#and I am not sure they would have been able to do that in 2023 with how spoon fed audiences these days are

[demonio-fleurs]

also, very random, but i rewatched the first hunger games movie last night and

oof. what a good film. there were definitely some decisions that they made that i think were mistakes but it was still such a good adaptation.

[whirlybirbs]

i am on my hands and knees begging for a shred of keigo takami baby bird kfc angel content from you, if you write hawks i will finally know true peace

— MEET & GREET ; 1 / 2 ; HAWKS ; 啓悟

summary: you manage to snag two VIP meet & greet tickets for your nephew's birthday. he insists you join him. part one of two. pairing: keigo takami ; hawks / f!reader word count: 3.1k tags: humor, meet-cute, pro hero culture, birbs ignores all relevant timelines yet again, fluff, phone-flirting, hawks is great with kids, t+, relatable pre-hook up hesitation, they will fuck next time a/n: hawks is the chappell roan of the mha universe. stop touching him. this man actually changed my brain chemistry in early 2023 but we don't need to talk about that. anways, this poll was on the ropes all day and i made the executive choice to feed the hawks birblets.

You feel like your face has been set in a semi-permanent cringe all morning. 

In your right hand, you're clutching your half-finished iced coffee for dear life. In your other, you're clinging to your nephew as he drags you through the convention center — one of the bright red wings of his beloved, homemade cosplay has started to go lopsided, and the six-year-old excitedly tugs it back in place as he tries to yank you forward.

"C'mon! We're gonna be late!" 

This really wasn't your scene.

Fan conventions had a way of making your skin itch. The amount of sexy All Mights you've seen this morning alone has to be some sort of milestone indicator for the environment. Whether nature is healing or dying, though, you have no idea. 

If you had it your way, you'd spend the rest of the day mingling through the artist stalls — but, to your nephew Hayami's point, the two of you had somewhere to be.

Your VIP meet-and-greet badge swings as you trip up and laugh. "Okay! Okay, slow down! You're about to yank my arm off!"

It was the best birthday gift imaginable for Hayami. You officially cemented your title as The Coolest Aunt Ever when you managed to snag the two VIP convention meet-and-greet tickets (complete with a professional photo and two signed copies of the convention's annual poster) after a harrowing seven hours in an online Ticketmaster line. There were only a hundred of them sold — and sure, you coulda thrown that pretty hunk of cash into a college fund for Hayami, but he was deeply in his hero phase. 

Originally you expected that Hayami's father, your brother-in-law, would want to go.

But, no, Hayami himself insisted you come with him.

After all, you helped me with my costume, he begged, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you!

That you did. Many a hot glue gun burn was suffered at the hands of those damn red feathers. If you squint from far away, the cosplay isn't half bad considering the thrift and dollar-store materials. It wasn't one of those inch-to-inch replicas, but it worked. 

He's like a cute, bouncing mini Hawks. Complete with goggles and wings.

And Hayami is happy. And that's all that matters to you. 

The line is already pretty long, and Hayami runs his gloved hands along the line barriers as he races to his spot, audibly wooshing the whole way — just like Hawks does, probably. His badge jingles, and he hops to a stop as you come up behind him and pat his head. The six-year-old stands up on his tippy-toes, trying to see around the Miss Midnight fan in front of them. 

"Can you see him?" he chatters excitedly, "Ti, can you?"

He's called you Ti ever since he could speak. Auntie was too long, and the shortened version has stuck. 

You hop up onto your tippy-toes, mimicking him — and you swear you catch a glimpse of a crimson feather plumage over the gathered heads of the other meet-and-greet fans. It might be another cosplayer.

"I dunno," you whisper, your eyes darting to your phone's lock screen, "It's supposed to start any minute—"

The telltale roar of fanfare lets you know exactly who has just arrived. 

Hayami's excitement is palpable. Without a word, you're hauling him up and perching him on your shoulders. His hands land in your hair, and you can feel his smile from down here. 

"Ti! It's him!"

The line starts moving not long after, and you finish your iced coffee while Hayami stays perched on your shoulders, utterly starstruck. You weave through the barriers, moving up a few feet every minute, until you're only four or five people away from where Hawks sits behind a long table. 

You have to admit, the guy is pretty cute. 

Cuter than the fan-cams make him out to be, even. 

Sandy blonde hair, sharp gold eyes, and big wings. There's no doubt in your mind he's showboating, but as people approach the table, you notice this hesitant twitch ripple through the red feathers every time someone gets a little too close. 

That cringe from earlier washes over your face again as a girl reaches over the table to roughly run her fingers across one of his flight feathers. 

It's Keigo's least favorite part of all this. 

I mean, there's a part of him that gets it. He's the #2 Hero in all of Japan. He's a big deal. He's top of the popularity polls, he's the people's bird, y'know? He's a marketed commodity that sells out each and every time. 

But, that doesn't mean he likes being touched.

Especially the wings. Hands off the wings.

"Hey, Hayami?" you ask, tilting your head up as you both step forward.

You can feel the sudden nervousness creeping up on Hayami as he nods and looks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

"Make sure you ask for permission if you touch his wings, okay?" you say gently, muscling him down from your shoulders and doing a once over on his mini-Hawks cosplay, "And remember to tell him your name!"

Hayami nods, his nerves palpable as he realizes the two of you are next. 

On instinct, his hand shoots out and grips yours for dear life. 

And then, one of the marketers waves the two of you forward.

The first word that comes to Keigo's mind is MILF. You're cute. Real cute. Definitely not the usual sort he meets at conventions, and definitely not the usual sort that buys a ticket to his meet-and-greets. The kid clinging to your arm is arguably even cuter, and Hawks can't hide the blooming grin on his face when the pair of you step forward.

"Woa-ho!" he yaps from behind the patterned table, "Dude! Nice outfit!"

Hayami is panicking. You can tell from his shocked silence as the two of you step forward. You bend at the knees, squatting to your nephew's height, then encourage him to go ahead, go on. His big, brown eyes bob from you to Hawks. 

"Go ahead, Hayami," you encourage softly, "Say hi."

Oh, shit. You're really cute. Is this your kid? Nah, no way. You're way too young to be his mom. Unless—

You've seriously got him weighing the pros and cons of step-fatherhood and he doesn't even know your name. 

He could do stepdad shit at twenty-six. Right?

"Hi, Mr. Hawks," comes the shy voice of the mini Hawks before him; the sandy blonde's chest clenches. 

This is too fuckin' cute.

"Heh, hey kid," he chirps back, leaning forward on the table as his mouth curves into a friendly grin; Hawks' eyes are trained on the kid's growing smile, "What's your name?"

"H-Hayami."

"It's cool t' meetcha, Hayami," Hawks parrots as your own proud smile grows. There's relief flooding your shoulders. Thank god, Hayami didn't choke the clutch moment, "I like your wings, lil' dude!"

Hayami gives a little turn, wiggling his prized, handmade possession. His confidence is building; the compliment lights the kid's cheeks up. 

"My aunt helped me make them!" Hayami chatters, his eyes brightening from behind the flight goggles strapped to his head, "She says I need to ask for your permission to touch your feathers!"

Keigo's gold eyes slip to your face. You give him an apologetic grimace, your eyes flicking to the girl beyond the VIP area still screaming about how she touched him, she touched Hawks, oh my god. You mouth out a silent apology.

Hawks' finds himself a little speechless. Doesn't happen often. 

He's not used to having some say in how he's objectified and consumed.

A sandy brow quirks as he pushes his yellow-tinted visor up, and into his hair. He seems shocked. It's not an expression you've seen on the #2 before — and in the last few weeks, you've seen plenty of Hawks content during Hayami's cosplaying journey. The reference material is pretty expansive.

"That's real considerate, chickadee — I appreciate that," his voice is soft; his smile is a little looser, "C'mere, Hayami, you wanna hold a feather while I sign your poster?"

This is, like, the best day of Hayami's life. 

Hawks brings his visor back down. 

You stand to full height, wringing your purse's strap, watching Hayami hold both hands out as one of the delicate pieces of plumage floats into his hands on command. He cradles it like treasure, his big brown eyes glimmering with new-found amazement. 

You step forward, and place a hand on Hayami's shoulder as he gently ushers his hands toward your face. "Ti, look, isn't this, like, the coolest thing ever — it's one of Hawks' feathers!"

Hawks' eyes flick up to the two of you as his pen darts across the two VIP package posters. There's a smirk on his face as he pays half attention to the task of signing. 

And scribbling his number on the back of one.

"I see that," you chuckle, leaning in to inspect the beautiful, crimson feather, "Make sure you say th—"

Before you finish your sentence, the very feather in question darts up to tickle the tip of your nose. Your immediate reaction is to scrunch your nose and grin. It's not so much ticklish as it is gentle. For good measure, Hawks gives Hayami a little brush on the cheek, too. The boy descends into delighted laughter, allowing the feather to zip back through the air and into its designated place in his wings. 

Hawks is smirking.

"Alright you two," comes the level voice of the marketer; the camera in her hands is bulky, and a signifier that their time meeting #2 is nearly up, "Let's get in nice and close for a photo!"

The table proves to be a bit of a pain, but you bend down to Hayami's height as Hawks leans over the table and gives you both bunny ears. The camera flash burns bright in your eyes as Hayami's hand darts into yours again. 

"Here you two go," Hawks rumbles easily; he's standing now, and you find yourself yet again struck by how handsome he is. He smells like summer air and some expensive cologne you'll probably never know the name of. Definitely one of his sponsors. 

You take both posters, as Hayami's excitement seems to overflow and he's nearly buzzing with excitement to know he has Hawks' autograph. The boy bounces at your heels as he clutches his signed copy of the annual convention poster. His big, brown eyes are wide with pure joy. 

"Thank you!" Hayami chatters, "You're the best, Hawks!"

"Thank you," you smile, taking your own poster as Hayami's hand rockets back into yours.

"Nah, it's nothin', chickadee. Thanks for the manners," he calls after you with a touch of good humor, "You're real sweet."

"No problem!" you stutter out, thrown entirely by the compliment, as one of the other marketers guides you towards the exit with a hand on your back. 

"Oh, hey! One last thing!"

You flick your eyes back over your shoulder as you're shuffled out of the meet-and-greet.

You watch Hawks mouth 'check the poster', and with a hand held up to the side of his face. Then, 'call me'. 

"You're kidding me."

Hayami is finally asleep — and your sister is closing the door to his darkened bedroom as she hisses the words out. You're leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and looking entirely exasperated.

"I can't just call him," you say softly as you kick off the wall and follow her into the kitchen, "This isn't, like, the hot waiter who leaves his number on the receipt—"

"No, it's even better," she chatters, moving towards the unfinished glass of wine that sits on the dinner table, "I swear to god if you don't pick up that phone and call him right now—"

It's your brother-in-law who speaks up from the couch. "What's stopping you?"

"I don't know, being chronically single?" you cry as you throw your hands, "I haven't gotten a wax in months—"

"You seriously think #2 cares?" comes your sister's flat reply.

Your brother-in-law mimics her affectation. He throws a finger in the air. "Real heroes don't care."

The two of them high-five. 

...They're probably right.

You suck your teeth as you cross your arms again and weigh your options.

I mean — it's only eight o'clock. It's early. And it's a Friday. 

It could go two ways — you break your year-long dry spell with the #2 pro-hero in the country, or it's a total bust and he turns out to be a massive weirdo. Both are frankly pretty entertaining. 

You chew your lip.

Then, you decide.

You kick off the wall and move towards your phone in the kitchen. It's sitting beside the poster. 

"Oh my god, are you doing it?" your sister calls from the couch, her hand gripping her husband's arm tightly.

"I'm doing it," you say, ignoring the bite of nervousness in your hands as you type in the cell number that was scrawledhastily on the back of the poster. 

"Ohmygod."

It's ringing.

Suddenly, you have an audience. Your sister and brother-in-law are crowding you, their faces wide and expectant as it continues to ring. You pull your thumb to your mouth, pushing your bottom lip between your teeth. You let it ring, and ring, and just when you settle that you're being sent to voicemail, there's a click and a voice.

"'Ello?"

Your sister slams her hand into her husband's back, the two of them scrambling in a sudden flash of limbs and excitement. You drag your thumb across your throat — gesturing for them to cut it out. 

"Uh, hi," you fumble, "Is this... Hawks?"

Suddenly, there's a bark of laughter on the other line. "The one and only. Who's this?"

A slow smirk tugs at your cheeks. "I checked the back of the poster — a bold move, y'know."

"Convention Cutie!" he practically cheers, "Hold on, hold on — gimme two seconds, lemme just land."

Your lips part and you blink. The mental image is a hell of a thing. You swallow down a bought of amusement. "Sure, sure, take your time."

Keigo was starting to doubt you'd actually call him. The convention wrapped up hours ago, and he already made himself busy by exploring the southern city. It's nice here. A little bit like his hometown. Not too much crime, which has made for a pretty uneventful evening.

Until now.

His boots touch down on the nearby rooftop and he settles into an easy squat. His wings tuck themselves tightly against his back. 

You can hear a bit of wind bristle against his end of the receiver. 

"Alright, alright, sorry," he rumbles out, "Now you've got my full, undivided attention—"

You tug on your bottom lip. Your sister and brother-in-law are entirely hooked on the little bits they're overhearing from their spot across the counter. Your sister takes a long drink of her wine.

"Am I... being a bit of a distraction?" you ask, "If now isn't a good time—"

"You've been a distraction all day," comes the smooooooth reply; even Keigo's proud of himself for that one, "I'm just out for a fly. Nothin' too serious. I am glad you called, though."

Oh, fuck. Your knees feel like jello. You white-knuckle grip the counter as your sister gnashes her teeth and mimics biting her fist in silent mimery.

"Yea?" you pry, fanning yourself as you lean farther against the counter. 

"Yea, definitely," Hawks grins as he tips his head back and checks out the stars, "You busy tomorrow night? I'd love to take you out to dinner."

There's a commotion across the kitchen. The two of them are smacking one another's arms, their genuine excitement is palpable as they try to stay quiet. They're failing.

"I'd love that, Hawks."

This is new for him.

Technically speaking, you're not a fan. Your nephew is. So, this doesn't technically qualify as one of those unspoken hero faux pas. Don't date fans. Then again, what does it matter? He can do whatever he wants. 

And you're cute. And nice. And kind. And maybe he's being a sap, but seeing you with your nephew made something in his heart tighten. He didn't even notice he was making a nest of scrapped trash from the posters around his seat until the afternoon was over. 

God, sometimes the evolutionarily deep, bird DNA thing is weird.

Hawks lets out a tight breath he didn't realize he was holding. 

"Cool. Okay. Uh, you... you chill with, like, 7pm?" he fiddles with his visor, "I'm... I'm free whenever so..."

He sounds nervous. Your grin is so bright it could outburn the sun. 

"That works for me," you say as you fiddle with your lip, "As far as dress code goes... Do I, like, need a flight suit?"

His laugh is warm. 

"No, no, I — I was gonna get us an Uber," his voice lilts into something more mischievous, "Unless..."

"Maybe after dinner," you remark easily, swaying side to side, "You can show me what those wings do?"

Oh, smooth. Real smooth. Keigo's face is warm. His wings in question twitch eagerly at the invitation. 

"You gonna ask before you touch?" he teases back into the receiver, his brow raised.

It's your turn to laugh. "Hey, it's called being polite."

"I appreciate it," he rumbles out, about earlier at the convention, "Seriously. People are grabby — these things are sensitive..."

"Making a mental note of that, and filing it away," you flirt openly as your sister cheers silently, "For after dinner, maybe."

Keigo's brain stutter-steps. His laugh is surprised. He's about to comment on how you might just be the girl of his dreams when suddenly the wail of sirens perks up his attention. It's two blocks over. Three fire engines. The wind is carrying the smell of acrid smoke. 

"Hey, chickadee, I, uh... I gotta go," he says, standing and allowing his attention to drift to the scene playing out in front of him; it's a house fire — must be — on the southern side of town, "I'll text you the spot for tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Of course, don't let me keep you," you hush, "I'll... text you?"

"I'm countin' on it."

"Bye, Hawks."

"See ya, chickadee."

You didn't even realize you were sweating until you put the phone down.

Your sister and her husband are there, eyes wide. "So?"

"So," you croon as you laugh and pridefully sway your hips, "I have plans tomorrow night."

Their screaming wakes up Hayami.

As you help the kid back to sleep, you keep it secret that he's a better wingman than you could have ever anticipated. 

[whumptober]

Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from.  We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing,  …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.  

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine.  The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want. 

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

[chaiisms]

BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST.

all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.

I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?

You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.

Friend of yours?

Were you always so sneaky?

If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.

This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.

We're not going to have trouble, are we?

If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

Do you have pet names for each other yet?

[ name ]! Was that a joke?

You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?

You can read?!

I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.

I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

Can't say I love what they've done with the place.

I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.

You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.

Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.

So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

You seemed a million miles away just then.

I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].

Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.

I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…

All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.

Not one for roughing it, I see.

Why not have a little fun?

You're right, of course. Forgive me.

My money's on you, [ name ].

The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!

Want me to carry you?

Feeling at home?

Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.

Oh, darling, would you?

No doubt they found me too intimidating.

A girl could get used to this.

Now I don't know what to believe.

Well - yes, it was a joke.

I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.

And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?

You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

Well what would impress you, then?

Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?

Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here

You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.

Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

I never was scared of the shadows.

I know you're not really as heartless as all that.

I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.

Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?

Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].

That's ironic, coming from you.

We're either very clever or very lucky.

You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.

That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.

Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.

I can't tell if you're joking.

So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?

You think I'm beautiful?

I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.

Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?

Use your words.

You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?

[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.

Let's never speak of this again.

You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]

Hey! Something bit me.

Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.

I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?

Think the bar is open?

[immortalmrwavell]

A Worthy Replacement - Part 2

(Original story posted January 27th 2023) This story has been significantly Updated!

Written for @bodyswappingandshit/@bodyswappingandshit-1

The second part is back! Apologies for the large gap between reposting this one and the last. Gonna attempt to get part three up a little quicker but I hope you all enjoy this one in the meantime. Have had tons of fun updating this story so far and a like to think it’s a strong upgrade from the original. Thanks again for the support everyone!

