#please reblog if you like my writing uwu

[ray-ray-writings]

My Cinderella AU with Schlatt

Welp... Who would have thought that Schlatt would be the one out of all of the MCYTs to NOT be outed as an abuser....

Anywho, I watched the Cinderella movie with Camila Cabello and instantly wanted to write an AU of my own of Cinderella but I didn't want to put in the work to create my own new characters and establish them and all of that fun stuff. So I did what I do best, toss already established characters into a storyline. What a weird piece of work to post on my blog after several years...

But here you go, 16.3k words of a Cinderella AU with reader as Cinderella and Schlatt as Prince Charming. If you read, I appreciate you. Consider leaving a like, comment, and/or reblog and tell me whatcha liked about it. No pressure tho <3.

Summary: A Cinderella AU in which reader is a baker and Schlatt is a Prince. the two meet in a market square where the reader in turns insults Schlatt to his face without realizing who they're talking to and the story of the relationship that then ensues.

Pairing: JSchlatt x Gender Neutral!Reader (I tried to keep in gender neutral but I may have slipped here and there, if you notice any parts that happens let me know and I'll fix it!

Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Content Warnings: all warnings that typically come with cinderella: ie dead parents, shitty step family, reader being told she doesn't deserve good things, the word papi... like twice... you'll see. The use of "Jonathon" being Schlatt's "real" first name, Swearing, second person POV, when the text is in italics it's as if it's following Schlatt in third POV, i hope that makes sense, shitty writing at the end because I still haven't figured out how to end stories uwu.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Once Upon a Time,

You lived with your stepmother and two stepsisters. Your mother died when you were young. She died after being thrown from a horse, hitting her head off the ground, and never waking up. 

Your father had remarried within a year, but had swore to never love again. He married simply because he knew he was sick and didn’t want to die and leave you alone if he were to die when you were a minor. Sure enough, he passed when you were 15. 

One thing your parents had gifted you before their passing is your love for baking. You could bake like nobody’s business. You had tried to get a job at the bakery when you had come of age but the baker didn’t appreciate your helpful tips on what to improve on and what would make his baked goods taste better. So you just bake and hang out in the square, selling to those that know you and know of your business. 

You did your best to spend most of your time out of your home as your stepfamily was not kind to you. They teased and taunted you and made your life hell. You would have left the moment you were of age, but you had nowhere else to go. This was your family’s home, you didn’t make enough money baking on the side to justify moving out. So you were just waiting to meet someone who would sweep you off your feet and carry you away from here. 

It’s not ideal, but that is the way that life is. 

Across the land, Prince Schlatt was born and raised in the castle. He was waited on hand foot, life served to him on a silver platter. But the boy grew to a man with a kind heart, even if it tended to hide behind sarcasm and taunts. His father, King Philza, had done his best to teach Schlatt how to be a great ruler while his mother, Queen Kristen, had done her best to teach him how to be a loving man. 

Schlatt loves his parents, but sometimes wanted to be his own man without his parent’s hovering over his shoulder telling him who to be. To be who he wanted to be, without the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.

King Philza has been harping on him for rejecting so many marriage proposals, lecturing him on how important it was for him to find a suitable match before his coronation so that everything was in order before it was time for him to take over the throne. 

Schlatt has always given the same response, “I don’t to marry just anyone. I want to marry for love, father, just like you.” 

Philza would roll his eyes but say nothing more on the subject until the next day. Kristen was always proud of the way her son would respond, but never interrupted the two. The supportive smile she always sent Schlatt as he left was incredibly telling though.

One of the only good things about your stepfamily was that they stayed out of the kitchen. Your stepmother learned quickly about how well you could cook and bake from how you always made meals for your father that she never felt the need to cook herself. Instead, she found it easier to boss you around and force you to cook for her and her daughters. 

You found you didn’t mind it though, the kitchen was your happy place. It was one of the only spaces where you knew that you wouldn’t be bothered, that for a moment while you rolled out dough or poured some batter you could pretend like everything in your life was perfect.

You needed more ingredients. For baking and for dinners. You had left the house with the small amount of money that your stepmother had given you and made your way to the market square. In your basket, a number of sweet treats to sell for your pocket cash to your normal customers after you run your errands. 

The sun feels nice on your face. You’re used to heat pressing into the as you stand over a hot stove or an open oven, so the sunlight shining on you makes you feel slightly at home. Comfortable even. Maybe a bit too comfortable and unaware of your surroundings because it’s not too long while you’re lost in thought before you slam into someone. The basket flies out of your hand and tumbles to the ground, several of the treats falling to the ground. 

You let out a gasp as you fall onto your butt on the ground. The man you have bumped into lets out a quiet “oh shit,” before reaching down and picking up some of the treats that have fallen out. 

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand for you to take. You carefully take his hand, allowing your eyes to scan the stranger. The first thing that you notice is his eyes. They’re fucking beautiful. The pools of dark chestnut brown bore into yours so deeply it momentarily takes your breath away. You’re able to see the way they fill with concern all the while they flick down and examine you, if you were of more a mind, you would blush. 

The next thing you notice is the mask that covers the lower half of his face. You stop your brows from furrowing at the sight. You continue to observe him. You note the way that his brown hair is pulled back, which is what allowed you to see his eyes so strikingly before. His clothes are a bit on the fancier side of those that come to the market. He’s strong too, you can tell by the way he pulls you up from the ground with no real effort exerted. His hands are on the softer side. He feels familiar but you can’t place where you know him. 

Oh fuck. You’re the prettiest person Schaltt has ever seen. He’s been introduced to countless nobles, never ending royalty, long lines of commoners, but none of them could compare to how absolutely stunning you look right now. And he’s just made a huge ass full of himself by running into you and sending some of your baked goods AND you flying to the ground. At least he was smart enough to wear a mask to hide his face and therefore his identity. He knows his facial hair is incredibly recognizable. Even if he wasn’t presenting as the crowned prince, he better make this right. 

“It’s alright,” you respond once you’ve shaken yourself out of your stupor, reaching for your basket. He quickly hands it back to you. You do a quick inventory and note that about a third of your stock had fallen to the ground. “Great, just great,” you murmur quietly to yourself. 

“Again, I’m so sorry about that… let me replace what you’ve lost. Allow me to walk you to the bakery so you can buy more.” The stranger says, motioning toward the bakery, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The laugh you let out causes the man’s shoulders to deflate, causing you to clear your throat and instantly start explaining. “No, no, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Rather laughing at the thought of me buying anything from that fucking guy.” 

His brows furrow as he looks at the pastries. “You didn’t get them from the baker? Where did you get them from then?” 

“I made them myself.” You answer simply, giving a small shrug. “The baker didn’t want to hire me and so I bake them at my house and sell them on the square to a few people.” 

His brows hit the top of his forehead. “Oh shit, really? I guess I just made you lose income then, huh? Let me pay for them then.”

“Oh, no really it’s okay. It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” 

“No really. I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He states before digging into his pockets and pulling out 5 gold pieces and pressing them into your hand. 

You stare at the gold in shock. “Sir, I can’t accept this. I only charge 2 copper for one cookie. This is far too much, please take it back.” 

Schaltt panics. It’s been forever since he’s had an economics class and he isn’t sure how much money is a lot of money to common folk. He realizes 5 gold is probably a bit too much, especially after you tell him of what you usually charge. It’s too late to back out now. 

“Nah,” he answers. “I guess it just means you have to give me the rest that’s in the basket.” 

Without hesitation, you hold the basket out for him to take. He’s surprised by your quick movement but carefully takes the basket from your hands. He grabs the cloth that covers the basket gently and carefully pulls it back, revealing a plethora of baked goods, the sight makes his mouth water. “Woah, these look professionally made.” 

You let out a huff and puff out your chest a bit more. “Well I am a professional. And they would look better, but someone caused the basket to hit the ground.” 

His laugh may be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. It makes your heart flutter and you have to will the heat to not flood your cheeks. “I apologized for that already,” He teases. 

“Yeah well, it still happened didn’t it,” you shoot back. 

He laughs again, which surprises you. Most people would have called you rude by now and left you to stand here alone. But not this strange stranger. You don’t mind his presence though. “You’re funny…” He trails off

You realize he’s waiting for your name and you supply it to him. He echos it back, stating it slowly as if to savor every syllable, to test how it feels on his tongue and his teeth before he hums. “I’m charmed to meet your acquaintance,” He states, reaching out grabbing your hand, bending at the waist, and pressing the back of your hand to his masked lips. It takes everything in you to will the blood to NOT rush to your cheeks. 

He drops your hand before straightening up. “Now if you don’t mind, I will be trying one of these delectable looking desserts.” 

He reaches into the basket and pulls out a chocolate chocolate-chip cookie. “Oh fuck yes. These are my fucking favorite.” 

You can’t stop the grin and giggle that escapes you.

The stranger turns from you and for a moment your heart falls and your stomach turns as you think that he’s walking away from you. But you’re able to see his hand move up to the lower half of his face and you realize he’s pulling his mask down in order to eat. You quickly look away to give the man his privacy. You may be curious as to what he looks like, but you value respecting his choices above all else. 

Holy fuck it’s one of the tastiest things he’s ever eaten. His eyes close as he groans at the taste that fills his mouth. He’s glad he had the sense to turn around and his face and expression from you. He couldn’t imagine how embarrassing he looks right now. 

You hear him let out a groan of approval and you can only assume that something has hit his tongue. “This is delicious.” Your assumptions are confirmed as his voice comes out muffled from the food in his mouth. 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you chide, looking at the bustling people of the market stalls.

Schlatt chuckles, pulling the mask back up and turning back to face you. He’s stunned for a moment to not meet your eyes. Realizing why you’re angled and looking the way that you are. His own heart skips a beat before he clears his throat. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before softly letting you know you’re good to look. 

You’re slightly disappointed to find the mask still in its place but you understand the want for privacy perhaps more than most. “So it was good then?” You ask. 

He nods enthusiastically. “It was fucking amazing. I can’t wait to get back to the castle and try the rest of them.” He says, realizing a moment too late his slip. 

Your brows hit the top of your forehead, “The castle? Do you live in the castle?” You can’t stop the question that falls from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m a guard. I live in the castle, and I’m a guard. Today’s my day off.” He explains. His words are rushed, but who are you to question a man you just met.

You give a couple nods, “I see,” you state simply, “That makes sense.” 

Internally Schlatt lets out a loud breath of relief that you bought the lie. The castle has been his home his entire life and he wasn’t thinking when he spoke so he’s glad you easily bought his excuse of being a guard.

“It makes sense considering you just handed me 5 gold like it’s not more than I will make in two months and King Philza makes sure that the guards get paid an excellent salary… not that he makes sure the rest of the citizens get paid the same. But that’s neither here nor there.” You huff. 

The stranger’s brows lift. “What do you mean by that?” 

Your face burns as you catch what you just admitted. “Oh nothing.” You rush. “Sorry you probably are more than happy with the decisions the king makes. Not to imply anything. Sorry.” 

“No, no it’s alright. I want to hear it.” 

And want to hear it, he does. No one has the guts to speak so plainly to him when they’re around him. So he wants to hear it. The good, the bad and the ugly. 

You clear your throat and square your shoulders. “Well if you insist. Often it feels like the king, the whole royal family really, doesn’t care about those that do not live in the castle. I can’t get a job because no one can afford to hire anyone because everyone is just barely scraping by. It’s like he can’t see past his own front lawn. Which sucks because everyone talks about what a great guy he is, but sometimes I don’t think he’s a very good king.”

Schlatt hums in acknowledgement. You bring up some really good points. He also sometimes feels like his father forgets he’s supposed to be ruling for the people and isn’t supposed to be ruling his son’s life… speaking of. “Well I’m sure you can’t wait for his son to take over the throne then? Schlatt?” He is instantly startled by the loud laughter that bubbles from your throat.

“Schlatt? That big, petty,  man-baby? Yeah. Sure. I’m excited to see how that big man-baby decides to rule the kingdom. You know, I heard that he grew those mutton chops to make himself more unattractive to potential suitors. I think he didn’t realize how fucking good he looks with them. At least from what I’ve seen from a distance. I think he makes them work, and I’m definitely not the only one in the kingdom that agrees. I think he just needs to bite the bullet and just… I don’t know. Do it.” 

Schlatt once again thanks his past self profusely for the idea of wearing a mask to hide his face because he can feel the way his cheeks heat up to what he is sure is a bright red. You’re not particularly wrong. That was the original thought. To make himself look unkempt and not put together in an attempt to drive away potential suitors but he grew to like how they looked and grew fond of the hair. 

“I don’t think he should just bite the bullet and marry the first person that asks for his hand” he defends, “I think he wants to marry for love. Not for some political alliance. I think that’s admirable.” 

“Oh I agree. My apologies. That’s not what I meant. I meant he needs to bite the bullet and be fucking honest with the kingdom. The news that we get from the castle is that he’s the one that’s been rejected. That he wants to find the perfect alliance. That he wants what’s best for the kingdom. And while I agree that maybe he does, he needs to be fucking honest with us and tell us the truth. That he’s looking for love. Not what would ‘be best for the kingdom.’ We don’t mind that’s what’s happening, it’s the fact we’re being lied to, ya know?”

“Huh, so that’s the news that is coming out of the castle… I’ll have to talk to someone about that.” 

Your breath catches slightly. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble. Forget me and my words. I know not of what I speak.” 

“No, sweets. You have valid points. They deserve to be heard. I won’t mention your name if you wish. But I will make them hear me. I’m actually rather close with the prince.” He can’t help but internally snicker to himself. Closer than you know. 

The blood drains from your face. “Of course you are. Of course I complain about the prince to someone that has direct connection with him… fuck. Okay. Cool. Good to know. Well… I have to go. I have to get my ingredients still and I must be home before stepmother gets there. It was a pleasure meeting you.” You state quickly before attempting to rush past him. 

You're stopped by his hand grasping your shoulder gently, causing you to turn around to face him. “Will I ever see you again?” 

The way he asks is so soft and gentle. It causes your heart to pound loudly and the breath to pause in your throat. “Maybe,” you breathe out. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment more before it hits you. “I have a carrier pigeon. I’ll send it with a letter to the castle and we can talk like that. Maybe sometime we can meet again. Maybe on one of your days off.” 

The man’s beautiful brown eyes light up with delight. “That would be amazing. I look forward to hearing from you.” He allows his hand to trail from your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand, and he lifts the hand to his lips before placing a kiss to it. He gives you a soft wink as he drops your hand. You turn away as you blush, willing yourself to calm down. 

“Oh!” You startle, “I forgot to ask your name-“ the words die on your lips to find the spot next to you vacated with the tall stranger nowhere in sight. “Great. Just great… well. I better get going. Those cookies won’t bake themselves.” 

Schlatt has never felt so giddy. He can’t wait to hear from you. He also realizes he never gave you a name, he’ll just have to keep his eye out for a new and unfamiliar carrier pigeon.

 

You debate with yourself when you get home what the proper waiting time is for sending a stranger a letter with the pigeon. Because you wrote one as soon as you got home and it was ready to send within two hours of meeting him. Sending one that quickly may spook him. It could cause him to think you’re weird. 

You decide you’ll wait a couple hours, bake cookies and make dinner and then when your stepmother allows you to retire to your room, that is when you’ll send it. And so that is what you do. You check over the letter a thousand times before you tuck it into the envelope and hand it to your carrier pigeon. “To the castle pigeon, look for a man with brown hair and brown eyes… well that’s specific huh?... I really should have gotten his name. Okay… well… I guess we will half to wing it.” You scribble down something on the envelope and hand it to the pigeon who takes it with its foot and flies off to the castle. 

Schlatt is taking a stroll in the gardens, kicking himself for not asking for a better way to contact you. He hadn’t heard anything from you and at this point he’s worrying he never will. He’s spent most of his time analyzing the conversation over and over again in his head and realized that he probably came off too strong and too weird and he will be lucky to ever see you again. 

He jumps as a pigeon lands on his shoulder,to his head snapping to the side to meet the wide, vacant eye of the bird. It gives a soft coo before shaking and moving its foot, drawing attention to the letter in its grasp. His heart leaps to his throat in hope before he swallows and carefully takes it. 

He grins at the writing on the front of the envelope. “Sir Charmed, lover of chocolate chip cookies.” Instantly all his worries melt away as he plucks the letter from its hiding and he reads the words. Once. Twice. A Hundred times. Schlatt rushes inside to carefully compose his response. 

