#dunno how this got lost in my drafts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

19ryan17 · 3 months ago

Text

Ryan's Team

Part One -----------------------------------------------------------------

It started with a crisis.

Ryan Burke, star running back and walking Greek statue of Roosevelt State University, was pissed. Not in a punch-the-locker kind of way. He was just sitting in the locker room with his arms folded tight across his sweaty chest, jaw grinding, eyeing the crumpled practice schedule on the bench like it owed him money.

“This is so fucking stupid,” he muttered.

“Dude,” said Josh, wide receiver, tugging his jockstrap into place, “We lost five linemen. Five. You want Coach to just draft nerds off the quad?”

“No,” Ryan said, cracking his neck, “I want guys who don’t care about class, who don’t mind being huge and disgusting. We need new blood. Bigger guys. Hairy-ass, nasty, growling monsters.”

Trevor, the linebacker with the permanent mustard stain on his hoodie, piped up from his locker, “Bro, the team used to stink. Literally. Like swampy pits and locker room BO 24/7. I miss that. Now? Everyone’s cutting carbs and shaving their pits. We’re soft.”

Ryan grunted. “No one wants to commit to it anymore. Guys don’t wanna change.”

Josh blinked. “Wait... what if we make ‘em change?”

Ryan turned slowly. “Explain.”

“You know the Musk Plan,” Trevor snorted. “We joke about it every year. Pick a weak dude, bulk him up, stink him out, make him one of us.”

Ryan actually smiled. “Yeah, but what if we actually do it?”

The locker room fell into silence. Just the steady drip from the ceiling vent and the faint, ever-present funk of post-practice sweat hanging in the air.

Ryan leaned forward, elbows on knees, voice low. “We pick someone small. Someone who's around us all the time. Someone who wouldn’t notice at first. Get in their head. Get in their gut. They start putting on weight, growing hair in places they didn’t know could grow it. Maybe they even start to like it.”

Trevor burped. “Who?”

Ryan grinned. “I’ve got two names.”

Luke and Sam were the kind of roommates who kept their fridge way too clean.

Sam was tidy, organized, and way too into graphic design. His idea of fun was making custom fonts and rating the foam on local coffees. Luke, by comparison, was a little looser—still neat, but the kind of guy who’d forget to clip his nails for two weeks and then be shocked when he clicked his mouse too hard and it cracked.

They weren’t jocks. They weren’t cool. But they weren’t losers either. They’d carved out a quiet, nerdy space for themselves. Sam designed club posters. Luke worked sound for the campus radio station. They had a system: bagels on Saturdays, “reality TV with beer” on Thursdays, and Sundays were for sleeping in and mutual judgment over who skipped class the most that week.

But that was before Ryan Burke—sun-kissed, alpha, walking BO fantasy—showed up.

It started on a random Thursday.

Ryan had walked into the dining hall like he owned the place, which he kind of did. Guys clapped his back. Girls flipped their hair. Even the lunch lady gave him an extra scoop of mashed potatoes with a wink.

Luke was in line, wearing a stretched-out Pokémon hoodie and some threadbare joggers.

“Hey,” Ryan said, nudging his tray up next to him, “You’re in my Econ class, right?”

Luke blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

“You do soundboard stuff too, right?”

Luke nodded again, eyes darting. Ryan was right there, muscles packed under a tank top, a sheen of sweat still on his neck from practice, smelling like cheap cologne and something muskier underneath. Luke tried not to breathe too deeply.

“You ever go to games?” Ryan asked.

Luke shook his head. “Not really a sports guy.”

Ryan grinned, slow and wide. “You will be.”

Sam didn’t think much of it when Luke mentioned Ryan the first time.

“Ran into Ryan today,” he said, half-buried in a bag of chips. “Big dude. Smelled like a locker room. Kinda funny.”

Sam raised a brow. “Funny how?”

“I dunno,” Luke shrugged, “He kept asking about what I eat. Said I had ‘a build.’”

Sam laughed. “A build for what, the equipment bench?”

Luke chuckled too, but his ears were red.

A week later, Ryan was sitting on their couch.

No warning. Just there. Shirtless, hairy legs spread, sockless feet propped up on their IKEA table like it belonged to him. Sam came back from class and nearly tripped over a football cleat in the hallway.

“Oh hey, man,” Ryan said, not moving, “You must be Sam. Luke talks about you.”

“Cool,” Sam said, because what else could he say?

Ryan stayed for dinner. Stayed for dessert. Left his gym bag on the floor and promised to “grab it later,” which somehow meant never.

Two weeks after that, they were dating.

Luke told Sam over pancakes, as casual as if he were talking about a midterm.

“So… Ryan and I kinda made out last night.”

Sam blinked, mid-bite. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Luke scratched his cheek. “We were watching that stupid car crash reality show and he leaned over and kissed me.”

Sam didn’t know what to say. Ryan? Like that Ryan?

After that, Ryan was always around.

Sometimes sweaty from practice. Sometimes just waking up from a nap on their couch. Luke started dressing different. More tank tops. Less socks. Sometimes he’d go out to “get food” and come back with an entire tray of burritos, saying Ryan had “a craving.”

Sam noticed little things.

Like how Luke’s shirts seemed to fit tighter lately, clinging around his arms and chest. How he was constantly scratching his belly or tugging the neck of his shirt away from his throat.

And once—just once—Sam walked into the living room early from class and caught Ryan and Luke on the couch.

Ryan had his big meaty hand under Luke’s shirt, palm pressed to his stomach. Luke’s head was tilted back, eyes half-lidded, a low moan caught in his throat as Ryan stroked at the soft curve of his gut.

And Luke... he had a little mustache now.

Just a hint. Barely there. But Sam noticed.

Ryan kissed it, and Luke shivered.

That night Ryan walked into the kitchen, cracking open a cold one and handing Luke a burger the size of his face.

“You’re looking good, man,” he said, running a hand down Luke’s back. “Starting to fill out.” He groped Luke's now slightly puffy midsection.

Luke grinned through a mouthful of meat. "Thanks babe."

Ryan sat down next to him, forcing the rest of the burger into Luke's mouth. He then licked the sauce around his mouth and kissed him.

Luke moaned and started to feel his crotch stiffen. Ryan let his hands travel over Luke's bigger body, feeling the start of a gut and big pecs.

Part Two -----------------------------------------------------------------

Luke wasn’t one to skip showers.

In fact, if Sam had to describe his roommate in one word, it’d be “tidy.” Luke shaved almost every morning, folded his shirts military-style, and used unscented soap because anything else was “too much.” But about two weeks into his thing with Ryan, Sam started noticing something.

Luke’s towels? They weren’t drying right.

At first, Sam thought it was the ventilation in the bathroom. But the smell wasn’t mildew. It was… something stronger. A little sour. Musky. Thick. Luke didn’t notice. He’d step out of the shower, humming to himself, hair slicked back, water running in rivulets over his skin—and leave behind a heat, a scent that lingered like fog.

Sam didn’t say anything.

He told himself it was all in his head.

Luke was eating more.

Like, a lot more.

Burgers for lunch and dinner. Leftovers at midnight. Bags of chips, greasy breakfast sandwiches, triple-meat pizzas. He’d munch during study sessions, eat between classes, constantly unwrapping something with one hand while the other cradled his phone.

It crept up slowly.

First his cheeks looked a little fuller. Then there was that one morning where Sam caught Luke tugging down the hem of his tee.

“Shirt shrank in the wash,” he grumbled.

But it hadn’t. Sam knew because it was his shirt, and Luke had borrowed it clean from the basket. It stretched tight across Luke’s belly, hugging it just enough to show a curve forming. His chest looked puffier too, not muscle—just soft, rounded, like the beginnings of a doughy shelf.

And then there was the trail.

Barely visible at first. Just a faint dusting of dark hairs under his belly button. Luke didn’t notice. He’d pull his shirt up absentmindedly when he was full, scratch his gut, then let it fall again. Sam saw it though. Every time. That hair thickened by the day.

“Dude, you’re eating like Trevor,” Sam joked one night as Luke housed his third grilled cheese.

Luke wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What? I’ve just been hungry lately.”

Ryan, sprawled on the couch behind him, smirked. “He’s got a jock’s metabolism now.”

Luke chuckled and elbowed him. “Guess I gotta hit the gym.”

“You’re getting stronger,” Ryan murmured in his ear. “You’ll fill out nice.”

Luke turned red.

Sam noticed the way Luke leaned into it.

The next thing to go was the shaving.

Luke used to keep a clean face—maybe a little peach fuzz, but nothing serious. But now, he’d forget to shave for days. And then weeks. His upper lip sprouted a faint line of hair, darker every time Sam looked.

One morning, Luke came out of the bathroom scratching his chin.

“You ever get that itchy stubble phase?” he asked, rubbing the underside of his jaw.

Sam looked up from his laptop. “You… growing a beard?”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno. Ryan said he likes it.”

Sure enough, there it was: a little patchy at first, mostly around the chin and jawline. But the 'stache was there. Dark and fuzzy, curling slightly at the edges like it couldn’t decide what it wanted to be. Then came the goatee—thicker, rougher—and before long, Sam noticed the shine of oil clinging to coarse whiskers. It wasn’t patchy anymore. His cheeks had started to fill out, the fuzz spreading like moss along his jaw, dense and dark.

He was getting beardy.

Sam tried not to stare, but he started tracking the changes. He had to. Something was happening to Luke, and no one else seemed to notice. Especially not Ryan, who just kept smirking like this was all part of some long game.

It started with a slight belly bulge. It started small—barely a roundness under the hoodie. Sam only saw it because Luke’s shirt rode up when he reached for chips. And that mustache shadow? It wasn’t a trick of the light. It was legit. Then, his voice cracked mid-sentence while he was on the phone. Not dramatically, not cartoonish—but it dipped, just enough to make Sam blink. Gone was the high, tight energy in his tone. There was a sluggish warmth now, like molasses. Less “Luke the nerd,” more “Luke the lineman.” Soon the leg hair arrived with a vengeance. Sam caught a glimpse when Luke kicked off his sneakers one afternoon. Thick black tufts had sprouted just above his socks, curling out in every direction. “Dude, when did your legs get that hairy?” Sam had asked, half-joking. Luke just grinned and shrugged. “Dunno, always been that way, right?”

He said it like he believed it.

Then Luke seemed to stop showering. That’s when it got real. It started subtle—just a hint of musk clinging to the couch after Luke left the room. But it built up, week by week. The kind of humid, ripe scent that lingered under the armpits and settled into the upholstery. Sam started cracking windows. Luke stopped caring.

By then, Luke had grown thicker—like his whole body was swelling with some lazy power. His belly pressed against his waistband now, jiggling slightly when he moved. His shirts started creeping up, riding higher on his gut, revealing a stretch of newly fuzzy lower back. He didn't seem to notice—or care.

Sam did.

And Ryan? Ryan would just lounge nearby, watching with this smug little smile as Luke scratched his belly and let out a slow belch mid-sentence, brain clearly stuck in second gear. Sometimes Ryan would toss him a greasy burger or a protein shake with that same tone people use when they’re feeding a dog a treat.

“Atta boy,” he’d mutter, like Luke had done something impressive just by existing fatter and dumber than the day before.

Sam pretended not to notice. Acted like none of it mattered.

But he kept tracking the changes. Every belly shake. Every deeper grunt. Every new patch of hair curling across Luke’s skin.

Because whatever Ryan was doing, it was working.

And Luke… he was starting to like it.

“Jesus, you smell like the weight room,” Sam blurted.

Luke lifted his arm and sniffed his pit. “Damn. Guess I forgot deodorant.”

But Sam saw it—dense, dark armpit hair spilling from the sleeve like wild ivy.

He watched Luke scratch, slow and lazy, letting out a soft burp.

They stopped doing laundry as often.

Luke started leaving clothes everywhere—on the floor, on the couch, balled up in the bathroom. And they reeked. Musky. Sweaty. Used. But Luke didn’t seem to care. In fact, sometimes he’d pull on the same pair of sweats three days in a row.

Ryan thought it was hilarious.

“Jocks don’t need fresh clothes,” he’d say, ruffling Luke’s thickening hair. “Just sweat and stink.”

Luke didn’t argue.

By mid-semester, Luke’s belly had outgrown half his wardrobe.

He kept tugging down his shirts, trying to make them stretch, but they’d ride up anyway—exposing more of his round gut, now dusted in thick, curly hair. His chest hair was blooming too, creeping up his pecs and out the neck of his shirts.

Sam caught him standing at the mirror one morning, one hand under his shirt, palm pressed to his belly.

“Getting kinda big, huh?” Luke muttered.

“You, uh… like it?”

Luke glanced over his shoulder, surprised. “Yeah, I guess. Ryan likes to grab it. Says it’s real jock material.”

Sam didn’t reply. His heart was pounding.

Luke’s voice was deep now. Lazy. Drawling.

There was a stretch mark curving just under his love handle.

The final nail was the feet.

Luke had always had small feet. Size 9, tops. But now? He was stretching out Sam’s flip-flops.

“Dude,” Sam said, “What the hell?”

Luke grinned, lifting one foot. It was broader, hairier, toes thick and slightly swollen like he’d been stuffing them in too-tight shoes.

“Ryan says my whole body’s bulking,” Luke said, like it was obvious. “You think I should get new socks? These keep tearing.”

Sam just stared.

One night, Sam couldn’t sleep.

He wandered to the kitchen for water—and heard giggling from the living room.

He peeked.

There was Luke, shirtless, lounging on Ryan’s lap. His gut was out. Full and round. Ryan had one hand stroking the thick forest of belly hair, the other scratching behind Luke’s ear like a dog.

Luke let out a groan, low and breathy.

And Ryan? He leaned in and kissed Luke’s mustache.

“You’re turning out perfect,” he whispered.

Part Three ---------------------------------------------------------------

Sam had been sweating more lately. He could feel it clinging under his arms, a humid dampness that lingered even after showering. It wasn’t just the sweat. His undershirt clung tighter across his chest than it used to, the seams digging into his sides by midday. His face felt prickly constantly, like there was always a faint shadow no matter how recently he shaved. But it was the smell—the strange, overpowering musk that Luke now carried with him everywhere—that was really messing with Sam’s head.

Luke had changed. Sam didn’t need a magnifying glass to see it. He used to be his skinny, clean-cut best friend—neurotic about his hygiene, weirdly proud of his hairless chest. But now? Luke waddled around campus in stretched-out gym shorts and stained tank tops, burping through half his sentences and scratching his thick new gut like it was second nature. The guy hadn’t shaved in weeks, probably months. His face was covered in a dense patchy beard, his upper lip crowned with a thick, greasy mustache that twitched every time he laughed at something stupid. His chin had practically vanished under the bulk of new weight and coarse hair.

And the smell. God, the smell. Luke reeked. It hit Sam like a slap every time they hung out. That thick, manly, sour musk that clung to Luke like a second skin—armpits, belly folds, even his breath. Luke didn’t seem to notice or care. He’d just fart, laugh about it, and keep talking about protein powder and “hitting legs.”

Something was wrong.

Sam had chalked it all up to Ryan at first. Ever since Luke started dating the cocky jock, he’d started acting different. It wasn’t immediate. Ryan was charming, a little dumb maybe, but confident. And Luke, bless him, had never dated anyone before. He’d fallen hard. At first it was cute—Ryan bringing him burgers after class, Luke trying on tank tops to impress him. But then came the weight. The hair. The smells.

And Luke didn’t even seem to notice.

“Dude,” Sam had said once, trying to be chill about it. “You ever, uh, think about shaving again?”

Luke blinked. “Why? Ryan likes it. Says it makes me look ‘grown.’” He chuckled dumbly. “Plus, it’s kinda hot, right?” He lifted his arm and gave a flex, revealing a jungle of matted pit hair soaked into the fabric of his tank. Sam nearly gagged.

So Sam decided it was time. He had to confront Ryan.

The walk to Ryan’s dorm was a blur. Sam’s shirt felt too tight, the sleeves digging into his softening arms. He kept tugging at it, aware of the way his belly was starting to bulge ever so slightly over the waistband of his jeans. He hadn’t eaten anything crazy—at least, not that crazy—but his appetite had been out of control lately. Just being near Luke made him hungry. For food. For... something else.

