#swamp writes
Text
see?
fandom genshin impact
pairing cyno x nilou
word count 1,500+
tw none. just nilou being oblivious to cyno’s interest.
summary in which a general and a dancer find a rare moment of peace in a desert oasis.
dedicated to my nilou.
Her tent held no form of life.
He felt his heart skip a beat, and he was quick on his feet to turn around. Sand stirred up out in a cloud of dust under his feet. His head was still fogged over with grogginess, he was lucky to not have lost his footing.
The unforgiving climate was of second nature to him, but now it felt colder to the bare skin than ever before.
Cyno adjusted the heavy helmet he hastily shoved on earlier to where it was no longer lopsided upon his head. His spear was in his grasp too, it pressed against his calloused hand cooly.
Tracks were not an option. It was a windy night, and he was reminded of that with his white hair whipping into his face.
Wherever the tracks once were, they were no longer visible now. His teeth clenched in frustration.
He opened his mouth to shout her name, but abruptly stopped when a shimmer caught his eye and a quiet muttering that his perked ears picked up on.
It was her headdress. There she was. Not a weapon in her hand to provide her with any defence. She looked carefree, standing there gracefully with her bright red hair flowing in sync with the wind.
He felt foolish. He was quick to panic, a quality that a general should not have. But that was better than remaining still, correct? His heartbeat slowly returned to a more comforting pace, no longer thrumming disturbingly in his ears.
He watched her allow a passing by creature that was more than half her size to approach her and sniff her hand, soon slowly bringing her hand under its chin to scratch there lightly.
He knew the beast would not harm her. He had grown to respect the beast’s presence within the cycle of the desert. But still, Cyno’s grip on the spear tightened when he heard the animal huff.
“They’re harmless.” Nilou hummed delicately, a smaller creature galloping sloppily towards her. Presumably its child.
He was spotted.
“I know.” He replied shortly, allowing himself to take a few steps closer. He was accustomed to what all Sumeru had to offer its inhabitants. His grip on his halberd was only an instinctive reaction.
She giggled quietly. At him or the creature, Cyno did not know for sure.
Cyno almost hoped it was him.
She stepped away, bending down towards the crystal clear water. The moon reflected in it, but that was not what his eyes drew to.
“Of course you do.” She smiled softly, before forming her hands in the shape of a poorly made bowl and filling them up with water. Nilou brought the flavourless yet refreshing liquid to her lips, some dribbling out between the small cracks of her fingers. He watched her lick her lips observantly.
“What are you doing up?” Nilou finally asked after a moment’s pause. She was curious and unaware she seemed rather suspicious. Cyno shrugged, allowing himself to take a few steps towards the dancer.
“I could ask the same.” He bent down, refilling his water skin. Mimicking Nilou, he brought it to his lips, guzzling the water down greedily. It dribbled down his chin and onto his chest.
She blinked at him, her lips slowly curving upward to reveal that sparkling teeth of hers. “Couldn’t sleep.” She replied, her hand still in the water. She twirled her finger around, making a small tornado under the water. Cyno watched with a tilted head.
“I see.” He commented with a nod of his head, finally lowering himself down to his knees to relax on a nearby rock.
The smaller sumpter beast rushed past Nilou, flopping into the chilly water. She held up her hands to shield herself, but it was too late. She squeaked in protest when the water hit her pale skin.
Yet she still carried a gentle grin.
She shook her head back and forth, ridding herself of the chilly water as if she were a hound. It was quite the sight.
“I assume you’re well awake after that?” The creature rolled onto its back, kicking its chubby feet and stirring up the water with each sudden movement.
The older animals sat aside, one sniffing a nearby plant while the other lay comfortably with its exposed stomach on the cool sand.
She did not spare a retort to his comment, but rather throw her head back and snicker quietly. She brought a hand to lazily point at the sky. “That looks like a dog, doesn’t it?”
A dog? What nonsense was she speaking of now? Artists.
All Cyno saw were stars that danced freely in the sky, flickering and showing off themselves every now and then. He supposed she saw a shape in the glistening figures. He tilted his head.
“I ‘canine’ see what you’re talking about.”
Another ridiculous joke from the general. At this point, the girl should have grown to expect them. “I —“ Nilou rolled her eyes, yet still gave a laugh that followed up with a scoff. “Hah hah. Aren’t you an original one?”
“I try.”
Nilou chuckled once more, a breathy one through her nose. She placed her hands on her knees and stood up, stretching her hands above her head and yawning. She stayed there for a moment, lowering a hand to her mouth in case she were to yawn once more.
His eyes went to her bare skin.
The redhead hummed to herself and made her way towards Cyno. He didn’t recognize the tune. “And that one,” she sat in front of him in the water, the animals now minding their own business. “That one looks like a flower.”
He stared longingly at the back of her upturned head while she admired the stars. “Oh?”
He was also able to get a pleasant view of her tattoo. Yet he still wished to brush that silky hair from her shoulder to give him better access to all the details the ink had to offer.
“Mhmmm.” She nodded, moving her legs to where they were crossed. She pointed her index finger at the sky as if expecting Cyno to know the exact star she was gesturing towards.
He squinted his eyes. Nothing. No shape. Just a bunch of jumbled-up stars without meaning. “No.”
Nilou huffed, leaning her head back to look at him. Her head was upside down, and her red hair was beginning to disobey wherever she directed it earlier. “You’re not very creative.” She whispered lightly, a kindness to her soft and honey-like voice.
“Is that so?”
She nodded her head, falling back onto the rock he lazily perched upon. Her hair was wet, he noticed. It plastered to her bare milky skin. Oh, she was so close.
“Give me your hand,” Nilou reached back and fumbled for a moment or so until she finally felt the rough touch of his hand.
