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whimsinatural · 2 years

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Isaac, Max, and a Borrowed Breath

Woah, new Pnat content from Whimsi??? Made mere days and not years ago???? unheard of!

I wrote a li’l oneshot! Just a 4k word, G-rated action/comedy with a little Imaax sprinkled in. It’s also available on AO3!

Summary: When a simple reconnaissance mission goes about as wrong as it possibly can, Isaac gets the chance he’d always dreamed of to prove how useful his powers can be---the chance to be a hero! In the heat of the moment, though? It’s so much less glorious than the cartoons always made it look...

“Alright, kids, remember,” Mr. Spender had warned the Activity Club as they bubbled eagerly out of the noxiously car-freshener scented interior of Giancarlo and into the warm, sunny autumn evening. “We’re only looking for signs of the poltergeist: clawed footprints, burn marks on trees, or foreboding, grammatically questionable messages drawn into the mud. This is not a fighting mission! Kindly ask questions first and shoot later!”

He’d shouted the last part, because the kids had already tuned him out in their eagerness to get moving—or, more accurately, Ed and Isabel had already taken off into the brush, hooting with laughter. Max hadn’t been far behind them, which left Isaac no choice but to desperately scramble to avoid being left behind… again.

Still—it wasn’t a bad day for another poorly-explained mission, Isaac noticed somewhat reluctantly. Birds and crickets chirped from the cover of the trees nearby, and a couple of tiny cat-moth spirits had been fluttering closer and closer to him since he’d left the car. When he lit his finger with cyan spectral energy, they followed all the paths and shapes he traced. No amount of torture could’ve extracted this confession from him, but it was sort of… well, magical. More magical than the average spirit encounter in his messed-up magical life. It was just—they were cute… and it was kinda like having a little animal familiar, like some of his favorite anime characters partnered with!

“What are you sparkling about this time?” Max asked in a droll tone. Isaac jumped a little, cheeks immediately warm. He hadn’t noticed the wannabe batter lagging behind to walk next to him. He shook his hand out, and the fairy-cats dissipated with his spectral energy.

“Uh. Nothing? I—I don’t sparkle!” He made a face, but he wasn’t sure if he was more annoyed with Max’s dumb question or his own dumb answer. “Look, you’ve got the wrong guy—ask Spender, he’s the sparkly one.”

Max shrugged, smirking lazily and swinging his bat up to rest on his shoulder. He cast an exaggerated glance between Isaac and the history teacher a few paces ahead of them. “I mean, now that you say it, I can see it. There’s some resemblance there,” he drawled.

“Wh-hey!” The blue glow cast from his sudden outburst of spectral energy reflected on Max’s smug smile. “I do not! Take that back!”

“No, no, hear me out,” Max elaborated. ‘You’re both, like, wisened and world-weary elderly.”

“I’m only one year older than you,” Isaac grumbled, shoving Max’s shoulder.

“Chronically bad at keeping secrets,” Max continued, counting off on his fingers. “Emotionally volatile, brooding protagonist weirdos. Probably could fry any monster without blinking but can’t withstand three seconds of a snark attack before immediately crumpling. I bet you’d both forward those dumb bad-juju chain emails if you knew enough people to send ‘em to. I bet you both eat your chips with chopsticks.” He shrugged. “Not to mention them matching beautiful baby blues and sparkles, my guy. Time to face the truth; you’re practically long lost twins.”

Isaac sputtered for thirty seconds straight, fighting an uphill battle through waves of offense before any of Max’s words had even gained any meaning. “Wh–hhh–ugh–shut up! You don’t know anything!” There wasn’t anything wrong with—he didn’t just eat chips with chopsticks to harness the power of anime, it was cool and unique and artful and kept his fingers from getting greasy! And— “Wait, Spender has blue eyes?”

“Alright, I was gambling on that one, but how can he not? I mean.” Max gestured at Spender. “If I didn’t know better, I would think he’s possessed by the ghost of Barbie-Ken. Look at ‘im.”

Okay, that was kind of funny. He glanced at their club leader weaving gingerly through the tall grass ahead of them, currently tussling his own hair in thought while gazing off into the distance. He was wearing a blue button-down, khaki shorts, Adidas sandals, and—of course—his signature sunglasses. Something about him did seem vaguely… plastic.

Isaac snorted, meeting Max’s dark blue-gray eyes again. “Well… I’ll give you that one. Funny, I’d always kinda imagined him with—eh, maybe light hazel eyes?” Golden, he’d almost said, but that would’ve sounded weird. Not that it mattered. It was kinda weird to realize that he hadn’t looked Spender in the eyes even once in the two years he’d known him. Just another dumb, pointless secret.

Wait a second. Isaac raised a brow smugly. “Anyway—didn’t take you for a Barbie fan, Max.”

The reaction he got wasn’t anywhere near the level of the flustered reactions he gave, but he’d take Max’s subtle mis-step as a small victory. “Yeah, me either, Elsa, but tragically, I have a nine-year-old sister and intact observation skills.”

Isaac mimed a flicking motion in Max’s direction, sending a miniature gust of a snowstorm at him. Max shivered, but otherwise he took it all in stride. “...You’re just proving my point, you know.”

Isaac rolled his eyes amiably. “I could take out Elsa with both arms tied behind my back, and you know it.”

“See, there’s that Disney villain energy we all know and love,” Max cheered monotonously. “All that’s left is the song and dance, and your transformation will be complete.”

“Is that a dare?” Isaac grinned evilly.

“What? No. It’s a taunt. Don’t–”

For a glorious instant, Isaac managed to both form recognizable tentacles out of spectral energy and sing the first few notes in-tune: “Poor unfortunate souls! In pain! In need!”

“Aaaaaah,” Max groaned tunelessly, halfheartedly covering his ears with his hands—but he was grinning, too. “Okay, you win, weather witch. Spare me, have mercy.”

“Agh! Isaac!” Isabel shouted reproachfully from the front of the group, and his self-confidence and smile both immediately fell flat, replaced with a scowl and heat in his cheeks. What was he doing? He—he’d almost completely forgotten that anyone else was even there. He’d been… well, acting like a total loser dork, but he’d been having fun.

