#overhang maneuver

[skannar]

Ascending the Face : Minute Fiction

How many minutes in a year? Take one for yourself and read a minute fiction. MINUTE FICTION Sponsored by: If you enjoy this “Minute Fiction” please follow skannar on the social media platform you followed our link from. skannar is funded by advertising, affiliate marketing sales fueled by visitors like you. Your follow is appreciated. Your fingertips grip the rough surface of the sheer rock…

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

Indulgence

At first it was just a fun occasional binge. 

Eat until you’re so full you can hardly move, then lug your fat, packed gut over to your bed or simply lean back in your favorite chair and pleasure yourself. Have a few mind shattering orgasms. Cum your brains out. Your huge, soft thighs and that full tank of food hanging off your midsection did make it hard to reach sometimes, but that’s no worry, you just needed the right angle. 

Then it started happening every day. Weeks of the same routine. Push as much food as possible past your lips. Do it until you’re so aroused you can’t take it anymore. Rock your overfed frame with body shaking orgasms.

Such hedonistic gluttony was dangerous to incorporate regularly. 

Soon you’d start ordering more food. Your stomach just wasn’t getting as full as it used to be. Then you needed more toys. Bigger, longer, more powerful. Some days this routine would happen twice. Long, relieving belches turned into breathy groans of body dominating pleasure.

The effects were starting to show. Your soft, sagging, fleshy apron gut was easily spilling between your legs and covering what you needed to get to most. Soon you had to start making more maneuvers, or riding things to really get that release. Lifting that giant, wobbly orb out of the way became a daily occurrence. Hold it up, slip your arm underneath and into your overhang, letting it flop over your forearm while you pleasured yourself. 

No big deal! Plenty of people have had such heavy, thick, hanging guts that it covered their holes! Not a problem. 

I think the problem started when you’d combine the two steps. 

Moaning around a burger while your toys cause your body to shake. Sighing in deep pleasure while you swallow mouthfuls of meat and bread and cheese. Burping, desperately trying to make room for more as you ride to orgasm. You just needed more. 

More food. 

More pleasure. 

More.

I think you operate best with your mouth choking down a burger, and a long vibrating toy impaling you. I like when your voice is muffled because something is stuffed down your throat, but you have to vocalize because your slit is stuffed too.

A fat slut in her natural habitat. 

[justbusterkeaton]

Buster’s Best Loved Stunts

Steamboat Bill Jr. 1928

Two tons of house front falls on top of Buster in what is surely his most famous stunt, if not the most famous stunt of all time. His salvation comes in the form of a small upstairs window, wider than his shoulders by only a couple of inches.

Were he to fail to stand exactly where the nails that had been driven into the ground to mark the spot, were he to move forward even slightly, he would be killed instantly.

Co-director Chuck Reisner couldn’t bear to witness the scene. “My father, who was a very religious man, a Christian Scientist, had a practitioner up there,” his son, Dean, remembered, “and they were praying all day because here comes this stunt and my father couldn’t bear to see it. He and the practitioner were off praying in one corner and waiting to find out whether Buster came through it or not.

“Two extra women on the sidelines fainted,” Keaton said in 1930, relishing the memory, “and the cameramen turned their backs as they ground out the film.” The thrilling shot came off beautifully. “But it’s a one-take scene and we got it that way. You don’t do those things twice.” He would later claim that the house scene was one of his "greatest thrills," before noting, "I was mad at the time, or I would never have done the thing."

Cops 1922

Although by his own admission Buster only ever had one day of schooling, he must have learned a little about physics along the way.

I don’t know how else he was able to convince himself that he could perform this iconic stunt Cops without ripping his arm out of its socket.

No special affects were used here, and no camera trickery either. Just incredible timing, incredible strength and somehow managing to factor his height and weight with the speed of the car and deciding to risk it.

The Navigator 1924

This scene was originally intended to be filmed in a swimming pool, but Buster wanted deeper water, so after destroying an indoor pool in Riversdale California by over-filling it with water and cracking the bottom, he decided to film in Lake Tahoe where the water was deep, very clear but very cold. Buster could only stay underwater for a few minutes at a time.

As always Buster insisted on doing it himself despite the dangers and even had a special divers helmet made with a clear front screen so that the audience could see his face and know he wasn’t cheating them.

The General 1926

In what filmmaker James Blue would call “a moment of almost almost pathetic beauty,” Buster sits dejectedly on the coupling rod that connects the great metal wheels of the General and remains there, frozen in place, as the engine begins to move towards the tunnel. For this stunt Buster only had to sit very still, but as with the Steamboat Bill stunt, it also required nerves of steel.

“I was running the engine myself all through the picture. I could handle that thing so well I was stopping it on a dime. But when it came to the shot, I asked the engineer whether we could do it. He said “there’s only one danger. A fraction too much steam and the wheel spins, and if it spins it will kill you then and there”. We tried it four or five times and in the end the engineer was satisfied that he could handle it. So we went ahead and did it”

Our Hospitality 1923

Two stunts could have resulted in Buster’s death in Our Hospitality.

The film climaxes in a daring rescue of the heroine Virginia, whose boat is being swept downstream through the rapids. As usual, Buster had refused to use a double. As a safety precaution, wire was attached to his body and to make sure he would stay within camera range.

When the cameras started to roll, he plunged into the fierce current of the Truckee River and began to swim. A few seconds later, the wire snapped and he shot forward, tumbling over rocks and boulders, swallowing great mouthfuls of foam as he was borne toward the rapids. It took all his strength to maneuver himself to the river's edge so that he could grab an overhanging branch.

The cameraman did as was always ordered to by Buster and kept filming. When he was found ten minutes later, Buster lay in the underbrush along the riverbank facedown in the mud, his feet still dangling in the water. He did not move when they pulled him out. His first words as he lifted his head were: "Did Nate see it” Nate was Natalie Talmadge his wife and co star. She had seen it.

The footage of the accident was used in the final film.

Back in Hollywood, he completed the rescue sequence on the lot. A waterfall was constructed over the swimming pool. To create the distant valley below the falls, a miniature set was planted with hundreds of tiny trees. As Virginia's boat plunges over the falls, Willie uses a rope to swing out over the waterfall and grab her at the last moment. Although a dummy was substituted for Natalie, Buster performed the dangerous stunt himself. Hanging upside down underneath the waterfall, he swallowed so much water that a doctor was called to give him first aid.

Sherlock Jr. 1924

The film critic David Thomson described Keaton's style of comedy thusly: "Buster plainly is a man inclined towards a belief in nothing but mathematics and absurdity ... like a number that has always been searching for the right equation”

Many of Buster’s stunts comprised of a perfect combination of “mathematics and absurdity” including this stunt from Sherlock Jr. which involved his holding onto an upright roadblock gate that swings down, with him jumping onto an oncoming car at the right moment. It has an almost James Bond like quality of humour and coolness about it.

Seven Chances 1925

Buster did not want to do Seven Chances. He was not happy with the script but was compelled to make it as the studio had already bought it.

At the first test screening he was disappointed by how disengaged the audience were. The only time they seemed to perk up was towards the end of the movie. He is being chased by the pack of brides and runs down the side of a hill to get away when some boulders start falling behind him. He manages to dodge them just in time.

Buster took note of this reaction and just went with it. He had papier-mâché boulders made in various sizes and created a whole new scene carrying on from that point. It is one of the most memorable moments in the whole movie.

Although the boulders were fake, due to the size of some of them if they’d hit him they would no doubt have caused some damage. Buster had to be super fast and super nimble to avoid getting hit. Fortunately he was both.

I sometimes wonder if this scene influenced the famous boulder scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Sherlock Jr. 1924

"Of course all my weight pulls on the rope, and I pull the spout down and it drenches me with water. I didn't know how strong that water pressure was. Well, it just tore my grip loose as if I had no grip at all and dropped me the minute it hit me. And I lit on my back with my head right across the rail right on my neck. It was a pretty hard fall, and that water pushed me down....I had a headache for a few hours.... I said, 'I want a drink.' I turned at the next block coming back from location-it was out there in the [San Fernando] Valley someplace. I went in to see Mildred Harris, Charlie Chaplin's first wife, and I went into her house and she gave me a couple of stiff drinks. During Prohibition, see, when you couldn't just stop anyplace to get a drink. So, that numbed me enough that I woke up the following morning, my head was clear and I never stopped working”.

-Buster Keaton

Reader, he’d broken his neck.

Three Ages 1923

“So, my scene was that with the cops chasing me, I took advantage of the lid of a skylight and laid it over the edge of the roof to use as a springboard. I backed up, hit it, and tried to make it to the other side, which was probably about eighteen feet. Well, I misjudged the spring of that board and didn’t make it. I hit flat up against the other set and fell to the net, but I hit hard enough that I jammed my knees a little bit, and hips and elbows and I had to go home and stay in bed for about three days. And, of course, at the same time, me and the scenario department were a little sick because we can’t make that leap. That throws the whole chase sequence, that routine, right out the window. So the boys the next day went into the projecting room and saw the scene anyhow, ’cause they had it printed to look at it. Well, they got a thrill out of it, so they came back and told me about it. I say ‘Well, if it looks that good let’s see if we can pick it up this way: The best thing to do is to put an awning on a window, just a little small awning, just enough to break my fall.’ ’Cause on the screen you could see that I fell about sixteen feet. I must have passed two stories. So now you go in and drop into something just to slow me up, to break my fall, and I can swing from that onto a rainspout, and when I get a hold of it, it breaks and lets me sway out away from the building hanging onto it. And for a finish, it collapses enough that it hinges and throws me down through a window a couple of floors below. Well, when this pipe broke and threw me through the window, we went in there and built the sleeping quarters of the fire department with a sliding pole in the background. Well, it ended up…It was the biggest laughing sequence in the picture…because I missed it in the original trick.”

[brimbrimbrimbrim]

Brim please do a fic where konig has a breeding kink omg

Working it, anon. <3 Here's a taste.

‘Atomwaffe has been neutralized. Requesting backup. Repeat; the nuclear payload has been secured. Backup requested.' 

There's the fizzle of an explosion through the radio followed by the distant crack of it in the air a quarter-second later. 

'Verdammt! Over.' 

The operative's request comes through the radio in accented German and clotted static. Unfortunately, the German's aforementioned backup and Squad Commander is dead, still clutching the crackling radio he must have used to call you and your team in when they got out maneuvered during the third wave. You watched him pass only two minutes ago, dragging him out of aerial gunfire and against the dark brick wall of a cramped alley half-filled with rubble and spent bullet shells.

BOOM!-static-fizz

Another explosion rips through the radio, shaking the foundation like an afterthought, this one much closer. It pounds in your chest and makes your fingers twitch in the guts of the only operative currently left alive from the backup squad. Your gaze shifts to the embroidered patch on his breast pocket, and mouth his name to yourself before turning to look at his face—wide-eyed, in shock, with blood trailing out the edge of his mouth, cutting through the dusting of plaster dust and sticky sweat.

"Davtyan," you mutter, then shout his name again until his eyes roll back and forward, looking up at you, "Welcome back. Need you to stop belly breathing, concentrate above your diaphragm, and count backward from one hundred. Evac is on its way." 

You hope it is, at any rate. You couldn't check in when your team touched down and were immediately caught in the crossfire, the rest of the trauma team either scattered in hiding or… dead, so protocol would suggest that evac should have been dispatched approximately five minutes ago.

'Be aware mortar strike on the way!' 

Zeep-boom!

Grout dust tumbles from the unstable overhang above as another explosion goes off, but it's not a concern at this moment, and unfortunately, neither is the backup requested once again in very annoyed German over the radio. At least, it's not your concern… because, as it stands, Davtyan's small intestines are threatening to slurp through the scattered bullet holes across his abdomen. The muscular wall has been perforated, and so has his duodenum, explaining the blood dribbling out his mouth. Whether or not his large intestines have sustained significant injury is hard to tell. You won't know the full extent of the damage until he's on the Hip with your trauma unit where you can open him up. For now, you apply pressure and remind the man to breathe.

Davtyan swallows down blood and grimaces. You watch as he shakily lifts a hand to give you a thumbs up, but it drops after a short second. 

You shake your head in disbelief at these people's resilience, both annoyed, impressed, and in your own state of shock. No wonder you haven't been able to conceive. This job's too stressful for mothers to be and—as you keep Davtyan's guts where they ought to be—your mind wanders, mostly to escape the hell of war, but also a direct side effect of the unsustainable adrenaline spikes.

'Possible hostiles nearby. Unable to regroup… heading back to the evacuation point. Da.” Gunfire peppers across the radio. “Da… on the way! Over!'

Unfortunately, the radio and everything else has grayed out. Nearly replicating tunnel vision. You barely notice movement out of your peripherals between keeping your total weight on the heels of your palms and thinking about hormone therapy. Too fucking expensive. Maybe adoption?

You’re busy weighing the costs and staunching blood flow when it happens, and it happens fast; boot steps hit the destroyed market, and you look up, spotting the approaching enemy operative, their gun raised. Shots fire. Bullets snap in a plume of grit against the wall to your left, spraying you with dust and reeling your heart into a standstill. 

Davtyan grunts. 

Basic training kicks in, as does muscle memory. Shock is a beautiful thing sometimes. 

You are only mildly aware of your movements as you tug the pistol out of Davtyan's thigh holster, aim and pop off all six rounds totally blind. Had luck not been on your side today, the spray and pray method would have been your doom, but several of the bullets hit their intended target, and… when the dust clears, you're left kneeling over Davtyan, pistol shaking in your fist, with a new body lying mere feet away.

