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bigwishes · 8 months

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Pretty Boy's Mistake

Kye was you average university athlete, mainly there to get a degree a generic sports degree to get a job as a personal trainer in the high end gyms, he rarely went to his lecture but always got outstanding grades. It wasn't that he wasn't passionate about sports or health, in fact he had taught himself pretty much everything the university had to offer before he had even gotten there. He was only there for a piece of paper. He spent most of his time in the gym, lifting weights whilst also training some guys on the side for some cash in hand work but he always made sure to put his own workouts first. His body was almost perfect and he loved every inch of it.

Although he wished he could be bigger. He saw some of the guys in the gym, how their tank tops looked like they could burst at any moment. One time he even saw a guys tank split because of an insane chest pump. He loved huge guys, wanted to be fucking huge like them. He would picture his gym crush and how his entire car would bounce and wobble when he squeezed his massive frame inside, he wanted a guy like that in his bed, he wanted to be bigger than that but a body like that would probably take him another 15 years to build and he wanted to enjoy and flaunt that size before he left uni.

Kye was in the gym when he saw a huge lumbering giant walk in. The man looked like a superhero right out of a comic and something possessed Kye out of no where. He followed the huge meathead to the locker room.

Kye stood there seeing the giant block almost all the lockers on a wall his back was so wide and Kye got nervous, a lump formed in his throat and he spat out what he had to say.

"so...how do I get as big as you bro"

the massive dude turned around looking around the locker room checking to see if he was talking to someone else, he let out a thunderous chuckle.

"you talkin to me pretty boy?"

Kye grew red in the face "y-yeah man, look I been lifting for a few years and I really wanna get fucking huge like you man"

"aaa just keep at it guy, youll be massive like mean real soon"

"how old are you?"

"Im 22 bro"

"22!" Kye yelled "bro im almost 23 how the fuck you get so big man, you gotta tell me your secret"

"hmmm, look, you're kinda cute bro so, I'll let you in on a little secret, for a trade of course"

"Anything man, anything, Ive tried everything I know with diet and routine and I'm just not swelling up like other guys are"

"I'll give you my secret if you tell me why you wanna be so big, annnnd, for a date" the large man raise his eyebrow and walked closer to Kye.

Kye's heart started pounded as he imagined what it'd be like to have his skull crushed by the giant bodybuilder's monstrous thighs

"o-okay, ummm, phew, is it hot in here?" kye tripped and stumbled over his words like it was his first time ever talking to a guy.

"so, why you wanna be big pretty boy?"

Suddenly the man had is arms leaning on the doorframe behind Kye forming an arch over him looking down at him.

"eer, well, I-I like size and, I like guys with size and I wanna be big y-ya know" Kye tried to avoid eye contact as the massive brute leaned in

"So you like big guys hey? why don't you keep your lil jock bod, let a mountain like myself have fun with you"

"Because I ain't no bodies bottom bitch, believe me man, if I was as big as you, I'd of already throw you against the wall and you'd be beggin for it"

The massive meat head in front of him bit his lip

"so you promise, once you're as big as me you'll be tossing me around?"

Kye smirked trying to keep up the confident façade

"yeah bro, but gotta warn you, I'm already a catch, once guys see me with arms tearing out of my shirt and my huge muscled fat ass squeezed into tight gym shorts you'll probably have some competition"

"oh I like a cocky meathead"

the man turned around walking back to his gym bag pulling out a small vial of orange fluid, he handed it to kye

"I'm Jason by the way"

"What is this?"

"My secret mixture, drink it man, it'll make you real big...and give you that fat juicy ass you want"

Kye instantly downed the drink and gave Jason a wink.

"Alright, Im gonna go workout man"

"See you tomorrow pretty boy" Jason laughed as Kye walked out.

Kye was stepping into his car, having to stop to catch his breath, he worked harder than he ever had. He knew the vitamin shot he was given wasn't going to do anything but it was at least energising. Kye felt a strange tingling, as the veins on his pelvis swelled with blood pumping downwards. Kye gritted his teeth feeling like he was about to get hard and suddenly he watched as his package swelled and doubled in size in his pants.

Kye jumped in his car feeling his thighs and arms swell. Like his pump was subsiding but his muscles weren't shrinking down to normal size.

He drove home, gritting his teeth and occasionally grunting the entire way.

Kye stepping of of his car feeling his shirt tight around his chest and arms. He let out a tired sigh feeling strange and walked inside. Kye saw himself in the mirror, his shirt tightly pulled across body. He pulled off his shirt seeing his abs slightly stretched out, rubbing his stomach watches his package swell again.

UUUUUGGGGhhhhhh He groaned.

"W-what the fuck is going on"

Kye watches as his bulge swelled outwards in his pants straining against the fabric, as his stomach swelled outwards with it.

"W-WHAT THE FUCK MY, MY ABS"

Kye grabbed his stomach feeling it strain

UUUUUUUGGGGHHHH-UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRPPPPP

Kye let out a painful groan that turned into a belch as tears started to form in his eyes, his perfect 6 pack was gone swelled out like he had been bulking all year round.

Kye couldn't hold back the belches escaping his mouth and with each on his body changed. His arms swelled bigger, his thighs swells bigger.

He watched helplessly in the mirror unable to stop the changes, no matter how hard he pushed his stomach trying to get it to shrink the only thing he managed to do was push out another belch. Kye mercilessly began scratching at his jaw and neck feeling an annoying itch take over. He was too busy watching as his body swelled up to notice the changes in his face. Kye finally looked up from his bloated stomach to see himself, hairy, big and bulky.

"WHAT THE FUCK, I" Kye pinched the side of his waist in disbelief

BUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRPPPPPP

Kye's massive meaty hand felt is muscled gut vibrate as he belched. Feeling a surge of change again, but he didn't see himself get any bigger in the mirror, he heard a slight ripping noise and looked around. Turning to the side he saw the fabric of his gym shorts tight, torn and ripped over his massive muscular ass. His face turned bright red.

"Oh god..I'm...uuggh I'm like a fat bear"

Kye's stomach grumbled and he made his way to the kitchen poking and patting his gut hoping by some mirecal it would shrink and turn back into a six pack.

Kye sat in the gym locker room trying to hide his new burly body under bagging clothing. Embarrassed and hoping Jason would walk in at any moment. After about an hour Jason walked in.

"H-Hey Jason"

"Oh hey Pretty Boy, hows it feel bein big"

"I" Kye couldn't even finish his sentence before letting out a monstrous belch

"I didn't ask for this"

"yeah you did bro, you wanted to be big"

"AND NOW LOOK AT THIS, WHERE ARE MY ABS IM TUBBY" Kye lifted his shirt and poked at the muscled slab

"Man you aint tubby, you bulky, thick muscle"

"But I wanted my abs bro, I wanted to look like some pro bodybuilder not like some kinda burping werewolf"

Kye rubbed his gut cocking his mouth open belching causing Jason to laugh. Kye's face turned bright red

"Dude stop laughing and fucking do something, uuuggghhh"

"alright bro, quit the complaining I might have something for you"

"Anything is better than this man"

Jason handed Kye a vial filled with bright pink liquid

UUUURpp "so, this'll fix me?"

"Oh man, it'll give you the perfect body"

Kye looked at it suspiciously feeling the concrete wall he had for a stomach. He closed his eyes and downed, a few moments passed and Kye didn't feel much different, when suddenly the familiar sensation rose up from his gut to his throat.

UUUUUHHGG-UUUUUURRRRRPPPP

Kye's eyes widen and his face turned white

"WHA-UUUUUURRRPPPP DID-UUUUURRRRRRPP YOU GIV- UUUURRRPP ME?!"

Kye tried to speak more but he struggled to form a full sentence from his constant belching

"Looking good man" Jason laughed

Kye, felt is rock hard bloated gut and heard the sound of tearing fabric as his muscles bulged out of his shit, soon he was left standing there in the gym locker room in nothing but his underwear.

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Kye looked at himself in the mirror disappointed by his huge muscle gut, he cocked his mouth open and belched.

Jason let out a booming laugh "bro you look like you take roids and smash 6 protein shakes hourly"

"bro why'd you do this" Kye sheepishly asked

"because you wanted to me big"

"then why not make me like you, why give me this huge gu-UUUUURRP"

"Coz you were cocky, and I find it hot when cocky guys get taken down a peg"

"oh" kye smiled "so now you've gotten you kick I can go back right?"

"nah, you were a pretty boy jock, now you can enjoy being a bulky cunt"

Kye went to walk away from the mirror, hearing his underwear start to rip around is massive muscled ass. That'll teach him to take stuff from strangers in the locker room.

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #gay transformation #tf story #transformation #muscle bear #bear transformation

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dilatorywriting · 1 year

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Heroes vs. Villains : The Staff

Platonic GN!Reader x NRC Staff vs. RSA Staff Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Woe to the Ramshackle Prefect, being caught up in the drama between the Disney Villains and their respective heroes. NRC Staff Version (Part 1: Crewel and Crowley)

ie. Headmaster Crowley is a nightmare, and Professor Crewel is, well, cruel. And to be perfectly honest, after meeting another dog-loving professor who doesn't treat you like absolute garbage, the Royal Sword Academy is starting to look a lot more appealing.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4]

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me!’

Crowley had chirped that very sentiment to you ad nauseum, with all the enthusiasm of an old raven eyeing a shiny penny.

“Do you really believe that?” you sniffled, angry, as you sat slumped over in one of his rickety office chairs.

People at this stupid school were mean. And yeah, school yard insults and casual accusations of being the House Wardens’ little bitch were one thing—but these assholes would go right for the throat. All of your insecurities—your fears—all laid out like a nice spread of hors d'oeuvres ready for the picking. You had endured enough sharp barbs for a lifetime, and the fact that your glorious Headmaster and self-proclaimed parental figure kept writing it all off as a ‘learning experience’ was driving you mad.

“Of course I do, dear child!” he beamed. “What sort of educator would I be if I didn’t practice what I preach! Words are but the wind, as they say!”

You nodded, sage, and shot him a smile so sugary sweet it could rot the teeth right out of his skull.

“I wish I’d never met you and I hope that all your feathers fall off one by one,” you chirped. “And I use the ‘Number One Child’ mug you gave me to scoop water out of the toilets when the plumbing fails.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open with a nearly audible clunk, and if he weren’t so wrapped up in all kinds of immoral, black magic, bull-shittery, you would have liked to imagine that maybe that had been the sound of his heart cracking in his stupid, embroidery-covered, chest.

You popped up from your chair and breezily made your way to the exit. You propped yourself up against the intricate, wooden, frame and clapped your hands together like a bubbly preschool teacher addressing a room full of particularly dull children.

“I’m glad we could get that out in the open in a completely pain-free way. Words really can’t hurt anyone!”

You managed to slip the door closed just as he started to wail.

That afternoon you made your way to Professor Crewel’s office, as had become your routine. It was nice. Sometimes you would help him grade papers, sometimes you would just nibble on fancy cookies and listen as he ranted about the incompetence of certain staff members which shall not be named.