Then he and Max stepped into the abrupt bank of mist and drizzle, too, and he realized suddenly that Isabel hadn’t been complaining about his singing. “It’s not me!” He shouted back.

Max elbowed him gently, startling him. “Don’t tell me they always blame you when the weather turns,” he scoffed. “Or else I’ve got a lot of complaints to file for bright, blinding sunshine that could’ve been school snow days. Or at least a little overcast.”

Isaac only managed to answer with a weak smile before something else answered for him, screeching out of the thick fog with a voice like a rusty faucet handle. Five different colors of spectral energy shot up, even more ghostly-looking than normal as the ethereal light reflected eerily on the ambient water droplets. Max readied his bat. Spender jogged ahead to catch up with Isabel and Ed, presumably to stop them before they could dash off and attack the source of the awful sound alone. With parallel motives (much to his chagrin), Isaac held a hand out in front of Max in a motion between shielding the newbie and holding him back.

“Max, wait. It could be dangerous,” he cautioned, ignoring the eyeroll he received in return. “Or… it might not be aggressive at all—it could just be a hurt spirit or something. Either way, we should think about this before we–”

“We’re not gonna figure out anything by standing here,” Max objected, but he was immediately proven wrong by the sounds of shouting and threats of impending violence up ahead. The two boys shared a look, then hurried to catch up with the rest of the club.

Isaac hadn’t realized they’d been so close to the lake until he watched the spirit ahead rise from it in a mass of writhing tentacles. It had a long, green, arched scaly neck and a metallic, toothy muzzle shaped sort of like an alligator’s, lined with holes that sprayed mist. The light of the sunset created a rainbow halo effect on the dense fog surrounding it. The matte red frill on the back of the spirit’s head resembled something between decorative horns and the spigot of a hose. With another blood-curdling creaking sound, the spigot spun, and the fog and drizzle pouring out from its eyes and all the divots along its face were replaced with pressurized streams of water. Isabel opened her umbrella over herself and Ed; everyone else was drenched as the beast gazed down on them. It hovered there, regarding them as the group stared back up at it.

“Did we make it cry?” Ed guessed, paintbrush in hand. “Maybe we just spooked the poor spook. Or maybe it really, really liked Isaac’s singing.”

“It’s not what we’re looking for, is it?” Isabel asked Spender, ignoring Ed’s theory while, rather uncharacteristically, following the mission orders and checking with their team leader slash figurehead before resorting to violence.

“No,” Spender called over the hissing and drumming sound of the falling water all around them, taking a single step back. “I think it’s only territorial. Come along; if we back away, it should leave us–”

He cut off with a yelp when the thing abruptly bent down, snagged him around the waist with its teeth and spun its head, whipping Spender around end-over-end like a plane propeller, all the while spraying water in great spiral patterns like a hyperactive lawn sprinkler. In a burst of bright yellow light, Spender fell. The spirit’s freshly-detached head fell into the shallow water with him, metal jaws still locked around his trunk. The neck flopped down into the water an instant later, missing Spender by a few feet. It looked hollow inside like a garden hose, still sluggishly pouring fresh water into the muddy, churned-up lake.

Spender splashed up out of the lake with a gasp and a cheery thumbs-up, looking like a half-drowned golden retriever but free from the gator’s jaws. It must not have had very sharp teeth, as he didn’t look injured. He must’ve still been a little dizzy, though, because he only managed a few steps before tripping, ending up on his hands and knees in the muck. “I’m alright!”

Isabel broke out of her default fighting stance to run towards the monster, Ed in hot pursuit. A spectral sword gleamed in her free hand. “Mr. Spender!”

The spirit hadn’t given up the ghost yet. The hose slowly unfurled and rose above the group again, oozing water and gray spectral energy. The mixture took on the shape of two new, smaller heads facing opposite each other, quickly solidifying. If the hydra had looked upset before, it was furious now. It resumed its downpour with redoubled efforts.

Isabel took a slice out of a thick, hollow tentacle right before it flattened Spender, causing the creature to withdraw the appendage momentarily. Ed looked like he was trying to draw something, but the ink kept running down his arm instead. Isaac fired off a spec-shot and it just barely grazed past the hydra’s leftmost bulging, weeping silver eyeball. The thing shook its head, spun its spigot, sprayed more water, and suddenly darted to snap at Isaac in the same way it had attacked Spender. He dodged quickly, firing another spec-shot. He thought he heard it strike, but it was hard to tell—the air was so thick with water, it was running in his eyes and making it hard to see. Which was stupid, given that he had weather powers. He should be immune to rain. Swimming goggles would’ve been great right now. At least it wasn’t ectoplasm or anything else potentially corrosive—it was going in his ears and his mouth and his nose, and it tasted exactly like tap water.

He’d fry the thing, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to kill it—just scare it off, maybe. Even then, couldn't see more than a few yards in front of him at best, and… even if he didn’t hit anything directly, he was afraid of the lightning traveling through the water and electrocuting someone else. His hands were tied. No wonder nobody ever wanted him at their back in a fight.

Gritting his teeth, he ran towards the fray, summoning a spectral weapon and a gust of wind to clear the air around him somewhat. Maybe if he got close, he could freeze its mouth shut and they could all still make a quick getaway. Somewhere ahead and to his right, he could hear Isabel’s war cry, still distinctive amid the raucous splashing and screeching of the hose hydra-gator thing. The hydrator.

He ducked as another sleek green tentacle whipped over his head, jabbing up at it blindly with his electric-blue spectral spear. The construct flared up in his hand and lost its shape at the cut-off scream behind him. “Max!” He whirled in place, watching in horror as the appendage swiftly snatched his friend. It whipped him back through the air towards the hydrator, leaving his baseball cap lying upside-down in the fresh mud. Panicked crackles of lightning snapped around Isaac’s arms, filling his chest and frying his nerves as he ran after Max. What was it gonna do—eat him? Crush him to death? Throw him halfway across the lake? He snarled and summoned a bigger gust of wind, boosting his speed and momentarily flinging the torrential spray back at the hydrator to clear his vision. There were the tell-tale flashes of yellow, red and green energy battering on the body of the monster, but where was Max? He hesitated, still panting and sparking.

