REESE'S PUFFS REESE'S PUFFS eatem up eatem up eat-
@gabbydafurry
• Any Pronouns • Lesbian Ace kiss fall in love ig • Age: Adult • Loves G/T • • Only Soft and Safe Vore Here• If you read this far...go drink water and get some sleep bc I'm in ur walls
Привет GIRL MUEHHEHEHHE I don't know if you've been asked this before or if I'm just too clueless and missed it, but we already have Trevor Swap—but do we have Trevor as a natural-born borrower? I think so.
I was wondering what Bennett’s reaction would have been if he had been in Trevor’s place. I mean, if Trevor, as a borrower, had fallen and Bennett, as a human, had saved him (as an adult, since we already saw that their encounter as teenagers went wrong). Would Bennett have held him back to question him? What would have happened? :OO
You know, Collen, the funny thing is that you were the only one to whom I showed the unfinished work (this comic) and you were the one who asked this question, although I completely forgot about it.I decided not to repeat the plot with the fall, but yes, as you can see, Bennett loves his personal space (Trevor also loves Bennett's personal space
my biggest word of advice to anyone scared to post their work/ocs/involve themselves in creative spaces online is to earnestly get interested in other people. be kind to others, like/reblog their work, tell them what you like about their work, get to know them as people.
this isn’t to “weasel” your way into anything or having ulterior motives or whatever. if you become friends with someone then that’s great! but there’s always something very personal about posting any kind of creative work. we’re all trying our best to connect with each other and the best way to get comfortable is to get to know others and show up as yourself. 🫶🏾
I've been obsessing with reading BloodyMary g/t fanfics recently, seriously all of it is so good. I read Our House (Absolutely amazing work btw, LOVE that you decided to give Simon some weird ass mutations!)
Spoliers & a LOT of blood (no wounds tho)
In this scene Grace gets a full ass shot of Simon when he's fresh out of the can of human soup
victor doesn't get enough sunlight on account of being 5 inches tall and needing to be kept a secret ☺️
so every once in a while when his housemates are out. adrian takes him outside to get his vitamin D fix, although usually he just sits him on a windowsill
Scene from A Little Grace, my (unpublished) BloodyMary giant/tiny fic
context: grace is a borrower (roughly 4 inches/two apples tall). he was in the sm-13, checking the wiring, when he hits his head and loses consciousness. they send the rover down without fetching him, and grace has just revealed himself to simon.
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"Are you real?" Simon asks. His voice cracks.
Grace frowns. It's magnified by the wide lenses perched on his nose. He opens his mouth for a knee-jerk retort, and then thinks better of it. His expression softens. "I'm real," he assures Simon.
"Are you-" Simon takes a wobbly breath. "You're sure? Because I don't- I can't handle you just being a figment of my imagination right now. I need you to be-" Simon doesn't finish his sentence. He turns his head away, blinking rapidly.
Grace watches Simon. Even sitting on the floor, Simon is a titanic force - humans always are. But the vulnerability on his far-away face, the desperation in his voice, makes him seem so much smaller.
Grace straightens his spine. He tightens his grip on his tool bag and says, "Let's prove it, then."
Simon's gaze returns, his brows deeply furrowed. "Prove..." Simon starts, but Grace forges ahead.
"Give me your hand," the borrower says, holding out his own.
Simon complies, slowly extending a bandaged arm until his fingers are inches from the little man. Grace catches himself trying to flee, stopping one foot as it slides back across the metal floor. The hand is large, each loosely curled finger longer than his arms. But Grace is determined. Grace pushes himself forward and takes one measly step, reaching out.
Grace hesitates, hand hovering mere centimetres from the human's. His heart is pounding.
Grace places his palm on Simon's index finger.