A comforting spark jolted his fingertips in result of the contact with her skin. He didn’t recoil this time. It was more soothing than a surprise, oddly enough. He stayed unusually still as Nilou adjusted his hand to where his index finger pointed out.
“Upppp..” she held his finger up to the sky. In her head, guiding him to point at the correct constellation would allow him to identify what she was blabbering on about. “There.” They all appeared identical. But to her, each of them was oh so different and unique. “See?”
One would sparkle more than the other, one was bright, one was dim, one was larger, and the other was not flashing.
Cyno remained silent. Was it bad he was more focused on Nilou than what she wished for him to see? It was not something a general should do — he wasn’t providing assistance.
His hand contrasted with hers. His was rough to the touch, while hers felt soothingly smooth. He was reminded that she was a dancer, nothing all that special.
Yet Nilou was still unique to him, oddly enough.
“Do you see it, Cyno?”
He lifted his head to the sky, gripping his helmet by its false ears to better his vision. He set the helmet aside. Still nothing. He even brushed his hair aside. “No, I don’t.”
“I give up.” Nilou huffed out a breath, it producing a puff of visible fog from her mouth. It was cold.
She seemed to suddenly pay mind to the temperature, as she skidded her feet in the water until her head was placed securely in Cyno’s lap.
He tensed up.
But wasn’t this what he wanted?
“We should go to sleep.” Nilou turned her attention from the freckled sky to the darker-skinned person she rested upon. “It’s late. Look at the moon. It hangs high above all. Surely you can see that?”
Cyno rolled his eyes fondly and shook his head, his pale hair following in rhythm. His shoulders were still squared, but he was able to get a closer view of the redhead in his lap now.
The stars still glimmered in her eyes, and the moon’s shy, pale light framed her skin. He didn’t respond to her quip, he only allowed his gaze to discreetly admire her.
Their eyes happened to meet a couple of times, and when they would, Nilou would give him a soft, tired smile until her eyes fluttered shut.
The redhead felt a gaze on her until she drifted off into unconsciousness.
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The finale of a never-ending masquerade.
AQ 4.2 spoilers.
#fontaine writing cooked so hard#furina...my love... i'll give you all the hugs and macaroni that you ever wanted#ok maybe not all macaroni my funds are limited#genshin impact#genshin#digital art#my art#genshin furina#furina#neuvillette#focalors#genshin 4.2#I CRIED#another one to the speedrun pile i am so swamped#i hope everyone enjoys the 4.2 story T_T#blessing your furina pulls
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hi hi! i'm not very active on tumblr anymore but i came back for miguel o'hara and your snippets are what are keeping me alive at the very moment, is it alright if i request for some miguel fluff?
the prompt is that he tries really hard to keep his "touch-starvedness" unnoticeable but reader makes that very hard for him because even brushing shoulders and hands is enough to send him into cardiac arrest. it all goes to hell when reader gets genuinely concerned for him and twists into reader giving miguel the gentle touch he deserves :3
(( I loved this ask so much... I will definitely do a different concept with this idea to bring it more justice! thank you for your request, so wonderful nonetheless! ))
my requests are still open!! i didn't proofread this one so if there are any mistakes sorry!!
gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara
fluff. miguel, so desperately touch-starved, yearns for any touch he can’t get. you unknowingly give it to him.
warnings: jealous and slightly violent miguel, perhaps slightly suggestive? MAINLY FLUFF THOUGH!! HE LOVES YOU SM!! anyhow he’s just a little silly and painfully in love with his co-worker ..
word count: 2852
A soft bump met your shoulders, tilting the vial you held ever so delicately with much more force than anticipated from the unexpected collision. The goggles resting upon your nose slanted from the impact as the burst of color within the flask splashed onto your lab coat. A frustrated groan erupted from your lips as a light chuckle sounded from right beside you.
“Jeez– this isn’t funny Miguel!” You couldn’t help but whine while hurriedly cleaning up your lab station before anyone from a different department of Alchemax could see your slip-up. The vial that held a mysterious substance wasn’t anything to worry about, it was a prototype for a more ecologically efficient paint alternative to further the health of citizens amongst Nueva York– but the progress being wiped away over something as small as a little bump on the shoulder almost made you fall to your knees.
Being hired as a rookie chemist to the most successful chemical corporation in existence had you sweating bullets over your every move– not even allowing yourself to step foot in the break room in fear that you’d have to reiterate what you have done during your time here. Which was much less accomplished than your assigned veteran lab partner, who always offered to help bring your concepts to fruition– but you declined with ease because you wanted to feel worthy to the department you were assigned.
This didn’t stop Miguel from coincidentally being a step behind your movements always, despite your insistence that you had everything under control.
It was nerve-wracking, feeling his gaze study you a bit too hard as you measured how clean a sample of underground Nueva York was in the dim light of a late night shift. He’d make quips, soft against your exhausted temple while Miguel would finish the rest of your unfinished goals. Drifting off into the embrace of sleep, your eyes would crack open ever so slightly as he examined your work with a level of admiration in his gaze you've never noticed fully awake– tinkering and fiddling with whatever environmentally-productive project you had going on that shift. The last recollection of the night would be the touch of Miguel’s knuckles grazing your shoulders, a jacket wrapping around your back like a blanket. The smell of praline alongside bergamot orange stuck to your body like a shadow as you slumped awake the following morning, rushing home to shower and get ready for the shift you had the upcoming afternoon.
