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ravixen · 11 months

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Hihi,, I love your work ♡ can I please request a dokyeom imagine where the reader is swimming with him? Just an innocent fluff with a few kisses and playing around as lovers. It was inspired by this video - https://youtu.be/61dCpo6G-b8

Thank you for your consideration >.<

svt + swimming with their s/o

➔ reaction || requested || 97 line

➔ warnings: none || 602 words ➔ notes: fluff, video link ; heya! thanks for sending in a request :) unfortunately, scenarios and drabbles (outside of events) can only be commissioned, and the next planned event is probably going to be aeristober. i turned this into a reaction since this didn't read like a commission either. reblog if you liked!

SEOKMIN: you have to convince him to switch into swimming clothes first because he absolutely will try to jump into the water, even though he's wearing regular shorts and a t-shirt. he just wants to have fun! which is why it's a little suspicious that he takes so long to change, but you think nothing of it, standing by the poolside and taking in the sun as you wait. then you hear a high pitched shriek and feel an arm hook around your waist, and the next thing you know, water is rushing in around you. you gasp as you break the surface again, wiping water from your face. he keeps his hands on your hips as you re-orient yourself. "what in the world!" you demand, glaring at your boyfriend, who has the forethought to swim away, laughing out loud at your expression. he's fast, but you're faster, and it doesn't take long for you to catch up and corner him with your arms. "i love you?" he attempts with a bright smile, and unfortunately, it works because you feel a mirroring smile tug at your lips. he takes that split second to duck underneath your arm and dart away again.

MINGYU: oh, swimming with him is so fun because you know that he's going to splash around for a bit before asking someone to take pictures for him. he's predictable, which works out for your plan. he actually asks you first, but you lie and say that you're about to go eat with junhui, so he turns to minghao instead. while he's distracted, pretending to look out into the horizon and posing with his arms, you slip back into the water. luckily, between the other guys fooling around and the wind, he's pretty much desensitized to the pool's waves and ripples, so he doesn't suspect anything as you get closer. "perfect, now grab the railing and hoist yourself up," minghao yells out. "act like you're about to hop out." mingyu does just that, and that's when you strike, hands clamping around his waist. he screams instantly, and your partner-in-crime minghao captures the entire scene on camera. the flailing around, the whining protests, the dunking you back underwater. he also manages to get a cute picture of the apologetic kiss you give your boyfriend before tossing mingyu back his phone, leaving you to fend for yourself.

MINGHAO: he was going to wade around the middle and cool off before reading a book on the poolside chairs, which—boring. "hop in! it feels great," you insist, neck deep in the water, and somehow that leads to the two of you setting up your phone not too far away and trying to choreograph a synchronized swimming routine. the thing about minghao is that sometimes, he'll stand off to the side and judge you with the most incredulous expression, and that's totally fair because he's friends with seventeen. his group is known for their shenanigans. but sometimes, when things are the right amount of silly and fun, he'll jump in enthusiastically, giggling at everyone's antics and unveiling a childish side that he pretends not to have. so now here you are, laughing with each other as you figure out how to keep your top half underwater and kick your feet into the air. seokmin comes over without warning and accidentally takes a foot to the face, which sends you into another fit of hysterics. minghao keeps a hand on your waist as more of them gather, drawn by the noise and wanting to play, too. "see?" you murmur. "better than a book, right?"

#caratwritersclub #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seokmin scenarios #dk scenarios #mingyu scenarios #minghao scenarios #the8 scenarios #g: svt #m: seokmin #m: mingyu #m: minghao #t: reaction #s: request #sunshinekyeom-sang #ravixen

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writeforfandoms · 10 months

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Warrior Song 7

Find the series masterlist

Okay we are still playing real fast and loose with canon. In fact, a lot of canon rules have gone out the window by now. Just roll with it. It’ll be fun.

Blue Team plus medic and Fernando experience some unintended side effects of an unknown pollen.

Warnings: Cuddle pollen, swearing, medical jargon, discussion of touch starvation.

Word count: 2.9k

Master Chief/John-117 x f!reader

Blue Team made surprisingly good company. Sure, they didn’t talk a lot, but they were all easy with each other, and took instruction well.

Because of course you took charge of making camp and making sure everyone actually ate. Since your expertise as a medic wasn’t needed, this was close enough.

It had been a week and a half since you all started on this quest. So far, there had been four more bases and some searching for clues. Despite the lack of actual progress, Blue Team didn’t seem disappointed.

If anything, they seemed to be relaxing a little, slightly more open with you and Fernando both.

“They’re heading back,” Fernando told you, standing lookout behind you.

“Okay.” You dug out one more wild onion and put it in your basket before you straightened. “At least we’ll have a good dinner tonight.”

“I still can’t believe you caught one of those things,” he muttered, referring to the rabbit-like creature you’d managed to snag for dinner.

“Just because they can eat MREs until the end of time doesn’t mean I want to,” you shot back with a prim sniff. You brushed off your knees as you stood, gathering up your basket. “Are they very far?”

“We’ve got time to get back to the Pelican.” Fernando smirked and started walking. “As long as you don’t lag behind.”

“Hey!” Pouting, you jogged to catch up to him. “Just for that, I’m not going to give you any of this delicious soup.”

“Aw, come on, you like me too much to deny me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

The friendly bickering continued back to the Pelican, where you set Fernando to chopping up the onions while you worked on the meat. This had turned out to be a good spot - quiet and open enough to see any potential problems coming, with a small river in the opposite direction the Spartans had gone. You’d even gathered up enough firewood to keep a fire going all night.

The meat was in the stew pot by the time Blue Team trudged up, all of them half-covered in bright yellow pollen. Your mouth dropped open.

“What the hell happened?” you asked, blatantly staring.

“Some flowers threw up on us,” Kelly answered, dry and vaguely disgusted.

“They ejected all their pollen at us,” Linda corrected, though she also sounded vaguely disgusted.

“We’re going to wash,” Fred added.

“You want some rags?” You were already standing to get some for them, poking the meat one more time to be sure it would be fine for a minute.

“Might as well.” Fred waited while you grabbed a handful of rags, tossing them over. With a lazy salute, he went after the others in the direction of the river.

“They look ridiculous,” Fernando said once they were probably out of hearing range.

“Right?” You couldn’t help but snicker. “Seriously, I thought they went rolling through a flower field or something.”

Fernando cackled. “I will cherish that mental image forever.”

You finished adding everything to the soup and gave it one more stir before you nodded. “Well, soup just has to sit and cook for a while, the longer the better. Think we should go help them scrub, or leave them to it?”

Fernando made an exaggerated thinking face, rubbing at his beard. “I suppose we should help,” he agreed on a sigh. “Or they’ll be out there all night.”

“Copy that.” You smirked at Fernando’s huff of laughter, and the two of you headed after the Spartans.

All four of them were in the river, scrubbing at the armor, which still had pollen clinging stubbornly.

“This might be easier if you take it off,” you said, planting your hands on your hips and surveying their progress critically. “Fernando and I can help that way.”

Fred waded back to shore, pulling his helmet off and handing it to you first. “Thanks,” he mumbled, looking faintly embarrassed. “The pollen is more… resilient than anticipated.”

“We’ll get it off. Eventually.” Setting down his helmet away from the potential splash zone, you and Fernando helped him take off the chest and back plates, and you each got scrubbing.

“The hell is this made of?” Fernando grumbled, glowering at the chest plate.

“Something very stubborn,” you huffed, raising your clean hand to rub under your nose briefly. You made a triumphant noise as you scraped the last of it off the back plate, and set it aside. “Kelly, I’ll get yours next.”

Kelly walked over obediently and helped you get her chest plate off, which was practically coated in pollen. You sat to work on it while she scrubbed at her legs.

“Joy, you made note of these flowers, right? And have labeled them as avoid at all costs?”

“I did,” the AI confirmed. “I’ll upload the information to your tablet as well.”

“Thank you.” You wiggled your nose as it itched again, dipping your rag in the water to get rid of the pollen before getting back to scrubbing.

“You’re up next, Chief,” Fernando said far too cheerfully. “And don’t object, Fred is helping Linda.”

John sighed but relented. He even took off his helmet, the last to do so, as he let Fernando wrestle the back plate off. You couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.

“Boy am I glad dinner is cooking,” you muttered.

“You cooked?” Fred whipped around to look at you.

“Look, I don’t know how you live off of MREs, but I refuse. Yes, I cooked.” You set the chest plate aside and motioned Kelly closer to help scrub the leg armor.

For a few minutes, everyone was silent. You noticed Fernando shifting closer to you until he was pressed back to back with you, and you pressed back into him. Oh that felt nice. You could probably nap like that.

And then Fred sat next to Fernando, armor off, radiating warmth. And he pressed into your little tangle.

That was even better, and you hummed a pleased note.

“Joy.”

The almost-sharp command from John made you look around, immediately wary.

“I’m on it,” Joy agreed. On what? You didn’t see anything. Linda settled near you, hands twitching.

"How do you feel?" John crouched in front of you, looking you over quickly. He even started to reach for you, but checked himself.

"Okay," you answered slowly, frowning. His concern was making you concerned and was quickly spiraling into outright anxiety. "A little jittery? A little cold? Kind of tired?"

Fred made a little noise behind you and pressed against you, very nearly toppling you with accidental strength.

"Everyone up," John snapped, getting to his feet. He hauled you up after with very little apparent effort.

"Chief, whatever this is, it isn't poisonous. Vitals are all holding steady," Joy piped up from his helmet.

"Back to the Pelican." John's voice was hard, allowing for no argument.

Nobody actually complained, just grabbed all the gear and started walking. You ended up carrying two helmets - John's and Linda's. There was also a gun. You definitely hadn't picked that up, and had no idea where it had come from.

That sounded like a later problem.

You were getting cold, shivering as you walked. Fernando, walking ahead of you, didn't seem to be much better off.

But it wasn't far to the Pelican, and everyone was quick to set things down.

You were the first to crack. You inched closer to John until you could lean into his side, and then you sighed as you started to warm up, already feeling better. Fernando nearly jumped to join you, squishing you just a little between the two men.

"The hell is that?" Fred asked, even as he was sandwiched between Linda and Kelly.

"Well, if I had to give it some kind of a name, it seems to be… cuddle pollen?" Joy sounded caught between amusement and sheer regret.

"Cuddle pollen?" The question from Fernando was slightly muffled because he refused to lift his head from your shoulder.

"Well, you all seem to need to be touching," Joy explained slowly. "But your vitals are all fine! Some minor temperature fluctuations, but everything else is within standard ranges for each of you."

You shrugged. "Cuddle pollen. Huh." You huffed a little. It was getting harder to actually think. "I vote dinner first, then bed."

Nobody actually opposed you, so you tore yourself away from the absolutely divine warmth of John's side to serve the soup. John very nearly grabbed for you, but restrained himself at the last moment. Fernando, on the other hand, was quite happy to take your place. Traitor.

Dinner was silent. Not the same kind of silent as usual, but the kind of thick silence that comes from a whole group of people who can't think straight enough to hold a conversation. You ended up on John's other side, with Kelly's feet on one of your thighs. Which did eventually make you grimace and pluck at the undersuit.

"You all should get changed. There's spare clothes for you."

"Spare clothes?" Linda lifted her head like a predator scenting prey.

"Uh. Yeah." Suddenly embarrassed, you ducked your head. "Thought people might need them. At some point."

A moment later you were lifted off the ground in a bear hug. Fred didn't set you down again for a few moments, and then he lumbered inside to change.

Joy definitely had to prompt you and Fernando to put out the fire and to change into dry clothes, but that was fine. Actually, that gave Blue Team time to rally, and rally they had. Every pillow, bedroll, and blanket had been combined on the floor of the Pelican into something resembling a comfy sleep space.

Fernando was quick to cuddle up between John's back and Linda. John himself was sitting up, watching you.

At least until you got within grabbing distance.

One moment you were trying to figure out where to join the cuddle pile, the next you were in John's arms being manhandled with your back to his chest. With a satisfied rumble, John laid down and curled around you, a protective barrier between you and the rest of the world.

