#his silly little orange hat

[itscooltoskate]

[larrythefloridaman]

WOAH, HE'S BIGENDER? I DIDN'T KNOW THAT!

[bigfemboyenergy]

ERMMM I DONT THINK SO BUT ILL CHECK EVEN IF ITS AN OLD THING HEEHEE

^SUPER UNRELATED UGLY OLD ARTPIECE FROM LIKE FOREVER AGO BUT LIKE IT HAS SOME COLORS..CAUSE IM DIRTY BLONDE LOL??? I GENUINELY HAVENT MADE A COLORED SONA REF IN MY LIFE, NOT ONCE (ITS ALL ON PAPER SO..YEAH)

this randomly blew up on twitter so i figured i’d post it here bc lord knows everyone on this app is neurodivergent

[lightsoutletsgo]

welcome home — op.81 (18+)

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (occasional allusions to reader being thick and a little chubby but mostly non-descriptive of body!)

word count: 4.5k

warnings: (hold onto your hats folks, it’s a long list 🧍‍♀️) SMUT!! porn with very little plot, don’t be silly, wrap your willy! creampie, breeding kink, allusions to oscar being bi, use of sex toys, light degrading (slut, whore), a hint of overstimulation, spanking (ass and thighs),  mentions of reader making a HECKIN lot of mess, oscar catches reader and watches her without her knowing!!

hi loves! this is the fic I wrote last night after the tequila hit and when I read it this morning to proof read it I was like 'wtf did I write?' 😭 I was debating if I should add the whole making out with the toy right there situation but my lovely beta reader @softieekayy said it was perfectly ✨spicy✨ so it has stayed in! as always, read at your own risk. please DO NOT read if you are not 18+! happy reading! mimi 🤍

God you hated triple headers. Okay that was an exaggeration, you loved the excitement of watching your boyfriend do his thing from the other side of the world but what you hated was the fact you didn’t get any of his… attention for a couple of weeks.

At first the big orange dildo had been a joke. One of your friends had bought it for you when she learned of your relationship with Oscar, “for those weekends you’re alone.” She had said. You had laughed at the bright papaya colour and brushed the whole thing off, denying you would ever need a use for it. But now as the box it sat in stared up at you from the bottom of your wardrobe, you felt a thrill rush down your spine, pussy clenching involuntarily at the thought of being filled up after so long. You leaned against the wardrobe door, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath before slamming it shut and storming back across the room to the bed, throwing yourself into the plush comforter and pillows to let out a yell. You rolled onto your back and sighed. No. You would just wait for Oscar to come home. You could handle a few more days, right? Closing your eyes, you turned your head into Oscar’s pillow and inhaled deeply, moaning at the way his scent invaded your nostrils. God you needed him. You shook your head to clear the thoughts away and focused on sleeping. The faster you slept the sooner tomorrow would come right? Which meant the sooner Oscar would be home. 

You gasped as you felt fingers digging into your thighs and your eyes flew open to see Oscar between your legs, his eyes staring back at yours, hazy with lust as he sucked and nibbled on your clit before dipping his tongue into your cunt to get a taste of your sweetness. Your hands flew to his hair as your back arched. You had no clue where your clothes had gone but you didn’t care, too caught up in the way Oscar wrapped his lips around your clit and shook his head side to side. A shriek left your mouth and your legs closed quickly before he spanked your inner thighs and pushed them open, “Taste so good angel…” Your head dropped back onto the pillow as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release. Bucking your hips up you tugged at Oscar’s hair and he let out a growl into your pussy, the vibrations doing nothing but heighten the sensation building in your lower stomach. “O-Oscar…” He smirked up at you, “Yes angel?” “Gonna cum!” You squeaked out at his unrelenting movements, “Then cum for me angel, make a mess all over my face hmm?”

Your eyes snapped open and you jolted upright. It had been a fucking dream? You groaned and led back down, a hand coming up to feel how warm your face was. But it felt so real? You whimpered and squeezed your legs together, already able to feel how much you’d dripped everywhere and soaked your panties. You bit your lip, sliding a hand down between your breasts and stomach, feeling the way your breath caught in your throat the closer you got to your thighs. Sliding your panties off underneath your - well, Oscar’s shirt - you gasped as you realised just how soaked they were and how much of your slick had coated your inner thighs. Sliding your hand down you moaned as you began to rut your pussy against your hand, already turning feral with need. You let out a loud groan and huffed.

Standing up and walking over the wardrobe before grabbing that darn box. Unpacking the dildo and quickly washing it off under the bathroom sink you slid back into bed, not even bothering to get under the covers. You stared at the toy in your hand for a moment, it was just a little over average size, more girth than length, and you couldn’t help but shiver when you realised it was a similar size and shape to your boyfriend. You noted how it had been moulded with a few veins here and there for texture and your mouth watered at the thought it conjured up, of Oscar's cock on your tongue and the way he would groan when your tongue traced the veins on his length.

Lying back down and pulling Oscar’s t-shirt up to halfway up your tummy, you gently dragged the dildo up your inner thighs, enjoying the way you felt your pussy leak onto the sheets. You decided quickly that you’d had enough of teasing yourself and so you moved the toy up to your burning core. 

The toy was cold as it rubbed up and down your lips and you bit your lip, relishing in the tingling sensation everytime it caught your clit. You briefly wondered if you needed lube, but with how much you were dripping you figured you could get some later if you needed it. You dipped the tip of the toy into your entrance and your breath shuddered, “Fuck…” A moan came out involuntarily as you sank the toy into your waiting pussy a little further, relishing in the way it stretched you out so deliciously. “Mmm… Oscar…” You couldn’t help the way your boyfriend’s name slipped from your lips as the toy slid into you more, the textured veins on the toy exciting all those spots inside of you. You let out a satisfied sigh when the toy was pushed into you to the hilt and you gave yourself a moment to enjoy the full feeling it offered, before you were pulling it back out to the tip, mouth dropping open as it dragged against your walls, the silicone quickly warming up to your body temperature. 

You started off slow and gentle, shallow little thrusts that had you whimpering and whining as you fucked yourself the way you knew Oscar would. The hand not using the toy flew up to pull your t-shirt up even more to expose your tits and pinch your nipple. You hummed happily, enjoying the feeling but it was quickly proving to not be enough. You spread your legs wider and began to move the toy with a little more force at a faster speed. Your moans grew a little louder, mixing with the slick wet sounds coming from your pussy. Your hand slid down from where it pinched and pulled your nipples to gently rub your clit. You felt the way you clamped down around the toy and how it made it a little harder to thrust and you smiled, knowing that feeling was something that drove Oscar wild.

At the thought of your boyfriend you let out a rather lewd sound, moving your hips up to meet your hand as you started pounding your cunt with the toy. You were drunk on the feeling, moaning like a pornstar, rubbing your clit faster. You could feel your juices all over your hand and you could hear the way you were creaming all over the toy. 

But what pushed you over the edge was turning your head into Oscar’s pillow once more, inhaling and drowning in him as you came. Clenching down tightly onto the toy as your back arched and your legs shook. Practically crying out Oscar’s name, you almost growled with frustration as your hand didn’t stop, despite how tired you were, still needing more. 

You let out a whimper as your hand cramped and you knew you needed to change positions. Slipping the toy out your eyes widened as you saw exactly how much of a mess you had made all over it. You pushed yourself over onto all fours and buried your face into Oscar’s pillow, moving your hand underneath your stomach and pushing the toy back into you as you fucked yourself face down ass up.

The toy easily slid back into your eager hole and you moaned at the feeling. You didn’t hesitate with teasing yourself this time, instead fucking yourself hard straightaway, a deep moan leaving your mouth as your eyes rolled back. From this new angle, the toy reached even deeper and you needed more of it. You continued railing yourself, moaning and whining Oscar’s name with everything you had in you. 

Oscar sighed with relief, feeling all the tension and stress leave his body as the taxi pulled up in front of the apartment complex. Climbing out with his bags, he thanked the driver and headed up to your shared apartment. He knew it was the early hours of the morning and you would still be asleep but if he could be quiet enough then maybe he could surprise you in the morning with his arms wrapped around you. God he’d missed you. As he reached the doorway of your apartment his stomach flipped with excitement and he didn’t think he’d ever unlocked the door or put his bags down so quickly, desperate to have you in his arms again. But when he got to your bedroom door he stopped. Oscar’s hand hovered over the bedroom door handle as he listened to the noises drifting through from the other side. Were you moaning? He heard the noise again and he didn’t have to strain his ears to pick up the slick wet sounds of you playing with your pussy. He gulped, unsure of what to do. Did he go in and risk you feeling upset and cornered? Or did he deprive you of what you so clearly wanted? Oscar’s head tipped back in a silent groan as another whimpery moan slipped through the door. He opened the door and hsi mouth dropped open at the sight. He’d expected to maybe see you on your back with a hand down your panties but what was in front of him was much more lewd than that. There you were, your ass up in the air jiggling deliciously as you pounded a toy in and out of you, a toy that was the same colour as his car? Oscar growled low in his throat and started to take a step towards you but what stopped him in his tracks was the sight he saw when he got closer to you, noticing how you actually had his t-shirt in your other hand and you had it held up to your face as your eyes rolled back and you drooled everywhere. A louder groan tore from his throat and you shrieked at the intrusion, toy dropping out of your pussy, allowing him to see your pretty hole fluttering and clenching for a moment before you were sat on the bed and staring at him with wide eyes, his t-shirt held up over your body in an attempt to cover yourself. “Oscar!” “Hi angel…” Everything was still and silent before he was on you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer to him as he kissed you. You moaned into his mouth, dropping his t-shirt to instead grab at his hair. Oscar growled before he pulled away from you, 

“Put that toy back inside you, right fucking now.” “What?-” “You heard me angel and I’m not in the mood to play games right now…” Oscar’s eyes were dark and you felt your thighs squeeze together as your hand searched the bed for where you’d thrown the toy in your surprise. You found it and led back on the bed, slowly spreading your legs to let him see your pussy lips and inner thighs glistening with your juices. He hissed and licked his lips at the sight of the creamy mess that had gathered at your entrance. “Go on then… put it back in angel.” Your eyes shot up to look at his, “A-are you sure?” He spanked your inner thigh sharply, “Did I stutter?” You shook your head and slid the toy back inside you, gasping. Oscar sucked in a breath through his teeth and slid his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you. You whined and bucked your hips up. He laughed and repeated the motion, enjoying the way you were already gasping underneath him. “Feel good baby?” You nodded and gasped as he led down on his stomach so his face was level with your cunt. You did you best to close your thighs but a sharp look from him had you opening them up once again. Oscar licked his lips and you felt his hand cover yours at the base of the toy. You removed your hand and whimpered as he started fucking you himself. God this was so hot. You didn’t think it could get any better and then you felt his tongue on your clit. 

