#six sugars

[goldnnavy]

1, 5, 12 ❤️

1. Last time you went to a cafe or coffee shop?

Yesterday morning actually! It's a wonderful little shop called the Daily Brew in Cataumet, MA (on the Cape). I went there cos I was visiting my grandparents with my family.

5. Do you like vintage stuff? Would you buy vintage stuff?

Oh do I! I love vintage things, and I probably buy too much of it when I'm not fixated on getting fandom/band merch. The last vintage things I got were a flat cap and my antique glasses. I really want to get more clothes.

12: Whether you think you’d suit it or not what’s a color you’d dye your hair?

I've dyed my hair exactly once in my life so far, and it was a dark black-brown (as compared to my naturally, mousy brown hair). It looked really nice, and I'll probably redye it soon, but if it had to be a color-color, I'd love to try blue or even silver-grey. (Compliment my eyes 🩵)

Thank you @beggars-opera for the ask!!

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Six becomes Five

Next

Inspired by @brittle-doughie and his few works about the 5 Beasts! The ones were the reader being a part of their group caught my eye, so have this!

You were Compassion, brilliant, and beautiful. You aided the Cookies in their times of need, when they needed you most. Helping them up to their feet, using your powers to heal them, to soothe arguments. Your friends were once like that too.

Shadow Milk Cookie loved to put on plays for the Cookies, and have them join in. He'd always give you one of the main parts alongside him. It was only fair!

Burning Spice Cookie was always so valiant in defending them, with Silent Salt Cookie by his side. The two were nigh unstoppable, and with you near to always heal any wounds, they really were.

Eternal Sugar Cookie would often join you in aiding the common Cookies, always lounging on her cloud. She always made a spot for you, though. Mystic Flour Cookie would tag along too, going on and on about things seen. It always made you smile.

Until.. something changed.

You didn't notice it at first. It was subtle things, especially whenever you weren't around. Being cruel and hateful towards the Cookies, seeing them as lesser. For not having the power baked and blessed into you six.

You only saw it all too late when your comrades gleefully recounted all that they had done during one of your meetup sessions. You were briefly in shock before shakily congratulating them. You didn't want to anger them. You couldn't take all five of them at once in a fight..

However, you didn't need to wait long. Your Creators, the Witches, soon saw this and upon seeing you untouched by greed and corruption, asked for you help.

Mournfully, you agreed.

You called them all to the spot, saying you had a dance you wanted to show them. A special one, just for their eyes. It was difficult getting them in the exact spots, but once you did..

The Forks fell, trapping them one by one. You continued your dance until the sapling of the Silver Tree was planted, where you then bowed to them.

None of them could understand. Why would you betray them?

Why were you walking away?!

"COME BACK, YOU CAN'T LEAVE!"

For so long following that fateful day, you tried to stay there in Beast-Yeast, but it wasn't possible. Many of the remaining Cookies, that were the Faeire Cookies, couldn't bare to live there any longer.

So you said a mournful goodbye, and led the Cookies that wanted a new home to a new home. Crispia, you decided it would be called. Once many Cookies began to settle, you turned and left. You couldn't bare the thought of becoming like one of the Beasts, so you secluded yourself, changed yourself.

Your divine appearance, your name, everything. Once a Cookie representing Compassion, now you were a mere shadow of yourself. The only thing that stood constant was your Soul Jam, now a beautiful amulet around your neck instead of attached to your clothes.

It was the one thing you couldn't part with, no matter how hard you tried.

You rebuilt yourself. Made new friends, connections, loved ones.

Until the day came.

You had to return to that land to find White Lily Cookie. You didn't want to, but for the sake of the world, you had to.

Oh, it had all gone so terribly wrong. White Lily Cookie had awakened, you had your reunion with the Faeires, and then the Seal began to undo. Try as anyone might, it couldn't be resealed.

And from the rift.. came Shadow Milk Cookie.

Without a single thought, you put yourself between the group and him.

He opened his mouth to say something, but when he spotted you, his pupils went wide.

After so long of being trapped, hidden away by the seal and vines, Eternal Sugar Cookie's constant wailings about you being tricked, manipulated, or brainwashed had gotten to all the Beasts. It was the only explanation, it had to be.