Well. A protective barrier between you and the Pelican, since the ramp was up and the ship was entirely closed off.

"Was that really necessary?" Linda asked, sounding more amused than aggravated.

John didn't answer, just tucked his head against the back of yours, clearly intent on holding you.

There was a bit of almost drunk-sounding giggling from… Fernando? And a grumble from Fred.

And then a soft snore.

Warm and relaxed and utterly content with this arrangement, you laid your hands over John's arms and closed your eyes.

Soft talking woke you, and you blinked rapidly. You were warm, your head pillowed on something surprisingly firm and warm. A careful shift of your weight confirmed that there was someone behind you.

“Morning, sunshine.” Fernando crouched in front of you with a shit-eating grin.

You made a rude noise at him and rolled away from the person behind you to lay flat on your belly, hoping to ignore everyone and everything for a little while longer.

��You need to drink something.” Fernando set a bottle down next to you. You knew it was a bottle because he put it right next to your head, so the chill of it seeped to your skin.

“Why.” You didn’t lift your head.

“Prevent dehydration. Also, I bet Chief needs to get up by now.”

That made you squeeze your eyes shut. “Tell me I didn’t cuddle him all night,” you whimpered.

“It was adorable.” That came from Kelly.

You swore softly but sat up, grabbing the water bottle and refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Movement to the side of you got you to glance at John, still dressed down in the shirt and soft pants you’d picked up for all the Spartans.

“Don’t worry, Linda is an aggressive cuddler,” Fernando stage-whispered to you. “I’m just glad nobody kicks in their sleep.”

“Fred used to,” Kelly piped up. “As a kid.”

“Not for long,” Fred grumbled. “Why do you even still remember that.”

The two bantered back and forth, and the bantering helped to put you more at ease. Although, really, now that you were awake you felt great. You didn’t feel tired or achy at all. That was quite possibly the best sleep you’d had in… months.

Which got you thinking about why. Human contact. It had been ages since you’d cuddled with anyone, let alone the human heater that was John. You still didn’t get a lot of hugs, not on the Halo with things as they were.

A quick look showed Fernando looked better too, the circles under his eyes already fading, shoulders more at ease. The Spartans were harder to read, but they certainly seemed more relaxed this morning, willing to banter.

Everybody in the Pelican seemed to be suffering from touch starvation to some degree, and the cuddle pile had actually helped. You hadn’t even thought of it, had never even considered, and yet. Proof sat before your eyes.

Setting your water aside, you focused on Fernando. “How do you feel?”

“Fine. Good, actually.” He shrugged. “Good night’s sleep will do that.”

“And you?” You looked at Kelly next.

“Fine.”

“Fine, or better than fine?”

She hesitated, which was as good as an answer. So you looked at Fred, who shrugged but also looked down as the bridge of his nose went pink. Linda met your gaze with a little smile.

And John… John held your gaze, something warm and affectionate there.

“Huh.” You chewed on your lower lip for a moment before you stood. “Joy, where were those flowers?”

“You’re not going to find them?” Fernando leaned closer to you, squinting at you. “Did you overheat? Are you feeling okay?”

You waved him off, turning away. “I feel great, actually, which is what I’m trying to investigate. That cuddle pollen actually seems to have had a positive effect on all of us, even if only through lowering barriers so we could sleep in a pile and put a dent in our undoubtedly massive touch starvation debt.”

“Touch starvation?” This time Linda asked, watching you with interest.

“Humans are pack animals,” you told her, searching for your shoes, one of which had vanished. “Hugging actually reduces cortisol, among other things, allowing for better sleep. Helps block stress hormones. Boosts oxytocin. All that good stuff.” With a triumphant noise, you grabbed the wayward shoe and stuffed your foot in it. “There have been dozens of medical studies about the positive health impacts of hugs, cuddling, all of that. So, conversely, people who go without touch for a long time become touch starved, it can be pretty serious.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you want to go find the plants.” Fernando put himself between you and the ramp, arms crossed over his chest.

You paused, tapping your fingers against your thigh. “I’ve never seen anything like that pollen. I don’t know if it could be helpful, medically speaking, but probably. I’m not on the R&D side, I don’t know. What I do know is it’s something new and therefore worth documenting, at least.”

“You’re not planning to sprinkle it in our food or anything, are you?” He eyed you almost warily.

You jerked back, honestly hurt. “I would never! Look, I may do some ethically questionable things, like shouting my more stubborn patients into submission, but I would never do anything like that.” You hit the button to lower the ramp a little harder than normal, turning away from Fernando. “I want you all to have breakfast and drink a full bottle of water, just in case.”

And then you left, stepping around Fernando and ignoring his verbal stumbling, hopping off the ramp before it had even finished lowering.

You didn’t slow down until you heard footsteps behind you. You paused and then shrugged. Whoever it was could catch up to you if they wanted.

Of course, you’d also left without a way to talk to Joy. So you just… wandered off the way you’d seen Blue Team go yesterday, and hoped for the best.

“You need to head more west.”

You paused long enough to let Linda catch up to you. She was without armor, since you’d left so hurriedly. Come to think of it, you had no way to even gather some of the pollen if you did walk to the plants.

“Sorry.” You grimaced. “This is silly. We should go back.”

She shrugged. “In a bit.”

You let your shoulders drop, looking away. “Well. I’m glad you lot slept well, at least.”

She nodded slowly. “It was… nice. Odd. But nice.”

“Maybe you should make it a new Blue Team tradition,” you offered, half-joking.

“Pretty sure John won’t want to restrict it to Blue Team.” The look she gave you quite clearly indicated something you weren’t ready to admit just yet.

“Yes, well.” You shrugged. “That sounds like a John problem.”

Linda dipped her head to acknowledge the current stalemate. “Take your time,” was all she said.

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. So you didn’t, not really, just turned away to see if you could find any other useful plants here.

And if you desperately wanted to crawl back into that makeshift bed with John, you kept it firmly to yourself.

#warrior song #master chief x reader #john-117 x reader

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topgun-imagines · 7 months

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Day 5: Head Above Water

Pairing: Tom ‘Iceman’ Kazansky x fem!reader

Synopsis: Iceman may have just lost his one and only reason for keeping his head above water: You.

Warnings: Mentions of drowning, death, thalassophobia, ejection, plane crash, & brief mention of panic attacks.

Word count: 1.2k

Drowning was a funny thing. You always expected that it was one of the most painful ways to go. However, as you floated further and further down in the dark, cold water, you realized just how wrong you were. The first few moments were horrible, your lungs burning as you struggled to return to the surface with your parachute tangled around your legs. Soon, it became too much. Water began to fill your lungs ever so slowly, the pain overwhelming. And then it was gone just as fast. Everything went dark.

Unbeknownst to you, your pilot was only a few meters above you, willing to risk his own life to save yours.

You weren’t even supposed to be here. That was what kept circling Iceman’s mind as he tried relentlessly to get to you. Slider was supposed to be flying with him. Not you. But the RIO was needed on the carrier for something that Ice couldn’t even remember now. Sure, the two of you had flown together before, but it had always been for training or simple missions. Never something as high-profile as this.

It’s not that the two of you didn’t work well together. Quite the opposite, in fact. You and Iceman worked so well together that you were considered a dream team, both in the air and on land. Even though you had only flown a couple of missions together, the two of you were perfect. Hell, even Slider was jealous.

This mission was special, something that could only be pulled off by the best of the best. Everything was going perfectly fine. Right up until the left wing of your jet was taken out with a missile that Ice had tried to avoid. Ultimately, he failed. And now here he was, wading in the frozen waters desperate to find you among the wreckage. He needed you to make it out okay. This mission was supposed to be the one that would send the two of you to Top Gun. Slider had been paired up with another pilot for the spot, meaning that it was one group or the other that got to go.

However, right now, Ice couldn’t find it in himself to care whether he made it to Top Gun or not. All he needed was for you to be okay. As long as you were okay, he would be too. But as the cold water began to set a chill deep into his bones, the hope that had been slowly dying in his chest was snuffed out immediately.

When the missile first struck the jet, the two of you knew exactly what to do. You ejected, followed shortly by Ice. However, your parachute didn’t deploy properly, sending you crashing into the debris-filled water much faster than anything that would be considered safe. Ice had watched, horror-stricken as you dissapeared beneath the surface of the water and never came back up. The seconds felt like hours before he was finally in the cold water, thrashing none too calmly in an attempt to get to you.

The fact that the pilot could no longer see your brightly coloured parachute terrified him to his very core. In one last ditch effort to locate where you were, Ice dunked his head under the water. Even though it was dark and the chances were slim, he was hoping he could at least catch a glimpse of you. Only when he was almost out of breath did he finally emerge from the water. All thoughts of his own safety were disregarded as he tried again and again to find you.

Dread settled in the pit of his stomach. The pilot had no idea what he was going to do if he lost you. He couldn’t even fathom returning to the carrier without you. You were his rock. The single most important person in his life. Sure, he had Slider. But you were there for him on nights when he woke up screaming, his mind plaguing him with terrifying images of losing you. Much like he was now. You were the person who made sure he was eating and sleeping instead of working himself to the bone. And he was just supposed to let you go? Not a chance.

One late night, you had showed up at Ice’s dorm in tears. That was the first time he had ever seen you like that and the pilot could still remember the horror he felt. It was eerily similar to how he was feeling now.

The two of you stayed up the whole night, talking about everything and nothing, all at once. That was the night that Ice first learned about your fear of oceans. Your father was in the Navy. It was why you joined in the first place. But it was also why you had the overwhelming fear that you just couldn't shake no matter what you did. You had lost your father in an accident just like this one.

When you were first selected to fly this mission with Iceman, he had confronted you about it. He wanted to be 100% sure that you would be able to handle flying that high-profile of a mission above the ocean. You had assured him that you would be fine and when he questioned you, you told him eight simple words. “I’ll be okay, Ice. Cause I trust you.” Those words seemed to echo around his head, taunting him for his failure to protect you.

Ice wasn’t sure how long he had been swimming back and forth in the water. He wasn’t even aware of how sore his arms had become. The only thing on his mind was you. A little soreness meant nothing to him as long as you were okay.

It could have been 20 minutes, it could have been 2 hours by the time the rescue chopper finally showed up. The men tried to haul Ice out of the frigid water but he wouldn't leave. Not without you. Against his wishes, he was pulled into the helicopter. The pilot was positive that he had never been more heartbroken and angry than when the chopper started to rise from the water. Without you. They were just going to leave you there. How could he stand for that?

Normally, Iceman wasn’t one to become upset easily and if you were to ask him, he would argue that he had a perfectly valid reason for his reaction. The men in that rescue helicopter had never heard such foul language before.

“How could you leave her!?” They tried to calm him down, insisting that there was another chopper right behind them with the sole intention of finding you. Ice didn’t care. He needed to be with you. He needed to know that you were still alive.

Even as the chopper continued back to the carrier, the men refused to tell him whether or not you were okay. He felt sick to his stomach. Usually, you were the one to make that feeling go away. But this time, you were the reason why it was there. His job was to protect you. You trusted him with your life. And he had failed. Needless to say, whether you lived or died, Iceman would never forgive himself.

a/n: thank you for reading! Join the whumptober taglist!

Tagging: @ohtobeleah @xoxabs88xox @els-marvelvsp @kmc1989 @nyx2021

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silent-raven13 · 8 months

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Do Omegas leak?

Pav asked: Well?

Gwen rubs her chin: Well, I don't know... I never heard of that before.

Miles and Hobie walks up to them: Hey, guys. What are ya'll talking about? -Hodie wrap his arms around his Sunflower's shoulders-

Hobie: Yeah, you two look like your talking about something serious.

Pav: I was reading this... story Gwen sent me and it was an Omegaverse story!

Miles began walking away

Gwen shouted: Wait, Miles. We promise we won't say you would be an Omega. -He quickly appeared in front of them-

Pav's gasp: Wow, so fast! How did you do that?

Hobie chuckles: I thought him that.

Miles scoffs: Yeah, right! It's a trick I know. Anyway, what were you guys saying? -he looks at his two friends.-

Hobie slouches on his boyfriend: Yeah, spit it out.

