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carbonfiction · 3 days ago

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Irrevocably mine

Worst!Wolverine x reader

summary: Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. somedays, it just gets too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. it makes him nothing short of desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading, unsatisfied and unhappy until he has you closer than close.

warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI- Needy worst!Logan, f! Receiving oral, oral on couch?fingering, mentions of bodily fluids (cum and spit) cum eating?(Technically?? S' just suckin on fingers), not sure if this classes as free use?? teeny tiny bit of face slapping, swearing.. he's a little pussy drunk here i cant lie.. But uhh think thats it??

Masterlist words: little over 1.8k

Sometimes you get to be too much for Logan; not emotionally, god no. Never like that.. Just the mere presence of you stirs something within him. The mingled scent of your perfume and shampoo on the bedsheets, on his clothing, a sweet fragrance that seems to follow him around the house even in your absence.

Somedays he can quell the feelings down in his gut until its nothing more than a dull ache, like a muscle overstrained. other times it'll grow, festering in his bloodstream until his body thrums with need.

And Somedays.. Well. Somedays get too much, that visceral need to be enveloped by you. It boils over until he's nothing but desperate, worn eyes begging and pleading as he follows you around, unsatisfied and unhappy until he's inside you- has you closer than close.

Today had been one of those boiling over days. He'd felt it stir from the moment he'd awoken with you snuggled into him, head pushed so far into the crook of his neck it was a wonder you could breathe as you planted gentle kisses across his skin.

Logan pushed the feeling down as you showered together, trying his best to ignore your soapy nakedness and wandering hands, a casual intimacy, as you gently washed him and his hair the same way he always did for you.

He continued his restraint as he'd spent the majority of his day with Wade and his incessant jabbering mouth. But Logan could still feel the ache inside grow, his clothes sitting uncomfortable on his skin, even with half a mind on helping his begrudged friend "fix up a shelf"

*in other words, it was one of Wade's horrible excuse to get logan in his house holding power tools. Making lewd; only-things-wade-would-come-up-with level comments until logan would threaten to shove his claws so far down Wade's throat that he'd be classified as a kebab*

But what really pushed Logan over the edge was when he'd gotten home to the sight of you laid out on the couch reading a book while only wearing one of his flannel shirts with some panties. A usual outfit for you around the house really, but it never stopped driving him wild. The way the of the fabric framed your skin in the soft setting sunlight stirred away at him until his clothes really became uncomfortably constricting.

He needed you, needed to be beside you, above and below you. To finally let your scent consume him whole. He wanted to beg, to plead for you to use him for your pleasure. It was like witchcraft the way you rendered him so pent up by merely existing in his life, like an angel of pure sin had fallen from the sky right into his arms.

His steps were swift as he came to a stop in front of the sofa, jacket thrown haphazardly somewhere in the hall. Your eyes break from the book in your hands as yours meet his, your legs now the only barrier to taking a seat. Within seconds, Logans hands gently lift the soft expanses of your lower legs, a smile appearing on both your faces as he sits.

At first he makes no moves, tells you to keep reading while his hands just simply trace and massage patterns into your limbs, enjoying a comfortable silence. You don't seem to notice how his eyes roam hungry against your dressed form or the chubby bulge that sits heavy in his jeans.

His rough hands slowly walk higher until they find their way under the fabric of your- his- shirt, your thighs soft; doughy and warm in his large palms. And yet his moves don't alarm you, don't break your trance to the page your so taken by in that damn book.

He thinks you don't feel the way his broad body shifts you with him, subtly lowering himself to the carpet until he's practically between your legs. He thinks you don't see the look in his eyes, shining with hunger and need.

Truthfully you see it all, practically felt the growing heat of the fire inside him from the moment he walked in, but you know what he needs from you so you continue to read, letting him believe you don't know.

You make no move when his head dips down, scuffed cheeks moving up from your ankles as he plants gentle kisses. Your stillness burns the flames inside higher, craving acknowledgement, wanting to devour you, but he knows no matter how engrossed in something you are you'd stop him if you didn't want it to happen.

Logan takes his time until he's just above your knees, then, he shifts again, now fully kneeling on the carpet. Your legs placed over broad shoulders. his hands roaming, pushing up the fabric until it rests just above your pubic bone.

His thumb finds your clit over delicate cotton and lace, a teasing pressure that makes you suppress a shudder. Its calculated, barely there and absolutely not enough but it still manages to spark pleasure.

And pleasure given by Logan was like ecstasy.

But, to your surprise, itstays like that for a while; him doing nothing more than planting little nips and kisses to your thighs and lavishing his tongue along the steadily drenching gusset of fabric. Spit aiding the wetness until they press translucent against your slit.

There's a heat in your own gut that builds from his movements, one that has you relenting the little strength you had to ignore him. the exchange so far wordless. But the moment the book hits the couch and your fingers finally entangle in his hair, finding his signature tufts and tugging gently, things shift. The brown strands are soft between your fingers as he lets out a quiet groan, finally speaking up in an intoxicating rumble "gonna let me taste you properly princess? Please.. I need it, been waiting all day to taste you"

For a moment you consider denying him, tease him a little longer, but the embers that burn in his gaze stop you in your tracks. A softly murmured 'yeah' fills the air and as quick as it leaves your lips his own dip, finding the dampening fabric of your underwear and inhaling.

One heavy adamantium arm lies dormant over you, palm splayed on your lower stomach, doing little more than pressing down your hips whenever you even attempt to wriggle for more. The other switches between pawing against your covered tits and holding one of your hands tight.

You squirm under him, sticky and wet as you allow him to choose his pace. Letting him take what he needs so desperately from you, allowing him his time to conduct his main goal; to taste your cum soaked cunt on his tongue like a spoonful of the finest honey.

"Got the sweetest little pussy.. could die happy down here" his eyes make contact with yours as he speaks making you whine. Something in the way they darken when talking about your cunt sending a shooting jolt of pleasure through your veins.

Logan slips his hand from yours until it sits right on the side of your inner thigh. Fingers coming up the middle of the soggy material before he hooks them, pulling them aside and baring you fully unrestricted to him.

"There she is.." he mumbles, lips immediately finding your puffy clit and sucking softly. His tongue flicking against the pulsing bud and paired with the constant suction of his mouth it draws the littlest mewls from your lips; quiet gasps of obscenity.

He spits then, lust blown eyes locked to your puffy cunt, his thumb a steady pressure on your bud as he rubs the saliva in tight circles. A groan as he observes how your empty hole clenches around air, slick arousal mixed with spit drooling down to your ass. "Lookacha fuckin' drooling all over me already.. What a needy princess"

You don't get the chance to respond- to tease him for his own need- what with how his mouth latches back over your pussy. A jumble of sounds filling the room, half sloppy and wet from the way logan laps at you, the other mewls, moans and whimpers as the feeling of your orgasm builds in your gut.

"F-feels so good.... Don't stop, please don't"

If anyone knows how to eat pussy, its Logan. His ability to eat pussy- to eat your pussy- is beyond any man you'd ever been with. You suppose its all in the years, experience built in his time, but its not like you have the capacity to really ponder its origins right now; not with the gusto he's sucking and savoring you with.

"L-Lo.. Fuck- s-so close" you breathe, whiney moans bubbling from your chest as your back arches on the cushion. They grow in volume with each flick and lap of his tongue. Broad strokes to precise flits, all uniquely drawing you closer, winding up the tension higher.

But what really shatters you is Logans fingers. Long and thick, enough to offer a pleasurable stretch, as his index slips just below his working mouth- sliding inside with zero resistance. He crooks it back and forth once, twice, three times before the middle slips inside as well.

You moan louder, hips thrusting down; fucking yourself on his digits as you chase the ecstasy tingling through your fingertips. The grip on his hair tight, making logan grunt and grumble as you guide his face along your dripping pussy.

"C'mon princess. Do it, cum f'me. Need it" he murmurs and the way it wetly vibrates across your clit shatters the tension in your gut, making you cum with a broken gasp. Logans mouth and fingers never stopping their delicious rhythm until tears well in your eyes, fingers desperately tugging at his hair. Your thighs beginning to close around his ears before he pulls away, a deep satisfied grin spread across his face. His beard visibly wet, cum and spit soaked.

"Fuck lo.." you giggle breathless, tugging him up from the floor practically by his hair. "Always make me feel s'good baby" the words are breathy, pressed against his lips in a wet kiss, the taste of you on his tongue.

"I like making you feel good.. Do so well for me everytime" he smirks and you feel it pressed to your lips; a blush spreading from the combination of your taste and his praise.

You kiss him lewdly, sloppy and passionate as you carefully grab his hand from your pussy and tug it up, large fingers still slick and coated in a thin creamy layer of your release. You pull back then, with a soft sinful giggle, making full eye contact with him as you open your mouth, placing those fingers on your tongue, lips closing around them like they would his cock.

The sight makes logan groan, his eyes darkened so much they are almost black. His chubbed cock leaking desperately in his now far to tight jeans. You smile, His free hand lifting to tap roughly on your cheek as they hollow around the digits teasingly. "My pretty girl and her flithy mouth.. Think we should get you something else to suck on hm?"

Save me needy logan.. Save me.. Writers block is easing up a lil so i figured I'd write something I'd enjoy as a reader?? Lemme know whatcha think! <333

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #wolverine smut #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader smut #carbonsfics #worst wolverine #worst logan #logan x reader #logan wolverine

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confusedlamp · 1 day ago

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I don't disagree with the general point and instruction of looking critically at studies and surveys that claim higher rates of mental illness or neurodiversity amongst trans people. Who is in contact with psychiatrists absolutely throws a wrench into trends of mental illness diagnosis.

However, I would encourage you to dig into the details of each study. Look into what exactly was measured and what is actually being claimed. A well designed study will try to account for some of the problems you have pointed out. Good papers will also acknowledge what they couldn't account for.

Things I think about under the cut, if you want to know what I mean.

How did they define mental illness? Did they look at formal diagnosises? Did they simply ask, "Have you ever been diagnosed with [x]?" Or did they evaluate participants for symptoms of mental illness? If they looked at symptoms, what questions were used?***

What did the study compare rates of mental illness in trans people to? Was it the rates in the general population according to another study (and was that study conducted similarly, is it comparable)? Or did they also give cis people the same evaluation? If so, are they comparing cis and trans people who have similar characteristics (ethnicity, socioeconomic class, geographic location, age, etc)? Is it a comparison of the same trans people over time?

Furthermore, how did they find participants? Were ads placed at locations that may add confounding factors or limit the applicability to the overall population? Was it a survey given out at a common location (high schools, for example)?

What exactly is being claimed (by the scientists or by anyone citing the study)? Are they claiming they know *the* cause of the trend? Or just a possible contributing factor? Proving a causal mechanism is very hard and isn't always possible, (conducting a randomized controlled double blind study doesn't really work here). Because of that uncertainty, a lot of studies will phrase it like "The results suggest that [X] may be a factor in [Y]."

Or are they just claiming a trend? Is it for all trans people or only a subset? Sometimes the subset of trans people the trend applies to can hint at causes or possible solutions. For example, a study could find that mental illness symptoms are only higher in trans people without access to transition related health care.

***I want to acknowledge that any survey can be screwed up due to lying. If, for example, older people are less likely to admit to having various depression symptoms that they do have, it could screw up any comparison you were doing looking at depression across age groups. Confidential written surveys (as opposed to verbal questions from an interviewer) can help minimize embarrassment, but it doesn't fix the problem. The best thing would be some sort of test for a mental illness, but that doesn't really exist, as far as I know. We just have to go off what people tell us.