Following the next day, Miguel had a subtle smile upon his features as you returned his jacket with a flustered expression he’s never seen from you. Excitement bubbled against his chest like a shaken-up soda as he observed the slight bow of your head in appreciation, hands atop his scarred grasp that held onto the jacket you returned. You never caught the deep breaths flooding his lungs as the two of you separated, his jacket held tightly against his hammering heart. “I, I need to go grab a coffee–” Miguel muttered underneath his breath, leaving before you could even acknowledge his dismissal. Confusion dazed your focus, remembering the last time you asked if he had wanted any coffee he mentioned he didn’t even like the caffeinated drink in the first place. Told you it made his insomnia worse.
The both of you had grown closer ever since that experience as surprising as it was, due to his cocky yet cold attitude usually clashing against your focus. If it wasn’t for his seriousness, the two of you would be bickering like partners forced to work on a group project in grade school. Which brought you back to the present, cleaning up the mess he had technically created due to bumping into you. A frown etched upon his face, stress lines from his hundreds of late shifts growing prominent at the tip of his lips. “I was doing something important– and you waltz in and just knock it all over?”
“‘Didn’t mean to, conejito.” Miguel replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone, waving off his actions like every other time he's accidentally skewed your focus. "But I'm more than willing to fix what I did if you just stop acting like a spooked animal." It rolled off his tongue like an insult, but you knew that's just how he spoke. Short and blunt, with little quips towards anyone who annoys him just briefly. Just like every other co-worker, despite the amount of time the two of you have spent together, you always would get a taste of his attitude before you snapped right back at him.
But today, you were tired and running off of pure coffee as the sun began to set. Bickering with Miguel was something you wanted to stray away from at the time being. So you caved, giving him a gesture to come closer to you. "You can't help if you are standing seven feet away from me, O'Hara." You told him the obvious, readjusting the goggles that sat atop your nose while you went over the variables involved with your test.
For the first time in response to your sarcasm, Miguel was silent. Seconds ticked by as you grew more invested in resuming from where you left off, the little quarrel leaving your mind as soon as it came. You thought he'd ignore you and end up doing his own thing in your shared lab, but the distinct footfalls from his leather shoes moving closer after the rare quietness proved you wrong.
Miguel slid up right beside your hunched stance, close enough that the warmth from his arms met your wrists but not close enough where his rolled-up sleeves would collide against the fabric fitted against your arms.
You stood there, measuring the exact precise measurements from before with the several natural ingredients surrounding the both of you. And Miguel just watched, at least that's what you assumed, because that burning gaze of his seeped into the back of your head and sizzled against your fingertips working painstakingly slow mixing and working against the organic compounds. Nervousness prickled your skin, goosebumps following in its wake.
Due to your posture, when you snapped your attention to him you couldn't help but look up. Miguel's features were soft, an expression that you've never seen on him meeting your eyes. He was looking down at you, breathing in sleepily while subsciously leaning his body into your space. The unusual mannerism caught your attention with haste, and you were about to question if he was feeling okay before he perked up like he got shocked.
His gaze was distant until he realized you were looking straight at him– immediately looking off towards the vials you had splayed in front of you like he was caught doing something wrong. You couldn't help but frown while you watched Miguel exhale deeply, his index and thumb meeting the bridge of his nose in a habit you've noticed throughout your time here. Miguel was stressed.
"Hey, it's okay that you messed up." The forgiveness falling from your lips only made him curl into himself more. Worry clouded your mind at seeing him so worked up, something you were so unfamiliar with. Usually, Miguel expressed himself in abrupt irritation that you always tried to help him through– the silent loathing almost made you ask him to go home out of concern. "Mistakes happen in the lab, Miguel. Please don't beat yourself up.
Soft graze meeting his shoulder, his body tensed up at the unexpected attempt of your's that was made to comfort him. The both of you danced around each other at best, the most contact from one another would be leading his movements with your own hold onto his hands while instructing assistance. Miguel's mouth fell agape, his unusually sharp canines he kept away was brought to your attention from the dim light highlighting his features. A gasp followed as your hand met his cheek while aiming for his forehead, which he tried to cover up with a cough.
"What are you doing–" He hissed out in a mess as the heat blooming from his cheeks set your own touch aflame. You hushed him, which he obliged without a word. Strange, you thought to yourself again. He never acts like this towards anyone, let alone get this close to another chemist within the building of Alchemax.
Palm brushing against the strands of hair blessing his forehead, you checked his temperature while his eyes fluttered close. "I'm checking your temperature, Miguel." You murmured against his jaw, boosting your height on your tiptoes in order to reach his forehead. "You've been off today, it's concerning."
"I'm fine," He muttered into the space between you, beginning to distance himself from your touch until your free hand met his other shoulder. It was as if a weight held him into place, grounding him within your touch as he shakily dug his fingers into his black dress-pants. You hadn't noticed the subtle slices into his thighs from his claws. Miguel's resolve was failing terribly.
His breath, quick and shallow, met the skin of your ear. It tickled. Hot air crashed into your contrasting cold flesh, digging into your nerves like boiling water.
Once your skin met his temple, he pushed against your touch like you were the only thing keeping himself afloat. His grasp met your elbow while the other relied on the counter for support. "Just feeling a bit under the weather." Miguel managed to mumble, brow furrowing as if he was in pain– never once did you catch the reddened hue painting his face and flustered glint in his eye.
"I've been telling you to stop overworking yourself," you scold him softly, shaking his grasp on your elbow just to take his hands into yours. "How much sleep have you gotten recently?" The question makes him cringe, the dark circles around his eyes as prominent as ever.
"Not enough." He admitted.
"You know that's not good for you." You reminded him with a frown. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his skin, warm and marred from his work with all sorts of scientific junk, caressed your knuckles with his thumb. He had calmed down as time ticked by, a sleepiness that clung onto him as darkness painted the canvas beyond the window of your floor. A huff of air escaped his lips as he rested his cheek against the cool of the lab table, safely distanced from what you were working on. Miguel’s hand didn’t dare move from your grasp, and you didn’t think about moving either. Miguel was slowly becoming a good friend of your’s, if something so small as a little comfort was needed you were more than willing to help.
