#they look SO cool naturally... why.. tumble them...
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Dc x Dp Prompt #4: Ghost Selkie
Disclaimer: references and facts about Selkies are based on Selkie folklore, true facts about seals, and stuff I just made up because it works well with the story
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Okay so Urban Fantasy inspired au where turns out there is some Selkie blood mixed up somewhere in the Fenton bloodline. As such Jazz and Danny exhibit a few Selkie-like traits but nothing too serious: a playful nature, a certain grace and agility, attraction to shiny things (stars and microscopes), a decent singing voice, being strong swimmers, and seeing in the dark better than the average person. After The Accident™️ and being more involved with the super natural world some of those aspects get a bit stronger for Danny but he just chalks it up to being a Halfa.
That is until Skulker catches him on an off-day and manages to capture him by snagging the back of his jumpsuit. Phantom, in a moment of panic and desperation, decides to try and rip off his bodysuit to escape. The suit comes of alright but out tumbles Danny Fenton rather than a de-clothed Phantom. Skulker, in a moment of shock, drops the suit and Danny catches cradling it to his chest while every fiber of his being screams “MY COAT. MY PELT. MINE, DONT STEAL IT.” Skulked realizes what’s happened before Danny does and nopes out of there bc “ This is not what I meant when a said I would have your pelt whelp!” Danny is left sitting there feeling stunned. A quick round of experimentation leads him to figure out that he is now able to take off the suit in Phantom form, but it will de-transform him into Danny. Furthermore, the regular "going ghost" transition still works both with and without him physically holding the suit.
A quick consultation with Clockwork and Frostbite reveals the Fenton Selkie heritage and he goes back to report to Jazz and his friends. Due to Jazz’s instance the siblings get a crash course in Selkies through a community of Selkies and Part-Selkies in the Infinite Realms as well as having a younger ghost show them where to find the modern underground Selkie-Community. Which leads to them getting emotionally adopted by their (dead and alive) Selkie mentors. They learn about eating habits, behavior, culture and customs (including the in and outs of courtship and mating), and camflouge/blending into society.
Jazz learns to tap into her vocal magic/manipulation. Her voice has a deeply calming effect on others and they feel more compelled to listen to her. This comes in handy with some of her more rowdy patients at her internships and stuff. She’s also to taps into the physical aspects of her Selkie blood and gains enhanced dexterity, agility, balance and reflexes. She’s also working towards improving her strength and stamina. Needless to say her aim has definitely improved. Nothing too wild but as she gains more liminality, those aspects become stronger so she’s definitely a cut above the average human though not as crazy as Danny.
Danny on the other hand gets the ability to “shed his pelt” by being able to physically take of his suit and de-transform as well as how to disguise the suit as a jacket or something (maybe a romper or a cardigan?) so that he he can keep it on him for quick, more discreet transformations if he wants to. His ghostly form takes on more Selkie traits like fangs for a powerful bite and more muscle mass and fat in certain areas to improve his endurance and cold resistance. He also learns to manipulate his ectoplasm to be able to shapeshift into the seal version of a Selkie. He is able to practice and manipulate his Ghostly Wail and hone it into a Siren Song and Sonic Singing too.
So basically both the Fenton siblings get cool Selkie power-ups (and unbeknownst to the two, admittedly already quite attractive siblings, their looks take on an otherworldly allure too). As well as a new community eager to take them in and provide them with support. That's why when Danny decides he wants to get away from Amity for college (the ghosts have agreed to a truce as long as Danny pops in for a spar and some shenanigans every now and then. He acquiesces because playing and roughhousing is a part of building social relations for both ghosts and selkies) some of their Selkie contacts help him apply for the Wayne Scholarship at Gotham University and get him set up in Gotham.
Let’s switch gears for a moment here. Gotham has always been a weird place full of weirdos, magic, and cursed energy. Basically, overall chaotic, edgy, and somewhat rancid vibes. It also is entwined with the supernatural. Lady Gotham, the spirit of the city, has allowed many a supernatural community to remain well hidden in her realm including but not limited to fae, witches, gargoyles, vampires, and of course, selkies. There is a huge underground supernatural community in Gotham, part of which is the Selkie community. Most of the Selkies moved out of the harbor and onto land due to pollution. The luckier ones who managed to gain some quick wealth settled in the Upper East Side or Coventry while others ended up in Burnley, the Bowery, and Crime Alley. However, family is very important to Selkies, so there is little resentment between the areas. They try to help out each other and the other members of the supernatural community in Gotham whenever possible. The overall magical community is spread out over Gotham with a few hot spots like Old Gotham, Robinson Park, Crime Alley and the Bowery, and Chinatown.
Now enter: Jason Todd (or a different member of the batfam of your choosing but you’re on your own to figure out how that’ll change the story). Jason grew up around a large portion of Gotham’s supernatural community. There were plenty of fae, selkies, sirens, vamps, and various other magical beings within Crime Alley. He discovered the community early on when he found out that the abuela who used to feed him tamales was in fact a Bruja (witch). Her name was Señora Mariana Soliña and she swore him to secrecy and taught him some basic knowledge on how to recognize and avoid being screwed over by the supernatural.
When his mother died Señora Soliña revealed her surprisingly large amount of wealth to him. She chose to live in Crime Alley to be closer to magical friends and people who would seek out her services as a witch doctor (her cover bc the best lies have a hint of truth). She offered him a hot meal and some spare cash when she could but they weren’t able to run into each other as often as they liked. After getting adopted and becoming Robin Jason made periodic visits to her before his death.
Jason’s resurrection didn’t happen in a Lazarus pit but when he crawled out of his grave. It was due to the magical energy(read also high ecto-concentration) in Gotham he had been exposed to that he became a Revenant. He was able to develop a core through the latent energy and become a spirit/reanimated corpse that sought to avenge both his death and countless others at the hands of The Joker. His dip in the Pits (polluted ectoplasm) brought him out of his catatonic state but triggered his obsession and left him with Pit Rage. Yada yada yada, trains with the League of Assassins, yada yada yada, trains with All-Caste and gets the ability to wield the magical All-Blades, yada yada yada, returns to Gotham for revenge becomes a crime lord, etc., etc., you know the drill.
Fast forward to when he’s made up with the BatFam and is now an antihero. His pit rage has gotten more controllable as the natural ectoplasm and magic in Gotham is slowly filtering out the polluted ectoplasm in his system but it’s still a long process. The supernatural community, however, is happy to have him there. You see Red Hood is actually quite a popular vigilante within the supernatural community. Among his many monikers, they were the ones who gave him the nickname “Avenger of the Unavenged”, and nod to his nature as a Revenant, as well as the aura of the All-Blades (which are meant to defeat absolute evil) that most magical beings recognize.
Jason is fully aware of the presence of the supernatural community in Gotham, as well as members of it who live within his haunt. Once things reach a new “normal” for him he tracks down Señora Soliña only somewhat surprised to see her alive and kicking. He asks for her guidance in the supernatural past the basic knowledge she gave him as a kid. Señora Soliña recognizes his magical aura and status as a Revenant and agrees. (Note: Jason is aware that he has some magic in him, but he attributes it to the All-Blades. He is not fully aware of his status as a Revenant. Señora Soliña assumes he knows and thus does not inform him.) She teaches him and helps him start getting integrated into Gotham’s supernatural community. She offers to “adopt” him as her grandson "Jason “Pedro” Todd Soliña" so that he can take on a civilian identity and attend college. He agrees, eager to resume his education and take on a semi-"normal" life.
And thus we've reached the part of our story where two worlds collide. Jason and Danny first meet peripherally during orientation at Gotham U. They don't really have a direct interaction, just learning each other's names during the icebreakers and some eye contact during the tour. Danny is dorming and Jason commutes so the don't see each other much past running into each other on campus or in the dining hall. That is until they spot each other at an underground, supernatural beings-only, cafe called Xenia a few blocks away Robinson Park.
The two realize the other must have a supernatural connection and start up a conversation. The conversation is illuminating as they learn they're both fairly new to the supernatural community and mostly ghostly. Danny reveals himself as a halfa and of selkie descent and Jason uses his cover to introduce himself as the grandson of a bruja with magic, a brujo-in-training if you will. Upon being asked what a halfa is Danny realizes Jason doesn't know a ton about ghost culture and gives him a quick crash course leading them both to figure out that a) Jason is a Revenant and b) Danny could probably help the Pit Rage by giving him some ecto-supplements. Due to this newfound information Jason conveniently forgets that his new friend mentioned having Selkie blood.
The two meet up more after that, intentionally this time so that Danny can continue teaching Jason about ghost culture and just to hang out. (Note: Danny isn't teaching Jason about selkie culture as he assumes the grandson of a bruja would know that stuff already. Jason has been taught a bit about selkies but they haven't thoroughly covered the topic of courtship yet). As they hang out and develop a friendship with each other the seeds of romance are planted.
One day after they wrapped up lunch at Xenia, Danny left the cafe, accidentally leaving his pelt/jacket on his chair as he's still getting used to having to keep track of it. Jason not realizing the significance of his actions picks it up and takes it with him. Later that day Danny freaks out realizing he left it behind when he runs into Jason. Jason was actually looking for him to return the jacket. So he's like "Hey man you left this at the cafe so I took it and now you can have it back" assuming the redness on Danny's face is just embarrassment. Danny, while mortified, is also extremely flustered. Selkies typically only let close family and lovers have access to their pelts because it implies a deep and intimate bond built on trust that they'll give it back. For Jason, who should know about such Selkie customs, to not only take his pelt but then also return it so easily is some very straightforward flirting. But hey, Jason is good friend... and easy on the eyes too. He wouldn't mind if there was something more there. So Danny decides that he wouldn't mind courting/being courted by Jason.
Jason on the other hand has in fact caught feelings for his friend but hasn't realized he already initiated courting by doing this. He plans to do it the ghostly way engaging in some bonding through sparing and roughhousing and building up their feelings before asking him out. Unfortunately for him, there is a lot of overlap between Selkie courting and ghostly courting so Danny believes that Jason has been courting him for some time now. There are also some things that are specific to Selkie courting Jason unknowingly does, such as buying Danny a bracelet (shiny rocks as a courting gift), beating up a couple of guys trying to mug Danny (defending/showing off for your mate), and introducing Danny to his family/agreeing to meet Jazz (family is very important to Selkies).
That's why when they go out to dinner, and Jason embarrassedly corrects a waitress who thought they were on a date by saying "Oh we're just friends", Danny is understandably upset. He was under the impression that their courtship was getting rather serious since Jason had met Jazz and Danny had met Jason's family. When he asks Jason why he told the waitress they weren't dating he replies "Umm because we're not?" in an uncertain tone. Danny feeling hurt and upset takes his glass of water splashes it onto Jason's face and storms out of the restaurant. Jason is left there soaking, confused, and wondering what he did wrong.
That night Jason goes to visit Señora Soliña to see if he messed up some ghostly custom for Danny to get so upset. When he arrives one of the first things she asks him is how it's going with Danny. When he recounts what happened at dinner and explains his confusion, the bruja takes a deep sigh before smacking him upside the head. Jason is like “wtf abuela?!” And she just shakes her head at him and calls him an idiot. She then reminds him that Danny is part Selkie and explains all the ways Jason has been courting him during the past few months. Jason, realizing he screwed up grabs one of his leather jackets and goes off to track down Danny.
Danny has returned to his dorm to cry and eat ice cream in his pjs from the comfort of his own room. He’s about to watch some comfort tv when there is a pounding at his door. He gets to find a disheveled looking Jason standing at his door. Danny frowns and questions what he’s doing here. Jason’s like “Look I know you’re upset and understandably so but please let me in and I can explain”. Danny’s care for Jason wins out over his anger as he resigns himself to letting the other in. The first thing Jason does is apologize for hurting Danny, saying it was never his intention to do so. He then goes on to explain how he hadn't realized that he had been courting Danny in Selkie customs. Danny is understanding but still upset and voices his feelings to Jason. Jason allows the other to get his anger out and then continues to say that he was actually trying to court Danny through ghostly bonding, and he would still like to date him if he’s open to it. Jason then takes off the leather jacket that he brought with him and offers it to Danny, saying that he doesn’t have his own pelt to offer, but this is the next best thing. This gesture nearly brings Danny to tears and he throws himself to hug Jason, accepting the jacket. The pull back and look into each other's eyes before sharing a kiss and spending the rest of the night cuddling before Jason has to leave.
