years, most of his videos were around 4 minutes long or less, which for me meant that early on in this marathon I was watching more videos per day, and then later on my pace slowed. phil’s videos with dan are usually pretty long as well, so if I had something like a baking video or wdapteo up next to watch, I might have only watched one or two videos that day. 

unsurprisingly, watching all of phil’s videos in order in a relatively short span of time gave me a really cool perspective on how phil has grown as a person and as a YouTuber over the past eighteen years. surprising to me, though, was how I felt like watching his channel in such a linear way felt a bit like coming to know who phil is for the very first time, again. despite having watched his videos for over a decade, i feel like i understand his style and creativity and personality more fully, and in general better, than I did before. watching 2007 phil become 2009 phil become 2011 phil and so on in the span of a few days or a week meant seeing clearly how his sense of humor evolved, how his editing and creativity developed, how his perspectives on life and relationship with his audience shifted. much as when you binge an entire tv or book series and immediately afterwards feel like you’re brimming with information, and have all the context, that’s sort of how I felt. and it was new for me because I’d never done that with phil’s content before—I’d never followed the course of his life the way you might a fictional character’s. 

AmazingPhil is also an incredible capsule of 2000s, 2010s, and 2020s Western internet culture, obviously. it’s like an anthropologist from the future with a very hyperspecific thesis topic’s dream treasure horde. what a person can learn about one corner of the world, and one corner of society, from AmazingPhil’s videos is, well, a lot. I see so much cultural value in AmazingPhil, it’s insane. his videos are not sketches, essays, and commentaries on society and life like Dan’s, but I’d make the argument (as I’m sure most of you would) that they’re just as important and critical to helping people understand themselves and the world they live in. and the kind of people they want to be, too, perhaps.

there were also certain videos that stuck with me more than they had in the past. I discovered new favorite videos and videos that I considered more interesting than I previously had. (I tried just now to make a list of some of these but it rapidly got too long, so instead I’ll restrict myself to mentioning only one, a new favorite, from 2021: “I Got Catfished.” - which i think is a fantastic example of phil’s storytelling style). dnp have both said before that they view life as a performance – and phil is without a sliver of doubt a magical and incredible performer. he knows so well how to tell stories with words, pacing, structures, and effects that are hilarious and entertaining; he turns anecdotes from his life into these amazing whimsical pieces of art made in a way no other person has ever made things. YouTube has from the beginning presented him with the perfect way to be creative in a way that suits him. and more than that, i found that it was never even remotely unpleasant to watch his videos every day for over a month. there is simply not an AmazingPhil video that doesn’t bring me joy and make me sit there smiling like a fool. my cheek muscles are probably stronger than they were 35 days ago. 

so, to you I say, go: watch all of AmazingPhil, draw your own conclusions from his current oeuvre and deepen your parasocial relationship with Phil Lester in ways you cannot yet comprehend. I really recommend. 

(final notes: one side effect of watching all of phil’s videos was being unexpectedly yet thoroughly convinced he does indeed possess psychic talents. even though i don’t believe in magical anything, i do now believe phil lester inherited prescience from his grandmother.) 

(also dan is completely right that every time phil changes his hair, he regenerates into an entirely new man.)

(also also I made an AmazingPhil spotify playlist that is highly specific to my music tastes but that anyone is welcome to listen to all the same) ✨🐗💙🥱

[hiraizyo]

may i kiss your wounds?

synopsis — after unintentionally getting involved in a bar fight, you’re left with an angry sophia who had to deal with your injuries. nevertheless, she knew she couldn’t stay mad at you for long.

established relationship, slight violence, mentions of blood, semi fluff, mature language, angst (if you squint.)

now playing: party monster, the weeknd

a/n: this was a little idea i had while skimming through unfinished works, converting it into a sophia image. i hope you enjoy!

this wasn’t how you expected the night to go, sophia peering over at you with a scowl on her face. and it wasn’t like you wanted the fight to happen, it just… did.

you and sophia were having a good time for the most part. it had been an hour and a half since you arrived at the club, drinking and dancing along to the loud music with daniela and manon, when sophia left to go to the bar for another drink.

you continued conversing and having fun with the other two, and they managed to keep you entertained until you noticed your girlfriend had been gone longer than you expected.

“i’ll be right back.” you told the duo, manon nodding while daniela gave you a thumbs up, giggling. you chuckled as the blonde grabbed manon by the waist and swung their hips together to the beat of the song, and turned to walk away.

you weaved through the crowd of people, making your way to the bar with less difficulty than you expected considering the amount of people there were. quickly scanning the bar section, you spotted sophia leaning over at the counter, in a tight black dress that hugged her body in the best way possible.

you smiled to yourself as you admired her, she looked absolutely gorgeous, and she was all yours.

that smile soon turned sour at seeing a man beside her, round about her age. you weren’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but judging by the look on sophia’s face when he began to speak a few words to her, you guessed it could have been a couple minutes.

walking up to them and snaking an arm around her waist, you peered over at the man with distain.

“can i help you?”

sophia leaned into your body instantly, her chest being filled with relief at the thought of having you beside her.

“hi baby,” she whispered, and leaned up to place a kiss on you cheek. she hoped it would let the guy know she was taken, but to no avail.

the guy didn’t give you the satisfaction of acknowledging your presence. instead, he gave you a once over before looking back to sophia, and leaning on the counter, as if he was getting comfortable enough to continue his conversation with her.

what a jackass, you thought to yourself.

“so, how about that drink, mh?” he questioned, voice low. the guy was looking straight passed you as if you were invisible.

even the sound of his voice made you angry, never mind the fact that he had the audacity to ask such a question, which made you tighten your hold on sophia’s waist.

“take a hint, pal. she doesn’t want the drink.” you told him sternly, your temper rising slightly.

“i’m sorry, and you are?” his titled to the side, eyes switching to you.

“her girlfriend.”

“wow,” he muttered, once again looking you over. his attention moved back over to sophia, who looked as if she was very much done with him. the corner of his mouth turned upwards slightly, “as anyone ever told you that you could do better?”

before you got a chance to say anything, sophia was telling him off. “are you saying that you are better?”

her eyebrow raised ever so slightly as she looked at him in annoyance. the guys hand twitched, and you could tell that what your girlfriend said clearly hurt his ego. it took everything in you not to smirk at his reaction, knowing it would only set him off further.

he craned his neck to the side, still relentless. “huh, figures you two are together. no one likes a bitch who can talk ba—”

before he could finish his sentence, you stepped up to him, feeling angry on sophia’s behalf.

“hey!” you leaned in close, peering down at him as he settled further into his seat. “you better watch your fucking mouth.”

his lips upturned into a smirk — the guy knew he was getting to you.

“or what?”

your eyes squinted, looking at him with disinterest. “oh no, i’m not doing this with you.”

your head shook as you took a couple steps back, the distance now significantly more. he wasn’t letting up though, setting his drink down on the counter.

sophia watched as his eyebrows furrowed together in half anger, half teasing. she could tell the guy was drunk based on his slurring words, and she wasn’t liking where this interaction was going.

“so that’s it? all bark and no bite?”

“you’re pathetic.”

that definitely hit a nerve in him.

before you could register it, the guys fist collided with your jaw, his knuckle hitting the corner of your mouth so hard you felt it tear open. it hurt, badly. sophia let out a startled gasp behind you, watching in horror at the scene that played out before her.

without thinking, you moved swiftly to punch him in the nose. your hand was tightened in a fist, unclenching after the blow to him. your heartbeat was rising fast, anger flooding through you veins.

he stumbled back, holding on to his nose and scrunched up his face in pain. his vision blurred foe a second. the guy groaned, tilting his head up and then looked at you with a threatening glare. before he could get in another hit, a tall bouncer came up behind in, dressed in black and pulled him away.

what was left behind was you, breathing deeply. the adrenaline was too much for the pain in your hand to register, but you were sure to feel it later. your jaw, however, stung in a dull ache.

sophia tentatively set a hand on your shoulder, a frown etched onto her face. it was mostly out of concern, but also out of displeasure.

“i think it’s time we leave.”

her voice cut through the ringing in your ears, pulse slowing down until it was at its normal pace. her ability to bring you back to reality was unlike anything you’d experienced, seeing and feeling much clearer again.

she let manon and daniela know you’d be going, and the ride home was filled with silence. you could tell she was upset, whether it was because of the guy or at you was a mystery.

