#peep if you get the quote | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

martuzzio · 4 months

Text

HERMITCRAFT CATCHPHRASES

Hi, here's a (hopefully comprehensive) reference list of hermit catchphrases! The main goal here is to help writers and artists who (like me) might struggle with getting the characterization of some hermits right. Check out more info at the end of the post!

Note: this list updates a lot whenever I get new suggestions, which means reblogs aren't always fully accurate. I've linked this post to the top of my blog so it's easy to access the most recent version :)

Bdubs Shreep / uh-oh, gotta shreep! Crastle I love ya to death It’s gorgee Beyootiful Uh oh! Hell’s blazes! Hawsies YOU'LL SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO! Shuddup! Judas priest! Bdubs' PERFECT REDSTONE!! What in the world! Holy cow! Nuh-uh! Hoimycraaaaaf Whimsy Trying my heart out

Beef EEskall That was my nickname in college! Nailed it! Dangit! Beefy Tunes Smelly Etho Opulent Etho? Oh, yeah, I own him Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Beef taught Etho about redstone Oh my goodness! Oh boy! What the heck Oh, baby! Quote unquote A ton of __

Cleo Class dismissed! I don’t need your stinky torches I will break your legs Trash is fish The answer to everything is leather pants Not because it’s the sand castle you deserve, but it’s the sand castle I need! What did you do, Joe…. It's FINE, everything's FINE Lovely Silly I mean... Not gonna lie... To be fair...

Cub DA CREAMADA CROP Alright guys Nice, nice Ladies and gentlemen / ladies and gentlemen, we got ‘em Eeeeasy money Beautiful, absolutely beautiful Mmmmmhmmmmmm Holy smokes Let's goooo! Sweet Oh, baby! Man, oh man Without further ado Peace out Cheers / cheers, man There's some heat coming off that thing

Doc Are you kidding me now? Alright guys Can’t touch this The G.O.A.T. Etho, get to the damn land man! It all started when Grian touched my redstone… Epic

Etho Uh-huh Like-a so Oh snap Get your snacks! Holy smokes! Take care, have a good day, bye bye Aww snappers! Aww yeah Von Sway I barely know ‘er! Speaking of llamas Bright blue bamboo E. to the T. to the your mum Beefaroni / Beefers Speaking of llamas… That’s what she said! Free glass Eyy, I go up and I go down. Ladders! / Eyy, ladders! Suckerrrr! Check it out

False Blimey Awh dude Frick False Supremacy Oh my goodness I don't know about you guys, but... Props to __ I'm not gonna lie...

Gem Gem is great Her [name] is [adjective]! Gem will __ ("Gem will watch Impulse") Perfect! Epic It's true, I swear! Not gonna lie... Oh gosh! Trust the process Nailed it!

Grian Hello! My name is Grian Good… byeeeee! Pesky bird My heart! My little heart! Mumbo Mumbo you are AFK Can we just agree that Mumbo loses? What in Queen Elizabeth’s shiny crown was that? It wasn't me, it was the man in the chicken costume! SaAaaaAaAnd Chobblesome SCAR NO— / NO SCAR— In theory… Electric boogalooo What does this button do? What on earth? This is in shambles Get outta here! Hear me out... We don't have __. What we DO have is __ Just straight up Without further ado Crack on Bingo bango Yes. 100%

Hypno Right, right Mmhmm You guys Dang guy

Impulse What’s goin on everyone? Shovel Shuffle BEHIND YOU GEM! Peeps Geez Let's goooo! Are you kidding me? Oh, man Now we're talkin'! Holy smokes Oh my gosh How cool is that? Jeez! Dang it! Buddy Presi (for present) You bet!

Iskall Hallo -skall ("richskall") That’s mega / that’s looking absolutely mega Omega “Excuse me? Sir?” __ of doom Okay, lol And I will see you dudes in the next episode I’ve had a realization Oh for goodness sake! It’s not fat, it’s big-boned Not gonna lie SaAaaaAaAnd Very fine Great success! Bird poop Bumbo Cactoni Do you even bust? / Do you even bust bro E Pag

Jevin Hypno smells! Oh my god Sucker What the heck Dude Man I swear

Joe Howdy y’all! That’s the Joe Hills difference! I will now say a poem of my own devising Core concept Keep adventurin’! Time skip! Who’s the guy who conquers death? That’s Joe Hills No not rage quitting I have to pick up my daughter from school or my wife will rage quit me! Grow Hills / Expand Joe Joepacity / Jhost

Keralis Look into my eyes and nothing but my eyes Wanna buy a book? Spank you very much Just sit back, relax, and enjoy Like this, like that I can see my house from here! Bubbles, Shashwammy, Sweetface, Princess Lookie lookie at my cookie / lookie lookie at my cookie… no, please don’t Like-a so I love your face I’m a real boy! I don’t k-nove (know) Not like this! Booshes Clever girl But first… lemme take a selfie I’m sinking… mayday mayday we’re sinking! Hallo yes dis is de German coast guard what are you sinking about? Scary harry larry I’m alayve! Breathtaking — no you’re breathtaking Mm-kay Oh behave I’m a simple man MeOOOow Welcome to my humble abod-ee Not too shabby My face! My palms are sweaty, mom’s spaghetti Tag 2 Booga Booga Stiffy nipples Batman! First I was afraid, I was petrified...

Mumbo I worry about myself sometimes I'm not really quite sure if I like that or not Yeah… yeah that's looking good… I guess… Dude! Chuffed to bits It’s a bit pants I’m such a spoon Oh my word It’s quite simple, really / it’s actually quite simple Bonkers I’ll catch you in the next one. See ya Off you pop Oh goodness me! Hermit challenges — initiation! All done and dusted To be frankly honest Seriously seriously cool Absolutely nuts I don’t even know what to say Iskall I feel sick Peace, love, and plants Moon’s big Mumbo for Mayor Quite simple

Pearl Lovely Bonkers At this point... Cheeky / you cheeky What's this? Mate

Ren Now we’re cooking with gas / we be cooking with gas today Ladies, get in line! / ladies, gentlemen, everybody get in line! You picking up what I’m putting down My dudes Y’know what I’m sayin’ Coming atcha frommmmmm Dude Coming from left, right, and center Greetings cyberdogs and citizens of the Interwebs, this is Ren-diggity-dog comin at ya in another episode from the Hermitcraft server (ey!) Automagically Jazztastic Janktastic Oh baby Like nobody’s business Looking absolutely magnificent Anyhoozle Twaddle Renstone The Octagon is a well-oiled machine! [word]-age [word]-ation [word]-i (to make things plural You love / hate to see it I'm just sayin' / if you know what I'm sayin' Professional __ Jazz Anyhoozle Exqueeze me? Freakin' Some serious __ What's happenin', baby? Chesticles

Scar Scarred for life Woah, what in the world! It’s gonna be am-ay-zing LOOK at the siiiiize of that Well, hello there my fellow miners and crafters, GoodTimesWithScar here. Welcome back to the wonderful world of Hermits and crafting Don’t forget to subscribe or you might just become scarrrred for life! Looking super fancy Let’s hit super fast build mode! Look at the size of that Appreciate ya Hotguy! Operation: Aquathunder! That’s what she said! Rapscallion You silly goose Oh, sweet baby Jellie! Bayum! / Bam! The bee's knees Easy peasy, orangey squeezy

Stress Are you havin’ a giggle? / are you takin the mic? Mate Oh my god / oh my gosh / oh my good gordons Gorgeous Plonker Geezer Ohhhhh nooooo! Yeeeesshhh I legged it Such a pro / I'm such a pro Proper __ Cheeky Bloke Thingamajig Ain't [word]-age [word]-ies

Tango Happy fun sauce -ificator, -inator, -ness, -tastic Skadoodle Fearsome bunny slippers Noob juice So here’s the deal Holding shift Shwoop Flim flam Poop came out Extra dumb with dumb sauce / __ of extra dumb Flee with extra flee! / fleeing with terror! Boom booms Gah! The dungeon is ready for its next victim Behold! Results may vary! I think my math is correct, but it’s been known to be wrong This is the worst timeline. I hate everything Big no! You— you freak of nature! Jerkface Jerkbutt Excellent How embarassing This is true Zombert Bits This I gotta see! Right in the face! [word] is happening Yeah baby! Stupid jerks Boop This is the best / worst thing ever! Niner niner niner [general unintelligible noises]

TFC What in tarnation! Crap-tacular Humongous Butt-ugly Ugly as sin Oh, goody Ender-twits Bugger Oh, fart For crying out loud

Wels Words are hard If you will Super __

xB Aww yeah Mmkay Son of a biscuit Pretty frickin' __ Man Get frickin' wrecked! Chestacle Dang it Staaph it Oy vey Crap on a cracker Dang it, Bobby! Dang guy

Xisuma Oh goodness me Oh dangit Geez Peeps I’m such a derp Oh my days Chooturial Issooma Allo Woa’ah Brought (instead of bought) My dude Achacha

Zed Hello hello hello A-good a-bye Muckin' about I lied TaaaAAnnGoOOooooOOOo Hu-jah! Pretty darn __ Certainly Rubbish I'm [word]-ing [word] me [word]-iness What happens is... Get kersplatted! Epic Oh my goodness!

More Info

So I'm currently writing a HC fic and realized how little I know about some of the hermits (I unfortunately don't have time to watch all of them), which made it really difficult to depict them properly in my writing. I'm assuming at least some of you might also struggle with this, so, here we are!

If you know of a catchphrase from any hermit from any season, comment, reblog, send me a an ask or dm, dm me on discord, whatever works the best :D

Note: when I say "catchphrase," I mean anything a hermit repeats over an extended period of time. It can be something said during a single season (like "You'll speak when spoken to!" or "Hermit Challenges!"), or something that spans their entire careers (like "Aww snappers!" or "Plonker"). I'm not looking for one-off quotes that are never bought up again — there's some great sources (like @hermitcraft-correct-quotes) for that already :)

Sources (which will hopefully expand with time): This reddit post from four years ago This other reddit post also from four years ago Reddit from three years ago This cute diagram A more up to date source Another Xisuma's dictionary on his website HC character tv tropes page This incredible google doc

#Hermitcraft #hermit catchphrases #hermitcraft catchphrases #hermit quotes #hermitcraft quotes #This post is going to update many many times so reblogs might not always be up to date #if you have a suggestion to add please let me know!

418 notes · View notes

soapels · 1 year

Text

but my hair smells of war

simon “ghost” riley x female reader

tw: nsfw, mutual pining, size kink (i guess?), reader is a jittery virgin, soft! ghost, lovey! ghost, but there’s an overall dark, forlorn theme, (angst??) slight paranoia, 18+ characters

notes: my first cod fic ever :,) bear with me here while i learn to navigate the characterizations! anyways the title is really inspired by that quote by warsan shire! do tell if you enjoyed & let me know who you’d like to see next (^_^)’’ (soap + konig brainrot is REAL lately…)

all hearts and reblogs are very appreciated!

Just outside the safehouse, crickets chirp.

It’s a pleasant backdrop to the otherwise quiet area of the stables, hay so itchy it even manages to prickle at your skin through the thick fatigues, slivers of the moon filtering in through the windows.

It’s been a long day, you’d seen awful things again (and you know this is just your call of duty but bloodshed- no matter how repetitive- never gets old, never gets easy), and up until around fifteen minutes ago, you were still on the run outside, tired; veins pumped to the hilt with adrenaline, (sometimes you wonder if these levels are healthy) and admittedly quite fearful (that never gets old either).

The path you’ve chosen is frightening at the best of times.

But now you can rest. Even if just for a moment, even if sleep comes seldom or you have to beckon it until closer to sunrise- even if tomorrow, when you return to the battle and the chaos and the ever-changing future, you won’t make it out alive.