Luke lumbered beside him, slurping a protein shake between burps.

“Dude,” he said around a belch, “Ryan’s makin’ wings tonight. Smells soooo good.”

“Luke,” Sam said, exasperated, “We’re not going to eat. We’re going to talk to Ryan. Something weird is happening, man. You don’t notice how... different you are?”

Luke scratched his stomach with a lazy smirk. “Guess I’m bulking, bro.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

They arrived at Ryan’s door, the scent of fried meat and musky jock sweat thick in the air. Luke didn’t knock. He just barged in like he owned the place.

Ryan was sitting on the bed, shirtless, glistening with sweat, his golden-tanned muscles flexing lazily as he lounged back. The room smelled rank—a mixture of old socks, fried food, and BO. Sam almost choked.

“Yo,” Luke said, flopping onto the couch and immediately scratching his chest through his tank top. “What’s up, stud?”

Ryan chuckled. “Just waitin’ on my boys.”

Sam crossed his arms. “We need to talk.”

Ryan stood slowly, like a panther stretching. “Sam. Buddy. You look... bigger.”

Sam stiffened. “Don’t play games with me. Something’s wrong with Luke. And I think you did something.”

Ryan shrugged. “He looks fine to me. Healthy. Confident. Hot, even.” He stepped forward, his bare feet padding across the grimy floor. “What’s the problem?”

“You’re changing him. And I think it’s happening to me too.” Sam’s voice cracked, deeper than expected. He cleared his throat.

Ryan smirked. “Maybe it’s just... catching.”

He lunged.

Before Sam could move, Ryan grabbed him and yanked his face hard into his musky, swampy armpit. The thick hair smothered Sam’s nose, and the scent hit like a punch to the brain—sour, salty, manly, feral. Sam struggled, but Ryan held him there, rubbing his sweaty pit deeper over Sam’s face.

“Breathe it in, bro,” Ryan growled. “You’re one of us now.”

Sam groaned. It hit his gut like hunger. His skin flushed. His whole body prickled with heat. He felt it.

His belly gurgled, swelling outward inch by inch, pressing tight against his shirt. His arms thickened, fuzzing over with dark hair. His face tingled—a mustache pushing out, thick and greasy. Then his chin itched furiously, filling in with dark scruff that thickened fast into a scraggly beard. His shirt ripped at the seams as his chest ballooned forward with fat and muscle.

His feet burst out of his sneakers, toes thickening, toenails yellowing slightly as hair sprouted across his knuckles and the tops of his feet. He let out a burp, deep and gurgly, followed by a lazy laugh.

“Ughhhh... bro...” he moaned. “I’m gettin’... fat...”

Luke clapped. “Welcome to the bulk, man.”

Sam stumbled back, rubbing his hairy gut. His mind was slower, fuzzier. He could feel the dumb spreading in like fog. He liked the smell. He liked being sweaty.

Then he turned toward Ryan with a feral grin.

“Let’s get our boy finished.”

They tackled Ryan.

Ryan yelled, but he was laughing too. “Guys! Hey! I’m not—HEY!”

Luke yanked his head back and sat hard on his face, grinding his swampy, sweat-soaked ass across Ryan’s nose.

Sam rubbed his own pit, working up the stink, then pressed it to Ryan’s chest.

“You did this,” he muttered. “Now it’s your turn.”

Ryan groaned. His whole body convulsed.

It started at his abs. One by one, they softened, puffing outward, then disappearing under a soft new layer of fat. His pecs sagged slightly, then jiggled. His jawline faded under the slow crawl of a thick, dark beard that crept out like mold. His armpit hair doubled in density and color, stinking up instantly. His feet cracked and grew longer, hair bursting from his toes.

“Noooo... ughhh... I’m gettin’... gross...” Ryan muttered, his voice deepening with each breath. “Smell so bad...”

Sam and Luke just laughed.

“You’re hot now, bro,” Luke said, slapping Ryan’s belly as it surged outward with another burp.

When it was done, Ryan was barely recognizable. His once golden skin was now sweaty, pimpled, and flushed. He was massive—easily 300 pounds—covered in dense dark hair, from his thick chest to his round belly and down to his bloated, sweaty feet. His beard was unkempt and tangled, his mustache curling over his lips. He stank like a gym locker on fire.

“Ughhh... bros...” he moaned. “I’m... hungry.”

Luke grinned. “There’s wings in the kitchen.”

They all waddled off, bellies rumbling, sweat trailing in their wake.

They were dumb. Hairy. Fat. And happy.

Forever jock bros.

Part 4 ---------------------------------------------------------------

The air in the locker room was thick with sweat and old body spray. Ethan, Bryan, and Jake had just wrapped up a grueling afternoon practice—alone. Again. Their cleats thudded against the tiled floors as they wandered toward the coach’s office.

“Where the hell is Ryan?” Ethan muttered, wiping a sheen of sweat from his brow and tossing his helmet into his locker.

“Seriously,” Bryan chimed in, stretching his thick neck from side to side. “That’s the third time this week he’s skipped out. Coach is gonna lose it.”

Jake shrugged, reaching into his gym bag and grabbing a protein shake. “You think it’s got something to do with Luke? I saw them hanging out a lot last week. Luke’s looking... different.”

Ethan snorted. “You mean fat? Hairy? Dude looks like he ate a lumberjack.”

“Whatever,” Jake muttered. “I say we go check his dorm. Get him back in gear.”

With a shared nod, the three left the locker room, cleats still clacking, not bothering to change. They marched across campus, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows.

The scent hit them before the door opened. Thick. Musky. Like sweat baked into a couch for years.

“Dude... what is that?” Bryan said, recoiling.

Jake made a face. “Smells like someone’s cooking socks and B.O.”

Ethan pounded on the door. “RYAN! Open up, man!”

Silence. Then, shuffling footsteps. The door creaked open—just a crack—and an ungodly belch rolled through the gap. Jake gagged.

“What the actual fu—”

The door swung open fully, and all three of them froze.

There, lounging shirtless on the couch, were Ryan, Luke, and Sam.

All three were massive. Not muscular. Massive. Their thick hairy guts spilled out over stretched athletic shorts, and sweat glistened on their dense body hair. Ryan had a thick brown beard now, curling under his chin and coated in crumbs from what looked like half a pizza box. His chest hair connected in a solid pelt to his belly, and he scratched his belly with one hand while the other held a can of beer.

Sam, no longer small or clean-shaven, had the thickest back hair of the three. He leaned forward to grab a chicken wing, his gut pushing his thighs apart. His neck had disappeared under a thickening double chin, and his voice was several octaves deeper than before.

Luke had gone fully feral. A dense forest of hair covered his chest and arms, his legs were like two tree trunks, and he was idly stroking a patch of belly hair with one hand while finishing off a carton of fries.

“Oh shit,” Ethan breathed.

“Bros!” Ryan grinned, mouth full. “Come in! We saved y’all some wings.”

None of the three moved.

“You guys look...” Bryan whispered. “Different.”

“Better,” Sam belched, rubbing his gut. “So much better.”

“C’mon, sit down,” Luke grunted, patting a seat on the couch. “Let’s chill.”

Ethan took a cautious step in. The smell was worse now—so strong it was nearly visible. Sweat, grease, and musk rolled off the couch in waves.

Bryan followed, nose wrinkled. “Ryan, man, what happened to you?”

“Just got upgraded, bro,” Ryan chuckled, taking a long swig of beer and letting out a thundering belch. “No more stress. Just eat, sweat, and hang with the bros.”

Jake looked Ryan up and down. “Dude... you’re, like, huge. And hairy.”

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Sam smirked.

As the three former jocks sat awkwardly on the other couch, something started to shift. Subtly. But unmistakably.

Bryan scratched his stomach. “Weird. I feel hot.”

Ethan yawned, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah. Me too. Sweaty. Like... more than usual.”

Jake frowned and looked down. “My socks feel tight. Are my feet swelling?”

The room seemed to hum with a heavy energy. The couch cushions squished under their weight, heavier than just minutes ago.

Ethan shifted, pulling at his jersey. “Ugh, my pits are soaked. What the hell?”

Sam leaned over, sniffed dramatically. “Damn, bro. You’re ripe. Smellin’ like a real man already.”

Luke chuckled, grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing them in his mouth. “Let it out, bro. Don’t fight it.”

Bryan scratched again—this time at his chest. “Is it just me, or is my chest hairier?”

He pulled down the collar of his shirt. Where there was once a smooth expanse of skin, a dusting of dark hair was forming, spreading slowly but visibly.

Jake’s breath caught. “Dude, your stomach too.”

All three looked down. Bryan’s once-ripped abs were starting to bloat outward, a soft gut pushing forward.

“No way,” Bryan muttered. “No way, man.”

Ethan stood abruptly, then sat right back down. “Whoa. Dizzy. My legs feel like... huge.”

He looked down—and froze. Thick, curling hair was sprouting down his thighs, and his calves were looking puffier by the second.

Jake leaned over to touch Ethan’s leg, but stopped when he caught sight of his own forearm. “What the hell...”

His normally smooth skin was sprouting blond hair like wildfire. A prickly itch ran up both arms, followed by a deep warmth settling in his chest.

Bryan let out a sudden grunt. “Oh god—my voice! Did you guys hear that?”

He coughed, then belched. The sound was guttural. Deeper. His throat bulged slightly as a patchy scruff darkened across his jawline.

Sam was grinning like a lunatic. “Told ya. It’s the smell, bro. Can’t fight it. Just embrace it.”

Luke leaned forward, lifting one of his arms and wafting the air toward the trio.

“Take a deep breath, bros. Let it sink in.”

The three jocks writhed in slow-motion discomfort as the changes began speeding up.

Bryan clutched his stomach. “I’m... I’m starving.”

Ryan laughed, tossing him a half-eaten burger. “You’re gonna want more than one.”

Without hesitation, Bryan tore into it. His beard, once patchy, darkened and connected under his jaw. His stomach gurgled as it expanded further, pressing into his waistband.

Ethan’s arms had thickened, veins disappearing under soft muscle and a coating of hair. He was panting now, the collar of his shirt tight around his neck.

“God, I’m sweating like a pig,” he mumbled.

“Good,” Sam said. “You’re starting to smell right.”

Jake was quieter. Still resisting. But his belly had started to rise, swelling under his compression shirt. His pecs had softened into thick mounds, bouncing slightly as he shifted.

“I can’t... we can’t turn into this,” he muttered. “We’re athletes.”

Ryan burped, and scratched the fuzz of his growing second chin. “You were athletes. Now you’re bros.”

He stood, letting his own massive gut swing forward. Then he waddled toward Jake, leaning in close. Jake tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go.

“You already smell like us,” Ryan whispered.

He grabbed Jake’s face with one hand and shoved it deep into his armpit.

Jake screamed—or tried to. The stench hit him like a freight train. Pungent. Thick. Masculine. Something primal shifted inside him.

His arms went limp. Then heavy.

He gasped when Ryan let him go, stumbling backward. “Oh fuck,” he growled. His voice had dropped an octave. “I... I need food.”

His gut rumbled loudly. A beard was already darkening along his jaw.

Bryan and Ethan were too far gone to react. Bryan was on his third burger, crumbs in his chest hair, while Ethan was pulling his shirt off to scratch at his sweaty, newly hairy chest.

“Damn, Ethan,” Sam laughed. “You’re almost as hairy as me now.”

“Can’t help it,” Ethan muttered. “Feels good.”

Ryan returned to the couch, planting himself between his two new bros. The couch groaned under their combined weight.

Bryan’s face was now encased in a short, thick beard. He scratched it absently, his other hand resting on his swollen, shirtless belly.

Jake had kicked off his shoes, revealing rapidly hair-growing feet. He reached into the box of wings and started devouring them, grunting between mouthfuls.

“Think... I need to stop shaving,” he growled, licking grease off his fingers. “It just keeps coming back thicker.”

Ethan, now fully shirtless, belched and grinned. “We still doing practice today?”

Ryan laughed, spraying crumbs. “This is practice now, bro.”

The room was filled with the sounds of chewing, burping, scratching.

Jake’s voice was now a full, gravelly bass. His body hair had connected across his chest, and his gut sagged onto his thighs.

Bryan had completely outgrown his pants. They were unbuttoned, his hairy belly hanging forward, slick with sweat.

Ethan looked around, blinking slowly. “Wait... what were we doing before?”

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Doesn’t matter, bro. You’re one of us now.”

Jake belched. “Damn straight.”

Ryan let out a thunderous fart and slapped his own belly. “Time for round two, bros. Pizza’s on the way.”

They all erupted into hoarse, greasy laughter. The air was thick with funk and fried food. Their bodies were massive, their minds foggy, their lives reduced to eating, scratching, and hanging out shirtless with their bros.

#hairy #fat tf #hairy tf #gainer tf #male tf

17 notes · View notes

peachhcs · 5 months ago

Note

I feel like James would confide with Gabe and Ryan about Hannah and the draft. I think that he would want someone who he’s not related to, and that’s older than him, to talk to. It makes it better because they’re both in relationships and they’ve been through the draft process.

oh he totally would bc they’re all so close and gabe and ryan look after james and teddy like they are their younger brothers or something

au masterlist

the conte locker room was low and slow for a thursday afternoon before practice. the tough loss yesterday sent a lot of the boys into silence as they either sat with their own thoughts knowing there was a hard practice ahead or just found their own corner to occupy their minds.

gabe and ryan were talking quietly in their own corner when james came into the room. his gaze swept over the quiet room and stopped when he met the older boys’ glance.

“hey haggy,” gabe smiled and waved the younger brunette over.

“hey gp, hey lean,” james sat down with them while pushing his headphones down so he could hear them.

“how you doing? feeling okay?” gabe asked in regards to the game last night and the huge upset when providence beat them.

“i’m okay. the loss hurts, but not much we can do about it now i guess,” james shrugged.

“you win some you lose some. it definitely hurts, but we just bounce back stronger in a week,” ryan said while gabe nodded in agreement.

a soft, comfortable silence hung in the air between the three while the older boys continued taping up their sticks. james’ mind wandered a bit thinking about all the other things that had been lingering besides the game last night. he thought of hannah probably preparing for her meet in a few hours and how focused she always got hours before meets that she hardly ever answered her text messages.

james had gotten a few this morning, but after, her responses got pretty sparse. he was used to this because she always stopped answering the closer the meet got, but sometimes he did wish she was just a little more present—or at least let someone else in when she got super into her head. the boy tried to not take it too personally because hannah did it with everyone, but even when he was there in person watching, she hardly gave him a second glance.

it wasn’t to say james wasn’t the same before games. he always got pretty dialed in, but not enough that he just completely disregarded everyone around him.

there was still some tweaks to their dynamic they were trying to figure out.

“got something on your mind, haggy?” ryan noticed the lost look on the freshman’s face. james’ eyes snapped to his, a flush coating his cheeks.

“oh, no. not really. just..a mix of everything,” the boy mumbled and brushed the two off.

“i dunno if it’s weird, but we’re always willing to listen if you need someone. we don’t bite,” ryan chuckled a bit making the younger boy smile.

“i dunno if it’s really one thing, you know? just a lot of stuff. hannah. hockey. college. the draft. it’s all just running through my mind at once,” james explained kind of poorly but there wasn’t really one right way to explain what was going on up there.

“how is duker? we don’t hear much from her these days unless samy brings her up,” gabe wondered.

“she’s good. she’s focused on gymnastics. got a big meet today against michigan state,” james nodded.

“i can’t believe you guys are dating. i never would’ve seen it coming,” gabe laughed and the younger brunette flushed.

“yeah, how’d you even pull that anyway? duker never got involved in serious relationships like ever when we were younger,” ryan raised his eyebrow.

james shrugged, “honestly, i don’t even know how i did. i did chase her for like two years.”

“hey, props to you though. you knew what you wanted and kept after it,” the older brunette patted james’ arm.

“i guess we’re still trying to figure out that boyfriend-girlfriend dynamic.”

