#BUT BOY DO I LIKE TAFFY-

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Eddie has rainbow decorations on his store. he is gay.

Sally's house is mostly rainbow. therefore-

[musubiki]

i have like 3 pages of my sketchbook dedicated to taffy timeskip hairstyle

[bunnys-kisses]

welcome to the bunny's bakery!

how can i take your order? all you have to do is pick a dessert, drink and driver/character of your choosing! are you in the mood for a mille-feuille or a big slice of chocolate cake! please, please, please indicate who you want me to write about!!

the servers are from the following: formula one, call of duty, baldur's gate 3, haikyuu, one piece, jujustu kaisen, detective comics (dc), marvel comics (but i am open to any other fandoms you might have in mind! please do not hesitate to ask!!)

i do also accept polyam relationships! (pairing + reader), up to about four people! just to make it manageable on my end!

all orders can be made to the inbox for @bunnys-kisses and i'll get your order together asap! also let me know if you want it extra sweet or a little more spicy !

mille-feuille: “that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

butter tart: "let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

sugar pie: “gonna let daddy hear ya?”

zebra cake: "well, what do we have here?"

carrot cake: "swallow it. all of it."

millionaire shortcake: "if they saw you now, you'd be the biggest shame to your family."

pots de crème: "if a picture is worth a thousand words, then i could probably get a million dollars for this photo."

oat flapjacks: "i'm not scared of you."

persian rolls: "it's mandatory i finish. you getting to finish is a treat."

spice pie: "i didn't know it was possible to be a liar and a slut."

mushroom pie: "if you don't shut up. i'm going to shut you up."

lemon slice: "i'm sorry, what was that? i can’t hear you over all that noise you’re making."

swiss roll: "everything you own, everything you wear i paid for. so i guess that means i own you."

pumpkin pie: "i've met strays who were more obedient."

pastry braid: "your job is to make me cum. now get to work."

sausage roll: "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt."

pithivier: "if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you."

tiramisu: “my little slut to ruin.”

sponge toffee: "aw, is someone mad that they can only cum because of me?"

pull-apart bread: "i love you"

powered sugar donuts: "marry me."

blueberry bars: “gonna make you a mamma and you're gonna make me a daddy.”

pudding chomeur: "i don't share."

ice cream bars: “did you see the way he was eyeing you? he need to know you're mine."

chocolate cake: "do you feel that? that's what happens when i think about you all day."

soufflé: "i'll be gentle."

fried dough: "i know virginity is a stupid concept... but i want to take yours."

apple pie: "now be good and beg. thank you."

vanilla cheesecake: "where are your manners?"

berry trifle: "wrong. try again."

maple cream pie: "either you wear the necklace with my name on it, or wear my bruises around your neck."

s'more: "The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

belgian waffles: "i cum in that every night."

pancakes: "if you bite me. i'll bite you back."

loaf of whole wheat bread: "you're going to shut that mouth and take me."

jos louis: "does someone need a daddy?"

maple taffy: "oh my god you're stupid."

snowballs: "don't worry, drug tests aren't till next week."

shortbread cookies: "and who does this belong to?"

flan: "i'm not possessive... i'm obsessive."

peach cake: "if you spill a drop, we start all over."

angel food cake: "if he fucks with me again, i'm finishing inside of you."

red velvet cupcake: "if you don't like being called a whore, then stop acting like one."

mince pie: "i'm not jealous."

banana bread: "i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name."

crumb cake: "if you just listened, all of this could've been avoided."

chocolate chip cookies: "you're beautiful when you smile, but you're the prettiest when my cock is in your throat"

nanaimo bars: "who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it."

coffee cake: "knees. now."

sourdough bread: "i'm going to breed you."

blueberry muffins: "i don't think it'll fit."

pound cake with strawberries: "you know i hate going over rules, but just because i like seeing you embarrassed, i'll tell you them again."

croissant: "i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me."

crepe: "pretty girl."

french toast: "you're trying to make me jealous!"

churros: "if you don't shut that little mouth of yours, i will stuff it full. okay?"

shortbread squares: "you're just mad that that my cock fits perfectly in you now. must be a blow to the ego that we're a perfect match."

savory pastry: "let your brother find out."

sweet pastry: "i'll make it all better."

eclairs: "the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut."

boston cream pie: "yeah, i'll use protection."

bagel: “gonna paint you with my teeth.”

crostata: “stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”

tres leches: "i wonder if your brother know i cum in you."

peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.”

eton mess: "be careful. your breath smells like cum."

scones: "but what if they see us!"

english muffin: "aw, is someone crying?"

honey cruller: "i forget how small you are sometimes."

banana split: "don't look at me like that."

beer brownies: "stick your tongue out anymore and you'll look like a dog."

fudge: "your father is pissing me off."

sticky toffee pudding: "the only way this is ending is you getting pregnant."

hot cross buns: "don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up."

brownies: "you're so much more agreeable when you have something to occupy that mouth of yours."

chocolate mousse: "the only necklace you need is my hand around your throat"

tim bits: "stupid little thing."

fruitcake: "i'll make tonight special."

cornmeal muffin: "i need you most."

devil's food cake: "you're my most unhealthy obsession."

crème caramel: "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

banana & chocolate muffins: "i'm only doing this because you need to learn how to behave, rules are rules, and you need to follow them."

custard tart: "i've never done this before."

cinnamon rolls: "no one needs to know."

mango sorbet: "you are by far the dumbest thing i've ever fucked. how did they even let you graduate?"

date squares: "you look better with my marks on you."

figgy duff: "if i buy it, will you stop pouting?"

spicy upside down cake: "let's play a game: don't get caught."

cream puffs: "let me finish inside."

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go."

with a side of:

coffee: rivals

tea: semi-public/public sex

juice: cockwarming

mocha coffee: breeding kink

bubble tea: daddy kink

a vodka shot: rough sex

sparkling water: gentle sex

coconut water: alternate universe

energy drink: doggy style

champagne: sugar daddy situation

hard lemonade: possessive behaviour

espresso shot: dirty talking

a glass of wine: cowgirl position

ice capp coffee: werewolf au

bloody mary: vampire au

martini: mafia au

frozen latte: dumbification

frozen lemonade: consensual non-consent

cranberry juice: mean!character

glass of water: aftercare

chocolate milk: tenderness

milkshake: size kink

pina colada: pregnancy

cider: body worship

mai tai: loss of virginity

margarita: unprotected sex

mint julep: punishments

chai: biting/hickies

earl grey: big cock

fishbowl cocktail: protected sex

tonic water: age gap

matcha latte: collars/bondage

root beer: filming/recording

soda: jealousy

americano: oral sex

whisky: degrading language

vitamin water: dom/sub dynamic

irish coffee: high sex

sangria: drunk sex

dark roast coffee: sub!character

dark hot chocolate: sub!reader

iced tea: accidentally launching relationship

lemon water: university/college au

naked & famous: bimbo/ditzy!reader

on the house: author's choice!

ORDER UP!

[zweiginator]

college!patrick corrupting you...you're study partners in your anthropology class and patrick loves to listen to you talk. loves to hear you explain concepts to him, pointing to your notes with your purple pen. scooting your chair closer to him.

"can you see now?" you show him the diagram you drew; it's labeled and highlighted and patrick smirks because you wrote his name in bubble letters on the top of the page.

your skin flushes. the broken air conditioning in your dorm made the early september heat unbearable enough. and now you're humiliated.

you cover it with your forearm but it's too late.

"what's all this?" patrick moves your arm easily. his finger traces over the P in 'patrick', adorned with a little heart.

you look up at him and shake your head. "we need to focus. it's nothing--i was bored in class."

patrick moves wherever your gaze is directed. he doesn't let you escape him. the small wooden chair he's sitting in skips and screeches across the linoleum floors, his knee bumping against yours so it sits snug between your legs.

"do you have a crush on me?" patrick asks. he's so confident, because he knows the answer already, and he could've guessed long before that too. not that you were overt before this--it's just the kind of person he is. attractive in its rawest form.

you do have a crush on him. but you're a virgin. you've never even kissed or been kissed.

"i guess a little." you say, softly.

your voice is low; patrick has to lean in to hear you. but his eyes look kind, a twinkly dark green. and he smiles at you; it's a grin that crinkles his eyes like soft tissue paper.

"is that bad?" you ask, uncomfortable from the lingering silence.

"no." he says it immediately. "have you ever made out before?" patrick adds. he says it like he's been waiting for it and you shake your head.

"fuck."