Something shoved him from behind, just strong and unexpected enough that he stumbled forward a few steps. His eyes widened and he clapped a hand to his back right pants pocket, but there was nothing there—just his phone, probably wrecked from all the water and electricity. Because of the metal components. Magnetism. Max! He charged forwards in the direction his pocket pulled him, splashing through knee-deep and then waist-deep water, shooting off the occasional spec-shot to ward off more tentacle attacks. Heaving a few deep, rapid breaths, he dove.

It took his stinging eyes a few moments to adjust to the murky water, but that didn’t slow him down. There, a flash of silver and black against the silt and algae—Max! He wasn’t still wrapped up in the hydrator’s tentacle, but he looked half-buried in the muck at the bottom of the lake. He must’ve seen Isaac, too, because he was waving frantically.

Isaac almost swam back up to the surface to catch his breath, lungs already aching—and it really wasn’t that deep, but—Max had been down here longer! He was gonna drown if he didn’t do something! He quickly paddled his way over. The magnetism in his pocket stopped pulling him along as Max gave up on using his powers and tried to use his bat to push away from whatever had him trapped instead, to no avail. Isaac gripped him under his arms and pulled up with all his might. Max didn’t budge except to claw at Isaac’s shirt. His ankle was caught—he was really trapped down here, and he was going to drown, holy crackers, this couldn’t be happening!

Help me, he thought angrily, as if King C. cared. But the half-addled plea gave him the spark of an idea, and quickly, he raised both arms, summoning the biggest, hardest gust of wind he ever had straight down towards them. Amazingly, it split the lakewater above them, tunneling down through the churning water and blasting boatloads of mud and pondscum off into the walls of water around them. The force of it drove Isaac down to his knees. It was too harsh to breathe! Coughing and spitting, with more concentration than he’d ever lent anything else in his life, he eased the vicious wind until it was just at the edge of his control. The water regathered again above them, but his constant, careful tugging and stirring of the air in their bubble held it together and tethered it in place around him and Max.

Standing there on the bottom of the Mayview lake, he took a tremorous breath of the dry fish-and-ozone scented air. His knees and his hands shook. His teeth chattered. Keeping his hands raised so he wouldn’t lose command of their air supply, he offered a wobbly grin to Max.

Max, whose eyes were bugging out of his skull and whose fingers were digging painfully into Isaac’s shoulders. Max, whose mouth was gaping open without any sound. Max, who was still not breathing! Isaac swore. What was he supposed to do? He’d never done the Heimlich maneuver, or… uh… mouth to mouth… or anything like that! Dangit, he was useless!

The bubble wobbled around them in response to Isaac’s panic, and a little arc of lightning flew from one of Isaac’s hands to the other, narrowly missing Max. He didn’t seem to notice. Isaac took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for… CPR, maybe, or at least the best he could do from what he’d seen on TV. He was pretty sure he could do the heart pumping part, and maybe even off-brand defibrillation; he wasn’t so sure about the breathing thing. But, wait: breath was wind, wasn’t it? It was kind of a stretch, but—crud, he was so freaking stupid.

Hands occupied, he pursed his lips and inhaled sharply like sucking through a straw, trying to force a tiny gust of wind up through Max’s windpipe. He almost didn’t notice the little freed glob of spit and mud splattering on his cheek, overwhelmed by the sound of Max finally taking a long, rasping inhale. The white-knuckle grip on both his shoulders didn’t release for the span of a few more heaving coughs. For completely different reasons than before, he almost lost control of the bubble again when Max finally sagged forwards, letting his forehead drop onto Isaac’s shoulder.

“Uh,” Isaac tried, swallowing hard. The temptation to squeeze Max like a teddy and cry was sudden and almost overpowering. He settled for tentatively lowering one arm to pat Max on the back. “You okay?”

“Ughh,” Max groaned hoarsely. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Flippin’... heck.”

“Yeah,” Isaac agreed dumbly.

They stood like that for a while. It was really hard to focus on keeping the air swirling at a constant speed so the bubble didn’t break up. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise, since it also kept Isaac from focusing too much on whatever had just happened and whatever was currently still happening. He continued rubbing small circles into Max’s back, almost succeeding at breathing with a normal rhythm.

“So.” Max finally retreated. “I’m still stuck.”

“Oh. Right.” Isaac pursed his lips, trying (and failing) to keep his cool. Max bent down to pull at the slimy pond gunk his ankle had gotten wrapped in. After watching his trembling fingers struggle to tear through the mess of weeds and roots, Isaac crouched down to get a closer look and offer whatever assistance he could with his free hand. Maybe he’d moved too quickly, because he almost fell back on his butt—he was kinda dizzy for some reason. The adrenaline high and recycled air, probably.

Something vaguely shiny mixed up in the gunk snared around Max’s ankle caught his eye, and his anger lent him a moment of clarity. “Is this… fishing line?” It was one thing to almost die during an epic battle with a hydra monster, but drowning because some dumb, lazy jerk littered? That was unforgivable.

“Mmyep. I’m guessing you don’t have a pocket knife or anything, being a pacifist,” Max grumbled.

“I’m not technically a—no,” Isaac huffed. “I don’t. But maybe we can… uh…” He had the brief mental image of trying to bite it off Max’s ankle, but immediately shook that idea out of his head. He had to pull their bubble back down after that, as it had started to rise up past Max’s knees.

“Alright. Cool. Good,” Max huffed, still trying to work his jittery fingers under the tightly knotted material. “I mean, I gotta say, I’ve never sympathized much with the whole vegan cause before, given that you all seem like some kinda weird extremists, but now that I’ve had the full immersive experience of being a pitiable sea animal trapped by, uh, man’s carbon waste ‘n’ junk, I can respect your whole eco footprint gig. Not that I’m giving up cheese or pepperoni or whatever any time soon. Rrgh.” He paused to shake his hands out, clearly frustrated.

Isaac cracked a smile at that. “You can be the guest of honor at our next Pro-Earth Vegan Agenda meeting. Here.” He formed a jagged icicle and slipped it between Max’s skin and the twine. “Sorry… I’ll try not to hurt you, but this is, uh. Probably pretty cold and sharp.”

“Thanks. I noticed,” Max deadpanned.

