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fanaticsnail · 4 months

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Something Like That

Masterlist here, Request link and mood board here.

Word Count: 4,048

Hi everyone! This is the last x-mas fic I can push out before my time away over the holiday period interstate. I hope you enjoy reading for our boy Zoro. Thank you @sordidmusings for keeping me motivated! Merry Christmas, Anon! Just in case it peaks your interest @gingernut1314

Warnings: Fluff, Christmas, talks of battle scars, kissing, dancing

Just like all of the times you had ventured to Baratie, this time had every intention of being no more than passing time with delicious food. The floating restaurant atop a mighty ship was your favorite stop-off on your way home to Lougetown to visit with your extended family; the food’s glowing reputation almost did justice to the divine quality and the accompanying drinks were what dreams were made of. The fact that the staff was comprised of reformed pirates also held an appeal, considering your ties to that lifestyle as a skilled archer.

Bidding farewell to the vessel you had bartered onto for voyage, you heard a strange amount of merriment floating melodically from the wide fish-mouth at the bar lounge of the grand restaurant. You furrowed your brows, arching one up as curiosity held you captivated by the songs seeping to the surface with a wide array of demonstrated skill. Some vocals were sung blissfully, others shouted with no skill depicted within their throats.

Taking deliberate steps with your bow in hand, quiver strapped firmly against your waistbelt and traveling satchel thrown over your shoulder, you sauntered to the grand doors and lobby of the restaurant to meet the matradee. He welcomed you with a broad smile, which rose to sit comfortably and warmly, peaking at the apples of his cheeks. His regular white formal garb was replaced with a deep emerald green dinner jacket, a small bushel of pointed leaves with red shimmery berries strung together by twine.

“Welcome back to Baratie!” He exclaimed with glee, “I have your usual table awaiting you.” He gestured a guiding hand to the right and indicated for you to follow his direction to the bottom of the twirled staircase.

Your confusion seemed to set in further as you took in your surroundings. The usual bare bars of the railing were ornately decorated with vines of sharpened, needle-like sprigs and small warm lights shining amongst the shrubbery akin to starlight. Your gaze was drawn upwards, noticing a small and sporadic assortment of floral clusters clinging to the roof and down the pillars of the supporting canopy. The bunches were of pale sage green, floating romantically down and arching their spindles out to grasp the pearled white flowers amongst the greenery.

As your gaze fell to rest upon the circular room, you noticed individuals joining against each other in embraces of romantic twirling and swaying. Their voices would raise to join with the tune regardless of how skilled they were to carry the tune, prompting you to raise an apprehensive smile to your lips.

“What is going on, sir?” you asked the fishman matradee as he chaperoned you to your regular table, “this all seems rather strange and unusual for a Monday afternoon, don’t you think?” Your tone of playful jest prompted him to chuckle in response, pulling out your chair for you to sit within your corner booth. Wordlessly, he took your bow and satchel while you unstrapped your quiver to disarm yourself to place your valuable items to be placed in the cloakroom.

“One of our kitchen-hands has returned to us, settling his dining debt from his time with us,” the matradee informed you, a playful twinkle drawn up to his eye, “and in celebration, we’re attempting to showcase a custom he had picked up on his travels.”

You hummed in response with a polite nod, brows raising with interest as you pulled your gaze over to view the diners amongst the crowd. Noticing jovial laughter and an uproar of cheers, you pulled your gaze to seek out its source. A young man with a straw hat atop dark loose curls immediately captured your attention, his eyes upturned and jaw hanging wide as he allowed another heartily laugh escape from his chest. His arms were hooked around the necks of two of his companions, drawing them in closer to his chest; a woman with short orange hair clutched within his right arm, while a bandana-clad man with a similar cheery expression lay gathered within his left.

Scanning over the remainder of the party members surrounding him, your eyes first drew to examine the tall, blonde companion. His hair skewed the view of his left eye, but what you could make of his right; he was a delight to look at. After holding your eyes against the blonde for longer than you truly thought appropriate, your eyes met with the final stranger of the party. His dark hazelnut orbs immediately locked on your probing gaze, bearing a protective intensity, his moss-coloured locks raised without much care as to which direction the strands fell.

As his eyes continued to hold your attention, you stared him down to reciprocate his wordless challenge. His brows furrowed briefly before a wolf-like grin rose to his lips, smirking up to the right-hand side of his face with an air of arrogance. Training as a skilled archer had drilled the practice of continual focus on a multitude of targets. This small challenge set your heart alight with a similar thrill to hunting a foe, the green-haired man not shying away from your attention and focus.

He was captivating. His air of protection and loyalty to his companions transferred without question of translation. You watched as he drew his dominant hand to fall to rest against a white blade hilt at his side, his wrist hanging limply against the handle atop the scabbard. He arched his left brow up at you and gestured with his chin, indicating to you that he would not shy away from a fight if one was to be offered to him. You arched up your brow with your own smirk, gesturing lightly with your hands over your torso and falling down to your waist; indicating you were currently unarmed.

Without breaking your gaze from his challenge, you reached your hand below the white tablecloth, shielding your hand from retrieving an item from your handbag beside you. You let out an audible laugh as you watched him fix his posture more upright, his smirk falling from his lips as his frown deepened in partial alarm. After feeling the hard object you were searching for, you raised it to no longer be obscured from view and rotated it within your hands to demonstrate how non-threatening the item was.

His face immediately dropped at his idiocy as his eyes took in the novel you were holding within your hands, closing his eyes and having a small smile rise to his lips. As soon as his eyes closed and soft chuckle fell from his lips, you relished in the knowledge that he was the first to back away from the intense wordless challenge he initiated with his eyes, indicating that you had won the small victory.

While his eyes were closed, you fully examined his face. Eyes first shamelessly raking over his hair, trailing down and over his closed eyes and settling on his parted lips. His coy smile now completely risen against his lips held a foreign beauty, the creases of his cheeks indicating such softness was not a common occurrence. He was intriguing, someone you would have considered pursuing should you have had more time between your usual meal at Baratie and the upcoming ferry you had booked to shepherd the remainder of your journey.

You shook your head, uncaring whether he would meet his intense gaze against yours again as you opened the pages of the novel you had begun reading on your journey out to sea, picking up where you last left off. The words whittled within the pages were of a variety of archery techniques and forms, a gift bestowed upon you by your favorite uncle - the one you held the most joy in rejoining with in Lougetown.

A gentle cough interrupts the passage you were skimming, drawing your attention up to the waiter beside you. He placed down in front of you a seasonal beverage, the steam rising from the rim wafting towards your nose to envelop your senses with its rich, velvety and creamy scent. You thanked the waiter as he placed an accompanying biscotti beside the treat, the crumbled texture littering the small side dish with pebbles of its buttery substance.

Reaching towards the handle, you raised the drink to your face, gently parting your lips and circling them to blow on the scorching liquid. After relinquishing your gentle blows to your particular satisfaction, you drew up the mug and took a quick sip of the contents. Immediately flooded by the indulgent flavor of the caramelized chocolate mixing with the creamy and decadent texture of the frothed milk. You sighed, breathing out your pleasure at being once again welcomed by the perfect combination of flavors offered to you at Baratie. Placing down again onto the circular, ceramic dish, you lifted your novel to continue reading from the last page you left of; blissfully ignorant or willfully ignoring the intense pair of eyes continuing to hold firm their locked gaze upon you.

“Something the matter, Zoro?” the Straw-Hat captain asked from beside the swordsman, clutching the bone of a perfectly prepared tomahawk steak within his right hand while chewing on the sinew, “you’ve been staring at that table for a long time now.” The swordsman remained quiet, not truly hearing the words spoken to him.

“”M’fine, Captain,” He mumbled. It was true, he had become entranced by the person he was currently inspecting. His bewitchment had only intensified as he witnessed your knowing and examining gaze falling to seek out the loud and joyous laughter falling in the air of the surroundings. You had to be a hunter, by the looks of you: whether it be seeking bounties, hunting animals or contesting mark-matching with the bow you allowed the fishman to leave with.

“You sure there, Moss-Head?” Sanji taunted him, his signature smirk ruffling the temperament of the swordsman further, “you seem awfully focussed on the-... -Oh. Oh, they’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” Zoro snapped his gaze up to focus on the chef whose head was now shamelessly pointed directly at you, eyes searching your body and examining him the way Zoro was trying hard not to.

“What of it, waiter?” he growled in a disinterested snarl. Sanji slowly dragged his gaze from your body over to face the swordsman once more, eyes darkening with a challenging intensity.

“I think they’re very pretty, indeed,” Sanji’s exposed brow twitched in an upturned flirtatious suggestion. Usopp smirked, leaning in on his elbows to get a better view of the show Sanji was absolutely going to engage against the swordsman while Nami shook her head. Rolling her eyes, she sat back to rest her shoulders against the plush booth, tilting her head down to shield her smirk to remain hidden in her expression of amusement at their rivalry.

“I think they’re so pretty, in fact,” Sanji snuck another glance at you, watching as you pursed your lips while turning another page of your novel, “I think I’m going to ask them to dance the next round.”