Pav blushes: We-well, there was this scene where the omega gave birth to a set of "pups" and the omega is a dude, so he breast feeds. -Hobie listens being interested in the story while Miles looks bored.-

Hobie: Pups?

Gwen answered: It's another word to say babies.

Hobie: Ahh.

Pav: Anyway, the pups were crying for their "mama" for milk. So, the Omega heard their babies crying and started to leak milk. So I asked Gwen is that really a thing for omegas and women?

Gwen put her knowledge to use: I told him, I never heard Omegas having that issue, but I heard mothers do leak from time to time when it's time to feed.

Hobie nodded: Hmm, Hmm. Interesting.

Miles blinks: I never heard of that before... -The teenager group were unaware of Deadpool and his Peter walking pass them. They were busy sipping their soda, until they overhear the Spider Band- An Omega leaking out milk? That's kinda- I mean, I would get if their breasts are full.

Pav: Awe, I really wanna know.

Gwen: Why?

Pav: Because it's vague. I never understand why writers are so vague about writing Omega verse, it sometimes confuses me. Even with the whole Alpha female with an Omega man or Alpha female with an Omega woman!

Gwen giggles: Leave it up to your imagination, buddy.

Miles look up his Smartphone: It says here if a child cries the mother would leak milk due to their material instinct.

Hobie chuckles: Simple enough, luv.

Miles: i guess, Omegas are material mothers... I'm sure they would leak. They are the ones that give birth to babies.

Hobie places his hands on Miles' shoulder: Then, if that's the case. I should do this. -He clears his throat then he went- Wahhh, wa-ahhhh, wahhh. -Fake crying in front of Miles-

Miles looks confused: What the fuck?

Pav and Gwen giggles: Good one, Hobie.

Hobie snicker, then Miles realize what he did: Ugh, not funny! -He cutely pouts looking annoyed, then walks ahead- I'm leaving.

Hobie quickly follows him: Wait, luv. I was only joking!

Miles huffs: No! I'm ignoring you. -Giving his boyfriend the silent treatment.-

Gwen and Pav laughs out loud as they follow their friends. Hobie quickly shouted: Miles, I'm sorry! -He whines out loud-

Deadpool hears this then giggles: Ohh, so that's a thing, huh?

His Spiderman sighs: Wade, what are you planning now?

Petie talking to Lupe about their recent mission: So, I thought I made these power bars during my long mission and they work! I think it works too well. -He slurps his milkshakes-

Lupe awes at him: Ohhh, did it make you too full? -She chews on her burger-

Petie nodded: Yes! I couldn't eat the whole day! I only ate half of the bar. Maybe for long missions and when May is a bit older. I try to feed her and I wasn't able to produce any milk for her.

Lupe: Awe, poor baby. She must've been hungry.

Petie: She was! I felt so bad... luckily I had some breastmilk in the fridge for her. She was giving me a look.. it was kinda terrifying.

Deadpool appears in front of the two, his great skills having him blending in the background as a side character. His Spider-man stood slurping his soda wondering what is he planning. Deadpool looks at us: You know, what I'm about to do, huh? -he wiggles his nonexistence eyebrows-

Lupe giggles: That's how it is. Babies always want the real thing, and know May is like her mom. She probably knows what she likes. -Lupe noticed Deadpool looming over them, she ignores him. That guy always is doing something crazy-

Petie chuckles: Yeah...

Deadpool appear behind Petie then he put on his best child cry: Wa-aa-aahhhhhh! Waahhhh! Waaaaahhhhhh! -He uses two his hands around his mouth as he continues to fake cry- Waahhhh!

Lupe arched her eyebrows: What da fuck?

Petie blinks: Huh? -Never been so confused in his life-

Deadpool's Peter groans: Idiot! -He punches Deadpool's head knocking some sense to him- What the hell were you thinking?

Deadpool felt the painful hit, his Peter used his Spider-man strength which hurts like hell: OW! Peter that hurts! Owowowowow! -This time he rubs his head at the pain and cry out loud- Owwww-oooohhh. Waaahhhhh!

Lupe watches with amusement: Hahaha, that's what you get for being so weird! What da hell were you doing?

Deadpool too busy crying in pain: Owowowow! -While his Spider-man scolding at him-

Petie was about to slurp his soda until he noticed his chest weak and gasps: OH no! I'm leaking!

Lupe stood alert: WHAT? -She saw Petie's Spider-man suit getting weak from his breastmilk- Oh my gawd, we need to get you a pump!

Petie quickly cover his chest: I think because Deadpool's crying made my body think May is hungry. -He never felt so embarrassed-

Deadpool stops crying as he looks at Petie's suit around his chest being wet: Yes! It works! Peter do it again. Hit me, again!

His Peter shouted: No, are you insane!

Lupe found a blanket to cover Petie's chest as they both left to head to Petie's locker to get his pump: It's okay ignore that dummy. He's just a pervert. -the two passes by the Spider Band-

Hobie on his knees shaking his boyfriend's leg: Luv, speak to me. I said I was sorry! -Being all teary eye by his Miles' silent treatment-

Pav giggles: Miles, he said he was sorry.

Miles huffs: Sorry, I couldn't hear him.

Hobie whines: Luuuuvvv, don't do this to me!

Miles: Hmm, do you hear that? All I hear is the wind.

Gwen laughing at the two, then saw Petie and Lupe: Ohh, I wonder why Petie looks shy.

Pav: Maybe he met another Alpha. Good thing Lupe is there.

Miles: Yeah, she's tough! She'll make a perfect Alpha unlike some people. -He huffs at his boyfriend-

Hobie whines: Ahh, Luv. Don't be so cruel to me! -He hugs his boyfriend's legs-

Miles: Hmm, I hear no one.

#punkflower #hobie brown #miles morales #spiderman #across the spider verse #spider verse #miles morales 1610 #hobie x miles #miles x hobie #spider man #spiderverse #flowerpunk #flower punk

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slocumjoe · 11 months

Note

what do the companions dream about? good dreams vs nightmares

oh boy.

Part 1 because this took SO LONG.

Goes from Cait to Hancock.

Cait

Good

Colors are richer in tone than they should be. Boston, dipped in rust and grime and sun-bleached plastic, is a rainbow mesa of life. There's never a moment of dullness. The colors never dim, not for rain nor night. If you stop to breath in, the world smells of rain and soil, the musk of old metal and sting of ozone and burn of gunsmoke. The smell sticks to her nose, fresh and bright, and unlike anything she smelled before. It's cold and hot, it's gentle and bold. She walks the streets and hears birds above the warzone. She looks up and sees clouds above even them, pink and swift on the wind. They're endearingly fluffy and she takes a moment to imagine them beneath her head. An eyebot flitters through the wreckage of the world. It's speakers crackle like glass but it chirps senseless news as it bumbles through life. As she wanders, she finds herself at the bank of the Charles. Even after everything, it runs fast and true. If she wanted, it could take her far away. She doesn't want that, though. She watches the water flow, uncaring of time or human conflict. It doesn't care. It's loud and powerful in her ears and she throws her head back and laughs, why do we call this a waste?

Bad

She's in a thick forest, trees so tall and full of dead leaves, crumbling to dust above her like a mockery of rain. It blocks out the sun, but little rays stab through the dark, just enough for her to see a few feet ahead. A pillowy fog swallows the forest floor. It's full and solid around her legs, like slime, like wading through water. It eats the crunch of snapping bone and branch as she runs. She doesn't know what's behind her. Blood and pus seep from its open, vacuous maw. Its jaw clacks and clicks almost mechanically, slowly falling open before yanking itself back in place with a creak. It chases her, but doesn't run. The beast ambles, drags its mass of bone and matted red fur like a puppet too heavy for its strings. Where Cait ducks and weaves between the grey, rotten trunks, it walks through them, shoving them to the ground, barreling them over. The claws grab at fistfuls of the dirt as it goes along, digging but never staying long enough to get far with that. It's grabbing to grab. Taking the dirt to take it, feel something squish and spill from its hands. It tries to speak to her. The only noise it makes comes from its lung. It wheezes, the skin stretched so thin she thinks it could pop, let loose whatever innards it still has. This creature tries to breathe, to sniff, to speak, and all it can do is gasp.

Curie

Good

As the daygate opens, her systems struggle to adapt to the sudden airflow, the light. The sun is so much brighter than she assumed; it's nothing like a light bulb, as Dr. Flint described it. It doesn’t hang so much as looms overhead, so far away, too bright to even perceive. Hiding in plain sight, even. Dr. Burrows sighs, a winded, stunned sound, as he takes a tentative step onto the dirt. His legs shake with tension, coils armed to snap and collapse beneath him, but he is the first to brave the rocky soil, and step away from the plastic pathway into Vault 81. There is a moment where her companions don't dare to move, breathe. They wait for something and it does not come, and then Dr. Collins joins Burrows in the above world. Her sensors pick up flitting figures in the treeline—birds? Bugs? The wind is cold on her plating. It must chill the doctors to their very bones. Flint follows behind her, hiding in her shadow. Burrows has already ventured past the fence, stepping into grass and foliage and putting his face to a bulbous, purple flower. Collins warns him to mind the unfamiliar plant, and calls Curie to identify it. She cannot. This specimen is from this new world, and that means this world is living, growing, and there are so many studies to be done.

Bad

It has been 1,423 years. Vault 81, once a creaking, living beast, fell. There had been times she could hear the inhabitants, on the other side of the walls. Only silence, now. The hum of machinery and technology gave one sputter of life, before there was a great groan that shook the walls. And then, darkness. Whatever came of them, be it freedom or death, Vault 81's residents were gone. At first, Curie had thought a simple power out, a technical failure. She waited. She paced the hallways, said good morning and good night to the decrepit Protectatrons. She tended the graves. The light never came back on. Never again did she hear the faint sound of life, somewhere in her Vault. Her only light came from her own hover jet. But time came for her. She had never thought it could. Time was a mortal's fear, and she, a robot, lacked a soul to be such. She braved so many years, she never thought there was an end. Her systems failed her long ago, computers too old to continue functioning. The meager fuel supply ran out. Actuators and joints suffered rust and exertion, and her limbs hung limp. Curie tucked herself, like a bird settling for sleep, next to her long gone friends. Something stirred in her, and she thought fit to call it fear.

Danse

Good

He's home. It isn't home like he used to say. It isn't a fort, a ship, an encampment. It's a home. Thin, wood walls, a porch, too-wide windows. Terribly impractical, a nightmare to fortify. It didn't matter. That was okay. For once, for the first time in his life, he had nothing to fear. There was nothing just over the horizon, nothing below ground. Just a home, among many others, and thoughts of death and destruction didn't wrap around his neck and squeeze. He shares this home. With friends, with people he thinks family, with his own family. Today, he shares it with Krieg. Both of them stripped of their titles, as the wasteland has no need for the Brotherhood, and no need for Paladins. Krieg eyes his home with pride poorly disguised as disdain. He barrels into every room and makes a show of critiquing the lack of barricades, the weapons locked away for his childrens' safety, the curtains simply because he hates stripes. When Krieg has his fill of pretending Danse amounted to nothing, learned nothing, he turns around with a smile so big, you'd think he'd just watched a Mutant eat a live grenade. Claps his big hand on Danse's shoulder and tells him well done, but if you skip on training like Cutler, I'm shoving my foot so far up your ass, your spouse will taste the rubber for months. Danse raises an eyebrow and grins, and against his better judgement, tells his once-commanding-officer-turned-father-figure that he and his spouse taste plenty of rubber on their own. It takes him a moment. Krieg makes a face like he just saw a Mutant eat a live grenade and survive. He starts yelling about that, and he yells, and yells, and yells until Danse's spouse and children come home.

