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lazyneonrabbitt · 1 month

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Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #twd daryl #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #daryl x reader

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progendermender · 30 days

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It's always "Forcemsc isn't as demeaning as forcefem" blah blah "It doesn't hit the same" Blah blah bleeeh who cares. Clearly you've never been called a big meat-brained lug.

#forced masculinization #forced masculinity #autoandrophile #boy hypno #ftm hypno #autoandrophilia

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y-rhywbeth2 · 3 months

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Decided to go poking through the point and click dialogue files to look for Durge comments I haven't seen. Strangely I don't think this is all of them, because I have heard my Durge start hissing under his breath about screaming in a decidedly Durge fashion while in stealth, but I don't see it here.

*The ones with an asterisk are where I think it's Durge, but it might be one of the ones they share with Tav. They appear at the end of the sections, where Durge's lines go, but who knows: they aren't marked. Tav players feel free to let me know if your character has ever said any of this.

Reaching 0 HP: "Death is for other people."*

Harassing them by spamming their portrait: "I'm maiming as fast as I can!" "A thousand needlepricks in my rotten skull."

Combat turn start: "They're dying for me. All of them." "Behold the dance of death."

Stealth: "A knife in the dark."* "Time for bitter business the light would fear to shine on."*

Moving: "Walk in death." "Dream in red." "Pave my path with corpses. Build my castle with bones." "They should all be running." "Have I been this way before?"

Selecting them: "Mind never quiet." "I can do better. I must." "Where am I? What's going on?" "Still in control. Just." "Keep it together." "Father, they will die for you." "Everything is clear." "Nothing hurts anymore." "All is ash and meat!" "Intestines throb. Blood whispers." "Must lug my guts through this hell." "Wretched thing, pull yourself together." "How many die today? How many die tomorrow?"

Attacking, or casting an offensive spell: "Worship me, the prophet of the end!" "One down, millions live." "Father, are you watching?" "A beautiful death." "Kill! Kill! Kill again!" "Hee hee hee." "HAH! HAH! HAH!" "A fine day for murder!" "Bodies for the harvest!" "The butcher calls." "You will die for me, won't you?"

#Durge and their disassociation. Fugue states...?#I wonder how often that happens #“I'm maiming as fast as I can!” - apparently the Urge is Bhaal spamming their portrait #long post #/durge

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frogchiro · 4 months

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As a proprietor of a Skyrim blog myself, do you have any other headcanons for our darling Call of Duty gentlemen? Perhaps what their classes and roles might be in that universe?

Ngghh I love this ask and it's perfect for a come-back!! And I'm very sorry that you had to wait so long for this :((

My Skyrim hyperfixation comes back every year around this time so have this super specific roles/races of the CoD men <3 This was brought to you by Kin's hyperfixation and me listening to Skyrim soundtrack <3

Simon would definitely be a Nord through and through; big, burly, hairy and strength for days! Perfect body for surviving the harsh Skyrim winters, hunting Saber-tooth tigers and bears for their precious pelts for keeping warm or lugging heavy wood after him to place in the hearth in his modest cabin deep in the woods near Dawnstar.

Johnny would be a Breton!! Just think about it!! He's canonly a demolitions expert, knows his way around explosives right? Sooo he'd be adept at Destruction Magic, always eager to learn until it eventually turns into a fight where he just...blows his opponent up/ That's how he got kicked out of the Winterhold Academy for being insubordinate and seriously harming one of the students there by loosing control of his spells. Now he's traveling through Skyrim as a mercenary/adventurer, always getting into fights and being known for exploring places where no one else would dare to go it.

My boy Kyle is a proud Redguard! A skilled fighter and extremely knowledgeable, he was traveling through Tamriel as an adventurer too, visited Morrowind, Elsweyr and while he was traveling through Cyrodil he met the big, burly Nordman, Price! He actually saved him when he got accidentally cornered and heavily injured by a group of Draugrs when he was exploring old ruins and Price helped him fight them off and then took him back into his camp and helped him. Since that time Kyle is a loyal friend and companion of Price, learning all the time from the older man and bettering his fighting skills <3

And now for John!! He's a Nord too, an older and seasoned warrior and former soldier in the Imperial Forces, he stationed most of his life whenever he was send and now that he's retired Price decided that he wants to return back to Skyrim. I imagine he'd settle somewhere in the Rift, close to a village but far enough to have a lot of privacy...Or at least wanted to until he met the young Redguard man, Kyle, and saved him <3

Bonus!:

Philip would definitely be half -Nord-half -Imperial, idk why I just feel it😭I think that even though there's Nord in him as well Philip would be very adamant on disregarding that side of him, always introducing himself as Imperial since he'd kinda have that mindset instilled in him that Nords are just mostly meat-headed savages. He rose through ranks in the army and is now a general like Tullius, known for his strategic mind and skills in battle. He got acknowledged by the Emperor himself and given an award; poor Phil thought he'd be rewarded in gold, lands and riches but instead his 'reward' was to be stationed in Solitude and supervise the Imperial forces in Skyrim😭

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #skyrim au #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #philip graves x reader #graves x reader

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inoreuct · 6 months

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zosan caretaking fluff feat. hair washing, banter and very soft vibes. dinner is served.

Sanji sighed, sliding down until the back of his head pressed against the lip of the bathtub. The water was toeing the line between too hot and just right and he'd poured in enough lavender emulsion to coat it with dense, heady bubbles; they tickled his chin as he let his eyes slip shut.

It had been such a long day.

He'd been rudely woken up by the sound of a cannonball crashing through their hull, tossed out of his bunk a second later when the enemy ship rammed into their side; having to fight moments after being startled awake had already put him in a horrid mood, and then he'd realised that the galley had taken damage and he would have to restock more than half of everything he'd had in there. The fridge had lost power too so he'd had to cook all the meat that had thawed (which, to be fair, was never a problem with Luffy around) but then his whole crew had scattered during their supply run and he'd lugged a shit-ton of food back to the Sunny himself and now his brain was buzzing and his everything was aching and he was pretty sure he had gunpowder in his hair.

The steam filled his lungs when he breathed in, damp and dense and warm, settling heavy as he trailed his fingers through the milky water. His neck hurt from staring down at goods all day and he could feel the beginning of a tension headache behind his eyeballs. It was a small blessing that he had the bathroom to himself—

The door creaked open.

Goddammit. Sanji sucked down a fortifying breath before he looked up— and relaxed, because thankfully, the one possible person he might be able to tolerate at the moment was sliding inside with one arm behind his back.

Zoro pushed the door shut with his heel, loose pants wrapped low around his hips and hair already darkening from the humidity. "Hi."

"Hello, marimo," Sanji sighed, tilting his head to the side. He watched as Zoro trudged over and stuck his free hand into the water before yanking it back with a muffled hiss.

"That's hot."

"Nearly enough to boil a lobster," the cook agreed mildly, eyebrows flashing up as he turned his head to track Zoro pulling up a stool, lazy and languid. "Now did you need anything, or are you just here to kill off more of my brain cells?"

Zoro gave him a dry look.

A heavy exhale slipped from Sanji's nose before he reached behind him, fingers brushing Zoro's elbow and sliding down to take his hand. He spread the swordsman's fingers out, tracing over hard-earned callouses with featherlight swirls. "I'm sorry, mon chou," he sighed, letting his temple fall against Zoro's knuckles. "Just... tired, is all."

"I know." Zoro flipped his palm, rubbing a thumb over Sanji's cheekbone before pulling away. "Brought you something."

Sanji heard the sound of glass being picked up and nearly turned before he was presented with a dark, stout bottle, the labelling font reminiscent of chalk on a blackboard. "Pirate Blend," he read, huffing a chuckle. Fitting. "No glass?"

"As if you won't finish the whole thing."

He let out a faux-indignant gasp, reaching out to whack the back of his hand against Zoro's bare chest. "Ass."

"That was my tit, cook. Think the steam's getting to your head."

The laugh that peeled its way out of Sanji's throat was sticky with exhaustion, steeped through with lavender suds and underpinned by the ache in his muscles as he popped the cork with his teeth and took a swig. "...Where did you get this?"

"There was a tasting booth in the market. Thought you'd like this one."

"You thought right," Sanji admitted, lifting the bottle to his mouth again and letting the wine coat his tongue; a red by the taste of it, with a nearly savoury spiced vanilla and dark, syrupy cacao, a rich core of sweet berry, an almost silky hint of dry tannin. He held out the bottle, but Zoro shook his head with a soft quirk of his mouth.

"Got it for you, swirly."

The cook smirked. "Suit yourself. So that's where you ran off to while poor little me was stuck doing all the heavy lifting," he lamented, sighing and emphasising it with an exaggerated sip.

"Not just that."

He heard twine sliding across waxed paper, packaging rustling as it was unfolded—

The water sloshed as Sanji set his bottle down and turned around, holding onto the edge of the tub as Zoro pulled the last bit of paper away to reveal the set of soaps in his lap.

The cook's breath caught. Each of the five bars clearly had a different scent, and a design to match; the one with green and cream swirls was matcha, surely, and the translucent one with rose petals was obviously rose. One more was oat and honey, and the one with a herb sprig on top was definitely rosemary mint— But the last one was plain brown, mild enough that his nose couldn't pick out what it was supposed to be. "Marimo."

"Hm?"

"How much did these cost?"

Zoro shot him a smug grin. "Just a couple of logs that needed chopping... And some charm."

"You." The cook blinked, stretching out like a cat to rest his chin on his hands, lips twitching as he tried to hide his awed smile. "Charm."

"Oi! I can be charming when I want to be!" The swordsman scowled at Sanji's fond, disbelieving scoff. "I charmed you, didn't I?"

"Yes, well—" Sanji felt a little breathless, buoyant, like if he let go of the tub he'd float with no effort at all. "Yes, I suppose you did." He held still, heart fluttering in the hollow of his throat as Zoro's face softened, leaning forward to poke at something in his hair.

"You've got gunpowder in your bangs."

"I— Ugh, I know!" he complained, rolling over with a dramatic sigh.

