#please have these bugs while i think about it :)

[drdoofenfaithcreatingchaos]

Slinky the Snake||Lando Norris x fem!reader

Word count — 924

Summary: Lando’s afraid of snakes. Y/N has a snake. Love’s about compromise, right?

A/n it’s 3:30am and I’m finally over the stomach bug and now I can’t sleep mostly because I’ve slept all day.

The first time Lando stepped into Y/N’s apartment, he was struck by how cozy it felt. Plants hung from the windows, books lined the shelves, and her couch looked so inviting that he immediately imagined sprawling across it.

But then he noticed the terrarium. “Uh… what’s that?” he asked, already feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread building in his chest.

Y/N, who was halfway to the kitchen, froze. Slowly, she turned back toward him. “Oh, um, that’s Slinky’s home.”

Lando blinked. “Slinky?”

Y/N hesitated, debating whether to dodge the topic or dive right in. Finally, she sighed, crossing the room to lift the lid of the terrarium.

“Slinky’s my snake.”

And there it was—a ball python, small and unassuming, poking his head out from under a log. Lando’s eyes went wide, and before he even realized it, he’d taken several large steps back.

“Wait… you have a snake?”

“Yes,” Y/N said, her tone defensive but calm. “He’s my pet. And before you say anything, he’s harmless.”

Lando’s face was a mix of disbelief and mild horror. “Harmless? That thing eats live mice! How is that harmless?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He’s a ball python, Lando. He doesn’t even have venom. He’s basically a noodle with a face.”

“A noodle with a face,” Lando repeated flatly, looking at the snake as though it might launch itself at him at any moment.

“Look, you don’t have to love him,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “But… you like me, right?”

Lando’s gaze snapped back to her. “Of course I do.”

“Then give Slinky a chance. Please?”

Fifteen minutes later, Lando was sitting stiffly on Y/N’s couch, eyeing the snake now draped over her shoulders like a scarf.

“He’s not gonna bite me, right?” he asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

“Not unless you smell like a rat,” Y/N teased.

“Not funny, love.”

Y/N chuckled, reaching up to gently stroke Slinky’s head. “Relax. He’s just curious. See? He likes you.”

Slinky was stretching toward Lando, his tongue flicking as if trying to taste the air around him. Lando, meanwhile, had his hands gripping the couch cushions as though they might save him from a sudden snake attack.

“I don’t think ‘like’ is the right word here,” he muttered.

Y/N leaned back, giving Lando some space. “You don’t have to touch him today. Just sit with us for a bit. Baby steps.” Lando nodded, though he wasn’t entirely convinced.

The next time Lando came over, Slinky decided to make himself the star of the show. While Y/N cooked dinner, Lando kept one wary eye on the snake, who was exploring the coffee table. At one point, Slinky nudged Lando’s phone, flicking his tongue against the screen.

“Uh… he’s touching my phone,” Lando called out.

“He’s playing with it,” Y/N replied from the kitchen.

“Playing or trying to eat it?”

Y/N walked in just in time to see Slinky knock the phone off the table. She picked up the snake and laughed. “He’s just being clumsy. He gets like this sometimes.”

Lando watched as Slinky managed to tangle himself in a lamp cord, looking entirely unbothered by his predicament.

“Should we… help him?” Lando asked hesitantly.

Y/N shook her head, untangling the snake with practiced ease. “He’s fine. He’s like a toddler—always getting into trouble but too cute to stay mad at.”

Lando frowned, watching as Slinky made a beeline for Y/N’s arm, curling around her wrist like a bracelet. “Yeah… I’m not seeing the ‘cute’ part yet.”

After weeks of awkward encounters with Slinky, Lando finally decided it was time to face his fear.

“Okay,” he said one evening, standing in Y/N’s living room. “I’m ready to hold him.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You sure? No pressure.”

“I’m sure,” Lando said, though his hands were already clammy. “Just… don’t laugh if I scream, okay?”

Y/N grinned, gently lifting Slinky from his terrarium and walking over to Lando. “Alright, hold your hands out like this,” she instructed, demonstrating the proper way to support the snake.