Just like in your dream your hands flew to his hair as you were catapulted straight into the buildup for another orgasm. Oscar let out an appreciative moan as he tasted you for the first time. If he was phased by the fact he was effectively licking a fake cock at the same time he was licking your pussy, he didn’t show it, if anything it seemed to make him more enthusiastic, occasionally pulling the toy out completely to lick up the mess at your entrance and then licking and sucking the tip of the toy to taste your sweet arousal from the deepest parts of your pussy. The sight had you moaning and squirming and he fucking noticed… Perhaps the two of you needed to have a conversation at some point…

You were pulled from your thoughts by Oscar taking your clit between his lips and flicking his tongue back and forth over the sensitive button. Your hips rocked back and forth against the toy as you rode his face, “Mmph, fuck yes angel,” Oscar murmured against your clit, feeling how your pussy had tightened around the toy as he struggled to pull it out,. His tongue swirled around your clit, his drool spilling down your pussy and onto the toy making it even more slippery as he thrust it in and out of you. Your hands tangled in his hair as you felt yourself get close, “Baby!” You warned him, Oscar just hummed, your clit still in his mouth and you grabbed at his hair and his shoulders, his hands, anything you could as you tumbled over the edge, back arching and toes curling. You moaned and whimpered as you came, Oscar pressing soft kisses to your clit to draw out your orgasm even longer. You let out an even louder whimper when he pulled the toy out, hating how empty your pussy felt as you squeezed and throbbed around nothing. You stared at the toy in Oscar’s hand and then back up at his face, leaning forward you kissed it softly before licking the tip, taking it into your mouth and gently sucking on it. Oscar groaned at the sight and grabbed your waist with his free hand, pulling you up to his eye level. You giggled as a plan formed in your mind and you gently pushed his hand towards his lips instead, he seemed to understand as he licked your arousal off the toy himself, eyes fluttering shut as he tasted you. “C’mere,” you whispered to him quietly, gently holding his face with one hand as your other hand moved down to squeeze and stroke him through his sweatpants. Your lips also wrapped around the toy and you licked into Oscar’s mouth, making out with him with the dildo between you.

You giggled as you felt him throb through his clothes, clearly enjoying this new experience. You moaned as Oscar broke away from you to duck his head into your neck and leave some sloppy kisses there. You continued to suck the toy off, closing your eyes and putting on a show you knew was getting harder to ignore. Oscar looked back up at you and his mouth gaped a little at how hot you looked. Grasping the toy in his own hand once more he gently pushed the toy down your throat and hissed as you stared up at him, big doe eyes looking at him so sweetly, 

“Back on your hands and knees baby.” His voice was low and though you’d been fucking yourself for a while, you still felt another wave of arousal course through you. 

Turning round you yelped as you felt his hand strike your ass, “Such a fucking slut baby… is this what you do when I’m away hmm?” He leaned over you to bite your earlobe and kiss your neck as he pulled his sweats down. He was ridiculously hard, pre-cum already dripping from the tip of his cock and he smeared it across your pussy lips, sticky and messy. You moaned and tried pushing yourself back onto him but he simply tutted and held your plush hips in place with one arm while he other hand spanked you again, relishing in the way your flesh rippled from his hand, “You just couldn’t wait hmm?” You mewled and shook your head, “M sorry Oscar just missed you too mu- Oh!” You stopped mid-sentence as he thrust into you at once, moaning as his head dropped to the middle of your back. Pressing gentle kisses down as he straightened up, slowly pulling out in a way that had your arms collapsing and your head falling into the pillow. 

“You okay angel?” He breathed, leaning over you again to check in and you nodded, “M okay Osc, promise. Just need you to move, please!” He nodded and pulled out slowly, smirking at the way your body shuddered and shook under him, before he started a relentless pace. His hips slapped into your ass and you fucking giggled as he fucked you. Something about that made Oscar throb. Your pussy convulsed around him as you mindlessly babbled at him, too fucked out to make sense anymore, “Yes fuck Oscar, baby it’s so good, so big, so big fuck,” You gasped, “missed your cock so much baby, missed worshipping it, fuckkkk want it in my mouth, gimme your fingers please?” Oscar obliged and the hand not guiding your hips pushed two fingers into your mouth. Oscar’s own eyes rolled back as he felt you drooling and sucking. “Not enough Osc, need more!” You cried out and his eyes caught sight of the orange toy that now lay discarded next to you, still covered in your arousal. Oscar smirked to himself once more, removing his fingers from your mouth and picking the toy up. He moved close to your ear, wanting to see this up close as he whispered, “You need more angel? Then here you go.” he tapped the dildo against your lips and you hummed happily, greedily opening your mouth to stuff it full of the silicone toy. “How is it angel hmm? Tasting yourself on that toy?” You gave an enthusiastic moan, smiling even with your mouth full and Oscar found himself staring at you adoringly, never wavering in how his hips pistoned in and out of you. 

He straightened up, allowing you to fuck your own throat with the toy, focusing on gripping your fleshy hips and tummy and fucking into you. He could feel himself sweating and his hair was in his eyes but still he would not stop. He let out a guttaral groan when he realised that you were now bouncing back to meet his thrusts, fucking yourself and humping his cock. His hips stilled for a moment as he let you grind, working for what you were so desperate to have, “There you go… mhmm good fuckin girl that’s it… atta girl.” He praised you as you grew even needier, throwing yourself back with more and more enthusiasm each time. 

“Oscar!” You squealed as a hand snuck down to softly slide over your clit and you froze, thighs shaking from the stimulation, “Easy, angel, I got you…” You stuffed your mouth full of the toy once more and led there, happy to be on the receiving end of his attention and affections. Oscar continued to rub your clit and he smoothly rolled his hips into yours, loving every squeak and whimper and moan and mewl he elicited from you. 

You fought to keep your eyes open as you felt that pressure building and building between your legs. “Oscar…” You pulled off of the toy to warn him you were close, Oscar’s response was to simply lean down over you, practically mounting you as his hips refused to stop, now pounding into you.He grabbed the toy and threw it to one side, smashing his lips to yours in a messy exchange of spit and breath and moans. You whimpered, the slight change in his position causing him to rub against your g-spot with every push and pull thrust. You could feel your body climbing higher and you scrabbled to grab the hand near your head and link his fingers with yours, “Fuck baby!” You cried and Oscar knew the sound immediately, “Cum for me angel, there you go, atta girl…”

He cooed at you as you came hard. Moaning into his mouth and squeezing his hands as your pussy convulsed and fluttered around his cock. Oscar’s head dropped to the pillow next to you as he did his best to hold it together, wanting to fuck you through your orgasm. You giggled as you came down from your high, gasping when his hips circled, keeping his cock deep inside you as he did. You legs gave out and you slid to lay down, Oscar following you down gently as he started to softly rut into you, grinding and circling his hips this time rather than thrusting, he kissed your neck softly before biting lightly, not enough to mark but just enough to feel it there, “Missed you so so much angel,” You gasped, “Yeah?” “Mmm…” He moaned, “Been fuckin torture being away from you…”

You tipped your head to the side to allow him to leave more kisses between words, “Missed your pretty eyes, your soft lips, these gorgeous thighs, your perfect hips, your sweet cunt.” He emphasised the last word with a soft thrust and you smiled, loving how he took care of you but now it was his turn, “Missed you too baby…” Oscar laughed and kissed your cheek, “you did hmm?” “Yeah… missed your freckles and your arms holdin’ me, missed your pretty hands, your head in my lap, missed your hips and missed… oh…” a soft moan cut you off, “Missed what angel?” Oscar rolled his hips particularly deep and you inhaled sharply, “Missed your cock!” 

Oscar tutted at this, “Sure didn’t seem like it baby… you had that toy stuffed in your sweet hole pretty good when I got home…” You whined, “Didn’t feel the same, didn’t feel as good!” You reasoned, Oscar’s hips began to move a little more, beginning that familiar motion of sliding in and out of you. He could feel how you’d not only made a mess on your own thighs but his thighs too, and his hips. “Didn’t feel as good hmm? You certainly seemed to be enjoying it?” “Just missed you too much!” A hand snaked up to gently take hold of your throat, not to choke you but enough to remind you of who was in charge. You panted as his thrusts increased again, “Please Oscar, wanna feel you full me up!”

