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sunstone-smiles · 4 months

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The Crying Game, With a Twist

Author’s note: Merry Christmas / Happy Holidays everyone! And happy holidays to @cutesmokes! I’m your Secret Squealing Santa! 🎁 It was a pleasure writing this fic for you and writing for the characters of Elemental for the first time! Naturally, I rewatched the movie for research purposes, so I hope did them justice! I hope you enjoy!

Once again, a big thank you to @hypahticklish / @squealing-santa for hosting the event! Now on to the fic!

Series: Elemental

Characters: Wade and Ember

Word count: 2,700

Provided prompt: [Elemental: Ember and Wade (More of tactics but yeah -) kisses/ raspberries/cheer up/games]

Summary: After a slight baking incident involving an attempt at making fire food, Wade becomes disappointed that he didn’t make kol-nuts properly, despite his efforts. However, Ember finds a way to cheer him up with a round of the crying game that has a few different rules than how he remembers it.

_ _ _

A surprising wave of heat engulfs Ember as she walks through the apartment door. Smokey air, yet with a pleasant aroma like the burning logs of a fireplace, fuels her senses. She closes the door behind her and moves further into the apartment, following with her eyes an airborne trail of smoke coming from the kitchen. A familiar figure stands behind the counter.

Ember places her bag on a nearby table, her gaze fixated on the kitchen. “Wade?”

“Ember!” Wade jumps and juggles a tray between his hands to keep it from falling. He regains control of the tray and slides it on the burners of the stove. “Sorry, I didn’t see you come in.”

“You seem to be busy,” she says cheerfully. She then catches a glimpse of a second tray on the counter. Charred spheres, stacked in the shape of a small pyramid, are on the tray. On closer inspection, many of the balls are lopsided, but Ember recognizes the look of the rounded snacks anywhere.

Ember points to the tray. “Are you making kol-nuts?” a smile grows as she asks.

“Yep! Or…trying to anyway,” Wade replies with a bashful shrug. He positions himself in front of the stove, where a pile of logs awaits him. “That last batch came out a little toasty,” he says over his shoulder, “but don’t worry! This next one should be perfect.”

Wade picks up a pair of metal tongs. He grabs both ends of a log with the tool, dips the log into the open flame of the stove’s burner, then begins the attempt of crushing the log into a rounded shape with the cooking utensil.

Usually, kol-nuts are made with the bare hands of those that can control their own flames. However, for a water person like Wade who’s missing those elemental expertise, he needs assistance from tools that can help him handle the flames and the compression process of the logs, hence the use of the tongs.

“I think I’ve got the technique down,” Wade mentions. Everything moves smoothly as he starts to crush the log between the grip of the tongs, but the closer he compresses the log towards the desired shape, the more difficult it becomes. His momentum begins to stall. He squeezes the handle of the utensil as far as it’ll move together, even adding his second hand to gain more force. Despite his efforts, the kol-nut does not compress into a perfect ball.

Wade nervously laughs over his shoulder and releases the lopsided kol-nut on the nearby tray. He grabs another log with the tongs, dips it into the fire, and tries again. He clearly struggles.

Ember tries to peek over at his work, “Wade-”

“All good here!” Wade reveals a second nervous laugh and misshapes another kol-nut. He places it on the tray then picks up the pace with the other logs, partially in a panic. He squeezes each of the logs one by one, distorting their shape and placing them on the tray like a well-oiled machine with a malfunction in its production.

“Wade-”

“Everything’s fine! Totally fine!” He drops the last kol-nut on the tray, picks up the sheet, then spins around to show Ember the finished product.

“See!” he breathes heavily, “Kol-nuts!” his face shows a false smile. His facade of an expression falters the more he looks at the charred piles of failure in front of him. The corners of his mouth finally drop in defeat.

“Burnt…hard…and completely the wrong shape,” he slides the tray on the counter and his head droops. He shuffles his way to the sink to throw the tongs in with a metal clang. As he does this, Wade’s mouth quivers and he starts to cry. Ember quickly goes around the kitchen counter.

“Oh, Wade. Don’t cry,” she grabs his hands. She reaches up and tilts his face towards her, showing him a soft smile to say that it’s going to be alright.

Wade sniffles. He wipes away tears with the back of his hand. “I know, I’m sorry.” Another stream of tears replaces the ones he had wiped away. “It’s just that, I wanted this to be special.”

Ember reassures him, “Wade, you even making the effort to bake them is special.”

“But I wanted the kol-nuts to be perfect,” Wade stares at her with tear-filled eyes before another stream of his sorrows runs across both of his cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Ember takes his arm and leads him to the couch. She gently plops him down on the (fireproof) cushions and sits next to him. “Take it from me, making kol-nuts for the first time is hard, not to mention how difficult it can be to control the consistency of the flame. Sure, they might be a little lopsided, but they didn’t come out so bad.” She pauses to smile. “Plus, I don’t mind them well-done with a bit of extra char.”

