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#its a whole massive weight off my shoulders
jd07201990 · 2 months
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I shouldn't have opened my mouth. All I had to do was just walk away, and I'd have been fine. Now, It takes 3 showers a day, and a can of Axe a week, just to control the apocalyptic funk of athlete that pours from my pits... and feet... ok, ok I just stink, ok?! And its all because I tried to stop Pops, a local Gym Owner, from bullying one of his regulars.
The massive man was absolutely raging, as he berated a Jock for skipping sessions, despite the young man explaining desperately that he couldn't miss any more assignments or he'd lose his scholarship. It didn't seem to quell Pops's anger, as I watched the man drag the boy to a bench, and force him to lift rep after rep, until the Jock was panting, begging for a break, promising not to miss any more sessions. 
I'd been walking on the treadmill the whole time, and decided to get involved. My first mistake. Walking up to Pops, I cleared my throat, and told him to lay off, that clearly the Jock was exhausted. Pops grabbed my collar and hoisted me up off the ground, before I could react, his face nearly against mine as he went off, first about my nosing about, then about how ridiculously thin I am. I stammered, my legs dangling, until Pops put me down, and smirked.
"You know, a little meat on those bones wouldn't hurt. Maybe with a few pounds, those big, sweaty dawgs you've got wouldn't look so clownish!"
My jaw dropped, a squirmed under his gaze, as a shiver went down my spine, and a dull, warm itch began in my feet. I don't know where he'd gotten the idea that my feet were clownish, I'm 5'7" with size 9.5s! But suddenly, my sneakers felt cramped, warm, with a dull humid dampness making it feel as if I'd stuffed my foot into a wet towel.
Then, I groaned, as a sharp pain shot down my ankles, and my sneakers burst open, revealing wide, reeking Jock-feet, at least size 13. A dense funk rose, and I gagged, the intense reek of Athlete poured from my torn shoes. Pops laughed heartily, then sneered. 
"And those pits! You'd think with hairy, sweaty pits like those, you'd be top of the roster! Not even Big Billy has pits as bad as yours! There's a bull inside you, just waiting to come out!"
Again, that cold shiver ran down my back, and my armpits felt as if fire ants were biting them. Hundreds of itchy bumps formed, then, hair sprouted, filling in and dampening until the stink of the locker room oozed out from them. I whimpered as I caught the scent. Looking up at Pops, I begged.
"Please! Don't do this! You gotta undo this! I'm not a Jock!"
Pops laughed, taking both my shoulders in his massive rough hands, and pushed me down onto a bench, taking my arms and forcing them up onto the bar. My pits were fully on display as he growled.
"Lift. Don't stop until I come back, or those pits and feet will be the least of your worries."
I believed him, and tried to pull the bar down, barely moving the weights. Pops facepalmed, moved to a backpack next to a mountainous young brute lifting what had to be the weight of a small car. He fished out a protein shake, pressed the nozzle to my lips, and forced me to guzzle a few mouthfuls, pulling it away as I heard my stomach gurgle. 
I hiccuped, then burped, as my body seemed to warm, sweat forming, soaking down my shirt. Then, muscle began to swell under my skin, not huge, round bulk, but enough to look as if I'd been hitting the gym for several months, not days. When it settled, I must've gained 10 lbs, all of it hard muscle. When I pulled the bar down this time, it wasn't easy, but I wasn't lifted off the seat this time. Again and again I tested my new size, and Pops grinned. giving my thicker shoulder a punch. 
"I'll make an athlete out of you yet. Like it or not, you're gonna be one of Pops's boys! No one mouth's off to pop, unless they've earned it here at my gym! got it!"
I wanted to be defiant, to insult him, or run, but the look in his eye told me if I so much as thought about leaving, I'd be waddling out of here, sideways through the door, looking like the Behemoth that Pops had taken the shake from! I gulped, looked down, and forced myself to lift. Maybe if Pops is happy, he'll at least tone down the absolute fog of stink that screams, "Big Dumb Jock" from a mile away!
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yaut-jaknowit · 3 months
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If it's okay, can you have a trans male reader who needs help with changing the bandages after top surgery? And/or needing help. Since you can't lift you're arms up, or you'll rip out stitches
Its fine if you don't wanna do this request, I just thought it'd be wholesome in stuff
Coarse Hands Morph to Soft
Pairing: Mai'tuiudh (male Yautja) x FTM!Reader
Word Count: 2145
Summary: After your surgery, your movements are restricted. Even putting on a shirt is more difficult than it should be. Mai'tuiudh is here, at your side, to be your arms. He's there for you, through thick and thin.
Author Note: I want to state that Mai isn’t being transphobic or anything of the sort. I hope that I nudged towards his thought process enough. He just doesn’t understand. His mind works on the prey/predator/hunter lifestyle. A wound weakens you, makes you stick out and easy food. So he doesn’t understand why purposely hurt yourself to become more like prey. I do like to make my art semi-realistic.
Masterlist
Ao3
At first after the surgery, your mate was both confused and concerned about the whole ordeal. Mai’tuiudh didn’t know how to think about the fact you willingly changed your body. It puzzled him and his hunter brain. Why alter your body, putting yourself at risk for injury and infection? This made you look weak, something a predator would take advantage of.
Altering your body in this extent wasn’t part of his culture or society. When you had told them what type of surgery was happening, he freaked out and fretted over you. But you had sat him down and explained everything completely to him. He knew you preferred to be called by masculine pronouns. It only took him a couple of days to rewire his brain to do that. He still loved you nevertheless.
His concern wasn’t the fact you weren’t wanting to look feminine anymore. But now you’ve come home, weak, shaking, seeming drunk on Cn’tlip. Your friend leaving you to his caring hands for however long it’ll take for you to recover.
That first day, you slept off the drugs lingering in your system. You awoke to find Mai sitting on the end of the bed. A tablet in his hands, back bent at what had to an uncomfortable position. He thumbed the screen, scrolling through the words appearing.
You raised a fist to rub at your eyes but immediately hissed at the pain stinging. A reminder of what you did yesterday. Despite the pain, you smiled, eyes closed with content. It finally had been done.
It taken years of fighting, arguing, and dismissals to find the right doctor who ask if you wanted to this once. Then boom, a date was scheduled, and the surgery was completed.
The bed groaned under the shift of weight. Mai moved to sit at your side, hands cupping your cheeks. “Are you okay?” he questioned. Your eyes slowly peeled open to find your mate hovering over you. His burnt orange eyes were sealed on your face. They flicker between your own orbs. You laughed softly and lifted a palm to hold his lower mandible.
Yet, he sat to far up to reach. Unfortunately. Oh, how would you ever survive without him. “Yes, Mai. I’m alright. Not used to my limited motion now,” you explained and turned your head enough to lay a kiss on his palm. The Yautja’s shoulders sagged. He leaned down to pressed his forehead against yours.
Mai’tuiudh stayed there much longer than necessary but neither of you were complaining. His warmth left once he sat back up. You go to make the same move, albert slower and less delicate. A massive hand was place on your upper sternum. “Stay. I be back,” Mai demanded firmly before slipping off of the bed.
Amused about this new, different side you’ve never seen from Mai, you waited under the sheet for the Yautja to return. His years as hunter silenced his steps despite weight twice your own. He moved about the apartment, just showing up when he passed the open bedroom door. Just a flash of his navy blue skin.
In a reasonable time, Mai returned, arms full of supplies. Stuff that hadn’t been in your apartment before. An accusing look was thrown at the bad blood but he brushed it off.
The items were set at the foot of the bed. He shuffled through them. A water bottle was set on the nightstand next to you. “I’ve been up night, scanning information about… this. You need rest. No moving arms. Can’t shower. Bandages must stay clean. Nausea is possible. Have fizzle… drank and dry, crunchy squares. Those help,�� he spewed out and motioned to everything he’s gathered while you slept.
Even though you knew he stole these things, your heart warmed at his determination. Your eyes sparkled while looking up at him. “Mai, I, I can’t say thank you enough.” His acceptance despite not understanding everything mentally was soul-stirring. Your eyes began to water. He stayed up to research the care needed after your surgery. He wanted to help you, protect you.
A grunt sounded from the blue Yautja. His head shook side to side. “No thanks. My mate needs me, I be there for him.” Your arms moved within their limited space towards him. Mai understood what was asked of him and crowded your space.
His weight was minded as he straddled your waist and didn’t dare put any other parts on you. This allowed your arms to reach for his sides. Just enough to give him a half hug. The Yautja purred thickly in his chest and tapped his forehead to yours.
The moment didn’t stay long. Mai untangled from you and stood back at the side of the bed. “Rest. Eat. Stay here,” Mai gave you his three conditions and pointed a firm finger tipped with a black claw at you. You couldn’t wipe the smile off of your face.
“Okay.” Not any arguments from you. He was your caretaker. He won’t let you lift a finger. Not while he was around.
His gaze stayed on you, knowing how you liked to sometimes defy him. This time, you stayed. He grunted and slowly walked backwards out of the room. Those orange orbs of his never leaving you until the wall physically blocked it.
You laid in bed at his order, unable to untense the corners of your mouth. Maybe the recovery won’t be so bad while you had your lover around.
.
After the first two weeks passed, moving became a little easier. For you, lifting your arms higher than your shoulders was still forbidden. Mai was right there for you. He rarely left your side if it could be helped. And when he had to leave the confines of the apartment, it was only to go on supply runs. Then, Mai’tuiudh would be back within arms reach to ensure you healed quickly. His hunter’s mind fretting over how much you looked like prey now. More than usual.
The surgeon had given the go ahead on changing the bandages yourself. This would be your first time. Said doctor specified to have someone here to help you change them. It required you to lift your arms a hair higher than what you’re comfortable with.
Mai didn’t mind. He preferred it to be him. As his years as a bad blood have gained him many, many wounds, he was well equipped to simply change your bandages.
With your butt on the counter, you gazed gingerly at the hardened, navy blue face of Mai’tuiudh. A shirt still hung off of your shoulders, too big for your body. The perfect size. His massive hands were gripping on your thighs while the Yautja peered into your eyes as well.
You leaned up carefully and placed a chaste kiss on the bottom mandible closest to you. The counter offered only an extra couple of inches to reach him. “I can’t thank you enough for your help, Mai.” He chittered quietly, mandibles clicking to each other after the kiss. He rubbed his forehead to yours, eyes closing almost all the way.
His fingers drifted up to graze against the hem of your shirt. A silent ask. You reached down yourself, an action you wanted to do. Your eyes clenched shut, thoughts on the verge of running wild when you felt a hand cup yours. No, you didn’t want to deal with this by your lonesome. There was someone here willing to do anything for your comfort alone.
Together, in tandem, the two of you began to peel the shirt up to reveal skin to the cool bathroom. Once you reached the limited range of your arms, you halted, grasp falling away. But you gazed up into Mai’s burnt orange eyes and quirked the corners of your mouth up. The tiniest of nods given to him.
He finished the rest of the way for you. The shirt carefully pulled off to reveal what you’ve done to your body. This wasn’t the first time he’s seen the bandages but this moment… it felt different. You were going to go further than before after the surgery with him.
His blue form pulled away, his warmth being stolen away. You released a whine and looked at him with doe eyes. He chuckled and rested those large hands of his on your hips. “Can touch wounds now?” he questioned patiently. Mai waited for you.
The lump in your throat was swallowed down. “Yeah,” you barely whispered above your breath to allow him. All of this was just soft, ginger movements and words combined into one. Not even the creaky bathroom fan could disturb the moment growing between the two of you.
After his release, Mai stayed where he was for an extra few seconds. His hands left your hips to cup at your ribcage. He didn’t move when you flinched, lungs seizing up. It was an uphill battle to take another breath afterwards. But, during this whole time, Mai didn’t move. He let you control the pace, being the one in control. Your heart swelled.
Your head dipped. Mai let a hand start to pick at the corner of the tape. It peeled up after the third try. In its bony cage, your heart thundered like a storm in your eardrums. Sharp talons pinched the tape and began to pull it off of your body.
Goosebumps prickled along your skin in reaction. The peeling didn’t hurt, not the way you would’ve thought with a bandage. Instead, it felt strange. That’s what you attempted to focus on instead of what was hidden now underneath. You knew it would take time to learn that the scars would be okay. Only a reminder of what you were once before. This was for the better.
More tape on the same side was removed in the same fashion. Mai took his time with each strip. A hunter knew patience. If they didn’t, they no longer breathe. It was a virtue. A necessary skill to be engraved into each Yautja that comes to life.
Once that side was completed, the tap and soiled bandages in the garbage, Mai’tuiudh stopped. His now free hand returning to its place to cup at your sides.
Slowly, you grasped at his other limb and rested it upon the last bandage to be removed. Mai took the silent permission to continue his pathing.
After the last tape fell away with covering, you shutter at the new cool air brushing against the sensitive skin. “You okay?” he rumbled and placed his foreheat to yours once more. It was a position he found himself in a lot. Not that he was complaining. Just a sign he truly cared about you.
“Yeah,” you hummed, eyes closed. Thankfully, he had you sitting on the counter, back to the mirror that hung off of the off white walls. Your throat bobbed with a heavy swallow. “Does…” your voice died off but Mai waited for you. “Does it look bad?” You don’t know why you wanted his reassurance. This had been something you’ve been fighting for for years. A change, a huge change like this was hard to come to terms with immediately. Like getting a new dog after your last one passed.
One of his thumbs glided across the skin underneath one of the open wounds. “The scars will show your survival,” is his answer. Right. Scars. His culture loved scars. Not that you minded his scars. Though, some did worry you. How did he survive if it looked like his guts were spilled.
“I don’t think I’ll ever accept the scars,” you spoke truthfully to your mate. Said Yautja tensed before making a chuffing noise.
His warmth was stolen away as the hunter stood up to his full height. He towered over you. Predator and prey. “Was this battle?” he asked, voice hardened the best it could with his alien accent.
It took a moment to release what he was getting at. You whispered a ‘yeah’ to him. “Your scars show battle has been won. You won this fight. You survived. Be proud. Wear scars proudly!” Despite being a bad blood, the Yautja still followed some of the codes grounded into his mind as a child. Some morals and thought process like when it came to scars.
If your mate accepted and fought for you, that’s all you needed in life. He didn’t understand a lot of things, like the need to change your looks in this sense. But guess what, he accepted you. He asked questions and went on his way. You smiled up at him with adoration shining brightly in your eyes.
“Okay,” you agreed. Mai’tuiudh leaned down and licked your cheeks, hands grasping at the sides of your head. Everything would be okay. You had your mate at your side, a place he deserved to be.
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morganalatina21 · 1 year
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Manipulating Death: Chapter Three
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(Not my gif)
Series Summary: When Harry discovers he has a twin sister that was hiding for years, he wants to know all about her, specially about her ability to bring people back to life.