“Yeah, yeah.” Was all he said. Silence dawned over the both of you as you resumed back to fixing up his mistakes. The dim light filled words left unsaid with a soft ambience, vials clinging against each other gently while liquids poured into one another. The night ended with you successfully conjuring up an ecological alternative to whatever paint Nueva had used before, which will certainly be good on your reports– and Miguel ended up getting the rest he needed.
You had pulled up a chair for him long ago, and he took it without a word. Slumped against your lab station, each time you’d try to pull away from him he’d mumble out a little, “no, please– stay here.” with his eyes still fluttered shut. He didn’t drool or snore, in fact it was a bit concerning how quiet he was as slumber took him. Almost like a vampire in his coffin, the idea of Miguel dressing up as Dracula made you stifle a laugh against the back of your free hand. Maybe you’d have to convince him to dress up for the next corporate Halloween event, as silly as it would be.
Miguel’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, mumbling out incoherency as your hand anchored him to this world. The light reminder of success infiltrated your senses as the smell of beeswax and linseed oil– honey and lemon. You’d already be on your way back home if Miguel didn't have his fingers intertwined with yours, murmuring things you’d never imagine him to say. It made your stomach churn, a wobbly smile meeting your lips as you laughed off his sleepy nonsense.
The fun ended too quickly it felt, as he suddenly stretched and groaned– his hand pulling you a little with him. The weight on him snapped him awake, senses kicking into overdrive to clear his confusion. Once he realized he was in the safety of the lab he shared with you, Miguel visibly relaxed. When his gaze met your interlocked fingers, he almost fell out of his chair.
Miguel whispers out your name in an embarrassed mess, wrapping his free hand around his mouth in an attempt to calm himself down. But you merely hummed an automatic response, and he couldn’t help but shake the thoughts clouding his consciousness. You were affecting him in a way that almost left him frozen, emotions that felt close to a high rushed into his brain and messed with any rationality he was able to clutch. Miguel’s claws he kept at bay threatened to unsheathe into your knuckles as warmth painted his features into an unbearable heat.
By the time he had fully woken up, you were dozing off yourself.
Elbow propped against the counter while your head rested on your hand, drool etched the side of your lips as the world of dreams scooped you up and cradled you lovingly. You were blissfully aware of the carnal gaze of your lab partner, soaking in your soft, resting expression like a full-course meal. His heart ached painfully at a small snore that escaped his lips.
When it came to you, it’s almost as if he had a bad case of cute aggression on top of the painful crush that held him in a chokehold.
Every brush of your shoulder meeting his own short circuited his every thought, shocking his cold attitude into a soft spot for you. Every graze upon his hands, with that mouth of yours snapping at him with a certain playfulness, had him melting against you like putty. And here you were, spending the night with him in the stiff chairs of the lab simply because he had told you to in his exhausted stupor.
Miguel almost hyperventilated at how nice you were to him, grasp tightening on your hand every so slightly. He wanted all of you, he realized, as his lips came into contact with your knuckles.
Were you as sweet as always with the others in your shared department? Did you give them a piece of your mind, but then turned around with open arms and a hug when something went right? Did you share your secrets in the comfort of being busy, finding companionship with the one helping you who wasn’t him?
Miguel kissed your finger-tips as a soft gasp escaped your drooling lips, breathing in your scent like it was keeping him from unravelling altogether. The thoughts of someone else so close to you made his skin crawl and the urge to dig his claws within flesh. An insistent voice growled in the back of his head, “protect, closer, closer, need.”
It was his voice, snarling like a devil on his shoulder whenever he was clouded with your embrace. He craved your touch like it was a necessity to live, as important to breathe. His fangs trailed your wrist and your hold tightened onto his own hard instinctively. A pleased hum rolled off his tongue, you were just like a bunny caught into a trap. Prey at his mercy.
But he pulled away before he was too into his own head and did something he shouldn’t. Miguel wanted to see your nervous, wide-eyes gaze for himself when he offered to kiss you– or practically begged you to when the time came. In no way would he allow himself to take away a moment so special between the two of you.
So Miguel swiped away the drool dripping down your chin, bringing his thumb that delicately grazed your face onto his tongue and tasted your spit for himself. It was sweet, like you had just finished chewing down a piece of pink bubblegum hours ago– and that knowledge alone almost sent him off the edge of any human thought he had left.
So he collected himself, soothing out his lab coat before bringing a palm against his hair to smooth it back out. With a light smile and a deep breath, he invaded your space with a gentleness that rivalled a melodious tune.
Shaking you awake, Miguel brought his claws to your hair and raked through the curls. The action took you both by surprise, by you couldn’t help but purr a sleepy “hello, silly,” at the sight of waking up to his sleep-ridden self. He only chuckled, a red painting his ears that you couldn’t see.
“Hello to you too, mi corazón. I’ll help you get home.”
#miguel o'hara#into the spider verse#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara x reader#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara comfort#miguel o'hara fluff#x gender neutral reader#x fluff#x comfort#comfort#fluff#ive been swamped by the last of this semester but i'll be getting back to writing more soon!! thank youu :)
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#writing#writing nightmare#writeblr#fanfiction#ao3 fanfic#fanfic writing#fanfic writer#writer's problems#on the one hand freedom in your own lil swamp#on the other hand the swamp is empty and you have to do all the thriving#mine
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Deep Water Prompt #3230
The Drowned Knight rides through the swamp on a kelpie. He was looking for something in there when he died, something so important he still hasn’t given up.