Bad

He hates medical bays. Of course, his nightmares take place in them. And he's had this one so many times, he's forced to stare it down, knowing he'll have to wake up and go about his day like it doesn't haunt him. He's in one of the emergency rooms. He isn't injured, this time. Sometimes, his organs are strewn about the room. Others, his limbs melt off like candy in sunlight. But this go-round, he's fine. There's an IV in his arm, and he can't look away from Cutler in the chair beside him. His head is still Cutler. His mouth is hanging by one jaw hinge. A scream rips from the vocal chords, draped down his opened throat. It's wet, like he's crying. Sometimes he is. Sometimes his eyes are too bloated, green as grapes and bursting with blood. Cutler holds his hands in front of him, his body twitching, trashing, something awakening inside him as the FEV takes hold. He tries to put his jaw back in place. Danse softly tells him that isn't how that works. This scene's happened before. Cutler will try to speak, to beg Danse to kill him, but his hands mutate into his face, and he becomes a wet, bloated mass of green flesh, swallowed by himself, and the screaming muffles into puppy-like whimpers. Danse says he's sorry, and that he's here, and Cutler isn't alone. He knows its just a dream, but it matters. He hopes that Heaven is real, and Cutler can hear him from up there. The real Cutler couldn't. Neither can this one. This one holds his belly and throat and throws up on the floor, an endless stream of all of his bodily substances as he turns inside out. Danse reaches out and gives him his hand, as he always does. Sometimes he wishes he could resist, let himself treat this as a nightmare. But that would harden him, and he wants to remember. Cutler deserves to be mourned and missed. Danses misses him because he loved him, and he can't have one and not the other. So he holds his hand as Cutler crumples into a misshapen lump of organs and limbs and eyes. There's a selfish part to it, too. Cutler always held his hand when he had nightmares. Like this, he still does.

Deacon

Good

He was never a good cook, but everything rides on this cake coming out okay. No burnt edges, no dry patches, no underdone bits. Perfection is the bar and he'd electric slide under the Devil's shiny throne in Hell if it meant clearing it. He would kill a man if he had to, if his blood would make it moist. Obsessive? Yes. The first cake was...dubious. Those eggs had to have been off, he's sure of it. Cakes don't taste like...that. The second one, he floated his eggs until he determined all were dubious, and ran to the neighbors with the hens and bought more. Floated those, those checked out. But...that cake was wrong, too. It wasn't overcooked...or undercooked...it's just, the texture made it impossible to decide what it was at all. He stuck a fork in it and the fork bounced up and hit the ceiling when he let go. The third cake had similar results in that it broke the fork entirely, despite being pale. The fourth one he treats with the severity of a heart surgery, because the clock is ticking and he refuses to serve a cake bought at the baker. He measures to the individual salt particle. He adds milk with an eyedropper and counts the drops. He drops an egg and screams but that's okay, because the two that make it to the batter bowl make it in at all. The mixing process makes him sweat and he doesn't trust his oven as far as he can throw it, but he has no choice. The second that cake is done, he frets over it like a newborn. Once it cools, he applies a smooth layer of tarberry frosting, a dusting of confectionary sugar, and decorative Dandy Boy apples, because she loves them even if she pretends she doesn't. There is no time for pride. Their door swings open, and he can hear Barbara kick her shoes off in that telltale way that says her day's sucked. He sticks in the candles, and manages to light them just before she staggers into the kitchen. When she looks up from her feet and sees it, her smile and the glittering in her eyes is worth all the wasted eggs. And...forks.

Bad

He wakes and sits up. Stands on his legs. Walks to a dresser. He opens a drawer. Inside sit various faces. He puts on the scavenger, and yeah, it stinks of piss and garbage, but this one, it's a real resourceful one. You get all the good deals from the caravans, like this, and the raiders might look at you all hungry, but you're closer to them than anyone else, so they leave be, most the time. If not, you're a scavver, so you ain't got any qualms shooting first. He takes off the face. He puts on the soldier. It fits well-enough. This one is useful in circumstances where having a straight spine and good trigger discipline can make all the difference. Surviving the wasteland requires constant vigilance and sharp instincts, and the steadfastness to act on both. Civilians often skulk away, which is a bonus, given his need for subterfuge and anonymity. He takes off the face. He puts them all on, one by one. There's one face in an old Dandy Apple box. He doesn't know how to open it. The tape sticks to the fingers he's using, no matter how thin or thick, short or long. It asks he leave it be. Leave it in its box.

Gage

Good

Crickets chirp, out in the wasteland. It's a high, light sound, so gentle it could be wind. The only thing those pests are good for, these late-night songs. It's deep into the evening, and Porter Gage is alone in the forest. The last drop of sunset bleeds through the trees, just before the dark swallows it all up. His fire is good to last the night, where he camps in the hollow of a tree trunk. Trees didn't grow this big before the war, he's pretty sure, and he thinks Old World folks missed out. He remembers being young, and wanting to do this. Hide away in the old logs, his own fort. But then, he was skittish. Nervous about the bugs, the firefrogs, the draugators. Now, all those things are just ambiance. The forest isn't even that dark, with the frogs shooting at every bug that comes their way, drawn to the glow in their vocal sacs. He still finds those little things charming, and wishes they had anything like them back up north. But right now, he's content to listen to their distant burning. He missed them. Porter Gage lights a smoke from his fire, takes a sip of his rustrod tea, and luxuriates in the simple pleasure of a peaceful night back home.

Bad

The wallpaper is gone. Little scraps of it remain where the adhesive didn't budge. The carvings in the doorframe have worn away, too. He can barely make out AG, MJG, LG, WG, HG, KG. PG sits at the very top of the other marks, but the number is ineligible. He walks into the kitchen. Whole house smells of charcoal, but the fireplace is empty. Not even a speck of burnt wood. Everything is so clean. His footsteps trail dirt. That behemoth of a cleaver hangs dutifully above the window, right next to the skillet. It was heavy in his hands, almost too big for his palm, but he made it work. He hangs it back up, and notices how little it takes to do so. Used to be, he had to strain and stretch, stand on his tip-toes. He exits the kitchen. Spent so much time in there, he doesn't need a refresher. If that is what he's here for, anyway. He doesn't know why he's in this house again. He's after something. Closure? An answer? Revenge? He doesn't want those. He never did. That might be the worst part. He's a raider. A greedy, desperate, opportunistic creature, all open hands and mouth. And he wants nothing from this. He wants to leave again. Out the window like when he was a boy. If he listens, he can hear the wind whistle through the crack where the tracks are broken. Where it doesn't shut right. They never fixed it, did they? He goes to that room, down the hall. The door is locked, but it opens for him anyway. Dust everywhere. Dust, cobwebs, the window screen he ripped out. His bootprints trail from the window, coming from the outside in. If he didn't know this place, the story, it'd look like young Porter was yanked from his bedroom and stolen away. He thinks of what his parents would think of that and wonders, what did I want?

Hancock

Good

A squall hits Boston, the same night he wanders away from Goodneighbor. He doesn't turn back. His whims take him to the edge of Boston, right up against the river. The wind is brutal, the rain harder than bullets. He finds a greenhouse. It's dark, but it's shelter. The door is already open and he takes it as a warm welcome, even if its just as cold. He thinks he's alone until he isn't. A man leans against a trough filled with dirt, stares at one single flower, creeping through the dirt. To be polite, he says hello. The old man doesn't look at him, only gestures for him to come closer. He steps forward, and the old man says, "You don't see much of this, these days." The flower is light purple, its five petals reminding Hancock of a star, or a toy pinwheel. It gives off a smell that's pure sugar, so sweet it could be candy. He says he never paid much attention to flowers. The old man's voice is hollow, but light and clear, like a flute. He says that's a shame, because they're something to appreciate. All this time, all the war, and still, the world gives them flowers. Sometimes they have a purpose. Sometimes that's just to be, just to fill the air. That's enough. Hancock sees a few more bulbs sprout from the dirt. He asks what kind of flower it is. The old man tells him it's a violet, and says again, "You don't see much of this, these days." Hancock asks if he grew it. He says no. He says it grew itself. He gave it the water, and the warmth, and the dirt. But it had to choose to grow. It chose to drink, to eat, to bloom. He could have given it everything, but it had to do the hard work itself. The old man turns to Hancock, and his eyes are rocks inside the sockets, but still seeing. Still aware. The old man tells him he can do the hard work, now. He doesn't have to repot. John doesn't get it but wants to believe him all the same.

Bad

Bright red flowers litter the streets, one day. They're redder than anything he's ever seen. The petals cup around the pistil like hands, delicate and careful, before draping down in a sheet. He asks of them, and no one else can see. They smell of citrus. They're soft, when he dares to touch the petals. They can't be a figment of his mind. He tries to ignore them. Flowers don't grow in the Commonwealth, anyway. But they do. These flowers grow everywhere. He speaks to MacCready, sees the way his throat bobs when he asks how the search for a cure is going. Around MacCready's worn boots, flowers of all colors sprout from the tile. Their petals curl upwards, and white rings around the pistil, like an eye. They lack any scent. MacCready brushes him off as he points at them. Hancock goes to Daisy, lets her speak of her husband. He's never learned the man's name, and he thinks she doesn't remember, anymore. White flowers burst from the walls. These petals...they bundle so tightly together, the pistil is hard to make out. The whole thing looks like paper maché, this round, bulbous flower almost too perfect to exist. He leaves her swiftly, and as he looks behind to give his goodbye, he finds more of those first red flowers, following behind him. He opts to go to bed. He enters the Statehouse and it's a garden. Flowers creep up from the floorboards, drape from the rafters, wrap around the stairwell. All red. Those red, sleepy-petaled flowers. Wood splinters litter the floor, dust falls from the disturbed ceiling, the boards and railing of the stairs give out under the weight of it all. He struggles upstairs, drops to his bed, and hopes it goes away in the morning. He tastes citrus in the back of his throat. He coughs and—and he's choking, puking? He leans over the bed's edge and hacks until his lungs clear. A single red petal falls to the ground. His throat tightens, feels full, and he can't breathe so he keeps coughing. It looks like blood drops, red slowly drifting to the floor in piles.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #paladin danse #porter gage #companions react #hancocks flowers in order #violet; poppy; anemone; chrysanthemum; poppy again

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regular-human-being · 6 months

Text

"You've got guts to spill (but no one trustworthy)" notes masterpost

Fic linked here!!!

Here are some notes from "You've got gut to spill (but no one trustworthy)" aka My ctntduo/sbi vampire au, because there are a few things that I didn't include and I wish I had

Note: I'll be updating this as the fic goes along, so there will be new stuff added weekly :D

Vampire logic

General facts

• They have enhanced sight, small, and hearing, which makes it easier to hunt their prey. Despite the fact they can see at night, it isn't perfect (their eyes reflect light much like a dog or cat)

• Vampires have to been invited into places deemed as "homes". It doesn't matter if that person is in the room/building, they still have to be invited in (imagine is one person deems a public library "home" (not literally), unless the vampire is invited in they cannot enter).

This applies to windows/skylights too, as they are another point of entry they have to be invited in either way. Once invited inside, they can entre through any entrance.

• Crucifies affect all vampires differently, based upon: their age, strength, and current energy.

• Older vampires will be less affected than fledglings, due to a tolerance build up. But a cross will still cause them to experience some pain. If a vampire is tired/low on blood, they will be more heavily effected.

• Holding a cross in front of a vampire will cause them to experience paint, and may also start smoking.

• Placing a crucifix (whether silver or wooden) above a door, will not completely stop a vampire from entering an establishment (especially if they have previously been invited in). However, for them it will be like having to wade through an invisible, painful force field.

• Their reflection will show up in mirrors that don't contain any sort of silver. They also show up in videos and photos.

• If their skin is cut, they will bleed if they have recently fed/have a lot of blood in their system. However, the wound will also heal faster, if they have more blood in their system.

But if their skin is cut with something made of silver, the wound will take a human amount of time to heal.

They will also heal fast, unless they are injured by: another vampire, silver, or burnt by the sun.

• Human blood is preferred, but harder to get a hold of, so they can also survive off animal blood. They are also more stable off human blood, and don't have to feed as often as it satiates their hunger for longer.

• Vampires can still eat and drink "human foods". However, their body does not process it the same way, and that food/drink will remain in their stomach until there is too much and they throw it all back up. For this reason, vampires tend to avoid eating "human foods".