You killed someone. Shit, shit, shit…

"I-" you start, only to be ripped back by a mean hand around your jaw and a thick arm belted around your chest. The gun clicks against your trigger finger, empty. A rigid body pulls you tight to them, and you feel rough fingers dig in fast around your jaw and temple with a purpose. They're going to snap your neck… and this is it… 

You swallow, squeeze your eyes tight and reach up to stall your death with blood-sticky hands as Davtyan groans as he starts to bleed out again. He's going to die for sure without you, but… you don't want to die either… not yet. But before you can pry your killer off, they grunt into your ear—shlick—and groan—shlick—and exhale, falling backward and taking you with them. 

Someone above you, out of sight, grumbles, "Stück scheisse…"

The German, you think. 

No, König… he’s Austrian. You recall him now, having leafed through all the operative's files when you made the necessary supply requests, such as specified red cell concentrates, alternative histamine antags, and any other additional measure to account for medical conditions such as allergies, deficiencies, and backup medications; insulin, beta blockers and more.

Something is yanked from the body beneath you, and that someone—König—tears the dead man's arm and hand away with a thin groan. He comes into view, nothing but kohl-rimmed eyes beneath that paint-streaked veil. His eyes narrow for a moment, inspecting you beneath the hang of his mask. The heavy, black fabric sways with the wind as it pushes through the alley from another nearby explosion. For some reason, the fact that he doesn't flinch sticks with you; it continues to rummage through your mind even as he yanks you up and onto your knees.

"Guten Tag." It's almost cheerful, or at the very least, bereft of horror despite the setting. He nods to Davtyan, who is weakly clutching his broken belly a foot away. "You should attend to the Armenian, Frau."

"R-right," you stutter, attempting a thank you that König dismisses with a raised hand, black glove greasy with wet blood from stabbing your would-be murderer, knife still clutched in his other fist. The way that hand shakes and the compensating grip tell you his wrist is twisted, if not broken… perhaps a hairline fracture. 

"Your wrist-"

"Later," König cuts you off.

You nod, shake out your hands to release pent-up stress like an animal in shock might do, then rush back to your patient, shoving away his own hands to replace with your own, staunching Davtyan's open wounds even though the sound he makes beneath you is abhorrent. 

It is this or dying, you think… thinking how you nearly died, not but seconds ago… until you were rescued by… him…

You glance over, cheeks flushed hotly as König kneels beside his Squad Commander. He applies two fingers to the neck, checking for a pulse, and of course, he finds none. You watch, panting, as he drops his head and mutters something low in German you have no ear for. Tinnitus ringing starts… slow and soft, then grows louder as your blood pressure starts to tank in the eerie calm.

Further away, the sound of an Mi-8 Hip cuts through the quell of mortar explosions. Evac, you think, chest fluttering with relief for Davtyan, you and the Austrian adjusting the Squad Commanders radio frequency to KorTac.

"König reporting. Rendezvous with mediziner. Davtyan's looking… bad. Is that you in the skies? Over."

The radio goes quiet for ten seconds. You know because you're counting with Davtyan as he breathes in his chest and spits blood, red teeth clenching tight. Suddenly static clicks and a woman's voice comes through with grainy ease, 'Your backup is en route. ETA is two minutes. Casualties?'

"Ja. Mortar strikes took out Bravo. Davtyan survives Nickles… no clue where the rest of the mediziner's are..."

König's eyes shift to yours in silent question, but you're hit with a wave of arousal so fierce it thins your lips. It's the artificial hormones you're on that make your pussy tingle, wetting the fabric hugging your folds while Davtyan's wounds ooze between your fingers. An involuntary physical reaction that is highly inappropriate, bordering on immoral, but it happens…

"Over." König half-growls, seeing right through you with a sharp look across your form, hidden well beneath kevlar stamped in medical insignia and filled with body pouches. Thankfully, evac begins to descend in the open market, thrusting dusty air through the alleyways, ripping at your raw cheeks and his black veil. It ruins whatever moment was in the making, but the flap of his mask ripples against the wind as you stare through narrowed eyes, just barely giving you glimpses of a jawline puckered with old scars and light stubble.

Dear God…

[toweroftickles]

No Ticket, No Entry

(Miles/Gwen Tickle Fic)

If you're a cop's kid, they say there are only two possibilities: you become a cop yourself, or one of the crooks he chases. For Miles Morales and Gwen Stacy, it was a little bit of both. Equipped with an arsenal of stickers and spray cans, Miles was always the more prone to troublemaking of the two. Gwen usually required a little more prodding.

But what kind of self-respecting teenager, at some point, hasn’t snuck into a movie theater?

The two perched high on lampposts on the street outside, perfectly hidden from passerby behind the blinding lights. It was one of those small local Queens theaters that had been around since the dawn of time, the kind that still used traditional signs, where even the color on the bricks had started to chip off. Red neon letters flashed cheerfully at them above the marquee. It was a chilly spring night.

"Alright, Spider-Boy; let's see whatcha got," the ghostly white Gwen teased with a wink.

“‘Spider-Boy?’ C’mon, that’s a low blow,” chuckled Miles.

“Hey, invisible guy successfully nabs us some snacks; then we can talk about upgrading your moniker," she giggled. With a flick of her wrist, a thin strand of web fluid whisked Gwen up to the roof, and left Miles alone on his vantage point, where he vanished with perfect camouflage. His gloves and boots squeaked on the glass foyer windows. There was quite a crowd...he had to squeeze quickly between the doorframe and a very fat woman in a fur coat, but no one was the wiser.

Both he and his girlfriend felt the pulse-pounding thrill of breaking the rules. A little bit of the old anxious butterflies flitted around their stomachs…what’s worse than getting caught? But they really shouldn't have worried. This was a world where superheroes, aliens, gods and monsters all ran around New York like it was their own personal Super Smash Bros. arena. All that Randall the overweight 15-year-old counter clerk thought about, when he saw a haunted bag of popcorn mysteriously sliding away around the gaudy orange wall corner, was the fact that he didn't get paid nearly enough to care.

Getting through the doors, crawling up the ceiling and behind the counter, and grabbing armfuls of food undetected was the easy part. The tricky thing was getting it all into the screening room. He & Gwen were already a few minutes late...a strategic maneuver. The way-too-loud trailers were audible outside the door. All Miles had to do was hide behind the back counter, wait for a break in the crowd, and sprint in and up the wall, resisting the urge to hum the sneaky Castle Garden music from Ocarina of Time while he did so.

All the popcorn bags, hot dogs, drinks, and what-have-you were webbed up all nice and snug in the back right corner of the theater's star-covered ceiling, opposite from the door and behind the other seats. A soft metal clunking sound that only his enhanced ears could pick up, like a knock on a metal door, lured Miles up back across to the overhang above the entrance. Even the walls were coated in carpet, but there was a single rectangular hole covered by a cheap iron grate, which led to the building's ventilation ducts. And behind it, smiling and waving at him, was his girlfriend.

"Hey there," she whispered. Miles' mask was lifted just enough that his mouth was visible. Even under the mask, though, he was clearly raising his eyebrows in that classic Dwayne Johnson way.

"Heeyyyyyy," he replied, trying to look cool and unaware that his face was wearing a patchy beard of popcorn kernels. Gwen bit her lip and tried not to smile too much...she thought it was cute.

“I can’t believe these dorks still haven’t noticed the opening is unscrewed!” It took nearly a full 30 seconds to crawl out and slide the grate back into place with as little noise as possible. Miles tossed Gwen a box of M&Ms, careful of the rattling. If the guy in the projection booth had looked down through the window, he might have noticed the snickering teenagers crawling along beneath his shadow.

It was like any other movie night, only huddled in the far corner of the room and fifteen feet off the ground. (It was some comedy movie, the details of which they barely cared about. Something to do with horses, a wedding, and Danny McBride eating a truck tire.) They whispered. They laughed. They stole each other's food. They tried to sneak looks at their smartphones, and always chided the other for doing the exact same thing. Miles almost tried the cliche "accidentally hold hands via popcorn bucket" trick, but he was too embarrassed...so Gwen smoothly slid her gloved palm into his anyway. In the dim blue glow, after all, he couldn't see her blush.

"Man, sitting this way is startin' to hurt my back."

"Heheheh...I'm gonna watch from here. You think someone'll notice?" Gwen said playfully. Grinning, the Ghost Spider raised from her place at Miles' left, crawled up above ("Hey! Where you going?") and sat down Indian-style right on the ceiling at his 10:00 position. Twinkling glow-in-the-dark stickers lit up the area around her. Despite her years of experience, she never really got over the novelty of being able to hang upside down whenever and wherever she wanted. When she fully demasked, both of the heroes laughed quietly at the sight of her blonde hair dangling toward the floor.

"Oh, so what, now you don't care about anyone seeing you?" Miles perked up instantly and tossed popcorn her way.

"Shhh! We've gotta still be quiet!" Gwen laughed back at him. The tension in her shoulders had wound down throughout the evening...she was feeling a little more mischievous.

"Oh, we do, huh? Yeah, we do?"

Suddenly, out of nowhere, Miles' left arm reached up and poked her in the side.

These skintight superhero catsuits were many things, but one thing they were NOT: tickle-proof. Thankfully, a character in the movie had just cracked a joke, and everyone in the audience was in a fit of laughter…no one heard it when Gwen’s chipper giggle blurted out.

Her eyes bugged out of her head. Her hand slapped over her vulnerable spot. She tried not to show it, even (especially?) in front of Miles, but the universe-hopping Stacy daughter was remarkably ticklish; even gentle back scratches could make her squeak and writhe like a bowl of jello. And deep down, she hated the sound of her throaty, husky laugh. She always gasped so much; it almost sounded more like hiccups than laughter.

"Quit it!" she snapped, looking back at Miles. Her mouth looked happy...he loved seeing that little gap in her buck teeth when she grinned; it was so dorky...but her eyes were panicked. Which, of course, just egged him on.

As soon as she wasn't looking, her boyfriend stretched out his arm again and squeezed her belly with all five fingers, and Gwen doubled over, giggling fiercely.

"HNGHEE!!" she exhaled hard; all the wind was knocked out of her.

She kept shoving his wrist, hissing at him, trying to get him to cut it out, but he was acting like an obnoxious little brother in the back seat of a car...all that was missing was for him to squawk "I'm not touching you!" on repeat. Every time she moved Miles' hand aside to one place, he swung his arm back and pinched her side or jabbed between her ribs. Limbs flying everywhere...it was practically a slap-fight.

Poke...poke....poke. Over and over.

All these little touches were making her all tingly, building up a storm of hysterics that Gwen was struggling to contain. Her Spider-Sense was blaring a full four-alarm siren, for all the good it did against someone who was just as fast as her.

"Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle," Miles teased her in a cartoonishly high-pitched voice.

“S-stop it! We’re gonna get caught!” She was frustrated now. It was true…down below, patrons had begun looking around in circles, trying to determine where that annoying noise was coming from, and who exactly they should pelt with half-eaten nachos.

Sealing her lips tightly, Gwen held her breath and swiveled to face the screen again. She was anxiously rubbing her crossed ankles while fixated on the movie, an action that drew Miles’ eye to the seafoam green ballet shoes which lurked, upside-down, just above his hair.

Meh...that'll work.

Just when she started to take her mind off the chortles, Gwen gasped. A finger was tracing along the outer lip of her right shoe.

"Don't...you...dare..."

Miles' hooked digit clawed around inside Gwen's slipper and gently scratched the arch of her foot through her black spandex tights. She could almost feel the electric tingles of his venom-touch buzzing up her leg…it made her whole body jitter, and she jumped nearly hard enough to unstick from the ceiling.

“HAA-Huh! *gasp*wheeze* Huhuh-Heheh, Haha! St-hop!” Gwen snorted loudly and clapped her hands over her mouth. Her flailing legs untangled from their self-made pretzel. “Heehee-Heh, Huh-Huh! *gasp* Heheh!”

She froze. A cold fear dripped down Gwen’s neck. Internally, she was shooting off every curse word she could think of. After a moment to catch her breath, once her laughter subsided, Gwen slowly opened a single eye…

…and there, below her, was her worst fear. The crowd was staring up at her, trying to make out the girl-shaped shadow in the theater’s back corner.

"Hey, it's Spider-Woman!"

"Woo! Spider-Girl, down here!"

"Wait I thought she was called Ghost-Spider..."

Thank god it was dark enough that no one could see her face properly; her mask was back on in milliseconds.

"Oh, shit shit shit; Miles, we've gotta - " Gwen quickly snapped her head to the side, but there was nothing there...nothing but an empty, dark corner where her boyfriend had once sat. He’d gone invisible and slipped out. The eyes of her costume narrowed into burning little strips of pink, like a pair of furious electric earthworms.

".....oh, you've gotta be freaking kidding me."

THUD!! BANG! Hard aluminum sheets buckled and wobbled under Gwen’s fingertips. She scurried through the air vents at a blistering pace, often sliding too far around a corner - CRUNCH! ow, that’s definitely an elbow bruise - and doubling back. Her legs nearly outran her arms, throwing themselves up and over each other, rushing to an ever-closer window of purple moonlight.

Her heart beat a thousand times a minute.

Freedom.

On the rooftop, Gwen yanked up her mask and sucked in the foggy night air. Breathing hard…whewwww….over and over. Its cool touch soothed the burning in her cheeks. Her slippers slapped against the stone and plaster. Alongside her own weary gasps, Gwen eventually heard another sound…one that made her temperature rise once more.