Read Part 1 Here! Read Part 3 Here!

~~~

“I-I’m… I’m Chris fucking Bumstead!!” He announced, almost not believing his own words as they spilled out in a new unfamiliar voice. The man staring back at him in the mirror was none other than the bodybuilding celebrity himself. It shouldn’t have been possible and yet somehow… it was. His rational mind scrambled for some kind of reasonable explanation but there simply wasn’t one. It was all far too real to be a dream. From the scents swirling around in the air to the way his hulking form moved in such an unfamiliar way sent his brain into a tailspin trying to comprehend it all. There was no way it could all be a work of fiction from his sleeping mind despite how impossible it seemed. Just to be sure Martin did the typical thing of pinching one of his thick arms. Nope. Still here. All that did was make him realise just how real his massive biceps were.

With the mirror still ahead of him, Martin couldn’t think of anything else to do other than inspect himself. Starting with his face. He took a few heavy steps towards the mirror to get a better look at the new adorably handsome features he now adorned. The very first thing he felt drawn too was his new beard. It was much thicker and fuller than any beard he’d been able to grow in the past. It framed his gorgeous new mug perfectly while enhancing the squareness of his jawline for an added masculinity Martin could’ve only dreamt of until now. He couldn’t help stroking his fingers through it with admiration a few times with a bewildered chuckled.

It didn’t take long however for his fingers to roam past his beard to touch the rest of his face. The sensation was hard to comprehend as he wandered the shapes and contours of his facial features. Over your life you get so accustomed to the face that you were born with that it’s difficult to imagine how someone else’s face would feel. Even the most subtle differences from the way his nose arched to the depth his eyes were mind boggling to Martin as it all defied the expectations he’d come to know. It completely threw off his sense of touch in a way that was both nauseating and exhilarating at the same time. Even the tiniest differences in his facial structure were noticeable. But through it all he couldn’t help but be distracted by those expressive new brows of his paired with those piercing teal eyes looking back at him. Eyes that usually looked so driven and motivated but right now on Martin seemed lost, confused but also intrigued with underlying lust that was fast growing.

“I can’t believe it… I… I really am him!” Martin muttered to himself, growing more and more giddy as he heard Chris’ natural Canadian accent flowing from his mouth. It was true though. By some miracle he’d become the very man that’d been the focus of countless jerk off sessions for him. Lord only knows how many loads Martin had lost over the years thinking about Chris Bumstead. And now he owned that very same face and body that millions of people would undoubtedly drop to their knees for a chance to worship. He used to dream of being one of those people bowing at Chris’ feet. Now all Martin could think about was how those massive feet belonged to him along with everything else he fantasised about running his hands and tongue over.

Speaking of, Martin couldn’t ignore the rest of his body any longer. How the hell could he? Just moments ago he’d been your average lean dude just looking to get a tad bigger at the gym. Now he was one of the few men in the world having been awarded the Mr Olympia classic physique title! Multiple times at that! He had to take a few steps back until he was almost pressed against the cubicle wall just to get a full view whole body in the mirror.

“Holy fuck… I’m massive.” As he said that last word ‘massive’ he couldn’t help but notice the new lisp he’d inherited from Chris. It was one of the many things that made that titan of a man so damn cute at the same time. Just another thing he’d have to get used to it seemed, not that he minded.

With that the very first thing he did was grab both pecs and an instant feeling of wonder rippled through body and mind as he gave them a hefty squeeze. They were so thick and full with muscle that even his new meatier hands couldn’t contain them. That didn’t stop him from trying though as he groped them both with a giddy smile on his face. To go from a relatively flat chest to having two melon sized slabs of meaty muscle jutted out in front of him was mind blowing in a way that already had his dick tingling. He still couldn’t believe just how tight the tank top fit him now either. It’d been hanging off him moments ago but now it showed off all his assets perfectly. His chest stretched out the front while his godly arms were on full display. But he needed to get a better look at what was underneath.

With one smooth motion Martin pulled the tank top up and over his head before tossing it on the bench. “Whoa…” he muttered, finally getting a proper look at the full upper body he now owned. Sure he’d seen it online before but actually seeing it in person as his own reflection was something else entirely. “I’ve got fuckin abs now as well!” He stated proudly with disbelief and a nervous smile while running a hand along them. Tracing every ridge and contour that was now etched into his skin. They were a perfect balance between tight and thick in a way that sent shivers down his spine just touching them and knowing they somehow belonged to him now.

Despite how incredible his abs were Martin couldn’t help but be drawn back to his monstrous chest. They somehow looked even more inviting that they weren’t being hidden under his tank top. Finally on full display as they rose and fell hypnotically in time with his breathing. Each pec capped off with a stiff pointed nipple that only grew more rigid in the cool air. He hefted them again and couldn’t help noting the subtly soreness in his chest, likely from Chris’ workout. Yet for some reason Martin found it oddly satisfying. Like knowing he’d achieved something. He gave them another squeeze before letting his fingers rest around the aforementioned nipples. After that it wasn’t long before Martin found himself having to stifle a deep moan while pinching those sensitive little fuckers as they sent shocks of electrifying arousal through his entire body. There was no doubt they felt better than his old nipples. He almost didn’t want to stop pinching them. They were like a lightning rod straight to his cock as a noticeable tent began forming in his shorts.

“Mmmmhh… ughhhhnn… f-fuuuckuugh…” Martin grumbled to himself as his cock began to pulse violently. He was unable to stop one hand from wandering down towards his crotch while the other remained stimulating his nipples and kneading his pecs. He ran his hand over the outline of his dick and immediately his eyes widened with shock. He pulled his hand away as he stared down at his bulge. He knew it'd changed during that whole transformation from before, he’d felt it, but actually feeling it was difficult to fathom. For some reason his brain had still been expecting the same average cock he’d always had but the outline he’d just felt was anything but average. It was girthy. Fat. It was… more eager than ever. Just looking down at the bulge was making his mouth go dry.

One half of Martin’s mind was screaming at him to just tug his shorts down and set that beast free. And he wanted to give in to that urge so damn badly! But the other side of his brain was scared. If that was even the right word. Apprehensive? Nervous to see the monster now hanging between his huge thighs. Regardless he decided to build up to it. To check out the rest of his new assets before getting to the big one.

So after giving himself a moment to compose, Martin returned his attention to the mirror before lifting up his arms and flexing them. Watching gleefully as his biceps peaked with carefully crafted strength and muscle. He could already feel himself getting drunk on the power his arms exuded as he imagined just how much weight he could life now. But as he lifted them higher, Martin began to notice something that made his eyes light up. His scent. He hadn’t noticed it as much at first as his new nose was of course more attuned to it. But with his armpits raised up, it was finally starting to hit him. That sweaty masculine scent he’d been getting high on before wasn’t just coming from the stolen clothes anymore. That gorgeous aroma… it was coming from him! That powerful musk belonged to him! It seeped from his sweaty armpits! His sweaty crotch and ass! It was all his!

Just as Martin was about to start digging his nose into his armpits in another sniffing frenzy, he heard the sounds of noisy gym bro’s storming in after finishing their own workouts. Of course part of him wanted to stay locked in here so he could explore his new body for all its worth here and now… but he figured all the background noise would inevitably ruin the experience. And so, as much as he wanted to rip off his shorts and get a look at the full package he was working with right now, he did his best to restrain himself while slipping his tank top back on.

Martin took one last look in the mirror to quickly admire his bulky legs that he hadn’t gotten a chance to worship yet before walking out of the cubicle a few minutes later. He carried his old smaller clothes under his arm, not sure what to do with them as they sure as hell wouldn’t fit him now. It was then that he remembered Chris’ gym bag. It’d been sitting next to the bench where he’d found Chris’ clothes. Perfect!

He darted around the corner towards the aisle he’d taken the bodybuilder’s clothes from and sure enough the gym bag was still sitting exactly where it’d been left. Without a second thought, Martin grabbed the bag and unzipped it to find a large set of clean regular clothes that Chris had probably been planning on changing into. That reminded him. If he had Chris’ body now… then what had happened to the real Chris Bumstead? Had he somehow vanished just for Martin to take his place? Had Chris shrunk down and transformed into Martin’s old self? Or was he completely fine and just having a shower completely unaware that he now had a twin?

If the last case were true then he didn’t wanna stick around for long. Who knows what kind of chaos would ensue if Chris came out to find his doppelgänger out here! Just in case though, he left the extra clothes and towel in the locker that Chris had seemingly left open before stuffing his own old clothes into the gym bag instead and making his way out of the gym’s locker room with haste. Rushing past all the people that gazed in his direction with awe as they recognised his famous physique.

———

Stepping out of the gym, Martin took his first deep breath of fresh air with his new lungs. He did so with a satisfied grin spreading across his face. Only question now was where to go next? It’s not like he could go to Chris’ place. For a start he didn’t even know where it was and secondly he knew the real Chris had a wife. He can’t imagine it’d take her long to figure out that something was up. After all, Martin might’ve had Chris’ body but he still didn’t know anything about his life past what he’d seen online. Right now he didn’t want the hassle of trying to fake it. That in mind the only real option was for him to head back to his apartment for now and try to keep on the down low until he was able to figure out what his next move was here.

With the gym bag slung over his massive shoulder, Martin began to march his way back home. As he did he couldn’t help but notice the difference in his stride. Naturally his larger frame made his whole stance wider which in turn gave him a bit more swagger when he walked. There was a certain confidence to the way he moved as well. Confidence that hadn’t been there before. Like he was just so sure of himself now on a subconscious level. Part of it was likely due to muscle memory but still.

It wasn’t until he was about half way home however that he started to notice a fast growing hunger in belly. At first he tried ignoring it but that soon became impossible when his stomach started growling at him. Sure he had some food at home he could shovel down to satiate his hunger but not much of it was suited to the diet this body was used to. He knew well enough that Chris treated his body like a temple for the most part. Of course he’d have some cheat meals here and there or a sweet snack once in a while but overall a top tier bodybuilder like Chris always kept on top of his eating. Making sure he was feeding his body all the right things to keep his muscles huge and strong. Of course Martin could just ignore that and eat whatever he wanted but… if he’d been gifted a body as godly as this he should at least try to take care of it as best he can right?

Thankfully there was a pretty decent shop on the way home for the huge man to stop for some healthier options than what he had stored in his cupboards. He wasn’t exactly sure what to get so he ended up using one of Chris’ own YouTube videos about what he eats in the day to get a good idea of what to look for. Before long Martin had managed to fill his basket with plenty of healthy ingredients and that would help to make a filling meal worthy of this new bulky body of his.

———

Home at last. Martin grabbed the door handle and let himself inside, bagged groceries in hand. He closed the door before turning around only to jump out of his skin in shock! Inside his apartment on the other side of his living room was a stranger that he most certainly didn’t recognise. The stranger didn’t seem the least bit surprised however as he remained sat on the couch staring at Martin with a smirk.

“W-who the hell are you!?” Martin shouted, the panic and confusion clearly visible in his tone of voice. Despite that, he sounded a hell of a lot more intimidating now as he shouted those words from this goliath of a body. And yet the stranger didn’t seem the slightest bit intimidated. Amused perhaps but nothing more.

The man didn’t reply right away, instead opting to get up from his couch and take a few slow steps closer. His shoes clicked against the floor with every pace in a way that made the larger man’s heart race. He was well put together with immaculate hair and a suit that hugged his frame. Though as the stranger noticed Martin backing up a little, he chuckled and put his hands in the air as if to signal that he was harmless.

“Hey, hey. No reason to be afraid, my huge hunky friend.” He said in an almost flirtatious voice as he scanned Martin’s gargantuan form. “Look. You can just call me Wavell. I’m the one responsible for the gift bestowed upon you. Martin.” Wavell claimed, surprising Martin at the use of his real name despite looking nothing like his former self now. “Unless you’d rather me call you Chris? That is who you are now after all. Chris Bumstead. You said it yourself if I remember correctly…” Wavell added while scratching his bearded chin lazily.

“You know that I’m… wait what do you mean you’re responsible!?” Martin questioned, still unsure of the whole situation. So many queries spun around his head that Martin struggled to even process what was happening right now as he slowly paced the bag of groceries down on the ground.

Wavell rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, you know exactly what I mean. I made you into the man that you are. I’m the one that gave you the body of a multiple time Mr Olympia winner.” He laughed a little as he took a few steps closer, watching as the gears in Martin’s head turned. “And personally I think it really suits you.” Wavell’s eyes wandered Martin’s physique again, tracing over the muscle his tight gym clothes exposed.

“Wait but… this happened when I took his clothes and… his underwear started glowing…” Martin tried his best to recall exactly what happened despite it being a bit of a blur during his transformation. He just remembers… growing. So much growing.

“Yeah and who do you think enchanted that pair of underwear?” Wavell cocked an eyebrow, watching in amusement as Martin’s face turned to that of shock and disbelief. After that he went onto explain himself a little better as he did with most people he revealed himself to. Wavell explained his status as a powerful magic being that more or less possesses the abilities to bend reality to his will. Naturally it was a lot to take in for poor Martin. The now bodybuilder had to take a seat on the couch as he absorbed everything the so-called warlock was telling him. If it hadn’t been for the huge body he currently possessed, he would’ve thought Wavell was crazy. “But yeah I suppose that’s me in a nutshell. All powerful warlock… yada yada.” He concluded, shrugging his shoulders.

Martin lent back in his seat, trying not to get distracted by how much of the couch his massive body was taking up now, as he digested everything Mr Wavell told him. “Wow… I don’t even know what to say.” He muttered. In such a short amount of time he’d gone from having just a normal, yet somewhat pervy, day to now finding himself believing in actual magic! “Well… why me? What’s so special about me that you decided to give me a body that looks exactly like Chris freaking Bumstead!?” He said while gesturing down at his perfect physique, trying not to get turned on at the sight of all the muscle he now owned.

“Let’s just say I like to have a bit of fun with the men on earth.” The warlock wriggled his eyebrows slightly. “Truth be told, I’ve been a fan of Chris for quite some time. The work he put in to carve such a beautiful body is truly inspiring. The peak of what a man can achieve, some might say. That said I started to think that maybe he needed a new… gayer replacement. And you just so happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Wavell explained with a smug expression. “I even enchanted his clothes in such a way that only those who I deemed worthy would’ve been able to acknowledge the clothes. So I've got no doubt that you’re a worthy replacement.”

After soaking that in, Martin noticed something the warlock had said. “Wait? You kept saying ‘replacement’.” The cogs in his brain turned. “If I’m replacing the real Chris then… What happened to him? The real him. Where is he?” Martin asked steadily, trying to hide his growing concern.

Wavell hummed with amusement. “Oh don’t worry about him. Besides, you’re the real Chris now.” The warlock grinned devilishly. “Just think of it like… he was warming up the body for you. Getting it ready for you to take over. And now you’re its rightful owner.”

Martin was almost lost for words. “S-seriously? So you’re saying that I get to live the life of Chris Bumstead from now on? Like… forever??” The idea was both exciting as all hell and a bit scary at the same time.

“Exactly! And before you say it, yes I know you don’t have the mind and memories of the original Chris just yet. Don’t worry. With enough persuasion the original will give them up to you no doubt. I’m sure the two of you will get acquainted soon enough.”

“Wait what?? What do you mean? Where is he??”

“Oh don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Wavell sneered not unkindly. “Anyway the main reason I came here was to see if there was anything in the meantime I could do to help you get settled in? Besides the memories of course.”

Martin thought for a second. Off the top of his head there wasn’t a whole lot he could think of that wouldn’t be taken care of if or when he received Chris’ memories. There was pretty much only one thing that came to mind. “Could you make me single so I’m not engaged to Chris’ fiancé? Obviously I don’t really know her. Plus I’m gay sooooo…” It was something that’d crossed his mind earlier with how he didn’t really wanna have to deal with all that awkwardness.

“Honey. I have the best gaydar known to mankind. I know you’re gay.” His voice was low smooth as he gave Martin a wink. After that he simply closed his eyes as Martin looked on in awe while a purple aura glowed around the mysterious man. Then without warning a pulse of magic energy surged out of him and spread out across the planet. And with that, it was complete. “All done. Now everyone who knows Chris will think you’re single and your former fiancé is in a happy relationship with another man. I also took the liberty of erasing your former identity and transferring ownership of everything you owned as Martin to your new self as Chris. For example this apartment is now owned by Chris Bumstead alongside your new house.” Wavell explained nonchalantly as if it were no big deal.

“Well now that’s all taken care of I suppose I should be on my way.” Wavell jumped up from his seat yet again before outstretching a hand to the new bodybuilder who was still sitting on the couch processing everything that had just happened. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite.” He reassured.

Martin, though with slight hesitation, reached out and shook Wavell’s hand. “Thank you… for all of this. This amazing body and life. How can I repay you??” Being the kind hearted person he was, Martin almost felt bad accepting such an insanely generous gift. Out of the billions of people on the planet, Wavell chose him. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

“No need! The best thing you can do is enjoy that body to the fullest for me. That’s all the repayment I need.” Wavell winked and before Martin could get another word in, the warlock flicked his wrist and in a second he vanished into thin air as if he were never there to begin with…

———

Martins’ head was spinning. After everything that had gone down today, who the hell could blame him! He’d met Cbum at the gym, stole his clothes and then actually TRANSFORMED INTO HIM. Only later to find out that magic is actually real and that a reality bending wizard dude essentially gave him the life of a bodybuilding celebrity free of charge. No strings attached as far as he could tell. Sooner or later he just decided to take a deep breath and instead of worrying about the who’s, what’s and how’s to instead just enjoy what he’d been gifted.

That in mind, it wasn’t long before he soon found himself standing in front of the mirror mounted on the wardrobe in his bedroom. Just like at the gym, the mirror struggled to capture his entire reflection with how much taller and wider he was. It made everything in his apartment seem as though it’d shrunk. He was still trying to adjust. Despite that it didn’t take long for him to throw off the tank top once again to reveal his insane upper body.

He tossed both arms up into a meaty double bicep flex. It was one thing getting to see that muscle swell in the mirror but to actually feel it as well sent shivers all the way down to his cock. He’d been trying to keep that python under control ever since the gym but he’d pretty much been semi erect from the moment he finished transforming. Getting to drool over his own shirtless reflection again certainly wasn't helping his case as he brought his arms up higher to admire his thick lats and triceps. That’s when it hit him again. The delicious scent. Just like that Martin immediately remembered where he’d left off at the gym.

He wasted no time in stuffing his nose into one of his smelly armpits and inhaling the rich scent. It smelt fresh and strong, having come straight from the source, as he huffed away into bliss. “Fuck I *snifffff* actually have *sniffff* his scent! *sniffff*” Martin claimed, not having the strength to pull away from his armpits for even a second. That exact same manly aroma that he’d smelt on Chris when he walked past at the gym. The same aroma that drenched the clothes he’d stolen. The very same scent that the current classic Mr Olympia carried with him after a long hard workout. Now it belonged to Martin! It was his scent now and he fucking loved it! It wasn’t until he’d gotten a good long whiff of both pits did Martin finally pull away for a breath of fresh air. The sweat had coated his face and beard, leaving behind an echo of the aroma to continue permeating his nostrils. He could definitely get used to this.

He made sure to take a moment to worship his massive chest a little more, massaging those thick pecs as if to confirm once again that they were in fact real. He flexed them a little and watched as the muscle went from relaxed and pliable to hard as steel in an instant. He licked his lips absentmindedly at the sight, flexing his chest a few more times while grabbing dense muscle.

After all that though, Martin thought it was about time he stopped putting it off and finally got down to the real juicy stuff. His gaze drifted downwards to the tight shorts that clung to his mammoth thighs while the bulge of his fat and excited new cock had once again caused a tent to rise in the front. Between the pit smelling and the pec worshipping, the hefty bulge he was already carrying had become an intimidating outline once again that strained against his crotch. God he just wanted to see it sooo badly. He was craving it now. The sight of Chris Bunstead’s huge cock. His cock. But first he couldn’t help looking past the shorts and down towards his feet, still clad in those smelly size 13 sneakers…

With a smirk the hunk sat himself down in the bed, hearing it creak under his new weight, before gripping one of the large sneakers and steadily sliding it off his foot. He cast his mind back to how they’d been many sizes too big for him when he’d first stumbled across them in the locker room. When he first plunged his feet inside, they’d been dwarfed by shoes. But now that couldn’t have been further from the truth as he unleashed one of his socked feet at last. His mouth began to water as Martin got a full view of just how huge his feet were. He wriggled his toes inside the sweat stained socks with stars in his eyes, knowing they were easily smelly enough to stink up those sneakers even more after a good workout just like the original Chris could.

