#sharkwrites

CW: Light weed intox and bullying

Chapter One: Mary

Mary woke up in bed like any other day: mouth dry, legs sore, and eyes groggy, as she wiped the crust away from the corners of her eyes to help them open up a bit more. She leaned up to stretch her arms, groaning and reaching for the half drunk water bottle on her nightstand. As she cracked the cap open to take a refreshing sip, she picked up her phone to check it.

Crap.

7 messages from her work friend Ash, all of which asking to some extent where she was for her shift. She peeked at the top corner for the time; 9:40. Her shift was supposed to start in 20 minutes, and once again she overslept. She whipped the blanket off herself, revealing her thick, pale thighs as she spun them out of the bed, landing hard on the carpet with a loud thud!

She spritzed herself quickly, the scent of cucumber and mint filling the air and sticking to under her arms. Good enough. She grabbed her black leggings from the head board and yanked them up over her legs. While she normally didn't have difficulty, she felt a slight bit of resistance against her thighs and belly, the seam cutting into her midsection a little more than usual. She would have to with about that the next time she got paid.

She yanked a XXL white undershirt over her head, pulling her arms through the sleeves before grabbing her pink polo and doing the same. This prevented her from needing to ask her manager for another uniform change after already outgrowing two since she was hired 2 years ago, while avoiding the awkward conversation of why she wasn't dressed "appropriately" for with.

Mary finished the ensemble by donning her pink strawberry ball cap, ready for her shift. She fumbled her keys in her hand before locking the door behind her apartment, all before unlocking and entering her car. She started it up and pulled out like a maniac, screeching dish the road to get job at the local ice cream shop: Strawberry Dreamsicle.

She checked her phone after pulling into the parking lot: 9:57. Perfect, she still wasn't late. Sure she might've overreacted about how late she could potentially be, knowing she was only a few minutes away for a drive, but she still didn't want to take that risk. Coming in through the back door to the kitchen prep area, she pulled out her punch card and swiped it in the device for 9:59. A minute early, and not a minute to spare.

"Jeez Mary, take an extra edible last night?" quipped her friend Ash. Ash was the only friend Mary could stand at work, despite their constant sarcasm with their half grin on their face.

"Yeah last night was pretty good, not gonna lie. Munchies ever hit you hard enough you force yourself to eat a few extra cheeseburgers just because you got the appetite for it?" Mary patted her belly for emphasis, rubbing the pink fabric of her uniform lightly.

"Heh, no one's got the appetite like you, girl," Ash replied, tying their hair into a ponytail before putting on their own strawberry ball cap.

Truth of the matter was, Mary was a feedee. She went from a size large to a XXL in only a couple years, with the edibles she had been taking only a newer part to her regime to gain weight. Ash introduced them to her, but has no idea about her feedee lifestyle, only telling her about them because Mary knew Ash had the knowledge. And she couldn't have been more ravenous than when she was high.

The bell on the front door rang, signaling the entrance of a customer. Two girls walked in, both giggling and showing each other things on each other's phones as they approached the counter. One of them, a skinny girl with a light tan, golden blonde hair, and hazel eyes, looked up and giggled, placing her hand over her mouth slightly to hide her laugh.

"Look Angie! I think we accidentally walked into a barn! Look! There's even a pig!" exclaimed the girl, the two bursting out into laughter. This was Elsie, and ever since she found out Mary worked here after high school, her visits were much more frequent.

"Hey piggy! Can you oink for us? C'mon oink!" Elsie said, snickering and leaning against Angie.

"Yeah, just be careful, we wouldn't want animal control to come in here and take you back to the slaughterhouse!" Angie chimed in, laughing along with her friend.

Mary didn't mind though, she shrugged and smiled, putting on her food grade safety gloves to get ready to serve their first customers.

"Hey guys, what can I get started for you?" she beamed, her smile showing the dimples on her chubby cheeks.

Elsie looked down on the glass of flavors, where Mary's belly pressed a little into the edge, forming a crease where the edge of the serving station was, with the upper part of her belly slightly pressing into the glass sliding door. After much thought, she was ready to order.