His eyes closed and his head rested against your shoulder as he heard you begging for his cum, “Need to feel you fill me up, please? Be so fuckin good for you Osc, I promise!” You heard him growl next to your ear, a low sound that had you determined to make this man lose his damn mind. “Yes, just like that baby, please don’t stop please please please!” You kept begging him over and over, knowing you wouldn’t be satisfied until he was spilling out of you, “Please baby, show me just how much you missed me, yes yes yes! Fuck. Make me fuckin take it come on baby… ‘S so fucking good Oscar… only one that can make me feel this good. Mmm fucking love your cock oh my GOD!-” Oscar’s hand tightened round your throat a little as his hips slapped into yours with more need once again, too turned on by your begging to do anything else, “Gonna fill you up angel, “Yes!” You cried out, Oscar felt his balls tighten and his cock throb, “Gonna breed my pretty girl, cum nice and deep inside you hmm? Mark you from the inside shit, FUCK! I love you!” With a loud growl, Oscar’s cock throbbed as he shot ropes of his thick hot cum deep inside you, just rocking back and forth as he made sure to spill every last drop into your greedy cunt. 

He pressed a long kiss to your neck, then your cheek and then the side of your head. 

With Oscar on top of you and having already cum multiple times, you felt all warm and cosy and you couldn’t help the way you immediately felt sleepy, “Welcome home baby…” Oscar chuckled and rolled off of you, pulling you with him to cuddle into his side, “Angel, have you even slept yet?” You yawned as you nodded, “For a couple of hours at least…” You trailed off feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once, “Oh no no no angel, bathroom first, then water, then sleep!” You groaned but Oscar was firm and you knew he was right. He helped you to the bathroom and then went to grab water while you finished up. After falling into bed together you immediately cuddled up to him, he pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you threw you leg over his waist, his hand automatically rubbing your thigh. Things with Oscar always felt so right, so natural, so normal. You gave a contented sigh and Oscar snorted as he spotted the bright orange toy in the corner of the room from where it had gracefully landed after being flung off the bed earlier. You followed his gaze and giggled as he broke into full laughter, “Papaya Y/N? I mean, really?” You shook your head, “It wasn’t me! One of my friends bought it as a joke gift and today was the fist time I…” You trailed off and he squeezed you tightly, understanding what you meant, “We should definitely talk about what was going on between you  and that toy though…” Oscar blushed and you kissed his cheek, “Don’t worry baby, it was hot!” Oscar smiled at you, settling down to fall asleep with you in his arms, “What a welcome home ey?” 

࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

The Hat Rule.

Characters: Portgas D. Ace, Buggy the Clown, Dracule Mihawk, Trafalgar Law [ uses they/them ], X-Drake / Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2,422

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Author's Notes: I'm a sucker for the Hat Rule, sue me. Nothing but some subtle spice. Enjoy!

You would be lying if you said it hadn’t been thrilling to sneak up behind them and pluck the hat off their head. They were so attached to it, it was funny! Of course, sentimentality was one thing- but really, the way they had paused, reaching up to touch their head as if confused at the sudden loss had been far too comical for you to even consider not laughing at. But the moment they had turned, had called out your name-

You ran.

You had sprinted across the dock back towards safety, hat clutched in your hand as they followed after you. But you were faster- always had been quicker on your feet. You scurried up the gangplank, avoiding collisions with your fellow shipmates as you made your way below deck to your quarters. You thought you were safe, you really had! Taking a minute to catch your breath, you settled the hat atop your own head with a grin. 

Success! 

That is, until the door opened. You turned, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the owner of said hat, leaning against the door with an expression that lingered between amused and… Something else. Something darker. You suddenly realized you had cornered yourself in your haste to escape- and now, you had nowhere to run. 

──Portgas D. Ace [ 353 ]

Your heart hammered in your chest as Ace chuckled, arms crossed over his chest as you leaned back against the opposite wall. “You had your fun,” he spoke softly, holding a hand out to you. “Now gimme my hat back.”

“No.” You replied defiantly, instead putting the hat on your own head. You turned, studying your reflection in the mirror on the wall, tilting your head to and fro as a smile curved your lips. “I think it looks better on me, really,” you couldn’t help but tease.

“There’s a rule ‘bout wearin’ someone else’s hat, y/n.” Ace sighed, stepping in, closing the door behind himself- and locking it, something that had your breath faltering. A rule? What was he talking about? It was just a hat! Even so, he crossed the room with a few strides, settling behind you. His hands smoothed across your hips, his head dipping down to press chaste kisses along your throat. “You wear the hat, you ride the sailor,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, his gaze finding your own in the reflection. 

Hunger. That’s what that expression was; his beautiful brown eyes dark in the soft light of the room. Your heart stuttered in its beat as he kept your gaze locked with his own, lips pressing over where your carotid artery lay in your throat. “Oh,” you whispered back, blinking slowly as his hands wandered. Fingers plucked at the edge of your shirt, dragging it up slowly with his fingers as they trailed heated paths across your skin. His Devil Fruit ability- oh, how you loved that. 

“Whattya say, y/n?” He asked, biting at your shoulder gently, not enough to cause pain but certainly enough to draw a gasp out of your lips. You nodded mutely, transfixed by your reflections as he grinned wolfishly over your shoulder. “That’s my baby.” A damn near growl as he tugged your back against his front, subtle grinds of his hips giving you a clear image of just how much he wanted you. 

You were suddenly glad you decided to steal his silly little hat. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──Buggy the Clown [ 464 ]

It had been a celebration. Another successful show, another successful tithe paid from the townsfolk. One of those rare times where your Captain was genuinely happy, laughing with his crew as the bonfire burned brightly on the beach. But you weren’t there- no, you were sitting on the throne in the center ring of the Big Top, orange tricorn settled atop your head as you waited. 

You didn’t have to wait for long.

“Y/n,” Buggy called out as he sauntered in, his gaze settling on your form sitting in his chair, wearing his hat. The sight had his breath faltering, had his mouth suddenly dry. You looked damn good sitting there, almost as good as he did. Your legs kicked up over the arm, your lips curved into a cheeky grin. His hat… His hat on your head. 

He approached slowly, the sounds of the celebration fading behind him as he reached the throne. “Look at you! All comfortable in my chair, wearing my hat.” He muttered, one hand grabbing your chin, forcing your head up and back to meet his gaze. The other settled on the top of the throne as he leaned his weight against it, hovering over you.

“Your hat?” You countered with faux confusion. You reached up, touching the tricorn. “I could’ve sworn this was my hat.”

“Brat.” Buggy hissed as you grinned. 

You leaned up, sitting upright as your legs shifted down from the arm of the couch. “Yeah? Am I?” You continued to taunt, watching as your lover’s gaze brightened with the game you had decided to play.

“Yaknow, there’s this funny little rule that comes with wearing someone else’s hat.” His thumb brushed against your lower lip. You leaned into the touch, gaze flickering down to his painted smile. 

“What is it?” You breathed as he shifted closer. When you’d stolen his hat, you’d let his hair down. Aquamarine tresses spilled over his shoulders, falling forward to cloak you, giving an odd form of privacy as his lips ghosted against your own.

“Wear the hat, ride the Captain.” Buggy murmured as he captured your lips in a kiss. Paint smeared against your skin as you reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair, drawing out a pleased hum from him as he pressed closer. 

You pulled back with a nip to his lip, watching the way he crumbled beneath you so easily. “Ride the Captain, eh?” The thought set a fire in you. You rose to your feet, swapping places with a hand against his chest, shoving him down into his throne. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fuck you here.”

“Shit,” he chuckled, hands settling on your waist as you took your place on his lap. “Keep the hat on.”

“Yes, Captain.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──Dracule Mihawk [ 516 ]

You felt like royalty as you ran through the halls of the castle. Perhaps it was the romance novels you’d read over the years, but there was something particularly thrilling about running through corridor after corridor with the tricorn clutched to your chest. You found yourself in the library, chest rising and falling with deep breaths as you turned to face the doors. Any moment now, Dracule would walk in.

It was worth it. Grabbing his tricorn the moment he’d docked at the island, running as fast as your legs could carry you back to the castle. You worried your lip as you looked down at the black leather, fingers brushing against the stitching. After a moment’s hesitation, you raised the hat- and settled it atop your head.

The doors swung open. 

“Darling,” Mihawk drawled. Yoru wasn’t on his back; his coat had been discarded, no doubt left by the front entryway. He sighed, taking in the sight of you in the moment. Cheeks flushed, hat perched atop your head; you were bathed in the orange glow of the fireplace. The sun had already set behind you; no light spilled through the large windows. 

A piece of art, you were.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me.” Slow steps drew him closer, even as you took shorter steps backwards- until you stumbled, ending up on your rear on the rug before the fireplace. Mihawk chuckled as he stood over you, arms crossed over his chest.

You found your words at last, grinning up at your lover. “I dunno what you’re talking about.” Cheekily, you leaned back on your elbows as Dracule knelt, reaching out to cup your cheek gently. “All I have is this shirt… And this hat.”

“... That’s all?” His gaze flickered down to your legs- bare, he realized. When had you stripped your trousers? He was certain you had been wearing them when you met him at the dock. “There’s a certain tradition when you wear another’s hat.”

“Tell me about it.” You sighed as his hand smoothed along your calf, gently massaging the muscle. He moved slowly, crawling over your form as his hands left your leg and cheek, balancing his weight over you. He dipped his head, stealing a kiss from you that had your head swimming by the end of it. The ghost of a brush of his tongue against your lip before he parted; you leaned forward, chasing him. 