You don’t go a day without hearing from each other for the next couple of weeks. You exchange letters. You tell him about your life and how you got your love of baking, and your want of leaving the house. He tells you the pressures of his job and how sometimes he just wants to run away from it all and explore the world. You make him promise that if he does, he’ll take you with him. He promises. 

You forget to get his name and at this point you’re too embarrassed to ask him for it, instead electing to call him a bunch of nicknames, mainly being Sir Charming, hoping he never catches on. He never seems to. 

The two of you agree to meet up once more, somewhere a little more quiet than the market square, but still public (because you have to be proper.) You’re sure to wear the cutest outfit you can manage to put together and bake the best batches of cookies you’ve ever baked. 

“Where are you going?” Ted asks with his brow raised, watching Schlatt with his arms crossed as Schlatt sneaks through the castle halls. 

Schlatt freezes and slowly turns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Sureeeee,” Ted draws, not convinced at all. “You’re just creeping through the halls in one of your best outfits going… nowhere.” 

Schlatt sighs, not being able to hide from his best friend. “I’m going to meet them.” 

Ted raises an eyebrow. “Them? The one you’ve been writing all those letters to? Are you sure that’s a good idea” 

“I know that it is. Please. Cover for me?”

Ted sighs but can’t deny Schlatt has been happier in the past couple weeks than he has been for the past couple months. “Okay fine. But you’d better bring me back one of those sugar cookies.” 

Schlatt gives Ted a toothy grin. “We’ll see.” 

You give him a shy smile as he appears. “Hey, you,” you greet standing, wiping your hands on your pants. 

“Hey sweets,” he greets back, his voice muffled through the mask still adorned on his face. You didn’t mind too much. He explained that it made him more comfortable, especially because in his work he has to wear something to cover his face under the helmet, it’s just easier for him to wear it. As much as you want to see his entire face, you were willing to respect his choices. 

“How are you?” 

“Can’t complain, especially now that I get to see your beauty standing before me.” 

You can’t stop the blush that floods your cheeks. “Oh hush. Here. I’ve made you something special.” You tell him, turning and grabbing the special baked good that you made him. “It’s a chocolate chocolate-chip brookie. Or a double chocolate chip cookie baked inside a brownie. I remember you said that you loved brownies and cookies and sometimes can’t choose which to have so I made you both… well two in one.” 

You raise your hand with one of the treats toward him, facing the basket still, still trying to will down the blush on your cheeks.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” you have to hold in the jump as you feel his soft breath against your hand. You will yourself to stay in place as his lips brush against your outstretched fingers as he gently takes a bite out of the treat in your hand. A loud groan escapes him, similar to the one you heard the day the two of you met. “Okay, I take back everything I’ve said… This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

All of your hard work is ruined as the blood rushes back to your cheeks into a blush. “What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?” You deflect 

The treat is removed from your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “My apologies, your highness.” His words are even more mumbled, telling you he shoved the brookie all the way into his mouth. 

You scoff. “Careful now, you’ll get me hung for treason with that nickname.”

His laugh garbled out around the baked good. “Surely the king isn’t that cruel.” His hand rests on your shoulder and turns you to face him, the mask sitting on his face once again. 

You laugh back and shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve never met the man.” 

“Well I have. So I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.” 

“Is that so?... I guess I’ll just have to trust you then.” 

You stare into his brilliant and beautiful eyes for a while longer before he moves, clearing his throat and gesturing forward, “Shall we then?” 

“I am getting sick of these games you’re playing, Jonathan.” King Philza booms loudly. 

Schlatt rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not playing games with you father, I’ve told you. I want to marry for-”

“For love. I understand. But how can you marry for love when you push away every single option I give you. You haven’t given yourself a chance to fall in love with anyone I have brought before you and I am growing tired of it. If you do not pick someone within the next month, I will be choosing someone for you. End of story. Am I understood?”

Schlatt internally panics. He knew this day was coming. He knew he was pushing his father too far. He had held out for too long. His stomach drops… There’s only one person he could see himself marrying at this point… 

Assuming he had been understood, Philza turns to walk out the door. “Let’s throw a ball,” the words tumble from Schlatt’s lips. 

Phil turns back around with an eyebrow raised. “A ball?”

“You want me to marry quickly. I want to marry for love. So what better way than to throw a ball, invite everyone in the kingdom, emphasizing the invitations for single people, and then I’ll be able to talk and dance with people all night. And I swear to you, if we throw this ball I will find a betrothed by the end of the month.”

Phil is silent for a while. Tossing the words over in his head for a moment before giving a single nod. “So be it.” He then turns and exits the room. 

Schlatt lets out a harsh breath. Well that was easier than expected. Now to convince you to come to a ball. 

It takes less convincing than one might think. 

You get a letter from your Sir Charming, who tells you there will be a ball and that he wants you to come as his guest. He tells you that you’d be able to bring some of your baked goods to give out to nobles to promote your baking, plus you’d be able to see him. You hate to admit how much the latter of the two sold you on the idea. You sent back your acceptance of the invitation. 

The money you’ve gotten from selling your baked goods is supposed to go to a moving out fund, but you can’t help but take out a couple of the gold pieces that he gave you in the first meeting, finding it only fitting that his money buys your outfit for the ball

It’s a really pretty outfit, it fits you well enough, you had to buy it a size larger because they didn’t have your size and you didn’t have enough money to get it tailored. But it didn’t matter that much to you. Your mystery man had seen you in grubbier garment, anything would be a step up from what you met him in. 

The news of the ball gets announced to the entire kingdom, and your stepmother is perhaps more excited than you are. She thinks at least one of her daughters will win the heart of the prince. When you voice your want to go, she forbids you. You tell her that you don’t even want to be in the presence of the prince, you just want to see the snack table, she sneers at you but says nothing further, making you believe that perhaps she will allow you to go. 

You find yourself in your kitchen, finishing up some of the baked goods you were to take to the ball tonight. The loud clacking of your stepmother’s heels echo on the tile, the door swings open, your stepmother enters in a rage. Your heart stops as you look up from your desserts and see your outfit clutched in her hands. 

“What is this?” She hisses, waving the fabric at you as she gets closer. 

“My outfit for the ball,” you answer as calmly as you can, speaking around the lump in your throat. 

“Oh!” She lets out in mock surprise, “Is it now? I thought you said you were not going to be trying to win the attention of the prince.” 

You furrow your brow and remain standing straight with your shoulders squared back, “I am not. I have no intention of wooing the prince, stepmother.” 

“Then why have you chosen to wear such an attention seeking outfit? Surely you were planning on going behind my and my daughter’s back. I should have known you were going to do something like this.”

“Please, stepmother. You must believe me. I have no--” 

“I do not believe you, you little wench. You’ve always have looked for ways out of this house, to one up me and my daughters. I will stand for this no more.” 

You want so badly to lash out, to rip the outfit from her hands, go running from the room, and get dressed. But you can’t move. You can barely breathe. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach turning, and your body locking up. You can only watch as your stepmother glides over to the stove. Her eyes glide over the stove top before smirking. She dunks the outfit into the melted chocolate you were going to use to cover some of the treats. 

To make matters worse, part of the cloth flops over the edge of the pan and lands directly on the open flame that was on to melt the chocolate. Your stepmother lets out a triumphant laugh as the outfit catches fire, turning around and leaving the kitchen.

The sound of the door closing behind her causes you to leap into action finally. You rip the outfit out of the pot and toss it in the sink, dousing it with water, extinguishing the flame. The chocolate clings to the fabric, refusing to let go easily as you put your entire being into scrubbing the outfit. 

Sobs begin falling from your lips as you realize, even if you get all of the chocolate out of this outfit, it will never dry in time for the ball. Plus. you don’t have fabric to sew up the part where the flame ate part of it. Your outfit is ruined. Your plans are ruined. The night is ruined. 

You barely register your stepmother calling for your stepsisters, telling them it was time to go, and the door opening and closing behind them. The world seems to spin around you, sinking you to your knees as you sob loudly, clutching the soaking web fabric to your chest. 

The cool tile welcomes you, the warmth of the oven soothes you, and the wetness of the outfit grounds you. The sobs turn into soft hiccups then to silent sniffles as you stare in front of you. Mentally you begin to write your apology letter to Sir Charming about your abscess from the ball. How you were going to go, you really were, you just didn’t have anything suitable to wear. 

He’ll probably ask you why you didn’t plan better. He’ll probably be angry. He may not want to speak to you again. You’ll just have to deal with it and beg for forgiveness. And if he decides not to forgive you…. You’ll just have to live with it. 

A soft knock echoes from the front door. You’re so in your own head, you’re not sure it’s a real sound, but then it comes again, a little louder this time. You muse it may be one of your steps who forgot something and didn’t think to bring a key. 

In a zombie-like fashion, you let the fabric drop from your hands before standing up slowly. It almost feels as if you’re floating as you move to the front door. Your hand somehow finds the doorknob, unlocking it, before turning it and opening it up. 

You startle slightly at the sight in front of you. A frail looking older man stands before you. He has grey hair, a hunchback, and a shawl that comes up and covers the top of his head and shoulders. “Oh… hello. Can I help you?” You ask softly, looking out past him wondering where he came from. Your house wasn’t necessarily in the middle of nowhere, but you definitely had your privacy from neighbors. You lived on the edge of the kingdom, no one ever really comes out here. 

“Hello there, deary.” His voice is kind and his lips turn upwards slightly. “I am sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I was just on my way home and my stomach let out an awful grumble and I was just wondering if you could spare a bite to eat? I won’t take much, I promise, just something to get me home.”

You don’t know what made you trust this stranger, maybe it was just your deep need to help those around you, maybe you were still in shock from what your stepmother had done minutes… an hour? You’re not sure. But you give him a smile. “Oh yes, of course. Please come in sir. Lucky for you, I was just making something sweet. So you can snack on that while I make you dinner.” 

You move out of the way and let the man enter your house. 

“Oh, please deary, no need to make me a whole meal.” 

“Nonsense,” you answer, guiding him into the kitchen, “I want to make sure you’re well fed for your journey home.” You hand him some of the cookies from the counter. “Here, make yourself at home.”

The man takes the cookie from your hands gently before sitting himself down at the counter. “You are far too kind… I wasn’t even sure anyone would be home. I heard the royal family is throwing a ball, and everyone is invited.” 

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips as you begin making dinner for this kind man. “Yes, well, my stepmother believed me unworthy to attend… went as far as to destroy my outfit…” you take a moment to look down at the outfit, still soaking at your feet. You snap yourself out of the stupor, “Sorry. Not to dump.” 

The man hums as he takes a bite of the cookie. “I see…. Oh this is delicious. You should run a bakery.” He exclaims. 

A shy smile plays on your lips as you plate his food. “That’s the goal…One day. Thank you… Anyway, dinner is served!” You place the plate in front of him, your smile growing. 

The man instantly digs in and hums in delight at the taste. The two of you converse as he eats, he talks about his life and you give him more insight into yours. Telling him of how you got your love of baking and your hopes of owning a bakery, but not working for the baker in the village. 

Soon, he’s down to his last bite of dinner. He pops it in his mouth before leaning back into his chair. “Wow, that hit the spot. Thank you again deary, for dinner and the delightful conversation…” 

You give him a smile, “Of course, it’s my pleasure… I just realized I never got your name.” 

“You can call me Quackity…AKA” 

Suddenly golden light surrounds the man in front of you, forcing a gasp out of your lips. “What’s going on?” You exclaim as the light draws closer to the man, glowing brighter. 

Through squinted eyes, you watch the wrinkles fall from the man’s face. It’s as if an ink pot spills from the shawl the rests on his head, his hair turning black. The fabric morphs into a dark grey beanie that remains covering the top part of his hair. His spine straightens, his outfit morphing into a sharp tuxedo with golden wings protruding from his back. His piercing eyes, suddenly getting covered by black sunglasses. 

The golden motes of light fade from existence, the old man no longer in front of you, a young man now sitting before you. 

“Your fairy godmother…father…papi? Ah who knows.” 

You stare wide-eyed, mouth agape at the man that now sits in front of you. “What the fuck?” You whisper. “Who are you?”

The young man tilts his head and gives a playful grin. “I just told you, silly. I’m your fairy god-Papi. You can also call me Quackity. But I’ve watched over you, and I had to make sure you were still a good person. We don’t have time for the full backstory, we have a ball to get you too, dulces.” 

You stare at him, your mouth moving like a fish out of water. “What are you talking about? I can’t go to the ball, my outfit is ruined, I don’t have a way to get there. I can’t… Don’t you have to get home?” 

Quackity laughs causing you to pout to play on your lips. Quackity notices, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, you’re just too sweet. I know you think we just met, but you have to trust me. You’ve already let me in your home, you may as well trust me to do this as well.” 

You puff up your cheeks with air as you toss your thoughts back and forth, debating his words. Maybe you’re asleep. Maybe you crashed and fell asleep on the kitchen floor and this is all just a dream. At this point, that would make the most sense. You pinch the skin on your thigh, flinching but looking around. When nothing around you changes, you’re forced to take this situation as reality. Incredibly weird, fucked up reality. 

You meet Quackity’s bright eyes again, his kind smile never fading. “Okay.” You speak softly, letting your shoulders relax. “I trust you.” 

His grin grows bigger and he claps his hands once in delight, holding them in front of his chest for a brief moment, looking you over excitedly. “I knew I chose you for a reason. Let’s get this done then, shall we?” 

Quackity claps twice and the golden light fills your vision again, this time though, they’re surrounding you. Your clothes shift and change, the fabric changes and gets tighter to your body. Your hair moves around on its own, which feels weird at first, but then you realize that it feels like someone is doing your hair and you think back to your mother and father doing your hair when you were little. You feel the flour and the sugar fall from your face and your fingertips as the light cleans you up. 

Your gaze moves down to your feet and your breath catches at the shoes you now adorn. They’re breathtaking, literally apparently. They’re made of glass, the majority of the shoe being see through, but a gorgeous pattern of color, as if spun sugar swirled throughout. They’re insanely comfortable too. You’d think that shoes made of glass would be uncomfortable, but they’re not. They’re perhaps the most comfortable shoes you’ve ever worn. 

Soon, the light fades and you turn to find Quackity holding a mirror. The outfit is beautiful and truly made for a ball. It’s actually your size and fits you well in all of the right places. Your hair is beautiful as well, pulled back to show your face, but is done up in an intricate way. Your face, as you felt, is clear of the evidence of your baking. 

“I look good,” you whisper, turning slightly, examining yourself from different angles. 

“I know, I did well, didn’t I?” Quackity boasts, the feathers of his wings ruffling at the slight praise. 

You look from the mirror to catch his gaze. “You did. But I still don’t have a way there, I don’t want to walk.” 

Quackity shakes their head. “Oh yee of little faith. Grab those boxes of treats and follow me.” 

You whip around and find all of the baked goods you were working on packed neatly in your boxes. The magic must have moved them while you were getting dolled up. You blinked away the happy tears and scooped up the boxes and scurried out the door after Quackity. 

You stand back and watch as Quackity waves his hands around, the golden magic illuminating the dark night. It swirls around a pumpkin in your garden you were planning on using for a pie when it got ripe, making it grow larger and larger, changing from a thick orange pumpkin skin to a brilliant white carriage with golden details. 

The sheep that wanders your small farm gets surrounded by the light and is transformed into a beautiful woman who bends at the waist in front of you. “My lady,” she speaks. You curtsy back at her, giggling. You can’t believe this is real. 

Two field mice get transformed into a carriage driver and their assistant. Your carrier pigeon you’ve been using gets enlarged into a giant pigeon which the driver and assistant immediately move to get the pigeon hooked up to the carriage. Quackity moves over to stand by you, grinning as the golden light fades away as everything comes to order. “Ta da!” He says, holding his hands out and wiggling his fingers towards to new carriage and humans there to take you to the ball.

You can’t stop yourself from turning to him and throwing your arms around him, pulling him closely to you. He lets out a soft “oof” but wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. “Thank you so much… fairy god….papi.” 

Quackity barks out a laugh but squeezes you tighter. “Of course, dulces. Now, this magic doesn’t come without a downside.” He says, pulling away and looking you in the eye. “Nothing too bad, but the magic will fade at midnight. The carriage will go back to a pumpkin, the footman back to mice and your sheep lady to a sheep. Your outfit will fade. It will all end at midnight. So, go, have fun at the ball, eat, drink, make friends, do it all. But when that clock strikes midnight, run like hell little lady.” 