Miles, chuckling to himself right beside her.

“Heh-Heh…kind of a big change-up from how we met, huh?” he offered, a smug smile on his face.

"Miles!!" Gwen hissed under her breath, and slapped her boyfriend on the arm.

"Ow! Why you whispering? We're up here by ourselves."

“Uuugh. This is why you get in trouble with your dad! You are soooo lucky this universe doesn’t have mine. You seriously can't stop goofing around for more than 2 seconds even when...”

“So is that like your Kryptonite? You can’t win a fight if you’re being tickled?” laughed Miles. The question made Gwen go red in the face again. She was about to garble some kind of flustered protest, but something caught her eye and stopped her...from inside his sleeve, Miles produced some sort of shiny metal stick. It was kinda like those memory-erasers from that one dumb alien movie her dad liked.

"Well, you know...I was thinkin' while we were up here, maybe we could have a....uhhh, private show." Miles flipped over to the brick lip of the roof and squatted down. At his feet he placed the little silver tube, centered it, and clicked a button. "C'mere; check this out."

Along its side, a narrow slit opened up, pulsing a deep yellow color. Inside it, glowing photons waved back at Gwen like a sea of tiny stars, humming softly. A shower of light rushed up from the strip like an inverse waterfall until the little particles reached a rectangular shape, then scurried in all directions to paint the night sky alongside their far-off galactic brothers. Draped above Gwen & Miles, like a canopy, floated a holographic screen just for them. (Unknown to Gwen, exactly twelve feet below them, inside the projection booth, a red, spider-shaped, USB-compatible goober clicked into place against the room’s laptop. Its feed was being copied and streamed perfectly.)

"Wow......" Gwen seemed impressed, but paused when she realized….

"Wait, was this whole night just so you could show that gizmo off?"

"Ehhhh....maybe," shrugged Miles. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head with his left hand. But as she thought about it, Gwen wasn’t even mad. She just laughed all over again.

A little web pillow was all it took to make the setup complete. Grabbing a fistful of popcorn from the sole leftover bag that Miles had carried with him, Gwen laid back against the nearby roof fan and shoveled the snacks into her mouth, excitedly looking up at the big projector above. And her boyfriend plopped down just to her left side, arms crossed and relaxed.

Strangely, the noise of the insomniac city streets below, the feet clicking on pavement, the rushing and honking of cab horns, didn't bother them. The movie played perfectly alongside the calming sounds of New York, and there was something strangely enchanting about it. Reaching up, Gwen’s hands came to rest behind her head and propped her against the pillow, and she sighed contentedly. A sweet smile washed over her.

"You know…" she said, "...I think I do kinda like this better, Spider-Man.”

Miles often made himself sick with worry about how their relationship was going. She was sooo much cooler than him. What was the next step? What if he did something to embarrass her? But for a few moments, all those fears melted away while he watched the projector's light dance reflected on her cheek.

He also realized, as his prankster side whispered in his ear, he was in a perfect position to sneakily tickle her armpit without her noticing. Both her hands were behind her head.

Almost on a reflex, his index finger bent and slowly hovered toward her...

….but he suddenly thought better of it.

Nah. Let's just enjoy the movie.

[alkali1]

Testimony Part 1

They thought she wouldn't come. The pharmaceutical company's lawyers had pushed to make her testify in person, figuring she wouldn't physically be able to show up, and they'd win the lawsuit by default. Five years ago she'd taken an experimental, unregulated fertility treatment, and now she was suing when it worked all too well. 260 weeks pregnant with sextuplets, she was unable to give birth either naturally or by c-section, and she was doomed to grow and grow until her body could no longer handle it.

Even though she had been bedbound for two years, and homebound for even longer, she knew her only hope of winning a settlement was to appear, so her partner and care team heaved her up onto an extra-wide rolling bed and rolled her into the court building.

Everyone turned to stare as the doors opened and her carers attempted to squeeze her through. The wide courtroom door was still too small for her massive body, and they struggled to maneuver her through. All they managed is to get her stuck, as her fat shelf of an ass and heaving belly each overhang the sides of her gurney and become lodged in the doorframe. She groans in extreme discomfort as her bloated body is squished and prodded as they try in vain to fit her through. Sweat drips down her face, smearing her makeup, and she gasps for breath, exhausted and overwhelmed just from the strain of being so massively, inhumanly pregnant.

Finding courtroom clothes to fit her sickeningly exaggerated body had been a nightmare, and the only option was ultimately to cram her into the largest, stretchiest pink dress they could find. It was technically 'modest' as it covered all the skin from her neck to her fat thighs, but it clung tightly to her fertile curves, leaving little to the imagination. They had crammed her massive tits into the largest nursing bra available to avoid her thick nipples being on permanent display, but her constantly engorged udders spilled out everywhere from the inadequate cups, and the tight fabric of her dress put every bulge on display. She'd been milked dry before they left, and she hoped that she wouldn't be here so long that she'd leak through her dress.

After several humiliating minutes her caretakers are able to squish enough of her cellulite through the door that her belly is able to be squeezed through. Gasps and murmurs fill the courtroom as everyone gawks at her, finally getting a good look at her hugely gravid form.

Her womb is a mammoth, misshapen lump, coming to a sickening point at her taut, herniated navel. The six toddlers inside her shift in their cramped space, making her moan in discomfort. Her hips, continuously widening for a birth that may never come, are buried under pounds and pounds of piled-on cellulite that strains her tight dress to the absolute limit. And the sheer size of her breathtaking bump pushes her tremendous cleavage up into her face. Every day for her is a battle to not be smothered by her own enormous body. The judge begins the proceedings. She tries her hardest to stay silent and not grunt or groan from the painful pressure and movement in her womb, but her choked noises frequently disturb the quiet courtroom.

After two torturous hours, It's finally time for her to take the stand. She's rolled up as close as her bed can get, and the judge moves a microphone down to her swollen, sweaty face. Now she will have to describe the discomfort and humiliation of her daily life, trying to win the sympathy of the judge and jury...

[lemonluvgirl]

The Designation Games (Part 5)

Previous Chapters

The numbers on the large timepiece on the wall rolled over to show that they had a little over an hour to go before everyone was dismissed from training to meet their stylists. Katniss breathed a sigh of relief. 

She relaxed considerably, knowing it wouldn’t be long before they could escape the training room and the thick cloud of warring scents that threatened to suffocate her. 

The trainers herded groups of tributes towards the day’s compulsory exercise which happened to be climbing. She had breezed through the course easily, having had a lot of practice climbing trees and rocky overhangs whenever she went hunting with Gale in the woods outside of District 12. 

But Peeta had a decidedly more difficult time trying to maneuver his large and heavily muscled body over the climbing net. 

 At one point his foot got tangled up and it almost looked like he was about to fall. But he didn’t, at least not all the way. He hung suspended in midair, upside down and struggling to right himself and get his foot untangled from the net. The two trainers overseeing the climbing exercise moved to help him immediately. Katniss was so caught up in worry for him, that she hadn’t noticed the group of careers flanking her until it was almost too late. 

She turned, and a wave of scent hit her. The District 4 Alpha, the District 1 Alpha, and the behemoth from District 2, Cato along with his Omega partner stood in a semicircle before her. 

Their scents clashed disturbingly and made her head ache when her nose tried to automatically parse them out. But one thing was clear above everything else. 

They all put out a scent of aggression. 

“Hello, little Omega.” The Alpha from 4 purred in a deceptive tone. 

Katniss narrowed her eyes at him, wrestling with the instinct to take a step back, but not wanting to give any ground. She didn’t want him to think his intimidation tactics were working on her. 

After a second passed and she didn’t answer him but also didn’t run from him, the Alpha barked out a harsh laugh that was quickly taken up by the others. 

“Well, well, what do we have here? An Omega with a backbone?” He asked with a tilt of his head while the pack of careers behind him looked on with obvious amusement. 

Katniss bared her teeth at him in a warning and he pretended to jump back, laughing louder before he rounded on her and leaned in, lightning fast, to take a deep whiff of air, his nose running an invisible line up from her chest to the top of her head. 

Katniss felt her eyes go wide and then she did take a step back, but he took a step forward, anticipating her. Then he spoke, low and slow, quiet enough that only she and the tiny group now surrounding her could hear. 

“It’s faint, and almost covered up by the wet dog smell of your District partner, but you smell like you’ve never taken a knot before? Is that true?” 

It took her a second to process the words that had come out of the vile Alpha’s mouth but when understanding dawned on her she let out an automatic noise of disbelief and disgust. 

It was covered up by the raucous laughs and chitters of the others. 

Then, from her left, came a deeper voice, one that she knew without having to look to confirm, belonged to the District 2 Alpha. 

“I’d be happy to fix that for you, 12. That way you’ll get the chance to feel a real Alpha’s knot. Before you die.” Cato drawled in a low, predatory rumble that made her inner Omega’s hackles rise in indignation. 

“Try it.” She growled, meeting his icy stare with a fire of her own. “And I guarantee you’ll be going into the Games missing a couple of your appendages.” Katniss hissed back at him with a snarl. 

That got a round of mocking laughter and incited the Alphas even more. 

“I don’t think I like your tone, Omega. I think you need a lesson in manners. So Play Nice, or I’ll have to punish you personally once we get into the arena.” 

There was something in Cato’s voice, something in the way he said the words, that struck her squarely in the chest. 

It made her gasp, and sputter. The careers just hooted louder, finally drawing the attention of the trainers who Katniss saw striding over out of the corner of her eye. 

Then she felt a slight pull, something like a string growing taught inside her, drawing closer until the warm, comforting scent of her district partner washed over her from behind. 

“What’s going on Katniss?” Peeta’s voice broke through the fog and his large hand wrapped protectively around her side. She could breathe again, but she noticed he smelled agitated and worried. 

“Nothing much, just having a friendly chat with your district partner here, 12,” Cato replied instead of letting her answer, mostly for the benefit of the trainers who had come to check on the situation. 

The trainers eyed them cautiously and tried to assess if an intervention was needed. 

Katniss knew it didn’t look like much. After all none of them had even touched her. They hadn’t even shouted. It had been very subtle, the kinds of tactics the careers had employed. 

“Didn’t look very friendly to me,” Peeta growled, shoulders back, teeth bared. 

“Hey, watch it.” One of the trainers chastised, seeing Peeta’s stance change. 

“Yeah, watch it 12. Don’t go jumping to conclusions. The Omega’s perfectly intact. As you can see. And as we all can smell.” The Alpha from District 4 said, in a taunting voice. His last comment got a few smirks and snickers. 

“What I smell is a bunch of bored, inner district minions trying to get their jollies off of ganging up on a lone Omega. It’s pathetic. Go back to massacring your dummies and posters if you need to work off your repressed belligerence. Stay out of our way and we’ll stay out of yours,” Peeta said, in a dangerously quiet voice, leaning in and punctuating his words with a firm, authoritative tone. Then he turned, pulling Katniss alongside him to steer her away. 

“You talk a big game 12, for an Alpha who has never even knotted an Omega.” The District 4 Alpha taunted. 

Peeta stopped at that, but he didn’t turn to face the group. Katniss worried for a second that Peeta might defy Haymitch’s orders and actually start a fight. With her closest hand, she reached out and gripped the material of Peeta’s shirt, even though if he really wanted to go she knew there would be no stopping him. 

Peeta was the same height as the District 4 Alpha, but he was larger, stockier, and more heavily muscled than the man. 

“Your assumptions betray your overinvestment in my personal life. If you’re interested in knowing more about my knot, 4, you’ll have to get in line. Although I can’t guarantee I’ll answer your questions, or return your interest. I don’t swing that way.” Peeta replied, cool and smoother than the whipped butter Effie had spread over her toast at breakfast that morning. 

Then, he was walking away, and Katniss, shocked and impressed with his quick thinking spared only a second to look over her shoulder to see how Peeta’s comment had landed. 

The look of rage and hatred that clouded over the District 4 Alpha’s face was something to behold. But the look on the face of the rest of the careers was something nearer to grudging respect or amusement. District 4 took a step forward as if to go after them, but a trainer immediately drew his shock stick and armed it. 

The District 4 Alpha smartly backed away but not before throwing Peeta and her one last look of barely contained fury. 

Katniss turned away and realized that Peeta’s deliberate choice to turn his back on the careers was a statement in and of itself. 

They moved toward the doors, as the trainers opened them to release the tributes. 

She had survived her first day of training, but only time would tell if Peeta’s tactics had earned the career’s esteem or their ire. 

[reborrowing]

siblings and secrets (Stranger Swap)

For GT July - Secret

I live on the west coast! I have 15 minutes left of day three!!

Hollow secretly checks in on his outcast younger sibling when he has the chance and finds out Val has been keeping a much more dangerous, exotic secret from the local borrower colony. Word Count: ~1800 content warning for fear and hand stabbing, I guess. Stranger Swap main post

Hollow snuck along the attic rafters to the far east end of the apartment complex. Whenever he was supposed to go out and meet with traders, he got up early to run this errand first. He didn’t think anyone had ever noticed. Val certainly hadn’t, even though it was Val that he was checking on.

He dropped down and followed a pipe to the cavity overhanging the kitchen. It was a comfortably cramped space, kept at a good temperature by an overhead duct and had easy access to both a water pipe and the most important space in the inner apartment. Some day he or Chai or someone was going to have to talk to Val about installing real security, but for today he just took advantage of how easy it was to get into the loft.