"sorry." you shrug.

patrick now shakes his own head. "what if i taught you? would that be okay?"

you're embarrassed that a boy this well-known will feel the struggle of your lips against his own experienced ones. he probably kisses like a well-oiled machine, pulling sweet moans out of girls like strawberry taffy and here you are, gulping. literally swallowing your own pride as you say yes please. as if you're ordering at a restaurant.

patrick moves to your bed and you sit next to him. you don't know what to do or where to look so you focus on your socks, how one is pulled taut, the other slouching against your ankle. and then patrick tilts your face towards his.

his breath smells good. peppermint and camel lights, you suppose. his lips are parted and so close to yours and you're about to lose your balance. your open palms grab onto patrick's thighs, just above his knees. he looks down and smirks. and then he tilts your chin up and plants a kiss on your lips. just one kiss. but his lips are wet and he prolongs the sound of them puckered over yours.

you feel a pit in your stomach. but it's a good feeling, a pit that reminds you of being on the beach and wanting to dig into the sand more and more until it collapses in on itself.

you close the gap this time, feeling his shoulders. they're so firm and broad under his white t-shirt. he opens his mouth wider. experiments with you. you inch closer to him and then you're pulled into his lap and his arm supports your back, his hand holding your chin in place while he licks into your mouth, prying it open with his tongue. he moans in approval when you start to move in sync with him; his lips wrap around your bottom lip while yours find their home on his top one--and he is being patient.

he's getting hard--really hard--but he takes it slow with you. this is just kissing. so he doesn't move you against his erection but you feel it and pride swells in your chest because your crush is kissing you and it feels so good.

it gets sloppier; his spit is melding with your own and as he pulls away to look at you, a string of it prolongs the kiss--but you don't let him pull away. you whine and pull him in by his collar. adjust yourself on his lap and he pulls you closer. impossibly closer.

he kisses you like he wants to eat you alive. your lip is bitten and raw and swollen from him and you mewl and moan when he gently pulls your hair. you pull his back and now he moans, just for you.

the sand pit in your stomach becomes a sinkhole and you feel a tingling sensation you've never felt before.

"this feels so good." you say, bluntly. your hair is a mess, and patrick's forehead is dewy with sweat.

"oh my god." patrick dives back into you at full force. your teeth almost clash, and you tug at the bottom of his shirt, feeling the tightness of his abs underneath and then he's pulling it over his head and even the one and a half seconds without his lips on yours feels like fucking torture for both of you.

your mouths stay open against each other, like even the widest they could go could never let each other in enough.

patrick starts to slip the strap of your tank top down your shoulder when your roommate comes in. you look at her wide-eyed, wiping patrick's spit off your face. he breathes heavily, leaning back on his elbows. sheer pink lip gloss pants his stubbled cheeks with iridescence.

he covers his erection with his t-shirt.

[the-californicationist]

he comes closer and closer...

Price/Reader - TW: bondage, explicit consent, anal fingering, begging, male whimpering, edgeplay, blowjobs

“I want you to remember, especially in an hour or so, that you asked for this,” you kissed his bearded cheek softly, smelling his cologne, “Begged for it, even.”

“Aye. I did,” he replied, his accent thick and heady.

Captain Price was fully naked and strapped down to his office desk, tied with a length of paracord. His body was stretched out like a rubber band, his skin shining from sweat and covered in dark hair. You could hear his labored breathing and feel his eyes on you, watching you as you walked around the desk, rubbing his arms and legs with your hands, playing with his nipples, fondling him everywhere except where he wanted you to. 

“And yet, you say I’m being unfair?” You pouted playfully, settling yourself between his knees, purposely avoiding his twitching cock.

“Edging involves at least a little…attention. Touch me, love. Please.”

“Begging again? How desperate you are tonight,” you smiled, lowering your mouth just above where his pink head could reach. Watching his hips and cock strain towards you was enchanting. 

“Baby, please, it aches. You can’t…please, don’t just leave me like this.”

“Maybe just one little taste, hmm? Just to see if you’ll be a good boy.”

“I will,” he strained harder, fighting the ropes, “I will, I promise. Please-please-please…”

“I don’t know, Captain. Do you remember the rules?”

“Yes, love, I remember. Please, just -”

“Tell me.”

He sighed, and you watched his abs flex on the exhale, his belly convulsing with his ragged breaths,

“I have to warn you when I come, and…”

“And?” You drug out the word like a sticky strand of taffy, pulling it to the point of breaking. 

“...and if I don’t, I can’t have your cunt.”

“No, you can’t. So, be good, John. Show me you want this pussy.”

He growled, 

“Fuck, I want it right bloody now. Please, baby, I -”

“Shh. Enough. You need to learn patience, my darling. We’re just getting started.”

You put a dollop of lube in your hand and rubbed it all over his shaft. He was so swollen, and the cockring you put around him had kept him that way for a while. It was wrapped around the base of his shaft and under his balls, stretching the skin and keeping it rigid. He was grunting as you worked him, his whole body reacting to your touch. The desk creaked as he strained against it. You were a little concerned about its integrity. If he broke the straps, or the desk, there were no rules left to bind him. 

“Mmm, unhgh…yeah, just like that. Fuuuuuck…” Price groaned loudly. 

You stopped, pulling away from him with a wet pop. 

“Ah! No, no, no…” He complained. 

You ran your fingers up and down his torso, threatening to touch his cock again. Every time you got close, you could hear the wood of the desk cry out, stretching from his strength. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” You asked him, licking his nipple, biting his skin. 

“Oh, fuck, yes it does. Please, come back.”

You returned to his cock, but instead of quick solid strokes, you pulled him slowly, painfully slowly, and at an odd angle, so none of his regular sensations were available for him to hold onto. Each time you pulled up and over his cockhead, he would grunt for you, like an angry bull. 

Changing your grip, you massaged his balls and he sighed. Then, you rubbed his inner thighs and the skin behind his sack and between his legs, pressing on his internal root, jerking it as if it were his cock at the surface. It made his dick flag up and down as you did so, and he did everything he could to move you either forwards or back, being cruelly teased by your positioning. 

You stopped again. You heard him groan deep and low. His cock was rosy pink, flushed with blood and thicker than you’d ever seen it. You put some lube on your finger and dipped between his legs, finding his asshole, warm and covered in thick hair. He jolted, as much as the ropes would allow.

“What are you doing?”

“Do you remember Warsaw?”

His eyes were wild, but then they went ice cold, the realization washing over him. You chuckled, continuing, rimming your finger around his hole as you spoke, 

“You found me during our field training, and you held me down, plunging those fingers into my pussy and my ass, not allowing me to come for a whole evening, telling me that only bad soldiers got caught, and since I was bad, I didn’t deserve an orgasm. Have you been bad, John?”

You slipped a finger past his outer muscles, feeling the smooth skin inside of his asshole, massaging it in slow, aching circles. He held his breath, but he was shaking his head back and forth, protesting against your appraisal of his sins. You checked in with him, pausing your movements.

“Green or yellow?”

It took a few moments, but he growled out a very clear, 

“Green, love. Green.”

You pushed your finger in until you found the spot you were looking for. You began to rub little firm circles inside of him while jerking his cock with your free hand. There was so much to love about the feedback you were getting from him. His face was wide with intense pleasure, and his pupils were fully blown. You thrust your hand around him faster, focusing on his head. As soon as you saw his eyes clench shut, you removed yourself from him entirely. 

“No! Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned, frustrated and desperate for you to let him finish. 

“Mmm, about to break a rule, Captain? You never were good at following orders.”

You sucked his cock into your mouth, softly, gently, and applied almost no suction. He bucked against the table, slamming his hips and back into the wood. You could hear the ropes tightening against their bites. He was groaning and shaking from your warm, wet mouth. You lay your tongue at the base of his head and began to lap at his skin in long, slow licks. It was too slow and soft for him to feel any release, but it was enough to drive him past the point of normalcy. 

“Fuck! Fuck, more. More, love. I need more, please. Please. Please! Fuuuuuuck.”

You put your finger at the entrance of his asshole, but you didn’t enter him again. Still, he throbbed in your mouth, just the idea of you touching him inside gave him the same sensation. You pulled him out of you and leisurely massaged his dick again, keeping him right on the edge of his pleasure. Price was literally trembling with every moment of your touch, loudly grunting, unashamed of his behavior. 

Then, you decided to finger him again, taking it away the moment his breathing changed. You put him back in your mouth. Then, you took him out. At one point, you left him altogether, making a cup of tea and drinking it while you sat in his office chair, watching him watch you. Smiling. He thrashed against the ropes. 

He really was terrifying, objectively. Price could kill you in less than a second if he wanted to. He was enormous, muscular, and sharp as a knife. There was no where you could run, and there was no chance of you fighting him off. As you watched him writhe and pull at his bindings, you studied his form. His strong legs and huge ass provided immense leverage against the desktop, bowing the edges of its planks downward - ever so slightly - as he thrust against it. The captain’s wide chest bulged with his mountainous shoulders, causing the rope to whine as it tightened on its knot, the fibers stretching past their limits. Every time he threw his hips down in blissful agony, the whole room shuddered. He was like some sort of beast you’d caught in a trap. A tiger by the tail. 

Finally, you decided to end his suffering, but he didn’t know that. As you approached the desk again, he began to beg you,

“Please, love. Please. I’ll be good. I promise. Please, let me come. I’ll be good. Baby, please…”

There it was. That’s what you wanted. An obedient Price was a rare sight, and seeing him unfold right before your very eyes, like a rose in bloom, relaxing into your will - it was mesmerizing. You wanted to rub your nose in those pliant petals, bend them back away from his honeyed center. You were hooked. 