You give him a short nod. “I understand… thank you. Will I ever see you again?” 

Quackity smiles softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I’ll never be far away from you, dulces.” 

You know that means probably not, buy you decide to ignore it as you give him another hug. 

He hugs you back before  pulling away again. “Enough sap, you have a ball to go to. Go on! Get!” He pushes you toward the open door of the carriage. You giggle, gather the boxes of baked goods you had set down, and move to the carriage. 

Puffy, the lady in waiting, climbs in the carriage after you, closing the door behind her, before hitting the top of the carriage, causing the driver to give a shout and the carriage rocks forward. 

You glance out the window toward the house and find Quackity watching the carriage leave, his hands pressed to his chest. You bring your hand up and give a small wave. Quackity raises his hand and waves after you, until you cannot see him any longer. 

Schlatt was going a little crazy. It was as if the entire kingdom had shown up. Everyone was here. Everyone but you. You had promised that you would come in the letter that you sent a week ago, but maybe you had changed your mind. He hopes you hadn’t though. Afterall, he swore to his father he would be betrothed by the end of this night. 

He had met countless single village people, all trying to bat their eyes hard enough to make him take a second glance, but none of them were you. He found himself slumping down in his throne, brushing off the glare his father threw over his shoulder. Pretending not to hear the, “This is what you wanted. At least act like you want to be here.” He hissed over. Schlatt just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

It becomes apparent he has met everyone here tonight and still no sign of you. Until there’s a large commotion by the snack table. His gaze shoots over and his heart picks up at the sight. It’s you. You look so different from the other times he’s seen you, but it is you. He’s on his feet in an instant and rushing over. 

You arrive later than everyone else at the ball, but honestly you’re totally okay with that. Less attention to yourself. You give a small bow to your servants for the evening, giving your carrier pigeon a few scritches before ducking into the castle. You hope you’ll be able to find your Sir Charming quickly so you can stick to him for the entire night. You decide you’ll first hit up the snack table to set up your baked goods and sign for the other nobles to taste just like Sir Charming said to do. 

You find the table is already packed with baked goods from the bakery. You take it upon yourself to begin moving some of the treats over to make room for your treats. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A familiar voice booms from behind you. 

You roll your eyes at the voice but turn around and face the baker, Mr. Lou Hamani. “I was invited to display my baked goods at this ball. So I’m simply making room.” You answer before turning back around and putting more desserts out. 

Lou moves to stand beside you at the table and begins to grab at your treats. “I think not you disrespectful child. I am being paid by the king’s advisor himself for these desserts. I will not have you screwing over my chance to impress the nobles that are here today at this ball. You will pack up and leave at once.” 

“I will do no such thing, I was invited to set up shop here by a castle staff member and I intend to do so.” You huff. Lou pays your words no mind and continues to gather up the things you’ve baked in his arms. “Hey, put those down. Give those back.” If he hears you he pretends like he doesn’t and cotiunes what he’s doing. It’s then you begin to try and grab your treats out of his hands. 

The baker snaps at you, “get your hands off of me.” 

“Give me my things back!” 

You’re so invested in what is going on in front of you that you don’t realize that the entire ballroom’s eyes are on you. 

In the middle of your squabble, someone loudly clears their throat. You then realize you’re in public and everyone can see you. You decide to still not care and face it with confidence. The baker looks over his shoulder and seems to pale at the sight. Your brow slightly furrows and you turn around. 

Deep pools of chestnut brown lock with yours and they’re just as fucking beautiful as the day you first met them. They fill you with a sense of calm, but at the same time nerves as butterflies fill your stomach. You think you will never tire of looking him in the eyes. 

You find your eyes drifting down and you feel your stomach lurch and your heart stop. You’re seeing his face uncovered for the first time. He’s so fucking handsome… 

So fucking handsome with those god fucking damn mutton chops. 

“Your highness,” you hear the baker greet shakily from behind you. 

Your thoughts are confirmed. The man you met that day in the market, the one you’ve been sending letters to, the one you met once more, the one you’ve been slowly developing feelings for. Is Prince fucking Schlatt himself. Of fucking course he never told you his name. Of fucking course he never showed his face. It’s been him this whole time. 

Oh fuck. 

You’ve shit talked about him to his fucking face. 

You’re fucked. 

Gods. You look beautiful. He didn’t know anyone could ever look this good. He’s so fucking happy you came. 

His eyes meet yours and he can tell you’re in shock. He was a bit surprised you figured it out, that your Sir Charming was actually the prince. The other part of him feels fuzzy that you can recognize him just from his eyes. He can only hope that you forgive him for lying to you. 

“Mr. Hamani,” He greets easily, his eyes not leaving yours. He’s trying to decipher what it is you’re thinking, but your shocked expression masks any else you may be thinking. “Would you kindly unhand my favorite baked goods from my favorite baker? You’ll have to forgive me sir, while I find your treats delicious, I find theirs simply irresistible. I invited them and told them to set up shop here. I apologize that no one informed you in advance.” 

The baker stutters but gives a quick bow. “Of course, your highness. No need to apologize to me. I was simply surprised at their appearance is all. They have always been rather disruptive and I wanted to ensure it wasn’t something of that sort happening again… I apologize, your highness.” 

Schlatt gives a simple wave of his hand. “Forgiven.” He speaks. 

The baker dumps the treats from his hands back on \to the table and scurries away. Schlatt strides over and snatches up a double chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, moaning at the taste, before turning to face you. He gives a shy smile. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello,” he states softly as if nerves have invaded his entire stomach. As if he has a right to be nervous after the shit he let you get away with. 

“Hello,” You answer tensely. 

The two of you stand there, staring at each other for a moment. You haven’t even noticed that the entire ballroom is still at a standstill, staring. 

You’re the first to move. You charge forward at him, your finger rising in the air, pointing directly at him. “You. I can’t believe that you-” 

Prince Schlatt grabs your hand out of the air, bows, and brings the back of your hand up to his lips. The feeling of his soft lips on your hand sets the flesh there ablaze. You feel your face flush with searing heat along with the heat that floods your entire body. He mutters your name softly, lips still pressed to your hand, sending butterflies soaring in your stomach. 

“Prince Schlatt.” You utter, curtsying slightly. 

He stands back up to his full height and gives you a soft, lopsided grin. “May I have this dance?” 

All of the heated words you wanted to sling his way die on your tongue. You can’t help but wonder if this is all a prank. Like if you accept, he is going to laugh in your face and you’re going to be tossed in the dungeon. 

But then you meet his eyes. 

Those damn fucking eyes. 

They tell you so much, you’re surprised they didn’t tell you who you had been speaking to this entire time. 

They tell you to trust him. That he truly means what he is saying. That he wants nothing more than for you to say yes, because he wants to dance with you. Truly, deeply, wants to dance with you.

Hope. 

His eyes fill with hope. 

And how can you say no to hope. 

“You may.” 

Schlatt is probably the happiest he’s ever been when you accept his offer to dance. His grin widens significantly before he leads you to the middle of the ballroom. He bows to you and you curtsy. The band strikes up a beautiful waltz song and the two of you begin to dance. 

He notices that you’re working hard to follow his moves. It dawns on him that you are indeed a commoner and so you don’t have the dance training drilled into you as he has. He slows his pace down and smiles brightly as your shoulders sag in relief as you catch up with him. 

“Sorry,” you mumble for a third time as you step on his toes once more. 

“Please stop apologizing. I do not mind. Truly…” 

He stares at you beaming, trying to make you see the truth. You seem to only slightly believe him. He clears his throat and pauses for a moment. “Here, step on my feet. I’ll move us around the ballroom.” 

He smiles through you raising your eyebrows as if to ask if he was serious. He nods encouragingly. 

You realize that he’s not going to move again until you comply. So you do. You carefully step both of your feet onto his, praying the glass shoes are as comfortable on top of his feet as they are on yours. If they’re not, he makes no show of it. His smirk grows impossibly wide and begins to move around once more. 

The rest of the room fades away. He can see no others in the ballroom. His gaze is focused on you and you alone. He whispers jokes to you and feels his heart warm when you toss your head back in laughter. 

With you, he’s not the prince. 

He’s just Schlatt. 

He couldn’t be more thankful for you.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as Prince Schlatt dances you across the room. Your father always told you not paying attention to your mother’s dance lessons would come back to bite you. You never thought you’d see the day that would come to fruition. 

But he moved you around with such ease that it made you feel as if you were floating. It didn’t matter you didn’t know how to dance, he was there. He was helping you through. He was there for you. 

Your mind takes that thought and runs with it. 

You think back to you waiting everyday eagerly for his letters to arrive. The way you blossomed under his praise, both of you and your baking. Ever since the moment you met him, he always was there to catch you. You can’t think of a single moment in the past couple months where your mind wasn’t filled with the thoughts of him. 

He has always been there. 

The music ends and the two of you bow to each other. A round of applause startles the two of you out of your bubble. You look around and find several other couples had joined you on the dance floor, but most people had stayed pressed on the sidelines, watching the dances. Those are the ones that were now applauding. Your face flushes once more and you duck your head down as you step off of Prince Schaltt’s feet and away from him. 

If the prince notices you trying to put distance between the two of you, he doesn’t make it known. He instead grabs your hand once more, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand. 

“Come on, I must introduce you.” He states simply before moving towards the front of the room where his family sat. 

Your heart leaps to your throat, eyes widening as the royal family draws nearer and nearer. Somewhere in your brain had registered that if your Sir Charming was the Prince Schlatt, then his father would then be King Philza. But that didn’t actually click until now. 

Until the King, Queen, and other Prince were rising to meet you. 

“Father, Mother… brother,” Schlatt greets with a wide smile giving them a bow. “It is my honor to introduce you to my guest of honor for the evening.” You can barely believe it’s your name that then falls from his lips. 

Through the fog in your head, you thank yourself for remembering to give a deep bow to the royal family of the land. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me… everyone into your home. Everything about this ball is beautiful and perfect.” You give yourself a pat on the back for sliding in that compliment. 

“Everything except the pastries from the local baker it seems.” King Philza’s tone is so deep and regal it’s incredibly hard to register the joking tone. 

You swallow hard. “Forgive me, your highness. Mr. Hamani and I have never gotten along. I should not have brought our feud inside your home.” 

King Philza gives a dismissive wave. 

“It’s quite alright, dear.” Queen Kristen speaks up, her tone soft and gentle. “Sometimes men allow their egos to get in the way.” 

You can’t help but giggle along with her and nod along. 

“Dear!” King Philza lets out in a slight aghast tone. 

“Oh do not tell me I am wrong, my love. You should know this better than anyone.” 

The King does not have a response back for that. He instead turns back around and catches your eye. His gaze is so piercing you cannot help but look down at your feet. “We will not keep you any longer. Please, enjoy the ball.” 

“But I haven’t had a chance to talk with them yet!” Prince Tommy whines, stepping forward to stand with his father. 

The King rests a hand on his back and opens his mouth to speak but Prince Schaltt cuts him off. “Nor will you ever. We are off to enjoy the ball now. Farewell.” 

Before anyone in his family can get a word in, Prince Schlatt pulls you away. He beelines to the snack table, the people around it parting to allow him access to the table. Almost all of your baked goods are gone, stuffed in the hands of the attendees, all wanting to see just what made Prince Schlatt deny the local baker. 

Schlatt snaggs two of the double chocolate chip cookies and one of the brookies from the table and continues on his way, still pulling you away. Instead of stopping somewhere in the grand ballroom, he pulls you completely out of the castle and into the royal gardens. 

He stops in front of a bench in front of a fountain. He takes a seat and pats the bench next to him, silently inviting you to sit down. 

You do not sit down.

Instead, you take a couple paces back and forth in front of him, before you turn on your heel to face him. “I cannot fucking believe you!” You finally let out all of your nerves and frustrations into the sentence. 

Prince Schlatt startles slightly, coughing as a crumb of his cookies go down the wrong pipe. He clears his throat and goes to speak up but you don’t give him the chance. 

“You fucking asshole. You let me talk shit about your father… about you to your face the first time we met. Let me talk about your mutton chops. Never stopping to correct me or let me know who you were. You let me call you Sir Charming, never once stopping to tell me your name. How did I let this go this far? You let me write you letters everyday and you wrote me back! You told me so much about you and your life, but didn’t tell me this? This seems pretty fucking big, your highness. Oh my fucking gods. Oh my gods. I can’t fucking believe you. Holy fucking shit. You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

You can’t stop your hand from coming up and slapping his shoulder, pushing him back, not hard enough to push him off but hard enough to prove a point. 

He says nothing for a few moments, letting you breathe through it and calm down, before a grin splits his face. “Yeah. But it was hot. I liked being put in my place during our first meeting. It was interesting to hear your perspective. Someone talking to a complete stranger, not trying to kiss my ass and make me feel good about myself… though with the way you were talking about my chops, maybe you did just a bit of the latter anyway.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as the heat floods your cheeks. “Fuck you.” 

He reaches out and cups your cheek, bringing you down a bit to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah.” 

You take a few more deep breaths before allowing yourself to plop down beside him. You rest your head against his shoulder, forgetting your properness for a moment, taking another deep breath. “I can’t fucking believe you.” You mutter one final time. 

Schlatt turns and presses a kid to the top of your head before resting his head on the top of your head. He lets the silence sit for a while before he clears his throat and speaks again. “I am sorry, by the way.” 

You don’t speak, which he’s partially grateful for, it allows him to process his thoughts further. But on the other hand, he can’t see your face so he can’t tell if the silence is back. 

“I am sorry for not telling you. For lying about who I am… I… You didn’t know me and yet I wanted to know you…but I knew I wouldn’t get that chance if I was honest about who I was. You had a preconceived notion about who I am and I wanted a chance to show you that’s not all of who I am… I didn’t mean for the lie to go on this long. And I do feel back for lying. And I really am sorry.” 

Your silence kills him. His heart hammers in his chest. But then he feels you turn and nervously press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I forgive you.” The three words are the sweetest he’s ever fall from the lips of another. “I get it. I appreciate your apology and I forgive you, Prince Schlatt.” 

“Jonathon.” 

The name escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Hmm?” You hum, pull your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye, your brows furrowed. 

His eyes meet your and his heart pounds quickly in his chest. His stomach turning over and over again, churning with nerves. “Jonathon. My name is Jonathon. Call me Jonathon.” 

“Jonathon.” You echo. 

Schlatt takes back his previous thoughts. Several people have called him his given name before. But this? Now? When it falls from your lips? It is certainly the sweetest it has ever sounded. 

He gives a small nod with a shy smile. 

“I forgive you, Jonathon.” 

He could pass away right then and there. 

“I’m sorry I had to step on your feet so you could dance me around the ballroom.” 

“I forgive you… would you like me to teach you how to dance?”

“Would you?” 

“I would. I wouldn’t offer if I wouldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to dance in front of everyone.”

“Who said anything about going back to the ballroom. We can dance right here.” 

Schlatt leads you through several steps very slowly, picking up the pace only after he was sure you were comfortable with the steps. 

Soon enough you were dancing like a pro. So much so that you could focus on the conversation between the two of you rather than the steps you were taking. 

The two of you talked and danced privately in the gardens all night. You offered several times to go back to the ballroom, the man throwing the ball should at least be in there for longer than a couple moments. He ignored that and said he would rather spend time with the one he threw it for. You can’t help but blush at that. 

You’re having such a fun time that you almost forget about the magic’s stipulation. Almost. 

 Jonathon spins you around once more, and pulls you in close to his chest. When you look up at him, you see he’s suddenly a lot closer than you realized. “Oh!” you let out softly. “Sorry,” you apologize, going to move away. 

Jonathon’s hold on you tightens, keeping you in place. “No need to be sorry… I like having you close,” he whispers. Your eyes stray down to his lips as he speaks. They look so soft… so plush… so kissable. 

“I like being close to you,” the confession uttered before you can stop it. 

The corners of his lips up turn in a small smile. The two of you stand there, frozen in time for a moment before he begins to lean in. You move to meet him. Your lips are about to meet when the grandfather clock that sits across the garden echoes out a loud chime. 

It causes you to jump and turn to look at it. 