"Well, hurry up and pick one, then!"

"Pick one?" Sanji lurched up again, bubbles sloshing everywhere, eyes flicking between Zoro and the soaps. "I can't just pick one, they all smell so good and they're too pretty to—"

"Oh, for the love of— Curly, can you just pick one and let me wash your hair?" Zoro deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest and completely oblivious to the way he'd just made Sanji's entire system freeze, the inconsiderate moss-headed bastard.

If a cannonball crashed into their ship again, Sanji wouldn't have noticed. If the Sunny was sinking, he wouldn't have cared. He was much too preoccupied with staring at the man sitting in front of him, skin flushed with the warmth, green hair mussed as it always was, soaps that he'd bought for Sanji on a whim in his lap. The cook's fingers dug into the edge of the tub and gripped until ceramic squeaked. Zoro wanted to wash his hair.

Zoro's throat bobbed as he swallowed, clearly fighting the urge to look away. "Look, if you don't want—"

"No!" Sanji yelped, startling himself enough that he nearly clapped his hands over his own mouth. "No, I— This one," he breathed, reaching for the plain brown bar and pressing it into Zoro's palm. "This one." He knew that he probably looked nearly shocked, eyes so wide it must have been unsettling, but his chest ached something fierce when he breathed in deep down all the way to his gut and he couldn't help it. His water must have been getting cold by now but he didn't feel it at all.

Zoro's lashes fluttered as he shifted in his seat, carefully wrapping the rest of the soaps up and placing them aside. "Okay, then. Turn around."

Sanji flipped, sitting still as Zoro gently pulled the tie from his hair and slipped it around his own wrist, holding back a shiver when calloused hands cupped his face to guide him nearer the running tap. The water seemed warm, but not warmer than Zoro himself; the swordsman always seemed to run ridiculously hot and Sanji—

"Relax," Zoro murmured, his hand broad and steady against the back of Sanji's head. "I've got you, cook. Lean back."

And Sanji was slowly coming to realise that he was loathe to deny Zoro anything, so he did. He let his weight sink back against Zoro's hand, trusting the swordsman to hold him up, letting his eyes close as Zoro carefully poured water over his scalp until his curls were soaked. He didn't open them even as he was pushed back up, settling comfortably in the tub as Zoro lathered the soap in his hands. What remaining suds left in the tub lapped at his collarbones; the water was a soothing pressure all around his torso, and he didn't bother hiding his soft sigh when Zoro's fingers slid into his hair.

"S'getting long." Firm fingertips started scrubbing at his scalp, kneading into spots of tension Sanji didn't even know he had. "You gonna cut it?"

"Mm? No," he sighed, shuddering when Zoro dragged his thumbs up from his nape. "Think I w'na grow it out."

Zoro hummed at that, tipping the cook's head to the side. "You'll look pretty."

"I know I will. And you'll tell me every day."

"Oh, will I, now?"

"Mhm."

The swordsman scoffed without any bite, doing something with his fingers that made Sanji melt. "You're so cocky."

"Mhm," Sanji mumbled again, not even bothering to find out what he was agreeing to. He had better things to focus on. "Just... keep doing that."

He heard Zoro chuckle and then pretty much zoned out completely, tension bleeding from his muscles, letting Zoro move his head this way and that. His bathwater was tepid at this point; he didn't care. Zoro's hands were big and warm and as the bubbles drifted down to his shoulders, he finally realised what this bar was scented with.

Sandalwood suffused his senses, a deep creamy sweetness with an undercurrent of leather and earth. With what little wherewithal he had left, Sanji decided that it suited Zoro more than it did him. Maybe he'd try to convince the mosshead to take it for himself. A few kisses should be bribery enough. Fingertips dug beneath the bones just behind his ears, working until the ache dissipated, and Sanji felt his shoulders slump because God, that felt good.

He didn't know how long he sat there, drifting blissfully between sleep and Zoro's fingers scrubbing at his crown, gingerly detangling his hair, but if you had to ask him his answer would be not long enough. His eyes fluttered open when Zoro tapped his cheek, and he squinted at the light. "Wh—"

"Wake up, baby. Gotta rinse."

The pet name made something tucked inside his ribcage pull tight like a gasp, but Sanji just closed his eyes again. "Just a while longer..."

Zoro chuckled as Sanji's head lolled in his palm. "We should get you to bed."

"Noooooo." Was he whining? This was ridiculous. He really didn't care.

"You're a spoiled prince," Zoro said matter-of-factly.

"Your fault." Sanji discreetly cracked one eye open to gauge the swordsman's reaction and immediately closed it when he saw Zoro's expression, sucking in a hitched breath.

That was enough devotion in a glance to kill a man, and it tore through Sanji like a fucking bullet. Right through the ribs, in and out faster than he could stop it, so quick that he didn't even realise until his love was bleeding out of him, all over his hands, filling his mouth, colouring his teeth, honeyed at the back of his throat and finally he'd be able to see how much of it his heart held. He didn't mind. He didn't think he ever would, actually; he'd fill this bathtub with red if it meant that Zoro would see. If it meant that he would understand how every time he looked at Sanji like that it felt like he had Sanji's heart in his fist, his lungs in a vice, his goddamn life under his thumb.

Sanji had come to terms with it long ago. He put his soul in these battle-scarred hands every day and he trusted them to be gentle because he knew that they could, they would be, for him. Even now, Zoro took his weight easily, one palm at his nape and the other stopping suds from getting into his eyes and it meant far too much for something so simple, but that was just how it worked, wasn't it?

The cook swallowed hard, allowing himself one more moment before pushing up so Zoro wouldn't accidentally waterboard him. It would possibly be hilarious but he might also very possibly just die, considering how low his guard was. The thought made him laugh a little, strained with how his head was tipped back; he saw Zoro give him a weird look upside-down and decided that he was either more tired than he'd thought or he'd had more of the wine than he'd realised.

Zoro rinsed his hair quickly, but he was no less meticulous than he had been at the beginning. It was something that Sanji had refused to admit he admired at first, that single-minded intensity regarding the things Zoro cared about, and oh, wasn't that a thought? That he belonged within that distinction now. Sanji pulled his knees to his chest when the swordsman leaned over to grab the towel he had set out, scrunching the cook's hair dry as best he could and then dropping the fluffy white cloth over his head just to make him laugh.

The bottle of wine was relatively full when Sanji picked it up, holding it up to the light as Zoro dried his hair. "Guess I didn't finish it after all."

"Yeah, well." Zoro shrugged as he took it from him to put aside and tugged gently on a stray curl. "Nobody's gonna want it now that it has your spit in it."

Sanji scoffed. "You'd still drink it. You'd drink any booze."

"...Yeah, I would."

Zoro's eyes were a soft grey as he stood up. Sanji had a feeling that he could have left out the second part of that statement and the answer would still be the same.

He let Zoro pull him up out of the tub, wrap him in the towel and hold open the pair of briefs he'd left for him to step into. He held his arms up as Zoro pulled his soft sleep shirt over his head, brazen as if he didn't know full well the shirt was Zoro's to begin with. If it were any other time he might have protested against being helped to dress like a child— but for now he'd just refuse to admit that he enjoyed it, enjoyed being cared for, even in minute ways like this. Plausible deniability and all that.

Sanji didn't resist as the swordsman took his hand, leading him back to the men's quarters and tugging the covers up for him, patting them into place around his shoulders as he settled. The bed dipped by his hip where Zoro sat, and Sanji sighed as his damp bangs were brushed away from his face. Zoro liked seeing both his eyes, he'd noticed. Maybe he'd start wearing his hair back more often.

"Goodnight, cook," Zoro whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Sanji's temple.

Sanji's brain was full of cotton and sandalwood suds. He squeezed over underneath the blankets, cupping Zoro's face in his palms. "Stay."

The swordsman laughed under his breath. "Haven't showered."

Sanji considered letting him in anyway, but yep, nope, guess his brain wasn't that full of cotton. "Make it quick," he ordered, the effect broken by the massive yawn that interrupted his last word. Pulling Zoro down for a proper kiss was easier than breathing, the press of their lips just enough to wrap warmth over his skin like a blanket. "And use the soap from just now."

Zoro huffed at the words murmured against his mouth. "Spoiled."

"Your fault," Sanji yawned again, jabbing a finger into Zoro's chest before waving him away.

He heard his boyfriend's rumble of a laugh, smiled into his pillow as Zoro's acquiescence was brushed over his cheek, before the lamp was turned down and the door opened and shut. He'd been serious about Zoro being quick; they both slept better when they shared a bunk, and today had been more than enough of a shitshow for them to have earned a good night's rest.

Sanji snuggled down, fully intent on waiting.

He was asleep between one breath and the next.

(And if he woke briefly to curl closer when Zoro slid half-asleep into bed behind him, clean and warm and smelling of sandalwood, well. Neither of them would remember it in the morning.)

thank you for reading! part 2 where sanji takes care of zoro is already in the works, so keep your eyes peeled if you're interested :)

#wishing i was sanji rn #i'm telling you that man is fussy about his drinks but zoro knows his preference down to the last flavour note #that l.a.s. vino pirate blend is a real thing btw and it's absolutely delicious #zosan #zosan fanfic #one piece zosan #op zosan #zoro x sanji #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #zoro #one piece zoro #one piece #ino writes #it has been SUCH a long day it's 3am again #but writing this was like a balm to my soul

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bowieandqueen11 · 6 months

Text

Take Us Back / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: ahh hope i didn’t miss the izzy request deadline!! honestly just a really fluffy one about what the reader and izzy might do on a day off on land would be super cute , could be either established relationship or the confessions could ensue during! whatever you think would work best, love ur writing sm 💘

Ahh I love this idea so much!! You know me I always love a good love confession. although this one is a little more subtle than I meant it to be!! Thank you so much :) Although this managed to turn more into hurt/comfort, so sorry about that!!

I'm sorry if this sucks ass, writer's block has been kicking my ass and I'm trying to write through it!

Warning: mentions of blood, mentions of child abuse, some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @tinylilvalery.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Izzy Hands had been seven years old the last time he had sat in the foot of a river's mouth.