From then on Jason ramps up the courting to 12, determined not to mess it up again. He reasearches selkie and ghost courting customs in depth to properly woo Danny and personalizes dates to their personalities. Danny is happy to be lavished with the attention and returns the favor. The two of them also make an effort to make sure the have clear communication to avoid having misunderstandings again. A few months later Jason decides to re-introduce Danny to the batfam as his partner and brings Danny along to Wayne Family Dinner with a ring around his finger. It’s a promise ring not engagement ring, but what Bruce doesn’t know will surely give him a heart attack and Danny is happy to go along with it. Danny and Jason become the longest and most stable relationship in the batfam. Tim and Damian even come to them for advice when they try to romance their own partners.
The story kind of just finishes off with the two of them being happy with each other and leaves an open ending to add in small scenes that happened during a time skip or after the story (e.g gushing to siblings, an actual proposal, identity reaveals, batboys seeking advice, them engaging in pda, interaction with other supernatural beings, gossip surrounding their relationship, ect.)
[Edit: additional oc info now found here]
#dp x dc prompt#dc x dp#danny phantom#dead on main#jason todd x danny fenton#jason todd#danny fenton#selkies#urban fantasy#misunderstandings#long post#Ghost Selkie au#ghost selkie Danny Fenton#Strega’s dc x dp prompt
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List
• Part 2 > End >>
The villains in the city thought it would be hilarious to rank every hero by the level of beauty.
That’s right.
Not by skill or power, intelligence, speed, or strength at all, but beauty.
First place obviously went to Charisma. Their hero name was literally Charisma. There wasn’t anything more blatantly attractive than that. To top it off, Charisma was naturally photogenetic. Every angle captured of them was another magazine cover. Everyone downtown knew Charisma was certainly God’s favourite creation.
‘Fair enough.’ Hero thought as they stared at the screen in front of them. Their computer hummed quietly as they looked into the comments of civilians discussing their thoughts on the subject as well.
[I fucking love Charisma.]
[Congrats on first place!!😍]
[My favourite hero]
Moving on to the next one was Saturn Dust. Another gorgeous and close second place; it seemed like the villains knew what they were doing. They must’ve taken weeks or even months to prepare a list this detailed. Below each hero was a rating out of five for their other attributes like fighting style and general costume design. Saturn Dust even had a cute catchphrase, which earned them extra marks.
Hero shook their head grimly, “Why didn’t I think of that?”
Yet, all Hero was interested in was finding their position on the list. Their eyes wandered as the page scrolled for what seemed like forever.
Were they really that bad?
Before they could fully comprehend it, they’d reached the end of the page. Surely, they must’ve missed it.
Again, Hero scrolled up the page. Eyes now focused and leaning forward on their chair. Their finger paused every few seconds to count the numbers beside each name.
“43, 44, 45, 46…”
However, nothing came about. Bewildered, Hero rubbed their eyes and looked around at their empty apartment. The window let in a cool breeze from the night. Maybe they were tired, but the aching feeling of being forgotten was too painful.
Their fingers tapped on the keyboard.
Ctrl+F
A search bar popped up on the top right corner of the page. Hero quickly typed in their name, desperation getting to them.
Two results appeared, and they hurriedly pressed enter. The first that appeared was a comment mentioning them, equally as baffled at where Hero belonged on the list—the second displayed a small note underneath hero #33, citing Hero as a close friend but nothing more.
Frustration clawed at them after being left out. How hard was it for those villains to give up some recognition here? Should they throw fireworks next time? Or was someone purposely messing with them?
Hero crossed their arms as they thought about their next step. It was impossible that they could’ve gone so unnoticed for this long. Their contributions weren’t like the others, but it wasn’t as if they didn’t do anything at all.
Looking at the page in its entirety, Hero noticed a small grey font underneath the title page.
Each hero listed was ranked based on villains who fought them in battle. This meant all information was first-hand account to keep it as accurate as possible.
Hero slapped their forehead.
It made so much more sense now. Hero only ever fought Villain. They never or hardly ever interacted with the rest of the villains in the city as frequently as they ran into Villain.
They pressed their lips together.
“But that doesn’t make any sense.” They grumbled. Unlike them, Villain did fight multiple heroes at a time. Why would they purposely leave them out? Unless they forgot about them.
Their stomach turned as an aching grew within them. There’s no way Villain could’ve forgotten them but given so much valuable input to the other heroes. Hero scratched their head and glanced at the clock, their thoughts tumbling out of them by the second in search of answers. Then again, they could’ve just never approached the list and dismissed it entirely. It’s not like Villain was the only one asked for their opinion.
Hero tapped their foot, their eyes still blankly staring at the computer screen and then back at the clock. The depths of their consciousness begged them to go out and make a fuss to catch some attention. The other half of their mind demanded that they quit immediately. If not even their enemy could notice them, they might as well not participate at all.
They sighed and shut down the computer.
All this nonsense was getting to their head. It was best to be left in the dark about it anyway. What was that saying again?
Ignorance is bliss.
Hero settled into bed and tucked themselves in. Their eyes closed. ‘Besides, what am I even going to confront Villain with? You don’t think I’m attractive enough to get on the list?’ Hero blushed. Maybe they wouldn’t say it like that. Or— did Villain find them attractive?
Their memories passed them in their past interactions. Hero’s face grew warm. What if Villain was very protective of them and didn’t appreciate the chances Hero might have at getting admirers? What if they got jealous easily?
No. That’s all too ridiculous. Realistically, Villain was unlike that at all. They were manipulative and sadistic. That’s why they had those underlings of theirs always kissing at their feet. Hero frowned as their brows furrowed. No one as self-centred as them could care about some low-level hero.
That didn’t matter to them, though, because Hero didn’t need this. It was below them. A stupid list running around the internet wouldn’t affect them for life. If anything, it was pathetic that anyone would want to be on there. They should be happy that it didn’t get to them.
For about 20 minutes, the reassurance did the trick, but even Hero couldn’t be fooled for too long.
They shot up in bed, fist slamming onto the headboard, “Dammit! Why aren’t I on that list!?”
~~~
MASTERLIST
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Part 2 >
End >>
#writing prompt#enemies to lovers#villain x hero#hero x villain#writing#heroxvillain snippet#pining prompts#unrequited pining#unrequited love#wrtblr
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THREE TIMES , ONE MOMENT
pairing : jj maybank x female reader
warnings : underage drinking , swearing basically just a lot of fluff .
summary : three times where everyone can see how much you and jj like each other , and the moment where you finally confess .
note : this fic is set both before & during the events of season 1 , it’ll make slightly more sense when you read on . there are some plot inconsistencies , but let’s just ignore them for the purpose of this imagine .
ONE. BEACH DAY
To say you loved the ocean was an understatement. It seemed often that you spent more time in the sea than on land, whether it be surfing, swimming or simply paddling in the shallow depths of the water. As a pogue, you’d grown up near the beach, wading into the cool water often as a child, longing to feel the waves against the ankles. And you were no different even now, years later.
All of the pogues knew of your love for the ocean, though perhaps none more than JJ Maybank. It was where you first met, after all, both of you surfing amongst the waves, unaware you were about to meet the person you’d call one of your best friends.
You were all by the ocean for a weekly beach day - a tradition which you had founded, naturally. Kiara was helping you make a rather elaborate looking sandcastle, while the boys were running out of the sea, hair dripping wet & holding their surfboards.
You looked down to focus on your sandcastle, but the feel of water dripping on your head made you look up, only to see a certain blonde smiling down on you.
“Come to the water with me?” JJ grinned at you, offering you a hand to help you get up.
Nodding, you accepted his hand, and he pulled you up. Hands still interlocked, you both ran to the water together, laughing as he tugged you along towards it.
The feel of the waves crashing over your feet relieved any stresses you had almost immediately, as did the feel of JJ’s hand still gripping yours. The two of you ran out further into the ocean, laughing with every step you took.
You eventually waded out far enough where the water just reached your waist. The sight mesmerised you: the waves gently washing over each other, the sun setting in the distance. It was all so beautiful.
And it just so happened that JJ thought the exact same thing, only about you. He had liked you for quite a while, though unlike his true JJ nature, he was scared to tell you. Perhaps he was scared of what you’d say in response, or maybe he just didn’t know how to express his emotions properly. Either why, he hadn’t told you about his feelings for you yet.
Though you were the only one who seemed to not notice. All of the other pogues - Kie, Pope & even the otherwise oblivious John B - knew of JJ’s liking for you, and they were ever so sure that you reciprocated his feelings.
“Just look at them!” Kie awed from her place on the towel, watching the two of you in the ocean as you splashed each other and tumbled into each other’s arms. “Aren’t they cute?”
“Has JJ really not told her yet?” Pope said, shaking his head as he leaned closer to see the two of you better.
“Put it this way. JJ’s not scared of shit, but he’s scared of telling her, and that says something.” John B shrugged, taking a swig from the bottle which he’d brought with him to the beach.
“Whatever, he’ll tell her soon, I’m telling you,” Kie shrugged her shoulders casually, still looking on at the two of you, rather like a proud mother. “I’d be willing to bet on it.”
“Wanna bet, then?” said John B with a smirk, extending his hand for Kiara to shake. “I say he won’t confess for a year, you say he will. Winner gets $20.”
“You’re on.” smiled Kiara, taking his hand as all three of the pogues looked back at the sea at you both, just in time to notice the grins playing on your faces as you ran back to land, your arms tightly around JJ’s neck as he carried you, the two of you looking as happy as could be.
TWO. CLEAN UP
“Stay still, it’ll sting more if you move.” you said quietly, holding a wet rag to the side of JJ’s head, which had a cut along it. Presumably from his father, though you knew better than to talk to him about his dad. You were sitting on the couch arm while JJ sat on the cushioned part, the two of you sitting close together while you helped clean his wound.
“It hurts like shit,” JJ whinged, though you paid him no attention. You both knew that the only way he’d recover is if you continued cleaning up the cut before it got infected, no matter how small it could be considered to be.
“It’ll take a minute longer, and then it’s done,” you hummed, removing the cloth to examine the cut closer. You reached for a bandage to put on the cut, and you watched as JJ winced as it was put on. “There, finished.”
JJ stood up to take a look at the cut in the mirror, only to see it bandaged up. He smiled at his reflection, before turning to you. “Thanks, really. You’re a lifesaver.”
“Not really,” you shot him a smile back, getting up to put the rag away. “I just helped-”
You were cut off by a JJ shaped figure wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up, your feet leaving the floor.
“JJ!” you said, grinning as he twirled you around humorously, the pair of you laughing as the room became dizzier around you, and as your cheeks flushed pink ( both from the adrenaline and being in each other’s arms ), you realised just how much you liked JJ, genuinely.
And it seemed someone else was realising as well. Sarah Cameron was sat outside, shades perched on the top of her head, watching through the window with the rest of the pogues at the two of you, the grins on your face visible even through the distorted view.
“So are they-?” she asked, looking at the people around her. It was her first time meeting the pogues, and though they didn’t exactly meet eye to eye, they had at least one thing in common: they were all far too invested in the story that was yours and JJ’s love lives.
“Not yet,” Pope said, joining her to look at you both. “But we think pretty soon they will be.”
“They aren’t?” Sarah raised her eyebrows, turning to look at the pogues, who all nodded exasperatedly. She turned back, shaking her head. “Dear lord, you pogues are clearly as oblivious as you look.”
THREE. MIDSUMMERS
The only reason you were all dressed up that evening was because Kiara insisted that you had to come, or she would not attend. And so her parents ( rather unwillingly ) allowed their daughter to let her best friend come with her to the highly anticipated Midsummer’s Ball.
Kie had let you borrow one of her gowns, because you owned only one dress, and your cat had ripped the hem of it. It was light green and looked almost identical to her own, but you wore a simple green headband with yours as opposed to a flower crown.