Warnings: major trigger warning for James and Lily death (I cried while writing, that's why its shorter), angst, tiny fluffy and my trash writing
a/n: This chapter is shorter than the previous ones bc tumblr deleted it for some reason and I had to rewrite it and I just got off an exam so please be patient with me :))
(Also, english isn’t my first language so I’m sorry in advance lol)
Chapter One Chapter Two
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"You three aren't even trying to be discreet." The girl mocked, rising from the basement, looking at the wizards.
Harry was sitting on the kitchen, blowing on an empty cup without even noticing.
Sirius had grabbed one book from the couch but was holding it upside down, moving his hand along his beard, pretending to be interested.
Remus was the only one unconspicuous, sitting down and eating the last piece of pie left, however his abnormally straight back gave him away.
The older Black pretended to be surprised by the two of them appearing, throwing his hands up. "Oh hey! Look Moony if it isn't the undead pair."
"Hi Sirius." Y/n said, a small smile appearing on her lips. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Sirius' smile became sad, tears glowing in his eyes, threatening to fall down his cheek. It came down on him, Y/n was alive this whole time.
One of the things he most blamed himself for years on end, edging him to fall into complete madness. Thinking that not only he was responsible for his best friend's death, but his niece too.
An innocent baby, with so much to experience, and she had completely been erased from existence.
And to think she was most attached to James hurted him even more.
But then, there she was. Breathing, alive, still standing after all those years.
And standing next to her, was his brother. The one that died without a second chance, thinking Sirius hated him.
It was almost everything he ever asked for, but it's better than it was before.
"I guess I should be thanking you for saving my life." He stated, approaching her and opening his arms, to which she happily accepted and hugged him back. "And thank you for saving my brother." He whispered on her ear, making her hum.
They let go and Sirius looked at the man standing by her.
The Black Brothers were never found of physical affection, for years the only touch they had were one another's.
"Reggie?" Y/n called, and Sirius thought he'd hex the girl, never really liking nicknames, but the man only looked at her. "Come on." She spoked gently, taking a step back.
The younger Black breathed in deeply, before closing his eyes and pulling his brother into a tight hug.
All air was pushed out Sirius' lungs, eyes open wide and looking at the girl in shock.
He held strongly to his younger brother, closing his eyes too and smiling.
He was back.
Alive.
Breathing.
And willing to be his brother once again.
"Come here you two." Y/n whispered, holding her arms out to the wizards.
Harry hurried to her, burying his face on her neck and pulling her closer. Remus hugged her other side, one hand on the girl's head, lightly petting her, and the other one in the boy's shoulder.
She could her how Harry would sniff quietly and his breath was shaking, while Lupin sighed deeply, as if one massive weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
"It's so nice!" She mumbled, lying her head against her brother's and smiling at her godfather. "I always wanted to meet you."
"And I know you guys have a lot of questions." She stated, seeing Regulus and Sirius loose their hug and look at each other awkwardly. "So why don't we go into the living room?"
Remus led the way, Harry and Y/n right behind him in a side hug because they didn't wanted to let go of each other. And the Black Brothers last, exchanging gazes like they used to do on family meetings.
The werewolf sat on a chair, the Potters sitting on the opposite side, in a tizzy couch, leaving a two-seats couch for the Blacks.
Harry kept his hands to himself, however left his knee touch his sister's, wanting some contact, desesperatly trying to make sure she was real.
"I think I'll start." Lupin coughed, looking at Y/n. "How are you alive?"
Sirius perked up at that, being way too obvious when leaning in.
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It was October 31st. Halloween.
Despite keeping a low profile and keep hiding, the Potters where trying to make the best out the holiday.
Harry was in a pumpkin costume Remus gotten for him the second year in a row, it was beginning to look a little tight and Lily wanted to see him one last time in that bright orange outfit.
Y/n was wearing a princess dress, red and gold like gryffindor's colors and a silver tiara on her head.
"Can you believe it's been a year?"
"I know. It feels like yesterday when they were coming out of me." Lily smiled, picking the boy up, his eyes glossy and eyelids becoming heavier and heavier.
"Can you imagine when they start talking?" James asked, a huge smile looking at his daughter. "Like, actually talking instead of just 'mama'."
"Y/n already is, remember? She said 'moon' when she saw Remus."
"Please don't remind me of that." He answered. "That kind of betrayal I can't forgive."
"I can't imagine you not forgiving someone."
James thought about it. Of course he could forgive his own daughter, but he wondered if there was something he would never forgive, but all possibilities were so unreal he didn't even bothered.
"If one of them don't start saying 'daddy' soon, you'll see." He joked, seeing Lily disappear on the stairs to put Harry to bed.
Y/n always stood up a little later than her brother, watching James make colors and feathers appear with his wand.
Everybody knew she favored her father over Lily, but Harry never fell asleep on James' arms, so it was quite balanced.
"Y'know, it's not hard to say it." He started, sitting on the floor with her. "Come on, do it. 'Da-da'." He tried, but the girl was busy trying to chew her tiara. "No, that's not for eating. Come on, 'da-ddy'. Still no? What about 'pa-pa', huh? Oh please, even one syllable I'll accept. Anything!"
"Bodah!" She giggled, bouncing her little feet.
"Oh come on!" He groaned, smile big on his face. "I'm glad you love your brother, but you love daddy too, no?"
"Just leave her, James." Lily's voice came from upstairs, her tone breaking for bouncing Harry to sleep. "She'll say it when she's ready."
Easy for you to say it, he thought. Lily too was upset when her daughter's first word was her godfather's nickname, but only a few days later she started mumbling "mama".
"Okay then. Come on, it's time to sleep. We need to get that dress off you." He picked her up, leaving the wand on the floor, next to the couch.
He was only mid-way when something felt different, a chill running down his spine and his stomach turned.
The secret.
No time for running upstairs, he shoved a door of a cupboard under the stairs.
"Stay here. Daddy will be right back." He assured, lying his daughter on a picnic basket.
James started tapping himself, looking for his wand. Why, why? Why was this happening?
"Lily, he's here!" He shouted, closing the door behind and rushing to the living room.
If he could at least slow him, Lily could run away with Harry and come back for Y/n later. The prophecy was about a boy, so Voldemort wouldn't waste his time looking for a girl.
His heart was racing and he felt dizzy. He knew.
He knew he'd die, getting to his wand or not.
In his mind, he only prayed. That his kids and his wife could live.
James wasn't a religious man, but God did he prayed.
When he got to the living room, his heart sank.
Voldemort's sly figure was standing, a dark cape covering almost all of his appearance, wand visible. However, what broke his heart was the one standing on his shadow.
The one that used to be on his shadow at Hogwarts, one of his best friends. Peter Pettigrew.
"Wormtail..."
That's when he knew. The betrayal he'd never forgive or forget.
James didn't even had time to look at his wand when the cold voice set the curse, and everything went black.
Upstairs, Lily started crying by hearing her husband's body hit the floor. Voldemort followed that sound, leaving the two marauders behind.
Peter looked hesitantly at James' body, not sure if he'd stand up despite the green lightning that hit him right on the chest.
They used to be best buddies, and now not a single tear left his eyes, staring at his corpse, laying there side by side with his daughter's tiara.
The curse was pronounced two more times, and Peter waited for his master to come downstairs and lead the way to the meeting. However, what he heard was someone on the garden.
It was Snape, but he didn't knew that and chose to runaway from the back, passing the door to the cupboard where Y/n was.
"Dada?" She finally said, but James wasn't there to hear.
In total, three people entered the house after the Dark Lord: Snape, Hagrid and Sirius. However, not even one could find her, well hid on the bottom of a closet.
It was only until many hours later, when Harry had just been left at the Privet Drive's house, someone found her.
It was Aberforth, Albus Dumbledore's brother. The headmaster of Hogwarts sent him to take care of Lily's and James' bodies so they'd have a proper funeral.
He had just started to go upstairs when he heard the crying, very low, very muffled, that couldn't have been heard if you even whispered.
Took him quite some time to find the girl, the steps on the stairs must've waked her up.
"Daddy." She said again when the door to the closet opened.
His head was spinning. The news of Harry Potter's survival was already running the world, together with the information his sister didn't had the same luck.
Taking the entire basket, he left the house, not caring too much for the bodies. Hell, Y/n was alive!
This would change everything. "The boy who lived" would turn into "The twins who lived".
If, of course, he didn't decided to keep it a secret.
Albus had ordered him to go to the house when everything was happening, he knew James and Lily would die. He wanted that to happen.
The same way he knew the traitor was Peter Pettigrew and Sirius was about to be send to Azkaban.
His brother never cared for anyone's life, so Aberforth couldn't risk. He wouldn't tell a soul.
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Next Chapter
Taglist (lemme know if i forgot anyone, I'm still new to this): @intoanothermind @moonysupremacy01 @maraudersarelifee @elleraelockwood @darkenwolfie @hopesf @lukewearingbeanies @azuredgalaxies @klazina-couch-potato @goldensunshineshit
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bigwishes · 1 year
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Hey man I got a wish, but not for me. My best friend is pretty small and nerdy and gets picked on by the powerlifters for it. They always say he's so small and boyish it makes me mad! I wish that he'd be able to take their strength and manliness and become the massive hairy athlete they wished they could be! But could you make him not realize it until those jocks are all drained? I want them to realize though to show them actions have consequences.
Sure we could go and do that for your friend. As far as I can tell there are 3 major bullies were dealing with here, there are a couple more but 3 main guys we can use to set an example. So why don't we get started with seeing your mate at the gym. I see your mate is a real twunk, not skinny enough to be a twink, not enough much to be a hunk, well that's all about to change. He hasn't even started lifting yet and already Trev is walking over to say hello, well you know what I mean by hello.
"Oi what up itty biddy?" Trev laughed placing his big meaty paw of a hand on your mate's shoulder
Instantly something was wrong as Trev tried to pull his hand away but couldn't.
"Alright Trev, fuck off let go" "I, I'm tryin tiny, I can't" The muscles in Trev's whole arm began to pulse and shake as veins enraged and enlarged looking like thick ropes. The movement of the muscles looked like a pumping motion headed towards his hand. Trev's body began to shrink and with each passing second he was looking less like a "big Trev" and more like some middle ages accountant. At the same time your buddy's body began to enlarge as the muscles all over his body began to inflate, but not all of the muscle from Trev flooded into your friend, some seemed to be lost in the transfer. Trev was finally able to let go, he was left standing there holding onto his clothes so they don't fall down on his tiny hairy body.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME" Trev screamed "I dunno Trev could you piss off so I can work out please"
Trev scrambled away like a rat and left your friend to his weights.
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There we go, your buddy is looking much larger now, massive and strong. To the average bloke this would be a fantastic body but we aren't done just yet.
Next up we got Teddy, a guy just as big as Trev is...or rather was anyway, can't wait to see what happens to your buddy next.
"Surely that can't be you itty biddy? Its only been a week since I last saw you" "Stop calling me that shit teddy, Im tryin to work on myself, get bigger" "Well it looks like you already got bigger mate, what you on?" "Fuck off Teddy. I'm gonna get big the natural way"
Well, your friend is gonna get big in a (super)natural way. Teddy walked off to lift his own weights but he could still be seen in the corner of the gym, just in eye sight of your mate. Teddy struggled to lift his warm up weights, he was sweating bullets after just 2 reps and with every rep his body got smaller and smaller whilst you mate got bigger and bigger.
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Your friend is looking ultra swole now, You can see his body begin to get tight and struggle to move with the moment he used to have, but your buddy has no idea what is going on. Lastly we have Greg, over by racks about to do the best deadlift of his life. His enormous muscled frame bent down, grabbed the bar and threw it above his head as light as a feather. As the bar passed over his body in swiped away all the strong muscle leaving skin and bones, like some magical form of a real life magnetic sketch pad eraser had been used on Gregs muscles leaving a blank slate. By the time the bar reached the top he had transformed into an inflatable strongman's toy a kid would buy at the fair.
Your friend finally saw what had happened to him in the mirror of the gyms, he smiled feeling his biceps, his pecs, he was slightly bigger than his perfect size but no one would make fun of him in the gym again, and then along came Greg's muscles.
Your buddy felt his body become tight, his skin groaned as it and the muscles beneath it expanded. He ripped off his shirt or rather obliterated it to free himself from the constricting pressure. He watched as his new defined six pack started to bubble and swell outwards into a huge roided gut. His shoulders traps and pecs began to swell up around his neck and his lost more mobility of his body with each passing second.
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His enormous body continued to swell each second forcing him to get bigger and bigger. Sweat began to run down from his pits and down his sides, sweat from his neck and chest ran down his pecs and around his massive roided bloat. He groaned feeling his roid gut become tighter as more and more muscle was packed on. The three bullies began to lose all their body hair as it sprouted over your mates body. his pits were full of hair and musk and a grand stink stuck to him like glue. A puddle of sweat had formed under his ridiculous frame.
"WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO ME" you mate yelled before he had a chance to assess his body that consisted of the muscle of 3 seasoned powerlifters along with all the muscle the 3 of them still would have earned in a few years, people began to notice him, some even began to giggle and laugh at how his muscled ass had began to split his gym shorts.
Your friend began to move as fast as he could, waddling out of the gym leaving a river of sweat behind him.
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Well there you have it mate, no one is gonna laugh at him for being small ever again, but he's probably got a few new worries other than being embarrassed at the gym. You are such a great friend wishing to give your friend a perfectly massive body like this, maybe I should reward you and make you twice as big for being so generous... Who would complain having their muscles blown up like that, I know I wouldn't.
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f0point5 · 7 months
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Esteban seeing yn as a nepo baby but being besties with mick is a bit hypocritical don't you think?
I can see lance and her being friends because they're definitely faced similar things during their childhood i.e calling as nepo baby by others.
I also think lewis and her wouldn't get along and thats purely because of how fiercely she's defending max. Like I'm thinking their crashes and even if they were getting along, after that and her comments about them there would be a fallout.
I want mick and yn to make up in their own terms but i kinda agree with yn said. There's nepotism in f1 world and f1 isn't just talent. Connections are a big part of it and lance, mick even max and other drivers i cant remember right now HAS CONNECTIONS. But that doesnt also mean they're untalented but there was a huge advantage to them being son of something important or relatively known and we can't disregard this fact.
Mick is talented (along with lance but he's not the important character right now) and calling him surname merchant while isnt fair but its also right... His dad is mf michael schumacher... And also there's more expectations for him but even in real life i dont see anything much from him but then again he's young and haas definitely fucked him up.