Wade lets out a chuckle at that.

“See,” Ember wipes another tear from his eye. She wraps her hands around his neck to soothingly rub across the back of it. “So there’s nothing to be upset about.”

Wade chuckles again.

“What?” Ember giggles too, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Wade says with a third chuckle and squishes his neck to his shoulders. He gently grabs one of Ember’s wrists that was rubbing the back of his neck. “Your fingers are tickling me.”

“Oh, sorry,” Ember releases a soft laugh of her own. She pulls back her hands, but notices that Wade’s face still has a hint of a crestfallen expression. A mischievous idea pops into Ember’s thoughts.

“Hey, I know what will cheer you right up,” Ember switches the subject. “How about a round of the crying game?”

“Really?” Wade tilts his head at her. “But I was just crying a minute ago,” he gestures to the kitchen as if to provide context to his statement. “Any mention of my attempted kol-nuts and you would easily win.” His back slumps forward.

“Ah, but I’m talking about a different version of the crying game.”

Wade straightens up a bit. “A different version?”

“Yep. Instead of trying to make someone cry tears that are sad, the other player’s goal is to make their opponent cry tears of joy.”

Wade laughs. “Where did you come up with this?”

“Just now,” Ember replies with a grin. “So what do you say? Want to play?”

Wade perks up a little more. He shows Ember a soft smile. “Okay.” His eyes scan around the room in search of something. “But don’t we still need a timer?”

“Nope!” Ember leaps for him and tackles him into the cushions.

“E-Ember!?” Wade exclaims. “This isn’t part of the ga-ahahame!” Wade’s sentence suddenly overflows with giggles when Ember starts tickling the upper half of his torso, where his ribs would be if he had them.

“It is now,” she says with a smug look.

“Ohoho, I see how you’re trying to win!” Wade squirms backwards to reach the arm of the couch. “Well, game ohohon!”

Ember grins. With the game in full swing, Ember darts her hands to his sides, causing Wade to bark out a laugh. He quickly slaps both of his hands over his mouth, letting out a snort. Through the clear water of his hands, Ember watches as the corners of Wade’s mouth twitch upwards the longer he attempts to contain his laughter, nearly boiling over with giggles like a tea kettle.

“Trying to hold in your laughter, huh?” Ember smirks from above him. “Not on my watch!” She dives her hands into Wade’s underarms, resulting in him clamping his arms down with another jolt of laughter.

“Ehehehember!” He successfully eases his laughter down to a giggle, purposely controlling himself from exploding into tears of joy.

“Yes Wade? Is there a problem?” Ember says with a smirk laced in her words.

“P-Prohohoblem? Nohohope! No problem at ahahall!” Wade snickers through his sentence. He kicks himself back further on the arm of the couch and tries to curl himself up. Any attempt to keep himself from bursting into a tsunami of laughter. He can feel the drop of a single joyful tear start to form.

“Really? Because it looks to me like you’re about to lose the crying game,” Ember teases, seeing that she’s reaching closer to victory. The playful, yet competitive spirit burns up inside her.

Wade tries his best to feign an unfazed demeanor. “Noho way! I’m nowhere close to cryi–ING!” Wade leaps like a large wave crashing into the ocean when Ember scribbles at the center of his belly. The dam containing Wade’s laughter finally crumbles and a flood of the joyous sound pours from Wade.

“Gotcha now, Wade!” Ember exclaims, clawing at his tummy with one hand while the other lies on his chest to pin him down. “Caught you by surprise didn’t I?”

“Surprihihihise is an understatement! Hahahaha!” Wade wiggles. He takes some lighthearted shoves at Ember and her hands.

“Well, I don’t see those happy tears yet! So time for a second surprise!” In less than a second, Ember takes a deep breath and presses her lips to Wade’s stomach to give him a big, tickly raspberry.

The squeal that comes from Wade is nearly high enough to shatter glass. The combination of heated air from Ember’s fire sends an extra tickly reaction across Wade’s entire stomach of water, like the bubbles of carbonation surging across his entire torso.

“Ehehehehember!!!” Wade screeches with laughter, kicking his legs in front of her. His expression lights up with a smile even wider than before, one that nearly takes up his entire face. Tears of mirth finally spill across his face like two waterfalls. Ember smiles with success, and for good measure, provides him with a few more raspberries across his tummy.

“Nohohohot ag-AIN!” Wade arcs his back and pushes at Ember’s head.

“Again?” Ember teases. “If you insist!” she says and delivers another raspberry on his stomach, making Wade squeal.

“I GIHIHIHIVE! Yohohohou win!” Wade squirms from side to side to protect his tummy, until he rolls right off the couch.

Ember perches herself on the cushions, looking down at her partner with a giggle. “You good, Wade?”

The man of water flips himself over like a seashell being turned over in the sand. Giggles still trickle from his system, even as he sits himself up.

