imagines-for-earthbread - Tumblr blog

[imagines-for-earthbread]

preeeettpety petretyy pleaseeee give me lattefort....make them be nice and happy together idc give me a nice fluffy scenario

Roguefort came to her like the shadow of a wind, passing from window to window with the slow, meticulous ease of a stalking cat. To any attentive eye who saw them, they'd seem to be prowling, peering into one window after another with the intention to rob the homeowner of all that she had. They'd hate to inform them, then, that they had already stolen that which was most important to them.

Eventually one of the windows was cracked, the light was on: Roguefort clung to the trellis of vines that climbed near to the roof, leaning over to gaze in.

The bedroom was fairly lit, illuminated by both a candle on the nightstand and a lamp in the corner, providing fair reading light for the woman inside. She was dressed in a cozy-looking silken robe, the sleeves of soft pajamas peeking out of them, hair tied up in a loose bun behind her head. The side table she sat at was occupied with paperwork, likely from her professorial duties at the Parfaedia Institute of Magic--but instead of the papers, she read a book instead, her expression soft in the fairweather light.

Her smile brought a smile of their own to their face.

Carefully, Roguefort positioned themself, slinging the plastic bag onto their arm as they moved to rap lightly against the glass window. Latte Cookie looked up from her book at the first knock, smiled back at them on the second, and rose to her feet on the third, sliding a bookmark between the pages. She came up to them, posture loose and relaxed, and raised the window.

"Oh, goodness," she said, perching her elbows on the window sill and looking up at them, her eyes as sweet and loving as a doe. "To think that I'd be visited by Phantom Bleu themself at such a late hour. Oh, whatever am I to do? I've nothing of value to my name..."

"Nothing of value?" Roguefort teased, their heart skipping a beat in their chest. "My, that's such a shame for you to say that. Simply looking at you, I can firmly declare that to be an outright lie."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

The stars were out tonight, the moon full and bright. It shown down upon her, striking against her hair, giving it an unearthly, angelic glow that formed a halo of light all around her. Angel, they thought.

"A beautiful young lady--such as yourself--has much more to offer than merely trinkets and money. And certainly, you have something that I desire very, very much in this moment."

"Why come to my window, then, dear?" she asked: "Surely, you could have snuck inside some other way?"

"I couldn't." They shifted slightly, flexing the arm supporting their weight, easing some of the tension it held. "For I see you have it in your possession right now, as we speak. I've already stolen some of it: I intend to take much more, if you will allow me."

"And what might that be?"

"I've stolen some of your time, dearest one to my heart." Roguefort said this softly, leaning closer to the window, closer to her, leaning down. "If you would let me, I plan on stealing even more."

"You silly cookie!" Latte giggled, a pleasant sound that shivered in the air and left trills of delight singing through Roguefort's body. They felt the smile on their face lighten, easier now, the laugh inspired from her rumbling out of their chest in answer. "You've already stolen my heart, and now you're demanding my time!"

"Not for nothing, of course," they pointed out, lifting up the bag of food they've been holding onto. "I always leave my calling card, after all."

"Come inside, Roguefort, won't you?" Latte asked, stepping away from the window to make room for them, inviting them inside, so willing and trusting. "I'd hate to see you fall. Not when you've my heart still with you."

And inside they went, first passing over the bag of food to her, then easing themself inside first with their feet. It was slow and deliberate--there was no need to rush, no fear for the consequences of being caught. After all, his presence was already very much known, and if the look on her face when they stepped toward her and closed the distance was any indication--the way she lifted her head expectantly, closing her eyes as they leaned in--they would be welcome for many more visits to come.

They kissed her, soft and sweet. They always enjoyed doing this, stealing these kisses, even though they knew it wasn't really stolen so much as it was given. Just like the time that they 'stole', and the heart that they 'took'--all of it was given to them freely, under the one, sole condition that they take care of her heart as if it were their own.

When they parted, Latte lifted up her hands, taking their hat from their head and setting it on her own with a playful giggle. "You look beautiful tonight," they said, brushing a stray strand of hair hanging over her forehead.

"And you look enchantingly mysterious," she answered. "And very thoughtful, bringing me food. You're very sweet. I hope that you brought enough for the both of us, because I've been hoping to dine with you for some time."

They weren't intending on it: The food truly was mostly for her, so that she'd have some leftovers to bring with her to work for the next day or so. Exam season was fast approaching, and they heard that during this time of year, teachers were under much more stress than usual.

"You'd like me to dine with you?" they asked, putting a thoughtful hand to their chin. Latte hummed, nodding her head, eyelashes fluttering expectantly. "Very well, then. What kind of gentlecookie would I be to refuse the offer of a beautiful lady like yourself?"

"Now I'm the one stealing your time," she teased, her smile so wide that they crinkled the edges of her eyes. "Aren't I?"

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Introducing our newest writer!

Mod Madeleine

✶ Pronouns: He/She ✶ Prefers: Anything!! I can pretty much characterize anybody. ✶ Will not: Anything I don't want to do, pretty much.