“What’d you say, waiter?” Zoro tilted his head, attempting to hold his composure and feign disinterest at the challenge. The subtle gruff anchor of his voice gave him away, Zoro winced at his own vocal tone. Sanji chuckled at the failed attempt, choosing to draw his elbows against the table and cradle his chin to rest atop his laced fingertips.

“It’s not like you’re man enough to ask her to dance, anyway,” Sanji’s smirk rose into a broader grin, relishing in Zoro’s physical reaction of sharpening his posture to rise against the jab. The blonde chef chuckled darkly, drawing his lips to press against his fingertips before suggesting with another jab: “Someone like that looks like they’d prefer to be held in the arms of a real man, not something like you, Demon.”

“I’ll let the two of you know when I see one,” the orange-haired navigator murmured in a low tone, her voice immediately capturing the attention of the two bickering crewmates. Usopp feigned pain, clutching at his heart briefly before nodding in confirmation of her comments: both flinging their heads back in unbridled laughter at the motion. Luffy continued to remain blissfully ignorant, finally sucking at the large bone to rid the object from all edible elements of the dish while offering a small laugh of his own. Although he truly had no idea why they were laughing at that moment, he was happy his crew was getting along - to the best of his knowledge, anyway.

That was the occasion after all: merriment and joyfulness being the central point of the entire reason for this celebration. Sanji and Zoro turned back to face each other again, eyes bearing an electric intensity as they met their rival’s challenge.

“No,” Zoro gruffly growled, his lips curling in a small snarl. Sanji arched his head to stretch out his neck, eyes closing as he felt a gentle ‘pop’ and sighing in reaction.

“You gonna actually approach them and ask them to dance?” Sanji lazily taunted him, his smirk returning, “or am I going to get there first?”

At that final nudge, Zoro was away from the table and almost stomping his heavy boots against the polished floorboards like a chastised toddler. Sanji chuckled at the response, reaching forward to claim a portion of the confit potatoes to place on his plate.

“I gotta know, man,” Usopp leant in towards Sanji, his broad smile rising to his cheeks, “were you that interested in them, or just wanted to get a rise from Zoro? I can never tell with you.”

“That’s my secret, Great Captain Usopp,” Sanji’s left corner of his lip curled up in a smirk with a playful glimmer in his eye returning, “I’m always interested in getting a rise out of him. Beautiful strangers are always a bonus. My favorite is when those two things are not mutually exclusive,” he chuckled, collecting an assortment of ingredients on his fork and raising the utensil up to his lips, “two birds with one stone, and all that.”

The thud of heavy boots alerted you to a figure closing the distance between themselves and your body. The thumps of the hard boots against the polished floor reverberated with a sense of danger. Patiently, with a sigh exiting your parted lips, you placed a small piece of parchment back into your novel to tab the chapter and slowly turned to look at the approaching figure.

“Can I help you?” you asked, a bored tone with a subtle air of cautious warning befalling your cadence. As you drew your eyes up, you noticed the same intense gaze from earlier falling to meet your sat position on the table. His eyebrow seemed to twitch, indicating slight agitation as his jaw was clenched tightly shut. Cocking your head to the side, you allowed a partial softness to grace your features as you danced your eyes between focussing on each of his hazelnut orbs.

“I-, uh-,” the man was stumbling over his words, unable to string a sentence of cohesion together. He raised his hand to the scruff of his neck, pinching the flesh with his calloused hands and grimacing at his expression.

“You?” you cooed up at him, a smirk rising once more to your lips. You shook your head, hair dancing at the small sway of movement. Your attention was once again captivated by him; the arrogant energy you had initially met your gaze with was dismantled under his apprehensive aura.

Zoro had every intention of proving how much of a ‘real man’ he was to his crew, although not so much of a display in masculinity; but more of a need to not allow Sanji the pleasure or satisfaction of flirting with someone so enchanting as you. He was going to simply offer his hand to you, smirk in a gesture to ask you to join him on the dance floor and parade you in front of his crew. But alas, as soon as his eyes met with yours once again; he felt helpless and small under your huntress eyes.

“Well, are you going to stand there all rigid, swordsman?” you taunted, reclining in your seat and resting your elbow atop the backrest, “Or are you going to take a seat?”

Again, Zoro found himself taken aback by your direct approach. He followed your index and middle finger as you gestured to the empty seat in front of you. He shook his head a little to rid him of his prior bewilderment and then apprehensively moved to withdraw the chair to take a seat. You took him in, watching his deliberate movements in the way he sat atop the chair: every action intentional. As he sat, he offered no conversation other than broody silence. His eyes would flitter over to check-in on his prior dining companions and grimacing as his gaze was met with taunting gestures from his crew.

“Friends of yours?” you asked him, brow arched and reaching for the handle of your mug.

“Something like that,” he uttered in a gruff tone, arms folding abrasively over his chest. You chuckled at his tone, taking a small sip from your mug and eyeing him deliberately.

“Care to share further, or would you prefer having another wordless exchange?” you placed the empty cup back down on the dish and offered another challenging smile. He snapped his eyes back to yours and his smirk rose again to his lips.

“They’re my crew,” his rumbly chuckle was withheld in his chest beneath his smirk, “I like half of them, but respect the lot of them.”

You hummed in response, index finger dancing atop the rim of your relinquished mug of hot chocolate. “Would you like to tell me more? I’m all ears about the ones you like and the ones you’re less fond of.”

Over the course of the next few hours, the swordsman and you would swap tales of travels throughout the East Blue and the Grand Line. Foes bested, beasts conquered and sorrows overcome: the tales of injuries you had both granted to opponents and received at the hands of them. He leant back against the back of his chair and slowly unbuttoned his shirt and hooked his fingers within the collar and hemline of his shirt to draw it back to showcase proudly to you. You felt your breath hitching in your throat at not only the physique of the swordsman, but in awe at the large healed mark slashed across his torso. You felt utterly ill-seasoned with your smaller indents of arrows and thrown dagger marks littering your shoulders. As you hooked your middle finger in your left shoulder strap and coyly revealed the small silver, healed markings, Zoro was held captivated by the marks to showcase your tales of battle.

Enamored, awestruck and enchanted; you both held a small lilt of encaptured silence, leaning in on your forearms against the white tablecloth and gazing into the eyes of one another. Respecting your mutual combatant skill, both you and Zoro’s eyes fell half-lidded in adoration as you held each other’s undivided attention.

The music and merriment fell into a slow tune, reflective of the seasonal tradition Baratie was attempting to celebrate with succession. Zoro was the first to break the silence between you, placing his left hand on the table with his palm up.

“Would you wanna dance?” he asked, his drawl gruff but attempting to remain polite in his request. You smiled, reaching your right hand to fall within his own, his hand immediately circling around your fingers firmly. His thumb circled over your four fingers, caressing his calloused and experienced hands over your skin.

“You don’t seem like much of a dancer, Zoro,” you commented, both rising to your feet. He drew you in close. Keeping his left hand extended upwards, and raking his right over the mid of your back to draw your torso flush with his, he uttered: “I’m not, but it seemed appropriate. Considering the holiday, and all.”

“Ah, yes. We never did quite get to discussing what all this,” you gestured with your chin, smiling at the decorations surrounding the room, “was all about.”

“I’m not really sure on the minor details,” he shrugged, awkwardly swaying you to the music, “Cap’n just said something about different traditions needing to be incorporated. Something about food, music, dancing, and decoration-...-oh. Oh, no-.”

You furrowed your brows, looking up at the roof to follow after his risen gaze. A small sprig of white, pearled flowers hung over your heads, accompanied by sage-coloured oblong leaves wrapped in ribbons of satin and twine. You cocked your head, left brow raising in curiosity at the flowers and their significance. Drawing your gaze back to the swordsman in front of you, you noticed he was stooping himself all the more closer to you.

“What are you doing, swordsman?” you questioned, halting him in his descention towards you.

“This is one of those traditions,” he said, unlacing your right hand from his left and wordlessly asking with his eyes for permission to cradle your cheek within his palm. You looked at the hand first, then drew your eyes back up to meet his intense gaze. Smiling, you placed your cheek into his awaiting palm while holding his gaze firmly against your own.

“Touching a stranger’s face beneath strange flowers is a strange tradition,” you furrowed your brows at him once more in curiosity.

“Kissing them beneath strange flowers,” he corrected you, leaning to join his lips immediately against your own. A small squeak fled from your lips, eyes widening as you felt the intensity falling from his chapped lips onto your own.

This was not how you pictured your return to Baratie to go at all. Sure, you had dreamed of meeting a handsome stranger and sharing an embrace with them. The stars just never aligned for you in any way that drew you close enough to share a kiss with them, only ever moments of story swapping or sharing a meal or two with many travelers accompanying you.