You knew that JJ and Pope would also be at the ball, in a secret mission that the rest of you pogues had crafted out. Which is why you kept a look at the door no matter who you were talking to, perhaps hoping that you would see him walk through at any moment.
Kiara had left you alone to go and talk to her parents, and so you were by yourself, stuck on the outskirts of the dance floor with no one to talk to. You didn’t mind too much; you certainly didn’t want to talk to any fascist kooks, anyway.
“How the fuck are you here?” you heard a voice from behind you, and you turned around to see Rafe Cameron, kook royalty, standing beside you, drink in hand as he looked sceptically at you. “You’re no kook.”
“Guest of the Carreras,” you shrugged nonchalantly, turning you attention away from and back to the dance floor, not bothered to see his reaction.
“Yeah, well where’s your boyfriend at? You know, the one you’re never seen without?”
“Who- JJ?” you turned back around to look at him. Rafe was smirking: he’d clearly said it to get a reaction out of you. You mentally kicked yourself for letting him get to you. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Well, it’s you who made that assumption, not me,” Rafe raised his hands up in surrender, and winked at you, before walking away. You simply rolled your eyes. It was just Rafe being Rafe, right?
No more than ten minutes later, you spotted JJ with Rafe and his cronies. So that’s why Rafe had made that comment. Go figure.
You saw JJ run out, and you watched as he looked at you, indicating for you to join him. You looked at Kie, who nodded at you, before the two of you ran out after them. Kiara ran to Pope and you ran to JJ, his arms lifting you up as you reached him, laughing along with you.
“You look beau- nice. Really nice,” JJ said, almost as a throwaway comment, though you took it as something more.
“Thank you,” you smiled, trying to shrug off the heat that started to climb up your cheeks. “You do as well, the waistcoat suits you.”
“Oh really? You like my waiter disguise?” And just like that anything Rafe had said before was forgotten, the two of you were back to joking together as you normally would. But when you turned around to see Rafe mouthing ‘Told you’, you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right about your feelings for each other.
CONFESSIONS
The bonfire light flickered on both of your skins as the two of you sat by the fire, close together, but not touching each other just yet.
You both kept sending looks at each other: little glances that could easily be misinterpreted as friendly looks, though you both knew now it was something more. You were ever so sure.
“Why’d you keep looking at me like that?” you asked him suddenly, breaking the silence between the two of you. If you didn’t have alcohol in your system, you may never have had the courage to ask him, but you were fed up of unanswered questions.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” you were being bolder than usual, more abrasive, but you had to know if it was reciprocated.
“Well that’s where you’re wrong, because I don’t,” he said. He was being annoying, you were sure of it, having known him for so long.
“Quit playing, Maybank. What’s going on between us? Are we friends or are we more?”
Silence. No response. Your worst fears true, you looked in his eyes for an answer, but you got nothing. Then, you felt the space between you close. His lips on yours, you feel your breath hitch in your throat.
It was unexpected, but a good surprise, nonetheless. His lips felt soft; warm in comparison to your rather cold ones, and it felt nice. You had kissed boys before, though those kisses never mattered. This one did, this one felt right.
When you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh with him, at both of your obliviousnesses and at the fact that your first kiss was unexpected for at least one of you.
“More. Definitely more,” he laughed again, a warmth in his voice. His arm was now wrapped around your shoulder, and the two of you huddled closer together, as if the warmth exuded from the fire wouldn’t reach the both of you unless you were together. And as you looked around you, at the beach and more importantly at him, you were happy.
And if you had thought to look further into the distance behind the two of you, you would’ve seen a rather smug looking Kiara being handed $20 by John B, who couldn’t seem to care less about losing the money.
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank imagines#outer banks#obx#outer banks imagine#jj maybank x fem!reader#multifandom imagines#imagine#x reader#multifandom#writing#daltonsluvr
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Just soft scenarios for the boys being just great partners for reader? Like just cuddles
Oh cute cute cute!!!! You got it! I’m taking this as an opportunity to just make this tooth rottingly sweet.
Masterlist
Part one will include Warrior, Four and Sky.
Content under the cut!
Warrior
“I wish we had more moments like this.” Warrior whispers quietly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. He pulls back, running the back of his hand down your cheek before rests his hand on the grass below.
“I agree.” You sigh.
Silence follows. What else is there to say?
The day was warm and bright. The sun draped the earth beneath you pleasantly. A gentle breeze cooled down your exposed skin making it the perfect way to both cool down and warm up in a single spot. The temperature was perfect.
Birds sang in the distance and the leaves whispered their secrets from the trees around you. You couldn’t understand their words and lullabies, but it was enough to lull you into a calm. It was hard to keep your eyes open.
To sweeten the pot, you and Warrior managed to get away for a little while. You’re not sure how he swung it but one moment you were taking stock of the supplies to last the remaining leg of the journey before you hit a town (which is a headache all on its own), and the next, Warrior was dragging you by the hand, away from your chore and giggling like a love struck fool.
It was endearing to say the least and when he led you this quiet spot away from the hustle and bustle of the hero’s natural born chaos. It was bliss.
“You’re beautiful.” He says quietly as if afraid to break whatever spell has rested over the two of you. “Do I tell you that enough? You’re stunning. Gorgeous. I could look at you forever.”
“Why so I feel like you did something wrong?” You snort, blinking your eyes open to look at him again.
His eyes are impossibly soft as he looks at you. It’s enough to take your own breath away. Any teasing you would have spout is shut up and clamped down in the far regions of your throat. you can’t even think about what you were about to say.
“Is it so wrong to admit that I’m enamored with you?” Warrior reaches down, taking your hand in his and lacing your finger together without a second thought. He pulls your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles, rubbing his thumbs over the spot. “I’m feeling a way... don’t mind me...”
The tips of his ears turn pink and he focuses on your hand.
You smile and squeeze his hand, running your thumb along his own just the same. “Is something wrong?”
He looks at you then and moves toward you, taking you up in his arms and holding you close to his chest. Legs tangle together, arms move around to wrap around the other and breath begins to mingle as the space in between disappears.
Warrior lets out another breath, seemingly coming back to the present instead of getting lost in his thoughts again. “Not really. I’m just coming to grips with how much I love you. That’s all.”
The blunt honesty wasn’t something you were expecting. The soft look in his eyes only deepens and the blush from his ears travels to his cheeks. He keeps talking. “I didn’t think I would have been so blessed. I know I’m difficult. I know I’m damaged. It... scares me... the amount of love I didn’t know I could feel. Forgive me. I know this is out of the blue.”
Endeared and enamored as well, you kiss the tip of his nose and bring your hands up to entangle them in the back of his head. His hair would need to be brushed later. “...I love you too. And I’m glad you feel that way because I don’t plan on going anywhere else anytime soon. Thank you for stealing me away.”
An easy smile lights up your face. It propels Warrior to swoop in and steal a kiss before it dims again. “Promise?”
You giggle at the boyish pride on his face and kiss him again. You nod. “I promise.”
Four
Giggles tumble out of your lips before you could stop yourself. “Should I be concerned?”
“Your lack of faith in me is astounding lovely.” Four snorts from your side. His hand is in yours, pulling you along. His bandana was over your eyes, effectively blinding you.
“It’s not necessarily a lack of faith. It’s just there’s something telling me to be warry about whatever you have planned.” You try to defend yourself. “I know you put those beetles in Legend’s bed roll. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Whaaat?” Four has an audile grin on his face. “That was Wind.”
“Forgive me, but I noticed that my pouch was missing and filled with the same beetles. No one else touches my stuff but you.”
“He must have been more daring.”
“You’re so lucky I like you.”
“I am.” He replies cheekily, letting you bump against him softly so that you’d stop walking. “We’re here.”
“I’m scared.”
“No you’re not.” Four scoffs and reaches up. You bend down a bit when you feel his arm move to assist him and have to blink at the brightness when he takes the headband off of your face. “Tada!~”
You gasp.
The sight in front of you is nothing short of perfect. A blanket over soft and warmed sand. Picnic basket to the side with dimmed lantern lighting and a perfect view of the lake just ahead of you.
“Oh Link...” The name drops before you can pick it up. “...How did you even pull this off?”
Four winks and pulls you forward again, letting you sit down on the blanket with little fanfare. “I have my ways. Let’s just say those beetles came in handy later.”
Something tells you that you shouldn’t ask too much about it.
Four reaches into the basket and pulls out a glass bottle and two long and thin glasses to go with it. He’s quick to pop the cork and pour some out. He hands it over to you. “Here.”
“What is it?” You take it and take a whiff. It’s sweeter than you anticipated but with an underlying tone of a fruit you don’t recognize. You take a sip without thinking about it. It’s tangy and not as bitter as you were expecting.
“Sparkling munchkin fruit cocktail.” Four replies easily. “I personally have never heard of it. But I got to have a taste earlier and figured that you’d like it.”
You take another sip. It’s pretty good actually. “Thank you... This is really sweet of you Link.”
The boy in question begins to fluster as he reaches back into the picnic basket. “You think so? I thought this was subpar to be honest. I felt like I could have done a bit more.”
“You didn’t have to do anything at all.” You remind him. “I would have been fine with just holding you hand as we walked.”
You place the glass away where it would stand without risk of spilling over and reach for his hand. Four takes it without another thought, lacing your fingers together as he takes out a small plate with sandwiches cut into little triangles. You lean closer and smile brightly. He remembered which ones were your favorite.
“Do you think you’d be willing to hold my hand and watch the sun set?” Four asks timidly tilting his head just enough where his hair falls into his face.
You laugh, fixing it for him. “Always. The food and drink are a nice bonus though.”
“I’ll remember that for future reference.”
Sky
“Has your hair always been this soft?”
“Yes.” A laugh follows shortly after. “I promise I don’t do anything extraordinary to it.”
You huff. “So not fair.”
Sky was laying on your chest arms wrapped around you and relishing the way your hands felt in his hair. “For what it’s worth, you’re free to play with it anytime you’d like.”
You smile, teasing the locks through your fingers. “Really?” It’s said through a whisper. You can’t believe you got point blank permission. “That’s a lot of power you’ve just given me sir.”
“I trust you.” He replies just as easily, snuggling closer than he already is. “Besides, if it means that I can have more time with you than I’m all for it.”
“You’re such a sap.” You laugh, doing with his hair as you please.
Sky hums in approval and contentment. “And yet, here you are. Admit it, you love it.”
“I love you.” You shake your head. “I can handle the sap.”
It’s Sky’s turn to snort. “I wasn’t aware those were two different things.”
You nod, fully aware that his eyes are closed. Allowing the silence to fall over the two of you was something that made your skin itch. There was very little to fill it if you or Sky stopped talking. It made you nervous. It felt awkward.
Sky however could not appeared to be bothered in the slightest.
It didn’t seem fair.
You tried to keep your thought from going into the deep end, focusing more on paying with Sky’s hair in a way that both satisfied your brain’s need for stimulation and made him feel relaxed and cared for.
“I can hear you thinking.” Sky mutters, lifting his head to meet your eyes. “Something wrong, Beloved?”
You shake your head. “Thoughts. They won’t leave me alone.”
Sky hums and lets your words filter through. He pushes himself away from you and flips the script. He pulls you close taking the spot where you once more, placing your head on his chest. “Your turn then.”
The change in direction stuns you. Before you can even think of a way to speak your way through the record scratch, Sky cards his fingers through your hair silencing your thoughts again.
It feels nice. He knows what he’s doing.
You relax within seconds from his touch alone. You rest your head against him fully and take a deep breath. It’s hard to think. Your own mind is silenced. It’s a wonder in on itself.
Then you hear something. A dull thumping.
You zero in on it and let it fill your being with each passing beat. Vaguely in the deep waters of your mind, you recognize it as Sky’s heartbeat. It’s strong, steady and soothing.
Sky doesn’t stop playing with your hair.
Before you know it, you’ve let your eyes droop close and your breathing even out. You didn’t even realize that this period of silence has already stretched out further than the last.
You fall asleep. But that doesn’t stop Sky from giving the little attentions to your being. He’d keep whatever thought away even as you sleep. Let it be in peace.
You both deserve it.
Part 2
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Thank you to everyone on the miraculous fanworks discord for brainstorming this thing with me.