It is definitely hypocritical, but I think her close connection to Max is probably the tipping point for him. Esteban is also very good friends with Lance. But I think there’s a bit of a one sided rivalry between Esteban and Max that Y/N falls foul of in Esteban’s head. Also, Esteban has watched Y/N go from being everywhere with Mick to being everywhere with Max and I think he has somewhat taken that personally on Mick’s behalf, thinks that Y/N swapped Mick for Max because of Max’s success. Which again is because of his own resentment of Max’s success. But I think Esteban sees her very much as “had it all handed to her” even more than any of the other drivers because she didn’t even have to drive for it, she just comments.
Her and Lance have known each other a long time, and she is friends with his sister, so they’re cool.
I think there’s nothing Mick could ever have done or achieved that wouldn’t have had him called a surname merchant. His dad was one of the greatest there ever was and that definitely largely worked to his disadvantage in F1. While Max got all the connections but 1% of the pressure because his dad was a nobody in F1, Mick had the weight of his last name on his shoulders the second he appeared on a go kart track. Max made Verstappen a brand, Mick came in already carrying a brand (those two are such good foils of each other). But the Schumacher name definitely had a part in getting him where he is, Guenther even said it in DTS, that German sponsors want to be in business with the Schumacher name. I don’t think he’d have had that Haas seat if it weren’t for his last name (he would have eventually got a seat somewhere else but Haas specifically picked him up for the sponsors imo).
I think in relation to Y/N specifically, he’s just hurt these comments are coming from someone he considers family. Someone who has supported him his whole career, who now seemingly turns around and thinks he’s rubbish. He’s like “you always told me I was going to be great, cheered me on, but now you’re just listing everything I do wrong to the world”. And I think he’s partly right. I think what Y/N said when she was trying to be Mick’s cheerleader was different to her real/professional opinion and she wasn’t fully honest and Mick wasn’t fully prepared to hear those things. Then on the other side Y/N is thinking “what I said isn’t nearly as harsh as what I’m thinking, I went out of my way to take it easy on him, and he’s still mad”, because she knows she has gone harder on Max and he’s just brushed it off. It’s very complicated. Also consider that a lot of those quotes would have been massively taken out of context.
Re her and Lewis, definitely were not in a good place in 2021 (we will see more of that eventually) but now I see him being a bit more like “okay she’s the Max Defence League let her do her”, and he doesn’t pay much attention to her, nor her to him.
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toxicbrothel · 2 months
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POV
f!reader x Donald Pierce (Logan 2017 villain)
I8+ Dark fic, captivity, noncon touching
A pit forms in your stomach when the nurse calls your name. It’s the same nurse you’ve observed stuffing rolls of cash into her purse, thinking no one could see her do it. Dirty money for sure, and you have a feeling you’re about to find out how she gets it. Someone is here to pick you up, supposedly to transfer you to another hospital to confirm your non-mutant status. The shady nurse takes you gently by the arm and walks you to a room with folded chairs and photography equipment scattered around. You've been through that whole process already, and being back in the room makes you uneasy. It doesn't help that the handsome man reclining in that chair doesn’t look like hospital transport at all. He’s wearing two big rings, smoking a cigarette, and has a tattoo on the front of his throat.  
“Mr. Pierce,” the nurse admonishes him. “Can you please put that out?”
He pinches out the lit end of the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger, flicks it to the floor, then raises his hands in defense. That's when you see his bionic arm. He uncrosses his legs, and the clap of his massive boot on the floor makes you jump. Now he’s manspreading with his large hands clasped in his lap.
The nurse thanks him and walks toward the exit.
“Pleasure doin’ business,” he mutters under his breath as he shamelessly checks you out. The deep, smooth voice has caught you off guard. A gold tooth sparkles from the front of his mouth. He claps his hands down on his knees and asks, “What do we got here?” as he stands up. He’s massive, towering over you. He’s wearing a black tactical vest under his long, dark leather jacket. He is sturdy, and your body reacts in a way you wish it wouldn't.
You stand in the middle of the room, helpless in a hospital gown. He clasps his hands behind his back and slowly paces in a half circle around you, his eyes eating you up like a piece of meat. “Not every day I pick up a woman,” he murmurs. “Normally, people know before adolescence if they’re a mutant. . .” 
“And I’m not,” you mumble futilely. You’re not even sure how you got on the list.
“Well, we’re gonna prove it,” he tells you. For a moment, you’re unsure if it’s a threat or reassurance, but your gut tells you it’s not a good thing. The air around him radiates violence. “C’mon, baby. Let’s go.” He extends his hand for you. When you not only don’t reach out, but also shake your head no, he loses patience and mutters, “Alright, c’mere. Damn.”
He lunges toward you, bends his knees, and uses his bionic arm to hoist you over his shoulder with much less effort than it would take with flesh and muscle. It gives you butterflies between the legs the way he does things with such ease.
“Ow,” you whimper with the crook of his metal elbow pinching your side as he carries you. 
“You’re alriiight,” he sing-songs, then reaches his non-bionic hand under your gown and stabilizes the weight with a hand on your ass, cool rings pressing into your flesh. He walks slowly toward a huge, armored vehicle. Its double back doors are already open. He nudges his thumb into your panties while he's at it, and you gasp at the feeling of him prodding your wet little hole. “Mmm,” he hums. 
“Don’t,” you whisper. He removes his thumb from your panties and hoists you off his shoulder and into the truck. There’s lab equipment, medical supplies, and a cage. Your eyes fixate on the enclosure, and your heart races. You try to back up out of the truck, but his bionic arm lets him wrangle you back with ease. You struggle as he forces you into the cage. 
Once he has you sitting still, his bionic hand around your jaw makes you look at him, only a few inches away. His gold tooth sparkles menacingly and his stare is ice cold as he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head forward. He lowers his voice. “You need to be good,” he warns.
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tysm for reading! and a big ty to @clawdee for the options. 💕
Most of my fics are on main, @toxicanonymity
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stationintern · 9 months
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WIP Snippet!
Thank you to @uncannycerulean for tagging me! This is a snippet from my San Francisco WIP, which is in its early early early early early stages, literally just a thought and a few scenes that pop into my mind when I'm not thinking of anything. It's incredibly angsty, but features Drag Queen Draco Malfoy, a large heaping of Hermione/Blaise, and a little blue townhouse that slowly turns into a townHOME.
It’s Ron’s nonchalance that manages to convince him.
They’re in the kitchen. Ron, wearing an apron with faded print that says, “If You’re Reading This, Bring Me A Butterbeer,” is waving around a massive wooden spoon, small flicks of marinara sauce splattering against the garish yellow cupboards in Lavender’s flat.
“...just acting ridiculous about the whole thing. Because if Parvati wanted to be invited to Millicent’s get-together, then she should've invited Millicent to her get-together back in February. And now everyone’s pissed about it from one end or another…”
Ron dating Lavender again came as a bit of a shock, but Harry’s grown used to sitting in her kitchen, content to watch and have a drink while Ron prepares dinner, gossips, and waits for her to get back from wherever she works. He can never remember. Somehow, he does recall the big blow-up of Millicent being left off the guest list for Parvati’s Valentine’s Day bash, though. 
It’s funny, what the mind chooses to forget.
“Hermione wants me to move to San Francisco– go to Berkeley with her for my final year, then graduate studies.” he blurts, interrupting Ron's retelling of the scene Parvati made at the Leaky, like ripping off a plaster.
Ron stops his gesticulating, spoon frozen in the air, eyeing Harry with a peculiar expression, before nodding once, final. “You should go then.”
“What?”
“You should go. It’d be good for you.” Ron resumes stirring the pot, shrugs, “She tells me it’s a good school– maybe the best. And, I mean, the college here is great and all, but Berkeley’s an opportunity.”
“But, what about Teddy?” What about you?
“What about Teddy? He’s just a little guy.” Ron seems to realise that Harry needs convincing, rather than validation, and turns, propping a hip against the counter’s edge. He looks so much like his mother-- a kitchen towel slung over one broad shoulder, spoon dangling from his fingers, “Yeah, he’ll probably miss you. We all will. But, y’know… that’s life. We’ll still be here when you come back.”
Harry picks at the floral tablecloth, all pastels, wishing the weight in his chest would shift, give him some sort of sign. He’s used to going with his gut, disturbed by its eerie silence as of late. “I guess.”
“It’s only a couple years, yeah?”
“Mhm.”
“Go.” Ron gives him a little pat on the head, “You’ve had too much of your life stolen from you to be miserable for the rest of it, mate.”
“Ouch.”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
I'd like to tag @teledild0nix @moonflower-rose @the-starryknight and anyone else who'd like to join! Sorry if you've already been tagged.
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katybaby00 · 2 months
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sweet fairy
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a/n: … hi guys… i’ve been a little mia… my bad… but life. with life comes new obsessions tho… so who’s complaining really? ANYWAY i hope you like this. i did use they/them/their for pronouns. i wanted to try, let me know whatcha think🥹 (edit): i def forgot to add
König x fairy!reader
to this… my bad. credits: dividers @cafekitsune / please please please go check their stuff out it’s amazing <3 warnings:none, maybe a teeny tiny bit of angst if you squint.
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König has had a rather rough day, with training new recruits, paperwork, and his own training really taking its toll. He rolls his shoulder back to try and shake off some of the stress and anxiety. He runs his hand along his face over his sniper hood and sighs heavily. "Scheiße, es war ein langer Tag." he places his elbows on his knees as he leans forward in his office chair, creaking under his weight, cursing the long day.
He sits a little straighter as he remembers this small trail by the base that was rather peaceful the last time they were out on a training ruck. With it being summer as well, now would be perfekt, he decides then that's where he's going to spend his afternoon. As Konig reaches the trail and walks for a few moments feeling the summer breeze against his skin. He hears a hauntingly gentle melody coming from his right side in the forest. He tilts his head to the noise curiously and slowly makes his way towards it.
König hides and steps lightly around a big oak tree when a small wildflower meadow comes into view. he looks around the meadow. this is where the soft melody was coming from. "*Verdammt*." he whispers as he sits in front of the massive tree. He sits for a moment before he hears the melody again and this time it's practically lulling him to sleep.
His eyes pop open when he catches a glimpse of the source of this sweet song. You. A fairy. König watches you in awe your feet barely grazing the tops of the grass and flowers. Your every movement graceful and so delicate, but powerful. He couldn't move. His whole body rooted right to where he sat as he took in your magical presence. As the small fairy turns around and spots him their eyes lock for the first time, the little fairy's heart beating so fast.
The little fairy's wings flutter nervously as they watch the human. Eyes not leaving theirs in case he's a fairy hunter. König spots your wings and how you have begun to fidget nervously. "Easy there klein Fee." The man slowly stands and approaches you. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says to you gently. His tone and actions not betraying his words. The fairy slowly calms their breathing and their wings flutter softer now. Cautiously the fairy makes their way over to him.
"Easy now little one," his tone gentle and calm his German accent adding a touch of warmth to his words. " I mean you no harm, I promise." His hands come up in front of him in defense, trying to prover he's not a threat to your peaceful meadow. His broad figure looms over you, craning your neck to meet his gaze. The giant notices this and tries to make himself appear less intimidating by lowering onto one knee, bring himself closer to your level.
"Please forgive my intrusion. I could not help but tp hear your song it is peaceful." König says this and isn't actually sure if you understand him or not. "What brings you here? Are you the guardian of these woods?" he asks you curiously, attempting and hoping to establish some connection with you, however fleeting.
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Darting their eyes left and then right then straight at the mans icy blue orbs. "I'm- I am Y/n Elreign, light fairy, guardian of the meadows." voice soft and ethereal as you speak to him. I gently float over closer to him and study his features. Never seeing a human before I'm naturally curious.
König's heart warms at the sound of your delicate voice, tinged with the ethereal melody that seems to surround you. "Pleasure to meet you Y/n, I am König. I am a soldier." He slowly leans back against the tree finding a comfortable position, he looks at you in wonder. "Tell me Y/n, what is it that you do as the guardian if the meadows?" he asks me this and I get a little giddy.
"oh! I am just the protector of the meadows. I make sure the animals are happy and the flowers grow." I tell König happily. I turn to a smaller flower that looks like it could use some kindness and I look up at König to make sure he's watching. I place my hands just above the flower and sparkling energy and light comes from my hands and gently brings the flower to life. I look up at König who seems to be smiling from ear to ear. "I do what I can." I say humbly. König who just thinks you're the most extraordinary being he's ever laid his eyes on, rolls his eyes at you. "Ich liebe es, dass du so viel mehr machst." König says this softly, his eyes looking over your tiny form.
I tilt my head curiously at what he said my ears never hearing that kind of voice and words before. The language new and fascinating. "Thank you, I think." I giggle and smile at König. I show him around the meadow and tell him about the different flowers and creatures that live in the meadow for a little while. Our company being enough for each other. I sit on top of a lavender bud and look up at him. "Thank you for not being like most humans." König's brow furrows slightly as he takes in your words. He doesn't quite understand what you mean.
Sharing what it's like to live in the Fae realm and learning all sorts of new things about earth. We can't help but be fascinated with one another. As we talk through the meadow I can't help but feel off, the wings on my back flutter cautiously, danger. I quickly fly into the air and search the outside of the meadow, but before I can make sure the meadow is safe I'm shot down out of the sky by a fairy net as it burns my skin when it tightens around my body and I hiss in pain.
Fairy hunters.
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stiffyck · 1 year
Note
hello hello! this is the third time ive tried to make this coherent so. it might not be that but oh well
i imagine that, after scar gets help for his trauma, he starts to realise just how touch starved hes been this whole time because like. he was on his own for years, of course hes gonna want a hug
but, he has been on his own for years, and so he isnt quite sure how to ask for a hug. of course, he knows that he can just say it but. what if they think its weird? he hopes that someone will just hug him without him having to ask, but everyone is being annoyingly considerate and doesn’t want to make him upset by doing something he might not want (he’s not actually annoyed, he loves them all to bits but if they would stop being so nice for ten seconds-)
however! whilst most of the hermits have the general fact of scar’s trauma at the forefront of their minds, as they were the ones to help him, a couple new arrivals don’t always remember
so, of course, when you make a village like boatem with: - everyone so close together, you swing a cat (or boatem inc. company horse) and you’re bound to hit someone - two siblings who seem to be physically attached to someone at any given moment, and are not as familiar with scar’s trauma as the rest of them -two people who are very happy to have said siblings attached to them -and scar himself, who is frankly hoping he is attached to at some point
you’re bound to have an instance like this
scar hums to himself as he bonemeals the ground outside his swaggon. he wonders how it would go if he started to search for more rare flowers—he’s sure the only orange flower can’t be the tulip. maybe he could find some kind of orange poppy, or- ooh! maybe he could find some tiger lilies! although they are poisonous to cats, so-
“hi scar!”
scar yelps, dropping his pile of bonemeal on the floor. the dandelion he drops it on swells massively in size.
before he has time to register this, a heavy weight lands on his back, arms wrapping around his shoulders and legs around his waist. scar freezes. it’s grian. grian is on him. grian is..
grian is hugging him.
slightly embarrassingly, scar starts to tear up. grian seems to notice, and immediately his grip slackens.