"He's something I bet you've never heard of, how about a small vanilla frozen yogurt? It's a strange concept for a fatty like you, something small and healthy for you, right?"

Angie giggled a little. "Yeah and I'll take a medium strawberry sorbet please. Just uh, don't eat it before it gets to the counter."

Mary happily obliged, getting the two cups ready for the girls, as Ash rang them up at the register.

Ash feigned a sarcastic smile, squinting and over exaggerating their grin. "Have a nice day, don't choke on it on the way out."

"Right, you already have to hear this fat ass choke on her own fat every day, wouldn't want someone actually healthy having a crisis would we?" Elsie laughed, making sure to make eye contact with Mary while making the comment.

The two girls laughed as they left the shop, and Ash looked over at Mary and slapped their arms to their sides with defeat. "Mary, why do you put up with that crap? I swear they come on here only to belittle you, especially Elsie! When are you going to stand up for yourself about that?"

Mary just smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "Eh, it's not worth the fight. You don't see me complaining about being fat, right? If my own body doesn't bother me, why should I let other people decide whether it bothers me or not?"

Ash shook their head and smiled a little. "Yeah, I mean I guess. You're better than me, I would've jumped over that case and tackled those skinny bitches! Probably could crush them if I was as big as you, too!"

Mary laughed and placed her hands on her belly lightly. "Yeah this thing probably could hurt someone if I wanted to! Nah but I'm a pacifist, I'm just a fat girl who's loving life y'know?"

"Well that's one way to look at it. Hey are we still on for our edible session tomorrow?" Ash asked, crossing their arms and lightly leaning their butt against the counter.

"Definitely, I'm actually going to the dispensary to pick up some extra gummies later after work. You're bringing extra snacks right?"

Ash scoffed. "Girl I can't buy the whole convenience store on an ice cream server's paycheck! You'll have to bring extra if you think you're going to eat that much more than you normally do!"

Mary giggled. "Alright alright, I guess I can swing over to 7-Eleven too. Might as well buy something that isn't total trash like what you buy anyways," she said with sarcasm and a smile.

Ash put a hand to their chest in fake disgust. "Hey! Chips Ahoy are great! You just don't get what fine dining is!"

Mary laughed and shook her belly a little. "Does this look like I don't know fine dining?"

She got closer to Ash and bumped them with her belly, the two laughing and Ash lightly pushing Mary away.

"Haha alright alright you win! I yield! But this just proves that thing is a weapon of mass destruction!"

Mary went back to her station laughing slightly. Yeah, a weapon of mass consumption too, she thought to herself.

🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

I hope you all like the first chapter of my tsundere feedism story! Honestly I don't have much experience writing, so y'all will have to bear with me as I go along, I just really wanted to expand on this one idea that I had from this post

Anyways, one other thing, anytime I write a story, one of the tags will be the title of the story, followed by #sharkwrites, so you can find my writing easier! I'll include this in my intro post as well!

Prompt fill: shoulder kisses

Ship: lawbon (Liam Lawson/Alex Albon)

Words: 1445

Chapter title: Is This Love- Whitesake

3+1: 3 times Alex kisses Liam on the shoulder and the one time Liam kisses Alex on the shoulder

Jay balked at the order and took a step back, wincing slightly at the pain that shot through his ankle as it pulled against the ball and chain. He glanced at the man in front of him, then to the djinn who spoke from next to him, "What?"

Nadakhan smirked before grabbing Jay's hair and pulling his head back to look at the man kneeling in front of them. "Kill him."

Paling, Jay shook his head, crying out from the tightened grip in his hair. "No! He's just a civilian!"

The man shook in front of them. He was a normal man, with a suit and tie as if he was about to go to work. Minor scrapes lined his face likely from the tussle or from being dragged aboard, but otherwise he really just looked like a normal guy. His eyes were blown wide in fear and his hands rattled against their chains as his pupils flickered between the lightning ninja and the djinn.