*****Complete side note: I am not sure where you are from, or even if you meant it in the way I am reading it, but in the US a psychiatrist isn't required by law for surgery or HRT. Some doctors and surgeons will still require a psychiatrist's approval and it is sometimes needed to get coverage from health insurance. However, some clinics operate off informed consent. The doctor evaluates you and your health, like they would for going on any other non-pscyh med, talks to you about risks/ benefits, and then you can take the medication. I get my HRT from Planned Parenthood this way.

something that should be taken with a grain of salt are the statistics talking about the high rates of mental illness + neurodivergence among trans people (ocd, bpd, adhd, autism, etc)

I see both sides of the political spectrum taking these studies at face value - conservatives say we're broken, and trans people try to come up with reasons why for example autism + gender dysphoria makes sense and why one of them feeds into another

at the end of the day you have to remember that we're the one category of people on this planet who are legally required to go see a psychiatrist in order to receive non-psychiatric medication and surgeries.

more trans people are in therapy by law than any other demographic of people, and as a result, this captures more comorbidities.

if I had to look at my own family & rates of mental illness?

mom, dad, 2 maternal aunts, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, sister, sibling, and me all have OCD.

7/9 of them are cishet, never been to therapy, never diagnosed. 2/9 are trans, required therapy for hormone treatment, and were diagnosed.

you don't have to do any math to just see that the resulting statistics end up intensely skewed.

and we can think back to how autism was virtually never diagnosed more than 50 years ago - ruling out any grandparents being included in statistics - and even my parents' generation (they're in their 60s now) wouldn't have been included either.

I don't think it's to anyone's benefit to accept these studies uncritically. a lot of these things are hereditary and far more prevalent in the overall population than people realize

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spitdrunken · 2 days ago

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HIAHA I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE MR SCARLETELLA CAN YOU WRITE MORE. so odd and unsettling and obscene m just giggling with delight

HIIII thank you so much for the high praise <3 this has kind of a different vibe from the last one but plays with similar-esque concepts!!!! this is 'weird and obscene' LMAO

Notes: Suggestive, mild body horror, bolded = dialogue in the Other World's language.

==========================

How do you touch a man without a physical form? Or, you suppose, 'man' isn't quite the correct term. 'Apparition' would perhaps best describe him. Though he can reach out to you and make you feel the illusion of touch, you can't actually make contact with him. Your hand passes through him as if he were nothing but air.

You don't think he minds. It's always a bit hard to tell, with him. Mr. Scarletella ususally just stares you down with a dead look, communication relatively limited. But you would like to touch him! So you experiment a little, an action for which no mutually intelligible word exists. Still, he doesn't move as you poke and prod at different parts of his body, coming up short every single time.

You crouch down before poking at his ankle, just in case. When you look up, your heart stops for just a moment. Mr. Scarletella's neck is snapped back, folded in on itself in order to observe you. Vacant-seeming eyes are trained on your every movement. The sight makes you feel squeamish. "God... Not do," you tell him. "Head look hurt. Not funny." There's no other way you can think of to put it. You get up and stick your hand down, waving your hand in the other direction at the side of his head. He seems to understands what you mean, as his skull snaps back in its usual direction. You circle around him. "Sorry. Not want upset you." He says, although you know he'll never really listen or learn, not when it comes to these things. "Me like you. You like me." As if you'd ever forget. You beckon him. Rather than simply leaning down, his form flickers, distorting, before reappearing in the desired position. There's just one place you haven't touched yet. Once again, you extend your hand, the tips of your fingers brushing against the top of his umbrella. The surface is smooth to the touch and wets your skin, accompanied by a small burst of static ringing in your ears. It takes a moment for the significance to register. "Oh! I can touch your umbrella!" You say, forgetting the Other World's language in excitement over your discovery. Even though it's relatively small. You can't touch Mr. Scarletella himself, but the umbrella appears to be 'realer' than the rest of him. ...Actually, maybe the umbrella is a part of his body? He's not human, after all. He doesn't have to exist according to your logic. Your brow furrows. The puzzle pieces of language move in your mind, until they're slotted together semi-coherently. You point at his arm. "Arm you." Then, you do the same for his leg. "Leg you." You wave your arm up and down. "Body you." Finally, you lift your hand in the direction of the umbrella. "Object you? Me can touch object. Touch you?" Mr. Scarletella's smile widens. It reveals a little bit of the void that stretches on behind his lips. "I see. Correct. Object me. Object is..." After which he lowers his umbrella and says a word you haven't heard before. You try to repeat it, and he says it once again, pointing the umbrella in your direction. "Touch umbrella. I want."

It's definitely... Weird. It's genuinely like touching an umbrella. Cold and smooth and slightly wet. But Mr. Scarletella wanted you to do it, and you're kind of intrigued yourself, so you do it. Because there's clearly something happening. As you trace your fingers over the outer canopy, making sure to at least touch every panel a little bit, his visible form starts to flicker and fade. When you apply a bit more pressure, move a little faster, parts of him start to distort and change colour. His arm appears a little dislodged from his shoulder, static rising in the background.

When you pinch one of the metal tips in between your fingers and rub it, he lets out a laugh that is far more high-pitched than you would've expected it to sound like. Clearly, there's some kind of link between the umbrella and the rest of himself. Though you can't envision what it must be like, he's feeling something. Your hand pauses. In the blink of an eye, Mr. Scarletella has materialised even closer to you, nose close enough to touch yours, if it could. The inky darkness of his pupils makes up most of what you can see.

"Me like. Like like like like." He sounds breathy despite not breathing. "Touch more. Again. Me want you."

#homicipher #homicipher x reader #mr scarletella x reader #mr scarletella

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fallenclan · 3 days ago

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Pls ramble about Maplestar i didn't think much of him at all when he was around

okay so imagine. You are born into Fallenclan as a fresh little kitten. You are told at a very young age that your mom isn't around anymore, but your dad loves you and your two siblings more than anything, and he will do everything in his power to make sure you all are happy and successful. Your siblings are louder than you, more outgoing than you, and arguably more likeable than you, but they look to you as the cat to follow when your dad isnt around, so it's your job to look after them. You're the oldest, after all.

Later into your kithood you are told that your mother died giving birth to the three of you. If you didnt exist, she would still be alive.

You become an apprentice. Your sister is mentored by the cool older cat that is also your friend's mom. Your brother is mentored by one of your dad's best friends, a cat you've known since birth. You are apprenticed to the deputy of Fallenclan--she cares about you, and the clan, but she's also strict, and tells you in no uncertain terms that she expects you to be great. Not good. Great. You think, "If I am not great, is it my fault?" You try your best. You wonder if it is enough.

You become a warrior. Your sister takes on a mate, your brother does, too. Both of them have kits. You never were interested in having a mate, but you can't help but wonder if that's what your clan, your father, wants you to do. Your father, in the meanwhile, takes over the job that your mentor had, and becomes deputy of Fallenclan. Then he becomes leader. He becomes legend. Cats at gatherings say to you, "You must be so proud!" You are. When your back is turned, they say "The son of Goldenstar, he'll be something special, I'm sure."

The deputy, a cat known for her strength, loyalty, and honor, retires, and chooses you out of everyone to take her place. Your father assures you that you'll do great. Your siblings cheer you on and offer their support. You refuse it, politely. You will be a great deputy if you have to pull out all of your fur to do it--and you will do it by yourself. Are you really great if some of your greatness is borrowed? The whole clan depends on you.

Under the cover of night, the clan is attacked. The former deputy dies. One of your best friends dies. Your brother dies. Four kits, six warriors, and one elder die. You are hardly wounded. For moons you keep the night guard and torture yourself thinking about what you could have done to change things. What you could have done better.

Time passes. You age, your sister ages, your father ages. As leader, he has nine lives, but they slowly dwindle. One evening, he's missing from camp longer than he said he would be, and you and your sister go looking for him. You find his body at the bottom of a cliff. You grieve until sundown, and then you travel to receive your nine lives. You see the faces of all the cats you outlived. All the cats you failed. Your niece and great-nephew, your brother, your mentor, your father, your mother. You wake up and it is only you and your medicine cat huddled together in a cave. Your skin hurts, you can feel each fur on your body. You walk home.

You discover that your former apprentice is a murderer. With no other options, you exile him from the clan and watch as he is escorted away. If you had been a better mentor, would he have lived a kinder life? Would he have forgiven his long-time enemy? You'll never find out.

A neighboring clan, which has had it out for Fallenclan since your father was an apprentice, declares war. You run yourself ragged making plans and trying to keep your warriors safe and alive. There are battles, there are scars, but there are no deaths, and the war ends only a few moons later. You congratulate yourself for this feat, and then wonder why it was only when you became leader that war was declared.

Every death that passes, you wonder if you could have prevented it. Every loss that your sister suffers, your nephews and nieces suffer, you contemplate how to fix. You are old now, and there are few Fallenclan cats that knew you before you were an apprentice, before you were a warrior, before you were deputy or leader. You're not a cat, anymore, you are a shelter; protecting your clan and paying little mind to your own needs.

You take a hunting patrol by yourself, late one night. In a dry riverbed, you feel the ground rumble, and look upstream to see a flash flood clawing its way towards you.

You wonder, "Am I fast enough to outrun it?"

You aren't.

#RRGHHHH. RRAHGHHHH. MAPLESTAR. RHRHHGHGHH. CHEWING.#fallenasks #fallenfic #< id say this kind of counts #everyone use all your brainpower to think about maplestar #hope all this makes sense. it does in my sick little brain

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nadas-dirthalen · 2 days ago

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Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART ONE —

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's begin with...

Titans: Dark and Light, Compassion and Rage, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (1/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

Alright, pals. If you've been here a while, you know how this goes. I always start by listing what we're going to cover, like anyone who's never fully recovered from academia.

Today's Discussion:

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The Titans the first Shapers of the known world.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The best thing about Dragon Age, as someone who loves the series to death, is that its worldbuilding is consistent, but also bears the unique quality that we, as players, are not aware of it all. Our protagonists in each game don't know everything; the people they learn from also don't know everything. We learn what we can through codices that are all biased and need an extra layer of decoding. This is a feature, not a bug.

It also means that we did not know how to understand the Titans before. Even my 30,000 words of theorycrafting, especially my piece all about the Titans, had elements of speculation. I had to check that speculation against other sources like the Chant of Light, which is a source that we REALLY did not know how to decode when it was revealed piece by piece in DAO, DA2, World of Thedas, and Inquisition.

Here, I'm going to break it all down, piece by piece.

The Titans were the first Shapers of the (known) world.

It is said in the Descent DLC that Titans are enormous beings whose singing shapes the world. Their existence predates much of Thedas, if not all of it. The Titans are called the first Shapers for this reason, and in Veilguard it is restated several times over that they did, indeed, shape the world—for instance, by Cole in Inquisition.

"Their ancient shapers were mountains drawn of all their wills, walking their memories into valleys of the world." —Cole dialogue.

Inquisition told us so much more about the Titans than just that, though. The Titans have a realm all their own, a counterpart to the Fade, mentioned over and again in the Chant of Light and referenced as a quest name in Inquisition.

Here lies the abyss: the well of all souls.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

Now, it's important that I mention right here that the Chant of Light has existed long before Inquisition. In fact, its tale is what opens DA:O as the game begins. Recently Eurogamer stated that BioWare has had a massive lore document for the 20+ years of its existence, and I believe that there is no truer example of this than in the Chant of Light itself.

The Abyss, for a long time, was a mystery to us. Inquisition cleared it up a lot—not only with its game content, but with World of Thedas' publication shortly thereafter.

Not only is the Abyss referred to in many elven codices, but we go there. The key locations of the Descent DLC—the Forgotten Caverns, Bastion of the Pure, and the Wellspring—are in a region called the Uncharted Abyss.