“oh- shit, scar, i’m so sorry-“ he jumps off, and makes to step backwards. “I should have thought-“
“could-“ scar turns quickly, he doesn’t want grian to leave. “um. could you do that again?”
grian blinks. “are you sure? I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to.”
“no, no that’s- that’s not it.” scar steps towards him, nervous. “I, um. I just haven’t had a hug in a while.” he admits, smiling sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure how to ask.”
“oh, scar.” grian’s mouth splits into a relieved grin. “do you want me to hug you?”
“yes please.” scar says.
what scar learns: grian gives good hugs. he pulls scar in and holds him tight and close, and scar feels so warm and happy and safe. he presses his face into grian’s sweater, grinning like an idiot, wishing he’d asked sooner, because this is possibly the best thing he’s ever felt.
“g,”
“yeah.”
“there’s an issue.”
“are you okay?” grian tries to pull away but scar keeps him close, and he laughs.
“i’m not gonna be able to work on the swaggon.” scar says. “‘cause I just wanna do this forever.”
scar gets hugs he deserves it
CRYING WAILING THIS IS SO GOOD OH MY GOD SO FUCKING CUTE IM GONNA PASS AWAY SCAR GOT HIS HUG
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flipomatic · 11 months
Text
Lean On Me
Summary: “Are you sure you’re ready for another fight?” Seele asked, despite already knowing what both the true answer was and the lie she was about to hear.
Bronya adjusted her grip on her gun and grimaced. “Y-yes, let’s go.” Her voice was as unsteady as her steps, trembling around the first word. She lifted the weapon to aim it at the enemy and took a stumbling step forward into a haphazard stance.
Seele wasn’t buying it to say the least. A wave of both affection and annoyance washed over her as she rolled her eyes, then uncrossed her arms to rest one hand atop the raised gun. “Put this away, I have another idea.”
Author Note: Set after the main boss fight of the Jarilo-VI arc, spoilers for the end of the arc.
Word Count: 1500
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Even though the Stellaron had been subdued, its power dissipating from Cocolia in a massive burst of light, the air around Seele still crackled with a crisp chill. She remembered the spike of panic in her chest at how close Bronya was to being engulfed in that explosion, how she desperately pulled her back even as Bronya struggled against her grasp. Her heart still kicked in fear at the thought, even a whole hour later. Seele glanced over at her companion, who lingered a few steps behind her. Her cheeks appeared pale, rather than pink from the cold as they would typically be, and her steps were slow and uneasy.
Though Bronya had accepted Seele’s hand for descending the long set of stairs, after they reached the bottom she insisted on walking on her own. What a stubborn person; Seele admired her tenacity but at times like these it was troublesome.
The corridors stretched out in front of the pair and marked the rest of the long trek they still needed to make back to the Silvermane base. Since they had cleared the path earlier there were less enemies, but that didn’t mean there were no enemies. Already they had fought off two groups, though really Seele did most of the fighting. Bronya had provided a small level of backup, but her aim was far less reliable than usual and she hadn’t even tried to use her other skills.
Another enemy could be seen at the end of this hallway. It had its back to them for the moment, and when it turned around it would be sure to spot them. The two had been walking slowly between encounters, especially after the second one.
Seele clicked her tongue as she reached the end of her patience, stopping to turn towards Bronya and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Are you sure you’re ready for another fight?” Seele asked, despite already knowing what both the true answer was and the lie she was about to hear.
Bronya adjusted her grip on her gun and grimaced. “Y-yes, let’s go.” Her voice was as unsteady as her steps, trembling around the first word. She lifted the weapon to aim it at the enemy and took a stumbling step forward into a haphazard stance.
Seele wasn’t buying it to say the least. A wave of both affection and annoyance washed over her as she rolled her eyes, then uncrossed her arms to rest one hand atop the raised gun.
“Put this away, I have another idea.” The weight of her hand alone was enough to push the weapon down; she wasn’t even trying and yet it tilted easily towards the ground. It was just another sign of how exhausted her friend truly was.
When Seele pulled her hand away from the weapon, she waited to see how Bronya would respond. Bronya was looking down at the weapon, grey eyes unblinking and clouded. After a few seconds she sighed heavily, and then stowed the gun on her hip.
Even though Bronya didn’t speak or so much as look at her, this appeared to be silent compliance. “Come here,” Seele tapped her right hip twice, “and put your arm around my shoulders.”
“Seele…” Bronya said her name slowly, in a voice that faded in strength before it could even finish the last syllable. Her hands clenched at her sides, forming small fists that opened almost immediately. “I can walk.” She looked up to meet Seele’s gaze as she insisted in a stronger tone, echoing the same claims as earlier when she first released Seele’s hand.
At that, Seele cracked a crooked smile and shook her head. Though she’d been fighting alongside this woman over the last couple days, she clearly still had no idea what Seele’s powers were truly capable of.
“Trust me.” She said confidently, her smile only growing on her face.
Bronya blinked a couple times as she considered the offer, before letting out another long exhale. She stepped towards Seele so they were side by side, practically close enough for their hips to touch, and lifted her left arm over Seele’s shoulders as requested. When Seele wrapped her right arm around Bronya’s waist, she almost flinched back from how unexpectedly cold her body felt. She had told Seele that she was cold earlier, but now she could feel her shaking and could feel the chill from her skin.
“Dang, you really are freezing.” She couldn’t stop the quip before it left her mouth.
Bronya turned her head towards Seele to speak, her hair tickling against the crook of Seele’s neck. “You’re just too warm, is all.” Her breath felt hot against Seele’s skin, which was finally something about her that wasn’t frozen by the tundra.
For a moment they stood there, Bronya shivering and leaning on Seele as a gust of wind blew past them. The sooner they got back to base the better; now that they were this close Seele could hear the ragged and uneven sound of Bronya’s breathing and feel the sluggish beating of her heart. Her confidence faded into concern, they really needed to keep moving.
“Let’s go.” Seele said, before activating her phantom illusion. It rippled through her and jumped to her companion, turning them both a vibrant translucent purple. Bronya inhaled sharply, a slight movement that Seele could feel directly. It was followed by a small chuckle, though it lacked any real strength.
When Seele took the first step forward, Bronya followed in sync. She could feel how much Bronya was leaning against her now that she didn’t have to hold all of her own weight. They moved slowly down the corridor as they got used to walking like this, steadily picking up a bit more speed. Bronya’s shivering also decreased as they moved together, likely from Seele’s shared warmth. That was a good sign at least.
The monster turned around as they approached, causing Bronya to tense up and reach with her free hand for her gun, but it looked right through them without reacting. The heat of satisfaction swelled in Seele’s chest as they stepped around it and reached the next corridor without a fight.
Once they were far enough away from the enemy, the pair paused as she allowed the phantom illusion to drop. This made them both visible again.
Bronya immediately moved to step away from Seele, pulling her arm back and trying to move to the right. Seele just tightened her arm around Bronya’s waist in response. She refused to let go. Their eyes met with barely any space between them as Seele’s solid purple met hazy grey.
“I can…” Bronya’s protest was even weaker now, without any of the bite from earlier. Her shivering returned in full force as she leaned away with a pull that had hardly any strength behind it.
“I know.” Seele understood, but she wasn’t budging. Her arm was a vice grip around Bronya’s waist that gave her no room to flee. “That doesn’t mean you have to.”
Bronya inhaled shakily, blinking rapidly as tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “But…” One tear escaped to roll down her face, threatening to leave a frozen trail in its wake. There were more words on the tip of her tongue, Seele could see Bronya searching for how to say them. She didn’t give her the chance to keep protesting.
“I promised to protect you, didn’t I?” Seele lifted her free hand to gently wipe away that tear. “So don’t hide how you’re feeling. You can rely on me.” Her fingers lingered against Bronya’s cheek, which finally regained a hint of their usual color.
Bronya’s eyes glimmered back at her, at last clear of the fog that had occupied them to this point. She didn’t pull away from Seele’s touch. “You’re right, I… I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft, almost inaudible if not for their proximity. “I’m not cold like this.” Bronya muttered, leaning her face slightly against Seele’s fingers.
“If you keep leaning on me, I’ll forgive you.” Seele felt an odd mix of concern and relief as she replied, and she wondered if Bronya could see it. Her fingers lingered for only a moment before she allowed her left hand to fall back to her side.
This time without any hesitation, Bronya nodded and leaned against her. She wrapped her arm around Seele’s shoulders the same way she had before, and the two were able to resume walking.
They still had some distance to cover, but like this Seele was confident that Bronya wouldn’t keel over. If she did, then at least Seele was in a great position to catch her. Soon they would be back to the Silvermane base and would be able to get her some real medical care. The longer they walked together the warmer Bronya felt against her, the more comfortable she felt with their bodies side by side like this.
Seele had promised to protect her, and she intended to keep that promise, no matter what it took. Whether it was from dangerous enemies or the pervasive chill that surrounded them, she would be there when Bronya needed her.
As she supported the weight of a person she had met less than a week ago, warming her with her own body, she vowed to never break that promise.
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sadlynotthevoid · 22 days
Text
Once, I had a dream where Og!Cale had been travelling back and forth between Rain City and Little Garden. Then he had to stay on his natal world for a few years, no world hopping for a while, only to come back at Azi Dahaka trying to squash his Kuro-noona's new friend.
He was pissed off.
Just to be clear, he didn't come back alone at that time. His previous travels had been just him teleporting from his room to Little Garden, and then back again, without anyone noticing. This one, however, was not his doing. Mostly.
It's just that he got bored easily and Little Garden's games were fun. It's just that he has always been good at riddles, so beginning with games based on intelligence and deduction skills was the logic thing to do. It was that he got luck and won useful gifts. And it was that winning other kind of games becomes easier the more gifts you have. And, maybe, it was that he didn't realize exactly how well-known was himself between the people there.
Okay, so maybe not having to act the same trash role as always has taken quite a big weight of his shoulders. He felt so free that he forgot to pay attention to his reputation. Running here and there, doing whatever he wants.
(Now that was a luxury he would never indulge in his homeland. Cale could buy almost anything in Rain City, but being himself was not one of them. That was the choice he made, because the price would had been too high.)
Then, one of the residents of Little Garden had heard about him and decided to challenge him. Cale had been at the Henituse County at that time, pondering the pros and cons of healing himself. The child and the foreign god had surprised him a bit, but it was a pleasant surprise. It has been a while since he had been challenged by a kid like this.
The god, some guy that got dragged as the responsible adult— a plant-based deity, if he had to guess—, is designated as the impartial third part. They're not in Little Garden right now, so an extra pair of eyes to act as a judge is necessary. And he won't lie. "Even if I wanted, I wouldn't be able to, since I'm currently under punishment from a previous game", is what he says.
The kid— a redhead with reptilian pupils (was she a dragon?)— also offers a nice deal. Most likely because she doesn't owns a Host Master Authority, she prepared a tempting price for him: salvation from an uncoming danger.
The [salvation] she means is, in simple terms, a massive transmigration to Little Garden. Of course, it doesn't apply just to him, but to anyone of his world according Cale's conditions. (If his conditions include almost everyone who isn't responsible of the threat, and maybe some more that are, that's between him and his guests). Is not Cale's ideal method to keep his family safe, but is the avaible one. Which is good enough for him.
The punishment for Cale if he loses would be just his strongest gift. A bargain, if he says so.
Sure, he likes that gift, is one of his favorites, even. But its worth is not remotely close to his family's lives. Besides, she's not asking his whole deck of cards. 'She would have to wait too much to play with him again if he did so', is what the kid said.
Naturally, Cale accepted.
He also won, but because they were too into the game, they ended up landing on the capital. Inside giant bubbles and with blindfolds covering their eyes. And just in the middle of the Plaza. He's going to have to explain a thing or two to his family, isn't him?
It was good then, that Little Garden wasn't ruled by a noble society.— Noble what? We have demon lords and host masters. Even deities don't get a pass.— Because there's no way his trash persona survives the inquire.
Anyway, the kid kept her word and fulfilled her part of the deal right there. In a matter of seconds, the stone floor under them became grass and their surround changed.
"Space control, my element", she cleared out. Definitely a dragon, then. And one of his world, it seems.
She looked so proud that Cale didn't have the heart to tell her she has just let out two big hints about herself. She's still young, isn't her?
But it was an impressive power. The thousands of people (and maybe even more) hadn't have time to panic before being teleported to a completely different world. Although it seemed like there were some people already grasping into the situation.
However, before they could start asking questions, a little black blurr flew right into the red haired girl.
"Noona! That old white lizard is back! The Rabbit-noona and her friends are fighting him!"
...What.
"Kuro-noona!"
The red dragon stayed still, blinking at the space where his new friend had been just a moment ago.
"Wow, Noona, that red human is really fast!"
Yes, he is. After all, a great dragon like her had almost not being able to see him leave.
Bonus
Bassen, after he met with most of his family: Where is hyung-nim?
Violan: I think I saw him over the front.
Lily: *sees a bright red blurr* He left!
Deruth: What?!
Lily, wide eyed: *raises her voice* That he left!
Bassen, still looking right and left for him: when?
Lily: Just now! He was like "fwoshh". Like a lightning :D
Bonus II
Izayoi: *about to be impaled by a bastard*
Azi Dahaka, the bastard: *about to open a new hole through this brat*
Cale, falling from the sky in pure rage: —your ugly-ass paws away from my friends, scaly-branded cerberus, discount hydra fucker!
Azi Dahaka: *freezes* what?
Izayoi: *snorts*
————
So, a few things more about this dream/AU:
•Cale's deck of cards is like it sounds: a deck of [gift] cards. Bro seriously did not intended to collect so many, but he was having fun.
•If you're wondering why or how can Cale travel to Little Garden and back to home, I think it was a present a sort of big deity gave to him. I have this vague memory of twelve-ish year old Cale sitting on a bed in a milky way-looking room, a giant pink lady standing besides him. She was really cheerful.
•When he is in Little Garden, he spends a lot of time at the No Name community. So much to the point he has his own room there. The only reason he hasn't joined the community is because he still wasn't a full-time resident of that world, an therefore he has some restrictions.
•Due to those restrictions, he can't use all his acquired gifts back outside what counts like Little Garden's world. Most of them get blocked or restrained when he goes back home. The ones who doesn't are the one who lets him jump between worlds, a healing gift and one that basically works like a library. The reason of this is to avoid a big disbalance in his and other worlds.
•Before this, Cale had been on a break from world hopping. He wanted to get officially out of the heir position before going back. With his 18 birthday coming soon, he had to do it soon before someone realizes that he's tecnically still the heir. (Then Choi Han happened). He hasn't seen his friends for almost a year.