And as Shadow Milk Cookie grins widely down at you, obession in his eyes, you swear to yourself.

You really shouldn't have come back to Beast-Yeast.

[jazzkrebber]

one of the funniest things about show!wesper is that at first, Wylan is this poor, dirty kid from the barrel, but Jesper doesn't care because he loves him. then Jesper eventually finds out that his boyfriend is actually stupid rich and he accidentally found a sugar daddy

[leastrife]

Don’t think I’ll ever get over the fact that Kaz Brekker nearly shifted the economy of Ketterdam

Like if the crows managed to ruin all of Van Eck’s silos and taken out a large huge amount of the sugar supply. That’s not something that will go down anytime soon it would take years for sugar to go back to the price it was to match up with supply and demand.

This 17 year old kid who likes dogs and can never figure out how to talk to his crush. Kaz “I protect my investments” Brekker almost caused a complete disruption in the stock market and with how strongly Ketterdam is built on their economic system-

Please I need someone else who think economy is a really cool topic to understand just how much that’s insane. A 17 YEAR OLD NEARLY CAUSED A SHORTAGE OF A HIGH DEMNAD COMMODITY ITEM.

Kaz would go insane in America

[hyperfixationtimego]

I love you fucked up tv shows I love you gorey movies I love you traumatized characters who perpetuate the cyclical nature of abuse while still managing to remain sympathetic I love you intentionally morally ambiguous media that exists specifically to pose questions about psychology, ethics, and human nature I love you unflinching examinations of what it means to dance the line between acceptable and unacceptable behaviors I love you I love you I love you

[the-marshals-wife]

Cinnamon Sugar (Colt Seavers x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: A spontaneous Colt fic because I saw The Fall Guy again and I'm hopelessly in love. Someone needs to get this man his coffee, and it might as well be you. ♥

Description: Colt Seavers x Fem!Reader, flirty fluff | Warnings: nada, just Colt being the supportive sunshine he is | Setting: before Jody (or AU without) | Word count: 2,129 | Gif credit: user tay-swifts

Imagine being Colt's old flame and reuniting under unexpectedly sweet circumstances

As it turns out, production assistant was just a fancy name for errand girl. At least that seemed to be the case for you in the nearly two years you'd held the title. Yet after everything you'd been through to get here, you couldn't lose this job. Nearly an hour after you were supposed to, you haphazardly assembled the daily morning coffees for the sound crew on Stage B, and were now rushing like mad across set to make the first of many apologetic appearances for the day.

"Excuse me, sorry," you repeat nervously as you duck around people.

You'd overslept your alarm after staying up nearly all night printing a mountain of forms for the design director. Having never even eaten breakfast, you calculated if you also skipped lunch, you might be able to catch up to your usual routine. You weave between the tents as fast as your legs will carry you, trying not to bump into anyone and lose your cargo of caffeine.

As you cut the corner around a camera truck, you're fixated on the tray of beverages in your hands, and you don't see the person right in front of you. You collide at full speed.

The tray flies back into your chest. You gasp as the lids of two of the cups pop off and pour coffee all down the front of you and the poor soul you collided with. You recoil and frantically try to catch the other two cups, but you're unsteady from the impact. A strong hand grasps your arm and keeps you from tumbling completely to the ground as you attempt to regain your balance and find purchase in the loose gravel. Despite your efforts to recover, the tray and all its contents falls at your feet. You're left drenched and clinging to the arm that's gripping yours.

You gape down at the mess, frozen in horror.

"I am SO sorry," you begin shakily, "Oh my gosh, I'm so so sorry! I'm such a-"

The second you look up, it feels like time stops, along with your pounding heart. You would know those baby blues anywhere, even through the narrow visor of a helmet. He removes his headgear, and you stare in complete disbelief at the rugged, all-too-familiar face before you.

"Colt?"

"Y/N?"

He sounds equally stunned, his eyes filled with recognition.

"It's you," you breathe.

"It's you," he says, flashing a bewildered smile, "Are you alright? Did you get burned?"