“things not going well?” gabe prodded just a little bit based on the expression he saw on his friend’s face.

“no, no, they are. it’s been great. i guess like..i dunno you guys probably know this because you grew up with her and were closer with her, but she’s very independent. like hates when people do things for her or leaning on other people for support. i guess it’s something i’m trying to figure out with her,” james opened up a bit and the two boys slowly nodded.

“ah, yeah. hannah is pretty independent. she always hated asking for help—i mean samy and hannah were the exact same in that aspect growing up. i guess like..it’s just something you have to keep talking about and making sure she knows you’re always there for her,” gabe said.

“is there anything specific?” ryan added.

“well i guess like today, she has the meet. whenever she has meets she like totally ignores everyone and gets into her own world and head. like..we haven’t talked since this morning. i dunno, it’s not a huge deal, but she always pushes everyone away for some reason and i haven’t figured out how to crack that yet,” james explained and glanced at his phone like a message would appear but none did.

“yeah, that is kind of hard. i think you just gotta keep being there for her you know and she’ll finally realize there is someone who cares. she’ll come around eventually. you can always talk to samy too since she knows her the best out of any of us,” ryan said and the younger hockey player nodded.

“yeah, you’re right. thanks. i appreciate the advice. it feels like everything’s been like a lot lately with hockey and life,” james admitted to which the older boys frowned a bit.

“hey, it definitely gets tough, but just try and keep your head up. you’re on a lot of people’s watch lists,” gabe encouraged which made james flush.

“i’ve heard.”

“you’re gonna be a big deal, haggy. first overall would be pretty insane, but you deserve it. you’ve been working really hard,” ryan added which didn’t help the younger boy’s bright cheeks.

“how’d you guys handle all of it? the pressure and stuff?”

“i mean there isn’t really a right way to handle it, but just making sure you don’t let those news outlets get into your head too much. what they know is irrelevant for the most part. only you know you,” gabe said and ryan nodded.

“it’s a lot, but also really rewarding so just make sure you have your people to lean on if it does get to be too much. we were definitely overwhelmed but excited all at the same time,” the older brunette smiled.

“it’s gonna work out, haggy, don’t worry. you can always poke will about stuff too. or even mack. mack would definitely know how you’re feeling,” gabe patted his friend’s shoulder.

“thanks, guys. i appreciate it,” james nodded. he was glad he had teammates like them who were always willing to offer advice or help out. it was really easy to see why the fans really liked them too.

after practice, james watched hannah’s meet highlights where she had finally texted him. he was quick to praise how well she did while they talked on the phone while also trying to ease the girl’s mind as she picked apart all of her mistakes to him.

“han, you did amazing. you scored a near perfect 10,” james said softly.

“i know, i know. i guess..i’m just in my head. i’m sorry. how was your practice?” the girl shook her head.

“don’t apologize for being in your head. i get it. it was fine though. coach was rough on us, but we expected it,” the boy shrugged.

“sorry, j. you guys are gonna get ‘em next time, i know it,” hannah grinned widely and james smiled as well seeing her bright smile through the screen.

“maybe this warrants a visit soon? i think you’re my good luck charm,” he flirted a bit which made the duke sister blush.

“how charming. maybe i can pull something off,” the two exchanged warm, loving grins.

not hearing from her for hours leading up to her meet was always worth it in the end when james got to talk to her afterwards and see that smile he loved so much, especially when it was directed at him.

20 notes · View notes

tremendouscreationperson · 9 months ago

Text

Logan x Reader pt.17

My dudes I'm sorry, ya girl is having a shit time ATM and not even Logan is helping (I know right) I wrote this and it's been sitting in my drafts cuz I think it's shitty and I might redo bits but it's been like fucking forever so ??? If it's actually awful let me know cuz I can't even tell anymore.. I know I'm slowly loosing the cool ideas I used to have fuck menta illness am I right

But if you can enjoy please do

<<Part 16 Masterlist

Waking up next to Logan perfect, getting up was difficult. You wanted to burrow down and never leave the warm cocoon.

He must've felt the same as he pulled you in tighter the second he felt you rouse.

“Missed this.” He muttered into your hair.

Your eyes were too heavy to open. “Same.”

Logan took a big whiff of your scalp and let out a satisfied sigh. “You smell so good, sweet.”

“So do you.” Nuzzled his chest. It was so warm and inviting and felt like home. You felt at more ease right now with Logan than you had the last two weeks.

That's because he was your home.

It didn't matter where you were, as long as Logan was here you were home.

And fuck it, Dave was right: he didn't deserve to be lied to.

“I've-” you took a deep breath, raising your head to make eye contact. It was truly an effort for him to keep his lids open but he did it for you. “I've been having a hard time.”

Logan woke instantly, his brows furrowed as his easy grip on your waist became more solid. “Tell me.”

You shrugged one shoulder, “the mansion wasn't what I expected it to be. Well, no it was - it was the exact fucking same - but the feeling I got wasn't. I-” Fuck, how was it so easy to talk to Dave but impossible with Logan? You busied your hands by playing with his chest hair, eyes trained away from his face. “They didn't know me. They said hi and introduced themselves and I had to keep myself from screaming I know you! You are my family. Storm I know you secretly love Karaoke, Beast you hate when Kurt moves your stationary, Scott you were my fucking man of Honour!” Logan's hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping tears you hadn't registered. Allowing yourself a quick glance you saw the sympathetic mask he wore and hated it. You didn't want pity, you just wanted to explain yourself, so you continued. “And then I feel guilty because I feel annoyed. And I'm stupid enough to feel jealous that Laura and Gambit fit in. I should love that they have friends in this world, that they have a place to go to where they can be their authentic selves. But it... It hurts.” You sniffed, furiously blinking the tears away.

“It's okay.” He soothed.

“I miss Laura.” You whispered. “She doesn't need me out here.”

“Of course she does.” Logan vowed. “She will always need you. You're her mother.”

“But I'm not tho-”

“You are." His face was serious. He meant it. "You are her mother.”

You let out a humorous puff. “Speaking of, you weren't the only one to have a family reunion.”

Logan's hand stopped yours from twiddling his hair. “You saw your mom?”

You nod once. “She's doing well. My dad, too.”

“Your dad?” He was surprised. “I thought it was just the two of you?”

“Yeah, in every universe where I'm born they're miserable and break up.” You shrugged. “I dunno what the common denominator is.”

“I'd take you over their marriage.” He spoke earnestly.

“I know you would.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “It's just hard for me to see myself the way you see me.”

“I wish I could show you.” He squeezed your palm. “You're my everything. I haven't loved anything the way I love you.”

There was no way you could hear that - the unashamed truth he poured directly onto you, this almost-immortal who had loved and lost tenfold telling you he hadn't experienced this before - in this state without having to deflect. It was like looking at the sun, you shied away. “Not even beer?”

“Not even beer.”

“Milkshakes?”

“No.”

“Skimpy underwear?”

Logan pretended to ponder that and ultimately shook his head. “That's a tough one because I would do anything to get you into some skimpy underwear.”

You chuckled, hiding your face in his chest again.

“I'm glad you told me.” His fingers scratched at your scalp, you let out a low rumble in your throat due to how good it felt.

Voice muffled by his chest, you answered, “It's weird that Tony could fix my body but it's like he's messed with me. I have new powers and my mind’s all scattered. I feel so strange.”

Logan kissed your head. “You're still adjusting. Give it time.”

Breakfast was standard.

You hadn't really ate breakfast recently but Logan making eggs and bacon made you realise how hungry you were in the mornings.

“So, you couldn't be mutant and proud?” Victor questioned, next to you on the sofa.

“No.” You answered, pulling on a pair of fluffy socks. “We were, obviously, but you couldn't be publicly without backlash.”

“Huh.” He huffed, turning his attention back to the TV which was playing quietly.

It didn't quite feel like the end of the conversation.

“As we said yesterday, even the mutants were divided. And that's not just the factions we mentioned. Hell, everyone was mutant and proud until a telepath walked into the room. People hated Charles… and Emma.”

“Emma?”

You had briefly met Emma Frost and we're wowed by her intelligence. She was so much more than what people assumed but sadly you never really got to the ‘friend’ part. “Just a sort of an acquaintance.”

Victor huffed again, his eyes watching the screen but not actually taking anything in. He had retreated deep into his mind.

“It doesn't make any prejudices you've seen lesser.” Your palm found its way to his forearm. “It's unfortunate that there are any in the first place.”

Victor frowned, snatched his arm away and stood in one fluid movement. “Logan, where's breakfast?” Was his attempt at seeming unaffected.

Laura was dropped off by Gambit and Rogue, who were going on a platonic friend date. She grinned widely as she entered your front door.

“I'm back!”

You had been sitting on the sofa waiting for her arrival. Standing up and helping her with her bags.

“Laura, how many clothes are in here?” You giggled, pulling her in for a hug with your free arm.

“It's not easy to keep clothes pristine in the mansion.” She dropped her bag and squeezed you harder. “But they’ve made copies of my suit and now I have some to wear there.” Your baby had her own X-Man suit. That was good, you should be proud but you were worried. Sure, she had her powers but this was your baby! “Before you say anything I am careful.”

Laura took a step back and studied your face. Her eyebrows moved downwards a fraction - like she was trying to hide her confusion.

“You smell different?” She took a sniff. “Sweeter. It's strange… You've always smelt the same. Anything happened?”

Smell different? What could make you smell different? You were normal - well, you were getting back to normal. Ah, that was it. “Could be my medication.”

“Medication?” Her eyes darkened. “Are yo-”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” you gave her a big smile. “Just old lady stuff.”

She gave you a look that showed how she did not believe you in the slightest - and would worry as much as she wanted thank you very much - but let you take her bags to the machine.

“Go find Logan, tell him you're here. I'll put a load on.”

“He's not here?”

You opened her bag and started separating the lights and darks. “He is in 16. With Victor.”

Her face was curious. “What's his brother like?”

“He's been told to be nice so he should be pleasant.” You laughed with her. “If he isn't I'm sure us three will let him know.”

Laura bit the inside of her cheek. “Claws?”

You shook your head. “No, he has nails but all your other powers.”

“Nails?”

“They do grow and shrink to his will.” You began loading the machine. “Was Sabertooth not in your comics?”

She nodded distractedly. “A kid called Bobby had a comic. He spoke to Logan and came out saying Sabertooth was real but I didn't know it was his brother. I might have one, I'll have to look.”

You gave her a soft smile. “I suppose with the infinite universes there's places where they aren't siblings, maybe in your world they weren't?”

She agreed. “Yeah, that's something to consider.”

“Hell, there may even be a universe where we are related.”

Laura looked taken aback, in fact, she blunk a couple of times as she digested that. “You're right.” She spoke with a confused frown. “There's universes where you and Logan are my birth parents. Where we're enemies. Where we don't even know each other…”

Her sentence trailed off as she took a breath and you stepped in. “Which makes this one special, huh?” Laura waited for you to continue, “the three of us finding each other despite everything. Despite being from different universes, despite the Void and the pain and the everything. We have our friends and our family and we lived.”

The light in her eye had returned and suddenly you were engulfed in a tight hug.

“Laura,” Logan tugged her into a half hug, his hand on the back of her head. “Meet Victor.”

She was observing her ‘uncle’ - fucking hell he was her uncle - silently. Her eyes scanned him from head to toe.

Victor wasn't intimidated, as most were, by her gaze but he shuffled slightly and then thrust a hand out. “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

Laura took a small step from Logan's safe bubble and placed her hand in his, squeezing tighter than necessary - like Logan taught her - with a thin smile. “Hello.”

Victor grinned at her strength and watched as his hand reset to its original state, no broken knuckles. “I think we'll get along, little lady.”

She raised a brow.

It took exactly 4 minutes and 38 seconds for Victor, Logan and Laura to become obsessed with who was the strongest which meant you had to tag along to the gym that Elektra had praised this whole time.

The gym had a section for enhanced and you had discovered that Logan did have a membership. He hadn't used it since you got to this world which would be embarrassing and you would have felt awful but he told you with a wink that he liked exercising with you a lot more than here.

Victor made remarks about their claws.

“Mhmm, imagine what I could do with Adamantium.” He ran a finger across Logan's claws.

“You don't want it.” Logan declared.

“I don't know I think I might.” Victor's eyes caught Laura's. She was watching his movements.

Laura shook her head. She had seen the metal destroy her father, kill him from the inside out and would likely witness it again before her own body began to wither and decay. “You really don't.”

“Keeping all the goodies to yourselves.”

You sat watching them wrestle and spar feeling a little inadequate before you remembered that no, you could take any of them!

“I want a go.” You announced, hands on your hips.

Logan and Victor ceased their snarling and they both stared with twin puzzled expressions.

“I want a go.” You repeated. “I'll take the winner.”

Victor shoved a distracted Logan to the floor. “Can't wait.”

You turned away to deposit your hoodie onto the bench where your phone and water were.

You made sure your hair wouldn't be a problem and by the time you were ready so was your opponent.

“You sure about this?” Logan whispered to your left, he was puffing with the skin on his cheekbone sewing itself back together.

“I think so, might do me some good.” You shrugged. “Barring the random bad guy each week, I've only consistently fought you, I was paired with you for years. Feels wrong to lash out at you now.”

Your love gave you a very not happy okay before he stepped back and let you face Victor.

Victor - wearing black dress pants and a grey shirt - wiggled his finger, beckoning you.

You knew that your outfit wasn't exactly what one would wear for a fight - at least if one could prepare for a fight - but you had picked the outfit for a museum or bowling or even the cinema. It was a nice dress, plain but comfortable, with converse trainers - in case of bowling - that you now regretted not wearing shorts under but fuck it. No one was wearing fighting clothes, in fact you all were looking nice. Logan was wearing a white button up - that now had two small unfortunate stains - and Laura had even made an effort when she noticed you had; she wore dark jeans and a very pretty vest, instead of the band shirt she began her day in.

You came to a stop a few paces from him and eased him forward with a field. Victor took a reluctant step before you quite roughly tossed him to the side.

He landed on all fours and was quick to launch backwards, you stopped him midair and watched his confusion as you held him.

Over your shoulder, you spoke to Logan. “I don't recall our fights being this boring.”

Victor's eyes were black now. Safe to say: he was not a happy bunny.

The man slashed his way out of your field and you gasped, flying to the side. Neither Laura or Logan could do that!

You shuffled backward on your butt but he was yanking your ankle before you could even try to get away. He forced you to face him, his nails growing so they dug into your cheeks.

“I ain't boring.” He warned.

You gave him his moment of glory before forming tiny fields around each nail and snapping them. Victor yowled, dropping you and you rolled to the side quickly displaying your newest power.

Still not wholly convinced they couldn't see you - you literally felt no different and could see yourself - you kept totally silent.

Slowly tiptoeing around him as his eyes darted around. He took a deep inhale through his nose and his eyes were on you.

Fuck.

Victor launched in your general direction as you sidestepped and trapped him in a more fluid field, this one wrapped around each limb and you made sure to keep the field away from his nails. He may try to rip his way free again.

Dripping the invisible field you met his gaze.

“That was fun.”

He smirked. “We ain't finished.”

The majority of today was spent in the gym and you didn't actually hate it.

Mostly because a) you were letting off some steam which Dave would be proud of and b) you were with your favourite people having fun.

Ultimately Victor was the strongest because he could slash your fields but Logan was the strongest because he performed better overall with the weight lifting but Laura was the expect climber and her slight frame meant she could out manoeuvre them tenfold but you were the odd one out who could beat each of them with your fields and smarts.

And so it all ended in a big game of rock, paper, scissors.

You were near the apartment block when Wade's shrill voice called out.

“Yooohoooooo!” He sang, skipping over. “Omg, it's been so long, last time I saw you was a flashback!”

You nodded with him because if you couldn't understand the man you could at least pretend to.

“Wade, Victor.” Logan gestured. “Victor, Wade.”

“Oh, we've met handsome.” Wade made a kissy face at Victor. “I was gorgeous, there was a hobbit and Will.I.Am.”