“Wear the hat,” he murmured as he shifted, arm curling around your waist. In a movement too quick to track, he’d rolled you both, settling you on his lap as he settled on the rug. His fingers gripped your thighs, dangerously high to rucking up your- no, that was certainly his- shirt. “Ride the pirate.”

“Oh,” you breathed, mind growing fuzzy with the lust that was beginning to course through your veins. You shift your hips slowly, feeling your lover respond in kind. A groan pulled free of you as your hands settle on his chest, fingers gripping at his shirt. “Oh, I think I like that one.”

“Good.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──Trafalgar Law [ 450 ]

It was hard to hide in a submarine. This was your first- no, second- mistake. Taking your Captain’s hat was the first mistake. Hiding in the submarine was the second. And the third? Deciding to add insult to injury by hiding in their own quarters. Was it the brightest of ideas? No. But Shachi wasn’t going to let you get out of the bet without consequences, and like hell you were going to cough up five hundred berries. 

So, you stole Law’s hat. And then had run for your damn life. 

You could hear the heavy footsteps of their boots as they approached. You panicked- and tugged the white hat on as the door opened, revealing the frustrated face of Law. They paused, brow furrowing at the sight of you standing in the middle of their quarters. “The boiler room would have been a better hiding place,” they taunted sarcastically, closing the door behind themself before leaning back against it. 

“I uh, I panicked?” You shrugged, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You reached up, patting the hat on your head. “I get why you wear it. ‘S comfy.”

“It looks good on you.” They admitted softly, pushing off the door to cross the room, settling before you. Their hand raised, brushing a strand of hair back behind your ear. “Almost as good as it looks on me,” they finished, lips curving into that signature cocky grin that had you stomach twisting. 

You reached out, settling your hands on their chest, “There’s this lil’ thing,” words barely above a whisper; they had to focus on you to really hear. “This lil’ rule I remember learnin’ about.”

“And what would that be?” They asked just as softly, hands settling on your hips, drawing you closer, pressing your form against their own. Their hands squeezed slowly, the pressure enough to draw a pleased sigh from you.

You leaned in, lips brushing against their ear. “If I wear my Captain’s hat- I have to ride them.” A nip against the shell of their ear had a shudder dancing across them. You could have sworn a soft ‘fuck’ had slipped free from them. “Is that right?”

They pulled back, hand coming up to grip your jaw. A mischievous light had settled in their gaze as they studied you. You weren’t sorry; not a single speck of sympathy lingered in your expression, in your words, in your teasing. “You are, y/n-ya.” They rasped as they leaned in, stealing a kiss. Their teeth grazed your lip as they guided you backwards, until the back of your knees hit the bed. You sank slowly, but they didn’t part- not until you pulled back, panting.

“Captain-”

“Keep it on.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

──X Drake [ 399 ]

You had managed to stumble into your quarters on the Liberal Hind, only to realize that oh- well, shit. That’s a mistake. You curse yourself softly as you try to figure out how to get out of this mess. It had been a silly idea. You hadn’t seen your Captain laugh in a while- and thought that hey, stealing the hat would be funny!

Apparently not, given the yell that had come from him as you sprinted away. 

Your heart skipped more than one beat as the door to your quarters swung open, revealing the tall form of your Captain, X-Drake. You swallowed roughly around nothing as he studied you, brow furrowed. He ran a hand through his hair with a huff, stepping in and closing the door behind himself. 

Slowly, you raised the hat- and placed it on your own head.

Worth it, you thought to yourself as your lover’s eyes widened in shock as he turned around once more. “Missing something?” You teased, arms crossing over your chest as he studied you.

“That’s my hat.” He stated simply, taking a step forward. “Why did you take it?”

“Maybe I want it.” You shrugged, watching the way his eye twitched at the blatant insubordination you showed. Former Marines, always so strict. You worried your cheek as you glanced away. “I think it looks good, don’t you?”

“It…” He faltered, drawing in a slow breath. “It does look good, yes.” He crossed over to you, reaching out a hand to grasp the hat- only to pause. You were at port. The crew was working on supply runs. Alone on the ship. His hand lowered to tilt your chin up gently, his demeanor shifting as he tilted your head to the left- and then the right. “It suits you well,” he murmured, voice damn near molten gold with the way it poured over you. 

You shuddered, gaze rising to meet his own. “What’s that old saying… Wear the hat, ride the Captain?”

His jaw clenched; the hand on your chin flexed. Got him. “You’re nothing but trouble,” he groaned as his hands smoothed down your sides, hooking in the waistband of your trousers, tugging you closer to himself. “You need to be disciplined. Stealing from your captain…”

“Then do it,” you whispered, leaning in to ghost a kiss along his jaw. “After all, I did steal.”

“Turn around.”

“Yes, sir.”

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Two

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him—perhaps it has something to do with you. - ao3

previous

Kyle Garrick—who instructs you to call him Gaz, explaining it as a nickname—drives you out of town in a two-horse wagon. The countryside is dyed in pastels by the softening light of a just-setting sun, every bit as beautiful as Hans had written when he told you about it.

Like a painting, he said. Everywhere you look could be framed in gold. I wake up every day in this land and thank God I have the fortune to live in it.

Here now, as the wagon rattles down the wheel-carved trail, you understand his words. You feel that if you brushed your fingers against the sky overhead, towering with lavender-bottomed clouds as thick and soft as cotton on the stem, that they might come away smeared in blue and pink and violet. The surrounding landscape is a cornucopia of vibrant greens, rich browns of trees and soil, and clusters of orange, yellow, and white wildflowers.

You keep looking all around you to take it in, jostling your driver beside you, but Gaz seems not to mind. At least, he doesn’t say anything.

You’ve been trying not to feel so aware of his presence, but the endeavor is impossible. He is a solid weight beside you on the driver’s seat, exuding warmth where your shoulders brush against each other, and the earthy, masculine scent of him is inescapable. Every time his elbow or knee or thigh nudges yours during the natural sway and jostle of the wagon ride, you have to keep yourself from leaping out of your skin. Ever since you stepped foot off the train, you’ve felt like a lightning rod set out in anticipation of a storm.

You ascribe it to displaced longing for your husband-to-be. You’d spent the whole journey west imagining how you’d meet, longing for the moment he took you into his arms for the first time. Gaz is a handsome man—it’s only natural that your unfulfilled anticipation would transfer onto him. Especially considering he said you were perfect.

But then said very little after that. He’d seemed—well, not friendly, but at least amicable on the train platform, so you wonder if your manners have offended somehow. He’s spent most of the drive now with his eyes ahead, partly obscured by the brim of his hat. Occasionally he glances at the letters in your hand, but otherwise does not acknowledge you.

After one such glance, your discomfort with the silence becomes too much to bear.

“I read my favorites every night,” you tell him.

If Gaz is surprised when you break the silence, he doesn’t show it. “That so,” he murmurs.

All you have is his profile, very handsome in the light. The line of his mouth is taut.

“I know it’s silly,” you continue nervously—you have a bad habit of rambling when you’re uncomfortable. Adjusting your carpetbag in your lap, you go on, “but you must understand, this is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. I never expected to marry, you see.”

He grunts.

“Much less to be a mail order bride,” you say. “I always thought I would be an old maid, for lack of available suitors if nothing else. Mama and Daddy thought I ought to learn to read and write, to improve my prospects, but most folks where I’m from don’t care much about all that.”

“I see,” replies Gaz. He still does not look at you.

“Sometimes I think it even made them like me less, like I was putting on airs, being smarter than them.” You realize immediately how arrogant you must sound. “Oh, but I don’t mean any offense! I don’t mean to suggest I have ideas above my station. It’s only just that, I wondered for years and years why no one offered for me, and it was the only thing I could think of. Why would a farmer’s daughter need to read and write? And why would a wife need to, if her duty is to tend to her children and her home? So that must be why no man has ever been very interested in me.”

You realize with horror that words are pouring out of you faster than you can keep up with them. And your driver’s attention has not shifted; his eyes remain on the road.

You look at your lap, face burning. “I’m sorry, I’m just annoying you, Mr. Garrick. I’m sorry.”

Shame grips you, tight and awkward. If you’d wanted to endear yourself to this cowboy at all, you’ve already failed.

But Gaz finally says, “Most men are idiots.” You look at him; he does not look at you. “I’ve only just met you, and I like you fine.”

He says it matter-of-factly, as if no more need saying on the subject. Simple and to the point; an economy of feeling you imagine must be characteristic of men in this part of the country.

Hans was like that too, in his letters. Communicating feeling without dancing around it, with a bluntness that ends up soft in its honesty.

It eases the tension frothing poisonous in your belly. “Thank you,” you say.

You ride in silence for a stretch. A cool breeze catches the free-floating ends of your hair, rustles along in the tall grass by the wayside. The steady thump thump thump of the horse’s hooves, and the creak of tackle and leather, are the only sounds populating the air.

Home was quiet like this, too; the fields stretching endless and green beneath the sky, the silence there so blank and open that birdcall traveled for miles, and the lowing of the family milk cow sounded sometimes like the trumpet of God.

You peek again at Kyle Garrick. There’s a furrow to his brow, the kind a man gets when he’s in a mood and won’t admit it if asked.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, quietly, because he made you feel better about things, and you’ve done little more than whine.

He finally looks at you, the edges of his face lined and glowing in the evening light. Studies you, for a moment. The furrow eases.

“No,” he says, “I’m sorry, Miss. I don’t mean to be short with you. I’m afraid manners are secondary on a ranch, without a good woman nearby to remind about ‘em.”