Well there was only one thing to do. In a scene reminiscent of when he’d first locked himself in the cubicle, Martin brought the sneaker up towards his face. He could already smell it. That same overpowering smell that’d short circuited his brain before, only now it smelt familiar to his new nose. That didn’t make it any less intoxicating though. He thought about savouring the moment but lost all control as soon as that sneaker drew close to his face. It wasn’t long before he was stuffing his nose into the sneaker like an animal yet again. The pungent musk perforating his nostrils and sending him into a huffing frenzy. Only this time he couldn’t help getting even hornier than before knowing that this intoxicating smell was all his! It came from his sneakers! His massive feet! Just the thought of that was making him leak precum.

Martin was so lost in the pleasure of it all that he failed to notice the soul of a certain someone beginning to stir. It began with low groans reverberating in Martin’s mind which at first he paid little attention to. He was too lost in his own euphoria to notice. That is until those groans started to form words instead.

“Ughh… What happened? Where am I?” A voice echoed around Martin. Hearing it caused Martin to suddenly halt his horny crusade yet again. “Why is it so dark? Fuck… I feel so… strange?” The voice continued, as Martin looked around to find the source. “I can’t move… ughhh what’s that smell??? And that salty taste?” The words were like thoughts bouncing around in Martin’s mind only they weren’t his own thoughts. They were foreign, almost as if someone were speaking to him via telepathy.

Confused, Martin asked the voice who or what it was. The voice seemed startled to hear him. Martin asked what the hell the voice was doing inside his head but the voice was just as clueless as he was about it all. Apparently the last thing it remembered was being in a changing room at the gym before meeting a strange man. And that’s when Martin’s eyes widened. He was slowly starting to connect the dots as the voice continued on. Especially once the voice told Martin its name. Chris. There was no mistaking it. Somehow he was speaking to the real Chris Bumstead!

“My body… I can’t even describe it. I feel so thin and… hollow? But also like I’m being filled out at the same time??” Chris struggled to explain the beyond alien sensations he was feeling. “It’s like I’m being stretched around something? Like I’m being forced to hug something that’s musky and pressing against me???” He continued, trying to stay as calm as possible but it was clear there was genuine fear in his voice. “W-what the hell is happening?!?”

Martin found himself glancing around the room. It was a natural instinct but of course he didn’t see anything despite Chris claiming they were in the same room. Apparently Chris could hear Martin’s voice out loud as well as his thoughts which meant he had to be nearby right? With a sigh the bulky man got up from the bed to try and figure this conundrum out. Only he was about to discover that the answer was far simpler than he realised.

The moment Martin stood up, Chris grunted before claiming that the thing he was being stretched around was moving. Finding the timing of it rather odd, Martin asked Chris to say something whenever he felt movement. Martin waited a moment before taking a big step and sure enough Chris alerted him. Martin tested it a few more times and every time he seemed to move his body Chris would tell him that whatever he was attached to was shifting.

All the pieces were there. So many insanely impossible pieces and yet Martin’s brain began to slowly put them together.

He’d transformed into Chris Bumstead. The original Chris had seemingly disappeared despite Martin being able to hear him right now. With that alone one would assume that perhaps Chris’ soul was sharing the body with Martin as a helpless passenger. But then why could Chris see anything? And why did he feel hollow and stretched around something? And then it clicked.

The clothes. They were the catalyst of this all. Wavell had said they were enchanted and when the transformation began it was Chris’ underwear specifically that’d glowed beforehand…

“What do you mean you transformed into me? And you took my clothes?!?” Chris questioned suddenly, having heard some of Martin’s thoughts.

“O-oh I uhmm…” Martin didn’t know how to respond, growing flustered. Instead of denying it however, he simply stepped up to the mirror yet again. With a deep breath, Martin slipped his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts before pushing them down to his ankles. What ensued was chaos.

Suddenly it was no longer dark for Chris. He, just like Martin, was now looking right ahead at the mirror. Only there was one glaring issue. Despite seeing his own body in the reflection, he wasn’t at all in control of it. In fact he wasn’t even looking out of his own eyes! Rather his line of sight was level with his own body’s crotch instead which was disorienting as all hell. It was only then that Chris realised what he’d overheard Martin theorising in his head moments ago must’ve been true.

Somehow he’d been transformed into his own fucking underwear while some other dude sauntered around with his body!!!

As one would expect Chris began to freak the fuck out. At first praying that this was all a dream, saying that it was completely impossible. These aimless pleas were mixed with anger towards Martin as Chris accused him of being a body snatching creep. Of course Martin felt pretty bad. After all Chris was technically right. Even if it wasn’t intentional, he did steal the body Chris had worked his entire life to carve into perfection. Judging by what Mr Wavell had said however, he didn't think that crazy wizard would be willing to undo any of this. Instead, the best thing Martin could do was comfort Chris as best he could and try to convince him that it was a genuine accident.

“Accident my ass! You stole my clothes and wore them like a pervert!” Chris accused and admittedly he wasn’t wrong.

“Look I know. I’m sorry alright! Yeah I took them but I had no idea this would happen! It was this Mr Wavell dude that did all this! I swear!” Martin pleaded. “I promise I’d reverse this if I knew how!” He added, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he believed himself with that one.

Chris was stuck on that name though. He’d heard it echo in through Martin’s mind briefly but hearing it outloud struck a chord. “Wavell? Why does that name sound so familiar?…” He wondered, stilling trying to ignore the powerful scent surrounding his fabric body that was now evidently the smell of his former sweaty balls.

Martin kicked off the shorts hanging around his ankles before sitting back down on the bed. He decided it was best to be honest and just lay everything out on the table. He started by admitting he’d been a huge fan of Chris for a long time and that he was one of Martin’s top crushes. Going on to explain how he hadn’t believed his eyes when he saw Chris at the gym earlier that day. He began to turn a deep shade of red which looked adorable on his stolen face as he admitted to stealing Chris’ clothes after finding them alone on a bench in the locker room. After that Martin tried his best to recall the bizarre transformation he underwent after putting the clothes on. Noting again how the underwear Chris now seemed to be inhabiting had glowed brightly during said transformation. Not to mention Wavell showing up at his apartment not long since.

Hearing all that was just enough to trigger some of Chris’ final memories from before waking up here. Just before he passed out there was a guy he talked to who also called himself Mr Wavell. A rather dapper man who’d used some kind of spell to bind him in place before doing some crazy magic shit. Martin was actually telling the truth.

“Oh fuck.” They both said in unison.

After taking some time to collect themselves, the pair had a long discussion on what the hell to do next. Through which it was clear Chris was trying his absolute best to keep his composure but Martin saw straight through it. They were connected now and he could feel just how panicked Chris truly was. After all he’d been reduced from a living statue a male glory to a sentient pair of underwear. Any ordinary person would’ve already lost their minds by now. But despite the underlying hysteria he was feeling, Chris managed to keep himself calm enough for them to decide on what to do in the short term. Ultimately they concluded it would be best for Martin to just live Chris’ life as normally as possible until they find a way to fix this. Thankfully Martin was able to stop himself from thinking too loudly about how the more time he spent in this body, the less he wanted to go back. As if he ever wanted to go back to begin with.

Just then another loud rumble from Martin’s stomach filled the room. Fuck he was really hungry. But he was still so damn horny as well! Knowing this, Chris told him to ignore his urges and get some damn food. Yet Martin looked down at the other sneaker he was still wearing and he just couldn’t help himself.

“Martin. Don’t you fucking dare. I heard that thought.” Chris warned but ultimately he couldn’t do a thing as he watched Martin pull off the other sneaker and press it to his nose. Witnessing this, Chris was utterly repulsed to see his own body getting turned on by the smell of his own sweaty sneakers. He couldn’t believe such a dirty perv had gotten his hands on his former body. And even worse, Chris was forced to take notice of the feeling of his own dick getting larger and stiffer by the second, stretching the front of his tight fabric body as it struggled to contain that monster.

Despite Chris’ protests, Martin continued sniffing the pungent shoe feverishly. God it was easily one of the best scents in whole fucking world! He couldn’t imagine ever getting tired of it. And weirdly enough, though he did still feel a bit bad about it, hearing Chris protes to it all only made Martin hornier. Especially when he started complaining about being able to taste his own precum as Martin’s new throbbing cock began to leak even more.

Martin had even begun caressing his dick through (Chris) his underwear, already loving the size of it and wanting to pull it out any second despite Chris telling him not to. But before he could get too excited his stomach growled once again, this time even louder. Martin threw his head back with a sigh before tossing the sneaker to the floor. “Fine, I'll stop. But only because this giant body feels like it’ll starve if I don’t eat something soon.” He grumbled, still pawing his bulge as he got up and stomped out of the bedroom with heavy footsteps.

———

The sizzling sound of delicious meat frying against a hot pan filled the tiny apartment. Crackling and popping as the chicken Martin had decided to have as part of his dinner cooked away. He stood in nothing but that same pair of sweaty white socks from the gym and the tight underwear that Chris was trapped inside. Martin’s huge, impressive muscles were on full display as he opened the lid to another pot on the stove to check on the rice he was also cooking. All the while he tried his best not to get too distracted by the beautiful sight that was his own body everytime he looked down.

Begrudgingly Chris had agreed to help Martin with his food, suggesting something easy and simple that would be hard to mess up. After all, nobody knew this huge bulky body better than him. He gave Martin instructions on how much to eat and what things to add as he watched on from his crotch height view. He was a bit short tempered with the questions Martin would ask him throughout preparation but in fairness Chris had to deal with the constant taste of his own cock and balls the whole time.

Once everything was cooked and Martin was dishing up a big meal for himself, he couldn’t help but catch the sweaty stench wafting from his pits again. He just couldn’t escape that wonderful smell, not that he’d ever want to. However, as much as he adored his natural new scent, Martin decided he should probably jump in the shower after dinner. A thought that Chris seemed to be in agreement with. There’s only so far you can take a good thing after all.

Soon after Martin found himself sitting at the table, which he now dwarfed with his size, as he stared down at the huge chicken and rice meal. Despite how hungry he felt, Martin honestly didn’t think he’d be able to get it all down. After all he’d never eaten this big of a meal as filling as chicken and rice but then again he’d never had a body this big either. Regardless it didn’t stop him from digging into the meal and savouring every last bite. As Martin shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, Chris couldn’t help but be a little annoyed with how much this random gay dude was enjoying his former body. Happily munching away while flexing randomly as if he owned it all. But ultimately there was nothing he could do other than sit and cradle his own manhood while this imposter satiated his hulking body’s hunger.

Despite his doubts Martin was actually able to finish all his food before letting out an enormous belch that verbarated through his entire body. “Ahhhhhh… that was some good shit.” Martin sighed happily while rubbing his muscled stomach. “You’ll have to teach me how to cook more stuff like that so I can keep this body fed.” He laughed while giving one of his biceps another cocky flex.

“Well it’s my body that you’ll mess up if I don’t so I don’t have much of a choice…” Chris pouted, metaphorically of course, as Martin got up from the table and did a huge stretch. After which the new hunk’s hand drifted south to give his already semi-hard cock another rub. “Hey! Hands off my dick!” Chris snapped as he felt his fabric body being pawed yet again while the hefty dick underneath pulsed giddily.

“Alright, alright sorry.” Martin apologised, taking his hand away begrudgingly.

———

Having eaten and given his dinner some time to settle, Martin at last made his way to the bathroom where he looked over at the shower gleefully. He pulled off his smelly socks only to give them each a deep satisfying sniff before tossing them to the side. After that his mind began thinking about all the things he was finally gonna do to this body as the water ran over him and…

“Don’t even think about it.” Chris berated, having heard the other man’s very horny and very gay thoughts just now. “Get in, wash my body, and get out.”

Martin rolled his eyes with an annoyed grumble. “Look Chris. I respect you. Really. You’re one of the most amazing celebrities on the planet in my opinion. It sucks that you’re stuck the way you are but right now this body isn’t yours.” Martin glided a hand down his hulking torso, rubbing his pecs and abs, his eyes gluing to the sight of his enormous thighs below. “It’s mine*” He claimed boldly. “So, with all due respect, I think I’ll do whatever the hell I want my body, okay?” He stood his ground firmly. “Now you’re gonna sit out here like a good pair of dirty underwear while I get to know my new assets a bit more intimately under a nice relaxing shower.” He stated with a smirk on his handsome face.

As one would imagine this was met by furious protests from Chris who shouted all kinds of empty threats. This didn’t stop Martin from pushing the sentient pair of underwear down to his ankles with a smirk though.

Instantly Martin was enthralled at the sight of his new cock. Finally unleashed from its fabric prison in all its thick veiny glory. No longer straining desperately for release as it stood at full attention between his legs, looking just as massive as the rest of his body. Martin’s mouth went dry in an instant as he stared down at it. Huge and throbbing as it pulsed hypnotically like it was beckoning to him. All while a heavy set of balls hung underneath, supplying his massive body with endless amounts of testosterone. His old cock and balls seemed tiny in comparison to these. At that moment all he could think about was how it would feel to drain the hefty nuts of Mr Olympia and shoot his premium bodybuilder seed everywhere with this perfect cock. It was so thick. So tempting. So… wait.

It’d taken Martin a while to realise due to the control his new dick had over him but the voice in his head had suddenly vanished. As of the moment he took off the underwear, he could no longer hear Chris. Confused, he picked the underwear back up. As soon as he did, Chris’ voice began echoing through his mind again only it was muffled now. It seemed as though he could only hear clearly what Chris was thinking and saying while he was actually wearing the haunted underwear. Well at least that meant he wouldn’t have an annoying voice in his head 24/7 and that this next part could be all private.

At long last he was able to see himself fully naked and needless to say he wasn’t disappointed. Not that he ever had any doubt. The bathroom mirror didn’t do him nearly enough justice but it wasn’t much of a bother when Martin could just look down and see that godly physique in a first person perspective. If anything that was even more of a turn on. He adored his new reflection of course, that much was obvious, but it was hard to even describe the level of euphoria Martin felt when looking down at himself to see these gigantic arms and pecs all his own. He was groping himself again as he stepped towards the shower. The sensation of his much longer and fatter cock bouncing between his legs with every step making him feel manlier than he ever had before.

Martin found himself almost hitting his head on the top of the shower curtain before ducking a little to get under the shower. He had no doubt he was gonna numb his head on a few more things before he fully adjusted to his new height. Moments later there was a small creak as he twisted the shower knob and with it came a downpour of steaming water that rained onto him. Immediately he felt every tense muscle in his body start to relax as the hot water gushed over every inch of his hunky form. He couldn’t help but let out a long sigh of relief as he rolled his back a little before running his hands through his wet hair and beard.

Part of him wanted to go slow. To work his way down to that impressive manhood he’d been itching to test out… but he’d teased himself enough today. Right away Martin wrapped a huge hand around that thick rod with a shivering groan. It felt better than he could have ever imagined. Gripping a cock that wasn’t his own. One that was not only much bigger but seemingly more sensitive as well as he guided his hand back and forth along its shaft. He bit his lip softly as he worshiped it, his thoughts a flurry of all the erotic fantasies he’d once had about Chris finally becoming reality in the best way imaginable.

While his right hand had fun pumping Martin’s new and improved cock, his left hand was having a party of its own as it continued to worship the rest of his delicious muscle. Relishing the sensation of squeezing all of his wet muscle as he glistened under the water. He’d never get tired of groping his meaty, award winning pecs. Especially not when pinching at his nipples felt this damn amazing. Those rigid nuns sending shockwaves through down to his cock just like in that cubicle earlier today, causing even deeper groans to escape his mouth. Martin’s strokes became more and more furious, causing the tip of his cock to splutter a few extra drops of precum. All while he gave his left arm a string flex before kissing the massive bicep with glee. “Damn… I still can’t believe how fucking huge I am.” Martin muttered to himself with that iconic Cbum lisp. “Huge chest, huge arms, huge legs… huge dick.” He said, grinning even more at the last part.

He was jerking off so aggressively that it wasn’t long before a familiar pressure began to build. He didn’t want to blow his load just yet though so Martin built up the courage to let go of of dick for now so he could grab some soap and actually get clean. After rubbing some shampoo and conditioner into his hair and beard, Martin was quick to squeeze a helping of shower gel into his hand before rubbing it around his body. Ordinary he’d use a loofa to soap himself up but not this time. He was gonna make sure to lather the soap in every nook and cranny with his bare fingers. Going over every ridge of hard earned muscle all while his dick stayed at full mast. After getting his upper body all soaped up, he moved his hands towards his backside and made sure to lather his ass up good. He honestly hadn’t paid it enough attention since the transformation. This juicy behemoth of a muscle ass deserved a hell of a lot more worship for the beauty that it was. Just as thick and huge as everything else. Soft when relaxed and hard as steel when flexed. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he’d give his new ass the attention it deserves in the near future…

Speaking of under-appreciated body parts, Martin’s hands finally had the chance to wander lower. Past his bubbly ass and giant cock until he reached those colossal tree trunks he now called legs. He hadn’t had a chance to properly worship them yet but planned to make up for that right here and now. He glided his hands over the hard lines that decorated his bulging hairy thighs. Flexing them as he did, causing his quads to swell with the kind of strength that could crush a pumpkin. As he touched them, Martin thought back to all the times he’d nutted all over himself imagining what it would feel like to have his head squished gently between Chris’ thighs. Now all he could think about was how many men he’d have grovelling at his feet for a chance to live out that very fantasy between his legs. But of course that didn’t stop him from bending down even further just to run his hands along those bulging calves of his, looking just as large and impressive. Though it was hard not to be distracted by his feet again when he was that low down.

After taking a good long while to run his needy hands up and down the length of his legs again and again, Martin finally stepped back under the water and got everything washed off. As much as he loved that sweaty post gym smell he had, he certainly felt a lot cleaner now as he watched the bubbles circle down the drain. However, now that was taken care of, Martin just couldn’t ignore his urges any longer.

In a matter of moments he had a gorilla grip on that fat cock of his once again. It wasn’t long before he was lustfully pumping his stolen length as his low groans began turning more into primal grunts fuelled by an innate male desire to release his seed. Of course Martin was familiar, having been a man his whole life, but now that desire felt as though it’d been dialled up to eleven! Perhaps it was part due to his new body. All the new muscle and testosterone of a professional bodybuilder enhancing his masculine needs. It was also probably because he was just obsessed with himself now. That said, Martin was surprised he’d lasted this long after walking around with the body of a living god. Getting to feel so huge in literally every physical aspect was a wet dream come true! How he’d managed to not cum in his shorts at any point due to the sheer erotica of it all was behind him.

The reason he’d been able to hold onto his load for this long was likely thanks to the incredible sexual stamina Chris’ body seemed to possess. Because that man wasn’t perfect enough apparently. Martin lasted much longer than he thought while jerking himself this rigorously but finally, after what felt like a good arm workout, his load was drawing near. His legs were spread apart as the intensity continued to ramp up. His mouth hung open a little as his eyes began to flutter. His head moved back just far enough to catch the streaming water that’d been striking his back as a soft but guttural moan escaped his lips. Right now, in this very moment, Martin’s life was absolutely perfect. And he wanted nothing more than for it to stay this way. Forever.

“Fuuuuuuck yeahhhh!” He began as more precum dripped from his cock and down the hand he was using to stroke it. “Yeahhhh… I’m Mr Olympia now…” Martin groaned to himself in ecstasy before bouncing his pecs a little. “Mmmm so big… like a fucking muscle god.” He used his free hand once again to worship his giant body for all it was worth. Meanwhile his balls began to tense until suddenly his dick couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Ohhh yeah!! Fuck being Martin! I’m Chris Bumstead now!!” He claimed proudly in a horny daze as his cock let loose in an eruption the likes of which he’d never felt before. His dick was like a hose splattering thick alpha male cum all over the shower wall and floor with more force than he expected. He shot rope after rope of delicious high end semen until his fat balls were completely drained down to the last drop. All the while a big dumb grin had been plastered across that adorable bearded face of his as cum dripped down the wall.

Once the dust had settled on his orgasm, it didn’t take Martin long to lick some of his own seed up off the wall. Safe to say it tasted just as amazing as had when he’d licked it out of the underwear that same morning. Shortly after he rinsed off the shower walls and himself one last time. Martin twisted the shower knob again and stepped out. At last he felt clean, refreshed and relieved.

After a quick stretch he grabbed a towel and wrapped it gingerly around his waist before heading off back towards his bedroom. But not before picking up the original Chris who’d been forced to listen to another man enjoying what should be his body! The moment Martin grabbed Chris, he could already hear the other man’s disgusted protests over what he’d heard but Martin just laughed it off.

———