“Mmm. That's it, baby. Surely, such a good boy deserves a reward, hm?”

“Oh, fuck,” his tone was dark now that he knew what was coming. 

You put your mouth on him and grabbed his balls gently in your hand, sucking him with a strong rhythm, massaging his heavy sack with each thrust of your head. Price wasn’t that long, but his girth was a struggle. You pushed past it, giving the man what he’d been waiting for, choking yourself, pulling off his cockring and letting the blood flow back into his core as you swallowed his head in the back of your throat. 

"I'm gonna come. Oh, my God. I'm gonna fuckin' come, baby. Yes-yes-yes...ahhh!"

The wait was so worth it. With each bob of your head, he seized and panicked. It was as if every suckle was giving him a separate orgasm, and he came like a firehose. It squirted down your throat, hot and salty, and he was screaming for you. You were certain the whole base could hear him, even though they were all the way in the barracks. His legs locked out straight, pulling the ropes tight, and his back arched off of the desk in perfect agony. 

You drained his cock by pulling out the last few drops from his shaft, licking them up like dripping ice cream from a cone. Then, you untied his legs and hands. He lay there, panting, his face twisted in complexity, feeling aftershocks and riding them out, sated and drunkenly happy. 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, girl, you better start runnin'. As soon as I get my legs, you are in for it.”

You bolted for the door, looking back at him over your shoulder, grinning. He had already rolled off of the desk and was trying to throw on his shorts, stumbling, slowly catching his bearings, quickly getting ready to hunt you down.

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated!

Read Part 2 here.

[dc-comics-enjoyer]

Batfam as Bob's Burgers' quotes

Tim (about Damian) : You don't want to mess with my brother. He'll wear down your self-esteem over a period of years.

---

Damian (13 years old) : Speaking of Christmas, here is my annual list of demands.

Bruce : "My own apartment."

Damian : And it can not be a studio. You have exactly 7 shopping days to comply. If it rolls into day 8, there will be tears and violence.

---

Bruce : We'll have to cut down on expenses. What can we live without ?

Damian : Probably Tim and Jason.

Stephanie : That's a good start.

Tim : Huh. Well that makes the things I was gonna cut irrelevant.

---

Bruce : They're not here ! I got Jason's diary, let's see if it says anything. "Dear Diary, tonight we're sneaking into the dangerous taffy factory. Also, if boys had uteruses they'd be called duderuses".

Dick : Ha, "duderuses."

---

Stephanie : I like sandwiches.

Jason : You smell like you do.

Stephanie : You smell interesting too. You own a toothbrush, or are you still shopping around ?

---

Jason : You know that boat that I've been fixing up?

Tim : You've mentioned it.

Jason : Well, I finally got her shipshape, and I thought it'd be fun to take you all out.

Stephanie : Kill us?

Jason : No, take you out for a boat ride.

---

Tim : Why'd you head-butt me?!

Jason : I was going to punch you, but I'm holding wine.

---

Dick, at some point : Bruce, Jason, look at yourselves ; you're father and son ! You're supposed to love each other, not kill each other. This isn't the Bible !

---

Bruce : I should write a parenting book. Call it, "Hey You, I Saw That! Put It Back !"

[luveline]

JADE I love Hotch sm I’ve been waiting for you to mention him again! If you wanted could you do something about reader having been through a rough relationship and just being so happy about how domestic and gentlemanly hotch is (when he’s home)? Tysm I love everything you do, constantly cheering for you babe!! ❤️

hi! i think i made reader more confused than happy but i hope this is still okay, ty for your request lovely! tw for bad/unhappy previous relationship, fem!reader

You didn’t know men could be so kind when you’re in a relationship. It’s not as though you’ve never met a sweet guy before, you met Aaron through Spencer, and Spencer’s nice. It had been his interference that eventually led to Aaron asking you out, and his assurance that made you confident enough to say yes. 

But being friends with Spencer hadn’t really erased any of your boyfriend-related assumptions. They’re boys. They don’t want to be suffocated by you and your need for affection. What Aaron wants, if the past is any indication, is a relaxing weekend with space and time alone. 

He’s lying on his couch. He woke before you, and you don’t understand why he hadn’t woken you up too. To get some time away from me, your brain supplies cruelly. It isn’t a fair assumption. Aaron wouldn’t have invited you to spend the night with him if he didn’t want to see you. He wouldn’t have asked you to go steady with a bouquet and a shiny tennis bracelet you’ve yet to take off a month later. 

Right?

“Come in here,” he calls. 

You put down your cup of coffee and walk into his living room. Aaron holds out his arm, touching you as soon as you’re in reach. He sits up and it’s so odd, why would he bother? It’s only you. 

“What, you don’t want to sit with me?” he jokes. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to,” you say, a little too fast, a little too strung-out. 

He’s kind about your unsure moments. Likely because he knows exactly what you’re thinking —considering his job, and his ability to analyse even the criminally insane with brutal accuracy, Aaron must know why you act the way that you do. What you can’t understand is his patience. 

“Well, for future reference,” he begins, collecting your hands in his and giving them a squeeze, “I always want you to sit with me. As long as that’s what you want.”

"Oh, good, “ you say, taking back control of one of your hands, pressing your palm to his broad shoulder. 

Aaron smiles sweetly, like his lips are glued with sticky taffy. You take it as an invitation to stand between his legs, and slowly, so slowly, wrap your arms around his head and neck, your cheek pressed to his hair. He grasps your waist with a mirrored fondness. He smells so nice. He always smells clean and warm, sandalwood and something earthier in his aftershave.

It doesn’t take him much manoeuvring to sit you in his lap, or rather sit you in the corner of the couch with your thighs over his. You laugh as you settle, your hands falling down his chest. 

"I'm really glad you could come over. I know I've been busy with work. You never complain," Aaron says. 

"Why would I complain?" you ask, wanting to put your head on his shoulder. 

He looks at you long and steady. 

"You can do it," he says. "You can lean on me." 

"How do you know?" you mumble ruefully, doing as he allows, your face hiding in his warm arm. 

"I'm very good at reading people. And I like you more than I like most people, so I'm even better." He drags a lazy hand up and down your leg. "I know you like affection more than you like air…  and I know you don't like asking for it. I know you think it bothers me when you do ask." 

His hand slides between your thighs. "But it doesn't," he says warmly. "Whatever you've been told, it won't bother me." 

"Are you sure?" you ask. 

Aaron leans down to kiss you. You have to sit back to make room for it, and you feel strangely like crying as he presses his lips to yours. It's chaste. His hand squeezes your thigh. 

"I want you here," he says. 

Oh, you think. "I knew that," you murmur. 

"Good. I don't want you to doubt it. Things were hard for you before, and it was difficult for you to believe me when I said I–" He presses his lips to your cheek. "Had feelings for you," he says against your skin. "I'm sorry people haven't been kind to you." 

"Why would you be sorry for that?" 

"Because I care about you, and the things that happened to you." 

"It wasn't your fault. I was the idiot. I'm the one who stayed." 

"I would love," he says, gently, slowly, so you're sure it isn't a scolding, "if you could be as kind to yourself as you are to everyone else. Please don't blame yourself for how you've been treated. It's not fair." 

"I just don't get why you're so nice to me," you confess, sitting back again. You're surprised he can hear you, you talk so quietly. 

"Because that's how this works. That's how love is supposed to work," he grins, like he's aware of how close he is to sounding corny. "I'm nice to you because you mean everything to me. There isn't a single part of me that wants to be mean to you." 

"He wasn't mean," you say. You bite your tongue hard. After a moment, you continue, "He just didn't like me the way that you do." 

"He," Aaron says, pulling your legs into his chest, "should have. I don't want to keep on at you, I'm too used to telling people what to do, I'm sorry. I just want you to know that it wasn't… normal. Alright?" 

"This is normal?" you ask, smiling, feeling better for his reassurance but wanting to move on before the day becomes all about you. 

"No, this isn't normal. This is perfect." 

You laugh, delighted by him even if it is corny, and turn in his grasp to hug him. He laughs too, a rare sound. It's strange —he doesn't hug tightly, but you get an overwhelming feeling of security regardless. For the first time in a long time you indulge in affection without thinking that the person you're cuddled up with wants to be somewhere else. Aaron wants to be here, and nowhere else, and he wants to be with you. 

[ericshoney]

Return of the vlogs ~ Brothers!Sturniolo Triplets

Summary: Based on the video titled "Return of the vlogs!" where you, their little sister, join in also.

Warnings: possible swearing, nicknames, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were spending time with your brothers in LA and today they had planned a Wednesday vlog. You weren't bothered about being in it as your brothers had filmed with you before. They had filmed part of the vlog yesterday, where you went with Matt to the doctors.

"Good morning!" Chris cheered as you walked into the kitchen area. You saw Nick sat opposite Matt who was eating rice crackers.

"Morning." You called calmly.

"What would you like for breakfast?" He asked.

"Depends on what you got." You answered, a hint of sass in your tone.

"Teenage sass alert." Nick mumbled, you saw he was holding the camera.

"Barely a teenager." Matt mentioned.