"Did I say it was a request?" Nadakhan mused, shoving Jay forward so that he'd trip over the chain on his ankle. He waited until the boy looked back at him before pulling out his sword, smiling wickedly as Jay's eyes widened at the screams from his friends that ensued. "Do it or I do the same to your friends as I did to you."

Jay's breath hitched, his eyes focused on the sword. "B-but what did he do? There has to be a reason you want me to ki-"

"You forget, my little canary," Nadakhan whispered, dissapearing and reappearing next to Jay's ear, "that we are pirates. We kill who we want to kill. And now you--" he flicked at the eyepatch crusted with dried blood on Jay's face, making the latter shiver, "--are a pirate too."

"I am not a pirate!" Jay snapped, wrenching away from the djinn and backing away, dragging his chain with him. He threw his hands protectively in front of the shaking man, who seemed to calm slightly at the action. "I am a ninja! I was trained to protect!"

Nadakhan watched him, smiling, before shaking his head and tutting. "Oh, Jay." He turned to Flintlocke behind him. "Prepare two more sets of chains. We are about to have two more guests, the fire and ice ones."

The ship was silent as Flintlocke hesitated, glancing at Jay then back at his captain, before sighing and giving the signal. Two pirates rushed downstairs to prepare what the captain had ordered.

"No!" Jay screamed, throwing himself forward and landing in the arms of the djinn. He fought against the grip, grabbing for the blade that held his brothers, his heart wrenching every time he heard their screams. Tears stained his face as he desperately struggled against the four arms around him. "You can't!"

"I can." Nadakhan mused, grabbing Jay by his throat and throwing him back to the ground with a shout. "But you can help them." He tossed a knife down with him.

Freezing, Jay stared down at it, curling away from it at first before slowly turning to look at the man.

His more relaxed stance hadn't changed, and he gave a small smile to the ninja. "Don't worry kiddo, I know you won't kill me."

Jay's breath hitched and his eyes turned back to the knife at his feet, then at the sword in the djinn's hands. He slowly stood up, grimacing at the creaks in his bones, and straightened, kicking the knife away. The man let out a sigh of relief and Nadakhan raised an eyebrow in amusement.

But Jay wasn't done. He turned to the djinn, holding his hands out. "Break the chains. Let me use my power."

Nadakhan paused, before bursting into deep laughter, throwing his head back in absolute glee. "I see! How noble of you!" He grinned and snapped his fingers, the chains on Jay's wrists and ankle instantly breaking in two.

Jay sighed in relief as he felt his electricity coursing through his veins again and couldn't help but let out a few sparks, the current running across his skin. The sky darkened above him as his element rejoiced his return. He looked back at Nadakhan, who was patiently tapping the sword at his waist. He knew that Jay wouldn't do anything, not as long as his brothers are in there. Jay cursed under his breath and turned back to the man, who this time stiffened, eyes turning upwards in a confused expression.

"Kiddo?"

Jay burst forward with immeasurable speed and placed his hands on the man, sending thousands upon thousands of volts running through the man's body, right through the heart, frying the brain, shutting down every nerve and every organ. It had happened so quickly, he had made sure the man wouldn't feel a thing, and he fell over at Jay's feet, smoking from every pore in his body.

The master of lightning cried out at the feeling beneath his fingers, the feeling of death. The feeling of something so alive turning off like a power switch. He desperately kneeled by the man, feeling for a pulse, a small shock, anything.

He knew he could recessitate him, he knew he could make his heart start beating again.

But he didn't.

---

Once again I am not very good at writing however I had this thought and had ot get it out. Basically I was just thinking about how what if Nadakhan didn't just want Jay to lose his ninja-hood but also to become a pirate. What if, after Skybound, for some strange reason, Jay doesn't have as much irks about killing than the other ninja?

with a soft growl ,  the time lord pushes aside the   blueprint   he’s been studying for the past hour ,  a   fire   burning behind his rich brown gaze as he slowly glances up at the ship.     a sharp edge lets his voice   cut   like a   dagger :   ❛   ------   you’d best have a   VERY GOOD REASON   for barging into my office   &&   interrupting my work ,  love.   ❜

4. "careful. those aren't designed for idiots."