Lando mimicked her stance, and she carefully placed Slinky in his hands.

“He’s heavier than I thought,” Lando murmured, his voice tight.

“Yeah, but see? He’s just chilling.”

Slinky curled lazily around Lando’s wrist, flicking his tongue in a gesture that Y/N swore was friendly.

Lando froze for a moment, his eyes locked on the snake. But when nothing bad happened, he exhaled a shaky breath. “Okay… this isn’t so bad. He’s kind of… soft?”

“Exactly!”

Y/N stepped back to snap a picture, and Lando immediately glared at her. “Don’t you dare post that.” Lando says as they settled on the couch, Slinky slithered across Y/N’s lap, eventually draping himself over Lando’s legs as well.

“You know,” Lando said, glancing down at the snake, “he’s not so bad. I think I might even like him.”

Y/N smirked. “Just wait till he tries to hide in your hoodie.”

“One step at a time, love. One step at a time.”

[phosph-ate]

Need To Know

Dr. Phosphorus x GN!Reader

(What I want him to do to me 🔝)

Summary: You match his freak, a little too well

CW: SMUT! 18+!, thigh riging(ish), burning, pet name (cupcake), newly establish relationship (hinted at), no use of y/n, no beta reader, soft dr. phosphorus (even tho he burns you...), reader has enhanced healing and is immune to radiation

WC: 0.8k

A/N: Loosely based off this ask. it gave me this idea and i just AIHSJD AAAHHH. I love him so much ugh

“Please…” Your voice was soft and airy. Needy. “Alex, please.”

One of Dr. Phosphorus’ hand gripped your hip, and the other was on the wall. He leaned his weight onto that hand and his face was in your neck. His hips were grinding into yours. He was still mostly clothed, wearing pants and his jacket. You were almost completely naked before him, wearing nothing but underwear.

His thumb rubbed circles into your exposed hip. You were dying for something. He could not tell what.

“What is it?” His voice was strained. “What’d’ya’ need?”

“I want-” Your eyes shut tight, and you whispered something under your breath. You wanted him to mark you up. In a potentially unconventional way.

“What was that?” He stopped the grinding and cocked his head at you.

You groaned and your head rolled back. “I want you to… Burn me.” If he had eyes they would be bugging out. That is not what he expected. “I mean-” You immediately defended yourself, “I can heal fast, I’m immune to your radiation… I want to- Need to know what it feels like.”

While you waited for an answer, the wall beside you began to heat up. Dr. Phosphorus moved his hand from the wall quickly and you looked over, seeing a handprint singed on the wall. You shivered.

“You’re being serious?” He asked, trying to compose himself.

“Completely.” You sucked in air and your jaw clenched.

“Okay,” He took a step back, “we need a safe word first.”

The smile on your face was about to make it all worth it for Phosphorus. “How about red, if I need you to stop, I’ll just say red. If reassurance is needed on your end, I’ll say green.”

“That will work.” He was impressed with how fast you were. How long had this been on your mind? He was not sure, but he was happy to oblige. You leaped towards him and kissed him quickly. “You have a spot in mind?” He asked curiously.

“Collarbone.” You spat out, smiling at him. You pointed to the spot.

“People will see that-”

“I want them to.” Your smile turned into a smirk. “I really want them to.”

Dr. Phosphorus almost lost his mind. For a brief moment, he was burning up. He collected himself and his hands flexed. You noticed how worked up he was. You could not help but wonder if he thought about burning you.

“First thing’s first, cupcake,” He pushed you back against the wall. “I will not be burning you fully. I know you heal fast, but-” Dr. Phosphorus sighed. “I cannot bear the thought of hurting badly. Secondly,” He put up two fingers, “use the safe word if you need it.”

You nodded, excitedly. Violently. Your stomach flipped. Your back was flush with the wall, and you smiled at your boyfriend, excited for what was to come. “I promise! I will let you know if it’s too much.” But it won’t be, you thought. You did not want him to get upset, so you kept the last part to yourself.