Sometimes his dogs were with him in the afternoons—a pair of giant, lithe, wolf-like beasts that were most certainly of a very proud and expensive lineage. Jasper was the black one and Badun the white, and each had a coat so glossy and well-maintained that they could put your own hair care to shame. Badun was enthusiastic, charismatic, and would bound to greet anyone who entered. Jasper was more quiet, reserved, but he was secretly your favorite of the duo. Whenever you stopped in after classes, the shadowy hound would lumber over and rest his giant head in your lap.

“No puppies today?” you called when you were greeted with silence rather than a wave of happy kisses.

“They’re in for their groom,” Crewel mumbled, busy at work with his head bowed over some lab reports or other. Normally he would grouchily correct you that his two precious pooches were adults. Dogs. And should be addressed as such. He must have been really distracted today. Or maybe you were just wearing him down.

You settled into the lovely, plush, chair off to the side that you had long since claimed as your own, and set your bookbag on the floor by your feet with a thump.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence with nothing but the sound of scratching ink over paper to break up the monotony, Professor Crewel dropped his head into his hands with a miserable sort of sigh.

“You should not have spoken to Crowley as you did.”

You blinked, startled. “What?”

“I of all people understand how frustrating the Headmaster’s antics can be,” Crewel continued, firm. “But you are still a student of this Institution—and one in a precarious enough position as it is. So you need to be mindful of your tongue.”

Indignation roiled through your gut, followed by a sharp prick of disquiet that you couldn’t quite place.

“Then he should be mindful to treat me like a student and not some—some pet project,” you huffed, kicking irritably at your patched backpack for want of nothing else to do. “And besides, what’ll he even do? Expel the one person in this entire college who mops up every single one of his messes? And I mean, it’s not like he’s running around the school crying or anything. I wasn’t that mean.”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose and you paused, mouth parting in surprise.

“Oh come on, he did not.”

“In the name of preserving our esteemed leader’s dignity I will say no more on the matter,” he grit out, and you fought the urge to immediately whip out your phone to message Ace, and Cater, and every other rabid gossip you could think of.

“Well, maybe he deserved it,” you snipped, crossing your arms stubbornly across your chest. A bit of cautious warmth spread through you and you nervously plucked at one of the loose threads on your uniform sleeve. “And besides,” you mumbled. "He can cry about me calling him a shitty father all he wants. You’ve been way more of a dad to me here than he could ever try to be.”

“I beg your pardon.”

You froze, fingers locking in place around the picked-apart edges of your jacket. The ice in his voice was unfamiliar and entirely unpleasant. It sent a frigid wave of worry curling through your veins. Had you overstepped? You’d thought—You’d just thought—

“I-I mean,” you spluttered. “I only meant that, well… Uhm… You’re really nice to spend time with. A-And, I just…” He made you feel like you were home again. Like even though Ramshackle was empty and cold, that you could still walk into this little office and say ‘I’m back!’ to an actual, real-life person and not just the shadows that lived in your foyer.

“Let me be perfectly clear, Prefect,” he sneered. There was an undercurrent of hostility running so sharply through every word that you were left wondering frantically if you’d unintentionally trampled over a sensitive topic. You hadn’t thought it was a big deal. You just—you just really, really looked up to him. And felt safe with him. And—And—

‘I’m sorry,’ you wanted to say. But instead you just let out an odd kind of choked squeak.

“I have no intention of playing parent to anyone,” he snapped. “Let alone an untrained brat who can’t even be bothered to play civil with the people who do attempt to care for them.”

Ouch.

“R-Right,” you spluttered, swallowing around the burbling lump in your throat and the warmth prickling along your lash line. “O-Of course. I’m sorry for assuming. I—I… uhm…”

‘I’ll just go then.’

But just like with failed apology, those four little syllables just couldn’t seem to make it past your lips either. So instead you just shakily snatched your bag from the floor and bolted from his office, burrowing your stinging cheeks as far into your collar as they would go. The last thing you needed to do was give anyone at this stupid school any more ammunition against you. And ‘Cry Baby Prefect’ sounded like another nasty nickname that would stick to you like gum to a flat-heeled shoe.

It’s fine, you whispered to yourself, voice wobbling far more than you would have liked. Grim hated when you came back smelling like dogs anyways.

“My goodness, are you alright?”

You blinked, harried, and glanced around yourself properly for what felt like the first time in hours. You were… not on campus anymore. Huh. What a trip. You’d never been so upset that you’d blindly run off into an entire new town before. But you supposed there was a first time for everything. You did remember feeling too nauseous to return to your little hovel for the evening, but you hadn’t really expected your frantic pacing to take you quite this far out of the way.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Oh. Someone was talking to you, weren’t they?

Standing in front of you was a tall, lanky, man in a tweed jacket. He was stooped down a bit to make eye contact with you, and those hazel eyes were creased with worry. His blonde hair was pushed half-off his forehead in a style that looked more haphazard than intentional, and the hand he was offering you was littered with splotches of ink. There were patches of white and black dog fur littered across his entire outfit like some horrible fashion statement, and the thought of puppies made your throat tighten up all over again.

“My name is Cliff Rogerson,” he said, steady and kind. “I’m one of the instructors at the Royal Sword Academy. Are you lost? Do you know how to get home from here?”

Do you know how to get home?

You laughed once, manic, and then promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, dear,” he sighed, his heavy brow furrowing low with concern, and patted you consolingly on the shoulder. “Oh, dear.”

You were herded into a nearby café and directed into one of the quiet, corner, booths. The lights were soft and fuzzy in here, and the pleasant warmth of fresh pastries brushed gingerly along your frayed nerves. Mister Rogerson pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into your hands, and placed a delicately wrapped muffin off to the side of it. It was a tempting offering, and you decided to unbury your head from your hands long enough to partake.

“So how did you end up out here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’m a student at Night Raven,” you mumbled into your cocoa.

You could tell he was doing his best not to look shocked, which was at least a dozen steps above the way the rest of your stupid school would just gawk at you in outright consternation.

“Forgive me,” he smiled, gentling his apprehension into something that was more polite curiosity that anything. “But you don’t really seem like one of their usual pupils.”

So you explained your situation—the Mirror, and the magiclessness, and the homelessness. You talked about your friends, and your new demon cat/evil baby, and how much you missed stupid things like good shower pressure and fuzzy socks. Mister Rogerson listened to all of it with an attentive sort of sympathy that you hadn’t seen since, well, probably since you were dropped face-first into a school full of burgeoning war criminals.

“That sounds like a time and a half,” he said once you’d finally tired yourself out. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through all that.”

You picked at your muffin. It was ridiculously fluffy and eating it felt like pulling bits and pieces out of a cloud. A very, very delicious cloud.

“Forgive me for saying so,” he hummed, pensive. “But your situation doesn’t sound particularly safe.”

You laughed. “That’s one word for it.”

Mister Rogerson frowned, another twitch of that uneasy worry playing across his face. He ruffled around in his jacket pocket for a moment and pulled out a neat, cream colored, business card.

“It may be overstepping of me to offer, but at the same time I do think as an educator it’s my duty to try and help every student that I can,” he smiled, kind. It crinkled the skin around his eyes. “The RSA is not overly far from Night Raven College. If you ever want to stop by—if you ever need an ear to listen, or just a space to get away from it all—my door will always be open to you.”

You took the little piece of paper carefully, like it was something precious. There were swirls of colorful music notes splattered across the backdrop of it—raucous bursts of neons that were as endearing as they were ugly.

‘Tacky,’ spat a too-familiar voice in the back of your head. ‘What sort of statement was this lowlife trying to make?‘ You could practically feel the phantom distaste emanating from wherever a certain two-toned professor had camped out for the evening.

Probably at home, you thought bitterly. Because he has a home, right? And you are not at all upset that you will never be welcomed into it. And that you will probably never get to cuddle his puppies ever again. Nope. Not at all.

You swallowed the little burst of unpleasantness that accompanied the train of thought, and pocketed the card with a smile.

“Thank you. I’ll definitely have to take you up on that.”

Divus Crewel was many things, and unfortunately, being as cruel as his namesake was often one of them. He glanced back to the clock ticking on his wall for what was perhaps the dozenth time that hour. You hadn’t been by since his—ah—outburst a few weeks prior.

He had perhaps reacted a bit more unpleasantly than he normally would have. You’d just… caught him off guard was all. It was a bold declaration you’d made, and what? Had you really expected him to be overjoyed by the idea of forced parenthood? To swoon over the notion that someone had decided to latch onto him and his perfectly pressed suit like a leech despite the fact that he was so obviously thriving in his life of solitude?

And it wasn’t that he expected you to take his biting comments lying down. Oh no. You were fierce, and determined, and were most likely on your way here to bang down his door demanding recompenses for all your suffering. There was a tray of those too-expensive cookies you liked tucked away in his top drawer. Just in case you did show up and throw one of your tantrums, and he needed something quick to pacify you. That… That was all.

But each day that he waited for you to sneak back into his office was another spent in quiet solitude. Badun had taken to whining at the door and Jasper hardly got up from his bed at all—just tucked his black nose into his equally black paws and stared straight into Crewel’s soul. Like he was judging him.

He caught himself glancing at the clock again and forcibly turned back to his work.

This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous. And stubborn. And so, very, danger prone. Had something happened maybe? Was that why you’d disappeared—because you’d gotten caught up in some sort of trouble again?

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—

He looked back at the clock.

Tick. Tick. Tick—

His office door flew open with a BANG and he swiveled in his chair, ready to chastise you for making such a ridiculous entrance. Instead, he ended up nearly nose-to-nose with a weeping Dire Crowley. The man wailed into his clawed hands, looking very much like he might accidentally stab himself in the eye all the while.

“HOW AM I SUCH A FAILURE OF A PARENT?!” he bawled. “WHAT COULD I HAVE DONE TO PREVENT THIS?!”

“What?” Crewel gaped, head spinning. “What’s happened?”

Crowley let out another inhuman squawk and shoved a piece of parchment into the alchemist’s crimson-gloved hands. It was torn at the top, likely from where it’d been pinned to something before the raving Headmaster had swiped it. Crewel read over the familiar script with narrowed eyes, something unpleasant twisting in his belly.

‘The Ramshackle Prefect kindly sends their regards, but unfortunately has other commitments for this evening. Please contact Professor Cliff Rogerson of the RSA music department in case of an emergency.’

“MY BABY LEFT ME!” Crowley sobbed, nearly inconsolable. “WHO’S GOING TO DO MY TAXES NOW?!”

The leather of Crewel’s gloves groaned in protest as his hands tightened into fists—his nails biting into his palm even through the sturdy material.

“What do we even do?” the old crow lamented, sounding so genuinely crestfallen it was almost unnerving.

Jasper and Badun circled their master’s ankles wearily, eyes bright and lips twitching with nervous whines.

“I think,” Crewel grit out, the note crumpling between his fingers, “that it’s well past time that we have a chat with the Prefect about the importance of personal safety. And of the consequences of running off with strangers.”