•He usually gets into games/fights alone, but he's strong point are group fights where he can help them and use the battlefield like his own scenery.
•He had a gift even since before putting a step into Little Garden, but he wasn't aware. Is not something useful for most games, specially not friendly ones. Deathly fights, however... Let's say he can touch souls, and pulling one out of its body, hence separating them, is not something you can survive. He either fails and his enemy lives, or he succeeds and his enemy dies. He only has used it to pull a soul all the way once before, and it was a possession. The owner of the body was already dead by then, sadly.
•One of his gifts can be used like a warrior legion. It looks like ghostly samurais: glowing, translucid japanese warriors with an ominous aura. He got it from a war deity. (In my dream, he used it to fight Azi Dahaka)
•The gift he used to get to Izayoi and Kuro Usagi so fast was actually an object. A magic hooverboard, basically. Though he is fast, just thought saving energy would be better.
•He and Jack-o-lantern are close buddies. They met when he was thirteen, still so young and naive, travelling around Little Garden for the best sweets. Jack managed to trick him and then teased him about it (not to be mean, he was just to easy to annoy and his face went red really fast, looking like a red panda). In reprisal, Cale kept showing up near him, eating pumpkin desserts for a whole month. Somehow, they grew found of each other in a uncle-nephew relationship. Cale calls him uncle Jack.
•After the fight with Azi Dahaka, Jin presented Cale to the newest members. He and Asuka have a weird rich-kids conversation that no one else understands where they only spoke one or two words per turn (they were comparing life experiences).
•Yo, in all of her cat learned manners, measured him, determined he was not going to harm them, and blinked twice to show approval. For everyone else it looked like she stared at him for a long minute before blinking again. For some reason, Cale feels like Hans would be found of her.
•Izayoi and him get along like a house on fire. Izayoi likes to cause chaos and Cale likes to watch the chaos. Instant friendship. Although Asuka is absolutely sure that Izayoi has a puppy crush on Cale. (Idk if he has, dream asuka was always like "I know what you're" to Izayoi. Most likely not going to happen tho. Cale sees anyone younger than him like "little sibling aged")
•Cale finally joins No Name and some people of his previous world decides to follow as well.
•Lily and Lily bounding.
•Not really important but quite funny: in my dream, because Cale kept running here and there, kicking ass and being a decent person, but forgetting to properly introduce himself, he got an embarrasing nickname. "The Crimson Knight", they say. Cale was so ashamed when he found out. It took years for him to get used to it. Lily was thrilled once she heard about it.
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Hey I've seen this idea on TikTok that would really fit for Bodyguard AU, where Gilgamesh is working out and Thena's watching while reading a book or something. And then Gil just pointed out that her book is turned upside down😂
Gil glanced over to the side between lifts. "Done?"
Thena just smiled and nodded, wiping herself down with a light towel. She had finished her interminable three full hours of cardio, between the stairmaster and the treadmill.
"I'm almost finished," Gil grunted, pushing the bar with its massive weights up again.
"Don't rush for my sake, I'll have a seat," Thena smiled, indeed sitting herself down on the bench beside him and pulling out her phone.
Gil let out a chuckle before another benchpress, "you're not gonna spot me?"
Thena gave him a look, not that he could turn his head at the moment. "What do you think I would be able to do? That whole bar looks like it weighs twice what I do."
"Probably almost three times," he grunted again, sweat trailing off his forehead.
"Hm," Thena offered quietly. She held her phone up, but eyed him beside her. She had never seen him up close and personal, like this. Even when he was working, he wore suits, or at least more than a sleeveless workout shirt and shorts.
Gil lifted the bar again, his arms rippling from the movement. Every angle of them was even sharper with use and his pre-workout supplements.
Thena's eyes drifted down his arms and to his chest, rising with every breath. His shirt, even being the light, sweat-wicking material it was, was clinging to his chest. His pecks were clearly defined, and his top abs contributed to the barrel shape of his top half. There was a little bit of tummy that melded into his flanks from this view. He claimed it was from his days of drinking like a fish after boxing matches in his youth.
Even his leg muscles twitched, since his core was so engaged in his current workout. He definitely didn't skip leg day--she had never seen it, but the evidence was right there.
Gil let out a groan as he pushed the bar up one last time and onto its holder. His arms flopped down beside him as he panted.
Thena watched his adam's apple bob. She looked back at her phone, although she couldn't remember what she was going to look at on it.
"You ready for tonight?" he asked in the middle of trying to catch his breath.
Thena nodded, definitely not watching the beads of sweat run over the lines in his muscles in a way that almost made her jealous. "It's nice of the label to put us up in a hotel this nice, I suppose."
It was just a guest appearance in Ikaris' currently running concert tour. They were only in the UK for three days, tops. That was what brought them to the hotel gym (closed to other guests, per their request). Flying would take it out of them the rest of the week, so best to get a workout in while they could.
"I mean," Gil dragged himself up, swiping his towel over his face first. "I think it's the least they can do, if Ikaris is going to drag you all the way over here for half a song."
Thena laughed. They had been home - at her place - just a few days ago when Gil told her about Kingo's call. She had agreed, because why wouldn't she? Plus she would get to see Sersi while she was visiting. "I suppose I agree with that."
Gil rested the towel around his shoulders--around his neck, really. It wasn't nearly big enough for those massive shoulders of his. "Ready to go?"
She nodded, still clutching her phone as he stood from the bench. Her eyes skittered down his front, his shirt rumpling and revealing a hint of skin, the faint dark of some hair trailing under his bellybutton, and just the top of the waistband of his underwear. She rushed her eyes down. "Are we clear?"
"I'll check," he smiled, picking up his bag. He walked past her slowly, pausing on the other side of her.
Thena looked up at him curiously when he reached down for her phone, its screen still dark.
Gil said nothing, picking it up and then flipping it over, "upside down, Sweetheart."
Thena accepted her phone back from him, avoiding looking at the reflection of her flushed face. She stood to follow him silently, wallowing in her embarrassment over being caught.
Gil didn't say anything, because of course he didn't. He checked the hallway to make sure it was empty before they made their way to the stairwell. It was a long walk back to the luxury suite, but they were less likely to run into people. He turned back to her with a grin, "all clear."
"Great, more stairs," Thena muttered as she followed him out.
At least it would give her an excuse as to why she was so red in the face.
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nsfsprince · 2 years
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Hello! It’s the anon that requested the fae logince!!
I have an idea, but it is just an idea-
So, running off the image that it start with Roman doesn’t seem to be in.. control. At all-
Logan is that typical fae that was like ohh pretty human, I’m just gonna *pick up* and fucking keep it.
But even once you give your name to a fae and you belong to them- even if they wipe you a clean state, hints of your previous self shines through! It’s the chemicals in your brain, you can’t really wave them away!
So Logan has his little obedient human, who occasionally is very flattering and sweet and all ✨grand gestures✨ and looks ✨pretty✨ and Logan promptly realizes after a while, that he isn’t thinking of Roman the same anymore- he’s fond of the human-
He’s got a crush
So logan, realizing the pickle he is in, slowly lets Roman gain control again, in hope of freaking apologizing and wooing him. (Idk about that part, but hey, it’s an idea!)
Que enemies (??? Will ro be upset???) to lovers speed run were Logan realizes Roman is VERY STRONG, and pins him to wall to make out
Jfkdkd ohhhhhh I definately like that. Some minor tweaks that i'd make based on my initial idea from said image is that Roman gave his name and thus himself over, willingly, to Logan.
(The rest under the cut cuz this got long)
He was a prince with a missing twin brother(ehem. Remus went and dipped to party w/ a certain pair of fae, maybe relevant later but only story wise and not getting involved with Roman and Logan wise, plus Remus didnt intentionally bail on his brother, time just works differently in the fae world, he had every intention of coming back to see his brother again) so with the weight of the kingdom looming on his shoulders he decides he cant do it.
Another aspect of this needing to run away idea is that Roman is trans, and is thus the only remaining heir and technically their kingdom's crowned Princess(which he Hates but since Remus is Missing, no one else has the power to fight his father on it) and his father is looking at marrying him off which Cannot Happen.
So he runs into the massive forest where he last saw his brother go and runs and runs, even when his skirts rip and his sleeves tear and he trips on tree roots, he runs.
And when his legs finally give out, he's caught in strong arms, a gentle hand cradling his head and a crooning voice lilting through the clearing. Hes in a fairy circle, he can see the trail on the forest floor, looping around him and this new stranger neatly.
He looks up and sees this beautiful fae, sharp edges and ethereal beauty, ice blue eyes sharp and calculating and mouth curved into a comforting grin just a hare sharper than human teeth can manage. A Fae. Roman swallows, unable to quite look away.
Hes still being cradled by the others impossible strength, though theyve now lowered to the ground.
"Breath, little one, breathe. Thats it, good boy. Im so proud of you. Just take your time, you look so tired from running all that way, I'll protect you, my dear." The low, lilting voice says, a gentle hand carding through his mussed hair. Its as if Roman hadnt been running for so long, every breath hurts less and less, his exhaustion evaporates and his mind clears with every passing minute that he remains trapped in the others warm gaze.
'To hell with it,' Roman thinks tiredly, 'out of the pan and into the fire.'
Inevitably, the fae gently tucks him closer and asks if they may have his name, and Roman knows he should deny it and play it smart, they seem to know full well all the thoughts bouncing around in his stressed out mind, but he cant seem to do it. He leans into their side firmly and tucks up against their chest, ducking his head as he gives his answer.
"Yes, you may have it, and you may have me. I am Roman Elizabeth Sanders, Second Prince of Creetivea."
And if the Fae, Lo, as Roman would come to know the other as, paused for a whole 40 secounds out to sheer bafflement over such a brilliant mind giving up so instantaneously, no one but Roman was there to witness it.
Continuing with your thoughts tho, Lo really does start developing a crush, because Roman is sweet and dramatic and still so very brilliant even without even a third of true awareness or control, and Logan finds himself challenged by this little plaything of his in a way few fae have even managed in a long time. And Logan's protective of his things, of course, especially his favorite pet. No one is allowed to touch his Roman but him.
And so he starts to give Roman bits of pieces of control back, a back and forth over an idea here, a little debate over theatre there, a handsy cuddle-turned-makeout session here, a firm and steamy scene there. Even just a quiet stargazing date that remains soft and calm throughout their quiet exchanges. Giving the True Roman chances to shine through and seeing how he handles it all, how he handles Logan.
And boy, Roman is infuriated by Logan, with his pretty mouth and cocky grin and accurate debate points, he just wants to find a way to knock Logan down a notch every once in a while, never quite to be in charge of course, but Roman loves picking a little on people he loves.
And Logan is falling harder and harder. Oh he adores his Roman. Enough so to give Roman his full name, "Logan." The sound of Roman mewling his name over and over in pure coherent bliss later that night is more than reward enough.
Around other fae Logan is likely very protective and wary with Roman present, and has his own protection spells and the like over his mortal love just to be on the safe side. But hoo boy he absolutely doesnt regret giving Roman near total control back.
The only time Logan pulls him back under control is for fun times, and only ever enough to make roman's body obey, but never enough to override romans mind or consent. Roman discovers just how pliant human biology is when commanded to cum over, and over, and over again at the drop of a single word, and its overwhelmingly hot.
Roman is also very weak for riding Logan, hes got the stamina to go for a while but Lo still far outbeats him, but not to worry, his Fae Love is happy to grip his hips and keep fucking his dripping, oversensitive hole slow and teasingly, till Romans usually overactive mind is finally reduced to overstimulated mush.
What im getting at is that Ro is used to being in a position of power and working doubley as hard to be respected, heard, and listened to, and when he couldnt take it anymore he gave it all up, and at most he might try and pin Logan for kisses and cuddles, it is entirely a show of dramatics and none of strength. He might play a little bratty role here and there and he will happily get into heated debates with Logan over things, but hes never been too interested in overpowering Logan.
Logan, on the other hand, has plenty of fun with (consentually)overpowering his favorite pet-turned-lover~
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wackybuddiemewbs · 1 year
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More WIPpeting because why not? It's Wednesday, after all!
Title has it. It's WIP Wednesday again, and this fic that's not a fic is eating away all of my remaining brain cells. We are at 470k something words and -470% percent of my sanity. Assuming I ever had it. Anyway. Here's to more shenanigan! You can find the moodboard here, and the last two installments for that arc are here and here.
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The Worm in the Man III
“So the guy seriously tore down a door?” Chimney gapes.
They all gathered in Chimney’s office to go over the latest findings. And after Buck recounted some of what they found at the gym, Hen is left wondering just what kinds of odd people end up in their city. And how many of them end up in freak accidents that may land them here for identification.
“One swing, and it was out of its hinges,” Buck confirms.
“The wonders of the capacity of the human body,” Chim hums, his eyes drifting off as he surely paints a very pretty picture of that inside his head. And Hen can only hope that he won’t listen to the impulse to draw a comic about that, no matter how beautifully drawn it may be.
It’s rude, and we have to set an example, right?
“More like what steroids can make you do,” Hen huffs, making her disdain no secret. That is no wonder, it’s a damn shame. And it shouldn’t be happening anymore, but God knows it does.
“It was kind of impressive, I’ll have to admit,” Buck ponders, shrugging his shoulders.
“And you didn’t film it for us to enjoy,” Chimney pouts.
Buck holds up his hands. “Sorry, next time he does it, I sure will.”
“That’d be greatly appreciated.”
“So, did you have any luck on the flesh yet?” Buck asks, looking at Hen.
“The bones are cleaned and ready for you to reassemble,” she answers. “The tests confirm what you pointed out after testing the tapeworms: That guy took a mad mix of anabolic steroids. And just so we’re clear on the range: That cocktail he’s been taking would’ve killed medium-sized mammals on the spot.”
How that man managed to stay alive under that regimen is something that Hen can’t determine from the tissue. So she can only assume one thing: It was his sheer will to keep going.
“You’re saying he was shredded.” Chimney flexes his arm muscles for emphasis, which makes Hen’s eyes go for another round the clock motion. She loves Chimney, there is no denying that, but sometimes he tempts her in wanting to tear down a door, too.
“I’m saying he lived a very unhealthy life, just to look like he was healthy,” Hen lets him know. “Or shredded.”
She has seen plenty of those people. Old school friends, girls who glowered at anything that might have contained any kind of fat or carb that couldn’t be accounted for. Hen also saw her fair share of classmates who were so busy working out that they didn’t even realize that this was hardly normal anymore. And it infuriates her to know that there is a whole industry out there that profits off of making people feel miserable and at war with their own bodies. Being healthy suddenly evolved into a status symbol – and, towards that end, into something to make unhealthy or sick people feel bad about for lacking.
“Yeah no, that’s not healthy at all,” Buck confirms. “Essentially, he was underweight.”
“But he still weighed 220 pounds, which is more or less average, right?” Eddie questions.