"I'm fine. It was lukewarm anyway" you reply, embarrassed, "Are you okay?"

"Perfect," he nods distantly, "Long time."

"Yeah. Furious Seven set, right?"

"Close. Fate of the Furious," he recalls, "Summer 2016. Havana, and Atlanta."

"That's right. I can never keep the order straight."

"No one can," he laughs, lips twisting into a grin, "You look great."

"So do you," you smile.

Somehow, he'd gotten more handsome than the last time you met. Memories come flooding to the front of your dizzied mind. Many of hot summer nights spent by the pool, and even more of sneaking off together to the hotel rooftops to be alone. Even now, you could still feel the warmth of his strong arms wrapped around you while you talked for hours beneath the stars, sharing your dreams and imagining the future. You'd hoped desperately that he would be in both. And here he was, crashing back into your life and looking at you as if he'd never left.

Knowing you were already slipping back under the spell of his lovesome stare, the coffee dripping off your cheek and down your neck brings you back to reality.

"Oh, look at your suit," you despair at the splatters, attempting to wipe them away with your shirt sleeve, "I'm so sorry, Colt. You know me, always the klutz."

"Don't worry about it. It looks like it's water and coffee resistant," he dismisses, gesturing to the helmet in his hand, "I'm the idiot walking around with this thing on. Just trying to slip away for five minutes without someone yelling at me. Director's got a stick up so far up his backside today, I think it's stabbing his brain, if you know what I mean."

"Oh I definitely do," you grin, followed with a sigh, "I think the whole art department has it out for me at this point."

As you swipe away the last of the obvious drops, your hand lingers on his chest. Blinking, you remember yourself and quickly step back.

"Unfortunately, I don't think my getup is as resistant as yours. Probably should swing by costuming next," you laugh, looking down at your soiled, previously white blouse.

"What am I doing?" Colt admonishes himself before shouting over his shoulder, "Uh, can we get a towel over here, please? Or two? Thank you."

Much to your gratitude, another assistant walking by hands you each a towel a moment later, the studio logo emblazoned on the corner. You hurriedly rub the black linen over your face and turn your focus to your ruined clothes.

"Great service around here," he remarks.

"Coffee delivery notwithstanding," you add.

As he brushes the remaining droplets off his shoulders, his expression turns hesitant. "Oh, you uh, missed a spot. May I?"

You pause wiping at your sleeves and nod to him. He delicately brushes away your hair to dab your temple with his towel, and his touch is almost as soft as his gaze upon you.

"There. Good as new," he declares.

"Thank you," you say, proceeding to wipe at your java-stained jeans in an effort hide your flushed cheeks. "I had no idea they brought you on."

"I've only been here about a week," he explains, clearing his throat, "The last guy's wife just had a baby. I'm just filling in 'til he gets back."

Your stomach sinks at the news, and you try to conceal your disappointment as he continues.

"But yeah, we started the shoot for the big chase scene today. Just wrapped up the opening shots."

"Wow, that's great. I can't believe I haven't seen you around before now. Then again, I don't see the set much while the cameras are rolling. I'm mostly behind the scenes, running all over creation bringing this and that. Speaking of which..." You toss the towel around your neck and squat down to clean up your accident. "I know some people on Stage B who are probably wondering where their drinks are right about now."

Colt takes a knee and retrieves the tray for you, and you begin to stack the empty cups and sticky lids.

"You're not going to get in trouble, are you?" he asks, worry in this voice.

You flinch at the thought, "Not much if I hurry up and remake these."

"Let me help you then."

"You don't have to do that, Colt. I'm sure you're busy."

"I'm on break, and you only dropped them because of me," he insists, "Even if I wasn't, what are they gonna do? Start without me?"

You smile to yourself. There was no arguing with him. He was just as charming as you remembered, and twice as stubborn.

"Alright, you win, Mr. Bigtime Stuntman," you tease.

He holds up the last cup and he raises his eyebrow suspiciously at the letters scribbled in marker on the side.

"What does the 'C.S.' stand for? Colt Seavers?"

"Cinnamon sugar, actually," you chuckle, "Vanilla latte with exactly six shakes of cinnamon sugar on top. Executive producer's favorite. He orders it every single day, no joke."