You give him a small smile. “Have you worked for Hans very long?”

He turns his gaze back to the road. “Six or seven years, now.”

You toy with the clasp of your bag; you’re brimming with questions. “Is he really all that tall?”

“Oh, yes,” Gaz says. “Like a giant.”

“What’s he like?”

Gaz gives a great breath through pursed, full lips. “Fair, I guess. Asks a lot of us—but then most bosses out here will. Worked for his father for a few years before him, too.”

“You must be a good hand then,” you say.

“I work hard,” says Gaz. “That’s all that matters.”

“I’m sure Hans is grateful,” you reply. “He must trust you very much, to send you for me.”

The furrow returns. “He must.”

It becomes clear to you that something is bothering him, and it’s nothing you will resolve between now and when you make it to the ranch. Perhaps it has something to do with you—a new face, an unknown quantity that threatens to knock the balance of his livelihood askew.

You sigh a little. Of course, you should have expected to have to win Hans’ people over. Their loyalty to the late Mrs. König will inevitably be challenged by your arrival.

Neither of you speak again—you decide not to push what little grace Kyle Garrick has given you, and he does not volunteer any more conversation. The rest of the ride is unremarkable, leaving room for anticipation to grow in your stomach; soon the wagon crests the slope of a hill, and your destination comes into view.

Long Mask Ranch sits at the base of a range of mountain foothills, fed and watered emerald green by spring runoff. You’ve been on Hans’ land for a while now; opening up before you is the ranch proper. A collection of buildings form a semicircle around a large corral in the valley: stables, a barn, some cabins, and a large two-story gabled manor, painted white.

The sun sinks further toward the horizon as you approach, painting the world in liquid orange. Figures resolve themselves, people moving tables and chairs around, and on the manor’s front porch, observing the proceedings, stands a tall man in a rancher’s coat and hat.

Lightning suddenly bolts through you. You sit very, very still as Gaz pulls the wagon through a cast iron archway adorned with LMR at the apogee. Your heart thrums in your throat like a picked guitar string. When you finally come to a stop, the man’s head turns to toward you.

At the worst possible moment, shyness grips you. You look around, at anywhere but him, at the house, the corral, the cowboy beside you.

You startle to meet Gaz’s eyes. The expression he wears is a mask of seriousness.

“This is it,” he says.

Your voice leaves your chest trembling. “Thank you, Mr. Garrick.”

“Just Gaz is fine, Miss.”

“I couldn’t possibly,” you reply. Propriety feels like the only solid thing to cling to just now.

He looks away. The line of his mouth tightens. “Of course,” he says.

He dismounts the wagon in one smooth motion, boots hitting the packed earth hard. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the tall man start his way over to you. Gaz rounds the back of the wagon, and you give your bag to him once he’s at your side. He offers his hand to help you down.

You’re dazed as you take it, lightheaded as suddenly the present moment becomes very, very real. It’s warm, his hand; rough in all the places you expect a cowboy’s hand to be. Yet there’s something soft in the way your palms meet, how the dips and contours align with each other and fit together. You’re shaking very hard as you ease your way from the seat, gripping him tightly until your feet meet the ground, and his grip circles yours with a solidness to it in a way unlike any man has ever held you.

You meet his eyes again when he hands you your bag. Gaz gives your hand a squeeze, averts his gaze, and lets you go.

“There she is!” an accented voice announces.

You pull your gaze from Kyle Garrick and the mystery of his tension with you, and turn to face your intended husband.

Hans König has loomed large in your imagination for half a year. He’d described to you what he looked like, of course, as best he could, but you find as you look upon his face that no written word can convey what it means to meet for the first time the man you will marry. You’d fallen in love with someone formless, absent, but inscribed in other ways with enough distinction to nurture your tender feelings.

Looking upon him now, though…his appearance offers nothing to that distinction. He’s neither ugly nor handsome. As he comes to stand before you, you think he rather looks like every other middle-aged man you’ve met in your short life, although certainly much taller. You meet his eyes—pale blue, as he’d related—and the rush of love you’d expected to feel, once you knew who he was, simply does not come.

This man is a stranger to you.

You reprimand yourself immediately. He isn’t a stranger. You’ve known him for six months. His face is simply not one you have attached any love to yet; the measure of his character is contained in the stack of paper in your hands. In the promises he made to you to make your quietest dreams come true.

So you smile the way you’d dreamed you would—like watching the sun crest the horizon after a long night of darkness, seeing the bounty of the near future coming toward you. Summoning joy by making room for it to exist.

“Hello, Hans,” you say, “it’s me.”

Hans König steps forward. He looms over you truly, now, eclipsing your vision. “It is you, indeed.”

Without another word, right there in front of Gaz, Hans grips your shoulders, bends down, and kisses you on the mouth.

Your brows shoot upward. It’s the first time anyone has ever kissed you. His lips are…hard, and motionless against yours. Almost perfunctory. You are so shocked he’s done it that you don’t think to respond, and then as suddenly as it happened, it’s over. He pulls away, pats your shoulders with a little smile, and then looks at Gaz.

“Get that wagon put away and then go help the others,” says Hans to the cowboy, slinging one arm around your shoulder.

Your brows lift further. Is that all he has to say to him, for delivering you safe and sound?

Gaz doesn’t seem to share your feelings. “Yes, sir,” is all he says, even and toneless.

But he looks between you and his employer for more than just the span of a heartbeat. Eyes going from him, to you, to the arm around your shoulders. Then he meets your gaze, expression stony.

If Gaz is wary of your presence here—if you’re going to win him over—the best time to start is now. “Thank you very much for seeing me here safely,” you say. “I was so glad of your company, Mr. Garrick.”

To your dismay, his expression only tightens. Gaz looks at Hans again, then back at you.

“You’re welcome, Miss,” he says.

Then he climbs back into the wagon, gives the reins a snap, and drives away.

-

next

a/n: fun fact, the ranch and neighboring town are based off Valentine and Emerald Ranch from rdr2 :) the ranch layout is more like Pronghorn Ranch however.

[mariclerc]

Spooky community service | cl16 & mv1

Summary: happy halloween at the race track(?

Warning: none, just lestappen x reader fluff.

Spending Halloween at the track in another country with your boyfriends is not a bad idea... Especially when both Max and Charles have to serve a penalty...

The vibrant, bustling atmosphere of the Brazilian Grand Prix paddock was a stark contrast to the quiet, almost serene track. Today, however, it was hosting an unusual sight: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen, two of the most competitive drivers in Formula 1, were picking up trash around the track and grandstands.

The reason? A few choice words in Mexico and Singapore had landed them in hot water with the FIA, and they were now paying the price. To add insult to injury, they were forced to wear some Halloween costumes as part of their punishment. Charles was dressed as a pumpkin, his usually quirky expression now softened by a goofy orange hat and oversized glasses. Max, on the other hand, was a vampire, his signature serious expression replaced by a forced frown as he struggled to pick up a discarded water bottle.

You couldn’t help but laugh, you were dressed as a cute little witch, a playful grin on your face as you watched the two of them squirm.

“You two look ridiculous!” you teased, unable to contain your amusement.

“Babe shut up.” Max grumbled, his face turning a shade of red. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Charles smiled. “Oh, come on Max. It's not that bad.” he said. “I look like a animated pumpkin!”

You just laughed. “Oh, Max. It’s kind of funny.” you said and Max glared at you, but you just smiled innocently. “What? It’s true.”

As they continued to pick up trash, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It was nice to see the two of them humbled.

“You know, this could be worse...” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You two could be stuck in a clown car!” you giggled.

Charles and Max exchanged a look of horror but they ended up laughing.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Max said, shuddering.

You laughed. “I’m just kidding maxie. But seriously, you two should try to enjoy this. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

Charles sighed and smiled. “I guess you’re right... Plus, we're helping the environment!”

You giggled. “Exactly!”

As the day wore on, the three of you managed to have some fun. You took silly pictures, cracked jokes, and even had a mini water fight. By the end of the day, the tension had eased, and the three of you were laughing together.

As you walked back to the paddock, hand-in-hand with Charles and Max, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for your unconventional relationship.

“Oh god, it's Max the vampire!” said a little girl who giggled as she watched the three of you enter the paddock again. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?”

Max smiled. “Of course sweetie!” He said as he smiled and approached the girl to take the photo together, you and Charles smiled.

“Thank you! Oh my god, a little witch and Mr. Charles cute Pumpkin! I want a picture with you two!” she smiled.

You giggled. “Well, why don't the four of us take a picture?” you said and the girl giggled.

You placed the girl's cell phone on a table nearby in Williams' garden and set the timer.

“Say cheese!” said the girl.

“Cheese!” the four of you said in unison and took the photo and then many more with funny faces.

“Oh god, thank you guys so much!” the girl said very happily. “Happy Halloween!” she said while moving her little hand and ran towards her parents.

“Happy Halloween!” the three of you said in unison.

You smiled. “Well, at least you made someone's morning, don't you think guys?”

“Oh yes, definitely!” Max and Charles said while giggling.

It was moments like these, filled with laughter and love, that made it all worthwhile.

[gingernut1314]

I just want to say I love your blog!! Not sure if you do requests but I loved the one about the hammock and Zoro. Can you do a part 2 where the crew wakes up and teases Zoro about it (and obvi sanji gets jealous)

Demons and Claws Pt. 2

Roronoa Zoro x GN!Reader

Summary: You are pulled from your now peaceful sleep by your rowdy crewmates.