We hope you all will welcome her with open arms!!

~penned by Mod Espresso ☕️

[imagines-for-earthbread]

can you do one with almond and latte? just them having a good time together out in the town :)

“Oooh! Almond, look at this one!” The teacher exclaimed in awe at a dress displayed in the window, nail tapped against the glass as she pointed. Today was a rare day; a day where both the detective and the professor had a day off! Latte was particularly excited about this, but honestly Almond would rather be sleeping in a recliner right now rather than being Latte’s personal bag rack for her shopping endeavours. But he can’t lie, being with Latte is always pretty fun even if he thinks what they’re doing is pretty silly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s… Nice.” He sighed, taking a sip of the espresso Latte had bought for him as compensation. “You think it’d look nice on me?” She asked, glancing back at him.

“Eh.” He shrugs. “I don’t take periwinkle to be your colour.” He said as he took another sip nonchalantly. This warrants a gasp from Latte and for her to turn to face him, laying her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow at the man. “I could DEFINITELY pull off periwinkle!” 

“You willing to spend $500 just to prove me wrong?” Latte pauses, her body turned to look at the price tag, before she promptly crossed her arms over her chest and let out a ‘hmph!’ “‘S what I thought." He said, a triumphant little smirk on his face. "I’m hungry, you wanna get lunch yet?” Latte thought for a moment before she nodded, picking up the bags she’d laid on the ground in front of the window and then reaching over to grab Almond’s hand so she could drag him to the nearest coffee shop.

After ordering and sitting down, Almond let out a sort-of exasperated sigh as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his ankles under the table as he unwrapped the muffin he’d bought for himself and taking a bite. Latte settled down across from him, but sitting on the edge of her seat and leaning in; a complete opposite of how Almond was sat.

She pushed a bag towards him then opened her own snack she’d bought for herself. “Walnut still likes chocolate croissants, right?” Almond looked at the bag she pushed to him, peeked inside and found just that; a chocolate filled croissant. He looked to Latte, cocking a brow. “You remembered?” “Of course I remembered! You underestimate Aunt Latte! Auntte, if you wi-” “Don’t call yourself that. But yeah, she does. Thanks, she’ll like it.” He said as he tossed the croissant into a bag full of stuff both him and Latte had bought for Walnut – but most of it was from Latte. She had a tendency to spoil all of her friends' children when she wasn’t spoiling said friends – which she was at that moment. A good half of those bags were for Almond, just random things he’d happened to comment on or pick up and new clothes, comfortable and formal for the few parties he gets dragged to by Latte.

“Have you ever had one?” Latte asked, head tilted as she waited for his answer. “Uh… No? I don’t care for sweeter stuff–” “Do you want a bite of mine?” The speed of her question had him stutter, but before he could say ‘I’m okay’ she was leaning over the table. “C’mon, you’ll like it! What cop doesn’t like anything sweet once in a while?” She grinned down at the detective, in return getting a sigh. “You know what– Alright. Fine, let me have a bite.” He grumbled. 

Latte moved her croissant to Almond’s lips and her free hand under his chin to catch any crumbs. Of course, this warranted stares from other people in the diner but neither of them seemed to notice, nor exactly care. Latte sat back in her seat after he took his bite, waiting for his answer.

“How was it?”

“...Good, surprisingly.”

“...You want one?”

Almond stared for a moment before he chuckled softly at her eagerness to spend money on him. He smiled, leaning back in his chair again with a small smile at the woman across from him. 

“Yeah, sure.”

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Can I get something romantic between warlord longan and dread trident sea fairy? (Both are lesbians)

The ocean was deeper than they remembered. Long did the trenches at the bottom of the ocean extend, ever darker and ever deeper, ever heavier as it pressed down upon them. They felt it in their scales as they breathed and as they moved, even though the dim trill of magic still hummed in their lungs and prolonged their life. They weren't a swimmer, but they swam now, in search of anything that existed anymore, even if it wasn't gilded gold or ever touched by the rays of the sun.

They didn't know what they were looking for. Something alive? --Certainly, the ocean here teamed with its own particular breed of life. Ancient fish and creatures whose shapes held up under this oppressive pressure, who were both clear and glimmered with their own particular brand of bioluminescence whose purpose served to lure prey closer. They would have to struggle less to find food in the dark that way.

Or something ancient and forgotten? There were many shipwrecks in the ocean, pirate ships and cargo boats that found themselves a necessary end. Cookie skeletons slumbered at the bottom of the sea, sugar bones cracked and frayed and perhaps nothing by now, if the years of observing the whalefall were anything to take into account. A ship didn't harbor as necessary an ecosystem as a whale did. Cookies were too small--too insignificant--to matter much down here. And that was only if their bodies made it down this deep in the first place.