It was difficult with one hand. Isaac winced more than Max did every time he nicked him with the sharp edge of the ice, but it was working. Finally, the last stubborn piece of twine snapped. Max kicked his feet behind him a few times, making sure he was free and probably trying to return some circulation to his feet. Isaac let the ice fizzle away and stood.

“Are you alright to swim out of here?” Isaac asked, peering up at their warped reflections on the underside of the surface of the lake.

“What, you don’t wanna wade through the muck together like this? It’s like a really low-budget aquarium,” Max objected mildly.

Isaac squinted at him. Max’s poorly cobbled-together lackadaisical airs broke apart much quicker than usual under the mild scrutiny. He ducked his head, scratching his hairline like he wanted to pull his cap down. “Uh. I mean…” Max shucked off his backpack. “Turns out it’s kinda hard to swim with all this scrap. I guess I could just leave this here, though. If you’re not gonna call the vegan cops on me for littering or whatever.”

Oh. That explained how he’d ended up down here in the first place—or, it made more sense than imagining the hydrator grinding him down into the gook like an overzealous kid squashing a spider. “I could probably carry that for you, if you want me to. Or you might be able to launch it up to shore by using your tool,” he pointed out.

Max held his backpack out at arm’s length, positioning his bat underneath it at an angle. “Welp. I’ll take door number two, ‘cuz I’m not in the mood for an instant replay if you get stuck.” Abruptly, the backpack rocketed out of Max’s grasp and broke through the water above them, arcing through the air and out of sight. “Sorry, Mr. Spender; the magnets ate my homework,” he muttered.

“I’m gonna let go of the bubble,” Isaac warned. “You ready?”

Max held up one hand. “Wait.” He wrung the handle of his bat in his hands, looking away and heaving a few deep breaths before squaring his shoulders and nodding. “...Yeah, okay.”

Isaac swam slowly to keep pace with Max, who was obviously capable of swimming but somewhat hindered by the unwieldy weight of his tool. They broke the surface together, spitting and blinking the lakewater away. The hydrator was gone. The air was clear, and the colors of the evening sky lit the lake with a rosy hue from above.

“Isaaaac?” Spender’s worried voice called out from somewhere over by the treeline. “Maaax??”

“Over here!” Isaac shouted, kicking up a little higher in the water for a second to wave a hand before resuming the swim to the shore. Isabel must have heard him; he could hear her shouting for the others over the splashing of water, and soon enough the whole group was happily reunited on soggy land.

Isabel immediately wrapped one arm around each of them, to Max’s wriggly, grumbly annoyance and Isaac’s secret delight. “Guys! You’re alive!” She declared, squeezing them both. “We did it! Team Activity Club for the win!!”

“I toldja that was Max’s backpack flyin’ up out of the lake o’er yonder,” Ed grinned as Max twisted out of Isabel’s grasp. Isaac ducked to follow suit, abashed but much more reluctant to relinquish the attention.

Spender was still struggling to catch his breath from jogging over. “I’m so sorry, kids, I should’ve… ah, well… are either of you hurt? What on earth happened, where were you?”

“Uh, we were… in the lake…?” Isaac side-eyed Max, at a loss for how to describe what they’d just been through.

“Isaac is certifiably cool now,” Max announced, crossing his arms. “I’m promoting him as the executive manager of cool in this club. All other opinions are invalid. No, I will not be taking questions.” Maintaining a perfectly straight face, he shot Isaac a decisive nod and a wink.

“Um. Come again?” Spender tried, but everyone pretty much ignored him.

“Congratulations, kid,” Ed offered, clapping Isaac on the back in a grandfatherly way.

Isaac blinked, belatedly hiding his big dumb grin and flushed cheeks with a hand. “Oh... thanks.”

After reclaiming Max’s cap and backpack, the group wearily made their way back to Spender’s car, original mission abandoned. It was a relief to call it quits early, but it almost felt… anticlimactic, after everything that had happened. Surreal, maybe.

At least—it did until the car pulled up to the Corner Store. Before getting out, Max leaned over to bump Isaac’s shoulder with his own, smiling and nodding before quickly looking away and pulling down the brim of his cap. “Hey, man. Thanks for the save back there. Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” he offered in a low tone.

“Oh,” Isaac managed breathlessly, mindlessly bunching up the hem of his damp shirt in his fists. “Thank you. Uh, I mean. Yeah. Anytime.”

Max glanced back one last time as he stepped out, smirking and tapping the rim of his cap like a salute. “Sure. See you tomorrow, Isaac.”

He wasn’t able to pull himself together enough to answer before his new friend had already closed the heavy car door and left, but it didn’t matter. That sweet, giddy feeling stuck with him all the way home.

----

a/n epilogue:

Isabel forgot the tooled-up Hydrator (a soggy shopping receipt) in her pocket and sent it through the wash where it disintegrated, so now her washing machine is possessed and occasionally spits water everywhere or tries to nom Spender.

Spender cried all the way home because the kids got so much mud in his pretty car.

Isaac and Max started to hang out outside of club time and watch dorky sporty/action cartoons while both fervently pretending not to enjoy it.

Ed was Ed. ('nuff said).

(thanks for reading!!! <3)

#Whimsi writes #Whimsi speaks #Pnat #Paranatural #fanfiction #Imaax #Isaac O'connor #Max #Max Puckett #Maxwell Puckett #Richard Spender #Isabel Guerra #Ed Burger #The Hydrator (original character)#someone let me know if I should slap a warning somewhere on here for peeps with a fear of drowning #this fic brought to you by a vegan nerd who eats chips with chopsticks

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ballwizard · 4 months

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can i be real with you guys i fucking hate the "HOW HIGH WERE U WRITING THIS XD CARBON MONOXIDE DETECTOR!!! LOL WHAT!! UR A CRAZY PSYCHO FOR WRITING YHIS" schtick that I've been seeing around recently . it's like. Not funny at best and really rude and annoying at worst

#i say 'recently' but i am fully aware its been happenint since like forever #Just feels like every time i make a post cuz i felt like puttingn a bunch of words together i get peoplle in my notes doing this shit #SO ANNOYINGGGG SHUT UPP. I was completely sober writing the guy who wants to be a bird post. i wrote it #while sitting on the floor in between two shelves at work because i was bored and wanted to play toys with words #Im sorry you dont understand my imaginative whimsy

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whimsivamp · 1 month

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No hate to therians, especially not canine kin, but when I open up the alterhuman/nonhuman tags, I wish there was more than just animal kin, y'know?