"I'm fourteen, that's a teen!" You exclaimed, making him shake his head.

"Whatever." He grumbled.

You laughed and grabbed a rice cake too, nibbling on that as Chris rambled on about what he wanted to do.

"I'm down for anything really." You mentioned. You were just happy to be away from school and with your brothers.

After your short breakfast, you all headed to the car as Matt drove to the garage, mumbling about needing gas, whilst Chris was talking about getting a slurpie.

When you arrived, you followed Chris in, both of you rushing to the sulrpie machines, only to see they didn't have any.

"That sucks." You said, as Chris nodded in agreement.

"There's my favourite teenage boy." You heard Nick call.

"I'll kill you." Matt responded, making you giggle.

"Matt they don't have any slurpie!" Chris cried.

With that information, Matt turned around to leave, only to be stopped by Nick.

"I wanna get Skittle littles." Chris then said.

You shook your head, sharing a look with your other brothers, who were thinking the same thing. Did Chris really need more sweets? When he saw they didn't have any Skittles, he ended up getting two large banana taffies.

"You want anything, kid?" He asked.

"I'm good." You answered.

He nodded as they went to pay. You let them continue vlogging as you got back in the car, heading to the next destination, searching for a slurpie machine that works.

When you got there, you spotted the machines at the back and headed to them quickly, making your brothers laugh.

"Kid loves her slurpies as much as Chris." Nick said, focusing the camera on you.

When they caught up, they saw you were already filling your cup with your favourite flavour. Chris went and pressed the lemonade one, jumping as the drink came out and he didn't have a cup. You laughed and got close to the camera.

"We found slurpies!" You exclaimed, making the guys laugh, but Nick also shh you as you were in public.

"Do you really need sugar, sweetheart?" Nick asked.

"Does Chris? Not really, but it's good." You answered with a shrug.

He shook his head as he went to find what Chris wanted. Once you were all done in the store you paid and left. You sat in the back with Nick, as Matt explained to the camera that he bought scratch tickets and how the lady thought he looked thirteen, which made you laugh.

"I like vlogging with you guys. It's so random." You said.

"We like vlogging with you too, petal." Matt replied.

"But the challenge videos are more fun." You added.

"We'll keep that in mind." Nick said.

You smiled as Matt drove to Madison's place, as you were going to hang out with her now. You knew the rest of the day would be fun and relaxed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags:

@lgbtq-girl @mattsfavbigtitties @onelesslonelygirlbieber6 @riowritesitall @sturniolo-fann

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

~

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

~

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

~

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

[chaosheadspace]

17 with Dreamling for the kiss thingy? Hope you'll feel better soon 💜

Thank you! I couldn't not make this library boys, hope you'll forgive me.

Hob protectively clutches the treat bowl as he steeps his tea. He hasn’t slept well, and he’s got the last double shift in the stacks so he’s figured he’s entitled to the last handful of candy from the kitchen.

The tiredness is manifesting as a slight backache and heavy limbs, just pronounced enough that he has to remind himself to be careful so as to not spill the contents of his mug in the elevator later.

His mind preoccupied with the lazy imaginings of tea slopping over the porcelain rim, splattering floor and trousers and burning his thigh, Hob’s sluggish brain doesn’t pick up on the footsteps coming towards him until spindly, familiar hands and arms wrap around his middle. Hob hums, lays his free hand over Murphy’s. The parts of his brain that don’t immediately light up and wake fill with warm affection. It seems like the presence of his fiancè revitalises him like nothing else, like mana to his soul. As it should.

But then. Oh, the fiercest of betrayals by the one closest to his heart.

“Might I convince you to part from one of the caramel ones?” Murphy’s warm voice seeps into his ear. Beguiling traitor.

“No,” Hob says quickly. “You can go home in thirty minutes while I have to stay until eight.”

“Mmmh,” Murphy hums, “I see.” He nuzzles the shell of Hob’s ear. “And how about a kiss? Might I have that?”

Hob turns around in his embrace and solemnly lays his hands on Murphy’s shoulders. “You can safely assume that if I ever refuse you a kiss I’m probably dead,” he says.

Murphy’s lips are soft and warm, and the slow drag of them against his drags his brain back to thoughts of dim rooms and plush bedding and sleep-heavy cuddles. Hob is so tired, and he wants so badly to lay down for a nap, preferably buried under said fiancé and a blanket.

Murphy’s hands wander to the small of his back, fingers working lightly up and down the muscles next to his spine, massaging until hob feels a lot like a puddle and nowhere near enough like a human to even be able to begin to fathom how he will get through the rest of this day.

With a last, small peck, Murphy withdraws and Hob can’t help the whine that escapes his throat at the loss of warmth, at the loss of external stability for his taffy-structured bones.

But Murphy is right, they both still have work to do, they both—

Murphy is biting his lip, failing to hide a grin. One of Murphy’s hands is hidden behind his back, and Hob’s ears catch the finest hint of rustling cellophane.

“You didn’t.” He says, scandalised, secretly delighted at Murphy’s sly deception. He absolutely would. He absolutely has.

“You are right, I did not,” Murphy cheerfully agrees, shoving his hand into his pocket with an even more obvious rustle, a tiny flash of gold blinking from his fist for a second. “I would never.”

And with another grin and a wink, he sprints out of the kitchen.

“You criminal!” Hob shouts after him, not even pretending to give chase. “You’ll regret that later!”

His only answer is a bout of raspy, deranged laughter that he holds close to his heart.

Maybe, just maybe it’ll get him through the rest of the evening.

send me a kissy prompt or read the other ones here

[taffycandyqt]

Hi taffy!! Idk if anyone has done this but its been on my mind for a while now. YouTuber reader and editor donnie. Where Donnie has a little avatar that pops into videos and reader talks in the video to him for when he edits (kind of like a Markiplier and Lixian kind of thing?) Thanks soo much! Lots of love!

Yesssss!!!! I absolutely love Marks and Lixians dynamic! Oh this is gonna be so fun!

You didn't specify what version you wanted so I'm just gonna assume you want rise Donnie and do that👍

Masterlist

Request Rules

Little Editor Boy

You found your video editor a couple years after starting YouTube. He's great at his job and you enjoy talking to him. You never met him in person though, so imagine your surprise when you find out he's a giant mutant turtle!

Rise Donnie x gn reader

Headcannons

Fluff

Before dating

Othello was the best person you had ever worked with and one of your closest friends.

You hired him after he had edited one of your videos for his own channel.

It was purely for satire but you loved his sense of humor and he was good at what he does.

Now you guys call practically all the time and he even feeds you ideas for new videos.

You loved pushing your dynamic on your videos too!

Talking to him like he was in the room with you and teasing back and forth like he was there responding to you.

It was fun!

You hated watching your videos but you loved to go to the parts where you "talk to him" just to see his witty comebacks.

He never ceased to make you laugh.

With all this though you've never met in person, nor have you ever seen his face.

He always avoids the topic or makes some sort of excuse.

No he doesn't have a working camera on any of his technological devices despite his fluency with the stuff, yes he really does live in Zimbabwe even thought he consistently talks about going to places exclusively in New York

Yes he is busy Ninja training, no that is not a lie, unfortunately he is planning on being sick the next two weeks that your free so guys can't visit each other.

Safe to say, you were done with his bull.

So on your next phone call you cornered him for the truth.

Little did you know that the truth was, he did want to meet you, but he couldn't.

Now it should be known that Donnie isn't ashamed of how he looks.

Is he aware? Yes.

Does he care? No.

If someone else has a problem with it, it's just that, their problem.

But with you, he wants you to like him, and he HATES that.

He wishes that taking the chance to meet you in person didn't scare him so much.

He doesn't want you to scream, run, call him a freak, and fire him!

So when you put him in tight position to meet you, he was kinda freaking out.

Not that his "bad boy" persona would ever let him show it.

Donnie's knee bounced under the table as he waited for you to come into the shabby diner you both decided to meet at. Purple hoodie and mittens with black jeans and sneakers. Normally he hated wearing all this junk but if he could avoid the inevitable freakout as long as possible then so be it. With his hood pulled up to shield his face from the occasional passer-by. The yellow lights flickered periodically and it made him wish he was back at his lab fixing up whatever project he felt like instead of watching that persistent technological annoyance.

The minutes ticked by and he was starting to wonder if you were coming at all. Maybe you had seen him from afar and decided you didn't actually want to meet him? Maybe you were freaked out? At this point he couldn't decide which one would distress him more. The prospect of meeting you or the idea that you no longer want to meet him. Panicked thoughts started rushing through his head and the plasticy covering of his booth seat was becoming increasingly uncomfortable the longer he sat there alone. If felt like he was in the splash zone waiting for a wave to smack him.

Before he can go any deeper into this panic though, you say down in front of him.

"Sorry I'm a little late. Hopefully five minutes wasn't too long a wait!" you laughed to yourself as you slid into the booth seat across from him.

"N-nope! All good here! A ha..." he mumbled awkwardly.

You both talked as your food came and he stayed draw in on himself and refused to let you see his face.

He would get more comfortable with the conversation as you talked and things seemed to be getting into a better note but his body language still seemed to stay uncomfortable.