They spent years diving the depths of the world, taking in the wildlife that existed subservient to dragons. They found Sugarteara and tore it to pieces mightily, cookies and shrapnel sharp upon their tongue, coral buildings torn to pieces by tail and claw. They hadn't caught every Sugartearan cookie in the slaughter. Some of them, even, managed to flee, scattered across the ocean like motes of dust in a high wind.

Perhaps that's what Longan Dragon Cookie was searching for: The survivors.

Fish, treasure, or stragglers... It was impossible to tell anymore.

Their eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness that permeated so deep without the aid of a dim, golden magic. Their lythe, draconic form wound its way, serpentine, ever deeper, twisting into the underwater canyons and gullies below. Their claws scraped against the smooth stone walls worn away by a millena of salty current and water wear.

They could hear their nails scratching at its surface more clearly now than ever--the noise was louder under the water, and the dense pressure only served to amplify it. They could almost hear their very own bones creaking and hear the shifting of their leathery scales rubbing against each other. They could hear the ichor flowing in them from the tip of their nose to the tip of their tail.

And they heard the sound of nothing--nothing, that was, except the sound of pressure, the noise of the ocean itself breathing.

They snuffled their snout against the earth at their side, snorted, and dug their claws in deeper, determined to leave their mark. They were here. And in a million years, they would come back and leave this mark down here again, fresh and deep, because there was nothing left to do. The world was empty.

The world was quiet.

At the bottom of the trench lay a gently swirling expanse of dusky sea brine, of which the haze beneath concealed the true bottom of the ocean floor. Longan Dragon Cookie paused here, golden eyes shining light and making the cloudy mass almost seem to glow with an apparent halo. It looked like the sunlight reflecting off of the clouds, only salty, wet, and dense. This was where the heaviest matter collected at the bottom of the ocean. Testily, Longan Dragon Cookie extended their paw, reaching inside to press down to find there was no immediate ground to stand upon. The trench extended deeper than life and deeper than sight.

A noise reverberated all around them suddenly, echoing loudly off of the ever-narrow walls of the trenches and leaving a dim ripple of water flowing east in its wake. It sounded like the ocean--not something cracking and breaking all at once, falling to the bottom of the ocean floor, but moreso the humming of an ancient song, one that only Earthbread itself could possibly know. Something about it seemed familiar to Longan, though they couldn't quite place it.

Longan twisted their head in the direction of the noise, bracing themself upon the precipice that dipped into the briney sea, weighted down upon by pressure and cold. For all their sense of sight, they couldn't see particularly far ahead of themself. It probably wouldn't have done much in the first place.

The noise didn't stop. It rumbled within the earth, tingling their claws and sending shivers down the length of their body, from the tip of their nose to the tip of their tail. It shuddered in the air with every ancient note, a siren's call that sang an ancient song of love.

To investigate or to draw themself back?

Well. Longan Dragon Cookie had conquered the world with a mighty swiftness and resolve, dragging the world from a golden age of pathetic, crumbling cookies to the golden age of dragons sprang anew. If life could exist, even down here--if this was a song being sang by a cookie of any form--even if it seemed unlikely that any cookie life could exist this far down, they knew what they had to do.

Powerful legs and a serpentine body snaked its way through the water, defying the laws of gravity, twisting its way through the current. The noise only grew louder, raising in volume, not for lack of becoming louder on its own but for how distant it apparently was. It followed the sea of brine--a sea so long that at some point, they were willing to call it a giant's river instead. The darkness was cold, and it was difficult to see farther than a short distance ahead of them. They found themself hugging the wall of the trench more often than they didn't.

They didn't know how long they swam. Hours, perhaps--it felt like it might have been days. Time was impossible to measure down here, unless one wanted to waste the effort to keep count of seconds and minutes and hours themself. Longan was not one of those creatures. After all, they had all the time in the world now.

As they swam, the taste of the brine seemed to grow thicker, punctuating the water with a taste so dense one could choke on it. They thought at first they were hallucinating how the brine seemed to rise as they traveled, but eventually there came a time that even they had to admit they were wrong.

They traveled for many hours--until, finally, a most peculiar sight met their eyes: A wall of brine, filtering slowly down, in a manner not dissimilar to a waterfall. Longan Dragon Cookie sniffed at the air, magically artificial gills flaring, head lifting in defiance of gravity. Gravity itself threatened to pull them under for how much the water tried to strangle them--they had to kick their feet with great aggression to not sink deeper before they were ready.

The song by now had stopped, the water stilling with the silence of nothing save the beating of a dragon's heart and the breathing of the ocean. Longan gazed upward, estimating the likelihood that the brine was pouring from somewhere above. It was easier to go down than it was go go up, they decided--and besides, it's not like they had anywhere to go but up or back the way they came, anyway. Twisting their body to face upwards, they began to swim in the serpentine manner that their cousins swam upon the air in the far-off tundra.

They thought of their corpses, intermingled in the midst of a fierce battle that ended up leaving the earth flowing red with the flow of dragon jam. They died protecting each other--protecting the cookies that they saw fit worthy to protect--and for what? Nobody would remember them now except as the villains who stood in the way of the re-emergence of the glory of dragons. It was a fitting end for the greater good. They knew not the forces they toyed with.