Warnings: Fluff, mild anime spoilers (Chopper)

Word Count: 1.3K

A/N: Thank you!! I really appreciate your kind words!! 🩷 I do take requests!!! And yessssss!! I love it when the crew interacts! I hope you all enjoy!

↞ to One Piece Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

You dreamed of small coffee shops. Coffee shops whose ambiance was interrupted by your crew, who had followed you into its cozy walls.

You dreamed of cool, sea breezes and polishing weapons as Zoro laid his head on your shoulder, snoring up a storm. 

You dreamed of--something hard and sharp kicked your face. Something hard and sharp that kicked your face repeatedly in a near frantic manner. 

It had your eyes snapping open and held a hand up to protect your face from getting kicked again by the cloven hooves swinging your way. Chopper hung from the edge of his hammock grunting and whining as his hooved feet continued to try and find something to stand on.

“Chopper.” You said, blocking another kick. “Chopper stop.” You grumbled, making the doctor freeze. He turned his pink, top hat-wearing head down to look at you, giving you an anxious little smile. 

“Sorry--wait, what are you doing in here?” He asked, his body getting swung slightly by the sea rocking the ship. 

“I was trying to sleep.” You huffed, reaching over Zoro’s still snoozing form to grab Chopper. He let go of his hammock and patted your hand with a nervous laugh. 

“Heh, heh…silly me. Sorry, Y/N. I’ll let you get back--” 

“I am going to murder you both.” Zoro's rough voice said, cutting off Chopper and rumbling through your arms. Chopper gave a squeaking little noise, squirming in your grip and giving apology after apology that was broken by a loud scream when Sanji's head popped up next to him. 

“If you two idiots don’t--” When Sanji’s blue eyes found you lying there, the murder, which had once been shimmering in his eyes vanished. “Beautiful.” He greeted, leaning in closer with that charming smile of his. “I thought I heard your melodic voice. What are you doing all the way down here with that dirty oaf?” 

“I’d watch your mouth, waiter.” Sanji’s eyes snapped to stare daggers Zoro’s way, who had yet to open his eyes.

“Good morning, Sanji.” You sighed, grabbing hold of Chopper's hooved hands to lower him down onto the nice fabric of the couch below. He bounced a few times before hopping off onto the floor. “I just needed a snuggle buddy is all.” Zoro’s hand reattached itself around your waist and pulled you away from the cook smiling at you.

“If a snuggle buddy is want you needed, you could have come to me. A radiant beauty such as yourself shouldn’t have to stoop so low as to ask such a brutish creature for such things. I’ll do it without a single complaint.” Zoro’s eyes snapped open then with a growl, zeroing in on the chef.

“I’ll give you something to complain about, curly brow. Two things.” He hissed, clenching his fists. Sanji scoffed.

“Oh yeah? Well--” A knock on the wall between the two hammock rows had you pulling your attention away from the still arguing Sanji and Zoro to find Usopp had woken up and was watching all of this unfold with an amused smirk on his lips. The emergency exit that separated the two rooms snapped open and Nami poked her orange-haired head in, a look of slight annoyance on her face. 

“Pay up.” He chuckled, looking overly proud of himself as he held his hand, palm up and fingers wiggling, down towards the navigator. She opened her mouth to argue but Usopp silenced her with a simple head nod towards you and Zoro. When her blue eyes scanned you both over, she shut it with a huff.

“What are you two up to?” You asked, sitting up to watch them better. 

“Oh, nothing to worry your radiant head about,” Usopp said, teasing you with the compliment Sanji had just given you. Nami ducked her head back into your shared room, grumbling away only to come back out two seconds later with a few green berries which she slapped into his hand. 

“Don’t forget the specifics, Usopp,” Nami said, resting her elbows on the ledge and extending a hand toward Usopp with a smug look. “Pay up.” 

“But--”

“Pay. Up. Or I’ll add interest.” Usopp groaned and handed her half of the money he had just earned back. 

“Usopp.” You hissed, making the man jump around startled, to face you again. “What the hell?” He seemed to grow overly nervous then. 

“Oh, you know. Me and Nami are just--” He looked back to Nami for help but the navigator gave him a little salute.

“Hope you two love birds slept well.” Nami teased your way, making your heart nearly freeze.

“Love birds--Nami--” Zoro snapped away from his argument just as she slammed and locked the emergency exit shut.

The swordsman looked over Usopp's nervous grin as he sunk deeper into his blankets before his attention drifted down to you. He took in your tensed-up demeanor. Took you in slowly and in a way that was long enough for him to try and gauge what you might possibly be thinking in that moment.

“Alright.” He hissed, having made his assessment of you. Zoro sat up a bit in his newfound annoyance, making the hammock sway dangerously. You grabbed onto his strong chest for dear life, feeling gravity pull you towards the ground.

New sturdy and not literal burlap sack hammocks were definitely in order.  

“I’ve still got another hour left and I’ve had it up to--”

“Did someone say snuggles?” The groggy voice of your captain sounded, cutting the grumpy swordsmen off. You watched with a chuckle as he looked over the edge of his own hammock to spy Zoro and you. “Y/N!” He greeted cheerfully, rapidly ripping his sheets off and rushing up. 

“Luffy, no--” Zoro’s warning was cut off with a pained Oomph that spilled from your own lips as well when your captain's body landed on top of both of yours. Dull pain shot through your bones, but the warm, stretchy arms of your captain extending around both your bodies was quick to ease the small hurt. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to have a sleepover? We could have had Sanji cook us snacks and everything!” Luffy ecstatically said, his voice slightly muffled from where he had buried it between you and Zoro’s necks. A laugh spilled from your lips as you unwedged your arm out from under Luffy’s body to hug him back. 

“I’m sorry, captain. I’ll let you know next time.” You chuckle, patting his back.

“You sure as hell won’t tell him.” Zoro gruffed, grabbing Luffy by the scruff of his red vest and pulling him away.  

“Aww--why Zoro?” Luffy asked, a near-heartbroken look on his face that only continued to irritate Zoro.

“Yeah, Zoro?” Sanji teased, a smug grin on his face. “Let’s all snuggle up together next time. I call dibs on the spot next to Y/N--” Sanji had hardly gotten your name out of his mouth before Zoro was flinging Luffy’s body into him. Chopper gave a scream as the two went crumbling to the ground with a sharp grunt, the poor doctor caught in the crossfire and crushed under their bodies. 

“I’ll beat you all into a bloody mess if you don’t leave me the hell alone. No one is snuggling with anyone.” He barked down at the pile of bodies on the floor, which slowly started to rise. Luffy gave a forlorn little moan before Sanji threw him off himself.

You chuckled, starting to raise to get ready for the day when Zoro’s strong hand latched around your waist. He gave it a sharp tug to pull you back into his side. 

“No.” He said simply, closing his dark brown eyes once more.

“I thought you said no one was snuggling with anyone?” Zoro huffed.

“You’re not no one.” He said simply before going silent once more. You felt your chest warm at his words. A warmth that only spread as you watched his face begin to soften, sleep come to take him once more.

With a satisfied smile, you snuggled right back up into Zoro’s strong hold.

Previous

Tags: @fanaticsnail

[bobbys-not-that-small]

listen, guys, it’s all good you having this image of Lockwood as some kind of suave, charming, shirt-and-tie, swishy coat-wearing guy. but truly deep down you’ve actually got

- lanky, gangly 15-year-old child who, apart from when fencing, is still getting used to his new height

- pretends he’s a whale when he drinks orange juice

- hair always in his eyes even when he’s just had a haircut

- the kind of person you look at in his silly disguise and too-big hat and think he looks like a total idiot, but then he grins a megawatt smile and somehow he doesn’t look stupid anymore?

- frequently puts on accents and is abysmal at them

it’s just so funny to me. like yes, ok, you’ve also got a sad little boy who needs a 24/7 hug and the self confidence is worn like a shield but he’s also just utterly ridiculous. nothing about him is actually cool whatsoever unless you’re like, 2 years younger than him and have only seen him from a distance.

[mistxmood]

at first i got struck at the idea of bill's mom nicknaming him "Silly Billy" and then i had the image of him stuck in a dog cone and then spiraled from there

image description under cut!

[Image Description: The first drawing is of Bill Cipher, splintering cracks over his face and in his orange jumpsuit, sitting down with his hat in one hand, and the single atom left behind of his home dimension floating in his other hand. He has a forlorn look on his expression.]

[The second drawing is of Bill Cipher, still with his cracks but now without his jumpsuit. However, he still has a tracker anklet on. He's wearing a dog cone and is grumpy about wearing it. End image description.]

[The third drawing, he is freed from the cone. Instead, stickers litter his face ranging from a smiley face over a crack, a rainbow sticker, hearts and a star and a little cat face. He looks almost bored, or exhausted, having given up on resistance. He's accompanied by Mabel Pines, sitting on her knees and hunched over a sticker page, looking up at Dipper Pines besides her who is gesturing at her and Bill, befuddled at the situation.]

[The fourth drawing is of baby Bill Cipher, but as an older interpretation; he has black arms and legs. A pair of disembodied arms accompany him. One is holding a cup with a green silly straw sticking out of it, and the other is squeezing his cheek and cooing, "And make sure you drink it all this time, you Silly Billy!" Bill whines back, "MOOOOM! Don't CALL me thaat."]

[The fifth drawing is of Bill Cipher, covered in blood instead of cracks or stickers. His eye is large and sparkly, and he's poking himself in the cheek and acting bashful. He's accompanied with the text, "C'moon I'm just a silly Bill!" with a little heart emoji besides it. End image description]

[francixoxoxo]

Beautiful Girl

Billy the Kid X reader

Billy takes the day off to be with you and your daughter!