So, the idea behind the au (which was spawned from a train of thought that's perfectly coherent to me but I'm not going to try to explain it) is that all the sentibeings created by Emilie and everyone after her are modeled as living inanimate objects (or rather, animate objects) instead of organics- Duusu's too incoherent to tell them that they can make humans.
From here there's multiple variants about how it all goes down but this is what I'm going with:
Emilie instead decided to focus on being a good cool aunt and/or godmother to kids that already exist. Like her good friend Andre's daughter, who seemed to be having a rough time of it and didn't really have any equal playmates or adults to pay attention to her. Since Emilie can only do so much and be around so often, she decided to use the peacock to make Chloe a little shoulder angel- so she wound up making Adrien anyway, as a plush cat. (He's mentally about the same age as Chloe with whatever voice coming out of his mouth reflecting that, but slightly more mature by design.) After a month or so preparing Adrien, she sneakily left him with Chloe and just let the two bond naturally. (The amok is a golden bell which she put in a box in the safe- Gabriel knows about it and knows what it is and while he didn't really understand why she did any of this he respected her decisions.)
Now, Amelie and Colt found out about this and Colt naturally insisted he be allowed to make himself a son. Colt does not have any imagination whatsoever so he just copies what Emile did, so his son is a plush cat. Duusu's still in no state to tell him that he could've made a human boy. Colt hates his son just as much as Amelie decided to love him. Felix is quite possibly more miserable than in canon.
Meanwhile, Tomoe, who IS creative, made Kagami as a life size porcelain doll, (think Battle Angel Alita)
So that way Kagami could be a fencing prodigy just the way Tomoe wants her to be. Her life is the least different between the three, but she is fully aware she's not human and hides her face in public.
As for how the plot goes down:
Adrien and Chloe grow up together, the list of people who know about Adrien being alive is pretty short but it does include anybody close to Chloe, so Andre, Sabrina, and even Marinette. He had some bad experiences early on (falling asleep out in the open in Chloe's room and getting put in the washing machine by staff because he was dusty, for instance. It wouldn't hurt, he can't really feel anything worse than extreme discomfort, but it would still be scary.) so he tries to avoid being seen at all by people he doesn't already know if he can help it.
Since Chloe can accurately be described as a good person now, having multiple people in her life care how she turns out did wonders, she passes Fu's test and is chosen to be the black cat. He slips the box into her purse (where Adrien also happens to be).... but she never finds out. Debris from Stoneheart smacks her in the head and she's knocked completely unconscious. Adrien and the box go tumbling out of her bag- since Chloe obviously can't wield the ring this way, and it's not like Fu ever tells him anything anyway, as the only conscious sapient being in the area Plagg gives Adrien the rundown and tells him how to transform, telling him that there will be a partner and that partner will have the power to reverse all the damage, so Chloe will be fine.
The transformation fully changes Adrien so that, for all intents and purposes, while he's transformed as Chat Noir he is a human (plus some cat features) and has no visible differences from how he looks in canon. (The same will go for Argos and Ryuko.)
Fu never double checks anything so going forward he thinks that Chloe is Chat Noir and just has some gender stuff going on. He's never around for any instances where Chloe and Chat Noir would be in the same physical space at the same time that couldn't be explained by other phenomena. He'd probably have a conniption if he found out the truth.
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Flirting
Kelly furiously dressed in her BDUs, using a towel to wick the shower water from her hair. Only the ends still retained her customary blue dye, the rest having grown out to its natural dark brown. She tightened her boot laces to the point of being uncomfortable and growled in frustration.
Third place.
They’d taken third place.
And it was her fault.
The obstacle course was going as well as usual. Blue Team had been only just trailing Purple. Kelly saw an opportunity to overtake Isaac. If she could knock him out of place it would give Sam and John a chance to close the gap. She was sure they could take this. She got cocky.
Then Vinh blind-sided her. She never saw it coming. Was too focused on being the big hero. It was a stupid oversight. The other trainee sent her tumbling end-over-end and left her gasping in the mud. Isaac sent her an infuriatingly smug grin over his shoulder. Kurt managed to slip by her as she scrambled to her feet. Purple and Green were done before Blue finally managed to get their act together and cross the line.
She glanced at the mirror. Glared at her reflection. Idiot, she seethed. Impulsively she pulled a fist back, preparing to smash it through her own face.
Someone behind her caught her fist just before she could launch her strike. She contorted and whipped around, glaring at the intruder upon her self-destructive introspection.
A pair of familiar green eyes stared back at her. A smile crossed his face. His black hair still dripped from his own shower.
“Let go, Fred,” she barked. She knew it was his plan that had knocked her Blue out of their standing. Not only was he the leader of Purple, he was the only one who could have anticipated her movement that well. She was furious with him - almost as mad as she was at herself.
“I’ll let go if you promise not to punch that mirror,” Fred said with an easy grin. “It would break my heart to see such a beautiful reflection get shattered.”
Kelly felt an unexpected thrill run the length of her spine at the unexpected compliment. An excitement she didn’t trust. So she glared more harshly and blew a huff of air through her nose. “Just shut up and let go,” she grunted, turning away from him.
Fred kept a hold of her hand. “Promise,” he prodded again. A glance in the mirror showed a surprising sincerity in his eyes. His hands were warm and his grip, through firm, was surprisingly gentle. Distractingly so.
“Fine,” she said, her voice softer now. “I won’t punch the stupid mirror.”
Fred grinned and released her hand. Kelly noted an unfamiliar sense of loss at the broken contact between them.
“Good,” he answered, taking a step back and smirking. Kelly found herself noticing his strong jaw and dimples, wondering why those attributes were suddenly standing out more to her. “You’ve got take care of that hand,” Fred continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “It’ll be hard to kick my butt if your knuckles are all torn up.”
Kelly felt her cheeks begin to burn. He was doing this on purpose. And she was making it pathetically easy for him… two flirtatious comments and her stomach was already doing flips. She set her jaw and clenched her fist.
Two could play at this game.
She spun on her heel to face him again. He had been close enough behind her that they were nearly pressed up against each other now. She pressed that advantage, edging even closer until her arms brushed languidly against his.
“I don’t know,” she hummed, looking up at him through her eyelashes, reaching up to brush her cool fingertips against his cheek, “I couldn’t bear the thought of putting a bruise on that handsome face.”
For several long seconds Fred showed no response. Then, all at once, his face ran through a full series of rapid-fire microexpressions. His eyes widened slightly. His pupils dilated. His jaw slackened. His breaths shortened. His cheeks started to redden.
“I, uh…” he stammered, looking like he wanted to bolt but for some reason couldn’t. He swallowed loudly. “I…” he tried again, but his voice faltered. Finally he closed his eyes, took a stiff step backward, and fast-marched out of the locker room.
Kelly watched the other Spartan beat his hasty retreat with a smug grin on her face. She took a moment to remember the utter shock on his face, committing the moment to memory with a grin. Then, with a shake of her head, she followed him out of the showers, insisting that the butterflies still fluttering in her stomach were just the effects of the leftover adrenaline from the earlier exercise.
Still, that didn’t mean that she was going to let this new tactic go to waste…
---
Inspired by a conversation with @helix-studios117 and @makowrites
This was written on my phone, so I blame any and all poor formatting on that. And also my general ineptitude as an author, but that's more or less whatever.
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“I didn’t realize I needed your permission”
“this isn’t what I had in mind when I yelled fuck you.”
“make me”
HATE SEX😍😍
Unresolved sexual tension🥰
Maybe they had problems but they slept a few times before hating eachother and it kinda comes up, y/n has a bf but sergio is jealous and angry yk, also it would be kinda cool if he calls the bf while they yk
ANGST SMUT
(Kinda wanted to kms writing this but yk!😘)
couldn't fit all of them in here so I put the ones I can in here :) // prompts: “I didn’t realize I needed your permission” + “make me” -- tw: cheating
Back and forth was a motto of your relationship with Sergio.
There wasn't a week the past that you two weren't arguing and making a back up. Something about him kept pulling you back to him; it was an object of fascination, of desire. And as much as you wanted to stay away from him, you couldn't bring yourself too.
That was only temporary, your job kept you moving constantly. So you were never in one place long enough to actually have a permanent relationship with him.
Plus there was that little fact that you were.. well, already in a relationship.
Finally, you've settled, your job gave you a permanent position in Paris. You have yet to see Sergio, or even tell him that you've moved but you figured sooner or later you'll have to speak to him. Your boyfriend hadn't moved to Paris with you but had stayed in London and you were going to try things long distance and see how it goes.
There's a knock on your door while you were unpacking and you figured that it was the delivery guy. “Coming!” You shouted, reaching for your wallet before walking to the door.
Stupidly, you didn’t even check who was on the other side before opening it. Much to your dismay, it was not the delivery guy, but Sergio.
“What are you doing here? How'd you even find out I was here?” You asked, he can tell you weren't pleased to see him.
“I didn’t realize I needed your permission to visit you.”
“Whatever,” you dropped the door and he walked in behind you, shutting it quietly. Sergio sits on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and the look out gave him was enough to drop his feet again.
“Why are you here? Seriously,” you stood across from him. “You’ve moved here, right? So does that mean you two are done?”
“No.” You looked at him and he makes a face, “you’re not done but you let me in again?”
“Technically, I let go of the door and you followed me in.”
Sergio smiles, your flat joke caught his attention and he grabbed your hand, pulling you to him. You’re stood between his legs when he looks up at you, “come here,” he pulls you onto his lap but you don’t budge, holding your place.
“Y/n, c’mere,” he pulls you once more and you don’t move yet again. “Make me.”
That was all he needed to hear.
Sometimes you forget how strong he is, Sergio pulling you to him and pinning you under him on the couch. He leans down, his lips meeting yours. It catches you off guard but it feels so natural that you lean into him, kissing him back.
He only puts you down and stops kissing you so you two can undress. The clothes are tossed all over the living room.
You two shuffle around a bit, still on the couch when Sergio flips you over; face down, ass up as he settles before you. Your back arches, the curve of your spine evident when he comes up behind you, pushing back against him as you feel the tip of his cock against your pussy.
His hand grips your hips, pulling you back against him. Your moans are muffled by the couch when you feel him stretch you out.
“God, please, like that,” the words tumble out, begging him for more as he fucks you. His hands squeezing your hips, nails digging into your flesh. Your hand reaching under you, fingers barely reaching to rub your clit.
He pulls you up, his arm wrapped around your middle, your back pressed to his chest. His fingers dig into your side for a moment, squeezing you a bit. “So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.
“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you.
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Self indulgence 2 electric boogaloo
Unrelated but I'm so fucking hype for Hades 2. I loved the first game I'm excited as hell. Anyways self indulgence and comfort. This is just a little ficlet.
Arven X Male Reader
Arven loves his boyfriend with all of his heart, but man, he's a damn idiot sometimes. Case in point: trying to do a sick stunt on the back of a moving Pokemon.
Reader is the SV protagonist, and is the same age as Arven. Takes place after the story, but there are no spoilers. None of Reader's Pokemon are mentioned, and they ride Miraidon.
It was a nice day. It was warm, the sky was cloudless, and the sun was out. Arven had thought to take a nice peaceful walk with Mabosstiff, and had even thought to invite his boyfriend to come with them.
That was a good idea, because he loved his company and genuinely adored him as a person. It was also a bad idea, because he just so happened to be a high-energy daredevil who loved excitement and activity. There wasn't anything wrong with that, of course, but he had a tendency to get himself hurt.
Mabosstiff trundled along peacefully, pausing to sniff at something interesting every once in a while. The two trainers walked side by side, accompanied by Miraidon. The Paradox Pokemon seemed antsy, impatiently nudging at their trainer every so often.
"What are you thinking about?" Arven asked the other suddenly, hooking an arm around his shoulders as an incentive to not do something stupid.
"There's a natural ramp there. I bet I could do a cool trick with Mirai." He hummed, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform jacket. "Watch this!"
"Do not do that!" Arven's words fell upon deaf ears as he watched the other jump on the back of Miraidon, the metallic Pokemon revving up before propelling forward. They kicked up grass and dirt as they went, leaving a worried Arven with a bemused Mabosstiff. "Bad idea!! Don't hurt yourself!!"