There’s some quiet chatter in the safehouse, unconsciousness to you is like nirvana and nirvana is rare, near unobtainable, but you can vaguely make out the low rumble of Ghost’s voice, and more clearly- the lighthearted quips of Soap- and it oddly puts you at ease. Nudges you along to that inviting darkness, bones so pleasantly weak and ready for that nothingness, even if the hay is uncomfortable and you’re sure at least a spiderweb or two is lurking somewhere above in the rafters (because it’s just too dim to see, and the wooden beams block most of the moonlight from here).

You’ve never trusted Graves. (What’re you thinking? Go to sleep.) …Not entirely, at least, and the Shadows are up to no good lately- you don’t know this for sure, to be honest you’ve said no peep of your niggling qualms- but you feel it from deep within that something’s… wrong.

Or maybe it’s paranoia, maybe, most-certainly, it’s just that warrior disease settling in. It’s dark out, and you’re exhausted, and your heart always feels so laden when you’re all alone and the gunfire ceases. That’s why these awful thoughts creep in on you, you convince yourself, lashes fluttering as you approach a hopefully pleasant dream. That’s why your mind sabotages you like this.

Your comrades aren’t enemies- don’t shut them out. No one fights alone. (And now, the last thought you have before drifting off completely, is oddly of Ghost, and how his voice would rasp as he said those familiar words, and the way the foreboding skull of his mask shifts when he speaks. And that damned glow of his eyes, haunting… strangely-beautiful, whenever they flicker over to you. So cold yet distant too, like an iceberg peeking above a frozen tide, silent but fatal if you’re not careful enough to steer clear of it. They don’t call him Ghost for no reason, though you think Simon Riley is a rather befitting name too- because if he had to have one, if he had to be real, then that’d be it.)

And you’re almost there, a warm fuzziness within- so vague and shapeless as you fade from reality- almost to that quiet bliss. One of the things you learned over the taxing span of your military years- sleep is by no means a small luxury.

There’s a shuffling beside you. Faint, ever so slight. Shouldn’t be enough to wake you. But it is. It’s enough to have your eyelids flying open, all exhaustion crumbling away as you—

“Shh, sergeant,” a gruff voice hushes, and recognition clicks. “It’s me,” he’s stood at the edge of the bale, which is frankly closer than you anticipated, propping his gun against a beam before sitting himself down. You swear you feel his body heat as the backside of his thick fatigues brush against your thigh, instinctively drawing your legs closer to give him more room.

Partially confused, very caught off guard, and admittedly a bit flustered, you blink away from him, his silhouette brimmed with the pale, conniving moon as you muster up a coherent response.

“Ghost,” is all you manage to breathe. But he seems to be fine with that, those dark, untelling eyes regarding you cooly as your knuckles sheepishly brush away exhaustion from your lashes.

“Sorry, did-… are we off already?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly, and even his gravelly voice has dipped into something gentler, not as harsh around the edges. To see Ghost like this- so unguarded (not entirely, never, but it’s still surprising)- comrade or not, is… different, to say the least. Not in a bad way, quite the opposite. Still.

“Get some rest …Didn’t mean to wake ya.” His whisper is calming; you trust him fully, wholly, you think if he asked for your life right now you’d give it to him. Easily. Without falter. Because despite it all, his rough exterior, his sometimes-lethal temper and his unforthcoming behavior towards others, you know he’d do the same.

(He’s killed for you. Save you too many times to count.)

The crickets and cicadas thrum, but despite it all- the soothing wildlife outside and the soft rustling of hay as across the stable, Soap situates himself for the night- you’re focused on the man sat beside you, not even a foot away as he regards you almost absently. (But you’ve learned that nothing about Ghost is absent.)

And you want to listen to him, belatedly settling your head down on the bale, you really do, but there’s just something off in the air as those deep-chestnut eyes sweep over you; relaxed, too relaxed, almost as if nobody was behind them (but you know that to be false, too), a peculiar, unfamiliar drawl to them as he appraises you.

You’re dusted pale, feathered with the moon like the stars stepped down to personally kiss you, and Ghost watches you for a second more, your fluttering lashes- making no move to close- your lips, the slope of your cheek and the curls of hair framing your face- and his black skull balaclava shifts.

“Sleep, sergeant.”

“I don’t think I can,” you murmur, so quiet and faint, yet your voice manages to resonate with him regardless. It earns a halfhearted snort from him.

“Haven’t even tried, have ya?”

Maybe there’s a sliver of jest there.

You take the opportunity to make a harmless tease at him, a sweet little smile carving into your cheeks, “Well, I almost succeeded until you came along.”

His silence isn’t rewarding, but you both know you’re right, and a heavy question weasels its way into your mind. And you know he can sense it, that unspoken thickness as your lids battle exhaustion, and you also understand that Ghost doesn’t appreciate dishonesty- or a lack of divulgence where it’s due.

So you ask him.

“There was… something you wanted? If you want me to do something-“ maybe you should be embarrassed, how quick you are to jump the gun if it meant helping your Lieutenant, “I-I’ll do it. I will.”

(How are you still so sweet? After all you’ve seen? Why aren’t you hardened? Why are you the bunny in all the places wherein he’s the wolf? How is it that you still manage to glow, even when you very well might be teetering on the precipice of an untimely, surely-brutal death? Simon doesn’t know. He doesn’t. He’s good at reading the room, digging into people’s minds- even the most fucked up ones, especially so- and finding out everything dark they’ve ever felt. With you it’s different. He often struggles to piece together a conclusion from just a smile you send him, wondering if there’s another layer to it. Stilling in his tracks whenever you laugh- so soft like you always do, pleasant like euphony- feeling something unbidden in his chest start to weigh.)

His chest puffs out a little at that, and he huffs low. And Ghost looks away from you, those umber eyes trailing out towards the window up above and somewhere behind you, and for a moment he just goes impossibly still, like a dog waiting for a sound, purposely searching for something there in the wilderness that doesn’t belong.

And you can’t help but feel like the two of you are somewhat out of place also, yet then again, if you were to think someone in the world had to share your loneliness with you, it’d be Ghost. Always. (Because you feel that you know him. He doesn’t have to say a word, his eyes say nothing, but simultaneously they scream everything too. All at once. All in one long wail.)

“No,” is all he says. All gruff and rasping. But soft too, somehow. A disinclined slump to his broad shoulders he only allows you and the team to be privy to (speaking of, Soap’s kneeing a few haybales together now, squishing them in so he’s got space to roll when he inevitably ends up stirring tonight)- but even then, it’s rare.

His eyes meets yours again, all shadows with a small, conniving highlight, brimmed with his balaclava.

“Scoot ova’.” he says it so simply, but your brain goes utterly blank for a fleeting moment.

His accent is quite thick- maybe you’ve lost yourself in it again, or fell too hard in the caramel pool of his eyes, or perhaps you’re just too tired to comprehend him right now- but once it clicks, you’re obedient to his wish. Right away.

The sound of clothes rustling fills the otherwise quiet atmosphere as you shimmy yourself all the way against the wall of hay to your side, letting Ghost- all big and tall- settle in beside you as you curl up to yourself. You’d burrow inside yourself if you could, face flushing warm as your Lieutenant’s body knocks and brushes against yours, and before you know it, the gentleness of shared breathing descends over you both as your noses point to the rafters. Dark, and silent. Comfortable, but at the same time not. A wordless dance of being convinced of your composure to having it singlehandedly ripped away whenever he made the faintest move beside you.

Ghost feels just slightly similar to drowning; just that cold world beneath the waves, hurtled into a murky tide, spun beneath turbulent waters. Uneasy, unsure of where the hell you are- only that you don’t know how you got in and you don’t know how to get out. Lungs aching, chest pouring…

But he feels like the merciful gasp of air when you finally resurface, too. That glimmer of hope, that split second thought of thank God I made it out alive as your chin thrashes over the ripples.

He’s the violent ocean and the life-ring thrown to you all at once. He is the silent chaos and he is the overwhelming relief- and he isn’t a kind man but the good side of him always seems to somehow win out.

“Ghost?” You breathe again. Not sure of even why, and your body quivers with sweat and nerves because Lieutenant’s so strong and he’s laying beside you (this isn’t even odd, this has happened before- sleeping with the team in cramped, awkward places that leave literally no room for complaints, but this time it felt different, like he was somehow closer).

His breaths even out in the pleasant air. And his silence could perhaps be welcoming on its own, but he deigns you with a reply anyway.

“What?” All gruff and low, thick yet- for you, now in the fall of night- gentle too. All Ghost.

(…But maybe partially Simon Riley, too, but you have trouble distinguishing two things when you’re hardly certain one even exists.)

“…” You chew on the words you want to say- or maybe you need to say them- but you don’t know what it is that sticks to your tongue like glue, and you’re rendered stupid, jaw-gaping, for a solid moment.

So you settle for simple. You settle for something good that will suffice, something pleasant and sweet but nothing that tiptoes too close to Ghost (you’re already close enough, and he did choose this bale with you, but still, you never know with him, and he’s not the sort of man you want to question).

“Goodnight.”

You’re sure he makes a soundless scoff at that. And for a splitsecond, you decide to take a peek over, because your stupid curiosity wins out and you just have to see him one last time before a permanent stillness ensues- sheepish hues darting over to his in the dimness—

“Night,” (you think you hear a scintilla of wry humor there) “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

—Only to find they’re already on you.

︻┳═一

The next time you and your Lieutenant are ‘forced’ to bunk together is closer to three weeks later, in a ratty shed by the river.

You turn away from Ghost just in time to miss him dragging out a body (finished him with a silencer, but it doesn’t matter anyway. his buddies wouldn’t have heard. his buddies are dead) as you awkwardly look around the decrepit place.

“Fix us up a place to call it a night, soldier.”

You’re quick to obey, chirping off an obedient yes sir as you take a few steps into the old storage shed.

It’s hard to see, and this time there’s not much moonlight to work with (when the door’s closed, it’ll go utterly dark), but with your scope’s flash you spot a disarray of pallets off to the corner, and you waste no time in hauling them together. You find a few cloths- puffy vests and discarded life-jackets, toss ‘em on the wood, and call it a cot.

“There we are,” you say with a smile when he inevitably walks in, door swinging shut as he does one last quick once-over before approaching.

“Good work,” (you hate the way your chest blooms at his simple praise; you’re a soldier, aren’t you? not some stupid schoolgirl) “Now let’s huddle up and kip down. Soap and the others cleared out the second field.”

“Yes, sir,” you nod curtly, fingers hesitating for a split second before you switch off the flash, the old shed blanketed in darkness as you set your rifle down and maneuver onto the makeshift bed (you weren’t complaining, though, you’ve both slept on far worse). Ghost follows in suit, his barely-clear silhouette lowering down onto the pallets with you, minding his muscle as he settles beside you.

…And for a while, it’s nice.

It doesn’t feel as awkward as it used to months- even just weeks, ago, yet still, sometimes you swear there’s an odd thickness to the air, an unprecedented drawl of tension that, like smoke, wisps by before dissipating. Like it was never there. (Yet the smell lingers, traces of something potent and simmering in your nostrils, caught in your clothes like gunpowder. Your hair smells of war and running, and Ghost smells so similar that it almost hurts, yet he’s more charred than you, you can feel it, and if you are a solider of team 141 than he is the bombs and shelter and war and relief.)

(No, perhaps he is the battlefield.)

That strange whiff of something close to vulnerability drifts in the space between you- wanting to say something, but having no words to offer, or maybe it’s a different feeling- like when you want to add something funny to the conversation, but it suddenly inches by and you’re left in your uncertainty, holding onto the joke with a tenuous grip. (Tenuous, yes, but you still want to say it, don’t you? You’re still looking for a window to speak your mind?)