You just kept the conversation up and hoped he would come out of his shell.

Nothing seemed to be working until you got on the topic of Jupiter Jim and you mentioned how underrated Atomic Lass and Atomic Lads dynamic is within the franchise and fanbase.

He'd sit up so fast that his hood flew off is face as he released an exasperated "EXACTLY!"

Now it was your turn to be shocked.

You didn't know what to expect but it wasn't green skin and less than human features.

Your bewildered staring clued him into his fatal mistake.

He'd sink back into the booth seat choking out an awkward forced laugh.

You so badly want to ask "What are you?" But that seemed a tad dehumanizing. Though you guessed he wasn't really human.

So after the initial shock wore off, you decided to say something a bit different.

"There's the face I've been dying to meet," you smiled.

"Pardon?" He looked up at you a tad surprised.

This was the first time he made eye contact with you since you got here.

"I haven't been trying to meet you in person for so long just so I could catch a glimpse of your fashion sense you know,"

After that he played it off like he knew you would react that way and immediately straightened his posture at the table.

The time there also got a bit more comfortable as you both chatted freely.

He still kept the hood on but was no longer using it to obscure his face.

Eventually you noticed his hands had been degloved and saw his green three fingers.

You didn't stare like you did at his face but you made a mental note to ask him about it later.

You were still curious okay?

While Dating

Once you two start saying it becomes increasingly obvious to you followers.

Your interactions with Donnie's little character slowly went from boss employee teasing to ridiculous romantic jokes to just straight up calling him pet names.

When you find out about Donnie's family and their mutant situation you were actually really interested.

Though it did make you a little sad at the realization that his behavior when you first met in person was because he thought you'd think of him differently.

Because of this one of your favorite names for him becomes "handsome boy" or "handsome man".

You'd ask him to edit something for you in one of your videos and when you were done explaining it you'd say "thank you my handsome boy!" And continue playing the game.

The first time this happened he was just watching the video to edit it like he normally does, only to get jump scared by the nickname.

Don't get me wrong, he loved the name, but he just didn't know what to think.

It took him a good ten minutes to recover from his flustered state of mind.

After he got out of it he would consider just editing that part out.

For.... reasons.

But ultimately left it in since the cut would be too awkward.

Needless to say your followers are BEGGING for an Othello face reveal and you just have to keep saying no😭😭

Outside of that you are like the OTP for Internet couples.

It gets to the point where you guys kinda become a meme

Some fan of a different streamer will talk about how that streamer and their partner and perfect for eachother and then one of your fans will just be like "yeah but are they as perfect as y/n and Othello von Ryan?"

It even evolves I into "peanut butter and jelly are the perfect pair" "not as perfect as y/n and Othello tho..."

or "UGH! GUYS! My fit EATS! Almost as much as y/n and Othello!"

It's all in good fun, and you find it absolutely hilarious.

Donnie is amused and anytime you show him these memes he simply nods and says something along the lines of "well I cannot disagree with objective fact."

Overall, very cute, very fun.

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

if you still do them, is it okay you do like one shots with ROTTMNT boys and a little sibling reader?

but here’s the thing, the reader is a little pink gecko with yellow spots, they’re around 10 or 9 years old and can run just as fast as sonic the hedgehog and basically have the energy of a golden retriever, they’re like a tiny dragon and it’s adorable yet SO. FREAKING. EXHAUSTING!!

❝ pink bubbles and banana laffy taffy!! ❞

₊˚꒰🥞꒱‧ — 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐱 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!𝐠𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐨!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

｡˚ 𓂋 🍋﹒✦﹒✿ ˚

❝l ɑׁׅ֮/ꪀׁׅ : okay i had to squeeze this one out because OHMIGOSH it is SO. CUTE!!!! i literally got soso excited when i read this because how did you know i'm legitimately obsessed with geckos?! 😭 i literally downloaded picsart to make that collage and wrote this in the span of a day or two because i got so excited aausghshdh !! fluffybun24, fluffy, darlin'. grips your shoulders and brushes your cheek tenderly. thank you. also, i'm just now realizing you asked for one shots after the fact ajsjjhd I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T REALIZE UNTIL AFTER RE-READING IT after writing this whole thing out XD DX but foremost, i must tell you that i mostly do my fandom writing in headcanon/reaction formats !! :(( one shot(s) aren't really my forte . . . albeit, i do hope this is just as good !! o7

(honorable mention: @agentturtlecupcake *HARSHLY NUDGES YOU* HEY. HEY LOOK. LOOKLOOKLOOOKLOKKOKLOKOOOKKLLOOOOOOOK. IT'S the, k-KID-🩷💛)

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ oh my goodness me, you are the simultaneous love and light, the bane and exhaustion, of everyone's respective lives.

don't get me wrong, your family absolutely adores you!!

especially since you're :(( the baby :(( aww :(((

it just, kinda freaks everyone thafuq OUT when you zip and zoom and flash everywhere

just. a maniacal streak of pink and yellow.

they don't know peace because of you. (affectionate!)

like they will be mindin' their whole business in its entirety and here you come

"*walks into the main living room* heeeeeyy, anybody seen my jupiter jim issue— [*nyooom!*] SWEET MOTHER OF G O D–"

it's not like you ever have ill intentions, tho 🥹 so it's okay.

"they're cute so it's okay!" — all of your siblings at one point, probably

while they do accept your golden retriever tendencies, it be givin' them gray hairs fr 💀✋

especially because you're so f a s t

you're there one moment then next thing they know you're halfway across the entire lair, tittering and chirping happily away.

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ so, over the course of your life, they've all developed their own designated role when keeping up with you:

raph . . .

being the oldest definitely feels the most responsible for you and acts on it! he himself has developed a sixth sense for when you zoom by and can catch you with (relative) ease every time, and has definitely saved your butt from like. accidentally crashing into a wall or smth sjsjsj

but big bubba can't prevent everything :\ so you have gotten some owies !!

but you can always count on him to be there to help you feel better.

he's your biggest bro 🥹 he always makes you feel better.

but i imagine u're also a maniacal little shit (*cough* thanks leo *COUGH*)

so sometimes you just, str8 up run away from him like ACTIVELY escape his grasp

it deffo takes some effort 😮‍💨 (petition : #saveraphfromhissiblings /lh)

"[NAME]?! Get back here, you little speed monster!!"

*cue toiny baby gecko squealing and The Daily Chase commencement*

oh yeah. it's a daily occurrence.

you stress him out 🤣😭 but it's okay. :))

(after catching you in his hands, holding you up to eye level): "Alright, you little goober. That's enough outta ya today." "But Raaaaph!!"

and then you can't really do anything because raph knows your sweet spot, your little switch, that melts you like putty - a little patch riiiight in the center of your upper back, a well-pressurized scritch is all it takes really, and oh. there we go. down for a nap !

however you simply must have your grand rebellion moments and give him arm gummy bites the entire time but he's the just personification of "😇😌"

ain't no doubting he loves you tho. adores you, really; your bright bubbliness is what makes him smile most days, and even tho your energy is a bit much for him to keep up with, and he'd really like it if you stopped fighting him for afternoon naps sometimes, i don't think he'd change it for the world.

leo . . .

is one who's fairly on par with your hyperactivity, so he's the one we all turn to when your excitement is bubbling over into something a liiiiittle too much :'))

playing tag when you're zooming to and fro is one of you guys' favorites.

but sometimes he doesn't play fair and uses his odachi to teleport >:((

and if you get genuinely upset, he just scoops you up and blows raspberries on your soft lil tummy.

he's the only one who can wear you out so he's an essential part of everyone's lives asksksjd

but bc of this

HE PROBABLY USES YOU AS COLLATERAL TO GET THINGS HE WANTS I'M NOT EVEN PLAYIN

"LEO!!! Ugghhghhh, can you please handle them?!"

"Mmmhmmmmmmm....."

"L E O ಠಗಠ! For the last time, you are NOT choosing for movie night tonight and the kind of pizza!! You've had it all week!!!"

"Ohh, suddenly I have no capability for one very specific baby cotton candy-banana pudding gecko..... Shame. Woeful, horrible, terrible, shame—"

"LEO!!!"

he's a jerk, but he's highkey your idol and he would give the entire world for you in a heartbeat, so :))

donnie . . .

acts like your hyperactivity is an inconvenience...... but in reality, he doesn't mind it.