You guys already have a word, you guys are animals and therians, but the word "supernatural" is taken by one of the biggest tumblr fandoms and it's so hard to find my people that way.

I want to interact with more vampires, fae folk, mermaids, zombies, angels, demons, devils, haunted spirits, etc. Even robots and dolls! Where are you at??? I need you.

#whimsy writes #alterhuman #nonhuman #otherkin #faekin #vampirekin #fairykin #zombiekin #angelkin #demonkin #seriously no hate but i had to filter out some tags to get variety in posts #it's sad man #even when looking for nonhuman alters or talking about nonhuman past lives #i get people talking about animals #and it just makes me disappointed

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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Hey can i ask Thranduil and (human) f!reader smut? When f!reader can't stare at his eyes because she's very shy and insecure with her expression during *cough cough* Thank you!

I'm sorry about that one with Thranduil x f!reader cant-stare-at-his-face that i didn't addresed my 'smut rating'? Anyway🔥🔥

It's all good. Time for some more Thranduil smut. Because it's Thranduil. And smut. I'll stop now.

"The looking glass"

✵Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)

✵Themes: Smut / Soft

✵Word count: 1.3k words

✵Summary: Thranduil comes up with a unique "solution" when he realises how shy his partner is in bed.

✵Rating: 🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

If you liked this, please consider reblogging it.

Thranduil gripped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. "Sweet starlight, why do you turn your face from me?"

You said nothing, your cheeks merely burning with embarrassment. Thranduil’s question should have surprised you, but it did not. Whenever you shared pleasures with the king, he would want to look into your eyes, and you would inevitably close them and turn away. Before this night, he did not ask why you did it, and now? Now he wanted some sort of explanation.

Of course, you had an explanation, just one, but that embarrassed you even more.

"Starlight?" Thranduil was not about to let this go. "Why do you look away?"

You hummed quietly and sat up, flushing when the king sat up with you. "I… umm… that is…" you stumbled over your words, your tongue tied up in knots. Thranduil studied you with barely disguised curiosity while you fidgeted with the hem of your robe. "The thing is… I…" you buried your face in your hands and sighed. "I am not sure you would like how I look when we… when we…"

Understanding dawned, and Thranduil smiled when he heard a muffled scream. "Starlight," he pulled your hands away from your face. "Is that what troubles you? That I might be repulsed by the expressions you make when making love?"

You nodded meekly, still too embarrassed to face him. Thranduil kept smiling and looked around, his gaze skimming over the chamber before it rested on something that caught his eye and piqued his interest—something that gave him an idea. "Stay here," he said, and rose out of bed.

You raise your head, wondering what he was up to. The answer presented itself soon enough with the sound of wood creaking. Thranduil had hefted a large silvered-looking glass, one that was taller than him, and brought it over, placing it at the foot of the bed with a soft thud.

"There," he huffed, dusting his hands before joining you in bed. "That should do nicely."

You studied your reflection in the shimmering glass and gulped. "Do nicely for what, my love?"

Thranduil smiled—a slow, wicked smile—before making himself comfortable next to you. "I want you to see, starlight," he breathed huskily, and he helped you to your knees, his arm around your waist. "I want you to see that there is nothing for you to hide. I want you to see how much I enjoy seeing you while I pleasure you—that there is nothing for you to be shamed by. Now, will you permit me to go further?"

The very idea of it—watching him in the reflection of that looking glass while he pleasured you—was just so shocking, so very sinful, and more than a little daunting. It made you nervous to watch him like this, to have him look up and watch you; you were unsure you could do it. Still, you could not keep averting your gaze every night, so you came to a decision and nodded. "Yes. You can go further."

Thranduil’s eyes blazed in the dim candlelight, his hands reaching over to your robe. You felt it—the heat of his breath against the nape of your neck when he moved slightly behind you, the warmth of his hands that radiated through your silks. And you kept still, so very still, your gaze fixed on the looking glass.

The king took his time, untying the belt of your robe and drawing it away, exposing what lay beneath. "You look like a painting, starlight," he murmured, his hands sliding over to your belly. "Your body is so perfect, like you had stepped out of a vision."

Helpless and stunned, you continued to keep still, unable to tear your eyes away from what you were witnessing in the looking glass. Thranduil’s hand moved up, over to your breasts, running his fingers over your nipples over and over again until they started to throb and ache, and harden beneath his touch.

"Do you see it, starlight, how your body trembles?" Thranduil whispered, his touch persistent and demanding.

Flushed and breathless, you did indeed see it—how the muscles of your belly fluttered, how your entire body quivered. And there was Thranduil, his eyes darkening with lust, the need in his gaze matching the growing desire in yours. You felt it, growing prickles of pleasure all over your body, heat slowly pooling at your core. You blushed and instinctively tried to look away, but Thranduil caught it.

"Look into the looking glass, starlight," he crooned, his hand gliding down to the apex of your thighs. "And focus on me. I want you to see how high I could take you."

You raised your eyes and found his locked on yours. Embarrassment slowly morphed into something else, something dark and primal, when he moved his hand over to your slit and found it already hot and wet. His fingers moved in a slow, delicate rhythm, and his name parted your lips in almost a sob. You still couldn’t look away, not when he possessed you the way he did. Your body started to move against him; your hands moved to rest over his, and his groan, guttural and harsh, felt so sweet to your ears.

"That is it, starlight," he rasped, his voice already roughened, when your first moan spilled free. "Show me how much you desire this."

Thranduil watched, utterly spellbound, as you came undone in front of him, how you sagged into him, your moans and mewls slowly turning to pleas. Pleas for more, pleas for him to go faster, to take you higher. He wanted to incite and inflame, to break down your walls, and he was amply rewarded when your hands pressed over his, to guide him. He slid a finger inside the warmth of your sex, then another, moving them inside you, slowly growing drunk on your needy moans.