He nodded and you shut your eyes. Dr. Phosphorus placed a hand on your hip and on at the base of your neck, above your collarbone. You began to grind your hips against his again and your head leaned back, giving him better access to you.

“I’ll be okay,” You whispered. Your hands grabbed his jacket, and you pulled him closer to you. You peeked at Phosphorus. He was obviously thinking. “Alex, green, please-” Your begging seemed to be enough to push him over the edge.

Dr. Phosphorus pushed a knee between your legs and his palm laid on your collarbone. You felt heat at first. You moaned. You leaned forward, the grinding continued. The friction was almost enough to bring you to orgasm alone. Your hips moved steadily at first. You knew what you were doing. But as soon as you felt the heat becoming hotter your grinding became quicker, sloppy.

“Fuck,” You hissed.

Dr. Phosphorus was losing his mind. The way you had given yourself to him was exhilarating. A pleasured scream ripped from your throat and your hips jutted forward. You were coming undone. Every part of you tensed and your grip on his jacket tightened. Dr. Phosphorus pulled his hand away from your skin and you twitched against him. You let out a soft whine and your head dropped.

It was quickly lifted back up. Your eyes opened slightly, and Dr. Phosphorus examined your burn. “How’s it look?” You smirked at him.

“You’re freaky,” He responded, head lifting slightly, looking at you presumably, “you know that?”

You let out a low laugh, “Like you aren’t!”

“Come on,” Dr. Phosphorus pulled you away from the wall, “I know you have enhanced healing, but we need to clean that, and you, up.”

You nodded. You followed Dr. Phosphorus to your bathroom and sighed. That was a lot better than you could have even imagined. “Alex,” you started, causing him to turn back towards you. You wanted so badly to tell him you loved him. You figured it may not be the best time. “Thank you.”

“For burning you?” He almost yelled, but he did not falter getting you to the bathroom. Your bare feet hit the tile floor. “You are freaky.”

“No,” you swatted at him, “for helping me clean up.”

“Oh, that’s just what good boyfriends do.”

You let him look at the burn in the light. “You know,” You started, “when someone sees this they’re going to absolutely lose it.” You smirked.

“I hope Rick sees it.” Dr. Phosphorus laughed. “Oh, how I hope he sees it…”

[nostalgebraist]

Thanks for this thoughtful review!

(BTW, for others – this is probably obvious but there are spoilers below the readmore, don't click unless you've read the book)

I'm going to use this as an opportunity to talk about one specific thing that bugs me about some reader reactions to my stuff. Therefore, most of what I say below will be negative (about your review), but I want to emphasize first that that's not a reflection of what I thought of it overall.

----

What I'm here now to talk about is this kind of thing:

There are parts of all his books, where I really think that the explanation for why they are the way they are is that they are "bad on purpose", and all the bullshit [note: in context "bullshit" seems to be meant as a neutral term for non-realist elements -nost] is a way of turning these shortcomings into strengths. The self-effacing voice which whispers that the characters aren't sufficiently well-drawn, are too cartoonish—well, what if that was the point? What if there was a reason for that, in the story?

And like... okay, there is sort of a sense in which this is true, sometimes, kinda. There is a grain of truth to this; it is getting at something real.

But it pains me to say that, because I don't want to encourage this kind of reading. Interpretations like this are occasionally correct but IMO they're much more common than they should be. IMO the right intuition is that this is a galaxy-brained, contrarian sort of take, a last resort you land on when you've ruled out everything else.

And not just with my work, with everything – I'm simply more aware of the problem when it comes to my work, because I wrote it and I'm aware of why I actually did things the way I did.

I've said this before, but watching the way that people react to my own fiction has been an eye-opening experience, one that has taught me things about reader (and viewer, etc.) reactions in general. Specifically, what I've learned was:

People's tastes are way more diverse than I had realized (before I started writing and sharing fiction). And they are diverse in a very fine-grained way; even if two readers have the same preferences about 90% of stuff, or 95%, they'll still diverge on some things. While it's not literally true that "every reader is a unique snowflake with a preference set that no one else shares," that is a very good first approximation of how things are.