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #My Writing #NRC Staff #NRC Staff x Reader #Divus Crewel x Reader #Dire Crowley x Reader #The NRC Staff's Horrible Parenting #Heroes vs. Villains #Crewel x Reader #twisted wonderland OCs #twst ocs #Divus Crewel #Dire Crowley #Heroes vs Villains The NRC Staff Part 1

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jd07201990 · 4 months

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So… Does anyone know how many bouquets of roses, or how many boxes of chocolates it’ll take to survive my new Wife’s wrath, when she see’s her adorable, creative, intelligent boy… after I accidentally shipped him off to the equivalent of Football Boot-camp, so we could have our honeymoon alone in Cancun. Honestly! We were all going over the options, the two last resorts being we don’t go on our honeymoon, or Jason would have to stay at his grandpa’s house in the middle of nowhere a few states away. Clearly, we were desperate, so when I found the pamphlets for what looked like a regular old summer camp out in the woods, with a lake, and a whole slew of other activities, I jumped on it, especially since the price for the entire summer was $2100 bucks! Where I really screwed up, was not reading the pamphlet I was filling out, which was absolutely not the super happy fun time in the woods experience… It was ROTC for Football Jocks. I learned this only when I drove out to pick him up, 3 months later, and well… you can see what trudged up to me from across the parking lot, huge battered old sneakers pounding the pavement as he absentmindedly gnawed on a protein bar in his meaty, calloused fist, while his other hand absentmindedly adjusted his shorts. Just like all the other bulked up brutes marching off to their dads and coaches, his chest was bare, and bouncing with every step. When he’d crossed the distance, he grinned this dim, dopey grin, and grunted, “Thanks for pickin’ me up Dude. Can we stop by Wendy’s? I’m fuckin’ starving!” He punctuated this by stuffing the last of the protein bar in his mouth and yanking the door to my car open, the fiberglass handle cracked in his hand. He looked at the two halves, chuckled with that deep, rumbling Jock tone, and got in, dumping the pieces on the seat next to him. It didn’t take long for the car to fill the distinct funk of athletic prowess, especially when he kicked off his size 14’s and put his feet up on the dash. I nearly gagged, and despite the heat outside, rolled down the windows to air out. As we pulled into the driveway, my wife was on the lawn, waiting with a little bag, excited to see her boy again. When the sweaty ape of a jock got out lumbered up to her, wrapping his beefy arms around her, she looked terrified… for a second… then her eyes narrowed on me. When Jason finally let go of her, he gave her that same, blank, dopey grin, all the intelligence gone from his big wide eyes, and held his fist out… she looked at it incredulously, and he chuckled, “You’re supposed to bump it, Ma… with your fist” Well, the last 6 months have been tough, but Jason, or, “Jay” as he reminds us often, has absolutely blossomed at school. Although his grades could be better. The shock of his summer “glo-up” or as his oafish, grunting new friends like to tease, “blow-up” hit a few of the teachers harder than others. Although the Coach of the football team had nearly offered me his ’69 Camero to have Jason on the team after seeing him plow through reps in the football team’s gym. I said it was tough, because our house is essentially a second Locker Room for Jay and his small army of sweating, smelly behemoths. There is a never-ending pile of laundry from countless practices, the gym, and just hanging out with his friends. My wife has somewhat gotten used to her little boy calling her, “Bro” accidentally… every other day… and despite the change, he’s still her boy, there’s just, a good bit more of him to love. I will say, he’s a great kid, kind of dumb, a bit crass, and stinks like a gym bag more often than not, but when you dig a bit deeper into those dim, wide eyes, there’s still that adorable boy, underneath a pile of muscle.

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carionto · 7 months

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Hyperbrake Racing

Everything in Human ships has a manual override. They love automating all processes and reduce any workload to nothing, but also have this compulsive need to be able to take direct control if so desired.

They also have emergency off switches for everything. Yes, including life support. Don't ask, you'll just get a variant of:

"But What If!?"

Obviously, this applies to things you should never under any circumstances shut down preemptively, such as a Hyperspace Jump.

The earliest space-faring civilizations quickly discovered that if a Hyperdrive has a power interruption even for a nano-second your atoms will get dispersed across a few light months. This is why all Hyperdrives have an internal chargeable uninterruptible power supply unit.

Humanity, however, did not allow "Not having any reason whatsoever" to stop them from figuring out a way. Utilizing their ridiculous quantum computer speed and the ability of their fusion reactors to charge a Hyperdrive mid-jump, and with an injection of a disgusting few million lines of hack code that manipulate all related pieces of hardware in just the most nauseating sequences, they created the Hyperbrake.

Also, not a metaphor - braking literally causes Humans to feel nauseous, sometimes throw up, rarely even pass out. Not a single volunteer crew member aboard joint vessels from any of the other Coalition species has dared to "test" what happens to them.

As with nearly all things Humans come across or invent, they will find a use for it should one not occur normally.

_____________________

Near Neptune

Daniel, Samantha, and Nicholas Schreier were three siblings ages 17, 19, and 20, respectively. Today they had "borrowed" their dad's General FordStar mark 980-MZ HaulerHound, a civilian grade transport typically used by small business owners. Dad, however, was an enthusiast, and had modified the "Hound Dog", as he calls it, with a military grade reactor and computer core. He's always been that guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who can get the thing legally enough.

There is a nearby research station that the kids often visit due to their mom working there, but today she was not. Instead, what they are doing, is racing against each other to set the best record. Well, technically the opposite of racing - coming to a halt.

Using the Hyperbrake, they are competing to see who can stop the closest to the stations outer point-defense range without entering it or you automatically lose. After Samantha's turn, they were suddenly contacted by the station. It was Yakovskii, one of mom's colleagues and a frequent guest at dad's barbecues, so they were on sorta good terms. Not by the tone voice coming through the comms rights now though:

"What in the Hell are you thinking!? At first I thought you were just messing around and accidentally did that, but TWICE now!?! I checked the trajectory, if you had stopped a half-second later, you would've ended up mere meters from Neptune's upper atmosphere! Did you account for the possible sudden gravitational pull? Can you maneuver that lumbering ship fast enough to not get pulled down? Not to mention Hyperbraking severely impairs your cognitive abilities for a moment? A moment that you need to be clearheaded for or risk DEATH!?!"

The three siblings could only hang their heads in shame and mutter out some weak apologies. After a moment of silence and reflection, Yakovskii speaks in a warmer tone:

*sigh* "Look, I understand it's a fancy new toy and you want to see what you can do. I get it, I really do. Me and my brother used to play vertical hockey the first time we got our hands on a surplus gravity field generator. But we first figured out how to make sure we didn't break our bones in case it failed. Seriously, never forget to consider your own safety first before you try out new things in a peaceful environment. You're not being chased by pirates or trying to avoid the law or whatever.

Take your time, pick a starting position that's further away and keeps Neptune and any of its moons to the side of the station, then aim for an area of space that only has the outer range of the defenses and empty space ahead from your point of view. And please set the regular Hyperjump destination within Sol, don't just pick a random place. The Hyperbrake sometimes loops in on itself and never executes the brake and can only be reset once out of Hyperspace. You don't want to get stuck in a pointless jump for hours do you?"

After this admonishment, the siblings apologized more energetically and took his advice to heart. They spent the next hour competing until all three were down to single meter differences and kinda got bored, so they docked at the station and hung out with the off-duty staff, played some poker, but then dad barged in and dragged them all home. They were not invited to the barbecue gatherings for two weeks, but only because mom told him to. Personally he was excited about all the data his kids had unknowingly given him with all their jumping and braking, a real stress test for his beautiful Hound Dog.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humanity fuck yeah #carionto

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the-kr8tor · 7 months

Text

Mudwood Manor

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, TW Blood, CW injury.

The Fall Masterlist

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Part I >>> Part II

You lay awake alone on the plush mattress that's not your own. Morning light filtering through the curtains, shining warmth right on your cheek. Your hand roaming around the soft fur of the blanket as the clock ticks slowly to eight. Eyes above the detailed swirling patterns on the bed's canopy, mind drifting back to the home you've left just a few days ago.

Tick.

Taking the ad for this house-sitting gig went better than you thought it would be. Thinking the house you would be watching over will just be a regular house in an urban subdivision. Not an estate full of ancient history situated in the middle of nowhere with only an elderly dog as a companion.

Tock.

At least it's better than your dead end job that makes you feel your soul is getting sucked with every hour you stay on the eighties musky carpeted floors, tapping away your entire life on the grainy screen of the corporate issued computer. The pay's good, better than what you were getting before anyway, even though it's only five months of house sitting it's way above your salary grade. You thank whatever entity out there that blew over the newspaper that literally landed on your lap while waiting for the bus stop, the 'help wanted' page open and glaring right at you. You only wish the job's longer though.

Tick.

The house being nice is an understatement, all oak and narra floors, fixtures and furniture made of the same wood. No sign of modernity in the entire estate. Even the kitchen is in an old style, well except for the coffee maker and microwave. Every hall and wall is covered in oil paintings, portraits of people dressed in old garb keep watch of your every move. The house creaks and shrieks during the late hours of the cold autumn night, always prompting you to keep your eyes tightly closed in an attempt to tamp down your curiosity.

Tock.

It's secluded enough that the air here feels crisp and cleaner than in the city. Trees whisper in the wind, moss clinging to its trunks. You suspect the house is as old as the woods that surround it. With vines curled and looped around the house's exterior and curved stained glass windows decorate its walls. Mudwood Manor they call it for every time it rains, mud gathers around the estate, threatening to swallow you like quick sand.

Chime!

The old grandfather clock's hand reaches eight, the sound echoes around the large room you've settled in. With an exhale, you reluctantly sit up, feet cold from the icy floor. Yawning, you wipe the sleep off your face, bones crying out in protest.

Lumbering your way through the usual morning routine, you change out of your pajamas even though no one else would see you in it, you still wear your usual day clothes, always feeling like you have to dress appropriately in this opulent house. If jeans and a jumper is considered appropriate in the massive estate.

The bathroom is no different than the rest of the house. With the large stark white bathtub in the middle of its tiled floors, twin sinks covered in dark marble, golden faucets squeak open as you turn the knob to brush your teeth. The entire bathroom is as big as your flat back in the city, you scoff at the extravagance of it all.

You like to think the owner of the place fits well with the manor, as eccentric and elegant as their home– all pearls and gold rings, silk and cashmere on their body. But alas you've never met him or them personally, only talking details on the telephone, his gruff voice vibrating against the receiver. They leave the key under the large mat after you've driven three hours to get there. The only clue you have of them actually existing is the instructions they've left you. The note now pinned on the fridge stocked full of food that could last you the entire five months, not to mention the large pantry that could feed an entire village.

You've got everything you'll ever need to survive five months alone. The thought scares you for a bit, but with the silence, fresh air and an entire library of books that you've never thought you could read in your lifetime, the loneliness isn't all bad, the place calms you down; if not for the bouts of sadness, you could see this place as your home for the time being.

The old border collie waits for you in the kitchen, mismatched eyes staring at your form, her tongue lolling on the side, greeting you with what you see as a smile.

"Morning, old Nellie" you greet back with a quick pet on her fluffy head, taking the time to scratch behind her ears. She wags her tail happily, while her eyes are closed in content. You've decided to talk from time to time so that you don't lose your voice, which Nellie appreciates the chatter.

You feed Nellie her breakfast first before fixing one yourself. She eats it in glee. The instructions written in neat cursive jumps at you every morning before opening the fridge.

You can't help but read it again.