“That was evil,” Wade jokes as he wipes a leftover tear of joy from his eye.

“Sorry Wade, but I had to cheer you up somehow and those are the rules of the game,” she shrugs with a smile. Ember turns to lift herself off the couch, “You also got me fired up with the competition–Whoa!” Ember falls back to the couch from Wade wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

“Hold on a second,” Wade says as he pulls Ember tighter into his arms. “You had your turn at the crying game,” his voice rings with innocent mischief. “Now it’s my turn.”

Ember gasps. She tries to pull herself out of his hug, only to realize that her arms are pinned to her sides. She nervously giggles, “Uh sorry! But that version of the crying game only has one round so–Eeek!”

Ember cuts herself off with a squeak when Wade plants tickly kisses to the back of her neck. An abundance of giggles and squeaks from Ember follow as Wade continues providing her neck with kisses.

“Wahahade!” Ember giggles and squirms in his hug. She lets out another high squeak when Wade blows a raspberry into the side of her neck, returning the favor. Ember tries to twist her head and squeeze her neck to her shoulders as squeaky laughter pours from her like melted glass. With another effective raspberry to her neck, Ember attempts to pull herself from his grasp.

“Not so fast, Ember!” Wade tightens his hug, now changing tactics and using his hands wrapped around her to scribble at her sides.

Ember unleashes a squeal and tugs herself forward to escape. Wade loosens his hold and the forward momentum causes Ember to plop face first into the cushions. With her arms free, Ember quickly tries to launch herself over the side of the couch, but Wade catches her by her sides and squeezes her torso.

Ember releases another adorable squeal and sinks her head into the cushions to hide her face. Wade chuckles, skittering his fingers up and down Ember’s sides. “Aww, that squeak was so cute.”

Ember lifts up her head to throw her voice behind her. “Quiet yohohohou! It was nohohot cute!” she attempts to deny it. Feeling fingers nearing her underarms, Ember curls herself up into a ball and rolls over onto her back, now facing Wade. She grabs at Wade’s hands and flails her limbs while a bright smile lights up her already illuminated face of fire. Her eyes are squeezed shut and an eruption of laughter flows from her like lava. An amber-colored tear forms at the corner of her eye, like dew about to drip from a flower.

Wade notices the liquid gem below her eye. “Aha! A tear of joy! I win!” Wade pulls away in victory, allowing Ember the chance to relax. She lies flat on the cushions with a hand on her middle, taking heavy breaths like a train burning coal to keep pushing up a steep mountain. But instead of stream releasing from an engine, residual giggles release from Ember with each exhale.

Wade lends her a gentle hand to help her sit up. “Are you alright?”

“Hehe, yeah,” Ember wipes away the tear of fire from her eye. “Looks like we’re both winners of the crying game this time.”

Wade giggles. His eyes catch sight of his baked snacks still sitting on the counter. “At least one thing ended in a win today,” he mentions. “What are we going to do with the kol-nuts? Throw them out? Ah, but that would be such a waste.”

Ember places a hand to her chin, thinking. An idea clicks, and she speaks up before Wade can start crying sad tears again. “I’ve got an idea. Watch this.”

Ember lifts herself up to go to the kitchen. She grabs two mugs from the cabinet, milk from the fridge, and a box of chocolate powder from the pantry. With the same effortless speed she uses to make her glass art, Ember pours some milk into the mugs, heats them up quick by grabbing the bottom of the cup with her fiery hands to skip using the stove, drops a spoonful of cocoa powder into each, stirs, then places two of Wade’s homemade kol-nuts into both.

“Ta-da,” Ember grabs the mugs and heads to the couch to hand one to Wade. “Kol-nut hot chocolate. Try it.”

Ember passes a mug to him. Cautiously, Wade takes it. He looks at the liquid, then takes a sip. He smacks his lips together. “Hey, this is really good.”

“And it was made with your kol-nuts.” Ember soaks the kol-nut in her own drink like a cookie dunked in milk. She plucks the treat from her mug and takes a bite, now that the rock-hard form has become softer, then finishes her mouthful. “The flavor isn’t bad! Not as good as mine of course, but not bad!”

Wade bounces with an airy laugh. “Thanks Ember.”

“What are you thanking me for?” she takes a seat next to him. “You made them. So, thank you for making them.”

“No, not about that. About you cheering me up.”

“Oh,” Ember smiles as she hears his words. “Of course Wade. You’re welcome.”

Wade takes another sip of his hot chocolate. “Things are better when we work together, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ember nods. “Meaning next time, I’ll help you with making kol-nuts to get the batch just right.”

Wade chuckles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He returns a softened expression and holds out his glass towards her. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Ember repeats and clinks her glass to his. She leans forward to give him a kiss. For the rest of the night, the two sit and enjoy their hot chocolate—made specially with the combined elements of each other's assistance.