"That sounds good. I might have to try that myself," he smirks, "Is there like a coffee list I need to put my name on? Or do I just...swing by your trailer?"

"Like they give trailers to production assistants," you scoff, standing up.

Before you can pick up the loaded tray, he snatches it off the ground and jumps to his feet. You know better than to try to take it back from him.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, he gives a little bow. "Lead on, milady."

"The machine's in the catering tent," you giggle, walking in that direction.

"Why are you running around getting coffee for people anyway?" Colt asks, following alongside you, "I thought you were writing the greatest paranormal, pseudo-thriller mystery romance movie of all time? 'Lovers of Lives Past.' What happened with that?"

"You remembered," you say, blushing.

"Of course I remember! I love that story! Did you finish it?"

You frown, reminiscing on the hand that fate had dealt you since you were last together. "My mom had a bad fall, and I took off a year to take care of her. She's better now, but when I got back, I couldn't find any work. The studio wouldn't take me back in my old role. Said they 'downsized the crew.' That included the writer's room. I couldn't even get a spot as a proofreader. When this position finally opened up, I had to take it. It was that or quit the filmmaking world altogether," you sigh, crossing your arms, "I don't know, after being away so long, working on the script didn't seem to matter anymore."

"It does matter. If it means something to even just one person, it matters," he states emphatically, "It matters to you, and it matters to me, so that's already two people right there. Look at you go, Miss Bigtime Hollywood Screenwriter."

His words get a snicker out of you. You'd missed that unbridled enthusiasm of his so very much.

"Oh Colt," you say, shaking your head, "I don't think I have it in me to write a real movie. Besides, you know how quick the landscape changes in this business. No one wants the stupidly optimistic, cheesy stuff I write. They all want gritty, dark scripts or things they can make ten-year franchises out of."

He stops in his tracks and immediately faces you. "Now that's where you're wrong. People want the cheesy. They want the hope, even if they don't know they want it. They need it," he insists, "I know you can do it. I believe in you. But that doesn't matter unless you believe in you."

You stare at him thoughtfully, heart swelling. He was wasting no time reminding you of all the reasons you fell for him in the first place. As if you could ever forget.

"You're sweet," you say.

Sweet. Warm. Inviting. Comforting. Your cinnamon sugar.

He smirks. "It's the vanilla latte."

You start walking once again. The catering tent was close up ahead, and the butterflies in your chest were building up with every step.

"So um, where are you heading next? When the other guy gets back, I mean," you stammer.

"I'm not sure. My schedule is actually pretty open after this," he answers, giving you a coy look, "Why?"

"Just wondering," you say, biting your lip.

"I was thinking of maybe hanging around here a bit. Slow down, take in the scenery, see the sights," he suggests, "You know anyone who could show me around town?"

"I might." You fight to suppress your excitement as you sense his meaning.

"Colt!" someone calls out from behind you, "Pyro wants to talk to you about the ramp launch! They're worried about the impact of explosion on the car with you in it!"

Colt comes to a halt and groans, bowing his head.

"This is why I had the helmet on," he says under his breath.

You look over your shoulder and see that the voice belongs to the stunt coordinator. He had been friendly the few times you'd spoken to him while handing out donuts to the crew, but at present, he looked less-than-thrilled to be delivering that message.

"I see you, man! I know you can hear me!"

He finally turns on his heel to shout back. "Alright, just gimme a minute!"

"Chief wants to see you now. They're almost done prepping the next shot!"

Colt pivots back to you, wincing. "I'm sorry. He always gets intense over fire stuff."

You laugh and take the tray from his hands. "You better go. Wouldn't want you to get in trouble either."

"I'll be back for that coffee. Cinnamon sugar, six shakes exactly," he says with a wink as he steps in the other direction.

You give him a thumbs up. "I'll keep the machine running."

Mere seconds after you turn your back, he calls your name, and you're spinning around again.

"Hey, Y/N?"

"Yes, Colt?"

"Promise me you won't give up on your story?"

"Okay," you agree.

"Say you promise," he points a finger at you, walking backwards, "Say the words."