Victor did not like Wade. It was obvious. You could see his hands ball into fists and the vein in his temple made an appearance but despite what you knew about him being hot tempered he didn't make a move.

“He's just like that.” Laura spoke.

“Fine.” Wade and Victor said at the same time causing Wade to giggle and carry on with, “fuck Thor I wanna get in your pants.”

@killerwendigo @littlecrowtime @geeksareunique @lovelyvaderx @br3nt-12 @st1nkabutt @maximumchilddreamland @catiwinky @ravenmedows @electricreader @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @bisasterbisexual @tzurue @narniansmagic @seamlessepiphany @4ria790 @caramelatae @mei-simp @slightlymediocree @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @the-ruler-of-death

#marvel #james logan howlett #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan #logan 2017 #wolverine #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #the wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader

35 notes · View notes

kpchrs · 7 months ago

Text

Fun facts about the Crack because I love to yap-yap, yackety-yack:

Obviously HEAVY spoilers to the Crack if anyone hasn't and wanna read it lol (Edit: I accidentally posted a post too early again. Gah. Whatever.)

This is inspired by Detective Conan (because it's the first murder mystery story I consumed, The Organisation is NOT the Black Organisation, btw), Sherlock (Max's way of solving the mystery, kinda), TBOSAS (the unreliable narrator), Agatha Christie and Sherlock Holmes (the narration vibe, kinda, I scanned them before I started writing it), Ace Attorney (the ridiculous names), and etc.

This is not the original idea. The original idea was...I think it's just a variation of the opening of my comment to AWIC. So it was supposed to be a short thing in AWIC comment section, but instead of a full blown case, Max and Nathan are solving MY death and the culprit is Céline @celinou LOL

THIS plot is inspired by my convo last October with Puni @riverinkfics while I was talking about maybe writing it as a oneshot instead. Out of nowhere, I got a vision of an unreliable narrator murderer POV but Max knows about it because she just jumped from the future. Then my brain just flowed to Max snapping Sussy's photo and bombing him with a murder accusation out of nowhere. And, there, I just got my plot bones.

I got the idea last October but I only started writing it in March because I think I had other things to do. When I posted it yesterday, it was minutes after I just finished writing it lmao

In the first plot draft, it's supposed to have soooo many rewinds, but, damn, I don't have the energy to do that. So I decided to cut it. Behold my notes and my handwriting! I wrote these in a Chinese family restaurant at Sunday noon.

My early struggle was how to involve Nathan and his powers in this oneshot, but then I got the idea to use his powers to scare interrogate people. And I figured that, huh, I didn't have to write it at all lol This is months before AWIC ends so it's a coincidence. My next struggle was figuring out why Sussy was there in the first place lol

I actually don't like first povs (both reading and writing), but third pov didn't agree with me when I started writing it so I tried for a first and I found it easier to write.

I tried to base the Max and Nathan in this crack on Céline's Max and Nathan, characterisation and all. (I mean, since this is a fanfiction to AWIC.) But I only base it on my memories, so I dunno how accurate it is. But this is Max and Nathan who have grown up and put on a detective persona so lol They are only truly themselves in the banter part.

This crack was supposed to be funnier, but the longer and longer I wrote Sussy's background and narration, the unfunnier and the more serious it was. That guy is such a dramatic theatre kid. Kinda a shame, but I rolled with it.

I didn't mean to post that teaser that early actually xD I meant to post that teaser when the fic was finished but alas…I accidentally posted it. "Surprise" for Céline's word was not randomly generated at all. I clicked 'Generate' on the Random Word Generator a lot to have the word I wanted. It's actually to say "Surprise!" I didn't expect Céline to really treat the post as a WIP Game xD That post was all crafted as a teaser from head to toe lol

At first the deadline was "As Soon As Possible", but then I didn't touch it for months. Coming back to comment on @weer02 Ver's chapters got me into a writing groove (lol I was so thankful), so for a week I was on the roll at that rate I could post it at the end of November. But then I got distracted by Life™ and I lost the groove again. The deadline had been "After Céline's Birthday", "Before Christmas", "After Christmas", and "Whatever You Have to Do, Finish It Before 2024 Ends, Kris!" lol I made it, yay!

In this world, Max and Nathan are a successful detective duo the sleuth world known as "The Photographing Detectives", because they always take photos everywhere with an expensive ass camera and a vintage Polaroid. Max DOES take a photo of their clients immediately when they enter the office. It's a legit procedure so Max can go back whenever and wherever when it's necessary. So yes, Max does bring a pile of relevant Polaroids everywhere with her. They are her weapons lol

There is a conspiracy theory because they are so good at their job that they use money (because people know Nathan is a rich boy) to make up all these cases they solve to build their image. But there is no evidence. (Duh.)

Nathan and Max's powers are so powerful now that they are drunk in it. They use their powers for power tripping. It's kinda fucked LOL

"Psychic detectives? No, no, just time-traveling ones" is Max's catchphrase that people never remember because she immediately rewinds that.

Max's office uniform is a T-shirt and jeans because she likes comfy. The grey blazer is to compromise with the professional detective world. (When Nathan found out that she just replaced her jacket with a blazer, he rolled his eyes and gave up.) I wrote that part months before the announcement of Double Exposure so yes, I've rejected Max Caulfield's fashion sense in DE from the start.

Despite him rolling eyes at Max's grey blazer, he then follows suit because they need to match, yeah? So yes, he wears a grey suit too with a black shirt inside.

Because Céline and I love our colour symbolism, this means this duo is treading on grey morality lol Because their investigation ways are not really that moral. Yep.

Max and Nathan are still great at photography. People who know them are actually amazed at the casual photos they sometimes share on the internet.

Of course, the interior design of the office is a combination of their respective aesthetics. The name board is Nathan's design.

I think it's obvious but Sussy quotes Agent Dale Cooper in S1E2 of Twin Peaks when he drinks the coffee. For some reason, it's the one thing that's different from the previous loop so Max is genuinely entertained. I got the idea to include this two days ago when I watched the episode while washing dishes. (EPISODE 2??? Okay, yeah, so I haven't really continued Twin Peaks, mmkay. I rewatched E2 because I forgot what it was about.)

Because Max has heard all the sob stories Sussy told her, she zones out while waiting to drop the one-liner. What she thinks about: "When will he finish? Have I done my laundry for today, do I have underwear? Should I just go make a sandwich but still pretend to listen? When will he finish so I can drop my killer one-liner? Ha. Killer one-liner. I'm so punny." When she does drop the bomb, she is so giddy inside like: "Holy crap, I feel like Sherlock. This is so fun ksjhisjcwe"

When Max bombards Sussy with the details of his murder, it's a half bluff deduction and half the information Nathan got from the case remains. Not the corpse tho. Nathan refuses to take time memories from human remains. It's really bad for his psyche after a while and we know his is quite fragile. Basically, you experience the deaths in first pov so. Even more so when their powers got even stronger. So if Max's nerf is still the intervals between time jumps, this is the one that nerfs him. Sure, it'd be the easiest thing, but do we want him to be in the psych ward? I don't think so. (This is the reason why Nathan wears gloves. (Black btw, because that's sexy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)) Not that he can't control it, but…just in case.) Also, you are not the greatest detectives ever if you just see it, not solve it. They should have been a psychic duo instead, but that's less fun, maybe. (Nathan watching Psych: "Ha! Look, they are our opposites!")

Technically with their powers, they could have been a vigilante duo to save people left and right instead of solving crimes that have happened but that's in another alternate universe, I guess lmaooo

They have fans and shippers. Like us. But cue the moment when they found out their backstories and did a witchhunt on Nathan.

Mr Sussy Murderer and Ms Lily Dead. Silly names and anagrammed last names. Sussy's last name can be a reference to "demurrer".

It means nothing for Sussy because he didn't "so what" any of them anyway. Btw, I thought his name gave it right away that he's the killer? lol That was my worry. I guess I distracted people well.

Whenever Max calls him "Mr De Murrer", it's actually her calling him "Mr Murderer".

There was this one line I couldn't include in the final form because I didn't know where to put it, but it was: “My first case was a missing girl turned dead, just like this one.”

After Sussy runs away, Max is actually lmao-ing in the office and still lmao-ing when Nathan finally arrives.

In this AU, Nathan and Max have relied their life on their powers so much I imagine if the powers suddenly are gone for good, they are fucked. They will have to re-learn how to walk in a world full of uncertainty. Walk as mortals, mwahahaha!

I know I shouldn't explain unreliable narration, but while Sussy lies to Max a lot, or like almost all the time because of course, Sussy's inner narration is always truthful to how the whole thing really went, except for when he omits the details. But there is one point when his dialogue and inner narration agree with each other.

If you think about it, Sussy and Max are performing a theatre play for each other in that room, the difference is Sussy's is scripted while Max's is an improv. Sussy performs right after he enters the office and ends when Max drops the bomb. Max performs from when she says, "Yes, of course I've heard of you, Mr De Murrer" til Sussy runs because it's fun for her and she's a prankster. So yes, this fic is just a huge prank from her.

Now that I think about it, Nathan in AWIC is a theatre kid too loool? "One theatre kid walks into a detective agency of two theatre kids'..." Sorry he didn't get to perform lol

What would Nathan do to Sussy in the end? Something like Chapter 39 of AWIC lol

Feel free to ask anything if any, I maybe can answer pfft

#kris on crack #caulscott #a walk in chiaroscuro

17 notes · View notes

scatterbrainedart · 1 year ago

Text

Made this in 2022 with the intention of doing every series, but I just. Got tired trying to work out double life and gave up. And then it's been rotting in my drafts ever since. So here is as far as it went, because I still think it's kinda fun.

Life Series lives markings concepts!

I like the idea that the lives a player have left are visualized as marks on their body, so this is my approach on it! I also decided to handle each season a bit different, and here’s how:

3rd Life

So, for 3rd life specifically I think it’d be pretty cool to have the lives running along their throats (this doesn’t work for last life since the people who ended up with like 6 lives absolutely will not be able to fit them all on their neck, but I’ll get into that later), simply because I drew my life series sona like that and now I’m attached, and I have decided to simply deal with it.

Generally I like the idea that the Murderous Intent™ of the red life is visualised as red vines (or, corrupted veins. A sickness in the blood, making them crave bloodshed. That could be pretty cool) taking control of the player and corrupting them. That would also be the same for latter boogymen, albeit a lot more subtle since it’s all canonically sneaky and invisible and whatnot.

Another general rule of the markings is that once you lose a life, a scar takes its place (preferably somewhat reminiscent of how that life was lost. Got blown up? The scar looks like an explosion. Got shot? Perhaps it looks like it’s shattering or something, I dunno. I haven’t quite thought that far ahead, but it could be fun to play around with).

Last Life

Now, as for last life, the design got a bit more tricky to figure out as, like I said, six lives would not be able to fit on someone's throat! So! I figured putting them along the spine would look really neat, so that's exactly what I did. Behold!

The greens go darker the further up they go, and I also have them shine. Why? Because style, that’s why. Anyways, not all people start out with six lives. So, what does that look like?

Boom! Grayed out hearts. This would be Grian after gaining that one life from Scar. I’d imagine, if the player has some empty slots, that’s where the extra life would end up (what about when they don’t have empty slots then? Like, if someone already has six lives, or if they have used up six ones? I’ll get around to that shortly. First, let’s mention red lifers and boogeymen).

Red life, and the second chance. Just like in the 3rd life version, there’s these red vines or veins corrupting the player, except this time the player can be healed if they’re gifted a life. This is what that would look like. Like I said, the extra life fills up the empty slot and avoids the scar tissue, sort of like a lighting bulb turning on and then breaking once that life is spent. As for boogeymen,

The red life shines far brighter, and is starting to corrupt. The corruption is not yet deep enough to leave scars when healed, and should simply retract once the boogey is cured. If the boogey is cured. Now. About what I said earlier about that seventh extra life.

I’d reckon there’d just pop up a new one under the red life, and if there were even more they’d just continue down. I doubt there’d ever be an issue where someone would have too many lives to fit all their markings, so I don’t worry too much about that tbh. Oh and one last thing before we move on from last life onto everyone’s favourite romantic comedy drama (which will not happen. Curse 2022 me's positive thinking). I think it’d be kinda cool if the neck scars from 3rd life stays. Simply for angst reasons. Tho, they’d be a lot more faded than the scars from the current season ofc, but they’d still be there. Just enough to remind the players of the past lives’ bitter ends. Of the betrayals and the regret, the guilt and the weariness. Because why not.

(Might update with the other seasons. Hmmm)

#grian fanart #digital art #art #digital painting #fanart #artwork #digital artwork #painting #sketch #concept #3rd life fanart #3rd life #life series #life series fanart #last life smp #last life #last life fanart #last life grian

21 notes · View notes

fuckin-sick-bih · 2 years ago

Text

Tattoos and Tissues pt 3!

Fandom: Stranger Things Summary: No Upside Down. Tattoo Artist and Florist AU. Eddie goes to Steve's place to take care of his florist boyfriend who has fallen ill. CW: Mess, inducing, stuffy talk, illness, mentions of erections and adult themes/kink, Steve has the kink and Eddie likes indulging Word Count: 4.3k Author Note: I did it! I finished it! I finished a fic! Holy fuck! No one ever let me do this again... I am absolutely going to do this to myself again no questions, I just suck at pacing myself lmao. Honestly, the first draft was WAY more Adult lol But also I don't want this to be the end of this AU. I just don't wanna do another 3-part fic, I wanna do little mini fics or drabbles if ideas happen tbh. Regardless, enjoy. I am aware not all things resolve, but hey that's why it can be something cute and small and on-going, right? Eddie - bold Steve - Italics MINORS DNI

whats your address?

What? Why?

because i come baring gifts, Harrington. address, please, so i can figure out where the hell im going im so lost

413 Building D Maple Glen Apartments just off Terrace Street. I’ll buzz you in, just come up to the fourth floor, and I’ll be poking my head out.

When Eddie showed up at Building D of Maple Glen Apartments and saw he had four flights of stairs to climb, he decided he was going to strangle Steve instead of nurse him back to health. He adjusted the bags of goodies for Steve in his hands and began the climb up to the fourth floor. The top floor, of course.

As he reached the top and exited the stairwell, he spotted Steve poking his head into the hallway as promised. Sure, Eddie was panting, but Steve looked wrecked. There were dark circles under his eyes, his nose was bright cherry red at the tip and rims, and the rest of his face was pale.

“Jesus H. Christ, you weren’t kidding… You really are sick, huh?” Eddie said in a soft, somewhat concerned tone as he approached Steve.

The other’s pale cheeks seemed to flush up a dark shade of red at Eddie’s words. “What id the world are you doi’g here, Eddie?” Steve asked in a congested and raspy voice that made Eddie wince in sympathy for his throat.

Instantly, Eddie went digging in his bags for the bag of cough drops. “Please suck on one of those, Harrington. Talking sounds like it hurts. And they’ve got menthol-y stuff in ‘em. It’ll help your nose, c’mon lemme in.” He shoulders his way into Steve’s apartment before the other can stop him.

“Eddie!” Steve rasped out before turning away from the other to cough harshly into his arm. “You dod’t wadt to be id here, you’ll get s-siiih… IXXGH’T! Sick.” There had been just enough time for Steve’s hand to shoot up and pinch his nose to stifle what sounded like a powerful and still just barely restrained sneeze. It made Eddie wince to think how it must have hurt his ears.

There was a scoff from the curly-haired tattoo artist, who was already unpacking his bag of goodies on the nearby countertop. At the same time, Steve shut the door, not protesting anymore. “Bless you and puhhh-lease. I don’t get sick, Steve. Munson Constitution. Allergies? Yes. Sick? No. I can’t even remember the last time I was sick. Wait-” He frowned as he tried to dig up the memory. “I think it was like 8th grade? And I had the flu? I dunno; Uncle Wayne came home to me curled up asleep in the empty tub with a fever. He couldn’t find me for like twenty minutes.”