#squealing santa #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #elemental #wade ripple #ember lumen #elemental wade #elemental ember #elemental fanfiction #elemental fanfic #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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the-lonelybarricade · 8 months

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A Ripple, A Tidal Wave - Part I

Summary: An AU where Feyre encounters a very different faerie in the woods. One she decides not to kill.

A contribution to @officialfeysandweek2023. Starfall = fallen star = sad, injured bat, right?

Read on AO3

The forest had become a labyrinth of snow and ice.

Feyre flexed her fingers. They’d gone stiff from the cold. The worn leather from her father’s old carving glove hardly fought off the chill of the gusting wind that cut through the clearing, lashing against the thicket of trees at its parameter where she had been crouched for the better part of an hour.

It was impossible to keep her hands from going numb in these conditions. Still, she flexed them, praying for the blood to rush back into the fingers she had curled around her drawstring. Feyre had overheard the village’s hunters in the marketplace, talking about the wolf tracks they had seen. Pawprints as large as your head. An embellishment, surely, but that didn’t change that the wolves would only come this close to the village for the same reason that Feyre would delve this deep into the woods.

They were hungry.

Winter was harsh for everyone. Even the forest was restless—too quiet, too still. She wouldn’t have risked coming here, knowing there were wolves, if her family wasn’t desperate. As far as they were concerned, Ferye would either return with food, or be taken by the forest so that they had one less mouth to feed. It was favorable for them either way.

Unless Feyre returned empty handed, which was looking more and more likely the longer she crouched in the snow, watching the sun’s slow descent across the horizon through gritted teeth. Only a few more hours left of daylight. Soon she would need to turn back lest she try to navigate her way in the dark and double her chances of getting eaten by wolves.

In the back of her mind, she could already hear Nesta’s disapproving snort. The way her vicious eyes would cut immediately to Feyre’s empty hands, how she’d cross her arms over her chest and hurtle all number of accusations without saying anything at all. Nesta had a gift for communicating her every hostile thought with one single, withering glance. Feyre had witnessed her sister grind men to dust without so much as opening her mouth.

Sometimes, pinned beneath that look, Feyre wanted to cry to her, then why don’t you do it?

But Nesta wouldn’t. And neither would Elain. And their injured father couldn’t. So it was Feyre, stalking through the woods, letting the ice soak into her bones. One day, someone would ask what had turned Feyre Archeron so cold and she would point to the forest. It was here her heart had frozen over. It was here, she’d traded her innocence for survival.

Here, it was kill or be killed.

Feyre began rising from the snow-heavy brambles, stifling a groan at the protest of her stiff limbs. She froze, mid-way through stretching, as a great, terrible noise erupted through the forest. It was pure, blood-pumping instinct that threw Feyre’s body back to the ground, covering in the bramble like she expected blowback from the sound. Like the warning rumble of thunder before the lethal strike of lightning.

The howling wind stilled. There was no mass retreat of wildlife, no birds escaping to the skies. It was like everything held its breath, terrified of being caught by the creature as it bellowed another anguished roar.

It wasn’t like any wolf Feyre had ever heard.

She needed to leave. Now.

Still ducked beneath the bush, Feyre angled her head towards the forest, eyes darting across the tangled roots and underbrush to chart the best path back to the village. One that would offer coverage, would give her a fighting chance if the beast—whatever it was—decided to pursue.

The noise came again. Softer, now, more wounded. Had it been attacked? Or was it mimicking injury to lure its prey closer?

Her heart was beating so quickly that each beat leapt into her throat. The brush rustled on the other side of the clearing. It was coming towards her. It was too late to run. She drew her bow, ignoring the tremble in her fingers, how the air was collecting in front of her in short, breathless exhales.

Feyre peered through the thorns.

The wings stood out to her first. Large, membranous bat-like wings. They had been what caused the rustling, for they dragged against the ground, catching on the underbrush.

More startling than the wings, however, was that they belong to a man. No, a faerie. He was too far away to glimpse his pointed ears, but the wings certainly gave it away. He was stumbling forward, an arm slung protectively around his bleeding stomach while the other pushed aside the wayward tree branches. His entire body slumped inwards, around the wound at his center that trekked blood in a ruby-red path behind him.

When he made it to the center of the clearing, his knees gave out, and he stumbled face-first into the snow. Feyre held her position for several breaths, eyes fixed intently on his shoulders, watching their shallow rise and fall as pool of blood collected beneath him.

Her arrow was still notched, still aimed at him through the brush.

He was a faerie. She should have killed him for that fact alone.

His body twitched, then stilled.

Maybe he was already dead. Maybe she should shoot him, just for good measure. Put him out of his misery.

It would be a waste of an arrow, she decided. He looked dead. Besides, there was still the threat of whatever had done this to him. She pushed her aim higher, monitoring the thicket he had come from. She should be running. She should be gone.

Her aim dipped back to the male lying helpless in the snow.