And you’re sure Ghost can sense it too, because from beside you where he lies, he shifts just a bit more than usual, antsy and unable to find a comfortable position, his gear brushing against yours as you gnaw on the insides of your cheeks, feeling the same way.

“Lieutenant-“ “Sergeant-“

He turns over to you, and you see something in those dark eyes that glints as you glance over to him. His hues widen slightly, but whatever startle you thought you might’ve gleaned there flickers out and you’re once more left in the silence- this time, somewhat awkward, waiting for the other to break it.

You called him, and he called you. But now, neither of you return it.

Surprising perhaps the both of you, after what seems like forever passes and Ghost is the one to clear his throat, rasping out a quick, dismissive goodnight when your lips finally snap open to speak-

“G-Ghost—“

“Sleep, soldier. Tomorrow’ll be hell, and m’not carryin’ ya if y’legs give out.”

(He would. Of course he fucking would.)

︻┳═一

Soap and Ghost murmur for a bit with each other, tying off the threads of the last mission as you hesitantly approach. You don’t exactly remember Soap ever making it last night, but hours before sunrise you stirred in your slumber, and are now eighty-percent convinced you heard him settling in the otherwise quiet shed, exchanging a tired grunt or two with Ghost.

And it shouldn’t bother you. The men, you mean, because you’ve known them for months now, fought and bled and killed together, stuck to each other like glue as you endured all the shitty times and awful memories. But your fingers tighten around your rifle just that much more when you near, because Ghost is just so big and strong and the two mingle together for an unseemly yet fatal duo. (They’d never hurt you, never, and you know this damn well, but you’ve always had a shy nature and their respective sets of eyes never get any easier to stare at- you think sometimes you prefer the barrel of a gun over those sage, umber voids.)

Soap’s the first to spot you, those oceanic blues drifting over Ghost’s shoulder, rippling with what you suspect to be genuine mirth as you stop a foot short of the two.

“G’mornin’, sleepyhead,” he greets with a vaguely-boyish grin that sort of twinkles, eyes running over your dewy lashes, slightly-mussed hair and the crooked bend of your straps and gear bands. You smile sheepishly in lieu of a reply, giving him a tipsy little nod that his smile deepens at before your lips part open.

(And you’re afraid your voice will quiver or give out entirely when Ghost’s eyes, sunken beneath his skull mask- but just as haunting and intricate- snake over to you. But, thank God, it doesn’t.)

“Y-You got a spare ‘clava?”

Soap’s chest puffs and swells briefly when he scoffs halfheartedly, those gorgeous hues never slipping from yours for too long as he rests a hand along the butt of his pistol in his pocket, the other dipping back into the bag slung over his shoulders. (Big and broad, his build is similar to Lieutenant’s, but Ghost is taller and holds more mass. Both are purely muscle, though, all death and chaos- Soap’s just always been more friendly with his destruction, delivers it with a laugh or a pat on the back.)

“Y’embarrassed? Don’t think I’ve ever seen a bed head quite like y’rs, lass.” He says it with a playful chuckle, stepping forward (and his legs are long, he reaches you in an instant) and proffering the black mask out to you. You accept it with soft thanks, cheeks warm from embarrassment and perhaps some odd sort of pride as he ruffles your hair and smiles. Like, really smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkling just slightly as he nods, “there y’are, lass,” he says, “we’ll all meet up back at base, yeah?”

“You’re leaving already?” You chirp highly, traces of dejection caught in your voice (aw, you sad he’s leaving? makes two of you), eyes all starry and confused as he toys with the straps of his vest and quirks his head to the side some. “‘Fraid so, got some loose ends to tie- won’t be long, promise.”

You accept his words with a small, silent nod, offering him a gentle, if not somewhat sleepy smile as he reaches a fist forward, knuckles you lightly on your collar, and belatedly brushes past you. The heels of his boots clip dully against the floor when he reaches the janky door of the shed, daylight weaseling in through the splits and cracks of the wooden walls. Bathing the three of you in a golden porridge of early morning and twittering birds and that odd emptiness of your stomach that always churns at around six o’clock.

With one last pleasant glance to Soap (his cerulean gaze seems to linger and corrode into you, somehow) you allow him to trade a simple goodbye with Ghost, wasting no more time in slipping the mask over your head as Johnny did the same. (Even in your head, it feels forbidden to call him that- only Ghost is allowed to- you don’t know why, but were never brave enough to beg the question.)

And he departs. And the once-comfortable silence betrays you and Ghost yet again.

Still, he turns over to you, letting the door shut, watching as you lower yourself onto the pallets and fix your shoelaces. (But your thumbs tremble, wrists twitching, nervous, like the task is foreign, like it’s not one of the simplest things you’ve ever done in this business of war.)

And those brown, all-seeing eyes sweep over you (you can feel it), those thick boots of his brushing over the dusty floor as he makes his way over.

Your hues collide with his, something off in the air- a calling, or a warning maybe, but it’s heavy and the look he meets you with just before he approaches plants a pit in your belly- frightful and needy- feeling so small and perfectly useless as it builds and builds and-

“Sergeant.”

“Yes?” Breathless without any good reason.

You wonder if he feels it, too. That weight in his tummy that buckles his knees, makes them knock together, dizzies his head. Makes his heart skip faster. But the thought is dismissed too quickly, because you’re certain it’s fear you feel, strong and overwhelming- too great a respect to label. And Ghost isn’t afraid, clammy palms have never been a part of his brand. He doesn’t hesitate.

Yet, now, that all seems like rubbish. Every preconceived idea of him you held withering away as Ghost does just what you knew he never would. His hand, all big and capable (stained with blood, too) hesitates.

But this time- unlike all those sleepless nights where you felt skin brush against yours unbidden, his eyes burning against your quiet profile as his fingers contemplated over your face- it reaches you. Fulfills what it wanted to for a long time coming.

And now you’re breathless for an entirely different reason. “Ghost,” you whisper, so thin it might break- and your voice does shake, like a leaf in the wind. There’s something in his eyes, you notice, as they trail along you, his large palm swallowing up your cheek, gloved fingertips eroding the thin fabric over your skin in the best way possible.

Every lick of pain comes with a spark of pleasure, a needy, gentle ache masquerading as limitless fear.

(But those deep-brown eyes know no limits.)

“You afraid of me?” Ghost is a lot of things. But now you have a niggling, loud feeling that who you’re gaping back at now isn’t he or his mask, but rather what’s beneath it.

You shakily stand, maybe to grasp the illusion of having some control over yourself, or perhaps just to get closer to the door if you wanted to make some stupid excuse to leave. “Simon- I-“

He cuts you off with a low huff, but it sounds more like a groan than anything else- all displeased yet thrilled all at once. It shuts you up. It paralyzes you. (Barely keeping your gaze on his simmering one, you want to lie on your fucking back, and for the life of you, you don’t know why.)

When he says nothing, just continues regarding you with that weird fucking look (it’s not bad- it’s good, you think, but terrifying too) and lets his hand finally slip off your cheek, you try again.

“Simon,” (Simon hears you swallow, watches your throat bob, all tender where he’s cold, soft where he’s covered in jagged heaps of ice) “I- W-We should go.”

Ghost takes a pensive moment to respond.

“We don’t even got our mission yet, do we?”

Your confusion must be palpable, brows pinching together in a cute little knot that has his belly doing backflips as your eyes sparkle up at him. There’s an odd twinkle to his own, broad chest swelling out for a bit longer than a breath should as your lips part open.

“We-…” (f-fuck, just speak, soldier!) “We’re meeting everyone at base, yes?”

Earning no response from him, and the silence quickly killing you- you add:

“I- I thought we… Were meeting up, all of us.”

He grunts at that, low and quiet. And you look up at him like he owns the world, like there’s nobody else in it but him, and your eyes are starry and so unapologetically warm that it burns him from the inside out. His chest aches, he’s wanted you for too long a time to not act on it, to not do something about it, but for once in a very long time, Simon’s… afraid.

Or maybe uneasy is the better word, because he doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s so big and you’re so small and sometimes he worries that if he were to touch you without gloves on, you’d wither completely.

He’s used to that game. His kisses are gunpowder. His love is death, he believes it because he’s seen it. Everywhere. All the time.

But he can’t help it, not now. Not when he’s got you all alone and it’s like the birds chirping outside are telling him to fucking do something already- and Simon knows if he doesn’t make a move, someone else will. They’ll swoop in and steal you away, scoop you off your feet and treat you like a princess- the only way you ever should be- and you’ll be happy and smiling and so fucking far from him.

Safe.

…But maybe he’s selfish. He knows he’s not all that good, he wasn’t made to love or be loved- he is a product of war and brokenness and an endless cycle of pain- but maybe you can be his good thing.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters beneath his breath, “take it off.”

“What-“

“Show me your face.”

(Hah. How ironic; when every soul in the military who’s ever crossed him has wanted to say the same damn thing, but always balked before they could because his eyes alone are killer enough.)

His voice is a little rougher now, your brain registers it as an order, so with a shaky, uncertain hand, you peel off your balaclava and hold it awkwardly in your lap. And your hair’s quite messy from a wakeful night, and your skin glows ever so slightly from sweat and sleep and smeared gunpowder and your pulse is so rapid you fear it may explode.

You want to hide from him.

But, catching both of you by surprise, Simon leans in, one hand raking up his mask- stealing a blurry glimpse of his mouth- and captures your lips in his. And he doesn’t let you hide.

Run, either; he slots his hulking body up against yours, kneeling down on the wooden pallets as he lowers you atop them, making it physically impossible to wrest yourself away if he really wanted you to stay.

(And he really wants you to stay. Fuck.)

You gasp into the kiss, eyes instinctively screwing shut because you’re so fucking embarrassed and your legs feel heavy and your bones’ve gone to jelly because Simon is so big and strong and perfect and his lips are on yours.

“Simon,” you were going for a half-rebuttal, a plea for a moment to grasp just what the hell was happening. But you make a pathetic sound closer to a moan instead, all frail and cute as you whine his given name, and it makes his pants feel that much tighter, exchanging a groan into your mouth as he holds you beneath him.

And his grip is sort of awkward, you think, like he’s made the split-second decision to go all in but now he’s worried he fucked things up and you’ll end up hating him. So his tongue prods against your soft lips, hesitant, and his long lashes occasionally brush against your cheekbone, but he ultimately pulls away.

Like the recoil of a gun; sharp, sudden. There’s a blip of panic there, of what the hell did I just do. But there’s no regret. Because in Simon’s head, it had to be done- else he would’ve crumbled, else your smile would steadily become torture and someone else would’ve done it.

Your eyes are still shut when silence falls over the rundown shed and you feel the tip of his nose carve almost awkwardly in the juncture of your neck. Because you’re afraid. Because your tummy is burning and so is your face, your heart, too. Because there’s still a little unreasonable part of you that, despite feeling his lips brush against your collar, is scared that when you open them, he’ll be staring back at you- mask rucked up and all- genuinely Simon- and you don’t want to see his face if he doesn’t want you to.

“I should stop,” he murmurs into your neck. “I should stay away.” And it almost feels like it’s all over now, the fucked-up calm after the storm. The residual smoke and death on the battlefield- the smell of gunfire and metal. Water under the bridge—

“But that’d be hell.”

And he pulls the trigger again. Those lips, cold as bullet shells, colliding with yours once more. Nipping, and all tongue with the occasional clash of teeth, but it feels so fucking good and you realize with a spark of dismay that you don’t want it to stop.

Never.

“Simon,” and you’re chanting it now, all teary-eyed, lashes thick with pleasure as his mouth descends upon you, his deft fingers already working at tearing off your clothes- straps unbuckling, gear clinking softly as it rolls off the pallets and onto the floor.