After a long, long while of swimming upward, taking rest at perches they found along the way, eventually they found they could rise no more. The brine filtered in from somewhere in the cavern wall, which meant there was a hole that led elsewhere. Longan Dragon Cookie's tail lashes furiously, glowering at the brine that drifted steadily downward and tumbled upon itself in slow motion. What a waste of time, they thought with disgust. And they were about to leave when all at once the song of the sea resonated once again.

It was louder here--loudest, even. The source of the noise seemed to come from wherever the source of this brine was.

Longan's tail thrashed, body dancing contemplatively before the brine. Fine, they eventually concluded. They'd come this far. What would be the point if they retreated now? Taking a deep breath of water, Longan Dragon Cookie flattened their gills shut (a feat that wasn't easy and took a great deal of concentration in itself) and dove forward.

It was very thick--so thick, it was viscous. The tunnel they twisted through was large enough to fit their body, but it was impossible to see and seemed even more impossible to work through. More than once, Longan found themself pausing, taking a moment to register from what direction the brine came by sensing the dim pull of the current. It seemed to bring them ever-upward. They held their breath so long that their lungs burned. They held their breath for so long that they had to breathe, and they sucked in water that was more salt than it was water and half as fluid. It burned in their gills, sharp and painful, rubbing the fragile flesh beneath raw and tender.

The song was still singing when Longan breached the surface of the brine, clawing their way through the final gap and finding themself finally drifting above it all. They opened their gills and breathed, heavy at first, and then softer. Already, they found themself bring dragged down by gravity once more, but it felt easier to move from where they currently rested, though it was no less difficult to see. There was no light here--none from above--though looking down, the brine on the ocean floor seemed to glow the palest of teals.

The song rocked softly, so loud that their head buzzed from the noise. It sounded louder to their right, so they angled their head in that direction and began to swim to investigate.

They drifted close. Closer. The golden light shining off of their eyes illuminated what lay ahead dimly, until they could see the face of what looked to be some kind of statue--the statue of the beautiful face of a young woman, one who looked so distantly familiar, Longan could swear they should have been able to remember her name. And yet the song of the sea seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within the statue, playing like the distant memory of a lullaby.

Before Longan could think too much of it, the statue suddenly moved. Soft, quiet eyes suddenly stared back at them, and the music that the sea had been singing all this time faded all at once.

Longan flinched backwards for a moment, alarmed, but didn't draw too far back. Recognition snapped into place in their mind all at once--the song of the sea a song that sailors used to sing on the ocean when they missed their loved ones at home. The thick sea of brine that twisted like rivers in the trenches of the sea, the very same brine that fell from her head like hair. The tale of the Sea Fairy, how she loved the moon so fiercely she never stopped trying to reach the cookie she loved, until finally she did and disappeared thousands of years ago.

This was where she disappeared to.

She stared at them for a long moment, the living embodiment of water staring deeply into their own eyes with a chronic lack of fear that either came from ignorance or dismissal. The brine glowed stronger now, as if awoken from a deep sleep of its own, shimmering a cold teal and allowing Longan to finally see for the first time in what felt like weeks.

She was silent. They were, too.

"I thought you were somebody else for a moment," Sea Fairy murmured, her eyes drooping tiredly. The glow of the ocean floor eased, but didn't go away entirely.

Longan answered: "The depths of the ocean is far too deep for any light from the sky to reach."

"I know," came the quiet answer--quiet, though it still trembled loudly in the air. She shifted, her eyes sliding away from them and drifting to the side, a spark of some unnameable emotion Longan never cared to consider slipping onto her face for a moment.

"So this," Longan Dragon Cookie noted, gazing about the empty ocean themself, "is where you have been hiding all of this time, brooding because you could never reach the unreachable dreamer." It wasn't a question--it was a statement of fact.

Sea Fairy hummed, the sound not dissimilar to the song they'd heard in their search to find the source. The song of love. Were Longan Dragon Cookie not fully aware of just whose domain they resided in, they likely would have scoffed.

"You have dived quite deep," she murmured finally, "to have come here." Carefully, her eyes slipped back over to them, her brow lightly furrowed as she gazed upon the comparatively small dragon. "I wish that you hadn't."

"I certainly didn't descend these depths to find you," Longan proclaimed, searching the ocean floor for a distant island that could be deemed at a safe distance. There was none. "I followed the sound of the sea's song of love, and it brought me here. That is all."

"What are you doing so deep in the first place?" she asked, moving. Longan Dragon twisted back, scowling, but she continued to move her arm, slowly extending a cupped hand, assumedly for them to perch upon. As if they would. "You're no manner of sea dragon."

The bubbles rose from Longan's snout in a shimmering gesture, eyes shifting from hand to face to general demeanor. Her hair fell slowly in waves, blanketing the bottom of the ocean floor in a salty teal that glowed with the power of her magic. Somehow it made her seem paler, framing her face and making it almost seem to glow like the face of the moon on a clear night--all except for her eyes, dark and carefully neutral like the depths of a somber sea.