You allowed yourself to become relaxed into the embrace, reaching your hands up to circle his neck below the assortment of flowers. His brows furrowed in concentration as he inhaled sharply through his nose in reaction to your reciprocation. You smiled, closing your eyes and tickling the scruff of his neck beneath your fingertips; lacing his untamed sea-sprayed locks within them. He expertly opened your mouth to taste more of your lips by angling his chin upwards against your own. A small groan rumbled within his chest, passing from his mouth to fall against your own as he continued to cradle you against himself.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from his embrace with your eyes remaining closed. You felt a small pause falling with his next actions, before you felt a warm forehead press against your own. You reopened your eyes, your half-lidded and lazy smile mirrored against the face of the swordsman you just shared a kiss with.

Interrupting your embrace, an announcement was called over the speakers. The crackle of cables and wires sprung to life within the metal relay, alerting you with a vocal command: “The next vessel to Lougetown has arrived. All those traveling to Lougetown, report to the peer with your documents. Next vessel to Lougetown will depart in twenty minutes.”

“That’s me, unfortunately,” you sighed, eyes remaining closed but lips drawn up in a wide smile.

“Business in Lougetown?” Zoro’s whisper rumbled within his chest.

“Something like that,” you withdrew your forehead from its place resting against his own, “much akin to your crew, although I’m held attached by biological relation.”

“Anyone I’d know?” Zoro smirked, eyes remaining partly glazed over enamored by your small daliance.

“I never ‘name drop’, swordsman,” you cooed up at him while unlacing your arms from his embrace, “but if you’re in the general area,” you retrieved your belongings from your table and laced your handbag and novel over your shoulder, “I’ll be at the G-5 Marine Base with my uncle for the next month for training.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he smirked, eyes upturning to indicate his joy at the thought of meeting with you once again.

#x reader #one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #xmas fic #opla xmas #mistletoe

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scav-gifs-daily · 3 months

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Hey i recently got rain world and am having loads of fun but i was wondering how you get IDs to show and how to spawn mobs? I see all these cute scavs on your blog and want to make friends with them but not sure how

Ok fuck it i'm making this my pinned post. uhhh

ID : 193713904

for everyone not interested, have this scav

for everyone who is interested,

most of this is done through mods

Visible ID lets you see any creature (or items) ID, as well as their stats

Dev Console lets you spawn basically anything at will. the documentation is uh. lacking, last i checked, but the command i use is : <at cursor> spawn Scavenger ID.1. with the ID you specifically want following the last dot with no spaces. you can also do destroy type=Spear to disarm all the scavengers present and invuln to make yourself immune to everything

not neccesary but useful tools are beastmaster for spawning objects (don't spawn pearls from the all-menu that crashes the game) and mousedrag for moving entities as well as reviving / killing / deleting entities

#rw scavenger #gif #rainworld #rain world #rw scav #transparent #creature #ask

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minecraftbookshelf · 9 months

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Life Series Scarring Headcanons: Part 2

All the disclaimers and explanations are on Part 1, so if you haven't seen that one yet, I recommend hopping over there real quick.

Some of these do get a bit...graphic? Specific? Something along those lines. I kind of split the middle ground between Video Game and more realistic injuries. (Did I spend way to long thinking about specifics of murder and death for this? I plead the fifth.)

This one is Grian, ImpulseSV, InTheLittleWood, and LDShadowLady

Lessgo!

Grian

Third Life: In my mind's eye Grian has always turned to look at the sky after his leap from the cactus ring, so the death blow was to the back of his head.

Last Life: Scott killed him when the late-game reds banded together to hunt down Grian and Joel. The other members of the alliance dealt damage, but Scott got the final hit in. Grian was fleeing at the time, so the scar is on his back, above his wings.

Double Life: Because sonic booms don't leave external evidence so much as they remove your insides from anything vaguely approaching a solid state, there isn't a scar as such from this death. There is a mark though, mid-mass. (it is not concentric circles, that's just what I put on the diagram to mark the location)

Limited Life: Fall damage again, based off the "camera angle" the general vibe I got was that Grian could have tried to catch himself on his hands as he fell. From that height, it was futile and there are faint marks on his wrists where the bone poked through as well as the actual death blow to the side of his forehead. Bird Man needs to stop falling off things fr.

Impulse

Third Life: Bdubs shot him after Scar gave him a clock in the most infamous backstabbing in the series to date. Usually when Bdubs shot someone I place the mark a bit lower, but they were on a bit of a hill at the time.

Last Life: In what was something of the fashion on the Last Life server, Scott shot him. He was trying to flee when he was shot, so I placed the mark at the base of his skull. (If only they were able to wear helmets)

Double Life: Pearl killed Bdubs with a blow to the front, so Impulse has a fainter scar from that death.

Limited Life: In the new contender for most infamous backstabbing in the series (poor Impulse has some rotten luck here) Martyn pretended to go along with the "disarm and fight it out" plan only to turn on them and seize the victory. Impulse wasn't wearing his armor, so the final blow was a sword through his torso that severed his spine.

Martyn

Third Life: Martyn died in the Battle of Dogwarts, to an arrow from Scar. Due to how helter skelter the melee was, I opted to have it be an off-center shot that tore the side of his neck, so it is not a clean mark. (It mirrors Ren's on the opposite side)

Last Life: He was blown up by his own end crystal, (probably triggered by a potion Scott threw) which was placed level with the top half of his body and he was literally right next to it facing it. He didn't even have time to try and shield himself with his arms.

Double Life: He died when Cleo took fall damage while fleeing from Pearl and her dogs. This is one where I took some creative liberties and opted to have the fall damage interpret as a tree branch that Cleo landed on with the full force of their own body weight, impaling herself by accident.

Limited Life: Whether going with his time ran out or Grian smote him, either way it is a death by lightning and the scars are lichtenberg figures down his chest and arm and a little bit his back. The smitey-lightning always goes for the heart, so he and Scott match now. (it also leaves a mark on the sole of the foot when it exits the body and enters the ground, but that doesn't show on the diagram.)

Lizzie

She has only perma-died in one season, even though she has technically been in two. In Last Life she ultimately died to fall damage while trying to fight back and escape from BDubs when he betrayed the other reds. Her scar is hidden by her hair.

Part 1

Part 3

#trafficblr #life series #third life smp #last life smp #double life smp #limited life smp #grian #impulsesv #inthelittlewood #ldshadowlady #rain rambles #life series headcanons #traffic life scars

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primewritessmut · 10 months

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“Are you okay, dear?” The old woman’s voice is shaky but strong. “Is this young man bothering you?”

Peter glances at Wade, who waggles his eyebrows and mouths young man, before he turns his attention back to the woman. Of fucking course a stranger on the street would think Wade is a danger to Peter when Peter is actually the one that could snap the merc in half without breaking a sweat.

He opens his mouth to respond when Wade drops an arm across his shoulders and pulls him right against Wade’s side.

“Just a little friendly debate, ma’am,” Wade says without hesitation, sending a disarming smile towards her. “My little sweet pea here sometimes forgets that I only get on my knees for him.”

The woman’s milky eyes blink and a trembling hand lifts toward her throat, horrified. Literally clutching at pearls.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter says through gritted teeth, elbowing Wade in the stomach as Peter steps out of his hold. “My friend isn’t house-trained.”

She blinks again, no less appalled by this statement than by Wade’s, and Peter feels his face flame. This is why he keeps his fucking head down. Embarrassment and anger surge through Peter and he sends the woman a smile that’s probably all teeth given the way she pales at it.

“Excuse us, please.”

He grabs a handful of fabric at the collar of Wade’s hoodie and drags him toward the mouth of a nearby alley, shoving his back against the brick wall once they’re out of sight of the sidewalk.

“Someone should put a fucking leash on you,” Peter growls up at Wade, pushing up onto his toes so he can get in the merc’s face.

“Yes, please,” Wade groans.

#spideypool #fanfic #fic wip #deadpool #wade wilson #peter parker #spider-man #did i write this for myself? yes #did i also write this for vin? yes

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ceruleancattail · 1 year

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Hi ceru, Congrats on milestone once more! :D

Can i request for the calamity event with Yandere jade says “If you wanted my attention so bad, you could’ve said so instead getting all comfortable with them(first year/floyd)” and a reader who can predicted him pls.. 🫣

(no, i am not down bad for this man.)

Mostro Lounge was a little more quieter in the morning.

Sinking into the plush of the chair, your fingers tap on the table. Smooth, polished until you could see your own reflection, sharp as a photo. Octavinelle really doesn’t skimp on their service, don’t they?

Cutlery clacking against each other, a plate placed in front of you carefully by gloved hands. You prop your face up with your hands, catching a glimpse of black before muttering your thanks.

“Thank you, Jade.”

A childlike laugh, a gleeful sound. Freezing on the spot, you whip around, frantic. A lanky figure greeted you, dressed in rather unkempt clothes. Shirt half-tucked out, bow tie undone, swaying with every movement he had. Staring up in shock, you register his face.

Floyd Leech.

The wrong Leech.

“Shrimpy, your order’s here!”

He chirps, still laughing to himself. All you could was to nod, before whispering an flustered apology to him. Floyd waves your concerns off, before sliding in the seat next to yours. His shoulders bump against you, before he leans over you, fingers picking at your food.

Seizing a pinch, Floyd slips it into his mouth, before getting back up. He gives you a little wave before he leaves.

A sweet gesture.