He slowed as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Val had left an electric tea light flickering on the table. A cap full of crushed mint gave a pleasant smell to an otherwise musty space. The pantry shelves were satisfactory, though the contents were bland. No perishables, nothing too fresh, and not particularly balanced, but Hollow wasn’t concerned with any of that. He wasn’t trying to ensure his sibling was living in luxury, he just wanted to make sure the runt was keeping themself alive.

In the next room over, Hollow had expected to find his sibling curled up in the corner, given the early evening hour but the bed was empty. His hackles rose as he swept through the loft more carefully, checking every nook a nervous borrower might choose to curl up in. He found Val’s  bag slung over a cork stool and a knotted harness hanging on the wall, but no Val.

He tried to convince himself that it was nothing to worry about. Val didn’t need to be home, they were free to live life on their own weird, daytime schedule if they wanted. But Hollow had a gut feeling that he couldn’t ignore, that something was wrong. It had been just a few months since Val had said they’d been discovered, hadn’t it? Those tenants had left, but what if it had happened again? Or worse.

Hollow followed a stapled ladder down into the apartment and squeezed through a hole carved into the back of the cupboard. The sounds of the apartment grew less muffled and he paused. Someone was home, he could hear them chattering and moving around. They weren’t close, but they were here. It would be smart to simply come back later once the lights were off. But he was already here on the wrong side of the complex, and he had other plans for the night that he couldn’t put off without someone asking what he was up to. And he’d gone dumber places to do dumber things, really.

He picked a careful path through the cupboard. It was such a tightly-packed mess that it was difficult to maneuver through, even at Hollow’s size. He wove around haphazardly balanced packages towards the door panel and forcefully shoved his shoulder against it to get the latch to disengage.

He froze as the conversation in the apartment picked up again. The voices were still distorted, but they were much louder. A large shadow passed over the thin line of light where he’d cracked the cupboard open and Hollow drew back. How had he missed the footsteps drawing so close?

“Seriously, it’s not that hard, I promise. Kids do it, you’ll be fine” a woman said.

“You bought a fire extinguisher after last time.”

Hollow’s stomach sank. That was Val. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but that was Val’s voice. They didn’t sound afraid or hurt, at least, but that only mattered so much. Too much of anything was dangerous. And humans were too much of everything. Even their kindness could smother and crush.

Not to mention that the colony would probably kick them out of the complex if they found out Val was breaking the main rules again.

The woman with Val laughed.

“I should’ve had one before! But besides, this is basically just boiling water, you can’t mess it up. It’s barely even cooking,” the woman said.

“You said that about the eggs.”

“And now I’ve had second thoughts about how much you’ve never had to know, and came up with something easier.”

A set of fingers dug behind the door just below and Hollow staggered back into the mess of the cupboard. He dove into an empty space as light flooded into the compartment. In his rush, he tripped over a bag of chocolate chips, sending a box overhead teetering and crashing into the newly opened space where the human stood.

Val grunted and Hollow automatically leaned forward with concern. It wasn’t enough to get himself seen, but thought he could steal a look at the tenant and what the human might be doing with his sister. At first, all he saw was a downturned head of curls.

“Sorry! I keep meaning to clean that out, especially since…well, you,” the woman said.

“It’s fine,” Val sighed.

The face tilted back up to scan the cupboard and Hollow jerked backwards in horror. It wasn’t just the idea of being discovered, he was still sure that he hadn’t been seen. It was…His thoughts kept shattering before they could finish the very impossible thought.

He knew that face. He recognized it. Or, flashes of it, because it refused to add it up to a whole. The dark curls, the angle of their jaw, the tawny skin, the unusual golden eyes. Their mothers’ nose, the same shape as Hollow’s own. 

As he edged further into the shadows, his elbow rubbed against the same bag he’d tripped over a few seconds ago. The rustling sound was soft, barely noticeable. Those golden eyes flicked right towards it. Right towards Hollow. His heart skipped a beat as they focused on him and flashed with recognition, then shock. The two stared at each other without moving for several long seconds.

“Hollow?” whispered the thing that looked like Val.

This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t possible.

This wasn’t worth getting caught over.

Whatever had actually happened to Val, whatever this thing was, Hollow would deal with it at another time. He bolted and if something wasn’t between him and his escape, he didn’t care to think about it. He went much quicker now that he didn’t care about knocking things over or making noise.

“Wait!”

Humans’ speed was always surprising, given their size, and Hollow could swear that this thing was even faster. They hopped onto the counter for better reach. Massive shadows danced overhead as they tore apart the contents of the cupboard.

“Woah, hey! What’s hollow? What are you doing?” asked the woman he’d heard earlier.

“There’s someone in there,” they answered as they dragged away a plastic bin that had been just in front of Hollow.

Hollow stopped suddenly, his stomach twisting with dread. They weren’t ripping away pieces of cover at random. They knew where Hollow was going. They knew more about how to get back into the walls of this unit better than Hollow did and they had a good headstart getting to them.

“Hollow, I won’t hurt you. It’s just me,” Val said softly.

They could hardly be just anything if they had figured out how to turn themself into a human, let alone just Val. He didn’t want to know what someone would have to do to become such a monster.

“You know them?” the woman asked.

“We’re siblings,” Val said.

There was a pause.

“They live here too?” the woman asked, sounding guarded.

“Not here-here, no, but closeby. I don’t know what he’s doing here,” Val said. “Hollow, could you please at least answer me? Can we talk?”

Several seconds passed. Hollow felt his throat drying out and swelling shut, he couldn’t imagine what he was supposed to say. The two weren’t close anymore. He didn’t know how he was supposed to reconcile his memory and mental image of timid, fawning Val with the giant standing in the apartment. He grit his teeth and tensed to try and keep himself from trembling.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Val said.

Too late, Hollow realized that it was a warning.

His stomach lurched as Val’s fingers wrapped around the box behind him. He panicked at the idea of being exposed, at being grabbed again, and rammed the blade of his prosthetic into the nearest finger.

“Ow! I’m not grabbing you, shithead, just the—you don’t have to stab me!” they snapped.

They flinched backwards, yanking Hollow off the stable floor of the shelf before he could manage to free his blade. He smacked against the side of the box as Val knocked it over. He landed against a paper bag that showered him in a cloud of sugar for a few dazed seconds. Val—it wasn’t fair—runty Val had just flung them across a cupboard. Reflexively. His chest tightened as he pushed himself back up to run while they were dealing with their hand.

“He stabbed you? Are you okay? Is he okay? Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

“No kidding!” they hissed.

Hollow risked a glance back. Val pressed on the wound with their other hand, graciously giving him the space he needed to make it to the hole in the wall and escape. Val took a breath and squeezed their eyes shut for a moment to keep their temper down.

“I’m fine,” they said. “And he’s…shit, stop! Hollow!”

There was a long, defenseless moment when Val could’ve easily grabbed him. That crack in the wall was narrow and it took time to squirm through. His heart hammered in anticipation as he fully expected to feel something clamp down around his legs and pull him back into the light. He flopped safely onto unfinished wood. His heart kept racing as half-expected those massive fingers to try to pry their way into the walls.

He didn’t sit around to wait for that to happen and got up to sprint for the ladder. He stopped to catch his breath once he reached the loft and ended up sinking to the floor in tears as he tried to make sense of what just happened. He had just wanted to make sure Val was safe. He wasn't sure how to answer that now.

The wall of the loft shuddered as something on the other side tapped against the drywall. Hollow slithered in the opposite direction.

Of course.

Of course Val knew where their own damn loft was.

“Look, I don’t know what you're doing here, if you're spying on me or... I get it if you don't want to talk with me like this. Just, don’t tell anyone about this. Please,” Val said.

As if anyone would believe me.

[phantomwarrior12]

Crimson Cabal

Crimson Days, she'd called it.

Acrius isn't sure what, exactly, that entails. He'd asked in passing as they walked through the Tower; banners and all sorts of odd decorations had been strewn around the Courtyard - all of it seeming to stem from a secluded corner with a massive Titan.

But the Young Wolf had offered nothing more on the matter.

The Valus couldn't even decipher her voice this time - it's ordinarily so easy for him to read her on matters like this. After the Festival of the Lost incident, he'd opted to try and partake in more human customs as she has for him aboard the flagship.

But this particular instance? The Young Wolf is a mystery.

Acrius waits patiently as his partner speaks with the Gunsmith, discussing modifications to a pulse rifle or something or other. He's far too enthralled in tracing the swirling ribbons with his eyes - they seem to form an oddly geometric shape Acrius is unfamiliar with.

"Are you ready?"

Her voice beside him jars the Valus from his idle thoughts and his gaze falls to the Gunslinger beside him.

"What are those shapes meant to represent?" He points to the overhanging banister.

The Guardian looks up, angling her head. "That's a heart," she supplies nonchalantly, "We associate them with love and affection."

"...that doesn't look like your organ?"

The Young Wolf snorts a laugh, "It's not meant to, love. It's…I don't know the origins of it exactly but we believe that's where we feel love, in our hearts." She reaches up, patting over top where his heart is, "The shape is more or less just a representation and if you angle two organs," she gives him a teasing look, "together, they form that shape. Two hearts becoming one."

"...seems," he pauses, noting her expectant head tilt. "Sentimental?"

She snorts, "Smooth save, lover boy." She gives him a light push before she starts past him.

Acrius sighs and falls into step beside the Guardian, "Humans have so many…events to celebrate weird things. The Dawning. Guardian Games?" He shakes his head. "There aren't even battles commemorating these things. They're just–"

"Fun," she interjects as they make their way back to the hangar. "The word you're looking for, my Valus, is fun."

"I was going to see needlessly leisurely but sure." Acrius grumbles, maneuvering to fit through the doorway with some trouble.

The Guardian shakes her head, stepping through the threshold without any issue.

"I think you're just…uptight."

Uptight?

There's nothing upright about wanting a reason for celebration. This event is also based on sentimental nonsense. No wonder the Vanguard–

His gaze falls to his partner, her gaze fixed on the stairs ahead of them as they walk.

She doesn't complain of his events, does she?

The Valus heaves a sigh, pausing long enough to gaze back at the Courtyard. A moment of reflection is all he needs to realize she's tried to keep a passive air about the whole thing. She held no…enthusiasm as she has when she explained the other 'holidays'.

So why is she dispassionate about this one?

He'd think she'd be more invested in this one. She has him, after all. And while he's fairly new to calling this love? His feelings for her have grown in the months since their binding.

He doesn't know that he could imagine his life without her now.

Returning to a silent bedroom now is torture enough when she's on assignment. Spending time at his station when she is aboard the flagship is even worse. He can't simply request a leave every time his partner returns so he can sleep beside her.

How very irritatingly sentimental of him.

But then again, the Guardian has never been shy about her feelings. Her affection for him, when it came about, suddenly became glaringly obvious. He can recall the first time she told him she loved him like it was just this morning. A tender moment between them in the aftermath of her first death in front of him…at his hand.

She's said it so many times since and he has grown to ache in its absence. To hear her utter it? It stirs a flutter in his chest, a warmth and tenderness foreign to his person until he met her.

But now? Now she utters it and yet, her talk about its significance - of love's significance - is bland and muted.

Acrius has to know why.

"Do you not enjoy this holiday, Little One?"

Her head lifts and angles toward him though her focus remains forward.

"I wouldn't say that–"

"Then why do you sounds so…forlorn when you speak of its role in this event." He finishes as his hand grasps her shoulder and pulls her to a halt in front of him.

The Guardian doesn't look up at him and that is his next clue something is amiss. He kneels, his hand shifting to cradle the side of her head but she pulls it away.

"What is it?" He coaxes softly, his hand falling away from her form.

"It's nothing–"

"I'd like to think I know you a bit better than that by now, Guardian." He returns stubbornly and he notes the way her shoulders sag.

"Talk to me, Little One. Let me help."

"It's not something you can help with, Acrius." She steps into him, pressing her form to his chest and his worry only grows. A large hand settles along her back, his brow furrowing as he holds her close.

"Let me try."

Silence hangs over them for a long while - the bustling of the Tower forgotten beyond this quiet passage. Between the hangar and the courtyard, they're afforded a small reprieve from the noise and the prying eyes of civilians and Vanguard alike.

"...we had a Cabal binding." She begins softly, uncertainly, "When it was decided, Zavala asked me if I'd ever want to do one on Earth. At the time, you and I didn't get along, I told him not to…because marriage meant something different to me."

Acrius's brow furrows, "What does it mean to you, Guardian?"

She hesitates, a degree of guilt in her voice when she finally speaks, "That I chose you. That this was more than a formality and there was somehow affection involved."

"But…there is affection now?" He draws back a fraction to see her, "Isn't there?"

Isn't that what she meant when she told him she loved him? Isn't that what it means in the first place? Affection? Tenderness? An unwavering bond between partners?

"Of course…we didn't get to choose each other but we did find," she searches for the right wording, “A certain amount of choice with each other.” She looks up at him, lifting a hand to smooth along the edge of his mask.

“We made the choice to love one another.”

Acrius’s eyes soften as he inclines his head into her touch, “Is it a choice you regret, Guardian?” He doesn’t recognize the uncertainty in his voice and…the fear? Is that what it is?

The idea that she could regret what they’ve become? That she may yet resent him for not only his behavior when they first met but his nature since? That stirs something deep in him - something pained and, no, agonized. Something like despair if this has all been for naught.

But when his partner presses a kiss to the bridge between his eyes, some of that panic ebbs. Yet, he finds himself drawing her closer, unconsciously curling fingers around her cloak in a silent plea.