It hasn’t been that long since Dean put boots on solid ground, but tech evolutions in outer space either happen fast as the speed of light or slow as the grind of tectonic plates, and apparently Oasis Plains is on the good stims, if the changes to the access portals are any indication. The screen where he would’ve expected a keypad or handprint prompt is dark; instead there are a series of lightly-glowing panels on either side of each door in the colony—which must’ve been a bitch to after-market install in otherwise pre-fabricated modules—but Dean can’t even get the goddamn thing to recognize he’s there at all, much less that he’s someone cleared to enter the low-security mess hall. 

He stands on the tile in front of the door and nothing happens. He presses his hand against the blank screen next to the door in case there’s secretly a hand or fingerprint scan hiding. He waves his hands in case it’s a basic motion sensor, without any expectation of it working. He looks around, slowly and eyes wide, in case there’s an ocular scanner tucked somewhere. He’s heard tale of spit-based DNA scanners, though they provide pretty shitty opsec for the amount of filth required, and he doesn’t see any sort of cup. Still, he’s annoyed enough that he’s considering trying it out. 

The distinctive click-and-release noise of mag boots approach from behind him. Dean’s a little embarrassed that he—a flight engineer—can’t even open a door, but more relieved at the idea of finally getting a hearty meal in his belly as he turns, a sheepish smile on his face. He’s met with the stilted expression common to people who spent their formative years mostly in spacesuits, but he’s been in the black long enough it doesn’t give him pause. What does give him pause is the brilliant lapis of the stranger’s eyes, even more arresting for the low-light mods that make them glow brighter than anything else in the corridor. 

The man’s mouth does something that might be an attempt at a smile, but it’s a little uncanny in the way it’s clearly forced. Before Dean can make his own mouth do anything other than gape—ok, so it has been a long time since he’s seen a new face, and even longer since it was one so handsome it made him a little stupid—the stranger speaks up. “Careful there,” he says, his voice a low grumble that hits Dean’s bones with the familiarity of an engine coming to life, though his accent is unplaceable the way so many spacer hyperlocal creoles are. “These doorways weren’t designed for idiots.” 

Dean’s mouth shuts with a teeth-grinding clack and he narrows his eyes into the closest thing to a glare his exhausted, stomach-roaring hungry meatsuit can come up with. Stepping aside and gesturing at the door, he says, “Well, lucky me. Here’s a knight in shining asshole to show me how it’s done.” 

The man blinks, twice. “You just landed, yes? Flight Control should have directed you to the arrivals liaison to record your biometrics.” 

“This ain’t my first rodeo at the Oasis,” Dean says. “They’ve got it all already, down to the genome.” 

Only one blink this time, but then he turns forward and crosses the glowing panels in three oddly deliberate strides. Nothing happens. He mutters something under his breath that must be a curse, though Dean couldn’t figure out how to spell it if he tried. He shuffles backwards, then does the same three awkward strides again, and this time the door snicks open. 

“Definitely not idiot-proof,” Dean says, pissier than he intended. 

Almost as awkwardly as the steps had been, he says, “Supposedly the mayor’s brother won the security contract fair-and-square.” 

“Great,” Dean says, shoving past and through the doorway into the mouth-watering smell of… whatever modified or alien delicacy the locals call food. “See you around.”

The food is awesome, and so is the drink after a couple of exopilots Dean worked with way-back-when drag him to the loading bay that becomes an impromptu speakeasy when enough crews are on terra firma at the same time, ready to share and share alike the best-worst moonshine the star system could bootleg. 

Several drinks in, with his limbs getting clumsier by the minute in the subearth gravity, Dean finds himself complaining to a cute brunette about the admittedly much cuter jackass he met earlier in the day. From attitude alone, Dean had the guy pegged as officer-class, but his new friend snorts and says, “That’s what you think happened? Helios, you are a moron.” 