Snow-tipped wind nudged playfully at the wisps of his blue-back hair. It was the color of the night sky when no stars touched it.

From the amount of blood coloring the snow beneath him, he was almost certainly dead.

Feyre lifted from her crouch. The icy snow crunched under her fraying boots. Her mouth felt dry.

He looked so… so still.

She drew her knife and edged closer, more of him coming into view. Those wings were so much larger—so much more stunning, more horrific—up close. Now, she could see the sun warming their leathery surface, glinting off the sharp claw that rested at each apex. A useless part of her stirred, the part that was fascinating by colors and shadows and the way the sunlight illuminated the veins in his wings. She felt oddly tempted to reach her hand out and touch them.

Except they twitched, and Feyre faltered a step back, nearly stumbling.

Not dead yet, then.

Her grip on the knife tightened. It was difficult to tell with his face in the snow, but Feyre thought he looked young, not much older than Nesta. Though the fae were immortal and he could just as easily be centuries old.

For a creature that could defy time itself, he didn’t look very intimidating now. If she looked past the wings, she could almost pretend he was just a wounded man. Someone who was suffering with every slowing breath. Someone who… someone who needed help.

Inwardly, she was screaming at herself, wondering why she didn’t just bury the knife in his back and run. Or better yet, the asharrow that had sat unused in her quiver for the last three years.

She touched his hair. It was soft, silken yet damp from the snow. She tightened her fingers and used that grip to, as delicately as she could, turn his head to the side. He groaned, a barely conscious sound that told her he was still alive.

For a moment, Feyre could do nothing but stare at the face before her. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even with the sweat and snow clinging to his skin, and the way his face pinched in pain. He had full, sensuous lips that she ordinarily might have been tempted to study, were they not parted open to expel slow, shallow breaths.

His eyes were shut, and behind his eyelids she could see his pupils moving rapidly.

It wouldn’t even be necessary to stab him. She could leave him here and he would undoubtedly be dead by morning, buried beneath layers of snow. No one would miss him, certainly not in the mortal village. And judging by the mortal wound his own kind must have dealt him, Feyre doubted he would be missed beyond the wall, either.

She stared at him, feeling an unexpected sense of dread, of pity, rise within her. Objectively, she knew that it was absurd to feel bad for him. He was a faerie, and if he weren’t gravely injured, it would likely have been her blood seeping into the snow.

But no one would care if she didn’t come out of the woods, either.

It could have been her laying face down in the snow. No one would have bothered to come looking for her. No one would have helped.

Praying for mercy from the long forgotten gods—as if they would even indulge her for being so foolish—Feyre sheathed her knife. Their options were limited. Sundown was fast approaching and he was… he was ginormous. It wasn’t as if she could run to the village for help, they would sooner finish the job. And he was too heavy to carry back to the cottage. Not that she would. Nesta and Elain would never agree to help him.

No, she needed to take him somewhere close and out of the snow so that she could take a closer look at his wounds. The only thing that came to mind was a small, deserted hunter’s shack further in the forest, leftover from a time when humans felt comfortable enough to venture that close to the wall. Or a time when they were desperate enough to risk it.

The first difficult task would be getting him onto his back. She’d need to drag him a way’s through the forest and she couldn’t risk the dirt and undergrowth catching in his wound. With the wings, turning him over would be a cumbersome task—especially given that they looked heavy.

After several moments of deliberation, puzzling over the best approach, Feyre decided to forgo caution and just move him. It was better than letting him bleed out in the snow. But the second her hand curled around the edge of his wing, his eyes snapped opened.

Feyre dropped it immediately, letting the massive appendage fall back to the snow with a soft smack. He groaned.

His eyes fluttered shut again, giving her the confidence to step forward. “I’m trying to help you,” she said to him. “I don’t… I’ve never met someone with wings before. So you have to be patient with me.”

He made a gurgling noise in the back of his throat, like he was choking on something liquid. Then a moment later his wing fluttered, trying to lift it, and Feyre decided she could meet him halfway. With the faerie taking some of the weight off, she was able to fold the wing to the side.

“Thank you,” she said. Then, “If you thought that was bad, this next part isn't going to be very fun.”

Feyre could almost mistake his answering grunt for a laugh. She took that as permission to haul him upwards from beneath the shoulder, trying to both lift and roll him onto his side. He hissed—a weak, agonized sound that raised every hair on her arms.

“You’re almost there,” she said, not letting the noise deter her movements. If she did, it would only prolong the pain. “Just suck it up a little more.”

It felt like pushing a boulder up a hill. Feyre was panting by the time she got him propped on his side, and from there it was only a matter of letting gravity do the rest. She rolled him, inelegantly, onto his back, wincing at the way his wing had folded under him. It wasn’t perfect, or comfortable, but nothing about this experience would be.