"I promise I won't give up," you concede, grinning, "Promise me you won't blow up?"

"Cross my heart."

[gallerygourmet]

anyways save a ship ride a jedi or however the saying goes

[moonmoonthecrabking]

something i love about musical theatre is that there's no sequels. you go to the performance and that's it. it's brought to life in different ways, sure, it may have references to other properties, but you don't need to watch them. everything can be self-contained. and when We Live In A Society where everything gets a live-action remake, or a sequel, or is a part of a Cinematic Universe, or is a musical remake, the fact that you can just enjoy a musical without having to catch up on a bunch of other content is a relief.

[respectthepetty]

Sugar Dog Life better quit acting shy and give me *the* scene next episode.

Because Black Brooder (?) Amasawa is being an entire thirst trap in the sixth episode!

He is opening the door half naked, he is walking in on Isumi in the bathroom, and he is giving Isumi his clothes to wear even when Isumi has his own clothes.

Just so he can wear that exact shirt a day later when they eat dinner together.

He is giving Isumi a key to his place with a little police dog on it.

Which matches his key.

Because he will not let up on this ridiculous dog thing he has going!

But this would all make sense since he is allowing Blue Boy Isumi to sleep at his place in a blue bed right next to him as an act of kindness since Isumi's apartment has a leak.

Yet . . . it feels so much more significant blue.

I hadn't noticed how blue Amasawa's apartment really is.

And that's because it hadn't been this blue. Not until Isumi showed up at least.

I cannot pinpoint Amasawa's color because sometimes he seems black and secretive, and other times he feels neutral and oblivious.

But it's clear that Isumi is a sensitive and loyal Blue Boy.

So him being around Amasawa, living in his apartment, making him meals, saying goodnight, and handing him umbrellas as he leaves in the morning has to have some effect on Amasawa.

Because if Amasawa is an entire thirst trap this episode . . .

Then what is our Blue Boy?

Our Blue Boy is overextending himself staying awake and making Amasawa's the best food to eat when he comes home from a long shift.

He is packing Amasawa the best meals to eat at work in little blue containers that make his co-workers jealous.

Amasawa is aware of how much effort Isumi is putting in around the house to thank Amasawa for letting him stay there which causes him to feel guilt.

But is Amasawa aware how much this Blue Boy really cares for him even without this living arrangement?

Is Amasawa even aware how much he cares for that Blue Boy?

Because when Isumi's best friend patted him like Amasawa usually does,

Amasawa went through several emotions in just a few seconds.

So, once again, does Amasawa realize how much bluer his life is with Isumi in it?

Because he not only let this Blue Boy into his apartment, but also into his bed.

So is he also in his heart?

[undercover-grisha]

Jesper: “You know, sometimes I feel like a little bit of an accessory.”

Wylan: “I can be the pretty face tonight if you want to do the talking.”

Jesper: “…no I just wanted to guilt you into buying me a new hat.”

[josephtrohman]

finding out that they have a groupchat to pick the 8balls

[jackwolfes]

have you been wanting to follow a very long modern au wherein jesper is a flight attendant with impulse control issues and also happens to become wylan's sugar baby? boy howdy have i got a fic for you!

read on ao3

[yanderecookierunkingdom]

Hello you can skip or delete this request,

Can I have a fallen hero’s / beast x fem reader, probably before they went to the darkside and can reader be the one who helps the witches to seal them.

Headcanons or one shot is fine.

Just gonna quietly hijack this for 6 becomes 5..

"I wish it didn't have to be this way.." You weeped, covering your face with your hands. Tears fell down your face as you knelt before the Witch, one of your Creators. She looked down upon you with sympathy.

"I'm sorry, Sparkling Joy Cookie, but this is the way it must be." She soothed you, Her voice like a melody of chiming bells. "They can not be allowed to spread to other lands and cause their destruction. You are our only hope."

"I understand.." You wipe some tears. "I just.. I wish things could have been different."

Gently, She places a fingertip under your chin. "We all wish we could change fate, but fate is fickle. Fair is foul, and foul is fair." She frowns. "But no more moping, Sparkling Joy Cookie. We must act with haste."