“Yes, but at one percent body fat and very little hydration levels. His body didn’t get the time to properly regenerate from all those massive changes. Normal is to lose one to two pounds per week if you seek to lose weight and do a moderate to high workout. Jimmy doubled that, at least. The guy hardly ate, and what he ate doesn’t really count as a healthy diet. He was severely malnutritioned and dehydrated by the time he died,” Hen sighs, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “And all of that to fit a certain body image.”
All of that to fit in, to be seen, and not to be regarded as some headless, lazy lump everyone has every right to stomp on for the sole sake of being a certain way. Tell you what, Hen looked inside a great many people throughout her career.
And in the end, safe for some genetic abnormalities, we all look the same underneath the skin. Imagine that!
“And to get his picture hung up on the wall of fame, let’s not forget,” Chim huffs.
“How could we possibly forget about that?” Buck joins in, gesturing with his hands.
“Well, at least we now have a name. James ‘Jimmy’ Granger was a software engineer. He worked for a small company, though he mostly worked from home. Most of his colleagues don’t even know that guy’s face,” Eddie lets them know, reading off of the report he got sent. “Which may also explain why he wasn’t reported missing very fast.”
“The wonders of working remote,” Chimney points out. “That guy probably just never switched on the camera during his transition. Or even before that.”
“The neighbors said that he didn’t go out much,” Eddie continues. “Things shifted about five to six months ago.”
“So when he started frequenting the gym,” Hen concludes.
“Yup,” Eddie confirms. “He never brought someone back with him, that the neighbors know of, at least. They describe him as very kind and helpful. Jimmy set up most of the software and hardware for the people living in the house, as they are mostly elderly.”
“So who’d murder a sweet software engineer like that?” Hen asks, which, she knows, is always the question they have to ask around here.
But it never ceases to make her mad. There are so many good and kind people who are ripped out of their lives. For nothing, really. To inherit that house, to get that money, to settle this quarrel, or pay off that debt. While she has seen enough of that to know this to be fact, it baffles her just how little it takes for some people to take another human being’s life. Though perhaps it’s better not to know, past a certain point.
“Well, maybe someone at the gym was pretty pissed off that he got the prize instead of them,” Eddie ponders.
Hen gapes at him. “There’s seriously a prize for that?”
She knows she shouldn’t be surprised, but Hen still finds herself greatly irritated already.
“Annually.” Buck nods. “They get 10,000 dollars and get to be poster boys and girls for the gym’s very own protein powder.”
“People like that piss me off,” Hen grunts, leaning back in her seat. “They make people like Jimmy feel inadequate, only to get them to buy their products, book the courses, and completely overexert themselves. To the point that Jimmy here must have been in constant pain. I found traces of pain medicine added to the mix.”
That young, sweet software engineer was suffering, he was aching, and he still pushed on. He was being helpful and kind. And all he got was more pain and things that made him sick. And now he is dead. All just to reflect the body standards that are around these days. Because He knows those images are constantly shifting. Because the goal of those body ideals is that they remain unachievable. That’s the point – and perhaps the only truth in it all. The perfect body doesn’t exist.
Because, as our Buckaroo would like to remind us, that’s all just arbitrary bullshit without any scientific backup.
“Small wonder he was in pain,” Buck agrees, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Judging by his knees and feet, he ran way too much and without being properly educated as to how to run without causing injury. Also, bad footwear. Those people at the gym are extremely careless when it comes to their customers, is all I can say.”
“Yeah, look at that!” Chim says, showing some ads on the big screen. “Maximum Leg Press, if your legs don’t burn, you’re not doing it right. X Fit, for those who think CrossFit is too easy. ColLateral Damage, the lateral muscle exercise to get your neck strong and your chest even stronger…”
Hen leans her head back. “This whole thing makes me mad, but the bad advertising makes it impossibly worse.”
At least they could bother to be creative, damn it.
“All of those exercises are risky, even more so when they are executed by people who are not properly educated in carrying them out,” Buck points out, gesturing at the screen. “To me, it’s a miracle that there haven’t been more injuries at that gym.”
“None that we know of yet, though I think the gym has a vested interest not to have that info become public,” Eddie argues.
Buck shrugs. “True again.”
“Video footage confirms that Jimmy was last at the gym when he won the competition, which was two weeks ago,” Eddie continues. “Makes me wonder whether one of the other athletes wanted to be the cover boy and wanted Jimmy gone.”
“Well, I’ll have my fun sorting through the colorful parade Buck promised me,” Hen grunts, making her displeasure absolutely no secret. “Which is to say: I’m not looking forward to that at all.”
“You’re doing the Lord’s work,” Chim teases.
Buck puckers his lips. “I thought the Christian boss man didn’t approve of condoms?”
“The Christian boss man?” Eddie gawks, clearly upset at that choice of words.
Hen chuckles softly, then tells Buck, “That’s the Catholic Church, and those guys should have no say on the down below business of anyone ever.”
“Well, historically, controlling sexuality and sexual practices was a way of exerting power, particularly over women, social outcasts, deviants. And with the institution of the church having a vested interest to maintain their power…,” explains, but she cuts him short, “As I was saying, they have no business in the down below business. God said so. So no, Lord’s work certainly does not lie in that colorful latex parade.”
“He works in mysterious ways,” Chim continues anyway.
“And sometimes they smell of fake cherry,” Buck laughs.
Chimney picks up one of the bags with the condoms and opens it for a quick inhale. “That’s supposed to be cherry? I shall be damned.”
“Stop sniffing them!” Hen cries out.
Which certainly confirms one truth she’s known since she was a young girl: Men are disgusting.
“Well, I’m gonna leave you guys to that. I’ll be talking to the parents. They live in Florida and only arrived today,” Eddie sighs.
Buck opens his mouth to say something, but Eddie carries on before he can, “Buck, you don’t have to come with. I think it’s more important that we get that skull reassembled, see what may have killed him.”
“… Okay,” Buck answers slowly. “On it.”
Hen tilts her head. She can tell that there is something up in that exchange. While Buck’s emotions work in mysterious ways, too, he is terribly bad at keeping his emotions off his face. And there is something underneath that confusion that leaves her wondering what that may be about.
“Okay, great, catch you later,” Eddie says hurriedly. “Call me if you find anything.”
“Sure, bye.”
“Bye.”
With that, he flies out the door.
Hen gets up to settle down next to Buck. “Everything alright? You have that frowny face going on.”
And Buck frowning means Buck thinking. And Buck thinking means he usually goes places. And Buck going places can lead down roads you don’t want to travel, ever.
“Yeah, sure, it’s just… I don’t know… I guess I should be focusing on this, is all,” Buck mutters, still looking at the spot where Eddie just stood.
“You two had a disagreement?” she asks.
“None that I know of. I just… doesn’t matter,” Buck mumbles, lost in thought.” The skull needs reassembly, that’s correct. So let’s focus on that.”
Hen makes a mental note to touch up on that later, but she also knows there is hardly any getting through to Buck when his eyes are set on a target. And that target is now putting that skull back together.
“How did the conference go, by the way?” Chimney asks.
Right, there was something else she was more than pissed about. But everything in time.
“Apparently, Denny has a teacher who’s a complete moron,” she pouts, exasperated. “No way our son is no good in biology. One of his mothers is a pathologist. That man does not know what he’s talking about. And I let him know that.”
“Wait, did you get expelled from parent conference day?” Chimney teases.
“No. You can’t get expelled from parent conference day,” she retorts.
“Oh, so you did,” he laughs.
“I did not.”
“Did, too.”
Hen glowers at him.
“Well, maybe they are covering something in biology right now that’s not human anatomy, which is the subject Denny would have an advantage in, with one of his mothers being one of the country’s best pathologist,” Buck points out.
“Damn, I sure hope I won’t slip on the slime you’re oozing there, Buckaroo,” Chimney laughs, gesturing at the floor.
“What? For pointing out the facts?” Hen narrows her eyes at him.
Chimney bows his head, scratches the back of his head, acting innocently.
“Well, back on topic here: That is why we got those subjects covered with his lovely babysitter who’s all into bugs and slime and flora and fauna,” Hen continues.
Buck grins at her. “It’s me. I’m the lovely guy.”
“Cute,” Chim teases, patting his head. Buck swats his hand away, prompting him to ruffle up his hair even more. Buck makes a shrieking sound as he fends Chimney off, but then breaks out laughing. Hen shakes her head with a soft smile.
Yes, men might be a disgusting, but moments like that let her have a little faith in anyone beside her most wonderful son. Buck and Chimney came a long way. And knowing both their histories at least to a certain degree, Hen will always find it a beautiful thing that the two found a “brother from another mother” in each other, as they will tell anyone who asks.
“I know I’m cute,” Buck grins, trying to ease his messed-up hair back. He then turns to Hen with a mild look. “Well, it’s still possible the guy has to base his teachings on books from twenty years ago. That may explain some discrepancy? Just bouncing some ideas.”
“My son does not deserve a C in biology, period,” she declares. That teacher is clearly out of his mind. Denny has always been an excellent student. Biology was never an issue. So to her, it seems more likely that there is something wrong with the person who just started teaching him when Denny didn’t have any issues before.
“Of course he doesn’t,” Chim huffs. Hen chooses to ignore the sarcastic undertone.
“Which is why I have to figure out how to make that man understand the wrongs of his ways,” Hen lets them know. She made up her mind in the parking lot of the school already – she won’t let that stand.
“If someone can do it, it’s surely you who will unhinge the board of education,” Chimney laughs.
“I don’t need to overthrow the damn empire, I just know that my son is better than what the teacher is giving him, and I won’t stand for that,” she points out.
Buck tilts his head. “Did the teacher say anything about how he acts in class?”
“My son is an angel.”
“Right.”
“And there were no complaints in any other classes,” Hen adds.
What is he trying to get at, hm?
“Maybe he likes that teacher about as much as one of his mothers does,” Chimney snorts.
“You’re saying I’m a bad influence for my son?” Hen glowers at him.
Chimney takes a step back, holding up his hands in surrender. “I never would.”
Hen crosses her arms over her chest. “Good, I better never hear that coming out of your mouth again. And now I’m going to do what scientists do… and wade through used condoms.”
“Hallelujah!”
---------------------------
“I see it’s coming all together?”
“You really think that the hundredth time is going to make this joke funny?” Buck huffs as Chimney makes his way inside the bone room where Buck is lining up the skull fragments laid out on the table with the rest of the bones.
“It’s a classic.”
“Starting to feel your true age, I take?”
Chimney chuckles as he punches him in the arm slightly, rounding the table.
“Well, reassembling the skull won’t be that hard. It wasn’t completely broken apart. My trouble is with the remaining bones. A lot got chewed on by the animals, which will make it harder to determine what damage was done antemortem and postmortem. Also, the bones are not in great shape, generally speaking,” Buck ponders, gesturing at the table.
“Well, after they were dog chew, small wonder.”
“That’s not it. I’ve had victims like that before, but the bones took a lot of damage for that only small critter fed on the victim. He landed on rather soft ground, too…”
Chimney tilts his head to the side. “You have that thinky face on again. Do share with the class, otherwise I feel left out.”
“It’s just…,” Buck mutters, picking up one of the bones, testing it with his gloved hands. “They shouldn’t have the amount of damage. The scratches are deeper than they should be. Daisy’s teeth sunk in much deeper than they would for a dog her size. I could only determine the kind based on the jaw outline.”
“Maybe she just got really strong jaws,” Chimney jokes, clicking his teeth.
“No, that’s not really it. Something is up with those bones. They are too prone to damage to…,” Buck says, then stops. “Hold on a sec.”
Chimney watches as Buck walks straight over to the shelves containing human remains behind them. He checks the labels, then pulls out one of the plastic boxes.
“Ugh, Buckaroo. We are working on that lad here, c’mon, focus,” Chimney argues, gesturing at the table. Because he has seen Buck completely lose track of the original task and go on with something else just because his mind commanded him to.
“I just need to confirm something,” the younger man answers. He takes out a femur from the box and then picks up the victim’s femur with the other.
“Weird flex for a workout, even for our lot,” Chimney comments.
“The victim’s bones are lighter than they should be,” Buck says.
Chim frowns. “What now?”
“I took out a bone that comes from someone about Jimmy’s physique. Jimmy’s bone is much lighter,” Buck replies. “Look.”
While Chimney is not the bone guy – pun totally intended – he will have to see for himself. So he grabs some gloves and puts them on with a snap. Buck hands the bones over, his mind already rushing a thousand miles ahead by the second. Chimney tests the weight and indeed they are indeed different.
“What the hell?” he mutters under his breath.
Buck picks up another set of bones for comparison. “Same thing here. This is not just some anomaly on the femur. This is a recurring pattern.”
“How would his bones be lighter, though?” Chimney asks, handing the bones back over to Buck. He watches as his friend places them both back on the table and the box with utmost care.
“They are not as dense as they should be,” Buck ponders, still lost in thought.
“The frowny face is intensifying.”
Buck puts the bones back down. And if the saying was true that the brain was all about gears, people could hear them turn inside the man’s head a mile away. Maybe even more.
A few moments later, Buck’s head shoots up. “Wait, I think I know why.”
“That was fast,” Chimney huffs. Though he has since grown accustomed to the fact that Buck is someone whose brain makes three turns in the time it takes normal brains to make one. Sometimes, it means he’s too many steps ahead. But at the very least, it gets you up to speed fast. That much is for sure.
“Jimmy had osteoporosis,” Buck states.
Chimney blinks. “Why would a kid his age have osteoporosis?”
Last time he checked, that was more of an old-people-disease, right?
“There’s many causes, but steroids can greatly contribute to it, so that might be a possible explanation,” Buck tells him pensively. “Though the timeline is still somewhat off. Hen said that he likely only started about five months ago, with the steroids. But for osteoporosis at this level, it would have to be much longer than that.”
“That poor kid. He just wanted to lose some weight, and now he’s been food for the critters for days without anyone noticing him gone,” Chimney sighs, looking back at the bones laid out on the table.
Much like Buck, he sees faces when he looks at a skull. Part of the job, after all. Now Chimney has also seen pictures, of the few there are from before Jimmy’s transition. And they all confirm that this guy had a nice and kind face matching his personality. And such a nice, kind face was then eaten off by the critters after someone left him there to die and rot. It is their daily business to deal with that, surely, but Chimney won’t ever get accustomed to that. He doesn’t want to either. Because that would mean acceptance, and this not acceptable by any means.
“Yeah, because the people at the gym do such a great job caring about their clients,” Buck huffs, gritting his teeth.
“You’re also pissed off, huh?”
“Jimmy could’ve done with a few pounds less and a bit of exercise, to take pressure off his bones and strengthen his muscles, more so if he had some genetic predisposition for osteoporosis. But he was in good health before he started to get jacked-up. He was a regular kid. And from what Eddie told us, quite brilliant at his job. And now that young man is dead. Just because people decided that his body didn’t fit in with the rest. Yes, that pisses me off, a lot.”