Now, with Harding, we go deeper into the Deep Roads than the average dweller. The same is true in that instance: venture down far enough, and we reach a Titan's heart.

We find a Titan's heart there. But the Titan does not wake—none have before DA:tV, and even then, they have not fully woken. Because, for as long as we have known...

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

"It's singing. A they that's an it that's asleep, but still making music." — Cole dialogue.

There is so much Cole dialogue in Inquisition that speaks on the sleeping Titans, on their old songs that once sang the same, on how they will never wake up, that it would be folly to try and post every codex here. Suffice it to say: Cole knows of the Titans, knows of their songs, and knows they are asleep. He is one of the pathways to our knowledge of the Titans in Inquisition, and his words are peppered throughout the game.

The Chant of Light also makes reference to a mountainous Maker, who oft speaks about a forgotten mountain. When Andraste meets the Maker "in darkness unbroken," specifically, these words are used:

The Maker Appears to Andraste (7) Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. — Andraste 1:7

Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing — a being who has been broken, but whose heart still beats. We can hear that, in the Descent DLC.

Veilguard confirms that both sources are true through Harding, her personal quest, and the codices for the Dwarven people.

Records that exist outside of Orzammar mention "great sleeping Titans" and "the First Ancestors." — Codex Entry: Harding's Notes: Orzammar and Titans

Harding's experiences in Veilguard, in this way, serve to prove Cole right. That is a deliberate narrative choice: BioWare's way of saying, Yes, this is true. Yes, you should take Cole's take on Titans as correct.

We also know, from Cole, that this state of being is permanent. Not only are the Titans asleep, but they don't know how to wake.

Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how. No one should be here. — Cole dialogue.

This becomes crucial information in Veilguard, and central to the main plot. It serves as the backdrop for what actually matters most to the characters living in Thedas right now, which is...

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

By now, a lot of people have seen this reveal in the art book: the dwarves were created to tend to their Titan hosts/makers. But we knew this before—we just didn't know it in context, and therefore we did not believe it to be objectively true of Thedas.

In truth, we've known about the elves and the dwarves' origin since the Chant of Light came out in full with World of Thedas volume 2.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I talk about it in more depth in my Chant of Light dissection, but what this verse says in context is that the dwarves (the Maker's second children) are beings crafted by the maker: bodies made of lyrium, souls made of the same "dream and idea, hope and fear" as the original spirits.

This concept has already been massively hinted toward with both Valta (who has become The Oracle in DA:tV) and Dagna, who both connect to isatunoll during Descent and Inquisition's base game, respectively.

We've known about the Evanuris' horrible crimes since before Inquisition, as well, for the same reason and from the same verses in the Chant of Light.

Until, at last, some of the firstborn said: "Our Father has abandoned us for these lesser things. We have power over heaven. Let us rule over earth as well And become greater gods than our Father." (8) The demons appeared to the children of earth in dreams And named themselves gods, demanding fealty. — Threnodies 5

With the context given to us by Trespasser and Veilguard, we know without a doubt that the Evanuris are those "jealous spirits" that comprise the Maker's first children.

And just like the Chant describes, they sought to conquer the earth: the realm of the Titans.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

Trespasser taught us so much of what we needed to know about the Evanuris' and Titans' conflicts. Its codices in the Deep Roads outline how it was Mythal, specifically, creating some of the first elves in the coffins found in that zone. The Temple of Solasan features coffins of the exact same kind.

Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras Ir san'a emma Him solas evanuris Da'durgen'lin Banal malas elgara Bellanaris, bellanaris. — Codex: Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3

My (updated) translation: Isatunoll Mythal gives you dreams Lyrium within Becomes Solas evanuris Little stone boy You give nothing to the Titan (anymore) Forever, forever.

Trespasser reveals that Mythal mined the bodies of slain titans and rendered their demesne unto the People: she conquered Titans and used their bodies for her own ends. The hints about these actions, however, are not exclusive to Trespasser, nor to Solasan. These seeds were planted all the way back at the Temple of Mythal.

Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work. Elgar'nan, help us tame the land.

This codex to Elgar'nan makes reference to Elgar'nan giving victory over the Earth (capital-E, the Titans). Trespasser would follow this up with much context—that it was Mythal who was first known to have slain Titans, "rendering their demesne unto the People."

I theorized that Mythal's mining of Titans for lyrium to make elvhen bodies was what angered the Titans, based on codices in Trespasser and the Temple of Solasan. (I go into much more depth there!) Veilguard confirms this theory in Solas' Memory #4: A Memory of Manifestation.

Solas: I have the Fade. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake? Mythal: The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade. We are the best of physical and spirit.

Mythal's crime was what took the war with the Titans in a new, darker direction. It was what would set off the chain of events that would change the very nature of the world—and it was foreshadowed, back in Inquisition, by Cole.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

"They made bodies from the earth, and the earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget." — Cole dialogue.

In this post, I theorized that it was Solas' creation itself that caused the first Titan to "go red." That is to say, to change its nature and fight back. I used codices from Trespasser and Solasan to get there, as well as one paragraph from World of Thedas and this codex on Fen'Harel that describe the Forgotten Ones as "beings of terror, malice, spite, and pestilence."

Thinking about those words, and specifically terror, I read the codex in the secret Deep Roads room in Trespasser with fresh perspective.

For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast.

Terror. The first of the turned Titans. The fire/plant/ice imagery also caught my eye, and when I went back to Solasan to check, there were many hints that this was, indeed, where Terror came into being. (For more, go look at the most recently linked post in this section!)

Huge implications for Solas aside, what this codex taught me is that Titans' natures could change. This was confirmed in Veilguard many times over, yes—but my point here is that Inquisition taught this to me, just a few days before I gained the context of Veilguard. This was never a retcon! However, this lore plays exactly to BioWare's rules: we did not have the full context, and so almost no one read that Deep Roads codex as it was meant to be interpreted—including me, the first few times I read it!

It was only when I'd seen the achievement icons before Veilguard's release that it all clicked for me. All of the lore of Inquisition and everything before it made sense. That was never a bug, never a retcon, but a genius twist on BioWare's behalf: one that almost no one guessed at for an entire decade.

One that changes everything.

Titans, we know for certain now, behave as spirits. Obscure hints in World of Thedas, Inquisition, and the previous games have been confirmed in Veilguard. This new understanding changes not just the Titans, not just the dwarves, but reframes everything we know about the entire history of Thedas and how its magic system works.

______

Thank you for reading! It means a lot when people engage with these. And don't worry: I'm not nearly through with them. It's taken me a while to compile everything, but with more of Veilguard added to the wiki every day, it's a lot easier to compile things for these posts!

(Immense thanks to the wiki staff, of course. <3)

Up Next: Titans and Spirits are far more similar than we think, and it means everything.

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blankspacesys · 1 day ago

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🍄- Started as a "Feeling Blank but I have a multiverse in my head so I'll call myself Blankspace online" and devolved into a nickname of Blankets, which we adopted as our actual system name

🐙- "*Sigghs dramatically* I miss my boyfriend 💔 I can merely hope he notices me thinking about him :cryup:" -Ghost in our discord , 10/02/2024 at 2:12am

🎉- Our favorite holidays are the smaller ones spent with people we love

🌙- Yes! We have a Spectral Subsystem that consists of Ghost, the host of the subsystem, and a TON of others, some never fronting, and some that can front with Ghost as seperate

☕️- Switching can vary greatly. We could take days, or an instant, to have a switch. The ones that take days are the worst kind

💫- Most of us engage with art and writing, and DnD! Some are better than others

💾- Our current headcount is estimated 25+

👻- Yes, some of us speak in different tones and voices compared to others! Lotus has a lighter pitch, emotion driven voice. Wit has a very flat and blunt manner of speaking. Al has an accent

🎨- We all do in one way or another! We were raised by an artist

🥀- Splitting only happens under extended periods of stress, so only every couple of months I would guess

🦖- We have a fairly even split between brainmades and introjected fictives, with some nuances

🎵- Too many to count! We all have our own playlists and one mega playlist if we're feeling brave

❓️- We have tons of emotional amnesia, but full blackout amnesia hasnt been noticed at all, so could assume there isn't any. We are OSDD

🎮- Many of us have different things we enjoy online, some use different social medias and apps, some play certain games that others don't, but we usually can enjoy each other's hobbies (usually.)

🪐- Big, unclear how big it really is. The most we usually see nowadays is a block void frontroom that we all are just kinda existing in, but there are ways past the void that lead to the different maps. The dream map is the most confusing one, but the Blankverse map is based around what we create

🍐- Plenty! We have a ghost, a fallen god, a catperson, a foxperson, a actual fox, a divine/angelic entity, The Spiral, a fish man, and a creature dude. Must I go on?

🔋- Universally, music is our recharge. Certain songs or lists just have a replenishing effect

🌧- Art and distractions. Making things, cleaning, finding other focuses

🔦- I don't really remember how it happened. Just that over the years, things kept adding up despite our denial. I know it was a bad start to this year

🌟- We have neither things atm, but Wit and Cade are the best at doing work or dealing with people, and Divine is best at selfcare tasks to keep them going

🌊- Cade, Wit, Ghost, Divine, Lotus, and recently Otis

🎁- Probably! We usually make our gifts for each other, but sometime a host will by a stuffie for someone smaller

☘️- Most are sourced from OCs that grew more than they were supposed to, or from favorite medias

💬- We smoke weed for our chronic pain/fatigue, which leads to,, interesting innerworld connections

system ask meme

🍄 - how did you get your system name?

👾 - funniest out of context system quote?

🎉 - favorite system holiday?

🌙 - do you have subsystems?

☕ - what is switching like for you?

💫 - are there any hobbies you all have?

💾 - what's your headcount?

👻 - do your alters/headmates have different voices or speech patterns?

🎨 - does anyone in your system like art?

🥀 - how easily does the system split?

🦖 - is your system fictive-heavy? factive-heavy? neutral?

🎵 - what songs remind you of your alters/headmates?

❓ - how much amnesia do you experience?

🎮 - what do your alters/headmates do in their free time?

🪐 - what is headspace like for you?

🍐 - are there any non-human alters/headmates?

🪫 - what do you all do to recharge?

🌧️ - how does the system cope with stress?

🔦 - how did you discover your system?

🌟 - do any alters help out with school/work?

🌊 - who are your frequent fronters?

🎁 - have you ever bought your alters/headmates things?

☘️ - what are your introjects/fictives usually sourced from?

💬 - free space!! tell me about something!

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userautumn · 1 day ago

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i thought you would be happy with buck getting his oh moment and realizing his feelings for eddie but i guess you really were sucked into the bucktommy fanon created huh. Shame that you won't be able to enjoy canon buddie when it happens.

This is the only message I am going to answer about this specifically since I initially brought the topic up on my blog.

So, first of all, by definition, BuckTommy isn't fanon. Fanon is a ship or character that is completely generated by fandom. Buddie, for example, is fanon. Although they share a strong platonic bond, their relationship is not textually romantic. They do not kiss. They are not textually established romantic partners. Eddie said in the last episode that he is straight. So Buddie only exists within a fandom context. Conversely, BuckTommy is established as canon. Buck has touched mouths with that man on-screen. They were established as boyfriends and, now, ex-boyfriends. So it is, quite literally, impossible for BuckTommy to be fanon, even if fans do extrapolate, embellish, or reconstruct that relationship for their own pleasure. So, that's number one.