Unfortunately for you.

A cough from behind you. A soft, gentle sound. A sound that was ever so familiar to you. Turning around slowly, you come face to face with Jade Leech. Your… admirer, of sorts. You weren’t too sure what he was to you.

Elbows pressing into the backrest of your chair, he leans over you, lips curled into a small, disarming smile. However, that smile came nowhere close to his eyes. Narrowed silts of brown and ember, they stare you down, peering into your soul.

Suppressing a shiver, you turn back around, picking up a spoon. The silent clatter of dinning resumed. As much as you tried to ignore him, you could just feel his piercing gaze, eyes boring holes into your back.

Setting down your utensils, you fold your arms over your lap. Jerking your head slightly, waiting for him to speak.

Heels clacking across the floor, Jade moves excruciatingly slowly, dragging out the chair opposite you. A shrill sound that sank its jaws into your eardrums. You squirm a little, to his amusement. He sinks into the chair, eyes never leaving yours.

“So, there was a case of mistaken identity, wasn’t there?”

You nod hesitantly, eyes darting across the room. The entrance was just a few steps away. If you needed to, you could bolt out and…

“Prefect, you’re being rather rude.”

A weight on your hand, cold slipping into your fingers. Jade places his hand over yours, pressing it back onto the table. You clutch at the sheets, biting back a retort. You’ve learnt better then that.

The ghost of a smirk plays on Jade’s lips, smugness radiating from him in waves. He caresses the back of your palm gently, careful measured strokes. If it was from anyone else, it’ll have put you at ease.

Jade’s touch only makes you stiffen up, goosebumps trailing up your arm.

A laugh, as Jade’s hand slips into yours. Prising your fingers apart, he closes his fingers around your palm.

Holding you closer.

“If you wanted my attention that bad, you could have just said so. There wasn’t any need to get all cozy with Floyd, hm?”

He sighs, before his fingernails dig into your palm, pressing crimson crescents into your skin. You yelp, yanking your hand back. Jade doesn’t let go, pushing his nails deeper and deeper, until pearls of scarlet peek out, the indents raw and throbbing.

“Am I clear, love?”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #jade x reader #jade leech x reader #twst jade #Yandere jade leech #Yandere jade #yandere jade leech x reader #yandere jade x reader #calamity

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notquiteaghost · 2 months

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sometimes you write and post minecraft youtuber fic in 48 hours and that's so valid. smalletho hc10 get-together ft. it/its for etho, me drawing a subtle line btwn etho and xb and how they are the Same Dang Guy, do NOT do polycule negotiations like this at home, and aroace people can experience love at first involuntary soulmate-bonding too, as a treat

The start of a new season is always busy. There’s mining to do, and farms to build, and enchantment set-ups to construct, and no one knows where any of the rarer resources are yet. You have to decide where you’re basing, what that base will look like, if you’re setting up a shop as soon as possible or not. There’s a lot.

So Etho isn’t avoiding Joel.

Joel didn’t go on the group mining expedition, and then Etho ran into Gem and realised oh, right, Gem wasn’t on Vault Hunters and Etho really missed her, actually, so then it spends a while with her. And obviously then it has to see Iskall, and then it’s dead so it has to worry about that, and Grian sucks it into his whole fishing thing, and it kills Pearl but then it’s building a creeper farm. Because one thing about the early game it never misses is cutting down trees by hand.

And then Pearl asks how feasible it would be to set up a mailing system, and there’s maybe a few days there where Etho only leaves the nether to sleep.

So yeah, okay, maybe it’s been weeks now and it hasn’t even seen Joel yet. That’s a completely normal thing to have happened, it hasn’t seen several people, Bdubs can quit it with the pointed comments already. Joel knows where it is and he hasn’t come over either.

But then he does come over. And he leaves that note, about taking Etho’s gunpowder, and leaving the banners, and that’s. Fine. That’s fine! Bdubs does not need to physically drag it over to Joel’s base! That would be completely unnecessary, because Etho will get over there soon! Once they’ve fixed more of the mailing system’s bugs, and once Demise is wrapped up, and all the traps are disarmed, and yes the mailing system could take weeks and yes everyone basing on the mountain has been out of Demise for weeks already but shut up. Wasn’t Bdubs going to terraform or something.

Bdubs goes to terraform, leaving Etho by itself at its base. Which is what it wanted. It has building to do, while it waits for Tango to get back from Zedaph’s. Its house still doesn’t have a proper back.

Its house still doesn’t have a proper back, some amount of time later, when Joel appears over the hill.

Read the rest on AO3 here

#smalletho #hermitshipping #fic #ethubs #trafficshipping #does joel look on tumblr. can i maintag him. do we do that #ethoslab #fuck it this is his fault #smallishbeans #fic tag #if ur seeing this cuz u are following me Despite the hc content and u read it anyway PLEASE tell me and i love u #ok cool good talk

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hermitprankwar · 7 months

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Hermit Prank War: Round 1 Match 1

Secret Fools Ghasts (Season 9)

Prankster(s): DocM77 Victim(s): Grian

For April Fools Day, Doc transported many, many ghasts to the Overworld and hid them underneath Grian's starter area, with a button (helpfully labeled "DO NOT PRESS THIS BUTTON") set to trigger the mobs to be raised by a water elevator and released upon the server. One of the ghasts from that day is now held in Cub's museum, while one other ghast still roams the Season 9 Overworld to this day.

Mini Cleo (Season 9)

Prankster(s): PearlescentMoon, ZombieCleo Victim(s): ZombieCleo (and later GoodTimesWithScar and TangoTek)

As Cleo's Secret Santa, Pearl put herself in a box wearing Cleo's skin, armed with three custom audio goat horns that said, in Cleo's voice, "Hi, I'm Cleo!", "Yeah," and "No," and promised to do whatever Cleo desired. After using Pearl to help her disarm a prank by Jevin, the two of them decided to terrorize and confuse other Hermits, starting with Scar, who they then recruited to do the same to Tango.

#hermitblr prank war #docm77 #pearlescentmoon #zombiecleo #hermitcraft

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mcperlovka · 2 years

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pearlina but in pokemon mystery dungeon.

bonus details + old art below

pearl n marina meet while they’re, their stage one evolutions, and quickly become a master rank exploration team.

pearl mainly uses sound based moves like hyper voice + disarming voice + perish song. her ability is competitive.

marina uses different moves depending on what would be best for the mission.

also i think it would be cool and fun if 8 ended up joining their team as a 3rd member. have no idea what they’d be yet but when i decide.... it’s all over for y’all.

old art from 2020

#pearlina #splatoon 2 #splatoon 3 #wigglytuff #reuniclus #radonart #pmd au

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detective-and-dreamer · 26 days

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In which the Disarming Detective has acquired a yacht and needs someone to handle her (and the ship):

"Detective," the Resourceful Navigator murmured, low enough to avoid alerting the Blind Helmsman's other patrons. The Disarming Detective in question gave him one of the smiles that had earned her title as she slid into the chair across from him (recently vacated by a gambling partner who'd proved to be a sore loser). "Long time no see. You here for business or pleasure?"

"Hopefully a bit of both?"

"Well, if you're looking for someone, I haven't seen 'em." They paused, then added, "'Less it's someone I don't like."

"No," she said, "it's your kind of business. I've bought a ship. Or rather, won it, but I spent quite a bit of time and resources to do so."

He stared at her for a moment, waiting for a punchline. Then they started laughing at the lack of one.

"You. You, who barely go within a hundred yards of the docks if you don't have to, have a ship? For what?"

"There are places I need to go," she said. "It seemed easier than hiring someone several times over to take me to them. Now I only need to do it once...if you're amenable, of course. And I'd let you use it whenever I don't need it."

"...You'd just...Nor, you're talking about a ship, not a string of moon-pearls or a pair of boots." This was a dream; it had to be. And yet reality began to close in on them - the familiar noise of the pub became a grating din, the air suddenly stifling. Perceptive as ever, she stood up and tugged at their hand.

"I know what I'm talking about. Come and take a look at it."

He took in deep, grounding breaths of zee air as they walked arm-in-arm along the pier. Past a clipper, past a frigate, past that ostentatious yacht-

The Disarming Detective stopped. She gestured upwards.

"Here it is!" she said brightly.

The obscenities that poured from the Resourceful Navigator's mouth did, in fact, make a few other nearby zailors blush. In between curses, a few phrases could be caught, such as "can't do anything by halves" and "Little Miss More-money-than sense."

"I have plenty of both, thank you very much," she said. "And I wanted something comfortable enough that I wouldn't have to think too much about where I was."

"And you're just going to let me have this? The most expensive thing on the entire Zee?" They gazed up at it; it wasn't the sleek, fast type they favored, but it could be theirs.

"Most of the time, yes. Though I do intend to be quite demanding for the foreseeable future." Her fingers slid up and down their arm through their sleeve. "You know your talents are wasted under your current captain."

"And so I'm to be under you?"

"You've never complained about that before."

He managed to drag his eyes away from the ship and over to the Disarming Detective. Her dark hair glittered with drops of zee-spray, her grey eyes with mirth.