“are you still mad?”

currently, sophia dabbed a wet cloth to your lip, wiping away the dried blood while you both sat on the couch in your home. you hissed at the feeling, the disinfectant on the cloth clearly having an effect on the wound.

your jaw was bruised slightly. it wasn’t much, but it was enough to remind you and sophia of how quickly the night events took a turn. a frozen ice pack was held to your knuckles, the skin of it also bruised and beginning to turn red, both from the coldness and the impact of your punch.

sophia didn’t reply, continuing to gently pat on the corner of your lip. her eyes were focused in on the spot where the blood had been wiped away, the wound still open slightly.

“baby?”

she sighed, setting the cloth down and began to pick at her nails.

“i’m not mad. i just… i don’t know, i didn’t like seeing that happen.” the filipino rubbed her hands on her thighs, before getting up and walking into the kitchen.

you left the ice pack on the coffee table, following after her. “what was i supposed to do? did you even hear the way he talked about you?”

sophia leaned her lower back against the marble counter, arms wrapped around herself, looking as if she was trying to keep warm. you moved to stand opposite her, watching her carefully.

“that doesn’t mean things needed to get violent.” she told you, a frown set in place.

“okay, okay…” you looked at her regretfully, running a hand over your face. “i’m sorry.”

she looked to the side, biting on her bottom lip. you could tell various thoughts were taking over her mind. sophia has seen you take a few punches before, most of them being playful with your friends. not one like tonight, though.

tonight was a side of you she had never experienced.

the aftermath clearly took a toll on her. the silence in the car and both when you came home was deafening, and you hated it.

“soph,” you called out, voice barely above a whisper. “talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.”

she loosened her arms around her body, setting her left hand to rest beside her while her other wrapped around the back of her neck as she looked to the floor, rubbing it softly.

sophia’s voice was filled with concern, her eyes shining from the light of the kitchen once she gazed at you. “it wasn’t fun seeing you get hurt like that.”

“i’ve gotten hurt plenty of times!” you shrugged, not seeing the big deal. “i mean, i have a scar from last year when we went hiking and i tripped.”

sophia scoffed, pushing off the counter to stand upright. “yeah, but that was an accident. tonight could’ve ended a lot worse.”

“but it didn’t.”

“but it could’ve!”

her response was quick, voice raising ever so slightly. you squinted at her, gesturing with your hand as you spoke.

“y’know, you’re sounding really angry for someone who claims she’s not.” your hands rested on your hips, matching the level of her voice.

“because i’m not!” sophia yelled, “don’t you get it? i was scared for you!”

her words hung in the air, settling over the two of you like a blanket. it made you swallow down whatever enragement you had left in you. you sighed, realizing now that sophia wasn’t speaking out of being upset, but rather fear.

you slowly stepped towards her, until you were in her personal space and placed your hands on sophia’s torso. she looked at you, finally seeing the anxiety in her eyes. it was clear as day, and you mentally kicked yourself for not noticing it sooner.

your words were gentle, the both of you calming down from your little quarrel. “i’m sorry, alright? i’m sorry for how tonight went, and for getting hurt. and i’m sorry for not thinking about how you’d feel watching it all happen.”

your thumbs rubbed in circles against the material of the dress she was still wearing, trying to convey your feelings of regret. sophia looked at you for another moment, and you could see the forgiveness in them, before she rested her forehead against your chest and breathed in the smell of your cologne.

the filipino didn’t say anything else, but her arms wrapped around you and pulled you close, locking them against your back. you could tell by her actions that she no longer held any negative feelings, the issue been resolved.

you settled your chin atop her head while she turned to lay her cheek on you instead. “come on, let’s watch a few episodes of your comfort show and cuddle together. how does that sound?”

sophia laughed quietly, “you think cuddling fixes everything.”

“because it does.” you replied, tapping her torso with your fingers in a rhythm.

sophia rolled her eyes playfully, settling further into your warmth. she sighed deeply, relishing in the comfort of having you wrapped together, arms holding tightly onto one another’s bodies as if letting go would mean disappearing.

“okay,” she mumbled. “but let’s stay like this for a little bit longer.”

after hearing that, you placed a kiss on her head and moved to envelop her into your arms. they were now like hers, locked together around sophia’s back.

the night surely wasn’t how you wanted it to go, but having her so close against you, breathing together as one, was a perfect way to end it.

here y’all go!! i took a bit longer than expected but i hope you enjoyed <3

the votes have come back to make the fwb imagine an idol au sooo i’m lowk excited to write that ;) i decided i’d write it with daniela, since i have an idea manon x biker!reader 🙂‍↕️

[minnowpebbles]

// first off thank you to folly (peachphernalia) and sunny (sunnydayaoe) for discussing these interpretations with me ^_^ i think folly pointed this one out to me specifically a little while ago so it isn't my idea, but I have thought about it a ton since sun mentioned it. also, here's the lyrics doc I'm screenshotting from. I would like to pitch in another potential occurence of this same phenomenon happening this time on Heart's end in Just Apathy-- there are multiple lines where it's super odd for Mind to be singing and/or times when the self/the other become blurred enough that you have to wonder if it's really Mind or if the entire song is Heart

Here, for instance, the ending of Just Apathy, is the most glaring example. Why would Mind call the apathy "his"? Who is "you"? One could argue that Mind is saying Heart is scorning his imposition of "apathy" (if you follow that interpretation) but the wording is still really strange; for him to claim that Heart's apathy is "his" despite going back on this in TME and calling apathy Heart's own undoing is too counterintuitive, even for Mind. Since claiming that Just Apathy doesn't have Mind in it at all based on two lines is too cursory for a well-rounded argument, let's look at another example (light purple text represents Heart and Mind singing together):

Mind sings these lines that are very specifically tailored to Heart, including his established inclination towards violence and his blindness. "Silence" here is another euphemism for apathy; again! There's no reason for Mind to suddenly claim apathy as his.

Also, very strikingly, "Be Born" and "Just Apathy" are only blue and only purple respectively on the whiteboard. The same can be said for Storm and a Spring.

As for how this changes the song, I think it actually brings to light a more intimate view of Heart's perspective. The soft, crackly voice at the beginning of Just Apathy is a vocalization of Heart's own introspection. Here are the lines in question, just to make sure we're on the same page.

Notably, the way it is captioned in the video resembles Soul's imagery (black lettering; Heart's, over a background of gray static; normally, a staple of Soul's). However, the lines have no connection to Soul; similar to the hoarse words whispered in "Good Day", I believe (mostly without foundation) that Heart uses the similarity of his voice to Soul's as some sort of moral leverage (I would add "against Mind", but since he is alone in Just Apathy, as we've established, he's only justifying this to himself). But I digress. When Mind comes in, the conversation he has with Heart is far more subdued than their normal arguing in, say, TSE.

In the description of Just Apathy, Mr. Jash surrounds "I don't care" and "It's all good" in quotation marks just as they are shown here. Their inclusion is, functionally, to provide a sort of self-awareness to Heart saying these lines---a self awareness that goes hand in hand with the way he depicts Mind in this made up back-and-forth dialogue. Straying into unfounded personal opinion territory here again, but I don't think Heart would ever admit all of this if his opponent was truly Mind; in this case, it seems more likely that Just Apathy is a personal confession of Heart's doubts and his way of inwardly genuinely entertaining Mind's criticisms of him in a self-critical way. Also, listen to how Mind's voice is unusually raspy in the entirety of Just Apathy. It seriously sounds like he's about to burst into tears, especially in lines like "then stop acting like it". I don't remember Mind getting this shaky even in TME. It doesn't truly sound like him, if that makes any sense at all. anyway. obligatory disclaimer that this is all speculation and there's no one correct interpretation :-)

Do y’all remember that post that talked about Be Born being a solo song and not a duet?

I believe the original theory was that it’s Minds real voice shining through the deep synthetic one, but a good friend gave me another theory and it keeps shooting me in the face every time I listen to this song.

What if it’s not Minds ‘true’ voice, but an imitation of Hearts? He’s replicating Hearts voice and singing as him to prove that he can handle doing Hearts ‘job’ for him as well as to mock him.

“I can do the same things you do but better.” Type of thing. He’s quite literally taking over Hearts responsibilities, including his voice.

And then she threw another idea at me……. What if he does it because he misses Hearts voice in apathy and subconsciously copes by singing with it. I KNOW IT SOUNDS CRAZY BUT- There’s so much potential….. if you’re enteracting every waking day with someone you’re bound to remember their habits and speech patterns. He tries to relish in the silence but after a while he can’t help but imagine Heart joking with him or complaining about something stupid. Instead of the voice being inside his head….. it comes out of the voice modulator unintentionally. What if he has full on conversations with himself with Hearts voice after a while. What if it distorts his perception of reality and that even in exile he can’t escape him. What if it furthers his hatred of Heart, what if it drives him farther away from Soul because he can’t let himself be perceived as ‘flawed’. Chat what if he’s suffering in his safe space, his mind. GUYS DO YOU SEE THE VISION.