He slumped into the snow once it was done, tilting his head back in exhaustion like he had been the one to lift a male twice his size. Though, from the wounds splitting across his torso—the worst of them a deep gash stretching from his sternum to his naval—Feyre supposed she shouldn’t be complaining.

The sight of the gore made her feel dizzy. She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth like it might do anything to ease the rising bile in her throat. Feyre swallowed, trying to steady herself. Would whatever creature that had done this to him come for her next for trying to help? Would they come for Nesta and Elain?

“Rh—ys.”

It took Feyre a moment to register that he had spoken. Or tried to, at any rate.

“What?”

“Rhys,” he choked out, eyes opened to barely-there slits.

“Is that… your name?”

He just huffed, which Feyre took to mean yes.

“Well, Rhys,” she said, stepping around his body to kneel at his head. Her arms slid under his shoulders, securely his body beneath his armpits. “I hope those wings aren’t sensitive, because you and I have a long journey to make through those woods.”

#A Ripple A Tidal Wave #Feysandweek2023 #Feysand #Feysand fic #Feysand fanfic #Feysand fanfiction #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre

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toonsforkicks22 · 4 months

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Wadember Day 30: Party

Ember’s dress is inspired her ceremonial robe in the movie. Wade’s suit is based on Mr. Wolf’s from The Bad Guys (bc I’m in love with them both lol).

#someone needs to make sexy fanfiction of these two lol #elemental disney #elemental fanart #elemental pixar #pixar elemental #elemental #elemental wade #elemental ember #ember lumen #wade ripple #ember x wade #wade x ember #wadember #otp #drawcember #drawing challenge

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starsfic · 7 months

Note

"listen to me, don't trust wish granting entities. do. not."

Long Xiaojiao leaned away from the dark-furred monkey. "Uh…okay?" Honestly, when he walked into the shop, she hadn't gotten the crazy vibe like she did with other customers. She had gotten the "cranky and in need of sleep" vibes.

"Good," the monkey said. Before she could make an excuse, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Xiaojiao yelped, but he didn't let go. "Now, I need you to round up the pig and the scholar and the big blue guy…" She was fully ready to call Pigsy at least, even though he would get mad at her interrupting shopping time. But something made her blink.

"What big blue guy?"

The dark-furred monkey paused with his eyes wide, as if she pronounced his death sentence or something. "Sandy," he said, as if that meant something. "You know? Big blue guy? Always drinking tea? Has that crazy cat?" He looked around, as if said guy was about to pop out of nowhere. "I saw him when I was heading over here, so I know he didn't get erased from reality."

Erased from…

"Sir, did you get hit with spider venom?" She flexed her hand. No dice. His grip was solid as steel. "I've never met a guy named Sandy-"

"Because you met him-" The guy groaned, face palming. "Fuck! That's right! You met him through Qi Xiaotian."

"Who?" The minute she asked that, Xiaojiao's heart twisted.

Something about that name made tears prick at her eyes. Why was she crying? She couldn't tell you. It was just an overwhelming wave of grief. The steel grip around her wrist pulled away and, on sheer instinct, Xiaojiao reached up.

Her face was wet.

"Look." Macaque. That was his name. He stared at her with tears beading up in her own eyes. Anger burned hot in her chest. Why was he crying? "Look, I screwed up. But I promise, I'm going to get him back."

Xiaojiao didn't know how she knew him or what had happened. But she both trusted and didn't trust him.

"Promise?"

"…yes."

#LMK #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #Macaque #Long Xiaojiao #Macaque wished away Sun Wukong and this has a ripple effect #namely Qi Xiaotian is also wished away #prompt fill #prompt fic #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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galaxy98 · 22 days

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Well guys, I finally manage to complete a fanfic after a whole year of not doing one.

I do recommend reading the beginning notes since it explains a little bit about this one.

Long story short, this fic was a last minute decision I made when I realized I wasn't going to be able to complete the main one on time.

Consider this a teaser/addendum piece if you will.

Also if there are any Brook Ripple fans out there, I highly recommend you leave a kudos and a comment.

Hope you enjoy cause there's still more to come.

#ao3 #fanfiction #writing #elemental #pixar elemental #brook ripple #free verse #poetry

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silver26writes · 1 year

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So incredibly lucky to have this beautiful artwork by @nadiapolyakova for a new Dramione series fic!

#dramione #hermione x draco #draco malfoy #fanfiction #hermione granger #silver_26 #ao3 #trulymadlydeeplyfest #ao3 writer #the ripple effect series #dark #mind the tags #nadiapolyakova

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lawbreaker13 · 10 months

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I cannot believe

I got Elemental

ADDED TO FANFICTION.NET

What’s wrong with me, please help

#I have issues guys #Can you tell?#I don’t actually think anyone is gonna write about Lutz #But I would love it if they did #Elemental #Elemental Pixar #Pixar #Wade Ripple #Ember Lumen #Elemental 2023 #Fanfiction #Fanfiction.net #Hyperfixation #Mine

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zootopiathingz · 5 months

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Guess who’s recovering from creative block!