Fear- respect- or whatever the hell you’ve always felt for Ghost- bleeds into something closer to… love, you think, and your chest is swelling by the time his gloved fingertips reach there, gliding over your bare skin. And you glow in the golden streaks of young sun, flesh soft and too fucking inviting to pass up on.

(He doesn’t.)

Simon leans away, then, and you dare open your eyes at the lost contact, the lower half of his face bathed in a dim-yellow, his balaclava clinging midway up the bridge of his nose. And within the cage of the printed skull (iconic and terrifying, sort of like batman- an omen of evil’s bane on the way), his brown hues glint, all hazy- far from sober as they sweep over you.

Flickering; giving out; flickering. Burning, and then lessening, sparking like a broken fuse before it becomes so hot you feel you may wither beneath him-

“Gorgeous,” he breathes.

And he’s on you again, tongue laving at your neck and chest, one hand kneading a tender breast while he takes a nipple in his mouth and sucks. You whimper; his cock throbs; he made the impromptu decision just as Soap left that he’d bring you to ruin, and his plans haven’t changed at all.

“I need you, Simon,” you confess, because you do. You need him, you’re sure of it. On the battlefield, on base, on any fucking mission you’re given. You need him above you and on you and inside you.

(Fuck, you want him inside, you want him everywhere. In the mushy, warm crevice between your ribcages and now, between the river of your thighs. Now now now—)

There’s a screech of a zipper. It jams, but he’s impatient and dislodges it quickly, flimsy metal snapping as he shrugs off some of the weight and tugs down his pants.

And, goodness, it’s big.

Flushed red at the tip, angry and twitching as he drags you in by your hips, appraising you with this simmering, foggy look that has your legs quietly splitting. But Simon’s big all over, and you’ve always known him to be stronger (so much stronger), so when he slots himself up with your core, murmurs out a string of reassurances and fuckin’ beautiful’s, you lie back and let him take you.

You, that pretty, sopping cunt, and your virginity.

And as he deflowers you (there’s a dull, hot pain, he’s so big and thick- it hurts- but he folds himself over you and hushes you and tells you it’s okay), you think he takes your heart, too. (If he didn’t already have it.)

When the sting subsides and he realizes you’re not sniffling into his shoulder anymore, he bumps up the speed, entering a controlled, careful pace, the wood jostling beneath you as he fucks and breaks and loves you.

“Please,” you beg, “give it to me.”

“Am, darlin’,” he rasps at your ear, an echo of a high-pitched sigh there. “Giving ya everything I’ve got… And you’ll fuckin’ take it, yeah?”

When you nod and tighten up around him, those velvet walls sucking him in like a perfect vice, and pair it with a mewling yes, Simon, something in his lower abdomen clutches. A pit forming there already, all hot and pleasant as your pussy overwhelms him, beckons him further in until he’s hitting deep deep deep and a pale-pink is oozing between your legs, traces of your blood caught on his pelvis as he gives it to you. Everything. All of it.

Every piece of him, every bad memory and gentle kiss on his forehead, every grey cloud and good grade and bout of death- he stuffs it all inside you. Buries his hate and love there, cock grazing your womb as he thinks about the one he came from, and all the shouting and cracked beer bottles and spatters of smoke and red on the field.

And you suddenly tighten up around him completely, eyes going wide as your mouth gapes with some unwarranted, foreign wave of pleasure.

“There y’are,” he grunts, half breathless and half utterly feral, brown voids enamored with the sight of you crumbling beneath him as his jaw falls open and his eyes roll back. All the way back, ‘til his lashes- pale in the morning sunshine- kiss the points of his cheekbones and he can’t hide the desperate groan he tries to stifle in the dip of your neck.

Gloved hands grasping at the soft fat of your hips, digging and unintentionally hurting, leaving purplish semi-circles behind as his hips stutter one last time.

And he paints you on the inside. Roots himself there. Cums with a murky moan of your name that claws itself into every vital part of your soul and refuses to let go. (You don’t want it to.)

And the longer you two lie there, bathing in the gold of early morning, the less inclined he feels to leave.

Your fingertips, delicate as snow, graze over his back, swollen lips tickling his jawbone and the side of his face as he pants into the arch of your neck.

And his nose nestles into your aura, the messy tresses and gentle wildlife of you, gloved hands marking up your hips. And Ghost thinks your hair smells of war, too.

#call of duty #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader cod #cod x reader #simon riley smut #ghost x reader smut #call of duty smut #finally finished this #sorry if theres typos my brain feels like a bowl of cereal sometimes #mw2 #smut

2K notes · View notes

hi-i-love-u-bitch · 11 months

Text

Okay I see your "if Hobie and Noir meet they would be besties and punch nazis together" and I totally agree with that! But also consider:

Hobie is Spider Noir's biggest fanboy!

Like in the comics he's like a HUGE Gwen Stacy stan and he's such a goofy little dork about it. In ATSV him and Gwen's relationship is more like chill friends, and I'm okay with that. But I think it be so funny that when Hobie was recruted into Spiderverse society and Miguel was showing him all the other universes with the different Spiderman variants he pauses by the computer screen with that one gritty black and white universe cuz he just saw some guy in a fedora and trench coat PUNCH A FUCKING NAZI!!! WHO IS THAT GUY?!?! HE'S SO COOL!!!

He asks Miguel a million and one question about the guy and when the old grump annoyingly shoos him away he asks Peter as he briefly met him during that one incident in Miles is dimension. When that still isn't enough he asks Lyla to tell him everything she knows on Noir. Now obviously Lyla has no obligation to do this but she's also never seen Hobie this giddy and excited over something other then music. Its adorable, he's almost like a little kid wanting to know everything about their favorite cartoon. Also she low key likes to annoy Miguel and Hobie's rebellious spirit that gets under her straight laced boss is skin which is hilarious.

You know when Gwen first met Hobie she was a bit intimated cuz he just had that "too cool" vibe about him. But as soon as she mentions that she has worked with other Spider people before, which includes Noir, he did a whole 180 and became a complete dork!

Hobie: Get out, you actually met him! 🤩

Gwen: Uh, yeah?

Hobie: How was he like? What did he say? Did he talk about fascist corruption that not only plagued the system back then but even now as well? Was he super cool during the fight?! 😃🤩💫😻

Gwen: ..........He was nice.

Hobie: That's so rad! ✨️🤟🤩

I also feel like, aside from Miles, Gwen keeps in contact with the other Spider peeps from the first movie and tried to recruit them into the Spider society but obviously Noir and Porker didn't join. Porker because he’s a cartoon that follows "toon logic" and Miguel's ideologies are too serious for his taste. And Noir because, and I quote: "The last I heard of a secret society designed to 'keep the peace for the greater good of humanity at any cost' a whole world war came about it. I know fascism when I see it, kid."

Gwen relays that message to Hobie when explaining why Noir isn't joining and Hobie's response to that is: "He gets it! He just like me fr! 😭💕"

I think it be really cute that in the next movie when they finally meet Hobie is kinda awkward and shy. Like this guy has never respected an adult in his life (at least not any that didn’t deserve the disrespect) and with Noir his all like "Hello sir" "How are you sir" "It's very nice to meet you sir!" And Noir is actually just a really nice guy if a little broody but he's heard so much about this kid from Gwen and how much of a good friend he's been to her so Noir already likes him on principle.

Hobie: Uh Mr. Noir-- Parker, sir! It is such an honor to meet you! The work you do in your universe is amazing and I hope to learn more while working alongside you however briefly.

Noir: Ah, Peter is just fine really, or Noir if it gets to confusing. No need to be so formal, we're all on equal footing here. I've heard a lot about you and your world as well from Gwen. Although it does sadden me that such a young man has to take on the burden of saving the world from such a corrupt society yet again, you're going about it quite well. War is hard and ugly and violent but you are amazingly brave to be able to stand up for what is right in the face of it all. If anybody is honored here it is me, for being able to meet such a remarkable young man like you. And knowing that my friends have made such honorable allies in the midst of all this chaos.

Hobie, externally: Yeah, it's whatevs 😎

Hobie, internally: Dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry dont cry YOURE GUNNA LOOK SO UNCOOL IF YOU CRY IN FRONT OF HIM NOW 😭💕😭💕😭

I just think it be really cute if they had a wholesome father-son sort of relationship where they shit talk corrupt government systems and punch fascists together. You know, regular father-son bonding!

(Also I think that's another reason Miguel didn't invite Spider Noir to the Spiderverse, cuz he knew that both of these menaces together would cause a bigger headache than its worth 🤣🤣🤣)

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #spider noir #spider punk #hobie brown #DO NOT TAG AS SHIP!!#father son relationship #spiderman #bunny talks #headcannons #hobie brown is a dork and we should all accept that #Noir is adopting ALL the colorful spider children

477 notes · View notes

chocolatetheoristcloud · 9 months

Note

can you do a scenario in which sasuke is completely obsessed with the reader, sends her lewd pics of heeself, scares her to the point that she avoids him but also everyone around her cuz he wont let her make friends, also him finally locking her in the class with him (some noncon if u can)

The Gingerbread Woman

Inspirded by the song the gingerbread man

Warnings: Yandere themes,nudes,hints of NON-CON,dark content,possiveness, cursing,modern AU, real dulu yelling out my woman, yes he's a little dulu.

Paring: Yandere Sasuke x reader

I am ETREMELY sorry for how long this took.

You couldn't believe what you got yourself in it.

How the fuck did this happen ?

Well that's something you didn't really know to be honest.

I mean you stayed away from him and you didn't talk to him, expect that one time you helped him with the missing notes he missed but that was it.

You didn't know he liked you,well he sent nudes to you of himself once but you didn't think he would go this far.

Locking you into an empty classroom with him, You had to stay behind in school to finish some work and then you had to clean up and put away but you had thought all the students left besides the one who had club activities,as far as you know Sasuke wasn't in a club and normally stuck to himself so why was he here then?

This made you uncomfortable as you looked at Sasuke as you two stayed deeply into eachother's eyes,like a staring contest.

His eyes were dark and black as a shadow with a hints of sinister-ness and something else you couldn't put your finger on at.

Whilst you looked into his, you're eyes were e/c looked into his with hints of uncomfortableness and confusion.

You had your back turned to the door as you cleaning when you heard the door open, you turned your head thinking it was a teacher but it was Sasuke......it was like if he knew you were here and didn't leave school...............how strange.

Oh good afternoon Sasuke,......is something wrong did one of the teachers sent you here?......I was just about the leave I was just packing my bag and cleaning up.

You avoided Sasuke after you saw the nudes he sent you and blocked his number and deleted it, even tho you didn't tell anyone you still felt very uncomfortable with being with him right now it felt uneasy. As the air hang thick feeling claustrophobic and heavy,as you awaited his answer.

He only nodded.....slowly, and looked around and watched as he opened the door again and looked outside.

Which was a red flag from the beginning but you didn't think about it since he was probably felt awark after he sent you his nudes and you blocked him, you nodded as you turned around to finish packing your bag when

*lock*

Whipping you're head around as fast as lighting to see just what the hell happened.

You saw Sasuke now inside the room with you,the door now locked and closed as he looked at you before slowly walking up to you.

Um.....What are you...doing?

You quoted, backing away from him as your eyes went wide trying to process what to do.

He said nothing only walking towards you, before finally opening his mouth.

......Y'know your such a strange girl....you know that I'm in love with you....but instead....of rejecting me... you completely just ignore my feelings right in front of me.... with no problem....at all...

He said his voice deep and raspy and low as if he was struggling to find the words to speak,as if.....he couldn't breathe like was gasping for air but he couldn't get it.....no matter how hard he tried.

When sent you pictures of me you didn't even text back you just blocked me....I thought you would have told someone but you didn't...not a soul...as If,it was a normal thing like it didn't happen.