"Th-thranduil," you whimpered shakily, all sense of shame now long forgotten. The sight of the woman in that looking glass, her body yielding to pleasure of the acutest kind, her eyes darkening with each deft stroke, was too beautifully erotic, and you took great pleasure in seeing it—how he pleasured you, how he took you higher and higher, like he promised.

"Do you see, sweet starlight?" Thranduil cooed sweetly, "Do you see you have nothing to hide? How much I delight in seeing you this way?"

How true he was, and how foolish you felt. And how Thranduil looked on, with lust-filled eyes, as if he were feasting on what he was seeing. "I do see," you breathed, harsh and ragged, the muscles in your belly coiling as your release neared.

"Keep looking, starlight," Thranduil ran his tongue over your neck even as you trembled and he felt a tightening around his fingers. You were close, so very close. "See how beautiful you are even now."

And you looked on with heavy-lidded eyes as a wave of bliss rose higher and higher, as a sweet, delightful pressure grew stronger and stronger, unceasing, until it felt like your body splintered, and Thranduil’s name came out like a desperate, wanton cry. Your entire body shook against his as you slumped into him, your breath coming out in shallow pants. Thranduil held onto you, moaning softly as your walls contracted around his fingers, pulling them deeper. His gaze cut to the looking glass and found you, looking right back at him, your lips curling into a deep and satisfied smile.

"You were right," you murmured, your hands still over his. You turned to the side and found his lips just over yours. "There was nothing for me to be shamed by."

Thranduil leaned in and kissed you, his body humming with unsated need. "Absolutely nothing," he said, before helping you lay back in bed. "And now, starlight, I hope you will indulge me, by letting me make incredibly thorough love to you this night."

No longer plagued by your fears, you smiled and welcomed him into his arms.

Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @lemonivall

#thranduil imagine #thranduil smut #Thranduil #thranduil x reader #x reader #x reader insert #reader inserts #reader insert request #the hobbit imagine #The hobbit #the hobbit x reader #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

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whimsy-stimsy · 10 months

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Absurd, aggressive and profane calligraphy stimboard.

🖋️ 🖋️ 🖋️ • 🤬 🤬 🤬 • 🖋️ 🖋️ 🖋️

#whimsy makes #stims #stim #stimboard #calligraphy #ink #pens #writing #drawing #swearing #hands #cursing #profanity #anti stim #(?)#joke stim #(also ?)

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wildflowergirlie · 12 days

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nobody tells you the worst part of being a fanfic author is deciding if you want to make an idea an au or actually try to write a book. like this trope would be amazing with this ship but also it's been my lifelong dream to get published.

#do I choose whimsy or security?#the niche internet fame or the actual job?#it's actually so hard tho #au #fanfic writing #fanfiction author #fanfiction #authors #writing things #writing humor

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fafrogke · 3 months

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Inspired by THISSSS post that made a lot of sense and made my brain shake so hard it melted, i wanted to try to assign my angel's favorites so i put them together!

thinking that Ren could make friends with pokemon... one can just dream.,.. they're a menace

#14 days with you #14dwy ren #14dwy redacted #14dwy oc #me mad bc there was not space for me to write <- my brother in christ you made the space??? half cooked its ok #in all honesty i don't know much about these little guys i just did research bc i was curious and it sounds fun and friendship yyeeyy #hope nobody minds the disproportion of heights or tries to make sense of the weights my mind it's already beating itself with that #WHY ARE THE LITTLE GUYS SO BIG AND HEAVY i mean it makes sense but #i just wanted to draw and my brain got fried thinking about making sense of the compositions with the data i was searching #and i just got tired thinking about 4 and i wanted to do moreee aaughhf #like Vi's pokemon having a theme of elegance and whimsy with strenght or Leon with themes of strenght to protect and keeping #an eye on what they care for and taking pride on it and Moth with their cool bugcore team and Elanor chilling with company #im getting too conscious the rush of finishing this is dissipating just post it just do it you ca #okback to my enclosure 🍖#i waited 2 days bc i got scared hiii goodnighhhtt

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 month

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I know you probably won't answer this, which is fine.

But, I just wanted to say thank you, for everything you do.

Whether it's a simple shitpost, a artistic comic about gay puppets, or even a life update about sprinkles, everything you make brings me joy.

Life's been pretty shitty lately, and I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done.

I can't what to see what else you post, lol

jokes on you, I'm Answering This! ha, get pranked

but really, that's one of my big goals, i'm going to be honest. it's why i started posting fic & now art - i wanted to provide for people the joy and escape it all gave me over the years. if i can make One person's day better, it's worth it!

so... really i should be thanking You! it warms me to know that i've brightened your hours even a little <3 KITTEN BLAST:

#keep with it dude <3 there's always good things #i hope to continue providing this little service!#thank you for your support and enjoyment <3 #i may not have much art or writing to share currently #(work is taking all of my spoons and bending them into pretzels you see!)#but! perhaps i will have other things. silly frivolous things #the Whimsy. the Whimsy!#cat pictures perhaps... crochet updates... Odysseus liveblogging...#that last one is a jest im in too far to start liveblogging Now #also may i recommend listening to Hozier's latest album Unheard???#the songs Too Sweet and Fare Well go very hard and make it a bit easier to feel Delight in living imo #rambles from the bog #i hope your day tomorrow (today? both!) treats you kindly

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hamartia-grander · 4 months

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If Leon and Ethan ever met they'd absolutely not like each other at all at first but then they'd accidentally bond over the stupidest shit (like they say the exact same cheesy one liner at the same time) and end up becoming best friends

#Not a ship #Do not tag as ship #Ethan would hate Leon's misogynistic ways and Leon would hate Ethan's whimsy but they'd eventually get over it #Would love to write a fic where Ethan teaches Leon to respect women and Leon teaches Ethan to take his own mental health seriously #resident evil #leon kennedy #ethan winters #Resident Evil 4 #Resident Evil 8 #resident evil village #Resident Evil 6 #Re4 #Re6 #Re8 #resident evil memes #re village #re vendetta #leon s kennedy

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bleaksqueak · 3 months

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Okay, if you like fromsoft games or love bloodborne/love a challenge/love horror juxtaposed against endearing whimsy, please check out Lies of P.