There was a mildly concerned but still somewhat fond smile on Steve’s face. “You’re a bess, Budsod.” He sniffled thickly and grabbed a tissue from the box beside the couch where it looked like Steve had taken up residence. A nest of blankets, a pillow from his bed, crumpled tissues surrounding the nest, and a few empty water bottles. “But seriously, you should go. Robid high-tailed it out of here to Dadcy’s the seco’d she heard I was sick.”

“All the more reason for me to stay!” Eddie chirped, stepping back to show Steve the menagerie of sick supplies he’d brought. “Not that you need a babysitter, and if you seriously wanna be left alone to your misery, I get it, but…” He side-stepped a little closer to bump their shoulders together. “I never liked being alone while sick.” He admits softly.

The little bump made Steve’s lips twitch, and Eddie counted it as a win. Then Steve moved forward to have a look at the supplies. “Jesus, you didd’t have to get b’me all this…”

Eddie pats Steve on the back as he moved with him, eyes scanning over the cold/flu meds, a couple cans of chicken noodle soup, some bottles of Gatorade, the cough drops he’d mentioned earlier, and even- “Those fucking dissolvable shower disks are evil, Harrington. That’s your treat if you’re a good boy and take your meds, deal?” He said with a smirk growing on his face now.

A sputtering noise from Steve turned into a coughing fit almost right away, bad enough that Eddie was rubbing his back through the end of it. “W-What the hell does that bead?” He choked out, eyes wide. “If they’re evil thed, why did you bri’g theb?”

A laugh escaped Eddie, who was now taking Steve’s hands to guide him back to the couch, settling the sick man down to wrap him back up in blankets. “Because they work and because you will probably love it.” He said playfully and hesitated momentarily, trying not to overthink it before pressing his lips to Steve’s forehead. “Not warm.” He whispered softly.

Steve let out an almost shuddering-sounding sigh like he was just happy to be touched. To be taken care of for once. They’d only started getting to know each other but had been texting a bit. With all those teens he babysat, Eddie could believe it. Between work, babysitting, and probably taking care of things at the apartment with his roommate… when did Steve get time to care for himself?��No wonder he got sick, Eddie thought.

“What do you say to some daytime cold meds, a cough drop, some Gatorade, and I’ll heat you up a can of soup in a bit?” Eddie asked Steve softly, running his fingers delicately through the other man’s messy bedhead. It was as if Steve was a cat, utterly leaning into the touch despite how sick he must feel with how he looked.

There was a nod from Steve, so Eddie took that to mean go ahead with his plan. “Kinda glad to see you keep work at work.” He admits to Steve in a casually playful way while grabbing Steve a Gatorade and some pills. “Would’ve sucked if we were both sneezing our heads off- bless you, by the way.”

As Eddie spoke, Steve’s face had been going slowly slacker, and his eyes were unfocused in a classic pre-sneeze hang-up. “Ixx’TSH! IXGh’t! Oh god… I’b dot godda be able to stifle those buch lo’ger…” Steve mutters with a much soupier-sounding sniffle than Eddie expected for some pretty well-stifled sneezes.

Nevertheless, Eddie pulled his bandana from his back pocket and swatted Steve with it before offering it out to him. “Here. Stop stifling then, jackass. Didn’t see me stifling for you, hm?” He pointed out, handed over the meds and drink, and gestured to the cough drops. “Try one. It’ll feel good on your throat and help your congestion.”

Steve caught the bandana and gave Eddie an appreciative smile for the soft fabric against his nose. “Ugh, fide if it gets you to shut up.” He teased, punctuated by a weak cough after downing the meds. Then he grabs a menthol lozenge. After popping it into his mouth, Steve’s eyebrows raise. “I was expecti’g that to taste worse… cad defiditely still taste the bedthol…” He admits with a slight sniffle.

“Sorry… what were you sayi’g earlier?” Steve asked with another little sniffle as he settled on the couch, pressing the bandana to his nose some more. There’s the slightest flush that wasn’t there a little bit ago. Eddie would’ve remembered if it had been there or not. It’s too cute, barely spreading over his cheekbones and nose tip.

Eddie was knocked out of his daydreaming by remembering he had to answer Steve. “Huh? Oh- thanking you for your lack of plants. That’s all.” He jokes and shakes his head. “It’s stupid, don’t worry about it. I’m just glad to get a break from being the sneezy one.” He teased.

A quiet, albeit raspy, chuckle escapes Steve while he sucks on the lozenge. “Ab I givi’g you a rud for you b-buhh…bodey yet? Or do I deed to snff let byself sdeeze bore for that?” With all the stopping to sniffle and how his nose seemed to be tickling, Eddie got the idea the menthol in the lozenge was working on Steve’s sinuses.

“Well, I think you’re doomed to sneeze more soon either way, big boy.” Eddie teased as he watched the other man’s expression fall again into that pre-sneeze desperation.

Still, Steve seemed to want to deny himself release. “D-D’noh idea… w-whhaahat you bead, Eds-” His breath was beginning to hitch dangerously now, coming closer and closer to its inevitable crescendo.

Eddie took Steve’s hands, “Don’t stifle, Steve… just sneeze. It’s okay.” He urged the other, getting the feeling it was far more than just a matter of Steve not wanting to spread germs. Like he was still embarrassed and shy.

“Oh, okaaehh-! AeISHHue! HeiiISHhuh! Ngh- Ugh… Oh fuck. Still tickles.” Steve admits, scrunching and wriggling his nose in all sorts of ways Eddie found altogether too damn endearing.

Eddie rolled his eyes and dropped down onto the couch with Steve. “Come here, sniffles.” And he can plainly see that has an effect on Steve from where he sits now. Steve’s breath catches, and there’s the slightest tent to the front of his Hawkins High Swim Team gray sweatpants. Whoever designed those pants for the swim team, Eddie could kiss them. “Oh, you like that?” He purred.

A shaky sort of breath left Steve, but Eddie wasn’t quite sure if it was from being teased or still needing to sneeze. Though Steve moved a bit closer, his eyes were watering a little now with the irritation that wouldn’t budge. “O-oh god, cobe o-ohhhih-!” Even with as desperate of a hitch as it sounded, Steve still faltered into sniffles and groaned.

The curly-haired man looked at Steve with an exceptionally soft pout, one of distinct sympathy. “You want some help with that? Seriously, that looks like torture.” He tilted his head when Steve sniffled, and his eyes widened at Eddie’s offer.

“I’b sorry, what’d you just ask, b’me?” Steve asked, like he wasn’t sure if he was hearing correctly. He was still rubbing his nose against the cuff of his hoodie; Eddie wasn’t sure if he was encouraging or fighting off the tickle anymore.

Eddie raised a brow at Steve in confusion, “Do you need help with that stuck sneeze? You’re starting to look more miserable than me peak allergy season, Stevie.” He teased, watching as the other continued staring at him like a deer in headlights until it clicked for Eddie, and he had his lightbulb moment. “Wait! Does that turn you on?” He asked, sounding utterly delighted to have figured out how to get Steve going to the point where he was nearly speechless.

Instantly, Steve was sputtering, and it caused a few coughs to escape him. “Oh by god, you cad’t just say thi’gs like that to b’me, Eds…” He complained, leaning back against the couch to tip his head back while rubbing at his nose some more. “Fuck… ugh, bay- maehh… hehih-!” And once again, Eddie watched him wind up, only for nothing to happen.

“Sooo…?” Eddie prompted and gave a vague wave of his hand as if gesturing Steve to continue.

It was truly remarkable how red Steve’s face could flush, Eddie thought as he watched the lighter brunette make the internal debate. “Fide. Jesus, we practically flirt all the tibe adyway.” He reached forward to snatch a tissue, twisting the corner into a point.

Eddie’s brows furrowed as he watched in utter confusion while Steve strangled the tissue. “Okay, I gotta ask… what the fuck are you doing?”

“I’b- ihhih… ugh, I’b baki’g sobethi’g for you to i’duce b’me.” He explained before handing the tissue, now twisted to a neatly pointed tip, over to Eddie. “Probably wod’t get bore thad ode use out of it because I’b all coldish, but iihh-! it should do the trick.”

After accepting the new tool, Eddie turned to face Steve more as he started to get the idea. “Ohh, I think I get it. Okay. Never actually thought to use a tissue like this, honestly.” He admits before smirking a little. This was Steve’s kink, and well… he wanted to perform for him a little. Make it fun for him.

He trails the very tip of the twisted-up tissue end over the tip of Steve’s red nose and watches as his nostrils flare in response to even just that. “Jesus, someone’s sensitive.” It was just a stray comment. Sometimes, Eddie couldn’t keep his mouth shut, but judging by how Steve’s hips suddenly squirmed, he really enjoyed it.

A grin split across Eddie’s face, and he suddenly moved to straddle Steve’s lap, “Think I need a better position for this, don’t you, sweetheart?” he asked teasingly and winked at his boyfriend, who was now bright red as he looked up at him. Eddie eased down to sit more in Steve’s lap, which caused the other man to groan softly.

“Sure, E-Eddie…” Steve stuttered out, but this time, it clearly had nothing to do with his sensitive nostrils that Eddie was already getting back to teasing. “You cad go i-ihhh idside…”

That made the darker-haired man raise his brows in mild surprise, but he nodded, gently slipping the tip of the tissue into Steve’s nose. He gently twirled the tissue curiously, which had Steve instantly gasping beneath him, and Eddie’s dick twitched at just how powerful he felt for a brief moment.

The twirl seemed to do the trick because Steve’s nostrils flared out, and his eyes fluttered closed with another desperate, hitching breath. Eddie’s hand shot back with the tissue still clutched between his fingers, the twisted tip now all damp and limp despite its short adventure.

“Ihh… IXXTISHHUE!! HEIIISHUE! Uh… Hupt’IISHHuh… ugh oh by god…” Steve groaned out after the sneezes. The first two burst forth with a sudden intensity Eddie hadn’t been expecting at all. The lighter-haired brunette hastily grabbed a tissue to press to his face, cleaning himself up while a blush spread across his neck and cheeks. “Fuck that’s so e’barassi’g.” He whispered, but Eddie could feel Steve’s erection pressing firmly against him.

The ease with which Eddie could get Steve so hard he was pressing up against him like that even while he was under the weather was borderline intoxicating. It didn’t matter that Steve had snapped right forward to sneeze, the spray misting briefly against Eddie’s forearm and stomach.

“Bless you, hey… it’s alright. You’re sick; gotta get that gunk outta you. Maybe a shower with one of those disks would be a good idea, actually… clear out some of that congestion, huh?” He offered and grabbed Steve another tissue to replace the one he’d just about soaked through by now.

Little, congested snuffles were coming from Steve constantly as Eddie sat back in his lap to let him tend to his leaking nose. “Baybe…” Steve relented a little, still seeming shy, and wiped away the tears at the edges of his eyes from sneezing. His sinuses were so utterly full it was hard not to tear up with every sneeze. “What uh… what exactly do they eved do? Dever really tried theb before.”

At that, Eddie perked up and grinned at Steve before moving out of his lap. “Oh, you’re gonna love this- c’mon, sniffles. Let’s get you in the nice warm shower with one of those disks then.” He slid backward off of Steve’s lap carefully. He offered his hands to pull him up, ensuring Steve was steady on his feet before grabbing one of said shower disks and being led to the bathroom.

The bathroom was admittedly a little small for two people. Eddie wasn’t sure how Steve and his roommate managed it, but he went about getting the disk out of the packaging. Of course, the moment the menthol scent hit him, his eyes watered, and his nose prickled, making him pause to rub roughly at it with his hand.

A sudden hand on his arm made him pause, blinking over at Steve, who was looking at him with a concerned expression. “I cad oped it?” He offers softly, but Eddie takes a moment to look at him. Steve looks exhausted and sick, sure, but his pupils are wide and lust-blown. That hard-on from the couch is still half-present and painfully evident in those gray sweatpants, too.

“I got it, sweethhheart.” Eddie assures, wiggling the disk as his own breath tries to hitch, and he lets it for once. In fact, Eddie sniffs slightly, which only irritates his sensitive nose more, so his nostrils twitch and flare. “Told you… you’ll l-love.. thhhh… hEXZT’Shiew! Whew! Okay. You’ll love these.” And without another moment to waste, Eddie sets the little disk in the shower for Steve with a wink. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Finally, Eddie sees Steve’s unfiltered reaction to one of his sneezes, similar to in the library. It was as if the poor man had completely bluescreened briefly before rebooting. Pupils wide and lust blown as he stared at Eddie, who still rubbed his nose. “Uh… yeah, so just… shower like dorbal?” he asked with another soupy sniffle and began to pull off his shirt, already starting to shiver.

Suddenly, Eddie’s throat felt dry as Steve began undressing with him in the bathroom, and he nodded. “Yep. That’s the idea. It’ll dissolve, and the scent will help clear out your sinuses. Want me to go sit on the couch and wait?”

With his pants still on, Steve was reaching forward to crank the water as hot as it would go, still sniffling. “Uhm… ki’da… ki’da dizzy actually? Could you baybe like… keep close? Id case I deed you?” There was a quiet plea in Steve’s voice, the request coming out awkward and stunted like he wasn’t used to asking for help.

Something in it tugged on Eddie’s shriveled heart, and he looked up at Steve with a soft expression. “Yeah, Stevie. I can stay. I’ll turn around so you can strip and get in, deal? Deal.” He agreed, tucking himself into the corner by the sink to stare at the wall. There was a good deal of shuffling behind him before he heard the shower curtain and the spray of water finally being interrupted.

The menthol scent from the shower disk was already making Eddie’s nose twitch and tingle, so he closed the toilet seat lid, going to sit down on it. “Remember what I said earlier? We’re trying to get that gunk out of you, man. Trust me when I say I’m not gonna judge you or anything. Seriously, I’m sure you’ll get to see me peak allergy s-seeh-season, and you’ll get it.”

His idle chatter as Steve showered made the man give a quiet grunt. “You sure?” Steve’s voice was tired, nervous, and still congested, but it already sounded a little better than before.

“P-Positiihh-“ But just as Eddie had been about to respond, his breath hitched dangerously, and his hand flung up to cover his mouth and nose. “IXT’SHiew! Ugh, positive! Sorry, sensitive nose.” Eddie admitted with a little sniffle and scrunched his nose up to try and dispel that tingling sort of itch. It wasn’t like his usual allergic itch, just maddening enough to make his sinuses wonder what was in the air to react to. “Hit’SHZiew! Snf! Motherfucker. It’s supposed to make you sneeze, not me!”

A laugh escaped Steve, turning into some productive-sounding coughs that had Eddie grimacing in sympathy. “Give m’be a m’bidute, dod’t worry.” He assured, sniffling a little as the shower disk worked its magic while he went through his usual shower routine.

It was barely a minute later when the bathroom had gone oddly quiet. “Heh… Gonna- HEIKTshuh! HI’TShue! Eh… ET’SHHue! HN’kt!” The last one sounded strange, and Eddie blinked a few times, wondering what in the hell Steve had done to make it sound like that.

“You good, man?” Eddie checked in softly, almost tempted to peek over the shower curtain just to make sure he wasn’t going to pass out or anything.

A shaky breath left Steve, and Eddie saw one of his hands come up to grab the shower curtain rod for support. “Uh-huh… snff! Yeah, just-” Another little groan came from the lighter brunette, and Eddie felt worry fluttering in his ribcage like a frightened bird. “Dizzy… m’okay. Rad out of breath od that last sdeeze…”

Something like a little cough slipped out of Steve, and Eddie stood to put a hand on top of Steve’s that had a white knuckle grip on the shower curtain rod. “Maybe it’s time to rinse off and get out, yeah? I’ll get your towel and look away so you can hop out.” He encouraged, already moving, to grab the fluffy maroon towel and hold it open.

Only a few moments later, Steve sounded like he’d rinsed off, but then there was a soft catch of breath just above the spray before- “HeXT’SHHuh! EXT’SHHUE! Hihh… IXT’SHHuh IT’SHH! Oh by god…” If anything, Steve’s tone sounded exasperated, but the sneezes had sounded productive. “You were right. About the shower disk.” He groaned, and Eddie could hear the shower spray being disrupted again, making him smile a little before the water shut off.