It’s midnight. 

“Oh fuck.” You let out. “Is that clock accurate?” You ask, pulling yourself from Jonathan’s arms. 

He frowns, brows furrowing slightly, following your gaze. “Oh that old thing? Uhhh, just about. It’s 15 minutes fast. Why?” 

You ignore his question and begin to move back toward the inside of the castle. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. I have to go.” 

“Wait,” He calls after you, calling your name. “Slow down. Come back. Please. You don’t have to leave.” 

“You don’t understand,” You call back, picking up your pace. “I do.” 

Without paying attention, you burst back into the ballroom. Several eyes falling on you, eyebrows raised. You pay no mind still and run, trying to push your way past everyone in the room, but people keep coming up to you to talk to you. 

A hand on your wrist spins you around and you lock eyes with those beautiful chestnuts you’ve grown so fond of. His eyes scream worry and panic, silently begging you to stop running. 

You yourself must look panicked and frantic in a different way. Like a wild animal that has been caged and is about to start lashing out. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Help me.” 

The grip on your wrist loosens. Schlatt may not understand, but he will always do everything he can in order to be the person you need at any given moment. 

“Everyone!” He calls out loudly, moving towards the refreshment table. “Please come over here and join me in a toast to celebrate this evening.” 

The crowd instantly leaves you, allowing you a path to exit the room and then the castle. You’ve never been happier to see the grass as you are now. 

“Stop! Wait! Halt in the name of the Prince!” You turn slightly and look over your shoulder and find a knight with fluffy brown hair and square glasses chasing after you. In the moment, you recognize him as Charlie, one of Schlatt’s best friends/knights. 

“Oh fuck!” You shout. The magic was starting to fade already, you can tell, because all of the sudden it was hard to run in your glass shoes. You bend down and kick them both into your awaiting hands. You turn for a sharp moment, throwing one of your shoes at the knight. He lets out a loud startled scream, stopping for just long enough for you to run to your carriage. 

“Go! Go! Go!” You shout at your footmen and lady. They waste no time before kicking up and bolting out and away from the palace. You look out the window and find Charlie has stopped chasing you, one hand on his hip, the other holding your glass shoe up to the light in an inspection. 

You slump back in your seat, letting out a deep sigh. 

“That was way too close.” 

After getting all of his guests to make a toast, Schlatt books it out of the ballroom. He races to the front lawn. His head whips back and forth, peering down the road to try and see any sign of a moving carriage. 

Footsteps sound from either side of him. His head turns and he meets the eyes of Ted who gives a pitying look and a shake of his head. Schlatt looks to the other side and meets Charlie’s eyes who also shakes his head. His eyes drift down to Charlie’s hands, and there was the shoe. Your beautiful glass shoe. 

Schlatt slowly reaches out and carefully takes the shoe from his friend’s grasp and clutches it to his chest. He turns his eyes back down the main road, staring off letting out a soft sigh. Hands clasp on both of his shoulders in a silent comfort. 

The magic faded when you were nearly home. You had to herd a sheep, two mice, and your carrier pigeon back home all while carrying your big ass pumpkin in slightly damp clothes barefoot as you had thrown your one shoe and taken off the other. Your shoe though did not fade with the magic, you weren’t sure if that made you happy or sad. By the time you made it back, you were exhausted. You quickly put everything back where it was supposed to go, taking a quick shower, tucking the shoe under your bed, and collapsing in your room. 

You’re not sure how long you were asleep for before the door to your room slammed open. It startles you awake from your deep sleep. You look up and in a silhouette from the hallway light, is your stepmother. Your heart leaps to your throat, trying to take deep breaths in through your nose trying to calm down. 

“Stepmother,” you greet groggily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You insolent child.” She hisses. “I thought I made myself very clear. You were not to go to the ball. And what do you do, but steal the prince away for the whole evening?” 

“I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother.” 

She shoots a sharp glare at you. “You know exactly what I speak of… No matter. With the way you went running from the ball I’m sure the prince realized his mistake. Choosing you to dance and spend time with. With the way he let you go, I’m sure it’s that he realized you are not and will never be good enough for him. You? A low life orphan baker? Royalty? Never.” 

Her words sting like the venom they are. But you can’t help but realize she’s right. No matter what you do, you’ll always be an orphan that so happens to be good at baking. You would be an awful royal. 

Maybe that’s why he chose to help you escape rather than continue to chase after you. 

Maybe he realized it too. 

You will the tears to not fall as you stick your chin out a little further. “I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get some more sleep.” 

She is a touch surprised at your instance, certain that her words would break you. She gives you another glare, but grabs the doorknob and slams the door to your bedroom. 

You flop back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling for a long moment. You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears pool in your ear canal. You bring your hands up and wipe them away, rolling onto your side and clutching at one of your pillows. 

You had to end it… whatever it was. 

The clock on his wall warns him it’s 3 am, but Schlatt ignores it in favor of pacing back and forth in front of a table where the shoe was perched. Every so often he paused to look over the shoe before pacing again. 

“Why did you run?” He asks the shoe, staring at it as if it will give a response. “Where did you go… why did you throw this shoe at Charlie’s head?” A small smile breaks on his face as he pictures the scene Charlie described to him three hours ago. “I would have given anything to see it… to be there myself… to stop you myself.” 

He stands still for a moment longer before pacing again. 

“Maybe… maybe you found it all to be too much…” He speaks, slowing down his steps. “It all caught up to you… didn’t it. It all sank in. You realized truly who I was and you had to get out… You… you don’t want me.” 

He stops again, plopping down on the edge of his bed. “I suppose I can’t fault you… But I deeply wish you hadn’t run.” He flops backwards and stares up at the ceiling. 

It was going to end… whatever it was. 

Schlatt didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he wakes up. He spends a good amount of time staring up at the ceiling. Every knock on the door gets a “go away” as he lays in bed wallowing in his own self pity. The knocks stop for a couple hours. But then they’re back again. 

Schlatt startles out of his thought spiral and this knock on the door, this one louder than all the others. He groans at the sound, rolling over on his side and tugging a pillow over his head, blocking out most of the noise. “Go away,” He calls out, tucking himself into his bed further. 

The silence makes him believe whoever was outside listened to him. That is until the door opens and shuts behind him. He groans from the back of his throat, rolling himself over and sitting up. “I said, go away-- father-” He interrupts himself as his eyes meet his father’s green ones. 

Philza raises an eyebrow and the corners of his lips turn up slightly at his son’s behavior. “Good day to you too, Jonathan.” 

“Good day, dad.” Schlatt mumbles, sitting himself up properly. Schlatt moves his feet up slightly to make room for Philza as he moves and sits down on the end of Schlatt’s bed. 

Philza’s hand smooths over the blankets as he gives a glance around the room. His eyes catch on the shoe, still propped up on the table. “They gave you their shoe?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. 

Schlatt huffs a laugh. “More like, threw it at Charlie’s head.” 

Philza doesn’t hold back and lets the laugh escape his lips. “Oh I knew I liked them. You picked well son. An excellent love match.” 

Schlatt sighs and turns to lay on his side, back facing his dad. “Apparently not. She ran away. I assume because she couldn’t handle me… who I really am. I don’t blame her after all the time I spent lying to her.” 

Phil furrows his brow and questions what Schlatt means by that. With nothing left to hide, Schlatt divulges the entire relationship. How they met and met again (which Phil was not happy about but decided now was not the time to bring it up) and how they sent letters to each other nearly everyday and how he knew they didn’t know his name but never told them his name or who he really is. How he had thrown the ball hoping they’d come and they did and how it has all been for them but it’s all been for nother. 

Phil nods along, listening carefully. He lets Schlatt take deep breaths after his rant. “I knew something was up.” Schlatt meets his eyes, curious but does not speak. “You’ve been so much happier in these past few weeks than I can remember… And you were so insistent on a love match. Deep down I knew… So my only question is why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

“Didn’t you hear me, dad? They don’t want me. They ran away.” 

“Did they tell you they didn’t want you? Look you in the eyes and say ‘Prince Schlatt I do not want you?’”

“No but--”

“No buts, son. I haven’t seen you this happy in years. I know that you’re in love with them, whether you realize it or not. I know because you look at them the same way I look at your mother. And they wouldn’t have spent the whole night with you if they didn’t love you too. They wouldn’t have given you a clue telling you to come get them if they didn’t.” Philza motions to the shoe. “So again, I ask you. Why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

The words resonate with Schlatt, filling him with hope, that maybe, just maybe you love him like he loves you… damn. Yeah. He loves you. 

“You’re right… I have to go dad, I have to…” Schlatt shoots up out of bed and digs through his closet and throws on a random outfit. “I have to get Ted and Charlie and a whole group and we have to go looking. Door to door. I have to find them. I am going to find them.” He runs a hand through his hair before whipping around to face his father with a grin. He rushes forward and presses a kiss on his father’s cheek. “Thanks, dad.” 

You sat staring at the blank piece of paper in front of you. What to say to the man that makes you feel everything. You twirl your pen in between your fingers a couple times. Letting out a sigh, you lean back for a moment, looking out the window. Your attention gets caught by the pigeon beside you who lets out a coo. You sigh again, reaching out and giving the bird scritches. “Hey there,” you murmur. The bird leans into your fingers, rubbing against you more. “Yeah… I know this letter won’t write itself.” The bird cocks its head and coos. “Yeah, just one more letter… a goodbye. I know you must be excited, you won’t have to carry my messages anymore.” Another coo. “Well, of course I’ll let you fly around outside. I’m not a monster.” It blinks at you. “Well I have to tell him something! I can’t just stop speaking to him. I need him to know… It’s quite literally not him. It’s me. I’ll never deserve him… no matter how much I care… for him.” The bird lets out a sharp and short coo. “Fucking hell. You’re right. I love him. Gods damn it I love him so much. Oh this is going to be a nightmare.” 

Schlatt sighs in frustration as he and his knights trudge to the castle. They’ve knocked on every single door in the kingdom and not a single one did you stand behind it. The sun was setting the knights stomachs were grumbling so Schlatt decided to call it a day and head back to the castle, determined to start again tomorrow. 

He picks at his dinner, tossing and turning it over with his fork, giving half hearted replies to questions that he’s really not paying attention to. He can’t help but replay every interaction he’s had with you over again, followed closely by several notable interactions he had throughout the day. One where the woman had caked her face in flour hoping to prove herself to be the baker. Another that when she answered the door said “I am not interested!” with a smug smile, as if she really did something, and then slammed the door in his face. As if he would be interested in her? He very clearly was looking for someone. 

His head is heavy with everyone he’s seen and spoken to today, he’s just ready to turn in for the night. 

And then he hears it. 

That beautiful coo he’s grown accustomed to listening for every day. The tell tale sign that you have sent him a letter. It’s Bob. Your carrier pigeon. 

And he has a letter attached to his leg. 

Schlatts posture instantly straightens and he holds out his finger, letting out a soft coo of his own. Everyone turned in confusion and watched Schlatt. Ted was about to speak before Bob landed on his fingers and stuck out his leg. Schlatt carefully took the rolled paper and fed the pigeon a couple nuts

Schlatt carefully unrolled the letter and began to read. 

My dearest, Prince Charming, 

I guess now that I know who you truly are it is only correct that I change the sir in your title to Prince. My prince… I had the most magical time last evening with you. Dancing around in your private garden is certainly something I will never forget and will always be grateful for. It was so incredibly sweet of you to give me your undivided attention. 

It unfortunately has come to my own attention that I am not good for you. I do not deserve you my sweet prince. I could never be someone that you deserve. I am a simple orphan that happens to be good at baking. No matter how hard I would try, you would always be way out of my league. 

I hope you find the love match that you seek. I hope you find someone good and kind, with a loving heart that will deserve you and be someone worthy of your love and care. Someone worthy of you throwing an entire ball for them. I don’t know how I ever thought I could be that person. I am so sorry…

I love you, Jonathon. 

But you deserve so much more than me. 

Yours, 

Your name is signed at the bottom of the letter as it always is. He reads the second to last line, once, twice, a thousand times, until he’s convinced himself that it’s real. That you really wrote that you love him. He didn’t care about the other stuff that you wrote. Well he kind of did. But he knew it was bullshit. If anything it’s him who doesn’t deserve you. 

If only he could find you to tell you this….

And then it hits him. 

He springs up from the table and rushes out, startling everyone in the dining room with him. The pigeon flaps its wings and lands on his shoulder, used to being carted around. Schlatt runs to his room where he grabs a pen and paper of his own. He scribbles “I love you,” before snatching the shoe off the table and rushing outside. Ted and Charlie rush out behind him, confused at the rush. 

“Schlatt, what are we doing?” They ask. 

Schlatt elects to ignore them as he hands Bob the messily rolled piece of paper. “Here, Bob. Show me the way to them.” Bob takes the paper, coos softly, and takes off. 

Schlatt instantly begins to race after the bird, Ted and Charlie following close behind. How relieved he was to finally find a way to find you. Bob would certainly lead him to you. He could only hope he could keep up with the bird. 

Schlatt was feeling winded by the time he reached the small house on the edge that borders the kingdom and the forest. He hadn’t thought to make his way all the way out here, thinking you lived closer to the village with the way you walked to the market. Obviously he had been wrong. 

Either way, he could only pray that Bob had led him to the right place. 

He couldn’t tell if the tightness in his chest and the shortness of breath was just from him running all this way or if it was his nerves. He decided to call it ‘a bit of column a and a little of column b’ and call it a night. 

The three approached the door, each taking deep breaths calming themselves from the journey taken to get here. Schlatt looks over his shoulder apprehensively at Ted and Charlie. He had knocked on over a hundred doors today, it didn’t make sense that this was the one he got nervous on. 

His best friends each gave him an easy smile and a kind and encouraging nod, eager for the prince to knock. Schlatt turned back to the door, letting out a breath, shaking his arms out, before reaching up and giving a sturdy knock. 

It’s silent on the other side of the door for a long moment. Schlatt’s heart pounds so hard in his chest he has to swallow hard to get it back down to his chest. The door know turns quickly and the door is pulled open and an older woman stands before him. He tries to not let his disappointment show, especially as surprise and utter delight paints her face. 

The woman drops to a quick curtsy. “Your highness,” she greets. Her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard and it takes everything Schlatt has to not visibly recoil. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

A small bout of hope flutters down his spine causing Schlatt to stand straighter at the word “we.” “I am not sure if you have heard, but have been searching the entire kingdom for the one I danced with last night. Do you have any children, my lady?” 

The woman brightens up even more and squares her shoulders back. “As a matter of fact I do. I have two.” The woman turns and cups her mouth. “GIRLS,” She hollers, causing the boys to shutter at the loud call. 

Footsteps race across the wooden floor and two younger women appear. Schlatt feels a huge wave of disappointment was over his being as he looks at their faces and realizes they’re not you. He doesn’t hide his distaste as the girls push each other, trying to stand straighter and puff out their chest larger than the other.

“Neither of these young women are who I am looking forward… Does anyone else live here? A servant or a stable hand? Perhaps a cook?” Schlatt asks, taking a single step forward, looking around the room hoping for some kind of sign of you. 

The woman’s face sours at the question before her mask gets put back in it’s place. “No one else, your highness. Although I can assure you, my daughters are perfectly suitable--” 

“What’s that?” Schlatt interrupts as a noise sounds from one of the adjacent rooms. It sounded like metal being set down on a counter. “I thought you said no one else lived here.” 

The woman swallows harshly and moves to stand in front of the door. “That… that is just the cook your highness, they do not live here… or at least soon will not,” she mutters the latter part with venom before turning back to Schlatt, a perfect smile posing on her lips. “No one to concern yourself with, truly.” 

Any sense of trust for the woman is washed away when the scent hits his nose. He would be able to pick that scent out of a million different ones. It’s one of the best things he’s ever smelled. 

He would be able to recognize the scent of your double chocolate chip cookies. 

And he knows you’re in there. 

“By order of the king, I demand you step aside.” He barely recognizes his voice as it escapes his lips. It’s deep and authoritative… damn as each day passes he sounds more and more like his father… he’ll have to correct that. 

The woman opens his lips to protest. 

Deciding he wants to hear no more of his voice, he gently pushes the woman’s shoulder out of the way. His hand finds the door knob and he throws open the door without care. He breath is ripped from his lungs as he sees the person who stands in the kitchen… in front of those unmistakable chocolate chocolate chip cookies.