(Gonna write a one shot like this one day trust)

What if you tried to kill me and my grief manifested into an unhealthy coping mechanism that my logical mind was not programmed to handle and it tormented me until you returned home.

[yappaccinocookie]

the strongest version of you.

yn cookie who awakens theirs fullest potential (like golden cheese and dark cacao)... ancients and beasts react to? (maybe gingerbrave and co too if u want!!)

of course you can! i did the same layout as the last request i made, since doing full oneshots for each cookie might actually kill me. I LEFT FOR A WHOLE 1 MONTH, IM SO SORRY. listen, this did not specify anything romantic, thus it's not romantic. the beasts are cruel, and it's obvious in their lore no this is not yandere is plain truth. sorry if some are short, I haven't gotten back into crk, and yk that's not rlly good!

LOWERCASE INTENDED!

ANCIENTS —

— White Lily

"Amazing... You found the strongest version of yourself!"

white lily cookie is overjoyed, she's always sensed that you're not to your fullest the first time she's seen you. she's very supportive and tries her best to help you get used to all of your new powers! don't expect any fights though, she's quite cautious. she trusts you that you can fight, but white lily doesn't trust herself.

her friends had an awakening like yours before, it all still feels unreal to her. you will definitely have those buddy–buddy sleep over conversations where there is no sleep, just psychology questions that make you wonder if she really is sane or if dark enchantress took all the sanity with her too.

— Golden Cheese

"Really? Does this mean we can battle!"

the shine in her eyes when you said that was absolutely priceless, tell her everything about it! power always amazes no matter no matter who its form, foe or ally! golden cheese has also awakened her fullest potential like you, and she's proud you were able to do it! saying how you guys are the coolest duo ever.

and of course, she's battle hungry! since she's unlocked her fullest potential and you've unlocked yours, it's only logical you guys battle right? it's to see the difference your strength. imagine how longer battles would last (and how many natural disasters it could cause in earth bread) don't worry you can entertain her shenanigans, but you shouldn't let her go overboard.

— Dark Cacao

"Well done."

dark cacao cookie doesn’t openly gush about your newfound power, but his respect for you deepens tenfold. he acknowledges your growth with a firm nod and a simple, “well done.” behind the scenes, he ensures you have everything you need to master your abilities, from intense training regimens to personal advice on staying disciplined.

he might test you in combat, not to belittle you, but to see how far you’ve come. don't worry, he won't mock you if you won't land a hit! he's got the patience of a snail. dark cacao will keep training and training with you until you're able to do more than your simple basic attacks.

he sees you as a vital pillar for the future of earthbread, he's seen you grow into this strong cookie with their own life ahead of them! more heroic duties to come, he's more than proud of you.

— Hollyberry

"Never hold back now! Cookies need more of us!"

hollyberry cookie is your biggest cheerleader. the moment your powers manifested, she was already planning a celebration in your honor. dialing everybody to come to your party, dialing fine arts to paint you 500 paintings to post as relics for guild museums. hollyberry throws a massive feast, complete with stories, music, and enough food to feed an army.

she insists on sparring with you, but it’s less about testing your strength and more about having fun. she laughs heartily every time you manage to surprise her.

she brags about you to anyone who will listen. “did you see them? that’s MY friend! stronger than ten hundred cookies combined!" she makes sure everyone knows how proud she is of you.

— Pure Vanilla

"My dear friend... I am so proud of you."

if you thought the others were so sweet, then you haven't seen the purest cookie of them all speak. they aren't even close to what our kings got! pure vanilla is absolutely overjoyed and emotional about your transformation. he probably tears up when he sees the extent of your growth.

he becomes even more protective of you, not because he doubts your strength, but because he knows the burden that comes with such power. he spends a lot of time talking to you about balance, reminding you to care for yourself as much as you care for others. pure vanilla is your go-to for advice on controlling your powers. he offers patient guidance and reassures you during moments of self-doubt.

he's not one to give you an extravagant celebration, because it's not his right to do such things. he'll buy you celebratory gifts on his own though, but considering this cookie is absolutely rich idk how many small gifts becomes one too many. purevanilla won't even talk about the awakening to anyone if you tell him not to!

BEASTS —

— Shadow Milk

"Oh, so you've decided to stop pretending you're ordinary?"

sure you've gotten your strongest potential, but for beasts it isn't really a problem considering they are much stronger than normal cookies. hes not impressed at all. he thrives on making others doubt themselves, and your newfound strength is no exception. (do not bring up golden cheese vs burning spice he could've won she got plot armor and although I'm happy she's alive him winning made more sense)

despite his dismissive attitude, he’s intrigued. he watches you closely, studying your every move, though he’d never admit it. “you’re an interesting little puzzle,” he mutters, half to himself. being all supernatural and ultra powerful doesn't protect you from this beasts horrifying teases, he'll ask you if you're a princess now or if you can talk to animals, that's like 2 from the several nonsense he's asked you daily.

he's actually quite hittable, hit him he won't hit back honestly, but if you ever call him unfunny? he's weeping and rolling on the floor (as a joke) saying "YOU MAY HAVE GOTTEN A LITTLE BIT STRONGER, BUT UR SENSE OF HUMOR WILL ALWAYS BE WEAK"

— Burning Spice

"That's it? I expected more!"

he actually gets intrigued fast, just like his counterpart he is also interested in strength. considering how he got wrecked by his counterpart because of her awakening, he might actually use his time to train with you.

burning spice is all about fighting everything until there is nothing left to fight, he'll push his limits. even yours! just say when u need a break, he'll say something corny like "I expected more!" and then run off and wait until ur done doing weak cookie stuff. hes not inhumane, hes just like you. it may feel unreal be he was once just a bunch of dough until the soul jam was created.

— Mystic Flour

"the world remains unchanged."

wins the idgaf war, she lost from that guy, but does not wish to prove herself again. mystic flour does not want to pressure herself with more nonsense, and probably doesn't want to for you either.

she recognizes your strength with a simple "impressive" or "fascinating" without putting much emotion into her words, then never look into it ever again.

Silent Salt and Eternal Sugar do not seem to be here, try again later?

[desultory-novice]

Do you think Galacta Knight's horns are real or part of his mask?

...Oh wow. This ask floored me, anon, because personally I've always believed they were a part of his mask and not real horns and yet, I have almost never found anyone who agreed, let alone would even entertain the possibility they were just decorative...!

It just always made the most sense to me...?

Like, that kind of thing is VERY standard for medieval helmets - animal, insect, and demonic motifs to be an intimidating figure on the battlefield, that is. Both realistic and exaggerated depictions.

(Also, the game IS developed in Japan by a Japanese studio and it would not be at all weird for them to draw inspiration from samurai helmets for his mask design.)

We KNOW Meta Knight, at least, is shy to show his true face, so why would another puff not do the same thing and try to look fiercer than his face suggests? Especially if his only inborn distinctive trait is having angel wings, a symbol of peace and benevolence?

(I also believe, aesthetically, that having the only physical difference between Galacta Knight and Meta Knight outside of their opposing colors being MK's devil wings and GK's angel wings - as opposed to devil wings v angel wings AND horns - makes them MUCH better parallels to each other? Adding real horns in just muddies it.)

Also, imo, in every render and model of him, the "horns" are too closely modeled into the helmet to have room to feasibly grow out from his head! Just saying, but that would be a ridiculously uncomfortable design to wear in RL, constantly rubbing and chaffing against his horns, preventing it from moving and "breathing" with his face while not providing any form of protection for them either!!

They're also made of the same golden color AND texture as the ornamentation of his shield. I know I'm going against fandom popular opinion here, but that also tells me they are ORNAMENTAL.

While ornamental horns just seem the most logical to me for species, character, historical, and design reasons, it's pretty obvious that aesthetically and interest-wise, non-ornamental horns have a complete stranglehold have won out in the fandom.

I have seen innumerable asks questioning + folks speculating via art and other mediums, "What horns do you think Kirby will develop when he grows up?" Most people go to great efforts to research, dream up, or uncover the appropriate "head attachments" for their puffs when designing Kirby OCs to "fit" their interpretation of Galacta + what a mature member of Kirby's species simply MUST look like.