“You’re kind of adorable when you’re sick, y’know that?” Eddie said as he shut his eyes, turning his face as he held out the towel for Steve. “I mean- you’re adorable in general, don’t get me wrong! But like… I dunno, man. I know you can take care of yourself, but I just wanna make sure you’re looked after.”

There was another brief pause, and the continued silence as he felt Steve press into the towel had Eddie’s anxiety spiking. He wrapped the towel around the other’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze there. As the silence dragged on, Eddie felt a need to fill it, “Sorry, is that weird? I don’t wanna like- infantilize you or anything. I just… I wanna drag you to bed, wrap you in blankets, get you whatever you need until you feel better, y’know?”

“Would you lay with me?” Steve asked suddenly, voice right in front of him, and it shocked Eddie so much that his eyes snapped open.

In front of him stood Steve. Hair dripping wet still, the towel now around his waist, and droplets of water running down his sinfully pretty chest. A more perverse part of Eddie had the intrusive thought of licking the water off him. Steve still had dark circles under his eyes, but those eyes were bright and pleading. “Of course I will, Stevie. We can get comfy and lay together as long as you want.”

Visibly, Steve’s shoulders relaxed, and he nodded with an almost pleading expression, pulling at his brows and lips. “Yes, please? That sounds- snf! fantastic.” He lifted a towel corner to dab at his sensitive, red nostrils with a bit of a wince. “Ugh, ow.”

With a little purse of his lips, Eddie made a sympathetic noise. “Nose all raw?” he asked, reaching out to open the bathroom door so Steve could lead the way to his bedroom. “I didn’t think to get any Vaseline; sorry, sweetheart.”

“S’okay. This always happens when I get si-ihh…. Ihih-!” Halfway down the short hallway, Steve paused with one hand on the wall as his breath began to hitch and his eyes fluttered. “Oh no come o-ohhhhh-!” Eddie watched as Steve’s hand hovered in front of his face, expression utterly helpless and slack before suddenly exploding. “IX’TSH! HiISHHue! Snf! Ugh- sorry.”

A little chuckle came from Eddie, who just shook his head, “I am the last one you have to go apologizing to for sneezing.” He assured Steve and put a hand on his lower back as he followed him.

It didn’t take long for Steve to be dressed in some boxers and a sweatshirt since he was cold after his shower. Without even thinking about it, Eddie began pulling off his shirt and sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. The sudden sensation of fingers against his back made Eddie jump a little, and his head whipped around to find Steve tracing the dice tattoos along his spine.

“Like what you see, Harrington?” Eddie asked in amusement as he finally kicked off his shoes to lie down beside Steve. He wiggled out of his dark pants, which got tossed to the floor as well, leaving him in boxers. Most of his upper half was covered in tattoos at this point.

Some kind of sleepy slight hum came out of Steve, slightly congested again but not enough to hamper his speech yet. “They’re pretty. Your tattoos. Did you do them yourself?” He asked curiously, and his hand now strayed curiously over the large moth just below Eddie’s sternum.

Eddie adjusted himself to get the blankets wrapped around them both, making sure Steve was tucked in properly before tossing the blankets over his legs. “Some smaller ones, yeah. Because I’m an idiot. Don’t tattoo yourself, Stevie. I mean it.” There’s amusement and a warning, but he leans to press his lips to Steve’s forehead again. Both checking his temperature and enjoying the simple intimacy. “Chrissy did a lot of them. Gareth, one or two, actually.”

This time, the hum from Steve was more distant, and when Eddie looked, he saw the other man was nearly asleep, tucked against him. “Get some rest, sleeping beauty. You need it. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Taking a deep, slow breath, Steve let out a long and decidedly sleepy sigh through his mouth. His nose was still a little too congested for such things. “Promise? You won’t leave?”

Something physically hurt inside Eddie to think once upon a time; Steve might’ve been in a similar spot, vulnerable and left completely alone when he didn’t want to be. “I’ll be here. I promise.” Eddie moved his hand to find one of Steve’s, interlocking their pinkies so he could squeeze the other man’s tight before bringing it up to kiss his knuckles. “I’m here, Steve.”

The reassurance was all he needed. Steve was out like a light, soft little congested snores sounding against Eddie’s shoulder as they cuddled beneath the blankets in the cozy queen-sized bed. And really… Eddie couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.

#ed/die mu/nson #st/eve ha/rrington #st/eddie #st/ranger th/ings #snzblr #snz #snzfic #bex's snz writing #snzfucker #tattoos and tissues #tw mess #tw inducing

73 notes · View notes

antxnous · 11 months ago

Note

i need to hear your sallowgraham headcanons you are aware of this, correct?

well,, if u insist… ☝️😋

I have a feeing htis will be long winded and annoying so it’s all under here…

Pre-Legion stuff:

- Josh is a recent orphan and in Ed’s head his mom is practically dead (I hc she is lowkey a lil nuts) and they bond over this initially😙

-they’re both fucking losers. ppl in New Canaan think Joshua is weird and while Ed can make friends he’s like that one bully-friend we all had at some point where u eventually are like wait this guy sucks and u part ways. Joshua doesn’t bend to his bullying and that interests him, and Edward’s interest is exciting to Joshua.

-In my hc, Joshua’s dad was a trader and it’s why Joshua is so proficient in dialects and languages. His dad gave him a copy of Caesar’s Commentarii to practice Latin. When he’s trying to make friends with Edward at first, he offers to let him read it and this is how Ed gets the book hehe

-Bc they’re young men and young men are Like That, I think they fought a lot, verbally and physically. It was Bill’s hand that extended the offer to have Joshua translate and Joshua saw it as a sign from God to be useful and accepted without thinking about how fucking annoying Edward can be.

(Bill headcanon interjection moment, but he was 100% the only thing keeping them from both feeding off each other’s violence and ideas. When he’s gone is when the legion rly explodes, but also they get along MUCH better. Mask drop time??)

-Toward the end of the expedition, before getting to the Blackfoot, Joshua totally begged Edward to at least walk back with him to New Canaan before he went back to California and Edward was like “ok (ew)”

-… so when they created the legion and Josh saw that they’d continue doing this to other tribes as they pushed into Utah, he begged Edward to leave New Canaan alone and Edward was like “ew, but ok”

-Joshua’s clothes r fucked up, sewn together and patched like nothing else. Edward gives him his clothes to wear so he doesn’t look like such a rag doll.

Legion stuff:

-The crosses and crucifixions were Edward’s idea, the razing and heads-on-spikes-warnings were Josh’s ideas.

-Cringe aside joshua totally sees their relationship as a union, Ed’s been his only partner and they share a tent wayyy late into the Legion, even when they don’t have to. I dunno if Ed sees it the same way, but I think he’s just comfortable with what he has, and is probably aware Joshua sees it that way and feels it gives him an angle over him.

-In the earlier days, they would scavenge books for each other and spend nights reading them together 💔 their dates would include bookclub, hunting, hiking, and watching arena fights💔

-While Joshy-poo is a survivalist in my head, Edward is v educated and has (had?) a good background in anatomy from his studies and a few medical stuff Bill taught him when they left California. Joshua can make tea and healing powder, but Ed’s gonna throw pills at his head either way.

-I love an albino vulpes hc. Joshua wanted that thing DESTROYED, but Edward was like 💔 it’s a thing. and nearly tried to convince Joshua he could be their diversity hire son. But that was too gay.

-Every region they went thru, Joshua reimagined a homestead there instead of camps. He’ll always want his tradwife ranch.

-THEY BOTH WORE VESTS 💔 until Ed got too big for his

Post-Legion/Hoover Dam

-Ed shaved his head before Joshua was supposed to head for the Dam. Joshua usually cut his hair so he thought it was odd.

-A week before, Ed pestered Joshua about making sure he was going to take the Dam and Joshua was ofc very sure he was, he’s never lost before. He made up his mind already that if Josh lost he’d have to kill him, and even suggested he wait and strategise further, but Joshua insisted it was fine. Ed was already drafting letters to Lanius in case.

-After the Dam loss, Ed didn’t kill Josh immediately. He acted like nothing was wrong because he was struggling to go thru with it. Ed was just going to throw him down the Grand Canyon, but wanted him GONE, and ordered the pitch last minute. and they totally slept together beforehand

-Josh tried to climb back up the canyon at first hehe half confused, half angry.

-Ed’s decision to decimate New Canaan was 100% because of the promise he made Joshua before.

-Joshua leaves taunting messages on the bodies of the Frumentarii sent to kill him <3 love letters

-Edward couldn’t stand to be around cooked meat and open flame for a few weeks after Josh’s burn. #vegetarian

-Joshua and Edward both have recurring nightmares about that night for separate reasons.

nsfw hc?? I fear I’m too shy to share those. josh was a total submissive the first few years and then eventually they both got used to the power and control of their roles and sex became a dominating hate thing between them that they enjoyed but eventually it devolved into giving each other the laziest hj and bj youve ever seen

Hiiiii byeeeee love u

#preguntas #im too afraid to tag this #Eduardo y Jose #I have so many so many I cannot put in one post

16 notes · View notes

daughterofcain-67 · 2 years ago

Text

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱.9)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After an argument causes you and Dean to split up, Dean finds himself in trouble with Sam. Sam inevitably get’s Dean back to the bunker where he will begin the process of transforming back into a human.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Needles, injections, Demon Dean being a jerk, I think that’s it?

Then..

“I think it wouldn’t be smart to try and double cross Crowley and screw up the deal. After all he is a businessman.”

“He’s just another demon. As long as he gets a soul, what’s the big deal?”

“You know, I really don’t appreciate the sudden appearances.” You rolled your eyes. Then you noticed the heavily displeased look on Crowley’s face, causing you to groan.

“What did he do?”

“Are you kidding me!? What didn’t that bastard do!? He killed my client so now I won’t be able to get the soul! He had the audacity to push me around like nothing in front of my servants! And he had the Gaul to tell me he would do whatever he wanted to do!”

“If he was really a demon, he would have done what he was told. He would have killed the designated victim without a second thought. He wouldn’t have had a preference if he were a full demon. I mean, even if Catrina was more of a bitch for her end of the whole ordeal, she was still a client who’s soul I lost because Dean can’t listen to an order! I even threatened the idea that he may have felt sorry for Bethany. If he had felt bad, then maybe he’s more human after all except he’s got those pretty black eyes of his and he’s working alongside you and me.”

“It was nice talking to you too, Y/N. But seriously. If you want to save your skin, either call Sam and tell him where Dean is, or walk away.” After that, Crowley walked out of your hotel room door.

“What are we going to do now, Dean?” You asked yourself but something deep within your conscience knew what you should do.

Now…

You had already typed out a message to Sam to let him know where Dean was. You hadn’t sent it yet since it was still in your draft box.

You didn’t want to betray Dean’s trust. Now that you’ve been exposed to different human emotions, you were beginning to figure out why it made you feel uneasy to think about betraying the person you’d been traveling with.

That vision was sticking with you though. What if Dean’s vessel was really fighting? What if there really was hope for Dean to be cured? Sam would be able to finally have his brother back and things could go back to the way that they were before.

On the other side of the coin, if he was human again, how much damage would his soul have taken after fighting the demon threatening to take over? And what if the mark starts to effect him again and he dies if he can’t kill.

If Dean were to die because he couldn’t kill, then the demon would just come back and you knew it would be yet another endless Winchester cycle. It would be torture for both of them if they went back and forth constantly like that.

Crowley was sure to sell Dean out if you weren’t going to send this message to Sam. So you knew Dean would be in trouble either way no matter what you did. You went ahead and saved the draft instead of sending the message to Sam and you put the phone in your pocket just as you heard the door open again.

You watched Dean come in holding a six pack of beer and you lifted a brow.

“Weren’t you just at the bar?”

“I take it Crowley came in and ranted to you.”

“I don’t know why I’m suddenly the marriage counselor for you two, but yeah. And he said things were over.”

“Well they are. So hopefully he won’t be expecting you to be some kind of shrink anymore.” You laughed slightly.

“I dunno, seemed kind of fun hearing about the things you do just to get under his skin.” You admitted as he sat down next to you. He offered you a beer and you took it.

“Although, I heard you did end up killing that client. I told you there would be problems after that.” You reminded as you opened the bottle and held it up to your lips as you drank from it.

“I didn’t ask for the ‘I told you so’ speech.” He said with a little grunt and you gave him a light nudge with your arm.

“I’m not saying that to be a bitch, I’m saying that now that you’ve done what you did, you need to keep an eye out for Sam. You know Crowley’s likely going to tell him where you are.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“‘You.’ As if you and I haven’t been doing this together? You’re in this muck just as much as I am. So why do you keep saying that?”

The question took you by surprise. Maybe that was just a moment of humanity on Dean’s part but you knew at this rate it would come to an end once he becomes a full demon.

“I say ‘you’ because your brother isn’t concerned about getting me back into the bunker, and I’m fairly certain he doesn’t want to turn me human. You know he’ll likely use human blood to cure you like you almost cured Crowley.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the thought of what his brother might try to do.

“Crowley said that you’re having trouble picking a side… You seem lost these days, Dean, and it’s a little-“

“I swear if you say it’s concerning or worrisome I’d rather you stop right there. I’m just fine and I don’t need you to act like you care about what Sam soes or what the condition of my soul is. It gets tiring.”

“Okay fine, I won’t say that. But I will say that it would be wise of you to at least think about what Crowley says about picking a side. At least killing humans for Crowley gave you a fix and it would have kept you out of trouble!”

“I don’t need you to tell me what to think about. I sure as hell don’t need you to tell me what to do! Especially from someone who doesn’t know what they want themselves.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh nothing. Just that you don’t know what you want just as much as I don’t. You’re nothing but a hypocrite.”

You clenched your jaw for a moment, “You know, snarky ass comments like that make me understand Crowley’s impatience with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You put your bottle of beer down and you looked down at Dean, “I mean that you think you can say whatever you want, push whoever you want around without any regards as to what the people around you think or feel. I told you back when you and your brother first got me that you needed to think about who you would lose. You’ve lost a friend in Crowley, you’re dead set on losing your brother for some crazy ass reason, and if you aren’t careful you might lose me too.”

“Oh sweetheart, you aren’t really thinking of going anywhere are you? What are you gonna do, run off to Sam and rat me out before Crowley does?” He asked with a cocky smirk you were tempted to smack off his face. But you watched him stand up too, looking down on you with such a condescending look.

Perhaps this was his turning point? Was he going to kill you here in the hotel room like he did in your vision? If he did, you knew you may have deserved it for so many people you’ve killed. But you’d be damned if it was by Dean’s hands like this.

“If I left then you wouldn’t have anyone looking out for you. Wouldn’t have anyone advising you so you could mistake them for nagging you. You won’t have anyone to make sure you stay out of trouble but hey - maybe you like it that way. Maybe it’s some sort of leftover self sacrificial Winchester bullshit your human self left behind.”

“Oh yeah and where would you go? You closed down your shop in Ohio. Sam’s not gonna take you. Crowley’s not gonna give a damn what you do. You won’t have anywhere to go.”

So he wasn’t going to stop you, just comment on how he didn’t think you knew how to go into hiding. You scoffed as you brushed past him and started grabbing your things.

“Sweetie, I’ve only had that shop for a few years of my lifetime. No one knew where I was before that and I can guarantee no one will know where I go next. I’ll fade from your memory and you’ll never have to see me again.” You said as you slung your back over your shoulder.

When you looked back at him, you saw something flash in his eyes. You didn’t know what it was but for a split second you could tell that was the human side of Dean and you wondered if deep down, he wanted you to stay. But it was too late.

“By the way, since you’re a demon now… I’ll take that back.” You said and you held out your hand. Then the First Blade slipped from behind Dean’s back and right into your hands.

“Y/N.. You know that we can find you if you take that thing with you. So fine! Go ahead and go!”

“You see the thing is, I seldom return to the same place I was before. Not that you’ll decide to look but if you did, I’ll keep you on your toes and you’ll never know where I’ll be.” You said before you walked out of the door.

Dean was sitting at a bar in front of a piano. That conversation with Crowley was beginning to bug him.