Life had felt different then: harsher, colder. Even the sunlight had felt a pale wanton impression of the basking heat the crew lay under now, leaving nothing but pocked scars across his soul and a rigid fear woven through his lancinating ribcage.

But that day- god, that day. It had been one of the rare instances that his mother had been lucid, if not tolerant of the mere sight of him. She had just received news from his brother, informing her that he'd finally managed to wrangle his way into one of the crews dotted around the local docks. He still remembered pattering into their cramped kitchen that morning: remembered crawling into her lap, afraid that the shock slumping her usually sapless face as she leant her elbow wearily on the tablecloth was due to his tardiness, not registering in his tired state the opened letter his mother was clutching in her left hand. He had shut his eyes, expecting the usual sting of reproach to come burning across his backside, but instead he was met with shallow laughter and the feel of his mother's frigid hands wrapping around his spine.

She had carried him the whole way down to the bay, had spent the whole rest of that strange, surreal morning in a trancelike contentment. Instead of going to their usual morning prayers, his mother had taken his hands and had danced with him: her feet splashing across the slivering waves as they bit and hissed and fell in aglow bubbles around her feet. Instead of being sent down to the docks to haggle for some small scrap of leftover meat for him to come back and boil for their dinner, his mother had cupped his cheeks as if, for one glorious, unprecedented moment in his life, the hopeful smile timidly warming his cheeks was the most important thing in the world.

The thing Izzy remembers most, though, was the magical way his mother had sung. How the sound made his knees grow weak, tears collecting in the crinkles of his eyes as she sang a strange song about finding beauty in the mundane: of rosiness the shade of his cheeks, of the end of grief, of embracing the beautiful imperfection of our mistakes.

He was almost inclined to believe her. But even at that age, he knew reality was far crueller than her. Because even though she was still humming into the shallow depths, she had refused to even once meet his desperate eyes.

He knew the song wasn't for him. He knew, as he glanced down at the lonesome creek that he suddenly realised was bitingly cold against his waggling toes, that his life was resigned to one of subordination. How she had walked him into the water until their ankles were coated in a fine line of salt, clutching his hand to her heart as the invocation began to wear off. That this grandness, this gloriousness, was to be found inside the soul of others. As his mother began to lug at him again, drawing him further and further into the benighted depths he suddenly didn't want to wade into: was suddenly afraid to approach, he finally understood the truth of his life.

He knew he was just there as collateral to her joy. And as he began to cry out in fear, feeling that all too familiar burn against the ruddiness of his cheek, he realized that hope was created to dwell within other people.

'See child, I told you. Change comes with the tide. Fortune comes to those of us who are deserving of it', she took a deep breath and darted her eyes down to him in antipathy, before digging her spindly fingers into his wrist until they drew blood. She didn't even blink as she used her free hand to pull the letter out of her pocket, kissing its inked lines and clutching the crumpled parchment to her chest. The dying light of the day seemed only to coat her in cerement as she sobbed silently, Izzy too afraid to move in case the sallow light entombed him as well.

He hadn't allowed himself to feel the sunlight since. Instead, he shrouded himself in Stygian shadows, stifling himself under their abhorrence: he had tried to cage his heart to keep it safe. Little did he know, that instead he had created a shroud, and left the shredded remains of what was left to shrivel in the darkness.

You. You! You, god, oh you. Coming swanning into his life with the rest of Stede Bonnet's infuriating little toy miniatures, cresting with graceful consideration along the sinews he had long locked away, with a determinant hankering for his heart. Every look his way just to try and catch his wandering eye: every shit-faced smile in defiance of his crude orders and the callous bite of his words was exhuming an anguishing pain within his chest.

Which is why he found you so fucking obnoxious. Insubordinate. Just as obdurate as him. You seemed to make it your life's mission to get the tomb holding him captive to crack open.

And by god, if it wasn't about to.

He was almost embarrassed by how quickly he had agreed to join you on the shore during the crew's solitary day off that month: his head had nodded as if a screw had come loose in his neck, and although he had to punch Lucius in the stomach for guffawing at how absurd he looked from where he was pretending to mop by Stede's cabin doors, it was worth it to be able to spend some blessed time alone with you.

Which is how he found himself perched on the shallow end of a crag: the sand sifting off his boots and the midday sun burning a white-hot hole into the top of his head that even the nearby leaves of the shimmering banana tree couldn't defend him from. He kicks lazily at the water, scaring away a few darting fish as you finally give up your wrestling match with Jim and come to sit criss-crossed next to the rather forlorn looking man. He does his best to raise his frown once he feels your fingers poke at his stiff shoulder, but even you're able to see the way the smile barely makes it past the top of his stubble, let alone his crestfallen eyes.

'So...', you start with a twist of your lips, an idea suddenly popping into your head as you catch sight of a few lengths of haggard bark popping out of the mud. 'You ever fish when you were younger?' You pull some of the twine out of your makeshift rope belt, looping a knot around the cleanest ends and handing one of the makeshift poles to the first mate.

'Fish? Did I ever... fish?', Izzy asks incredulously, tilting his head at you as if in disbelief. He had fished before: in fact, he was actually rather good at it. When his mother's health began to fail and the poor relief filtering into their household in drips and drabs began to be unable to keep dire poverty from banging at their door, Izzy had taken to smuggling onto the back of boats and fishing out of barrels to get food.

'No. No', he lies. 'I'm not a fucking fisherman, I'm a fucking pirate-'. He didn't know why the memory was making him so irritated. Maybe it wasn't the recollection at all, he thought in a stricken horror, but the way you turned your full attention to him. That- that swinging gaze, that coy smile lifting your cheeks as you try your best to read every microcosm that flashes across his panicking face. That- that kindness in the furrow of your eyebrows, that forbearance as you gently took his shaking first and unfurled it, placing the fishing rod in his palm.

Your fingertips tenderly swirl against the seamed linen of his wrist before you let go. Izzy blinks unsurely, something akin to trepidation making his breath choke in his nostrils, making them flare uneasily.

'I know you're going to be a natural', is all you whisper, sensing his alarm and placing the man's hand back onto his knee with great care. With a final nod, you turn your head back to the sea line.

Fuck. Fuck. How could you read him so easily? How could he, a man so ruthless in his faux arrogance, be laid so bare before you, when he had spent so many years devotedly poisoning that part of himself? He was about to fucking burst, and if you even fucking dared to place your warm fingers against his bare skin him one more time, he was going to draw his scabbard loose and lacerate his billowing heart himself.

The feel of you sitting next to him, holding your own fishing pole between relaxed fingers was almost enough to make the sound of Frenchie hollering in the distance bearable: the man trying to do half-crab like 'somersaults' across the sand. Izzy sighs, pretending the screaming cackle of Roach as he chased the Swede with one of his juggling pins was just the faraway caw of some mythical seabird. Even though the sound of your cheerful hums were sending spears of a long buried fear deep into his stomach, he was content to let the memories of his mother wash over him, to be instead overlapped with his rapt ruminations of you.

'Am I... am I doing this alright?', he asks, daring to break the silence, although his hoarse voice barely seems to penetrate the gleaming air at all. Thankfully, you have your ears finely tuned to hear both his scolding remarks and tender confessions, and so your reply is both astute and quickly timed as you whip your head to take an enthusiastic look at his pole.

You dart a finger out before he even has time to prepare for your approach, drawing his thumb further up the stick. 'That's it... that's it! See, I knew you'd be a natural at this!' It takes all of Izzy's self-control not to whip out his wrist, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to instead try and alleviate the way his cells seemed to catch alight every time your skin brushed against his.

'Although', you start, poking your pointer finger against your chin and looking at him in contemplation. 'Your angle is a little wrong. Do you know how to fix it?', you ask, not wanting to offend him and have him scuttling off like a snow crab when you had put so much effort into getting him to trust in your company.

'I- I don't know', he lies, already moving his torso so you would have easier access to wrap yourself around his tensing shoulder blades send ripples spreading across the back of his vest.

'Here-', you reach an arm out, palm spreading against the rigid meat of his lower back as you turn the man to face you more directly. He jolts, and for a second you're worried that you've accidentally brushed against an old injury, but then the man unconsciously mewls, his thighs bucking forward against the sand grains.

'Like this', he asks breathlessly, knowing damn well that his posture was absolutely perfect.

'Like that', you reply with a smile as sweet and meek as the champagne bubbles lapping hungrily at his feet. It was almost enough to blow away the cankered cobwebs encasing his heart: almost enough to flood the chambers of his heart with a child-like resurrection, if he only wasn't stubborn enough to keep the latches of his heart's coffin lid closed.

'I'll tell you something, you're far better company than Ed', you say to alleviate the tension, feeling sorry at the way the man seems to be cursing himself with thick, inaudible swears. You let your fingers dart across the last few vertebrae's of his spine, enjoying the way his whole body seems to convulse like an electrified eel once you let go. 'The last time I tried to teach him to fish, I swear I was two seconds away from kicking him overboard. That man genuinely does not know how to stay quiet for two seconds.'

He grabs onto your wrist, so desperate to retain every ounce of your attention. So desperate to feel you set him aflame, without the embarrassment of having to ask. For the first time that day, he stares deeply into your eyes, his thick eyelashes flickering back and forth as if searching for something.

'You don't have to tell me. I very unhappily managed to overhear him talking to himself this morning about all the ways Captain had used his fingers last night-'

You clasp your hands to your ears, a high pitched giggle pealing out of the back of your throat. 'Oh god, please! Just stop! Whatever the hell our dads do, I don't want to know!'

God, you were bewitching.

'What about your father', you ask suddenly, raising a curious eyebrow at the man. 'I know that you, Israel Hands, must have had a phenomenal upbringing to turn out the way you did.'

'I can't fucking tell if you're being sarcastic or not', he replies curtly, but the edges of his lips are curling up despite of himself.

'Come on', you prod at his side with the jut of your fishing pole. 'I have to be completely honest, I've been dying to know your story ever since you got on the revenge. Until today, Mr. 'I'm god as far as you're concerned', you've been a bit of an enigma to me.'