First contact. The skin is warm, a little damp with sweat, and thick; Grace can feel the thin lines of patterns embedded in it. His hand is so small, lying there on the first segment of Simon's finger. Simon's face has shifted, awe and wonder glimmering in his wide-eyed gawking. Simon's entire hand twitches, fingers convulsing like he's stopping himself from making a fist. Grace forces himself not to bolt.
Simon leans down a little more. "I can feel you," he whispers. "You're..."
"Toldja I'm real," says Grace, his wavering smile betraying his nerves as he stares up at the humongous figure taking up most of his vision. His skin crawls; he's never willingly touched a human before. His palm is tingly. Grace wants to pull away, but he doesn't.
Simon's whole body lurches, and Grace does leap back. Simon sags with relief, his head and shoulders drooping like a teetering bridge. He lets his knuckles rest on the toasty floor. Simon lifts his head again and he finds Grace, some indiscernible emotions shaping his massive features.
"Thank you," Simon says. "I was... really starting to think I was losing it. I mean, tiny people... no offense."
"None taken," Grace replies, casually adjusting his clothes like his soul didn't just jump out of his body.
A BloodyMary G/T Fanfiction.
Chapter 3/?
Wordcount: 2,306 / 7,497
First chapter here! -> CH.1
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ Convict at some point was taken from his blood moon, now freshly mutated and... Tiny. Tiny by Grace's standards of course, alternate universes don't always mean the same scale of everything. ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Cross-posted on both AO3 and Tumblr! I hope you Enjoy!
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“Convict” - The butcher - Simon.
Simon felt every brush of contact over the last few hours, yet he couldn’t bring himself to actually open his eyes just yet. His delirious mind cleared as he really took in the situation and mulled over it in his brain while the bumbling creature walked about.
He called it a creature because there was no way it was even real. Much less a human.
Simon felt nauseous that he had leaned into its touch at all. Gentle touches didn’t come to him without some sort of repercussion to follow or a condition. Things like that didn’t come for free, not to anyone, and especially not for Simon.
Which led him to his hypothesis that he was most definitely not alive anymore; he was certain of it. His sub was crushed, and he felt every painstaking moment that led up to it. He somehow had his arm back as well; he would even flex his fingers now and again just to be sure. The only thing odd about it was that it felt stiffer than usual, probably from lack of moving.
On top of that, the large creature that had moved him put him on something plush and soft. That didn’t just happen, not to a person like Simon. Someone who was regarded as a Convict and a Butcher more than his own name in his past life.
He didn’t know if he was in an odd form of limbo before his soul got weighed, or if he was in heaven about to be sent off to hell once he was properly criticised for his choices when he lived; He didn’t know. Which terrified him almost more than if he had just woken up bound and shackled to hellfire.
Instead, he was here. Lying atop a soft plush surface while the giant man bumbled around. He knew he was walking about because he occasionally heard him muttering—most of the time, about Simon.
He would hear him murmuring about his injuries, and things such as his… Adaptations. Not that he knew truly what he was talking about. Had this angel not seen a human in such a long time, he had forgotten what they looked like?
His body was growing stiff from the position he had been deposited in, his legs aching from possibly hours of lying as still as possible. He could handle the few aches and pains, especially after the hell he was put through in that ocean.
…The room was quiet now, so silent that all Simon could hear was the ringing in his own ears. Surely he could move and take a look at the room. It would make it easier to plan what he wanted to do later if he understood the layout. Not that he could do much against a creature obeying God's orders, but he could try. He tried until his last breath in his last life to go against what that… Thing. Told him. He could do it again.
He hoped.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Simon slowly and carefully moved his arms underneath his chest. Gently pushing himself up as he cracked his eyes open.
The first thing he noticed was that the arms underneath him didn’t look like his arms at all, and he was definitely on top of a pillow. One of his arms was fleshy, which he recognised. The other was this gross amalgamation of slimy skin with a harder shell on the outside, claws poked out from his fingertips as well. He was just about to bring his other hand to touch it before a grating sound met his overly sensitive ears.