She was beautiful, they thought.

"I could ask the same," they answered briskly, turning their head aside but still keeping their eye on the waking legend. "But we already know that reason. Don't we?"

Sea Fairy Cookie blinked.

"Is that why you're here, then?" she asked, voice humming like the the curling currents. "To relish in fate's decision to leave you lonely?"

Longan Dragon opened their mouth to speak, but paused, grimacing--an out-of-character action that took them by surprise. But there was something to it that troubled them, rearing its ugly head and hissing with agony and frustration. For several long moments, Longan Dragon Cookie puzzled over it, eyes flickering slowly and warily over the oceanic hue surrounding them.

And then it hit them.

'Alone'.

In all of Longan Dragon Cookie's efforts to expunge the world of all cookie life, they've found themself alone. In electing to live their life in accordance to the superiority of dragonkind, they've also turned away from their very own family--their dragon kin, their brood, their heart. How disgustingly attached to mortal musings they had been. How spiteful and angry they were to turn Longan's vision for the future away.

They'd seen these events unfold. They knew this song and dance. As far as they were concerned, it was worth a millennium of loneliness, if it meant destroying the cookies who were destroying the world and the legacy left behind by dragons everywhere.

But now they were facing the consequences.

And here they were, facing the unforeseen--a living goddess hiding beneath the sea, for a thousand years hence, unable to face her own loneliness in her longing for the sleeping moon.

Briskly, Longan's tail thrashed back and forth, claws digging into the stone to keep themself rooted in place. "I made my decision long ago," they hissed, vile and contemptuous, turning their head to glare at the queen of the sea. Such a shame that it wasn't quite so easy to turn the very sea itself into stone.

She met their gaze for a long, silent moment that was only as silent as a dragon's heart beat. It was only as silent as the static noise of the ocean floor. Somewhere leagues away, a whale hit the bottom of the ocean floor, alone and dead.

She closed her eyes and shifted her head, the light of her magic flickering subtly.

"I did, as well," she whispered. "A long, long time ago."

She really was beautiful, Longan decided. They wondered whether the moon saw her face looking up toward the sky, eyes meeting eyes in desperate want to hold her hands and dance together rather than miles upon miles away from each other. Had Moonlight seen her--seen her reaching out her hands toward the sky from atop her tower, trying to do something so small as to be acknowledged once more by her love?

Or had Moonlight merely slept through it all, peaceful and unawares, as uncaring to the sea's pull as a cream wolf was to it's freshly-killed meal?

"Perhaps," Sea Fairy breathed, drawing Longan grudgingly from their thoughts, "if you don't mind... perhaps we can be lonely together. Just for a while."

She lifted her hand once again. Unlike her face, it was dark, like the abyss of the sea swallowed the light and refused to grant it purchase. They hadn't noticed it when she lifted her hand before, and they hadn't noticed when she moved her hand back to her side.

Dubiously, Longan turned their attention toward her face once more, taking in the expression of her eyes, the movements of her face. Perhaps she was trying not to sound desperate. Who knew how long she'd spent in these depths in an exile of her own making, cold and alone?

Who knew how long it'd take for Longan to find company of their own, in the world above the sea where their pairs of eyes could see?

They knew.

"Very well," they scoffed. "If only for a time."

Gradually, they lifted themself up and swam to Sea Fairy's waiting hand. They nestled there uneasily, muscles tense and poised to spring away at the slightest sense that danger was afoot. But her hand didn't move, and it was oddly warm to be held by the hand of a cookie god where the sun never touched and warmth only came from volcanic vents along the sea floor.

They hoped, then, that they didn't sound desperate.

[imagines-for-earthbread]

are the imagines dead? ':O

Nope, we're still here! We thank the community for the support, we honestly weren't expecting to get any asks so quickly so we've been dealing with pressure to put out quality content. Which also comes with time!

We're trying to get requests out in a timely manor, but we also prioritize putting out responses we are proud of. Please be patient, we have seen your asks and are getting to them soon!

~penned by Mod Espresso ☕️

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Would it be okay to write some kind of gentle kiss between moonlight and cream unicorn?

The land of dreams is cold.

Everyone would think that the realm would stay warm, always full of laughter from children playing along the many games of the theme park, riding their favorite rides, and enjoying their sleep. But the tale never lasts for long, and Cream Unicorn finds themselves alone in this world again.

There had been times they had wondered; what was their purpose? Was it to solely be the lone guardian of this land, to live in loneliness for eternity? Never being able to make a connection or play for long, it had to be a curse. Their creators must have hated them to put them in such a cruel fate. To never befriend a cookie, was it their fate?

It had all changed once they realized they never were truly alone. The moon goddess, who had heard their cries while in her deepest slumber, appeared before them one day.