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beomgyus such a sucker for praise it gets me so bad
#sorry for being a little unreponsive to asks#ive been a little swamped but ill get back to writing soon :)
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As someone who has felt like they've failed or lost dreams and had to rebuild themselves, I think a lot about Grusha.
I think about how it's implied Grusha's injury was a big deal. That it was a public thing. There's an article in the school library about a big competition coming up, and Grusha - second-best snowboarder in the world - will be competing. Everyone was waiting to see how he'd perform.
I think about how they're very specific to note that Grusha is the second- best.
He likely felt like he was up and coming. He likely felt like the world was at his fingertips. Even if he wasn't the best- the best, he was good. Really good.
And if he kept going, one day, he would be the best.
Maybe it frustrated him to no end to be compared to someone else. Maybe it killed him to always be called second-best. Maybe he was determined to break himself out of that and make a name for himself all his own.
And then for it all to get cut off so suddenly, so abruptly, out of something that was so clearly out of his control.
So loudly, so tragically, so publicly,
in front of everyone who came there to watch him compete. Maybe for the title of no longer being second-best.
I think about how he likely never wanted to touch a board again. How it likely made him sick and angry at the snow. The mountain. How even the best well-wishes from his biggest fans likely made him sick. To relive the shame and humiliation all over again.
To feel like everything you ever worked for got ripped away from you so suddenly, due to things so beyond your control.
And how his gym is alone on Glaseado Mountain. How being a gym leader seems to be now the only thing he has. And he doesn't feel like he's any good at that, either. How ice is notoriously a pretty vulnerable type as it is.
And yet, he's still the Ice-Type gym leader. He keeps going back to the snow.
How when you invite him over as a special coach at the academy, he starts talking about the Polar Biome. How he checked out the mountain again.
And how he picked up a snowboard. And even if he was embarrassed to admit it, he started to ride again.
Not the same, no. It might never be the same. Sports injuries can alter your life, alter your entire body, forever. He likely can never compete again.
But I think about him, and I hope life gets new purpose for him. Even if, due to his injury, his life may never be quite the same. Never quite what it was.
I hope he can find a different happiness. Even over the ruined pieces of the dream he once loved.
#current mood#pokemon sv#grusha#pokemon grusha#i'm in a depressy emo mood ok let me think about my boy#maybe someday when im less swamped with other WIPs i'll write that grusha thing#maybe maybe maybe
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Some more Captain Swan (or would this qualify as Captain Duckling? idk)
This started out as a simple, mindless ouat doodle, but then my brain decided to come up with bits and pieces of a story for this while I was working on it, so... If you're interested, you can read the basic premise under the cut:
Basically, we have bar wench Emma teaming up with infamous pirate Captain Hook to bring down the Dark One: Killian has finally gotten a way to get rid of the damn crocodile and Emma has learned of that while the crew of the Jolly Roger stopped by the tavern she works at; for Emma, it's about getting her son back (Neal/Baelfire is still Henry's father in this AU, but left the realm to escape his father, so Rumple's trying to use Henry to track down Neal, i guess)... Anyway, Emma steals onto the Jolly Roger (to steal whatever magical item required to best the Dark One or to stowaway on board, your pick), gets discovered by our good captain ('feisty lass' that she is, she still manages to hold a dagger to his throat before he gets the best of her - there are on his ship, after all), she reveals why she's doing this in the first place - to reunite with her son - and they strike an accord to work together as they share a common goal...
Shenanigans ensue, (and no, there is connection/bond between them that's growing closer over time, Emma is absolutely positive of that, thank you very much ;), plans go awry - they are chased by a monster of some sort, Killian decides to fight it off, to give Emma some more time to flee - she has to make it back to her son, after all - and tells her to go, to leave him behind... (but we know she doesn't listen... she never does ;)
Something like that, I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (and hey, if any Captain Swan writers out there feel like writing that story for me, let me know - I'd love to read it!)
(Also, I'm kind of happy how dynamic the poses in this drawing have turned out! I reworked the lineart a couple of times, not sure if I was wasting my time but while I liked the og sketch, I think the end result is a definite improvement)
Og sketch/doodle:
#captain swan#captain duckling#emma swan#killian jones#ouat#my sketches and drawings#aside from being a slowass writer I'm also swamped with having to write my thesis and term papers#so who knows when I'll maybe finally get to actually write this story#but I think it could make for a fun AU#also please ignore me continuing to struggle with damn backgrounds 😭
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Are you capable of passing a street musician without making a sneering remark? When a hawker tries to sell you random trinkets they made, do you grasp them by the shoulders and tell them how much you hate them?
If so, you may be able to scroll past a blazed post of somebody's art you don't like without leaving a rude comment!
#i swear literally every art related blaze ive seen has been SWAMPED with people being snarky shits on it#you actually dont HAVE to do that!#you can let something you think is ugly/cringe/unremarkable slide! you can keep scrolling!#you dont actually HAVE to be mean to strangers who aren't even doing anything wrong#like if its something actively harmful or fucky like the christian preacher then whatever#but somebody writing a janky poem about how they're kind of sad? let them fucking live
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a bandage
fandom the witcher
pairing yennefer x jaskier
word count 1,600+
tw mentions of past trauma, slight angst but mostly humour and fluff.
summary yennefer wishes to help jaskier with his wounds. the bard does not cooperate.
a/n based around the netflix series. may be ooc as i am more familiar with the books and games.
“Be careful!”
The bard was quick to recoil his hand which was securely wrapped in a bandage. “Gentle now.” His icy blue eyes widened at her, and his face was reared back. “I was meant for gentle caresses, not this!” He blabbered, using his spare hand to cradle his wounded one.
“Oh, hush. You’re so dramatic.” Yennefer groaned, impatiently reaching out to retract his hand back.