And y'know what really get's me? hmm?... you passed me everyday in school like it was nothing... like you just didn't care!, yeah you avoided me....but you didn't even say a word about it to anyone! not even a peep.

Like this didn't matter....I didn't matter!....to you....my feelings and emotions don't matter to you... everything I've done to get your attention doesn't matter-

He paused quite literally in his tracks as he looked down before placing his hand on his eyes rubbing nose bridge before chucking to himself.

And y'know it's really laughable hahaha I've tried almost everything! to get you to acknowledge my feelings for you,my love for you! but still no matter what I seem to do you never acknowledge them hahahah!

And no matter how try and try you will never take the time and today to acknowledge them, just look at you you're not even denying it are ?

It was true and you both knew it, you knew he loved you and instead of saying anything at all you choose to ignore them... ignore him.... even before he sent you the nudes of himself.... you just didn't acknowledge but more like refused to acknowledge them really and truly if you're being honest but you didn't think he would go this far.

He looked at you not all that surprised, but not all that surprised after all that's why he had interested in you in the first place, you were so strange to him so uninterested.

But as I said that's why he likes you so much is because of that you knew you were could be hurting his feelings but you didn't care and instead of just telling him to stop and reject him you remain silent.

He looked back up at you his piecing dark onyx eyes staring at you as they looked souless like a black empty void that was filled with nothing good.

But now.....all that is going to change..... you're going to acknowledge my feelings for you one way or another.....

He picked up his pace,as feet making nosies as it touches the wooden floor boards as he back's you into a corner,as you looked at him.

Sasuke....?

Don't Sasuke me now y/n.... it's too late for that you're going to acknowledge my love for you, and when I'm done you it will be a piceing memory marked into your skin.... something of my love...... something even if you still refuse to acknowledge it you're always....always have a memory

#bully sasuke #sasuke smut #sasuke x oc #yandere sasuke uchiha #yandere sasuke x reader #yandere sasuke #Sasuke x reader #yandere sasuke uchiha x reader #Sasuke Uchiha x reader #sasuke x you #sasuke x y/n #uchiha sasuke x reader #uchiha x reader #yandere naruto various x reader

328 notes · View notes

harleehazbinfics · 1 month

Note

Oooooh I’m thinking about Cannibal Overlord Readers relationship with Vox in the AU

I think their relationship is far more aggressive than in the normal version. The disputes are more public, Vox definitely insults the reader publicly and tries to embarrass her, and whenever they’re forced to be in the same room and not allowed to fistfight, they’re hella passive aggressive with each other, throwing insults that can be argued as just “astute observations”.

Also just in general, what do the other Overlords think of the reader? I’m just thinking of Valentino trying to get Reader to become one of his workers and Alastor about to kill the moth himself lmao

– @pixelword ❤️

What do Overlords think of you? Cannibal Overlord! Reader x Alastor [cannibal chef! Reader Spin-Off]

Cannibal chef! reader m.list | Author profile

a/n: I LOVE THIS ASK PLS ILY FOR ASKING THIS MAKES ME WANT TO EXPERIMENT WITH READER'S RELATIONSHIP W OTHER PEEPS

Vox

He honestly thinks you're the fakest bitch in existence, and the person asking is right. They're far more aggressive at each other than in cannibal chef. With power at play here and everything, having control over more souls than the other is their main competition.

Cannibal Overlord embodying gluttony while Vox being greed. So, they will never get along ever. This man will attack every possible thing about you, from your clothes, fashion, things you like and your restaurant. It pisses you off when he talks badly about your restaurants, that you painstakingly managed to perfection. Your cute little devils did their best at providing the best service they could possibly give with their cute tiny little brains. You sometimes berate them for their mistakes however, they do their best to fix their mistakes every time. So, you couldn't bare when someone else other than you to scold them. They're dummies but they're your cute dummies.

The one thing that always, always ticks you off is when Vox brings in Alastor to your fights. Vox being a television/media demon and Alastor being the Radio Demon, it was inevitable that they'd cross paths one day. So, within your power you'd shelter Alastor when their little fights get too out of hand. This action of yours being broadcasted over the city, quoting your love over your demon servant. You'd laugh at him however, telling him your love story is much healthier than his and his moth's.

Valentino

He loves your food and style, let's be very clear. He was introduced to your restaurant when Vox couldn't shut up about you and your cheap ass restaurant. So, out of curiosity, he and Velvette snuck out and booked a private table by pulling a few strings. You, after hearing that the two Overlords had taken the time to dine in your establishment, gave them the best service you could offer--which is you serving their meals in their private room. You could say this was your attempt of buying them over from Vox and be on their good side just to tick off the box head.

Valentino and Velvette absolutely loved the attention they received from you and your staff. A quartet playing any of their preferred music, your most recommended menu items, and an expensive brand of alcohol. They of course couldn't help but rate the restaurant in real time as they're being served as chronically online as they were that they couldn't shut their mouths if they wanted to. This reaches the ears of Vox who immediately called them for betraying him, which they of course ignored to avoid being kicked out for being in contact with him at the moment they were in your turf.

After the meal, Alastor joins you in seeing the Overlords off in their limousine. The radio demon fumes as the moth takes your hand and licks up your arm. Which you gave him a fake smile before taking off your apron, wiping your arm and slapping it at him fiercely creating a red mark on the side of his face which he only licks with a sadistic smile and hands you his business card, asking if you were interested in making a film with him. Without a word, you hand it to Alastor who burns it with a smile of his own and politely asks them to leave before he did something about his rudeness.

Velvette

After her visit to your restaurant, she handed you her business card telling you that she was interested in making clothes for you, and that she'd be happy to give them to you as a gift for giving her so much inspiration during her stay. She was impressed with your mannerisms and how confident your held yourself while you wore your chef uniform. So, she thought you deserved to have clothes as an Overlord that showed off their power in a position such as yourself to be designed by her.

You didn't have any reason to refuse so you accepted it, under the request of it being done at your office than at their building. So, she completed the design after getting your sizes taken, you also requested to have a suit done for Alastor too, which she complied to and said she'd give you a matching one with his. After giving them to you, she asked for a selfie with you and your new clothes on to post on her social media account.

You became very good friends after that, you even shit talked about the boys when you had the chance to meet up.

(note: the suit with Alastor was your gift to him for your anniversary)

Rosie

YOU WERE DEFINITE BESTIES WITH ROSIE. Girl boss, Cannibal, great sense of humor, and gossip girlies. What's there to think about?

The both of you loved to share stories about your day to day, and even the latest gossip within the rings and who hooked up with who. You shared information on souls to deal with, or those to stay away from for a while. While you two enjoyed each other's company, you loved inviting Alastor to your get-togethers. He definitely was a girl's girl. He even joins in your gossips and shit talking on Susan.

Rosie feels happy for you when you lean against Alastor when you're together and how you eventually fall asleep when the three of you are together. She feels happy for you in the sense that you didn't have a great life when you were alive, you were cheated on and was left behind by your family, so when you found happiness with them her heart couldn't help but feel full.

"You're quite the lucky charm, Al. She doesn't fall asleep so easily, y'know?"

"? What do you mean? She's always fallen asleep so quickly since I met her."

"Oh really? That's surprising. It's not my place, but since how much she trusts you.. She's quite the insomniac, always working, dealing souls. Y'know overlord stuff. There was never a day where I wouldn't see or hear about her even in the dead of night. So, you're quite special for her to just fall asleep on."

"I see... I'll take that as a compliment."

Camilla Carmine & Zestial

They share the same opinion about you. You were well respected by them, being able to raise the ranks in such a short time was quite a feat when they see a figure as frail as yourself carry the weight of being an Overlord. However, when they saw your power, you undoubtedly deserved that title of yours.

That's to say you were also one of the overlords that were the easiest to talk to during and out of meetings. So, they're quite acquainted with you. They also don't mind your relationship with Alastor, since they also witnessed his prowess behind you.

🔗Cannibal Chef! Reader Taglist:

@bonnie-02 @marxo5 @whaatttlaufey @froggybich @rybunnie @midorichoco @lucifers-silhouette @kimmis-stuff @bontensbabygirl @janey @akiqvq @wonderlandangelsposts @spoiled-slutt @roboticsuccubus83 @atlas-rin @yuriohoe04 @azullynxx @milk-bulb @hahalame @s2tng @aria-tempest @speedycoffeedelight @0strawberrysorbet0 @amitiel-truth @corvid007 @kaminarithebest @enby-goblin @whydosnakesnotdance @wtvbabes @willow404 @psychoanalyze0 @sweetadonisbutbetter @safetypinangelwings

136 notes · View notes

hermesmyplatonicbeloved · 4 months

Text

Annabeth's stalking in ep2 is not great, to say the least.

I get that it seems cute to some of you, Annabeth being all driven and ambitious and figuring out that a water god is Percy's father, but like. Stalking is not cool. It's an invasion of privacy. It makes the person feel unsafe. It's unsettling. Even Percy acknowledges this - he straight up asks Luke to make her stop.

And to all of you who continue to romantize it and downplay how serious it is, I want to remind you that in SoM Annabeth used her invisibility cap to peep at Percy while he's changing his clothes in the assumed privacy and safety of his bedroom. (if you don't believe me I can pull book quotes). Yeah, that's how bad it gets.

101 notes · View notes

euroquision · 2 months

Text

No, Iceland is not up to "dirty political tricks" and neither is Bashar Murad

Hey lovely people, spirits, souls, and ghouls of Tumblr! To those of you who don't follow me on TikTok, there's a video I made just yesterday concerning Iceland (the lil Eurovision Country that Could!), Israel, a certain Irish TikTok-er with impressively horrible media literacy, and our dearest friend Bashar Murad. If you're not on TikTok, that's wonderful and dear god you don't need to subject yourself to that app. Instead, I wanted to make a post that explains what's going on, what's being said, and why one (1) Palestinian is not responsible for the aforementioned "dirty" political tricks.

If you're following Eurovision or just Bashar Murad himself, consider giving this a read.

So let's begin! First: who's calling Bashar Murad/Iceland "dirty"? Where am I getting that word from and why is it in quotes? That's because: it IS a quote! Buck wild, I know. This is a quote from the TikTok account AllThingsAdam.ie, run by the Irish Eurovision...fan? Podcast-haver? Idk, I'm not saying "journalist" because if I wanted to have a laugh, I would just watch the Unicorn edit I made a couple months ago. Did I share that here yet? Just in case, here it is:

Never fails to make me smile. Great edit, Me! Anyway, back on topic: Adam McCallig is a person with a TikTok account that has half a million followers, he has a podcast where he's interviewed Eurovision and NF artists, so he's definitely a "known figure" to a certain point. I can't sit here and say he's some random troll, y'know? So, in a TikTok that has since been deleted from his page, he accuses Iceland of being up to "dirty political Eurovision 2024 tricks." I created a TikTok where I briefly show this video, and here's a link to that! You can watch that for my condensed version of everything I'm talking about here, but this Tumblr post is for those who like reading what I have to say in longer form. Here's that video:

Since Adam's video is now "gone," I will do my best and summarize what he stated with whatever journalistic integrity I have. First: you hear him open the video with the word "dirty." So no one can say I'm putting words in his mouth -- no no, these are lifted from the source material, honey. Next, he goes on to claim that Bashar "has no connection to Iceland whatsoever." As much as Adam wants this to be true, it just...isn't?? Like, let's ignore Bashar's longtime collaborations with HATARI. Instead, let's look at him literally performing on the Songvakeppnin stage in the 2020 NF season:

youtube

Additionally, the claim "Bashar has no connection to Iceland" rings very hollow not only when we know this claim is false, but it's not one Adam brings up about the many artists trying to represent a country other than their own in the 2024 NF season. Adam says he "knows that countries can let artists from whatever country represent them," but he hasn't made any videos about Marcus & Martinus (Norwegian) competing in Sweden's National Final. Tali (Israeli-born) is representing Luxembourg this year, and MEGARA (Spanish) are representing San Marino. "Foreign" artists representing any country in ESC is FAR from new, and if it were a punishable offense, Celine Dion would just have to settle for being Canadian.