“It’s you.” 

The door slamming open scares the shit out of you. 

The entire day you had been lost in your own head. You finished the letter and gave it to your pigeon to take to Schlatt. As soon as it had left your sight, you made your way to the kitchen in a daze where you let yourself begin baking whatever your heart was feeling in the moment. 

It was only when you were beginning to clean up the batter dishes did you realize what you had made… and who you had made it for. You let yourself drift back into your head as you watched the cookies bake  through the oven window. You knew you would probably never see him again. Especially not after this letter. 

You took them out of the oven and let the pan clatter to the counter without much of a care. The soft cooing of your pigeon drew your attention away. You turned to greet it when you caught sight of the paper on it’s leg. Confusion fills you as you carefully take the paper. 

I love you.

It can’t be. 

The door bursts open, causing you to jump and whip around. Those damn fucking beautiful eyes. They always seem to follow you. To haunt you. Especially in your own house, those fucking chesnut brown eyes that say everything that you want to hear all without saying a word.

“It’s you.” 

Oh fuck he’s actually here. 

What the fuck? 

What is he doing here???

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he surges forward. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other moving behind your neck, hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. “What are you doing here? Why did you run away?” 

You stare at him in disbelief, mouth opening and closing a few times. “Did you not get my letter? I’m no good for you, Jon--Prince Schlatt, I do not deserve you, your highness. You deserve someone much better than me. Surely you--” 

“Don’t you understand,” he whispers, cutting you off. “There is no one better.” 

“But your highness--” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What?”

“You know what. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name. Not to you.” 

You let out a sigh and rub your flour coated hands on your apron. “Jonathon.” 

The smile that spreads across his face nearly makes you melt into a puddle. “There it is.” He murmurs, drawing his face closer to yours. “That’s my name.”

“Jonathon,” You repeat, trying to pull your blushing face away from his to no avail. You clear your throat and continue. “As per my letter, you deserve so much better than me. I am sure you can find someone-” 

“Did you mean it?”

You look at him partly confused, partly annoyed at him continuing to interrupt you. “Mean what?” 

“Did you mean it when you signed that you love me?” 

Your heart stops in your chest. You forgot you said that part. You don’t think you would have said it had you known it would have caused him to come bursting into your kitchen. You look at him in disbelief, is he not hearing your words? He surely read the letter. Why is he being so insistent on this? 

You could never lie to him though. 

You clear your throat and move your shoulders back. You meet his eyes head on. “Yes. I did. But-” 

“I love you too.” 

The world stops again. “What?” 

“As per my letter,” he says, a shit eating grin playing on his lips. The shock flowing through your body stops you from rolling your eyes. “I love you.” 

You remember the small piece of paper that was surely on the floor now that you took from the pigeon just moments ago. Obviously that’s who the paper was from. You swallow hard. “Sure you can’t-” 

“But surely I can. I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you called me a big petty man-baby who looked hotter now than I did before.” 

“I… I…’”

“I love you,” He utters, moving impossibly closer to your face. “I always have. You are all I want. You deserve so much better than me… But I’m hoping you’ll lower your standards and settle for me anyway.” 

His eyes shine so brightly. Those damn, fucking, beautiful eyes. They stare at you, hopeful, waiting with bated breath for your answer. They stare so intensely at you… You never want them to look away. 

It’s you that closes the distance and presses your lips to his. He instantly responds, tugging you closer to his chest and kissing you back. The kiss makes your body sing in delight. The spark starts at the base of your spine where his hand connects to your body and shoots out, encasing you completely. From the tippity top of your head to the bippity bottom of your toes. 

He consumes you. Completely. Totally. Entirely. 

You pull away breathless from the kiss, meeting his eyes. “I love you, Jonathon. I want to be yours. Please. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me?” 

Jonathon lets out a breathless laugh and shakes his head once. “Oh sweets, you’ve always been mine. I’ve always been yours. From the moment I met you. I’ve been hooked, sweets. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.” 

He leans forward again and presses his lips to yours. You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

After you break apart again, Schlatt tells you to pack your things. You don’t have much here anyway so it doesn’t take you long. Your step family could only watch with crossed arms as you moved about, taking your things. You would miss the house you grew up in, but you were more than excited to begin your new journey. 

Schlatt made Ted and Charlie help carry your things. Ted cursed at Schlatt for not thinking to grab a carriage or at least a horse in the pursuit of you. That spun a whole argument between the two, leaving you to converse with Charlie. 

You gave the man a shy smile. “Sorry for throwing my shoe at you… I panicked about someone following me. 

Charlie gives a chuckle and a smile. “It’s no worries. I’m just glad you made it home safely.” 

“Yeah me too! The magic gave out and I was left carrying a huge ass pumpkin home… My back hurt like hell this morning.”

Charlie tilts his head and gives you a curious look. “Not what I meant… but I do want to hear more about this magic.”

“What did you mean then?”

Charlie doesn’t answer, his head simply moves to where Schlatt and Ted were now in a physical altercation, Schlatt attempting to put Ted in a chokehold. 

A fuzzy feeling floods your chest.

He is your home… isn’t he?

Small Epilogue 

The two of you marry quickly. The royal family welcome you with open arms. They help teach you the ways of the royals but never make you feel less than for being a commoner before the marriage. You never stop baking, you think Schlatt would throw a huge fit if you ever did. He constantly blamed you for his “twink death.” And although you’re not entire sure what that means, you’re sure that happened way before he met you. 

You two love each other openly and loudly. It brings smiles to everyone’s faces to see the prince this lovey dovey with someone. There will always be those that disapprove, but Schlatt is there to hold your hand and tell them to fuck off. 

He reminds you he loves you every single minute of every single day… you think maybe he lays it on a little thick in particular when he wants you to bake something in particular. You never mind though. It’s your baked goods that brought you together in the first place. 

Who are you to deny your love the thing that the two of you bonded over first? 

Especially when he loves you with every fiber of his being… 

…and maybe even more so when you make him chocolate chocolate chip cookies…

And they lived happily ever after.  The End

As per usual, I am shit at writing endings. Thank you for reading my 16.3k word self indulgent fic <3

Leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyeddddd

okay byeeeeeeee back to my several year hiatusssss

im still on tumblr even if i don't post my writing so you can always message meeeeeeee <3

byeeeeeeeeee <3

[bluepallilworld]

After Aftermare week 2021 and Aftermare week 2022! Get ready for the 3rd edition of the event!

Aftermare week 2023!

11th of july -> 17th of july

Prompts:

✧ Day 1: blackout or illumination

✧ Day 2: discovery or lost

✧ Day 3: light or heavy

✧ Day 4: walk or run

✧ Day 5: Spring or fall

✧ Day 6: fight or flight

✧ Day 7: the end of a beginning or the beginning of a end

Now the boring part, rules!

- the ship "aftermare" is between Geno and passive/uncorrupted Nightmare. You can use the corrupted version but the 2 must have known the other before corruption <3

-you can use aus (you can even do crossovers if it tickles your funny bone :3)

- Nightmare must be adult obviously !!!!! (I'm saying that since canonly Night' had the accident when he was 6 >w<)

-there are 2 prompts for each day, you must choose one OwO/

-Ooooooor you can mix the two prompts ;). For exemple : day 4 -> "a runny walk" ; day 6 -> "fleeing fight" etc (there aren't as easy to combine as the last years since they're short :P)

-Have fun, mess around, break the rules (not the rules I'm writing here tho 'k òwó). I love seeing creativity ! Jump over days, mess with the order, find an original way to follow the prompts or just ignore them ! I dunno, collaborate if you feel like it! The prompts are more guidelines than anything :D

-only SFW please UwU

-romantic or platonic ship your choice ;)

-tag properly anything you think could bother or trigger someone, we respect others and their boundaries in this house

-don't forget to tag it as "aftermare week 2023" so people who want to avoid it can!!! (And tag me I wanna see everything) 🎉

-if you don't finish on time no worries, you can still participate just late :D

If you're going to participate or are just interested by the event, don't hesitate to give this post a reblog ÙwÚ👍

Or to ask questions if you have some ;3 (in dms)

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Geno!Sans belongs to @/loverofpiggies

Nightmare belongs to @/jokublog

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Almost forgot to tag my fellow aftermare goblins @dragon-tamer-1 and @shinechermont :)

The drawing without the prompts (phone drawing with my fingers go brrrr XD)

[bowieandqueen11]

Dream Being Protective Would Include...

Request: I need protective Dream hcs 🥰🥰

Oooh here you go my lovely!

If you enjoy, please make my day and comment or reblog!!!

(I do not own the Sandman or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @katronautt.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

I think I genuinely go more feral each time I write these first sentences little by little but it’s worth it lmao. I’ve genuinely never seen a more woeful person with your uwu eyes skulking about like a melodramatic paper bag being whipped by the wind you king of having no brain cells I’ve never wanted to bonk someone so badly he really is the moment. Sometimes when I feel sad I just walk around like Dream does walk walk fashion baby he owns the catwalk, and I immediately feel better lmao.

Dream’s lost a lot during his existence, and he knows how it feels to be so alone and tormented constantly by the world around him, so keeping you protected from the dangers of all the realms is of the upmost importance to him. If you’re not safe, or if there’s even a hint that you’re not alright, Dream would tear every world apart, piece by piece, and scatter their ashes through the cosmos if it meant protecting you.

No joke, Dream’s first instinct when the two of you run into trouble is to hide you away so he knows you’re safe. The verdant rolling orchards that he takes you to in the hopes to woo you further, with thick marble clouds that seem to shoot out honey gold sun rays like halos, can sometimes become unstable after the whole mess with Rose Walker and the Vortex. So, Dream being Dream of course, he doesn’t completely... well, he doesn’t completely understand human customs, let’s just say. He just kind of scoops you up like you’re a feather on the breeze and wraps you up in his coat until the two of you become a little compact unit of burrito lmao. Bless him, the scowl on his face doesn’t give any hint to how tight the vice grip of his arms around your stomach trembles each time the grass beneath your feet shakes. The frumple of his concerned eyebrows as he watches the sky fracture like a shooting spiderweb straight down the middle is balanced by the way his legs tighten around yours, until you’re tucked inside his thighs. You’re not complaining though: his chest is toasty and haven-like, even if your cheek is smushed up against it like an aghast hamster.

Then, there are the more stressful (albeit humorous) times when he becomes super hypervigilant and solicitous when you’re around his family. He’s not a naturally touchy-feely PDA filled person out in public; Dream has to stay restrained to keep all the feelings and hopes and beacons of light of the dreaming within him. If even a fraction of the love that cries within him for you slips through his mask unrestrained, it would overwhelm you so greatly it would be an earth-burning devastation borne from the purest kindle. That doesn’t stop him from staying by your side during the family get togethers you end up always having to drag him along to. If he sees Desire’s slippery little snake fingers slithering their way towards you, even for a millisecond, he grows and gnarls and warps until he’s an ink splodged shadow looming up the wall. He becomes a cataclysmic penumbra that slowly begins to swallow everything in its wake; it takes Despair nodding at their twin for Desire to finally wallow off and sit by their sister with an unbothered shrug, but the thudding pang in their heart can’t mask their understanding of why humans are so afraid of nightmares. 

As soon as they’re gone, Dream relents a little and comes stalking behind you, tethered tightly to your back like a sulking scarecrow surrounded by devouring crows. He glares at everyone with that lemon sucking sour face of his, until you eventually manage to get him to calm down and retreat back into himself by twisting round to face him. Even he can’t help the blank, trusting look of awe that slips through when you carefully cup his cheeks and bring him down to tentatively kiss your lips - but the smile that twitches against them definitely is purposeful.

It doesn’t last very long though: when Death comes over aawing and genuinely looking delighted, sweetly singing about how Y/n and Dream are ‘k-is-s-i-n-g’, he’s straight back to moping and dragging you back home lmao.

If any of his escaped nightmares even dare to come after you, Dream could send them straight down to the depths of Hell with only an icy glare. He’s by your side straight away, appearing in the corner of your eye as you blink and blowing the nightmare straight back into sand before you even have time to summon him. When you get back to the Dreaming, he will. not. leave. you. alone. Even though you both know that you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, he still has this aching, fiery anchored gap in the pit of his heart: the loss of his son and the severance and betrayals from his family have bitten and torn chunks from him, even though he’ll never admit it willingly. So, he does what he can - not to be ‘clingy’, in his eyes, but just precautious (which equals to him being clingy as frick.) You actually cannot step out of a room in the castle without Dream just hovering in the corner of the next like a bloody phantom. You step out to talk to Lucienne and peruse some of the latest journals in the library? Dream suddenly floats around the tucked away bookshelf like an emo ghost and nearly scares the crap out of you. He doesn’t say anything, but just settles next to you and bumps his shoulders against yours in a way that screams out: I love you, I love you I love you I love you and I can’t leave your side. It would ruin me. Thankfully you’ve learnt how to read the small and seemingly insignificant signs he gives by now, so you say nothing as he peers down at the dusty volumes along with you. You don’t even make a note: not a sound, too wary of scaring him away from this easiness as he cups his hands onto yours in a comfortable affinity. His breath shakes as he gapes down at the way your fingers slot perfectly underneath his own, a mixture of awe and curiosity in his eyes. As if he’s feeling you. Studying you. Absorbing you. Trying to understand how something like you could exist without being one of his own creations. Because if he dared his hand to try and mould perfection, it would equal you in every way.

Or when you sit up in the turrets to have a nice nap during the long stretch of the afternoons, since it is the Dreaming after all! When you blink awake, you find that Dream has settled himself into your side, tucked up all blissful and pensive as he peeks out from the cape he’s wrapped around the two of you like a turtle. The stars have begun to peek out, brightening the horizon like a sprinkling of shadowy blues and pearls of gold as he ties his hip against yours. To your surprise, Dream gazed up at the skies that reflect the iridescent infinity within his own; he begins to hum softly, very out of tune (but he’s still trying) as he traces all the universes and constellations that he’s traversed. If you must sleep, he wants you to know you’re not physically alone, and to make sure you have the sweetest dreams to boot.

The poor boi bless him one time in the human world you pinged a few too many crumbs at pigeons (his favourite activity lol). They began to swarm around you like a storm of beaks and beating wings, and Dream became so afraid they were like sent by Lucifer to swoop you away from him in retaliation for his earlier visit. He started pushing you behind his back and sternly telling the birds off, chiding them with warnings, which earned him a few grumbles and raised eyebrows from the London passerby. 

[bluravenite]

This isn’t an ask, but I just wanted to drop in and say I’m sorry for the low self esteem people who think there going to benefit by making rude comments. I think it’s crazy how there’s really people sitting behind their screen and thinking there gonna benefit from making rude comments, when in reality there just insecure because they could never reach the level of talent you have achieved. Personally, I love your art and writing. And please, never let someone who is to scared to even come off of anon decide who you Are, what you do, and your self worth. I hope you have a great day bro, and happy writing and drawing. Ur an absolute legend, and you inspire others, including me. <3

thank you you're so sweet!! I actually would like to take a little moment to promote some of my favorite tumblr artists (mutuals) that also inspire me!!

Tagging all of them in no particular order!! Go GIVE THEM SO MUCH LOVE!!!

@endopyre @golden-rats @purlty @seanceofghouls @ghcstcd @risunsky @ghostsseeghosts @autumnblooms @spoiledleaff @erumil @tehriel @absentson @batcadillac @brighteyedbushybrowed @pyrefection @purble77 @piaart @solsticegh0ul @maguito-uwu @kroas-adtam @ikcj @budgieio @joeynihil @abandonedtelevision @arsonyard @anabsolutebuff0on @gabba-ghoulish @nocturnal-birb

note: most artists post Ghost (band) related art but not all of them do!!!

I went through my follower list to make sure it had the mutual tag, but I might've still missed some!!

PLEASE FEEL FREE TO REBLOG THIS PROMOTING YOUR ART/ KOFI/TIP JAR/COMMISSIONS/ETC!!

have fun!!!!1 love you all!!!! <3 never stop drawing!!

[the-way-astray]

HEY so I skim read your new Keefe hate post and I have some thoughts I'd like to share (all good ones!!)