Anyway, here’s a good ol’ hurt/comfort Elemental fic because I refuse to let a main character’s trauma get overlooked. Feel free to give it a read!

#elemental #elemental pixar #ember lumen #wade ripple #ember x wade #wadember #elemental fanfic #ao3 fanfic #my fanfiction #lady luxo writes #also available on Wattpad & FF!

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the-darkdragonfly · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday: A Trick of the Light - A Captain Swan Tale

Chapter 9: A Field of Roses

*blinks in shock* Oh My... Hey!! I wrote things! I am probably more shocked than you are... probably... Coming soon....

♥️♥️♥️

I guess I didn’t really think this through- she had giggled into the towel he’d handed her as she stood before him, pink and warm, skin steaming from the water he had helped her out of as the snow swirled wildly outside the window.

He’d bitten down a smirk, though she had noticed it regardless, eyes shining with mirth as she watched him in the light of the candles she’d obsessively lit before pouring the last bucket of near scalding water into the tub.

“It smells so good though!” Her grin widened, as he picked yet another soggy petal from his chest, nodding and trying desperately not to laugh.

“Aye,” he deposited the small pink hitchhiker on the edge of the tub, a rogue petal from Emma’s attempt at something she had called bath salts.

It had been a series of amusing trial and error attempts before she’d decided to add the rose petals Fiona had helped her tie in the few last days of autumn, the various herbs and spices Emma had crushed into the heaps of hand-crushed salt; pungent and mostly terrible. She’d gagged, holding a hand in front of her face as he dutifully disposed of batch after batch, early pregnancy hormones preventing her from finding any part of the ordeal humorous.

“They didn’t really stick to me,” she turned in an attempt to inspect her backside- probably because I’m not hairy like you are- which had remained petal-free, unlike his own.

He had found her, the tiredness he’d dragged with him throughout his day lifting from his soul as watched her bent over her work, his fingers ink-stained from the ledgers at the warehouse as he itched to touch her, to pull her attention away from her task for even only a moment. His ears had echoed Alec’s annoyed mutterings most of the day until the merchant ship they had been waiting on all morning finally appeared on the horizon clearing from his heart. She had collected small bowls, scattered around her like soldiers awaiting her orders, and was busy measuring something into them as she tilted her head to the door- you’re just in time!- sweat from the fire gathering at the base of her neck.

He’d braided her hair before he’d left that morning while her hands soaked into the wash basin, the swirl of silk under the warm water like the call of the sea, and she’d leaned back into his chest, pressing a kiss into her hair.

The scent of roses had stayed on her skin, impossible as it was through the travel of portals and time and realms, the faint drift of the blooms he had brought her over the years.

She’d bought a small bag of salts- this is the real deal, babe!- from a trip into Boston before Liam was born, pouring a small handful of the soft scented grains into the bathtub as he helped her over the edge, her pregnant stomach making the movement awkward- don’t you dare laugh, Jones, this is entirely, mostly, partly your fault- his hand on her elbow as he lowered her into the water.

There hadn’t been any room for him that day, the tub in their Storybrooke home smaller than the large porcelain one which sat in the corner of their bedroom at the cottage by the sea, and he had knelt on the floor, the bathmat wet under his knees, and spoke softly to her and their child.

The memory hung around him like fog on a cool sea, thick and quiet, until a sharp clang of metal on stone echoed frantically through his blood as his head cleared like the sun burning it all away.

♥️♥️♥️

Catch up here.

Read my other stuff here.

Tagging:

@elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @sailtoafarawayland @teamhook @wefoundloveunderthelight @caught-in-the-filter @batana54 @ultraluckycatnd @veryverynotgood @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @jrob64 @kmomof4 @artistic-writer @gingerpolyglot @xarandomdreamx @justanother-unluckysoul @zaharadessert @xsjax @karlyfr13s @tiganasummertree @wyntereyez @klynn-stormz @onceratheart18 @rkrbirdgirl @ouatdaily @blowmiakisscolin @courtorderedcake @winterbaby89 @pirateprincessofpizza @superchocovian @deckerstarblanche @jlsadphoenix @alexa-fangirl-forever @stahlop @undercaffinatednightmare @lostintheskyfaraway @anmylica @motherkatereloyshipper @last-tsarina @lfh1226-linda @hookedmom @midnightsuki @paradiselady19 @jonesfandomfanatic

#a trick of the light #a captain swan tale #the darkdragonfly #wip wednesday #coming soon #the ripple effect #captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #ouat fanfiction

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quotidian-oblivion · 7 months

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DC Villains - Bats and Flashes

Okay, so I got an ask from @sardonic-sprite about the DC ask game over here. And since the answer to one of her questions was too long, I decided to put it on a separate post.

48. Favorite villain?

I overthink questions like these.

I'm debating between Joker and Thawne.