Could you regret me, my love?

Another kiss and his head angles weakly.

Please, tell me.

The Young Wolf meets his gaze then, stroking a thumb over a patch of skin just above his mask. “I could never regret that choice, Acrius.” She assures him with a tender smile. “You make all of this madness a little more tolerable. I don’t return and feel as though I’m still drowning when I’m in your arms. I know nowhere safer than right here.”

She presses another kiss to her face before she speaks again.

“Loving you…is the best decision I ever made, Acrius.”

The Valus has an impulse to crush her against his chest in a loving embrace, but that would surely shatter most of her bones. He aches to kiss her but he cannot stand the idea of removing his mask in public. There is relief and desperation at war in his chest and all he can do is lower his head against hers and pray it is enough to sate the whirlwind of emotion.

Irritatingly sentimental…but he doesn’t care.

The Guardian nuzzles his face for a long moment before she wraps her arms around his neck as much as she can and hugs him impossibly tight for a creature so small.

“I love you, Acrius.”

“I love you, too, Guardian.” He murmurs, pressing his face against her shoulder.

It’s only after a weighted minute or two that he realizes she never truly explained why she felt this way about Crimson Days. He could ignore it, leave things as they were but he needed to know.

“If you don’t dislike this holiday, what has you so dispassionate about it, Little One?” He asks softly though he doesn’t pull back.

Her arms tighten around his neck and she presses closer.

“Because I’ve been wanting to ask you something…something important but menial at the same time. It’s stupid really.”

“Out with it, Hunter,” he chides with a soft chuckle. “It can’t be all that bad.”

She pulls back, her hands framing his face in a comically too small contrast. He can see a smile in her eyes despite the determination in her features.

“Acrius…will you marry me?” She asks softly, though there’s an assuredness to her tone. No fear just unequivocally awkward about the entire question.

Acrius stares at her for a lengthy instant before a laugh rumbles through him. “Yes, my love, I will marry you.”

She surges forward to hug him, but the force by which she does it is enough to force the Valus back and he ends up on his ass with his partner sprawled over him. They share a laugh, she mutters an apology but he’s impressed by her strength and dismisses it almost as quickly as it leaves her lips.

She relaxes atop him, curling around him as much as she can and Acrius holds her.

“That was all that kept you…contained?”

She huffs a sound of annoyance but they both know it’s not genuine.

“Well, Crimson Days is about love and…all that goes with it.” Her head lifts and she smiles at him tenderly, her feigned irritation long forgotten. “I didn’t get to choose you myself, but I got to choose to love you. And now I get to marry you in our customs,” she settles back down with a sigh of relief.

“Which means, in the end, I chose you, Acrius, to be my partner.”

That certainly is a roundabout way of thinking about why the holiday bothered her but Acrius isn’t about to question it. He has his answer and he has his Guardian.

He can’t ask for anymore.

But perhaps this one time…

“Hunter?”

She makes a sound of acknowledgement but her head does not lift from his chest. He starts to sit up, she looks up at him with something like protest in her eyes that he quiets almost immediately with a brush of his thumb over her cheek and jaw.

“...why don’t you show me more of these,” he angles his head with a tender smile, “Crimson Day festivities?”

Her eyes brighten, her spine straightening as she stares up at him before her eyes narrow and her head tilts.

“I thought they were nonsense.”

“You say they’re fun, I’ll indulge you, Little One. So long as I don’t have to dance.”

She laughs, “You weren’t that bad.”

“Clumsy is an apt descriptor for that atrocity.”

“But I enjoyed it,” she grins, climbing out of his lap and stepping back to give him space to get on his feet.

She’s happy again, that’s a relief. He doesn’t often get her in this sort of mood - carefree and substantially more energetic. He’ll take it. All of it. Her. The silly holidays - all of it if it means she keeps smiling at him this way.

In the end, this is all he wants.

As he straightens to his full height, the Young Wolf slips her hand in his - substantially smaller yet somehow, a perfect fit for them.

“Lead on, Little One. Show me the wonders of your Crimson Days.”

And she does.

—

Taglists are open! Send an ask/leave a comment to be added!

Forevers: @halo-2 @reaped-winnower @forgotten-by-the-stars @sugarcoated44 @cayde-6 @aetosavros @niemands-bibliothek @paracausal-hunter @florence-and-the-machinegun @orbdotexe

Acrius’s Guardians: @scattershotmind

All the Cabal: @rockygetsrolling

[emma-ofnormandy]

Hey look, I wrote a thing! A little pre season 3 anxiety builder before we see how this all pans out for real? Why not!

Gliding in the warm breeze, their white bodies stark against the clear blue sky, gulls called out above the rumble of barked orders from the docks below. Men and women from across the empire crowded the gangplanks, some merchants and some travelers, the mix of languages and colors a stark contrast from the banks of English soil. The air was sweet with foreign spices and the sun warmed all that it touched. At a different time, under different circumstances, Emma might find herself enjoying such a place.

Beneath her feet the ship rocked, the waves lapping against the hull, and her stomach gave an uncustomary lurch. After weeks aboard, it wasn’t the water that twisted her into knots, but the unknown political minefield that lay before them. Her husband sought to grow his power, increase his control, and under her encouragement, they had come to forge alliances, build both military and political strength. Such ambitions, however, left them vulnerable, at the will of other’s desires, and as the time grew closer, it was a position she found growing discomfort with.

Being at such a disadvantage made her skin crawl with anxiety and she feared that she would not know a moment's peace until they were back within sight of London.

“Is everything alright, my lady?”

Emma gave the woman beside her a fleeting glance. So engrossed in her own worries, she hadn’t heard her approach. “As alright as can be expected.”

“Forgive me for saying, but you do not sound all that convincing.”

There was very little that escaped Brigida’s notice, Emma had to remind herself. After their tenure together, her lady’s maid was only second to her husband in terms of reading her moods and it was only a rare occasion that she was able to hide such things from the younger woman. Even then, Emma was starting to believe Brigida was always aware of what was going on and she simply chose which instances to step in and offer her council.

“The journey here has left my nerves a bit worn, that is all.”

Emma did not miss the way her maid’s delicate brow gave a disbelieving arch or the way her lips set in that mulish position that meant she would not be so easily led.

“New land, new people, new threats,” Brigida said, her gaze drawn to the overhang where the men had gathered in deep discussion. “You are not the only one concerned.”

Doing her best to keep her attention on the activity at the docks, Emma could not help the quick lift at the corner of her mouth. At this point, she should not be surprised that her lady’s maid had taken the time to eavesdrop on the private conversation. The woman seemed to greatly enjoy sneaking about to learn what she wanted, whether she was supposed to be privy to the information or not. It was a trait that she recognized in her youngest as well, and wondered about the connection.

“This is not our first battle, Brigida. We are all aware of the risk.”

Aware or not, that did not lessen the nerves in Emma’s belly.

“Even after all these years, I still think I prefer actual battle to the one waged within the walls of palaces.”

The comment didn’t surprise Emma. Brigida had proven herself an asset in court over the years, her ability to slip in and amongst the nobility unnoticed a crucial tool when other means could not be used, but there was a wildness beneath the surface that liked to fight against the confines of her life and Emma had always wondered what kind of soldier her lady’s maid would have been, had she not been maneuvered into her current position.

If her loyalty and tenacity under Emma’s employ were a measure, she would have been a formidable one.

“Enjoy it or not, you are far better at the games of court than you let yourself believe,” Emma chided. They would need her maid’s skills, as much as any other, when they finally disembarked for the palace.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma watched as Brigida nervously pushed at the pins that threatened to pop from her upswept locks. Fair skinned and hair the color of spun silk, the woman would stick out more starkly than most amongst the diversity that lay before them, and yet Emma was confident that Brigida’s skill of disappearing would serve her well.

“At least in battle, you can see the sword,” Brigida grumbled, “before it runs you through.”

Emma hummed her agreement. Knowing your enemy helped ensure one’s survival, helped aid in victory when it was easy to see the strings that needed to be pulled, but they weren’t on their own battlefield now, and it was hard to dismiss the hovering blanket of the unknown that lingered above them.

“Speaking from experience?”

The deep baritone drew the women’s attention and they both watched as Canute closed the distance.

Behind him, men lingered, but none seemed outwardly concerned. To Emma, it appeared that all had taken to her husband’s plans and commands with the ease of seasoned campaigners.

This campaign, however, was not one any of them had waged before.

“In a way, your majesty,” Brigida demurred before offering a hasty curtsey and retreating to the bow of the ship where Agnarr hovered with a few of the soldiers they had brought with them.

Emma watched as her maid disappeared, curious as to what exactly she had been alluding to, before her husband drew her attention with a gentle caress at the small of her back.

“We will be heading for the palace soon.”

The idea of leaving the relative safety of the ship made her stomach knot again, the untold that lay before them a growing threat as they drew closer to the gilded walls. For months she had maneuvered with Canute, pressing the importance of such an alliance, and now, as they stood within a heartbeat of moving on her own plans, she questioned it all.

“Are we doing the right thing?” She heard herself ask.

Though his smile was easy, the look in his eyes mirrored her own concerns. “I do not know, min kaer, but it is what must be done.”

Hesitantly, Emma reached up and cupped his cheek before giving a terse nod. It was the first time in their marriage, at least that she could remember, that neither of them was confident in the battle that stretched before them and she could not chase away the lingering fear that things were not going to play out as easily in their favor as they hoped.

[milkydraws8]

a lil story from my dcu about kara and clark bonding

"Chad Rao raogrhys vo khap…"

"Huh?" Clark asked, hands waving below him as he slowly - and almost purposefully - spun back around to face her. He looked ridiculously infantile, a trait Kara would have cherished had their arrivals not been so woefully out of sync.

Kara sighed, feeling the air heat up and wiggle around her eyes before taking a deep breath of cool evening air. Earth air. Earth air that stung when she got too close to their primitive cities, reminding her somewhat of home. Earth air that - far away from their "civilization" - seemed so thin and crisp it boggled her mind.

"Still wrong." She instructed, shaking her head. "Feel pressure where chest, arms, feet!" She enunciated each word. Had she been more passionate about the sciences, she might've been able to fully articulate - in Kryptonian, at least - what exactly he needed to do to achieve the most basic of motor skills. She floated over to him, catching him as he faltered for the fourth time in half an hour, nearly falling back down to the ground. She held him upright by his shoulders for a few wavering moments, eyes locked as if looking away would break the spell her grip had on him until he broke free and clumsily floated backwards. It looked like someone being flung backwards in slow motion, "skidding" to a stop a few feet after his intended destination. She sighed again, gliding to close the gap between them.

"Push… all… sides." She carefully polished each syllable, miming out what Clark perceived to be her impression of trying to break out of an ever-shrinking box. "Work, all together? Fly."

"Kara…" Clark began, unsteadily maneuvering himself back down to the ground.

"At-least he knows how to fall."

"I appreciate your efforts and all, I really do. But it's been a long day…" He pantomimed a yawn and falling asleep, ready to turn in for the night. "Don'tcha wanna turn in for the night? We can watch the new boxse-"

"No." Kara said - with a finality and authority she'd certainly practiced over the past few months. "Are Kryptonian. Are fly." She pointed to the moon, dull and distant.

"Fly up. Very up." She tensed muscles and concentrated - much easier than she ever had to on Krypton, so much so that she barely felt the rush of hormones that preceded her ascent. She let herself go for a moment, feeling her hearts swell and fill with life. A smile crept on her face. "Fly, Kal. To me." She extended a hand, looking down on him as she once loved to. She thought for a brief moment, that hers must have been the view her mother had that evening when she was much younger and still barely able to float from the foyer to the veranda. She found herself smiling even wider now, despite herself. Heat blossomed in her cheeks and behind her eyes, threatening to degrade her with a stream of tears. "Please." She nearly mewled. "Be Kryptonian."

Clark sighed, and took a look at Martha - asleep on the porch for likely an hour or more. Illuminated by the yellow overhanging bulb, tea gone cold on the banister, legs wrapped in a blanket.

He smiled, held his breath, and jumped.

[npcdeath]

yesterday i gave away 8 avocados . the other 30+ that smashed on the ground or were overripe went to compost. picked a basket of avocados to put out by the letterbox for anyone to take, just the ones i could reach, from the branches that overhang the fence, which is maybe 1/5 of the tree entirely and i can only access the lowest branches of that. 16 avocados. the highest fruits i can see are over 6m up. 5 minutes later i hear another thud. so 17 avocados . absolutely lousy with avocados . and the tree is flowering. bees going crazy. i have to maneuver around the bees to pick the fruit. wasps found out theres dropped fruit to eat and they love it, one real big guy kept checking out the door and windows having a sniff trying to come in and see. looked me in the eye through the crack in the door when i closed it on him. buzzing loud as. i respect that

[spumonibones]

Chasing Wings: Memoria 04

Pairing: Xiao x Venti First Chapter (Ao3) ; First Chapter (Tumblr)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Lore/Story Notes CW: None | Update Schedule: Every Wednesday Canon Divergence AU; Other Four Yaksha Still Live; Zhongli already retired but Osial hasn't happened; Canon Typical Violence Note: I am slowly uploading (to mitigate spamming) this fic to be on Tumblr in addition to Ao3 - patience is appreciated!

Summary:

"To Err is Human, to Forget is Godly."