Shakily, you exhale. "What do I have to do?"

The five Fallen Heroes were excited. You had prepared a special dance for them, and them alone! One you claimed that no one had ever seen before, meant for their eyes only.

Oddly, you had them sit in a circle around you, but you claimed it was merely so that they could all see.

As you began to dance, from above in the sky, the Witches watched. The one you had comforted you had five glowing Forks raise behind her in the air.. and one by one they fell.

During a grand sweeping gesture, Mystic Flour Cookie and Burning Spice Cookie were trapped.

Twirling in Eternal Sugar Cookie's direction, a Fork fell upon her. Smiling in Silent Salt's direction, a Fork upon him.

You outstretched a hand toward Shadow Milk Cookie, and before he could react, his prison fell upon him. His hands gripped the bars, body shaking from the betrayal and rage running through him.

As you leapt into the air, a silver seed fell from the heavens and planted itself into the ground. A small sprout quickly began to grow.

You landed and bowed to your friends.

"I wish.. things could have been different," you whispered mournfully before turning and walking off, ignoring their anguished pleas.

[romancemedia]

❤️Light Novel/Anime Couples❤️

The Greatest Anime Love Stories originated from Light Novels

[onebadpunspoilsabunch]

Years after FIM has ended, and it just occurred to me that Applejack is the only one out of the main cast that hadn't achieved anything significant! Weird.

Hey... that's right. Even Spike achieved more than her. Babs Seed achieved more than her. SNIPS AND SNAILS achieved more than her 🤣

Twilight Sparkle: Becomes ruler of Equestria

Spike: Becomes royal advisor/ambassador

Rainbow Dash: Becomes a Wonderbolt

Rarity: Opens another boutique in Manehattan

Fluttershy: Creates her animal sanctuary

Pinkie Pie: Helps Cheese Sandwich run his factory

Even some of the supporting characters:

Big Mac: Marries Sugerbell

CMC: Earned their cutie marks and created their camp

Babs Seed: Earned her cutie mark and becomes a hair stylist

Lyra and Bon Bon: They get married

Derby: Becomes a chef

Snips and Snails: Snails becomes an athlete and Snips is his manager

I guess Applejack... still runs her farm. Cool 😂

I guess she got together with Rainbow Dash in the end also. That too.

[slippedtheknot]

Whumpmas: Day "Six"

Sugar cookie + burns+ denied food as punishment

Whumpee shrugged his shoulders and hid the bottom half of his face in his hoodie; trying to hide the tears.

However, to Whumpee's dismay, Caretaker is good at her job and was able to pick up on his watery eyes right away.

"What's wrong?"

Whumpee sniffled and turned his face from her hands. "Nothin'"

"Are you sure? I want to be able to help you."

"I-it's just that...well Whumper. He...he'd keep food from me as a punishment."

Caretaker nodded, before the words finally sunk in. "Oh, oh okay. Well...hun, you know that you've been good today, right?"

"Um...yes ma'am, I understand. It's just that, I'm not too hungry right now."

"Sweetheart, you have to have something." Caretaker brushed the stray hairs out of Whumpee's face. "I can't send you to bed on an empty stomach!"

"Would you feel better if you helped to make it? We can make some sugar cookies. Maybe by the time we make, bake, and decorate them, you'll be hungry."

Whumpee bounced the idea around in his mind for a while.

"Okay."

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

"Hey, Whumpee, would you mind grabbing the cookies out of the oven? Set them down on the stove top." Caretaker looked back at Whumpee while she worked at stirring the frosting. Whumpee's head shot up and his body moved to the oven door. His movements almost seemed robotic to Caretaker, but she shrugged her suspensions away.

The door popped open, and the next thing Caretaker heard was Whumpee screaming.

She dropped her stirring spoon and bowl. On it's way down, the spoon knocked over the milk; spilling it all over.

Between the pain, Caretaker grabbing his wrist, the cool water, the sounds, and the smell of cookies, Whumpee was having a breakdown.

"Hey, sweetheart." Caretaker grabbed his face and turned his face to her. "Are you okay?"

"No."