You gave Billy everything he resigned to never have.

He never thought he’d live to get married, much less find a woman willing to take such a controversial last name. Then he found you. And he was delighted to find that white was a beautiful color on you.

Billy also thought he’d never become a father. He often doubted he would be a good one, anyway. No child deserved a father with such an unsure line of work.

Until you two moved away from Lincoln, to a beautifully quaint cottage up in Colorado. And Billy found honest work. It was a no brainer, the two of you living together mixed with Billy’s constant want for you inevitably led to your belly rounding and baby names filling his brain.

And so here he was. Married. Making honest money. Sitting on his front porch in a rocking chair. Cooing at a two-year-old in his arms. A two year old with baby blues like his, but a nose and lips like her momma’s.

Billy knew she couldn’t understand him. But he couldn’t help it, telling his baby girl all about his day. Alice’d babble at a certain point and he’d hum in agreement, nodding seriously, “Oh, I know. I agree.” Even if it wasn’t a thing to agree to, even if it was simple as mentioning picking up some fruit for you on the way home.

Speaking of you, you were tending to your little garden on the side of the house. Wearing Billy’s trousers, on your hands and knees with a spade. The sight of you, with that silly gardening hat on your head, he could’ve sworn he was in the presence of an angel. Two, in fact.

“Isn’t momma pretty? Look at ‘er, playin’ in the dirt.” Billy’s lilted tone was purposefully loud enough for you to hear, lifting your head and putting your hands on your hips.

“You’re talking her ear off!” You jested, watching Billy shake his head and grin, turning back to your daughter. He scrunched his face at her, shaking his head and holding her close to his broad chest. “Momma’s in a bad mood. Dunno why.”

“I’m not!” You scoffed, making Billy raise a brow at you. He pressed a kiss to the top of Alice’s hair, rubbing a strong hand up and down her little back.

You caught him mumbling lowly to her with a cheeky smile, “She’s just mad that’cha don’t wanna garden. ‘Cause y’wanna be with your daddy, right?” You shook your head and snorted, turning back to the carrots you’d planted. Billy shouted to you with pride. “Hear that, baby? Ally’s a daddy’s girl.”

“How do you know?” You smiled down at your garden, wiggling an orange vegetable out from the dirt. You didn’t mind the dirt under your fingernails now, something about getting your hands dirty was gratifying.

There was a grin plastered on Billy’s face so big that you heard it in his words. “‘Cause she told me?” He shrugs, that smile growing at the sound of your laughter. When you shoot him a glance, he’s twirling some of Alice’s dark strands of hair around his finger. He was sickeningly sweet with your daughter, doting on her every chance got. Not to mention he was an honestly hot dad.

You saw his shadow loom over your work a minute later. You threw a look over your shoulder to see Billy, Alice on his hip, grinning down at you. “Hey, momma.”

A smile splits your lips before you realize it. Billy gently lets down Alice, watching as she wobbles around a bit before plopping herself beside one of the tomato stalks. She babbles and pulls on the leaves a little. Billy crouches beside you before you can worry too much about your daughter and the plant.

Your husband grasped your chin gently but firmly, turning your face to press a kiss to your lips. He meant for it to be quick, but then he’s giving another little peck, and another, and another, until you begin to giggle and push him away by the shoulder. Billy snorts a little, a large palm laying over your hand on him. He throws a look over his shoulder at Alice.

“She’s the coolest little girl.” Billy breathed, shaking his head in awe. Now it’s your turn to snort.

“She can’t talk, Billy.”

“N’ she’s already the damn coolest girl.”

You wound your hand around his arm, smiling fondly at Alice as she picked off one of the tomato plant’s leaves. Billy quickly picks it from her grip when she tries to put it in her mouth, a laugh rumbling from his chest. “We did good.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant to know he meant you did a good job with making Ally. You leaned the crown of your head against Billy’s shoulder, humming in agreement.

He went on, his voice so soft and tender you thought he’d melt into the garden. “I think she’s the best thing I ever did.” Billy turned his face to you. He nosed your hair, a strong hand snaking around to hold the side of your head. “You n’ Ally.”

You watched your daughter as she stumbled to her little feet, waddling ‘round. As she tried to run past Billy, he stuck out a large arm and gently herded her back within eyesight. Seeing how gentle he was with her, you knew you’d ended up right where you were meant to.

“I think so too.”

A quick little one shot bc I’m twixt long fics!!

[maxybabyy]

winter warmers day 5: praise (maxiel)

In the end, it’s a padel comment that makes him snap.

It’s just the two of them for once, a quick session before lunch. Max prefers doubles, he knows, someone to share the blame with when he stumbles over the ball and throws the racket halfway across the court. But Lando is still in London, and Charles refuses to be on a team with Max. George is – they don’t really talk about George.

Daniel wins, and it’s not even close.

There’s a perverse charm in watching Max lunge after the ball and still fail to hit it, to send the ball back onto his side where it lands just inside the line, Max sprawled miserably on the court. The fondness in his chest grows and expands until everything else becomes easier to ignore.

He doesn’t gloat, but his chest puffs out as they make their way back to the locker room. Both of their rackets held in one hand with the other wrapped around Max’s waist as he runs them through the game, tearing apart the data like this too he can master with enough practice. And then –

“ – you were of course great, Daniel. It’s just me who is shit. Your backhand is getting really good.”

“Don’t have to lay it on so thick, babe,” Daniel laughs but for some reason, it comes out a little too forced. The water tastes sour on his tongue as he swirls it around, and the hangnail on his thumb bleeds when he worries at it.

“What? It was a good game, Daniel. Always it is so impressive how quickly you have become good. Victoria has played for a while now also, and she is still so shit too.”

“Cut it out, Max.” Daniel says. He tries to soften his voice but there’s a lump in his throat that won’t let him, that threatens to make this shit even more embarrassing than it already is. “I don’t need – whatever it is you’re trying to do, I’m good, yeah? So just, don’t.”

Because that’s the fucking thing, isn’t it?

Max is so competitive only about a handful of things, but somehow padel has become one of them. Max with his 23 rackets that are all custom-made and in no way make him more likely to hit the ball. Daniel’s still not convinced it isn’t some sort of multi-level-marketing scheme, but then Max has the money for it.

Despite the low stakes, Max is not a very gracious loser. He is never shy about his critiques or calling out fouls, and Daniel knows he keeps a record of his and Victoria’s matches, updating the tally whenever she comes into town.

So it’s a little bit surprising how quick he is to praise Daniel’s performance. Only maybe it isn’t.

He doesn’t know when, but Max lately has been thorough in showing his appreciation. The sourdough Daniel had remade after killing Victoria’s starter. The tiles he had spent two days putting up in the bathroom of the new apartment. Wrangling all the animals into tiny hats and making them sit still for their Christmas photoshoot. Teeny-tiny fucking things that everyone could have done, and Max still won’t stop running his mouth.

“Daniel, the bread is so lovely, you made this here? In our oven?”

“Daniel, the tile looks very nice, the orange is of course a good choice. The sun from the windows, I think will look very pretty.”

“Donut, ha! You got him a little hat! And Sassy too, she looks so lovely, Daniel. Jimmy of course looks silly, but this is so good. Always you are such a good photographer, Daniel. Will you have them printed out?”

But Daniel isn’t a kid, he doesn’t need to be coddled and praised for doing shit he’s supposed to do.

“I know I don’t have a – that I’m not driving right now,” Daniel says, forces it out between clenched teeth. It still hurts so fucking much to say, but he has to, needs to make it clear that this shit won’t fly. “I don’t know if you still feel bad for me or whatever is going on, but –“

Max lets out a noise of protest, and Daniel is already turning around, readying himself for an argument. But he catches him in the middle of wiping his forehead, shirt pulled up to show off his tits, freckled skin that shines with sweat and warmth. And Daniel’s always been weak for Max like this.

Max lets go of his shirt and reels Daniel in instead, kisses him with soft lips until he loses some of the tension in his shoulders.

“You are in a shit situation, Daniel,” Max tells him, and at least they both fucking know that. “But always what matters is that I love you. I don’t care that you are not racing, you can never race again, and it will not matter. You could be shit at it, and I will of course still be in love with you.”

“But –“

“No, Daniel,” Max says firmly. “It does not matter to me, but it is so lovely for me to watch you be so good at everything you do. Dirt biking at the farm, playing with Luka, baking those very nice treats for the cats. It makes me very happy, Daniel, so of course I will want to tell you always.”

Daniel kisses him again, presses them against the lockers until he can feel Max’s heart beat against his. His head spins and there’s a breath stuck in his chest, but it is in the best fucking way.

“You probably would’ve cared a little, yeah?” Daniel teases, lips still pressed against Max’s. “If I had been shit at racing.”

Max laughs, loud and bright, and Daniel should never have doubted him. “Yes, it is of course much better like this, Daniel.”

[marcsburnerphone]

Orange peel theory

John price x F!reader

Warnings: none

——-

You and John were relaxing in the sun room during mid day just enjoying each other’s company as the summer breeze swept through the net door. You admired him for a second, strong arms being slightly strangled by the tee shirt he wore, silly little bucket hat on his head, all muscle and man yet very john.

He was reading through some book with specific annotations gaz had given him weeks prior. Just then as you sat in your thoughts you noticed the bowl of clementines and nectarines sitting on the small coffee table and then you remembered the online trend you’d seen not too long ago about the gesture of someone peeling an orange for their loved one had greater meaning below the surface of the thought.