Arven shouldn't have jinxed it. He watched as his boyfriend, laughing like a maniac, launched off the ramp on the back of a living motorcycle... And promptly fell off, tumbling down the hill.
"Shit!" Arven cursed under his breath, bustling down the slope as fast as he could. This was exactly why he kept a first-aid kit. He lightly pushed Miraidon out of the way as they landed, nervously fussing over their trainer.
He was relieved to see him roll over, still giggling away. He was covered in grass stains and scratches, his violet uniform pants torn at the knees. Blood oozed sluggishly from a nasty-looking gash on his cheek, but otherwise he looked alright.
"Did not nail the landing." He stated the obvious, wincing as Arven pulled him upright into a sitting position. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."
"I'm just happy you're in one piece." Arven shook his head with a sigh. He picked a gauze pad out of the box in his bag, gently dabbing at the bleeding scratch to clean it. "Really, that was foolish! You have to take better care of yourself, you can't just fling yourself off of every ledge you see."
He continued his scolding as he tended to his partner's scratches and bruises, making sure to bandage up any cuts that were bleeding. He was completely unaware of his boyfriend staring, a sort of dopey grin on his face.
"...What?" Arven finally caught on, a pale blush dusting over his features.
"I love you," He sighed dramatically, sinking forward into Arven's arms and accidentally dropping a few grass blades onto him in the process.
"Tsch." Arven clicked his tongue, giving him an affectionate kiss on the forehead. "I love you, too. Let's get you to nurse Miriam, make sure you're completely okay. I'd rather you not have an untreated concussion."
"Nurse Miriam it is." He tried to stand up, stumbling awkwardly on a twisted ankle. Arven caught him, helping him right himself completely. "Should we hitch a ride back?"
"Absolutely not."
Extremely short. Things are not great but I am. Managing.
#fanfic#pokemon scarlet and violet#pokemon arven x reader#trainer arven x reader#x reader#x male reader#pokemon x male reader#no spoilers#ficlet#short
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Jimmy, aka Tumble Town's Outlaw (+ rambly character progression analysis and stuffs)
my take on Jimmy's villain arc is that instead of trying to reclaim his role as Sheriff, he should instead become the most feared outlaw the empires have ever seen.
old timey sheriffs often toed the line between justice and crime, and Jimmy has made it clear he's not above some corruption: bribery, stealing, manipulation, shady deals, arson etc. He's not the pillar of justice and upholder of the law he makes himself out to be. Hell he doesn't even follow his own laws sometimes and he let Scar break all of them! So why not turn to crime and vengeance?
recently I read an article about Kid Curry, a notorious outlaw of the Wild West, and I thought hey, what if Jimmy's character went in that direction? (PG-13 of course cmon) He could have a cool nickname like Dynamite Jim or something. Another thing I noticed is that Jimmy doesn't use a gun, saying that he is averse to using that kind of weapon, despite most cowboys carrying some form of firearm on them. He prefers to use a bow and arrow and his lasso. Could it be that he's used a gun before? Anyway I think it would a real turning point in his character arc for him to start using a gun, and ironically name it the Peacemaker (after the colt single action army revolver)
I find the Sheriff turned Outlaw story really compelling given what we know of Jim's character so far. Other people have brought this point up but Jimmy's whole character seems to tie in with themes of isolation and loneliness. Tumble Town doesn't have any villagers or custom citizens anywhere. The saloon is empty and devoid of any beverages. It's just Jimmy and his horses around here. Almost as if Tumble Town is completely deserted.
We don't know anything about Jimmy's life before he became the self-proclaimed Sheriff, but I assume his life before that wasn't a happy one. Why else would he crave respect so desperately, unless he wasn't afforded any before? He hates being seen as powerless and lesser than, as being called a toy is very much a soft spot for him. Him shrinking down in size and having his peers literally and metaphorically look down on him isn't helping either. From the beginning, Jimmy was never one to be taken seriously, as he was a goofy, good-natured man who kind of bumbled into being a Sheriff.
He demanded respect by imposing his laws upon every empire, despite not really having any right to do so other than being "The Sheriff". He is the leader of Tumble Town, not the whole 12 empires after all. Jim didn't really do much to show that he deserved the kind of authoritative respect he wanted from everyone, but the other rulers still liked having him around. People he considered allies such as Gem, Sausage and FWhip treated him nicely for a time, but either tolerated his Sheriff playacting and/or made fun of him by playing into the whole Toy Story bit. They were his "friends" but didn't give him respect as Sheriff and as a person.
For the majority of empires Jimmy has been treated as lesser than, as someone who isn't even human. He wasn't given basic respect asa a person. Joel outright mocked Jimmy by calling him a toy to his face, and every single person who has interacted with Jimmy has engaged in the toy bit. Hell, his own deputies, FWhip AND Scar, didn't treat him like an equal.
FWhip became deputy for his own gain and wore the toy story alien uniform to subtly make fun of Jimmy without him knowing. He did get attached to Jimmy though and took it extremely personally when he got fired for disrespecting Jimmy, getting back at him by stealing the hat and badges. I do think c!FWhip took it too far and is basically an embittered ex.
Scar on the other hand, was extremely nice to Jimmy and literally built him an entire train and a bunch of buildings as well as setting up villager trading posts for him. It's a really kind and generous thing to do for Jimmy, but despite that he still doesn't respect him in the way Jim wants him to. He gave Jim a whole pep talk about how "being Woody is a good thing" which, while being very sweet and encouraging, also unconsciously reinforces the fact that Scar DOES see Jimmy as a toy just like the rest of Empires. And when Scar was imprisoned by Jimmy for like 10 seconds, he threatened to call Jimmy a toy to get himself out of jail.
Alright fast forward to present time. Jimmy meets the Old/Past Sheriff and learns more about being a real sheriff. He learns how to get people to respect him more and is really excited to have a mentor figure, especially someone who used to be a real Sheriff running a town. Excitedly, he calls his friends over to the great bridge, riding atop a horse, to share about the cool thing that happened to him. Notice Gem, Sausage and FWhip are all wearing the Dawn Sunglasses, and Jimmy isn't, which creates this feeling that Jimmy is an "other" and not part of the in group. Instead of listening and congratulating him, all three of them crouch and poke fun at him for being small. Jimmy is all too aware of how everybody is treating him. He promises to be a better man, a better Sheriff they can all be proud of. And so he begs them, "so do you guys finally respect me now?"
Do you see me for who I am?
Will you finally see me as your equal?
Your friend?
And he is shot dead.
They've made their point loud and clear, and Jimmy has had enough. No more playing games. If they refuse to respect him, he will make them fear.
#empires smp s2#empires s2#solidaritygaming#geminitay#mythicalsausage#fwhip#esmp season 2#empires gem#empires jimmy#empires sausage#oh my god I just wanted to talk about how cool it would be if Jim became an outlaw#and it escalated into THIS#dudes I am so personally invested in c!solidarity's villain arc#empires smp s2 analysis
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Thinking about soulmates and their shared wounds
Throughout Double Life, soulmates feel each other's pain. They feel other things, like emotions and when the other eats or sleeps for them, but mostly it's pain. Death wounds tend to stick around after respawn, which has always been the case in the Life games, but now it's your partner affected too.
Ren can't quite look anyone in the eyes for the rest of game, other than BigB who shares the same problem. Pearl has a scar on her back from where Joel stabbed her, a matching one adorning Scott. Cleo and Martyn have a twinge in their necks and a constant headache that reminds them both of their failed trust exercise. You get the picture.
Now, there was always something to catch the players by surprise in these games. In 3rd Life, it was the shock at seeing Jimmy, Cleo, and Skizz's bodies where they lost their final life. It was the numbness at having to bury a body. After the Battle of Dogwarts, the burials were quickly forgotten. In Last Life, the surprise was The Curse, the pure bloodlust that took over any and everyone, so different from the thrum of red lives.
What they didn't expect for Double Life was the permadeath wounds carrying over.
Jimmy wakes with a start, jostling poor Norman from where he lays next to him. The sudden shift from the cool air of the forest at night to the blistering heat of the mesa at mid day is stifling, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. With a hand pressed against his chest, Jimmy takes in his surroundings.
'I'm not on the Ranch. I'm in Tumble Town. Deputy Norman is next to me and everything is fine.'
Except it wasn't. He was out first, again, like he always was. And it was worse because he dragged Tango down with him. Tango, the only one to tell him how proud he was of Jimmy without a hint of sarcasm or condescension in his voice; Tango, who never stood a chance of winning with him as a soulmate, but still fought like Hels to try. Oh, he hoped he wasn't too mad at him about costing them the win.
Bringing a hand up to wipe at his face, Jimmy was stopped short by the unnatural coloring of his skin.
"What in the world...?"
What once was tan, kissed by the sun in the mesa, Jimmy's hands now glowed an unearthly purple. Following the color up his arm, he noticed how the purple faded back to his natural skin color towards his elbows. Turning his hands over to look closer, Jimmy racked his brain for why this looked so familiar - both the distinct pattern on his arms and the eery shade of purple. It was nothing like the stain of purple dye, nor the color of amethyst. It was closer to the swirling vortex of a nether portal and the hypnotic gaze of an Enderman-
Oh no. That's what it was. This is the same mark that stained Skizzleman back in 3rd Life. Why was this here now? He knows he died to an Enderman, but the games were over, there shouldn't be any physical signs left over!
"Oh gods, this better fade soon. I don't need Joel teasing me about it any worse than he already will." He mutters to himself as pulls on a pair of leather work gloves. He's still The Sheriff and there's work to be done. He only hopes that Tango doesn't have any lasting pain from the sudden death...
~~
On the Hermitcraft server, Tango pulls on his own pair of black leather gloves. There's work to be done on Decked Out, and if they stop others from asking about the purple stains on his arms, then that's something only he needs to know about.
#double life smp#double life smp spoilers#jimmy solidarity#solidarity gaming#tangotek#empires smp#hermitcraft#ficlet#headcanon drabble#ash blabs#i uh. got a little carried away woth this one#not beta read AT ALL#just had thoughts this morning and had to get them out
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Dirt Nap
Cw: body horror, blood, description of injury, major character death
The cool earth tumbled off of Whumpee in chunks as they sat up, sputtering and spitting. A disgusting combination of blood and mud dribbled down Whumpee’s chin.
They wiped dirt from their eyes and face. They were cold. So cold. Their insides even felt cold. But their lap was warm. And.. wet?
Looking down, Whumpee saw the blood pooling and realized that there was a slash leaving their torso open to the cool night air. Struggling to remember how they got to where they were, they pressed a hand to their stomach to keep their guts inside.
Recognizing where they were, Whumpee managed to stand and walk while holding their abdomen shut. This was a field out past town where Whumpee often went to paint. They had gone.. they had gone there today hadn’t they? They usually painted alone. No, today was different. Why was it different.. oh. They had walked farther than usual into the woods and ended up at a house. Someone was there when they were painting. Who was it?
Walking down the hill, they found their painting supplies had all been tossed down a ravine. Who would do that?
Something sparked their memory. The owner of the house came out yelling and waving their hands as Whumpee painted the dilapidated house. The sun, highlighting its heavenly downfall as nature took over.
Blood seeped through Whumpee’s fingers as they stumbled along. The lights of the town were up ahead. What direction was the hospital?
The owner of the house was waving their hands at Whumpee, what were they upset about? “-et away get away get away!”
Whumpee tried to give them the painting as an apology for being where they shouldn’t. Feeling confused. That’s what they remember. Usually people are happy when they receive a painting. They usually forgive Whumpee. This person didn’t. It made them angrier? They grabbed Whumpee by the hair and dragged them to the back of the house.
As the memory passed, Whumpee gently carded their dirty fingers through their hair with their free hand to feel patches missing. Ouch. Very tender.
The street lamps buzzed with life as every single moth in the world obsessed over each one. Whumpee passed by storefront after storefront, closed for the night.
The owner of the house ripped out hair and hit Whumpee over and over while shouting incoherently. They were older than Whumpee by many years.