Quite simply, Galacta having horns clearly stirs folks imaginations(1) more than a dark pink puff with angel wings who wants to represent themselves as a fierce demon on the battlefield.

...Even though Galacta Knight making a conscious choice to contrast their angelic visage with demon horns whenever they are in battle says a lot of fascinating things and makes them a more interesting and nuanced character to investigate, in my opinion.

--

(1) While I think it's more fascinating if he doesn't have them, I would be remiss to ignore the issue that, in a lineup, it provides Galacta Knight some much needed visual diversity from the others. It makes his gijinka and unmasked form instantly more recognizable than they would be otherwise.

Real horns have more appeal for the same reason many folks (and I am guilty of this) give Dark Meta Knight a scar on his eye under his mask, even though realistically, him taking that kind of injury is practically impossible. (That's what the mask is there FOR lol!)

[azelsdoormat]

Azel Radwan Main Story

► Chapter 1

This translation is fanmade and strictly for entertainment purposes only. All media and original content belong to Cybird. Do not use, claim as your own, repost or reupload onto other platforms, reblogs are welcome.

I still don’t know what love is. 

But I want to someday fall in love and understand what it is. 

A passionate love like a rose set ablaze, and a fierce love that stays on for eternity like a woven tale. 

???: I see, I see…

???: How utterly laughable.

(... Who is that?) 

The usual dream I had every night changed the night before I set out on my trip to a foreign country.

It was set in a rose garden where the roses were still tightly closed buds. The space felt undeveloped and incomplete.

There stood an unfamiliar visitor, reading an unfinished tale from a book placed on an oak table.

His appearance was otherworldly, unlike that of any ordinary person.

His hair shimmered under the light of the massive moon hanging from the sky, and his eyes seemed to contain a starry sky within.

That divine, beautiful being who seemed to blend well with the dream’s space gave me a mocking grin as I approached.

Emma: What’s… laughable?

???: I have some unfortunate news for you, who yearns for love and thirsts for knowledge of what it is.

???: Love is not the grand blessing it is often proclaimed to be. 

???: Sometimes, it would serve you well to remain ignorant and pure for your entire life. You would find far greater happiness that way.

I didn't know what he read from that unfinished tale. 

But this “something”, who clearly wasn't human, directly and utterly rejected what laid at the very core of my heart. 

Emma: And how can you be so sure of that?

???: Because I am a god. 

(... God?) 

???: I have witnessed many examples of “love”. Not in fiction… but rather the raw, unvarnished love that exists in.

???: Far too often, people use “love” as a means to justify their otherwise unjustifiable actions.

???: It is truly tragic to see people driven mad by love.

???: Even the most rational people become unable to live without it.

???: Like a curse.

Emma: …

???: Judging from this dreamscape shrouded in thorns, you must be a lady from Rhodolite.

???: Rhodolite had such a tale too, did it not? About a king who turned into a beast after losing his beloved. 

Emma: … While the story of the late Belle and the king may have been a tragedy, that doesn't mean all love must end the same way. 

???: Fair enough. However, not all love will end as a comedy either. 

???: Why do you yearn for love? 

Words caught in my throat upon hearing the god’s question.

There was no special reason for my yearning. 

It was nothing more than mere admiration, I had never deeply thought about what love truly meant. 

For the first time, I realised that my yearning was but an empty shell.

???: At the very least, love is something I would very much rather do without.

???: — For I am a god incapable of loving people. 

…

(……ん……)

(... Mm…)

Awaken by gentle sunlight streaming through the window, I opened my eyes to see the familiar ceiling of my room in town.

The unbloomed roses and the god who denied love both vanished as though they were nothing more than an illusion.

As I woke up, memories of the dream began crumbling away and were gradually replaced by reality. 

But a fragment of that dream lingered in my heart, refusing to disappear.

(“Love is a curse”... huh.) 

???: Emma, you up? 

A knock on my door banished the remaining drowsiness from my mind.

(This voice… Rio?)

Emma: Sorry, just a minute!

???: Ah, no worries. I’m a gentleman, I’ll wait for as long as you need.

(... I think I just heard a voice that wasn't Rio’s…)

Feeling slightly uneasy, I hurriedly got dressed, washed my face, and tidied myself up before opening the door. 

…

Standing at my front door was my friend, who left his position as a butler to return to town with me, greeting me with his ever so radiant smile. 

Rio: Good morning! You’re absolutely adorable today, as always!

Emma: Yeah, yeah, thanks as usual.

Emma: … What brings you here this early in the morning?

Rio: I came to visit because I just had to see your face.

Rio: And I bought bread. Want to enjoy it together? 

Emma: Thanks, I’d love to. Mmm, smells good…

Rio: It’s from your favourite bakery. They launched a new “fortune bread” today.

Emma: Fortune bread? That’s interesting! 

Clavis: Wait, wait, Emma. We have some more important matters to focus on than bread right now, don't we?

A man forced himself between us and snatched the bag of bread.

(So I wasn't imagining things when I thought I heard another voice.)

I stopped avoiding reality as a means of self-defence and turned to face the country’s most notorious troublemaker— a certain prince with a shady smile. 

Emma: It’s been a while, Clavis. 

Clavis: You could've jumped straight into my arms right off the bat, you know?

Emma: Thank you for kind consideration. Why are you here?

Clavis: Hmm, what do you think?

???: Enough with the theatrics and just tell her already. 

(Huh…?) 

My eyes widened when I saw a tall figure sitting on a wooden crate some distance away.

Emma: Luke’s here too!?

Luke: Oops. My bad, I invited myself into the conversation too early.

Rio: I coincidentally ran into Clavis and Luke earlier on.

Rio: Though, they didn't tell me what they’re here for… 

(I was just thinking it was rare for Rio to come visit me so early in the morning… maybe he’s worried about me.)

Luke stood up from the wooden crate and raised the paper bag he had in his hand.

Luke: Mind if we join you for breakfast?

…

My modest home where I, a commoner, lived was now filled with two princes and my former butler friend…

Our surroundings were both physically and emotionally stuffy. 

Clavis: Emma, you’re heading to Tanzanite soon, right? 

Rio: Ugh… 

The freshly baked bread, along with the sweets Luke brought, bounced slightly when Rio hit his head against a corner of the table.

Clavis: What's the matter?

Rio: … I lose control of myself whenever I hear about that.

Rio: The thought of not being able to see my angel, my goddess, my beautiful fairy Emma… 

Luke: You’re such a drama queen.

(When I first told Rio about my trip, he was completely broken. I guess this counts as an improvement.) 

[ Flashback ] 

Rio: — Emma’s going to Tanzanite…

Emma: Rio, are you okay!? You hit your head on the bookshelf really hard…

Rio: I’m okay… but… why… 

Emma: I’ve heard many stories about foreign countries from the Owner, but I’m most interested in the god who can perform infallible divinations. 

Emma: If such a god really exists, I’d like to meet them even just once. 

Emma: Besides, Tanzanite’s a popular tourist destination. 

Emma: It’s a country in the dessert, but I think it's a good choice of destination for my first trip. 

[ Flashback End ]

(I feel bad for nearly causing Rio to pass out, but…)

(I’ve been really excited every day ever since deciding to travel to Tanzanite.)

Luke: I’m surprised you’re not going with her. 

Rio: The Owner told me to look after the bookstore while she’s away. 

Rio: I really do want to go with her!! What if something happens to her when I’m not there…!? 

Rio: But if staying behind will help Emma feel more at ease on her trip, then I… I’ll… 

Clavis: Haha, you can be rest assured about that. 

Clavis tore off a piece of the bread in his hand and ate it, savouring it in delight before swallowing. 

Clavis: Because we’ll be her bodyguards in your place.

Rio: Oh, is that true? Thank goodness, I feel relieved—

Rio: — Wait, that won’t do—! What is that supposed to mean!? 

(Seriously, what does he mean by that!?) 

I almost dropped my fortune bread but managed to catch it in a panic. 

Clavis: I mean exactly what I said. 

Luke: We’re going to Tanzanite too. 

Luke stuffed a whole honey-coated pastry in his mouth and licked his fingers.

Luke: I didn't wanna go at first because it’s too bothersome, but Chevalier ordered me to take care of some diplomatic matters.

(Going to Tanzanite during this period of time means…)

[ Flashback ] 

Akatsuki: Politics have been unstable lately.

Emma: Is it because of… the Three-Nation  Alliance?

Akatsuki: Yeah. None of the countries have made any moves at the moment, but this feels like the calm before a storm. 

[ Flashback End ]

(... I’m an outsider now, so it’s best for me to refrain from getting involved.) 