"...Nor, I think I might have just fallen a little in love with you," he gasped, like it had been dragged out of him with his breath.

"A terrible choice," she assured him with a grin, leading him up the gangplank and towards the captain's cabin. "Now, since we're done discussing business for the moment..."

Laughing, the Resourceful Navigator swept her up and walked into their new room.

#my writing #you ever just catch up with your fwb and drop an insanely expensive and life-changing gift in their lap?#Lenora #also I'll go ahead and tag this as #suggestive #for the implications about their past and the fade to black #Emory

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year

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sworn fealty part 1

See my full list of works here!

Summary: When Lady Sif and the Warriors Three conspired to travel to Midgard and bring Thor home, you attempted to stop them in fear of the wrath of the just appointed King Loki. When they inevitably subdue you and your fellow soldiers, you're the one tasked to relay to him the unfortunate turn of events.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: violence; broken flanges; Reader putting herself through pain; Lady Sif & the Warriors Three being shitty friends to Loki & Reader; brief talks about flogging & public punishment; implied/almost smut (so minors & pearl clutchers i better not see you around you have been warned) [let me know if i missed anything!]

"Of course he won't lift the banishment on Thor," Sif seethed as she paced through the common hall designated for the warriors of Asgard. "That little miscreant has always been jealous of him and always will be and now that he's King--"

"Sif," you hissed. "Stand down. Would you really speak of Asgard's new King this way?"

You heard a mirthless chuckle from your far right. "Of course you would be so quick to defend your new king," Fandral taunted. "Y/N, you've harbored your infatuation with Loki since we were in training. It was endearing before, but if it will stand in the way of us bringing home the rightful King of Asgard by birthright, it is a nuisance."

"I am simply stating that we are now dealing with an occupant of the throne who wields his magic as if it were an extension of his own limbs. He has ways of listening everywhere and I would not risk speaking ill of him even when he is not in our evident company. My friends, I implore you, stand down."

"You wouldn't speak ill of him even if his powers were dampened and he be locked in a prison cell," Volstagg huffed at you. "We are bringing Thor home. We refuse to believe Loki's lies that the Queen herself forbids his return. We must bring him back before his brother makes a mess of the entirety of the realm."

He wouldn't, you protested inwardly. You simply have written him off as nothing but a troublemaker that you doubt his ability to rule before he even be given the chance to prove himself. "I was there when he ascended the throne," you spoke slowly, calmly, trying to mask your frustration toward the people you struggled to call your friends at this moment. "The Queen herself called in the Einherjar to present him with Gungnir. Shouldn't that count for something?"

"It doesn't," Sif hissed from her position. "The Queen has always had a soft spot for Loki, that is beyond any doubt. Asgard needed someone to rule in Odin's stead as he succumbed to his overdue periodical rest, and he was the only choice left. That doesn't mean that he deserves it."

You bristled at her faithless, spiteful words. "To go against the wishes of the King, the wishes of the Queen Mother, is treason."

"I sincerely hope that you will not take our actions in bad faith, Lady Y/N," Hogun spoke solemnly. "And that once these matters conclude you can still find it in your heart to call us your friends."

The four warriors drew their weapons pointed at you and your fellow soldiers. Fandral spoke once more. "But if you will not join us in recovering Thor from Midgard and bringing him home, where he belongs…"

"Then you are against us," Sif finished. Her eyes softened a fraction before speaking again. "I do not want to hurt you, Y/N."

You gave her a sad smile in response. "If you are determined to stay this course, my friend, then you must." You drew your weapon to defend yourself.

It didn't take long for the three warriors to disarm and restrain the other warriors who chose to stand in their way; they were after all given their reverence in their own special titles for a reason. That left you and Sif, facing off, your blows almost evenly matched with her ferocity--most definitely stemming from her own unconditional fealty to the god of thunder--giving her only the slightest advantage.

"Yield, Y/N!" she cried as she charged towards you once more, her strikes slowly diminishing in strength as you deflected her blow once more, the metallic clangs of your weapons clashing echoing throughout the hall. "For once in your life relinquish your fealty to Loki and do what's right!"

You threw your first offensive blow throughout this altercation, following through with your whole body as you knocked her shield from her arm. A few more blows that the lady warrior had barely parried and she was disarmed. "Yield, Lady Sif," you ordered once she was without her weapons. "You've been bested, it's time to yield."

"I'm so sorry, my friend," she said softly as two pairs of hands grabbed at your arms and extricated your weapon from your hand. You looked on either side of you, the faint twinge of betrayal stinging at you as you spotted Fandral and Volstagg holding your hands in place, as Hogun placed your wrists in chains. Sif kept her posture straight and tall as she walked over to you. "Your loyalty to Loki will be your downfall one day, my friend. I beg you to see reason. At least give us a few minutes head start before you go running to your King."

Once they had you restrained and seated far from the other soldiers, they turned and left the hall, no doubt to head toward the Bifrost to retrieve the blond-haired god.

"Someone will come for us, Y/N, do not worry," one of your fellow soldiers, Daario, tried to reassure you. "They'll send for someone to set us free. They're our friends. They wouldn't just leave us here."

"By the time someone comes for us, it will be too late," you hissed, your fellow soldiers agreeing with you. "The King finds out that we didn't inform him and we'll all suffer the consequences. He'll have us thrown in the dungeon for conspiracy to treason or some other absurdity. We have to find a way now, while there's still time." You struggled against your cuffs, trying to contort your hand to slip through the restraints.

"It's no use, milady," one of the newer recruits addressed you. "Our thumbs simply make it impossible."

With a resigned exhale, you accepted that this newcomer had been correct. But it wasn't impossible. There was one way. It was particularly painful, but the punishment that the King might have in store for you and your entire troop would be undoubtedly worse. With a deep breath, you began to bend your thumb against the joint, in a direction that it did not yield to, groaning in discomfort until it came to a point so painful that you were screaming.

"Y/N, stop!" Daario bellowed at you, but you didn't listen. Not until you felt a pop at the joint and your thumb hung limply from your hand. Now you were able to contort your hand just so and slip it out of the cuff. You leveraged your other thumb against the wall to free your other hand, fighting back the tears that pricked the back of your eyes as you did so.

Once your hands were free, you made quick work to haphazardly set them back into place and free two of your fellow soldiers. "Free the rest," you barked at them. "We'll make faster work this way."

"No, Y/N," Daario protested. "Go inform the King. We'll work on freeing the rest. He will appreciate your haste, perhaps not be too harsh on your punishment. I'm sure he'll take your fealty into consideration and not have you be publicly flogged." You blanched at his words. "You're the toughest one of us all. What ever he may have in store for you, you can take it. Go."

You ran to the King's chambers as fast as your feet could take you, your heart hammering in your chest from both the effort and the terror sinking into you as his tall armored frame came into view. "My King," you said shakily as you sank down to one knee in a bow, making your presence known.

The haughty sound of his sharp exhale made you flinch, the sound of his boots on the marble floor as he turned to face you making you tremble down to your very soul. "Darling Y/N," his dulcet voice crooned as he stepped toward you. You felt his fingertips touch the top of your head, slowly moving toward your cheek. "You're shaking. Stand up, my dear little soldier." He tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to face him with a gentleness that jarred you.

"I apologize, my King." Your eyes dared not meet his; you didn't want him to see the weakness in them as the tears welled up and threatened to escape. "Lady Sif and the Warriors Three have left the palace. They said they were going to Midgard."

The softness in his eyes gave way to unbridled fury as he looked away from you, his jaw clenched as he breathed deeply through his nose. "How long ago?"

"Minutes. If you make haste you may still catch them en route."

His eyes snapped to your face, making you flinch again, and his fury faltered as he saw the marks of a skirmish all over your face. The little cuts from where Sif's weapon had struck you, the gash by your temple from her shield; when his hands traveled from your shoulders to your hands, you let out a pained yelp when his fingers made contact with the tender joints of your thumbs, making him raise your joint hands to inspect the damage further.

"What have they done to you, dear soldier?" He framed your face with his hands as he tucked the locks of hair that broke free from your braids behind your ear.

"There was a fight as we tried to stop them from leaving the premises," you explained in a rush. "The four of them held me still and cuffed me. I broke my thumbs in order to break free and I tried to--"

"Breathe, my darling," he cut you off, his voice deceptively calm. "You did everything you could."

"My King, you must hurry if you still wish to catch them--"

"I will deal with them once I've taken care of you." He ran his fingertips lightly over the cuts on your face. "Why do you look so afraid, little soldier?"

Your words came out rushed again. "The other soldiers they talked of public flogging and told me that if I hurried then perhaps only I would bear the brunt of your frustrations and that…Well, they said that they thought I could take it."

His jaw clenched once more as he took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "They pushed you my way to avoid punishment for themselves?" You nodded your answer, too afraid to speak. "Is this why you balk from my touch, darling?" You nodded again, a stray tear defiantly rolling down your cheek as you did so. "Oh Y/N. My dearest. My beautiful soldier," he cooed. "I would never harm you."

"Y-You're not angry?" you asked shakily.