“These look good.” You say softly as you grab a ripe orange from the bowl.

“Hmm darling?” He says looking up before noticing the vibrant orange fruit in your hand.

“Oh yeah they are, I actually had one this morning.” He says gazing at you briefly then back to the book.

“I just don’t care for the brines under my nails you know.” You say smiling foolishly at the thought of doing this.

“Really I actually like it, the smell of citrus that is, the way it lingers” He says giving you a warm smile.

“The stickiness on my hands just bothers me, it looks really good though.” You say looking longingly at the fruit.

He sets the book on his chest and reaches a hand out from the sofa he lays on urging you to hand it to him.

“Give it here, I'll peel it for you.” You smile and hesitate to put it in his hands.

“Are you sure my love you really don’t have too?” You say batting your lashes at him.

“If you want it, I want to give it to you.” He says reaching further to pluck it from your hands and beginning to peel it.

You smile with a small giggle and get up to make your short way to him.

“What?” He says lightly, giving you the same smile throwing the rinds he’s peeled off in the bin beside him.

You straddle his waist as he lays beneath you, peeled orange in palm.

“You’ve passed the orange peel theory test.” He looks at you puzzled.

“The orange peel theory test? My darling what have you got going on now?”

“Supposedly if someone you love peels your orange for you without you outwardly asking, it's a form of showing love.” You say the last couple words mere inches from his mouth which he extends upward to connect your soft lips to his own.

When you pull away he offers the orange up to you.

“You better eat this damn orange my darling.” He jokes grabbing at your waist when you grab it from him peeling a slice from it to eat.

————-

The idea of someone peeling an orange for me makes me swoon, it's the simple things in life.

Comments and reboots are appreciated.

[p0rk-guts]

HUSKER!!!! Husk. Whatever. THIS OLD CAT!!!! ^ - ^

comparison + breakdown ⬇️

Look idk what possible lore reasons there could be for Husk having bird wings and tail feathers whether it's hidden somewhere online or to be determined later in the show even though I can't for the life of me even guess why they're there (if you've got any hc's tho I'd love to hear em) but I just got rid of em entirely, at least for the time being. Declutters him a little. They're definitely a little much.

And I've always hated those buttons on his chest fur... Are they part of his pattern.... Are they hot glued on...... What is it with Viv and melting clothing and flesh together.........

He also does NOT look 60-70 like at all (pretty sure that's canon but I just got it off the wiki) so I tried to remedy that by giving him more wrinkles and creases. He's a Persian cat thing now bc some of them really do be lookin like mustache wearing old guys fr. Also his neck fluff is sorta supposed to allude to facial hair w/ some greying sprinkled in! He's officially like... 62 now. + He's fatter bc 1) beer belly 2) Persian cat build and 3) Vivzie twink fatigue

Husk's outfit is objectively silly for his grown ass to be wearing but I like the hc I've seen around as that being a stipulation in his deal with Alastor where he figuratively and literally "took the shirt off his back". Considering how as an overlord he had a nice suit and he (possibly. Definitely In headcanons) doesn't even like showing off sinner features, or his body at all, especially not in such a way. Is this canonically the case? Probably not. But hey 🤷🏾‍♀️

I made some comparatively minimal changes there. I undid his tie bc man's usually drunk and doesn't have the energy to fuss with it. I also gave the ends a bit of a spade shape. The clasps on his suspenders are meant to be clovers and there are still hearts on his hands. For the diamond face... I kinda tried to put it into his tail? But that's kinda iffy so 3.5/4 card faces achieved 👍🏾

Turned his top hat into a more flat wide brim hat that i could NOT for the life of me find a name for... Just wider fedoras I think? but they seemed to be kinda popular at the time. For my Husk, as an overlord he occasionally wore a fancy top hat when he was showing off, and now this is like. His downgrade replacement he's got to wear. + Some playing cards tucked into the hat band!

Made those yellows his primary colors bc in my rewrite greed is gold and I definitely think that would've been one of his major sins in life. Also a bit of gluttony too, which I made orange, so I added some of those tones in there. Allsoo after fussing with the colors for literal days I stilllll kindahateemalittle BUT IT'S FINE. I'll figure it out

And that's all for him!! Realized I forgot to put the little anti Viv banner on my last post but then again idgaf fr it's whatever. If you don't know I hate her you'll learn before long

And, of course, dvelopment sketches 4 sticking around!!!!

Ok that's all bye ✌🏾🧍🏾‍♀️

[csilla-nocturne]

Really silly post canon idea featuring the Xian Le quartet!

Xie Lian, Hua Cheng, Feng Xin, and Mu Qing are going after a ghost that keeps cursing people. It's not a dangerous ghost, and the curses which fade after about a week, are just annoying rather than harmful.

The ghost has proven to be really evasive however. Pei Ming was the last one to go after it, and ended up cursed. He won't tell anyone what the curse is but he is absolutely refusing to go after it again. (Hua Cheng's guess is erectile dysfunction.)

They finally track down the ghost, and eventually do manage to capture it but all of them end up cursed. Feng Xin was the first to be cursed, and as he startled the ghost he got hit with the most random one which they don't discover until later that day, everything taste like oranges. From water to Xie Lian's cooking(All other affects of Xie Lian's cooking remain the same unfortunately for him), oranges. It not like he hates oranges or anything, and as a god he can just avoid eating until the curse wears off, so he's pretty much the most fortunate out of them.

Mu Qing as he does, rolled his eyes at the ghost a few times while they were perusing it. This really annoyed the ghost so Mu Qing's curse was a little more tailored to him. Every time he rolls his eyes a chicken egg pops out of his mouth, and immediately hatches. By the time they caught the ghost they had eight baby chickens Xie Lian had carefully gathered up in his hat to make sure nothing happened to them.

Xie Lian tried reasoning with the ghost which also annoyed it, so it cursed him to only be able to speak backwards. Hua Cheng is the only one who can understand him, which is kind of a problem because he got hit with the strongest curse. When the ghost found out Hua Cheng was after it, it really freaked out and tried to cast a curse that would make him sleep for the entire duration of the curse. Hua Cheng was too strong for it to work properly however, so instead he just randomly falls asleep for a few minutes. This is really annoying when he's in the middle of translating for Xie Lian, and he just keels over. It was the energy used on that last curse that exhausted the ghost enough that they caught it.

[starsisstars]

Pointless ISAT Headcanons

Hi I have to get up for opening shift tomorrow but who CARES it's time for headcanons. Except not the normal or angsty ones, it's goofy ridiculous hours ONLY. (Please send me more goofy niche headcanons I want to consume silly details like candy.) Filled with spoilers despite the sillies.

Bonnie invents potato chips 10 years after the end of the game after many failed attempts to make Sif like potatoes (Sif LOVES their chips, so this is Bonnie's win in the end).

Immortality fiction is super popular in Vaugarde because they're witnesses to change over decades but are prevented from changing themselves. Tragic wisemen usually. This got way less popular post-King.

Teachers get paid good wages in Vaugarde because they help kids through the period of the most change in their lives.

I think it's so funny everyone in fanfic thinks Sif sleeps in trees. It's universal and y'know what? Sure. I'm adopting that. Y'all had me scrolling through dialogue for ages just to make sure I didn't miss any tree nap mentions.

Loop spent the majority of Sif's first run through Dormont and the House training their voice so that it wouldn't be a dead giveaway to their identity when Sif showed up. They wanted it to sound like Odile. It does not even a little bit.

Mira is RED. Bonnie is ORANGE/YELLOW/BLUE. Odile is PURPLE. Isa is GREEN/BROWN. Sif and Loop are MONOCHROME.

Mira has a notebook FILLED with edgy poetry from when she was small. She buried it somewhere but knows exactly where it is and once every couple years digs it up just to make sure nobody found it.

Bon is a reptile person. Wants a bearded dragon as a pet.

Mwudu is Acadia (in the same way Vaugarde is France, etc.). Not a colony of Vaugarde or anything though, just a lot of cultural exchange. (Vaugarde is NOT imperialistic.)

Post-canon Sif sometimes has such a tight grip on Isa in his sleep that Isa can get up and walk around with them still latched onto him. One morning Isa even brushed his teeth and styled his hair before the Sif on his back woke up.

Nille is swole af. Taller than Odile too. I like it when people give her a braid.

I changed my mind; everyone has really ugly colors because they can't see them and they all look terrible. I do not care about the practicalities of more colorful dyes being difficult to obtain; this is fantasy logic and I say they all should cause eyestrain.

Sif's all-black look under the cloak and hat (both of which he didn't choose) is the only good fashion choice they're capable of making. If you ask them to get creative it's a disaster. Isa indulges this anyways because hell yeah fashion disaster rights, but Sif will inevitably ask for help once he actually sees the design in person.

Isa was a hardcore STEM person, while Odile was properly studying anthropology/writing but is actually SUPER into linguistics.

Fishermen from the Forgotten Country were given additional pathways to easy fishing crabs on Vaugarde's shore because Vaugarde didn't want 'em. The overfishing caused a minor ecological crisis that was then fixed by Wish Craft.

Pre-canon Sif tried to make some money via an eating competition in one of the unnamed countries but was so uncomfortable with the attention from winning first place they refused to ever step foot in the country again. They don't even remember why they refuse to visit anymore but still don't wanna go. It wasn't even that big a contest nor a big deal emotionally long-term (like the party would suspect) for Sif, they're just stubborn.

Since we have a classic RPG setup I think the party's inventory is not limited by logic and they carry around 78 tents and 23 cottages somehow.