He looks at you sharply, his lips lingering upwards and making the warm glow that followed through into his eyes paint him as an angel against the goldenrod hues of the sun’s rising throne.

'Until today?'

You can't help but match his bashful smile.

'Something tells me you've fished before', you reply smartly, nodding your head down to his tugging line.

It seemed to come to him then, that hope he had long forgotten: reverberating through his already troubled mind like a deafening echo, screaming and writhing and cacophonous as it pierced every fragment of his brain it could, begging him to remember the days when love had been true. Pleading with him to allow veracity to forburn the self-inflicted death he had allowed to coat his now pounding heart.

His mouth twists, unsure as where to start. It had been so long... so long since he had been truthful with anyone, let alone with himself. He swallows thickly, eyes roaming over the scuffs of his boot that are sliding further and further into the chilled depths of the shallow water, before he curls his fingers into a fist and goads himself into being compliant.

'I used to... I mean, I used to go down to the river with my mother, when she could be bothered. Which wasn't very often.'

He prays that you won't notice the faraway look in his eyes. How they begin to cloud over with unshed tears for a life he should have known. Should have had. For innocence robbed, and exasperation capitulated into its place. How his hands were now beginning to jolt so harshly, he nearly sent his fishing role flying into the ocean with one particularly intense heave.

'My mother always used to tell me, that you could begin your life again if you could pinpoint the exact spot where the rivers began to merge with the sea', he seethes out through gritted teeth, a low whistle sliding over his tongue as you reach your hand out and offer him the only form of solace you can think to give. 'She used to say that this is the spot where Calypso fell after Odysseus left her. That if you sing to her, her face will appear within the waves and grant you immortality.'

'Did you believe her?'

'I didn't before.'

'Hmm, what made you change your mind?' You entangle your fingers messily with his gloved hand, allowing both your poles to clamber noisily into the rugged pit chipped out by the toes of your feet. You knew if you broke the spell, interrupted this moment, it might never come again for him.

‘It was you, for fuck's sake!’, he wanted to shout. It was the truest thing he had ever known, plain and so soul crushingly simple.

Instead he flops his head back, and looks dead-set into the blinding light of the sun. 'I heard you singing. Heard you with Frenchie earlier, when you were singing shanties on the deck. My mother also used to sing to me', he warbles, voice hoarse.

The swallow tattoo scored onto his neck seems to thrum to life with each pulse of his juddering arteries.

'Ah-', you frown, 'I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up all these... memories for you. That's why you've been brooding so much today.'

His head darts to the side to scrutinize you, but when you mumble another sweet apology he finally stops scowling. If you hadn't been so lovestruck yourself, you might have found the courage to tear your head away from the horizon in that moment to meet the look of gut-wrenching devotion that brightened the man's widening eyes, a vestige kind of hope widening the gloam of his pupils.

He tilts his head to the side: towards you, eyes dipping down to almost imperceptibly gaze over your pursed lips.

'Don't be sorry'. His bottom lip trembles as he heaves a breath and squeezes your hand tight against his own. He felt like he was falling onto the cusp of something dangerous, but he refuses to allow his obduracy to suffocate the words.

'You sounded...', he grits his teeth, trying to bury his words by seething them into his skin instead. You watch him shove his chin into the side of his shoulder with humoured curiosity, giving him the time, the space, the security to finish his thought. He buries his eyes into the water, watching the rippling reflection of his face wallow into the shoreline. 'You sounded beautiful. It was nice to hear music again. I haven't in so long.'

'Well, Israel Hands', he trembles at the feel of your warm breath brushing against the tip of his ear. 'Good thing I'm immortal now.'

He smiles at that.

'Looks like I have all the time in the world to sing for you, if you'd like.'

For the first time since he was seven years old, Izzy Hands felt like he was allowed to live again.

'I'd- I'd like that very much.'

#ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #izzy hands x reader #ofmd season 2 #con o'neill #israel hands #israel hands imagine #israel hands x reader #ofmd imagine #our flag means death imagine #frenchie #the swede #jim jimenez #edward teach #stede bonnet #roach

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notsogothgf · 8 months

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You're Gonna Kill For Me Or Die For Me

Johnny Slaughter X AFAB Reader⭐18+ MDI⭐

CW: Blood, Gore, kidnapping

CHPT: 1 Escaping Basement

Oh god things couldn’t have possibly gotten any worse. Every corner I turned the rooms looked the same, filled with blood and bones. I was never going to make it out of here. To think I actually listened to Leland. I just wanted to help Ana look for her sister, but of course this lug head wanted to check out the man with the beat up truck coated in blood. How they never got pulled over for questioning is beyond me. We went poking our noses where we shouldn’t have. Now I’m stuck in a stupid basement full of god knows what. I especially didn’t want to know who or what these bones came from. It was freaking me out the longer I was around them.I tried my best to avoid touching the bones in between the doors. Trying even harder to distance myself from the maniac with a chainsaw. While peering down the dark tunnel ahead I failed to hear the footsteps behind me.Two hands quickly grabbed at me one keeping me quiet and the other holding me still. Gasping and grabbing the hand around my mouth the assailant spoke.

��Sh sh shhh. It’s just me sweetheart.” It was Leland.

I quickly turned around punching him in the chest, “Jesus Christ you oaf you scared the shit outta me!” He smiled, wrapping his arms around me.

Overcome with so many emotions: fear, anger, sadness, maybe even a little bit of guilt. I held him tightly, shedding a few tears not knowing if this would be our last hug alive.

“Hey now it’s gonna be okay we’re going to make it out of here. Okay?” He held my face wiping my tears with his thumbs.

I nodded, leaning into his palms.

“Now, I’ve made up a couple bone shanks to keep us safe. We just need to stick together and find a way out.” Leland gave my face one last squeeze before letting go.

I let him lead the way as I felt like I was only going round in circles. Before moving too far he handed me one of those bone shanks. I didn’t pay much attention where we were going, opting instead to watch and listen for that rattling chainsaw. The smell of decay and mildew was overwhelming. Made me miss the smell of home real bad, hell I just missed home in general. Bet Ma is worried sick. Leland stopped quickly shooting an arm out to grab me pulling me in a closet. About to open my mouth and question him, the look he shot me told me I needed to be quiet. Holding my breath and looking out of the little slit I saw the owner of the pick up truck slinking by.

“M’ on yer tail I know y'all ‘r round here somewhere..”

Looking at Leland with wide eyes he just put a finger to his lips. The heavy thuds of his boots circled behind us heading down the rest of the hall. Leland peaked his head out first, slowly stepping out and offering me a hand. Taking it and following him back down the hall opposite of that psycho path. We ended up in what seemed to be the room.

“You see that tin thing? I need ya to open that for me. You know how butter fingered I am” He nodded towards what looked like a pigpen door.

I slowly opened the pen crawling through into the red lit room. I gasped as I saw all the different skulls littering the walls. He crawled out right beside me letting out a small ‘oh god.’ He quickly turned my head and led me to the large metal door.

“Do not turn around, understand me.” He stated as he started fiddling around with the lock on the door.

Everything in me wanted to turn around. “Why?” I whispered.

He sighed, shaking his head, “ It’s- It’s Ana. Now please don’t look darlin’.”

I needed to know what he meant by the way he sounded. It couldn't have been good. What if I just did a quick look no longer than two seconds? I did and I wish I wouldn’t have. Grabbing Leland’s shoulder and letting out a sob. Ana was sat on some kind of meat hook. Limp. There was blood all around her. Leland sniffled, still picking the lock as he knew I looked and couldn’t spare the time to stop. This was no longer just some scary prank but a fight for our lives. Once the lock popped open he hugged me tightly. He pulled away, grabbing my face lightly.

“We’re gonna make it out of here and we’re gonna go get help. Whatever happens I love you and ‘m sorry I dragged you into this mess.” He kissed me softly.

He was always so gentle with me.” I love you too. Nothings gonna happen. Ya hear?”

Nodding he gave me one last squeeze before letting go. “Now I’m gonna open this door and we’re gonna book it. Do. Not. Stop. Running.”

I wasn’t ready but I had to be if we were going to make it out of here. Leland counted on his fingers as soon as it hit three he flung the door open and started sprinting. I fell behind not being able to keep up with his long strides. I had no idea where we were headed. I just knew I didn’t want to lose sight of him. Playing football really paid off for him though he was fast and agile. He ran through the maze of doors and bones until we stopped at what we thought was the front door. Grabbing the door knob twisting and pulling. It was locked.

“Shit, I don’t have a lock pick.” He whispered.

“I don’t either.” I looked around closely trying to find anything worth using, but not leaving the room. I fear if I did I’d get lost.

“Leland the stairs.” I point to a staircase leading to the second floor. “Maybe we kind find somethin there.”

#johnny slaughter #Johnny Slaughter x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny tcm #fanfic #slow burn #dumb bunny #leland mckinney #leland tcm #dubious consent

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inkblot-mirror · 4 months

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Octavinelle Dorm Headcanons:

-The Mostro Lounge is staffed mostly by Octavinelle students, but some students from other dorms (like Ruggie) work there too.

-And yes, working there is mandatory. Workers get paid, but just barely above minimum wage. And Azul takes away a certain amount of their earnings as ‘tax’. And more is taken away for the smallest of infringements.

-As expected, the dorm with the majority of merfolk students. This doesn’t mean most members are merfolk, just that out of all the dorms at NRC, Octavinelle has the most merfolk.

-Cooler environment as its underwater. One can see all sorts of sea life outside swimming pass the glass windows.

-Has big indoor swimming pools!

-Jazz music plays in the Mostro Lounge and they have live music night every Friday. The Pop Music Club is banned from performing bc once Lilia metal screeched so loud that he broke more than a few of the glasses at the bar.

-Dorm has a lingering scent of saltwater.

-The actual dorm lounge is quite small and not many people spend time there as they’re at the Mostro usually. The students who are there are often crashing after work or waiting for their shifts to start.

-Students dread working the same shift as Floyd.