“Body Movement Detected.”
Simon felt his heart almost leap out of his chest as he heard the mechanical voice practically reverberate through his bones. He could tell it was intentionally made softer because his ears didn’t ring afterwards. Yet it didn’t help when he was about the size of the speaker itself. Wherever it was.
“Body Movement Detected.”
There it was again. He sat up almost entirely now; whatever was draped on top of him slid off his shoulders, making him wince. Not at the cold, but at the feeling of it snagging onto something on his back. Whatever was piercing his mid-back hurt as the blanket hung from it.
Simon moved to whip around and pull the blanket off of himself, freezing as he saw it finally. This must have been the thing making that noise.
The sound that left his lips must have been pathetic because the four-pronged arm reached for him. That horrible whirring rose in volume as it got closer. Absolutely not.
“Patient Movement is Advised Against. Injuries include Fractured ribs, Airway Injuries resulting in Oxygen deprivation-…”
He didn’t care to listen after that; he sprang up. His legs ached as he backpedalled. His body and world lurch as he falls backwards off the plush pillow. Hitting the cold, metal table with a thunk. His back hurts horribly now. Whatever was poking at him now flattened as he landed on it; he felt like he could throw up. He squeezed his eyes shut and anticipated the pain of whatever he just landed on piercing him.
Surprisingly, when he expected to feel whatever was in his back pierce him, it kinda just folded against his skin. At least that's what it felt like. Quizzically, he opened his eyes slowly, only to be immediately startled back into fear as he saw that dreaded four-pronged hand thing reach for him.
His instincts kicked in quicker than his body could register, his arms pushing behind himself as he sprang up. He felt more balanced this way, his legs shaking as he backpedalled. Fighting not to slip on the slick surface of the table. Usually, he didn’t have this much of an issue walking on top of surfaces. Was it something to do with his size? Or was there stuff on his feet??
“Requesting aid from Captain Doctor Grace.”
Simon didn’t have time to worry about his feet, not with that thing apparently pinging for whatever was watching over him. Grace. Of course, God would torment him by naming one of his angels after something so divine. He truly was just brought here to be tormented before his final descent. If he were to be sent to Hell, he was not going without a fight.
His heart felt like it was inside of his throat as he felt his legs moving on their own. His senses heightened as he scanned the large plane he was deposited on earlier. It was some form of metal table, with various tools scattered about. He heard the whirring grow louder behind himself, and with the agility of a cat fresh off anaesthesia, he threw himself out of the way. Once again landing with a thunk before he practically ran on all fours behind what looked to be… A microscope?
He craned his neck to look up at what he was hiding behind, and by all rights, it looked like it was some sort of slide microscope. His brain reeled with why exactly an angel would need such a manmade object, until something beside him flicked.
His entire body flinched as he took a swing at whatever had moved beside his legs, only to reel back in agony as he felt both his knuckles burn and the appendage he had socked. It was attached to him. In all its slimy, twitchy, disgusting glory, it was attached to his tailbone.
White-hot fear stroked the inside of his stomach. He wasn’t born with this. The blood. It changed him. He felt sick as if he could throw up. Visions of vomiting the vile liquid flashed across his closed eyes. When had he closed them?
An undignified yell tumbled from his lips before he had time to really stop it. He pressed his back harder against the microscope as his chest heaved. Of course. Of course he’d be mutilated in this world. He deserved it. He yanked at it as hard as he possibly could, only causing more pain to his back and hip, the fin at the end flaring in its own protest.
He didn’t care. He needed it off now. He knew his own pain tolerance; he could manage. His yanking only ceased as he heard the ever-so-familiar voice come from the other side of the room. His heart sank as the sound practically reverberated to his very core.
“-He was just here!... Armando, where did he go?!”
The angel's voice was thick with what sounded to be his best interpretation of anxiety and concern; Simon knew better. Angels were much too divine for such mortal restrictions; they saw all and knew all, which raised the question in his mind why he didn’t know where he was himself? Why ask?