After the day he’d had, Martin found himself feeling incredibly drained and all he wanted to do now was sleep his ass off for as long as possible. It was no wonder. He’d considered putting Chris back on to sleep in but somehow he felt like he wouldn’t get a wink of sleep if he had that voice in his head all night. “Sorry big guy but you’re gonna have to sleep with your new buddies tonight.” Martin said before giving the underwear a mocking sniff. “And by buddies I mean my pile of clothes over there.” He giggled before tossing the possessed underwear on top of the clothes pile across the room.

With that Martin found himself slipping under his bed covers at last. He found himself shuffling around a bit as this bed certainly wasn’t made with someone as enormous as he was now. Eventually though he managed to make himself comfortable in a position that didn’t involve his feet dangling off the edge of the bed. And with that he slowly closed his eyes and drifted off into his first dream as the new Chris Bumstead.

[chuwenjie]

Spider-Man: Across the Spiderverse comes out later today so I wanted to write a post reflecting on my journey and experience working on this movie. So many people have supported me through this and I am so thankful to each and every one of you!

Text version of this post under the cut:

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse comes out tonight. It feels really weird to be typing that out right now. I worked on the movie as a visdev artist for the last 2.5 years, from 2020 to 2023. Long post incoming.

There are a lot of reasons why I'd consider this film to be one of the most ambitious animated films to ever be made. As artists, we were asked to push ourselves far beyond our comfort zones and do things that had never been done before in animation.

Every time we reached a point where most people would say "this must possibly be as creative and weird as it gets," our entire team of artists and animators would smash right through the ceiling. The driving direction for the visuals of the film was to push the limits of every single frame; to challenge audience expectations and make something truly original.

The best thing about this film was that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie. The hardest thing about this film was also that there wasn't a single boring day working on this movie.

There were times while working on this where the imposter syndrome hit me hard. This was my first big movie, and what a hell of a first movie to get thrust into.

I came in only a few years out of school with absolutely no idea what the hell I was doing. I constantly feared that someone had made a mistake in bringing me onto this film, and I was going to let everyone down. There was a solid chunk of those 2.5 years where I wasn't sure if animation was the right path for me.

If there's anything I could tell my past self it would be this: there are so many people who love you and believe in you. There will be a time when you get to stand on the other side of it, look back on everything and see how far you came.

I'm still working on self-acceptance every day (it will be a lifelong struggle, I'm sure), but I'm glad I didn't give up on myself. I'm proud of myself and my contributions to this film, and I'm certain that this movie will continue to change and shape the animation landscape just as the first one did. That's truly a special feeling to have been a part of. I am so incredibly grateful to every single person who helped me along this journey.

Here come the thanks:

To the ENTIRE visdev & art crew- it's been an honor getting to work alongside each and every one of you. My jaw is literally still on the floor from seeing your incredible talent day after day.

I want to thank Tiffany and Felicia especially for being there for me through tough times- I admire and respect you both so much as artists, and even better than that, my life is greatly enriched for being able to call you my friends.

Thank you Patrick and Dean for taking chances on me, teaching me so much about art and what I'm capable of, and encouraging me along the way. To Aymeric, your art is one of the reasons I initially became interested in animation and you have been one of the kindest & most empathetic mentors I could ever have asked for.

I want to thank my wonderful parents for believing in me always and raising me into the person I am today: everything I do in life is to make you proud. To my brother Andrew who is perpetually awake at 3 AM when I need someone to talk to- thank you for always picking up the phone and making me laugh.

And finally to my partner Luke for making me grilled cheeses on all of the difficult days, for never getting sick of me even when all I would ever talk about was work, and for patiently and steadfastly loving me throughout this entire thing. I don't think I could've done it without you.

Starting tomorrow I will begin posting and sharing some of the art I made for this movie; I'm looking forward to sharing some of my personal favorites with you. I hope each and every one of you enjoys Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse when it hits theaters later today!

[nurse-floyd]

Let me set the scene:

It's the Vegas Grand Prix, 2023. Lando has his crash, is high as a bloody kite in the hospital. Lando sees his nurse and I'd convinced he's dead bc 'why else would there be a legit angel?'

This is super short and silly but I absolutely adore this request! Thank you <3

P.S. I also love this and it is possibly one of my favourite photos of him! Boy is high as balls.

The red emergency phone rang, signaling an incoming ambulance, and you answered it with a sigh. "Mercy General Emergency Department," you answered as you clicked your pen and got the handover sheet ready to write down the patient information.

"Male…24…high-speed crash into a wall," you repeated back to dispatch that alerted you to the incoming patient, hating that you’d be spending what was left of your shift dealing with someone’s drunken antics or stupidity that had crashed them into a wall.

"How fast was he going?" you asked, not expecting the answer.

"180."

"Come again? 180mph and he’s still alive?" you repeated, not being able to hide the shock. "Do we need blood? X-Ray? Trauma surgeons and blood on standby? No one has called ahead." You suddenly woke up from the usual lull you felt around this time during your shift, your mind suddenly in full trauma mode.

"No, just precautionary checks. Patient is a Formula One driver and has been cleared by track medics, but they want a second opinion at the hospital and some scans in case."

Then it hit you…you followed F1 and had done for a few years. You’d been following the race on your phone during your breaks and knew Lando had crashed out during turn 14.

"Okay. Thank you, have you got an ETA?"

Dispatch relayed the time of arrival that gave you enough time to announce it over the tannoy and for your team to gather in one of the trauma rooms. You also called in security because you knew the press would be vultures all over this.

With the trauma room ready, you all waited for the arrival of your VIP patient. If you were being truthful, you were a little nervous at meeting one of your celebrity crushes but also knew you needed to keep it professional. What you didn’t expect was the goofy look on Lando’s face as he was wheeled on a stretcher into the room.

As soon as the paramedic crew had handed over and you’d transferred him over to the bed, you began attaching him to monitors and got your list of investigations and tests you’d need to perform from the doctor in charge.

The paramedics had clearly dosed him up with the good meds as he stirred in and out of consciousness, his eyes glassy and the goofy smile still plastered on his face every time his eyes met yours.

You woke him up once again, ready to check his pupils and GCS once more when he was a little more alert than he’d been since he arrived.

"Woah…am I dead?" his voice came out slightly slurred.

"The heart monitor beeping next to you would say otherwise," you laughed in reply.

"Are you sure, because why else would an actual angel be standing in front of me right now?"

You couldn’t help another laugh that escaped your lips as you watched him try to focus on you.

"And that would be the morphine," you fiddled with his IV and checked the fluids running before you input a few more things on his chart.

“I don’t think it is…” he slurred once more, “I know an angel when I see one.”

You were about to reply when you looked up from his chart and saw he’d fallen asleep, his head against his chest. You got up from your seat and adjusted his pillows so his neck wouldn’t be even more painful in the morning.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FIVE

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 6.3k notes: masterlist ahead? uh yeah i sure hope it does! decided last minute i didn't really care about any real plot action this chapter outside of tess and paige so if you are disappointed by that, sorry but it's better this way, tess and paige are the plot now🤞 accidentally made this chapter kinda important, it lowk got away from me, but i hope you all enjoy 🫶

‘This Month in Review - The Cutest Sports Couple Since Megan and Sue’

Whether you’re a sports fanatic or a casual watcher, there is no denying that Paige Bueckers and Tess Kennedy have taken the sports scene by storm. They are a topic of conversation in every room – and for good reason. Bueckers and Kennedy were top recruiting prospects out of high school, with Bueckers leading the pack as the #1 recruit and Kennedy following close behind as the #2. They are the current leaders of two superstar programs and despite not having played their full collegiate careers, Bueckers and Kennedy have already cemented themselves as players that will go down in history as the greatest to play college basketball at their institutions.

Bueckers and Kennedy are a power couple through and through, and while neither of them have made anything official, it is clear that they have spent this entire offseason together – even several hundred miles apart. Fans have pointed out that their recent TikTok reposts make references to missing a long distance lover or are largely relationship focused. Their Instagram stories often feature each other. From Kennedy’s Instagram, a recent story showcased a short clip of Bueckers holding a LEGO rose, winking as she blew a kiss to the camera. From Bueckers’s Instagram, a recent story included a FaceTime screenshot of Kennedy, grinning as she threw a thumbs up for the photo, and it was affectionately captioned, “My duo 🎮.”

Additionally, they have been noticeably active in each other’s Instagram comment section:

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: MAY 30, 2023 | BUECKERS IS PHOTOGRAPHED WEARING A LEG SLEEVE, BLUE AND WHITE PATTERNED BASKETBALL SHORTS, AND A BLACK LONG SLEEVED SHIRT ROLLED UP TO HER ELBOWS. SHE IS MID-JUMPER, LEFT ARM EXTENDED AND RIGHT WRIST BENT. USER PAIGEBUECKERS: “TUNNEL VISION ON A MISSION ⏳” | USER TESSKENNEDY25: “I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY 👁️” END TRANSCRIPTION.]

Their galavanting didn’t end there. They made their relationship known through TikTok live one night, featuring Bueckers, Kennedy, and some of Buecker’s UConn teammates including Aaliyah Edwards and Nika Muhl. The TikTok live was a source of endless laughter, jokes, and games. Again, nothing was officially confirmed, although many viewers posted various screen recordings the morning after, and all fans can agree on is that Bueckers and Kennedy are not slick.

Many are comparing their relationship to Sue Bird and Megan Rapinoe, and we have to admit, the similarity is there. Bueckers and Kennedy are both standout athletes and leaders on dynasty teams. Fans are eagerly awaiting the hard-launch, if only just to confirm what we all know is true.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

JUNE 20, 2023

“Do you have everything, piccola? Brace, heating pad, charger?”

Making a conscious effort to fix her face, Tess resists a sigh and responds, “Yes, mamma, I have everything.” She knows that her mother is just looking out for her, but she’s been through all of her belongings three times now and she knows for a fact that she has everything. If something was missing, she’s certain Paige would have an extra or she’d be able to buy a new one in Massachusetts. 

She got the call from Amaya only a few days ago. To no one’s surprise at all, the media was eating up her and Paige’s fake relationship. Their brand deals were feeling secure in their investments once more and the tabloids were far more concerned about Tess & Paige than they were about Tess’s month-long crash out. With everything aligning once more, Bose actually wanted to sign a joint deal with her and Paige and get them to advertise a new product – standard NIL endorsement stuff, but the icing on the cake was Amaya’s cheerful, “You’re married now!” that nearly made Tess’s heart fall out of her ass.

Tess doesn’t make a habit of being a gullible person, but she genuinely thought Amaya was going to make her and Paige scrap the whole “soft-launch” idea and just come out at the altar with wedding rings. Amaya was quick to clarify it wasn’t actually like that (Thank God), but the Bose representatives wanted to do something corny, monopolize on their traction as a duo, and Tess and Paige would henceforth be named Mrs. and Mrs. Bose.

It was pretty stupid, but a little funny, and as soon as Tess saw her payout, she couldn’t really complain.

“And Paige is getting you from the airport? No Uber?” her father asks for the second time, mostly to clarify.

Tess can’t stop the flush from spreading across her cheeks like she’d been caught red-handed. Truthfully, her parents weren’t haters by any means. They were oddly invested in her and Paige’s ruse – which made lying to them about it so much more difficult, but the both of them seemed to genuinely like Paige despite never speaking to her. They’d been begging for weeks straight for Tess to bring her home so they could meet her since it’s “getting serious,” although they were pleased to know she’d probably be around by Christmas. She and Paige had this commercial to film, then Paige would have to return to Storrs for summer practices (Tess wouldn’t be returning until the semester officially started – she wants to work as much as she could with Terri, no hate to Craig), then Paige was set to spend early August in Europe with her teammates. Both of them would be extremely busy in the coming months, especially once the season started, so they weren’t expecting to see each other all too much outside of FaceTime.

“Yes, Paige will pick me up,” Tess confirms, zipping up her backpack one last time. “She flew in this morning.” Tess tactfully leaves out the part where Paige had completely rearranged her flight schedule for her. Paige argued that it “wasn’t safe” to put her safety in the hands of a random Uber driver given her knee and that she hated late flights anyways. Tess knows that Paige truthfully doesn’t give a fuck about flight times, but arguing with her was near impossible.

Her father gives an approving nod, and much to Tess’s well-hidden anxiety induced annoyance, the three of them do one last check of her belongings before they load up in the car to drop her off at the airport. Tess tries her best to tune into the conversation, although part of her is still nervous about flying. She’s been cleared to travel for a week or two now. Despite that, she can’t help but anticipate the worst going wrong. Amaya splurged on first class so she’d have plenty of leg room and she’s flying on a very reputable airline. She has to remind herself that realistically, she’ll be perfectly fine.

It’s a quiet morning at the airport as her father pulls into the drop off lane, putting the car in park. “Text us as soon as you land, okay, piccola?” her mother tells her.

Tess flashes the both of them a comforting smile, leaning forward to give them quick hugs. “Of course.” And with that, she grabs her suitcase and her backpack, says her goodbyes, and waits for her parents to pull off before she walks through the airport in search of her gate. She’s only stopped a few times by fans asking for photos, which she dutifully poses for, then she makes her way to the counter to check in. She only has to wait a few more moments to board the plane. Amaya set her up with a secluded seat in the back. She snags a quick photo of the tarmac and sends it to Paige, whose response comes quickly.

Tell your pilot to take a shortcut or sum I miss you

you use that line on all the girls back home?

Is it working?

maybe a little

Then no All my lines are for Tess Kennedy and Tess Kennedy only

good

🤔 Are you forgetting something?

miss you too pb 👎

I know 😁

so modest gtg we’re about to take off

I’ll be waiting 🫶

Tess simply reacts to Paige’s last message with a heart, unable to wipe the smile off her face. She shuts her phone off and settles in for the hour long flight.

When the plane touches down in Framingham, Massachusetts, Tess is full of restless energy. It’s equal parts relief and excitement; however, after spending the morning traveling, she’s ready to get back to the hotel and get a nap in before she has to be productive. She hauls her bag over her shoulder and exits the plane with the other passengers as she waits for her phone to power back on. When it does, she sees that a text from Paige is already waiting for her.

I got your suitcase I’m like right in front of the gate

Tess sends back a thumbs up, something she’s sure Paige is annoyed by, and slides her phone back into her pocket. She follows the crowd out. Her heart thrums with anticipation, even as she tries to shove down those complicated feelings. Friends are allowed to miss each other, but her longing feels different somehow. She and Paige were practically inseparable for the month they were apart. Knowing that they’re about to reunite in person leaves her giddy with anticipation.

The crowd clears. Paige stands tall and proud in the center of the boarding area, an easy smile on her face and her arms hiding something behind her back. When Paige finally spots her, her smile widens and she begins taking swift steps towards her. Tess matches her strides, falling into her embrace with a soft laugh and overwhelming relief. One of Paige’s arms loop around her waist, squeezing her gently. “Missed you,” Paige murmurs, her cheek pressed to her head, and Tess doesn’t bother fighting the flush or the enamored upward curve of her lips.

“Missed you too, P,” she confesses. Paige’s arm tightens around her waist and she can feel the smile the blonde presses to the crown of her head. She pulls back, uncaring of the way the crowd clamors or the phones pointed at them, fully focused on Paige. Her hair is pulled back into a wavy ponytail, her face bare (yet she’s still undeniably beautiful), and she’s dressed in a UConn hoodie and a pair of grey sweatpants. Simple, but Paige is good at pulling just about anything off. With a mischievous grin, Paige displays the bouquet of flowers she’d been hiding behind her back, and Tess can’t quite hide the surprise on her features. “Paige – what?”

Paige carefully pushes them into Tess’s hands. They’re roses and in shockingly good quality, as if they’d been plucked directly from a garden rather than purchased from a grocery store. “Saw ‘em and had to get ‘em for you. Figured you deserved a little better than that LEGO flower after these past two months, yeah?”

Tess is speechless, her mouth opening and closing much like a fish’s. No one has ever gotten her flowers before, high school graduation aside. Paige did this completely on her own whims, and that thought alone makes a fresh blush creep up her neck. She glances at Paige, a soft smile spreading across her face. “These are beautiful, P. Thank you.”

Paige’s grin turns tender, her face clearly pleased as she pulls Tess in by her waist once more, careful to not squash the flowers. “‘Course, ma,” she says like it’s the easiest thing in the world, which, for a girl like Paige, it probably is. That thought alone is sobering and Tess remembers where they are, adrenaline rushing into her mouth as Paige releases her. “Ready to go, Mrs. Bose?”

“So fucking corny,” Tess groans, but Paige’s joke is enough for the tension to melt away, for Tess to forget all about the sudden sadness she’d felt as Paige hugged her. “Lead the way, Mrs. Bose.” Paige cocks a wry smirk at her and does just that, her left hand reaching for the handle of Tess’s suitcase. Her free hand brushes against Tess’s, a silent question in her eyes. One glance at the crowd makes her heart race, but Paige’s eyes are soft, understanding, and all the convincing she needs. She links her fingers together with Paige’s, relishing in the squeeze Paige gives her in reassurance. Tess tries not to think too hard about how well their hands fit together – the blonde’s are just slightly larger, enveloping her own in a way that should not be as comforting as it is, and her thumb mindlessly brushes against her knuckle.

Paige leads them through the busy airport, the crowd parting for them, and Tess hardly pays it any attention as she gets lost in her racing thoughts. They’re just friends. Sure, no one in her life is as close to her in the way Paige is right now, but they just have their own thing going on right now. Pretending to be each other’s girlfriend requires a lot of commitment that neither of them have otherwise experienced. Tess was never one for romance – it wasn’t in the cards for someone like her. Growing up, she was taller than most other girls – and boys – her age. A lot of people weren’t into that. Then she realized she didn’t even like boys, which never bothered her, but she felt as though she was missing out on some crucial part of girlhood because she wasn’t desired or yearned for. She’ll be the first to admit it sounds stupid. There’s many people out there with issues far more serious than whether or not they were somebody’s crush in high school. She’s out of her element in so many ways, and she can’t help but think back to that initial burst of anxiety she felt as soon as the severity of the situation finally hit her. She’s in way over her head, she’s realizing it now, and she fears that it won’t be long until people realize she has no idea what she’s doing.

But Paige? One glance at her, at the easy expression on her face, the slight furrow of her brow as she scans the airport signs for the exit, and Tess can tell she’s not freaking the fuck out like she is. Paige is vastly more experienced in this situation than Tess is and they both know it. Paige said she could do casual. This is essentially what this was, right? All of the romance without the intimacy. Tess should have told her right then and there that she was not built for casual. It always spins out of control, and Tess is probably living proof of that.

This is all physical, she tells herself, unsure of if she even believes it. You don’t actually like her. She’s attractive – that’s all there is to it. And for now, that explanation is good enough for her. She’s going to do these commercials with Paige, hard-launch their fake relationship, and then they’re going to be far too busy to see each other until the holidays when they visit each other’s families to, again, hard-launch their fake relationship and tell the biggest lie to the people closest to them. That time apart will be enough for Tess to get her head back on straight and realize there's absolutely nothing going on between her and Paige that should be of any (reasonable) concern.

She almost believes that. At least until Paige smiles at her as she loads her suitcase into the trunk of her rental, opening the passenger door for her. Tess’s heart swells and she realizes just how unfathomably fucked she is.

JUNE 21, 2023

After a calm night spent watching Grey’s Anatomy – Paige’s request, obviously – Tess and Paige were up bright and early Wednesday morning to drive out to the Bose main office for filming. Paige entrusted her with the aux and promised to not complain about her music choices as long as Tess bought breakfast, which was a deal Tess was all too happy to make as she directed Paige to the nearest Dunkin. She made sure to snag plenty of pictures for the Instagram hard launch they planned to post before they went their separate ways. Her personal favorite was the one of Paige sitting in the driver’s seat, legs wide and pressed against the door and the center console, sunglasses perched over the bridge of her nose as she held both of their coffees. The blonde sported an easy smile with her hair in her game-day braids and her thin, black fleece jacket was unzipped, showcasing the UConn shirt she was wearing under it. Paige made sure to get one of her, too, but it was less presentable and far too candid – Paige had swiped whipped cream across her nose and photographed her mid-gasp. Tess begged her to delete it, but Paige’s infectious laughter caused all of the indignation to drain from her body.

With breakfast and coffee secured, Paige drives the rest of the way to their filming location as Tess hums along to Omar Apollo. The silence in the car is calm, both of them comfortable in simply sitting next to each other as the music plays. Paige shifts, her elbow resting on the center console as she drives with her left hand. Her fingers mindlessly twirl the straw in her cup. The movement catches Tess’s eye and she’s suddenly overcome with the urge to grab her hand.

It’s domestic, in a sense – sitting next to Paige in the car as they drive down the road with the windows down. The weather holds a gentle bite, not overbearingly cold, but chilly enough that it makes Tess feel a little more tethered, that she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be.