-Students in this dorm are usually numerically proficient. The only thing scarier than a pissed off Floyd is being forced to take remedial business math class with Azul. And he WILL make you count every madol in the till by hand.

-Lights inside the dorm are always either dimmed or some sort of blue or purple, to simulate the deep sea environment.

-Azul absolutely got the Housewarden position through a devious combination of ass-kissing and blackmail.

-A common punishment is for students to work multiple shifts without pay. And they’re all forced to sign contracts before, agreeing to act as ‘volunteers’.

-Azul hates dealing with fae clients the most because they always try to trick and turn his own contracts against him. Good thing his own dorm doesn’t have many of them as members.

-Lava lamps. There’s tons of them inside the dorm.

———————

Savanaclaw Dorm Headcanons:

-Dorm has the most beastman students of all the dorms in NRC, but they have human residents too. There’s a bit of a tension and rivalry between the beastman and human students, but overall they’re still a team together.

-The beastmen tend to be of the carnivorous species: in addition to lion, hyena, and wolf, there’s also cheetah, bear, tiger, and panther to name a few. Herbivores belong in Heartslaybul and other dorms.

-Dorm smells like body spray, sweat. Basically a gym.

-Those seen as ‘weaklings’ are tossed into the lounge pool/waterfall.

-Physical hazing occurs, nothing too extreme. Freshmen in particular get hazed alot their first few weeks, but it all stops once they prove that they can handle it.

-Disputes are solved through either a game of Spelldrive or physical combat.

-(Frat and gym bro dorm).

-Whenever there’s an important Spelldrive game going on, members gather to watch in the lounge. Ruggie makes a fortune through all the bets.

-As punishment, students have to run multiple laps around the Spelldrive field, clean up the unused storage rooms (which means lugging around heavy junk all day) Or do all of Leona’s chores—Ruggie is cheering.

-Just like how Malleus is king of Diasomnia, Leona is ruler of Savanaclaw. His word is law.

-Super dry and arid, almost as bad as Scarabia.

-A celebratory party was held when Rook transferred to Pomefiore.

-Big parties filled with grilled meat and bbq whenever they win in Spelldrive.

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #my headcanons #my hcs #savanaclaw #octavinelle

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bowletta · 2 months

Text

SRMTHFG Watch Guide

Hi everyone! I made a list for newcomers who are interested in watching SRMT but don't know where to start! : ]

'Super Robot Monkey Team Hyperforce Go!' (Yes, that's really the title, 'SRMTHFG' for short) was a cartoon that aired from 2004-2006 on Jetix/Disney Channel.

It's about a boy and his team of cybernetic monkeys saving the universe from the evil Skeleton King. It sounds ridiculous... but it is so unironically good. There is plot. There is trauma. There are wacky antics. You can watch the entire series on YouTube, in HD, for free lol.

There's two versions of the show:

1080p HD, widescreen, censored (YouTube Link)

480-720p, cropped, uncensored (YouTube Link)

Personally I would recommend the HD cut. I am working on compiling every censored scene, nearly all of which are under 3 seconds (graphic violence, blood, etc.).

Under the read more is a guide to what episodes to watch, avoid, etc.

Symbol Guide:

Regular Text: Fine episode, but not required

*: Plot relevant

Bold Text: Good episode

Red: REALLY good episode

Strikethrough: Bad. Skip.

Season 1:

Chiro's Girl*

Depths of Fear

Planetoid Q

Magnetic Menace

The Sun Riders

Secret of the Sixth Monkey*

Pit of Doom*

Thingy

Flytor

A Man Called Krinkle

Ape New World

Circus of Ooze

Hidden Fortress*

Season 2:

Skeleton King*

World of Giants

The Lords of Soturix 7

In the Grip of Evil*

Versus Chiro*

Shadow Over Shuggazoom

The Sun Riders Return

Hunt for the Citadel of Bone*

Snowbound*

Wonder Fun Meat World

The Skeleton King Threat

Antauri's Masters*

I, Chiro*

Season 3:

The Savage Lands: Part I*

The Savage Lands: Part II*

Season of the Skull

A Ghost in the Machinder*

The Stranded Seven

Girl Trouble

Brothers in Arms

Monster Battle Club Now!

Meet the Wigglenog

Big Lug

Prototype*

Wormhole*

Belly of the Beast*

Season 4:

Galactic Smash: Space Attack

Galactic Smash: Game Over

Incident on Ranger 7

Ghosts of Shuggazoom*

Invasion of the Vreen

Evil Ages

Night of Fear*

The Hills Have Five

Demon of the Deep

Secret Society*

Golden Age*

Object of Hate*

Soul of Evil*

TLDR; Here's a condensed list of good/plot episodes you should watch if you don't want to watch all 52 episodes VVV

Season 1:

EP 1 - Chiro's Girl*

EP 6 - Secret of the Sixth Monkey*

EP 7 - Pit of Doom*

EP 8 - Thingy

EP 13 - Hidden Fortress*

Season 2:

EP 1 - Skeleton King*

EP 4 - In the Grip of Evil*

EP 5 - Versus Chiro*

EP 8 - Hunt for the Citadel of Bone*

EP 9 - Snowbound*

EP 12 - Antauri's Masters*

EP 13 - I, Chiro* (Best EP of the series in my opinion)

Season 3:

EP 1 - The Savage Lands Part I*

EP 2 - The Savage Lands Part II*

EP 4 - A Ghost in the Machinder*

EP 5 - The Stranded Seven

EP 7 - Brothers in Arms

EP 10 - Big Lug (SO many good reaction faces)

EP 11 - Prototype*

EP 12 - Wormhole*

EP 13 - Belly of the Beast* (Tied with I, Chiro for best EP)

Season 4:

EP 4 - Ghosts of Shuggazoom*

EP 5 - Invasion of the Vreen

EP 7 - Night of Fear*

EP 9 - Demon of the Deep

EP 10 - Secret Society*

EP 11 - Golden Age*

EP 12 - Object of Hate*

EP 13 - Soul of Evil*

Thank you all for coming to my TED Talk on these silly monkeys lol, I hope you all have fun watching!

(Gif by @/sweetcircuits)

#super robot monkey team #super robot monkey team hyperforce go #srmthfg #this is... several months of pent up autism I have been too shy to post abt lol sorry #I went out of my way to make that antauri gif bc 1. it goes hard and 2. I couldnt find any existing gifs of it so that's why it looks. roug

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theostrophywife · 1 year

Text

stargazing.

i can feel your heart beatin' with mine underneath the stars lookin' for a sign glowing in the dark 'til the sun shines started with a spark now we're on fire

author's note: you already know the drill. i am a hoe for mutual pining between two idiot best friends who are so obviously in love. this one actually gave me chest pains and you'll see why.

song inspiration: stargazing by the neighbourhood.

The City of Starlight lived up to its name as the stars glittered over the horizon.

A cluster of constellations twinkled directly above the spot you had picked—a grassy knoll by the mouth of the Sidra River, which now lapped against the shore with its sapphire waves. It was by far your favorite place for stargazing because it was distant enough from the noise and excitement of Velaris, sandwiched between the colorful townhouses and the peaks of the misty mountains, allowing you the chance to fully appreciate the starkissed night.

You placed a hand on your hip as your best friend climbed the hillside, his strides graceful and effortless, reaching the clearing without breaking a sweat, which was more than what you could say for yourself.

“You know, I’m perfectly capable of carrying a picnic basket up this hill.”

Azriel raised a brow, the Illyrian warrior utterly unconvinced by your statement. “I’m aware, but I also want to eat sometime before midnight and with the way you’re going, the food will spoil before we even get a chance to taste it.”

You huffed in feigned offense and crossed your arms. “Not everyone has the privilege of being ridiculously tall. I mean, have you seen yourself? I get that you’re a brooding warrior and all, but anything above six feet is a little overkill, don’t you think?”

The shadowsinger chuckled, his hazel eyes sparkling with amusement. “My height is perfectly normal. It’s not my fault that you’re practically bite sized.”

You frowned, sticking your tongue out at him. “Come a little closer and we’ll see who’s biting into who.”

“I’m shaking in my leathers.”

Azriel rolled his eyes fondly and shrugged the knapsack off his shoulders before tossing it over to you. The bag containing your favorite blanket and a pair of pillows had derailed your journey for at least ten minutes because your stubborn friend refused to let you carry anything. In the end, you had bullied Azriel into allowing you to lug your own sketchbook and coloured pencils up the damned hill.

It was an admirable feat given that the shadowsinger was almost as unrelenting as you. Luckily, you could always rely on your secret weapon. A slight pout and puppy dog eyes and Azriel was practically putty in your hands. Needless to say, you weren’t above exploiting his soft spot for you to get what you wanted.

Mostly because you loved the fact that he could never say no to you.

"You're absolutely insufferable, shadowsinger."

“Big words for such a small female,” Azriel drawled as you arranged the blanket on the grass. “Careful with the wind, we wouldn’t want it to blow you away.”

You snorted in response, shooting a vulgar gesture over your shoulder. The shadowsinger snickered as you tossed the pillows onto the blanket, putting the finishing touches to your makeshift haven for the night. Azriel plopped onto the ground, stretching his long legs out on the gingham fabric. The moonlight hugged his winged figure, silver beams kissing his devastatingly handsome face.

For a second, you felt jealous of the moon.

While Azriel settled in, you started unpacking the picnic basket. Stored within was an abundance of cheese, fruits, meats, and crackers that you'd nicked from the House of Wind, along with fizzy seltzers that were spiked with wine. You fixed Azriel a plate and handed it over to him. He uncorked the seltzers and clinked his glass against yours with a wink. The two of you dug right in, stuffing yourselves full and getting slightly buzzed from the drinks.

Azriel propped himself up on his elbows, his features contorted with intense concentration as he watched you toss a grape into the air. He tried to catch it with his mouth, but it hit his nose instead, making you burst out into uncontrollable laughter. The shadowsinger looked utterly confused for a split second before his eyes narrowed in your direction. His gaze darted to the hand you were currently hiding behind your back.