(only when it compromises his tech. you've only had one to two incidents involving his lab before permanent damage control was done and it's been this way ever since. 😭✋)

sure, sometimes your wild nature can make him cringe on bad days, but what's a sibling if they don't get tired of your antics once every while?

it's healthy development !!

plus. he himself has his moments where his lowkey descent into madness shows its peak, so he can't really talk.

you've all got your quirks, y'know? (/ref)

in truth he accepts it as a part of you, and he loves all of you - i mean c'mon, you're his baby sibling.

and even tho he doesn't openly admit it nearly as much as the rest of your family - he really does think you're adorable.

and in more truth: donnie takes care of you a lot. like- as soon as you started showing signs of your speediness and just-consumed-five-bags-of-candy excitement levels, he completely baby proofed the lair 😭

and you can't tell me he didn't know you'd possess those superhuman levels of speed bro you CAN'T

that man is a scientist and he leaves no stone unturned, especially when it comes to his family.

he has you microchipped too sjjsjdh

[ i just thought of this just now, actually: he and leo are a team when it comes down to your genetics/biological health. donnie researches with his stem-augmented brain and studies your dna down to the very microfiber; leo adapts with his medical affinities to make sure you're the healthiest little gecko mutant kiddo you can be. <3 ]

WE MAY HAVE MADE FUN OF HIM AT THE MOMENT, because how much harm can one baby gecko do Donnie you silly fool honhonhonhon BUT HE'S THE ONLY 👏 ONE 👏 WHO CAME IN CLUTCH.

very much "who's laughing now?"

certainly donnie. my bet's on donnie.

"THEY ALL LAUGHED. THEY CALLED ME A SILLY FOOL. BUT FEAST YOUR EYES, BRETHREN. EATETH THY WORDS!!" "..... Raphie! Bonbon's doin' that crazy scientist shtick again!!" "[NAME]. >:("

on another note, i feel donnie would extend that branch of 'baby-proofing' and relate it to the gift he created for you. [ ref: s1/ep2 — "donnie's gifts" ]

maybe it was something like . . . a malleable sludge, some sort of putty, that melded perfectly over your legs whenever you were starting to get too speedy.

you were initially excited over the cute little metal band anklets gifted to you by your older brother, buuut once it activated .... :((

it made you big sads. :((

being a little speedykins was your most defining trait !! why would donbon try to take that away from you?? :(( donnie :((( donbon why :(((

.... what you don't know, (and me either tbh, we never got that 'explanation' from the inventor himself), is that donnie made it with your specs in mind.

geckos are able to climb vertical surfaces (with some exceptions of course, but for the most part !!) — when activated, those little "putty bands" would've aided in that.

because donnie knows how much you love to run around, especially climbing up the walls, but you can't stick up there forever.

was it made to simultaneously slow your ass down? yes. 🤣😭

(he's only one man what do you want from the poor guy ☠✋ your drive by's were enough to send him into cardiac arrest every time)

...... was it made to adhere to nearly any and every surface texture known to man & mutant kind? for an unprecedented amount of time? with the intentions of you having so much fun with it? also yes.

was it made with intricate care and with, overall, your best interests at heart?

yes.

but after the whole ordeal, he really did mean it when he says you're great just the way you are. :))

in your calmer moments, he likes to have you wrap around his shoulders like a fashion designer scarf and taps at your cute little tail, half as a stim, half as a gesture of affection, while he's in the lab focusing on his latest project

or even just. vibing. y'all are primetime vibey.

he finds your weight comforting. like a tiny weighted pillow.

and he'll never admit that he feels his heart nearly burst with love and pure fondness when you yourself happily curl up into your brother and fall asleep there, cooing softly into his ear.

he built a little comfort bed/pillow extension for you in his battle shell for such occasions <3

but he prefers the sibling cuddles without his shell on.

he trusts you, after all.

(i will never financially recover from this aksjddh SOBBING)

mikey . . .

is exceptionally good at matching all of your moods: your bubbly hyperactivity and bringing you to a calmer, serene state !!

how does he do it. 🧍

he catches you in his arms and strokes/scratches your back to calm you down, and it works like a charm every time !

he never has to use dr. delicate touch on you. despite being the closest in age, surprisingly, you listen to mikey very well !

call it survivor's intuition 🫠 orrrr just the fact that you and mikey are very close and in-tune with one another,

whenever he calls it quits for you - no matter how much you might whine and pout - you genuinely do tone it down.

i know i said this for leo too but i feel like mikey just has that magic touch. yenno?

no pun intended. ha.

but en ee wayz !! yusssss, mikey and [name] are the cutest little goobers.

y'all deffo get roped together being the "babies" of the family,

and despite mikey wanting to outfit that mold — mostly by means of appeasing to raph's overprotective tendencies — he babies you a bit too !!

you like to poke fun. you're observant, clever little thing. you call mikey out on it, going so far as to call him a hypocrite,

and whether you guys have a serious discussion or not is completely up to you !

but for the time being he just pets your head and affectionately tells you to hush, and keeps right on babying you.

he likes being your older brother !! so sue him !!

dynamics change the older you guys get =] so who knows what the future has in store?

you're one of his favorite muses. your color palette never fails to strike inspiration within him 🎨✨

when he catches your pink n' yellow blur in passing, he can come up with an entire idea for murals to tag around, don't play w him

he likes to do body paint on you too !! :))

(completely safe + free of harmful chemicals wbk)

probably makes flowers out of your polka dots (he definitely calls them that) or connects them to make a bigger picture.

he made an entire field of flowers and koi fish pond encompassing your back one time and you absolutely loved it.

you'll always be his little muse 💔

"[Nameeee]!!~ C'mere, polka dot! You wanna see if I can make a constellation this time?" "YAY!!!!" "Wait- waitwaitWAITWAIT SLOW DOWN—" [ *cue wii bowling ball strike sound sequence* ]

˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ ahaaa. overall, you're their cute little ball of sunshine. their little sugar carnival. their little pink bubblegum and banana laffy taffy gecko baby! and — while you being.... you, can get just shy of unbearable sometimes, they wouldn't trade you for this world and all the others.

after all, what's a family if you don't accept every part of them? no matter how exhausting it is. <3 you're a handful, but that's why you've got six pairs. and as the years go on, it only grows.

@chachachannah + @sweetparty for the dividers 🩷 @cureqt for the cute emoji combo 💛 & pinterest for the pictures! [the collage is by me!!] 🥰

⟆ ˙🍋 ̟ !! ─ further author notes . . .

™ : as always, susceptible to future editing for grammatical/formatting corrections !!

i absolutely loveddd writing this!! and for the intricacy, this is the quickest i've ever pulled a request-bun fresh from the oven!! :o kudos to you, fluffy! <3 i do hope you like this as much as i did aaaa!! now i've got polka dot gecko sibling brainrot. 🥴 it's true: you never know it's a good idea until it's presented to you !!

a couple of fun facts: "sugar carnival" is a term coined by me, in reference to one of my free verse poems a while back! i, also, consider myself a sugar carnival being at most times ˶ᵔᗜ ᵔ˶ & i came up with the title on the spot after hearing + envisioning "pink gecko with yellow spots". ideal color combo, criminally underrated. fluffy your brain deserves a pedestal and i will personally create it for you with my bare hands.✋🩷💛

╰┈➤ tues. jan 23, 9:18 pm, '24.

[silverzoomies]

silverzoomiezzz hi hi i was eating my cloudberry ice cream and i dont know why i start to think about peter and then i think about you. and i have a question for you. what do you think peter’s fav snacks that he would save it for you because he wanted you to enjoy and love it as much as he does? this is so silly lol but anyway have a great summer <3

💗oh my gosh, hello anon sweetie !! i'm sorry for answering so late !! i hope your summer has been nice !! it's been pretty decent here, aside from the lame ass humidity.🔥🫠🔥

i'm so honored you would think of me, after thinking of our beloved speedy boy. 💗honestly, i take that as such a huge compliment !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would like (he hoards them, cuz he's the snack hoarding type. ty dofp 💗):

⚡in canon, he hoards hostess snack cakes. specifically the chocolatey, cream-filled kind ⚡and twinkies. dude's got twinkies for two movies in a row ⚡like it's no wonder people assume he's a twinkie fiend ⚡we also see him with so much pepsi and mtn dew ⚡and i know it's just product placement obvi. but he does seem like a mtn dew guy, right? i bet he'd love baja blast. code red too ⚡dk if this counts as a snack, but he'd probably love taco bell. i mean, it's fast. it's cheap. it's addictive. it's easy to indulge in. mans would quote those old taco bell commercials with the chihuahua ⚡sour candy. all of it. gummy worms, airhead x-tremes, sour twists, sour patch kids. tell me i'm wrong. i'm not ⚡he'd make a mess with some fun dip, lemme tell ya ⚡any candy they used to give out on halloween? he'd be addicted to all that shit. he'd love sugary junk. he constantly needs his fix. laffy taffy, nerds, now and laters, skittles, pop rocks, m&m's - you name it, he's into it ⚡imagine the dorito fingers, anon. the cheeto fingers. the takis fingers. do y'all think he'd be more into regular cheetos, or hot cheetos? he reads as a hot cheetos guy to me ⚡he'd slam some icees. slurpees. any kinda syrupy, frozen drink. he mixes all the flavors, sucks it down, and feels no brain freeze ⚡if you took him to carnivals, boardwalks, or amusement parks; he'd put the funnel cake stands out of business ⚡sweets are his kryptonite, really ⚡i personally like to imagine he knows his fair share of international snacks too. since he can zip around the world in a blink. taiyaki. baklava. conchas. tres leches. pirozhki. european chocolate. any and all kinds of street food. he knows all the best 7-eleven instant ramen - and the best toppings for 'em too ⚡i think he'd also go hog wild over a really good steak, y'know? or some barbecue. some ribs. some brisket. all the shmeats !!