Readers (including me!) have been trained by a lifetime of reading book/movie/etc. reviews to frame their preferences/reactions in a pseudo-objective "this is just how it is" way, like their own tastes have some special viewpoint-independent priority, a quality of "reality" or "accuracy" lacking in everyone else's tastes (which are all different, cf. 1). And this is not just a stylistic quirk of the way people write about fiction, it actually (IMO) feeds back into the underlying opinions behind the written commentary. It degrades people's ability to understand what it is they're looking at and their ability to make accurate inferences about the process of its creation.

----

Here's a sort of cartoonish schematic of the type of experience that led me to draw these conclusions. (And I suspect this is not just a thing that happens to me, I imagine it happens with any sort of work that "contains a lot of different types of stuff" the way mine does.)

Writer makes something that has X and Y and Z in it. Writer thinks X/Y/Z are "great tastes that taste great together." Writer is very pleased with the result.

Reader 1 has similar tastes to writer, says something brief about how they loved the book and it's a new favorite for them.

Reader 2 loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to X and not messed things up by doing so much Z.

Reader 3 is the reverse of their predecessor: they hate X, are OK with Y, love Z. They write a lengthy review saying that the book was a mixed bag and could have been great if the writer had stuck to Z and not messed things up by doing so much X.

Reader 4 loves X and Z – but they hate Y. They write a lengthy… you can fill in the rest. Imagine a whole bunch of these guys (readers 5, 6, etc).

Reader 17 has the same tastes as Reader 2: loves X, is OK with Y, hates Z. But their lengthy review takes a different, in some sense "more charitable" angle, speculating that the inclusion of Z was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet X.

Reader 18 has the same tastes as Reader 3: hates X, is OK with Y, loves Z. But, they explain, X was a load-bearing pillar in the overall structure, a thing that unfortunately had to be included to "unlock" all that sweet sweet Z.

Writer reads all these reviews and feels strange, dizzy. The "nicer" reviews like 17 and 18 are actually more uncomfortable to read than the "meaner" ones like 2 and 3.

"I don't know how to convince you guys," Writer thinks, "but I... I just liked all of it? I thought it was good? That was why I wrote it? (Why else would I have written it?)"

----

Or, as I wrote in that previously linked post from 2021, w/r/t TNC specifically (and making a slightly different but closely related point):

Some people say X was the worst part of TNC, some people say X was the best part. The story was a celebration of Y; the story was about how Y is laughably futile. It’s a letdown that we were never told more about Z; the reason TNC is good is that it leaves stuff like Z to the imagination. It was obvious we were meant to believe P; it is obvious we were meant to believe not-P; the ambiguity about whether P is tiresome literary masturbation; at least the story didn’t jump the shark by spelling out whether P! The reason people like TNC is, of course, that it has A, although nostalgebraist insisted on putting B in there too because he hasn’t fully perfected his formula yet / he somehow thinks B is good even though it isn’t / he thinks it’s funny how bad B is (but the joke tires). …and then someone else has same take, but with A and B flipped.

This exact sort of thing is of course happening again before our eyes with reactions to TAoHS.

I've encountered multiple readers who disliked most of the story but felt the ending (sort of) "redeemed it," and I've also encountered multiple readers who liked the story up until the ending but disliked the ending (or at least thought it was worse than the rest) – to say nothing of the many readers who liked (or disliked) the whole thing all the way through.

And this ending-related stuff is just one particularly obvious facet of a broader diversity in the overall reader response.

By now I know not to be surprised by this stuff, and even to find it kind of fun to watch... but I have to admit, it is still a dizzying and uncomfortable experience.

----

Now, as I said, it is sometimes true that things really are "bad on purpose."

But I think the interpreter's default hypothesis – which should be maintained by default unless convincing evidence against it can be brought forth – should be:

The writer thinks that the thing they wrote is good. They think the ideas are good and they think they executed them well. And they think this more-or-less homogeneously for everything in the work – there are no "bad but unfortunately necessary" parts from the writer's POV.