“You’re cheating,” he said with a pout.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied innocently. Behind you, your hand glowed scarlet from the use of your magic. “Maybe you just have terrible aim.”

“Show me your hands, then.”

“No one likes a sore loser, Az.”

Your friend pounced on you, nearly knocking your drinks over as he dug his fingers into your side. You gasped for breath in between high pitched giggles and smacked Azriel’s arm as he mercilessly tickled you. Shadows curled around you like smoke as though they were summoned by the sound of your laughter.

“You’re going to crush the cupcakes!” you exclaimed, wriggling away from the shadowsinger.

His dark head perked up at that. If there was anything you knew about your friend, it was that he had an insatiable sweet tooth. You swatted his hand away and pulled out the cupcakes you’d been saving for dessert.

Azriel eyed it warily. “It looks a little…deflated.”

You frowned, examining the less than fluffy cupcake. “Elain was teaching me how to make them, but then Lucien walked by shirtless and covered in sweat. They disappeared for a suspicious amount of time, so really I can’t be blamed if they turned out awful.”

Your friend chuckled and raised his cupcake to yours, clinking them together in a mock cheer. “Bottoms up, then.”

The second you bit into the cupcake, your face soured. Azriel wore a similar expression, grimacing at the taste.

“It’s interesting.”

“It tastes like shit, Az.”

Azriel snorted, patting you on the head. “It’s alright. You tried your best, bug.”

You flicked his hand away with a glare. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

“But it’s so fitting. You’re cute and small like a lady bug.” You rolled your eyes in response. “Would you prefer something else? Bee? Hornet? Wasp?” Azriel was barely containing his laughter at your obvious annoyance.

“You’re a pain in the ass, Azriel.”

“Yeah but who else would eat your poison cupcakes and stargaze with you in the middle of the night?”

That earned him a small smile. Azriel winked and sprawled out on the blanket, his wings spreading across the comically small fabric. You sat cross legged, watching as your best friend gazed up at the stars. There was something magical about it. The way the silver beams of moonlight kissed his golden brown skin, the wind tousling his dark locks, the serene smile that spread across his lips. In his cozy striped sweater and sweats, Azriel was the perfect picture of peace. Even his shadows stilled, dripping like honey across his shoulders.

The sight tugged at your heart. It was perfect. Azriel was perfect and you needed him to see himself exactly how you saw him now.

You pulled out your sketchbook and coloured pencils at once, scribbling furiously. “Don’t move,” you said, trying your best to capture the moment.

The shadowsinger obliged, but instead of watching the stars, he turned his attention over to you. The colors blended with your magic as the image before you came to life. You mixed the greens and browns and golds, but somehow they seemed lackluster compared to the glazed honey gaze staring back at you.

Azriel watched as your magic sparked against the page. He knew how intense you could get when it came to your art, but he’d never seen you like this. After a few more minutes, you leaned back and scrutinized every inch of your canvas. You flicked your wrist and a small spark of scarlet magic spread through the page. Finally, you smiled in satisfaction.

“It’s perfect,” you murmured.

“Let's see this masterpiece of yours, then.”

You shook your head. "Not a chance," you said, clutching the drawing to your chest. "At least, not yet."

"So you're saying that there's a slight chance that you'll show it to me someday?" Azriel asked, brimming with curiosity.

In the years he’d known you, the shadowsinger had only seen a handful of your art. Usually he wouldn’t push, but there was something about the way your eyes twinkled with emotion that made him want to prod.

“Eventually,” you replied with a soft smile. “When the time is right.”

Azriel didn’t get the chance to ask what that meant before you stashed the drawing away and shuffled beside him. You laid down across his stomach, grinning as you playfully flicked his nose.

“You’re supposed to be watching the stars, not me.”

“I can enjoy more than one beautiful view at a time.”

You flushed, inclining your head towards the skies so Azriel wouldn’t be able to see the effect of his words. For a while now, the two of you had been teetering that precarious line between just friends and something more. The chemistry between you was visible to everyone. Ever since Kallias had sent you to be his emissary, you and Azriel had grown closer and closer, to the point where your presence in the Night Court had turned into a permanent position.

The shadowsinger had gained your trust with his quiet wit and sharp sarcasm. Little by little, he chipped away at your icy demeanor. In due time, you were both attached at the hip. Besides Kallias and Viviane, he was the only one you'd opened up to about your time under the mountain. Cursed by Amarantha, you were trapped in that wretched place with your cousin, unable to stop the wicked female from wreaking havoc upon the Winter Court. Despite your tremendous power, you were helpless. You lost so many of your loved ones during that time and the guilt had been a heavy burden to bear even after Feyre's sacrifice that led to your freedom.

Azriel showed you that you didn't have to do it alone. Together, you learned how to heal from the ghosts of your past. You found refuge in the dark.

You found a friend.

Whatever it was between you and Azriel, it was something monumental. It wasn’t a fleeting crush or a silly notion of romance, but a magnetic force that had been drawing you together even before you met.

It felt scary. Like jumping off a cliff and into the raging sea. Though you weren’t the type to balk from a challenge, even you had to admit that it was terrifying. But you knew that you had to take that leap of faith sometime.

You gazed up at the shadowsinger and found him watching you. The smile that spread across your face was instinctive. “Thanks for coming out here with me, Az.”

“Anytime,” he murmured softly. Azriel weaved his fingers through your hair, curling strands around his knuckles. “I like watching the stars with you. It’s kind of nostalgic, really.”

“How so?”

Golden eyes flickered down to you as his voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “When I was younger…when all I knew was darkness, I always dreamt of the stars.”

Your heart ached for a young Azriel, trapped in the dungeons by his cruel father. The experience alone should’ve made him a hardened and bitter male, but your friend was anything but. Despite everything Azriel had endured, there was this resiliency to him that always amazed you. He had such a unique capacity for light and love.

You intertwined your fingers in his, squeezing gently. He smiled faintly before continuing. “My shadows used to describe the constellations to me. The positioning of the stars, how the night sky looked.” As though they heard his confessions, shadows swarmed around the both of you. “They still do, sometimes.”

A shadow curled like smoke towards a bright star in the sky. "That one is my favorite."

You looked up to where Azriel was pointing and felt your chest tighten. Your voice was shaky as you took a breath. “There’s a legend in the Winter Court about that star. There was once a young goddess named Polaris who roamed Prythian, fated to be lost and alone until a light in the north guided her to the castle of a Fae Prince. He took her in and they fell deeply in love. Polaris married the young prince and together they ruled over our lands until the Daglan came. The prince died fighting against them. Polaris was so heartbroken that she asked the Mother to transform her into a star so she could always watch over the land where her beloved was buried.”

Azriel listened with rapt attention as you gazed up at the horizon, to a single star shining above all the others. The same one he had pointed at. “Today, we call her the North Star. It’s said that her light is meant to guide you to your other half, just as that star in the sky once led her to her prince.”

The shadowsinger went still underneath you. As you looked up, you found him staring up at Polaris with a burning gaze. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as his eyes met yours.

Azriel swallowed thickly as his scarred fingers traced the outline of your jaw. Then softly, so low that you had to strain to hear him, he said the words that cracked your heart open. “I think you’re my Polaris.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but before they could fall, before the opportunity escaped you, you conjured the drawing from earlier into Azriel’s hands. The shadowsinger looked down at the moving image of him sprawled out across the grassy knoll, his wings flared out beneath him like some dark prince, a soft smile fixed on his lips as he gazed up at the star shining brightly above him.

The North Star.

That’s what Azriel was—your north star. The beacon that led you straight home. The hope that you had held onto even in the darkest of times. Under the Mountain, you hadn't let yourself dream. You didn't think you'd ever get this chance, but somewhere deep down, you kept the story of Polaris and her Prince tucked away in your heart.

And it had led you here.

Underneath the light of the north star, in the city you now called home, in the arms of the male that had helped you restore and rebuild yourself after all that you lost.

All that was left was to take that leap of faith.

“You’re my north star, Azriel.” You said with a smile, silver lining your eyes. “You led me home.”

One of his shadows darted towards you, catching your tears as Azriel pulled you against him. He cradled your cheek in his hand, fingers trembling as he looked at you. Really looked at you, like he saw all of who you were and adored every part, even the jagged edges.

“Falling in love with my best friend,” he said with a slight smile. “That’s pretty cliche of us, isn’t it?”

Your laughter spilled into the quiet night, happy tears coating your cheeks. “Don’t ruin the moment, Az.”

The endearing grin on his face etched itself into the depths of your soul. “I wouldn’t dream of it, bug.”

As the north star twinkled above the City of Starlight, Azriel leaned in and kissed you for the first time.

taglist: @viradeity @moony-thoughts @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @demirunner @swansworth @heart-defendor @momlo @mali22 @roselensage @searchingford@nessianxgwynriel@azriels-angels@brekkershadowsinger@morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @mattte-black @marina468 @lillithathecathecat @highladyofillyria

#I JUST LOVE HURTING MYSELF WTF #but god yeah #azriel #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel/reader

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slasherfckr · 11 months

Note

Hii!!!

You know some people have alligator to be they pet right?

So I wonder how the slashers react S/O have an alligator pet?

Bo Sinclair must, and whatever slashers you want to write.

Thank you and hope you have a good day!!

Omg I absolutely love this ❤️ If they weren't wild, dangerous as hell and illegal to own, I'd definitely have a long teefer toofer (what my family calls Gators and Crocodiles. Weird I know 😭)

----------------------------------

Only doing Bo Sinclair and Jason Voorhees for this right now. Maybe I'll come back and do some more slashers cause honestly I need to do Michael Myers' reaction to a damn Gator 🤣

Various Slashers x S/O who brings home a gator

Bo Sinclair

"I'm home!" Bo called out. No one answered. He didn't expect Vincent to say anything but he did at least expect you to come up running to him and tell him about your day, even though nothing in particular ever happens.

He headed to the bedroom you two shared and as he got closer, he could hear you giggling like a little schoolgirl from behind the door.