"Oh I am," he answered sharply. "But not with you, Y/N. Never you." He smiled at you softly. "Let me take care of you." He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "Would you let your King heal his little darling soldier?"

You looked at him carefully, searching for any signs of his usual devious nature, any sign that he might be lulling you into a presumed sense of vulnerability in order to subdue you and bring you toward an actual punishment. You'd been around him long enough you could find faint whispers of it, but now you found none. You decided that was enough, and nodded slowly, a brilliant smile of relief gracing his face.

He proceeded to press his lips to various spots on your face, spots that you recalled Sif's weapon grazing you throughout your altercation. And then he pressed a lingering kiss to the skin next to the gash from her shield, his hand cradling the back of your head with a protectiveness that seemed so out of his character. "My precious girl," he whispered as he pulled away, gently taking your hands in his and raising them to his lips.

"My King, you needn't—"

"Shush, my darling." He pressed a tender kiss to each joint, your eyes widening as you began to feel your hands righting themselves. Then he cupped your face, an almost rueful smirk on his face as he looked upon your lips, undoubtedly at your split bottom lip. "Much as I would enjoy healing this particular wound, I should have Sif's head for even marring your face this way. Perhaps once I apprehend them, I will."

"Don't," you whispered. "Please. She simply did this because she's sworn her fealty to Thor." His eyes met yours, as if he expected you to continue, as if he was anxiously waiting your next words. "As I have sworn mine to you."

"My Y/N," he breathed, leaning in to press his lips briefly to yours and you felt your split lip righting itself as well. You felt his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body roughly to his as he rasped, "Mine" before pressing his lips to yours more firmly and wrapping his arms around you in a lover's embrace.

As your lips moved against his in near perfect sync, he moved you both further into his chambers, until the backs of your knees softly bumped against the edge of his bed. Once you did, he laid you down gently until your back hit the mattress, his lips never once leaving yours, sighing into each other's mouths.

"My darling soldier," he groaned against your skin. "I've longed for this, to have you, for centuries." He trailed his lips down to your neck. "But I want to take my time with you. I must savor you." He kissed along the edges of your armor before working his way back to your lips. "Wait for me. Right here. I will deal with the warriors, and your troop. Do not worry, my love. You will not be flogged." He kissed your lips once more. "Unless of course you want to be," he chuckled darkly against you. "Your comrades were right about one thing, though. What I have in store for you when I return? You can take it," he growled into your ear before rolling his hips into yours, his trousered hardness brushing against you, causing you to let out a wanton moan that echoed around his chambers.

"My King--!" you cried out before his hand gently closed over your mouth, cutting off your words.

"No, Y/N. Not here. In this room you are my equal, is this clear?" You nodded under his hold, his hand gently moving from your mouth. "When we are here, you call me by my name. Here, you call me Loki. Understood, darling?"

"Loki…" you breathed out, testing the name on your lips. As his face broke out in a brilliant grin, you could feel a smile of your own tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"Good girl," he chuckled. "I look forward to returning to you, and having you scream it wantonly for the entire realm to hear." You whimpered under him as he continued to roll his hips against yours. "You will wait for me here. Do not remove any piece of your armor; I wish to do that myself." He pressed his lips to yours once more. "I wish to worship you when I return. I did not long for you since we were children only to have my fill of you within minutes of having you. Do I make myself clear, my little darling soldier?"

"Yes, my--" He gave you a playfully pointed look. "Loki," you corrected yourself.

Your words made him smirk. "Your Loki," he muttered, kissing you once more. "I quite like the sound of that."

With a final kiss, he pushed himself off the bed and strode toward the door, his cape fluidly moving with every gliding step, looking every bit like a King on a mission. Before he crossed the threshold out of his chambers he turned to you once more, his look of fury and determination softening as your eyes met. "I love you," he whispered.

Your heart soared at his words. The very ones you'd only dreamed of hearing from him ever since you two began training together. The ones with the power to bring the joyful tears that flooded your eyes at this very moment as you whispered back, "I love you, too."

A/N: Welcome to the story that resulted from a brain worm that made its presence known when I encountered this post. There will be a part 2 to this eventually that will loosely follow the events of Thor The Dark World, but for now it's just this because I wanna either get back to my chaotic horndogs from 'relinquish the crown' or start working on one of the requests…

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfic #muddyorbs writes

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merakiui · 1 year

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omg i loved the discord mod idia post !!! he's so slimy [like the meddling tweels hehe] but he tries so hard 😔😔 and omg the tags?? depraved discord mod azul?? can we pls hear your thoughts on him :oo

(also i hope you're doing well!!! :D)

Discord mod Idia is so gross and slimy, but we love him. <3

Now as for discord mod Azul!!!!

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, implied kidnapping)

Outside of being a mod, he’s actually really successful. He either runs an entire corporation or he has a high-paying position at one. You probably work alongside him. Maybe he’s a coworker you occasionally talk brief business with when you happen to find yourself in the elevator with him, or you meet at the ground floor coffee shop just below the company’s floors. You’d never expect he’s the mod you’re in an online relationship with. You’d never expect that this silver-tongued, pressed suit-wearing individual is a filthy Magicord mod in private, who you met in a server designed like a deep-sea lounge after breaking a few rules and he’d so kindly decided to spare you.

This person who is absolutely ruthless when it comes to climbing the social ladder and annihilating any competition is the same one who texts you day and night, referring to you as his precious angelfish, his beloved pearl, his sweet siren. The man who stole that promotion from you—who proceeded to pat you on the back with a consoling smile that jeered ‘better luck next time’ when you fretted over the news—is the exact man who spends absurd amounts of money on you, who listened to you touch yourself while whispering filthy things into the mic during a heated VC, who tells you of everything he wishes to do with you when the two of you finally meet.

You don’t even know his real name and he doesn’t know yours either, and you certainly have no idea that he’s that annoying coworker you hate with a passion. He calls himself Sea Witch on Magicord, which is fitting for the server’s marine theme. It’s actually a very cozy place! Lots of people hang out in VCs, it’s organized into labeled sections, and it’s got very good security measures. There’s a vice-mod who’s simply named J and another (not truly a mod but he claims he has mod abilities) user who goes by all sorts of names. It’s always changing. Just last week he was sneakerluvr42069 and now he’s tastykoebi. You haven’t had many exchanges with either of them, but it seems like they know Sea Witch well. Either way, the connection doesn’t mean much to you. You’re just glad he’s so willing to buy you anything and everything you ask for.

You once tried to dig a little deeper—to find out just who Sea Witch is. When you asked him what he looked like, he’d simply turned the question on you. You rarely send him photos of yourself, but when you do they’re usually explicit (most are of you in the lingerie and other outfits he buys you) and your face isn’t shown. He thinks you have a very desirable body. You’d like to see his, but he’s always evasive with any questions regarding who he is behind the Sea Witch mask. He must have a cushy job if he’s able to spend large amounts on you. When questioned about that, he just joked about how having a tongue of silver helps. You wonder what that truly means.

Beyond Sea Witch, Azul is actually surprisingly normal on the surface. He has his eccentricities, but most of these are hidden behind a disarming persona. He drapes himself in finery: golds and silvers, luxury brands, expensive colognes—typical rich normie stuff according to Idia. Azul hates going out in public. He hates having to smile and act kind at the office. He hates his coworkers. He hates having to put in so much effort just to look a certain way. He’d prefer to spend his time inside, reading, watching TV, messaging his angelfish. He loves his days off the most because he’s free to be as introverted as he wants without having to act. It’s just him, the comforting confines of his home, oversized pajamas, and a day free of responsibilities.

Azul usually spends these days talking to you, and when you aren’t available he’s taking up new hobbies with you in mind. He’s started tending to houseplants after you mentioned it briefly during one of your conversations. He’s also trying to get into miniature cooking because you sent him a compilation video of it and he wants to impress you with his talents. And he’s always browsing erotic sites to find the toys that fit your preferences. He wonders how you’d look in handcuffs, in cosplay, in collars and blindfolds. Most of all, he wonders how you’d look with his tentacles wrapped around you.

Azul doesn’t send you many pictures of his real life. He fears you might try to pry again and he doesn’t want that. It’s much better if you love Sea Witch instead of Azul. Sea Witch is mysterious, cool, unique, attractive. Azul is…Azul. He’s not very good at romance. He’s not very good with confidence, but Sea Witch is. Azul can act all he wants, but it’s impossible to feel happy with himself no matter what he does. When he’s Sea Witch, he can spin all sorts of tales without having to attach his appearance to any of it. You can love him for his money, his sense of humor, his taste in aesthetics, and he’ll never have to show you his face! Of course there are days when Azul peers at himself in the mirror and is struck with a sudden surge of confidence and he considers sending a spontaneous selfie or, Great Seven forbid, a dick pic. Really, he has so much class and a dick pic is just not the path he wishes to travel. Besides, scanty images are what you do best, not him. He’d much rather admire the artwork than become it himself.