Number Two: According to this fandom, Buck and Eddie have had their oh moments a combined total of six times now at least (3x15, 3x03, 4x13, and 5x11, to name a few) and absolutely nothing concrete has come out of these events. The shooting is the closest we ever got, and that was four seasons ago. I don't begrudge anyone for reading that moment at the end of tonight's episode within a romantic Buddie context. Go absolutely nuts and have fun with it. But to me, that moment, such as it was, was more of the same - Buck or Eddie look at each other a certain way, or have evident (non-romantic) feelings related to the other, fandom loses their minds, they speculate, convince themselves they're right, nothing happens, rinse and repeat. I'm personally tired of the spin cycle.

I said I wanted strides toward Buddie canon to be made crystal clear and that's still true. You clearly see things differently (and that's alright), but outside the Buddie fanfiction hivemind, tonight's episode was not crystal clear. There was no discussion of Buck's feelings. He didn't vent them to Maddie or Bobby or Eddie himself. He didn't say, out loud, or indicate in any explicitly romantic way that he has feelings for Eddie. Buck having feelings about Eddie leaving is not the same as having feelings for him. They are best friends. They are family, actually. If Eddie leaves, Buck is losing the anchor to his support system and his (pseudo-)son. That's a big deal. That is an extraordinary weight to carry, especially on the heels of a significant breakup, and especially while dealing with abandonment issues. There was nothing romantic about that and, reducing that moment to a romantic reading, seems... odd. To me.

I'd like to think I'd still be able to enjoy Canon Buddie if it happens tbh. I actively write fic about those two in my spare time even though I keep my conversations about them to the DMs. But if I'm not able to enjoy it, it won't be because of the ship itself, it will be because I finally tired of the abject cruelty that's cropped up in this space. There's this unspoken rule in fandom that what happens during hiatus stays in hiatus, and we all just silently agree to move on from it when the show comes back. But I'm having a hard time with that this year because I've seen and experienced some absolutely insane things from this fandom the last few months that have stuck with me. So. Maybe I won't still enjoy it, but I hope I will.

I was really angry with the (non-Buddie related) content of this episode when you messaged me, so you probably thought or hoped I would bitch and curse you out, and we'd do this whole back and forth thing that would inevitably lead to you getting blocked. But I meant what I said - I have no interest in arguing with anyone about this show. We're not going to agree, and that's okay. I'm not your inspirational Buddie Warrior, and that's also okay. I have too much to deal with than to actively engage in internet beef. What is is what is, whether you or I or both or neither of us like it, and arguing about it isn't going to change it. So we might as will just learn to live with it and each other as best as we can.

I'm going to go watch TV now.

#I was on my way to bed but my raspberry sorbet is about to be delivered. So. Plans have changed. Lol.#jack answers mail #tv: 911 #911 spoilers

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beautiful-basque-country · 2 days ago

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I’ve read your recent post like six times but I still can’t wrap my head around it. There are masses for Franco? MASSES?

I know the Catholic Church can be a real mess, but how on Earth is this allowed? Isn’t there a bishop or someone at the Vatican that can stop this?

How do all the various communities let these gatherings and masses happen?

I’m Italian and Irish, so the lose equivalent of this Franco worship would be gatherings and masses for Mussolini and Cromwell, which I could never see happening. There would be a revolts in the streets! I mean sure, there’s always a handful of fascist ass lickers in every community, but usually it’s not blatant and their actions aren’t accepted let alone celebrated?

What is the general education regarding Franco like in Spain? Is there a lot of revisionist theory trying to paint him out to be something other than a psychopathic murderer?

Sorry if these questions are stupid, I’m just shocked this is like a normal and widespread thing. I’ve been to Spain once, and I guess I missed this aspect of the culture?

Kaixo anon!

They're not stupid questions, and I'll try my best to answer in an understandable way.

I'm sorry you're shocked about the masses thing, but it becomes a bit less weird if you take into account that one of the keys to the success of Franco's regime was Catholicism and the Catholic Church. Not for nothing his political ideas were called "national-Catholicism". The Church gave its full support to Franco and the dictatorship, and worked hard indoctrinating people to first accept and then passionately defend it. We can't understand Francoism without the Catholic religion.

You ask why this is allowed. Easy!! I'm not sure how Christian masses work in other parts of the world, but in Spain and EH, you pay and the church delivers: it can be a mention of the name of a deceased person the family wants to honor on the Sunday mass, or a full mass for said person any day you want. That's why there are masses for Franco eeeeeeeevery Nov 20. Because somebody - Franco Foundation, fascist associations or parties, just somebody - pays for them to exist. Of course the Catholic church defends it's just a mass of remembrance for a deceased person and not a glorification of a fascist dictator. Okay, if they say so.

Just this year there have been 18 masses throughout the Spanish state: in Madrid, Valladolid, Zaragoza, Málaga, Toledo, Alicante, Santander, Granada, Uesca, València, Zamora, Ceuta, Teruel, Sevilla, and Santa Cruz de Tenerife.

I'd like to think that Francoism isn't part of the Spanish culture as you mention, but sadly 40 years of a fascist dictatorship do some things to people. 40 years of lefties escaping the country or being executed, 40 years of brainwashing, 40 years of turbo Catholic fascism. You don't leave all that behind just overnight. There are still monuments to the dictator or the coup (Crusade, in fascist language), streets devoted to fascist elite members and criminals, and the f*cking king is the son of the king Franco personally chose for the Spanish state. There are Francoism remnants in every single Spanish institution, from the Congress to the Supreme Court (especially there). Everything is still tainted by Franco, his political ideas, and his corrupt political ways, even now, yes. Franco himself said the infamous words maaaany still remember: everything is tied and tied well. He meant that everything was throughly planned and established to function as he wanted when he passed. And it really was tied well.

So it may be not blatant for anyone visiting, but it's there, and it's definitely apparent. There's this sociological Francoism that was somewhat hidden from the 90s to the 10s, but now with the rise of the far right / neonazi movements has taken the mask off and fascists are calling themselves fascists with pride. There have always been some nostalgic people that were considered fanatic freaks up until now, but now they're more and more since very young men - mainly - are joining them.

#euskal herria #basque country #pays basque #pais vasco #euskadi #spain #history #long post #francoism #fascism #personal #politics #anons

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the-great-papyru · 12 hours ago

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i can completely relate to this, actually. i was raised to think “trans people are evil and brainwashing children!” so that was my thought process for a while.

…and then i got into the right side of the undertale fandom. and suddenly being trans or nonbinary is just… a thing. like, if you want to engage with good undertale content, you have to follow trans creators. and from there i got to see that… wow, these people literally only want to exist. they want people to be happy with who they are. no brainwashing involved.

it occurred to me that maybe i’d been the one who was brainwashed.

i decided to experiment. i never really liked my name. when i was really young i’d wanted to go by luna (my netflix profile name is actually still that one). i tried out some other names. aspen was one of them, i think. didn’t stick. i’d been using the name papyru for all my undertale save files because i thought it was kind of funny. i had ended up using it for other games, too, and… well, the name stuck. and i tried out different pronouns as well. went from pronounfluid to girlflux to genderqueer to nonbinary. i decided a simple label works best.

funny thing is, there were so many signs. if someone called me “he” online i nearly jumped for joy. they didn’t know i was a girl! yes! i had dysphoria, too. didn’t even recognize myself in the mirror because it didn’t look like me. (the day i cut my hair short was one of the happiest of my life.) so yeah, it was really liberating discovering i was queer.

Look at that, another @degenerate-mystery-inc-whore cameo! This will happen a lot. I love that purple-haired kitten. She’s like my literary foil.

My egg-cracking occurred from a mixture of drugs, suddenly knowing a bunch of trans people, and finally getting blackout drunk at a baseball game. It was a three month process, I was on HRT less than 3 months after that.

#nonbinary #‘ru’s rambles #backstory edition

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likeawildthing · 1 day ago

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And ode to our family couch on her last day of service.

Thank you, couch, for being my first big post-divorce purchase. I was SO proud when I could finally afford you for my little family. I couldn’t afford the delivery fee so my dad put you in the back of his truck and you rode, ass out, all the way home.

Thank you for serving us faithfully for the last twelve years, through countless movie nights, pillow fights, pillow forts, and dance parties. Also: crying sessions, depression, illnesses, and inadvertent sleepovers when I’d fall asleep to pride and prejudice for the fiftieth time.

You were vomited on at least four times, but your lingering smell is Diet Coke because approximately fifty-seven cans have been knocked over while balancing on your arm. Did I ever learn? No.

You survived two boys, from toddlerhood to young adulthood, definitely worse for the wear but still in tact. You were both the best springboard and floor mat for questionable gymnastics moves.

(I’m sorry for the atrocities committed, both on and around you, in the name of teenage hormones—I really, really try not to think about it but I know you Saw things. And felt them. Ew.)

You supported me through school, all of those late nights, year after year, while I was trying to better our family’s prospects. You were my safe space in the depths of chronic illness, serving as bed and desk and table when I couldn’t climb the stairs. We were best friends when I started working from home.

The scorch mark from the radiator isn’t visible, but the indents are both from our cat. Top left — his second favorite nap spot. Middle right, from my butt because he insists on sleeping between me and your arm, so I get the crack. Crack on crack crime.

I’ve tried to take care of you over the years, performing deep cleanings, surgeries, and multiple restuffings. I sacrificed a foam mattress last year to give you new cushions, and new legs the year before that.

But, and I’m sorry about this, too, you were my faithful craft desk. Shout out to your many hot glue gun burns, paint stains, and exacto holes.

I did, absolutely, cut a few strategically placed holes in you today to see what treasures you have stolen from us over the years. I did vacuum out every month the attachment only went so deep. So, in no particular order, your secrets:

-approximately two handfuls of dirt

-an obscene number of bottle caps (my side) and cosmic brownie wrappers (where my youngest sits)

-twelve buttons

-a roku remote

-three needles (we thought there would be at least forty)

-$1.25 in assorted change

-my Apple Watch which has been missing for four weeks

-three earrings, none matching, but thankfully i always keep my lost halves

-assorted paper scraps

-mini tweezers, one nail file, and three exacto blades

-a marker, four pencils, one pen, and two marker caps

-a lego ninjago sword that my kids fought about for two years, each insisting the other stole it (I have wrapped it in a tiny box as a Christmas gift from you to them. I’ll let them fight over who gets to keep it.)

-two nerf darts

-our missing cat laser toy

-an entire purse chain from my grandma’s vintage coach bag. I didn’t even know it existed.

So, aren’t you a sneaky bitch. But also, thank you for returning my watch.

It’s been real, babe. You were mostly great, very comfortable, and perfectly serviceable. I’m writing this, ironically, on your replacement. She is comfortable, spacious, and heaps more stylish.

But, damn.

Does she have big cushions to fill.

#pen to paper

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lost-in-fandoms · 2 days ago

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It's a weird feeling to head into the paddock while looking at pictures of Daniel in LA.

The rational part of Max's brain knows that Daniel won't be there, has known this for a few races already, but there's still a part of him, a part that may or may not be his heart, that hasn't wrapped itself around the thought quite yet.

He has seen Daniel not that long ago, and yet there's a weird ache in his chest at the knowledge that he doesn't know when he'll see him again, if not in pictures of him enjoying his life somewhere else. Somewhere Max isn't.

It's never been like this before. He feels like he's always known where Daniel is for most of his adult life. For most of his life, really, for as long as he's known of Daniel's existence. Even when he was the third driver, even when his hand was broken, even during summer and winter breaks, Max knew that wherever Daniel was in that moment he would have ended up in the paddock. With Max.

But now. Now everything is different. And for what feels like the first time in his life, he doesn't know where Daniel will pop up next, and when, if ever, he'll be within reach.

It's weird and it's wrong and Max hates it.