However, foods with a higher concentration of blood is more likely to be digested fully.

Alcohol will also not have an strong effect on them, unless is is drank in a high quantity. The quickest/easier way to get a vampire drunk is for them to drink blood containing alcohol.

• They will physically remain the same age that they were turned out, as well as keeping some of the mentality from that age too.

_____

• Vampires will form bonds between them and other close members of their coven. Through this, they can communicate through feelings/emotions.

Coven bonds work like a phone line, you can get a signal from more than one person at the same time, but some are stronger than others; depending on who you're closest to.

The connection may become weaker/unresponsive, if the other person is far away or not paying attention.

_____

• Once turned, the vampire will take on animistic features from one animal. The type and severity is different for each individual, but all have the ability to hide said features for a short period of time.

• They cannot float/fly unless their animal has the ability to do so (giving them wings) (birds, bugs/insects).

_____

• The older the vampire is, the stronger they often are, and the more respected they are.

• Elder vampires will often sire others, or take in loose vampires, creating covens for said fledglings.

• Fledgling transformation (if done correctly) will last around a week to two, for the full transformation. But the vampire will remain in the nest/not go outside of the main coven building, for a few months whilst they adapt.

_____

The Sun

• Going outside during sunlight hours will make any vampire weaker than their full, nighttime potential./

• Cannot go out into direct sunlight (especially in summer) without burning almost instantaneously. Umbrellas/parasols, hats, and sun cream can be used to delay they burns, but with sun cream it will only stave it off for a few minutes at most.

• They can go out in overcast/cloudy/rainy weather, with less repercussions. But will still experience burns (especially in the former two) if out for extended periods of time.

• Reflecting direct sunlight onto a vampire will burn them the same (if not worse) than if they were to stand directly in the rays.

_____

Weaknesses

• Direct sunlight will result in burns and possible burns.

• Cannot enter buildings/rooms deemed as "home" without being invited in.

• Allergic to garlic, and will experience and similar anaphylactic reaction if exposed to it or ingest it.

• Crucifixes will cause a stinging/burning sensation. If exposed for to long, they will start smouldering.

• Cannot walk on holy land.

• A stake through the heart will kill a vampire then and there.

• Silver.

• Ripping out their heart or cutting off their head will kill them.

#I'll be adding to this weekly so make sure to come back when a new chapter is posted!!!#tntduo #sbi #vampire au #yggtsbnot #fic notes

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crissiebaby · 4 months

Text

Sissy's First Date: Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: This POV story contains diaper usage, forced crossdressing, public humiliation, masturbation/diaper sex, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon

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“Ahhhhhh! That hit the spot,” I said as I leaned back while hooking my feet around the wooden picnic table’s support beam to keep from falling backward. Rubbing my tummy, I savored the aftertaste of the cheeseburger and fry combo I had eaten. It was far from the best burger I’d ever eaten but just about anything would’ve tasted like heaven with Becca at my side.

Watching me finish my food like a hawk, Becca waited for me to lean forward in my seat again before reaching toward me with a napkin and gently wiping the crumbs away from my mouth “You did a great job following my instructions to eat delicately. I should only have to touch up your lips. Well done, Cherry-baby” she said, remarking on the minimal damage to the diligent work she had done painting my face. Her complement caused me to retreat into my shell like a turtle as I shrunk down and hid myself behind my shaky hands without letting them touch my face, unable to suppress my unadulterated happiness. I could listen to her dote on me for hours.

*Peck!*

Suddenly, something warm, wet, and gentle grazed the side of my face. My mind skipped the tracks as my hand cupped my burning cheek, the remnants of Becca’s lipstick mark dusting my fingertips with a dash of red.

“Hey now, no touching. Remember?” said Becca, flicking the back of my hand and nudging it away from my face, “Besides, I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to.” It was clear she expected me to wear the imprint of her lips on my skin for the remainder of our date; an embarrassing display that had me feeling unquestionably giddy.

Standing up from the picnic table, Becca quickly circled until she was stationed behind me, offering me no time to climb out of my seat as well. This was intentional as a pair of loving arms soon draped across my chest and began playing with the bow sown to the chest of my dress. “Hmmm...I don’t know about you but I’m still a bit peckish. How about we stop for some dessert before our next ride? Doesn’t that sound fun?” she cooed, beckoning me to follow her like an obedient pet.

Nodding my head, my voice cracked as I muttered, “That- *cough* That sounds nice.” I winced as an immediate cackle succeeded my fatal squeak, further burying me in blushiness.

Becca’s laughter would come to an abrupt end, though, as an unfortunate sight graced her line of sight. She lowered her head and ducked down, prompting me to do the same. “Shit, what the fuck are they…Ugh! Nevermind. We need to get out of here,” she said, her mood starkly shifting from romantic and bright to serious and distressed.

“Wait, what? What’s going on?” I said, naively stretching my neck upward as I looked in the same direction Becca had.

Grabbing the collar of my shirt, Becca attempted to tug me downward, whispering loudly, “Nonono! Cherry, get down!”

Unfortunately, it was too late for that. It was only a split-second but a split-second was all that was needed as I noticed a distinct pair of eyes with the same colored irises as mine. “A-Abby,” I muttered, spotting my sister at the exact same moment that she spotted me. A cruel smile formed as she pointed in my general direction.

Why the hell was Abby here?! We were two towns away from where we lived. Moreover, she hated county fairs, giving her less than zero reason to be in the same place Becca and I were. I wanted to run as fast as my legs could carry me. It was bad enough to be femmed up at their hands. To have them catch me voluntarily dressing this way was a death sentence. But my jelly legs refused to move, locking me in place as my sister waded through the busy crowd with her usual posse of Kiah and Sarah at her side. “B-Becca, can you help me-…Becca?” I said, angling my head backward, only to notice that my date had seemingly vanished, leaving me all alone at the picnic table in my sissy dress and diapers.

“Well, well, well! What are the odds we’d run into my little brother while we’re here,” said Abby, refusing to acknowledge me as her equal twin while I was dressed the way I was, “Though, I’m not sure I should be using a manly term like “brother” so loosely.”

I could feel my soul actively dying with each snicker that came out of my sister's mouth. Any happiness I had attained from my date had been fully erased. In a last-ditch effort to spare myself further humiliation, I tried to get up from my seat so I could make a break for it. Sadly, I wouldn’t even get through step one of my makeshift plan as Kiah’s heavy hand planted itself on my shoulder, keeping me locked in place. It was a harsh dichotomy from the way Becca had stood over me only a moment before.

Scooching in next to me with her phone in hand, Sarah wrapped an abrasive arm around my satin-covered waist as she displayed a picture of me waiting in line for the Ferris Wheel with a diaper poking out from under the skirt ever so slightly. “I almost didn’t believe it when I saw you. I’ve never been so happy that my mom made me come home from college this weekend,” she said, squeezing me and forcing me to endure another round of high-pitched giggling, “Who’s your little friend, by the way? I never got a good look at who your diapee buddy was.”

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna know,” said Abby, plopping herself down in front of Becca’s tray and putting up her feet on my thighs, “Like what, did you candy ass start scrolling through Grindr the second we freed you until you found a fellow sissy loser? You know, you weren’t supposed to enjoy what we did to you.”

Listening to Abby and Sarah’s dialogue, it became obvious why Becca fled from the scene at lightning speed. They had no idea what secrets their peppy bombshell of a friend was harboring. Perhaps I could use this to my advantage. Outing Becca as my date did had the potential to move the target off of my back and onto hers. And it wasn’t like she had any problem with ditching me to save herself.

However, as I looked down at the candid photo of Becca and myself waiting for our turn on the Ferris Wheel, my mind leaped back to the amazing time we’d had together up to this point. Becca didn’t have to make herself vulnerable to me but she did. Regardless of her present cowardice, that was something I refused to let my sister take away from me. “Well…I did enjoy it,” I said, putting on as confident of a face as I could muster, “S-So what?”

Staring up at each other in disbelief, none of the three girls were exactly sure how to respond. It was only when Abby forced out a laugh that other girls started chortling alongside her. Steeling my composure to the best of my ability, I closed my eyes, drowned out their voices, and let the stain of Becca’s kiss continue to burn on my cheek; its warmth strengthening my resolve.

“Haha! You trying to act tough when dressed like this is so adorable,” said Abby in between cackling, turning up the dial on her viciousness in an attempt to get me to break, “I can’t wait to get home. The four of us are going to have a blast burning all your old, icky boy clothes. A pansy like you clearly doesn’t need them anymore. Just wait until Dad finds ou-”

“HEY!”

In an instant, the noisy, bustling fairgrounds went quiet, as did the mockery of my sister and her friends. My eyes shot open, allowing me to witness Becca’s spectacular return. Marching up to our table, she physically shoved Sarah and Kiah away from me, freeing me from their shackle-like grip. She didn’t dare make eye contact with the others as she pulled me out of my seat and into her arms. “Sorry, I was gone for so long, sweetie,” she said, pretending as though the world around us didn’t exist as she straightened out my skirt before threading her fingers through mine and escorting me away from the table, “C’mon, we’ll get your lipstick fixed up while we wait in line for the next ride.”

Glancing back at the picnic table shrinking in the distance, I relished the stunned silence that Becca left my sister and her friends in. The look on Abby’s face specifically was priceless. Part of me wished I could stay a few moments longer so as to record every inch of my sister’s priceless expression to memory. Unsurprisingly, that small part stood no chance against the warpath Becca was forging as she rushed us away from the food vendors, her eyes locked forward. I could only guess at the number of troubling things swirling around in her mind.

Eventually, we stopped at the tail end of a nearly empty line for a dark ride auspiciously named, The Tunnel of Love. I could only guess that Becca wanted to get out of sight as soon as possible. Tragically, the emotions that Becca and I were stuck processing were anything but lovey-dovey feelings. “Hey…are you okay?” I asked, catching my breath after speed-walking across half the fairground, “I totally get it if you wanna call it after that.”

“No!” shouted Becca instinctively, forcefully clearing her throat afterward in an attempt to cover up her panicked refusal, “No, I’m okay. I promise. I want the date to keep going…unless, of course, you’re ready for it to end.”

Shaking my head vehemently, I wasn’t ready for this day to end by a long shot. “Nuh-uh, I really don’t want this to end. This…this is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” I said earnestly, my cheeks filling with a different kind of blush; the romantic kind.

Becca’s face took on a similar hue, allowing her to flash a smile for the first time since the incident. “Me too. I love getting to spend time with you like this. It’s not really something I’ve ever gotten to do before,” she said, her feet squirming in place thanks to the rawness of her sentiment, “Promise you won’t get upset but…there’s something I wasn’t completely honest about.”

The deepening of Becca’s voice told me everything that I needed to know. Whatever she was about to tell me was something of incredible importance, maybe even something she’d never admitted to anyone else. I nodded to her again and listened closely.

“I lied to you when I said that…the diapers I made you wear were an ex-boyfriend’s,” said Becca, unable to face me as her watering eyes traced the cracks in the cement, “It was just such an exciting opportunity. That stunt you pulled at your sister’s sleepover? I’d read countless stories with scenarios just like it. So…I decided to take advantage of that, and I had to lie to everyone, including you, to pull it off. I’m sorry. I know you must hate me now for getting you tangled up in my kink so I’ll understand if-”

*Peck!*

Ceasing my chance to return the affection Becca had bestowed upon me earlier, I leaned in while she was mid-sentence and placed a kiss on her cheek, leaving the same mark behind that she had. “Just letting everyone know who you belong to, right?” I said brashly, my heart and lungs imploding simultaneously in a display of shameless romanticism.

Much like I had done, Becca’s hand rose to meet the kissy mark left behind on her face. Unlike me, though, she needed no one to instruct her to keep from wiping it off. I could feel myself growing stiff as we gazed at each other, aroused purely by the love I was feeling. Well, love and the softness of my soaking wet diaper.