Was he playing with him? A final attempt at playing with his mortal emotions before sending him to the great beyond, where there would be nothing but hellfire?
That blasted robot thing was going to rat him out; he knew it would. He had to find another spot to go, another spot where they wouldn’t see him for the time being. If the Angel was going to pretend he didn’t know where he was, he would do what he did best: run.
He knew the basic layout of the table from when he had briefly glanced earlier. The area was vast, but it had a few items. Such as the microscope, a cup with a few pencils, and a tray with… Something on it. He didn’t get a good look.
The most important thing by far, though, was if he could get something to help catapult himself; he could just barely reach another nearby table that looked to be more pressed against a wall. He could easily find more spots to hide over there.
The ringing in his ears picked up in volume as he peered around the microscope, seeing the backside of his saviour as he seemed to be watching the robot motion to him. Armando is what he called it. Weird name for an even weirder creation.
He could feel his body keying into his instincts by now, despite the tail he had now being an annoyance and a constant reminder of what he wished to forget. It did help with his balance quite a great deal as he tried to stay in a crouch for as long as possible.
Simon wasn’t going to wait to see his guardian angel turn to look at him. He sprang into action, his legs burning with the exertion of it all, but he could handle a little more. He didn’t have a choice. He shot himself across the metal table, his feet thunking against the surface despite his best attempt at being quiet.
“Wh-.. Oh!-”
Shit. Not what he wanted. Absolutely not.
He knew ‘Grace’ saw him; he wasn’t exactly the smallest thing ever on this table, and the metal had to be the worst thing ever to be running across since it made so much noise. Without thinking anything else of it, his body dove behind a nearby cup holding various pens and pencils. His back pressed against the cool surface as he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to keep going, just a little longer.
He waited with bated breath before peeking out; he saw what he expected. His angel was reaching for him with a tentative hand; it was closer to the table than up in the air.
“Let’s just calm down… You’re perfectly safe… I'm Ryland, but I'm just called Grace here-...”
The angel's voice was soft, just as practised as the last time he was speaking with that other creature. Trickery. He knew angels could be just as elusive as devils if they were to try to catch a sinner.
He waited for the hand to get a little closer before truly putting his new adaptations to the test. Simon could feel his body shaking at the idea of what he was about to do, but if it kept the Angel stunned and away from him while he got away, he’d do anything.
“...You don’t have to talk, by the way… I just need to move you away from that ledge there.”
The second he saw Grace's finger get within reach, he took a swipe at them. He felt his claws connect with something; he didn’t stay in the same spot to really get a good look. He heard the sharp intake of breath before the sound of Grace jerking back.
He knew better than to strike at a benevolent being and stay in the same spot; he ran again. This time, running to a tray that sat nearby. His survey of the area earlier helped him see it. He couldn’t get a clear look at what it held, but anything would help. A pencil or a toothpick would even do the trick.
As he ran over to the tray, he looked over the ledge of the cold metal tray and felt his heart stop. Ice-cold fear running through his veins, colder than the last pass through. Before, he had fear and hope; this had shattered that. Leaving him cold with a pit in his stomach.
Tools.
…Where these… No. Those weren’t…
Simon's chest heaved as he felt his tail curling tighter behind his leg, taking a step backwards from the tray he once sought refuge behind. These were tools. Medical tools. Scalpels. Tweezers. Forceps. Even tiny scissors. The list went on as his brain supplied the details. They were even neatly placed atop a teal sheet of medical paper.
Those tools. They were for the more precise butchering of people.
They would work perfectly for someone of the angels' size, but they were precise.
Perfect for Simon.
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Hope you all enjoyed! Be rest assured, the next chapter will be posted soon! But, cliffhanger for now... because i'm evil. Expect Grace and Simon Hyjinxs next chapter with more communication.
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