His fingers itch every day to text Daniel where are you? what are you doing? when can I see you? why are you not here? why are you not with me? but he never does. Both because he knows it's insane, Daniel doesn't owe him any information, Daniel doesn't owe him his presence, and because it would probably be cruel, to tell Daniel I want you here when it wasn't Daniel's choice to go.

And yet the itch remains, and having an alert on Daniel's name so he can catch every piece of trash news about him, obsessively look at his Instagram, and scrolling through social media in search of a glimpse of him doesn't help.

Not even the half a day he had with Daniel, playing padel and then sharing a short lunch, had been enough. The whole time Max had been itching and itching to reach for him, to grab his arm and tell him stay, to drag him to Milton Keynes himself and declare he wouldn't race unless Daniel was in a seat.

He hadn't done any of that, obviously, because that would be insane, and Max is doing his very best to not do any of the many insane things he thinks about, but it had still been hard to let Daniel go when he had hugged him goodbye.

And now he's back in the paddock, in Vegas as if everything wasn't bad enough already, one step closer to his fourth championship, and all he can do is look for all the places Daniel isn't.

It's stupid, and it's painful, and it's insane, and it's not something Max seems to be able to control. So he gives in.

Looks at the tables in hospitality and sees not-Daniel empty places. Does the stupid media tiktoks and thinks this would have made Daniel laugh. Walks in the paddock and thinks Daniel would have made a joke about all these stupid things.

By the end of media day he's tired and annoyed and his fingers seem to move on their own on the keyboard.

I miss you.

He doesn't press send. He wants to. He doesn't want to. He hates it all.

You should be here. It would be better if you were here.

He doesn't send that either, knows it would hurt the both of them.

I saw this hat and thought you would like it

He considers the picture, a weird Fernando-themed hat on some stranger's head. That seems innocuous enough.

He presses send.

The ticks switch from the grey of delivered to the blue of read as he watches, and he feels his heart beat a little faster, waiting for the dots of Daniel's typing to appear.

They don't.

#maxiel #my writing #i...don't know #i'm sorry? maybe?#im just projecting everything on max whops

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ghousttm · 3 days ago

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i feel like Evbo and Emf are different from most of everyone in parkour civilization, and it really adds to their dynamic

i like to think park civ culture is big on improving and looking after yourself and it makes most people not value one another or even have bonds or connections

This is especially apparent in the noob level where people would die quickly so its better to not get attached

and in the master level where you often form enemies than anything

even in the pro level its all about focusing on improving your own skills and doing your own thing. Most park civ citizens are closed off and dont bat an eye on other people, its the norm

Those two are one of the few people who helps others before themselves when it comes to it. I mean, theyre the only two people who actively did anything to fix the system

Evbo has always been someone who encourages others and wants to see others progress besides himself, indiscriminately

and emf seems to be someone who wants to help others (evbo), at first for the sake of greater good and a second time (jumping into the void) just because he wants to help his friend

Put two people who's whole thing is valuing another and have rarely ever been genuinely valued themself by others and you get yourself A Dynamic For Sure.

maybe emf's whole thing s'that he has always been one who helps the people he wants to succeed, but he never thought of himself succeeding anymore than what he already is. After all master is the highest he's sure he can get.. and his skills are very average for his rank. This is where he belongs, and he plays the part, as a small insignificant piece of a collective. He can't actually do more as himself, no that's evbo's thing! He's amazing and he's a walking talent, what emf is Supposed to do is support him!

But then suddenly, Evbo risked his life just to save him, and trusted him to be the new parkour champion

Him, emf, some nobody.

why? What did someone so great, someone who'd ascended above the highest rank he'd even known, see in someone so average?

but to Evbo, emf is so much more than average.

The average doesnt help him, doesnt believe in him, doesnt give him the chances to be able to be where he is at now, doesnt jump into the void like an idiot with no sure return. He's so so different than 'the average', Evbo has a trust and, dare i say, love for Emf that doesnt exist anywhere in parkour civilization

nowhere to anyone but to him and him only.

He was the first stars Evbo ever had seen. To evbo..

He doesn't look like the night sky,, the night sky looks like him.

They place a pedestal for one another in their own heads and i think that's precious.

In a civilization where everybody looks forward at the jumps in front of them and barely to their sides, to the people jumping with them

They look each other in the eyes, with a care and appreciation that's worth an extremely gay legend to be written about in parkour only to be summed up to "they were best friends" don't you know what it means to be more than allies in Second Era Parkour Civilization???

#parkour civilization #ghoust writing #pk civ #pkciv #parkciv #park civ #parkour civilisation #mavbo #evbo #emf #emf parkour civilization #emf parkciv #evbo’s master friend #parkour civilization evbo #evbo pkciv #its almost midnight fuck fuck fuckkk #ghoust headcanons

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aniesvision · 12 hours ago

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𝟐𝟗- 𝑳𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍

𐂂 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚘 𝚡 𝚏!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 (4289 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔), 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒓𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 (𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒃𝒂𝒅), 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆, 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕, 𝒅𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌, 𝒑 𝒊𝒏 𝒗, 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅 (😠), 𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒍 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒆𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

𝚊/𝚗: 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 ☠︎︎ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆, 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ☕︎

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒂 𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒏 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒏, 𝒓𝒆𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒅𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒔.

small words: backstory | normal words: nowadays

🍂

All the kids were reunited in the garden, playing, talking, laughing. The teacher looked at all the little ones, making sure they were safe and using their creativity. At that age, there wasn't much space to learn about love, but you, with your little arms and hands, were happily laid on the ground, legs swinging back and forth as you wrote an almost intelligible letter to one of your classmates.

"i like you more than i like my best doll!"

It was your way of telling him you wanted to get to know him, to play together, share your toys and communicate. You stand on your feet, walking towards him and poking his arm. When he turned around, you extended both hands, giving him your handmade letter. It took him a few seconds to understand what was that, but the way he laughed at the piece of paper immediately made your face shift to a sad expression.

He made fun of you in front of everyone, the teacher made him apologize, but months passed and your classmates still made fun of you because of it.

🍂

You're a rebel, stressed, sad teenager. Your ideal day is staying in, alone, watching Supernatural or some "freak shit" as your parents call it. You don't really have friends and you prefer to sneak out late at night to take long walks and enjoy the moonlight. You don't do drugs, smoke, drink or date. You're a very reserved person and to explain why you don't want anyone around ever: you're scared of talking to people.

You only talked to people whenever you needed to or when it was random talk, not ever expressing your feelings or talking about what you like, what you want, what you do on your weekends.

That same guy who destroyed your heart when you were only a baby, barely a child, was the same one you'd still look at in class. Not even the heartbreak was enough to push your feelings away, and that was embarrassing. You never talked to him, and managed to be very discreet whenever you looked at him, but it was still stupid.

In high school Chris became the funny, cool kid, a lot of girls wanted to be with him and he was (obviously) the hockey team captain. You were just the weird kid, the one people didn't even know existed even though most of you studied together since kindergarten.

You didn't want to make yourself seen, so you didn't go to parties, didn't go out, didn't do extracurricular activities, didn't go to games or other high school things. You were almost like a ghost.

Eventually you made one single friend, it was inevitable, she insisted and you eventually made an exception. She was nice, and talked too much, which gave you the opportunity to stay silent. You went to your first party ever after she begged you so much to go with her that you felt bad, and little did you know that day was going to be your revenge day.

You and your newest friend were leaning against a counter in the kitchen, she was talking nonstop and you were observing your surroundings. Your eyes quickly met his, and for the first time since kindergarten you felt like he saw you too. Your heart was about to leave your body through your throat when he walked in your direction, trapping you in between him and the counter with that same smug smirk on his lips.

He didn't remember you. And he tried to flirt with you. You wanted to say yes and make out with him right there, but it would shove all your years of suffering in the trash. The realization of what you did only came by when you turned him down and made people around laugh at him for being rejected for the first time ever.

School was finally over, you kept in touch with the friend you made and years passed without you having any knowledge of what happened to Chris.

And then, you saw him, the same blue eyes through your computer screen. He looked better, happier, all grown up. And when you saw he was loved and cared for by the internet now it didn't shock you.

Your one friend once again dragged you on a girl's trip with her. She wanted to finally embrace her new age of 21 and go crazy in Las Vegas, and how could you say no to her? You decide to explore alone when she goes to a casino, both of you expect them to let you in even though you were months away at 21, but of course they didn't, so that leads to you buying some tickets to a random event called Power Slap.

And life knows how to surprise you. Your seat was next to no one other than him. Your eyes meet his, your heartbeats race and he smiles at you. He. Smiles. At. You. What are the odds?

-Guess you're following me now, huh? -He asks, with a cocky sarcastic tone.

Although you were blushing, you still managed to roll your eyes and scoff.

-You wish.

-So you're into violence, I see. -He nods to the ring, legs slightly spread.

-I don't mind violence when it's for fun. -You reply, involuntarily allowing him to use his imagination.

-Hope you had fun violently turning me down in high school. -He shrugs.

He remembers this. Of course.

-I did. Did you have fun breaking my heart in kindergarten?

You look at him with one eyebrow raised, sitting in your designated chair and crossing your arms and legs.

He seems to think for a few seconds, confused when a light finally appears above his head.

-You're the letter girl! -His mouth opened in shock, but there was still an amused expression on his face.

-Unfortunately. -You basically whisper, turning your head in the direction of the arena, the blue colors of the stadium illuminating your face with the minimum effort you made in putting on some natural makeup.

Chris's eyes scan all your details, in silence, the smirk slowly growing back. He shifts in his seat, adjusting his hat.

-I still have it, you know? -He says, now looking at the arena too.

You furrow your eyebrows at him, not believing his words at all, and he notices it without having to look at you.

-It's back in my place, in L.A.

It was obvious you weren't believing him yet, so you decided to ask questions, if he was lying you'd find out.

-You're in L.A now, then?

He hums in response, nodding to his side.

-I live with my brothers, well, not with Justin, but Nick and Matt. We were invited to watch the event.

"Oh, right, he's a youtuber now." you remember.

-How fancy. -You tease, turning your attention back to the ring.

-Why are you here? -He asks, seemingly curious.

-It's my friend's birthday, but I can't go with her to the casino so I decided to watch whatever this is to pass the time.

He chuckles next to you, eyes not leaving your figure like he was examining a piece of art.

-Why did you keep it? -You finally asked what you wanted to know.

-I liked it. -He shrugs, with a small smile.

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes, and as much as you wanted to punch him in the face, you couldn't exactly bring yourself to do it.

-Yeah, so much that you made everyone make fun of me for years. -You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

-You had your revenge, didn't you? -He smirks, clearly amused.

You don't even respond, anger consuming your body. Suddenly the Power Slap event seemed interesting. You tried to pay attention to the hoster, the loud screams, and the show of lights. The amount of things going on made you nervous, but you didn't want to feel bad again because of one simple conversation.

The first competitors get in the ring, waiting for the sign to start before slapping each other's faces. It caught your attention, at first you thought "why would someone do this?" and then you were cheering with the crowd and wanting to see more.

-Where are you staying? -Chris leans to ask, when the first victory was announced.

-Why? Want to spend the night with me? -You tease, unamused, looking at him and arching an eyebrow.

-Maybe. -He smirks again, licking his lips and scanning your face.

-I'm not available. -You reply, giving a look at his brothers who were nosily watching the conversation.

-Yeah? You're dating or something? -He insists.

"Why does he have to be so annoying? If I knew this in kindergarten I'd never write that stupid letter" you think.

-No, just not interested.

He chuckles, of course his brothers were talking about it in their seats as well. The lovely Chris Sturniolo being turned down once again, by the same girl.

-C'mon, I want to make up for being an asshole in kindergarten.