Clavis: Since we’re all leaving for Tanzanite at around the same time, why don't you come with us?

Clavis: We plan to take the route that passes through Benitoite. If you ride on the royal ship, your transportation is basically free. 

Clavis: I can already picture you crying tears of joy. Ah, you don't even have to say it, I already know.

Clavis: You’re so lucky to have the privilege of travelling to a foreign country with your beloved Clavis— 

Rio: OBJECTION! 

Rio shot up from his seat with a start in the cramped room and pointed a finger at Clavis.

Rio: People always say that there's nothing scarier than something that comes free. What's your real motive? Out with it. 

(As expected of Rio. That’s what I want to know too.)

Clavis took a deliberate sip of the tea I brewed and paused as though to savour it…

His wet lips then curled into a meaningful and bold smile.

Clavis: What do you think?

Luke: Don't say such things that mess with people. There's no deeper meaning at all. 

Clavis: Read the room, Luke. 

Luke: You read the room. 

Luke: This guy ordered every official to report anything interesting about Emma to him. 

Emma: So you were made aware of my trip to Tanzanite because…

Luke: The official who issued your travel permit ratted you out. 

Emma: Is that not abuse of power!? 

Clavis: What are you talking about? It’s for work.

Luke: This guy found out about your first ever trip and got all “amused” by it. 

Luke: He even volunteered to personally make a trip to Tanzanite, and I got stuck with the job of babysitting him thanks to Nokto. 

Luke: He said “I feel bad for Emma, so I’ll send at least one sensible person to go along”. 

(Thanks, Nokto!) 

Luke: But if you’d rather not deal with his crap, I’ll take personal responsibility to bury Clavis in the woods for you. 

Clavis: No need to worry about that. Emma is shaking with excitement, isn't she?

Luke: … You should get your eyes checked out before we leave the country.

Rio … I’m worried. I’m very worried.

(Since I’m not travelling alone, I should probably discuss this with the Owner…) 

(But with both Clavis and Luke accompanying me, having familiar faces in an unfamiliar land does make me feel more assured.)

After mulling it over, I furrowed my brows and tore the fortune bread in half.

Emma: Oh?

(Something fell out from inside.)

It was a small porcelain figurine that resembled a horse with a horn, standing proudly in my palm. 

Rio: As expected of Emma! You hit the jackpot.

Clavis: Hm… the unicorn is indeed currently considered the continent-wide ultimate symbol of “good luck”. 

Emma: Is that so?

Clavis: Yeah. You should keep it as a good luck charm. What a great start to your journey. 

Clavis: After all, unicorns hold a special symbolism in a country in the desert. 

(I don't exactly associate unicorns with deserts, though…) 

Emma: If that’s the case, it does seem like it’ll bring me blessings.

Luke: You’re always a good person, anyway. Even without a unicorn, I bet lots of positive things will happen to you. 

I gently cupped the unicorn figurine in my hand. 

The unexpected stroke of luck felt encouraging, like it was telling me that my current most honest feelings were right. 

Clavis: So, Emma, you’re travelling together with us, right…? 

…

The gateway to Tanzanite, the country of deserts, divinations and illusions was a bustling port thriving with merchants, much like Benitoite. 

…

Emma: We’re in Tanzanite! 

(Although… I expected more sandstorms because I was told that it’s in a desert.) 

The lively streets looked nothing like a desert.

However, the animals roaming the streets and the people’s clothing were clearly distinct from those in Rhodolite or Benitoite. 

Along with the scent of spices wafting through the air, it was undeniable that we were now on foreign land. 

(We’ve really come a long way.)

Akatsuki: Our destination is still far from here. It’s too early to get excited. 

The Owner, carrying loads of goods for trading, came to stand next to me. 

I was carrying a bag filled with books myself, but it was nothing compared to his load. 

Emma: Should I help carry some of that?

Akatsuki: No need. I usually carry it all by myself.

(That's easily 100 books over there… I can't believe he carries them alone.) 

Clavis: We offered to help too, but Akatsuki sure is hardworking.

Luke: I told Emma I’d help carry her stuff too. 

Clavis and Luke whom we travelled on the same ship with packed lightly as compared to us. 

Emma: Thanks. But since this is my first time sourcing for goods, I want to carry my own baggage. 

Emma: Selling books in a foreign country and purchasing new ones…

Emma: I’m so excited to see how greatly my bag’s contents will change on the way back to Rhodolite.

Luke: Someone’s being really energetic.

Clavis: Akatsuki is lucky to have such a good assistant too.

Clavis: By the way, where are you two headed to after this?

Akatsuki: We’re meeting someone.

Emma: … We are? 

I followed the Owner’s gaze that shifted unnaturally and saw a strikingly beautiful woman standing there. 

(Wow…) 

She wore vibrant ruby red clothing and was adorned in glamorous accessories that rivaled the Owner’s outfit. 

Standing next to her was a bespectacled man with a gentle appearance. He smiled when he noticed us and approached.

Bespectacled Man: We’ve been expecting you, Akatsuki. And this is…?

Emma: I’m Emma, I came as the Owner’s assistant. 

Basil: Ah, I read about you in the letter. A pleasure to meet you, please call me Basil. 

Basil: And this lady over here is Kamal.

Kamal: …

Kamal smiled seductively and pulled out a stack of papers from which she showed me a piece with the words “it’s nice to meet you” written on it. 

Basil: As you can see, Kamal can’t speak. Please communicate with her through writing. 

(I see…)

Emma: Understood. I look forward to working with you both.

Clavis: … Hm.

As we exchanged pleasantries, Clavis stood nearby rubbing his chin. 

Clavis: You must be emissaries of the living god, correct? 

(... Huh?)

Basil: Well done! You noticed right away. 

Clavis: The symbols of faith you wear make it easy to figure out. 

Clavis pointed at his own chest.

Basil and Kamal gestured to their chests too, where the clasps of their cloaks were fastened. 

(... Now that I took a proper look at them, the clasps have unicorns on them.)

(Are those the “symbols of faith”?) 

Clavis: I was told in the past that the unicorn ornaments are worn by those who are close to god. 

Clavis: And a few years ago, I recall hearing about a book merchant Azel especially favoured. 

Clavis: I had my suspicions, but it seems that Akatsuki has some rather prominent clients. 

Emma: Is god… one of your clients? 

Akatsuki: Regardless of whether they’re god or royalty, a client is a client. Nothing more, nothing less.

(He never mentioned this to me!)

The Owner whose facial expression remained unchanged suddenly appeared far more impressive than I had initially thought of him to be. 

Basil: We have always been the ones to guide Akatsuki during his visits to Tanzanite. 

Basil: Prince Clavis, Prince Luke, please proceed in that direction. Emissaries from the Royal Court are waiting for you. 

Clavis: Haha, not only for me but for Luke the newcomer too? How insightful indeed. 

Clavis: Rhodolite didn’t send any prior notice about who would be coming. Is this another prophecy from the living god? 

(...!) 

Basil: That’s correct. Lord Azel is truly impressive. Is this a good time to talk about it? It is, right?

(He suddenly started speaking really fast…) 

Kamal mercilessly smacked Basil on the head as he adjusted his glasses. 

She then took out her stack of papers again and showed us the one that said “let’s go”. 

(... That sounded like she hit hard enough to crack his skull. Is he okay?) 

Luke: Then I guess this is where we go our own ways.

Clavis: I’ll personally come to meet you again, Emma. Before you start crying from loneliness. 

Emma: I don't think I will, but until next time. 

(So… we’re going straight to meet the god now, right?)

(I’m starting to get nervous.)

(I wonder what kind of person a living god is like.)

…

Azel: Thank you for taking the trouble to come all the way out to such a remote location.

Emma: Oh!

[tubbytarchia]

I know your main is smallidarity but what are your thoughts on smalletho? Asking because I'm smalletho main but all the stuff you smallidarity fans create is so lovely that I know ship them too. Wondering what it's like for you guys. Have a nice day!

HIII I like Smalletho!! But you might not be a fan of how I regard it personally haha. To be honest I'm a little bit terrified of smalletho fans because of the specimens I have encountered and heard of so please don't burn me at stake...