Looking at the police station, Whumpee decided to keep walking to the hospital. They would get there eventually to make a report but not now.
The owner of the house pulled out a wicked looking knife and with a swift motion, dug it deep into Whumpee’s stomach, and pulling downward to the right. Whumpee remembered falling backwards and hitting their head.
That’s probably why their head hurt so much. They gingerly investigated a knot on the back of their head, it felt crusty. They kept walking down the empty street.
Whumpe remembered being wheeled down the bumpy driveway in a wheelbarrow stained dark with blood. Blood that wasn’t theirs. The sun hurt their eyes so they kept them shut. They could hear the older person muttering angrily in a language only they understood.
Whumpee walked past the decorative shrubbery next to the sign for the hospital.
Whumpee felt the wheelbarrow stop abruptly and the sounds of a shovel breaking ground ensued. In and out of consciousness, Whumpee felt themselves being picked up and dropped into a shallow, Whumpee-sized hole. As the sun-drenched soil was tossed over them, they heard gruff laughter.
The fluorescent lights of the emergency room were so bright, it hurt Whumpee’s eyes. As they walked through the waiting room to the reception desk, all eyes were on them.
The receptionist watched in concern as a young person, covered in dirt and blood approached. “Honey, wait right there, I’m getting someone for you - can I get some help at reception right now? I have a code blue!” Their voice rang down the hall as two nurses and a doctor trotted over.
In a state of haze, Whumpee took their hand away from their stomach to wave, forgetting what that hand was supposed to be doing. Staff and patients waiting to be seen screamed as Whumpee’s intestines poured out onto the floor in a wet heap. Whumpee followed a second after, to the same spot.
A week passed after Whumpee’s death and with the town still in shock, Detective took on the case. This was a quiet town. A small town. Things like this weren’t supposed to happen. At least, that’s what was advertised about the town since it was established. That’s why Detective took this job in the first place. Although, looking into the town’s history, there was a history of people going up in the woods and not returning, which would likely be a good lead.
“It’s nothing,” said the sheriff. “They’re up there doing drugs, overdosing, waste of time in my opinion.”
“Then why have no bodies been recovered until now, in the condition that Whumpee was in when they walked into the hospital in?”
“Bears.”
“You can’t be serious,” scoffed Detective.
The sheriff merely looked up over his glasses and took a long swig of their coffee.
“Listen. You’re new here. You don’t know how things work in this town. It’s a small town. A nice town. And we don’t go in the woods to the North. Whumpee was new in town, they pushed their luck after we told them not to go to the North woods. Now they’re dead. Take my advice and close the case.”
“Well now I HAVE to check it out.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Will you stop me?”
“No, I just,” the sheriff sighed deeply, “would really rather you didn’t.”
“Then it’s settled.”
The sheriff sighed. After Detective left their office, they made a private call.
Night fell and Detective packed a rucksack with water, food, and medical supplies along with their gun at their hip, badge in their pocket, and they were on their way.
They walked up the hill to find a long, shallow ditch with blood soaked soil. This must have been where Whumpee was.. buried alive? That would explain how they were covered in dirt.
Detective took pictures and noticed tire marks and footprints leading further into the dark. They found their way to a run-down house and immediately shut their flashlight off when they heard signs of life from inside. Creeping onto the porch, Detective attempted to peer into the dirty windows, illuminated only by moonlight.
Focused on what was inside, they missed what was encroaching behind. Only seeing the shadow of a shovel swinging behind them tore their focus away from the house and they were subsequently knocked out.
Waking to the flicker of candlelight, Detective’s head pounded. A concussion most likely. Great. Attempting to get up, Detective only made it so far before handcuffs halted their movement. Handcuffs? Why handcuffs?
“You shouldn’t have come here.” Sheriff stepped into the light.
“Wh-huh? Sheriff? What’re y-“
“I TOLD you. I TOLD you not to come. You didn’t listen. Dad? You can come out now.”
An older man, dirty and disheveled shuffled into the light as well. He grumbled to himself and wrung his hands uncontrollably.
“That’s your dad? Sheriff, he needs help.”
“SHUT UP!” The sheriff backhanded Detective so hard they tasted blood.
“I think I know what my dad needs. He NEEDS to be left ALONE. No one ever listens. They can’t just let him be.”
“That’s why everyone who ventured too far out from town never returned,” Detective gathered. “Sheriff, how long has your dad been killing?” Detective was gentle with their approach knowing they were likely going to be next.
Angry tears streamed from the sheriff’s red face. “He just moved up here because he wanted to be left alone. Nosy people get what they deserve.”
Turning towards Detective, the sheriff pulled out their pistol.
“Nosy people get what they deserve.”
The woods silenced themselves as gunshots rang out.
#whumpee#whumpblr#whump blog#whump ideas#whump#whump inspiration#whumper#body horrow cw#body horro tw#cw blo0d#tw blo0d#cw bl00d#tw bl0od#cw mcd#cw major character death#cw medical#dramatical murder
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This... was not on my to write list. But I was listening to the playlist Barb posted in Mike's stream and... Welp. This is set... after Mike is back, after the fic with him and Felps I'm still writing, before the first time Mike's allowed out post-rescue. Mostly Mike & Cellbit, a tiny bit of Cellbit/Roier at the end.
XCOM2 AU, again, because I live here now. Have some other bits which really need work but... Not as attractive. TW: consensual violence
"Hit me."
Cellbit rolls over, looking at Mike. Both of them are sprawled on the training mats of the gym's floor - Mike in shorts and a t-shirt, Cellbit with his jumpsuit pulled down to his waist and revealing the tank top beneath. Both of them are done with the gym for the day, just cooling down, but there's still something cloying in the air.
"What."
It's not a question. Mike's often nonsensical, but asking Cellbit to hit him? Years ago Cellbit wouldn't even have needed asking, just seeing the man would have been enough, but not now. Not now they're family.
Cellbit can't stand the idea of actually hurting his family.
"This isn't enough," Mike gestures at the weights, at the treadmill, at the bench. "I need you to fucking hit me."
But that?
Cellbit gets that.
He didn't realise Mike was like that, but it makes sense. Sometimes straining your body just isn't enough, sometimes the blood runs too deep in your veins, sometimes the only way to be real is to /hurt/ whatever that means.
Sometimes your soul starts escaping your body, and someone has to wrestle it back in.
Cellbit has fewer of those days, now, but they all know he has them - usually he and Roier fight it out, or he makes himself up a mission just to fight, just to feel something again.
Mike's still officially in recovery, though, nearly as better as he's getting in the short term but being watched for a relapse; there's no convincing anyone to let him out for a /bloody/ sort of fight, at least for another week or two. It's probably why he's suffering, if Cellbit had to guess. Too long spent healing, too long without anything to do, the frustration and the pain and the confusion all building up under his skin.
Cellbit knows it.
Cellbit knows it so well.
"I'll fight you," Cellbit offers, because he knows how to handle this. "Call it training. Surrender or get pushed off the mats to loose."
"No weapons," Mike turns to look at him. "No psionics. Just hands and feet."
"Teeth?" Cellbit asks, because he always does. It's mostly a joke, these days.
Mostly.
Mike considers, "teeth, but no blood. And no claws."
"Sure," Cellbit doesn't really say that'll be easy enough, that his claws are gone.
Instead he sits up, kicking off his shoes. If they're wrestling he doesn't want the heat of his jumpsuit, but neither does he want to give Mike the extra grip. As compromise he folds it into itself, making sure the sleeves are tucked down his trouser legs.
Mike gets up too, putting his shoes in a rack and tucking his glasses inside one for safe keeping; he has spares, yes, but breaking them over training would be stupid.
"And no head shots," Cellbit says, as he remembers that that's probably important to agree on.
He can see Mike's face twitch at that, but thankfully he agrees; Cellbit has no idea how he's explain to the Doctor - or heaven forbid /Pac/ - why he was punching her brain injured patient in the skull.
Just because Mike's feeling destructive and his mood is rubbing off doesn't mean that Cellbit actually /wants/ to hurt him.
A bruise here and there, fine, but for all the years and grief between them Mike's still his god-damned friend.
"Anything else?" Mike asks, a tisk in his voice, adding Cellbit's discarded shoes to the rack before coming back over. "Or can we start."
Cellbit doesn't verbally answer; he waits for Mike to step back onto the mats, and pounces, making them both tumble to the floor.
Mike isn't violent by nature - not like Cellbit is, not like Etoiles or Roier or even, by some definitions, Bagi - but he's not passive either. There's people like Felps, who let the world happen, and there's people like Cellbit who rip what they need from it with nothing but their teeth. Mike isn't either, but in being neither he is both.
Not being the same sort of violent doesn't stop him from flipping Cellbit onto his back, getting a few good hits in before Cellbit grabs his shoulders, and shoves him back onto the bottom of the pile.
Mike laughs and Cellbit snarls and they trace bruises and scratched into one another's skin. Mike puts a hand too close to Cellbit's face, and gets a ring of teeth marks for his effort.
Cellbit takes a second to shift his weight, and earns five lines of red scratches down his arm for his effort.
There's something animalistic, something feral, something instinctual. Even without his claws Cellbit scratches and hits and is bitten back in turn. They tangle on the floor, swearing and snarling and /laughing/ as they do everything short of drawing blood. There's bruises that will form across their bodies, and marks carved into their skin, but the tension drops and through it all they turn to laughing.
Cellbit wins - of course he wins. Mike is still injured, recovering from months of torture, and even before that he's never had the lazer-focus towards violence that Cellbit does. He's good at what he does - they all are - but Mike fights with numbers and electronics and from the back. Not that Cellbit fights at the front, but he's always a little more ready for a brawl.
And for all they end up laughing, a brawl is what this is.
Mike taps out on the mat, gasping for air between bouts of laughter. Cellbit rolls off him, less giggly but with a chuckle all the same.
They lay there for a minute, tension drained out of the room, before Mike swears.
Cellbit looks at him.
"My shower isn't for another ten hours," Mike groans.
"See if Tubbo will swap with you," at least Cellbit's pretty sure Tubbo is about now on the shower chart. "I'll just share with Roier."
"You'll just- of course you will," Mike rolls his eyes.
"Not like that!" Cellbit reaches over, and flicks one of the forming bruises on Mike's arm. "You're worse than Pac!"
"Do /not/ slander me like that! Pac would ask to join you," Mike points out. "And ten years ago it wouldn't have even been a joke."
Christ, has it been that long?
It has, hasn't it?
And somehow, scarred and bloodied and broken as they are, all five of them are still here.
Fuck.
They might die at any moment but, hey, for a bunch of criminals, washouts, and unwanted sons... ten years is better going than they dreamed of. And with Roier, and Fit, and everyone else they're entangled with... Hell, someone might even remember them for something positive when they're gone.
Mike must sense the change in mood, because he flicks Cellbit back.
"Oi!" Cellbit waves a hand at him, too tired to really do much.
"Pac's traded my shower slot with Tina, and hers is right now," Mike is already sitting up, cracking his bones as he does. "Guess you're cleaning up!"
There's not much to clean, just kicking the mats back into shape; Mike still jogs off before Cellbit can get on his feet. He's steady on his feet, despite the fighting, despite the injury - Cellbit feels like he should be annoyed, but the brawl drained the tension and all that's left is /relief/ that Mike can still hold his own and still be on his feet at the end. People who can't...
Well, there's a reason they protect Felps so hard. But Cellbit doesn't think Mike would survive being benched for all time. Even allowed in the lab, he and Pac would inevitably run off and do something dumb.
But... But Mike's actually healing, and healing fine enough, and maybe just maybe Cellbit can stop worrying about that /specific/ outcome for a bit.
So he kicks at the mats, and pulls his clothes back into place, and plots some petty little revenge - putting one of Tubbo's screwdrivers in Mike's pockets, perhaps.
By the time he's got his boots on, Roier has arrived.
Arms slip around his chest, and three pairs of eyelashes flutter against his neck as Roier tucks himself in.
Cellbit turns his head, and kisses just above one of his eyes.
"Feeling better?" Roier asks, pouting only a little. "You could have asked me."
"Mike was the one asking," Cellbit shrugs. "I wasn't going to say no."