“Hey—”

Before Dean can finish protesting, he hears the vocal grumble approaching from behind for the second time that day. “I owe you an apology.”

Dean twists to look behind him, loose enough to both forget about the lower-G and be unable to rebalance himself when his stool starts to tip. He ends up spilled onto the floor, scraping his palms on the discolored riveted metal, hoping the flush of drink will cover up the blush of embarrassment—again—as the curly-haired pilot next to him cackles with laughter. 

But Castiel, to his credit, doesn’t laugh. His face pinches in something that might be an attempt at a concerned expression, and he bends to offer Dean a hand. “Now I owe you two apologies,” Castiel says, then gives the woman a sharp look. “Shut up, Meg.” 

Dean considers being too much of a petty shit to take his hand, but in the end decides his ego probably wouldn’t survive an unsuccessful attempt to make it to his feet. If Castiel’s hand wasn’t so strong and warm in his, maybe Dean could manage a glare, but handsome men have put stars in his eyes far longer than the actual stars have. “Get to it, Casanova.” 

“My name is Cast—oh.” His eyelashes lower, looking almost pleased to realize the nickname. “I am not yet fluent in Galactic Standard, and it turns out what I thought was affectionate teasing from Meg was her being a ‘knight in shining asshole,’ as you so vividly described it.”

“What did she rescue you from?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Knights save princesses from dragons, idiots from shitty doorways, and Castiels from…?”

Castiel tilts his head, considering. “The catastrophic loneliness of solo deep space expeditions, though I’m beginning to wonder if the cost is worth it.” He doesn’t look away from Dean, but his hand wiggles dismissively towards Meg with the easy fluidity of spacer sign-lang. 

Dean chokes on a laugh, then takes a swig from his beaker to cover it up. “Was that a joke?” 

“I don’t think so, but I’ve never understood the humor of your people. Clearly.” 

when the interstellar travelers landed in the corn field, grandma invited them in for a glass of tea, cloudy with sugar the way grandpa always liked it. the first thing they saw in her house was the clock, towering over the old woman who got a little closer to the earth every year, but grandma couldn’t answer all their questions. she'd never read stephen hawking and she wasn’t sure they really wanted to know about her friends who died painting clock faces with poison rich men thought would make them immortal. 

the strange beings didn’t understand her questions anymore than she did theirs. if it’s the paint that conquers the time, then why not wear it as eyeliner so you can look through the glittering circle into eternity? why continue to keep time like a manacle around your wrist? 

is it linear where you’re from? grandma asked. are there parts of the universe where you can swim in flat lakes of time all summer, where you never sunburn? are there peculiar children who have always been and will always be the same way, so long as they never go home at dusk? 

the aliens, whose wrinkle-free faces had never squinted into the blue pre-dawn, whose dreams had never been interrupted by the proud rooster out back announcing another day’s birth, who never hoped for jobs in the city where they could dust their skin with luminosity that would settle into their bones like hungry termites, did not understand. they didn’t know about red soldiers lining their forearms in wristwatches stolen as gleefully from the living as the dead. they didn’t know humans were stuck in their own loop where every fashion and every war eventually comes back into style again. they didn’t know that time is like medusa and a single look curses you forever. they didn’t know about forever at all, at least not at first. 

grandma thought for a long time, or maybe no time at all, because the dusty grandfather clock had not been touched since grandpa died. like her, it continued marking minutes and hours for awhile in the shadow of his loss. then, like memories of him, the moments began to skip and blur together. eventually the clock died too. maybe it was easier than the forgetting. 

there’s not much forever still laying around, grandma said. everything fades. i can’t quite remember what his smile looked like. but i remember how he liked his tea and his coffee. i remember the tears that slipped out of his eyes, without drama, when he said ‘til death do us part. i remember his kindness, and i remember his love, and maybe that’s something that can’t be poisoned by the tick and the tock. maybe that’s what forever is.