I primarily view it as mostly one-sided. This makes more sense if you know of my thoughts about Joel being closeted and combative/troubled at the idea of being into men. He's been weird about Jimmy for a damn long time but he's never enacted on those feelings past jokes he proclaims not to be taken seriously. And then he's put together with this Etho guy in DL, soulbound to him, and because he's all weird he develops a crush and acts more questionably around him and more impulsively in general. And I think Etho would have picked up on it but he's. Etho. His response to everything is oh snap

Etho did do a callback during SL as if he were reminiscing, and he engaged with the "neck kisses" bit and some other less egregious ones, but Joel draws much more attention to Etho and the obsession claims. In fact the neck kisses thing started with Jimmy and yet Joel attached it entirely to Etho and comments on it either to make Etho sound weird or to make a slightly more rowdy joke than usual (Joel is plenty weird with his homoerotic jokes but this one is notably more intimate in a physical sense, as opposed to emotional. Not even the babymaking in ESMP2 compares because he acted like a clown who's never heard of sex before for those). Hmm strange behavior to have chosen to do that... I think Joel's become less insane and mostly gotten over his crush but clearly still likes Etho and Etho likes him too, but in a less weird way. His regard for their relationship to me is so well exemplified by the interaction where Jimmy went "Joel called me babe earlier" to try and prod him and Etho gives the most nonchalant "oh snap" known to man in response. He loves a little tomfoolery though so he entertains the banter

Joel just imo acts so weird about him half the time and then completely deadpan the rest of the time, compared to Jimmy who he has also been really weird about but also grown more comfortable with (but only very slightly because he is a loser) in regards to his feelings. I just think contrasting them brings out my reasoning better haha. I like smalletho as a ship in general and I really like their dynamic, but Etho in more of a mentor role (not that he's teaching much of anything but the experience Joel had with him has probably helped Joel become less homophobic about himself). It's similar to what I also really like about Bdubs and Joel, where I'm not sure I really see it as a romantic dynamic but they're definitely not normal about each other by any stretch of the imagination

[kandadze]

FoF rewatch ep 5-6: Zhuo Yichen and Zhuo Yixuan (gifs and loose thoughts)

It might be because I'm an only child, that I tend to gravitate towards sibling - whether by blood or found - relationships. One of my favorite books growing up was Astrid Lindgren's "The Brothers Lionheart." I'm more likely to watch a show if it has an ensemble cast of characters who are in all sorts of familial and otherwise close situationships (hello, FoF). (Must also be why I finished watching My Journey To You the first time - due to my morbid fascination with the absolutely dysfunctional, codependent, borderline incestuous and in general fucked up dynamic between the eldest and the youngest of the Gong "brothers"... not sure what that says about me lol)

Back to the Zhuo brothers.

I loved Zhuo Yixuan the moment he appeared in ep 5 (and not only because I have a soft spot for his actor). I do realize that we get an idealized version of him, seeing him only through the eyes of someone who loved him and then lost him too early, and I still think he was a remarkable guy.

I believe that he can be considered one of the biggest influences on who ZYC is as a person. (The other one would be WX, but that's a whole separate post.) As far as the Zhuo family goes, we know there was a father, but even though he is mentioned, it's never by name, and he never features in any of ZYC's memories, either - which makes me assume that he was a father just by title, and not very close with either of the brothers.

As for their mother, we were told that she died when ZYC was little, so I imagine ZYX himself was a teenager at most at the time. Now imagine this young boy, having just lost his mother, and with barely any support from his father, not only raising himself, but also becoming a whole-ass family unit (mother, father and brother) to his Xiao-Chen. And, even allowing that ZYC's memories only show us the best moments with his big brother, seeing what we can of ZYC's character, I think ZYX did a spectacular job.

He's most likely the reason why ZYC, even socially awkward and shy, draws people in - whether demon, half-god, or human child that's a little bit of both. As long as someone doesn't pose an active threat, he just does his best to do what his big brother used to do for him - asks questions, listens patiently, responds from his personal experience and to the best of his ability. ZYX didn't ridicule him for having nightmares or being scared to dream; he reassured him and then looked for ways to help. ZYX didn't force him into making connections with other children when it was clear it was too painful; he did his best to be there when it mattered and let nature take its course.

There's that scene in later eps where ZYX does his sword training while ZYC entertains himself in the vicinity. It's obvious the brothers enjoyed each other's company, but also had their own pastimes and commitments (the nightmare in ep 6 starts with ZYC doing his own training while ZYX is away). There's the scene with ZYC trying on that delicate golden headband, and ZYX teaching him what it meant to wear one (made me think of a book I read years ago, which featured an apparently Anglo-Saxon tradition of boys up to a certain age wearing a headband woven with 7 strips of white cloth for pretty much the same reasons as ZYX explained to ZYC). He clearly taught his baby brother some sound principles.

I'm also assuming that ZYX was quite lonely himself. In ZYC's memories he's of age to marry and have a child, but there's no other family around that we can see, or that would get mentioned. ZYC must've intuited that, asking ZYX if he's the same as him - as in, misunderstood, and lonely, and his big brother just smiles and doesn't answer, clearly not wanting to burden him.

He instead shares what I think was what he got from being born into Bingyi line - a gift of foresight. I might be reaching, but in my mind ZYX foretold many events in ZYC's life - meeting ZYZ (the "anomaly," that ZYC will recognize not with his eyes, but his heart! The Truth Eye parallels are everywhere...), meeting like-minded companions, waking up the Cloud Light Sword... He seems to have hoped for all the best for his baby brother, not for himself. Which again, makes me emotional at just how good of a man he was, and how he helped ZYC to become someone who's not afraid to be open and soft, who's able to change his mind as new information presents itself, who's emotionally intelligent and does his best to see the world clearly.

We'll never know what would have become of the brothers had ZYX survived, but I believe that if he could see his Xiao-Chen now, he'd be very very proud.

[savebatsfromscratch]

Heyyyy weird question my sister is trying to get into Minecraft YouTubers but doesn't know who to watch do you have any recckmendations (she's young)

This turned out WAY longer than I meant it too, sorry in advance! XD Also, this is all my opinion obviously, please no one get mad at me!!

Redstoners: 1. Ethoslab is one of my favorites, but his editing style can be a little bit of an acquired taste depending on the episode. (It is very very barebones.) He is completely family friendly and I find him entertaining, but he might be aimed at a somewhat older audience than the person you are talking about, just because of the stuff he does in minecraft being often more technical or specific.

2. If she likes technical stuff but wants slightly more "childish" editing style, Tangotek is a good option. He can sometimes be a little bit inappropriate, but I don't think he has been recently...?

3. Mumbojumbo isn't usually my style but he's another classic family friendly pick. Again, if she likes technical minecraft but not Etho or Tango, he might be a good option.

Builders: 1. Grian is a classic and I like a lot of his stuff, he also does a lot to make himself seem even more family friendly than a lot of even his other family friendly buddies, but not in a way that's boring or overly childish.

2. Goodtimeswithscar is also extremely entertaining and an incredible Minecraft builder if she cares about the beauty of the stuff, but he can be a little bit less family friendly than the other people I have listed. No swearing or excessive joking, just occasional... interesting word choices and stuff like that.

3. Smallishbeans probably has the flashiest editing style out of all of these people, as well as usually the shortest episodes, but they are almost always very engaging and I like them a lot.

Pvpers? 1. I don't watch PVPers besides Purpled* and he hardly uploads anymore, and I don't remember if he is family friendly enough to recommend to this person.

2. *Technoblade may also be a good pick for your sister, but as you probably/maybe know he unfortunately passed away a few years ago now. :9 His videos were always extremely entertaining and are still up to be watched, but it can be a little bit depressing knowing that he's not with us anymore and some of his jokes could be somewhat inappropriate for children at times. Despite all of that he is one of my favorites and I would recommend him to pretty much anyone in, like, the highschool and up range maybe??? I didn't know about youtube until middle school so I could be entirely off and he could be fine for younger people, but it's kinda up to you based on how old she is.

Extra notes: Out of these people, my favorites are Ethoslab, Goodtimeswithscar, and Grian, but any of the others are also really good. :) In order I probably watch them with this priority (depending on which series of course, but I mean in general): Ethoslab, Goodtimeswithscar, Grian, Tangotek, Smallishbeans, Mumbojumbo

I personally much prefer to watch builders over redstoners, but the things that some of those people can pull off (*cough* *cough* Tangotek's Decked Out 1 and 2 *cough* *cough*) is mindblowing. Idk if that's her thing but, like, if it is. Oh my God tell her to check out Decked Out 1 and 2. (Decked Out one is in Hermitcraft season 7, Decked Out two is Hermitcraft season 9.)

Another person I watch who is NOT in this group and is NOT popular is StormLordZeus, he's SO FUN THOUGH. I love him!!! (Also Huntedskelly!!) Scratchcraft!!! Completely family friendly, but very small scale. Tight knight community so maybe not, but I Love It.