(At least, this should be the default with works that aren't making the writer much/any money. Obviously things are different with lucrative commercial fiction; there are plenty of well-paid hacks who know they're hacks and do it for the money, etc.)

Why should this be the default? Multiple reasons.

First: it takes a lot of effort to produce any sort of creative work. The writer thought that effort was worthwhile, for some reason – why?

The most straightforward explanation (and a very common one IMO) is that the writer simply believed in the thing that they were making. They believed the effort was worthwhile because it would yield a good product.

Second: as a writer you have an immense amount of freedom. It's difficult to overstate the extent of it. You are playing God, you decide the way that literally everything will be.

Obviously there are some constraints, cases where one part of a story will imply the existence of another or whatever.

But it's very rare that you actually get forced into "doing a thing you know you are bad at, badly." After all: why do that? No one's forcing you! Just do something else! You're God, you control everything!

(Note that this applies also to the very act of writing anything. No one is forcing you to write at all. If you can't come up with good ideas, nothing prevents you from just not writing your bad ones.)

Third: at least in my experience, "playing God" in this way requires a certain state of mind, a certain boldness and self-assurance, which is incompatible with thinking "yeah this is gonna suck but I have to do it" – but is very compatible with thinking "I am making something excellent and every part of it is excellent, hell yes."

Fourth: because of the previously noted diversity of reader preferences, it should not be surprising to any given reader that they find some parts of the work much better than others, even if the writer thought it was all excellent.

This outcome is predictable from the X/Y/Z stuff I talked about above. No clever interpretive work is required to explain it; it arrives pre-explained; it's simply what happens by default.

And finally: because, as I noted above, I think all of us are infected with "reviewer brainworms" and we need to be mindful of this fact.

(Just to be clear, I am not accusing OP of being more infected with said brainworms than anyone else; I'm still on my soapbox, giving a generic rant about a general issue, with OP as merely a jumping-off point.)

We've grown accustomed to the casual conflation between our own tastes and some (usually hazily imagined and under-theorized) sort of "objective, ideal artistic standards."

Outside of a few edge-case eccentrics who can be ignored for my present purposes, we do not do this because we've become intellectually convinced that

(a) such objective standards make sense and really "exist" or at least really matter and

(b) they just so happen to match our own preferences.

Rather, we've fallen into this habit because it's what the pros do: there's a standard style that professional critics and reviewers write in these days, and that style implies these stances. And if one writes (and thinks, in one's inner monologue) in this style, one can easily fall over backwards into uncritically believing (a) and (b) for no better reason than "I seem to already be talking as though I believe these things, hence it would be simple and convenient if I really did believe them."

But – even if we bracket the philosophical questions of whether (a) is in fact true, and (if it is) whose tastes in particular ought to be elevated in the way (b) presumes – even if we table all that for another day, still we ought to keep in mind how weird and audacious a move this is, this simultaneous assertion-without-explanation of the (a)+(b) pair.

We've gotten used to it by exposure, because "the pros" have normalized it. But in actual fact it is a pretty wild thing to just go and assume, given the X/Y/Z/etc. diversity of actual opinion!

If (b) is true for you (general "you" not OP), then it can't be true for me, because we're both unique snowflakes to a first approximation; indeed if (b) is true for you then (to a first approx.) it is only true for you. No one else's tastes have this magical relation to reality, just yours.

Holding the belief (b) about a given reviewer is conceivable-but-wild if we're only considering them in isolation. But once we bring a 2nd reviewer (with non-identical tastes) into the picture, who also believes (b), it's literally impossible to maintain that both of these people are fully right.

And then of course in real life there are not 2 but many, many readers out there, all of them unique snowflakes. And, while it is socially normal in our social context for each one of them to write like they're the chosen one blessed with that special (b)-magic, if you read enough such writing and actually think about what you're reading, it can't help but feel like a sort of game, like playing make-believe. As with most games, it can be very entertaining (for all parties involved), but we shouldn't confuse its amusing conceits for properties of the real world.