⚡snacks i think peter maximoff would save, just so he could share them with you💗:

⚡he wouldn't ⚡correction: he couldn't ⚡c'mon, do you honestly think he'd have the self control? ⚡you're asking him to do the impossible ⚡see, anon, he'd think about saving a yummy treat for you ⚡keyword being think ⚡like, just as he starts to realize he's crushing on you big time ⚡he's guzzling something tasty, when he has the thought: hey...wait a sec! you'd probably really like this!! ⚡but a second later, the treat's already gone. devoured in an instant. whoops! oh well!! ⚡he's just way too impulsive to save anything ⚡like it would have to be out of sight, out of mind ⚡or you'd have to pick from his own, secret stash ⚡because otherwise, he can't hold himself back. he'll gorge any snacks in the nearest vicinity ⚡he'd legit have to wait 'til you were both together. in that moment. if you had a few minutes. he'd be like, "hey. babe. babe. babe. babe. i got somethin' i wanna show you." ⚡he speeds you away for some mind-blowingly good street food, in some country you've never been to, nor heard of ⚡even on valentine's day. he has to snag you one of those heart-shaped boxes of chocolates last minute ⚡that, or he has to hide it from himself. if he doesn't, he'll be lookin' down at an empty box - chocolate all over the corners of his mouth - like "ah, shit."

[buff-daddy-cole]

HOLY SHIT LLOYD'S BLOG FROM DARKLEYS

TRANSCRIPT:

Part 1

Today was almost the best day of my life. I was eating my breakfast when a package came from my grandmummy and it was filled with bright, sticky candy! At my boarding school for bad boys it's REALLY, REALLY hard to get any candy or fun toys because they're always busy teaching us how to pull tricks and take over the world and stuff. I was about to smush my face full of candy when that bully Finn saw me and his face had a big smirk on it. He got up from his seat at the next table over and grabbed the candy away, using his powers to turn it into crawly bugs and worms. 'Disgusting!' I yelled, 'HEYYY, MY CANDY!' He laughed, looking around at his friends, and then he pointed to his t-shirt that read 'Evil Geniuses Don't Cry.' Everyone was laughing. I had to get out of there before he decided to stick me in the trash bin again.

I hid in an empty classroom and thought of a plan. What was the word for that called? I have to try and remember all the words from my Villain Vocabulary List. Plotted, that's right. So I sat right there and plotted. I was going to leave Darkley's Boarding School for Bad Boys and never come back, AND I was going to get more candy. Everyone knows the first rule of any mission is to dress really scary, so I picked the lock on the teacher's closet and found an extra cape and a black helmet to wear. There were also some stuff the teachers took away from us, like a rubber band, rubber snakes, and a soccer ball. Rubber Snakes! That was it! They looked just like Serpentine. HISSS!

Part 2

The best candy store is in Jamanakai Village, so of course I snagged a wheelbarrow and loaded it up. I got lollipops, gooey taffy, sugar straws, EVERYTHING! I threw the snakes at the villagers watching me. People hid and were scared. This is great, I thought, I’m going to have all the candy in Jamanakai and get a SUGARRRR HIGH! What would Finn think now, huh? Then those stupid Ninja had to show up, saying the snakes were fakes. They yelled at me for stealing. Before I knew it, people were throwing rotten vegetables at me, and those Ninja tied me up to a sign. This was just like Finn all over again. I felt a single tear fall on my cheek, but then I thought that Finn might be right about one thing – evil geniuses don’t cry! I am Lloyd Garmadon, son of Lord Garmadon and future ruler of the world!

I wandered through the Glacier Barrens to hide/plot. I was going to let those Ninjas see who they were dealing with. My luck turned around when I found this hatch that said Hypnobrai Serpentine on it with pictures of a snake using mind control. I was shocked…this looked like the real thing. I thought it was only a myth! I opened the door, and BOOM, fell down the hole. It looked like a snowy trap, and I could see millions of myself reflected in the ice. Just as I was thinking that I looked pretty scary, I saw a stranger – except he was just a frozen warrior dude, all bones. I started to shake. I wondered what happened down here... I’d rather be tied up by the Ninjas than end up frozen like him. All of a sudden I heard a rattling, and a bunch of TALKING SNAKES came out of nowhere! The leader tried to do a swirly thing with his eyes to control my mind, but I used my genius skills to move out of the way and deflect his stare, which bounced back at him. He was under mind control! I could make him and his army do anything I wanted! MUHAHAHA!

[jojosbizarrecandyland]

Chapter 1: Joanne's Sweet Endeavor / A Sweeter Encounter

Pages: 5 Words: 1978 Summary: Joanne, a determined twelve-year-old, runs the Sweet Tooth Candy Shop while her parents are away. She expertly assists customers, helping a grandmother pick out the perfect gift for her granddaughter, and manages a group of mischievous kids attempting to steal candy. Joanne sternly confronts them, offering a small treat and a lesson in honesty. As the day winds down, a suspicious group of men loiter outside the shop. Joanne senses danger and prepares to defend the store using the magical abilities of her candy bear, vowing to protect her parents' business no matter what.

The Sweet Tooth Candy Shop was a beacon of color and joy in the heart of town, its windows lined with every kind of candy imaginable. From sugary rock candy to chewy licorice, the shop was a paradise for anyone with a sweet tooth. Today, however, the shop had a special charm—it was run by Joanne, a twelve-year-old with a knack for business.

As the bell above the door jingled, Joanne looked up from behind the counter, her brown curls bouncing with her movement. She adjusted her apron and greeted the new customer with a bright smile. “Welcome to Sweet Tooth! How can I help you today?”

The customer, a middle-aged woman with a fondness for bright scarves, smiled back. “Hello, dear. I’m looking for something special. It’s my granddaughter’s birthday, and I want to get her something sweet.”

Joanne’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “We’ve got just the thing! Follow me.” She led the woman to a display of colorful candy jars. “We’ve got some beautiful candy gift boxes that can be personalized. You can choose a selection of candies to fill them.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Oh, this looks perfect. I think she’ll love these gummy bears and the chocolate truffles. How much for a box like this?”

Joanne calculated the total quickly. “That’ll be twenty-five dollars for the box and the candies.”

The woman nodded and handed over the money. “Thank you, Joanne. You’re doing a great job here.”

“Thank you!” Joanne said, ringing up the sale and packing the box with care. “Have a sweet day!”

As the woman left, another customer entered—the local neighborhood kids. Joanne recognized them instantly; they were often found eyeing the candy jars with more interest than was strictly allowed.

“Hey, Joanne!” greeted Danny, a tall boy with an impish grin. “We’re just browsing.”

Joanne’s gaze was sharp, and she was ready. “Uh-huh. Browsing, right. Make sure you don’t touch anything without asking, okay?”

The kids exchanged glances, and Danny’s grin faltered a bit. “Sure, Joanne. We were just... um, looking for something.”

Joanne kept a close watch as the kids wandered the aisles. Her instinct proved correct when she saw them covertly trying to slip candy into their pockets. With a decisive motion, she grabbed the broom that was always at hand behind the counter and walked over to them.

“Alright, enough of that!” Joanne’s voice was commanding as she brandished the broom. The kids froze, wide-eyed. “You’ve been warned. Either pay for what you want or get out.”

One of the girls, a smaller kid with pigtails, looked particularly nervous. “We’re really sorry, Joanne. We didn’t mean to steal.”

Joanne’s expression softened slightly, though she kept her stance firm. “Well, if you’re sorry, I expect you to apologize properly. And if you’re still hungry for candy, here’s something on the house.” 

She reached into a jar of sour taffy and handed them each a piece. “Now, scram. And don’t come back without paying.”

The kids mumbled their thanks and hurried out, the sour taffy already making their faces pucker in surprise. Joanne shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. She could be tough when she needed to be, but she had a soft spot for kids who made honest mistakes.

Later that afternoon, the shop was buzzing with the usual assortment of customers. Joanne’s attention was split between ringing up purchases and keeping an eye on the stock. She had just finished wrapping a box of chocolate-covered almonds when a group of older customers entered.

“Good afternoon!” Joanne called out brightly. “Can I help you find anything special today?”

A tall man with graying hair and glasses smiled warmly. “Yes, actually. We’re looking for some old-fashioned sweets. My wife and I are celebrating our anniversary, and we thought some classic candies would be perfect.”

Joanne’s eyes lit up. “You’ve come to the right place! We’ve got a great selection of vintage candies. Follow me.”

She led them to a display of nostalgic treats—root beer barrels, jawbreakers, and nougat bars. As the customers browsed, one of them, a woman with a gentle demeanor, asked, “Joanne, your parents must be proud of how well you’re running the shop.”

Joanne’s heart skipped a beat. She offered her rehearsed response with a casual air. “Oh, they’re on vacation. I’m holding down the fort while they’re away.”

The man raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, you’re doing a marvelous job. We’ll take some of these root beer barrels and a few of the nougat bars. How much do we owe you?”

Joanne quickly rang up their purchases and bagged the candies. “That’ll be thirty dollars.”