In her last session with Yvette, the psychologist recommended she just let go. As obvious as the advice is, and despite it being easier said than done, Tess is interested in giving it an honest shot. For years, she’s carried so much anxiety with her, worried about whether or not she’s doing something right or worried about how she’s being perceived. Sometimes, it takes a little bit of discomfort to move forward.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Tess props her arm up on the center console. Paige is close enough that she can feel her jacket sleeve brushing against her arm. She can feel Paige’s gaze on her, the gentle curiosity, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead, watching as the trees pass by in green blurs. Then she feels her move, feels her knuckles brush against her hand; and with her heart thrumming in her chest, Tess wordlessly unclenches her fist in invitation. Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s linking their fingers together, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Tess spots her smile from the corner of her eye, and knowing that Paige is watching her, too, she allows a smile of her own to grace her features. Nothing has ever felt as right as Paige’s hand in hers in a long time. As she continues driving, Tess can’t help herself from feeling at peace.

When the two of them finally make it back to their hotel room after spending the day filming, Tess collapses onto her bed with a dramatic groan, immediately reaching for her pillow and wrapping both arms around it, pressing her chin into the cushion. She hears Paige snort from somewhere in the room, followed by rustling as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and throws it haphazardly on her bed. “Tired?” Paige asks teasingly.

Tess hums in confirmation. Tired doesn’t even begin to cover it. She was up early, was on her feet for most of the day, and all of the reshoots and retakes weren’t doing her any favors. She knows she’s crashing out for no reason – this is literally her job – but she’s equal parts tired and hangry and she honestly just wants a hot shower.

“Want me to DoorDash somethin’?” Paige asks, as if reading her mind. She kicks off her shoes and falls into bed next to Tess, already pulling out her phone.

Tess cracks one eye open as the mattress dips under their shared weight, glancing at Paige, who crosses one leg over the other as she gets comfortable. “Chick-fil-A?” she requests. “Nuggets and fries? My card’s in my wallet.”

Paige wrinkles her nose. “Hell no. You got breakfast.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Breakfast and the aux.”

“All you played was sad, break-up R&B,” Paige grumbles. “I really should make you cover dinner after that bullshit. Feels like there’s something you’re tryna tell me.”

“Pretty sure I’m not contractually allowed to break up with you,” Tess retorts. “So don’t worry.”

The blonde hums, unconvinced, before she turns off her phone and throws it in between the two of them. “Dasher’s gonna be here in 15,” she says, gazing down at her. “You good? Your knee okay?”

Figuring her current position probably isn’t the greatest for said knee, Tess rolls onto her back and stretches her leg out with a sigh. Her elbow brushes against Paige’s stomach and Tess shifts again, not realizing how little space she’d left between them after she moved. “‘M good,” she says. “Should probably get an ice pack just in case.”

Paige is rolling off the bed before Tess even registers what’s going on. She watches her pull the lid off of the ice box on the desk, scooping up a handful and depositing it in a plastic bag. She tests the seal, and once she’s satisfied, she wraps the makeshift pack in a towel, plucks a pillow off of her bed, and holds the ice pack in between her teeth as she gently lifts Tess’s leg, sliding the pillow underneath. Tess’s breath hitches at the slightest contact, and despite the chill of the ice pack, Paige’s hands are inexplicably warm on her skin.

“Is this the Dr. Bueckers the ladies told me about?” Tess asks with a coy smile, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest. The way Paige was gazing at her left too much for her to want, eyes soft and attentive, and for Tess, it was easier to hide the longing with humor.

“You play too much,” Paige says, but her words lack any real heat as she rounds the bed once more and crawls back in, reclining against the pile of pillows. She’s closer than she was before she left. Tess can smell her perfume, the shampoo she’d used the night before. Paige is magnetic, that much Tess knew to be true – she’d felt it the very moment Paige stopped her outside of the conference room to inform her that she’d be tagging along for PT. It’s only now that she realizes how strong her pull was as she unconsciously leans into Paige’s space, the blonde’s arm raising to wrap around her, fingers splayed against her shoulder.

“Do I?” she asks, if only to fill the silence. Paige’s thumb begins to trace soft patterns on her skin. It’s difficult for her to focus on anything but that, but she cranes her neck, finding that Paige is already staring at her. Tess flushes under her gaze, though she refuses to break eye contact.

Paige’s lips quirk as she responds, “Yeah. You do.” She seems as though she’s content to leave it at that, but a couple beats pass before she’s speaking again. “You want a lot of things you think you can’t have.” Tess’s brow raises at her words, but she remains quiet. “I see it in film. You’re an insane three-point shooter but you rarely take middies or layups unless it’s absolutely free. And you do this thing – it’s like you’re faking the drive, and I can tell you really want to do it, but you just…don’t. You’re not faking. You’re just scared to get out of your comfort zone and go for it. Scared to get close.”

Tess doesn’t think they’re talking about basketball anymore. Despite the sharpness of her words, Paige’s tone is gentle, and the smile on her face is both confusing and frustrating. Frustrating because Tess knows she’s right; confusing because Paige knows she’s right, but it seems like she’s not completely confident in Tess taking that leap. Honestly, part of Tess is tempted to prove her right. She knows they could drop this topic right now and Paige wouldn’t press her. The other part of her knows they’ve come this far together, that she’s come this far. Doesn’t she owe it to herself, to Paige, to be vulnerable? To take the drive into the paint, risk getting fouled, instead of hovering at the perimeter to take the same shot she’s taken thousands of times already?

She thinks she does. Tess is tired of wanting, of yearning for the things well within her reach if only she had the confidence to go after them. But perhaps there is a thin line between confidence and bravery, between knowing and trying. So she shifts, feeling a little braver, angling her body towards Paige’s, fists the collar of her UConn t-shirt, and pulls her closer and closer until their lips finally meet.

Paige gasps against her, surprised, before her good sense returns and she melts into Tess. The hand on her shoulder skims across her skin to rest on the nape of her neck, her right hand reaching up to hold her face. As Paige guides her jaw to get better access, her kiss deep and consuming, she takes full advantage of Tess’s jilted sigh. Her hands fall from Paige’s collar, finding purchase on her stomach and her waist in search of stabilization. Paige leaves her breathless and woozy, and if she didn’t feel secure in the way she was holding her, then Tess would be afraid of floating away completely.

They break away, chests heaving, flushes down to their collarbones. Tess’s eyes open with a flutter of her eyelashes. Paige is already staring at her, her eyes wide in some sort of awe, pupils dilated. Her lips are swollen, shiny, and Tess can’t help the feeling of smug satisfaction that comes with knowing she did that. Paige Bueckers looks like a mess and it’s all because of her. “Still think I’m scared?” she asks, voice hoarse, her fingers gripping the fabric of Paige’s shirt.

The smile that spreads across Paige’s face is raw, real, visibly affectionate despite her next words. “Yeah.” Tess almost rolls her eyes, but Paige’s hand drops to the base of her throat, her middle finger brushing against her pulse point. She doesn’t apply any sort of pressure, but the weight of her hand makes her head spin anyways. “But s’okay.”

Tess chuckles. “To be scared?”

Paige hums an affirmative, shifting again, and she presses her lips against Tess’s. It’s different this time; firm, lingering, and insistent, almost as though she’s trying to take everything she possibly could. The weight of Paige’s body against hers is exhilarating and it makes her heart race. She can feel Paige’s smirk against her lips. Tess is instantly reminded of the fact that Paige can feel the thrumming of her pulse. She pushes her back with a hand to her chest, smiling at the rumble of laughter that reverberates through her body. “S’okay to be scared,” Paige says seriously, her thumb wiping away the smear of gloss on Tess’s lip. “But you don’t gotta be. Not with me.”

Tess meets her gaze, studying her features, the sheer honesty in her expression. Paige releases her jaw, her hands reaching down to untangle Tess’s fingers from where they’re still clenched in her shirt, fitting their hands together. “Don’t overthink it,” Paige whispers, understanding Tess’s mannerisms by heart now.

But the peace is always short-lived. Tess frowns, her voice almost a murmur when she asks, “What are we doing?” Paige’s eyes widen slightly. Tess wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been so fine-tuned to Paige’s every move for the past month. “The rules, Paige, we agreed–”

“We haven’t broken any of the rules,” Paige states firmly. She squeezes Tess’s hands, her throat bobbing as she swallows. “We communicate. We don’t see other people. We don’t tell other people. And we…” Paige struggles to find the words. “We don’t have to label this. It’s just us.” Tess’s face softens, the furrow in her brow relaxing. “‘M just…glad it was here. You and me, no cameras. And... we can just say we practiced for the public, right?” Paige’s thumb brushes against her hand as she stares at her imploringly, almost as though she’s pleading for Tess to agree, to stop thinking and just do it.

Practice. That word fills her with simultaneous relief and dread, but she remembers Paige’s words. Don’t overthink it. Tess understands that they’re walking a very thin line right now. Why should she let her brain ruin it? They don’t have to complicate what they have right now. And for now, that’s good enough for her. “Practicing is fine,” she confirms, feeling a little more confident.

When Paige’s eyes light up, her lips quirking into a smile, Tess believes that she’s made the right decision. “Yeah?”

Tess nods, flashing a smile that’s unexpectedly genuine. “Yeah.” She pulls Paige in closer by her hands, their lips brushing again, but before she can melt into her completely, Paige’s phone rings and the two of them snap apart.

“Fuck,” Paige groans, her brows drawn tight in annoyance. She hardly looks twice at her phone as she picks it up and answers it. “Hello?” Tess can barely make out what the person on the other end is saying, but the tension leaves Paige’s body. “Okay, I’ll be down. Thank you.” Tess looks at her curiously as she hangs up the phone. “Cockblocked by the dasher,” she says solemnly, unable to hide her pout. “Gimme five minutes, I have to go meet him.”

Tess can’t wipe the smile off her face as Paige rolls off the bed again, slipping on her shoes and rummaging around in her bag for her wallet. Before she leaves, Tess catches her by her wrist, pulling her down to her level and planting a chaste kiss to her lips – a far cry from the one they’d been cheated out of. “Hurry back,” she says. “I’m hangry.”

“Two minutes,” Paige breathes out, grinning stupidly, pushing Tess’s hair out of her face. Then she’s gone, and Tess is left alone in the silence of their room. If any of this had happened a week prior, Tess would probably be spiraling, but she’s committed to turning over a new leaf. She’s not going to overthink it, she’s not going to crash out, and most of all, she’s going to accept this new development in her and Paige’s friendship for what it is without trying to second guess whatever it could mean. They can just be friends who kiss now. That’s a thing. They don’t have to label anything. They can just be them, and as far as Tess is concerned, she’s okay with that.

Paige makes it back in record time, Chick-fil-A bag and drink carrier in hand and slightly out of breath. At Tess’s brow raise, Paige shrugs cheekily, handing over a milkshake. “You said you were hangry,” she teases, sliding back into bed next to her. “I’m too young to die.”

Tess rolls her eyes as Paige begins dividing out their food, passing the sauce and napkins. “You’re such an asshole,” she says good-naturedly.

“You kissed me,” Paige reminds her, as if Tess could ever forget about that. “What does that say about you?”

“I’m a very charitable person,” Tess supplies modestly. Paige snorts like she doesn’t believe that, but Tess smiles regardless.

They continue chatting throughout dinner. Paige pretends like she doesn’t notice Tess stealing her fries, although Paige ends up using most of Tess’s sauce, so they call it even at the end. Paige throws their trash away while Tess scrolls on her phone, only glancing up when Paige returns, hooking her chin over her shoulder and throwing a casual arm over Tess’s waist. “Time to break the internet?”

“You better not post anything embarrassing,” Tess grumbles, enjoying the weight of Paige’s body on hers.

Paige hides her laugh in the fabric of her shirt. “I couldn’t if I tried.” She pulls out her phone, opening Instagram and begins drafting a new post. Tess’s eyes catch on some of Paige’s photos as she scrolls through them. There’s random screenshots of Bible quotes, a concerning amount of selfies, a lot of basketball related things, and pictures of Tess have somehow become a new trend in her gallery. From the photo of Tess with cream on her nose, FaceTime candids, to photos from their shoot today that Tess wasn’t even aware Paige had taken. Tess softens. Most of the pictures were nice. “Could get a new one,” Paige suggests, opening her camera and pointing it at the mirror on the opposite wall, displaying the two of them pressed close together. Tess rolls her eyes, chuckling, but Paige takes the photo before she can react.

“Paige Madison,” Tess sighs. She can feel Paige smile against her.

“C’mon,” she goads. “We look good.” Tess can’t really argue with that one, so she leans her head against Paige’s and begins drafting her own Instagram post. They work in silence as they select the best photos for the hard launch. It’s only been a month and a half, but Tess feels both fondness and nostalgia as she scrolls through their photos and their memories. She has a couple of photos from PT with Paige, FaceTime screenshots, the photo of Paige holding their coffees, and photos of Paige trying to style the Mrs. Bose earbuds they were promoting. She knows there was a reason why Paige came into her life, but she can’t help feeling like she showed up at the right time; it could have been anyone else – college athletics has an endless amount of controversial athletes who are in need of image repair – yet being paired with Paige feels like a stroke of fate.

Tess selects only a few photos, not wanting to go overboard. She includes their first picture at PT – Paige holding the ice pack over her knee, the FaceTime screenshot of Paige showcasing the LEGO rose, Paige and their coffees, and a mirror selfie they’d taken after stylists did their hair and makeup for the shoot. She captions it “here’s to tess kennedy’s worst kept secret. thank you for coming into my life when you did,” and while this hard launch is not real, the sentiment is.

Paige finishes at around the same time she does, a soft smile on her face as they swap phones to look at each other’s work. True to her word, Paige kept the embarrassment to a minimum, although the first photo she selected was the one with whipped cream on her nose. Tess shouldn’t have expected anything less, but it’s quickly growing on her. The rest of the photos consist of the mirror selfie Paige just took, a screenshot of Tess modeling the gold dress for her, a bible quote – 1 Corinthians 16:14 – and, shockingly enough, an older photo of them from their freshman year, shaking hands after the first game they’d played against one another. They’re both cheesing. Tess remembers that loss vividly. The media called it The Battle of the Freshmen, mostly because it was the long awaited match-up between Tess and Paige, who’d been hailed as freshmen phenoms, two top recruits. In that game, they both accounted for the majority of their team’s points. Paige was responsible for 31 of UConn’s 63 while Tess led South Carolina with 30 of their 59.

Tess couldn’t even be upset at the loss. She and Paige played their hearts out, and honestly, playing against Paige was the highlight of the game. From their expressions alone, you would have thought they both walked home with trophies that night. Tess could argue that she did. Playing with Paige makes you a better player, sure, but playing against her? Tess learned so much from her game, although she would never admit that to Paige; her ego is too overinflated and Tess will not contribute to growing it.

“Where’d you find the last one?” Tess asks curiously, handing Paige’s phone back.

Paige does the same, her face lighting up with a soft smile. “Got tagged in it a couple times,” she says. “Felt right.” Tess can’t argue against that, smiling too. “At the same time?” Tess hums in confirmation, her thumb hovering over the post button, and simultaneously, they both share the hard launch to their pages. There is a very brief period of stillness before the notifications and comments begin pouring in. Tess swipes over to Paige’s post and only then does she read the caption, “And her pink skies will keep me warm.”

“Cheesy ass Frank lyric!” Tess exclaims with a laugh.

Paige looks inexplicably smug, pleased with herself. “Full circle,” she says.

“Full circle,” Tess agrees, her smile turning tender.

It’s at that moment that everything finally clicks. The lyrics filter through her brain. And a new day will bring about the dawn. And her pink skies will keep me warm. She can hear it perfectly, Frank’s voice singing to her, “Abandon mission, you must be kiddin��, this shit feelin’ different, shit feelin’ different to me.” All of the thoughts she’d been ignoring, the uncomfortable conversation with herself she’d been avoiding. She tried to push it down, but the realization came into focus with stunning clarity. Tess liked Paige. Tess likes her.

That was the entire reason why everything has felt so different. It wasn’t because she and Paige were spending so much time together, why Paige has become nearly synonymous with Tess’s recovery. It wasn’t because their friendship was just different. It was because it wasn’t friendship at all. It was always something more, even from the start.

Tess feels as though the floor beneath her could splinter, a giant crack down the middle that would send her tumbling to the ground below. She likes Paige. She has feelings for Paige. Calling it by any other name wouldn’t do her any good. She broke their rules and it’s taken her this long to realize.

“You good?” Paige asks her, her brows drawn into a furrow, concern etched onto her face as her hand reaches for Tess’s. She hadn’t realized she was shaking.

Tess clears her throat, nodding. “Yeah,” she lies, hoping that it sounds believable. Bree’s words come back to her. You’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. She was right all along. Tess could laugh at the absurdity of it all if Paige wasn’t sitting next to her. “Just need a shower, I think.”

She decides right then and there that Paige can’t know. She can’t know that she’s close to ruining it all, close to undoing all of the work they’d done to restore their reputations. That she’d broken their rule after all. That she let this get out of hand, and if Paige knew, their friendship would be destroyed for sure, and Tess isn’t sure if she could handle not having Paige around.

Paige hums, seemingly convinced, but all Tess can think about is what she’s done.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Unable To Hide

Pairing: Castiel x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: hiding an injury, blood loss, fluff at the end

Summary: You return home from a hunt all bloodied and bruised. Hiding it from the brothers is going to be easy but hiding it from Castiel? That’s a whole other game that you’re not ready to play.

Square Filled: distracting them with affection (2023) for @heavenandhellbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Don’t think about how Dean is gonna kill me. Just get to the Bunker and everything will be okay. As you drive down the desolate road to the Bunker, you look down at the seat that’s covered in your blood. Oh, Dean is so gonna kill you. If he doesn’t know you stole the Impala, he will as soon as you pull into the garage. If he doesn’t know you went on a hunt by yourself, he will when he sees the blood in his car.

You don’t even want to know what Castiel will do. He loves you so much and never wants to see you hurt even though it was your own fault. You didn’t know how many werewolves there would be, and you got in over your head. You take a deep breath and feel a gush of blood spill over your fingers. As much as you try to stop it, you can’t keep the entire wound covered.

What you thought was one werewolf turned out to be five in a pack, and they were all pissed at you for picking on one of their own. They got their claws in you, ripped your skin to shreds, and broke you down but you managed to kill all five of them. The reason why you took this case by yourself is because you wanted to prove to Sam and Dean that you’re capable of doing a hunt alone. You wanted them to take you more seriously as a hunter but now you’re hurt and you won’t hear the end of it.

Dean will be pissed you got his car fucked up, Sam will be worried about you, and Castiel… You two started dating six months ago, and he’s always been overprotective of you. Even before you two started dating. He refuses to let you out of his sight on hunts. That’s another reason why you went on this hunt alone. You wanted to prove that you didn’t need an angel watching over you twenty-four-seven.

Apparently, you do.

You pull as gently as you can into the garage, but you end up jerking when you go over the small bump by the door. You hiss in pain as more blood comes gushing out. You turn off the car and slide out of it, struggling to even stand up. The more you do, the more blood comes out. You put a bloody hand on the window and close the door as quietly as you can.

If only you can get to the bathroom, you can stitch yourself up and crawl into bed. Your main mission now is to hide just how badly you’re hurt in front of the brothers and Castiel. You’re sure they’re wondering where you are by now. You answered their first call and told them you were out and would be back late tonight but you didn’t give them any details on what you were doing.

How the hell am I gonna hide this from them? Luck is on your side when you spot Sam’s jacket hanging by the door that leads into the Bunker. It’s big enough to completely envelop you. You grab the hose and turn the water on to wash away the blood on your hands. The only indication that you’re not okay is the ghostly look on your face, dazed eyes, and shaky hands. All easily explainable.

After taking a moment to collect yourself, you stumble into the kitchen. Every step is a painful jab into your side. You can feel your skin splitting even more. You want to scream and cry but you have to keep your mouth shut if you want to hide it from everyone else. You walk into the library and lean against the bookshelf as a way to give yourself a break.

Castiel walks in and smiles when he sees you. You immediately stand up straight despite the need to cry in pain. You might be an idiot for not accepting his help, but you need to prove to them that you can do this. They’re such experienced and skilled hunters. All you want to do is be able to do what they do. You joined Team Free Will only two years ago because you were such a shitty hunter and almost got yourself killed.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Where you’ve been?” Castiel walks over to you and leans down to kiss you. “I missed you.”

“Oh, you know. Just around. I gotta go.”

You can’t walk past him because he is standing in your way, and you don’t have enough energy to push him away.

“You look sick. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just not feeling well.” Castiel raises his hand to heal you but you jerk back. Again, another sharp pain that makes you want to cry. “I’m okay. Seriously. I’m just gonna lie down.”

“I can heal you.”

“No, it’s okay.”

If you know Castiel, he won’t let things go when it comes to you. You have to distract him even though you know it’s going to bring you so much pain to do so. You remove your hand from your side and put it on Castiel’s chest knowing the blood is going to run down your body since there is nothing putting pressure on the wound.

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

You lean up and kiss him as a way to distract him. It pains you to do this but there is no way you’re gonna tell him you’re injured. They’ll figure it out when they see Dean’s bloodied car but by then, you’ll have come up with a better excuse of where you’ve been. You slide both arms around his neck just as his hands grip your waist.

Right. Over. Your. Wound.

You yelp loudly against his mouth and pull away from him, and he grips your waist as a way to steady you. You can’t hide this now. The pain is too much.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really. I’m sorry. I’m gonna pass out now so you should catch me.”

Just then, your eyes roll to the back of your eyes and you fall against Castiel’s body.

“Dean! Sam!” Castiel yells as he catches you. Both brothers come rushing into the library. “She just passed out.”

“Why is there blood on the ground?”