"Hey, why didn't you-" Bo stopped right in his tracks as he opened the door and found you on the floor in the middle of the room with a juvenile alligator next to you.

You turned your head to him and gave him a big smile. "Bo! Look what I found while I was out with Lester!" You gently grabbed your new friend and held him up towards Bo.

"I named him Tim. He really enjoys belly scratches! Can we keep him? Please?" You looked up at him, trying to give him the most pathetic puppy eyes you could. Bo only sighed and pinches the bridge of his nose in response.

"Now, ya know I love ya. But this is possibly the most stupidest thing I've ever seen you do. You do realize this thing could absolutely kill you when it gets bigger right?"

As he said this, you realized he was right. Disappointed, you stood up with Tim and went to go out to put him back where you found him but not before Bo put a hand on your shoulder.

"Hold on I wasn't finished. I don't mind if ya kept....Tim. He seems like a very fine gator. But we both know Vincent would most likely turn him into a pair of shoes or something, yeah? How about we find a spot somewhere in Ambrose where Vincent won't find him?"

Your eyes lit up and your smile returned to your face. If you didn't have Tim in your arms, you would give Bo the biggest hug you could give. So instead you settled for something else

"Thank you Bo!" You planted a kiss on his cheek as you thanked him.

-----------

Jason Voorhees

You peeked into the window of the cabin you shared with Jason. You didn't see him anywhere. Taking this as a good sign, you carefully opened the door and lugged in the box you were carrying.

Not taking any chance that Jason could be upstairs, you made your way to the small basement and went down. You found a small little area and put the box down. Opening it, you found your new little friend asleep.

Smiling, you gently rubbed the top of his head with the side of your finger as to not wake him. Or her. You couldn't tell the sex of your new alligator. They weren't very big but definitely weren't a baby. Maybe 4 feet long? You'd have to measure and weight the poor thing later.

You were on your way home from town when you spotted the gator on the side of the road. As far as you knew, Alligators weren't found in New Jersey. Poor fella must have been abandoned by someone who thought they could handle an exotic pet like this you figured. You just hope Jason wouldn't mind this new addition to the household.

You got your friend set up with a little warming area and took some raw meat from the fridge down for them. It took a while but you managed to find a small tub like container in the basement for them and filled it with luke warm water. After setting your new friend up, you needed to find Jason.

You first searched the cabin and turned up with nothing. You figured this would be the outcome as he typically wandered the campgrounds during the day, looking for trespassers. The sun was setting so you knew he'd be back shortly. You decided to go back to your gator friend and keep them company until then.

. . .

You didn't realize how long you were down in the basement for but it was long enough for you to accidentally doze off on the spare couch downstairs and to have Jason come home. You were woken up when Jason had come down looking for you. He's seen a lot of things but he never expected to find a 4 foot gator creeping up on his sleeping S/O in the basement of the cabin.

He immediately went over and picked you up bridal style, doing his best to avoid the animal in the basement completely.

"Jason? What are you doing? Put me back down there!" He ignored your request and set you on the couch upstairs. Your eyes widened when you saw him grab his machete and head towards the basement door.

"Woah, woah, woah! Hold on!" Jason stopped and turned to you. You got up and ran to him. You held your hand out for the machete.

"Hand it over. I can't let you hurt Chompers." Jason hesitated but he eventually gave up his weapon, tilting his head in confusion in the process.

"Chompers...You named it?" He signed. You nodded as you took his hand and led him down to the basement. Chompers was back in their little corner, chomping away at some leftover meat you had put down there earlier. You let go of Jason's hand so you could go and sit with your scaly friend.

"See? Friend. I found them on the side of the road coming home from town. I couldn't just leave them alone, Jason. Can we keep them? Just until we can find a sanctuary or something that'll take 'em? They aren't native here. They won't survive in the wild on their own."

You could see Jason mentally debating this. It seemed like forever before he gave a big huff and nodded. You jumped to your feet and hugged him tightly.

"Thank you! I'm sure you two will become good friends too!" You smiled up at him. He hugged back and patted your head before going back upstairs.

#slasher fucker #house of wax #slasher x reader #bo sinclair #friday the 13th #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees

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collinrobinsonsglasses · 3 months

Note

hello!! im crumbling after learning that ofmd isnt being renewed and ive been dying for new frenchie x reader fics for months. I will take literally anything to heal my broken heart🙏

Frenchie x Reader (GN)

Masterlist

This is my first time writing a story centered around Frenchie, so I hope I did this sweet goof justice.

Summary: Frenchie comes up with a plan to get you out of work, and it ends with your first kiss.

Playing Hooky

You had joined Stede Bonnet’s crew on The Revenge around the same time as everyone else, just before Blackbeard’s takeover. Captain Bonnet’s easygoing approach to piracy appealed to you, but the atmosphere drastically shifted when Izzy Hands took over as first mate. You preferred first mate Button’s quirky leadership on deck over Izzy’s constant yelling. As the crew stirred awake, preparing for the day, you sluggishly found your way to the galley, easing into your normal seat across from Frenchie.

Frenchie greeted you with his usual broad, goofy grin and a wave, all the while engaged in a lively debate with Wee John. Frenchie was adamantly claiming that his friend had once encountered a siren, while Wee John countered that sirens weren’t real. Lately, spending time with Frenchie became the primary reason for you to leave your hammock and get to work each morning. Over the past few weeks sailing for Bonnet, you had developed quite a crush on him. It was hard not to, given his contagious energy, warm brown eyes, sweet nature, and lovely singing voice. He was undeniably handsome and always fun to be around.

While engrossed in Frenchie’s animated discussion about the dangers and allure of Sirens with Wee John, you failed to notice Izzy Hand’s entrance into the galley. He swiftly began assigning tasks to the crew, designating you for lookout duty before departing as quickly as he came. Today, Frenchie was assigned to kitchen duty, and the thought of spending the day so far apart from him was disheartening. As Izzy left, you slouched over, letting out a sigh as your head rested on the table. Being the lookout had become a repetitive and utterly boring role for you this week. You found it both tedious and isolating. Izzy insisted you ascend to the foremast top to scan the horizon for other ships, but in reality, it often meant hours of staring into emptiness.

“Well, that’s no good.” Frenchie sighed, prompting you to glance up. “This makes it the fourth time this week you’ve been on lookout.”

“It is what it is,” you grumbled in response. A part of you was surprised that Frenchie had been keeping tabs on your ship duties, but you shrugged it off.

“I say, lookout duty is for the birds.” Frenchie replied with a mischievous grin. “So you should play hooky with me instead.”

Frenchie’s tempting proposal lingered in the air. You considered the ease with which he could slip away during kitchen duty, but a nagging feeling warned you that Izzy would notice your absence right away.

“Izzy would catch me if I’m not at my post, Frenchie,” you chuckled. “How would that even work?”

“I’m thrilled you asked,” Frenchie replied with a confident air. “Fortunately for you, I’m a master at the art of espionage.”

“Good feckin’ luck with that, you two,” Wee John replied, abandoning the table and wanting no part in Frenchie’s antics for the day.

“Alright,” you replied, returning Frenchie’s eager smile. “I’m in.”

As Frenchie outlined his plan to free you from lookout duty, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the odds of getting caught were almost certain. Yet, the idea of spending extra time with him today made it seem worth it. Following his instructions, you retrieved an extra set of your clothes and a hat from your belongings.

On your way back to the galley, carrying your extra attire, you unexpectedly crossed paths with Roach. He nonchalantly twirled his meat cleaver while making his way to the kitchen. Engaging in casual conversation, Roach abruptly halted as he observed Frenchie lugging two large bags of flour and a cantaloupe from the nearby storage closet.

“Now, wait one second,” Roach sang in a threatening tone, continuing to swing the meat cleaver in his hands. “What’s happening here?”

You observed Frenchie’s face shift into panic as he held the bags of flour. “Oh, well, that’s a great question.” Frenchie stammered. “The captain, you know him, wanted some extra cushions for his cabin. So, I thought, why not these bags of flour?”

“And the melon?” Roach prodded Frenchie, not sounding convinced.

“The melon?” Frenchie questioned, momentarily forgetting it was still in his arms. “Oh, you know. He wanted a melon to eat while he sat on the cushion?” Frenchie replied unconvincingly.

“We’re making a dummy that looks like me, so I can get out of lookout duty today,” you quickly interrupted Frenchie, sensing Roach wasn’t buying his story.

“Oh nice. Why didn’t you say so?” Roach replied jovially, moving into the kitchen and sticking his knife into the wood of the counter. “Just bring that stuff back once you’re done.”

“Yes sir.” you replied with a grin, before you and Frenchie headed off to his and Wee John’s room to craft your makeshift lookout dummy.

You stuffed your spare clothes with the sacks of flour, carefully arranging the cantaloupe on top and capping it off with your hat. Stepping back, both of you surveyed your creation, with Frenchie biting his finger and tilting his head as if appreciating a work of art.

“Is this what I look like?” you chuckled, examining the scarecrow-like figure before you.

“Oh, lord no. A dummy could never capture your essence,” Frenchie replied with a bashful grin, causing your heart to flutter for a moment.

“How the fuck are we going to hoist this up to the foremast without anyone seeing?” you suddenly questioned, once again doubting the feasibility of Frenchie’s plan.

“Piece of cake,” Frenchie replied confidently. “I’ll whip up a distraction, get everyone’s attention, and give you time to sneak the dummy into place.”

Crouched on the stairs leading up to the main deck, you and Frenchie had managed to haul the bags of flour, masquerading as you, up the stairs. Frenchie swiftly ascended to the deck, creating a commotion to divert everyone’s attention. From your vantage point, you observed him shouting to the crew and Izzy Hands about something in the water at the ship’s rear. Racing across the quarterdeck, Frenchie reached the poop deck, peering over the edge. Suddenly, the ship lurched, caught in an unexpected wind, causing Frenchie to lose his balance and, with a large splash, disappear overboard.