However, as soon as Bashar Murad takes the stage and the colors of the Palestinian flag are visible, Adam is ready to take to TikTok and say "dirty political tricks" are at play -- before deleting it later, like I mentioned. In fact, not only did he delete it! Mere hours before writing this post, I used my second TT account to peep his page and he posted a video saying "One of these four songs should represent Iceland in Eurovision!" and showed snippets of four songs competing in the Icelandic NF Grand Finale, which takes place on Saturday the 2nd of March. However: there aren't four songs competing to win for Iceland. There's five. Which four did he show? The fours songs that AREN'T Bashar Murad. And yet, he's the one being dirty in all this? Adam, sweetie, the dirty call is coming from inside the dirty house.

Now, you might wonder if Adam has kept this kind of energy when talking about Israel's Eurovision participation, which at time of writing is still very much up in the air. But thing is: he doesn't. At least, not really. Adam has posted a video condemning the alleged song that Israel is trying to submit to Eurovision titled "October Rain." I won't go too deep into that -- please follow @/IsraelBreaksRules on Twitter for more details on this!! But basically, what Adam is attempting to do is play some sort of "political centrist" take on Eurovision, while simultaneously trying to say "Keep politics OUT of Eurovision!!" And at the end of his deleted video, Adam claimed that while "what happened in Gaza is terrible," Iceland is just as guilty for playing political tricks as Israel might be, and Bashar Murad's participation is just as bad.

Two things wrong with that statement, Adam. One: It's not what "happened" in Gaza. It's not past tense. It's on-going. It hasn't stopped. That's actually -- believe it or not -- WHY WE'RE STILL HERE. And two: JUST AS BAD?? REALLY??

If you watched my TikTok response that I shared the link to, you'll have seen the evidence I shared. But I wanna share them again just so you all can clearly see how the "political tricks" at play this year are not on the part of Iceland, nor would they be "just as bad." Where do we begin? Maybe we could begin with the fact that "Wild West," Bashar's song, has been spammed with negative reviews by anti-Palestinian ESC fans. This is mathematically observable when you notice "Wild West" has roughly THREE TIMES as many reviews as the other Icelandic NF songs on EurovisionWorld.com. You can check them out here and see the numbers yourself.

But it doesn't stop at bad reviews. Israeli ESC fans have begun a campaign to mass vote against Bashar, specifically for Hera Bjork, one of the four other competitors in Iceland's final on Saturday. This is really funny to me though because if Bashar doesn't win, it should totally be Sigga Ozk, right? GO TIFFANY!!! Anyway, I digress. A link to an article covering this voting campaign can be found here!

Not only is Bashar facing backlash, hate, and organized efforts AGAINST his participation, Israel is funneling money and resources into Facebook ads that look like this, claiming to shape the narrative:

...as well as filming "comedy" "sketches" like this "song" called...

*deep existential sigh* "Jews Pua" Link to that video here, if you can stand three minutes of awful propaganda containing just the right combination of shitty, easy rhymes and enough pinkwashing to put "Cops at Pride!" to shame. All of this should make it VERY clear to anyone observing this situation as a whole that the political tricks at play are NOT being done equally from everyone involved. Dare I boldly say: this shit is INCREDIBLY ONE-SIDED and we need to remind ourselves of the awful reality that is Israel's access to the money, ability, and audience of their "dirty political tricks" more so than Bashar Murad or Iceland ever could.

Lastly, let's just acknowledge the racism-shaped elephant in the room. Now, I as a white American am not here to play "Racism Police." That will never be the case. What I am about to say applies to the greater conversation, and it's not just an "Adam" problem. It's a problem we see happen when one (1) Palestinian decides to exist and write a song, and the way the world has been built around us conditions us to see that and scream "dirty political trickery afoot!!" Truly, ask yourself is this is "equal" in any way shape or form, as Adam posited. Adam and people like him will treat Iceland and Israel as equal, but that doesn't automatically make them "equal."

We are living in a world where Israel is currently being sued for genocide. That is not an exaggeration, it's just something we can all see and talk about. Israel is a country that has the money, platform, and bias of the most powerful countries of the world to not be held to the same standards of responsibility for the horrible things they're doing, nor is my own country being properly held accountable for PAYING for these things they're doing. Race is something used as a tool to identify oppressed peoples not just because it's discriminatory, but it tells people who aren't part of that group that people like Bashar Murad are simply political just by existing. Nowhere does Adam mention that Bashar and his song "Wild West" are about his journey as an artist having to leave his home and travel thousands of miles to the global "west" to even have a chance of representing Iceland (not Palestine, not Gaza, just Iceland) in Eurovision while the country responsible for the death of his people are facing MUCH less scrutiny from the Eurovision powers that be, let alone Irish TikTok accounts with re: shitty media literacy skills.

My final message to you is this: if you're someone paying attention to Eurovision and you maybe feel confused or overwhelmed by Israel, Iceland, Bashar, etc. etc. etc., here's what I want to tell you:

This is not an equal game. Iceland/Bashar are nowhere near on the same level as Israel and the money/access they have to GLOBAL levels of propaganda. Israel, in fact, verbally confirms how they want to use Eurovision to "shape the narrative" which is far dirtier, far more political than just the song "Wild West." Moreover, thinking that treating Eurovision as apolitical or that EVERYONE deserves the SAME level of EQUAL scrutiny only helps Israel at the end of the day. The things they've done, are doing, and hope to do are representative of tens of thousands of people they've killed in the last few months alone. Would you genuinely look at Bashar Murad trying to represent Iceland and say "Yep, these two things are the same"? My hope is that you wouldn't, but people like Adam clearly do.

Don't be like Adam. Don't play this weak-ass centrism card that ultimately helps no one and just makes it easier for people to shift blame, suspicion, or anger towards Bashar Murad. This is not the fight being had right now, and don't let it waste your time. Focus on what and who matters, which is obviously: the country doing genocide and wants us all to be chill with that.

PS. As a personal recommendation, "Wild West" and "Into the Atmosphere" are my two favs to win for Iceland, so def go gives those a stream. And while you're at it, let Bashar himself take you on a visual journey that might help you understand his message a bit better.

Much love you all. Thank you for being here. EuroQuision out.

youtube

#eurovision #es #eurovision 2024 #esc 2024 #bashar murad #free palestine #free gaza #iceland #songvakeppnin 2024 #israel #euroquision #tiktok #twitter #Youtube

59 notes · View notes

corazon-calaveras · 2 months

Text

The Crow Reboot Rant

NAH NAH NAH, WHOSE IDEA WAS IT TO MAKE ERIC DRAVEN LOOK LIKE A DISCOUNT VERSION OF JARED LETTO'S JOKER?!? IMMA THROW HANDS!!! 💀🔪

There's just so much wrong about this reboot and as a fan of the original crow movie and graphic novel I cannot even begin to express how much this disappoints me.

More to rant ahead, just know it's hella long.

I recently saw and heard more news about the crow reboot and upon seeing what to expect I no longer have any interest in watching the reboot, in fact I wish the fans continue to roast the hell out of it to show the people in charge of this reboot that this is NOT what the people want or need.

Now I just want to go on and say that I have no problems with Bill Skarsgard as Eric Draven. I think he's a hella great actor with lots of potential of doing a great job at being the next crow actor, but my issue is with the writers and the people who made the overall decision to make this cult classic "appeal to modern audiences" which that quote alone was enough for me to completely abandon all hope of this movie being any good. I was already skeptical enough about the reboot and my expectations were low but THIS...this definitely made my expectations drop even lower than they already were and that's surprising to me. Honestly at this point the three crow sequels were a lot better and that's saying a lot because if y'all have seen those you'll know they weren't that good either but at least they were entertaining. 😭 (In my opinion at least, feel free to disagree on that).

It gets even better when you find out that the inspiration for reboot crow was Post Malone and Lil Peep. 💀

Like...is that what appeals to modern audiences nowadays? Was that really necessary for modern day Eric Draven? Absolutely not! The original movie and comic took place in the 90's so LEAVE IT IN THE 90's! Not everything has to be modernized for the sake of appealing to modern audiences. What modern audiences need right now are original stories with good and compelling writing (which probably won't happen any time soon since Hollywood proved to be in the middle of an imagination drought).

Sure, one can argue that the original movie wasn't completely faithful to the source material, that being the graphic novel. However, Due to the unfortunate passing of Brandon Lee during the making of the film, James O 'Barr has stated that he had finished the film as a tribute to Brandon who was a sweet and caring man and so decided to write Eric Draven to have some resemblance to Brandon in the film as a way to honor him. With that in mind, it's no wonder people are much harsher about the reboot, myself included, and find that this reboot would be an insult to not only James O 'Barr but also to Brandon. (Those who know the tragic history of The Crow graphic novel would understand why that's the case but in short it was a way for James to deal with grief).

In my opinion, the original crow film does not need a reboot or a remake. It may not be the best or perfect movie in the world but it is a cult classic and is one of the most beloved movies that holds a dear place in people's hearts. Mine included. Which is why instead of making another movie based on Brandon Lee's crow, that the other crow characters get a shot at the big screen since Eric Draven isn't the only one who gets brought back to life by a crow. I can understand how this might potentially not gain enough traction because it's not the iconic Eric Draven, but I do believe that with good writing and loyalty to the source materials, that it can be very possible to make a good and fresh crow movie without piggy backing off of an already beloved and successful film with the help of the fans who most likely have read the other comics.

In my opinion, I don't think this reboot is worth anyone's time (at least for those who are hardcore fans of the Crow franchise) and I have no hope for this whatsoever. In fact, I'm gonna go rewatch the original movie for the millionth time and reread the original graphic novel because I've already accepted the fact that any potential of getting a good crow movie is officially out the window. Not only that but the book and film are my comfort watch and reads so there's that.

For anyone who wants to hear more details about the reboot I recommend looking up articles or watch videos about it on youtube since that's where I heard the majority of the news.

Brandon Lee will forever be the best Eric Draven out there, may he rest in peace.

#the crow #the crow 1994 #eric draven #james o'barr #the crow reboot #bill skarsgård #the crow 2024 #rant post

57 notes · View notes

t-tomuras · 25 days

Text

streamer au; sfw but minors still DNI 1.1k

╰┈➤ 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐲𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Baby stay away from it,” Tenko’s voice is smooth, calm despite the insistence in his tone. Tensing the slightest bit as he crouches his character and proceeds with caution when he hears the telltale, feminine sobbing in the distance as you both explore in different directions. He knows you don’t like to be guided too much during games, made even more obvious by how you insisted on starting from his last save instead of from the beginning so you could get a feel for the mechanics.

He also knows stealth is one of your least favorite styles of gameplay and that was required in this moment.

“It? We’re supposed to save survivors right?” You’re far too sweet, maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to play the campaign with you. Especially after how you’d played the TellTale Walking Dead games and refused to pick any of the ‘mean’ responses.

“She’s cryin—“

“Stay away from her,” he needs to wrap up what he’s doing now but he’d found a sweet cache he knows will prep you both for the end of the level. Pain pills, bandages, weapons and munitions.

Too late to stop you when you narrate your actions as if the girl could actually hear you. “m here to save you—“ cute and playful, surely quoting a character from one of your favorite animes before it morphs into strangled horror.

He tries not to find it funny, fighting the smile by biting the inside of his cheek because Tenko knows you were actually genuinely startled but you always sound so cute when you yelp. The pitch and suddenness of the sound breaks your audio on discord. If he hadn’t heard you through the walls of the little office he’d set up for you down the hall he wouldn’t have known you’d made a peep.