Castiel looks down to see a pool of blood next to your feet, and blood staining Sam’s jacket. Sam walks over and peels the layers of clothes back to reveal the multiple gaping wounds.

“Get her to the infirmary. You can heal her there.”

You’re not sure how long you’re passed out for but when you wake up, you can see all three men by the door to the infirmary whispering to each other. You don’t feel like Death but that’s probably because Castiel healed you of your injuries. You’re still out of it due to the blood loss which he can’t heal. You’ll need fluids and plenty of rest for that to be fixed.

“Why the hell did you let her go on a hunt?”

“We didn’t let her do anything! We didn’t even know she left.”

“She’s lucky she survived. It was like a blood bath in the car,” Dean pouts.

“I wanted to prove to you I can be a good hunter,” you say quietly.

All three of them look at you, and the brothers leave to give you and Castiel some time alone. They’ll yell at you when you have enough strength to take it. The angel walks over to your bed and sits on the edge of it.

“What you did was reckless. Five werewolves by yourself? Not to mention Dean is pissed because you got blood all over his car.”

“I didn’t know there were five in the beginning. By the time I realized, it was too late. I’m sorry. I just wanted to be a good hunter.”

Castiel reaches over and tucks your hair behind your ear. “You can be one but not if you go into situations like that alone. What if you died? How do you think we’d all feel?”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle.

“Just focus on getting better right now. If you want to be a better hunter, there are ways to go about that. Train with Sam and Dean. They’ll help you.”

“Okay,” you nod. “Are they mad at me?”

“More worried than mad. They’ll yell at you and scold you, but just know they’re not doing it to hurt you. It’s because they care so much.” You nod and Castiel stands up. “Now, would you like to watch a movie?”

“Only if you’ll watch it with me.”

Castiel scoops you bridal-style, careful not to hurt you further. You snuggle into his chest, grateful you have such a loving boyfriend who understands what it means to be part of this life.

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[kurophiliac]

Hello, It's Plato. I am making this post to provide additional context on the accusations for those who do not use Twitter. As you saw from @bezierballad 's apology, the screenshots were all faked. But there's more proof I wanted to add that they did not include. I'm sure many of you have already heard this on Twitter, so my apologies for the repetition. These are just the main points I want to get out.

Zex, the creator of the screenshots, has been caught in several lies.

According to the time stamps in the fake screenshots, it would have been impossible for the messages to have come from the server where they claimed the conversation took place. Charlie left in 2023, Zex joined in 2024, and the screenshots were all marked "today." They also can't be old screenshots because Zex and Charlie were not on the server at the same time.

When asked to provide message IDs, Zex said that they had already left the server (where they claimed to have obtained the screenshots from). However, as of right now, they are still on the server. They will be promptly removed once a moderator wakes up.

Charlie and I's nicknames from the screenshots are not nicknames or pfps we ever had in the server they supposedly came from. These nicknames were exclusive to a 7-person group chat. The only reason Zex knew of them was because of a screenshot I posted a month or two ago. It would have been much more believable if they had used our actual usernames.

(Edit) Something I forgot to add- when Zex was questioned about how they got onto the server, they said they pretended to be a proshipper and DMd me for the link to the server where they took the screenshots. However, I haven't been active in that server lately, and I never sent anyone any server links within the past 6 months.

How were the screenshots faked?

There are two likely scenarios. One being that they were generated by a bot. There are *many* services out there that will generate fake discord texts. OR they used an alt account or friend to "roleplay" Charlie and I thirsting over Charlie's non-existent 5yo cousin. Which is infinitely worse.

So, who really is Zex, and what was their motive?

The easiest explanation regarding motive is just that they wanted to make proshippers look bad. This is pretty typical anti behavior. Charlie and I could have been selected at "random" as we are two bigger sebaciel accounts. But there might actually be more to it.

Now, from this point forward, we are stepping outside the realm of fact and inside the realm of educated guesses. There exists a person who has serious grudges against me, Charlie, and Bezier. Only one person who we are aware of. This individual is a proshipper with a history of going undercover as an anti to stir up trouble and a history of faking screenshots to make antis look bad.

This person was also in the server where the original confession/accusation was made.

They had deleted their account prior to the confession. Zex is actually a new account that only joined the anti server (where the confession was made) yesterday. They basically came into the server just to make this accusation. Pretty suspicious. It's likely that Zex, in an attempt to ruin Charlie and I's reputation as revenge for us ruining theirs, created these screenshots. As seen in the posts by Bezier, Zex asked them to make a post because they didn't want to deal with the repercussions. Zex knows these screenshots are fake, and they also know that people will eventually figure it out. So, if their attempt to frame us didn't work, at least they'd be able to ruin Beziers reputation. Or perhaps even all three, if people were more divided and hadn't come to a consensus. Please keep in mind that there is no evidence that the individual with the grudge and history of faked screenshots and causing drama is actually Zex. However, it is seeming more and more likely.

Anyway. This has been a very tiring day. I am grateful to Bezier for taking down the OP and writing an apology. And as for Zex- I will likely be taking legal action against them.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Hike of a Lifetime

Author’s Note: Set in the 2022 offseason after Justin’s labrum surgery in January 2023. Rewriting my first Justin fic is a full circle moment for me so I hope you like this one!

The last two hours of your life had been spent going over orders of Gatorade protein shakes, protein pack quick bites that usually contained some sort of cheese and sausage, various brands of Greek yogurt, apples, bananas, blueberries, granola bars and anything else you could think of to stock the weight room with while you were on vacation. You had been the head nutritionist for the UCLA men's basketball team for the last year, making customized, ever changing meal plans and consulting with the health care staff to enhance your athlete's performance to the best of your ability.

After the team's loss to Gonzaga in the NCAA tournament known as March Madness, you ran to Eugene, Oregon at the first opportunity you had to go see your sister Chloe. March up until this point was one busy day after another, truly living up to the name. Most days you didn't even feel like you got to sit down for more than 10 minutes at a time due to the constant travel and meetings you had to attend. So you took a week off and as soon as you closed your laptop today, you were going to enjoy being one with nature.

Chloe had moved to Eugene two years before you got your LA job, working as a team photographer for the University of Oregon's football team, allowing the two of you to see each other during conference play more often, which had done wonders for your relationship. It's one thing to be siblings but you could genuinely call her a friend now, which was both weird to say aloud, and nice.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Chloe steps into the living room, breaking you out of your vigorous typing. You look up and groan at the guilty look on her face. That was definitely an I have a work emergency and I’m going to be leaving you, look.

"No. You're not canceling on me. I got here two days ago and I have yet to really be outside. How am I supposed to enjoy some of the most beautiful scenery of my life if I'm stuck at the house the whole time? Does spring ball even matter anyway?"

Chloe laughs, heading into the kitchen to grab a snack. You'd recently lectured her about how although cereal is a grain, she can't consider it a food group and she needs to introduce more of a balanced variety in her diet. Unless she enjoys her daily 4pm sugar crash. She surprises you by pulling out a bowl of overnight oats from the fridge, with strawberries on top. After giving her your nod of approval, she gets back to the issue at hand. "Yes, spring ball matters. But I promise you it will not take me that long, I'll be back before you know it."

You huff out a breath, trying to come up with a solution. "What if you have one of your interns do it? Mine are really holding down the fort this week, I'm obviously working from home to help them out a little and I think you should do the same."

"Well our jobs are a little different. I can give them things to edit and post but I don't want to have to approve every single one of their photos and make sure they're featuring the right position groups and players based on a schedule that I created in my head. It'll just be easier if I'm there to walk them through it and then I can come home and we'll have a relaxing week until you have to be back in messy Hollywood."

"It's just Los Angeles, not Hollywood, genius. I still work at a university just like you do," you laugh at her exaggerated version of the place you now call home.

She rolls her eyes, stepping away from her food to grab her keys. "Same difference. It's all polluted air and earthquakes anyway."

Finally finished with your task, you stand up to snatch the keys out of her hand and lead the way to the garage. "Whatever, I'm in clean air now and would really like to be able to experience it. So I'll be dropping you off and getting to my hike."

You get out of the car and the sun immediately hits your skin, not in a way that’s intense but rejuvenating, bringing you back to life. The scent of early spring, mixed in with the sweet smell of freshly bloomed rhododendron sparks a further revival. The air really is different here. Life is more…undisturbed.

Families are getting out of their vehicles without a crushing sense of urgency that you’re used to, people are laughing and enjoying each other’s company and you’ve been to this park before so you feel somewhat comfortable navigating the terrain on your own, opting to quiet the sounds of the world by listening to a podcast during your leisurely stroll. Without even making it a mile on the trail, you spot a friendly black dog making his way over to you, nudging your leg with his wet nose, essentially demanding that you pet him. You usually probably wouldn’t have but the serene energy of the space you’re in brings it out of you.

“Well hello there, buddy. Who do you belong to?” You bent down to search for a name on his collar. “Dylan, that’s a cute name. Should we go find who you came here with before someone has a heart attack?” You laughed softly as the dog happily panted away and let you grab onto the leash. Before you could even take a step, you heard a booming voice calling out the dog’s name.

The distressed figure comes into view and lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much for grabbing him. I’m so sorry if he’s bothering you, I bent down to tie my shoe and this guy decided to make a break for it.”

“He’s taking advantage of the fact that you only have one good arm.” You point out, remembering the shoulder surgery announcement you saw in the LA Times. The man was probably getting used to having both arms again. “No worries, he’s sweet. And super friendly.” You handed him the leash and he thanked you again.

“I seriously owe you, my mom would’ve killed me if I lost our dog when I just got home.” He chuckles nervously. God his laugh was cute. “I’m sorry, I never got your name. I’m Justin.”

“I know.” You smile. “It’s nice to meet you though, I’m y/n. Hope you enjoy the rest of your hike.” You grabbed your AirPods and went to place them back in your ears to finish getting lost in your own little world once again before he stops you.

“Wait—maybe we could finish out the hike…together? You know, just so Dylan doesn’t take advantage of me again.” Maybe he was just being cautious because there was no way he was flirting with you…right?

Those green eyes were going to get you in trouble and you knew it. But you were on a beautiful scenic getaway and hiking with Justin Herbert wasn’t going to come around every single day.

“Let’s do it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt your shoulder even more chasing after Dylan. Bolt nation might collectively collapse if anything happens to you so I’m calling this a public service.”

He unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. “What a Good Samaritan you are.”

Justin was funny. And sweet. And the most fun company you’ve had in a while. You talked about your job, the entire NCAA tournament and what you both thought about being in LA. Even though you both lived very different lives, it was filled with sports and schedules and meetings and practices and there were a lot of things to bond over. Before you knew it you’d been out there for three hours and Rachel texted you to let you know she was done and ready to resume your sisterly activities. He took a look at your deflated expression.

“Do you need to head out?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” You whispered. “This was fun though.”

He readjusts the hat on his head. “Yeah this was great. Um, I meant what I said earlier though. I owe you.” He gestures towards the phone in your hands and you hand it to him watching him type in his number, texting himself immediately so he has yours.

“Maybe we could grab dinner or something before you head back to LA?” He states pensively, holding his breath a bit until you answer.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The two of you head back to the parking lot and you give Dylan one more pat on the head. You look up to meet Justin’s gaze, shy smiles painting both of your faces. He walked you all the way to your car and waved goodbye as you drove away to meet Rachel.

While you waited all you could do was stare at your phone, Justin had given you his number and you had his. He’d put his actual contact information in your phone AND had asked you to go to dinner. None of this felt like real life, what kind of person stumbles upon an NFL quarterback on a normal hike?

“Why are you smiling like that? It scares me.” Chloe interrupts your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized she opened the door and got in the car. “Did that hike change your life or something?” She finished with a dry laugh.

“I’m not sure, but I think it may have…”

Rachel nods her head slowly, desperately hoping to understand what’s going on. “Yeah okay whatever. Let’s get some lunch because I am absolutely starving.”

You put the car in drive, your phone notifying you of a text from its spot on the dashboard car mount. Rachel grabs it and asks, “who the hell is Justin and why is he asking if you’re free tomorrow night?”

“Just some guy I met while hiking, no big deal,” you tried and failed to be nonchalant. She knew you way better than that.

“If it’s really no big deal then tell that to the gigantic smile on your face. You’re going on that date. I’m texting him back to let him know you’ll be free.”

All that Chloe knows is his name. The rest of it you decide to keep to yourself not only to respect his privacy but you want to keep this special thing for you and only you. In case this doesn’t go anywhere, you’ll always have the memory of today and whatever happens on Friday to look back on fondly. And by telling your sister you’re putting a little bit more pressure on it, like this has to become something. You don’t really know this guy yet, only the small tidbits that he shared on the walk and that his family dog’s name is Dylan, who would run away with any stranger if enough treats were offered.

There are so many things going through your mind as you change your outfit for the fourth time tonight. What if he thinks you’re boring? Or he’s boring? What happens if the two of you run out of things to say and you’re just sitting in the restaurant in awkward silence until someone decides to call it a night? Even worse, what if this is the best date you ever go on, you fall for him and then never hear from him again because he’s an NFL quarterback and you sometimes spend three hours a day planning out breakfast options for 18-22 year old basketball players.

You glanced in the mirror, slinging a tiny black purse over your shoulder with a subtle smirk on the way out the door at your final clothing choice. Chloe mentioned that the car outside being a super nice Porsche and you made something up about thinking that he worked in finance or a job closely related to that so she wouldn't keep digging for more information. All she followed up with was "have fun and be safe."

Ambrosia's staff walked you and Justin into the restaurant by the back entrance into a private room, which was the most abnormal part of the night. The rest of the evening was spent consuming seafood stuffed mushrooms, pasta and sharing a classic tiramisu, the best one you'd ever had in your life.

The nerves that once seeped through every pore were quickly replaced with what a vacation was supposed to feel like. Conversation flowed easily, there was no pressure to be perfect or funny or overly sexy. Justin was so…normal. He was pretty, not in a way that was intimidating because you really weren’t sure he realized how attractive he actually is. But pretty in a sense that everything about him made him more attractive. His ability to actively listen to the words you say and bring them back up when it’s relevant. The way his dimples are more pronounced when he laughs. The way he stops mid conversation to say thank you to the service staff every time they refill his water. There wasn’t a bone in his body that wasn’t filled with humility and kindness. Everything he did was gentle. And on top of all of that he paid without hesitation.This date truly had been a breath of fresh air.

“Thank you for tonight, I had a lot of fun.”

His lips curl into a smile, “this was probably the best first date I’ve had.” He doesn’t know why he’s just admitted that to you, but he’s glad it’s out there now.

“Me too,” you stand up out of your chair after he does, a collection of butterflies appearing in your stomach when he places a hand on the small of your back, before encasing his hand with yours to lead you out of the restaurant.

“When are you heading back to LA?” He asks. You only know that because you’re reading his lips and not listening to a word he’s saying. You really want to kiss him.

You hesitate to lean in, bringing your focus back to his eyes, meeting his soft gaze. “I’ll be here for a couple more days, then it’s back to work. What about you?”

“Tomorrow…” he begins, slowly losing his train of thought when a little bit of the light goes out in your eyes. Should he kiss you before he leaves in the morning or wait until you’re both back in California with busy schedules and no clue if and when you’ll see each other again? “…I don’t want to leave now due to some unforeseen circumstances,” he laughs, “unfortunately I’ve got some stuff to take care of. But I’ll call you and we can maybe do this again?”

“Yeah. Definitely. I’ll see you around.” He gave you a warm hug on the way out and you watched him walk away to his car, smiling to yourself at the thought of a second date. You couldn’t wait for that phone call.

Two weeks later...he still hasn’t called. You would’ve been surprised had you not prepared yourself for this very scenario. Even with all of this so-called “preparation,” the radio silence from him still stung. Who would’ve thought this would happen? The NFL quarterback is busy with his offseason recovery while the girl he went on one singular date with continues to replay minute by minute interactions they had. No one could’ve seen this coming. The thought of that date feels like so long ago and the fact that you can remember it in vivid detail is a feels a little humiliating. You can’t even look at an Apple Watch without your stomach ending up in knots.

You've closed your office door today, taking a few hours to yourself in between meetings. Earlier in the day you and the rest of the staff had to sit through a Tyr presentation, listening to the representatives of the brand try to sell you their endurance sports drink and leaving you with some samples. Then you had CLIF come in with some new energy chew flavor samples for the guys to try. All of the boxes of products now sat in your office and you really hoped to spend the rest of the day going through the food budget, managing receipts and preparing for your first year presentations for when the new freshman arrived sometime in June. You were glancing back and forth between Whole Foods receipts and Amazon orders when your phone rang. Too busy and in the middle of crunching numbers, you ignored the call. Then it started ringing again. You stop what you're doing, assuming that if someone is calling you twice in a row, it must be urgent. The contact name flashing on the screen has you frozen in time.

It was Justin.

Even though you've been alone in your office for a while, you look around to make sure you're not making this up and this is actually happening. He's calling you. Finally.

"Hello? Who is this?" You can hear him shuffling around, probably walking around in a circle aimlessly just like you are. Despite your best efforts to seem unfazed.

"I deserve that," he cringes. "I'm so sorry for not calling you sooner."

"What—what made you call me now?"

He can tell your voice is softer than when you first answered, and he missed hearing it. "Um...life got a little ahead of me and that's not an excuse. I just—didn't want you to think that I wasn't ever going to call," he pauses, "can I make you dinner? Tonight? If you're free. And we can talk in person."

You look at the door with a sigh, contemplating your entire existence. And then you think...fuck it. "Yeah sure, I'm free tonight. Text me your address and I'll be there around 7?"

"Seven works, I'll see you tonight."

His house is perfectly spotless. There is just no way that a single adult man in his 20s is naturally this organized and clean. Even the cat, who he introduces to you as Nova, a gorgeous Bengal walks around like she owns the place, greeting you briefly (sizing you up) before trotting away without a second glance. Justin walks you into the kitchen where he's in the middle of plating the meal. He just looked good doing normal things, filling glasses of water, opening and closing the fridge, taking off his apron. You really needed to get a grip. "It smells great in here chef, what's on the menu?"

He laughs a little, presenting his dish like he's the star of a Food Network show. "Tonight I've made for you a Traeger filet mignon seasoned with the Traeger seasoning and chimichurri sauce with a side of roasted garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus."

You happily clap for his A+ presentation and he gives you a bow. "Justin, this looks amazing! I can't wait to dig in."

The man leads you to the table, setting the plate down in front of you before grabbing a seat right next to you. "So...let me explain."

Taking a bite of your food, you shake your head. "You really don't have to explain yourself, we went on one date. There's nothing to explain I mean—”

"Yeah there is. I want you to know that I wanted to call sooner, I really did. But I came back and had to meet with doctors to make sure my recovery was on track and then the draft happened and then I had to talk about the future of my contract and I didn't want the craziness of my life to overshadow what we have going on. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you're being put on the backburner."

Unbeknownst to you, he had also been replaying that date...more often that he'd like to admit. Anytime he had a minute to himself he thought about calling, seeing what you're doing. And then there was a meeting, or a draft party or someone needing him to be somewhere. But you were always on his mind and he was glad to now have life slow down a little bit to show you he really did care.

"I get it. Definitely thought you forgot about me there for a second. A few seconds," you correct yourself. "But I knew you were busy and we're here now so you're forgiven. Especially because this steak is incredible."

"Well thank you," he smiles sheepishly.

He begged you not to help him clean up but you insisted. After everything was put away he gave you a tour of the place and then you sat on the couch looking for a movie to watch until the stack of puzzles on the shelf caught your eye.

"You haven't unwrapped this one. Is it new?" You note the plastic wrap lining the box on the shelf meeting you at eye level. The flowers look familiar but you can't exactly remember where you've seen them before.

“There's a lot of flowers at the park we met. Any rhododendron I see now," he nods at the box in your hand, "makes me think of you. So I bought this. Figured we could do it together.” The way he's looking at you when you turn around makes you feel warm and tingly inside.