Almost 500 years ago, the Cataclysm happened. As the fires and monsters dwindled, most of the Seven had fallen. One, Barbatos, simply disappeared - and in his absence, the mourning songs of Dvalin would serenade the land of wind each yearly anniversary. The surviving Archons presumed him dead, and Monstadt presumed he simply never was.Then one day, before a Traveler will fish Teyvat's Best Guide from its waters, a young man named Venti is rescued by the Vigilant Yaksha. Without memory a face as familiar as it is foreign, the question then becomes... What path can one take, when new memories meet old?

A week had passed. 

Nimble fingers calloused from years of playing instruments tested each branch before Venti pulled himself up further. There had been no signs of the yaksha returning to his perch today, making this the opportune moment. It was the middle of the night, most of the inn was already asleep. The workers who were awake would check the roof at timed intervals, prepared to assist their yaksha once he returned. Not that Venti had seen any instance of the mystery man contacting anyone. That included Venti, of whom was supposed to be learning something from him. Venti, who was playing his flute every night. The guy was getting free concerts, and at this point Venti only knew his name because he asked around. 

The yaksha had a lot of titles, but Xiao seemed to be his actual name. Not that Venti was sure, given they still hadn't formally met. 

As he maneuvered his way upwards, he would occasionally glance down to check his footing. The potential drop didn't create vertigo or fear - simply awe. That he was so high, and the ground so far away… Venti felt like he was climbing into the sky, and if he kept going he'd be able to touch the moon itself with his song. 

Each time a breeze caressed his face, he'd lean into it. Take a slow, languid inhale of the fresh air one could only get this far above the ground. A hint of the tree's bark was mingling into the air, a scent that Venti never wanted to become nose blind to. 

As he sampled the air, he became perhaps too focused on it. The next purchase his hand attempted to grasp onto was a weak branch, the snap! a warning he both heard and felt too late as a result of his distracted mind. The pull of gravity was a foreign sensation, the backwards experience of falling down instead of up more startling than the cracking of a branch. The other hand had a solid grip on what he thought was a sturdier branch, but was proven wrong as it couldn't handle the sudden yank of Venti's full weight on it. Another sharp crack, and neither hand found a branch to stop his descent. His rear hit part of the roof as he fell, but not enough to stop him from falling off that next. The part of the overhang his rear bounced off of was not above the balcony, him rolling down past the building onto air alone. The bruises forming from each collision couldn't compare to what he was plummeting towards next.

Venti was falling. It felt wrong, his stomach knotting upwards into his throat. In his chest, he could feel his heart breaking. He knew he should have been more terrified than sad, yet the tears of sorrow were the only ones coming from his eyes. Venti was falling, and his heart ached in how badly he yearned to be rising upwards instead of plummeting down. “Please!” He called out, as if he could implore the clouds to assist him in defying physics. His hands were desperately trying to reach the sky, the top of the tree, anywhere that wasn't the ground. 

The earth trapped him for too long.

A breeze from underneath him, a faint glow in the blues of his hair, in tattoos he kept covered, in eyes that begged to fly once more. 

Then arms caught him, one lifting him from under his knees and another supporting his back. In a flash of black shadows, Venti was startled from his trance to find he was in someone's arms, held atop the roof of Wangshu Inn. Blinking rapidly, mostly to get the moisture from his eyes so he could see, Venti cast a bewildered gaze upon his savior.

An annoyed visage stared at him, lips pulled into a tight frown. It was the man that saved him. No, he's a yaksha, right? Is man the right word if you aren't human? Or is it wrong to ask that? Venti pondered, ignoring the agitation directed at him. 

“What were you doing?” Xiao asked, his voice gruff. Did he always sound like that, or was he simply that perturbed?

“Falling.” Venti answered ever-so helpfully. He even offered a smile, despite needing to wipe the last of his tears away. The yaksha's frown deepened.

“Why?” Xiao pressed, ignoring such obvious bait.

“Ehe… Well… I fell?” Venti stuck his tongue out, stalling as he tried to find a way to be honest without telling the truth. Eyes of gold held no amusement. Not a dad-joke guy, apparently. “I wanted to hear what the acoustics are like at the treetop?” That was close, but not quite right. That consultant, Zhongli, had said that this Xiao was supposed to be helping Venti learn ‘Anemo.’ Naturally, Venti was a bit curious about the person. According to everyone at the inn, Xiao hung out on the rooftop. The workers kept an eye up there as well, confirming they weren't making things up. That Xiao prioritized his duty as a yaksha, only returning if nothing called to him. Until now, this seemed as good time as any to investigate his… Living space? Venti wasn't sure he trusted the yaksha lived there. That the inn workers believed he did, certainly. Not that Venti agreed that was the truth. 

The yaksha didn't appear to be convinced. “You almost killed yourself… For acoustics.” Xiao repeated, daring Venti to clarify his claim. 

“When you put it that way, haha, yes!” Venti couldn't help the laughs that left him. Somehow that felt right. As if he would even rearrange geography to build that perfect concert, to feel the vibrations of every instrument, every song all over his body in a symphony that was felt as much as heard.

This garnered him a frown and silent judgement.

“Fine.” The yaksha said, voice flat. Venti assumed that was the end of the conversation. He would be dumped back into his room, another night in which not even pleasantries were exchanged. To his surprise, there was a green glow from Xiao's hip, emanating from the mask. On his left hand where a Vision was set in a glove remained quiet, Venti noting its odd silence. The wind gathered at Xiao's feet, and with no more effort than walking he leapt into the air, bard still in his arms. The Vision began to glow, its light noticeable in the midnight darkness. A breeze danced from underneath, lifting the pair up, up, up. Looking all around him, Venti's eyes brightened as the two moved through the air almost as if flying. 

This was it. This was the feeling his heart chased after, this was what was supposed to happen. 

All too quickly came the gentle landing atop the tree, leaves chattering as they were tousled by the sudden weight. Throwing his head back in delight, black hair touched by Anemo swayed in the motion. Eyes that blended blues and greens reflected back countless stars, a hand reaching towards them to test if he could really reach the moon. Pure, unbridled delight. The sensation of Anemo, of wind, moving around him was almost euphoric. In that moment, Venti wasn’t just in the sky - he was part of it. 

That the memory this was temporary was what made his chest ache, his smile falter. 

“...Do you want to test the acoustics?” Xiao's voice reminded Venti why he was there to begin with, but it was gentler. That gruffness he spoke with was quieted, replaced with something soft. 

“Right! That's… Why I'm here.” Venti muttered, trying to push that ache as far down as he could. “Is it safe for you to put me down?” The bard requested. Wordlessly, Xiao placed Venti onto the branch the yaksha landed on. This was as high as they could go without falling, Venti noting the man hadn't let go until he was confident the bard was secure. Reaching into his bag, Venti pulled out what was now his flute. Pressing the mouthpiece close to his lips, fingers got into positions as his eyes closed. This was something he could do without sight should his eyes fail him. Notes were tested, getting a feel for how sound was heard, was felt, was carried at this altitude, amongst these leaves. Let the taste of the air filter through the flute before hitting his tongue, lungs filling with the sky and song. 

A song, unfamiliar yet painful in its intimacy, weaved from his heart and from his lips. Words not his, spoken by someone long gone that he couldn't recall, came to him. A woman, though he didn't recognize her. Long pale hair, somewhere between gray and brown, hands that loved memorizing every note of every instrument just as Venti did. “He loves this song.” She said, fingers plucking at her instrument. “But maybe that's because I composed it for him?” A laugh, a wink, a finger to her lips asking this to stay a secret. “Promise me you'll play this for him?” In his heart, he knew when she asked for that promise she didn't know. 

She had no way of knowing. 

Who was she? What didn't she know? Who was this ‘him’ that Venti was supposed to play this for? When did this happen, and was this memory or dream?

As his thoughts sought answers and found none, he continued to play the song the woman had taught him. Much as he wanted to know who the music was intended for, it was a beautiful song all the same and he would play for that reason alone. When his eyes finally cracked open, Venti glanced at where Xiao was standing. The yaksha's arms were crossed, his eyes closed as the breeze tousled the teal hair. That stern visage was relaxed, the muscles that normally pulled his brows and mouth down fully at ease. An easy smile came to Venti's lips, the movement not interrupting the flow of music. 

Even if he didn't know who the song was for, it warmed Venti's heart to see it could at least bring comfort to Xiao. That was, after all, what Zhongli had said Venti was there for. Closing his eyes once more, the bard put more of his heart into the music. That ache was buried too deep to infect the notes. Without its presence, the bard let his joy at seeing the affect the music had on Xiao carry the notes. Whoever that woman was, she hadn't written the song to be a sad one. No, this was some kind of oath. What sort Venti didn't quite recall, but if he played this enough… Perhaps someday he would. 

A piano would fit this better, Venti thought. The memory didn't have a piano in it, but even so that somehow seemed right. 

As he so often did, Venti lost himself in song. Felt his mouth go dry, and even then only stopped because he was coughing too much to play properly. Putting the flute away, securing it, he turned to look up at Xiao who remained standing there. The yaksha's eyes were still closed, expression peaceful as a resting man. Realization dawned on Venti that, at some point, Xiao had fallen asleep. While standing. 

Yaksha are something else… Venti thought, taking stock of the growing list of inhuman capabilities the other had. Sleeping while standing took the cake, for some reason. Not wanting to interrupt the man, Venti turned his gaze on the tree he was in. If he was careful, he was certain he could get down. Biting his lower lip, he began to climb down the tree as quietly as he could. The leaves complained as he did so, the tattle-tales, and between every particularly loud jostling of the branches Venti would check the yaksha hadn't woken. 

The way the inn spoke, Venti suspected this was his first real rest in days. At minimum. The bard couldn't fathom how anyone could live like that. Maybe it was due to the emotional and physical toll he took when first waking, but most mornings Venti woke up wishing he could just nap for a few centuries. The fact that Xiao made a point to be awake and alert much as he was for long as he did… It was frightening. No, that wasn't right. Worrying. That couldn't have been good for Xiao's heart, at the very least. To be afraid to sleep, always scared to do so would be to be too late. That type of guilt in someone who would live for so long. That was too much, wasn't it? 

That was too cruel of a request, yet it was one that Xiao filled. Pausing in his climb, watching the idle form of Xiao there was an ache in Venti's chest. More empathy than sympathy, a subconscious hand reached out in offering. This had to be why so much of Liyue so readily tried to help their illuminated beasts. No one could make Xiao or others like him stop saving everyone he could. An everyone that included people like Venti, a stranger that didn't belong to Liyue… Yet Xiao decided was someone worth saving all the same. 

A foot slipped, a startled yelp leaving Venti's mouth. Reflexively he caught himself, breath held as his descent had stopped as quickly as it started. This would have been fine, except the sound alerted Xiao. In a burst of greens and blacks, the adeptus was scowling and collecting Venti once more. This time, he teleported the pair onto the inn's balcony. Unlike the way he was held earlier, now it felt oddly like the bard was a sack of troublesome potatoes, and Venti wasn't sure how he felt about that. 

Nothing wrong with potatoes, but apples were just so much better!

“Why didn't you tell me you were done?” Xiao growled, that frown back in full swing. For a split second, the yaksha genuinely seemed ready to just let go of Venti so the bard would fall to the ground flat on his rump. Thankfully, he didn't. Instead, he tilted the bard forward to allow him to plant feet onto the floor of the inn's balcony. Even in moments of weakness, Xiao had the strength to resist tossing nuisances onto wooden floorboards 

“You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you.” This time, Venti told the truth in its entirety. 

“...Just wake me next time.” Xiao sighed, eyes closed as he flared his nostrils. That looked like counting to stop angry words. Not an expression Venti had seen recently, but felt oddly like one he was especially familiar with. 

“I'll consider it next time.” Venti promised, a playful smile on his face. No reply, only more of what Venti assumed was mental counting. Taking a step away, the bard assumed this was where the two would part. Each got what they wanted, sort of. To an extent the bard did, anyway. He hoped the yaksha got something out of it, after all the trouble Venti put him through. 

“Where… Did you learn that song from?” Xiao asked, his voice still rough but had some curiosity to it. Glowing gold eyes watched Venti, and now that they were open the bard found he couldn't look away. 

“Uh… I, hah, don't really remember?” Venti admitted, scratching the back of his head. “Was it… Bad?”

“No!” Xiao was immediate, startled by his own urgency in reassuring what he heard wasn't ‘bad.’ Sucking in a sharp breath, Xiao then gave a slow exhale. Voice steadier this time he amended with, “You play beautifully, that song was… Good night.” And he immediately left in swirling smokes of greens and blacks. 

On the balcony, Venti's gaze remained transfixed on the spot Xiao used to occupy. His heart was hammering, contrasts hastening its pace. There was obviously the warmth that came with receiving a compliment from someone who put on airs of stoicism. Xiao lacked the indifference that his mask claimed he had, that much was clear. Venti didn't need to be good at reading people to figure that out. Someone who didn't care wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to drop someone so troublesome. Still, the real Xiao that came out just to compliment Venti was one he hoped to see more of. Wanted to see more of. 

Across from that warmth was confusion. That song was one that Xiao recognized, based on the way he stopped himself. That was a song that Venti probably shouldn't have known. None of the music books he was given contained any sheets that matched what he played. That woman in his memory wasn't one he knew, either. Was it possible… That the world was bleeding into Venti? That he would become this, ‘Barbatos’ and lose himself just like that woman wanted? Wrapping his arms around himself, Venti shivered as if the gentle breeze gave him a chill. 

If he were honest though, Venti had to admit that he didn't really know who, ‘Venti’ was, either. 