Until you squeal a silly sound, drawn out in your dramatics, discords voice chat struggling to continue capturing your audio because of it before you mumble on repeat “I fucked up I fucked up I fucked up.” The sound of the Witch’s shrill screams coming through your mic as well before you silence it with a well placed headshot. Crowning her purely by accident in your fright with the last two shots of your shotgun but the damage is already done, the enemy’s shrieks triggering a horde.

If this were anyone else, Tenko would’ve been annoyed; clicking his tongue and begrudgingly aiding his teammate but only when it was convenient for him to do so. But it isn’t someone else, it’s you, and maybe it was because you’re his girlfriend or how comedic you’d made the encounter; Tenko only chuckles softly with a gentle shake of his head.

The ravenous infected begin to close in on your location first but you’re grateful they seem to be the simple kind. The sheer number is the most threatening about them but you toss two molotov’s to clear out a decent amount. You’ll need a lot more than that though, likely have to craft them but you don’t have the time, you’re low on ammo and it’s dwindling fast.

“Help, help, help, I fucked up so bad where are you Ten?” A little frantic as you do your best to fend off the mob of mangled reanimated corpses alone.

“I’m coming, hold tight,” cutting off his little looting spree as soon as the alert of your username startling the witch appears to the left of his screen. Bandaging himself up to restore some health and make room for another medkit to use on you after glancing at your character bar.

Everything will be easy to manage the moment you’re both together, you’ve cleared plenty of hordes throughout the campaign so far. Maybe it would’ve been better to bite the bullet and let you know about the Witch but you like a challenge as well. Even if you get frustrated you’ll persist.

You aren’t doing so bad without him either, sure you hiss and curse under your breath but he’s watching your health closely. Picking off the few infected that are beelining for you before they can agro onto him. Making him exhale a breathy chuckle, something more akin to a little more air leaving his nostrils in rapid puffs as you cheer quietly when you find a spare mag while fleeing.

“I actually might not be too bad,” instantly jinxing yourself when you both hear a shrill shriek only to be immediately pounced on by another Special Infected, “you’re actually joking right now.”

Your character's silhouette becomes outlined in red through the buildings that divided you the moment you went down. Clicking his tongue whenever he sees another alert; teammate pinned by the Hunter.

Hearing the gurgle of a Boomer in the right side of his headphones as you panic a bit over how rapidly your health is depleting while the Hunter mauls you to death. The horde adding insult to injury but swiping at you as well but at least they weren’t focused on Tenko.

Until the Boomer takes him by surprise and vomits all over him, drawing all the agro from the special infected ability. Soon to be toeing the line of a full wipe and assured reset to the last checkpoint or worse yet the complete restart of the run; but he does manage to snipe the Hunter and free you.

Instantly reloading and doing everything you can to clear a path for Tenko out of the center of the assault. Grinning from ear to ear when he runs passed you, calm voice in your ear making you shudder pleasantly no matter how many times you hear him, “follow me, we’re gonna die if we try and fight them off.”

Which is true and you’re more than well aware of the fact. You’re out of ammunition and your health is down to an almost sliver but the safe zone that signals the end of the run is just within sight. Health kits and munitions galore for the next chapter of the game so close your palms sweat a little more as the gurgle and hiss of zombies behind your character makes you all the more tense.

Tenko calmly hangs back to pick off a few of the remaining horde that slowly begins to lag behind you. Letting you into the safe house first, popping a few more shots then closing the door behind you to complete the level.

Leaning back in his chair to pop his fingers and wipe the sweat from his palms as the statics for the level display on the screen.

“M sorry, I thought we’d get a new survivor”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll buy some more before the next round and find the rest of what we need.”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you the next level is to survive all the hordes until evac arrives.

#vixen drabbles #tenko shimura x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader

44 notes · View notes

lt-natrace · 1 year

Text

just saying

Description: your childhood best friend, bob, is getting really sick of the men you date

Content: being cheated on, mentions of the bird strike, mentions of alcohol, going through a man’s phone, little woman quotes, thinking no one will ever love you like you deserve, little bobby being hurt for like 3 minutes but i fix it, childhood best friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.8k

I wrote this for @jostystyles playlist writing challenge and it was supposed to be posted like 3 weeks ago but life happens sometimes. I chose the song just saying but specifically the lyric "he says he loves you but it's all an act". This also wasn't beta'd so any mistakes are mine and you should just ignore them.

“He just gives me a weird feeling, okay?” Bob said once again, earning an eye roll from you as you walked from the bathroom to your closet.

“Bob,” you started, causing him to look up at you, “I’m not having this conversation again.”

He let out a huff of annoyance and crossed his arms like he used when you’d fight as children. After two decades of being Bob’s best friend, he’s never really changed his habits or learned to let you make your own mistakes. Despite what everyone may think looking at your career paths, a wizzo for the navy and a freelance writer, he was the more reserved and anxious one in the friendship. Even as kids, he would be the one to ask if something was a good idea and as teenagers he would always scold you for making bad choices. It was one of the things that made your friendship work so well.

“Whatever,” he replied flatly, standing up from where he was sitting on your bed, “I have to meet Phoenix for lunch, be safe tonight.”

You gave him a small smile and mumbled out an “I will” as he turned to walk out your front door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He was your best friend but he drove you insane with how critical he was of the guys you went out with. Bob has always found something wrong or suspicious with each of the guys you’ve dated; Jason made you cry too much, Ethan was too flirty, Zach was too old and so on and so forth. Maybe he ended up being right about every single one of them but Carter was different, seriously. He had a stable job at his Dad’s company, took you to nice dinners and the sex wasn’t bad. Despite all these facts, Bob didn’t like him. All it took was one dinner with him and Bob called you on the way home to tell you everything he thought was wrong. It didn’t matter, Bob wasn’t the boss of you and didn’t get to have a say in who you dated, even if it started fights between the two of you.

—-------

A few hours had passed since Bob left your apartment and the sound of loud banging on the front door pulled you from your research. You closed your laptop screen slightly and walked towards the door, slowly checking the peep hole to see who was waiting on the other side. To your surprise you were met with the sight of Bob, frantically fixing his glasses and trying to catch his breath. He jumped slightly as you opened the front door, letting out a sigh of relief as his eyes met yours.

“Oh thank goodness you haven’t left yet.” He said, pushing past you and turning to face you as he got a few steps into your apartment, “I need to tell you something, it’s really important.”

You’d seen Bob shaken up many times in your life, but this was a whole new level. His hands were shaking, his face was flushed from what you assumed was him running up the multiple flights of stairs and he was pacing back and forth. You watched him for a moment, trying to take in his energy and figure out what could possibly have gotten him so worked up. He stared at you until you motioned him to speak.

“Carter,” he started and you let out a groan of frustration, “No, I’m serious, you need to listen to me. He was at lunch with some girl, she had dark hair and-”

“Jesus Christ,” you cut him off as before verifying the time on your watch, “He was probably getting lunch with a coworker or a business partner.”

“Do you hold hands and pay for business partner’s lunches?” He pushed back as he took a few more steps and began to lean onto the counter. It wasn’t until this moment that you realized how much broader he had gotten on his most recent deployment. You walked to the other side of the island and matched his motion in a sad attempt to stand your ground against him, “He wouldn’t do that to me, he loves me.” You tried, unsure of who you were trying to convince at this point.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? That douchebag has you so wrapped around his fucking finger that you would do anything to defend him, he says he loves you but it’s all an act, he has someone behind your back!” Bob snapped back, his voice suddenly taking up the kitchen. He was never one to raise his voice, especially at a woman and his actions only made you angrier.

“You know what, I know what this is about. You’re jealous,” your voice was laced with venom as you spoke and Bob let out a small laugh, “Yeah, you’re jealous that I’ve found someone I wanna tell everything to and you haven’t. I can’t be that for you forever Bob, it’s time to grow up.”

Bob swore he’d felt his heart break when he had to watch you go to prom with the quarterback or when he couldn’t find Phoenix after their ejection. But this feeling as he watched you walk away from him was worse than heartbreak, this made his stomach turn and he had to fight back the bile rising in his throat. Before you could say anything else, Bob was storming out of your apartment and slamming the door so hard you swore the hinges came off. You and Bob had fought before but never anything like this. You wanted to run after him and tell him you didn’t mean any of it but you couldn’t. Your feet stayed planted in your kitchen, the silence somehow louder than the argument that had just taken place.

As if on cue, your phone began to ring and a picture of Carter from the last date you two had gone on flashed across the screen. For a moment, you debated ignoring it, Bob’s accusations still heavy in the back of your mind. You pushed them back as you answered the call and tried to hide the shake in your voice.

—----

It’s been nearly a month since your fight with Bob. The two of you had spoken a few times but mainly conversations in passing about your days or if the other was going out that weekend. Bob had tried to make amends a few times but you ignored every attempt, he had no right to step into your relationship and throw accusations like that with not even a grainy picture to back it up. Above all, you were upset that he put such an idea into your mind in the first place. Now you felt like you were putting Carter’s every action under a microscope and looking for a flaw in it, even if you genuinely believed he was innocent.

You cursed Bob again as you tried desperately to see if Carter had left his location turned on. To your dismay, he hadn’t. He was supposed to pick you up for dinner over an hour ago. It wasn’t the first time he was late but it was the first time he didn’t have an excuse. He had a tough job and was usually forced to stay late at the office working on whatever he did all day. It wasn’t that you didn’t care to ask, he just assured you it was complicated and difficult to understand. Usually you’d pace for a little and then clean up a bit so it looked nice when he got here, but not this time. You sat on the couch, your heels ditched as you refreshed his location again.

After a few more moments, you heard the spare key clicking the lock of your front door open and sprang to your feet as he opened the door. He was still in his work suit with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and take out from your favorite restaurant in the other. You couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed at the canceled plans after the effort you had put in getting ready but you could never turn down a night in, especially after what you assumed was a hard day on his part.

“Woman, my god you look good. If I knew this was what was waiting for me I would have told them to cancel the meeting all together.” He said as you made your way over to him and reached up to kiss his cheek, “Let me grab a quick shower and we can eat, feel free to open that bottle up.”

Usually this action would have warmed your heart but you can’t help but hear Bob’s voice repeating over and over in your mind. You’ve never been the jealous type, if someone wanted to go out and ruin what you had they could go ahead and do it, their loss. However, the sight of his phone sitting on the counter, lost under the flowers caused something to change in your mind. It’s an invasion of privacy absolutely, but what if it just unlocked when you moved it?

A text lighting up his screen pulled you from your thoughts. A picture from someone named Brett flashed across the screen. Against what you were raised to believe was right or wrong, you unlocked it. The picture filled the screen and you saw a t-shirt that you had bought him on someone who was definitely not Brett. She had dark brown hair that fell to one side and the hem was pulled up slightly to reveal black lace. You listened for a second to see if the water was still running before scrolling through more messages. Most of them were plans to meet up at some point but one in particular caught your eye. It was from almost a month ago and he was reassuring her that Bob hadn’t noticed they were at the restaurant. Your stomach turned and you held back a dry heave as you grabbed your phone to take pictures of the messages.

You pushed back your tears as you heard the water turn off and quickly put the phone back to where it was, preparing yourself to watch his every move as you poured a heavy glass of wine. It only took him a moment to appear back in the kitchen, his suit traded for a pair of sweats and you made your way to him, holding your arms out for a hug. He put his arms around you and you could feel his gaze behind you on the counter, frantic eyes hoping to see his phone in the same spot.

“Oh honey, some guy named Brett texted you while you were upstairs.” You said as you pulled away.