He didn’t pitty that girl he was assigned to kill. He just didn’t like the hypocracy so that’s why he killed the client. So what? Now Crowley was at least out of his hair so he could continue killing and doing whatever he wanted.

What more did he need?

This was his life and he was living it the way that he wanted to. He was happy, he was free. He didn’t have to answer to anyone if he didn’t want to. He could drink as much beer, sleep with whatever girl he wanted to, and he didn’t need to worry about the consequences. Why couldn’t everyone just accept that?

He pressed down on a couple of keys on the piano while his mind was swimming in all of these thoughts. Then he looked up at his hand. He tilted his head as he pulled out a different knife since he always had some kind of weapon on him. Dean pressed the blade into the palm of his hand and watched as a red line appeared and blood began to seep out.

Those words came into his mind from Crowley again… Was he a human? Was he a demon?

“Pick a bloody side!”

Dean’s jaw clenched as that last phrase rang through his head perhaps louder than the rest of the conversation he had with Crowley. His eyes changed to black and slowly, the wound in Dean’s hand began to close up as if nothing had ever happened.

Watching you leave was getting to him too. Deep down he had to admit he was having fun with you around. He’s killed with you, shared beers with you, laughed with you after he got you back from Cincinnati. He knew that if he did have the slightest bit of humanity left within him, he’d maybe even start to have feelings for you.

“I’ll fade from your memory…” Your voice echoed and his hand turned into a fist. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t just forget about you.

None of that mattered, though, now that you left. Maybe that was just the kick in the ass that he needed to embrace being a full demon. He needed that blade back that you took. He knew there were ways to find it so that was only a temporary issue of his. Then he could kill you with it and not have to worry about anybody taking it ever again.

The next thing Dean knew, he could hear footsteps. Judging by the weight of each step and how heavy they sounded, Dean could tell without even looking that it was his little brother again.

“Sammy. I see that guy that was supposed to put a bullet in your brain must’ve missed.”

He slowly looked up at Sam who had those same pathetically empathetic puppy dog look in his eyes. He looked like he had gotten into a fight with someone, but Dean wondered how desperate he was for another fight if he came around here.

“So. Who winged ya?” Dean asked as he took his glass of whisky and started to drink from it.

“Does it matter?” He heard his brother ask, making Dean shrug.

“Not really.” He replied, setting the drink down along with the knife he had.

“Where’s the First Blade?” Sam asked and Dean’s gaze darkened or a second.

“Nowhere you can find it and try to take it, that’s for damn sure.” He said. “I told you to let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Sam said, but surely he had to see that Dean didn’t care why he couldn’t just let him go. “By the way, Crowley was the one that sold you out. I got a message from Y/N shortly after.”

Dean tried not to wince at the idea that you ratted him out to his brother. Crowley, he knew, would do something like that. With you he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Really now. Sounds like something they’d do.”

“Crowley? Yeah. Did you have a falling out with Y/N or something?” Sam asked and Dean chuckled.

“Right now is when you want to talk about chick problems? Please, there’s nothing to talk about there. Next topic.” Dean said as he stood up and held the knife.

It wasn’t the first blade, much to his dismay, but he knew Sam would die with a knife just the same. And Dean knew he would have just as much fun killing his brother no matter what weapon he used.

“Woah, now hold on a second. We don’t have to do this. We know how to cure demons remember? And Y/N even confirmed it can be done with this mark.”

“Sam, didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe I didn’t want to be cured? Didn’t you ever stop and think that if I wanted to be cured I wouldn’t have bailed?”

“That had to be Crowley.”

“No, It really wasn’t. And it wasn’t Y/N either in case you were wondering.”

“Okay well that doesn’t matter. Either way, you and I will be able to fix this. It’s always been us against the world and why would this situation be any different?” Sam asked as he cautiously walked towards Dean.

Dean smirked a little, amused that Sam was so adamant about this. “Will we fix this though? Because right now, I’m doing all I can not to take this knife and gut you like some kind of fish.”

The look on Sam’s face was so worth it, the terror and shock of it all that he would kill his own brother after all they’ve been through. “Sam, I’m giving you a chance. Walk out that door, and for the sake of your own hyde, don’t come back.”

“Sorry, I’m gonna have to pass.”

Dean hummed a little as he poured himself another glass of whisky, “So what’s your plan? Because I’m not walking out that door with you. It’s just not happening, so are you gonna kill me instead?”

Sam watched as Dean took the sip of the alcohol and shook his head a little, “No,” he finally replied.

“Why? You don’t know what I’ve done. Hell, I might even have it coming.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, Dean, because you’re my brother.”

“Oh this whole speech again? Please, you can’t expect the brother speech to work every time. Where were you the time I was in Purgatory, huh? Where were you when I was being tortured in Hell? You didn’t worry about saving me then, and whenever I try to bring it up - you’ve even said that the fact that we’re brothers is not a cure-all.” Dean seethed.

“Well either way, you are my brother and whether you like it or not, I’m here to take you home.” Dean bursted into a fit of laughter at this line.

“W-What? Are you kidding? ‘I’m your brother and I’m here to take you home.’ Oh I didn’t realize I was in some kind of Hallmark movie.” Dean laughed.

Sam’s jaw tightened but then he reached into his pocket, pulling out the demon cuffs before Dean spoke again, “You really think that’s gonna work on me?”

“No, but this might.” Dean heard a different voice say.

When he turned to you, he saw you only to get burned with Holy water and he groaned with the pain of it all. He got up and he started to pull his knife on you and saw that you were holding the First Blade in your hand.

“You bitch!”

“Oh, Honey, I’ve been called worse by people more threatening than you.” You seethed and when Dean tried to lunge at you, Sam managed to cuff Dean with the demon cuffs.

Naturally Dean tried to fight Sam off when he was cuffed and he felt useless. The most humiliating feeling in existence as he was shoved into the back seat of his own, messy car.

When the door slammed shut, Dean looked out of the window and saw you, Crowley and Sam all there. A little trio of traitors.

You three were talking about something that he couldn’t quite make out but when he looked at you and the both of you made eye contact, Dean wondered if even once you may have felt something for him before you stabbed him in the back like this.

The eye contact with Dean was giving you an ache in your stomach. He looked at you with nothing but hatred in his eyes. After that fling you had, you wondered if you may have stood an actual chance since you were both demons at the time.

But you were honestly growing tired of all of this. You were glad that this could be over.

“Now now, Y/N. You know you don’t actually have a use for it if you really want to be in the underground. Dean could easily find you if you have the blade.” Crowley said

You bit your lip and you looked down at the weapon. It was true that you loved killing with it again, but it was also true that you never really needed it. Not in the way that Dean did.

You cautiously handed Crowley the blade and you heard Sam speak, “So where are you going to hide it?”

“I dunno. Crater on the moon, some volcano, I’ll get creative, don’t worry. With the type of grudge Dean can hold since we all betrayed him, I don’t want to get boned you know.” Crowley said then he looked at you.

“Good girl for making the right choice and saving your skin.” The demon said and you scowled.

“Get bent. He still wouldn’t have been in this mess if you never went after Cain you know.” You replied.

“Ahh well. Learn from your mistakes I suppose.” He shrugged.

“Ciao.”

When Crowley disappeared, you could hear Sam turning around to go to the car but you reached out and put a hand on his arm, “Wait a second.”

Sam turned to you and lifted a brow, “I thought we were done here.”

“Well, yeah with the whole maintaining Dean’s mark thing, yeah that was pretty much shot the moment he died. And.. And I’m sorry that I wasn’t much help with that.” You began and you could see from the look on his face that Sam was surprised and wasn’t exactly expecting this kind of conversation.

“Uh… okay?”

“I want to ask you a favor though.”

“Um.. yeah, okay, I guess… shoot.”

“Let me be there in case you need help during the process. Crowley is right, you know how Dean can hold a grudge. And who knows what Castiel’s condition is.”

“I don’t see how that’s really a favor to you, but I guess I can work with that. I’ll need whatever help I can get. But I’m gonna need a few days that way I can get Dean to the bunker and get him secured so he doesn’t escape while I get sanctified blood.” You nodded a little and you and Sam shook hands as a parting.

Sam gave you a grin, “Dean was right. You aren’t like any other demon we’ve come across before.”

You wondered when he said that to Sam during the midst of the whole Metatron ordeal, but you didn’t comment on it.

“Keep in touch and let me know when you need me at the bunker.” You said and Sam nodded.

You looked over at Dean one last time. His gaze was still on you but this time when you looked, he scowled and looked out of the window. Then you snapped your fingers and left.

Several days went by and Sam was able to get Dean bound to a chair in a devils trap in their dungeon. He gave you a call to let you know that he had the sanctified blood and you could stop by to check in or whatever but obviously he was more focused on saving his brother.

He opened the door and saw his big brother raise his head only to glare with that arrogant smirk he seemed to like to wear now more than ever.

“So you’re really gonna do this? Please, I know you wanna try and fix your big brother. But news flash, Sammy. Maybe I don’t wanna be fixed.”

Sam looked at his brother, knowing that the trash talk was bound to happen sooner or later. But it was still annoying when demons talked like that.

“Just let me go and live my life and I won’t bother you.”

“Yeah, no can do, Dean.” Sam said as he opened up the container of human blood and started breaking out the needles.

“Oh what do you care?”

Then there was a moment or two of silence while Sam started splashing holy water onto the concrete floor. He began muttering some Latin while his brother ranted about how he wasn’t going to be all ‘weepy’ or whatever like Crowley was.

“You don’t even know if this is going to work, do you?”

“I know this will work.”

“I’ve got a hell of a lot more in me than just this demon juice.”

“Yeah, the Mark of Cain, blah blah blah… I know. We’ll deal with that later.” Sam said, unphased by whatever threats his brother was trying to pull. Instead, Sam grabbed a needle of human blood that happened to be the same type as Dean’s.

“Awe, Sammy.. You know how much I hate needles.”

“Yeah well… you know how much I hate demons.” Dean changed his eyes and tried to intimidate Sam, just for Sam to splash the demon with the Holy water and he stabbed the needle into Dean’s arm, injecting him with the first dose.

Sam stepped back to observe how Dean would take it. After a few seconds, Dean began to cry out and groan. His muscles tensed, the veins in his neck popped up and he was pulling against his restraints. Sam could hear the way Dean’s voice changed to something deeper and assumed that was the demon part of him beginning to fight for his life.

“We have more where that came from.” Sam said.

Then he stabbed Dean with another needle with human blood into his arm, causing Dean to wince again.

“For all you know… you could be killing me right now.” Dean managed to speak between heavy breaths.

“Yeah, or you could just be messing with me to get me to stop this.” Sam replied, placing the needle down so he could grab another. “Either way, the lore doesn’t mention any exceptions. This should work whether a demon has the mark or not.”

“Oh this is just a load of crap! Lore, hunters, monsters. All of it.”

“Oh what do you know? This isn’t even the real Dean I’m talking to.”

“Oh yes it is, Sammy. This is the real me. The new real me. The me that sees things for what they really are. And I know the things you’ve done while you were out looking for me. The stunts you’ve pulled with those poor unfortunate souls. Unfortunately for you, one of those humans got themselves killed by yours truly.”

Sam’s eyes widened when he heard this. He didn’t know anyone had gotten hurt. Yeah he had told one or two humans about making deals with demons. Sure he may have tortured those demons to try and get any kind of information. But none of the humans were supposed to get killed!

“There’s no difference between you and me. You’re just as bad if not worse than I am. Hell, Cain himself may have thought you could be a candidate for this mark if he saw the shit you’ve done over the past few months.” Dean said.

“We Winchesters… gosh, I just thought it was you and me that defied the natural order. Defied death one too many times. Turned out guys like me, are the natural order. This is how things are supposed to be Sam. So just leave it be.”

“Yeah well… guys like me… we still have to do what we can. Whether guys like you like it or not. No matter how blurred the grey line between black and white has become.” Sam said.

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me. You just tortured whatever demon you could come across just because Crowley was a no show and no one knew where we were. We did pretty good stayin off the radar before Crowley sold me out.” Dean smirked.

Sam clenched his jaw yet again before he jabbed Dean in the back of the neck, injecting him with even more blood. After that, Sam walked back to the table and set the needle down. He couldn’t believe that human lost both her life and her soul because Dean killed her. He killed Catrina.

“You know what Crowley also told me, Dean? He told me you were too wish washy.” Sam said, beginning to taunt Dean back and he looked at his brother. He needed some kind of payback and sometimes it was fun to taunt demons.

“He said it was like you were torn in the middle of being human and being a demon. So you may think you’re a big bad demon now even with that mark, but you aren’t as intimidating as you think you are. I know my brother is in there somewhere, and I know that maybe the human part feels like shit after letting Y/N walk right out your front door.” Sam said and he watched as Dean slowly lifted his head to glare broodingly again.

“What does that wench have to do with any of this, huh? She’s nothing.” Dean growled.

“Oh you say that, but deep down you know you were wrong. She was the one that wanted to make sure I never found you, remember? She was the one that told me that you didn’t want that kind of accountability anymore. Admit it, you needed her more than you think you did.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“In fact, with as much time as you’ve spent with her, and the fact that Crowley told me you two even had a fling, not to mention that while you were alive she seemed to affect you pretty well… whatever is left of my brother may have even fell in love with her without knowing it.”

“I said SHUT UP”

The demonic voice boomed from Dean and Sam injected the demon with yet another needle of blood. The demon shut his eyes tight and barred his teeth, hands turning into fists as Sam walked away from him.

“You know… if this doesn’t work, you may have to kill me, Sam. Do you really have the stomach for that?” Dean asked, and Sam stopped for a moment. But then he walked out of the room to give Dean a little break. He had a phone call to make to Castiel since he had been giving the angel updates.

You made it to the bunker and you were surprised that Sam never made new spells. You had been in this bunker before and they made a way for you to have immunity to the wardings. Not that you were overly concerned about that.

You started walking downstairs and you figured since this place was so big, Sam wouldn’t be able to hear you. You figured he’d be at the dungeon with Dean. Sure enough, as you walked down the stairs to the dungeon you saw Sam hanging up the phone with someone.

“Y/N, there you are.”

“Hey… catching up with your little angel friend?” You asked as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Yeah… just gave some less than hopeful news is all.” You heard him admit and you knew whatever Castiel said, it couldn’t have been good.

“Castiel says I have to be ready to kill Dean if this goes sideways….”

You frowned a little, knowing Sam didn’t want to think about watching Dean die yet again after having him back in the bunker for the first time in months.

“Hold on to that hope, Sam. Yeah, be prepared. But we may not even have to think about that just yet.”

“He’s not doing well, Y/N… this wasn’t like when we tried to cure Crowley. This is different and he’s in pain. A lot of it.”

Sam walked away from you and what started out as his average step turned into a rush as you heard Sam call Dean’s name. You walked behind him and saw that Dean had his head hung low and Sam was trying to wake him up.

“Dean? Dean, come on, man you’ve gotta wake up. We aren’t done with this.” Sam said and Dean slowly opened his eyes again.

“I’m up.” He grumbled incoherently.

You could hear Sam let out a breath of relief as he stood up but you hid behind a corner, not wanting Dean to see you.

“Dean.. you’re okay…”

“Yeah… if you say that drowning in sweat while your blood boils is okay….” You could hear just from the sound of Dean’s voice that he wasn’t doing so good.

“Well, we have to keep going. We can’t stop.”

“Sure you can. All you have to do is just stop.” Dean said and looked up at his brother. But that was when Dean sensed it. He sensed you.

You were there. He knew you where there. That made the pain of this whole thing fell so much worse now that you were there able to see it. But he had to maintain that facade.

He wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of being affected by you, not after what you did.

“There’s no point in trying to bring your brother back, Sammy and I keep trying to tell you that.” He said as he watched Sam walk back to that table with those damned needles he was hating more and more by the second.

“Your guilt ridden, weight of the world wearing brother has been M.I.A. for quite some time now. But I’m loving this new me whether you like it or not.” He said.