Your mouth fell open in astonishment, unsure if this was part of Frenchie’s planned distraction or an accidental plunge. Regardless, the unexpected loss of Frenchie at sea triggered chaos on the deck. Most of the crew rushed to the ship’s rear, where Frenchie was standing moments before. Seizing the opportunity, you sprinted to the foremast and began scaling it with the dummy slung over your shoulder and the cantaloupe tucked under your arm. Wee John, seemingly unfazed by Frenchie’s abrupt departure overboard, chuckled at the spectacle of you ascending the rigging above him. Amused, he made no effort to draw attention to your climb.

Reaching the platform, you arranged your doppleganger, having it lean against the mast’s railing. Securing the dummy in place with a length of rope around the wooden beam, you hastily tucked the melon into the neck opening of your clothes and placed your hat on top. There was no time to check how realistic it looked from below deck, instead you hurriedly retreated to the galley, your agreed-upon meeting spot, as the crew worked to fish Frenchie from the sea.

A short while later, Frenchie found you in the galley. He was wearing a knitted sweater, which you assumed Wee John had made for him at some point, along with dry pants.

Upon spotting you, Frenchie triumphantly lifted his arms, clearly relishing the success of his plan.

“Master of Espionage,” he declared, his grin widening as his hands remained raised in the air.

You hopped onto the kitchen counter with a chuckle. “Was it part of your grand plan to fall into the ocean, great master?” you teased.

Frenchie grabbed an orange from the counter, likely an extra that Roach hadn’t used for breakfast, and began peeling it.

“Not initially. That’s the beauty of being a master, babe,” he replied coolly. “Plans just come to you suddenly.”

After peeling the orange, he handed you the other half with a genuine smile, lifting his portion for a toast. “Cheers, my dears,” he whispered.

You were convinced that Frenchie’s plan had really changed the moment he hit the water, but his confident demeanor did have a certain charm. You both finished off your halves of the orange, placing bets on how long it would take for Izzy to realize your absence. laughter ensued as you marveled at how absurd this day had been so far.

The peaceful camaraderie in the kitchen was abruptly interrupted by the furious shouts of Izzy Hands calling your name. Frenchie seized your hand, swiftly guiding you to the pantry in the galley, where you both concealed yourselves. The echoing stomps of Izzy’s boots resonated near you, prompting you to stifle quiet laughter. Frenchie placed his hand over your mouth, setting off a shared fit of laughter, and in response, your hand covered his mouth.

When the echoes of Izzy’s boots faded in a different direction, you both removed your hands. “I’m absolutely fucked.” you laughed.

As your gaze returned to Frenchie, you caught him looking down at your lips before his eyes swiftly met yours again. The confined intimacy of the small pantry suddenly became palpable, and you sensed the mood shifting. Frenchie leaned in, and his lips gently met yours. They felt soft, carrying a lingering sweetness from the orange you both had shared just moments before. Hesitantly, he leaned away after the kiss, meeting your eyes once more with a shy smile, seemingly trying to gauge your reaction.

“Frenchie, you kissed me,” you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

“I couldn’t help it,” he whispered back.

This time, you took the initiative, leaning in for another kiss. Wrapping your arms around him in his warm sweater, you drew him closer. The fear of Izzy Hands faded away as you both lost yourselves in the sweet, stolen moment.

The pantry door swung open abruptly, revealing Izzy, red with anger, brandishing a cantaloupe.

“What the fuck is this?” Izzy spat at the two of them.

“A cantaloupe,” you replied, causing Izzy’s face to scrunch even more with rage.

“I thought Mr. Spriggs was the only seductress on board, but I guess I was wrong,” Izzy continued. “This little trick has earned you barnacle duty for the rest of the day.” With that, Izzy quickly turned to leave, dropping the cantaloupe onto the ground.

Frenchie shot you an apologetic look, but you responded with a giant grin. “Totally worth it,” you said, giving him one more quick kiss before following Izzy.

“Go, Frenchie,” you heard him whisper to himself when he thought you were out of earshot, causing a smile to creep across your face.

“Go, Frenchie,” you repeated quietly to yourself as you made your way to the deck.

#frenchie x reader #Frenchie ofmd #Frenchie #our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd fanfic #ofmd x reader #frenchie ofmd x reader

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parodyofnature · 11 months

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OM Characters As Things My Friends and Family Have Said

Lucifer- "Why are you getting plastered? IT'S FUCKING WEDNESDAY"

Mammon- "You have to stop calling me shawty in public spaces"

Leviathan- "Ben 10 is sacred"

Satan- "I was thinking about how Victor Frankenstein purposefully made his monster hot just now and the sentence I said to myself, in essence, was, 'he crafted himself a spicy new fleshsona out of body parts he stole from the poor'"

Asmodeus- "They're very phallic. You sure you don't want two?"

Beelzebub- "Who is stopping me from eating plastic? My digestive system? I have nothing to lose but my chains"

Belphegor- "'She's warming up to us!' Frankly, Phil, I dislike you more than ever but I see no reason why you should be privy to that."

Diavolo- "This humongous, big, stupid boy looks like he belongs in Metalocalypse… and I wanna top him"

Barbatos- "The human mind, generally speaking, is a slut for a good carb"

Simeon- "ARE YOU TRYING TO WITNESS JEHOVAH?"

Solomon- "You guys wanna go splash around in the leech water?"

Luke- "Protestant cringe compilation"

Raphael- "If I'm not autistic, God has some fucking explaining to do"

Mephistopheles- "Get thee to some bitches"

Thirteen- "Lord, you're lugging around a garbage pail full of your own meat self"

#obey me #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me mephistopheles #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #obey me memes

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little-bumblebeeee · 8 months

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Moonlight - part 1

werewolf!Steve x vampire!Eddie

There are werewolves in Hawkins. Yeah right, and there are monsters under the bed. That's Eddie's reasoning. Vampires don't exist, neither do werewolves or monsters or the boogeyman or mermaids or any similar creature. The howling at full moon nights are probably some weirdo trying to scare kids - hell, he'd do it too - and the reason Dustin Henderson keeps buying an insane amount of raw meat on those nights is because...the Hendersons like beef? Look, Eddie doesn't know, he just knows he's not falling for some myth.

"Well, if you're so brave go stay the night in the woods tomorrow night during the full moon." Gareth tells him with arms crossed in front of him and poking Eddie pretty damn hard in the arm. "I just might." Eddie retorts, though he knows he'll probably book it out of there the second he hears a twig snap, but there are people around. He can't act like a scared little kid. So that's why he's lugging a tent and a bag of snacks into the woods because he's not gonna let his stomach rumbling give away where he is to any crazy murderers hiding in the woods or werewolves - not like they exist or anything.

He had to get Wayne to teach him how to set up a tent at least 5 times before he even stepped near the woods. His flashlight sweeps the ground, the fresh batteries making it brighter than ever. Is he paranoid? Pfft, no, he's just not dumb, he's seen horror movies. It's quiet for a few hours, and Eddie totally doesn't almost squeal like a scared middle schooler who hasnt hit puberty yet when he sees a silhouette stumbling next to his tent. He can hear their heavy breathing, they must've ran here. They say a choked sounding string of curse words and - wait, Harrington? That's clearly his voice, what is he doing here? And why is he running? Is he running from something!?

Eddie peeks his head just a little bit out of the tent to see Steve there, keeled over and breathing like he'd just run a marathon. He looks like he's in pain as he falls to his knees, digging his nails - no, claws into the ground. He didn't have claws yesterday, what the actual hell!?

So, Eddie does what Eddie does best, he runs. He runs and runs and runs until he falls over because even though he's good at running away from things he hasn't gotten proper exercise in at least a couple years. Luckily there's no beast chasing him, only a howling far in the woods. He sounds like he's in pain, and part of Eddie wants to go back - but the sensible part of him is telling him to keep running. How deep was he in the woods? He's pretty sure he wasn't even that far yet they seem never ending. He's starting to panic, he feels like he's in a horror movie with the thuds and snarls behind him and never ending forest. He knows you're not supposed to look back but he does and... he isn't getting chased? Harrington, now fully transformed, has just slowly walked away and curled up. Whimpering.

It's so surprising Eddie slows to a jog, Steve reminding him less of a ferocious beast and more of a big dog that's all bark and no bite. The sensible part of him is screaming for him to keep running, but he's tired of running, his ribs hurt, and he wants to pet the big scary wolf. So he goes to pet the big scary wolf, almost immediately regretting when Steve snarls at him, opening one eye that's surprisingly the same honey brown.

But even more surprisingly, Steve stops snarling, nudging his head under Eddie's hand and closing his eyes once more like a dog. He's calm, just lying there. "Uh...good boy?" Eddie says, not sure if he should call Steve that in case he's still kind of human. He's never going to let Steve live this down. Steve "Good Boy" Harrington.

Okay maybe he shouldn't use that one in front of his friends. Bad idea. Very bad. Yup. Icky. He leans his back against the tree, Steve's head on his lap. It's kind of nice, Eddie struggling to stay awake as he literally cuddles a big ferocious beast. He's pretty sure Steve falls asleep at some point too, so he doesn't mind leaning back against the tree trunk and closing his eyes.

He knows he has Steve to protect him if anything happens. And he does, even if a bunny gets too close to Eddie as he sleeps Steve will snarl until it runs away, making sure not to wake the sleeping beauty he's laying his head on.

This won't go anywhere, Steve will make sure of it, but it's nice. And it'll be nice until morning comes, until Steve has to run away to find that little log he stuffed his bag of clothes in because he doesn't want to explain how his clothes ripped when he transformed. So, Eddie wakes up to nothing except a weird looking bug on his hand and a memory of soft fur that he really hopes was a weird ass dream.

Let me know if you want a part 2 and if so if you want to be tagged as well!! Also cut me some slack, this is my first serious fic ._. (little picture up top by me, pictures taken from pinterest)

PART 2!!! :D

#stranger things #eddie munson #joseph quinn #steve harrington #joe keery #joe quinn #steddie #werewolf steve harrington #vampire eddie munson #eventual steddie #come get yall juice #Yes Eddie ran in the wrong direction #Stupid stupid boy #but we love him #steve x eddie #werewolf steve x vampire eddie #Moonlight steddie fic

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