Plus, when the two of you meet and he decides to keep you, you’ll get to see it in person. Surely that’s better than some grainy photograph. It’d look much nicer inside you, a good, snug fit. :)

To say Azul likes you would be a very big understatement. He’s infatuated, so much that he often messages you whenever he has the chance. You’re the first thing he thinks of when he wakes and the last thing he considers when falling asleep. He’s even taken to talking to you during work hours, his phone brightness dimmed to prevent any nosy onlookers from glimpsing his private exchanges. He realizes that texting and occasionally voice calling isn’t enough. He really wants to meet you in person. He wants to touch you, kiss you, hold you. He’s certain you’ll want that, too.

Azul just needs to finalize what remains of a secret space within his home. It’s just temporary, as all pain often is, and you won’t have to stay there forever if you can promise to be good for him. He’s always had this little fantasy, and it’s only grown with each passing day. In it, he’s married to you and you wait diligently for him to come home from work and you’re clawing at him for affection the minute he steps through the door. In it, you’re nothing without him. You crave his love, his touch, his dick. You kiss him all over, breathless and sloppy, as if he might vanish from your sight if you can’t pin him down with enough saccharine smooches. You always tell him how much you adore him, how you’ll always be here for him, how you’d never think of leaving him. Aside from the happenings of sweet, fluffy love, the two of you fuck on every piece of furniture, in every room, against every surface. He always cums inside. You always hold him close and praise him and tell him his dick is big and you love it and you love him and… It’s a really good fantasy! He’s working so hard to make it a reality.

And in this perfect dream of his, he’s all you’ll ever need. This one is important! You don’t need anyone else. You’ll only need him. You don’t need friends or family. You don’t need to work. He’ll give you a comfortable life that’s filled with affection.

So naturally Azul is livid when you message him saying you no longer wish to continue this relationship. You thank him for his time and everything he’s done for you, as courteous as ever, and then you unadd him. You wash your hands of him. You cast him aside. You leave his server, you stop contacting him, and you disappear. And his hearts—all three of them—shatter. Outside of Sea Witch, he’s lonely. He has no one who waits for him at home. He has no one who’ll cook him homemade meals, each made with love and care. He has no one who he can delight in married life with. He’s all alone.

Azul’s miserable. It’s hard to tell at work because he smiles through the suffering so that no one will suspect anything. He’s not sure what happened to his angelfish. Even Jade and Floyd were unable to contact you or find any traces of your user in other servers. He’s considered enlisting Idia’s help, but then that would mean he has to admit that he lost you. That he wasn’t able to retrieve you. That you’re drifting in a vast sea of people—of potential suitors! So he does what he does best: he thinks and he plans. He considers every plausible explanation, and within the month he’s arrived at many conclusions. Each is more frustrating than the last. He hates to think that you’d leave him for someone else. Honestly, what went wrong? What did he do incorrectly? Surely there was a part of him you found undesirable. Surely it’s his fault you left. There has to be a reason for all of this, but it’s been a month and there’s still no trace of you. His sanity is beginning to splinter.

When he hears a familiar name weeks later, his mind still in eternal mourning mode, he perks up at once. Someone’s talking about Sea Witch. Online dating. Uninstalling Magicord. Weird vibes. Wanting a face to face connection instead of something long-distance. Azul can’t believe his ears. Is this a coincidence? Is he just hearing things? Has he gone insane or has his angelfish always been this close?

You and the colleague you were talking to are gone before he can turn the corner and get a look at you. But hope is already sprouting within him. If what he heard is true—if you’re really his angelfish—then his life just got a lot better. He’ll find you, and when he does he’ll finally be back on track. He’ll finally get to begin his dream life with you.

And you’ll learn to love the man behind Sea Witch.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #h2o2-and-baking-soda #i am doing well! i hope you are also doing well!!! :D #now who else is on the list for creepy perverted discord mod? let’s see~~#riddle rollo cater rook lilia che’nya… orz

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infectedkura · 1 year

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@onlycodcanjudgeme

little wip I started this morning, cause I couldn’t get Soap getting way to excited (and horny) over explosions and Ghost maaayyyyybe liking it a bit too much out of my head♥

Every demolition specialist Ghost had met in his military career had been a bit of a nutjob. The moment he had seen Soap around an explosion for the first time, he knew that guy was a very special breed. From the start of their briefings when Soap would be told to blow something up to the very end when flames would devour the skies, Ghost had started to watch him. How he would suck in a sharp breath when his skills would be mentioned and needed during a mission, to the constant twitching of his fingers. Soap would be nervous enough to almost infect Ghost with it. The first time this had happened, Ghost feared for the success of their mission but despite Soap skittish excitement he did an excellent job. Everything had been set up perfectly. Not too much, not too little. Perfect timing all around. a true master at his skill.

But then he had seen Soap face to face during an explosion. They were just on their way back to exfil, when Soap suddenly turned back around to watch the place go up in flames. Ghost wanted to push him to keep walking but the sheer look on Soap’s face had made him stop. The weird crooked grin that only grew wider with the flames in the distance. How Ghost could hear his trembling breath even a few steps away and few pearls of sweat running down his face and neck. The short laugh Soap had let out was ingrained in Ghost’s memory from that moment on. Dark, and chopped up by his breathing. The complete opposite to Soap's usual open and heartfelt laughter. He had just kept staring at the man, not being able to pry his eyes off Soap, just like Soap couldn’t turn away from the aftermath of the explosion. Only Price’s voice through their comms had gotten Ghost back to reality. He called out for Soap to leave but no answer was given. Soap had been completely transfixed and Ghost swore he saw the fire reflecting in his eyes even for just a moment. When he had reached out to grab Soap and force him to come with him, it was the first time in a very long while that Ghost had felt something like unease for his comrade. Soap’s eyes were completely dark and blown out when they stared back at Ghost. His mouth was hanging open slightly and Ghost swore to this day he saw blood on his lips where Soap had bit himself in excitement. This look on Soap’s face just felt unnatural. Ghost could still vividly remember how suddenly disarmed he felt even with his rifle still in hand. Like Soap could just crush him like a little twig. Without another word Soap’s face suddenly had relaxed slightly and they finally set into motion again, away from the destroyed base.

#cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #WIPWednesdayCOD #John Mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2

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squidcinna · 1 year

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Random Off the Hook and Agent 8 found family headcanons, because I have them in my head and I REALLY gotta work today:

– Marina and Eight are two years apart at most. So Pearl is 5 years older than Eight

– Neither Marina nor Eight had ‘Parents’ or ‘Siblings’ growing up, they had superiors and unit/squad mates so none really think of the other as conventional family names.

– Despite that, Pearl insists that she will be Eight’s big sister! So eventually the octoling does call her that, mostly to humor the squid.

– Pearl is an only child so getting a younger sibling like friend makes her so happy. Even though she is the one that ‘mothers’ Eight the most. “(You are just like Marina when I picked her up haha, here -explains stuff-)”

– When more comfortable, Eight will whine at Marina in a jokingly tone, saluting her and saying “[Yes ma'am]” and Marina hates it. She always replies to her that she is not her superior officer!

– Both Marina and Pearl taught Eight inkling. Pearl eventually asks Eight to teach her some octarian phrases, nicknames and pick up lines to woo Marina. Eight doesn't remember much but she help as much as she can.

– Octarian forces usually spar together to keep morale up and tensions low. It is one of the things Marina missed the most on the surface, since she didn’t really know how to ask Pearl to play fight with her.

– So when Eight is recovered enough from any wounds and tiredness from escaping the metro she asks Marina to spar. Marina has to do a double take and then immediately tackles her. Pearl was really confused and tried to separate them, but soon enough she heard both laughing and let them be. Waiting to be explained.

– “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE COULD HAVE BEEN WRESTLING TOGETHER ALL THIS TIME??” “I’m sorry Pearlie! I didn’t know how to ask it without sounding like a threat…” “THREAT MY ASS, I WANNA PLAY TOO”. Eight laughs at this, only half understanding but getting it with their tone.

– Pearl also joins spar time and is elated when Marina or Eight ask her in particular. Marina is bigger and stronger and also has the longest tentacles to aid her, but she holds back a lot. Eight is methodical and knows where to hit or tickle to disarm and loves to fight until she is exhausted. Pearl is wild, unpredictable and quick, she usually laughs loudly while playing.

– Octarians are very touchy and enjoy hugs and holding hands and even grabbing things and people with their tentacles. Marina and Eight will hold each other’s longer tentacle while walking in the morning or when waiting for Pearl to wake up. They also love to cuddle which Pearl quickly grows used to. There aren’t many better things in life than getting in a snuggle session with the two octolings after a long day.

– Also, after being outed and still accepted, Marina spends a bit more time on her swim form. Pearl loves to use her as a weighted blanket and Eight likes to carry her around the mansion.

– Eight has a lot of trouble sleeping and waking up in the beginning. Pearl and Marina quickly recognize the tiredness on Eight. Marina shares stories of how she literally panicked when waking up years ago and how hearing Pearl sleeping nearby helped her calm down. Pearl also offers their bedroom as a safe place to crash if Eight is having trouble falling asleep. It does help.