In the real world, the writer has their tastes, and you have yours. These tastes are probably not identical. The writer may be aware of the diversity of readerly tastes, and may thus be aware that tastes like yours are out there, but they have no special reason to consider you in particular, elevating you above all the other readers who are non-identical with them (and with you). The writer is dimly and abstractly aware of you, at best, as just another one of the people who will come along later, dislike some of their choices, assume that these choices were wrong in some "objective" way the writer knew about at the time, and then speculate as to why the writer would do something they know is wrong. For every choice, and every way of making every choice, one can imagine a reviewer who responds to it in this way, and quite often these reviewers actually materialize once the work is available for consumption. If you try to reason about these guys in advance, as a writer, it'll stop you in your tracks (if nothing else because there are 2+ of them whose takes are mutually incompatible). You've gotta have some other standard of value to rely on.

So, as a reviewer, if you ask "why would someone ever make a choice I don't like?" and try to pick at this question, you are quite likely heading toward a dead end. The writer wasn't thinking about you (or people like you). They were applying their own, distinct standard of value.

Better to ask: "suppose there was a person who actually liked all of this. What would they be like? How would they be similar to me / different from me? And what, if anything, can I conclude from that?"

The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

My fourth novel, The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, is now available in full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

[songbirdseung]

faking sick / sim jaeyun

how were you gonna say no to your boyfriend who was cutely pouting and begging you to stay home by just clinging to you like a leech? gotta tell your boss you aren't making it into work today.

it was almost time for you to get up and start preparing for the day, but jaeyun had other plans. his arms were wrapped around you in a bear hug so tight it was like he thought you might disappear if he let go. his hold was warm and comforting, and the soft rise and fall of his chest against your back made it even harder to think about leaving the bed.

"jaeyunie, let go. i need to get up and go to work," you murmured, attempting once again to pry his arms off. but instead of loosening, he only tightened his grip, burying his face deeper into your neck. his voice was muffled but clear enough as he whined, "do you really want to leave me all alone, lonely, bored, and sad in this house by myself? how cruel of you, baby."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his exaggerated tone, but a smile crept onto your face. jaeyun wasn’t always this clingy, but when he was, it was undeniably adorable. it was one of those rare mornings when he was a total cuddle bug, and you loved every second of it, even if it made getting out of bed a challenge.

"jake, stop being dramatic," you teased, lightly patting his arm. instead of letting go, he gasped in mock offense, giving your hip a gentle slap. "oh, excuse me for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend who is clearly taking me for granted," he shot back, pouting like a child.

you laughed softly, threading your fingers through his messy hair. "i do love spending time with you, but i really have to get ready," you said, though the resolve in your voice was weakening.

"just stay a little longer," he pleaded, his voice softening into a gentle whisper. "i promise i’ll make it worth your while."

his words sent a warm shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve cracking. how could you say no when he looked at you with those sleepy eyes, full of adoration? "jake..." you began, but the words faltered as he pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

"please?" he added, his voice barely above a whisper, but it was enough to tip you over the edge. the thought of leaving this warmth, this comfort, seemed unbearable.

with a deep sigh, you finally relented. "okay, fine. you win," you muttered, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. quickly, you typed out a message to your boss, explaining that you weren’t feeling well and needed to take a sick day. as you hit send, jaeyun’s face lit up with a triumphant smile.

"yes!" he cheered softly, pulling you even closer. "best decision you’ve made all week."

"you’re impossible," you said, though you were already melting into his embrace.

"i know, but you love me for it," he teased, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"i do," you admitted, snuggling deeper into his arms. "but you better make this day worth it."

"oh, trust me," he said with a smirk, "i have big plans for us."

with that, the two of you settled back into the warmth of the bed, the world outside forgotten for a little while longer.

[hugemilkshake]

Golden Cheese Cookie × Reader oneshot please (Reader is Burning Spice's child (they're adult))

Enjoy the milkshake! I’m making it so that reader is like an apprentice of sorts to burning spice but the majority of spice swarm agrees that reader is basically his kid. Would Burning spice be a good father? Hmmmm….

Beastly advice

-Romantic leaning-

Your mentor or “father” always bugged you.