“And I missed my chance…” Venti realized, closing his eyes as he verbalized his thoughts. No, had to get distracted by, ‘you play beautifully.’ Of course I do! I know that! Mentally kicking himself, Venti blew out an exasperated breath. Did the yaksha even know his name? Was that the sort of thing yaksha cared about? Xiao didn't appear to be the mean sort, but lacking knowledge on cultural differences made it tricky. Shaking out the annoyed energy he had at himself, he walked back inside the inn.

“Am I going to have to start assigning watch, Bard?” A woman asked, her words clipped by a grin betrayed her tone. It was Verr Goldet, leaning on the front counter as her blond hair fell to the side. 

“For so lovely a scene, all should Watch with eyes most keen.” Venti replied playfully, slipping into his rhymes with ease. It did wonders in selling that he was truly a bard from Monstadt. The bad ones he said for fun got laughs, but failed in convincing anyone he wasn't talented. After his first performance behind a curtain, everyone demanded to know how he wasn't famous. Huai’an, Verr Goldet's husband and the innkeeper, commented that Venti was going to get regulars to visit. A flash of fear, the bard asking if any of them were from Monstadt.

The married couple exchanged quirked eyebrows, but didn't press. Instead, Huai’an assured Venti that no, not really. Most of them were farmers from nearby, who didn't want to make the trek to Liyue Harbor for entertainment. “Especially now that we offer better entertainment.” Verr Goldet had added with a wink. The two were supportive, and immensely accommodating. When Venti claimed he suffered from stage fright, another of his many lies, neither questioned the validity of his words. Sometimes the bard wondered if they preferred to keep things simple and accept what he said at face value, or if there was more to the inn than simple hospitality.  The way Verr Goldet spoke to him, watched him, had that knowing look… He suspected there was more to it all. Decided so long as they weren't asking too many questions about him, he would reciprocate the polite acceptance. 

There was a small stage in the restaurant, and when it was Venti's night to perform they put up curtains. Allowed him into the hallway behind it, a back entrance he could use without being seen. The fear hadn't abated, but there had been plenty to occupy himself with thus far. For example, tonight. Venti wanted to learn more about Xiao, tried and failed to climb the tree. Met Xiao for a second time, and didn't collapse this round. Overall, the bard decided this was a very successful night. 

“Sweet talk doesn't work on me.” Verr Goldet laughed, speaking in the present. “Normally, I'd kick anyone out without question for bothering our ‘friend.’ But I heard music…” She moved from tilting to leaning forward, eyes widening with a growing hope. “Is it true? Can you really…?” She was trailing into silent implications, asking without cluing in potential eavesdroppers. A nervous laugh left Venti, adjusting the bag his flute was in. He felt unnaturally exposed, naked beneath her gaze despite his flimsy attire. 

I should do something about clothes. Where do I even go to get more? He wondered. The night clothes Hu Tao lent him had been sent back, along with his poem of gratitude. Which left him with exactly one shirt, one set of shorts, and shoes that were too big for his feet. Everything was secondhand from the knight, who had apologized profusely that he lacked anything proper. The stains from Venti's escape wouldn't come out, and no matter how hard he scrubbed his clothes looked dirty. It had also been frustrating that he was stuck in his room after he washed them, nothing else to wear as it dried. Five days of the same outfit, it was bound to have body odor on it. 

“Who knows? But, I'm happy to keep doing it.” Venti answered, shoulders tightening in. “If they say it helps, who am I to argue?” He continued. 

“Music does have a certain magic to it. I'm certain it does.” Verr Goldet decided, nodding her head and pulling away. Her warm gaze turned upwards. Most people would assume she was turning her eyes to the heavens, but Venti knew she was looking to someone much closer. “I know in older folks, when their minds are going the songs they loved as children help them.” She closed her eyes, smile wistful. “The songs you've played so far, some I haven't heard in ages. Each took me back, to memories I thought I had lost.” She opened her brown eyes, and looked at him. Held his eyes with her own. “Even if it only helps by a margin, I'm willing to go all in. If there's anything you need, please. Ask. Call it bribery to keep you here.” And she smiled. Anything? Venti echoed, hopefully. 

“In limited supply are my threads, perhaps more clothes for the day? Each step is dangerously tread, these soles on my feet won't stay.” If she really meant it, then Venti was going to try. Her laugh rang out, good humor in ample supply.

“Hahah! I'm sorry, I thought you were going for the suffering artist look! I really apologize, I should have asked instead of assumed. I didn't realize that's all you have.” Verr Goldet at least had the decency of putting on airs that she was slightly ashamed. “Of course. I can lend you some of our uniforms to borrow until a tailor can fit you into ones of your own. I'll also get a cobbler in, get you some shoes. Would you prefer Liyue or Monstadt in style?”

“Uh… I don't want to ask for too much. I already drink more of your wine than I probably should.” Venti gave a nervous laugh, running his fingers through the shorter strands of his hair near the base of his neck.

“So that's why I've been told I need to order extra, extra.” Verr Goldet nodded with newfound understanding. “We all have our vices.” She paused, taking stock of Venti's build and size. “You must have one Abyssal tolerance to drink that much and still play so well.”

“Music is why I wake up, Verr Goldet. No amount of drink can persuade me to hurt a single note by playing it wrong.” Venti assured her. “Give me an instrument, I'll play it with the same affection as two lovers do.” At this, her eyes lit up. 

“Prove that to me, and you're going to have one Celestial closet.” Verr Goldet promised. “All right. It's getting late, I have paperwork, and you've given some of us extra work. Get to bed.” 

“Okay, okay… But. If I want to… Talk to ‘some’ of you… How would I do that without falling out of a tree?”

“You don't.” Her tone shifted, a protective exterior turning her once happy face into something colder. “So long as you play, we can all hear you. You'll have a place here. But do not bother my people.” Verr Goldet didn't use a name, but she was clear in her warning. 

Venti learned two things right then. One, his arrangement with Xiao was not discussed with the inn. Two, Verr Goldet was much more than an inn owner. A simple business owner didn't turn into a soldier on the flip of a mora. 

“That is excellent information to have!” Venti went with those words instead of, this is frustrating news. With a flourish and a bow, he exited to let her do paperwork. 

Well. Now what? 

[spaceschist]

@carbondated asked "just thought i’d give you a heads up." // for Sam

An ancient mineshaft, but not just any mineshaft—it was an extra-terrestrial one, a treasure trove for both geologists and archaeologists alike. The ship's scan, coupled with their handheld devices, initially suggested an absence of life, but experience taught Sam that such assurances could be deceptive. The heavy metal deposits within the shaft interfered with their scans, necessitating a surface excursion to gather more accurate data. Sam was never one to complain about surface exploration.

Sam, adjusting her helmet in response to River's warning, peered up from beneath the ledge, only to discover a cracked beam. A cautionary realisation settled in, a reminder to prioritise safety over impulsive actions—her penchant for the latter was duly noted in her personnel report. With a silent "oh" forming on her lips, she carefully maneuvered out from under the overhang.

"Thanks," she expressed, her gratitude laced with a touch of sheepishness. "Probably not the best place to be buried alive." Sam found solace in River's presence. While archaeology wasn't her expertise, there was a significant overlap between their fields—a shared passion for delving into the mysteries of the past, be it civilizations or environments.

"So, want to compare notes?" she suggested, brushing her hands together to pat some of the dust off her gloves.

[thecheckeredchaser]

Ch 8

Insured Gains

Chapter 9- Deeds and Words

Jake did not live far at all from the restaurant, which the notion of only heightened Alexis’ arousal, especially paired with Jake’s heavy breathing as the base line. She was beyond hot for Jake. She watched him tap on the wheel impatiently, rubbing his belly with the other. “I’m just around the corner up there,” he said with a huff. Alexis noticed he was actually rubbing more than just his belly. Jake must have been on her exact level.

“I am so incredibly turned on by you Jake,” she said, running her hand softly over his belly. He moaned at her touch and burped softly, with a sigh. “Such a stuffed fat piggy, huh?”

“I’d have to say so,” he conceded. “Can’t believe I ate so much. I’m glad you are feeling as hot as I do, because there are so many reasons someone would not want to get intimate with me right now.”

“Lucky for you I’m no ‘someone’. And I’ll forgive you for being such an old man. ‘Intimate’?” she teased. He shrugged with fluttering eyes, as he pulled into the driveway to a substantial house.

“What would you prefer?” he asked, looking at her seemingly to delay having to move his body out of the car. Alexis lowered her eyes at him and smiled playfully. She leaned closer to him slowly, stopping right in front of where he had met her.

“I guess I’d call it fucking,” she said confidently. Jake blinked at her in shock from her diction. She pressed her lips to his and kissed him hard. Her fingertips dancing on the curve of his belly and running through his thick hair. He moaned into her mouth and ran his own hand up and down her butt and thigh. They eventually pulled away, Jake even more out of breath than during the ride home.

“Let’s go fuck,” Jake growled at her. He heaved himself out of the car and did his best to not waddle to the door. The key was in and the pair, but seconds after. Jake locked the door and pulled her down a hallway. Alexis in the seconds she had could see he had a pretty nice modern aesthetic. His house seemed neat and tidy, but she could see the remains of pizza previously ordered, left on the coffee table, not that there was anything but packaging left. She felt her brain swell at the thought of Jake Andrews, her perfectly professional boss, who was always neat and organized, pigging out slobbishly in the privacy of his home. Upon entering his room she could smell his cologne hanging in the air. His bed was already made, and nothing looked out of place. He must only be a mess when it came to food. Jake kicked off his shoes with a grunt and stood beside the bed, watching Alexis look around. She took off her heels and pulled her stockings off, letting her toes wriggle on the thick carpet. She looked at Jake who looked absolutely massive and sexier than she had ever seen him. His arms stuck out just to accommodate the swell of his belly, which was protruding straight in front of him.

“Oh Jake,” she said, walking up to him. Her fingers were instantly on his big belly. She shuddered with a purr. “You are so big.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smirk. “I can’t believe you are here right now,” he said, pulling her hair behind her ear and kissing her.

“Mr. Andrews,” she said, looking up at him, “I have been wanting to be here since I laid eyes on you.” She reached for his jacket and he began pulling it off. “I have been wanting to see you out of these jackets, even though you are delightfully scrumptious in them. But they have truly been my enemy, blocking all peeks of your delicious belly,” she growled, running her hands down his sides, landing on his plentiful love handles.

“They do their job,” he said with a wink.

“I hope enduring everyone’s comments and prodding was worth catching my attention,” she said, reaching for his belt, which was straining taught under his gut.

“I think everything to do with you is worth it Alexis. ”She gently maneuvered her fingers in the nonexistent space between his overhanging belly and buckle, and managed to pull it loose. Jake sighed heavily in relief. “That feels so much better, “he exclaimed, blushing a little from her touch. Her small delicate hands shoved under his heavy gut was a level of contrast that could not be ignored.

“You stuffed this gut pretty full. You need all the space you can get.” She unbuttoned his pants and began to unzip them, his hard on all too apparent.

“Why is it now that I’m starting to feel nervous?” Jake confessed, as she freed his pants from the little shelf of his butt, causing them to fall to the floor. Alexis watched Jake's powerful legs as they stepped out of the pants on the floor, unable to ignore his monstrously strong calves. Thick thighs hugged by black boxer briefs. His shirt hanging down too far to reveal what she had most been looking forward to seeing.

“You have absolutely nothing to be worried about,” she said, her voice dripping in desire. She slipped out of her skirt and blouse, as an offering to distract Jake. He eagerly grabbed her thick butt and ran his hand down her flat stomach.

“You are truly so small,” Jake gushed. Alexis melted at his touch. She loved to be complimented by him. “I’m sure everyone was wondering what you were doing at a buffet with me,” he said, running his hand over her tight chin. “And what they must have thought when they saw you making my plates for me, even more hoggish than I had.” She shuddered at his words and from his fingers running over her breast. “They must have known it was your fault,” Jake said into her ear, gently placing her hand on his belly. She started running her fingers over it, not wanting to over jostle his stuffed gut, but desperate to make close contact. “Max must think you are such a deviant Alexis. And worst of all, he’s right.” Alexis moaned at his words. “I hope it was clear how badly you wanted me to eat all that food. Anyone who looked into those eyes would be able to see it. ‘She is really into that fat pig’.” Alexis gave a light squish to his under belly and Jake was burping seconds later. “Especially super bloated pigs. Uuurrp.” Jake took her hands and placed them at the top of his collar. Her body vibrated with excitement. “I’m sure you have been thinking about this for a bit. I really hope I don’t disappoint.” Alexis could hardly hear him. She felt the rush between her legs intensify as she got to the last buttons, which she had to fight his belly in order to free them. He wore a white undershirt that she could practically see through with how it was stretching to his form. Jake held her hands at the hem of his shirt and she shot her eyes to him. He looked a little scared.

“You could only disappoint me by delaying my view any longer Jake. I am already so hot for you. I can only become more so.” He eased up, and moved his hands away. Alexis did not hesitate for an instant. She literally couldn’t. She was speechless when she rolled the shirt up to the top of his belly, and gasped further when Jake pulled the rest over his head. “Gorgeous,” she whispered. Jake’s belly, though absolutely packed full, had a thick soft layer of fat all around that hung somewhat freely. He was softer than any of the guys in college she had been with before. He was tan all over, which was a pleasant surprise, as was the hair that congregated at the base of his belly button and at the center of his chest. His chest was not as heavy as his belly was, but was thick and slouched to the sides a bit. Alexis breathed out heavily.