“You wanna know why I wanted to get away from you? As far away as possible? It was to get away from your whining and complaining over this mark. Your nagging. I even chose the king of Hell over you. But damn, I got stuck with a bitch that was a worry wart just like you are! How crazy is that.” He laughed, knowing you were there to hear it.

“But you know what the kicker is? Maybe I’m just tired of luggin’ your ass around and constantly trying to save you just because you were all I had left. The truth is, my mom would be alive if it wasn’t for you. Hell, so would my dad. Your very existence ruined all of what i could have had, did you ever think about that?” Dean continued.

At this point, rambling and taunting was enough to distract himself from the physical pain these treatments were causing him.

“This isn’t my brother talking.” Sam said and Dean scoffed.

“You never had a brother! I was just some excuse for you to never man up. I was the one watching out for you and you could just sit back, relax, and you didn’t ever have a need to see half the shit I saw growing up. I was a bodyguard, not your brother.”

“Besides… Do you ever get tired of telling yourself that, kid? Because deep down, you know it’s true.” Dean smirked.

“No because I know you aren’t my real brother right now and I can’t quit on this. This family doesn’t get to quit.”

“Yeah well we’ve got nothin, don’t we?” Dean tilted his head.

“Is that something you had the balls to tell Dad?”

Then so many memories of John Winchester came up and he laughed as best as he could, ignoring the pain the laughter caused him.

“Dad… now there’s a prize. A man who brainwashed his kids, trained them to be soldiers to win his losing battle. He didn’t even get to kill the demon he wanted to, by the way. He couldn’t just accept the death and move on and try to make a normal life for his two sons. What a good role model.”

Dean watched Sam go to the table and pick up another needle, “What, is this a sorry attempt for you to grow a pair?”

“No… This is an attempt for me to pull your sorry ass out of the fire.” Sam said and yet again, pierced Dean’s skin with the needle.

Dean tensed up again and he could feel himself losing his strength. His vision was beginning to go blurry but as he lifted his head, he caught a glimpse of you before the door was shut.

This wasn’t over. And Dean would make sure of that.

Hey guys! Thank you for reading! This series unfortunately is almost over but I want to thank all of you for the support you’ve shown through your feedback, reblogging, and liking. I wish you all the best!

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @deans-spinster-witch @chriszgirl92 @johannelis2302nely @justtrying2getby-blog @alternativeprincess94 @doctorlexilouwhosblog @deangirl96

36 notes · View notes

emerxshiu · 2 years ago

Text

i knew i said i would be more active but i was kinda busy with school, but now i've gotten my winter break so i think now i should be able to post more often.

this was a prject for art class where we had to draw what we wanted for christmas, got the highest grade on it!

i was planning to post this earlier but i kinda fell asleep, my sleep schedule is absolute bs at this point but im tryna work on it, kinda.

oh yeah the drawing, gonna talk abt it now, its based on that one kirby twitter image they posted for christmas, i think it was the 2018 one, not sure rn. dedede just put on a belt, thats it, he already looks like santa, bandee is all in spirit with an elf costume and meta had to be begged by bandee to at least put something holiday related on.

sorry its blurry, i couldnt get a better pic no matter how i tried

we also did something similar for halloween

btw marx and mags kissed after this, trust me im the moon.

i dont really have my gijinkas defined aside from kirby, marx and bandee, tho im starting to try to redesing them, but yeah, meta, dedede, and mags could change (i mean, mags already changed here, i used to draw him with short brown hair, but i like this hair better) dunno if it easy to understand, i suck at explaining stuff

i also finished magolor epilogue today at like, 4 am in like 4 or 5 hours and maaannn i loved it, i want to replay it from scratch but i dont wanna delete my save data nor have to replay all of story mode in another save file. i have all stages platinum except hydriath, who is on gold (i swear i'll get you one day!) no matter how i try i can never keep my combo long enough for platinum. when i finished it, i felt kinda empty ngl i wanted more, but didnt feel like trying extra mode or doing the challenges, or really anything i had left to do in krtdldlx

so i checked my ao3 cuz it had been a week since i had and remembered that i had a draft i wanted to post that i only had there

i lost the draft

so i just check my favourite tags and oh look there is another addition to my favourite series there, but i think this is for another time, better when i post a fanart of it

#fanart #art #kirby fanart #kirby #silly #meta knight #king dedede #bandana waddle dee #marx kirby #magolor #traditional art #kirby gijinka

25 notes · View notes

frudence · 1 year ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel’s Husk backstory and name theorizing

So Husk was born in the 1895-1904 range, since he died at 75 in the 1970s, right?

At the outbreak of The Great War/WWI, that makes him 10-19, average 14-15. Statistically unlikely to be drafted.

By the end, he’s 14-23, average 18-19. So there’s a decent chance he completely avoided the draft for that war, but just as decent a chance he didn’t or got drafted and never got deployed kinda thing.

Possible New Headcanon: An older brother though? He’d have a much higher likelihood of getting drafted AND deployed. Maybe even killed. Imagine Husk being a younger brother / middle-child who *becomes* The Eldest Son right as he’s Coming of Age / Becoming A Man.

Since I don’t see anyone giving up the human name “Henry” for Husk anytime soon, I’d like to propose a name for this possible brother: Isaac.

Named after the “be willing to do anything for the right reason” story. The Would-Be Sacrifice.

Cited Sources: Isaac is #133 on the most popular male names of the 1900s and among the Earliest African-American Male names too.

Related Headcanon Suggestion: Surname Free(d)man. For extra Alastor angst.

What do you think — am I on to something or completely off base? As for WWII…

Personally I don’t think there’s any getting around drafting him for that one, even if the wiki does say he may not have been a soldier at all.

I mean… “Not exactly a convincing interrogation scene”? That quote from the start of Masquerade sounds like someone who DOES know what an interrogation scene looks like. Possibly conducted them himself? You get drafted knowing half as many languages as Husk and you’re ending up in some kind of Military Intelligence division, that’s all I’m saying, either as a spy or a frontline interrogator.

Leading me to my last Hail Mary Headcanon for you: imagine “Husk”/“Husker” being his codename as in… the guy who peels back the layers of enemy POWs for information and leaves them a husk. Think Corn-Husker in the agricultural sense for this metaphor.

Spywork could also lead a person living a chameleon lifestyle to feel disjointed from living all those personas. And not having an opportunity to settle down and love someone or even enjoy time with your own parents/siblings. And after all that ~exciting~ travel, taking risks and beating the odds… aging out of it. Back into obscurity.

It would also explain how easy it was for Husk to pinpoint Angel wasn’t just being “an actor” but fully lost himself in the worst kind of Persona For Survival stuff that I’m not getting into here.

Anyway, I *fully admit* that the Military Interrogator / Spy stuff’s incredibly unlikely. I’m just scratching my brain trying to figure out why our Casino Overlord, at the top of his game, would introduce himself to Alastor as “Husk” at that point. After Alastor gets him, introducing himself to others? Sure. But before Alastor…? I dunno, I smell another layer of meaning, that’s all.

It would also explain him walking around the Pride Ring without getting recognized — if he went by his human name as an Overlord, like Carmilla and Rosie. That or one of Husk’s punishments from Alastor was Hell literally forgetting about him… but hoo boy, that’s a whole other theory isn’t it?

/end ramble

#hazbin hotel husk #headcanon #how many more h’s can I fit in these tags #history #there we go #what’s in a name

17 notes · View notes

hedgionary · 8 months ago

Note

GO ON ABOUT SHAMBALLA!!!! I have the same dilemma where I can’t just ignore it… it is so good and yet. So very. Ah…

Alright, so here we go! I may not be as sleep deprived and obsessive and I was when I wrote the first (now eternally lost, RIP) draft, but I'll do my best!

This post contains spoilers. So in case this showed up randomly on your dash and you intend to read it, please keep that in mind. I'll be going over literally everything that comes to my mind.

1. The length and what was cut

SO MUCH WAS LEFT UNEXPLORED! SO. DAMN. MUCH. START, MIDDLE AND ENDING.

Start

If they were going to cut so much anyway, why did they leave the whole castle sequence? I'm not saying it's not entertaining at all, ("Let's go. This whole place is about to blow up." "Brother, why?" "Because I don't like it >:]") it just seemed really detached from the rest of the movie. And considering how long it is, there could've been quite a bit of story packed into the space it took. That's not to say Edward with a fishbowl on his head wasn't funny.

Dunno how they found a lake that big in a landlocked country either.

Middle

Let's start with where the movie picks the main narrative. What exactly was Edward doing when he met Alfons? What was their relationship like? How bonkers did Alfons think Ed was exactly?

Mustang. Depressed Mustang. Riza having to deal with it. How bad has he gotten when even Hawkeye isn't by his side now? Team Mustang were also such a BIG part of the story. Their presence in CoS was definitely lacking. The scene in the North deserved to be longer though.

Envy my little blorbo, I want to put you in the Salad spinner. Both versions. Into the spinner, you. Is there another one of you on this side of the gate??? Would he, or they, have shown up in the life of the Elrics, possibly making it more difficult for the two of them than it already is? And as much as I hate to say it, Nazi Envy is still less annoying an idea than Hughes. The whole military cast all sad little war criminals anyway :[

Wrath. My baby was supposed to have more screentime :( Sure, his death would've been even more painful if he'd had it, but stilll, more Wrath content!!! That's always good!

Izumi's death. I've got more of a love-hate relationship with that woman than I have with the whole movie, and that's something. While I adore BH Izumi with every fibre of my being, '03 just... Rubs me the wrong way. It could've been such a painful scene. But still I get why they chose to do it off-screen.

Ed's fake arm and leg deserve more screentime. You can fight me on this one. While we did get the "This is a carnival! Go have some fun!" Scene for Ed's arm it was... That. And literally nothing else save for a quick shot of how he attached them. How did Hohenheim's replacement affect him? How many times did he assume it was metal and broken it? How delicate is it in comparison? Does his leg also require a pull-start, or is it constantly running? (Haha. Leg. Running. I'm so funny, I know.)

Eckhart get out. 🚪👈🏼 Seriously? After Dante? Now Dante was a Villain with a capital V. Eckhart? Maybe if she'd had enough time to stew on-screen. As it is, she's been stewing in our minds off-screen and getting progressively more pathetic as time goes by. Movie could've worked out without her being the way she is.

Ending

I. Hate. Open. Ambiguous. Endings. WDYM WE GET TO DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS? I DON'T WANT TO. I WANT TO SEE THE ELRICS BEING MESSY. FIGURING IT OUT. FINDING THAT BOMB THING. ALPHONSE WITH A GUN.

Because let's face it; we got Edward with a gun. He doesn't have alchemy anymore. I stand my case. Alphonse with a gun.

Also, hello? Scar and Lust? What could we get from that? Ed and Al both going "Noah, of all the people in the world, you had to find... Them." And just having to roll with it. (Don't let Ed drive. Please don't let Ed drive. What we didn't need was a third car crash and the repercussions of that.)

Most importantly. We all know of Ed's coping habit on this side of the gate. Did he manage to get out of that? Is Al gonna grow slowly aware of how different and broken his brother is? Depression doesn't go away just like that and Edward was already in a difficult place before the brothers were separated.

Something that irks me but probably shouldn't is the fact Shamballah didn't end on a train. Every other piece of Fullmetal media, be it the manga, Brotherhood, or the episodes of '03 ended with Ed on a train, looking out of the window. And then we have Shamballah where they're looking at... Scar, Lust and everyone else in that car. The only reason we know Ed and Al lived is that little OVA from 2005 that said Ed would be 100. And I don't remember if that even mentions what happened with Al.

2. Muuuussiiic

Just to think there could've been more of these treasures. "Alchemic World~Two Years Thereafter" being a variation of the first verse of Brothers. The silly little soundtracks like "Castle of Science Goes Kablooey" or "Automated Mechanical Arm"

Maybe an actual instrumental to "Kelas (Let's-Dance) not just an instrumental version that's a nightmare to attempt singing to. Seriously. It's easier a capella. If you have someone to sing it with, that is. (I don't)

"Requiem" during the funeralll. That track is just... Chef's kiss.

The last track to play is "Lost Heaven" and oh boy doesn't that pack a punch. While Amestris was not heaven, at least it wasn't torturing Ed psychologically 24/7 (Nazi Hughes will haunt me until the end of my days...)

I actually enjoy writing to the CoS soundtrack on random! Gives a weird mood to the story, but when writing scenes as wacky as I am currently... Definitely helpful!

3. Winry and Automail

More if her time with Edward. They didn't even get to say goodbye??? Also, how did she guess his size perfectly??? He is, after all, still short, even at eighteen years old. Poor boy.

Anyway. This doesn't even give me angst potential. They aren't even together long enough to talk, chat, let any feeling resurface. The whole Amestris sequence feels like a fever dream or a badly paced fanfic. I don't drop fics just because they're badly paced, even if I have to fill events in on my own. But a movie? Uhhhh. Yeah. Difficult.

They're just kind of accepting the fact the other exists as if they were benches in a park. "Oh cool. A new bench next to the monument. I'll come back tomorrow. Oh no, no more bench? Weird, but okay."

Edward came back? Cool. Let me give him new automail and skim over the fact he hasn't had any attached in years, so at least some of the nerves shouldn't be working quite right. Definitely not combat ready. Besides, I'm fairly sure Edward is out of practice. Who was he to spar with? Hohenheim's prosthetics were also definitely inferior to automail, meaning his fighting wasn't as good as it had been back home. The weight difference too. So that just felt weird. Even if I personally can't fight. Probably. Haven't tried. Aren't very fit though.

4. The knowledge that we will never know. It's been what, almost 20 years since this movie aired? We're never getting a canon sequel and I can't find a good fic that I can just confidently go "Yeah. That's what happened." to. That's not to say there aren't any that I've enjoyed, just none that feel close enough to canon to work.

Also the fact this has so much crossover potential that's, essentially, ignored. You have both Ed and Al here now. There's so many stories that happen or at least start in our world, having important events around the 1920s. And even if not, it's FANFICTION! You can give the most random excuses such as "Their ashes and dust cannot be laid to rest here, for this is not the earth that birthed them" and you'll have yourself immortal Elrics! Just phrase it poetic enough. Or go with the fact energy cannot be created or destroyed. By all means, there's too much energy here and too little there because of the boys crossing over. Idk. I should've failed physics years ago.

Anyway I wish we could get a redo. Either the three movies idea or the 13 episodes. I just wanna know.

5. Positives

I've been mainly going on about what I dislike in this movie, so let's go on what I did like!

Al. The little thing. Copying your older brother like that? Peak sibling energy. I wonder if you ever did it later just to mess with Ed. You're so much like your brother. Especially the BH au of him. You two would get along like a house on fire. Worse than Ed and Mustang. Al, you're adorable. Just a little critter. Also, memory problem buddy! Yay! I am glad you got them back though. You deserve it. Even if I do wonder how it changed your perspective on the past few years, remembering both your solo travels and the ones with Ed. Your voice was also really silly.

Noah. I liked Noah. I just did. Most of the time. Gave me Rose vibes. I also liked the music her appearance brought in.

Gracia. I liked the fact Gracia was there. I hope she and Maes made it work, maybe even had their own Elysia. Maybe even siblings for her :]

Edward's mental health. Although a heavy topic, I liked the fact the repercussions of being so far from home were shown.

The jokes. Although I haven't actually watched the whole thing in English, I quote this movie at my friends, much to the annoyance of the ones who aren't interested in Fullmetal. Even if I do translate them for conversation purposes.

THE WAY THE COLOURS ARE DIFFERENT IN OUR WORLD AND AMESTRIS. Our world having dark, faded colours. And then Al's bright cloak flashbangs you! Yay! Even when he moves worlds, the colours are a bit dulled.

I liked how Ed looked out of place in Amestris. That his hair wasn't as golden as it had been in the series, at least to my memory.

And yeah, I could go on, but I risk repeating and becoming illegible. I've also been writing this over the course of an entire day after I lost the first draft :')

I did my best to make it coherent, but I definitely forgot some stuff.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #CoS #Fullmetal Alchemist 2003 #rant #if you've found this you've probably read the whole thing #have a sticker ⭐

6 notes · View notes