Something about being with him is addicting. You feel physically drawn to him, this pull, an invisible hold that he has on your heart that soon makes you want to run for the hills. But you know that the second you’re away from him it’ll feel like an important new part of your life has been ripped away. It almost felt like the universe had sent Justin to you as an apology for all men. Even doing something as simple as a puzzle feels like the most romantic thing in the world. All of the pieces are laid out on the table and you tackle the corners first, working from the outside in. You're sitting so close to each other that your arms are touching, reaching and grabbing at the puzzle pieces in sync like a well oiled machine. He pulls you into his lap toward the end when there's a few pieces left, giving you a high five when all 300 pieces are in their rightful place. Your hand is in his once again, like it belongs there, holding you close and steady.

He lets you go momentarily to cup your face, a look of adoration adorning his that makes your chest clench. “I’ve been thinking about kissing you for the last 22 days," Justin whispers, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on your lips.

"Then why are you still waiting?" You whisper back, barely able to finish your sentence because he's nipping at your bottom lip, teasing you slightly as he runs his thumb across your jaw. You're a puddle in his hands, his lips on yours kissing you with his heart pounding against his chest like he's never kissed anyone before. The kiss is so simple yet the most intense experience either of you have been a part of and you want more. Both of you are fighting for dominance, a somewhat rough dance of tongues and a little bit of teeth increasing in intensity the longer the kiss lasts. You moan into his mouth, feeling him begin to stand at attention underneath you, deepening the kiss by pulling him in even closer by his hair. The other hand is wrapped around his thigh, squeezing his leg and producing goosebumps across his entire body. He had to take a few moments to recover, slightly out of breath at the kiss that he was convinced had just changed his life. "Was that worth the 22 day wait?" You ask with a laugh, holding his head in your hands.

He nods, still incapable of speech, blowing out a breath of relief when the tightness in his pants continues to go down. You lazily make out throughout the entirety of whatever movie he puts on, more than making up for lost time.

You have to be at the facility early for morning workouts so Justin walks you out to your car, pulling you in for one more kiss. "Text me when you get home so I know you made it safe?"

"I will."

Justin lays in bed that night looking at your goodnight text, already planning the third date in his head because he needs to somehow make it better than tonight was. He doesn't have any ideas yet, he just knows he can't get enough of you.

One year later...

You were back in Eugene at your favorite park, ready to get back to your favorite scenery.

"Are you excited?" You ask Dylan, who barks excitedly as you hold onto his leash. That must mean yes.

Justin laughs beside you, grabbing onto your hand. "You ready?" He gives you a kiss on the forehead before the three of you begin your hike.

[neil-gaiman]

i'm unsure if this is meant for you or david arnold but you seem to have an easier mode of being able to be asked questions about things so here it goes;

i'm a music major, one can't really tell but i am, and i'm a literature minor as well, so i love books. i read good omens and watched the show in 2019, and when season 2 came out in 2023 i had already been through two semesters of music theory and ear training (basically being able to understand and analyze music in its own language and prospects. i'm sure you know this to some level). when the season 2 sound track came out, it was in the middle of last semester, where i was taking my third semester of music theory and ear training and i listened to it on repeat for about two months straight.

my question is this: are the musical motifs within the soundtrack tied to the greater narrative in any way? characters? characters and their relationships with others? i've noticed some (such as the high pitched violin coming in around aziraphale's internal realizations, and decisions, or the deep chime whenever crowley is inherently relevent, or the bagpipes when we go to edenborough). if so, did you have any input on these? do you have any explanation to any of them, or is it just david being a magical genius?

thank you for teaching me a little more about music in the process and for making this past semester a little easier. i now go onto my fourth with stronger ears because of it. thank you! <3

You would have to talk to David Arnold.

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 10)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

HEAVY Warning(s) for the REST OF THE STORY: Frequent Discussion of Suicide/Suicide Attempts, Suicidal Thoughts, and Self-Harm/Self-Destruction Behavior — The reader is going through a rough time starting now. There will be no graphic descriptions of Suicide/Suicidal Attempts or Self-Harm unless I put a warning otherwise. Please read the rest of the story with caution.

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 7.3k

CHAPTER 10: April 2014 - November 2023

April 19, 2014. 9:01 AM

I miss James, but what else is new?

It’s been two weeks since I woke up and I can’t help but wonder where he is. I keep hearing his voice when I close my eyes — the way it shook when I had to leave him that day. We were both so afraid, but I've never been more certain to walk away.

I hope he’s doing okay now.

I keep forgetting that I don’t have my locket anymore. I’d reach for it and touch my skin instead. Every time, I feel a little sad to not have it, but also happy that it’s with the man I love most.

Maybe it was something I needed to let go of for a bit. Besides, when I see him next, I’m sure he’ll try to give it back to me.

When I go to bed, I imagine him next to me. For once, we’d be lying down together, looking at each other. It wouldn’t be him holding me or me holding him because one of us was dying. We’d just go to sleep together.

Did I mention James gives great hugs?

I know I did, but it’s true. For someone who’s been trained to kill for so many decades, he sure knows how to embrace someone.

I want that someone to always be me.

I’m leaving DC soon. I should have the moment I woke up, but I couldn’t help but wonder if James was still around. Maybe he was waiting for me to come back, even though I never told him it would take a month for it to happen. But I’d like to think he’d wait as long as he could for me. I walked through crowds to see if I could spot him.

I haven’t yet.

Yet.

I’ll keep waiting for him to come back to me — or when I go to him. Hopefully, the next time we meet, it won’t be because I have to die.

I just want one day where I don’t have to worry about that.  

I miss him so much, and I wonder if he misses me.

I know he misses me too.

<><><>

April 25, 2014. 9:03 PM

I moved back to Brooklyn yesterday. I haven’t lived here in 65 years, but I figured it was time I came back home.

I knew Brooklyn changed a lot — I watched it evolve through the screen — but seeing it in person is nerve-wracking. My history is still here, but it’s like someone spilled coffee onto the pages, making it antique and forever stained by a mistake.

Everything is so much busier. I remember those days when I could walk down the streets alone, but now there isn’t a chance to do that. The apartment I found is mostly away from the noise, thankfully. There are a lot of cracks and it smells like dust — it needs a lot of work.

For the first time in decades, I decided to give it a lot of work.

Maybe I don’t have to treat every one of my places like a temporary shelter anymore. For once, I could treat it like a home, decorated with paintings and bright curtains and maybe a plant. Something I could protect while I wait for James.

Brooklyn is huge. I don’t imagine I’d have to move anytime soon. Even if I have to, maybe I can bring home with me.

I also got a bookstore. I saw online that this old man was giving up his — a bookstore that sells new and used books at a discounted price — so I quickly snatched it up. He was grateful that someone else was passionate enough to take over, saying that people need books to survive. That stories shouldn’t be thrown away.

He’s not wrong. 

The store could use a lot of new updates and changes, but it still feels cozy. It won’t be long until I can get this place up and running to its fullest again.

I thought I was going to start today, but instead...I visited my baby.

I haven’t been to her grave since I left Brooklyn. And I cried. Fuck, I cried so much. I don’t remember what it feels like to hold her or the sound of her giggle. I missed her when I lost her, but I miss her even more now that her name in stone is all I have.

I brought all of my journals with me. All of my stories that share who I was and who I am. Who I try to be, and who I lost and loved. I hid them all by her grave.

My baby girl can keep my stories safe. She was always good at sharing stories.

<><><>

August 4, 2014. 10:38 PM

There’s still no news of James. Seems like he disappeared without a trace. That’s good — it means he’s hidden, but it also means I have no idea where he is.

God, I miss him. I miss him so much.

I wonder if he thinks about me as much as I think about him. When I walk by certain people who look like him — items that remind me of him — I have to stop and think. Does he do the same? Does he look at roses and think about me? Or jewelry and hold onto my locket?

Does he stop and look behind himself, hoping to see me? Because I do.

I used to think this curse meant I’d never belong to anyone — that I couldn’t have anything permanent — that I was always meant to lose, whether it’d be losing my life, my joy, or myself. When I tried to hold onto something, it’d slip away. Hope for the better, and it’d be the opposite.

I tried to pretend I didn’t want anything. Bu t…I want James.

I want to live with him. I want us.

A life where we don’t have to scramble — where I can just grab his hand and know I can do it again the next day.

Is it foolish to hope after everything I went through? Of course, it is. But maybe, after more than 100 years of being a vessel of this curse, I deserve something other than survival.

I deserve James, and I can’t wait to see him again.

<><><>

May 28, 2015. 5:23 PM

I think about James every day.

Not in a hurtful way, like during those days when he was under HYDRA’s control and I begged for him to escape. I think about him now over simple things.

I walked by an elderly couple sitting outside a cafe, feeding each other pastries and laughing. I started to think about that kind of life with James. I’d love to have breakfast with him with coffee, maybe with juice as well. Learn if he’s a savory or sweet guy. I’d like to think he’s a sweet guy.  

I want to know how much he has figured himself out so far. If he prefers dogs or cats — if he hums while he cooks, if he even cooks — if he leaves dishes in the sink instead of washing them right away. There’s so much about James I don’t know, but that makes me love him even more. I don’t want us to hide anymore.

I’d love to run with him, not because there’s a threat.

I’d love to hold hands with him, not because one of us is dying.

I’d love to hug him, not because we have to say goodbye, but because we’re happy to say hello.

That's what I want, James, and I hope you want the same.

<><><>

June 23rd, 2016. 11:30 PM

The news lies.

We already knew that, but this time they’re really lying. I refuse to believe that James bombed the United Nations — that he killed the King of Wakanda.

There was a photo of his face from the security footage, but I know that’s not him. I don’t care what anyone says — I know what he looks like and that’s not him. We’ve stared into each other’s faces enough for me to know that he’s been framed.

But they’re calling him a terrorist. A murderer and a threat to the nation, but that’s not who he is.

James, I know you. You didn’t do this.

I lived long enough to know that the world lies all the time — make you believe you can have something good, only to take it away. You’re a good person, James, and the world is trying to take that narrative from you. I wish I could find you and tell you you’re not who they say you are.

You’re not a monster, James.

You’re mine.

<><><>

December 25th, 2016. 9:14 PM

I cried today.

I decided to walk around the city because I knew the streets were going to be emptier than usual. No stores were open for the holidays and everyone was inside, celebrating and spending time together. It’s not the first time I walked around during this time of year because, I mean, I don’t have anyone at home waiting for me.

But then I came across this family — a lovely couple with their baby in their stroller.

I started to cry because I suddenly imagined myself and James as that couple, with my daughter as the baby.

She would’ve loved James. Definitely would’ve called him Bucky because she’d think that nickname is silly. I wonder if James wants kids — if he’d be the kind of parent kids dream of having.

I don’t think I am. If I was, then my baby wouldn’t have died so young.

James is still missing. He disappeared with Steve a few days after he was framed. And yes — he was framed by some asshole named Zemo or whatever. Even then, they still labeled James and Steve as fugitives — traitors to the nation. They cleared James for the bombing, but still want him to answer for his crimes as a brainwashed assassin.

Fuck them. It must be so easy, huh? To let others take the fall and point fingers at them. People don’t understand what it’s like to lose control of everything.

Fuck those entitled assholes.

I’m just grateful that Steve is with James — the Falcon and Black Widow too. It sucks to see them on the run, but they’re protecting James. Someone other than me is finally looking out for him.

I do wish that Steve came to find me though — that James told him about me and brought me along with them. 

I don’t need much. I just want to hug James and tell him that I’m here.

I miss him so much that it hurts. I hope he doesn’t miss me as much — he doesn’t deserve any more pain.

I hope you’re having a better holiday than me, James. I look forward to the day when we can celebrate together.

<><><>

January 18th, 2017. 3:12 PM

I almost lost James 13 years ago today.

I still feel sick when I think about it. How he bled so much from his stomach while that HYDRA agent laughed at us.

But what horrified me more was that when I thought about that day, I realized that right now, I want to be sent to him.

I’m so selfish. I can’t believe I wished something was happening so that I could see him. That’s fucked up. Asking for the worst to happen to him so that I could be his little savior.

But that doesn’t change the fact that I love him and miss him. I really, really miss him. It's been almost 3 years since I last saw him. I know that means he’s safe (or at least just alive), but I can’t handle not knowing where he is now. Did he get caught? Is he trapped somewhere? Does he need my help?

I wish I could get sent to him without either one of us having to die.

Or, if we have to, I’d get to hold him before death comes for me again.

God. I’m really in love with this man, huh?

<><><>

June 3, 2018. 1:58 AM

Fuck you. Actually fuck you. Do you think this is funny? It’s so fucking funny, huh?

Kill half of the universe but leave me alive.

Fuck you.

I can’t believe you didn’t let me save anyone this time. You put me near Times Square when everyone started to vanish, letting chaos wreck us. I kept waiting for you to tell me to save someone — for my heart to get pulled — but all I did was watch people disappear while others get injured by moving cars and falling helicopters.

You didn’t even let me save a child. I watched a fucking child die again while I survived.

Just let me die. Let me see my family. I just want to hold my daughter again. I’m so tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Taking on so many different fake names and pretending that I wasn’t buried next to my baby in 1904.

Let me go. Let me fucking go. What more do you want from me? Why can’t you give me the satisfaction of death? After more than a century of this bullshit, you could at least let me die.

Instead, you made me fucking watch a child die. The boy didn’t even vanish — he fucking died from an accident.

Then I watched the news and fucking hell — you erased half of the population in the universe? The whole fucking universe? All of them are gone, but I’m still here.

I didn’t ask for this damn life. I never wanted this curse, but you thought I was the perfect person for it. What is it about me that you found so fitting? Because all I see in the mirror is a pathetic human being.

You gave me nothing but pain and empty years, when all I want is my family. I want to hold my daughter again, but you won’t let me go to do that.

Genuinely, fuck you.

<><><>

December 17, 2018. 1:01 PM

They announced that they’re almost done with the memorial in Greenwich Village — the one for all of the heroes who were snapped after they fought for us. It’s supposed to be open to the public next month.

I know James is fine, but I have to check.

Even though James went into hiding again, there's a part of me that knows he was involved in the fight. There’s another part of me — the part I hate — that is nervous that he’s gone because he hasn’t shown up. I haven’t seen him at all on the news. A few of them have popped up to talk to the press — mainly Steve and Natasha Romanoff. But I’m just hanging onto the idea that James doesn’t want to talk to the public. Why would he after everything they called him?

I’m 100% certain that he’s okay. After everything I did for him, he has to be alive. I know he’s fine, but I still have to check for the sake of my mind.

<><><>

January 29, 2019. 1:13 PM

I can’t do thi

<><><>

February 20, 2019. 6:19 PM.

I tried to end it all.

I know I can’t die, but I couldn’t help it. I just want it to end. Everything hurts and I want it to stop. I tried to stop it, but I keep on coming back. My body is on the verge of failing, but it keeps holding on. I tried to leave and I just come back the next day.

Stop. STOP

STOP

Why won’t you let me die? I have nothing left now — it’s the perfect time to let me go. I had something until you took him away. Why the fuck would you do that? Of all people who deserved to live life just a little bit, you fucking killed him.

You could’ve at least let him live. I didn’t mind being here anymore because I had something to protect. But you didn’t send me to him when he needed me. I told him — I told him that I’d be there when he needed me.

You fucking piece of shit. You made me a sacrifice, but a liar too? James died probably thinking I’d come save him, but I didn’t.

Did I do the same thing to him that you do to me? Give him hope, only for it to rip it away at the last second? I’ve been in love with this man for decades and you take him away from me. Do you like to see me suffer?

Let me die. LET ME FUCKING DIE

I gave you everything and you took away my everything. The one person who still cared about me — who didn’t let me face you alone — gone. GONE

I SHOULDN’T BE HERE I should be dead and he should be alive. It should’ve been ME. Why wasn't it me? Why do you have to hurt me? What did I do to you that made you want to hurt me like this? How fucking dare you take the love of my life? How dare you do this when I finally allowed myself to dream and hope and think about the life I’ve wanted for so long? You piece of shit. Fuck you. FUCK YOU

FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT I HATE YOU

I want to see my family. Let me hold my baby again. Let me hold James. I want to see everyone. I want to be with them.

I want to die. I don’t want to be here. Everything hurts. It fucking hurts let me GO YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT FUCK YOU FUCK YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU

LET ME GO

<><><>

March 18, 2019. 10:28 PM.

I give up. You win.

You won’t let me leave. I tried too many times. In every imaginable way, I tried.

I lost count of how many times I died and woke up. Felt death at my fingertips, but watched it walk away while I couldn’t move my body.

Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep. I can’t even dream anymore.

I’m constantly drowning, unable to swim to the surface no matter how close it is. I don’t know if the surface I’m looking for is life or death, but I just want to breathe again. But you make me let go of my breath, and throw me back into the water. You’re making me drown.

I tried to stop the pain, but you just gave me more. I’ve died in so many ways but this is the worst I’ve ever felt. Who knew physical pain hurts less than losing the love of your life?

The pain won’t stop. I tried to make it stop.

But it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore.

I never mattered, anyway.

I spent my whole life running away from my feelings. I fought against them because I knew they’d hurt me. When I finally took the chance — finally allowed myself to imagine a beautiful life for myself — it killed me.

You’re right. I don’t deserve love. I don’t deserve hope or happiness or joy or

I don’t know. I don’t deserve anything. If I did, I would’ve gotten what I wanted decades ago.

I wanted someone to love me back and I let myself believe that with James. Believe that when he and I finally meet again, we could be happy together. Walk through the city during the holidays, our hands together while we shiver from the cold.

But his body is gone and I’m the only one shivering.

I don’t want to shiver. I want to be still. Dead.

I’ll never see James again. Soon, I’ll forget what he sounds like, how he feels, how he moves, just like everyone else. I don’t remember how Henry sounded when he laughed. How my parents smiled. How Minnie hugged me. How my baby girl ran around. 

I don’t even remember the day my baby girl took her first steps. All of those memories. Gone.

James will become a faded memory too. I don’t want to forget him, but it’ll happen.

I begged you to make me a memory, but you won’t listen. Of course you won’t — you never did what I asked.

I don’t care anymore.

You win. I’ll do my job and save someone else. Hope you’re happy.

<><><>

May 28, 2019. 8:20 PM

It’s a wonder how I’ve been able to keep my bookstore open during this time. 

I thought that my store would’ve closed after the Snap, but I think people just need some form of normalcy in their lives. That’s the whole point of stories, anyway — to go into a different world and forget about the one you’re actually in for a moment. But I don’t know how I managed to even stay active. I’ve been more fatigued lately — I think the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on in the past few months made me tired. But still, here I am, running a bookstore in Brooklyn.

Talk about the past, huh?

Something unexpected happened today, though.

I was working, tidying up the store when a young lady walked in. It was that teenager from 2014. Mandy. And she looked at me like she knew me.

Because she did.

She told me she remembered me. Other than James, I never had anyone come up to me and say they recognized me. Of course, I always try to avoid getting recognized by people I saved, but I also think you make it easier for me.

So for her to say she knew me? What the fuck.

She said she just graduated from college. She got a degree in English and is looking to be a writer. I tried to pretend I didn’t know her, but she refused to leave me alone. She said that you can never forget the face of the person who saved your life.

That’s a lie. No one but James had ever recognized me.

I tried to say she got the wrong person, but man, she’s persistent. She reminded me a little bit of Minnie, who was bubbly but also stubborn, but in a good way. She kept saying I’m the reason she’s still alive.

That hit me harder than I thought it would. More than a century of dying had gone by, and no one — except for James — was ever appreciative of my sacrifice. I felt this kindness from her — gratefulness — that I don’t deserve. So I still tried to lie, saying that if I died, how could I still be right here?

She said if we can live in a world where an alien erased half of the universe, then we can live in a world where people can come back from the dead.

Can’t argue with that.

Then she said she wanted to work for me. She was looking for a job while continuing to write for herself, so working at a bookstore would be perfect for her, right? I mean, I have been more fatigued lately, so it’d be nice to have extra help.

But I was hesitant.

I didn’t want to let anyone into my life again. Why would I after everything I went through? I said no, but she asked again. When I went to say no again, I couldn’t. She looked at me like a hero, even though I’m not one. But most of all, she looked at me like a person.

Not a ghost. Not a memory. A real fucking person.

I really wanted to say no. I promised myself I wouldn’t tell anyone of my curse.

But I think losing the one person who did know…it hurt me more than I realized. Even if James didn’t know who I truly was, it was nice to be seen.

God, it was so nice.

I told Mandy to come back tomorrow.

<><><>

September 10, 2019. 5:29 AM

Something’s wrong. 

Something is seriously wrong.

I saved a woman on August 10 and I can’t move my arm.

I can’t move my fucking arm.

I was in Queens when the car crash happened. I went there to go to the Museum of the Moving Image. I just wanted to give myself something nice to do. A little…bit of fun, I guess. But then I felt the pull and pushed this woman out of the way, and I got hit instead. My arm was pinned underneath the car as I died.

I can’t even have a good day anymore.

I woke up an hour ago and I’m still horrified, because my body hurts more than it usually would and I can’t move my arm. 