1. Do not let anyone in.

You thought that was reasonable enough, it's not your place to invite people in here anyway.

2. Do not wipe the salt line on the doors and windows.

Now that's weird, you've always thought, but to each their own. The salt probably helps with keeping out the smell or rodents. Right?

3. The house is old, the sounds at night are from the metal pipes and scaffolding. Nothing to worry about.

Creepy, it's not like the place needs an extra creep factor added in it.

4. Feed Nellie three times a day without fail. Take her on walks around the estate every morning and before the sun sets.

That's alright, taking care of pets was part of the deal anyway. And it doesn't hurt that Nellie's a good dog to hang around with.

5. Do not in any circumstance go to the woods.

6. Wear the necklace at all times.

Your eyes drift over to the simple circular metal necklace sitting on the counter top, scoffing, you chose not to wear it just because an eccentric millionaire tells you to.

7. Only eat and drink the food I have provided.

You don't think you want to meet the owners now with how creepy they are just based on his instructions. Possessive much?

8. Be wary.

A shiver runs down your spine by just reading those two words.

You shake it off, opening the fridge, nothing piques

your interest this morning. Huffing, you have a hankering for fresh bread, alas you've eaten the last loaf yesterday. The strawberry jam inside the fridge mocks you. You recall on your drive to the manor you've passed by a small village, you're sure the place has a bakery or even a café in it. You crave a different scenery, and to use your voice other than for talking to Nellie.

Turning around, you put your hands on your hips, smiling at your companion who licks at the last bit of food in her bowl.

"What do you say for a stroll, Nellie?" She tilts her head in question, ears perking up, tail wagging excitedly.

—

You've never felt more isolated from civilization while walking towards the village, no houses run along the bumpy road, just miles and miles of trees with its aging wood, wild violets swaying around its trunks. The tall grass makes it hard to see the path. Mist blanketing and moistening the soil.

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it would be, now you're absolutely starving after walking for almost an hour. Nellie wasn't complaining though, for an older dog she seems to have so much energy in her. The village has clearly seen history, with its cobblestone streets, iron lampposts and ancient bricks. The fog thickens, blanketing the roofs of the village like marshmallow fluff.

You tie her leash around a lamp post, petting her fluffy head, you instruct her to sit and stay. She obliges, staring happily at you through her blue and brown eyes.

"Good girl, I'll be back in a flash" you make a mental note of buying her a treat for being such a good sport while you drag her from the manor.

Entering the shop, the bells chime signaling your arrival. Freshly baked bread wafts your senses as various meat is on display over at the counter, waiting for your perusal. You smell the soup of the day, judging by the aroma, you deduce it being butter squash soup, your stomach rumbles at the thought.

The modest shop has quite a few people in it. They chatter amongst their friends whilst eating breakfast and drinking their morning tea. Another patron enters behind you, she greets everyone by name, while the others immediately greet her the same. Well, except for a group of strangers sitting at the far end, they pay her no mind at all. It's a small village, you never doubted for a second that everyone would know every person that lives here. You've anticipated it actually, so used to being alienated from the crowd, you haven't noticed the old woman beckoning you over with a smile.

"Bonnie?" She calls for the third time.

"Oh! Sorry, I was thinking what to order" you move closer to the counter, the chill from the cold cuts display seeps through your jumper.

"You're the new caretaker at the old manor I presume?" She grins sweetly, showing her smile lines around her lips.

"House-sitter, I'm only here for five months" you're wary about telling her vital information, but she's an old woman. What's the harm in telling her that?

"Oh, I see he's going for a quick business trip this time. He would usually take an entire year away, y'know" her thick accent makes it hard for you to understand some of her words. Nonetheless, you don't miss the vital information about your mysterious employer. "But I don't gossip" she chuckles, "what will it be, deary?"

"You know Mr. O'hara, the owner?"

"Aye, known him since he was a lad. Good kid he was." She shakes her head. "There I go gossiping again, what are you havin'?"

You want more answers to feed your curiosity, but you don't want to pester the poor woman. "A BLT with cheese if you have them, lightly toasted and some of the soup, please." she nods, heading over to her station to prepare your sandwich when an older man chides in your conversation.

"Oh please, Orla y'know stopping yourself from gossiping just hurts you more" he laughs from his belly, white beard bouncing as he guffaws with his friends sitting him with.

"This" Orla, gestures from you to her. "Was a private conversation, where's your manners?"

"Don't know where I last put it!" He laughs again, shaking the wooden table in front of him. "Miss, let me guess, O'hara gave you those crazy rules?"

You perk up at the mention of the list. "Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"

He shrugs while the other patrons listen in, "he does the same thing to his other caretakers, there's a 'be wary' one, right?"

"Yes, it's really creepy"

The old woman pipes up, talking over her shoulder as she slices your sandwich. "It's a necessary evil after what happened to his daughter"

"What happened to his daughter?" You ask with trepidation.

"Don't tell me you actually believe that, old woman?" The older man argues back.

"Believe what?" You feel like there's an inside joke you keep missing.

"She was taken by them." Orla, turns around with your soup packed in a tupperware. You look at her questioningly.

"Bullshit if you ask me" the old man mumbles behind his mug. He sees your confused look, "she's talking about the fae" you thank him with a nod.

"It's true!" She wraps your sandwich inside foil, carefully putting it inside the paper bag. "There's no logical answer on where she is! Now it's just O'Hara in that massive estate."

"Kid just ran away, that's all!" Another older man argues back.

"Pssh," Orla swats him away with her hand, he turns away with a scoff. She turns back towards you, ringing your order up in the cashier. "Just do what his list says and you'll be fine" she says it like a warning to never stray far from the rules.

"Why do you think it's the fae?" You give her the payment she needs.

Humming, she clicks her tongue. "Just know it's them."

"Okay, um thank you" drifting away, she holds your arm back, taking your attention again.

Orla looks at you with wide eyes. "You know about them, yes?"

"Yes, like don't eat their food or you'll get stuck or don't give them your name or say thank you. I've heard the folk stories"

"Not just a story. The wood sings and they crave an audience." she lets go of your arm, your breath hitching, goosebumps appear on your skin.

You shake the thought, or try to at least.

The door chimes as you leave. Nellie lays on the pavement, tail wagging as she sees you come back to her side.

"Hi, got you something" she stands up, barking at you in excitement. "Okay, okay, here" Chuckling, you take a slice of bacon from your sandwich, giving it to her.

Nellie carefully takes it from your hand without biting your fingers, she chews happily.

"Good?" You scratch behind her fluffy ear. "Let's go back" untying her leash, you juggle the sandwich and her lead with your hands. The horror stories you've been told in your youth echoes in your mind, as your soft footfalls on the moist pavement. Wind rushes past you, pushing you back towards the manor.

—

Arriving inside the gates of Mudwood Manor, you gaze at the large brick building. It casts a shadow over you, its stature imposing. Fading bricks and trellises crawling with overgrown vines that's starting to wither and turn dark with bits of oranges and red still clinging to its last life. The large red door of the main entrance adds to your uneasiness. You attribute the fear from what the deli owner told you, the woods don't look much better. Tall trees with leaves so thick it blocks sunlight from hitting the undergrowth. From where you're standing, darkness seems to prevail inside. The thick fog added to the eeriness of the scene. It drapes over the treeline like curtains, swirling smoke falling down to the tips of your shoes, hiding something behind you can't quite see.

Just staring from the woodland edge gives you a sense of belonging with every second you stand idle. You have no idea why this feeling encapsulates you. The wind tries to push you towards the dark, flashes of autumn colored leaves swirl past. Eyelashes fluttering in the wind, your lips part as you listen to the flora dancing in the wind, as if it beckons you over. Daring you to cross the edge.

You wake up from the trance as Nellie growls at a squirrel taunting her from the ground. She pulls at her leash, the rope taut, your hand aches at the burn. You let go of the paper bag, half eaten soup spills over the grass, now holding the leash with both hands, you struggle to control the border collie.

"Nellie, calm down!" You yelp in pain when Nellie lunges, escaping your hold. The rope leaves angry marks on your palms, skin aching from the piercing pain. Nellie runs, following the grey squirrel into the woods. You can hear her barks fading in the distance. "Nellie! Come back!" You yell but it's futile as the old dog disappears from view.

"Fuck!" Without thinking, you run after her, legs carrying you further into the thick trees. The fog parts, opening the way. Eyes roaming the moss covered soil for her footprints. "Nellie!"

You're gonna lose your job, the thought makes you run faster. Tripping on a rock, you land on your already injured hand, dirt and grime sticking to the angry gashes, blood mixing with soil. Ignoring the pain, you push through the thicket.

Running, muscles aching, there's a stitch on your side as you stop to catch your breath. Hands on your thighs, you inhale and exhale. Nellie's footprints are barely visible under all the green and orange. Standing to your full height, your heart thumping like a drum under your ribcage. Eyes widening at the darkness that envelopes you, whirling around, fear overtakes your entire being.

You're lost.

Everywhere you look, identical trees fill your vision, cold seeping into your bones, smoke escapes your parted lips. Fingers turning stiff, you turn around when you hear Nellie's familiar bark.

"Nellie! Come here, girl!" You clap your hands to get her attention. "Nellie!"

Another bark echoes out in the dark, with only bits of sunlight filtering through the thicket, you let your other senses guide you to the sound. Speed walking, dry leaves crunch under your shoes, you call out to Nellie again. Narrowly avoiding a tree root protruding from the ground, you step over it so you don't land face first into the moist soil.

You stop when silence permeates the woods again. Standing still, a ring of mushrooms at your feet, you breathe heavily. "Nellie!" Frustrated, you yell again.

Instinctively stepping past a mushroom, you move your neck around, eyes roaming, looking for her white and black fur. Your palms land to your clammy forehead, wincing when you graze your injury.

"Fuck!" You stop circling around when the woods seem to expand right in front of your eyes, moving, flinging away, adding to the acres of wooded land. Vision focusing and unfocusing as the expanse extends further away. Fear once again blankets your nerves. Your mind claws at you to keep running.

"Lost?" A deep voice asks behind you. Alluring, tempting you to answer back.

Your blood suddenly runs cold. Primal fear makes your heart leap out of your chest.

Light suddenly appears behind you, your shadow gets taller and taller until it finally leaves you. Alone, you don't dare look behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up despite the warmth radiating from behind. Trepidation howls inside you.

Blood rushes in your ears, knuckles tighten, nails digging into skin as crimson drips on the tall grass below.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, curiosity wins over you.

You dare look behind.

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chaotijenotic · 8 months

Text

You don’t remember joining the military as a mechanic. It swallowed you and all of your memories of what was before are long gone and plans for what will come after are nil. The “dead mecha division” where you repair and maintain mechs that upper ups think of as worthless as their pilots. These ones are either very old, battle scarred, made out of lowest grade parts or all of the above. Just cannon fodders meant to soften enemies or divert their attention. No one actually cares about any of you. Place for all the junkies and others society sees as completely expendable or even as better off dead.