As for specific Minecraft series, I recommend Grian's Hermitcraft Season 6, and 3rd and Double Life, Tangotek's Hermitcraft Seasons 7 and 9, pretty much anything from Goodtimeswithscar but maybe especially his Hermitcraft in general and Secret, 3rd, Double Life, Smallishbeans' Hermitcraft 10, Limited Life and X Life, Ethoslab's Hermitcraft 7 and 9 and Secret and Last Life, Mumbojumbo's random little videos, Hermitcraft 10, and Last Life.

For Stormlordzeus and Huntedskelly, Scratchcraft season two feels the most completed. For Technoblade his Skyblock Potato war with Squidkid is iconic. For Purpled his random storytime videos are the most fun.

Life Series order: 3rd Life, Last Life, Double Life, Limited Life, Secret Life, Real Life (april fools episode), Wild Life

TLDR: Ethoslab might be boring to some but he's my favorite, Grian and Mumbojumbo are both very popular for the right reasons and are usually engaging, Smallishbeans might be slightly inappropriate sometimes but he is the most engaging in my opinion, Tangotek is a lot of fun and very engaging but I get very lost in his technical videos, and Goodtimeswithscar is very very funny and very very talented. (If sometimes slightly inappropriate.)

[misteria247]

It Started with Coffee

Stanley Pines wasn't the type to believe in love. For him love had happened once, and that had ended up with him nearly losing his car to a woman he thought had felt the same. So for a very long time, he carried on. Focusing on what was important to him, rebuilding the portal to get Ford back and taking care of Mabel and Dipper as well as Soos and Wendy. And he was content. Until one day, he wasn't. And it was because of one man in particular who threw a wrench into everything.

Fiddleford H. Mcgucket.

Fiddleford for the longest time, to Stan was nothing more than old man Mcgucket. The town crazy hick who lived with the raccoons and who tried to talk to him on occasion in his half sane ramblings. Then Weirdmageddon happened and suddenly Fiddleford was around more often than not. And with that, came the recovering inventor's attempts to talk to him. At first Stan didn't try to respond back, not wanting to entertain the hillbilly because he was missing his twin. It worked for awhile until one day when the stubborn old coot crossed the line. It was morning and Stanley along with the kids and his brother had decided to go to Greasy's to get breakfast. Along the way they'd run into Fiddleford and Ford of course invited him along as well as the kids. Stanley didn't protest, not wanting to ruin their excitement. It was when they'd been seated and were getting ready to order that it happened.

Ford had begun to list off their orders, and accidentally messed up Stan's. The younger twin was going to leave it be. Not wanting to bother his brother with something so trivial when the skinny bean pole from beside Stanford spoke up.

"Ah wait! Stanferd you messed up Stanley's order, he takes his coffee with 3 sugars. He likes sweet things."

Fiddleford was met with a wide eyed stare from his best friend. Mabel and Dipper were also staring, jaws open in awe. Stanley meanwhile just looked at the genius, dumbfounded.

'How in the hell did he notice that? It's not like I broadcast it to the whole world.'

The con man thought, puzzled and annoyed that he couldn't put said puzzle together. Once the shock wore off, the group of five slowly again resumed conversation. But all the while Stan's gaze continued to flicker towards Fiddleford. Confused and wanting answers. It was when their meals and coffee were finished and Dipper awkwardly and shyly said goodbye to the waitress. (Pacifica he believed her name was). That he finally got the chance to somewhat corner the other man. He walked slower to match Fiddleford's pace, letting the kids and Ford walk further ahead of the two of them. And once far enough Stanley finally looked at him.

"How did you know?"

Stanley's question seemed to catch Fiddleford off guard. Hazel green eyes behind glasses snapping to meet dark brown. Fiddleford opened his mouth to respond before closing it again, looking suddenly sheepish and embarrassed.

"Ah well, I uh developed a habit of sorts. Whenever I have a right old time trying to remember people who are important to me. I'll start watching em and making mental notes about em...."

The country hick rambled, looking nervous and uneasy. Stanley just stared, stunned. Fiddleford had thought he was important enough to remember details about him. And not just details anyone would know, but details miniscule enough to be overlooked.

"Yer implying I'm important enough to remember?"

The con man asked, unable to stop the disbelief. The other man looked at him again, eyes wide with his own disbelief.

"Yes?? I reckon so?? Why wouldn't I?? You're important just as much as everyone else."

Fiddleford said suddenly firm in the statement. Stanley just stared, expression unreadable for a beat before seeming to come to a conclusion.

"Heh, whatever you say Mcgucket. If you're gonna be doing that, then I'm gonna have to start doing it too. Can't have just me being important."

Fiddleford's eyes flashed with something in that moment before a grin came on his face.

"Alrighty then."

Stanley didn't believe in love. Didn't believe in the word nor what people said about it. But......maybe he can learn. Especially if this man was willing to stick around. Perhaps, there was such a thing. If Fiddleford continued to throw that wrench, then maybe Stanley could come around to believing it.

[poorxsouls]

𐙚 "Putting the love in Lovecraftian”.

—⟡—

MK ( Qi Xiaotian ) x Eldritch Horror Reader headcanons

TW: spoilers, lovecrafting lore, slight horror elements (nothing too explicit), mentions of trauma (such as nightmares and such), MK being in his monkey form, possible occ, kinda/pretty short, etc..

CW: MK, mentions of JTTW + LMK characters (mainly mentions of Mei, Pigsy, Tang, etc..), Lady bone demon being mentioned.

—⟡—

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

-TBH, he was scared of you for obvious reasons when you two first meet, and he (sorta) still is. Of course, he loves you too much to ever hate you. You often get scolded by him whenever you kill someone tho.. which you calm down a bit, only killing people you see as a threat.

-You live with him, no questions asked. Most of the time, you mostly stay cooped up in his room and greet him with a hug whenever he’s back from hanging out with Mei, working for Pigsy, hanging out with his mentors, and so on. Believe it or not, Teng often entertains you by telling you stories from Chinese mythology which kills time.

-Of course, since you’re a Eldritch horror, you’re way taller than any of the demons MK has to deal with; therefore, you had to shapeshift into smaller forms, but even then you still dump into walls and other stuff. But, it’s not all bad! You actually get to be the big spoon whenever you and MK cuddle, (also a plus if you have multiple arms, human or not) which is adorable!

-You’re very jealous. You trust MK, of course you do, you just don’t trust anyone who talks to him due to him being too good! Therefore, whenever he meets a demon, you often scare the demon away with your looks alone.

-Whenever MK is in a bad place/mood (aka being in his monkey form, having nightmares of lady done demon, and etc), you often comfort him by being affectionate. Most of the time, you run your fingers through his hair/fur while giving his cheek a few pecks.

-When MK introduce his friends and mentors to you, they were pretty scared (expect for maybe Mei and SWK, but even then they were kinda scared by how…. You looked) which is fine, you didn’t take it too seriously. But you eventually warmed up to the team!

-Since you’re super old, MK has to help you lot with modern terms and stuff which lead to him getting you a phone and you always spam him, sending him a lots of “❤️” and “ily”s which never fails to get him smiling.

-Long story short, you’re his hypeman/bodyguard and you two are adorable.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

[nastasya--filippovna]

(Is this fanfiction..... maybe! Bon apetit. As you can tell I am currently procrastinating writing my main fic!)

Aziraphale adjusted his glasses and looked down at the paperwork spread out in front of him on his tidy desk at Heavenly & Associates, the most prestigious legal firm in the entire celestial hierarchy. The stack of legal briefs seemed endless; each one outlining some absurd case involving mortal and immortal affairs, but today’s case was particularly troublesome.

The one at the top of the stack, in fact.

"Az, old friend, we've got a problem," Crowley’s voice rang out from the door, a bit too cheerfully for Aziraphale's taste. Crowley was wearing his usual black suit, but today, the sunglasses were replaced with a sleek pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, making him look like he was trying to play the part of a competent lawyer instead of the slithering demon he was.

Aziraphale sighed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "What now, Crowley? Another lawsuit for wrongful possession of souls?"

"Something like that." Crowley sauntered into the office, tossing a file onto Aziraphale's desk with a flourish. "This one's a doozy."

Aziraphale grimaced and flicked the file open. It was a rather unusual request for the Court of Celestial Affairs: a mortal suing God Himself for breach of contract. The mortal in question claimed that his prayers for a winning lottery ticket had been "ignored" and "overlooked," and that this failure to deliver on divine promises was a violation of a covenant that had never been explicitly written. It was ridiculous, of course. But the plaintiff had somehow found a lawyer who was willing to take the case.