Wrapping her arms around me, Becca and I cozied up to each other. Our next stop: The Tunnel of Love. I couldn’t imagine a more fitting destination.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Edited by AllySmolShork

Special Thanks to Our CrissBaby Diaper Company Investors: BlossomBitchDolly BlushyBen DD Exminister Gun1242 JFN LittlePissy PrincessKittenLizzi Strawberry Sweetsamantharebecca & One Anonymous Investor

#ab/dl #ab/dl art #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #crissiebaby #diaper art #diaper stories #diaper humiliation #dirty diaper #diaper messy #wetting diaper #md/lb #ab/dl sissy #sissybaby #diaper sissy #sissy story #humiliation sissy

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 month

Text

Russingon - March

Written for my dear reader MoonLord :D

I am not entirely sure about this one...but here it is <3

Prompts: “are you okay" - Rough - Overprotective

Pairing: Maedhros x Fingon

Words: 1035

Warnings: Fighting, blood, doom, sadness, fear, naïve rewriting of the Nirnaeth, I am not feeling well, don't shoot me!

Even though he was standing in an ephemeral pool of gleaming light, Maedhros felt a terrible shadow fall across his soul. He shivered violently.

At once, he recognised this sickening sensation only—the paralysing, clammy cold irrepressibly took him back to flashes of burning ships on dark waters and rough, cruel hands dragging him away from his screaming brothers on a field of fire.

He knew this sickening sense of foreboding only too well. They were about to be betrayed.

“Finno,” he gasped instinctively, his shapely head whipping around in search of his beloved.

Of course, per their agreed-upon battleplan, his lover was on the opposite side of the vast expanse of raw ruin, and he would have to cross literal hell to get to him in time.

The crownless, dishonoured prince had dreamed this so many times—losing Fingon because he was just not fast or skilful enough—and he was grimly determined not to let the nightmares haunting him eat up what little was left of his life.

Thus, he pushed through the throng of combatants blindly; every step was akin to wading through an ocean of sticky blood and stray limbs, and the mad screaming was deafening, but he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted or held up by the rivers of misery trying to ensnare his body and mind.

In passing, he caught a glimpse of Caranthir’s face—deadly pale under the splatter of black blood—and he swore to himself that he’d find and console his brother in due time.

“You are not the first to have trusted foolishly and to find yourself wickedly backstabbed,” he wanted to scream at that motionless mien that gave away how deep his sibling’s mental hurt truly was. “Rally, Moryo! There shall be time for remonstrances and remorse when the day is won. Now, stand and fight!”

All this and more, he yearned to say. He longed to hear his voice rising above the terrible storm of chaos and destruction, but his lungs were burning, and his tongue wouldn’t move.

Once more, he had no choice but to forge ahead alone—mute and miserable.

After his capture and long, torturous abiding in the enemy’s fortress of pain, Maedhros had solemnly promised never to desert his family again, but could that reproach really be laid at his feet now?

Fingon was more than his cousin, more than one to whom he owed a life debt—he was the only sliver of purity and faith left intact within Maedhros’s crumbling heart, and losing him, he who had been brave and loyal from the very beginning to the bitter end, would have been too much of an injustice to bear.

“You cannot mean this,” Maedhros whispered, unsure whether it was Manwë or Námo with whom he was pleading within his mind. “We remember our Doom, worry not, but he cannot be part of the sacrifices and losses I am bound to bear.”

In the distance, a flash of gold danced like fireflies above a murky pool, and—clenching his jaw as fatigue and injury tried to tear him down—the Lord of Himring threw himself into a solid wall of armoured bodies like a crazed beast fighting for its survival.

“If you take him,” he mouthed as he hacked through limbs and fetid air with frenzied violence, “then you prove my father’s darkest accusations right. If this is the end of Findekáno, you are no better than Morgoth and his monstrosities.”

Every step was agony, but he pushed on, reciting the poems and empty phrases of puerile devotion that sprang from his muddled memory incessantly.

Once upon a time, he had believed the Valar to be invincible, and—one last time—Maedhros needed that blind faith to make it to the one he loved.

Praying fervently to Aulë and Ulmo to strengthen the hearts and arms of their favoured creations, he—who had been disappointed and abandoned more often than he could count—trusted that his allies would prevail.

As if the Powers that had turned away from his line had heard and heeded his desperate pleading, the host of savage fighters seemed to part like a roiling sea before Maedhros’s bleary eyes, and he could, at long last, make out Fingon’s glorious, unbowed silhouette, outlined starkly against the irreverently blue sky.

Soon, he knew, Morgoth would be forced to release his ultimate weapon: mindless, unbridled chaos.

Thus, it was vital to retreat and regroup before their carefully laid-out plans were turned against them.

Loyalty, he thought despairingly even as he reached his lover, should certainly vanquish base betrayal.

Throwing himself bodily between Fingon and the swelling tide of flame-wreathed foes, Maedhros pushed his half-cousin out of the way roughly.

“Love, are you okay?” the other exclaimed, surprised and alarmed by the unexpected arrival. If Maedhros was here, he immediately understood, it meant that all their strategies had gone awry.

“The Valiant” he was named, and he proved once more that he deserved that epitaph as he took a quick sidestep that allowed him to cleave a hitherto unnoticed enemy about to strike down Maedhros.

“We must away,” the exhausted redhead grunted. “Stay behind me!”

Despite the lethal danger caressing his skin with cold fingers, Fingon laughed throatily at that heart-warming but utterly ridiculous exhortation.

“You’ve ever been overprotective,” he guffawed good-humouredly. “As one I still cherish told your father once—lead and I shall follow! I have your back, my darling. And we have brothers to save!”

Whispering words of gratitude and relief under his breath, Maedhros chose life—Fingon’s and his own—over the horrible, seductive allure of the sweet, mendacious promise of a victory he knew to be incontrovertibly out of reach.

How easy it would have been to give in to the despair gnawing at his soul unrelentingly and follow the perfidious siren call into death!

Consciously renouncing the fateful flaw of his blood that ever pushed them to retaliate against treachery by unleashing the full extent of the reckless, self-forgotten fury of which they were undeniably capable, Maedhros—becoming the king he’d never wanted to be, garlanded by golden light and cold air—wisely declared the day lost and his union doomed.

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me!

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one!

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Luck of the Draw #March event #FOTFICS March 2024 #Russingon #Maedhros #Fingon #Maedhros Fingon #Are you okay #rough #overprotective #For MoonLord

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bethanythebogwitch · 1 year

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Welcome back to the series where I talk about evey fish pokemon’s origins and their real-life inspirations, this time covering gens III and IV. See here for gens I and II.

Staring off with Carvanha and Sharpedo. Carvanha is based on a piranha, specifically a red-bellied piranha.

"I'm mot really that scary" (image: a piranha)

When I say “based off of” I mean that in a pretty loose way. It really looks nothing like a piranha and more like an artistic depiction of a generic “scary fish”. Let’s talk about piranha because they are probably the world’s most slandered fish. Piranha are not the hyper-vicious super-predators that roam the Amazon devouring everything in their path that media depicts them as. They’re actually omnivores rather than obligate carnivores and mostly scavenge the dead. The stories of them attacking and skeletonizing large animals in minutes come from times when European explorers would be shown displays where schools of piranha would be trapped and starved for a long time to get them to act like that. Attacks on humans are rare and usually happen when the human gets too close to a piranha’s eggs, prompting a warning bite. If you still aren’t convinced that they aren’t fishy murder machines, check this video of River Monsters’ Jeremy Wade getting into a pool of hungry piranha and not getting bit at all

youtube

(this is not me telling you to go swim with piranha. Always be cautious when around wild animals)

Like piranha, Carvanha is much more dangerous in groups. Real piranha only school part of the year while Carvanha do it permanently. Carvanha is a river fish like piranha, but it also has a lot of shark features that fit its evolution. It can smell blood from far away (a feature of both piranha and sharks) and has the famous placoid scales or denticles of sharks. Evolving Carvanha causes it to go from bony fish to cartilaginous fish in the form of the franchise’s first shark. Sharpedo seems to be a generic shark similar to a great white (it even has countershading) but missing its back half. This is similar to the ocean sunfishes of family Molidae, most famously the Mola mola itself.

(image: scuba divers swimming alongside a mola)

This is funny because sharpedo, an active and very fast ambush hunter, could hardly have a more different lifestyle than the Molas, who are slow and mostly eat jellyfish. Sharpedo is also based on a torpedo, and in later games where it’s ridable it seems to function like a jet ski. Like sharks, Sharpedo has placoid scales that are exaggerated in its mega evolution and faces overfishing from people using its dorsal fin in food. Mega Sharpedo having denticles on the sides of its snout point to inspiration from the sawfish, a shark relative.

Easily one of the fakest-looking real fish (image: a sawfish)

Barboach is a loach while Whiscash is a catfish. Barboach seems to specifically be a pond loach, which buries itself in sediment to avoid danger (hence the ground typing), can sense changes in weather (a big deal in this gen), and are common food fish and aquarium pets. Loaches are long and skinny and have barbels like Barboach.

(image: a loach)

Barboach may also draw from the loach catfish, which is a catfish that looks like a loach, tying into its evolution. Wishcash may also be based on the loach catfish, but it look much more like a conventional catfish. Whishcash’s connection to earthquakes (both causing and sensing them) is inspired by a creature from Japanese legend. Namazu is a gigantic catfish living under the islands and guarded by a god who restrains it with a rock. When the god’s guard slips, Namazu thrashes about and causes earthquakes.

(image: a depicition of Namazu)

Both loaches and catfish have barbels that are used for sensing. These barbels help both groups of fish live in very murky water by making them less reliant on sight. Because of this, loaches and catfish can live in water with very poor visibility and lots of sediment in the water column. Barboach and Wishcash can likewise be found in very muddy water and other places of poor visibility, like caves. Them being found in caves in some regions may also reference blind, cave-dwelling catfish.

Feebas is a bass, though it’s more based on the story of the ugly duckling. Just like in the story, you start out with a ugly little creature and turn it into something beautiful. I’m going to be perfectly honest, I don’t really see much bass in Feebas, I think it’s based much more on Magikarp than a bass, who are often pretty powerful predators, something Feebas isn’t. like with Mgikarp, I won’t be discussing Milotic in this as I think it’s a sea serpent rather than a fish.

Ok so there is a good explanation for why a fish evolves into an octopus. I hoped I could find a good explanation for why a clam evolves into eels, but I simply have no explanation for the Clamperl line. Huntail and Gorebyss really have no connection to their pre-evo. I won’t talk about Clamperl since (and this is some high-level biology so I hope you can follow me) clams aren’t fish. Both final form are based on deep-sea eels and eel-like fish. Huntail seems to have some basis with the gulper eel as both are sit-and-wait predators with very large mouths, though Huntail is a more active predator as it does have some powerful teeth.

Turns out gulper eels are a lot goofier than you'd think (image: a gulper eel with its mouth inflated)

These teeth may draw influence from other deep-sea predators with massive chompers, like viperfish or the fangtooth. Its use of its tail as a lure is a reference to the various deep-sea fish that use bioluminescent lures to attract prey. This is an example of caudal mimicry, where an animal’s tail mimics something else to lure in prey. A cool example of this is the spider-tailed horned viper, which you should look up if you don’t like bugs, I promise it’s definitely not really creepy. Finally, Huntail’s general longness, color pattern, and crest are references to the oarfish, one of my favorites. This deep-sea longboi is a rare sight at the surface but is believed to be responsible for stories of sea serpents because of how huge they can get.

Long, long man! (image: an oarfish)

Gorebyss similarly has a complex origin for a very forgettable Pokémon. It seems to primarily be based on snipe eels, which are deep-sea eels with long, slender jaws.

(image: a snipe eel)

Gorebyss’s jaws are fused into a needle, which is similar to pipefish, a relative of seahorses with a very similar fused snout. Some inspiration could also come from the deep sea-dwelling long-nosed chimeras, some species of which have a long, conical snout very reminiscent of gorebyss’s head shape.

(image: a long-nosed chimera)

Unlike most of its influences, Gorebyss is an active predator and its habit of stabbing its prey with its snout and injecting digestive juices to slurp its prey dry seems to be in reference to spiders and mosquitos.