The part of me that couldn't stop laughing at the game's name and the concept of "Edgelord Pinnochio Bloodborne Clone" can no longer fathom thinking of the game as anything other than "AMAZING!!!!!!! SO GOOD!!!!!!!! THAT TEAM SHOULD BE SO PROUD!!!! WHAT AN ASTONISHING CREATIVE ACHIEVEMENT!!!" I already knew I was on the "i'd recommend this to anyone who likes these types of games or wants to try them" team, but now that is 10000% And even better, it has filled me with so much art inspiration after exploring its world and collecting beautifully designed costumes. The world building/world design is so, so so so very actualized and charming.

#yackin #my favorite way to describe the story/writing of this game is #that it vibes like one of those fanfics that is written by an exceptionally talented 17 year old #because it's full to the brim with nothing but earnest whimsy and heart on its sleeve cringe #as in the type of cringe that wraps back around to being endearing due to how honest it is #because the cold hard world and bitter critics haven't stomped it out of them yet #so it's a real treat to see a polished game that plays smooth as butter have that sort of story #it's shocking how good the experience is with such a tiny team #it's just nice to get to read/experience a story with great gameplay that feels very Untampered With by moneybag CEOs #it might be my favorite souls style game now #anyway hi I woke up at 3 am today

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iwillneverlosemywhimsy · 10 days

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4.9.24

#mine #photography #my pics #aesthetic #nature #cottagecore #whimsical #poetry #creative writing #roses #flowers #surreal #ethereal #dream #dreamcore #whimsy #fairycore #corecore

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jankwritten · 1 year

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Jason turns his cabin into a pillow fort, one day.

It’s silly. He doesn’t have enough bedding to do it, so he sneaks into the big house and steals some from the closet at the end of the infirmary hallway, leaves a little note that says “sorry!” Makes the trek back to his cabin with his arms full of dusty, moth-ball scented linen giddy with excitement.

The fifth would turn their barracks into a fort whenever a younger legionnaire (a soldier, at child, gods) would feel homesick or scared, whenever they had a nightmare. It would always start the same way - cover up the legionnaire’s bunk with a blanket so it’s closed off from the room - and expand from there, until there were sheets tucked under all the top bunks, everybody’s mattresses thrown into a pile in the center of the room, odd-colored lighting from the bedding thrown over the lamps.

Jason was seven when they made him his first pillow fort. He was thirteen when he got to teach the tradition to an eleven year old girl (a soldier, a soldier, how could they do that to-) who grinned at him through snotty tears and gave him a hug and said “thank you” like she’d never meant anything more.

He hangs a sheet over the statue of his father. Tucks the edges around so it stays secure, pulling the further corner to hang over his standing lamp, too. Thunder rumbles overhead. Jason tells it to shut up, in his head. Never out loud. Even now, he can’t bring himself to disparage the gods out loud.

He still doesn’t have enough blankets to make the fort as splendorous and fine as the ones from the barracks, but it’s serviceable for what he wants, a patchwork of thin sheets draped like a tent over a section of floor, hidden from his statue-father’s eyes, held up by the sparse furniture of the cabin itself. Inside, he’s made a pallet of his actual bedding, his pillows and few blankets. The piece de resistance is the big, weighted comforter his friends pitched in to buy him for his seventeenth birthday, laying out like a puddle over the sheeted floor.

It shouldn’t be comfortable - he’s still essentially sitting on the hard ground - and yet, when he curls up underneath it all, Jason finds himself falling asleep faster than he has in months. If he drifts enough, he can almost convince himself he can hear his legion-mates roaming around outside, putting together their own sections of fort around him, like layers of protection.

Jason turns his cabin into a pillow fort, one day, and takes the best goddamn nap of his entire life.

#pjo #hoo #jason grace #idk I just wanted to write something quick and sappy for the boy #patting him like a dog. he deserves so much childhood whimsy.#I think Jason should remember more silly little fifth cohort traditions. as a treat.

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uhohproblems · 2 months

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i haven't finished watching generator rex but i think i've cracked the code on the themes. and the meanings

text on the left is from jorge luis borges' the house of asterion

#I think this is a genrex blog #generator rex #picmix is now become a digital collage media.#wait with bated breath for the essay i could write about rex in the role of the minotaur #picmix is going to email me personally and beg me to put some sparkles on here maybe. Some whimsy #I've never felt more or less normal in my life.#anyway wk's could be vk also. but wk has more striking screencaps #and a sluttier mechsuit

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 8 months

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Could I please request Thranduil with a breeding kink with the lavender field prompt? 🔥🔥 thank you so much!! Your writings lift my spirits!

Here you go!

"Lavender Haze"

Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (elf/second person POV) | Location: Greenwood the great

Themes: Smut | Soft

Word count: 1.6k words

Summary : A game of hide of seek take place in a lavender field. What price will the loser have to pay?

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume

Rules and tag form here | Prompts for requests here

A lavender haze.

That was all you could see in the periphery of your vision—an endless haze of the richest lavender swaying with the wind. The blooms rustled, murmuring with a hushed voice of their own every time the wind rose. It was sheer happenstance when you came across this field of wild lavender. Thrilled with this new find, you made haste to ride back to Amon Lanc and tell its prince. Thranduil listened with rapt attention and insisted that you take him there. No one knew of such a field, and he wanted to see it with his own eyes.

The prince came. And he saw. And believed. And a merry chase then ensued. No one besides the two of you knew of this little slice of paradise, and Thranduil wanted to make the most of it. Others would learn of the field's existence soon enough, and the opportunities to be alone within it would grow sparse.

You ran and ducked behind tall bushes. Hid behind the thick trunks of gnarled trees with branches so low they kissed the soft grass that grew beneath them. And Thranduil chased you still, calling out for you and searching for you, the heady rush of the chase working its magic on him.

"Where are you, meleth?"

You clapped your hands over your mouth and kept still. Thranduil was close to the oak tree you were hiding behind. You could not hear his footsteps; the prince moved like a wraith, not making a single sound. You press against the bark of the tree, wondering if he heard you or if he knew where you were hiding.

"Meleth?"

It was as if he were further away now, but you keep yourself concealed anyway. When it sounded as if he had moved quite a distance, you peered around the tree, pleased to find him no longer there. You take off again, giggling and smug, confident you have thrown him off your trail.