He never really cared for simple things, as in he’d destroy them all. It bugged you.

The day he was imprisoned was a nice day for you, even if it came with some slight immorality, your life improved for the better! You started a farm located on the outskirts of the land of spice.

It was simple.

Oh only if it could stay that way.

The ground shook and creatures started moving towards the abandoned temple that the beast of destruction resided in, which was strange to say the least, no one went there unless they had offerings or something.

But then… you heard the gongs ring out.

Your dough started to crawl. The Great Destroyer, your mentor, your adoptive FATHER was back. You had so many questions buzzing around your head.

How was he back? What happened to the seal? What was going to happen to you? And what is going to happen to the innocent creatures of this land?

Your head was spinning from the anxiety you felt about this. But if there’s one thing that you wanted to do before everything went down the drain, you wanted to make sure no innocent bystanders could get seriously harmed in the crossfire.

—————————————

The dust settled and the winds calmed, a winged cookie dressed in gold, followed by a cookie in a bird like hood, made their way towards the Lassi springs, Pepper Pangolin Cookie left not too long ago and Y/N Cookie was making sure everything from there that needed to leave was ready for transport. It was then that the two groups stumbled across each other.

Y/N Cookie was the first one to speak, their words were directed towards the golden cookie.

“So your the one the beast is looking for? I’m not surprised, you look like you can put up a good fight, I’m Y/N Cookie by the way”

The winged cookie was about to speak up when her companion spoke.

“Is that meant to be an insult towards her majesty? Because if it is, then that is quite the pathetic insult.” Y/N Cookie Chuckled

“Not at all, I honestly think that you could beat the beast, and honestly I can give you some advice, granted it’s been a while since we’ve spoken.”

“Information would be appreciated, it seems that this beast is quite formidable” the winged cookie paused before speaking again “My names Golden Cheese Cookie and this is my companion, Smoked Cheese Cookie.”

Y/N Cookie nodded “Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, let’s sit and have a chat, the springs are quite calming”

—————————————

The three cookies sat and had a conversation about the beast of destruction and how you knew this information, it was a bit akward at first but it soon developed into laughter and jokes, mainly between Y/N Cookie and Golden Cheese

Y/N Cookie gently and jokingly hit Golden Cheeses arm, laughter flowing through the air. The two of them had grown to be very aquatinted with each other.

With a sigh, Y/N Cookie stood up, saying that it’s best for them to head out, there was stuff that needed to get done. Golden Cheese had a sad look in her eyes, like she was disappointed that the conversation had to end.

With a final wave goodbye, Y/N Cookie gave the two good luck and went their separate ways…

But as the day went on.. worry started to grow. Sounds of battle rung throughout the air, there was no ideas about what might be happening to the other..

—————————————

Through the rubble, Y/N Cookie and some Kulfi dug through the rubble, the fight that occurred here was violent, but no one knew who came out victorious… was it Golden Cheese or that beast of a mentor…?

You dug through the rubble when a golden shine caught the corner of your eye. The Kulfi were already talking to the victor.

“Golden Cheese Cookie?!” You made your way through the rubble and into the clearing as you saw her, she looked even more radiant than before, her wings shone like burning embers and you could just get lost in her beauty.

“Y/N Cookie!” She flew to you and you both embraced each other, she spun you around and the two of you stayed together like that for a minute until Smoked Cheese cleared his throat

The two of you looked at each other and released each other, looking away with a flushed face. Chuckling to each other.