You make your way against the current pariahs of the military, some dragging themselves to beds despite grevious wounds, barely bandaged with rags. These bastards wouldn't get better treatment even if they had money to pay for it. Another battle with massive casualties. Another portion of endless fodder consumed by the wicked battlefields. You try not to pay any attention to them. You’re only friend rattles as you go, a padlocked toolbox. You don’t remember when your paychecks made it possible to buy it, or even if you bought it but it's been your trustworthy companion ever since. You know you can have a peaceful night, other mechanics and drunkards pretending to be mechanics won’t start their work until morning. You feel peace. Finally the torrent of fodder fades and soon you find yourself in a hangar. tons of mecha, some barely larger than you, some are lumbering. All in a miserable state. You look around and search for any single one that calls you the most. Finally your eyes fixate for a while and you know this is the one. BetaWare Medium Assault Mecha Mk7 “Clumsy Dancer” Rather large mecha, about 25 meters tall. Even though very blocky in design, surprisingly swift, fast and cunning. You slowly approach Her, wordlessly. you drop your friend and open him and start making your repairs, starting from vision sensors so she can see all your handiwork. You look into sensors for a long time. One machine stares at another, one of flesh and bone, one of steel and electronics. After some time, maybe fifteen minutes, maybe two hours you start your work on other components, with all you can bring them back to the best state possible. No one ever cares to do this that way, everyone just fixes mechas so they can barely perform in battle. You only get one extra food ration for working all night and all day. You still do it. You were broken long ago but these mechas still have a chance for a better life than you so you do it. One broken machine repairs another broken machine, one of flesh and one of steel.

#empty spaces #microfiction #writing

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ultram0th · 7 months

Text

31 Days of Derek Hale

Day 20: Jock

Info │ 01 │ 02 │ 03 │ 04 │ 05 │ 06 │ 07 │ 08 │ 09 │ 10 │ 11 │ 12 │ 13 │ 14 │ 15 │ 16 │ 17 │ 18 │ 19 │ 20

Derek sighed as he walked into his bedroom for the night, feeling incredibly drained from his argument with Eli. “I just don’t get it,” he huffed, throwing himself down onto the bed in a huff. “No matter what, we just can’t seem to see eye to eye.”

Stiles frowned and ran a caring hand over his husband’s chest. “He’s a jock,” he said. “All his high speed brain can focus on it sports.”

Derek frowned deeply. “I guess,” he growled. “I just wish that I could understand him better. Like, as if we were on the same wavelength.”

Derek lied back and rested next to Stiles, having trouble sleeping due to his fight with his son. He and Eli had been fighting with one another lately, usually due to typically father-son issues, such as Eli letting his grades slip due to his intense interest in sports, which tended to lead to Derek threatening to pull Eli from whatever team he was on that month. His son was a total jock, something that Derek didn’t really experience while in school.

As Derek drifted off to sleep, he felt his limbs tingle, his mind constantly wishing that he could understand the jock better…

The alarm blared, and Stiles sleepily slapped it silent.

Derek stretched his muscled arms above his head, yawning loudly as he woke up. As he moved, his face scrunched up as the stench of musk and sweat hit his nose, emanating in waves from his hairy pits.

Even Stiles could smell it with his dulled human senses, jerking back and plugging up his nose. “Damn Der,” he gasped, “no offense, but you reek.”

Derek felt his face grow warmer as he blushed. “Yeah, Bro,” he heard himself balk in his deep voice, “I must’ve worked up a big sweat last night.” Derek was puzzled over how deep and slow his voice sounded, and the way he’d called this husband “Bro”.

For a brief moment, Stiles scrunched up his brow in confusion, but it smoothed out rapidly as a small grin formed on his face. “Typical jock,” he lightheartedly laughed, slowly getting out of the bed to get ready for work.

Jock? Derek puzzled over what Stiles had said as he got out of bed, his body automatically lumbering towards the dresser. He yanked open the top drawer and paused as he was greeted with an array of jockstraps— his boxers nowhere to be seen.

As if his body had a mind of its own, Derek felt his muscled arms move and snatch up a jockstrap. He yanked the small garment on, the pouch filled to the limit with his massive cock and balls while his perky ass bubbled out the back.

“Don’t you want to take a shower?” Stiles asked, the tone in his voice indication that he’d hoped that Derek would listen to him.

“Nope,” Derek heard himself scoff, answering without any thought of his own. He even leaned down and sniffed at one of his stinky pits, the musky stench filling the confines of the bedroom. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m gonna get all sweaty at practice anyways. So what’s the point?”

Practice?

Derek was so caught up in his odd behavior that he’d barely noticed when he’d opened up another dresser drawer, grabbing a football jersey. He yanked the tight garnet on, noting how his muscles pressed against it, illustrating his athletic prowess. Next, he grabbed some small workout shorts that only came up to mid-thigh and were so tight that his butt and package pressed noticeably against it, almost as if they were on full display.

When he looked at himself in the mirror, Derek inwardly winced at the dim smile on his face. He still looked the same, with his mature and masculine beard that had flecks of gray in it; however, he felt ridiculous being dressed up like a total jock, feeling childish.

His body evidently wouldn’t let any of his inner turmoil show as he lifted up a buff arm, flexing a large bicep. “Damn,” he heard himself say, “I’m getting fuckin’ huge, Bro!”

Despite himself, as Derek flexed in the mirror, he felt his cock start to stiffen within the confines of his tight jockstrap. The pouch tented outwards as it struggled to maintain his meaty cock, looking as if the werewolf was smuggling a summer sausage in his pants. Instead of blushing or trying to conceal his package, Derek felt himself place this hands on his hips and shove his crotch forward expectantly.

“Hey, Bro,” he said, “I’m so fuckin’ horny. Wanna help me out?”

Stiles smiled at his husband, chuckling as he shifted off the bed. “Damn, Der,” he laughed, “that thing’s always cocked and loaded.”

Always cocked and loaded? Derek’s eyebrows rose as new memories filtered into his foggy head, being filled to the brim with Derek being hard and rutting against whatever crossed his path. The stud was always incredibly horny, his cock seemingly rocketing straight to attention after a few moments after cumming. He wanted to blush at the image of himself sauntering down the street in his tight jerseys, his hard cock pressed tightly against his thick thigh for all to see.

Derek’s frantic thoughts slowed down significantly as his husband dropped to his knees in front of him, wasting no time in taking in his full member.

“Oooh!” Derek loudly bellowed, his deeper sounding voice bouncing off the thin walls in the house. “Yeah, suck that cock, Bro. Bet it’s the biggest ya ever had!” The normally silent werewolf couldn’t keep his mouth shut as he was sucked off, moaning loudly and cockily bragging about his cock. No matter how humiliated the alpha was over his uncontrollable behavior, he couldn’t help but bask in the warmth of pleasure that washed over him. All of his panic was momentarily forgotten until all of his ample muscles tensed up. “Uunghh!”

Derek cried out as he came, shooting what felt like the biggest load of his life. He was left spent and trying to catch his breath as Stiles stood up and went about getting ready for his day at work.

“Thanks, Bro,” Derek heard himself say. “I gotcha next time!” Already, at the mere suggestion of sucking off his husband, Derek’s cock plumped up and it took him a few moments to realize that he’d been absentmindedly fondling his hard bulge after tucking it back into his jockstrap.

As the werewolf continued with his morning routine that didn’t involve a shower, he couldn’t help but wince whenever he lifted his arms and his musky stench would waft out from his pits, smelling as if he’d just finished a killer workout at a crowded gym.

Derek walked downstairs and paused at the front door where Stiles gave him a quick kiss. “Can’t forget this, Coach,” Stiles said, handing Derek a silver whistle attached to a small chain necklace.

Derek was confused over both the whistle and why Stiles had called him “Coach” for some reason. However, the confusion quickly vanished when Derek realized that he no longer worked at his auto shop but was instead a coach at Beacon Hills High School. His stomach dropped when he tried to recall the massive amounts of paperwork that were supposed to be waiting for him on his desk at the shop, all of them detailing receipts and parts on orders; yet, now the werewolf’s muddled brain struggled to comprehend what all of those numbers meant. He paled even further when his knowledge of business management wasn’t the only thing gone. In a panic, Derek’s eyes darted around the house and sure enough, simple items seemed to be way beyond his mental grasp. For example, although he’d used it hundreds of times before whatever the hell happened to him, Derek stared at the coffee maker that was in the kitchen, unsure what all of the buttons meant… luckily Stiles was there to help him out since he was such a dumb jock.

Derek inwardly flinched at that last thought, recalling the stupid wish he’d made last night. He’d wished that he could understand jocks more.

Now Derek was a dumb, horny jock.

His days were filled with nothing except working out, playing sports, and fucking. That’s all a dumb jock like him was good for.

Still, Derek put the whistle around his neck and puffed out his large pecs against his tight spots jersey. “Thanks, bro,” he dimly smiled before leaning forward to rut his hard cock against Stiles’s thigh. “You gonna come during my lunch break to help me out with this?”

“Of course,” Stiles said, resting an admiring hand on Derek’s bicep, which the werewolf flexed out of instinct, “I can’t have my big jock going too long without any release. Poor guy would be all pent up.” He mock frowned, a hint of playful condescension audible.

Derek’s foggy mind didn’t pick up on it, and instead he just smiled back widely. “Yeah, Bro,” he agreed in his deep voice, “if I don’t cum at least five times a day, I can’t think well.” He paused at the odd words leaving his mouth, but then the alarm on his phone went off and he perked up. “Oh shit. I’m gonna be late! Love ya, Bro!” He kissed Stiles on the cheek before hurrying out of the house and lumbering towards his Camaro, his hard cock tenting out his tight shorts.

#31 days of derek hale #Derek Hale #stiles stilinski #Sterek #Teen Wolf #muscle #musk #loss of iq #dumber #Jock #Jock TF #Mental Change

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xxdemonicheartxx · 10 months

Text

The flights and their major exports

Ice: furs, fish, culinary or food grade ice, unique and seasonal herbs, spices and flora that only grow there in the spring, super rich culinary culture has formed here and it attracts tourism and foodies, cooking oils and fats, seeds and nuts for consumption

Nature: lumber, meats, spices, fertile soil, insect cuisine, perfumes, freshwater fish, houseplants, seeds and shoots for farming, decorative plant or wood working, plant based oils for cooking or fuel

Light: wheat, plant based fibers and fabrics, paper and or papyrus, chalk and marble, huge bread and baked goods industry, baskets, porcelain, exotic percivore cuisine, pigments, seasonal fruits

Earth: cactus fruits, minerals and stones, gemstones, terracotta creations or construction pieces, ceramic work, glass tile work, roots and tubers, fossils, pigments,

Wind: rice, grains, construction grade bamboo, paper, rice paper, fabrics, plants and small birds for consumption, instruments (specifically wood-wind), silks, ribbon, sonorous sculptures

Shadow: fungal harvests, wire craft, tactical suits and mantles to conceal the body, iron weaponry with decorative detailing, insect and plant exports, huge root farming industry, lantern exports, candles, woodturned tools/utensils/decor/etc

Water: shells and abalone, fish, seaweed and kelp cuisine, boats and boat blueprints, crustacean cuisine, huge huge huge provider for the pescatarians, opal

Lightning: machinery parts, batteries, cactus harvests, insulation for both heat and electricity, exotic insect cuisine, dried and aged foods, electricity is produced in excess enough to provide immediately to the surrounding territories

Arcane: stained glass, lumber from the starwood strand (has unique properties and could be used for construction or artistic works), magical batteries made from the crystals, tomes and books, lenses, exotic herbivore cuisine, luminous pigments, tapestry work

Plague: immunizers/immunizations, craft and construction grade bones, leather, ale/mead/wine/whiskey/etc because they have the most intricate and detailed brewing and fermenting processes due to the understanding they have surrounding bacteria, pickled foods and pickling kits, surgical grade tools, cheeses, dry aged meats, medical practices unlike any other

Fire: weapons and armor, exotic carnivore cuisine, glasswork and glass blowing, obsidian and basalt export, geothermic energy(they can provide power enough to the surrounding territories) intricate mosaic and tile work, mineral exports, ceramic exports, blackened foods, metal shells and armor for vessels and vehicles and mounts

These are just what I can think of by examining the map and element at face value, there are millions of things these places can produce and export but I think these are the big ones or what they are known for, maybe even just the best quality versions of the export! If you want to use these ideas or add your own feel free!