The loneliness turned into days and nights spent talking to each other, sharing their pains, and finding comfort in their similarities. It didn’t take long until they had bonded. It did not take time before their relationship became much more meaningful to the pair, and they ended up enjoying being in each other’s arms.

But just like the rest that stumbled upon the park, the Goddess had to say goodbye, promising to return. Cream Unicorn had believed her, even if they had their doubts, and was ecstatic once they realized she kept her promise.

Finally, the moon shines and illuminates the terrain, slowly overpowering the lights of the attractions as it descends into the ground. Per their usual routine, the lonely unicorn wanders until they can meet their lover, smiling as their meringue horn shines as bright as possible and with the knowledge that they will soon meet.

Excitement takes over them, and forgetting how to trot, Cream Unicorn trips on their hooves multiple times before reaching the place in which the moon had descended. It only takes a look from both lovers to light up, leaving all their pains behind and jumping in each other’s arms as a gentle kiss happens between them.

“I feared that this time you would not return to me.”

Perhaps they were never the best at communication, Cream Unicorn has learned that their words could often confuse most. Moonlight chooses to smile, scratching behind their ears as she kisses each of their eyes.

“My sweet unicorn, why would I do that? The sea sings a lullaby to me every night,” Moonlight then moves up, leaving a kiss on where their horn starts. “And yet nothing would ever replace hearing your voice on the most lonesome nights.”

Cream Unicorn laughs, and Moonlight believes that it’s the best sound she has ever heard right on that spot. Cupping their cheek, Moonlight kisses the side of their lips, smiling as Cream Unicorn mouth an ‘I love you’ and goes for a deeper kiss.

The land of dreams remains cold, but in their lover’s embrace and under her moon-flavored kisses, Cream Unicorn has never felt this warm.

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Clover and Herb Cookie haven’t been getting much love as of lately, it would mean the world to see them in a fluffy and cute scenario ! Thanks in advance <3

Golden light laid gently upon green leaves and colourful petals, ambience of birds singing their morning songs piercing through the sounds of trickling water. Herb Cookie set the watering can down with a yawn, turning towards a tall, dark plant in the corner. This plant definitely threw off the bright, cheer-y vibe of the rest of the shop. Its petals were a deep mahogany colour and its stem was thick and dark, a face within the pistil and illusions of teeth. Despite its disturbing appearance, it was one of Herb Cookie’s favourite plants though he would never admit he has favourites. Well, maybe except for one…

He approached the flower with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his lips, resting a gentle yet calloused hand on the stem and… Pet it? The flower turned to him, a deep rumble coming from it.

“Yes, yes… I suppose we should think about breakfast shouldn’t we?” He spoke softly to the flower as if it were a dog. “You’ve gotten so patient, Cookiesnap.”

“Sometimes I believe you like Cookiesnap more than me.” A voice came from the doorway.

Herb’s head snapped to look over at the source, finding a tired Clover Cookie, still in his pyjamas holding a mug of tea. Clover walked towards Herb, taking a sip out of the cup before handing it to him. 

“Ah… You know that isn’t true,” He smiled down at Clover, taking the cup and taking a sip from it. “Is this the lavender tea we grew?” 

Clover nods with a yawn, giving Cookiesnap a gentle pet of his own. “It’s good, isn’t it? I made a good call buying that plant.” He chuckled softly as he leaned up to press a peck to Herb’s cheek. “I have a rat dethawing for Cookiesnap in the back.” He said as he took the mug back for another sip.

Herb returned the peck with one of his own on Clover’s forehead. “Thank you,” He hummed in content before wrapping his arm around the smaller man. “How has writing your book been going?” He asked as he pulled Clover over to a small bench on the side of the room. “It’s going,” He sighed in content. “Slowly but surely. I’ve decided to take a break on the writing part to work on the art,” He explained as he leaned into the other. “It’s therapeutic.”

Herb nodded as he took another sip from the tea, the cup about one-quarter less full than it was to begin with. They sat in silence now, listening to the birds singing and chirping and whatever breeze found its way to their building, pushing the leaves out outside trees together to brush against one another like thin, silent chimes. The occasional sound of the building settling, the sound of cars driving past. This is the most peaceful life has ever been for the two of them in a long time. They’ve only been married a year by now and they already own a flower shop together, Clover is writing and making art for his first children’s book, and on top of that they have a stable income. 

As with every morning, they spent it basking in each other's presence, tending to their plants and Cookiesnap together, the occasional people that come in. Their normal days tend to escape them through the gaps in their fingers now, as would sand in your palms. Not that they’re complaining though, time flies fast when you’re having fun, and sometimes some things slip your mind.

The mug sits on a table beside the bench from earlier, the liquid inside now cold and separated, half full.

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Espresso x Clotted Cream let them be nice and domestic with each other idk maybe theyre making bread but fucking suck at it let them b nice to each other pelase

The aroma of freshly-baked bread punctuated the kitchen, drifting about like a tantalizing promise. It rose in the oven, outer crust turning crisp and almost golden, cracking here and there as it expanded. The inside of it would be airy and light. Butter could melt on it.