As someone who also wrote a very long essay about [a] fictional character(s) while citing the page number and book word by word, you freaking ACED it. I'm always gonna be impressed when people take the time to cite your source and give a in depth explanation about it

You're lowkey not too wrong about Keefe infantilizing Sophie. For something silly and stupid, like "Iggy ate my mallowmelt!! >:( Now im mad!!" yeah I bet Sophie would seem cute lol. But for when she's genuinely angry and pissed?? Maybe lay off a little bit dude 😭 Like cmon she can murder you with her mind- There are moments where he does talk about how powerful she is though, throughout the series, but tbh as much as he does that he probably inhantilize her too *shrug* I need to reread the series, but you are making some sense.

I need Keefe getting mad and someone asking him if he's on his period LMAOOOO

Anyways as someone who loves Keefe you're making valid points. He has his flaws, and sometimes he isn't the best person. In summary

Never post that on pinterest. Those crazy Keefe loving, Fitz hating, Sokeefe shipping 11 year olds will MURDER YOU. I will respect your opinion, but they sure don't.

(your opinion is valid and you have facts *clap and approving nod* you have my respect.)

the post in question

okay, first of all, i need this essay immediately. i literally do not care what it's about but words! lots of words! about kotlc! need.

ooh, thank you so much! i mentioned this in the post itself, but this is a rework. the quotes were originally in one post (copy-pasted from another post) and the explanation was in a reblog, which was hella annoying, so i condensed them. i suppose it does make much more sense now. and my explanation is based in the fact that i don't think people were understanding why this isn't a good thing to be saying, period, when i posted it for the first time. even without context.

yeah, keefe displays a consistent attitude of "sophie is so adorable and small and cute and ditzy and soft". seriously, if you don't believe me, read his perspective in unlocked (or don't, because i'm going to do it for you in my part two keefe rant). it's why i don't buy his accepting sophie as a leader in stellarlune (done in a very, very tell-not-show way, may i add), unless he went through some serious development in unraveled. i may have to dedicate a whole post to that topic . . . anyway, yeah, him calling her powerful and talented feels very, very, very tell-not-show, and when you look at his internal thoughts in unlocked, it portrays her very differently. i'm not a fact of the way he sees her, truly. it feels very dumbed down and uwu-ified. no quotes from unlocked have been put into the post, so i'll have to update it later, but if i included unlocked quotes, this post would be like sixteen times its length. but yeah, you should reread the series before you come to a serious opinion. i'm obviously incredibly biased.

GOODBYE I WAS CITING THAT POST BECAUSE IT GAVE OFF THE EXACT ENERGY I FEEL KEEFE GIVES OFF . . . I DON'T EVEN THINK ELVES HAVE PERIODS (please nobody bring back that cursed discussion again, please, i beg) BUT YOU'RE SO CORRECT. SOMEONE WRITE A HUMAN AU WHERE THIS HAPPENS IMMEDIATELY

yay, a level-headed keefe lover, i love you guys. lol . . . i don't plan to go on pinterest anytime soon, or ever (and i also don't even think pinterest's format even allows for a long post like this . . . ). honestly the thought would have never even crossed my mind, because keepblr is my one true love and i'd never cheat on her. but now that you mention it, it might be funny . . .

[samantha-and-her-chaotic-desires]

The hazbin hatedom is getting out of hand for me it's really cringe. Your thoughts

I have mixed opinions on this. So beforehand, I am going to say that this is a longer post from me, and I appreciate the anonymous message! <3 I will be talking about this specific question, as well as my interpretation, thoughts, and overall feelings on this matter. Please feel free to reblog, like, and comment your opinions and keep it civil. I want to have a friendly discussion, no matter how brash I seem: this is brutal honesty coming from my heart.

For those who have ZERO clue: Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss are dark "comedy" shows for an adult audience, created by Vivienne "Vivziepop" Medrano, originally airing on YouTube. Helluva Boss is currently in its second season, while we have yet to find out anything else on Hazbin Hotel, as it is now a part of A24 and BentoBox. They center on the same setting, Hell, but have two different plot lines.

Hazbin Hotel is redemption focused, led by Princess Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. She wants to help the sinners in Hell become good and go up to heaven to avoid the yearly Exterminartion, aka a Purge. Helluva Boss, however, is about a murdering business called I.M.P., with Blitz, Millie, Moxxie, and Loona, going up to Earth with a grimoire that is provided by Stolas of the Ars Goetia, a prince. So here we go, into the Depths and reasoning of this post: the Hatedom. So lo and behold, my answer below.

On one hand, yes. The Hazbin Hatedom is a bit over the top. Yes, people are assholes. However, the Vivziepop stans who don't want to admit their precious senpai Vivziepop has done some pretty fucked up shit in the past. The hate can be unnecessary, but you know what else can be unnecessary? The toxic stans. I follow #vivziepop for certain analysis portrayals and criticism, or just general news. Sometimes people are tiresome. This is no exception.

I am falling out of the fandom because it can be toxic. I enjoy most of the characters, but other than that? Helluva Boss's current writing is NOT good. At all. The latest episode irked me to no end. I'm unimpressed with Seeing Stars. I am not very happy that they are forcing Stolitz down our throats as an "uwu pwease wove us" type of bullshit ship. I would much rather prefer Blitz and Stolas to be friends. I wished Stolas had his pilot personality and not the "uwu im a gay, tragic prince with a shitty wife, feel bad for me" bird we know in the series.

Moxxie in the latest episode is bitchy. He got on my nerves and was pissed at Millie being happy. This girl deserves more screentime (and I'm glad she got some of it) but seriously...Millie is always there for Moxxie, and Moxxie needs to reciprocate.

They made Stella seem stupid, when in reality, and if written properly, she can be a cunning and calculating villain with her brother. We've yet to see how Octavia and Stella interact, but I'm unsure.

I have definitely tried to keep my mouth shut as much as I could on this matter, because when I finally openly admit how I feel, it's not a pretty thing, especially with something that I'm so passionate about. Animation takes time, writing takes time, scripting, acting, everything takes so much time, and this is wasted potential. We can have so much better than just a fan-ficcy type rom-com, dark humor, sexual humor schtick. It's getting annoying, and I fear the worst when it comes to Hazbin Hotel.

Criticism is welcome here! Let me know what I left out. I'm willing to hear other opinions, so long as they're nice. If anons start flooding my inbox and getting mad, anons are off. Anon is a privilege, not a right.

[weird-dere-fics]

I have some news everyone! 🗞

Hi all! Idk if some of you have noticed, but this blog has been unavailable for a bit. And this is because I've been working on moving blogs! I think it's been time for a change and this space doesn't exactly feel the most cozy anymore. Just feels like a big mess to me now. But that's what comes with trying to figure out who I want to be on here, making lots of changes trying to evolve, etc etc. I do love this blog and all it has done for me; all the growth and progress it shows. But I'm someone new now. And after running this for a while, and making another blog on the side I know I can do it better :3. So! Please come say hello at my new url @weird-dere-writes 🩷🩷🩷

This blog is now officially ⭐ARCHIVED⭐

(but will still be available to look at any of my old things :3)

However long you've been here, thank you for taking this ride with me uwu 🫂💋💋💋💋.

.

.

NAVI

Please reblog!! :)

[hermitcraftx]

gay people go here

james/icarus/patroclus | he/it/they + she sometimes + neos! switch it up

19 | traumagenic system

blog is rated 16+ interact at own risk

follows and likes from @faggotcowboys | alter blog: @lowresolutionboyfriend

hi! wewcome to my bwog uwu i am a longtime tumblr user moving blogs

i mostly post hermitcraft/trafficlife but i dabble in some other stuff too <3

i am a fan of the dream smp but i dont post about it and i have most of the fanbase on here blocked from ye olden days. i dont like interacting with the fandom other than fanart so dont expect that from me if ur blocked nothing personal just how it is

i'm a writer. in theory. mostly i liveblog and shitpost and reblog art but occasionally i will upload my own art or writing

i do not tag for shipping mostly because i am absolute dogshit at remembering. i am an adult and i don't shy away from reblogging suggestive or the occasional nsfw post, but usually they're tagged under #suggestive or #nsft.

i am a beginner artist! please be nice to me :') i use krita

for hc s10 i'll be maining grian, joel, scar, and etho, but as of right now i am also caught up on mumbo, iskall, gem, zombiecleo, and i'm trying to slowly work my way through other people's povs

i main grian and joel! i go apeshit insane over scarian and smalletho, but i also enjoy gribeans/joelian and smallidarian/badboys content. treebark fan by osmosis. outside of trafficblr i watch a lot of content creators but ive been a fan of slimecicle and jschlatt for a while

used to be a wilburian. still like c!wilbur, disappointed and ignoring the actual guy. support shelby shubble and victims of abuse

i dont tag things as duo names i think its dumb as fuck i portmanteau their names or use "ship names" even if i dont care whether its romantic or platonic. if that bothers you block button

i dont believe in dnis but if you are a fan of dreamteam vivziepop jkr matpat or brendon urie i am probably going to block you. no terfs no swerfs no maps no zionists no racists or anti-semities and i am NOT pro-endo but i dont really care?? as long as you dont cause syscourse ur welcome idgaf

i <3 heart weird problematic labels like boygirl fagdyke mspec butch lesbians bi lesbians bi gays cisgender het aros furries neopronouns xenogenders objectum and if any of that bothers you. well. block button

[the-horizon-lounge3041]

Some art to help those who want to join the comic collab, the artstyle is specific as well as simplified and cartoony. The style is basically how I’ve been drawing my fanart, just something simplified and cute looking. I won’t only have artists to help with this I will also have: Writers if you want to write, additional ideas such as humor, and proofreaders.

What is it about?

Well it will be mainly about the Sobeck twins bonding and navigating their sisterhood through hunting lessons, similar to how Aloy was raised. It will be humorous and heartwarming, also because it’s fan interpretation👀….Elisabet lives and finds out she has twins, Aloy and Beta also own a sunwing named Soren. Note: There will be no shipping, not because I don’t respect and appreciate what people ship its that it can get really messy with all the different ships that people have (there can be hints, similar to the art I made that’s Beta being a terd about Aloy being in love).

Extra sheets: Only did Aloy, might do the rest too. But basically she is drawn cartoony and simplified. Her hair is more fluffy, and for comic effect it will poof up if she gets startled. Did a turn around of her head to show her hair’s floofiness uWu. The line art on the characters are kinda doodle-y and sketchy too.

Anyways that’s all there really is, you can DM if your interested if you’d like, or just leave a comment and Reblog with tags please. Thank you and looking forward to working on this collab ❤️

Again this project is entirely on our own time as well, I myself am busy with other projects but I think this will be a fun thing to try when I’m not working on huge projects.

OH! And please use the hashtag Horizon The Adventures of Aloy and Beta.

[sxf-rarepairweek]

hello everyone!! i wanted to give a huge THANK YOU for joining us in celebrating the rare pairs of Spy x Family! to everyone who submitted and to all who have read or shared or commented, thank you so so much!!! this last week and everything leading up to it has been so filled with excitement and anticipation it's hard to believe it's already over.

i'm so so proud of our little community and how many works we've received! as of typing this there are 25 total fanfic submissions (23 works on the AO3 collection (+1 including chapters for each prompt) +1 submitted on tumblr), 9 pieces of fanart, 1 gifset, and 3 headcanons for a total of 38 submissions!!! it's been an incredible turnout, please give yourselves a pat on the back!!

we've reblogged all the submissions we've found, so if yours hasn't been shared yet, please shoot us a dm/ask either here or on @sxf-rarepairs or @ this account so we can reblog it!!

REMEMBER!! even though the Rare Pair Week itself is over, late submissions are always welcome! as they say, rare pair week may be over, but our love for them goes all year long uwu i have a fanfiction or two i'm planning on finishing and submitting myself, so please don't hesitate! this was so much fun that we at the Spy x Family Rare Pairs discord are already planning more events, so please stay tuned!! if you love rare pairs or even if you just have one you ship ironically (for now), we'd love to have you! there's plenty of seats here at the brainrot circus 💜🎪

once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH for making this week a success!! <333 if you'd like to see more charts and statistics, there will be some based on this year's rare pair week below the cut!

hello, welcome to under the read more, because it was already getting quite long!!!

first off, i know i said the number of submission types we received before, but here it is in pie chart form! it's easier to visualize it this way and i think it's fun nwn

plus i made a chart for the totals of submissions each ship got! loid x franky was the most popular, with a whopping 7 pieces!! and there are, of course, plenty of singular works for other rarer pairs (9, to be exact! that's like half the total number of ships!!) i think i had more ideas for other charts and statistics but they have unfortunately fell out of my head in the span of time between starting to write this and actually making the graphs and posting it 😔 so if y'all have any ideas or further questions about this year's week, feel free to send them over!!

if you've read this far, thank you again!!! hope to see y'all in future events! 💜

[starlightsearches]

Homewrecker

hey all! i first started writing this after i watched the movie, and then i was possessed by the need to fuck that old man and i finished it off. hope you like it!! comments, likes, and reblogs sustain me 💖

📼✨ mixtape milestone ✨📼 requests are still open!

Burt Fabelman x F! Reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only, PIV sex, unprotected sex, creampie, infidelity, age gap but reader is of age, car sex, language, smoking, maybe a tiny bit ooc because i only saw the movie once. Let me know if I missed anything uwu

The lit end of your cigarette smolders just outside the glow from the Fabelman's windows, and you take a deep drag, blowing the smoke from your nose, watching the stars flicker on and off in the black sky. There's the tinkling of a piano on the other side of the wall, and a giggle from one of the children—the children who had been sound asleep moments ago, before their parents returned.

"You shouldn't be doing that, you know."

That's Mr. Fabelman at the door. His face is still in shadow, but you catch the gleam of his glasses, and the red center of your cigarette in the dark green of his eyes.

"Why not? I'm old enough," you ask, but you still stub what's left of the smoke out on the bottom of your white patent-leather heels.

Mr. Fabelman shuts the door behind himself, stepping out onto the porch beside you, pretending like his eyes hadn't just been tracing over the shape of your ankle and the curve of your calf. 

"It's a dirty habit. Girls your age shouldn't smoke—not if they're nice girls."

You let out a soft laugh. You are not a nice girl.

Nice girls don't tell tales to all the neighbors about how much they love kids—how they're always willing to babysit, if needed, eyeing up fathers from the front porch as they guide their wives into the car. They don't ride their bikes on windy days while married men mow their lawns, waving like you don't see them trying to steal a glance up your skirt. They don't sneak through parent's rooms after the children have been put to bed to touch the things he's touched, spraying clouds of his cologne into the air, just to breathe it in.

Nice girls don't dream every night about fucking men twice their age.

"What should girls my age do?" you ask, wetting your lips.

"Oh, you know," he glances down, still shy like a little boy when he's fully grown, "you should be going on dates. Going to drive-ins and out to dinner with boys your age."

"Boys my age?"

You scuff your shoe against the concrete when he doesn't answer, and Mr. Fabelman flushes under your gaze. He's not used to being flirted with—which makes it all the more fun, knowing that he loves the attention you're giving him and he knows he shouldn't. Mr. Fabelman tucks his hands impotently into his pockets, and one of them emerges with a fold of bills.

"Here's this," he gestures to his hand with a nod of his head, "for your trouble."

You brush his hand out of the way, letting your touch linger.

"It was no trouble at all, Mr. Fabelman."

The tips of your fingers just wrap over his knuckles. His skin is warmer than the night air.

"Please, call me Burt."

You stand there, letting the silence speak, your touch burning against his hand. The light goes off in the living room, and you imagine the sound of footsteps, but Mrs. Fabelman doesn't peek her head past the curtain or take a glance out the door to check on her husband. The bedroom light switches on above you, casting a glow over the yard.

Burt shuffles back a step. "I'd be happy to give you a ride home, or-"

"Oh, no, thank you. It's a nice night, and not too far a walk."

Neither of you make a move—still as statues, besides the breeze that plays with your hem as it passes by. The light upstairs goes out a few moments later. After a pause, Burt's shoulders drop, like he'd been holding his breath.

He pauses before he speaks, licks his lips. "Do you have any more of those cigarettes?"

Burt loosens his tie just before he lights it, breathing in deep while the little flame still illuminates the sheen of sweat on his face and the tense lines of his neck. He passes you the cigarette between two of his long, lean fingers. The filter is still a little wet from his lips.

He doesn't even notice you're watching him, eyes locked on a house across the street as you both lean back against the window. His distraction serves your purposes fine; you can take him in properly, the curve of his cheeks and turn of his nose.