#fr #dragon #flight rising #flightrising #fr headcanon #worldbuilding

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lunacyxxx · 5 months

Text

Forget Me Not

contains mild violence nd yandere behavior from ur fave sorcerer, reader is fmab nd 18+

MDNI

You were very much unaware of your sensei’s growing obsession with you, Gojo Satoru was smitten as soon as he saw you. His heart nearly jumped out of his chest at your beauty and cursed energy, he could easily tell you had more than enough potential.

He did not want to let you go at all, does he feel bad for what he’s about to do? Maybe a little bit but he was going to make sure that his plan was going to work, he took up a mission with you concerning a special grade curse that had been lurking around a forest outside of Shibuya.

There was a sinking feeling in your gut as the two of you got out of the car by the forest, Satoru threw his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close to him.

“Don’t look so scared y/n, I’m here with you and plus I personally chose you to come with me because I know you can handle whatever is thrown at you. You are my best student after all, so let’s go.”

You blush lightly and look away shyly, the scent of his cologne wafting into your nose when he pulls you close. You were still trying to get used to how touchy he was at times, “I know and I appreciate it. I just have a bad feeling that’s all.”

Gojo clicked his tongue and patted your back, “You have nothing to worry about. I got your back.” Satoru smiles and ruffles your hair before leading you into the forest.

After what felt like eternity, the both of you found a dark cave with dark cursed energy leaking out in strong waves. By now, your nerves were screaming and there was a bead of sweat running down your temple. Gojo was watching you intently before letting his own cursed energy pulseate a few times.

The ground begins to rumble and you let out a startled squeak when your teacher grabs your arm and jumps out of the way just as a huge grotesque worm looking curse barrels out of the cave. Mouths and arms decorated the dark gray and purple skin of the monster, it had no eyes and let out a roar, “You ready?”

It was obvious Satoru was holding back against the curse, letting you take the initiative to defeat it, just when you were about to hit your limit you realized you were alone. Your eyes frantically look around for your teacher before the curse smacks you into a tree with one of its arms disorienting you. You stagger up and hold your side coughing up saliva, turning on your heel you quickly run away, having barely enough cursed energy to deal a powerful blow.

Your mind and heart was racing, where did Gojo go? Why did he just up and leave you? The whole time, your teacher was in the sky above you watching with a sick grin on his face.

Tears pricked in your eyes as you finally found a place under large tree roots, your body was throbbing in pain. Pain shoots through your trembling form as you lean against the harsh wood, you were pretty sure a few things were broken. The curse lumbers to the area you’re in and you cover your mouth to quiet your panting, just as you think you’re safe; the tree above you is knocked over and the roots are ripped from the ground.

Your vulnerable self is revealed to the curse that grabs you and slams you to the ground with a sickening thud causing you to lose consciousness and bleed from hitting your head so hard. Satoru feels a slight pang of guilt but he shakes his head and comes from the sky obliterating the curse just as it's about to eat you.

Your teacher catches your limp body in his arms and coos softly, “I hope you can forgive me y/n but I know for a fact you won’t forget me. He leaves the forest with you cradled to his chest, hoping things turned out how he planned.

Bright lights assault your eyes when you finally awaken, why were you in the hospital? Why was your body so sore and why were there bandages on your head? You turn your head to the left of you to see a man with white hair wearing a blindfold?

“Oh great honey! You’re finally awake, I’ll go let the doctor know,” he gets up and comes over to give your hand a squeeze before leaving the room. Gojo couldn’t hide the smirk adorning his face until he left the room and went to find the doctor that was in charge of your stay at the hospital.

The both of them return and the doctor smiles seeing that you were sitting up now, “Thank goodness you’ve finally awakened. You were in a coma for two weeks, how do you feel? If your boyfriend hadn't brought you here as quickly as he did then we wouldn’t have been able to save you.”

Your gaze turns to Satoru, your “boyfriend” and he smiles with a cheeky wave. “Yeah babe, that was a nasty car accident you were in. I'm so glad that you’re safe now though and we can go home right Doc?”

“Accident? Boyfriend? What happened and where exactly am I? Who are you?”

“Oh my, the injuries have given you amnesia. Good thing your boyfriend is here to help you right? We just have to check your vitals and everything before we can fully release you.” Satoru wasn’t happy about waiting but he bit his tongue and watched the doctor leave. He sat down in the chair beside you and lightly grabbed your hand, “Don’t worry y/n. I’ll make sure you get your memories back while making new ones.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but with the way he removed his blindfold and stared at you with a soft smile and his bright blue eyes; you couldn’t help but to trust him.

After all, the matching rings on your ring fingers had to mean something too right?

#gojo satoru #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jjk imagines #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk gojo

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k12academics · 2 years

Link

The Yosemite Mountain Sugar Pine Railroad (YMSPRR) is a fun-filled excursion for the entire class, located only 10 minutes from the southern entrance of Yosemite National Park off of Highway 41. The historic railroad offers train rides, gold panning, an on-site rail museum, and a fun gifts & collectibles store. Open April through November.

YMSPRR's experience and historical focus fit perfectly into the California Dept of Education's History-Social Science Framework. See https://www.cde.ca.gov/ci/hs/cf/documents/hssfwchapter7.pdf

Student Experience With a tremendous focus on historical preservation and interpretation, YMSPRR offers students a unique view into California's logging and railroading past. They will get to experience the sights, sounds and smells of the logging operations which took place on the very tracks that hauled lumber from the Sierras and shipped off to a worldwide market between the late 1800's and 1930's.

Train Ride - Ride behind an authentic "Shay" steam locomotive, a unique design which specialized in logging and mining operations. You'll be riding in an open-air car while the conductor teaches the history of the Madera Sugar Pine Lumber Company, of the railroad, and of the natural history of the Sierra Naitonal Forest.

Gold Panning - Students dip their hands into history and relive the excitement of the California Gold Rush when they pan for gold in our authentic sluice boxes. The prospector will teach them the proper techniques just like the 49ers used so they, too, will be yelling, "Eureka!"

Thornberry Museum - The Thornberry Museum offers a rich look into the history of the Sugar Pine Railroad, and the logging industry in Oakhurst and Yosemite including artifacts and detailed stories.

#trains #train ride #nature #museum #lumber #logging #history #gold rush #gold panning #forest #california #4th grade #k12 academics

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graxsonswhxore · 3 months

Text

★haunted - Clarisse La Rue★

┌────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┐

𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 - 𝐁𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐜é

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ 1:35 ───ㅇ───── 3:47

"𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝒻 𝐼ℳ 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼'𝓂 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊."

"𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓑𝓮 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒, 𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒."

└────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────┘

Tw: some kissing nd fluff.

His curly brown hair, his smile, his everything. Even his imperfections, are absolutely beautiful.

"You're staring again Halo." the redette announces. I turn my attention away from him peering over at my best friend, Rosalyn quartz. Daughter of Aphrodite. People drool over her Porcelain skin and green eyes, her silky coils of red hair, she's the definition of beauty.

"Is it obvious." I frown shrinking into the mossy log a couple feet across from him.

She chuckles shaking her head. Her curls elegantly blow in the wind, with long dark eyelashes that shadow her sharp cheek bones, she looks as if she was sculpted by Zeus herself.

"You know you could talk to him instead of staring like a deer in headlights" she says in a sing song voice.

I looked down to my calloused hands, my chipped nails, the scars on my knuckles due to many fights i somehow get myself into. Especially with Clarisse. She has a bone to pick with me, ever since I stepped foot into camp half blood.

I don't know how anyone would be able to love my scars, my tan lines, my unhinged curly hair.

"He doesn't even know my name rose, I'm not going to go up to him." I look down picking at my nails.

"Well someone is staring at you." She chuckles.

I look up and lock eyes with clarisse. I never noticed the light flakes of brown in her dark eyes that some how, glow.

I roll my eyes and turn my body back over to rose.

"Yeah well she can shove that attitude up her grade A snotty royal a-" the horn signaling curfew blew, cutting me off.

I slump not realizing I was tired till now. I snap my sketch book shut and place it to the side to stretch my legs.

"I don't know if she hates you or is obsessed with you, she argues and teases but looks at you across the room desperately." Rose quirks her eyebrow.

"Tt she can keep all her bull shit to herself" i spit out scowling.

I walk rose to her cabin and bid a goodnight turning on my heel to walk back to cabin 7. I look in my bag and notice my book isn't anywhere in sight. I groan lumbering over to the campfire where I was sitting and see it missing.

My heart drops down to the floor. I have so many sketches in there, ones of rose and camp half blood, most importantly, various sketches of him.

I splat onto my bottom bunk, various snores of all the children around me. I kick off my shoes falling into a dreamless sleep.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ

I wake with the warm sun gleaming on my tan skin and scattered freckles. I sigh as the previous night floods through my mind. My fucking notebook is floating around here some where.

Hopping up, I tug on my cropped camp half blood shirt that floats above my navel over my white also cropped long sleeve and on my low waisted light washed ripped jeans with hightop black converse.

I bend down tying my laces looking at the messy doodles on my shoes that are lightly washed off. I take off the the fire place picking up sticks and moss trying to desperately find my notebook.

"Hey."

I pause slowly turning around, to see the one and only, luke castellan. Holding my fucking note book. Well if hades ever wanted to magically claim my soul to the underworld he could, because at the moment I felt like dropping dead..and that is an understatement.

"Uh hi." I look down in his hand. He follows my gaze down to his hand.

"Oh um I found this by the seat you were sitting in by the campfire last night I wanted to give it back to you." he holds it out for me to grab. I quickly grab it from his hand tucking it to my chest in embarrassment.

"Your sketches are beautiful, especially the ones of me." He teases looking down at me with a smug little smirk.

"I-" I stand there with my mouth wide open.

He chuckles at my expression.

"I'm messing with you."

"Yeah I know sorry, you just have beautiful features, they're nice to draw" I say in a daze, not really understanding the depth of words I chose.

He blushes a little with a smug smile.

"I know" he says lazily bumping into my shoulder on purpose as we walk to my cabin. I roll my eyes at his stupid (very hot) cocky attitude.

"Hey I was wondering if I could ask you something." He looks down blushing slightly.