"Huh," Roier's eyes trail to the door. "The more you know... Did you enjoy yourself?"
"It was good," Cellbit relaxes against his husband. "Mike held out longer than I thought he would."
"He's fine?" Roier asks, because of course he knows Cellbit is worried - who else would he share his fears with, if not his beloved?
"He's fine," Cellbit confirms. "Went to shower."
"We could shower too," Roier offers, sweeping conversation along.
"I was hoping you'd offer," Cellbit smiles a bit. "Shall we?"
#qsmp x xcom#qsmp au#qsmp fanfic#qsmp mike#qsmp cellbit#violence#sorry for awkward spacing tumblr being weird today#and too in want of a nap to fix it
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ooh 16 and 25 for sick eli would be so cool! we haven’t had a proper sick eli for so long 🍄
Hehe you're so right, thank you for the prompt!
Prompt List by the magnificent @butterfliesornauseous 🖤
CW: (imagined) danger of falling from a height, body horror, supernatural abilities, blood drinking mention, emeto, sick character with emetophobia*, anxious caretaker.
(*accidentally published with emetophilia earlier, oops)
___
Felix sat at the edge of a rock, sucking on a blood lollipop. A few minutes ago, he had started swinging his legs rhythmically in an attempt to soothe his nerves. It had helped… marginally.
He knew he ought to be enjoying what was one of the most stunning views he had seen in his life. That was why they had pulled the rental car over into this viewpoint – a dusty little outcropping on the side of the mountain road, separated from a sheer drop by a wooden barrier. But that was more than a little difficult, considering that the view might, at any second, be spoiled by the sight of the love of his life plummet from the sky like a sack of potatoes.
As much as he couldn’t bear to look, the faint shape that seemed to pass between him and the sun drew his gaze upward. He didn’t so much see the shadow as feel it, as though it had passed across the surface of his brain instead of his skin. He wondered if he’d have noticed it, if it hadn’t been for his heightened vampiric senses. Were there humans on this mountain who were experiencing unexplained shivers up their spine in the middle of their summer hikes? Did they keep glancing towards the sky, unnerved by an undetermined sense of the supernatural?
Would today see the birth of local legends that people would whisper around campfires? Even in his state of anxiety, Felix had to admit that would be pretty cool.
He had to lift a hand to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. His stomach burned with squirming discomfort as a faint, black smudge zipped across the sky, probably about forty feet higher than the plateau where they’d parked the car, if Felix’s spatial awareness could be trusted. He didn’t even want to guess how high Elliott was flying over the bottom of the valet itself.
He let out a high-pitched hum, leaving the lollipop sitting in his mouth while he squeezed the fingertips of his left hand, starting with his thumb and working his way across to his pinky.
Please, Elli, he thought. Come down soon.
___
Elliott rode the wind.
No. No, that wasn’t intimate enough to describe what this felt like.
Elliott was the fucking wind. A force of nature, slipping and dancing through the cracks between the physical and the otherworldly.
Technically, he was a swarm of ethereal bats, but when you were faced with scenic majesty on a scale like this, it was hard to give a shit about technicalities. The summer air rushed through the fur on each of the individual creatures, each shard of him. He had a bird’s eye view of the landscape, and instead of having actual bird’s eyes, he had hundreds of eyes to drink it all in.
He tumbled through the air, whipping up wisps of water vapour and bathing in dazzling sunbeams. He twisted his way up the side of a sheer mountain face, cut through the crystal rush of a waterfall, cast his form out through the endless blue sky like a dark, shadowy firework.
If he’d been in his humanoid form, he’d have been whooping and laughing until his lungs collapsed, but he settled for a contented chittering.
Elliott was in his element.
___
A shudder bolted down Felix’s spine as the beat of a thousand wings filled the air, lifting dust from the dry ground.
Elliott moved the swarm like the bats were performing an interpretive dance, swirling them in a circle around the rock where Felix was seated. He couldn’t tell if this little display was intended as a greeting (the bat-cloud equivalent of a hug, or a kiss on both cheeks?), or if Elliott was just showing off how well he could control this form’s movements now.
The bats shot together as though pulled towards the centre of the swarm by a magnet, and Elliott’s figure materialised a couple of inches above the ground. He dropped delicately onto his feet, lifting his head to grin at Felix as soon as his eyes and mouth had formed. His pupils were blown out wide and his mouth hung slightly ajar.
Gosh, he was beautiful. Felix drew a trembling breath, feeling his gratitude for Elliott’s safety congeal as tears in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed back the emotion, though, not wishing to taint Elliott’s experience.
“How w-wash it, darling?” he asked, slurring his speech around the lollipop.
“Oh, Fee, it was…” Elliott pressed his hand to his head, dumbstruck.
He stared at Felix for a few seconds and then turned to lean on the barrier and stare off across the valley, as though he was still trying to comprehend the fact that trees and mountains and rivers could possibly exist. The view from the platform must have looked as flat as a postcard after he’d been tearing through the air above it.
“Fee, that was unlike anything I ever thought I’d ever experience.”
Felix sat forward to rest his chin in his hands, feeling a smile of his own coming on. This was why his anxious waiting had been worthwhile; Elliott was happy, and nothing else came even close to being as important as that.
He watched his partner spread his hands to the landscape, and followed his gaze as though he were seeing the view for the first time himself.
“Everything we’re seeing right now, from here…” There was a faint distant quality to Elliott’s voice, as though he knew human languages couldn’t encompass what he wanted to say. Felix could understand that. He’d gone through the same thing the first time he’d tried Kobe beef.
“It – it’s only a fraction of what is like out there. It’s magnificent. It’s –”
Elliott retched and sagged forward.
Oh, boy. Felix lurched to his feet instantly.
Elliott’s hands clawed at the wooden barrier as he hung his face over the side, saliva and bile and swallowed blood draining from his lips as his torso convulsed. The sticky combination dripped down into the rocks and foliage that awaited on the other side of the barrier.
Felix jogged over to the car, sparing only a brief flash of concern over his own decision to run with a lollipop in his mouth. Not a good idea, but his darling needed something. They had packed a cooler box – mainly for Felix’s benefit – which he dug through now, pulling out a bottle of water.
Felix pulled his lollipop out of his mouth and tried for an encouraging smile.
“God fucking damn it,” Elliott was muttering to himself as Felix approached him.
“Agua?”
Elliott turned his head. He blinked heavily as he put out his hand to take the bottle. “Gracias, mi amor.”
“Are you alright, darling?”
Elliott closed his eyes and nodded in that gentle, tentative way he did when he wasn’t quite sure if he was alright, but deeply wanted to be.
He lifted the bottle and filled his mouth with water, holding it in his cheeks as he glanced briefly across the valley again. The hyperactivity had drained from his expression, and now his eyes were watering, his pupils shrivelled into his golden irises. He spat the water from his mouth over the side of the barrier, and lifted the bottle again. This time, he took three long, deep gulps that made his throat ripple with the force of them.
“Ugh,” he muttered, propping his elbow on the wooden barrier and letting his head hang forward. “Fuck, my stomach…”
Felix’s nerves spiked at the thought of the barrier giving way under Elliott’s weight, but soothed himself with the knowledge that Elliott could switch into bat form and fly himself to safety.
Maybe there were perks to having a flying partner after all?
“I was… quite nervous about you flying so high,” Felix admitted, again trying to keep a light tone. He started fidgeting with his fingers again, despite himself. “But I didn’t think it would make your stomachhave such a bad reaction…”
Elliott groaned as he took one more swallow of water. His breath trembled while he exhaled. “Yeah, me neither. I might’ve thought twice.”
That made Felix’s heart sink. The thought of his adventurous partner restricting his indulgence of his new power was like… well, it was like Felix giving up cake and bread despite being perfectly capable of ingesting gluten. It just didn’t sit well with him.
But as he leaned on the barrier, trembling and gulping audibly, Elliott seemed to be letting his eyes fall anywhere but on the view that he’d been so in love with until a few moments ago. It looked like he was trying to avoid making eye contact with someone he’d once kissed at a party.
He wasn’t just shaken by the sudden onset of nausea; Elliott was embarrassed.
“Perhaps you’re still getting the hang of it, darling,” Felix said softly. “I’m certain it will get easier with time. Like me, with my car sickness. A few years ago, I’d never have been able to make it all the way up here in a car, with all of those switchbacks.”
Elliott grunted in acknowledgement.
“Perhaps I’ll let you steal some Dramamine for next time,” Felix chuckled softly.
Elliott’s eyes drifted up towards Felix’s face at that. His eyelids drooped a little, and his lips were glistening. “Do… you think it would help, if I took some right now?”
“Now? It is better to take it beforehand…”
Elliott gave another – sadder – grunt of acknowledgement. He lowered his head again, jolting as a low, wet belch crept up his throat.
“Honestly, darling, I don’t think medicine can help your belly if it's this upset.” Felix started to lift a hand to rub Elliott’s back, then stopped himself. “It would be better to… get it over with.”
Elliott let out a small, closed-mouth whine. He had hated the sensation of vomiting ever since his transformation to full vampire had ridden him constantly nauseous for month-long bouts at a time.
On top of that, he had always been repulsed by touch when he felt sick, meaning that Felix was left with very little to do.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” Elliott groaned.
Felix’s heart sank. “Darling, you were… you were thinking that you have an awesome new power. You were thinking that you were awesome. Which is true; you are. Just because you feel a little sick now, it doesn’t mean you failed at anything.”
Elliott shook his head and let out a soft burp.
“You… you aren’t weak, Elli.”
“I appreciate,” Elliott murmured, “that you believe that’s true.”
“Are you saying that I’m wrong? Does seeing your strength and power make me silly?”
“I… no, boo, of course you’re not silly.”
“I resent that,” Felix smiled. “I am the silliest, I’ll have you know. But for a multitude of reasons, not one of which has anything to do with believing in you and thinking you’re amazing.”
Elliott shook his head again, though Felix could have sworn that the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, deepening his cheek dimple just a little. As far as cheering him up went, that would have to do for now, because the moment was interrupted by a sharp gurgle, and Felix had the feeling that this time, Elliott’s stomach wasn’t just churning up a belch.
“Fuck, fuck, it’s happening again,” Elliott whined, knuckles tightening on the wooden barrier. “Fee, it’s happening again.”
“I know, my darling, I know.”
Felix moved his body as close to Elliott’s as he dared. He might not be able to touch him, but at least Elliott could lean into Felix’s side if he decided he wanted a little bit of support. If Elliott appreciated the thought, he didn’t say so, but it might have been because his gratitude was muffled by another mouthful of red, glistening vomit.
Felix grimaced as the natural greenery continued to be painted in red. It looked like strawberry syrup dribbled across a salad. He tucked his lollipop back into its wrapper, which he’d thankfully saved in his pocket, his desire to snack away his anxiety dissolving.
Elliott’s shoulders convulsed with another retch.
Felix sighed in sympathy and rested his hands on the barrier. His heart lifted as Elliott stretched out his pinky finger, so that it interlocked slightly with Felix’s.
“I’m right here,” Felix whispered. “I’m right here, darling.”
#StW Elliott#sickfic#emeto fic#emeto sickfic#emeto#emetophilia#vampire emeto#vampire sickfic#vampire whump#fantasy emeto#fantasy sickfic#fantasy whump#vampire OC#motion sickness#emeto blog#emeto writer#stomach ache fic#stomach kink#tummy kink#vampire kink
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Whumptober Day 30 - "Please don't touch me."
Word count: 1,503
Fandom: Linked Universe
Characters: Sky & Wind
-
“Sky, you gotta teach me that move!”
Sky jumps as Wind hurls himself down by his side, rocking the log he was perched on and nearly upsetting the food in Sky’s lap. Using both hands to steady his bowl, he gives Wind a curious look.
“You know!” Wind elbows him good-naturedly, a wild grin on his face. “The one you used on the Yiga from before.”
“Oh.” Sky smiles stiffly back. “Y-yeah. That was… that was exciting.”
“Right?! He appeared out of nowhere. Just poof-” Wind’s hands gesticulate dramatically as he retells the events from a scant two hours ago, “and then he’s there, an assassin right behind you!”