“I guess I’m still looking fuckable?” he said.

“Get on your back,” she retorted, unclasping her bra and tossing it aside. Jake raised his eyebrows and gingerly lowered himself on to the bed and shifted to the center. Alexis straddled his thighs and put her hands across his belly. “You were absolutely amazing today Jake,” she said, her breathing pitched with excitement. “I loved watching you put one thing after another into this big hog belly,” she said, shifting it from side to side ever so slightly. Jake groaned, half in pain and half in pleasure. “Too much,” she asked concerned.

“No, just perfect,” he moaned. “I am so damn full.” She lightly jiggled him again. “Braawwp.”

“Ungh. You are such a stuffed pig Jake! I love when you burp for me. It really shows how full you are. How hard you worked to reach your goal.” Jake burped again, as he poked his finger into his own belly button.

Alexis’ legs tightened their grip on his thick thighs in ecstasy.

“You can play with it, but please be nice,” he said, cautiously, as if he knew she had the potential to be less delicate with his belly if not warned. She gently poked the tip of her finger into the deep hole that was surrounded by pillowy fat.

“You are so sexy,” she said, gripping his cock in her hand as she stroked him. Her fingers were infatuated with how thick his belly was right by the opening. She gently poked a little deeper pushing a low gurgly burp from Jake. He groaned in response, but sounded just as turned on as relieved. Alexis could wait no longer. She pulled his underwear down and threw them to the side, shifting out of her own. She lowered herself carefully onto Jake’s substantial erection and pressed her own small abdomen into his massive one.

“My god,” Jake gasped. He pulled his belly up to readjust its position, and Alexis groaned as she felt him slip deeper inside her and his belly push more against her. “You feel incredible Alexis,” he exclaimed, with eyes pressed shut in pleasure. Alexis planted her hand on his chest and watched his belly gently bob and slosh into her as she pumped into him. She reached one hand to the back of his head, the hair on the nape of his neck damp with sweat. She jumped at his lips and kissed him hungrily. She was fighting the desire to just grab his belly hard, but when she put her hands on the sides of his belly, she could feel the ripples of their thrusting, satisfying her urge.

“You are so fat Jake,” she hissed at him.

“I had help,” he said, squeezing her butt with both hands. He started to use his arms to slam her into his body, his hips buckling form under her. His breath was picking up, which was only getting Alexis closer. “Tell me how good I did,” he stammered, desperately. Alexis bit her lip for a microsecond.

“You were such a greedy fat pig Jake. I couldn’t believe how much you managed to stuff in this belly. The way you greedily drank that shake, filling up your belly with its creaminess. You super sexy stuffed belches,” she said, gripping him a little, forcing a small piggish burp out of him. She gasped, her back arching and her fingers grabbing at him as a reflex. “You are so incredibly hot,” she said, thrusting as hard as she could, her breathing faster than ever, her chest bouncing as she did.

“I’m gonna,” Jake said, straining, before he ultimately finished in his assistant at the sound of her euphoric shrieks. Silence filled the room as the two panted with pressure filled eardrums. Alexis flopped into the space next to Jake and looked over at his belly proudly rising and falling in the air, astonished she could be so lucky to have finally achieved her fantasy.

“Unbelievable,” she breathed. “Absolutely unreal. I was just intimate with Jake Andrews,” she squealed, nuzzling into him. She could feel his body shake with his laughing.

“That big of a deal?” he asked, looking down at her, genuinely.

“You do not get it Jake. You are absolutely the hottest guy in the office. I know you have your ever adorable reservations in confidence because of your little belly here,” she said, pinching his very not little belly.” He blushed hard. “But I think everyone knows, a little or a lot of weight could never take away from everything about you that is so hot.”

“You are a charmer,” he chuckled, putting his arm around her. She kissed his chest. They were silent for a few beats and Alexis sighed, wanting to drag the moment out, but knowing it couldn’t last forever.

“What next?” she asked. Jake shrugged his shoulders.

“I was kind of looking forward to walking back into the office.” Alexis looked at the smirk on his face and felt herself heating up all over again. She had thought they’d just leave from the parking lot, as it was getting close to the end of the work day. But they could go back in for the last hour. She pulled him to her lips by his chin and kissed him.

“You are bad,” she mouthed, getting up to clean herself up and prepare for their return to A&G.

Alexis walked into the lobby with as confident and unyielding expressions she could muster and successfully did not falter at Gina’s accusatory look. Jake seemed to have transformed back into his corporate big boss persona, if far more puffed up than usual, and did not seem fazed at all by her. “Mr. Andrews,” she said, thick with shock. “I thought you’d be back sooner. Hope all was well with the projects.” She put on a worried face.

“No need for concern Gina. Any messages?” She shook her head. “Excellent,” he uttered and proceeded. Alexis went to go with him, but Gina called to her back. Alexis watched Jake continue on and reluctantly stayed back looking a bit annoyed.

“What is going on Alexis?” Gina was boring a hole through Alexis, but she wasn’t going to find anything.

“Gina, what gives? I am literally just working. We have to do a write up on the surveying,” Alexis lied.

“But that’s just it. You don’t need to do that. He literally does everything. He practically made the company. You act like Jake Andrews cannot do a thing without you hanging onto him,” Gina accused, from behind her desk. Alexis’ jaw dropped. She didn’t want to go at it with her, but definitely didn’t want her to feel she had won. Alexis knew she already had, the thought of which sprung a small smile on her face.

“Listen Gina, if you think about Jake that much,” she said with a shrug, “go off. I know you used to have a big crush on him.” Alexis could see Gina ponder how she ‘knew’ and the color in her cheeks did not allude to her liking Jake talking about how shamelessly she had flirted with him in the past.

“Alexis. As if. Don’t be like that. I’m sorry for suggesting it. Any crush I had on him was small, and long gone with his diet.” Alexis was satisfied with that and shrugged at Gina.

“See you later.”

Alexis walked onto their floor and sat at her desk. She drummed on it, feeling a buzz of excitement from the afternoon. Her phone began ringing and felt her heart flutter. She picked up.

“Mr. Andrews office, Alexis speaking. How can I help you,” she said soothingly.

“Erm. Hello Alexis. Patch me over to the big boss,” Morgan Gibbs said on the other end. Alexis shuddered in horror and transferred him right away. She watched Jake talk on the phone through the window and he stood up when he hung up. He made his way out to her desk.

“Did she figure it out?” he queried.

“She knows, but I think she doubts it again. How could I like a big slob like you,” she sneered jokingly.

“I have testimonial evidence that you certainly do. It’s quite damning,” he teased back. He grinned. “Gibbs is coming up. He wants to check in on some spreadsheets. He asked if you were okay. Said you sounded a little breathless on the phone,” he said with an accusing look.

“I thought it was you!” she defended herself.

“Naturally. Can you pull them up on your computer? He likes your screen better.” Alexis was confident it was because her computer was 5 years older than all the others. But she pulled up the documents he needed. Soon Gibbs was stepping out of the elevator and instantly took notice of Jake’s inflated appearance. Jake didn’t have his jacket buttoned, and his belly hung proudly over his waistband. Alexis had the perfect view of it seated at her desk.

“Jake! Did you eat a house while you were out?” Morgan looked astonished, gesturing to Jake’s expansive belly. Jake blushed, but remained cool.

“I had my share,” Jake started, shooting Lexi a look. “Maybe and then some. I have been pretty bad lately.” Morgan looked at him wide eyed. He glanced at Alexis not wanting to embarrass his partner in front of her, but feeling compelled to say something.

“Jake you are going to find yourself gaining more than you bargained for if you don’t slow down. You are already putting on quite a bit of weight.” Jake scratched the back of his head, stretching his belly out in a way Alexis could not ignore.

“I appreciate your concern Gibbs, I will certainly consider your warning. Now about the spreadsheets,” Jake began. Gibbs looked at Alexis.

“Alexis! Tell Jake the truth.” He put his hands on his hips. “What do you think about all this? A gorgeous girl like you.” Alexis bit her lip. Jake looked at her amused and curious.

“Well,” she started. “I think you would be crazy to say Jake is not the most handsome man in the office,” she stated, glancing at Jake. “And I don’t know,” she said, with a flippant shrug. “He kind of looks cute with his belly.” She looked at Gibbs who looked back at her surprised. He stared a bit harder and then looked at Jake, squinting.

“You went surveying projects today?” he asked rhetorically, spinning back to Alexis. “With Alexis.” He nodded to himself and dropped the whole conversation. “Yes, explain to me how this spreadsheet works.”

Jake looked at Alexis with raised brows, when Gibbs finally departed to head out the office. “He knows.”

“Pfft. How could he know?” Alexis laughed, mirroring Jake earlier that day.

“Well he sent me the HR paperwork for disclosing an office relationship, HR not on the email either.”

“Shut up! Well yea. I guess he knows. Don’t feel like you have to sign those though. We aren’t in a relationship or anything.” He nodded along.

“I’m not so sure about that. I don’t know what to call it, but this for sure is a relationship of sorts. And we totally crossed the bridge from professional. It’s personal. It’s…” he stopped having lowered his voice gradually to the point he had no sound.

“Sexual,” Alexis muttered. He sighed at the memory. “I enjoyed your company so much,” she moaned.

“Lexi,” he pleaded. “I don’t want to get all worked up again.”

“If you do, does that guarantee a shot at round two?”

“If you’re really asking, let’s just jump to where I say yes.” They waited long enough for Gibbs to be long gone, as well as Gina. Alexis helped pass the time by teasing Jake, whose belly was far more settled, and he was begging her to jiggle his fat gut around. They slipped out of the office and Alexis followed him back to his house, stopping only to grab a quick bite from the drive thru to enjoy before bed. Jake managed to get stuffed again before he and Alexis were entangled once more, neither of them being able to stay awake much long after the pleasure of the evening took them completely.

Ch 10

[shaktiautomobile]

Title: Rainy Day Car Care: How to Safeguard Your Vehicle in Wet Weather

Introduction:

Rainy days can be challenging for car owners, as the combination of wet roads, reduced visibility, and potential water damage poses risks to your vehicle. However, with a few proactive steps and careful maintenance, you can protect your car from the effects of rainy weather. In this article, we will provide valuable tips to help you safeguard your vehicle and ensure it stays in optimal condition during wet conditions.

Maintain a Clean Exterior:

Regularly washing your car is crucial to protect its exterior from dirt, grime, and corrosive elements carried by rainwater. Additionally, applying a protective wax coating will help repel water and prevent water spots, keeping your car looking pristine. Pay attention to the undercarriage as well, as it is susceptible to debris buildup. A clean exterior will minimize the risk of damage caused by contaminants present in rainwater.

Check and Maintain Wipers:

Your windshield wipers play a vital role in maintaining visibility during rainy weather. Inspect the wiper blades for signs of wear or damage, such as cracking or splitting. Replace worn-out blades promptly to ensure efficient water clearance from the windshield. Additionally, make sure your wiper fluid reservoir is filled with a rain-specific formula to effectively remove grime and provide clear visibility.

Ensure Proper Tire Traction:

Wet roads can be slippery, compromising your car's traction and handling. Regularly check your tire tread depth and condition to ensure adequate grip on wet surfaces. Consider switching to all-season or rain-specific tires for improved performance. Properly inflated tires also contribute to better traction, so monitor and maintain the recommended tire pressure levels. Good tire traction is essential for safe driving in rainy conditions.

Protect the Interior:

Water damage can affect your car's interior if rainwater finds its way inside. Inspect the rubber seals around doors, windows, and the trunk for any signs of wear or damage. Replace damaged seals promptly to prevent water leaks. It's also advisable to use waterproof seat covers or invest in water-resistant floor mats to protect the upholstery and carpets from moisture. Dry out any wet spots immediately to prevent mold or mildew growth.

Park in Safe Locations:

When parking during rainy weather, opt for sheltered areas whenever possible. A covered parking spot, such as a garage or carport, will protect your vehicle from direct exposure to rain. If covered parking is unavailable, look for spots that offer some protection, such as under trees or other structures. Avoid parking near areas prone to flooding or beneath trees with overhanging branches that could potentially cause damage.

Drive with Caution:

Rainy conditions require cautious driving to ensure your safety and the well-being of your vehicle. Reduce your speed and maintain a safe distance from the vehicle ahead, as it takes longer to stop on wet roads. Avoid sudden maneuvers and hard braking, as they can lead to skidding or loss of control. Additionally, be mindful of hydroplaning, which occurs when your tires lose contact with the road surface due to a layer of water. If hydroplaning happens, release the accelerator and steer straight until traction is regained.

Post-Rain Inspection and Maintenance:

After driving in the rain, take the time to inspect your car for any signs of damage. Check for water accumulation in the trunk, footwells, or other areas. Dry out any wet spots and address potential leaks promptly. Also, inspect your vehicle's undercarriage for signs of rust or corrosion that may have occurred due to exposure to water and road salt. If you notice any issues, consult a professional mechanic for necessary repairs.

Conclusion:

By implementing these car care tips, you can effectively safeguard your vehicle during rainy weather. Maintaining a clean exterior, ensuring proper visibility, and protecting the interior are all crucial steps. Additionally, cautious driving, parking in safe locations, and post-rain inspections contribute to keeping your car in optimal condition. Remember, regular maintenance and timely repairs will help extend the life of your vehicle and ensure it remains reliable even in wet weather conditions. With these precautions, you can confidently navigate rainy days while safeguarding your prized possession. for any service visit- shaktiautomobiles.com