She ensured to have a firm grip on his wrist this time. Though the troubadour still attempted to twist and turn his arm, spewing out nonsense she did her best to tune out.
“— What are you even doing? What if your little witchy spells go wrong? I swear, Yennefer, if you disintegrate my hand, so help me I will —“
If the sorceress would not have butted in, she knew he would continue to ramble on and on with his usual nonsense. “You can not be serious.” She rolled her violet eyes.
Jaskier was still now, warily looking her over with flared nostrils. She took the moment to slip her thumb into the filthy bandaging. “Well.. I..” He swallowed, using his spare hand to scratch his neck.
It was rare for the poet to be at a loss for words. Normally he would never shut his mouth.
“Now that you mention it, I do need your severed hand for an elixir.”
He blinked at her, his shoulders were squared and tense. He waited for a following statement that would clarify that the raven-haired sorceress was only jesting, that she was only leaving one of her usual witty comments to spook him into submission.
But there was none.
Yennefer used his startled state to her advantage. She undid the bandage further. She was getting closer.
He fought the urge to shrink into himself. Jaskier shifted to a more comfortable position on the table as well as crossing his legs as if the change of position would serve as a distraction. He cleared his throat. Perhaps he should break the tension? It was clouding his senses anyway, making the situation unpleasant and awkward. “How’s you and Geralt?”
Her face held a scowl while she threw a frustrated glare his way with her alluring eyes, one that lacked most emotion. He only identified pure annoyance along with frustration.
Jaskier awkwardly laughed. “Ah hah.. not the best topic, I see.” He was thankful looks could not kill. Though her dazzling eyes were an easy topic to vocalize proudly about, they were rather intimidating when you were their victim.
Her skin felt hot. He knew how to push her. Jaskier was lucky Yennefer had a goal she would not relent on. She undid the bandage further, she was now able to see his knuckles make form.
“Yeah — I should be on my way now.” Jaskier moved to stand up, but the dark-haired woman placed her hand on his chest to prevent him from hopping off the table she had him perched upon.
She was his obstacle. How could Geralt tolerate a woman like her?
Yes, she was beautiful. A woman he would even pursue if her personality was different. She was rather frightening.
Yennefer finally gained the ability to fully undo the cloth as he was lost in the ocean of his never ending thoughts. She turned his hand over to where his fingertips were exposed.
“You’re not a healer.” He didn’t trust her. But who would blame him? She had done nothing of the sort to gain his trust besides rescue him out of pity. Jaskier figured she would have left him be if she did not have a sudden spurt of sympathy in that moment.
“I think I would know that.” Yennefer ran her fingertips along his, a delicate way of seeing if the burns oh so generously gifted by Rience still bothered him without verbalizing her thoughts.
She got her answer quickly. An overdramatized hiss and a turn of his head. “Poking and prodding doesn’t help!” He tried once more to pull himself away.
“Calm yourself.” She spat. Her harsh tone of voice contradicted her soothing words. “I only wish to see if you can be healed.”
At that, Jaskier perked up. He straightened his back, and now he suddenly seemed intrigued with her work. There was also a noticeable change in his heartbeat.
It thumped steadily in her ears unlike before, though she was still able to sense slight wariness, it was better than before. He would be able to play his out again.
“Any consequences?”
Yennefer shook her head back and forth, her loose dark hair bouncing in rhythm. “I doubt it.”
“That’s not a sure answer.” He retorted defensively.
“Could you be any more annoying?”
The sorceress finally looked up at him. What was the big issue? She did not understand. All she wished to do was help, was there any problem with that?
She stayed still, allowing herself into the bard’s mind.
Fear.
She fought the urge to flinch upon feeling someone else’s negative emotion. An overwhelming one, at that.
Yennefer knew she and the bard were far from the closest of friends. But he should not feel that around her, no.
She did not like that.
With a heavy sigh, she released Jaskier’s hand from her grasp. She didn’t like not getting her way, this was rather foreign to her. She did not celebrate the feeling.
And Jaskier’s bewildered expression only made it worse. He stared at her with a tilted head and an expression a confused child would wear. His striking blue eyes were narrowed, and he was not all sure what to do with his hands.
He settled with leaving the burnt one out of her reach.
Yennefer’s heart clenched unwillingly. ”Are you alright?”
“Well —“ He started by drawing out the ‘l’, blinking a few times and urging his head back. “No. No not really. I rather like my hand. It has plenty of uses. I’d prefer you not use your unreliable weird..” He did an odd flourish of his hand, one that was surprisingly enough to make the ends of Yennefer’s lips curl. He floundered to find the correct word, “Magic.” He finished.
“Well,” she mocked, starting her statement the same way as he did. “I don’t have to.” It bothered her. She only wished to provide aid, yet he rejected her offer.
Of all things Yennefer could say, he certainly was not expecting that. Usually, she was a terribly stubborn woman, he did not expect submission so early. “Thank you.”
She was also surprised to hear the grateful expression from the bard’s skilled mouth. Nonetheless, she was happy to hear it. She gave a short nod of her head. “So it still bothers you?”
“Oh, this?” He held out his hand. “You could say so. It prevents me from going out and spreading my lovely ballads to all,” He theatrically spread his hands out. He acted alright, Yennefer noted, “such a shame, Lambert would have loved my works.”
Yennefer looked at him amused, “I’m so sure.” She fought back the sudden urge to laugh at him and his antics. He did not need any more encouragement.
He graced her with a boyish smile. “I best be on my way now.” He moved to stand up, this time the violet-eyed woman allowed him. She stepped aside.
But he lingered.
“Bandage this back up for me? It would be rather rude for you to leave it as it is —“
“Shut it. Alright.” She glanced around for any sign of clean bandages, yet found nothing by simply using her eyes. Yennefer moved forward and began shuffling through the cabinets and whatnot.