This never happened before. I’ve died in ways that made it difficult for me to move around when I wake up, but never this much and I’ve never been paralyzed before. I’ve been trying to shake it awake but it won’t wake up.

It took all of my strength for me to go to the bathroom and figure out why this is happening, and when I examined my heavy arm in the mirror, I found a scar.

A scar.

It’s on the back of my forearm and it doesn’t look great. It starts at my wrist and goes to my elbow. I never had any proof of my deaths on my body before. Never had a scar when I woke up, or felt this exhausted, or lost all feelings in a limb.

This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Am I dying? Or are you punishing me for some reason? What did I do?

I don’t know if I’m going to feel my arm again. Fuck, I hope this isn’t permanent. I don’t need proof of my death. I already know I died.

I died a long time ago.

<><><>

May 30, 2020. 6:59 AM

I can’t speak.

I can’t fucking speak. Fuck, I’m so scared right now.

I was stabbed in the neck on April 30 and now I can’t speak.

The last time I died, my arm was numb, but after a day, I was able to move it again. If it’s the same now, I should be able to talk tomorrow or maybe by tonight. But holy shit — my body hurts so much too. I only got stabbed, but the rest of my body is still screaming as if it also got harmed. It’s almost painful to move around — like when your foot falls asleep and it’s difficult to shift your muscles around.

When I looked in the mirror, I found another scar. It’s on the right side of my neck, exactly where I was stabbed. I have to cover it up somehow, whether it’s with my hair or wearing a scarf, because it’s not gonna go away.

The scar on my arm never went away.

I think I know why you’re punishing me. 

It’s because I tried to leave, isn’t it? For trying to die when I’m people’s chances to keep on living. 

Or maybe I did it to myself — I pushed my body too much in such a short period of time that it’s now just…failing. 

The pain I feel now is just as bad to how I felt when I failed to save someone. Did you increase the amount of pain I feel? Stop me from screaming when all I want is release?

I feel so trapped and I can’t even ask anyone for help. No one knows how to help me — fuck, I don’t know how to help myself.

Mandy wanted to figure it out, but I said not to. If we tried again, I’d just feel hopeful that there would be an answer.

I can’t feel hope again.

<><><>

December 19, 2020. 8:10 AM

I think I actually ruined my body when I tried to kill myself.

I saved a man on November 19 and I feel like my stomach is empty. I was shot in the guts and now it feels like I’m on an empty stomach. It’s not hunger — it just feels hollow there and it hurts.

There’s a bullet scar next to my belly button.

I’m not supposed to have these. All of these scars — they shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t even be here.

My body is becoming a weak, fragile mess and I hate it. This is all I have and you have to hurt it too. I know I tried to push my body to the limit, but it’s you who won’t let me go past it. Let me cross the finish line and hug my loved ones again.

You’re making me feel the weight of my actions. I feel like I’m constantly getting pulled underwater, unable to move to the surface. I’m just sinking to the endless bottom.

I’d drown, but even then you wouldn’t let me go.

I just want it to be over, but you just had to remind me how empty I feel.

Literally.

<><><>

July 27, 2021. 4:03 PM

I’m so fucking scared.

I failed to save a woman today.

I failed.

I don’t want to be punished. If saving someone still means I’d feel pained, I don’t know how much agony I’ll feel tomorrow for failing. I’m so scared.

Please. Just end it if you’re just going to make me go through hell.

Please.

<><><>

July 29, 2021. 10:28 PM

Mandy stopped by yesterday and today and took care of me.

I was on the verge of death but was unable to pass.

I managed to text Mandy that I was still around. I didn’t expect her to show up and make sure I was eating and resting well. I scared her — she didn’t expect me to not be able to move a muscle.

I didn’t know that would happen either.

Breathing also hurt. It was like my lungs didn’t want to work, and I was forcing them to. The pain overall was just as bad as when I first tried to kill myself… 

I don’t even know how much it’d hurt now if I tried to end it again.

Mandy took care of me when I didn’t ask. Helped me sit up and literally fed me. I felt so pathetic, but she said not to worry about it.

For someone who’s so energetic and bold, she was very gentle. Somehow, she also made me laugh too.

She’s also really smart — we finally have each other’s locations now on our phones because she said when I disappear, there’s a chance my phone could also vanish, so she’d know if I’m gone or not. She said she’d have a better time knowing if she needs to run my store or not then.

I told her she could just close my store while I’m gone, but she said everyone needs a good book available for them at all times. Stories can help people, she said.

She’s so sweet. I don’t deserve her kindness, but she just offers it to me.

Maybe it’s good that someone knows about my curse.

<><><>

January 3, 2023. 4:10 PM.

I feel terrible. 

I hurt Mandy yesterday.

I wasn’t expecting her to visit me. She went to DC to celebrate the holidays with her family. She told me I should join her, but I promised myself I wouldn’t let anyone else into my life — tell people about myself because everything I’d say would be a lie.

Spending the holidays alone isn’t new, but it was so much harder this time. I made the mistake of walking around again — I saw a young couple laughing in the park. I started to imagine me and him like that, and I ended up running back home. But when I came back, my apartment felt emptier, more lonely. Even my TV couldn’t make me feel like I wasn’t alone.

I was just so alone. I wanted to be held again, but he’s not here.

Mandy stopped by last night without letting me know first. She brought snacks and said she wanted to watch a movie with me — spend some time with me. Again, I don’t deserve that, but I still let her in because how could I refuse her?

I was setting up some bowls for the snacks when she went to the bathroom, and then she suddenly ran up to me. I was so confused — she grabbed onto me and was looking for something with big eyes.

I didn’t realize I left the blades by my bathroom sink.

I made Mandy cry.

Fuck. I didn’t mean to. I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt her. I swear.

She was checking for wounds. Looked at my wrists and arms and found nothing. I told her I wasn’t going to do it. 

She didn’t believe me. She didn’t fucking believe me.

I started to cry. I just broke down and said I wasn’t lying. I’m not a liar. With her, I’m not. I’ve been lying my whole life, but I swear I would never lie to her. I really wasn’t going to do it. I thought about it, but I chose not to do it because even that wouldn’t get rid of the pain.

I told Mandy about James.

For the first time in my life, I told someone else about the man I loved.

I told her about the first time I saved him. Then the war. Then about when he was the Winter Soldier and that day in DC.

I told her everything. I promise I’m not a liar with her.

I told her I love him. He’s gone, but I still love him. I’ve been trying to move on, but I fucking miss him so much. But he’s never coming back. I’m never going to see him again.

Mandy let me hug her and I just cried. I’ve been alive for over a century and she’s just a baby in her 20s, and yet I was sobbing in her arms. I felt so weak and pathetic, but I couldn’t hide it anymore.

I miss James. Fuck, I miss him so much. Sometimes I just want to forget about him so it’s easier to go about my life.

I finally let myself feel happy to be in love and you fucking took him away from me. Is it funny? To watch me suffer so much after everything I’ve done for you? I hope you’re laughing.

When I was more or less done crying, Mandy made me a cup of tea. Then we just sat on the couch. We didn’t watch any movies or eat any snacks — she just let me breathe. It was nice.

Then Mandy made me promise her that I would never try to end my life. I told her that it didn’t matter. I’d still come back. But she still made me promise her I wouldn’t try in the first place.

I said yes, and she ordered us some Chinese food. It was delicious.

I wonder if my daughter would’ve been like her. Caring, smart, energetic.

Lively.

Mandy’s not my daughter, I know that. No one will ever replace my baby, but I can’t help but wonder.

I like to think she’d be like her.

<><><>

October 18, 2023. 10:19 PM

I think you enjoy watching chaos unfold. This isn’t a realization I made recently — I started to suspect it when you cursed me. But I just had to say it.

Yesterday, the Avengers brought back all of those people we lost. I didn’t think it was possible, but I guess we do live in a world where people can come back from the dead.

The people who came back were appalled. Shocked and horrified to see that 5 years went by. It’s scary, isn’t it? Waking up to find out you died — that people mourned for you and said goodbye. But it must be nice to not wake up in pain.

The streets became so overwhelming that I had to close my store so that no one came in. It became too loud too fast. Everything was moving while I’m stuck in place.

I sent Mandy home, told her to go to DC and find her friends and family who disappeared. I sat in the back of my store alone for the whole day. It was easier to feel nothing there.

I guess there’s more people for me to save now. More opportunities for me to wake up in searing pain. To wake up after saving someone whose life is apparently more valuable than mine.

Like James.

God. James is back too.

I 

I thought I’d be happy, but I don’t know how to feel about that.

<><><>

November 3, 2023. 1:15 AM

Mandy asked me about James the other day.

I’ve been thinking about him a lot, but that’s not a surprise. But she asked me if I would go look for him now that he was back. I didn’t respond right away, and she knew something was off.

She said I should, and was just more confused when I didn’t say anything. She asked if I still wanted him.

Of course I do, but do I deserve him anymore?

For so many years, I have thought about James — dreamed of him. And over time, I thought about what he did and didn’t know. Even though I saved him so many times, I realized that he doesn’t even know the full extent of my curse.

Who I get to save — that was never my choice.

Would James be disappointed if he found out? That while I chose to save him every time, I never chose to get sent to him. You sent me to him. I know I went for him myself in DC, but all the other times, it was you.

If James and I were to meet now, would he be disappointed? That I’m just a regular person who was entrusted with a curse without a say. No power other than to perish. Not special.

Not worthy of someone like James.

I let myself believe that I deserve someone like him. Let myself be happy and say I love him. I love him so much. 

James. My James.

You have no idea how much I love you.

I love you so much that I let myself imagine a life with you. Where I could sit next to you with my head on your shoulder, maybe an arm wrapped around your waist. Maybe you have your head on mine while we did something cliche — watch the sunset or some bullshit like that — because our lives have been so unusual that cliches feel like a luxury. I imagine a life where I don’t have to die and you don’t have to survive.

We could just live.

But I’m not allowed to have that.

I went back to my journals and reread my entry about saving you for the first time. Visited all of my stories about saving you. Of those days where I wondered if you even like coffee, or what kind of pet you would have. I'd love to know if you like sweet or savory.

I'd also like to know what your favorite color is, and favorite tunes, and if you’re a morning person or night owl. If you like to read or watch movies or both. If you like to go out or stay home on a lazy day.

I reread the entry from the 40s where I said I would love to sit down and have coffee with you and tell you all about my life.

I don’t think that’s going to happen anymore.

I knew losing you would be hard, but it killed me more than I thought it would. Death wasn’t enough to get rid of that pain. I didn’t realize how much it would hurt to lose you.

I wanted to die when you died.

I did die when you died. My heart stopped with yours.

Losing you was horrible, and that was when I didn’t even know much about you. If I learn about all of these things now, I don’t know if I can handle losing you again. I already couldn’t handle it — I’m afraid I’ll hurt myself somehow if I know more about you.

I’ll still save you. James, I promise I’ll give everything to save you. I know you’ll need me — not because you’re a soldier, but you’re someone who always goes out of their way to protect someone else. You’ll always be in danger, so I’ll be your shield.

I’m sorry. I just don’t want to hurt anymore.

I’m hurting all the time, but this? Having hope for us — letting myself act upon my love for you — that will be taken away.

The world isn’t fair to me, but I can make it be fair to you.

Hey world? Fuck you. Really, fuck you.

Killing James was cruel, but killing him THEN bringing him back to me is the cruelest thing you could’ve done.

James is not the monster. 

You are, and you made me one too.

I’m the kind of monster that would scare children. Zombies who come back from the dead — ghosts who haunt the innocent. I’m sure I’ve haunted James. I mean, when he died, it killed me.

So did it kill him when he watched me die too?

He doesn’t have to watch anymore. He won’t know who I am. He’ll only get glimpses of me, just like before. I’ll continue to save him and love him from a distance like I always have, but he’ll never get to know me. 

I will never tell him my real name. He'll never know anything about me. I’ll just be his sacrifice, as well as everyone else’s. Nothing more, like how it’s supposed to be. I’ll just be the ghost story they tried to make him be.

Rose is dead. She’s been dead for a really long time. I know that. 

After all, I buried her myself.

You closed your journal, and continued to sit on the grass in silence. Your pen dropped to the ground as your shoulders sagged, your eyes glazed over as you stared at a tombstone that was barely lit by your phone flashlight. The air was cold and still, just like you.

You sat there for a long time. The clouds moved over you, blocking the moonlight every now and then while the distant city slightly echoed into the cemetery. 

To anyone, the night would’ve felt peaceful.

But you never knew what peace was.

Quietly, you reached for the metal container, opening it before dropping your last journal into it with the rest of your writings.

No more stories. No more histories.

No more you.

You placed the container next to the tombstone and buried it under the numerous, white rocks you sprinkled around it—an attempt to make the gravesite a bit prettier. Then you picked up a bouquet of flowers and set it on top. You didn’t move again. Silent and still, you did nothing.

Because nothing could be done anymore.

Slowly, you grabbed your jacket and got to your feet. You pulled the sleeves over your arms, hiding the numerous scars that trailed around your skin. You took one last look at the rock hiding your memories before sighing.

Then you glanced at the name on the tombstone, and your hands curled into fists as your eyes quickly watered. Your breath hitched and you turned away, storming off before you made a poor decision of any kind. You vanished from the cemetery, leaving behind the old tombstone that held a name.

A name that saved others, but not the person it belonged to.

A name that brought James peace, even when you couldn't.

A name that had stayed dear to your heart after all these years.

Rose.

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl @frog-fans-unite @sebastians-love @buckvoidsyy @recorddust @nj01 @avengersgirllorianna @western-nightss @chonkybonky @weasleyswheezeys 

Thanks for reading :)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[techav]

Looking Back

Today, 26 March 2025, is the tenth anniversary of the first time I put power to a Z80 microprocessor in a breadboard and watched it blink some LEDs.

Within a few weeks that Z80 would be completely surrounded by other chips and hundreds of wires to form my first functioning homebrew computer.

Another week and I was already removing a 68000 from a (presumed) dead motherboard, with grand ideas of moving up to the 16-bit era (but absolutely no understanding of what that would entail)

It would be another two years before the first time I put that 68000 in a breadboard and successfully used it to blink an LED.

By the time another year had rolled around that 68000 was living on a soldered breadboard and for the first time on one of my projects, it was running real software — EhBASIC.

Always looking to more challenging projects, while I was building with a 68000, I was already reading through the manual for the 68030 trying to understand how to build with a proper 32-bit microprocessor. Just one more year and I had that 68030 on a wire wrap board, blinking an LED.

The next year I was doing the most ridiculous thing I could think of — free-running a Pentium CPU on a wire wrap breadboard to blink an LED. Because I could.

By the end of the next year that 68030 had moved from its wire wrap board onto a proper printed circuit board — my first ever 4-layer PCB.

The next year saw the towering expansion of the 68030 build, adding new peripherals and functionality.

Another year and I had an all-new 68030 build on a Micro-ATX form-factor motherboard developed in just a couple months ahead of VCF Southwest 2023.

The next year I focused on developing software for my existing 68030 board stack, rather than building something new from scratch. I succeeded in developing a minimal multi-user kernel to run four instances of BASIC simultaneously.

All along in between working on these projects I have done component-level repairs on various computers, developed expansion cards for the Mac SE, built PCs both new and old, burned out hard, developed some smaller homebrew computers, had a lot of false starts, failed projects, and abandoned projects, and completed some massive projects in my day job.

Looking back at everything I've worked on over these past 10 years I am absolutely amazed at how far I have come and what I have been able to accomplish. Much of it I still don't understand how I managed to actually pull it off, and I'm not entirely sure I could duplicate my successes.

Here's to the next ten years

[kaciidubs]

The Summoning | Spooktober 2023

❣ Summary: Desperate times called for desperate measures, and you may have just summoned the most desperate measure of them all. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 1.16k ❣ Warnings: Demon! Jisung, humor, smut, Reader is a wee bit sassy, Switch! Reader, Switch! Jisung, implied multiple rounds, riding, open ended ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Han is referred to as Jisung, Ji, Baby, and Sir, Reader is referred to as Jagi, and Baby, barely edited, there's basically no plot ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Spooktober 2023

You were sure you followed the incantation properly, the candles were at the right points on your - albeit crudely drawn - sigil and the pronunciation of the Latin words were damn near spot on with the YouTube video you kept bookmarked. 

So, why wasn't there currently a tall, burly demon standing in front of you, ready to snatch your soul in more ways than one?

"What the fuck?"

Standing before you, looking just as confused as you were, was a man - a man - with admittedly gorgeously styled hair, an all black outfit that some how highlighted his slim figure, and a golden cross chain hanging from his neck.

Ironic.

"What- Where-" His eyes scanned frantically around your room before settling on you, still knelt at the head of the summoning circle. "Who are you and how did you do that?! Where am I even at? Who are you?"

You bristled at his constant questioning, eyebrows furrowing, "I should be asking you who you are! I was hoping for some sort of scary horny demon who was ready to blow my back out, not whoever you are!"

"Horny demon? Blow your- Hold on, hold on." He pressed his hands to his face, muttering under his breath though you weren't able to catch what he was saying. "You... You tried summoning a demon for sex? Are you insane?!"

"No, I'm horny." You deadpanned, crossing your arms over your chest, "And you're one to judge, since you came here!"

The demon dropped his hands, eyes wide and lips - cute, plush-looking, and kissable - set in a pout, "I didn't come here on my own! You summoned me, remember?!"

Groaning, you glanced toward the notebook with your summoning notes written in it, "I guess, even though you weren't what I was expecting at all." Looking up at him again, you shrugged, "Well, if you aren't going to satisfy anything, you can just - I don't know, poof back to hell or wherever you came from?"

He froze, mouth opening and closing with stammers that made you raise an eyebrow inquisitively. "I... Well, I can't."

"Huh?"

"I can't leave until I, um... Satisfy your needs."

If you looked hard enough, you could've seen the faintest blush rising on his cheeks.

"D-Don't get this wrong, either!" He shouted, quickly falling into the defensive, "I literally can't, it's in the incantation, I'm bound to you until I satisfy the contract of your summon."

There was a beat of silence between you, the cogs in your head working double time as you processed his words and all their double entendre meanings.

"So... You're stuck with me until you-"

"-blow your back out, yes."

Sure, he may not have been the big scary demon you were hoping for, but you couldn't deny that he was attractive and he looked like he'd be a pretty good lay. Besides - when would you be able to say you summoned, and fucked, a demon?

Pushing yourself up from your knelt position, you brushed off your knees with an exaggerated huff, "Alright then," you put your hands on your hips, smirking at the brunet in front of you, "fuck me."

Within the next ten minutes you learned a few new things; the first being that his name was Jisung - or at least, that's what you caught amidst his heavenly soft lips moving rapidly against your own. The second was that there was a specific way demons operated when it came to summons, and your chant just so happened to bind onto him. The third was that he had extremely sensitive ears, and for someone so sure about initiating things, he was a mere gentle breeze away from folding to your command.

And boy, did he fold.

"Oh, fuck me-"

He laid underneath you, hair an unforgivable mess thanks to your restless fingers and face wrapped in sheer pleasure as you rode him like a woman possessed; the springs in your mattress protesting in kind.

"Fuck- Fuck, Jagi, just like that."

"I can't tell," you huffed, breaking away from your assault of the pretty skin of his neck, "if you're the one who's supposed to be fucking me," your fingers slid from his hair and to his shoulders, slowly dancing their way down to his nipples, "or if I'm the one fucking you."

"I-I tried, but you-" a whimper fell from his lips as you gently pinched at the small, perked nipples, "-didn't even g-give me a chance!"

"Give you a chance? Baby," your movements changed to slow grinds of your hips, a sinister smirk growing on your lips from the way his pouted lips fell into a small 'o'. "I gave you permission to take me, use me as you wished - show me the reason why my summon worked on you." Leaning down, your lips grazed over his, "Show me why I chose you."

The air shifted around you, sparks of excitement shooting down your spine as you felt him shiver underneath you - your only sign of a physical change before you were suddenly rolled onto your back with ease.

There was no point in hiding the delighted giggle that floated from your mouth, not when it was subsequently followed by a shocked gasp as you took in the man - or rather, demon, before you.

His irises were a deep red, rivaling the prettiest of roses, while a set of horns curled from the sides of his head before curving up at his temples, the sharp points looking more inviting than they should have been.

Your pussy clenched at the smirk he wore, teeth bearing points that surely weren't there before.

"Why you chose me, Jagi?" Jisung spoke, the newfound low register in his tone wrapping around your mind and rendering you utterly defenseless. "Want me to show you why I'm the only one worthy of ruining this little pussy? Give you the treatment you got down on your knees for?"

His hands found your thighs, sliding down to your knees to hook your legs around his lithe hips before pressing forward, sinking whatever inches escaped you back into your slick cunt.

"Well?"

Taking that as your warm invitation to speak, you nodded quickly, "Y-Yes."

He tsked, loose strands of hair falling before his eyes as he shook his head, "Yes?"

"Yes, Sir." The title fell from your lips effortlessly, almost as if it was waiting to be used all along - natural.

His smirk grew wider, and you found yourself wishing he'd show you the delicious contrast of his sharp teeth and his pillow-soft lips, if only for a moment.

Anchoring onto his knees, Jisung cocked his head as if to process the simple addition of one word, "Sir... That's a good start, baby - keep it up and I might have to stay even when the contract's up."

From that moment on, the only chant you needed was his name, your sigil now in the form of your nails on his back, and whenever you summoned him, he came - and so did you, many, many times.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89

✧. ┊Kinktober only: @selicua

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!