Buck moves back to the shelf to return the bones he compared to Jimmy’s, his facial expression hardening with every step. He and Chimney always shared in that notion. In fact, everyone at the lab does. But Chim saw since the early beginnings of Buck working for the Jeffersonian that this guy refuses to get used to people disregarding human life, whatever shape or form it has.
Because to Buck, that’s all just window dressing. For Chimney, it’s the other way around. For him, the bones are the way to get a face. And the face is not just something on top of a bone. For him, truth lies in a person’s face. For Buck, truth always lies underneath it.
Chimney has worked with forensic anthropologists before, duh, but working with Buck has changed his way of working entirely. Not just because the guy is a big oddball. But because Buck has a view on what is around him that Chim never saw with anyone else he worked alongside with.
And sure, no two people look at the world the exact same way, he knows that much. But Buck’s view on the world has always been a peculiar one. Chimney can still remember the earlier times of Buck working for the Jeffersonian. He thought the guy was a goner within a week, which he was correct about, until Bobby brought him back. Though truth was that he was disappointed when he heard Buck had been fired.
Most of the time, when the science folks hear of what Chim does, they roll their eyes at him, at best. Once they understand what he can actually do, once he’s proven it, Chimney is sure to have their attention and respect, but it’s always a process of getting there.
That wasn’t so with Buck. On his first day, Buck came to his office and gushed about that online gallery walk Chimney had done to present his digital art. He wanted to know all about it. How he does it, what his method is. Chimney never would’ve called it a method but a technique. Though he understood that for Buck, his art was science, a way of sense-making. To him, it was real science without the label on it.
And then Buck kept asking questions for about an hour, nonstop. He wanted to know if that type of reconstruction was something he could do, if there was a program of his design to analyze bones under these circumstances and those other circumstances. He didn’t just ask what Chimney could currently do, but Buck instantly started scratching at what else he might do with his method.
Chimney didn’t need Buck’s approval or praise. That’s not it. He’d since learned his value to the Jeffersonian, all the more thanks to Bobby and Hen. But it really is as Buck said before, about the bones from Tibet. How it makes a difference how you approach an object. How it changes through your perception, through the knowledge you have of where it comes from. Because it creates pictures in your head, ready or not. And Buck came without any pictures, any filters, it’d seem, safe for his sheer excitement for Chim’s work, his method, and the possibilities ahead, some of which still need another three laps before they can be realized.
So he was genuinely relieved when Buck returned and has remained with the Jeffersonian since. Because also thanks to Buck, Chimney found new ways of looking at that which is before him, of learning new techniques, creating entirely new methods. By learning to see things like Buck, he finds new ways to look at the world around him, look at the victims, and see something that’s underneath the skin, right down to the bone.
And while he knows Buck and he will always look at the world differently, Chimney always has the feeling that when it comes to looking at human remains, they get each other on a level most others don’t. And he wouldn’t ever want to miss that, even less so since that same guy grew to be such a close friend of his.
But he is also a giant pain in the ass. So it’s always a give and take in the end.
“People are brutal when it comes to body images,” Chimney ponders, looking back at the bones, looking back at the remains of Jimmy Granger, of a guy with a kind face, and even kinder face, whose life ended way too fast and not at all on the high note it was supposed to.
He’s seen plenty of that during his art studies. Searching for the perfect body type for portraits, for photo projects. A fellow student did a wonderful project on different body types that he helped create the website for. Though those are very often the exception. Instead, they get a weird high from watching obese people on TV getting beaten down for having the audacity to have a different body type, or maybe even lead a lifestyle that’s not 100% healthy.
Most people can’t look beyond what’s programmed into their brains to consider as beautiful – both by nature and nurture. Because sure, we find particular beauty in symmetry. That’s coded into our DNA, as Buck loves to remind whoever dares to ask. But we are also taught what’s beautiful, what’s ugly, what’s norm, what isn’t.
And Chimney always found that when a subject likens itself to be the free arts, the place for free spirits to thrive, it seems awfully delimiting to only focus on what’s the norm.
“Those people at the gym keep pressuring perfectly healthy people to bust their body fat to come close to ideals set out by magazines and websites making it seem like this is healthy. It’s not. Women don’t need thigh gaps,” Buck grumbles. “Men don’t need a six pack. The strongest men on the planet don’t look like Jay, trust me.”
“Well, he still tore down that door,” Chimney jokes.
“That, he did,” Buck sighs. He picks up the skull for inspection again.
“Jimmy was helpful and polite. And he went to those people for support. But in the end, all they cared about was to boost their stupid business. Jimmy deserved better than to have his picture on a wall to tell him that only with one percent body fat he’s of value to anyone else,” Buck continues, his grimace tightening. “People don’t need to optimize their bodies to be… valuable.”
He puts the skull back down and moves along the table. It always looks like a chase when Buck is in that mood. Like he is closing in on the target.
“Yeah, there’s a whole industry profiting off of making people feel miserable, only to present them with some magic powder that can make them look like what they are told is the only way to look,” Chim snorts.
Buck stops in his tracks, the motions closer. “Huh.”
“What? Said something that got you thinking?”
“Not really,” Buck replies bluntly. “I just noticed a scaphoid fracture.”
Chimney grins at him, choosing to ignore the underlying criticism out of goodwill. “Let’s pretend I didn’t know which bone that is.”
“It’s part of the base of the wrist,” Buck says, picking said bone up to show it to him. “Here.”
“What’s odd about it? If he fell down before he died, that may explain it, right?” Chim argues. He’s run countless scenarios of just that kind before.
“That injury is older, though. It already started to heal. See, there’s traces of remodeling on the bone. I’d say he sustained the injury a month prior to his death,” Buck explains, gesturing at the bone. “He didn’t have it treated, though. It wasn’t immobilized as it should’ve been. So he went on training without a splint or brace regardless.”
Chim furrows his eyebrows at that. “Doesn’t that… hurt?”
“It does. But judging by the gym’s teachings, it just shows you that the workout works, so he may have thought it’s all part of the process. Or just ignored it to run that extra mile.”
“Those guys should run an extra mile into a lake.”
“I agree,” Buck huffs. “He didn’t sustain any more injuries to his hands when he died. He fell down face-first.”
“Ouch.”
“He definitely broke his nose in the process,” Buck mutters. “Though Jimmy may have been unconscious or dead by the time already. It’s hard to tell. But it would explain why he wouldn’t shield his face before impact.”
Buck looks back at the screen for any more signs on the bones he missed. Because there is always more to learn, as he keeps reminding everyone, till the day he dies, surely.
“What strikes me is how stiff he was when he fell,” Buck continues. “If he had a heart attack or something to that effect, he’d normally go down slower, maybe even go to his knees first, and then collapse forward.”
“You’re not wrong there,” Chimney agrees. “That’s not the usual pattern for a fall. I can run some scenarios, if that helps.”
Buck nods his head. “That’d be great. I’d say it’s best to focus on scenarios of him having been shoved or him receiving a hit to anywhere but the head. Since I find no markings on the skull, the impact would’ve had to be on some of the bones the animals already took. And of course scenarios of him simply collapsing, for comparison.”
“Alright, will do,” Chimney agrees. “I’ll see what kind of body type or possible weapons that’d give us, if someone else was indeed involved.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, hi there,” Eddie’s voice rings out as he peeks his head inside the bone room.
“Hi,” Buck replies, eyes set on the bones.
“I’ll see you later, then,” Chimney says, tapping him on the shoulder, but Eddie is moving into his path. “Maybe you could hang on a bit longer. I might have something for you to take a look at.”
“Oh, sure. I wasn’t in a hurry as Buck has not yet unleashed the tapeworms again.”
“How are the parents?” Buck questions.
“They are devastated, of course. That’s not what you want to hear about your son. He really was a good kid. He paid for them to fulfill their dream of having a small shop down in Florida. They never had much, but they still paid for his tuition and all, so he could get proper education. Jimmy made for a decent living as a software engineer, but he gave most of it to them. He only took enough to pay for the rent and food and such. The rest went all to fulfilling his parents’ dreams.”
“Which makes it all the more infuriating that their son is dead, and it may very well be thanks to the changes he wanted to surprise them with – and the people who didn’t teach him how to do that properly,” Buck grumbles, still not bothering to look at anyone other than Jimmy, really.
Because that’s Buck’s focus – always.
“The parents said they noticed that he was rather distant the past couple of months. He didn’t wanna video chat, only called,” Eddie continues. “Looks like he wanted to surprise them with his transformation.”
“I don’t yet know what exactly killed him. There’s no obvious injury that’d serve as the final blow – at least on the bones that we have here,” Buck tells him. “I can tell you Jimmy fell pretty hard two weeks before he died.”
“Which he left untreated,” Chim adds.
“Yeah, he didn’t see his doc at all. I called the practice earlier. Obviously, they can’t tell us much. But I was told he hasn’t checked in for about half a year,” Eddie replies.
“Which would match the time of him starting the training,” Chimney ponders. “Seems like he knew his doc wouldn’t be pleased with that.”
“Chim will run scenarios for us to determine possible ways in which Jimmy may have fallen,” Buck informs him. “That may give us a clue about how he actually died.”
Chimney grins at Eddie. “Because I’m amazing like that.”
“So you think it’s possible it wasn’t murder at all?” Eddie asks.
“It’s possible that Jimmy simply died from the side effects of his massive workout routine. But it’s also possible that something happened prior to the event that brought him to the point. Or that he was killed – and we just don’t know because those bones were carried away by the animals. It’s hard to tell,” Buck answers.
“Hm. I’ve checked in with Jimmy’s boss as well. There didn’t seem to be any beef with anyone. Since he mostly worked remote, hardly anyone knew him.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you went to the office,” Buck says, his eyes still firmly planted on the bone, but Chimney can tell that he’d like to look Eddie in the eye right now. Hen noted it earlier already, and Chim can long since see it. Something is at odds here.
“It was basically on the way from the FBI to here, you know, after talking to the parents,” Eddie answers.
Chim tilts his head. He can’t say he is particularly good at reading people. He’ll gladly leave that to the agent. But there is something on his face that he can’t miss – because that’s his perspective. There is a curl on his lip that makes his features look tight, like they are closing in on themselves.
“Okay, sure.” Buck purses his lips. “So what’s the next move, investigation-wise?”
Chimney can tell that the wheels are turning inside the young man’s head, which is not always a good thing, especially if he tries to make sense of a situation. Buck is ridiculously smart, but he is not people-smart, by his own admission. And his method is always to get to the bottom of it. Though some people don’t appreciate that one bit.
“I wanna check out the gym some more,” Eddie explains. “If someone envied Jimmy for winning the big prize, someone may have overheard him arguing with someone. Or we find the one who did.”
“I still find it hard to believe that someone would kill someone for a few grand,” Chim sighs. It gets him every time, reading the reports. How often it’s petty things like money, jealousy, or just because a guy thought he deserved to have power over a woman because he has a dick and most certainly doesn’t know how to use it correctly.
“Sadly, for many people, morality ends where the money begins,” Eddie exhales.
Buck twists the skull he took back into his hand, not looking up for even just a second. “And for Jimmy, that’s where his life ended.”
“You said you had something for me, too?” Chimney asks Eddie, frowning. Because this sounded more like something he’d only need Buck for. Not that he minds, but he does have better to do than just hang around – at least when he is not himself choosing when to hang around.
“Oh yeah, that’s right. The parents gave us a permit to search Jimmy’s private laptop. I thought that maybe you could have a look. As far as we can tell, he was pretty high on the security standards,” Eddie explains.
Chimney nods with a grin, pleased. “Nice. That should keep me preoccupied for a while.”
“Okay, that means we’re all set here,” Eddie says, clapping his hands together. There is determination now, Chimney can tell as much. But the moment his eyes dart towards Buck, the determination shifts to something else he can’t quite place.
“So you want me to come with,” Buck says, asks, really, but he seemingly doesn’t want to sound surprised.
“Maybe someone shoved Jimmy prior to his death for the wrist injury. You might be able to figure out who’d fit the profile, right?”
Buck shrugs. “It depends.”
“Then yeah, you should come along,” Eddie says, nodding his head.
Buck licks his lips, looks at him for a long moment, then looks down again. “Alright, then.”
Chimney keeps studying his friend as he takes off the gloves. His brows are furrowed, his lips pursed, there is a crease that normally only reveals itself when he is thinking too hard. Chim can tell that much because to him, the face is the way to what lies underneath, but right now, he is not exactly sure what he is looking at.
Though knowing Buck, it’s only a matter of time till they will find out. Because where Buck likes to only look at the facts, only just the bones, his friends look at the world from their own angles, and from their angle, Buck is always there, sometimes at the center, sometimes at the periphery. But he is always there. Because they changed each other’s way of looking at the world. And that means he is part of their perception as much as they are part of his.
We keep an eye on each other, simple as that.
“See you later, Chim,” Buck says, grabbing his jacket.
“See ya.”
We always make sure of it, don’t we?
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deeandpee · 2 years
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Reverie of The Last Drop
A/N: Yeah, I know I can’t write for shit, but guess what? That ain’t gonna stop me from making the rest of you suffer through it. Muahahahaha >:)
...This is my first smut; I hope to get better the more I write, though—being asexual—I don’t know if there’s a good chance of that actually happening X’)
Summary: There are benefits to working at The Last Drop, especially when your boyfriend happens to be the owner. You take a moment of reverie, thinking back on one of the many nights you’ve shared with Vander.
Tags: nsfw; gender neutral reader; masturbation; performing oral sex (male receiving); cursing; Vander x [Y/n]; dirty talk; very slight degradation; the whole story is on the tamer side.
Words: 3k
                                      Reverie of The Last Drop
A cacophony of noise tumbles and weaves its way into your ears, disrupting all of your senses.
The weekends at The Last Drop are the busiest nights of the week, this much you have grown acclimated to in your last three years of working here; that said, you find that the din near pierces your mind. But the tips? Well, they do their part in making the noise worth it, you suppose. Not so much the drunkards attempting to solicit your company, as it were. But that doesn’t seem to rankle you too much either.
Not with the lingering touch of Vander’s stare on your back.
Gazes meeting and then pulling away, knowing glances are how you two communicate throughout the night, a noticeable lack of words being needed to convey what he’s thinking: you have nothing to fear; he’s got your back should anyone grow just a little too hands-y. You can feel your shoulders relax ever so slightly, a small grin curling at the corner of your lips, your glance pulling away shortly thereafter.
Yeah, the tips are good, but there are certain other benefits that… seduce you into staying at such a loud and rowdy job. Namely the after-hours company of your boss—the man that also happens to be your boyfriend.