The man handed over the money, and Joanne gave him a receipt with a cheerful “Thank you for shopping at Sweet Tooth! Have a great day!”

As the last customer left and the shop quieted down, Joanne began her closing routine. She swept the floor, restocked the shelves, and prepared to lock up. The sky outside was turning dusky, the streetlights casting long shadows.

But as Joanne turned the “Closed” sign on the door, she noticed a group of men loitering nearby. Their presence was unsettling—there was something off about the way they hovered around the shop. Joanne’s instincts went on high alert.

She grabbed her trusty stuffed bear from her bookbag, her fingers brushing against its soft, comforting surface. With a quiet murmur, she activated its special magic, and the bear’s plush exterior shifted into a glossy candy material.

Joanne felt a surge of determination. She would protect the shop, no matter what. The men approached, their intentions clear. Joanne gripped her candy bear tightly, ready to defend her parents’ store with all the courage she could muster.

And so, as the evening shadows lengthened and the Sweet Tooth Candy Shop closed its doors for the night, Joanne prepared to face whatever challenge lay ahead with the same fearless resolve she brought to running her beloved shop.

_

The Sweet Tooth Candy Shop was buzzing with energy as Joanne prepared for a new day. She had been working tirelessly to set up a new display of lollipops, each one intricately shaped into stars, moons, hearts, and other delightful forms. These were not your average flat lollipops; they were grand creations, each one a piece of edible art propped up on sturdy sticks. Joanne meticulously arranged them on the counter, her excitement evident in the way she adjusted each display.

The morning sun was just beginning to shine through the shop's windows when the bell above the door chimed. Joanne turned to see a young boy about her age stepping in. He had tan skin, dark spiky hair, and was wearing goggles perched low on his forehead. His clothes were worn and somewhat shabby, giving him a rough-around-the-edges appearance.

Joanne offered her usual friendly greeting. “Good morning! Welcome to Sweet Tooth. Can I help you find something special today?”

The boy glanced around the shop with a dismissive air. “I don’t want to buy anything from you,” he said, his tone a mix of defiance and disdain. He looked Joanne up and down, his eyes lingering for a moment longer than necessary. Though he tried to hide it, a faint blush colored his cheeks as he found himself captivated by her determination and spunk.

“I came here to take some candy,” he continued, folding his arms defiantly. “Those kids who came in yesterday? They were working for me. I’m here to take what I want.”

Joanne’s smile faded, replaced by a look of stern resolve. “If you’re here to steal, I won’t go easy on you. I’ve got a job to do, and I won’t let anyone mess it up.”

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and he shrugged with a hardened expression. “I don’t care. I’m a thief, not a saint.”

Joanne’s frown deepened. She wasn’t about to let him walk away with her candy, not after everything she’d done to keep the shop running smoothly. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play it.”

Without warning, she grabbed a handful of the newly displayed lollipops and hurled them at him. The colorful confections flew through the air, but the boy was quick on his feet. With a flick of his wrist, he transformed his left hand into a large, bladed sword, blocking the incoming lollipops with ease.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” the boy taunted, his sword-hand slicing through the air as he deflected the candy missiles.

Joanne wasn’t deterred. She grabbed more lollipops and continued her barrage. “I’m not giving up so easily!”

The boy, who had been ready to steal the candy, now found himself engaged in a fierce battle of attrition. His ability to morph his body into mechanical constructs gave him a solid defense, while Joanne’s candy-throwing skills kept him on his toes. The shop was a flurry of colors and motion as the two clashed, the floor littered with shattered lollipop pieces.

Joanne’s eyes darted around the shop, searching for more lollipops to use as ammunition. Her focus was momentarily distracted when she noticed a giant candy sculpture on a precarious stand. It wobbled dangerously, tilting towards her.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Look out!” she shouted, but the boy’s attention was already drawn to the falling sculpture. Without hesitation, he dashed toward Joanne, tackling her out of harm’s way.

With a swift motion, he shifted his back into a deformed shield, his body morphing to absorb the impact of the falling sculpture. The candy crashed down onto the shield, and for a moment, everything went quiet. When the dust settled, the boy and Joanne were lying on the floor, safe and sound, though surrounded by candy debris.

Joanne looked up at him, astonished. “Why did you save me?”

The boy’s face was flushed, and he looked away, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t want to kill you. I’m a thief, not a murderer.”

Joanne’s expression softened, and she could see the sincerity in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

The boy nodded, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah. I’m sorry for everything. My name’s Luke. I didn’t want to cause any more trouble. I’d like to make it up to you. If you’ll let me, I could work here at the shop and pay off any damages.”

Joanne’s initial hesitation melted away as she considered his offer. She could see the potential for redemption in his eyes. With a bright smile, she extended her hand. “Alright, Luke. Let’s start fresh. We’ll clean up this mess together, and you can work here to make things right.”

Luke took her hand, his expression a mix of relief and gratitude. “Thanks, Joanne. I promise I’ll work hard.”

Together, they began to clean up the shop, sweeping up the candy shards and resetting the displays. As they worked, Joanne could sense that Luke was genuinely remorseful and willing to make amends. The two of them worked side by side, their earlier conflict forgotten as they bonded over the shared task.

By the time the shop was cleaned up and ready to reopen, Joanne and Luke had formed an unexpected alliance. The Sweet Tooth Candy Shop was back to its cheerful self, and Joanne felt a new sense of camaraderie with her unlikely helper.

As they prepared to open the shop again, Joanne looked at Luke with a hopeful smile. “Let’s make today a great day, shall we?”

Luke nodded, a smile of his own tugging at the corners of his lips. “Absolutely. And thanks for giving me a second chance.”

With a fresh start and a new friend by her side, Joanne was ready for whatever the day might bring. The Sweet Tooth Candy Shop was once again a place of joy and sweetness, and Joanne couldn’t have been happier.

[allimocha]

AlliMocha Fancuries FYC Post!

Hi Hello, Pip Pip Cheerio! Fancuries is here once again! And boy do I have something to share this FYC post.

So, I haven’t worked on Bittersweet X Daydream in a hot minute if I'm gonna be honest. A lot of other obligations have been taking time away from my main fanseries sadly. BUT I do have one new thing to show you guys regarding it.

…

Hear me out.

A redesign.

I KNoW I know I said no more redesigns, but after having these characters for so long, it's only natural that I'd want to change how they look. Specifically, there is only one character that I've redesigned so far anyway…

Lei Sandiego / Cure Spice

“𝘔𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘚𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘺, 𝘎𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘢! 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘦!”

Age: 16 (Second year/Sophomore)

Birthday: September 18th

Height: 5’6”

Ethnicity: Hispanic American

Cure color: Blue and Scarlet

Essence: Charismatic

Often referred to as “The school beauty”, Lei is admired by almost all of her peers. Her amazing charisma, along with her intimidatingly cool and beautiful looks immediately captures everyone’s attention. But despite this, she’s really just a big fashion geek. She prides herself in her impeccable style savvy-ness and studies the latest trends all the time. Lei is also a very confident person, sometimes to the point that it can be overbearing, but she’s never arrogant and always means well. She’s a hopeless romantic and is constantly trying to look for someone who likes her beneath her looks. Although she’s fashion-centric she’s also very athletic, being the co-captain of the girls' volleyball team, and so devotes time to doing both hobbies.

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That's not all, however, because I also have a new series that I've been working on. A crossover series if you will. Based on one of my favorite Disney movies of all time:

Sugar Rush! Precure

A group of girls go to the arcade after school every day to hangout. They excel at most of the consoles there, notably the racing games. One day, Vanelope finds a weird token like she had never seen before, as it was engraved with intricate patterns and a shiny gold. When she attempts to use it in a racing game, it flashes in the machine and floats out as another trinket (henshin item). At that moment, a mysterious person is creating havoc outside the arcade, clearly looking for something. He spots the trinket in Vanelope’s hand, and we all know what happens from here.

Yep! Cures based on the sugar rush racers from Wreck-It Ralph! So far, I only have 2 of their designs, but I'm still completely in love with where this is going. Speaking of which, lets show those two off!

Vanelope Von Schmitt / Cure Sweets

Age: 16

A very confident girl, Vanelope is definetly the ray of sunshine that brightens anyone’s day. She’s very friendly, but is also not afraid to tell it like she sees it. She also has a habit of being overly sarcastic or jokey, which can come off as annoying to others. Not really good at school and overly clumsy, so sometimes covers her negative emotions with jokes or sarcasm. Adores arcades and always states it’s her home away from home.

Tabitha Mathews / Cure Taffy

Age: 16

Very rich and spoiled and it definetly shows. She can be cocky and overbearing at times, but she’s got a good heart. One of the more popular girls in their school, and accells in all her extracurriculars. Due to her father being principal, people have rumored that all her grades were boosted due to nepotism, but that’s not true. She works hard to get where she is, and while vain and sometimes a little rude, she isn’t afraid to help others in need. Goes to the arcade to get away at times.

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So that’s all I’ve been working on so far! I can’t really say I’ve done much with my fanseries over the years, but hopefully you all like what I do have!

Byieeee~!