Espresso imagined it as he sipped on his coffee, relaxing. At the end of the day, he'd done good work--today was a day to relax, and he figured he may as well try dabbling in something that his coworkers insisted was somewhat akin to his particular brand of science. Apparently baking required specific steps to be taken to heart--any vague mis-measuring or overmixing could be the difference between a successful end product and a disaster.

He was confident.

"It doesn't look right," his husband commented by the oven. Espresso turned his head to frown at his backside, leaning against the nearby counter and doubled over to peed into the partially-open oven.

"Of course it won't," he commented briskly. "Not if you keep letting all the heat out." Clotted Cream shifted, as if he were considering leaving the oven be, but he ended up not moving. Espresso sighed. "Just close it and wait for the timer to go off."

"It looks like ghost bread," Clotted Cream explained, finally shutting it as slowly and quietly as he could. "Isn't there supposed to be a brown crust around it, like the kind you buy at the store?"

"I don't know," Espresso shrugged. "I've never made bread before."

Clotted Cream looked at him over his shoulder, his eyes widened and brow furrowed with a vague sense of worry. His oft-present smile--charming, confident and guarded--was gone now, replaced with a fretfulness that extended outward, in the way that he began to pace about the kitchen to get himself a glass of wine. His hands shook just a little as he poured it, though he tried to keep it steady. Espresso guessed that he was stressed--a glance at the calendar was all the reminder he needed that his schedule was swamped with appointments and deadlines.

"Clotted Cream, I'm not going to divorce you over bad bread."

The Consul lifted his head at that, staring at Espresso for a few long moments before gesturing about vaguely. "I didn't say anything."

"Sit with me," Espresso suggested, reaching a foot out to nudge one of the chairs at the table out. "Tell me about your day."

He did. For the next hour and a half, Clotted Cream and Espresso talked, first about work and then about other matters. Clotted had a short day, but a hard one--it was always a difficult day where private discussions with the Elders were involved. He was more than happy to leave the office early and offload his work, relieved that overstaffing was a current issue. Espresso thought bitterly of Elder Custard, Clotted Cream's miserable excuse for a father, and felt disgust coil in his stomach.

From there, it shifted to lighter things. Clotted Cream saw a little dog on his route home and has been thinking about it ever since. "No," Espresso said, firmly, "we aren't getting a dog." Clotted Cream nodded and agreed, explaining that he knew they were both too busy to take care of one. But it was a nice thought.

An hour and a half later, the timer went off, interrupting Espresso's explanation of why cat claws can sheathe and dog claws couldn't. Clotted Cream and Espresso both rose to their feet and advanced towards the oven, Espresso grabbing the oven mitts on the way. He opened the oven while his husband reached over him to turn the timer off.

He blinked down at the bread.

"...Oh."

Clotted Cream looked over his shoulder, frowning down at the bread, as well. Espresso's cheeks felt warm at the fact that he knew this, a traitorous butterfly flitting in his stomach enough to make him shiver. "Yeah," Clotted Cream agreed, his voice bleak and vague. "It looks like a ghost."

Nonetheless, Espresso took the loaf pan out, setting it on the stove top and closing it carefully. Clotted Cream took a stick of butter out of the fridge and began smearing it over the steaming top, but Espresso doubted that it'd do much. Curiously, he took a knife and tapped at its surface once Clotted Cream was done with that.

"...It feels crisp," he noted. "Let's see how it cuts."

And cut, he did--though he gave up on the bread knife quickly and reached for a steak knife instead. Surely the crust wasn't meant to be as tough as it was--it was so strange and peculiar, how it looked undercooked but felt like it was burnt! Even with a steak knife, the cutting wasn't easy--the crust on the bottom was insistent about staying attached, stubborn and clingy. When he finally took a piece and set it on a plate, the inside of the bread was thick and cakey.

One slice for each of them, slathered in bread. It smelt like bread, and it tasted like bread, but it tasted so thick and moist that it ended up making Espresso wonder if the dough was undercooked. Clotted Cream grimaced as he chewed, his refined palette finding it difficult to digest in comparison to Espresso's more tolerant stomach.

"...It's edible," Clotted Cream commented. "I think."

"Let's retrace our steps," Espresso suggested, setting his bread on the plate and bracing himself against the counter. "The dough didn't necessarily double in size when we were letting it raise in the pre-heated oven both times. What could be the reason for that? Did you activate the yeast?"

Clotted Cream blinked, double-taking at Espresso. "...Activate the yeast?"

"The little packet," Espresso explained. "That's the yeast. According to the instructions on the back of the packet, you activate it by letting it sit in hot water for a few minutes."

"...There were instructions on the back of it?" Clotted Cream cleared his throat, turning his head away, face turning warm and pink with embarrassment. "Well--I don't know about any instructions on the packet! I was just following what the cookbook said."

...So he didn't activate the yeast.