“I’m glad your okay…”

“I’m… glad your okay as well”

Things weren’t going to be simple as they used to be… but that’s okay, you had someone to look forward to seeing

[mad-c1oud]

thinking about the Charlie's birthday stream. not the ending, no, we think about that too much. no I think about everything else:

the happiness, the joy, the warmth of it all for nearly two full hours

the lack of mob spawns that night because it’s Charlie's birthday and he has eggs with him. how intentional it is. how funny it is and how sad it makes me because its so considerate

thinking about Tallulah by Charlie's side the whole time, diligently leading him from item to item as his little "guardian angel". Charlie trying to be a good tio and falling a little short sometimes, accidentally leaving Tallulah behind when she crashes but still trying cause that’s his sobrina. how she has to actually hit him to get his attention and how bad she must feel but it's so fucking funny each time

(how can anyone blame him when he never gets to hang out with the eggs enough to know he should wait for her? Charlie had Juanaflippa for what- 10 days? and was practically shunned by several others and himself from interacting with other eggs after his action, which is understandable, but only for so long. can they not see how he plays with the eggs? hear how soft his voice gets around them? don't the other islanders understand?)

this is maybe the longest he's gotten to hang out with tallulah since he got his backpack. Wilbur is his best friend and this was the egg he left behind. He's still learning and Tallulah still loves him despite it. Two people missing someone dearly, yet they have each other even if it's hard to realize

thinking about "Maybe Tallulah, you were the gift. I think you're the gift, Tallulah."

thinking about Richas, his nephew because Charlie has Mike, an actual brother that is equally excited to see him time and time again. A nephew coming around with the slime head and slime balls, like a mini Charlie, who is decked out in a full ghillie suit. Charlie who plays with the egg, pretending to be a spooky monster and richas playing along and getting scared

thinking about Charlie not knowing how to use the ghillie suit properly so he's still clearly visible to the eggs, yet they act like he isn't for his sake. shepherding him around from place to place because charlie is a little clueless yeah (he's in exile, go easy on him), but they are patient and happy to "tag along" and let him lead

thinking about them all taking a picture with him in the school, charlie wanting one with both of them, something to remember the day by.

thinking about how charlie is clearly loved by the eggs, his huevos, and how he clearly loves them back and is trying to be better for them even if he struggles so much

thinking about Charlie Slimecicle on his birthday, for once happy after everything he's been through, Tallulah and Richarlyson by his side

just him, his sobrina, and his nephew on a little scavenger hunt under the stars while the rest of the server remains quiet and calm. asleep while they remain lively

just them

happy

[deoidesign]

Someone killed my boss last night and he sent me this I'm so fired

god I can't wait to make this comic.

[wizardmarriage]

[sysig]

Coding woes (Patreon)

[etandthekeet]

This college au has given me life. I just had to draw their party outfits. Especially with the way scarab’s was described.

This is from the fic Social butterfly, anxious beetle. It’s so sweet so far

[howlingdemon13]

If I had a nickel for every fandom I wandered into that has a toxic attitude towards adaptations of the source material, I'd have two nickles... And I don't even want one nickel at this point...

[crossbackpoke-check]

re last answer: please don't stop, being very unhinged about these two pretty white boys is helping distract me from the sharks losing streak rn so bring it on

https://www.tumblr.com/bondedpairs/764566430180147200?source=share

(sideblog woes but there's the link for you) anyway in the vid they talk about going over to each other's houses to have dinner and things and while that is a delicious example of their codependence i love it bc through an rpf lens there is definitely some old man ******* going on. they can have the dilfs and each other.

(someone else mentioned kept boys which i could write an essay on but i fear being Perceived™️)

anyway if you have anything to add to this please do, if not ignore me and i will hide under a rock until the stress-related insanity has worn off and i am a functioning member of society once more 😂

- @bondedpairs

ty for the video!!! and please, WRITE THE KEPT BOYS ESSAYYYY i promise i will read it with my hands over my eyes if you don’t want to be perceived. do it scared!! do it anyway!! we’ll all love you for it!!!

[hsslilly-blog]

claire should have had a minor for her first undergrad and there’s a funny option here but i’m not sure if i’m willing to make it Real

[holytrickster]

honestly i get embarrassed i don't have like. a single other interest I'm as into because i just know everyone around me is probably sick of it

[snekdood]

You fucking idiots dont fucking get it. ive been taking care of plants since i was 14. Ive tried FUCKING EVERYTHING. Fungus gnats are just apparently gonna exist around me no matter what i do or try, apparently just like these yerfs who also seem to be breeding like maggots.

[early-october-skies]

I can not sleep