Crowley slid into the chair across from Aziraphale, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Got to admit, it’s impressive how he managed to make it this far. They’re getting more creative, aren’t they?"

Aziraphale sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "A mortal suing God? How did we even let this case get to court?"

Crowley shrugged, eyes twinkling. "It’s a loophole, angel. You know how it goes. They're all about the fine print, right?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small, amused smile tugging at his lips. "If you didn’t play such a part in these little mortal schemes, Crowley, maybe the law wouldn’t be in such a state of disarray."

Crowley grinned, tilting his head back dramatically. "Oh, don’t act like you're not entertained by it all. You’ve been handling cases in this absurd court for millennia. Where's your sense of fun?"

"It’s not fun, Crowley. It’s… frustrating." Aziraphale took a deep breath. "But we’ve got a job to do. We need to prepare a defence."

Crowley leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. "So, what’s the plan, then? You’re going to argue that God’s not responsible for individual lottery outcomes?"

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at Crowley, his expression serious for a moment. "Actually… that might be a very good point to start with. It’s not about promises made to one individual, it's about the divine will and... more general matters." He paused, thinking. "And, of course, there’s the little matter of the plaintiff not understanding the fine print of existence. Free will, random chance…"

"Ah, divine loopholes. I’m sure we can work with that." Crowley chuckled darkly.

Aziraphale glared at him, but there was no real venom in it. "Don’t get any ideas, Crowley."

"Me? Never." Crowley raised an eyebrow innocently.

"Right," Aziraphale said dryly. "I'll need to prepare a motion to dismiss, emphasizing the lack of any binding contract. I’ll also—"

Before he could continue, the door opened again, and a very nervous looking mortal attorney stepped inside. The poor man was sweating, fumbling with his briefcase. "Excuse me, uh, Aziraphale? Crowley? I’m—uh, I’m here to discuss a potential settlement?"

Aziraphale smiled warmly at the young lawyer, his tone diplomatic. "Come in, my dear fellow. Let’s discuss this ridiculous case, shall we?"

Crowley snickered from the corner, enjoying the show. As the mortal attorney stammered through his proposal, Aziraphale felt the familiar tug of duty. This wasn’t just about winning or losing a case. It was about upholding the greater laws of the universe. And that was a job only a lawyer of Aziraphale’s calibre could handle.

For once, Crowley seemed content to simply watch.

[pastelwitchling]

It's been a weird year for Alex.

***

              The holidays had snuck up on Alex. He was usually in more of a festive mood; he usually decorated the living room at least, he liked to bake holiday treats, liked to watch holiday-themed movies. It was the day after Christmas, and he ought to have been preparing for the New Year. He should’ve been setting new reading and workout goals, prepping a whole day out for him and Michael, a list of friends to see. Instead, here he was, in his office at Deep Sky, thoroughly . . . uninterested.

              Should it concern him that simple things which used to entertain him so much now barely sparked his attention or urgency? He’d been waiting his whole life to be free so that he could indulge himself in Halloween, waited to have something to be thankful for so he could enjoy Thanksgiving, waited until he had a special someone to shower him with Christmas love. Yet here he was, typing away at another coded assignment and all too aware of the fact that, had it not been for Michael, he probably wouldn’t have bothered with the large breakfast he’d put together yesterday for Christmas day.

              What was wrong with him? Had time really rushed by, or had Alex been so distracted with work and his own busy thoughts that he’d let them slip by? He stopped working, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars in the blackness, his guilt too loud for him to ignore. The idea of not being in the mood for the holidays wasn’t nearly as troubling as the idea that he’d neglected to give Michael his best efforts this year.

              There had been no pumpkin-spiced anything, there’d been no decorations, no special cinnamon rolls, no cowboy Jack Skellington! The retrospection had been off and on for the past few months, whenever the silence was enough to alert Alex to his own doubts.

              Huh, you haven’t done anything for Halloween yet. Huh, you haven’t done anything for Christmas yet. Huh, you don’t have anything planned for New Year’s yet. Huh, you must not care about Michael enough to give him the festivities he’s never really had.

              Alex groaned, pressing his forehead to the cold glass and steel of his desk. “I’m a terrible husband,” he muttered.

              “Agree to disagree,” a voice said, and something in Alex’s chest settled. He looked up slowly, his vision still dancing with spots from how hard he’d been pushing his hands into his eyes. Even with his disoriented vision, there was no denying that Michael was beautiful, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, smirking across the room at Alex like he was always hungry for him.

              “Actually,” Michael pushed off the door, “let’s not. Tell me why you just that said very stupid thing, and I’ll remind you why it’s so stupid.”

              He plopped down on what Alex had now deemed his rolling chair, and slid closer, settling in like they were in their own living room and not a top secret office that shouldn’t exist on the millionth floor of a building that also shouldn’t exist. Alex couldn’t help the amused smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. It fell apart a second later, and he rested his cheek on the desk instead.

              “Has this year felt . . . weird to you?”

              Michael raised an eyebrow. “Is this a trick question? You know you’re married to an alien, right? If you want a divorce now, it’s too late, I own you.”

              A laugh bubbled in Alex’s throat, and he rubbed his face as he sat up. “No, Michael, I don’t want a divorce, and that’s not the kind of weird I’m talking about.” He sighed, lifting up his good leg onto the chair and hugging his knee.

              “I mean, like . . . fast weird,” he shook his head, hesitating. “Did you notice we didn’t do anything for Halloween? Or Thanksgiving? Christmas was yesterday, and . . . we didn’t do a thing.”

              Michael frowned. “I-I’m sorry, Alex, I didn’t think you wanted me to have anything prepared—”

              “No, Michael, that’s not what I’m saying,” he said quickly, not wanting Michael to blame himself. He shut his eyes, and huffed. “Damn it, I’m not making any sense. It’s just that I usually really get into the holiday spirit, and this year I just haven’t. I’ve imagined us spending Christmas together ever since we were seventeen, I imagined all the ways I would spoil you, everything I would give you because you deserve it.”

              “But you do spoil me.”

              “I didn’t this year!”

              He rubbed his eyes. Why were they burning? “I was supposed to give you everything, and I didn’t do any of it! I don’t know why, I’m not . . . I don’t think it’s my depression, and even if it was, it’s not supposed to last this long! It’s not supposed to ruin our holidays, I’m not supposed to ruin our holidays, I’m supposed to make every single one feel special, and I didn’t do a thing—”

              “Hey hey hey,” Michael took his wrists, gently tugging them down. To Alex’s surprise, he was smiling at him as though Alex were an adorable, stupid kitten chasing its own tail, sad when it couldn’t and not realizing why. “Baby, I love you so much, more than I will ever be able to express, you’re such a genius it scares me sometimes . . . but that is the dumbest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

              Alex’s lower lip trembled. “It is?”

              “Aww,” Michael cooed, brushing Alex’s lip with his thumb to steady it, but only making Alex want to cry more. “Yeah, beautiful, it is. You think I give a crap about some day on a calendar?”

              “Don’t pretend it doesn’t matter,” Alex said miserably. “You love the holidays.”

              “Wrong,” he said simply. “I love you during the holidays. I love how excited you get, I love how much you enjoy yourself with all the stupid decorations, I love how much you love it all.”

              Alex was helpless to stop the tear that rolled down his cheek. He whispered, “But you deserve the perfect Christmas, Michael.”

              “Baby,” Michael admonished, wiping the tear away, “every day with you is a perfect one. Christmas, to me, is having my husband happy and in my arms. It doesn’t get any more perfect than that.”

               His shoulders fell as he considered the sincerity in Michael’s words. He sniffled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me this year,” he confessed. “I don’t know why I didn’t . . . feel the holidays more.”

              Michael shrugged. “I didn’t even remember it was Christmas until the pancakes with red and green sprinkles for breakfast, to be honest.”

              Alex huffed a chuckle, reaching up to wipe away another tear, but Michael beat him to it. He kissed Alex’s cheek, then his jaw, then his fingers.

              “So,” he grinned, “what do you feel like doing for New Year’s?”

              Alex thought about it, really thought about what he was in the mood for. Then, with a shuddering sigh, he quietly admitted, “I want us to have dinner together. I want to watch a movie with you on the couch. I want to kiss you and sleep with you and scream your name. And then I want to go to sleep in your arms and not move until Valentine’s Day.”

              Michael groaned, shaking his head, “What’d I tell you, Private? A perfect day.”