Espresso expected himself to be irritated at the blatant lack of regard, but amusement and warmth tickled him instead. Clotted Cream wasn't a cook--it seemed that every time he tried to cook in his own house, something horrible went terribly wrong. He remembered the rank stench of burnt cake around when they first started dating, the first instance where Clotted Cream's professional demeanor started to crack on the edges. "I wanted to impress you," he'd said miserably, "but I just ended up making a fool of myself..."

Espresso found out quickly that Clotted Cream's tendency to not do what commoner cookies tended to do was less for lack of interest and more for lack of knowing how to proceed with it in the first place. What was the point of trying to do something if you were just going to make a fool of yourself? Better to stick to what you already know and preserve your image.

"Hey," Espresso urged, his voice soft as he reached to rest a hand on Clotted Cream's shoulder. "Think of it like this. At least you didn't start a fire in the oven. Progress."

Clotted Cream blinked, looking at Espresso and meeting his gaze for a moment. His shoulders eased, relaxing, a tentative smile easing on his face and reaching his leafy green eyes. "At least it's edible," he suggested, emboldening himself to take another bite.

"It is," Espresso agreed. "But it's no dinner."

"Let's order something, then," Clotted Cream suggested immediately. "Maybe watch something on the television together."

For once.

The words were unsaid, but Espresso could feel them, suggested in the air. He snorted, lifting a hand to his mouth, hiding a smile. "I'd like that."

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Quick question: Why won’t you write Milk or Yam? I’m new to CRK, are they problematic?? :(

Purple Yam unfortunately falls into a lot of antiblack stereotypes about black men.

i.e that they are somehow inherently violent and prone to anger and outbursts.

A lot of the mod team (including our main mod who is a black man) have thus developed a pretty strong discomfort towards him and characters he's heavily linked to, which falls into Milk Cookie as well.

We're sorry for anyone who may have wanted content about these two, but these are boundaries that keep the blog a comfortable space for all of the mods.

~penned by Mod Espresso ☕️

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Askbox is open 🌠

Have you gone quite a long time without any fanfics about your favorite characters or rarepairs? Well despair no further, dear friends! We, the mods at Imagines-For-Earthbread seek to fulfil you with content born from your wildest dreams!

Our askbox is open and ready, feel free to request something at any time!!

Don't be afraid to use our inbox to ask questions as well.

Additional Information Guide:

{ Desktop } About The Mods The Library

{ Mobile } About The Mods The Library

~ Penned by Mod Espresso ☕️

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Catalogue of Dreams

Find a dream that you please to indulge in here, organized neatly by our dear librarian.

By Mun:

Mun Espresso

Mun Coffee

Mun Dark Cacao

Mun Latte

By Kingdom:

The bookshelves are currently empty.

By Genre:

The bookshelves are currently empty.

By Character:

The bookshelves are currently empty.

[imagines-for-earthbread]

About The Dreamers

Mod Espresso (Head Mod)

✦ Pronouns: He/Him, They/Them ✦ Prefers: Things involving the following characters: Espresso, Affogato, Dark Cacao, Dark Choco, Latte, and Madeleine The following regions: Vanilla Kingdom, Dark Cacao Kingdom, Crème Republic But I'm also willing to write anything ✨ ✦ Will not: See rules, Latte X Espresso, Licofait

Mod Dark Cacao

• Pronouns: Any • Prefers: Dark Cacao Kingdom, Dark Cacao Cookie, Cookie Run Kingdom • Will not: See rules; Reader Insert, Canon x OC, PureLily, Bad Dad/Abusive Dark Cacao, Pomenchantress

Mod Latte

❥ Pronouns: She/Her; It/Its, Any ❥ Prefers: Anything related to Parfaedia, anything related to Rye ❥ Will not: See rules, ROMANTIC lattemond, Rye x men

Mod Coffee

✤ Pronouns: He/Him; Any ✤ Prefers: Anything related to the Crème Republic, Madeleine Cookie ✤ Will not: See rules

Mod Madeleine

✶ Pronouns: He/She ✶ Prefers: Anything!! I can pretty much characterize anybody. ✶ Will not: Anything I don't want to do, pretty much.

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Read Before Requesting:

This blog is run by four people who each have their own levels of experience and preferences. Ultimately, this blog is intended for us to have fun and exercise our creative inclinations. Please bear this in mind.

General rules

We have the right to decline any requests that we receive for any reason whatsoever

We will not do NSFW, gore, fetish, incest, or otherwise ‘problematic’ themes

We will not condone harassment of either the authors or requesters

We will not write for the following characters:

Purple Yam Cookie

Milk Cookie

Any Yogurca Cookies

Please be patient.

When sending in requests please make sure to not leave out any details such as headcanons etc if you'd like them to be noticeable in the imagine!

* This list of rules and anything within it stands to expand in the future as our boundaries are further understood and developed.

Links (Desktop)

About The Mods

The Library (currently empty)

Links (Mobile):

About The Mods

The Library (currently empty)