She did not quite comprehend what was going on. Other than that the bothersome bard may be experiencing trauma still. Which was fair.
She saw what he had experienced.
Yennefer cleared her throat and lifted her chin triumphantly when she finally retrieved the bandages. She approached the bard at a slow pace, something odd for her. “Let me see your hand.”
“You wish to hold my hand?” He teased, yet he still obliged, presenting her with the wounded hand.
She rolled her eyes, taking his hand in hers in a shockingly delicate manner. It was the complete opposite of her actions from earlier. She was careful not to press up against his fingertips.
She noticed Jaskier leaning closer to examine her work. Their foreheads were nearly touching.
Yennefer gave in to her thoughts, she leaned in as well.
Their foreheads were now touching while she worked silently. The bard lifted his gaze to her. He looked vulnerable up close.
Perhaps she misjudged him?
“A drowner could do a better job of putting a bandage on.” Jaskier quipped, playfully bumping their noses together.
Nevermind.
“Really now?” Her normally unkind eyes now brimmed with an uncommon gentleness, it did not matter if she was aware of it or not.
“Mhmm.” He grinned toothily at her. She wondered how he managed to stay so.. animated.
“You’re insufferable.” Yennefer scoffed. She pressed a light kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth. She was quick to pull away.
The bard shuffled his foot, and he stared at her evidently stunned. “Uh..” He held a finger up, “I’ve never had a drowner do.. that.”
“I would hope not.” She smirked, proud to see the pinkish tint slowly blossoming upon the proud bard’s face. She gave him one last glimpse before strutting towards the laboratory’s exit.
The poet’s intrigued eyes followed her every step, watching the fabric of her black dress swish with each step. He brought a hand to the corner of his lip, unaware Yennefer had even finished bandaging him up.
“Oh, she’s scary.” He heaved out a sigh, wiping his other hand on his pants.
Yet he longed to chase after her. He wanted more than what he had received.
#the witcher#yennefer#yennefer x jaskier#jaskier#yennskier#yenskier#jaskier x yennefer#julian alfred pankratz#yennefer of vengerberg#fanfic#swamp writes
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can you do any offender headcanons? :3
TW: Mentions of drinking the pain away, abandonment
Offender & Slender
These two just did not get along growing up.
Slender is the firstborn, and Offender the second, yet their personalities clash dangerously, even before Trender was born.
Offender is a spitfire, and Slender is a bit more calm and collected. And as a child, Slender was always trying to keep Offender out of trouble, which is something the child did not appreciate.
Smacking hands from cookie jars, dragging his younger by his feet away from an expensive vase, even wrestling toys out of his hand that he wanted to break.
And with Offenders growing teeth, it was no easy job.
And into the older years, Offender shaped up slightly, but still got into trouble time-to-time.
On one particular night, Slender had enough of everything, with Trender being just a tween and Splendor just learning how to walk.
All four were home alone, and Slender took charge of everything.
Offender, in his rebellious teenhood, sat complaining at the table about Mother.
Splendors father had just died, and she was never home. Offender let his thoughts brew too long, and they became stale with anger and bitterness toward his mother.
He couldn't hold it in.
And he certainly couldn't keep getting in trouble, because it wouldn't be long before he would be sent away to the detention center in the city.
"I don't understand how we are expected to be in charge of two kids! She gets to go out and drink, and have fun, and she doesn't even take our own lives into regard!"
"Offender, she is grieving. Different people cope diff-"
"You are in school! You are working toward your career, I am angry on your behalf-"
"Don't."
"C'mon! you don't actually believe that she's thinking of us right now-"
"I believe that she's doing what she knows is best-"
"BUT IT'S NOT BEST!"
Slender huffed, and leaned on the counter, pretending not to notice the soup licking at the lid of the pot.
"It's not best for us. Splendor can't even walk yet, and she's coming home stupid and drunk-"
"Shut up, Offender, damn you."
Offender refused to back down, and stood up, standing next to his older brother, ignoring how terribly hard he's trying to block out his words.
"She has a family to look after, and she's completely abandoned us-"
"Stop talking."
"-nothing but a coward, and she's running from her problems. She's running from us-"
The soup boiled over, dousing the flames of the stove. With a fresh pump of anger-induced adrenaline, a quick burst of energy shot through Slender's veins. In a quick right hook, Slender clocked him, as hard as he could, right in the side of the head. And for a moment, he thought he had killed his own blood.
And Offender had the worst splitting headache when he woke up to Slender holding an icepack to his swollen temple.
"We're not telling mom about this."
"Hell no."
#sorry for the lateness#I've been swamped with school work and work work and I didn't have a chance to write one yesterday#creepypasta#creepypasta imagines#creepypasta headcanon#creepypasta blog#creepypasta x reader#offender#slender
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i understand why people want padmé to survive and be a central figure to the rebellion but honestly if anakin still got vader'd, that would give palpatine all sorts of leverage over her to try and exploit. the "hey, remember not to tell your evil estranged husband about our plans" thing is a relatively easy decision to make, but alas, palpatine's style seems a bit more "here's a video of me electrocuting him, if only you'd provide some information i'd definitely stop." and it's not like it's a one-time thing, where she decides to not be influenced and that's it. she has to make that decision every single time (regardless of how palpatine escalates) and no matter how much her friends + political allies like and respect her, it would not be unreasonable for them to decide that's an unsafe level of trust.
i am also skeptical of whether she would ever trust herself enough to voluntarily put herself in that position. especially after watching everything she worked for (threw her whole energy into) crumble—if she'd lived, she would really be stuck questioning everything she thought she knew + rebuilding her own identity
if she was desperate to be involved i think her most realistic option would be "maximally bland senator who occasionally conveniently misplaces some money/classified information." if she was desperate to be in the center of all the action, mayyyyyybe if the alliance's structure was decentralized enough she could get involved in a cell that's not connected enough to damage any other cells (or the larger organization) if things go bad
but also the whole "dying of despair" thing didn't come out of nowhere so perhaps, possibly, maybe she would just give up?? at least in the immediate aftermath
#if i start now i can write an essay arguing that she'd become a yoda-style swamp hermit by april fools day#star wars#padmé amidala
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Important PSA for writers! Maybe, if you're super cool and smart, you can figure out which of your characters can swim before you put them in a flooded basement. Because sometimes, if you're less cool and smart, you get to the scene and realize the answer is none...