You pass the cigarette back to him. Smoke pours from his mouth, and the words follow as an afterthought.

"My wife . . . I- she doesn't love me anymore."

"Oh." That's quite a confession. Your heart patters at the cool look in his eyes when he passes back the smoke. "I'm sorry."

He brushes off the apology like he knows you don't mean it, or wouldn't want it if you did.

"I think I may have done something wrong. I keep thinking, maybe if I- maybe she would want to stay with me if I were . . . better-looking."

He drops his head, a look of distaste wrinkling his lips, like the words were bitter coming out.

"You can't blame yourself for that-"

Burt quiets you with a hand on your shoulder. "Do you think I'm dull? Be honest."

"Mr. Fabelman, I-" His hand is heavy and large, spanning half your back, tips of his fingers almost brushing your spine. His thumb just rests against the delicate skin of your neck, and as much as you've thought about the way his touch would feel, your mouth still goes dry.

Burt falters, pulling back slightly, misreading the signs. "No, don't answer that. I shouldn't have asked."

You're feeling a little impulsive—not willing to lose his attention so soon after first having it—and so you take his hand in yours before he can step away.

"I think you're very handsome, Burt. Honest."

Not as honest as you could be, but honest. You want him to feel good about himself—feel desirable—but not at the expense of your own pride.

Or maybe that's just what you want to believe about yourself, because when you feel his rough grip at your neck, pride is the last thing on your mind.

His kiss is messy and contradictory—hands a little harsh as they pull you closer, positioning you the way he likes, like a little doll, but his mouth is tender against yours.

You stand there, stunned, and Burt loses his nerve, stepping back again, a failed apology on his trembling lips. They're still shaking when you kiss him back.

Fuck, he feels like heaven, with your hands cupping his round cheeks, the frames of his glasses nudging against your nose, the little click of your teeth against his when he parts his lips to taste you.

You'd never pull away from him if you could help it. You're aching to keep him close, a whine on your lips when he peels away from you.

His chest heaves, and Burt places his hands on his hips. He stares at you like a problem to be solved. Like he's trying to get to your root.

You want to feel him picking you apart. Want it bad enough your thighs press together.

"Actually, I think I'll take that ride, now."

The stretch is . . . god, it's something else.

You had guessed as much, grinding against his lap in the car's front seat, peppering Burt's lips with feverish kisses and pressing your tits more fully into his hands. He's clumsy with you, in the same way boys your age are—like he's fallen into a pattern with his wife, so late in their marriage that he hardly has to consider what she likes any more. 

But he's considering you, listening for any sounds you might make over the chorus of his heavy breaths. Watches your lips part when he guides your hips down against his. Hears the throaty moan when you feel the fucking log he's carrying around in his pants all day against your dripping panties.

When he pulls his cock from his trousers, Burt looks up at you nervously, stroking his length with soft, short movements, just barely nudging at your clit when he shifts it beneath your skirt. Your tongue clicks wetly against the roof of your mouth, nails carving through his hair.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” you tell him, and you mean it when you say it, which is new. He’s a little stunned, actually, lips parted and hand still. His wife must be used to him by now.

Lucky her.

“Really?” he whispers.

You nod, chewing on your lip. “Do you think it’ll fit?”

Burt shudders beneath you, like he’s physically restraining himself. He can’t even speak. He just nods, pulls you down over him by your hip. 

You might wake the neighbors the way you cry out for him. Might wake up the whole goddamn state of Arizona when Burt sinks you down to the hilt and the sting reaches all the way into your throat.

“Are you alright?” 

He pets a few hairs out of your face, admiring your already wrecked expression. It’s just what you wanted. It’s too much. 

You’re too full of him to speak, so you just nod, shifting your hips back and forth to feel the edges of him knocking around inside your dripping cunt. The soreness is quickly fading, but the fullness does not, and when you shift just right, he nudges against a part of you that has your eyes wide open, not in pain, but with pleasure.

“Oh,” you gasp, doing it again, but harder, some of his length dragging against your swollen, puffy lips before you swallow it down again, humming at the relief.

Burt’s reading the signs, guiding your hips down over him, his hands spanning your waist.

“Does that feel good?” he asks, and you nod, vision blurring a little when your eyes roll back. You can tell it feels good for him, with the way his dick twitches inside of you, how insistent he is with his grip. His chest is heaving, sweat collecting in the collar of his nice dress-shirt, and you’re leaving wrinkles all over the front of it, clinging to him with tense fists.

He bounces you more firmly against him, impaling you on his cock over and over again, so far inside of you it's like you can feel your guts rearranging themselves to make more room for him.

“I’m close,” you whimper, but he has to know that. He couldn’t not know it with the way you’re moaning with every breath, your thighs shaking on either side of his wide, perfect lap.

Burt’s eyes are shut, brow stern, like he’s thinking hard, so focused on the places where your bodies meet that he can’t risk looking at you, your pretty, ruined face too much of a distraction. He nods again, glasses fogged at the edges and slipping down his nose, letting a quiet moan out of his parted lips. 

With shaking hands and a quivering cunt, you press at the bridge of his glasses, sliding them back into place. From somewhere far away, he smiles. 

The pressure in your gut builds and builds, but it’s that smile that really sends you over the edge, muscles clamping around his cock as the bliss spreads through you, reaching all the way to the tips of your fingers, shooting off fireworks behind your eyes.

Burt tilts your mouth towards his with a hand at your chin, gripping your tightly while his lips explore yours. Something sticky and wet rolls down your thigh, his cock spilling heavy streams of cum deep inside your pussy. Your cunt clenches involuntarily, like it’s trying to steal out every last drop.

Burt’s head thumps back against the headrest, and you watch him recover from the high, drops of sweat traveling down his neck, throat shaking with every breath he takes.

You try to shift off him, but he’s still a little hard, and you’re too sore to lift yourself enough for him to slip out.

But Burt doesn’t seem to mind. He pets a heavy hand over your side, looking up at you through half-lidded, content eyes.

“How’d you like to watch the kids again next week?”

[pfhwrittes]

holy shit. hi hello, there’s so many of you now!

uh. um. okay super quick introduction time, i guess?

hi my name is p. i’m 28. i’ve been lovingly referred to as a welsh raccoon by @/391780 on account of the fact that i’m usually awake in the middle of the night through to the early hours of the morning for my timezone. don’t worry about it. i’m basically nocturnal and i’m afflicted with insomnia on a regular basis.

i use they/them pronouns, but i refer to myself as both nonbinary and transgender. it should be pretty fuckin obvious that i love and support all my non-cis siblings but just in case it isn’t, i love you. you’re welcome here. just don’t be a dick. as a side note: i’m firmly in the camp that you can use whatever label or as many labels (or no labels!) as you want and your gender presentation is your own damn business. just please let me know if i misgender you, i don’t want to be that person.

oh, uh. shitty behaviour in my notes or askbox won’t be tolerated. if i see that shit, congratulations you get blocked. we’re gonna be nice here god damn it. there’s no “well i tolerate everyone uwu” here, if you’re an arsehole you get blocked. simple as that.

speaking of reasons to block people, i love and support my darkfic writers. i write mostly fluff, unhinged smut or aus but i reblog (and cherish) darkfics on a regular basis. if that’s your line in the sand, do yourself a favour and block me now. i’m not going to stop reblogging or enjoying reading darkfics any time soon.

oh and technically all my current projects (see my masterlist) are on hiatus as i literally had my tits chopped off last week. in reality, i’m just writing whatever pops into my head while i heal up. apparently that’s a lot of smut right now, both the cisgender and non-cisgender kind. it’s been fun learning that.

i don’t really do requests or anything like that BUT if you send me an ask and it gets the brain worms dancing, who am i to say no?

[transmothergoddess]

"Better to reign in Hell, than to serve in Heaven" - The Devil, Paradise Lost by John Milton

This blog will feature kinks such as:

Pleasure-domming

Incest

Cult-play

Cannibalism

Trans Supremacy

Consensual non consent

Impregnation

And more. This is your content warning. If things of this nature in fiction are not to your liking then you should not be viewing this blog. Minors dni, don't be a dick, etc.

As for turn offs:

Bathroom kinks and diapers

Furry/anthro/scalie and things of that nature

Bothering me without permission

Baby talk or uwu writing styles

Hyper proportions

Men in dominant roles.

Raceplay

If you run a blog that includes one of my turn offs, feel free to follow and interact, but just respect that I'm not interested in that personally and I won't be looking at your blog. I block with enthusiasm, so respect my rules on my own blog and we'll get along.

Rules: For my own mental health and emotional well-being, as well as to suit my tastes, I'll keep a simple list of things I expect from anyone who chooses to interact with me personally, but not with simple likes or reblogs/comments/tags on my posts.

1) Don't take these rules way too seriously. This is for fun and fantasy, these rules are a guideline for my own enjoyment and to get me in the mood and fuel my desires. At the end of the day I'm a normal person that has a lot on her mind, and I can't pay attention to everyone.

2) Uphold a basic standard of literacy with as few spelling mistakes or grammar deviations as possible. I like when people I interact with have a good grasp of writing.

3) Don't beg for tasks, ask politely and with humility. If I am in the mood, I will deign to grace you with my attention.

4) Don't pester me with multiple asks or messages. I don't mind spam likes/reblogs or tons of asks/messages, but when it starts venturing into self-deprecating or begging for attention, I'm liable to block and move on.

5) Respect my privacy and boundaries. I work hard irl and just want to have a fun relaxing time. I also deal with mental illness so sometimes I'll go inactive for awhile for my own sake. If I say I'm dealing with something for instance, give me a bit of breathing room and assume if we were using the red/yellow/green light system that I just invoked a yellow or red light.

6) I primarily soft-domme. I'll do harder stuff if I like you, but it's emotionally taxing and if we do that, I need aftercare. If you don't think a domme should ask for aftercare, just don't bother speaking with me.

7) Irl I struggle with body image issues that I'm trying to work on. Don't ask me about my height, my weight, my size, or just anything about my real body. If you want a picture, and I really enjoy your company, I may send something. But for fucks sake I am sensitive about my appearance and it drives me up the wall when people demand pictures.

8) My preferred honorifics are: Mother, Goddess, Mistress, Queen, or anything that conveys a sort of maternal or holy authority. Mommy doesn't convey the sense of knowing acknowledgement that I like. Fellow tops, dommes, or casual visitors to my blog can instead use "My Lady" or "Your Grace" if it pleases them.

9) If you want more of my attention, think of me as a queen or cult leader with tons of sycophants and menials I deal with on a daily basis. I like intelligent, independent people that show enthusiasm and respect. I like *interesting* people. You aren't just preening for my attention, you should be trying to court me or curry my favor. I tell everyone they're my favorite, but if you actually want to be more than a tool for my pleasure then you have to show me or teach me something interesting.

10) Anyone identifying as a man, he/him pronouns, or masculine honorifics should first show respect and submission to me before sending asks or dms.

With this all in mind, welcome to the Courts of Love, and the Cult of Pleasure~

[minnophee-writes]

A/N: Here's a little snippet of my Johnny fanfic that I'm writing up - I'm still deciding to make it a multi-part fic or try and make it a one-shot, but we'll see.

Warnings: mentions of blood and death, some description of a corpse and some violence.

You ran for the well that you could see in the distance, hoping it might connect to a tunnel system that leads away from the property and to safety. The thundering stomps of heavy footsteps behind you was spurring you on, giving you a small burst of energy to pick up speed and close the distance between you and the well.

Loud revving from the chainsaw started up as a large shadow slowly began to loom over you - your jaw clenched with anxiety as you finally reached the well. You didn't even hesitate and leaped over the uneven brick work, down into the dark depths below. As you fell and landed on a small dirt mound, with a few skeletal remains piled around it, you heard harsh squealing and yelling above. You paused in fear for a moment thinking the man with the leather mask would drop down on top of you but he never came.

You quickly glanced around only to notice some of the same dirt tunnels from before - meaning you were back in the basement, starting back at square one again.

"Fuck... no, no, no, no!" You cursed to yourself as you stood up and started to run down a random tunnel.

Your legs were burning from all the exercise but that didn't deter you. You didn't plan to become minced meat and knew you'd need something to protect yourself with. While you ran your eyes searched for anything useful you could use as a small defensive weapon in case you got grabbed again. Every toolbox you came across wounded with you still empty-handed and you were beginning to become frustrated. As you crept into a somewhat enclosed space you immediately noticed a bloody table with a range of sharp tools scattered across it as well as the shredded remains of one of your friends - Julie Crawford.

Bile rose in your mouth at the sight but you quickly swallowed it as you heard the rushing echos of footsteps closing in on your position. You entered the small room and hid under the table, your hands flew to your mouth to suppress your breaths as a pair of muscular legs came into your view. The man slowly walked forward and seemed to survey his surroundings, his feet navigated their way close to your hiding spot and you held your breath in hesitation.

The man abruptly stopped in front of the table facing Julie's corpse and placed his hands on his hips. He sighed as if he was disappointed but about 'what' you didn't know.

"You know, I kinda liked that girl. I didn't want to hurt her but..." His deep voice stated out of the blue, "family comes first."

The loud slap of palms hitting the table made your body jerk and a strong grip on your wrist caused your muscles to tense as you were dragged out from under the cover of your temporary safety. Your head was yanked back by your hair as your eyes locked onto a pair of blue ones, your heartbeat racing through your ears and your breathing sped up. The man stared back at you as he smirked smugly, a brief chuckle escaped him while his eyes darted over your figure in observation.

"Found ya."

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: please like and reblog this if you'd like me to actually finish and post the fic - that's if you're interested in reading it of course. Lemme know what y'all think and you can also send in requests for future ideas and themes uwu

[cheriboms]

BTTF Year-End Tag Game!

Thank you to both @bttf-dork and @future-boi for tagging me in this ;w; also pika ur comments about my art WAHHHH ILYSM <33 oTL

This year:

How many times would you guess you watched the first back to the future movie?

Since I only hopped on this time train towards the final third of the year lol: fully all the way through, at least 4! Otherwise I've jumped around a lot while looking for clips and references and stuff. So if I stitch all those together, then we'll say approx 5ish :) The first movie is my favorite one!

Did you get any sweet bttf merch? If so, what?

Noooo, I don't really have any merch for things I like, actually... it gives me too much anxiety to publicly show my interests ;w;

How many cans of Pepsi Free did you chug this year?

None LOL I don't really drink soda to begin with, but if I do, I prefer white (lemon lime) soda anyway :P

What was a favorite bttf fanfic you read this year?

I'm going to be honest, I... don't read fanfic very much. 🫣 I usually end up creating my own stuff (art/writing) when I have free time vs looking at other people's, which ik I need to get better at T_T So I don't have a loooot to rec... that being said I MUST shout out "Emmett's first weather expirement." by @alex-a-fans !!! <3 It is my greatest treasure of the year <333

I also really liked "incredible" by @penny-anna, which I read before I officially entered le fandom ;w; lone pine doc and baby marty my beloveds !!!!!

Finally, like basically all of the Doctober prompts from @doctorbrown *O* Days 8, 22, and 30 are some of my favorites, but I really recommend them all oTL theyre SOOO GOOOOOD !!!!!

A favorite bttf fanart you saw this year? (please give us a link, not a screencap/repost!)

See: everything I reblogged. Jk but fr, everyone is so so talented it's really hard to choose :'0 Here's a bunch of some of my faves in no particular order!!

[x] from @hearts-for-winona | [x] from @maxintime | [x] from @future-boi | [x] from @bttf-dork | [x] from @synthsays and @daryfromthefuture | [x] from @therobotwig | [x] from @22194isbestboy | [x] from @mythical-bookworm | [x] from @mkayeatsspaghetii | [x] from @tobytost / @tobytost-star

Did you create any bttf fanart or fanfic? If you did, what one(s) are you proudest of?

Yes I did !!! It is actually the most fan content I've ever made for a fandom since I was in... maybe junior high? So like YUH. Tbh, it's very difficult for me to find what you would call 'pride' in my art so ehh >_>; that being said, I do think that I had a lot of good IDEAS for Doctober (esp days 19 and 28), but my execution wasnt really the best. I would have liked to draw days 17 and 24 (+ time travel day) a little more properly too; like, I'm not as disappointed at how they turned out, but I still wish they were better and/or I could have given them more time. The ones I most actually-tried-and-dont-mind are days 7, 9, and 21 + under the sea dance day. (So many links was probably cheating but tbf I've kinda bent the rules for the past few questions so... whatevs lol). I've ALSOOO still been working on my godforsaken essay, it is 40 pages rn but even tho it's not done, I'm INSANELY proud of it Q_Q

How many times were you late for school this year?