Hot damn, Hoenn has a lot of fish. The next up is Relicanth, which is a pretty straight-forward reference to the coelacanth.

(image: a rare picture of a wild coelacanth)

Both are very ancient fish thought to have gone extinct until they were rediscovered in modern times. This makes them examples of what scientists call a Lazarus taxon. Ceolacanths are pretty cool fish. Along with lungfish, they are the only surviving lobe-fined fish. These fish were separated from the more common ray-finned fish by having their fins seated on fleshy lobes extending from the body, usually with bones in them (lungfish have lost the bones). Also when I say that coelacanths and lungfish are the only surviving lobe-finned fish, that’s not exactly true. It’s a principle in taxonomy (the study of how groups of life are related) that you can’t evolve out of your ancestry. You belong to every group your ancestors belonged to, even if you started a new group they aren’t part of. Tetrapoda is the clade of four-legged vertebrates skeletally adapted for life on land and they evolved from lobe-finned fish. That means every mammal, reptile, amphibian, bird, and so on, including yourself, is a lobe-finned fish. Coelacanths are most famous for being rediscovered alive and seemingly unchanged when they were thought to have gone extinct millions of years ago. They are often called living fossils for how little they appear to have changed. This term is pretty misleading and many biologists don’t like using it. In fact the coelacanths of today are different than those that swam with plesiosaurs, pretty radically in some cases. Coelacanths are often used in arguments by cryptozoology enthusiasts for why their favorite dinosaur/plesiosaur/megalodon/whatever could still be alive and unchanged today despite leaving no fossil record. However a fish remaining relatively similar to its ancestors due to living in a very stable environment that doesn’t have the selective pressures encouraging radical change is very different than an apex predator or massive reptile doing so in an environment that has undergone massive changes and multiple major extinctions. I’ll link a video for more on why the coelacanth is a red herring in these kinds of arguments.

youtube

Finally finishing out Hoenn we have Luvdisc, possibly the most unnecessary Pokémon ever. Someone please give this poor fish an evolution so it can finally have a purpose. Paldea gave us updates to Delibird and Dunsparce so it’s definitely possible for Luvdisc to get some love. Anyway, it’s a discus fish. These are thin-bodies cichlids whose dorsal and anal fins make them kind of look like hearts, though Luvdisc is missing the tail fin.

(image: a discus fish)

Like the discus fish, Luvdisc is a social species. Luvdisc's kissing behavior draws primarily from the kissing gourami. These fish engage in behavior where they press their mouths against each other. Scientists believe that this is a form of ritualized aggression, but people think it looks like they’re kissing so these fights have become a symbol of romance.

(image: two gouramis "kissing")

They aren’t the only fish that mouth fight. Another species that does this is the sarcastic fringehead, who looks considerably less romantic.

(image: two male sarcastic fringeheads fighting)

After the piscine flood in Hoenn, Sinnoh comes along and introduces a grant total of one fish line, though I will give an honorable mention to the Gible line for being shark plane dragons. Finneon and Lumineon are based on a variety of pretty fish often seen in aquariums, though their fish resemblance to butterflies indicates they are based on the butterflyfish. They have a much closer appearance to the freshwater butterflyfish than the more popular and unrelated saltwater butterflyfish. Both the freshwater butterflyfish and the Finneon line can glide above the water if they build up enough speed. The line’s bright colors may be a reference to brightly-colored tropical fish or aquarium fish like neon tetras. Lumineon actually bioluminesces to attract prey, but risks attracting predators at the same time, a behavior seen in many deep sea fish. it is said to dwell on the sea floor and walk on what I assume are its pelvic fins, which may be a reference to the deep-sea tripod fish.

That's it fro generations III and IV. Next time I'll cover generations V and VI. Hopefully it won't take me nearly as long to get that up.

#fish #fishblr #pokemon biology #pokemon #biology #marine biology #ichthyology #Youtube

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do-it-for-the-fandom · 1 year

Text

May prompts

May 1st

Prompt: Day at the beach

Post-series

Castle family beach day

Beach days were chaos.

Absolute chaos.

Lily - their ocean lover - had run for the water as soon as her feet hit the sand. Kate rushed off after her to make sure she didn't head too far in, leaving Castle alone to wrangle the twins, the towels, the toys and the picnic basket.

Fortunately, this wasn't his first rodeo and he was fairly certain he had figured it all out.

The trick was to keep the boys distracted; make them feel useful.

"Reece, buddy," Castle called out to the toddler just a few steps ahead of him on their journey down the beach. "This bucket and spade is way too heavy. D'ya think you can help me out with those big, strong muscles?"

"Hulk strong!" the boy declared in a rough grumbling tone as he flexed his arms.

"I strong, too!" Jake - never one to miss out - stated as he tugged the beach ball from where it sat tucked between Castle's hip and wrist.

With the inflated plastic armrest gone, Castle's arm dropped back against his side and the picnic basket he had clutched in his hand banged against his calf.

"Sorry Daddy," Jake said before running off to catch up with his brother.

"That's okay, Bud."

Castle smiled to himself as his little helpers, just a few yards ahead of him, picked out their spot for the day and dumped the toys on the sand.

"We wanna swim, too," Reece complained as Castle laid out the picnic blanket and anchored each corner with whatever he had available to stop it from blowing away in the breeze.

"Help me set up and then we can all race to Mom! How does that sound?"

"Yeah!" the boys cheered.

They dragged the bag of sand toys to the edge of the blanket and Jake began to pull out each toy, one by one, then hand it to Reece who would then place it onto the blanket.

"No, boys- that's..."

The boys stopped what they were doing and looked up at their father with beaming smiles.

"You know what? You're doing a great job," Castle praised them, accepting that scattered toys were a much better alternative to scattered twins running down the beach in opposite directions. "Keep going."

He watched as the boys got back to work with unbridled enthusiasm, working together until the very last toy had been unpacked.

"Swim now?" Jake asked.

"Yeah, buddy, we can swim now."

"Race!" Reece reminded them eagerly.

"Go!"

Jake and Reece took off down the beach, pushing their little legs as fast as they could go. Fortunately, as fast as they could go (especially on soft sand) was the equivalent of a brisk walk for Castle's much longer legs.

The squeals of delight when the first wave rushed over their little feet gained the attention of Kate and Lily, and Castle rushed the last few steps to catch up to them.

"Daddy, I'm a mermaid!" Lily called as she splashed about.

"I'm the mermaid queen," Kate bragged as she waded from the waist-deep water to help him with the boys.

"Daddy can be the king," Lily offered as she joined them. "I'm the princess. Jake and Reece can be the brave knights that protect our underwater kingdom!"

"No, I wanna be shark!" Jake protested.

"Sharks aren't allowed in my kingdom," Lily warned him.

"Sneak in!" Reece encouraged with a mischievous smirk. "And eat her!"

"Yeah, I will eat you!" Jake laughed.

With a playful squeal, Lily took off running through the shallow water - slow enough for her brothers to think they actually stood a chance catching her - and the boys chased after her with their arms in front of them, clapping their hands together in a 'chomping' motion.

As Kate turned to watch their kids play together, Castle stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“We made some pretty sweet kids,” he commented.

She leant her head against his. “Yeah, we did.”

“Do you ever think about, maybe, just one more?”

She pushed his hands from where they had - accidentally - stopped to rest on her stomach.

"Not a chance, Castle," she warned.

"Kidding." He smirked and pressed a kiss to her cheek before running toward the children.

"We need to save the princess, my queen!" he called over his shoulder.

She smiled and shook her head before joining them again.

#castle fanfiction #richard castle #kate beckett #Reece Castle #Jake Castle #kate beckett x richard castle #my drabbles

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evandarya · 2 years

Text

How (Not) To Get Adopted By Bruce Wayne

An Incomplete Guide

{Chapter 1}{Read on AO3}

Chapter 2

As soon as Bruce got to his study he called Leslie. The phone rang three times before she picked up.

"Hello, Bruce. I take it you met with Danny, then?" She asked, sounding amused.

"You could have told me he was a metahuman."

"Oh, good, so it's not just me." She sounded genuinely relieved.

"Why would it be just you? With the way his eyes flash." It had been hard to miss the way they changed from icy blue to toxic green with his emotions. Not to mention his reaction speed when he had caught his social worker’s pen, which was either superhuman or trained. "What are his powers?"

"He claims he isn't a meta, but I know he heals about twice as fast as normal."

"Just that?" He asked. There was a hesitation on the other end of the line. "Leslie, is it just that?"

"He won't let us do blood work." She said quickly. "And his vitals are off. Lower than normal. I haven't heard of anything else."

“A metahuman with unknown powers, anger issues, and a history of fighting. Great.”

"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you. Good luck," She said before hanging up the phone.

Bruce sighed and booted up his computer. He had some actual work that he needed to do and case files that he should go through, but the mystery of Danny Fenton weighed on him. on a whim he typed Danny's name into the search field.

He waded through half a dozen LinkedIn pages and irrelevant social media blogs before he found anything related to the teen.

It was his Facebook, but it was set to private, so he could only see the boy's profile picture and the most basic of information. He knew he could use the Bat computer to see the whole profile, but that seemed like an invasion of privacy. He had already pushed Danny too far.

Bruce clicked on the picture. It was three kids, barely teenaged, with their arms thrown across each other's shoulders. On the right was a girl in dark clothes and black hair pulled up into a high ponytail. On the left was a dark-skinned boy in khakis and a red beret. In the middle was Danny, a bright smile stretched across his face. It was from a few years ago, the Danny in the picture looked to be about twelve or thirteen. There was a knock at the door and Bruce quickly closed out of the browser just as Alfred entered the room.

"Lunch, as requested, sir," Alfred said, setting the tray down on the side of his desk.

"Thank you, Alfred. How is he?"

"Surly, but given the circumstances, I'm willing to overlook it. I am concerned, he seems far too small for his age.”

“He had admitted to skipping meals, and from the looks of him, it’s a common occurrence," Bruce said, grabbing a chip from the plate.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Alfred said. The butler seemed to take hungry children in his house as a personal affront to his character.

"I have no doubt," Bruce said with a smile. Knowing Alfred, he'll have Danny up to a reasonable weight in no time. Alfred excused himself with a bow and headed back down to the kitchen. Bruce ate his lunch quickly, too aware of how Alfred would get about everyone's eating habits with a malnourished charge in the house.

He spent the next few hours elbows deep in W.E. work, reading over propositions and financial reports, all the boring work that has to get done, but no one wants to do.

There was a soft knock on the door after a while and Alfred let himself in. "Master Daniel is settling into his room, sir, and it is almost time to retrieve Masters Tim and Damian from school."

"Thank you, Alfred."

"Forgive me, sir, but perhaps it would be prudent to inform the boys of the new resident before they find out for themselves?"

Bruce paused before meeting Alfred's eyes. "Yes, you are right, of course." He stood from his desk, stretching out his back as he did. "I guess I'm doing the school run today." He said, stepping past Alfred and heading down the hall. "Is Danny settling in alright?" He asked.

"As well as can be expected. He travels light, it seems. He doesn't seem to have a winter coat or much of a wardrobe to speak of."

"Seems like a good excuse for a trip to the mall once he gets a bit more acclimated to being here."

"Indeed, sir, if he's amenable."

"That is the question, isn't it."

Bruce took the Tesla to pick up Tim and Damian, playing in his head the conversation he didn't know how to start. He waited in the pickup line at Gotham Academy, where both his boys attend, or… all three of them now if he counts Danny.

He shook his head. Danny wasn't his, he was fostering him to keep him out of juvenile detention or jail. Or if Danny was a meta like he suspected, something worse.

"Hey, Bruce, is Alfred alright?" Tim asked, sliding into the passenger seat, a deep furrow between his brows.

"Everyone is alright, Tim, don't worry." Bruce didn't realize how seldom he did the school run if Tim's immediate reaction was “something's wrong”. He'd have to do better. "Have you seen Damian?"

“He was talking to the art teacher,” Tim said, studying Bruce’s face for a minute. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You have your ‘I just made a decision that is going to affect everything in your life without consulting you.’ face on.”