Sky’s smile remains fixed in place but the edges of his bowl press a little deeper into his hands. The other heroes have long finished their own dinners and moved on to other activities, only Wind lingering around Sky and his now-cold food. Sky had wondered at that, Wind not being one to just sit around if he could help it, but it’s now evident why.
Wind continues, his natural tendency toward storytelling sweeping him into the tale. “I didn’t even notice him until I turned and saw that crazy eye mask right over your shoulder.”
Sky can’t help the shudder that rolls through him, but he manages to keep his face blank, showing no hint of the revulsion that fills him. If he lets his mind wander, he'll feel the phantom press of pale fingers clutching at his shoulder, of unhinged laughter harsh against his ears, of intrusive breath puffing against his cheek-
“I wish I could teleport,” Wind sighs dramatically. “Wouldn’t that be so cool? Just a simple-” Wind’s hand rises to illustrate his point, fingers producing the sound of a sharp SNAP.
Sky jolts, spine snapping straight as old wounds seem to burn anew. His head half turns before he catches himself, helpless against the urge to check behind him.
“Oh, Sky, you dropped your food.” Wind dives down to gather up the spilled bowl. “I can get you more-”
“No,” Sky shakes his head, “I wasn’t hungry anyway.” With nothing to hold on to, Sky’s hands begin to tremor. He stuffs them under legs, letting his own weight press them into stillness against the tree bark.
Wind puts the bowl aside. “Really? Well, why don’t you come spar with the rest of us.” He gestures to the far side of camp where the other heroes are gathered in a clearing past the trees.
Sky can hear the clang of swords and the occasional angry word as competitive tempers flare. He doesn’t think he has it in him today to spar. He hears Warriors call out a friendly jeer, and his stomach twists tighter in a knot that formed hours ago and won't release him. The afterimage of black diamonds flit across his vision. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to shake off the jittery feeling.
“If you come you could show me that move?” Wind hops to his feet. “But only If you want. Oh, but it was just so cool! You whipped around so fast and had your sword drawn on the guy before he could even-”
Wind’s flailing hand hooks into Sky’s shoulder and blinding panic whites out Sky's every thought. He shouts, rocketing backward, kicking out blindly as he tumbles to the leaf-strewn ground.
He hears a body hit the ground with a grunt and has to remind himself to 'breathe, just breathe. Look, it’s only-' “Wind!" The boy is staring up at Sky with wide-eyed shock. "Oh no! I’m so sorry!” Sky is a flutter of apologies as he crawls forward to check the damage he's caused.
But Wind waves him back, already clambering to his feet. “’S all right, Sky. You only nicked me.”
“You’re holding your side!” Sky protests, flushed red with shame as his heart still thunders away. “And I shouldn’t have done that! I- I wouldn’t do that, I didn’t realize it was you-”
“Well, who did you think I was?”
The question is asked with a breathy laugh, only seeking to cut the tension, but Sky freezes, kneeling in the fall leaves with hands outstretched. “I-” he gapes at Wind, feeling foolish. “Nobody. I’m sorry, Wind. I shouldn’t have… reacted so strongly.” Another shout sounds from beyond the trees quickly accompanied by laughter. Sky curls in on himself, drawing the edges of his sailcloth tighter around his shoulders. “That was my fault. Forgive me.”
Wind shakes his head. “Nothing to forgive.”
Sky looks unconvinced. “I- I think I have a potion-“
“Sky, it won’t even bruise.” He takes a moment to really look at Sky, before determination colors his expression. He steps forward and kneels in front of Sky. Then, making sure to telegraph his every move, reaches forward to wrap Sky into the biggest hug he can manage.
Sky flinches back.
Wind pulls away immediately. “Sorry, is this wrong? I thought- I mean, this is what you usually do for… for us.” He winces as he stumbles over his words.
“I know.” Sky’s head is down, staring far too intently at the leaves gathered around his knees. He shivers despite all his layers of clothing.
Wind thinks he’s never seen Sky look so small. It’s an odd sensation. Sky always seemed larger than life, a hero from the beginning of time, the creator of the Master Sword, a being who came to earth from life in the clouds. “Sky?”
“Please don’t touch me.”
Wind may not understand everything that just happened in Sky’s mind, but he knows the sound of fear and shame in Sky's voice. “Okay.” He makes himself comfortable on the ground, careful not to draw any closer. “What do you need me to do?”
Sky drops his head even lower so his fluffy bangs hang over his eyes. The tips of his ears are bright red against the blue and white of the sailcloth behind them.
“Do you want me to leave?”
Sky jerks his head up and gasps out, “No!”
Wind carefully doesn’t react to the edge of panic rolled into that one word. “Then I’ll stay.”
“I’m sorry,” Sky whispers.
“For what?” Now that he’s caught Sky’s gaze he fights to hold it with his own, unwilling to see his friend drop his head in shame again. “You don’t have to like being touched all the time. I don’t like it all the time.” He twists up his face in an exaggerated grimace. “Especially when Wars and Twi muss up my hair when they’re trying to out-big-brother each other. Morons.”
There’s a flicker of a smile across Sky’s face and Wind glows with secret pride.
“I’ll make sure to ask next time,” Sky says.
“Naw. You don’t have to ask.”
Sky’s face twists in confusion.
Wind shrugs. “You give good hugs.” His face feels a little warm but he pushes on anyway. If releasing one teeny tiny secret of his will make Sky feel better he’ll do it. “When I’m homesick… I guess I don’t mind it when you hug me. It- it’s nice. And don’t you dare tell anyone I said that or use it for nefarious purposes, Sky!”
That gets a huff of air out of Sky, an almost-laugh, and Wind will take it. “You’re always looking out for us. Isn’t there anything I can do for you?” Sky doesn’t answer. So Wind waits. He tries to do so patiently, but he hates sitting still. How is he supposed to fix things sitting down? The possibility that Sky will just push him away hangs heavy over him, some problems deemed too big for someone so little to understand, but Wind does his best to ignore his own insecurities. He can tell this is not about him. “If it’s just sitting here with no talking I can 100% do that no problem.” Probably. Mostly silent, anyway. If it’s for Sky he’ll manage, somehow.
Abruptly, Sky reaches out and carefully curls two fingers around Wind’s hand.
Wind sucks in a sharp breath and scrutinizes his friend for any visible discomfort. “This is supposed to be for you, Sky. Don’t do this if you don’t want to.”
Sky fully wraps his hand into Wind’s, pauses, then squeezes his hand in three little bursts. Wind wonders briefly if that was supposed to mean something, but notes how Sky’s shoulders dropped, no longer hunched up around his ears.
“Okay then.” So Wind sits, watching the golden-red leaves flutter between them, whistling an occasional tune, and holding Sky’s hand. And slowly, Sky relaxes, rolling his eyes at Wind’s intentionally poor rendition of a jaunty forest tune Time had taught them. Bit by bit he huffs and unfurls and smiles wider and Wind still doesn’t let him go.
He doesn't let go even when the others draw back toward the camp, noisy and pleasantly exhausted. He doesn’t let go when Warriors and Twilight catch sight of them and exchange a confused look.
Wind only sniffs loftily at the pair, holding Sky’s hand up as evidence, and says, “Big brother duties.”
Sky laughs, a real one this time, and Wind thinks that’s worth an evening of just sitting still.
#whumptober2022#no.30#"Please don’t touch me.”#Linked Universe#fic#lu Sky#lu Wind#Whump#WolfWarden Writes#hurt/comfort#love me some Ghirahim related angst for the boy#as a treat
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dirt in the wound
4 - healing
[Heavensward-era. After the Ravana fight. Izzie, still coming to terms with the weight of their duties...]
It stings like a bastard, the cut on her cheek.
Pebbles and dirt grime the edges of it; the skin is splayed open from the detritus of crystal crushed under Ravana's spindly, insectoid feet. The slice had been perfectly even, a gift from his terrible blade, until her mortal body plummeted to the ground from the force of it.
The moment is slippery. Her mind doesn't want to find purchase on the pain, burning hot with aether and the taste of blood, but she'd thrown herself forward to shove Noel out of the way of his sword's arc -- and she supposes that must be the culprit for this particular injury.
There are stories for them all, but she'd be damned if she could remember them.
She is ruminating on the nature of this work when the cool touch of magic digs into the sting -- yanking out the infection, pulling together the torn skin like laces in a bodice. She gasps aloud and recoils, because that sure as hells isn't what Noel's magic feels like--
"I'm sorry. I--I apologize, I simply..."
Alphinaud's unusually stuttering voice brings her back down from the rocky climb unto panic.
She glares at him from her perch on a cold stone, because that is easy. That is the known dynamic. Fall back into it, like a dance, and prepare for his pirouette, for his haughty rejoinder about how he wouldn't need to heal her if she wasn't always like this--
He pulls back his gloved hand. His eyes, so beautiful and dark, are wide enough to form their own gravitational pull.
Her glare dies -- shocked into smoothening, her answering expression that of confusion.
"Please." His hand hovers in the air. She watches his long, delicate fingers. "I'm sorry. I normally would leave it to Noel's discretion, of course, but she is still with Ysayle--"
"Ask next time," she grumbles out. Her skin burns with heat. She doesn't know why.
It's not like he's never seen her hurt before. He has, plenty of times. Why does this time feel weird and different? Why does it feel like she did something wrong, in making him look so upset? This is her job. She did her job. She shouldn't feel bad.
"Yes, of course," he says, entirely too quickly. His relief crushes his shoulders down. "Of course, I wasn't thinking. Forgive me."
She closes her eyes as his hand hovers just over her cheek. Barely an ilm away. She could lean in and he would touch her skin -- which is a very weird thought to have. Why is she thinking about that? She shouldn't.
Maybe because, for the first time, he sounds their age instead of like the hoity-toity lordling he pretends to be around these Ishgardians. Around storied personages like the Azure Dragoon, who is pretending not to watch with amusement near a wet boulder.
She winces against the coolness of his aether, not at all like the soothing warm salt water of Noel's cure spells. He's like a river, washing the blood and grime away, eroding the crux of the world with the force of his will. The injury will fade because he demands that it shall.
"Why do you care, anyway?" she asks, before she can stop the words from tumbling out. "It's just a cut."
"It looks painful," he says quietly. "And you needn't scar from such a thing when it is in my capacity to mend it."
She bites her lip. "I...forgot."
She forgot that he can heal.
Because he'd never had to, before. He'd never been in the field with them before. But things are different now. There is no one else to rely upon, save herself, Noel, and him. They are all that is left of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, or at least their warrior contingent, and that reminder kicks the air out of her lungs hard enough that she takes in a sharp breath through her nose.
All that is left. A barely of-age girl with more grit than sense, a barely of-age boy with more brains than wisdom, and a brilliant adult woman broken entirely by grief thanks to that fucking Crystal Tower.
"Sorry," she mutters.
He blinks. "Whatever for?"
She doesn't know. All of it? All of her snapping at him, how he's stuck with her again, how his delicate little lordling body has to drag through the mud with them, how she'd made him worry? "A lot of things," she decides, for the sake of her pride. "But this time for forgetting."
A breathless, choked, single giggle bubbles out of him. Tension snapping. "Quite easy to forgive, I assure you."
His hand lingers in the air for a split second after the chime of his aether fades away. Like he's considering something, and then at the last moment, decides not to.
Instead he says: "Would you like help with your hair?"
Her face flushes hot. Angry, right? What else could it be? Surely nothing else but that. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He is the one that recoils this time. "I just meant...! Well, you tangled it quite severely in your last engagement, I--"
"My hair is fine! Thank you!"
"It has blood and dirt in it!"
"What if I like it that way?"
This. This is more normal. This, somehow, is healing.
She feels a smile pull at her lips as he angrily fumbles a response in turn...a smile that only grows when he finally, finally seems to realize she's fucking with him.
He glares at her, face turning pink -- and she bursts into laughter.
And when he sees her laugh, his confused smile in return is...pleased.
A healing only she can offer him in turn. This is their game. Theirs. And no blade, no gil, no scheming in the night can take that away.
#twinwolweek#wolphinaud#alphinaud leveilleur#ffxiv#izzie nenelori#having fun with using these as writing exercises and to look into their canon hehe
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