– Now that Marina has someone that fully understands her language, she will switch into octarian to whisper stuff to Eight. Mostly making light fun of Pearl or telling her how good and caring the inkling is to her fellow soldier. Eight finds it really sweet so she lets her and she also switches to octarian to tease Marina occasionally. Pearl doubles her effort to understand them then so she can actually reply to some of it.

– Eight eventually tells Pearl how much of a figure Marina was in octarian society. She doesn’t remember details, but she had a feeling that she mourned when Marina disappeared years ago. Her fellow octarian feels guilty at this information but is quickly comforted by the other two.

– Pearl shares some of their story with Eight, how they met, how they started Off the Hook, how Marina always tried to help everyone around them, and how they got into Nantai the day they found the walkie talkie. All the while hugging Marina who is suddenly very quiet.

– Eventually Marina talks about the day she escaped, the fight turned into a concert… how guilty she felt leaving her garrison and her fellow soldiers behind. So many also heard the inkantation but she couldn’t take them with her. It would have caused too much suspicion if a battalion fully disappeared against her leaving alone. She apologizes to Eight, near tears at this point, for leaving her behind.

– Eight and Pearl reassures her. Pearl tells Marina how brave she was and how much she has changed everything for the better, how much Inkopolis loves her and how much it means to her that she did escape, that she learned to live with the inklings not out of fear, but out of love.

Eight tells her that hearing her in the coms and then in her music in Octarian of all things gave her hope that she could make it out with her help and perhaps she could become someone like Marina. They all cry a bit and spend the night in a cuddle pile.

– Later, that next morning, Pearl was not in the mood to wake up at 6 fucking AM, but she also wasn't letting Marina’s arm go, so they compromised by carrying Pearl tiny sleepy squid form around. Marina tells Eight how lonely she was in the beginning, how afraid she was by herself, without her battalion surrounding her.

Until Pearl found her and both decided to stay with each other. Pearl became her unit mate and then her everything. “[We might be even more at this point…]” Marina whispers with a slight blush, smiling at the snoring squid in her arms.

Eight smiles, she gets it. She was lucky to be found by cuttlefish and then by Marina and Pearl and in her head.-

Marina continues, interrupting Eight’s train of thought.

“[Pearl and I talked about it… and we would love to have you in our Unit as well]”

Eight stares, shocked for a moment. Then she smiles and tackles Marina. Pearl wakes up and whines about being squished, but Eight doesn't care. They all laugh and hug when Pearl turn back into herself.

She has a unit again… a ‘family’, like the inklings would say.

All the horrors she faced down in the metro were worth it for it.

#Marina Iida #Pearl Houzuki #Agent 8 #Off the Hook #Pearlina #Lesbian cephalopods #Found family my beloved #Made in Cinna

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trulybetty · 2 months

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21 x diary | dieter x ofc

prompt: diary pairing: dieter x bryony (ofc) word count: 1107 notes: we're playing fast and loose with the valentine theme here, no beta, all mistakes are my own. this is niche, niche, but that's the fun of fanfic writing, finding your people who get you and and supporting unhinged ideas and plots and cross over of characters summary: a diary mishap by the studio means dieter has found himself with a replacement date for a valentine soiree with old hollywood

A/N: this is dedicated to @gnpwdrnwhiskey, who l let me play in her sandpit and borrow her Mags (go read these, you don't have to for this, but I very highly recommend them!) and for being the best to throw ideas around and encouraging Dieter's antics 😋

x. masterlist

“Not quite, try to roll your tongue more,” Dieter instructed.

“Rimbalzare,” Mags purred with a thick Italian accent, “like that?” she asked, before going back to her usual accent.

Dieter beamed, “Eccellente!”

“I’m not even going to ask what you two are plotting?” Bryony asked stepping into the room fixing her earrings as she walked by.

Mags turned around giving Bryony a bright smile, Bryony rolled her eyes, she was used to Mags charmed distraction techniques by now.

“Just helping Mags with an accent she’s been working on,” Dieter explained with an equally disarming smile of his own.

“Community theatre?” Bryony asked, tongue in cheek as she watched Mags stand and be helped into her coat by Dieter.

“Something like that,” she winked, and Bryony knew best not to ask her friend anything more. “Are you sure you’re okay with me going in your place?” Mags asked, “It is valentines afterall?”

Bryony’s eyes flicked between Mags and Dieter and sighed, “Absolutely. With this diary mixup I've got to handle the chaos that the studio decided to drop on my lap last minute. Besides, someone needs to keep this one out of trouble,” she said, nodding toward Dieter.

Mags laughed, a rich, throaty sound that filled the room. “Dieter in trouble is Dieter at his most charming,” she quipped.

Dieter adjusted his tie in the mirror, flashing a grin at Mags. “You're not wrong there,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling mischievously. As he straightened his jacket, he turned to Bryony with a mock-innocent expression. “I promise to keep her out of trouble, or at least make sure it's the fun kind of trouble.”

“Remember, you’re there to rub elbows,” Bryony said, giving them both a pointed look, “they’re our neighbours.”

Mags laughed, a melodious sound that always seemed to put Bryony at ease. “I'll behave... mostly,” she promised, though they all knew her definition of 'behaving' was fluid at best.

The drive to the event was filled with Dieter briefing Mags on the key players, who to schmooze, and who to avoid. As they pulled up to the venue, Mags' hand found Dieter's arm, her fingers squeezing reassuringly. “Let's go make some friends,” she said with a sly smile.

The soiree was a glittering affair, the kind where the clink of champagne glasses underscored every conversation and the air hummed with the electricity of opportunity and ambition. Dieter, though a natural in the spotlight, found himself scanning the crowd with a strategic eye, pointing out the key players to Mags with a discreet nudge or nod.

At one point, Mags leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, “So, which one’s trying to put your farm out to pasture?”

Dieter's lips thinned as he gestured subtly to a woman draped in pearls and diamonds, her laughter ringing false even from across the room. “That would be her, Barbara Turner, the queen of real estate herself.”

Mags’ gaze sharpened, not missing the sparkle of the jewelry adorning the older woman who seemed to float effortlessly through the crowd. Each piece caught the light in a breathtaking display of opulence.

Dieter watched Mags take in the display that was Barbara, an amused smirk dancing on his lips. “She fancies herself a bit of an Elizabeth Taylor type,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Although, between you and me, I think Liz had better taste.”

Mags' eyes twinkled with a mixture of mischief and appreciation for the finery on display. “Well, she's certainly got the ice to sink the Titanic,” she replied, her attention firmly caught by the glittering jewels.

As they approached Barbara, Dieter slipped into the role of the gracious neighbor, Bryony’s voice in the back of his head telling him not to stir trouble. “Barbara, you outdo yourself every year,” he complimented, kissing her cheek with practiced ease.

Barbara beamed at him, her eyes flicking curiously to Mags. “And who is this delightful creature?”

Mags extended her hand, which Barbara took with a firm grip. “Mags, a friend of Bryony and Dieter. And might I add, you look absolutely radiant tonight, Barbara.”

The compliment hit its mark. Barbara's chest puffed with pride as she launched into a story about her latest acquisition, a stunning sapphire necklace that she just had to show off. Mags listened intently, her face a mask of fascination.

Barbara, soaking up the attention, made no attempt to hide her fondness for Dieter, her hand brushing his arm more than was necessary.

“As much as it pains me,” she gave Dieter’s arm an appreciative squeeze, “I must go and tend to my other guests,” Barbara announced, but turned to Dieter, a seductive smile on her face, “but don’t stray too far Mr. Bravo, I do quite enjoy seeing you at these events,” she purred before gliding away to mingle with her guests, leaving a strong scent of expensive perfume in her wake.

Mags snorted into her drink, the bubble of laughter she’d been trying to hold in finally escaping her, “I think she’s marked you as a future potential husband,” Mags teased as she bumped shoulders with Dieter, “I thought she had an issue with you?”

Dieter rolled his eyes as he tugged at his bowtie, “Oh she has an issue with the farm, but after I tried to smooth things out,” he rubbed the back of his next awkwardly, “she seems to have turned the focus of that distaste at Bryony,” he remarked dryly, taking a sip of his own drink. “But don’t tell Bryony,” he quickly added, a guilt addled look on his face.

Mags nodded and not long after excused herself to 'powder her nose,' Dieter raised a quizzical eyebrow but she simply waved him off as she disappeared into the crowd.

Mags returned moments later, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes but hands noticeably empty. She caught Dieter's inquiring look and leaned in close. “Relax, I'm behaving. Besides, Tim would have my head if I pulled anything tonight.”

Hours later, back home, changed of their formal wear and enjoying the takeout Bryony had picked up on her way home. The figurative fires at the studio put out, she joined Dieter and Mag’s at the kitchen table as the regaled her with stories from the night’s soiree.

“That’s a gorgeous piece,” Bryony commented, nodding toward the necklace that adorned Mags’ neck and had caught her attention as Mags reached for a vegetable roll.

She toyed with the sapphire that sat in the hollow of her throat, the light catching it just right highlighting it’s flawless cut, a surreptitious smile dancing on her lips. “Oh, this old thing? Just a trinket I acquired.”

#x29 valentines #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter x bryony #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic

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