He leans even closer, ignoring his brother's teasing and placing his arm behind your chair, turning his entire body to look at you. You study his expressions, thinking about his words. Even though you're sharing a place with your friend, you still have your own room. But, it's Chris, out of all people. You should hate him, although you're kind of even.

-You can ask me to leave anytime. -He assures.

"I can't get out of this situation without hating myself with any decision I make, so I might as well make the worst one."

-Fine. -You sigh, picking up your phone and checking the time.

-Give me your number. -He gives you his phone. -In case we get lost.

You roll your eyes again, typing your number on his phone and handing him back.

𖧷 𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑜𝑛 𖧷

We didn't talk too much, just a few comments from him whenever something happened in the event, but I was patient enough not to drag him to the ring and slap him myself.

When the event was finally over I texted my friend to know if she was still at the casino, but got no answer. I stood up to leave and next to me, Chris was saying his goodbyes to his brothers, actually following me without saying anything until we were back on the street.

-I can pay for the uber. -He says, handing me his phone with the app already open.

I don't even try to say otherwise, typing the hotel name. I hand him his phone back and cross my arms, feeling the cool wind hitting my skin.

-So, what have you been doing? -He asks, placing his free hand in his pocket.

-College, and working on a library. Didn't get so lucky as you did. -I look at him, a small smirk growing on his lips.

-You've seen my videos? -He raises an eyebrow at me, like knowing I've seen him was somehow funny to him.

-Not exactly, I've seen some cuts.

He nods, eyeing me up and down, but turning his head to the other side. We stay silent and soon the uber arrives. He opens the door for me and sits next to me, glancing at me every now and then. I didn't want to talk to him more than I needed to and he seemed to notice it, not pushing my patience.

We get into the hotel and I search for my room keys in my purse, opening the door and turning on the lights. I pick up my phone to read the text my friend sent me back letting me know she was still in the casino and she'd be out for a bit longer. I sigh, walking to my room and hearing Chris's footsteps behind me. I throw my purse on the desk, turning around to look at him, his eyes scanning the room and closing the door.

I sit down, starting to undo my shoes.

-You know, you were the first girl to reject me in my life. Definitely not the last, though. -He steps forward, taking a seat next to me.

I laugh, pushing my shoes to the side. He still dares to just speak whatever comes to his mind.

-Someone had to. -I shrug, taking off my jewelry now.

He stares at me with attention, moving his arms back to prop him up.

-I thought you liked me more than your best doll. -He teases, making me stop what I was doing and basically freeze.

My cheeks blush as I recognize his words. He truly remembers. He still remembers my letter.

-That was a long time ago. -I whisper, still shocked that he said those words to me.

It doesn't make sense, why would he remember it? Why do I care so much? Did it stick to his head without him meaning to or did he read it again after that?

-But you wanted to kiss me back, I know that. Why didn't you?

I hate him. I hate this. Why did I let him in? Why did I let him come back to the hotel with me?

I stand, walking to my suitcase, looking for comfortable clothes to sleep in. He follows me with his eyes, taking his own shoes off. I grab a large t-shirt and pajama shorts, giving him a quick look.

-Maybe I didn't. -I reply, getting in the bathroom connected to the room.

I change quickly, also taking off my makeup before leaving. I was nervous, I shouldn't be, but it was hard to be okay in this situation. The worst of all is to know that even years after I still feel so nervous around him. I had my revenge, my crush went away, but he was right there and this makes me confused.

He was using his phone but his eyes met mine as soon as I opened the door. The same gaze I felt all night, scanning my body like he had never seen a woman before. I sit down with my back resting against the headboard, avoiding looking too much at him.

-I didn't just come here because I think you're pretty, I actually want to know you. -He turns to face me, scooping slightly closer. -If you let me, of course, I can always just go away, I don't want to make you uncomfortable.

I ignore my heartbeats, meeting his blue eyes and allowing myself to let my guard down, at least a little bit.

-You're not making me uncomfortable, I'm just not used to this.

Chris smiles, hesitatingly reaching his hand to touch mine, waiting for any sign of discomfort, but I let him grab it and he immediately interlaces our fingers. His hand feels so soft and warm, it's almost familiar, although we never held hands before. I don't really know what is it that I'm feeling, but it's scary.

-Well, we can just talk, I don't mind. -His thumb caresses mine. -And I think I owe you an apology, I didn't mean to make our colleagues make fun of you, I was just a dumb kid.

I giggle, crossing my legs to get more comfortable.

-I guess I get it. Why did you keep it? The letter.

-I meant it when I said I liked it. -He shrugs, with a smile. -The first letter I ever got from someone, first love letter, first rejection, all from the same girl. Not a common thing, y'know?

He laughs, making me laugh as well. I didn't mean to get comfortable with him, but for some reason, he reminded me of the little version of him. Seeing him again after so many years makes it hard to deny that yes I liked him for too long, from kindergarten until long after school ended. Even when I rejected him, it was my revenge, but also my biggest regret.

-Well, you were the first person I wrote a letter to, a love letter, and the first guy I rejected, so... -I shrug.

-First guy you rejected? -He asks, with disbelief.

-Guys didn't exactly try anything with me, Chris.

-That's crazy, you were always mad hot. -He shakes his head, making me laugh at how naturally he said it.

-You're an idiot. I don't know how you didn't get rejected before me, but you must've liked it if you're back for more. -I tease a hint of amusement in my voice.

-You didn't reject me tonight. -He smirks, leaning closer with his same old confidence.

-I still can reject you. -I smile, trying my best to act nonchalant.

But I was so close to passing out. Time did him so good, he's being nice, my feelings are all over the place, he has always been my one and only crush and it's weird that I've never felt interested enough in anyone else. Seeing him was a coincidence, but made me hope that it was destiny instead.

Hating him seemed easier, but I just couldn't hate him now, not when he was... well, being him.

-But you won't. -His voice is lower, but firm.

I stayed silent, too nervous to speak, his eyes scanning my face to make sure I was okay with every move he made. His free hand scoops closer to me, stopping next to my hips on the bed, his other hand holding mine and his body leaving towards mine, making our faces get so close that I could see his freckles.

-At least I hope not. -He completes, his eyes dropping to my lips.

What do I do now? Why does he look even better up close? Why is my heart racing so bad? It's not possible that my feelings came back so easily, is it? Why can't I move? He's getting closer, his lips look so kissable.

His hand leaves mine, reaching my cheek and brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. He scoops even closer to me so now his legs are touching mine and without waiting too long he finally presses his lips against mine.

And I don't push him away.

The kiss is slow and delicate at first, almost shy. But soon we let our feelings get involved and it's different, it makes me feel butterflies, and it makes his free hand squeeze my hips, pulling me even closer to him.

We pull away to breathe and he caresses my cheek, smiling at me.

-I waited so long to do this. -He chuckles, making my heart melt.

All my efforts to push him away and to stop liking him were useless. My heart wanted him again.

-So do it again. -I whisper, letting myself wrap my arms around his neck.

He immediately kisses me again, his hands exploring my body with no shame, fingertips running up and down my uncovered thighs. He asks permission to slide his tongue in and I let him, his arms effortlessly pulling me to his lap, my legs on each side of him.

-I don't mean to rush things, but I want you so fucking bad. -He mumbles against my lips, lowering his kisses to my neck.

I tilt my head to the side, giving him more access and letting myself enjoy this, I waited longer than he did to feel him close to me.

-I'm all yours. -I whisper in his ear.

His groan was audible and he turned us around so now I was laying on the bed on my back and he was hovering over me. He gave me no time to even process what was happening before kissing me again, this one full of desire and need, his hips grinding against mine and one of his hands lifting my leg to wrap it around his waist.

I slide my hands under his shirt, feeling his skin and leaving light scratches on it. Our lips only separate for him to take both our shirts off, making the moment even more intimate.

His lips lower to my neck, collarbone, and the valley of my boobs, biting my skin to leave purple and red marks all over it. I could barely wait to feel more of him, my own hands unclasping my bra and throwing it on the floor as he kept the assault on it. Chris's eyes scan my bare breasts like it was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

-You're perfect. -He whispers, swirling his tongue around my nipples.

I moan softly, reaching for his hair and pulling him even closer to me. It's hard to believe that this is happening. His hands feel perfect on my skin, his hair is soft, and his kisses are addictive.

After giving the same amount of attention to both my nipples and leaving more purple marks, he lowers himself in between my legs, looking for permission before sliding down my shorts and panties at the same time, throwing them aside. His breathing hitches as he looked at me, licking his lips and squeezing my thighs with his hands.

-So perfect. Even prettier than I thought you'd be. -He whispers, kissing the insides of my tights.

I didn't even have to ask him to do anything, his tongue quickly licking a stripe from bottom to top, sucking my clit gently. I grip his hair tightly, arching my back and moaning at the feeling, encouraging him to keep going.

Chris eats me out like he is starving, adding a finger to increase the pleasure. As my moans grew louder, his pace got faster, his mouth working on me perfectly.

-Fuck, Chris. -I whine, my legs starting to shake.

A smirk shows up in his face, his eyes meeting mine.

-My name sounds so good coming from your lips.

He pulls his lips away, adding another finger and thrusting them into me even faster. My walls were clenching around them, his fingertips curving to hit that perfect spot, the sounds coming from me turning both of us on even more.

My orgasm hits me like a train, his lips meeting mine to muffle my loud moans. Groaning against my lips, he takes his fingers off me, using his hand to unbutton his pants.

-Fuck, need to be inside you right now.

He kneels in between my legs, pushing his pants and boxers down. My eyes widen a bit when I take a look at him, he was bigger than I imagined he'd be. I bite my lips, admiring his body as he hovers me again with a smirk on his lips.

-You good? -He asks, with a hint of amusement.

I simply nod in response, wining when I feel him sliding his tip up and down my folds. There was no room to talk before he aligned with my entrance and pushed all of him in at once.

-Oh, fuck. -I crave my nails on his biceps, eyes rolling back.

-Shit, you feel so good. -He sighs, waiting for me to adjust to his size.

He starts thrusting at a slow pace, using one of his arms to keep him up and the other to keep my head still, wanting to make things truly intimate with eye contact. All of me was so sure at that moment that he was all I'd ever wanted and all I'll ever want.

-You're so pretty. -He whispers, cupping my cheek gently.

-You're perfect. -I answer, without thinking too much, pulling him into another kiss.

His thrusts became deeper and faster, his muffled sounds turning me on so much that it didn't take long for me to feel another orgasm building up. When he pulls away from the kiss, he buries his head on my neck, biting and kissing it as he fucked me like no one else.

-Chris, so close, don't stop. -I cry out in pleasure, wrapping my legs over his waist.

It only makes him go deeper, groaning in my ear and moving his hand from my cheek to my throat, choking me lightly.

-Give it to me, cum all over my dick. -His voice is low and hoarse, getting me even closer.

A few more thrusts and I was making a mess for him. My moans were loud, my body was squirming and my legs shaking, my walls clenching him so hard that it led him to his own climax, painting my insides in white.

We take a moment to capture our breaths, panting heavily with him still on top of me. He pulls away, collapsing next to me.

-Are you still in Boston? -He asks, turning his head to look at me.

I look at him. His hair was damp and messed up, his cheeks pink, his face and body sweaty, and he still looked perfect to me.

-Yeah, still in Boston. -I agree, smiling at him.

-Good, I really want to keep seeing you. -He smiles back.

-I thought you were in L.A. -I say, confused.

-We go back to Boston a lot, and kind of live in both places. I can see you anytime I'm back there, if you want to, of course.

-I'd love to.

He pecks my lips, helping me clean up and put my clothes back on. We take a moment to eat and talk normally before going back to my bed, where he spent the night with me.

Fortunately he kept his word. We texted every day and when he traveled back to Boston he asked me to hang out.