"There you are!" Thranduil ran in from behind and threw his arms around you. He cackled when you squealed and squirmed and tried to free yourself from his hold. His moving away from where you were had just been a sly trick. He was there the entire time, hidden, waiting for you to come out into the open.

"Th-thranduil!" Giddy laughter ripped through you when you tried and tried, and he simply continued to carry you deeper into the field. "Let g-go!"

"No!" Thranduil's laughter mirrored yours. He listened to you grumble and plot your escape, and laughed again, louder this time. "Yield, meleth. Escape is futile. Surely you know this by now."

"Never!" That never lasted no more than a few moments, when you realized you would not be able to extricate yourself from his vise-like grip no matter how hard you tried. You give up and go limp against him.

Thranduil sets you down amidst fragrant purple blooms. "Now, tell me. What was our wager again?"

"If I win, you are to be my slave for the turn of a moon," you answer quickly, more than a little disappointed that losing the wager meant not having Thranduil wait on you hand and foot. Literally.

Thranduil smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "And if I win?"

"I am to let you have your way with me. In whatever way you desire."

"A prospect that does not disappoint you, yes?"

You huff and cross your arms. How easy it was for him to read you! "It does not."

Thranduil smiled wolfishly and sat down, extending his hand to you. "Come, meleth. It is time to pay the piper, so to speak."

You narrowed your eyes and made yourself comfortable next to him, lying down on the grass as you did so. The sky was beautiful, all puffy white clouds against a field of the palest, clearest blue. You rest your head over your folded arms and watch while they stay low and move slowly. Thranduil is content to watch you. He lays down beside you, an enchanting smile slowly working its way across his face when you turn to face him. His eyes light up when you smile in return.

"I will pay," you reply with a grin.

Thranduil beamed and leaned forward, the sweetness of his kiss pouring into your throat when his mouth opened over yours. Deft, experienced hands worked on the clasps and lacing on your robes. Your gown loosened beneath his touch. The prince helps you out of your clothes, barely taking a moment to marvel at the sight of you exposed. Thranduil then sat up, his clothes rustling while he rid himself of his tunic and undershirts, belt and sash and boots. They all joined the growing pile by the side. He slipped out of his breeches, sighing in relief when his throbbing cock sprang free. He did not give you time to even think or breathe. He simply captured your lips with his.

Your nerves were aflame; every inch of you was heated and sensitive to his touch. And you were bold, reaching out to ghost a finger over the crown of his member. Thranduil moaned lustily and drew away, content again to watch, this time while you took him into your hands. He moved his hips, thrusting in time with your strokes. The warmth and frenzy of your pace were unceasing. It nearly undid him and almost made him cum all over your hand.

"Not like this." Thranduil loosened your grip and pushed you onto your back. "I would much rather finish inside you."

He was so warm when he lowered himself onto you—slowly and carefully—and tried not to lose control of himself and hurt you. He did not enter you immediately. Thranduil kept still while you touched his face and his hair, and ran your hands over his arms and chest and back. The prince was perfect, like an exquisite marble sculpture come to life.

"Mine," you declare without even hesitating. "All mine."

Joy welled within Thranduil's heart. "As you are mine," he exclaimed with pride before dipping his head.

He kissed with tenderness, then hunger, then fury, when your mouth parted for the warmth of his sinful tongue. Thranduil knitted his tapered fingers around yours, moaning into your mouth when your free hand slid around his waist and nails dug into his flesh.

"Naughty girl," he breathed wistfully. "Now open those beautiful legs for me."

He groaned under his breath when your legs slid open and hooked around his hips. Thranduil pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, sinking his shaft into your slit. The prince was built bigger than most, and you felt it in the pressure around your core. He kept still, his chest heaving and his heart racing wildly, while you adjusted to his size. Arousal pooled in your belly when even the slightest movement sent shock waves shooting up your spine like lightning. You no longer wanted him to stay still. You wanted him to move.

"I am ready."

Thranduil's pace was merciless. He rutted into you like a wild beast, growing drunk on your transported moans.

"Look at how well you take me," he cries against your throat. "It is as if you have been made for me."

All you could do was hold onto him while he bucked his hips against the insides of your thighs. "Perhaps it is because we were made for each other."

"Yes," Thranduil agreed. "Meant for each other. You are mine, just as I am yours. We belong together."

His grip on your hand tightened. He plunged deeper and harder. It made you see stars. "More," you plead shamelessly. "More. Please."

Thranduil grunted softly. "Look at you. Listen to how desperate you sound. Should I deny you?"

"No!" you keen. "Please do not do that."

"Pathetic." Thranduil hissed hoarsely, his hips now undulating every time he thrust. "But I suppose I will concede to your plea. I am going to finish inside you, so you know who you belong to."

"Please." The knowledge of him filling you with his seed unraveled you. "Do it. Please."

He nearly fell apart when he heard. Thranduil let go of your hand and gripped your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. He wanted to see how your words could undo him. "Are you ready?"

You did see. You saw how his eyes had darkened and how raw, unbridled lust flashed in them. And you were so ready for him.

"Yes," you sob in relief. "So ready."

Thranduil ran his tongue along the curve of your throat. It made you tremble beneath him and whimper against his shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic and relentless. It sent you spiraling and made the world grow dark in your eyes. Thranduil gasped sharply while your walls contracted and milked his cock. It shattered him and made his orgasm rip through him. He glanced at your belly, his thoughts running riot with visions of his spend filling your cunt. It heightened the bliss he was already drowning in. With one last, satisfying grunt, he came to a stop, his arms and body trembling from the exertion.

Nothing could be heard save for the wind rustling through flowers and leaves and the deeper sound of ragged breathing. Thranduil slowly moved onto his back, taking you with him. You sighed in contentment while he held you against his chest. When you moved, he stopped you.

"Keep me inside you a little longer," Thranduil insists. "Just a little longer, then you and I can go for a swim in that pond nearby."

#thranduil #Thranduil smut #Thranduil x reader #Thranduil imagine #greenwood the great #x reader #x reader insert #reader insert #reader requests #reader insert request #💫a world of whimsy writes

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