He saw him tense for a moment before quickly relaxing in an attempt to not raise suspicions. He made his way towards the cupboard to grab a glass and you continued, “he said he found one of your shirts, I think it was the one I got you from that concert a few months ago.”

The glass slipped from his hands and he turned around quickly, “It’s not what you think.”

You stared blankly at him as you attempted to control your breathing and stay calm. He really thought you were stupid and would believe him.

“Not what I think?” you questioned, your voice cracking at the end, “What it looks like is while I’ve put my dreams on hold to be your housewife in training, you’ve been going out and fucking an intern while I wait at home, hoping you’ll be home before dinner gets cold.”

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. You spoke up again before he got a chance to reply, “Get out”

His face twisted in confusion, assuming he misheard you, “What did you say?”

“I’m telling you to get out, I want my spare key on the counter now and I’ll leave your stuff at your house later.” You replied, shocked at how much you were able to hide the shakiness of your voice. In the nearly year of dating, you had never talked back to him and the shock on his face told you that no one ever had.

It didn’t take long for the anger and shock to fade into embarrassment. In fact by the time your feet felt the cool bathroom tile, a few tears had begun to fall. The sight of the makeup and outfit you spent too much time on in an attempt to impress Carter only made them fall harder. They weren’t out of sadness for the situation but instead for how you treated Bob when he tried to warn you. You stared at your phone for a moment, debating if it was too late to call him. You decided to give it a try anyways and the sight of Bob’s contact photo caused your heart to break even further as the fear that you might have ruined everything hit you. It was an old photo from college that you took as he subtly flipped you off and you wondered if the two of you could ever go back to how it was then.

He picked up on the second ring and the sound of his slight drawl caused a small smile to appear on your face, “Hello?”

You sniffled deeply and heard rustling coming through the speaker, “Are you okay?”

Before you could reply, you heard Bob’s front door slamming and his shoes hitting the pavement quickly. The call was disconnected as he got into his truck and you were left in silence with your thoughts again. You debated changing but couldn’t convince your body to get up and face yourself in the mirror.

The sound of your front door being opened a few minutes later caused you to lift your head from the bathroom floor, “Carter, I told you-” you started before seeing who had opened the door, “Bob? You came.”

“You called.” He replied, kneeling down next to you and pushing your hair off of your face. You couldn’t imagine how you must have looked, mascara beginning to smear under your eyes, your hair getting caught on your dampened cheeks. Despite this, Bob’s face didn’t falter, he only used his hands to push your hair off your face and his thumbs to wipe your cheeks.

“You were right,” you started as you sat up slightly, your eyes unable to meet his, “I feel so stupid.”

Bob’s body tensed, his jaw clenching as he wrapped his arms around you. This isn’t the first break up Bob had held you through and at this point, it won’t be the last. Despite all the times your exes had tried to get Bob out of your life, he has always been there to pick up the pieces they left you in.

“I’m scared no one will ever love me,” you whispered so quietly, if it wasn’t for your head against Bob’s neck he probably wouldn’t have heard you.

You felt Bob’s breath hitch at your admission and another wave of embarrassment washed over you. It was a thought that circled your mind but it was usually late into the night after Carter had turned his back to you and he thought you couldn’t hear him texting on his phone. Bob didn’t say anything for a few minutes and the pit in your stomach only grew. Eventually he spoke, his voice nearly as quiet as yours.

“I have loved you ever since I have known you”

His words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. His once calm heartbeat was now pounding against yours as the two of you stayed holding each other on the cold tile. The embarrassment and anger from earlier faded to anxious butterflies as you sat up straight to look into his eyes. Half of you expected to wake up and be laying next to Carter, all of this having been a dream. But there he was, the man you have loved since you were a teenager, admitting he felt the same in his spiderman pajama pants.

Bob cut you off as you opened your mouth, “I’ve waited far too long to tell you and I know this is horrible timing and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine but I have to tell you before I lose you to someone-”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before closing the small gap between the two of you. The kiss was light and slow, unlike any other man you’d ever been with. There was no rush to go to work or get into bed, just this moment and you were determined to make it last.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, both trying to absorb the events from the night. Eventually Bob helped you up from the ground, wiped the smeared makeup off and helped you into bed. Not the first time he had done so but the first time it was followed by him crawling in next to you and holding you close.

#my writing #bob #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fic #this is literally the third rewrite of this fic #i hated everything i did #also the ending is rushed so what #top gun maverick

824 notes · View notes

allieisacrybaby · 5 months

Text

Loverboy

also, this turned into a fic it's 1.4k words.....hehe

warning: pure fluffy domestic morning sammy shenanigans, like one mild sex implcation but that's it. It's all fluff besides the one comment.

Freezing. It was freezing in your bedroom. Teeth chattering and nose cold, you shivered at the drop in temperature. Rolling over your face-to-face with a sound asleep Sammy wrapped in YOUR sherpa blankey, you huff in annoyance and poke his forehead.

“Sam.” Nothing.

“Sammy!” You whisper-yelled, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. That did the trick. Furrowing his eyebrows, he peeps an eye open as he reaches an arm out, pulling you into his warm body.

“Wha-God, baby, why are you so cold?” Sam hissed when you put your frozen hands on his chest and your freezing toes against his shins.

“‘Cause somebody stole my blankey.” you huffed, tugging at the blanket around his shoulders.

“Oh…Sorry baby.” he whinces when he realizes he’d taken your favorite blanket in his slumber. Pulling it from his shoulders, he wraps it around your body, tucking it into your sides, pulling it over your head and up to your chin, successfully cocooning you in the blanket.

“Better?” he asks.

“Mmm, so much better. And it's all warm from your body heat. Thank you.” you whisper, nuzzling your face into the blanket's warmth.

“Come here.” Sam says, pulling you closer into his chest as he rests his chin on your head. You nuzzle further into his heat and preen as your body begins to warm back up.

“What time is it?” you ask, yawning.

“I don’t know, just go back to sleep, bug.” Sammy whispers.

“Ok.” you yawn one last time and drift back off.

* * *

This time, something wet and cold pressing into the side of your ear wakes you from your slumber.

“Aht, Rosie, No, over here. Come lay down next to Daddy.” Sammy whisper-yells at her, snapping his finger and pointing to the space by yours and his feet. Whining, the pity obeys and slinks into her spot, curling into a bun and resting her head on your feet. Opening your eyes, you smile at Sammy.

“How’s my little caterpillar doing?” Sammy chuckles, pulling the blanket he cocooned you in back over your head.

“Good and warm. Slept like a baby after you swaddled me like one.”

“I’m glad. I wouldn’t want my girl getting frostbite now.” Sammy smiles, moving a piece of hair from out of your face.

“You know who I feel like right now?” you giggle.

“Who?”

“Janet and Rita!” you say in a croaky old accent.

“Oh no. Please don't.” Sammy rolls his eyes, wincing.

“Here come the grannies!!” you quote in the croaked accent, wiggling your “witch” fingers at Sammy as you delve your finger into his sides.

“No, please!” He belly laughs as you tickle his tummy and sides. Sam grabs your arms and rolls atop you, pinning your arms to your sides and caging your body in between his legs, successfully stopping your tickle attack.

“You and that damn show!” Sam sighs, shaking his head at you playfully.

“Don’t lie to me and tell me you haven’t joined Rosie and I while we watched Bluey.” you tease, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Shut up.”

It’s the last thing he says before bending down and kissing your lips. You lean into his kiss and sigh out in content. Sammy’s kisses were always deep and sweet, but something about this kiss had a bit more fervor to it that had you chasing his lips as he pulled away.

“I love you.” he sighs, pressing his forehead into yours.

“I love you too, Sammy.” you whisper against his lips.

Woof!

“And you too, Miss Rosebud!” you giggle, craning your neck to look at Rose, who is now standing by the closed bedroom door.

“I guess we don’t have any time to play, huh?” Sam sighs into the crook of your neck.

“Not now. We must feed the baby.” you giggle, running a hand through his bed head.

“Later?” Sammy asks, pulling his face away from your neck.

“Later.” you promise, biting into your bottom lip.

Sammy smirks, sealing the deal with a kiss and popping up from the bed.

“Come on, Rose! Let’s go potty and eat!” he yells, clapping his hands together as he exits the bedroom with Rose.

* * *

You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth and hair, and slip into a comfy sweater and sweatpants before padding into the living room. Walking into the living room, you see Rosie eating by the back door and Sammy cooking at the stove, now wearing a soft blue sweater with his pajama pants. Walking over to him, you wrap your arms around his torso and rest your cheek against his back.

“Glad you could join us,” Sammy smiles, squeezing your arms that were wrapped around him.

“I didn’t pick a record because I thought you could do us the honor.”

“Oooooh the highest honor indeed! Thank you, bub. I’ll be right back.” you say, kissing his shoulder blade and padding over to the turn table.

Crouching down, you brush your finger across the spines of your shared vinyl collection. Landing on one in particular, you pull it from its place and unsheath the record from its protective sleeve. Placing the record down on the turntable, you pick up the needle and place it on a specific song. The sultry vocals of Jimi Hendrix’s “Have You Ever Been (to Electric Ladyland)” fills the quiet.

You dance back into the kitchen, where Sam has begun plating your breakfast.

“Ah, so it’s a Jimi kind of morning, I see,” Sammy smirked as you danced around the kitchen, swaying your hips to the music.

Finishing his plating, he grabs your plates and goes to the kitchen table, placing them in your respective spots.

Sam rejoins your little dance party, grabbing your waist with both hands and dancing with you as “Gypsy Eyes” begins to play.

“Well, I realized that I’ve been hypnotized! I love your gypsy eyes. I love your gypsy eyes.” Sam sings, spinning you around to face him.

As you shimmy and dance around the kitchen and living room, singing and dancing, the song starts to end.

“Ok, my little gypsy, let's eat.” Sammy chuckles, kissing your nose and patting your ass softly.

As you finish up your breakfast, so does the record.

“It’s your turn to pick a record now.” you smile as you pick up your plates and head into the kitchen to clean up. As you begin washing the dishes, you hear the sounds of “Love in Store” by Fleetwood Mac fill the house.

“Samuel Francis, I know you did not pick this for yourself.” you scold as he walks back into the kitchen.

“You’re right. I picked it for you. I know you love this album, and I wanted to keep the good vibes going.” He smiles, kissing the top of your head.

Finishing the dishes, you start shimmying again, but now to the sweet melody of “Gypsy.”

“I’m starting to sense a theme today.” you smile, waltzing into Sammy’s open arms.

“Mmm, I guess so.” he smiles, swaying the two of you back and forth.

How did you get so lucky? You smile to yourself as you stare into your lover's eyes.

She is dancing away from you now

You pull away from his arms and wiggle away, spinning around in Stevie-style circle with your hands stretched out wide. Sam just admires you in your element with the biggest, goofiest grin on his face. As you finish your little dance, your hair is tousled, your cheeks are flushed, and you stand there as you giggle and grin at him. Shaking his head playfully, he stalks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist as your arms go around his neck.

“I love you so so much.” he smiles, eyes glimmering as he looks down at you.

“I love your spirit and your confidence. I love your smile and that you love music just as much as I do. I love waking up to your silly shenanigans every morning, and I love our little family. I love the life we’ve created and that I get to spend the rest of my days with you. I love you so much, bug,”

“I love you too, Sammy,” you smile, eyes watery and lips pouty. He leans in and kisses you passionately as the song fades out.

How did you get so lucky?

tagging my loveys who said yes under my post earlier. enjoy :)

@losfacedevil @ascendingtostardust @runwayblues @gretasmokerising

#sam kiszka #sammy kiszka #samuel kiszka #samfkiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #sam kiszka x reader #sammy kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fluff #sammy kiszka fluff #sammy kiszka x reader fluff #sam kiszka x reader fluff #allie writes???

114 notes · View notes