Unfortunately for my friend she heard a lot that night in Vegas that she shouldn't have when she came back to the hotel. But at least she's still my friend and she's happy that I'm finally with the only guy I ever loved.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 ✍︎

➪ @riowritesitall @sturniolosarethebest @hyacinthst @deers4luv @sturncakez @watercolorskyy @delooshunalhoe @sarosfilms @blahbel668 @sturniyolo69 @sturniolosl0t @colbsposts00 @fallingforfalll2 @stvrnmc @faithlia @katie-tibo @monroesturnns @mattnchrisworld @shaquilles-0atmeal @fratbrochrisgf @dayzeandhaze @phimstarz @h3arts4harry @star-yawnznn @asherrisrandom @pip4444chris @sturniolo-fann @beansprout713 @conspiracy-ash @sturnsxbitvh @ivysturnss @mattsbitch @larallott

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pinkpastels113 · 2 days ago

Text

romance is not dead (if you keep it just yours)

also on ao3

a/n:

for @mcrololo and @shikariix <33 did i listen to paris by taylor swift and enchanted on repeat the entire time while writing this?? maybe... also thanks for the idea/encouragement to write this based on this tumblr post @pyresrpgear!! hope you like this as well :))

People often forget that you can find romance in the most mundane of things, that love exists in the most simplest of gestures.

Chloe was getting some water at the fountain in the common area of Beca’s music label when one of these moments happened.

“Shoot your shot!”

Chloe turns at the sound of the man’s voice behind her. It belonged to one of Beca’s coworkers and she can just make out him slipping behind the wall of the opening to the common area with a subtle wink before her attention lands on Beca, her wife, walking towards her, her own water bottle in tow.

Chloe grins, as she always does when in the same vicinity as the love of her life. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Beca chuckles, nervously, and lifts a hand to rub it at the nape of her neck as if working up the courage to pop the following question:

“You’re really cute. Wanna go out with me?”

Her dark blue eyes are downcast, just like that time eight years ago when they were both in their twenties in university, high on the serotonin and adrenaline of yet another win with their Bellas, after a group hug, when Beca had also asked her out with the same expression, her bottom lip snagged between her teeth and a hopeful lift to her eyebrows.

Chloe’s heart leaps in her chest in the exact same way back then, too, now, like she had been waiting forever for that feeling, that confirmation, that Beca liked her back in that all consuming, I-might-be-sick overwhelming way that Chloe had felt towards her best friend ever since she’d joined their silly little acapella group.

(Even though Chloe considers herself a romantic– she had been reading romance novels ever since middle school, after all– she feels like Beca might just secretly be a bigger one.)

She sets aside her water cup, reaches forward and repeats the gesture with Beca’s, in favor of taking both of Beca’s hands in hers. Beca’s fingers were cold, so she threads them together and squeezes to breathe some warmth into them.

“Yes. Of course I would love to go out with you.”

Beca’s face lit up, like a dang near Christmas tree, and her lips quirk into a huge relieved smile just like they did when Chloe had first said yes all those years ago as well. (Pft, as if Chloe could say no.) She returns Chloe’s squeeze.

“Cool beans.”

And it may be cheesy, and corny, and just a tad bit dumb especially since both of their matching wedding rings are digging into their skins, but it still made Chloe’s day. She already knew that nothing would wipe that dopey grin off her face for the next twenty four hours, and she’s completely satisfied with that fact.

When they got home later that day, after dinner and they’re cuddling on the couch with the heater on and a movie playing in the background, Chloe talks about it, mentioning the shoot your shot comment.

“Was he new or something? What was that about?”

Beca snorts, burying her face into the crook of Chloe’s neck where her breath ghosts over Chloe’s collarbones, “Nah. I told him that I was about to ask out the hottie at the fountain and he’s simply encouraging me. He knows that we’re married, Chlo. Just cheering me on like the dork that he is.”

“Like the dork that you are, you mean,” Chloe corrects, pressing a soft kiss to the center of Beca’s forehead. She finds the whole thing incredibly cute, even though it was small and mundane.

Who says romance is dead just because you’re married? It survives even past death, unlike those classic vows for marriage.

#w writes #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction #i love it when inspiration and motivation just hits like this LMFAOOO #the way this is my first married bechloe fic (i think??) adfshj help #bechloe fic #bechloe fanfic #wlw

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sunnydayaoe · 2 days ago

Text

{Dress up}

[CCCC FIC] Contains: Platonic Soul and Whole, sfw Petre[~4,500 words]

Soul really could not be normal. Clutched in His hands, the cutest little calico cat ear headband he'd ever seen. He gestured to himself, to Whole, to them, voice squeaky, "Is that-" for me? He really couldn't finish any sentence today, staring into His eyes: Deep brown and probably considering just how pathetic Soul was being. He shouldn't have asked. He could feel the shame, red like his halo in the midst of cacophony, creeping across his face. -- Dress up!!! Whole buys Soul some cat ears :]

Fic under cut! or on AO3

One would assume, wrongfully, that he would know better than this. He had assumed he knew better than this. Mocking him, taunting even, a little plastic bag carried the cause of his strife. Innocently sitting on his kitchen counter, contents spilling out the slightest bit: calico cat ears and a matching tail.

Pathetic to be so worked up over such a simple thing. It made him infinitely grateful Mind and Heart had left for a walk earlier and his Soul hadn't left its room for the day yet; Whole assumed he was just enjoying some alone time with both its ids and Whole out of the house.

He cringed as his thoughts drifted back to his Soul. The calico themed ensemble had been bought for him, after all.

Nothing was wrong with them, at a glance. Plush, soft to the touch, colored bright and cheery, they seemed exactly what someone who'd buy them would want out of them. What had drawn his eye in the first place, the signature black and orange splotching reminding him terribly of his Soul, looked charming even in the shitty kitchen lighting. He groaned, slumped over the counter, annoyed with how easily he was taken in by them.

It wasn't just that he'd gotten cat ears for his... friend, before he could think better of it. It was that Soul would definitely balk at the idea of wearing them.

He didn't think there was any shame in wearing cat themed paraphernalia, didn't even think Soul would find it shameful to wear them, but that wasn't the problem here. Soul already had fuzzy ears and a short little tail, rendering this wholly unnecessary.

Frankly, he would just look downright goofy in the whole ensemble. Curved, sharp horns with a cat-ear headband at the base, further down real goat's ears, and then even further a fake cat-tail to hang beside its real fawn. And, well... It would look cute. He just didn't think his Soul would have a similar view.

He slid his hand over his face, another noise escaping his lips. This was just embarrassing.

He knew Soul didn't need any new equipment for pet regression: at least, he'd never asked for or made any himself. Doing this, getting him things he definitely didn't want and would probably feel stupid wearing, was another tally in the mess he'd made of his Soul's existence.

He wished there was a guide to being someone’s... to being someone’s.

He'd flipped through article after article about " how to be a good roommate, " " all the things that only your good friends would do for you, " and even several blogs about being a good caretaker, yet none of them seemed to know the answers for all of... this.

He should throw them away. A waste of money, a waste of time, but what wasn't, nowadays? It'd be a bigger waste if Soul saw them and finally realized Whole wasn't worth as much as he clearly thought he was. He could see it so clearly. His Soul's eyes, wide with wonder and adoration darkening with understanding; seeing Whole for who he clearly was, a waste of time and effort.

Maybe that would be a blessing: getting it over with. It probably wouldn't fix anything. Soul- and Heart and Mind- were all stuck with him, their only Whole.

He shook his head. He couldn't be getting bogged down by thoughts like that now.

The bag was in his hand and he was halfway down the hallway before he could start overthinking again. His own trash-can would be best; he could just imagine the reactions if any of the three found his mistake in a more communal trash-can. He'd never live it down.

He made it to his room without interruption, thankfully.

With a 'oomf' he flopped into his desk chair, the bag ending up on the desk itself. He should throw it away, but...

The headband was in his hands, horribly soft. He fidgeted with it, and tried not to imagine them on Soul. Failed, like many other things, but the picture did bring a smile to his face. His Soul would look extremely goofy in them; adding the tail to the mental image brought out a giggle.

He was just having a little thought experiment before he threw them away, that was all. It wasn't hurting anyone.

Maybe this earned him karma's ire though, or maybe it was another bullet on the long list of problems he'd caused. Either way, lady luck was not smiling upon him.

His door creaked open, Soul peeking in, a smile drawing across his face in an instant. "Whole, you're back! Would you like to ha-"

He knew why he stopped.

Single visible eye dilated in, focused on the headband in his hands. It reminded him of that searching look Soul got on his face anytime he hadn't seen Whole for any notably long amount of time; searching, intense- looking for faults, for why he cared about him at all, probably.

"Is that...?" Soul gestured vaguely, like he didn't know what it was trying to say but trusted Whole implicitly to understand.

Whole did Not understand.

------

The day had been going well. Almost unreasonably well.

Heart and Mind had been civil, even affectionate, all morning. They'd left the house together some time early in the evening. A part of him {one he had been listening to less and less as of late} feared they wouldn't be returning, at least not in one piece. Most of him just hoped they got back early enough to join them for dinner.

Most of the unease was centered on the fact that Whole had gone shopping, though.

It made him feel clingy and a bit pathetic to worry so much when all He was doing was a simple errand, but oh, Harmonia, was it hard not to imagine something horrible happening to his Whole while he was not there.

It was fine, he could deal with it! Harmonia would return, probably with a little extra treat He'd gotten while He was out, and a satisfied smile. Getting out would be good for Him. Soul really should just... calm down.

That was what he'd tried to tell himself all morning, anyway.

He could feel the stress sinking in further, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up against Harmonia and forget all the stress of being apart. That would be dreadfully embarrassing though. He was probably going shopping to get away from them for a little bit {and, well... Shop.}, Soul attaching himself to His hip right as He got back would be tantamount to going right against Harmonia's will.

He could be normal! He... he could be normal just as soon as he gave Him a little check in. The footsteps, quiet as they were, let him know Harmonia had gotten back from His little trip. Maybe Soul could ask if He'd want lunch. Maybe they could eat it together...

He slapped his cheeks, shaking his head out like a dog. Getting ahead of himself again, daydreams filling his head. He needed to get a grip!

Just... just be normal, he reminded himself, with a final steadying breath. His door had been left open a crack, and with that note he pushed Harmonia's door open.

"Whole, you're back! Would you like to ha-" the sentence remained unfinished.

He really could not be normal.

Clutched in His hands, the cutest little calico cat ear headband he'd ever seen. He let out a near inaudible noise, though from what he could see He didn't seem to notice.

He gestured to himself, to Whole, to them, voice squeaky, "Is that-" for me? He really couldn't finish any sentence today, could he.

Whoever said that eyes were the window to the soul was clearly lying out of their ass, because what Soul saw in Harmonia’s eyes was not himself. Deep brown and probably considering just how pathetic Soul was being. He shouldn't have asked. He could feel the shame, red like his halo in the midst of cacophony, creeping across his face.

What was he waiting for? Soul to finish his sentence? That ship had clearly sailed and crashed… maybe he was trying to figure out how to let Soul down gently; that made more sense. His Harmonia was so sweet, of course He wouldn't want to be too cruel in His rejection.

Of course those sweet little trinkets wouldn’t be for Soul.

Whole moved, snapping Soul out of his thoughts immediately. Eyes wide, searching for any sign of what Soul was supposed to do. How he could be perfect.

His arms, holding the headband, had curled inwards. Like praying {like Soul}.

Harmonia, Whole, cleared His throat, like He didn't know what to say. He didn't say anything for a moment longer, awkward. Another cough. Soul was slightly worried He might just be sick. Soul's throat ached in sympathy, or maybe that was just because he'd stopped breathing.