I like Joker as a character and a villain cuz out of all of Gotham's rogue gallery, he is the only one who has managed to get on Bruce's nerves permanently and properly. I like his character because he truly is insane and it is that psychological state of mind that makes him scary rather than material things like power, money or crime.

He is the only one who can truly understand Batman. But that's the catch, he can understand Batman where others cannot, but he can't understand Bruce while others can.

And I love the fact (in one of the canons) that if only a little bit had changed, then Bruce and Joker would be leading each other's paths.

I love how Joker knows the exact spots to hit to hurt Bruce. The exact people in the exact ways.

Which is why Joker hates Tim's Robin the most because he's the only Robin which Joker couldn't use to hurt. This is different to Joker Junior from Batman: TAS/Batman Beyond. I'm talking about Robin II: Joker's Gone Wild arc. When Tim was in his beginning stages of Robin and Bruce had to go somewhere so it was mainly him busting crime in the city with Alfred driving him around (it was so cute, I love them <33). Then Joker decided to take a stroll and he stumbled across Tim and was furious because didn't he kill the bird brat?

He tried to hurt Tim and kill him again like Jason, but Timmy was smart enough and cautioned enough from Jason's story to stay on his toes and guard. Which enraged Joker because Robin was Batman's biggest weakness and he couldn't hurt and exploit Batman's weakness. And that just destroyed his only purpose which was to hurt Batman.

And I love that - that Tim is smart enough, but also more careful which makes him the best person to face Joker out of the Robins. Dick can't cuz he's too blinded by fury and emotion. Jason can't cuz... trauma. Steph can't because she just cannot understand the Joker. And Damian can't because though he may be able to defeat the Joker and kill him, he's not careful enough and a biiiiiit over his head with confidence.

But Tim has the perfect position. He learned from Jason's tale. He's the closest to Batman in psyche, but different enough which means that he can understand Joker in a way the others can't and can figure out the madman's weaknesses and strengths. And he doesn't have any direct connection to the Joker. With all this combined - yeah, he's awesome.

(This is excluding the JJ arc which i love and adore and cherish with all my heart btw)

There's also a bit of a Smeagol factor here, though Smeagol is considerably better in terms of crimes. So yeah, the Joker is a good villain character. He's scary because he is insane and truly, genuinely, honestly does not know the difference between right and wrong because he has his own right and wrong.

But Eobard Thawne... ooooooh Reverse-Flash. Love that guy (as a villain and as a character). My favorite portrayals of him are in Justice League: Flashpoint and in The Flash CW show (only in the first 4-5ish seasons and especially in the first season).

I like how he can get under Barry's skin too. And he is the only rogue out of all the Flash's rogue gallery who has been able to truly and completely get on his nerves. Barry was ready to murder this bitch sooo many times. I love how he knows exactly what Barry will hate and exactly how to defeat him and stay one step ahead of him.

I'm still unsure of his motives though, cuz I think it has been retconned a lot? Or at least, it hasn't fully developed. I only know that Barry did something to him in the future and that's why he doesn't like Barry, but I think that's not a good enough motive to warrant all the horrible, horrible things he has done to Barry. Mainly in the JL Flashpoint movie.

God- that movie is so fucking good. Jsjdhiwiajrwh My favorite scene without a doubt is the letter Thomas left to Bruce. Just- skdndjiwiejdw.

My other favorite scene is the final battle between Barry and Eobard. Barry is so overcome with emotion there and Eobard is just... he is one step ahead of him in every race, every battle, every move. He knows which spots to hit, physically and emotionally. And I love that.

I love villains who understand their heroes so well. I would love for the heroes to also understand their enemies as well or just a touch below, so that there could be this little balance, but eh, you can't always get what you want.

The second worst thing (the first worst thing is him messing with Barry's family) that Eobard has done to Barry is what made him as good a hero as he is now - and that is a key reason why I love their hero-villain dynamic. His mother's death. It was one of the most painful moments for Barry. Mom gone, dad arrested. And yet- he rose from that and became the Flash we all love today.

I guess to answer the question, after much speculation... I'm gonna say Eobard Thawne is my favorite villain. I haven't even covered the absolute genius of a plot that was Season 1 of The Flash. Just- *chef's kiss*. But I'm gonna say Eobard Thawne because Joker is a lost cause who cannot make any sense at all. Which I adore because it is such a total opposite of Batman who makes sense of everything. And- I adore that dynamic!

But it doesn't stop me from having a special place in my heart for my blorbos the batboys WHO HAVE SUFFERED SO MUCH AT THE MADMAN'S HAND LIKE- JASON CROWBAR- TIM JOKER JUNIOR- SJDIFJWODJFNWJFWOIDJR

So yeah, because I am an extremely biased person who yields to my favoritism urges towards the batkids being alive, I'm choosing Eobard Thawne as my favorite DC villain.

Hey, I did say I overthink these sort of questions.

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