Final call being made, you begin to collect empty steins, goblets, and glasses off of the tables, your mind hazed and lacking a healthy amount of focus as your thoughts begin to wander. A rolling shiver travels down the length of your spine as memories from the other night make themselves known.
~***~
Temperate kisses and hungry grips tugging at exposed skin.
It starts with large, calloused hands grabbing at your shirt with a desperate tug, the material burning at your skin before its pulled away, offering you a much needed reprieve from its cotton confines. Boots kicked off and discarded to the side, it moves along to those very same hands tugging away at the leather of your belt, and then at the material of your jeans. You can’t help the bouncing of your chest as a small chuckle parts your lips, eliciting a pleased grunt from your partner.
You mirror his movements, your hands moving with delicate caresses along his stomach and chest as you help him lift his shirt off of his muscled body. You can hardly keep your patience as you pull his pants down his thick legs, all the while imagining them between your own thighs as he pumps into you. But that’s just reverie, you remind yourself, willing your sex-addled mind to concentrate on the task at hand.
From there, you fall onto the weathered mattress of his bed. The carnal want in his eyes travels down the length of your body, your undergarments being the only thing separating the two of you from the release you’re both looking for. But you wait. As much as you want him—as much as he wants you—there’s still more left to be seen to.
The sensation of the bed sheets beneath you is somewhat rough on your skin when you roll over to the far side of the mattress, the weight of your body rested on the curve of your hip and your elbow. A subtle tilt of your head, along with a needful glint in your eyes, is more than enough to tell your partner what exactly it is you want. Near bare does he join you on the bed, the springs dipping and creaking with the weight of his massive form as its drawn nearer to you. He moves a hand to touch at your shoulder, but it never quite reaches, your own hand darting out to catch at his wrist.
“Patience, Vander,” you warn him with a sultry drawl. “After you so thoroughly took care of me last time, I promise tonight will be about you.”
His eyes narrow at you with a heady mixture of both desire and impatience, but devil that you are, you ignore it. Instead, you toss your body over his, wrist still in your grasp as you move to collect the other one beneath your digits, something you find takes great strain, seeing as his wrists are massive underneath your fingers—but you manage.
“Not even gonna let me touch you, love?” he groans the question with husky notes.
Your shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “Maybe I will; maybe I won’t. That depends: are you going to be a good boy for me?”
You watch as his fingers clench, his knuckles turning bone-white as he balls his fists tighter. “Maybe I will… maybe I won’t,” he parrots your words back at you, earning an amused huff from your lips.
Your initial reply is both curt and flirtatious in equal measures when you hum, “We’ll see.” You loosen your grip on his wrists, allowing the pads of your fingers to trail down the length of his arms, then across his chest as you shift lower and lower on his body. “I’ll let go of your wrists for now, but I better not feel a single finger touch at me. Got it?”
Feeling your lower apex grind against his own, his reply comes out between a whimper and a grunt when he says, “…No promises.”
And that’s good enough for you.
Looking to waste no more time does your head tilt further and further down until it reaches the skin of Vander’s neck. Ever so slight, there’s the salty taste of light sweat in your mouth as you dart out your tongue to caress at his tender flesh. It’s soft and delicate at first, barely a touch, but with the pleased sound that escapes Vander’s mouth do you find yourself repeating the motion with more vigor, allowing your tongue to travel from the crook of his shoulder and neck to the lobe of his ear. He twitches under your moist touch, reminding you once again just how sensitive he is there.
Your lips tickle at the edge of his ears when you whisper, “I’ve been thinking about this all night, you know? Do you have even the slightest clue how often I think about you? About this?”
A strained and heavy breath tickles at your own ear when he breathes the words, “Not as often as I do, darling.”
“Hm,” you hum, moving just a single finger to trace the outer edges of Vander’s other ear. “Is that so?”
The man doesn’t even bother to reply… or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that he can’t, because as soon as he opens his mouth to do so, you crash your lips onto his, his beard tickling at your lips and nose. You refuse to be gentle at first, your hands gliding along the skin of his features until they cup each side of his face, holding tight as you apply the pressure of your entire upper body into the kiss. The taste of his tongue dances on yours—a mixture of tobacco and whiskey, you note, not that you’re the least bit surprised. You don’t mind the taste, really, but you can’t help but think that you’d much prefer if he tasted like you, instead.
Still, that’s not what tonight is about. You want to wait for his touch, to make it all the sweeter when you finally find it; that’s why you swat Vander’s arms away when they move to touch at your sides, even in spite of the way you so desperately want to feel his calloused hands rub at your smooth skin. This isn’t enough for you—not nearly enough.
Pulling away from the kiss is difficult for you, Vander’s lush lips being far too intoxicating to let go with any amount of ease. But all the same, you continue on, administering soft kisses along his neck and pronounced abdomen until they reach the edge of his boxers, tented from the erection that resides just a little lower. A soft moan sounds inside of you as your mouth waters from the very thought—the thought of him spreading your lips wide to fit in the entirety of his girth. That’s why you make haste in grabbing at the edge of the fabric of his boxers, his hips lifting, allowing you to remove the last article of clothing that separates you from what you want.
It wouldn’t take much prodding for you to admit it, but you love the sound of his cock slapping against the skin of his stomach. It drives you nearly wild, imploring you to take a single finger to trace along the veins of his member, the twitching beneath your digit entirely too charming for you to leave at just that. The pad of your finger travels up to the tip of his cock, down to the base of his swollen balls. Your back is arched and your ass in the air as you lean over him.
“Fuck, [y/n],” Vander expels with a huff. “Please.”
“Please what?” You goad him on with dulcet tones.
He hisses, “Anything. Just… don’t tease me. Not now. Please, I’m begging you.”
You don’t even attempt to hide the coy smile that graces your lips when you reply, “Well, if you’re gonna beg, then…”
You take his member fully into your right hand, stroking his length twice before you set a tender kiss on the tip. Adoration sparks inside your chest at the very sight of how hard he is for you, your mind diverted away from the perversion of your own thoughts as you place your cheek against his cock, sliding it against your face ever-so-lovingly.
“Mine,” you chirp with a happy tune, just before you dip your head to run the width of your tongue against the tip of his member, swirling it around to fully taste what he has to offer.
A twinge of pride plucks at your heart when Vander curses under his breath, his back arching in an attempt to get you take in more of him. His fingers just barely graze the hair of your head before he pulls them back, moving them to grasp desperately at the bars of the bed’s headboard.
So he’s being a good boy, after all… Well, in that case, how can you not reward him?
There’s a slight tickle in your throat as your vocal chords vibrate with pleased laughter, muffled only by Vander’s cock as you take him fully into your mouth. Once again does a salty profile linger on your taste buds, the warmth of precum travelling to the lower apex of your loins.
Gagging, but pushing on through, do you take the entirety of Vander’s length into your mouth, your head bobbing up and down fervently, and then slowly, then fervently once more—your right hand stroking what remains. You delight in the texture of his veins against your wanting taste buds; you delight even more in the way Vander tenses, his hips rising to meet your mouth when you suck with reverential force. The motions of your tongue and lips are accompanied by your left hand cupping at Vander’s balls, gently squeezing them, silently hoping that that is enough for your lover to reach his release.
The sound of wood creaks and groans beneath Vander's grip, holding onto the spindles of the headboard for dear life. If he were gripping them any tighter, you’re sure they would break like twigs. But you ignore that thought, realizing that Vander is nearing his end when his hands release themselves from his own grip, and dart toward your head to tangle themselves in your tresses. His hips are bucking with barely contained restraint now, the grip on the back of your head doing its best not to be too forceful.
That, you decide, won’t do.
Pulling you mouth off of your lover’s member with a pop, you breathlessly whisper to him, “I want you to be rough with me, Vander. Please just fuck my mouth as hard as you want, okay?”
Vander’s head falls back onto his pillow with a muted thud, a heavy breath rising in his chest from the allure of your words. You take the lazy roll of his eyes back into his head as confirmation, lowering your neck so that his member is in your mouth once more, saliva practically dripping from your lips.
“Tap my thigh three times”—he heaves—”if it’s too much, would ya, love?”
You nod your head on his dick with an excited purr, the last bit of freedom your neck has as your lover places his needy hands on the back of your head once more. It starts with one thrust—slow and tentative. You can feel your lover’s hesitation as he pushes your head down and bucks his hips a second time. By the third, immediately followed by the fourth, do you feel that hesitation is washed away, because in a matter of a few hot seconds is Vander truly fucking your plush lips with everything he has.
“You’re mouth does such a good job taking me,” Vander groans, his neck turning downward to get a better look at you. “Fuck, you’ve no idea what you’re doing to me, do you, love? Your lips look so good on my cock, don’t they, darling?”
This, to you, is heaven. Not just the feeling of warmth that pools in your sex, but the knowledge that you have someone in your life you trust enough to do this to you. Even with tears springing in your eyes do you know that you’re completely safe right now—cared for, even. Such innocent thoughts, however, mutate deliciously into something far more naughty and seductive, prodding you to lower your left hand to your own aching sex, caressing it with sweet and languid touches as you look for your release.
“Oh… fuck, [y/n],” Vander curses with a delighted breath. “You look so damn pretty when you touch yourself, you know that?”
Your only reply is a stifled purr of affirmation.
“You’ve already got me... so damn close,” he continues on, near choking the words. “You want it in your mouth, don’t you? Or do you want your pretty face dirtied like the little cum slut you are?”
The word “mouth” is choked out between thrusts, just barely audible between your combined cries of pleasure and gagging. That very same pleasure only grows as Vander begins to move his hips in reckless motions, uneven and without restraint as he near reaches his climax, your own not far behind.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Neither of you make it to a third minute before a deliciously burning splash of liquid seed bursts into your mouth. You would have been able to watch Vander’s eyes roll all the way back into his head if it weren’t for your own vision bursting with a white light of pleasure, your climax following just shortly after his. Not daring to waste a single drop, you swallow the generous amount of cum in your mouth, then move to lick up whatever is left to dribble down your lover’s member. Both of you know just how much you love the taste, especially Vander as his eyes roll back down to look upon your sweaty form, his lids hooded with desire as he watches you greedily take his seed.
Labored breathing continues to plague Vander in the best of ways as he comes down from his climax. Now all that’s left in him is a warmth in his chest as he looks down at your skin, slick with a sheen of your own perspiration.
“That better, big guy?” you playfully coo.
Vander leans forward to pull your body closer to his, laying you down in his arms as he shifts onto his side, cradling you close to his chest.
His breath is still running ragged when he replies, “As if you even need to ask.”
You nuzzle in closer to his chest. “I’ll take that as a yes, you tease.”
“I’m the tease?” he chuckles with tired notes.
“Yes, you are the tease,” you confirm with a tone that leaves little room for argument. “Now, it’s getting late, are you going to go to sleep or not?”
Vander shrugs his shoulders before letting out what can only be described as a “dad yawn.”
His lifts a thick, curious brow at you. “Are you sure that you’re… y’know?”
“Satisfied?” You finish the question for him. “Yes, quite sure.”
“Then can you finish cleaning up the counter while I flip the chairs?”
“Yeah, I can do—wait, what?”
“The counter? I have to flip the chairs so I can swab the floors.”
“W-what are you even—”
“[Y/n]?” Vander waves a hand in your face. “[Y/n]!”
~***~
Snapping out of your trance do you find yourself back in the bar—clothes completely still on. Vander stands looming over you, concern etched onto his features as he stares.
“You all right?” Vander asks, his hands moving to rest under his chest. “You’ve been spaced out for a few good minutes there, yeah?”
Eyes rapidly blinking, you find your mind is collecting itself once more. “Uh, yeah! I’m fine!”
“You sure?” Vander asks, doubtful.
Your head nods frantically up and down, shaking unclean thoughts from your mind. “I was just thinking… about the other night, is all.”
“The other night?” Vander raises a brow as he tries to decipher what exactly you’re speaking about. His eyes shine when he seems to catch on to what you’re referring to, his head bobbing thoughtfully with amused motions. “I see… Would I be terribly off-mark if I assumed you were having pleasant thoughts, then?”
You can feel your face flush and your lips curl upward as you tilt your head in affirmation.
“Then… what about if I assume that you’re not busy tonight?”
This time you chuckle with subtle mirth. “Correct on both accounts, good sir.”
“Well, then.” Vander turns on his heel to finish his work, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Guess we better hurry up, then, eh?”
Your own smile unfading, you move on to do what was asked of you.
“Yeah. Guess we should.”
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dsmpkinfessions · 1 year
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I miss working hours in a garden while Tubbo flitted by my ear, smiling and laughing about how sappy it was of me to help them with his garden while he just chilled in the flowers, even if I never admitted it. I miss running through the forests, throwing ender pearls with deadly aim and hitting exactly where I want to go every time, my twin aimsey at my heels but im faster and they scream in my ear and I cant stop smiling because why would I ever not want to smile in that moment. I miss laughing at Tommy's ridiculous screeches about how he most definitely isn't a chicken and tries to fly. I miss helping him set up his flying course and stealing his wheat and pushing him off of things just to watch him glide all the way down in fury, screaming the whole way down. I miss being hungry as all hell and Phil always having something for me to eat, laughing at dick jokes with me and flying overhead, and I'm fast but Phil is faster sometimes, even if I never used to admit it and I wish I did now. I miss a little weight on my shoulder that screamed fart noises an poked my cheek no matter how many times i slapped him off like a fly, called him moth boy and have to destroy lamps or torches because he can't help himself and I don't blame him. I miss challenging someone to something and watching how they try to figure out how I won but tis just because I'm faster, better reflexes and quicker reaction time, have been doing this my whole life and always will. I miss my height even if it was a massive inconvenience sometimes, I hate that this stupid little fragile human body thats so short and the wrong colors and I can't find any enderian clothes. I Hate that I can't understand Ender anymore, and I'm learning but my vocal cords cant do shit anymore and it makes me want to cry and human bodies cry actual watery tears and it freaks me out every time. I hate that everyone insists on making direct eye contact and I have to hold out and not look away despite the fact that i want to claw them to shreds or throw up, even without my talons, and sometimes it manageable but other times i could kill a man and feel no remorse. fuck dude I miss everything. I love some of the people here but I miss the people who loved me before too. And I sound like some big sap but this is the first time ive ever admitted to even being one fictkin (im polykin/polyfictkin) and its so much and I hate it. I don't have horns and there is no fluffy, pollen dusted head that knocks into mine or an arm covered in gray and white feathers wrapping around almost just above my knee near my waist but not quite. I miss having to pick up someone just as cold and scaley as me and have to be careful of our razor sharp horns when we butt heads and wrestle, both of us vwooping in and out of existence trying to get the other or get away. I miss big black wings with the softest feathers and gently pokes and scrambling on my shoulder when i move a little to fast. I miss it all - OSMP!Ranboo (she/they)
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