Before he could respond Damian opened the back door. “Father. Is Pennyworth well?”

“Bruce did something,” Tim said. “I don’t think we are going to like it.”

“I got a call a few days ago from Dr. Thompkins. She had a patient in foster care she was worried about, so I went to meet him today,” he said.

“You adopted another kid,” Tim accused.

“Father, you have not, have you?”

“I haven't adopted anyone. I agreed to foster him for a month to keep him out of a juvenile detention center.”

“What’s his name?” Tim asked, pulling out his phone.

“Daniel Fenton.”

“Wait, do you mean Danny Fenton?” Tim asked.

“Do you know him?”

“I know of him," Tim said. “But we’ve never met. He has a Wayne scholarship for gifted foster kids. He had to move from Chicago to take it. I think he’s a Freshman.”

"Sophomore, actually," Damian said. "He’s in my art class, but he doesn’t talk to anyone.”

Bruce hummed in acknowledgment. It wasn’t surprising, given what he knew about Danny, but he was hoping for a little more information. The car fell silent as they drove with Tim typing on his phone and Damian reading a library book. Or it was until Tim swore under his breath.

“Language. What did you find?”

“His parent’s death certificates, cause of death is listed as Blast Injuries.”

“From an explosion?” Damian said.

“You’d think so, but I can’t find any police reports or news articles, not even social media posts about any kind of explosion in Illinois.”

“Coverup?”

“Maybe? I’d have to do some more digging to find out. Maybe with Oracle’s help…” Tim said, trailing off in thought.

“No. Danny isn’t a suspect, so we don’t need to treat him like one.” Bruce said. “Doing that would cause him to shut down even more.”

“How should we treat him, then?” Damian asked.

“Like a wet, feral cat.”

***

Danny was laid out on the insanely huge bed in the insanely huge room he had been given to stay in. Seriously, it was bigger than the room he shared back at the group home. He could almost hear Sam’s voice telling him to “Eat the Rich”. Danny sighed and rubbed his eyes. He’d probably never see her again, or Tucker. They’d probably never want to see him again. Before he could get too far down a spiral he pulled himself off the bed and crossed to the desk. He had some math work to get caught up on before he had to go back to school tomorrow.

He had just finished his final problem when there was a knock at the door and Alfred called out.

“Master Danny, dinner is ready. Masters Tim and Damian are excited to meet you.”

Danny sighed. He didn’t want to meet ‘Master’ anyone. He wanted to be left alone, but he could hear Alfred shuffling quietly outside the door so he got up and followed the butler down to the dining room, where Bruce, Tim, and Damian were already seated, leaving the last set place for him right next to Bruce. Wonderful. At least the food looked and smelled amazing. Alfred had made some kind of chicken and rice dish with three different vegetable sides, as well as a cheesy pasta dish.

“Good evening, Danny. I’d like to introduce you to my sons. This is Tim and Damian.” he said, gesturing to one and then the other.

"It's nice to meet you, Danny," Tim said with a smile.

"Right, same." Danny took his seat at the table and pointedly ignored the awkward silence that fell across the room as everyone served themselves. It wasn't long before Wayne spoke up.

"Damian says you two are in art together. What kind of projects do you do?"

Danny shifted in his seat, mixing up his rice before answering. "Abstract mixed media."

Wayne brightened at that, a small smile spreading across his face. "I'd love to see some of your work."

"It's not very good." He said, not taking his eyes off his plate.

"Yes, it is," Damian said, surprising everyone at the table. "The teacher has a noticeable bias toward classical styles and realism and grades accordingly. Your skill and passion is evident in your work and you should be proud." Danny stared at the younger boy for a few moments before looking away with a mumbled thanks.

Thankfully that seemed to be the end of Wayne's attempts to get him talking as they lapsed into silence again for a while until Damian brought up a dog he had seen on a shelter website.

Danny ate as quickly as he thought he could get away with and contemplated his escape. Every house was different. Some houses wanted everyone to wait until the head of the house was done eating before anyone could leave, and others wanted you to ask if you could be excused. Getting it wrong could mean upsetting Wayne. Well, in that case…Danny gathered his dishes when he was done and simply walked out of the room towards the kitchen, surprising Alfred in the process.

"Ah, Master Danny. You could have left your dishes, I would have gathered them." He said, setting down his cup of tea.

"'S'all right," Danny said. "I can take care of myself." He set the dishes by the sink and rinsed them off. He could feel Alfred watching him, but the man didn't say anything. Danny loaded his dishes into the dishwasher by the sink before turning around. "Thanks for dinner." He said before heading out of the kitchen and up to his room.

He'd have to find the laundry room at some point. There was a limit to how many days in a row he was willing to wear the same pair of jeans, and he was quickly approaching it, but that was a problem for future Danny. Present Danny wanted a shower and sleep.

Unfortunately, Present Danny was only able to get a shower and dressed in sweats before there was a knock at the door. He pulled it open a crack to see Bruce standing in the middle of the hallway. Danny pulled the door open the rest of the way and leaned against the door frame.

"Can I help you with anything, sir?" Danny didn't miss the small, pained look that crossed the man's face.

"Danny, are you settling in alright?"

"Fine. The room's bigger than some of the houses I've lived in. A great example of wealth distribution." Danny crossed his arms over his chest.

"That's… ah. Hmm." Wayne hemmed, and Danny raised his eyebrow. "About dinner." Danny shifted his weight. "Next time, just ask to be excused. You won't be told 'no'."

"That's it?" Danny asked. He'd been punished for less than that before. There's no way that's it. But Wayne was nodding.

"That's it. Have a good night." Wayne walked away down the hall. Danny waited until Wayne turned a corner before he closed the door and leaned against it.

"Twenty-nine days to go." He whispered into the empty room.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #dc comics #crossover #fanfic #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne

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glorious-spoon · 5 months

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47 and buddie for the wrapped thingy, please 🩶

Thank you! 47 was 'Wading in Waist-high Water' by Fleet Foxes, so have a bit of pre-relationship H/C that takes lyrical metaphors entirely too literally.

Waist High Water [fic on AO3] ~1200 words

Buck dreams of the ocean, and wakes with the taste of salt on his tongue. In the afternoons he has off from work, he's taken to wandering down the beach, hands in his pockets, bare feet just skimming the edges of the surf. The icy slap of it on his skin stings, and he keeps glancing toward the horizon, like some part of him is still waiting for the ocean to pull back from the shore again.

He keeps going anyway. Alone. He knows that Eddie has signed Chris up for surfing lessons again, at Chris's insistence, but Buck doesn't think he'll ever be able to see Chris standing near the ocean without feeling that instinctive lurch of terror. Not anytime soon, anyway. Hence: home-brewed exposure therapy. He still hasn't managed to make himself go in the water, but he's working on it.

It's never a problem on the job. It's just these bright cloudless days, out of uniform, sun on the water, when his breath goes tight and his hands shake.

He's working on it.

Late in the summer, Eddie asks him to go with them to the water park, and Buck smears on sunscreen and drenches himself under the sprinklers, laughing when first Chris and then Eddie turns a water gun on him. Even the wave pool isn't bad: the pull and push of the water around his hips shakes loose something that isn't entirely pleasant, but he can see the far edge of the pool, and the droplets on his lips taste like chlorine, not salt. Chris clings to Eddie's side, laughing, and Eddie glances over at Buck, hip-deep in clear water, and smiles.

"You okay?" he asks, low, under the sound of happily shrieking children.

"Yeah," Buck says, and in this moment, at least, he's pretty sure that it's true.

His solitary exposure therapy becomes social when Eddie is on medical leave. For the first week or so that he's home, he doesn't really do much of anything other than eat and sleep and crankily allow Buck to help him shower since his chest is too messed up for him to lift his arms over his head. After that, though, they start weaning him off of painkillers, and Buck can see the caged desperation in his eyes after days of rattling around the house alone, as much as Eddie tries to hide it.

He could just drag Eddie out somewhere else. It doesn't have to be the ocean. But it feels right, somehow, to offer some jagged and wounded little part of himself in return, just so Eddie isn't the only one feeling a bit broken here. Eddie's quiet on the drive, thoughtful, his sunlit face turned toward the open window as Buck pulls into the lot a block from the ocean. It'd be cheaper to park farther back, and that's what he usually does, but Eddie still tires fast, as little as he wants to admit it.

It's before ten on a Tuesday morning, so the lot is only half full. Buck climbs out and shuts the door. Gulls call overhead, and beneath that is the unceasing sound of the ocean. He can taste salt in the air.

Eddie shuts his door as well, straightening up, eyebrows raised at Buck across the roof of the car. The sling across his chest is a splash of brilliant blue against his gray shirt, and he looks tired, but he's smiling.

"You brought me to the beach?" he asks.

Buck shrugs. "Something to do, right?"

"Uh huh." There's a skeptical little quirk of Eddie's brow, like he knows Buck is at least a little bit full of shit, but he doesn't call him on it. "You brought sunscreen, right?"

Buck scoffs and scoops up the bottle from his center console. Normally, he'd toss it across the roof of the car to Eddie, but he stops himself in time. Eddie almost certainly could catch it with his good hand, but Buck doesn't want to be responsible for any wrenches or twists to set back his recovery. "You want me to help you get the back of your neck?"

Eddie gives him another one of those skeptical little looks, then says, "Yeah, okay. Thanks."

"Sure," Buck says. He rounds the car to Eddie, flipping the bottle nervously in his hand, though he doesn't know why. The sunscreen is cool when he squeezes it into his palm; he rubs his hands together, then smears it gently over the back of Eddie's neck, dipping under his collar to make sure he's fully covered. It's a weirdly intimate thing to do, this chore that Eddie could normally accomplish without thinking. Intimate in the same way as helping him in the shower, except that they're right here next to a busy street in the sunlight. Buck blinks, shakes his head, then nudges Eddie around to smear the remaining sunscreen across his face in a single messy swipe.

Eddie jumps, then starts laughing. "Very funny."

"Yeah, I thought so," Buck says. He gets his own arms and neck as Eddie swipes at his face, then tosses the bottle back in the Jeep and kicks the door shut. They cross the street together and climb the sandy wooden steps over the dune, then back down again onto the coarse sand, the Pacific spread out glimmering in the sunlight. It's not as busy as it would be later in the day, but there are still families with umbrellas, kids screaming joyfully in the surf. Buck stills for a moment, then bends to unlace his sneakers.

"I would have worn sandals if I realized this was where we were going," Eddie says.

"Sorry," Buck says. "Uh, do you need…?"

"Nah, I got it." Eddie's wearing slip-on loafers, which Buck didn't actually notice until now: easier to manage with only one hand. He kicks them off, then stoops to pick them up, wedging his socks in the toes and flexing his bare feet in the sand. "We're not swimming, I guess."

"Nope."

Eddie glances over at him thoughtfully. "Do you ever swim here?"

"Uh," Buck says. He winces, then laughs. "No, not really. Sometimes I wade out a little ways."

Eddie nods, still with that thoughtful look on his face, but all he says is, "Well, come on."

"Right," Buck says, and together they start across the sand. They weave through umbrellas and towels and coolers, beach toys and sand sculptures and crowds of people to where the water laps at the shore. There's a thin crust of foam at the edges of the damp sand, speckled with shells and sea glass. Eddie sits down where it's dry to roll his pants up, and Buck does the same. Then they walk down together into the water. The first splash is icy, and Buck winces, but he adjusts quickly. Sand swirls around his feet, and he glances over at Eddie, who has his eyes closed, something peaceful in his face that loosens Buck's chest to see.

Like he knows he's being watched, Eddie opens his eyes and looks back at him. "This is nice."

"Yeah?" Buck asks, strangely cracking.

"Yeah. We should bring Chris here sometime. If you want."

Buck takes a sharp breath, then lets it out. Eddie is still watching him, his eyes warm.

"Yeah," he manages finally. He takes another breath, and this one comes easier. The ocean moves against the shore, and the sunlight falls across his shoulders and glints on the whitecaps out in the distance, and he stands and breathes and just for this moment, he's not afraid. "Yeah, I'd like that."

#911 #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #my fic #prompt fic

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