#Yeah none of the Mortal God crew can swim as it turns out#Which is funny because everyone on the Outcasts crew can and has swam for at least a mile in the ocean#But yeah big no for the trio#Mashal's made of metal#Astra grew up in a swamp where you didn't touch the water if you didn't want to get eaten by something#Ivander's from fantasy NYC with the polluted Hudson River included#These bitches gonna drown#writing#my ocs
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trying to decide if i wanna write a jegulus teacher au where regulus is harry’s teacher and keeps having to call james about his behavior, like i could include harry’s teenage shenanigans and regulus falling in love w james voice over the phone and just SNDJKSBSJ
#but like i’m lowk swamped with school rn#and i suck at writing#but also JEGULUS#so like :/#jegulus#starchaser#marauders
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Glorbie Actress AU headcanons:
Hey guys, before you read this, the story is actually out and in progress now
(And by headcanons i mean more of a story outline)
Gloria is a behind the scenes worker, usually either working on sounds or sets. She’s been doing this a long time and enjoys her job but she’s always dreamed of doing something more.
She secretly has always wanted to be an actual actress but with her daughter, her struggles to make ends meet, and like 25 other problems, she just never got around to it.
Then one day, a new actress comes. Her name is Barbara Handler but she goes by the stage name of Barbie.
She’s unlike anybody that anyone’s ever seen before. Gorgeous, bright, bubbly, always happy and with a smile that literally lights up a room. Everyone’s in love with her
So, Barbie’s at Gloria’s studio working on a new movie. It’s already planned to be a hit and production is going to be long and tiring.
At first, Gloria isn’t sure what to think of Barbie. She sees how everyone else around them practically fall onto their knees the second she enters a room, and the blonde does seem really kind, but Gloria feels like it’s just an act so she doesn’t try to engage in anything with the actress.
But she is secretly crushing on her. So secretly that she doesn’t even know.
And for some odd reason, Barbies taken a liking to Gloria.
Everyone is of course, jealous of this and Gloria has no idea what’s going on but she pretends to not like Barbie, but Barbie talks to her anyway. Eventually, Barbie worms herself into Gloria’s life and the two become friends. They hang out and Barbie takes Gloria out for lunch a lot.
When the movie is finished, Gloria doesn’t hear much from Barbie again and she thinks maybe they’re not friends anymore until Barbie invites her to the premiere about a year later. Barbies pretty famous now.
When they’re there, Gloria mentions she’s been having trouble finding work.
The next day Gloria gets is offered a job at the next movie Barbie’s staring in and very happily takes it.
Barbie also has a boyfriend now. They’re not really in love (Gloria doesn’t know this) and it’s more of a publicity stunt her manager gave her. She’s not a fan of it but she goes along with it because she has no other choice.
Barbie and Gloria get closer and hang out a ton. They have a lot of sleepovers at Barbies fancy place together and just talk and spill their problems to each other. They’re practically best friends and they both secretly want to be more than that.
One night, Barbie takes Gloria out for drinks. She gets pretty drunk and spills a lot of stuff that she shouldn’t and Gloria comforts her. Somewhere along the way they end up kissing and Gloria freaks out, thinking Barbie’s relationship with her boyfriend is actually serious so she leaves.
Then the next day it’s announced Barbies boyfriend left her and it’s everywhere on the news. It’s not pretty.
Barbie is more upset about the fact she lost Gloria but she is also a wreck about that. She’s performing badly and her manager is pissed at her (he sucks in general).
Things just go badly until Gloria stands up for Barbie against her manager and tells him off. Barbie asks Gloria to talk to her and Gloria is a little wary but agrees. So Barbie asks her to come with her to a fancy event.
They go together and talk things out and become friends again. A few people ask if they’re a couple and after the third time of being mistaken for a couple, they just say yes.
Maybe there’s some dance scene because those are incredibly necessary, and maybe they kiss during it. Maybe they go home together and everything is perfect again.
Soon enough, the news is completely focused on Barbie, the star, and her girlfriend Gloria, the upcoming actress
#man this is so much longer than I meant for it to be#I love it though#I’d totally write this if I wasn’t swamped with so much crap irl but maybe someday#unless someone else wants to write this which YOU TOTALLY CAN!!!!!#Glorbie#Barbie#Barbie 2023#Barbie movie#barbie x Gloria
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my hand is itching to write another fic featuring shadybug x reverse!chloe but now they meet canon! chloenette and Chloé gets her redemption by being too gay for an evilized version of her crush not crush ladybug/Marinette while canon! Marinette is having bi!panic at sweet, caring, smart and heroic reverse!Chloe who kept the bee miraculous. there's jealousy, crack, fluff, established shadybug x reverse!Chloe and drink whenever canon! Chloé says 'could be us'.
someone restrain me.
#chloe bourgeois#marinette dupain cheng#chloenette#reverse!chloe#reverse!chloenette#i am swamped I don't have time to write *sobs*#but it's such a cute idea....
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