None! B) For one thing I'm graduated lol, but also I'm typically early gang. I'm that person who'd sit in the classroom by myself for like 5 minutes before everyone else would show up LMBO ^^;

Did you watch any other movies/tv shows with BTTF actors in them?

Yess I did!! A... lot actually :0 Most of them were by chance/pre bttf era, but still :P Here is my list as well as I could find, sorry it is soooo long, but what are ya gonna do:

Star Wars/The Mandalorian; The Addams Family (1991); The Tale of Desperaux (2008); Cyberchase; & Clue (1985) -- Christopher Lloyd, havent rewatched the latter 3 since I was a kid and literally went :0 to learn he apparently was in them. Also Kings Quest (2015) which isn't a movie/show but I think it counts uwu

Stuart Little (1999) -- Michael J. Fox, which also rocked my world to discover O_O like hearing it now I'm like "yeah thats him alright" but as a kid I would never have been able to tell you that was the same guy from that time travel movie, despite watching both way too much LMBO

Elf (2003) & Last Vegas (2013) -- Mary Steenburgen, nothing much to say except that she slayed ^_^

Love at the Christmas Table (2012) -- Lea Thompson, I didn't care for it and was shouting "LEA GET OUT OF THIS MOVIE, UR BETTER THAN THIS" like the whole time lol.

Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) & Curious George (2006) -- apparently these have Donald Fullilove (Goldie Wilson) in them? Same w Jason Scott Lee (Whitey) in Lilo & Stitch (2002)??? And Star Wars/Kenobi show apparently had Flea (Needles)????? ...HUH.

I binged both the entirety of Law and Order: SVU as well as Seinfeld this year w my sister; apparently Mary Steenburgen, Lea Thompson, & Casey Siemaszko (3-D) are in at least one episode of the former, while Elsa Raven (Clocktower Lady) and Ricky Dean Logan (Data) are apparently in a random episode of Seinfeld each. So like, technically I saw them, tho I don't distinctly remember it :'D Also, I have been making my way through Little House on the Prairie recently, which has Matt Clark (Chester the Bartender) in a few episodes !

Finally finally finally, I watched I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore (2017), as well as the LOTR trilogy like. Twice? And they all have Elijah Wood of course >:3c

Was there a memorable moment you heard a Huey Lewis song this year?

None in the wild, no :P But I did end up being in the top 0.1% of listeners for Huey Lewis this year... so UHHHHH take that as u will LMBO

How many times did you fall down this year?

Hmmm idk?? Probably at least 1 I would think ???

Did you get to see BTTF: The Musical? What was your experience like!

Nooo, I didn't even know it existed until like October !!! It looks super fun but atm/last I checked it doesn't come to where I live so :( I should listen to the soundtrack soon!

How many times did your mom retell the story of how she and your father met?

At least three times, and then probably a few times I'm forgetting :P

If you could describe your year in a BTTF quote, which one would it be?

The year in general is definitely "Oh great, the atrocity channel!" LMBO (but when hasn't it been since like... 2020? 2016???). For me personally, I think it's either "I don't know if I could take that kind of rejection." or "Don't talk to anyone, don't touch anything, don't do anything, don't interact with anyone, and try not to look at anything." ^^;

⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️ Did you get to: go on any trains, skate on a skateboard, ride a horse, drive a Delorean, run in the rain, go to a dance, hang up a clock, play the guitar, pull an all-nighter, read science fiction, or drive thru Burger King this year?

Your future is whatever you make it! So what are you going to make of this coming year?

I think I'm going to try to post more of the things I make, like my art and especially my writing ;w; Most of the time I'm quite George-ish and am too scared to put any of my stuff out there, for fear that no one will like it, so... I need to get better about that. Also I'd LIKE to get a full-time job and my own place some time next year, but we will see !!!

Idrk who to tag :0 ik @brinkle-brackle @mythical-bookworm and @alex-a-fans have already been tagged but havent technically done it yet... maybe also @backintime @tobytost @ectojester @stillpreoccupiedwith1985 @itsthemorph @doctorbrown @knickynoo and @fourth-dimensional-thinker :) but no pressure to do it, just didnt catch if youd been tagged or not!

[visualnovelzombie]

Furry Visual Novel Book Club: Echo Week 2 SPOILER DISCUSSIONS

Hi everyone, here is the SPOILER discussion post for “Echo - Sunday”

Links: Previous - Next - Original - Spoiler Free Version

Feel free to respond in reblogs/replies/or asks :D

We open with our group headed to the nearby town of Payton where they stop at a vista overlooking the town. Chase films some footage for his project while giving a bit of exposition and lore for our setting, the track “Mitt” begins to play; this game's inquisitive song. We learn about a Mass Hysteria that happened in 1877 that led to the boom town’s eventual decline.

Fans and Players of TSR know this event ends up occurring in 1915 instead of the stated year. My best idea about this discrepancy is that this line was definitely written before plans of prequel were even thought about and the year given just missed in the anniversary update. Maybe it’s a meta acknowledgement and anything seen in TSR doesn’t lead to Echo itself??? (Probably not lol)

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Less Concrete Analysis/Personal Head-cannons that Aren’t Important:

Carl plays a the prank on Chase, which is a fun quirk to give the shy ram.

And Chase’s response/wording is very telling...

Carl/Chase shipping aside, this is one of the acts that cements Carl as Chase’s ‘Magician’ Arcana of Archetypes and I really enjoy the funny bro moment and crush Chase has...

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The group arrive at Southwest Adventures, the local amusement park, and plan their day.

Something not brought up again, although it’s definitely very interesting, is Tj’s motor tick. I wonder if it was just forgotten in the absolute fucking chaos of TJ’s route or was meant as a one off character trait.

They decide to ride the park’s largest roller coaster first and end up waiting in a long line. We get some internal exposition from Chase about the otter needing water, and how living in Echo, he’s unable to do that.

Question: What significance can we get from Chase’s statement?

Answer: This world building does two important things. It establishes Chase as an outsider to even his hometown, and how he can’t truly fit in here (which is very easily reflected in the narrative) and the second thing is to serve as a metaphor for queerness. It was something I missed the first time, still under the impression this was a typical gay UwU romance game with maybe some ghosts later on. It doubles with Chase not fitting into the setting and contrasts with Leo and Flynn being relatively fine in the setting despite both being out gay men, as the two are desert species. It’s a VERY interesting form of writing and world building that is unique to furry stories, and Echo is one of the strongest examples I’ve seen utilize this kind of metaphor. You can argue that Jenna being a type of desert fox but hating the town contrasts the initial theory, but it definitely fits into the second, as she (presumably, as we haven’t seen evidence otherwise) is not queer. This also leads into Tj’s general uncomfortable-ness with himself and sexuality in general. The poor guy is a lynx trapped in a dry desert, at least Chase can find solace in a pool (and others he’s willing to express himself to).

Right before boarding the train, Chase gives the extremely nervous Tj a way out of the ride, but the lynx decides to ride despite his trepidation, resulting in Chase being injured from Tj’s claws during the ride.

Spoiler Note: Chase gives Tj an easy way out of something and ends up with slashes along his arms for it… But on top of the dark foreshadowing, Chase constantly babies Tj too. Tj IS his soft little UwU twink, like he is for the audience.

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Less Concrete Analysis/Personal Head-cannons that Aren’t Important:

This is also a crack theory/headcanon and almost certainly not planned from the onset, but I like to think Chase developed a crush on Tj despite the weird ‘Jesus Stuff’ takes from Chase and preferring bigger boys, cause Samuel kept telling him “PLEASE talk to the Christian Cat Boy, I need the comradely”

also...

PEE MENTION COUNTER: 1

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The Track Intimate begins to play as the two finish composing themselves in the restroom, the soft and charming tones of the song are calming and extrude a sense of kinship and serenity. Carl ends up becoming sick from the ride and an early snack, so he, Chase and Tj decide to skip out on rides with the others and the group breaks into two parties.

Spoiler Note: The groundwork for Chase not being in the motel room is now full on text with a pattern for it happening being developed for later…

The three end up discussing their moobs… which results in Carl more or less turning to the camera and explaining to the audience what archetypes the characters fall under in case you didn’t get the memo (albeit for anime-girl nonsense)

QUESTION: Establishing character tropes is a time tested and nearly universal form of information convenience for media. Is there anything that can be gained from such a clear example of expressing those tropes to the audience?

ANSWER: It’s because the tropes are going to be so inverted you’re going to puke your guts out. Howly sets up the beginning as nearly a painfully cliche opening just to turn it on its head so fast it breaks everyone’s neck. Also Cheerleader Chase as the preppy one everyone likes….

We come to our second choice of the game, whose shoulder to sleep on. Did you choose the Soft Twink or Weed Chub?

Carl - Chase snuggles up to the Ram and Carl responds by putting his arm behind Chase, the otter enjoying the act of closeness.

Tj - Chase leans on Tj, commenting on how it’s easy to get the Lynx to help out. Chase falls asleep commenting on the warmth and softness Tj has.

Spoiler Note: The foreshadowing is really laid on thick here…

Chase falls asleep and a dream sequence plays out, while the track “Creep” begins playing, an ominous synthetic piece that evokes tension and unease. Chase dreams of suffocating while some entity with unnatural footsteps follows him. Chase nearly repeats the opening two lines of the novel. The entity rushes Chase after hearing him speak where we get the line, “You’re only moving in circles.” repeated again. The lines and unique font from the opening are repeated verbatim

Not only is this an injection of horror to break up the trope-y romance, but a flag to the connection that Samuel and Chase share.

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Less Concrete Analysis/Personal Head-cannons that Aren’t Important:

Samuel and Chase are deeply and nearly cosmically intertwined with murder cavern section of the mines. This along with events from tomorrow, are the first inclining of being able to witness other and various timelines, and I believe when Chase is having a night terror, there exists the possibility for him to see other timelines/world-lines/events that him, Sydney, Mr. ‘Chip’ Bronson, or Samuel (or even Jack) have witnessed. The cycle of trauma passes along, over and over again, and this is our first wake-up call to it.

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Chase wakes from the nightmare, gasping for air. Carl and Tj’s sprites are both happy, a clear contrast to what the player and Chase just witnessed. Chase checks his phone and texts Leo for the groups to rejoin and grab lunch together. At this time (and any time the phone is available), if you use the mouse to click on the center ‘home button’ through the game’s UIyou can exit the messaging app and access Chase’s homescreen. The only apps clickable are the messaging app that returns the player to the conversation… and a fun easter egg app called “Predater” which features the visage of a certain stinky-yote sheriff… It is definitely a fun and non-spoiler easter egg filled activity to click around the app.

(My Favorite One!... also if this is Brian I would be dead within two hours of opening the app <3)

And the one that works the best as a gag AND story significance/theming...

The group gathers for lunch only for Jenna and Leo to be absent. The two are playing carnival games together and Chase goes to join them. The two are carrying a horde of stuffed animals that Jenna has one. Fun Fact: The stuffed toys are all deliberately mythical creatures, as the ‘people’ of the world are animals. Just a small and very neat bit of world building i wanted to highlight! The two argue about competing in one last game, and Jenna eggs Leo on by involving Chase (as well as the first real confirmation that two share a history)

The track “Carefree” begins to play, an upbeat and cheery song. We get a sprite for the Carny… which is someone’s actual cat that won a contest for the sprite to be added in the anniversary update! Leo calls Chase by an old petname… something Chase isn’t entirely opposed to.

Leo loses a contest of strength to Jenna, where she then reveals to Chase that she had worked at a carnival during a prior summer as well as the game being more precise and technique than only about pure brawn. Jenna kisses Chase on the cheek, causing Leo to fret a bit before storming off. Jenna then asks Chase a VERY important question.

I am going to cover both options for both the following scene, and during the route itself so choose whichever one you’re more comfortable with! I would recommend to choose the one you haven’t already done, only to unlock all music tracks as the ending credits are different depending on the choice ~

I’m Gay - Chase laments about explaining his sexuality to people and chooses to avoid the topic by repeating what Jenna believes.

No I’m Bi - Chase admits he’s bisexual and Jenna is clearly interested in this information…

No matter which decision the player makes, Chase is still Bisexual. Admitting his sexuality opens up a romance option during Jenna’s route.

Question: What does the player’s choice not having an effect on Chase’s sexuality convey? Why is that important, and why is it important that Chase remains bisexual then?

Answer: This is the game hinting that we’re not playing a blank slate, that Chase Hunter IS a character, and not a vessel for the player. Just for Samuel. This informs the player that not every action Chase makes is fully up to them (EXTREMELY important for Flynn and Tj’s route). Chase remaining bisexual is important for the story because it still solidifies him as the same person with the same struggles outside of the player’s willingness to partake in straight romance, as well as setting Echo with a unique identity and representation around Furry Visual Novels, which are predominantly male dominated, MLM spaces. (Which is a fascinating phenomena I would like to see studied to some degree!)

After time passes off camera, where in which the group have fun together, they return to the motel for the evening. Chase ends up outside, filming for his project and is greeted by Jenna and Leo. Leo reminisce about the history the three share and how it started with the three of them becoming friends after Leo moved to Echo from El Salvador with his family.

We’re met with the order the group joined, as well as the mention of a name we haven’t seen until now., ‘Sydney’.

The three banter on top of desert ambience as Leo makes a bit of physical contact with Chase with his tail.

Jenna and Leo contrast their family life and responsibilities, Leo being tied to his and Jenna desperately wanting to escape hers. Jenna then brings Leo and Chase to confront each other about their history together before returning to the motel room.

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Less Concrete Analysis/Personal Head-cannons that Aren’t Important:

HAHA IM NOT CRYING SHIDDING AND THROWING UP YOU ARE

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Leo opens with an apology to Chase as ‘Intimate’ begins to play. The two argue about their anchor bracelets.

Leo explains they’re not above love, but about friends and families,with Chase clarifying they’re about Echo. We’re treated to our second CG

Chase shares his feelings with Leo about their hometown. We learn Chase’s viewpoint on the symbolism that’s etched into the game’s very textbox… as well as Chase’s feelings towards the aforementioned Sydney.

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Less Concrete Analysis/Personal Head-cannons that Aren’t Important:

Spoiler Note: Oh this isn’t even foreshadowing it’s just telling you what’s fucking happening and what’s going to happen. Also I’m a bit incoherent here because these few lines actually make me cry i just found out…

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Leo changes the subject to how Chase left things between them, learning a fact that turns the dynamic built between the two on their head.

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Huh, what an interesting choice of accessory…

🐺 👽 ...

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Personal Viewpoint Question: Does the nature of the breakup between the two change how you view/viewed Chase?

Answer: This is completely personal and less of a discussion, but I certainly remembered being caught completely off guard from the fact Chase did something so out of the ordinary. I was dead set on Leo being the problematic, mostly likely abusive or toxic (as one does in horror settings) boyfriend, but learning that Chase was the one who did the ‘messed up thing’ was certainly a shock to the system

The two embrace each other before being pulled from the moment.

The two return to the hotel room and the day ends as Chase heads out for the night…

which you can read about here /shitpost but also check it out <3

Another dream sequence begins, mentioning the group at the lake playing together.We see events relating to the fateful day everything changed for the group...

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That ends Sunday for our reading! Thank you to everyone who participated! I love feedback and discussion but just people enjoying the journey and reading these as letsplay is fun too ~

Our Reading for next week after voting is...

Best Boi Carl 🐏 🐏 🐏 🐏 🐏

Reading Assignment Particulars:

On Monday the Route Split happens. To pick Carl’s Route, select this option during the Events of Monday

(I would also recommend saving right before this option by using the rewind feature, as this is the route split for all characters!)

This will takes us to Monday, and as Monday and Tuesday are relatively short days, we will also read all of Tuesday for Carl’s Route! Stop at the following screen:

As a note, if a choice appears that I didn’t discuss, feel free to choose either option as it wont affect the outcome of the route. I’ll be sure to discuss both so you can see what the other option(s) look like! 

Thank you everyone again, and remember this is SPOILER discussion.

Link to SPOILER FREE DISCUSSION HERE