My heart quickens with a hitched breath.

"Does Rosalyn have a boyfriend?"

And crushed. My everything is crushed.

"No. She doesn't." I tightly smile at him, almost mechanically. Fake.

"Thanks." He smiles and walks off to attach his hip to your beautiful best.friend.

You ended up avoiding them both all day not ready to face the reality of the situation.

When night falls you decide to skip the campfire and sit by the lake, sobbing your damn eyes out over a stupid boy.

"Well what do we have here- are you crying?" Clarisse's cocky facade dropps immediately, almost looking worried.

I quickly wiped my tears and sniffle.

"Please I'm not in the mood."

She slowly takes a seat next to me. I look over to see her inspecting my face. A tear falls down my face, closing my eyes I look down ashamed to be found this way. But Clarisse doesn't care, she tenderly wipes my tear, her fingertips callused due to holding a weapon for a long time Daron years if combat.

"I would treat you better then he ever could." She whispers, so low I wouldn't have heard it if it wasn't for how close our bodies were to each other, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder.

"What?" I quietly say, stunned at her words.

"I see you staring at him all the time as he follows that damn red head as if she was his mother. It makes me so angry, those tears should be from pleasure not pain pretty girl." She smirks down at me.

"I thought you hated me" I frown.

"I don't hate you, I hate the thought of you with him." Clarisse spits out with malice coating her tongue.

She leans her forehead on mine, and I realize the same thing I did yesterday. The small gold flakes floating around in her dark eyes.

"Your eyes are beautiful" I mumble breath short at the sight bestowed before me.

I can lightly see blush dusted on her sharp cheek bones due to the moons glare off the lake.

She leans over closing in space our lips ghostly resting onto each other. She leans deeper into me, and I don't stop her. I lean in as well, kissing her with such force it knocks the wind out of my lungs.

Yet, This kiss wasn't fast and rushed, it wasn't spontaneous with a fireworks and a buzz in the back of my head.

It was slow and tender, her soft lips molding to mine as if they were made to kiss me, my stomach flips and I feel at peace with her, at peace with us.

As the kiss gets deeper a little more needy, she glides her tongue against my teeth, a gentle sigh escapes her mouth, I open letting her in. He dips her tongue in my mouth as we steadily find a slow and gentle pace.

She backs up for air slow and heavy breaths.

"You don't know how long I wanted to do that, how I longed for you to stare at me instead of him." She tucks my hair behind my ear.

"That can change. Make me yours clare" I whisper.

She smiles smashing her lips against mine again, this time the kiss was different it was needy and sticky. She pulls me on her lap with a vice grip on my hips I felt as if I would bruise in the morning. I wrap my arms around her neck finessing my hands through her hair and I slightly tug at a strand of her curls, making her groan at the action.

I smile against her lips.

"Halo, please be mine. all mine." She whispers in my ear, her cool minty breath fanning over my collarbone and jawline.

"Always and forever Clare, I'm all yours." And it's as Apollo gifted her smile with the power of a thousand suns, cause gods her smile was bright and as beautiful as the star itself.

"Let's go back to the campfire, don't miss out because of him." She gets up holding out a hand to me. I take her hand locking our fingers letting her pull me up.

She leads me through tall trees up to a gleaming light. We take a seat by the campfire. I lock my arm around hers leaning into her body warmth on this humid but breezy night.

Across from me I see Luke and Rosalyn laughing and holding hands strolling over to us. I expected a punch in the gut, but nothing came, instead my mind still raced at the thought of Clarisse's lips on mine.

I look up and focus on her features her blazing eyes and beautiful full lips, everything about her was perfect.

"What happened when I was gone, because you two seemed to cuddled up to be enemies." Rosalyn points at our locked arms and intertwined hands.

"A lot" I giggle.

Luke and herself settle down next to us, giggling away as he places ginger kisses on her collarbones. And I could care less.

Clarisse laughs and jokes about something stupid with her siblings and I feel as if her smile is hypnotic, a spell that puts me in a deep trance.

"Whatcha staring at pretty girl?" She says and that catches roses attention turning away from Luke to see my reply.

"You, always you." I smile up at her.

She leans down slowly placing a kiss on my lips as if they were as fragile as china glass.

"Woah so i definitely missed a whole entire chapter because what the gods just happened." Rosalyn said with her eyebrows raised.

I laugh and Clarisse chuckles.

"I asked halo to be my girlfriend and she said yes." Clarisse confirmed, with possessive arms snaking around my waist, holding me flush against her body.

"I can see that." Rose said.

"I also wanted to say that I feel bad for making a move on.. I know how you felt and I was selfish." Rose looks down at her nails.

"Don't even sweat it, that was the best decision you have ever made." I say looking over to Clarisse, who was in her own world with her siblings.

"Yeah I bet" she smirks turning back around.

Who knew the person I resented would eventually be the woman to sweep me off my feet.

It’s six am and I’m tired goodnight.☠️

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #clarisse x reader #clarisse pjo #clarisse x female reader #luke castellan #aphrodite #fluff #annabeth chase #percy and annabeth #grover underwood

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poppinspops · 2 months

Text

Treech dating headcannons

My opinions on how treech would be like in a relationship, in and out of the hunger games, meaning lamina didn't get picked!

kiss me is playing rn, It's so his song yall Trust!

Um... accidentally made a bit of a fanfic rather then a headcannon oneshot... oops??

Warnings: none really just bad Grammer and maybe spelling mistakes as it's like almost 1am and I'm too tired to look over this

before the hunger games back in D7

Treech and you met in grade school back when treech talked a whole lot more

Treech definitely was a big talker up until he hit twelve years old. He hardened a bit more and started working, being pulled out of school like a lot of kids his age usually did, like how you did.

You two shared your first kiss in a tree at the ripe age of twelve, that's when treech finally seemed to get what his father and mother would always tell him about meeting the right girl, how he'd want to cherish and protect her from everything and everyone

Just like how he felt right now looking at you with his small hands on yours, beet red in the cheeks just looking at you

Looking away as he thought back on his father's words, he now understood him better to a point still he couldn't fully grasp the whole thing but all that mattered to him was making you smile that big smile you always did when he made silly faces or when he picked up big logs of wood (not very big but still)

"Treech, when you meet the right girl-" his father started, but treech interrupted him like always his face scrunched up in disgust likr how boys usually acted when on the topic of girls at twelve "EW! I don't need a girl!" But treechs father just laughed at his son before continuing ruffling treechs hair a bit as the boy huffed. "You'll want to change to protect her. You'll want to spend every waking moment with her... you'll understand when your older" treech looked up at his dad with confusion, not quite understand what he meant in that moment

You worked for your father's lumber yard people sold you wood for coins, your father usually was there working the shop as you carved small little trinkets in the corner of the shop, treech would come in and sell the wood he had. Most of the time, if he had any free time in that moment, he'd come and sit next to you, watching you carve a small bird. He watched you intently smiling at your flustered face when you couldn't get the angle just right admiring your features from. The chair

When he relized his feelings for you after that kiss he started working not long after, his parents like many others pulling him out of school to go and chop wood for a living a 'lumberjack' was what you called him

And soon after he started callin you 'carver' for your wood carvings

He didn't speak much after that kiss but he seemed to spend every second of his free time to just stay by your side, even going as far as to put your shoes back on your feet when you'd take them off to run in a lake, making you blush and look away thanking him under your breath missing his slight smirk and dark eyes looking at you like you where his whole world.

He knew what his father truly meant by and even more wanting to devote himself to her and wanting for you to do the same for him.

It has taken a few years but finally you two got together when you were fourteen when you couldn't take it anymore and had run up to treech one day in the rain taking him by the shoulders and screaming your feelings at him.

You two where almost inseparable, it made your father smile as he saw you happily chatting away with your lover boy at the counter though he did always have to walk over and tell you to get back to work cuz chatting away with your lumberjack ain't making money you'd sigh and kiss treechs cheek before waving bye to him watching him quickly walk out the door ears slightly red.

The reapings and meeting the tributes

You had heared the man from the capital you couldn't remeber his name buy you did know that his clothes looked expensive, making you grit your teeth at how he smiled whilst talking about a literal death game they forced children to participate and die in.

You stood still as he called the female tribute first

The man on the stage cleared his mouth as he spoke Into the sqeaky mic flinching back a little at the noises the mic made before saying the female tribute of your district "Lamina" He spoke into the mic making your head spin around to a girl that was shaking like a leaf. She was a red haired girl just a year younger then you making you bit your lip as she shakingly walked out of the line the girls all stood in slowly walking up the dirt path looking around until her eyes met your own making you gulp before speaking up impulsively "i.. Lamina! I volunteer as tribute!" You hadn't thought that through at all. All you were thinking about were those scared eyes knowing she wouldnt last long in the arena or at least you thought she wohldnt, you didnt get to see the relieved look lamina had before you were grabbed and dragged onto the stage not getting the chance to walk your feet being dragged in the dirt the man in the fancy outfit looking surprised at you before coughing a bit and continuing

treechs' name got called soon after everyone was done being shocked at your 'stunt' or rather your act of compassion and pure kindness. You felt a tear drop down your cheek as you stared over at him from the other side of the stage, accidentally catching him looking at you with a terrified but also almost angry look

Treech didn't get the chance to say anything

You two where sitting in the old dirty train, your back against treechs front as you let tears fall down your cheeks at the situation you had just out yourself in.. almost regretting your choice to volunteer, almost.

Treech gad helped you out of the cattle car holding out his hand for you to use to hop out of the cattle car, he made sure you stuck to his side not letting his guard down looking around as the other tributes got out of the other parts of the cattle train or whatever you two had just been sitting for hours on.

You looked around and caught the gaze of a little girl and a boy next to her that only had one arm you waved at them the girl waving at you with a smile as the boy only nodded at you

Treech only stared at the others, not saying a word as he held your waist, tightening his grip when the Capitol guards would come too close to him and you

You two got ushered into another car along with the other district tributes, though you here seated next to the one-eyed boy from District 10. He'd been staring at you with his one eye his gaze harsh like he was trying to see if you where good enough to him the whole ride making you gulp and look away eyes back on treech and the District boy that snuck on the cart for who knows what

You had smirked when the boy had been pinned to the car wall by the tall boy named reaper, you already liked reaper you two had said a few sentences to each other 'surved him right capital filth.' You had thought as you clapped gleefully at this, treech gave you a look smirking. You two hadn't noticed that you both had caught the attention of a certain red-haired tribute

Okay ima end it here. My hand hurts, but umm.. may do a part two if yall want one anyways I accidentally made a fic instead of a headcannon, my bad..

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mj-102009 · 4 months

Text

Queen of Chaos (Gojo x oc Part Two)

Masterlist for previous parts

She was short.

That was Gojo’s first note.

Beside him Geto followed the girl with his eyes. “She’s-”

“A curse user,” Shoko said, repulse flicking around her words.

Gojo watched her with six eyes, the sheer amount of cursed energy had him rethink not bringing his new blindfold to school. “She’s tiny.”

“That’s what you’re focused on?” Shoko asked, flicking the back of his head. “Why is she here?”

“I dunno but I’m gonna find out,” He grumbled.

“She’s a student,” Yaga repeated.

“She’s a monster,” Gojo said with narrowed eyes.

The older man rubbed his head. “She’s a sorcerer just like you three, so she will learn with you three.”

The class burst into complaints. Before Geto had enough of this and stormed out. Gojo stayed until he was sure they were both far down the hall. “What grade is she?” The firm expression on his face was out of character.

“Special,” Yaga told him, leaning back into his seat with an exhausted sigh.

Gojo gaped. “You’re kidding me.”

He shook his head. “A very strong one at that.”

“I don’t get it, cursed users are-”

“She’s a vessel,” He corrected.

Gojo rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “She’s a stain.”

“She was born with it, Gojo,” Yaga told him. “She can’t help it.”

“She’s a Ren!” He exclaimed. “That family has the world’s fortune up its ass, make them send her to a private school or something.”

Finally having enough, Yaga scowled. “Give her a chance, Gojo,” he stood up and shooed the boy out of the room. “Or I’ll tell that girl to put you in your place.”

Now glaring at the door, Gojo huffed and turned to the nearest exit.

Only to pause and stare wide eyed at a small girl with the same expression. He watched as her energy rippled around her, almost like a shield.

‘Oh brother,’ He thought to himself.

“Sorry,” She squeaked, spinning on her heel and shuffling back out.

‘Some special grade she is,’ he thought amused. ‘She’s blind.’

The day after, Yaga explained that she was there to memorize the space and would be joining them the following week.

And the day of: they avoided her like the plague.

She attended the classes with the rest of the second years but sat to the side during any form of training.

Gojo took it personally. “She’s too scared of us,” He mused, picking at a piece of grass from his spot in the field.

Geto thought she was scared of herself. “The curse must be difficult to control, she could just be benched.”

Shoko was focused on her eyes, she was standing while spinning a wooden pole . “No stupid, she’s blind– how the hell is she supposed to do anything?”

“Well she’s a special grade so…” Gojo trailed off.

“Special grade doesn’t necessarily mean she knows how to use her curse,” Geto pointed out.

Just after then Yaga came out with the girl, this time she had on training clothes. “Get up Gojo.”

He huffed and lumbered to his feet. “What is she doing here?”

The girl winced and dropped her head down; her thick waves of coffee falling around her miserable expression. Yaga shot him a glare. “She’s going to be training with you three.”

Geto exchanged looks with Gojo, Shoko scowled. Even the girl flinched under the scrutinizing eyes.

“Are you su-”

“That could go-”

“Fuck n-”

“Two versus one,” Yaga announced. “I don’t want Shoko in on this.”

While she looked overwhelmed, the girl didn’t flinch.

Again the two boys made eye contact.

“Ms. Ren?” He said, looking at the girl.

She looked up and pulled her hair back into a tie. “Okay.”

Gojo hated how innocent she sounded.

“Yaga,” Geto said slowly. “I don’t want to-”

Gojo hated the way her eyes flicked aimlessly around the space.

The teacher stopped Geto. “Geto, if you want the fight to be fair go to the line,” he scowled and walked beside Gojo. “And no cursed techniques.”

Gojo hated the way she apologized softly when bumping into Geto on her way to the other side of the sand field.

“Whenever you’re ready Ren,” Yaga called.

Gojo hated everything about her because from the moment she stepped outside she had every expectation of winning.

Ren nodded and Geto wasted no time in dashing at speeds only capable for a talented sorcerer. Gojo ran as well but there was no cursed energy behind it.

“Let me borrow his vision,” She whispered.

Then her eyes turned hazel.

Geto watched in slow motion as she was suddenly behind him and with a hand pushing him on the ground. He sneered and spun– but it was done.

Her eyes turned black as pitch.

She heard Gojo’s now urgent footsteps and dropped low as he shot his hand out for her neck. “His arms,” She murmured.

Geto yelled out again as he whirled against his own will. “Satoru move!”

His arms swung at Gojo, he darted back as Ren brushed off her shoulder and stood. “WHAT IS GOING ON!”

She grinned and raised her head with a tilt. “Grab him.”

Geto tried to disobey but then he was rushing and his best friend. “MOVE!”

Gojo was backed into the boundary line, on instinct he summoned energy and pushed him a good fifteen feet away. “How is she doing this?” He yelped.

Suddenly she was behind him, infinity was down. A hand rested on his back. “Down.”

And he was flat on his back staring at a brilliant blue eyed girl. Victory plain in her gaze with a smirk playing on her lips.

Yaga’s voice came from behind them. “Let him go, Ren.”

“Thank you for his body,” She whispered, and both boys were free from the gripping hold.

“Excellent job,” Yaga told her.

Her eyes had the pale blue film again, a neutral expression returned to her features. “Mhm.”

Gojo jumped up furiously. “He said no cursed techniques! You little-”

Her eyes narrowed and her fists clenched, Gojo felt a spike in her energy. “I didn’t.”

Geto wasn’t as mad, more so curious; slowly turning his arms to study the phantom grip. “Then what was it?”

She glanced where she heard his voice. “My innate technique.”

“Bullshit!” Gojo yelled again, he stalked toward her, a finger already shoved in her face. “It's that-that thing you carry!”

“What thing?” She growled. “Say it.”

He leaned down and got in her face. “I won’t say anything to a curse; let alone a curse that can’t se-”

“His eyes,” She growled, her eyes turned the same shade of blue as hers.

Infinity flew up around his body, she grinned and forced it down. “Stop that,” He told her.

“I see you,” She hissed. “Say it to my face.”

Geto stepped to intervene but Yaga moved his arm in front of him. “Let her.”

Gojo’s cheeks turned red. “A curse.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Was that so hard?”

He flung a hand out to strike her.

Her hand curled around his wrist and glared at him. “My name is Megara Ren, remember it asshat.”

Ya'll tell me if this is going well. I got bullied into this by my friends.

Taglist:

@aish777

#oc #oc fanfiction #fanfiction #gojo x reader #gojo x oc #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #getou suguru #satoru gojo #shoko ieiri #suguru geto

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avoxrising · 9 months

Text

Miss Nectarine ~ Johanna Mason x Femme Reader

Warnings: Homphobia

This is a hunger games one shot based on the song Miss Nectarine by Ashnikko. Enjoy :)

It started when we were 14. District 7 was unbearably hot in August so you and your best friend Johanna decided to go down to the lake and swim. The specific lake you went to was small and somewhat out of the way of most people in your district, so you two often opted to swim sans clothing as you couldn’t afford bathing suits and wearing wet jeans sucked.

“Earth to y/n,” Johanna states, snapping you out of your trance. You definitely weren’t staring at her…

“What?” you ask.

“We should get going,” Johanna says as she wades towards shore to put back on her clothes. “The mill will be closing for the day soon and I don’t want the creepy old lumberjack men coming over to our lake to stare at us.”

“Fine,” you relent as you exit the water and put on your clothes as well.

“Tomorrow meet me at the lumber yard by my house at dawn,” you tell her. This was your favorite place to meet up besides the lake. She agrees and you depart for your house.

Your parents were less than enthused about your friendship with Johanna. Many townsfolk had seen you two skinny dipping and no matter how many times both of you had told your parents you were just friends, the neighbors still gossiped.

Being gay in District 7 was seen as a big no no. The people in the district were weirdly spiritual, believing that if you were gay you would go to a bad place in the afterlife. Neither you nor Johanna believed any of it but it was hard to avoid hearing it.

You actually met Johanna at a spiritual service your parents took you to for the autumn festival a few years ago. Johanna was the only other girl your age who didn’t seem to be into the lessons either. And she was undeniably attractive.

“Were you out with Johanna again?” your mother asks as you arrive home, noticing your wet hair.

“Yea uh we just went swimming,” you reply. “It’s hot.”

“Y/n what did I tell you about going swimming with Johanna?” your mother scolds you. “People are going to think you’re a homosexual and burn you at the stake.”

You quickly head to your room, realizing that what your mother said was correct even if it wasn’t fair.

Meeting up with Johanna in the mornings before school was always your favorite time of day. The lumber yard by your house sat on a hill that was perfect for watching the sunrise over the forest. The two of you often used this time to laugh about the people at school or talk about the latest neighborhood gossip.

“Omg y/n I met the cutest guy on my walk home yesterday!” Johanna gushes to you.

“Oh uh what’s his name?” you ask.

“His name is Jack and he’s in the grade above us. The super cute guy with the brown spiked hair,” she replies.

“I think I’ve seen him,” you shrug.

“He wants to hang out after school today and I’m so nervous,” Johanna exclaims. “What if he wants to kiss me?”

“Then you kiss him,” you state.

“But I don’t know how to kiss people,” Johanna sighs, seemingly frustrated with herself.

After a moment of silence, Johanna suddenly blurts out, “Can we practice? Kissing I mean. I want to know what I’m doing when Jack kisses me.”

Stupidly agreeing, you proceed to kiss Johanna, the girl you have had a crush on for 2 years, and a girl who would never love you back. Kissing her was even better than you had pictured it, but she was the most boy crazy person you knew. No matter what there would always be boys that would be her first choice over you.

Your routine of practicing kissing with Johanna continues up until you’re 16. You claim it’s so you can “get really good at it” but really you just want to kiss her. In those moments you can close your eyes and pretend she’s really yours.

Meetups now involve liquor and short shorts as you continue riding the fuzzy line between friends and more than friends. It was never more than kissing, and never more than platonic on her end, but you wish it was something real.

This dream shatters when her mother catches you two kissing at the lumber yard one morning. Johanna had forgotten her lunch at home so her mother had gone to your house in an attempt to find her, and your mother pointed her in the direction of the lumber yard. Her mother flew into a rage, more over the kissing than the alcohol, and dragged Johanna by her hair back to her house, screaming at her the whole way.

You immediately followed and tried to apologize. Saying how it was all your idea and Johanna had nothing to do with it. Tears streamed down your face as you realized what Johanna’s parents would do to her. No matter how much you tried to take the blame for what happened, you both were now painted as “sexual deviants”. Maybe if you attended more spiritual events with your mother this feeling inside of you would go away, and you would be seen as normal. Maybe you could “fix” yourself in the eyes of your community.

You didn’t see Johanna for almost a year after that date. Her parents sent her off to a camp for troubled youth and your parents grounded you and kept you in the house. Every single day you wished you could go back and undo it all; save Johanna from the punishments she’s enduring. It’s not fair. Maybe one day you’ll live in a district where you could love anyone you wanted to, but not now and not here in 7.

The next time you saw Johanna was at the reaping ceremony. Her hair was longer and her body seemed strong. The camp she had attended was known for working the kids in the forests so her muscles had grown. She seemed angry and dejected, as if she was still being punished for what happened. You wanted more than anything to go stand next to her but her mother would have your head if she caught you.

After that day you realized that you could never have Johanna. Your boy crazy best friend was shipped off to the games and came back a victor. She moved to the other side of the district and now had her choice of any boy she wanted. You would always be the second choice.

She was your Miss Nectarine, and you were the girl who ruined her life.

#hunger games #the hunger games #hunger games angst #the hunger games fanfiction #ashnikko #johanna mason #Johanna x reader #Johanna x y/n #hunger games x reader #district 7 #femme reader

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