"Soul-" He finally started, "This is- I just... I bought these earlier. Ah, while I was doing errands." He cringed, like He didn't really want to be talking about this. Talking to Soul.

Soul should probably answer, "Oh." No sound came out when he tried to continue, so he quickly shut his mouth. Maybe he would Not be answering with more than that. Maybe he should just walk out the door and dig himself a pit to lie in. Maybe Heart had the right idea.

Whole cringed back even further at that; Soul definitely made a mistake. Should he... try talking again? Before Soul could try another attempt at normal conversation, a futile effort, Harmonia was continuing.

"You can, ah, have them. If you want." He made a little motion to come closer; it was kind of an awful effort, motion aborted half-way through like He was embarrassed to be taking up more space than He already was.

It was all Soul needed though, and with a motion more practiced and sure than anything else that evening Soul had stumbled forward and landed on his knees before Him. The position, the cat ears it wasn't even wearing, the fact he'd felt stressed all day... It was hard to stay present, to not regress.

His Whole was already so stressed, He probably didn't want to deal with that right now. Soul could keep it together, for Him. {He knew he couldn't. Everything already felt a little fuzzy. Weak, but maybe Harmonia would forgive him.}

His face was a little twisted up, something sour that quickly smoothed out into calm. "Do you want me to put it on you...?"

Soul thought that was already the plan. He really kept embarrassing himself, didn't he? He did a little almost imperceptible nod, something Harmonia had to lean down to see.

Finally something that wasn't negative; He smiled, sweet and small and lopsided and perfect. "Let me..." He murmured, quiet, before slowly reaching out with the headband. Soul tried to stay still, really, he did. His efforts were fruitless, because the instant His hands dipped around his ears, gently sliding the headband on, he was had.

As if his body and mind were not one {ironic, because he was not the one split in three in this room,} he leaned into the hands with a hum. Warm, soft, kind. He made a noise at that, surprised and amused. With the smallest adjustment to the headband, His hands moved forwards to cup his face instead, tilting it up to stare up at Him.

"Cute...."

Soul's face was bright red. That didn't stop him from leaning in until nearly his entire head was supported by Harmonia's hands though. He scooted the smallest bit closer, head nearly in His lap.

Harmonia's thumb gently rubbing along his cheek was the last straw. He shouldn't have expected not to fall like this, He was just being too indulgent, affectionate. How was he supposed to resist...?

He nuzzled into His hands, shuffling the last few inches closer until he could set his head in His lap. Like a lapdog, or perhaps a very large cat, he looked up at Harmonia, eyes half-lidded. Harmonia seemed taken aback by his boldness, but Soul was too busy enjoying the feeling of His soft denim pants, skin-warmed, against his cheek to notice.

Another moment frozen, a moment where Soul started to almost regret his actions, almost came back up. It only lasted that single second though, His hands beginning to move again. One stayed against his cheek, the other drifting back behind his ear. "Are you a kitty right now...? I should have expected this." A ting of self deprecation, like He couldn't get over how stupid He was.

Soul wouldn't be standing for that, not when Harmonia was the definition of perfection. With a whine he nuzzled against his lap, staring up at Him with large baleful eyes. His arms reached up, paws on his knees. The picture of a pleading kitten.

He laughed, attention redirected back to Soul. "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to worry you, bud."

That laugh was nearly angelic. Everything he’d ever need to hear for the rest of his life. He hummed, nuzzling further against Harmonia, trying to elicit more giggles and coos.

Anything to make his Whole happy. Anything to keep Him content to lower Himself to his presence.

It was like that for a few more moments, Harmonia’s hands carding through his hair. His nails were bit short, blunt, but still wonderful against his scalp. Still, like all good things, it could not last.

“Soul,” He started, before stopping. Words coming out before He’d considered them, or maybe the pause added in for some secretive sort of purpose Soul wasn't able to get, world so fuzzy at this point.

The lack of structure was unideal though. He couldn’t help but be reminded of that awful song He would sing when existence became too taxing. Each word drifting further and further from one another…

“Do you want off the floor?” A question interrupted his musing. "You can, ah-" He paused, the hesitance back, His face a bit red, "you can sit in my lap, if you want..."

He nodded with barely a moment's consideration. The floor was nice, if only because he had easy access to Harmonia. His lap, though…? That sounded heavenly.

The right answer, of course. Smiling down at him like a forgiving deity, practically glowing. It made him forget to start moving, just admiring instead. The smile faltered after a beat of him proceeding to do absolutely nothing, confusion clouding His eyes. Seeming to realize Soul wasn't going to be getting up himself, He reached down, arms a bit hesitant as they curled around him.

Of course Soul was nothing but relaxed in His arms, nearly going limp the second he could feel Him supporting him. A faux purr started up, the noise interrupted every other second with a giggle. He needed to calm down- but it was so so hard to, when He kept looking at him like that.

"And there we go!" With one last motion and a little scrabbling from Soul he was finally in His lap. "That better, bud?"

He nodded, face pressed to His shoulder. All the stress that had been plaguing him seemed to melt away in His arms, warm and present and undeniably there. It was hard, at times, to believe this was really his reality, but even dreams didn't feel this nice: undeniable proof that concord had been achieved.

And could anyone blame him? He’d like to see a single person who wouldn’t melt into these arms.

Gentle cooing, hands slowly carding through his hair… on second thought, the idea of someone else getting this instead of him sounded awful.

He cuddled closer, the side of his left horns bumping into Harmonia’s chin. In his haste, he finally noticed a detail about the calico cat ears: they had bells. Little jingly ones that made a sound anytime he moved his head. Delightful!

He shook his head, trying to get more of the clinking noises. This also earned him a squeak from Harmonia as his horns were shaken about as well.

He pushed Soul away the slightest bit, hands gentle on his shoulders, “be a bit more careful, bud? Those horns are sharp…”

He didn’t look too angry though, just amused at his giddiness. So forgiving and perfect! He leaned in to nuzzle his face, careful of His horns this time. His cheeks were warm and only slightly rough with stubble.

Harmonia laughed as he nuzzled against Him, trailing along the side of His head. Tucking his nose into His collarbone, he pressed the rest of his face to His neck. The way he shook and rumbled with laughs felt so nice…

His hands trailed along Soul’s back, lightly scratching just enough to feel through his shirt. Arching into it with a happy little hum, close enough to a purr to make him feel all fuzzy inside.

Then they stopped, leaving Soul to whine in confusion. Removing himself from His very comfortable embrace, head tilted back to look up at Harmonia, he let out another confused noise. Why no petting…? His Whole was smiling, crinkly in the corners like an old wrapper, saying cushy soft little things like, “don’t worry bud…” and “you can keep going,” so Soul probably hadn’t been Bad, so what could it be?

His attention was drawn to movement at the corner of his eye, Harmonia had reached for a bag on his desk. Plastic, probably from his shopping trip earlier… what could… oh!

Stoic and normally so composed, he could do nothing but perk up in excitement; was it a treat? Did He have a treat for the Soul? For being so very good and nice and responsible all the time?

His halo must have brightened at that, because He squinted a little, face scrunched up further, face painted a bit yellow by the light. He looked like what every painting Soul had tried to make strove to be: his Harmonia, bathed in the light of harmony.

He didn’t pay that any mind, more taken in with the possibility of a snack or toy. Shifting around and leaning over Harmonia's arms, using His chair for leverage he tried to stick his face into the bag.

“Wouh!” Harmonia snaked an arm around his waist and pulled him flush against His chest before he could investigate further, the chair wobbling precariously from all the sharp movements the two were doing, “settle down Atlas, I’ll show you in a moment.”

He squirmed and grumbled in His arms for a moment before doing as asked. Even without the treat this was still pretty nice…

With a flourish the treasure was finally presented to him. A matching calico tail to the ears he’d been given, equally adorable and colorful.

This confidence waned as quickly as it came, the arm around his waist relaxing and the hand holding the tail stiffening a little. “Do you like it…?”

He answered with a happy trill, head butting His hand affectionately, careful not to catch any skin, or the tail, with his horns. Harmonia relaxed into His chair with that, eyes softening with relief as He let His fingers card through Soul’s hair.

“Want help putting it on?”

He nodded, squirming around on Harmonia’s lap until He was in a position where He actually could put it on Soul, half straddling Him. His Whole’s arms reached around him again, one just holding him still against His chest and the other actually clipping the tail to one of his belt loops.

With that, He was done, leaning back to admire His work. Soul tried to do the same, but there wasn’t really much room to do so in Harmonia’s lap. He turned a bit, motions awkward and giving him very little opportunity to actually see the tail or feel it swish around.

Gentle, like He didn’t know if this would net Him a positive reaction, he offered a suggestion. “Would it be easier to see that out of my lap?” He quickly continued, not frantic but not wholly relaxed, “you can always sit with me later… I can just get some work done, and you can enjoy that yourself, on the floor nearby…? I ah… don’t really have any cat-toys…”

The idea of being separated from Harmonia wasn’t the most appealing, but he really did want to move around more… if he really could just come back anytime he wanted, there probably wasn’t any harm in a little play-time; if he didn’t like it he could just come right back.

With that decided, he slipped off Harmonia’s lap and onto the floor, already feeling bereft of His warmth. An encouraging, “have fun bud!” Kept him from returning straight away though; he was going to have fun!

Doing a tight little circle to watch how his tail moved around with the motion, he couldn’t help but feel a little euphoric at the swaying faux fur. It was very very cute. But maybe he went around a few too many times: he ended up a bit dizzy after.

It was very much worth it though, because all the spinning reminded him of the little jingly bells on his cat ears.

He gave it a good shake, admiring how clearly the sound rang out. Batting at it a few times for good measure, knocking it a little loose. Half-on half-off it wasn't as comfortable.

Trying to fix it, he brought his paws back to his head and tried to bat at it again. Of course, this only knocked it off fully. Landing on the floor with a few more little tinkles. He could have probably just grabbed it and put it back on, but it did a little bounce and it just kept Jingling and he was pouncing before he had a conscious thought.

Batting around the improvised cat toy was way more enjoyable than it should have been -maybe because Soul hadn't really gotten to play with toys in kitten space before.

Harmonia had stopped watching him after a little bit, and he let himself fully get into the zone. One, probably too forceful, hit landed the headband on Whole's bed.

He made quick work of scrambling over to the bed and jumping up, enjoying the way his tail trailed behind him when he moved fast enough. The springs protested the motion, but he paid them no mind, seizing his prize.

Mantling over it, he just enjoyed the fact he'd "caught" it. Slowing down like that let him process the fact he was in Harmonia's bed, too. Soft and unmade, it was, overall, extremely normal. That didn't stop a little nervous feeling enveloping him, scared he was doing something wrong.

Looking over, He didn't seem to be paying much attention, though after Soul stayed quiet for a bit He looked over. Apparently not seeing anything amiss, He gave a little wave, before getting back to work.

So this was... allowed. He guessed it makes sense, Whole hadn't made any other fuss about him being on the furniture as a kitten, so this wasn't that strange. Slightly more secure in the fact that he wasn't breaking any rules, he flopped over and cradled the belled headband.

His bed smelled nice {or well... it didn't smell That nice, but it smelled like Him}, and he couldn't resist the urge to roll around a little. He stretched, enjoying the ambience. It was.... pleasant;: calm. He hadn't really let himself relax all day, too many distinct variables to keep track of.

Now though... he could just relax in His bed, content that things were okay. Mind and Heart were still out, but that felt less pressing. He knew they were getting along now, spending time together...

And centering, grounding, Harmonia worked at his computer several feet away. Safe.

It was all just... so very nice.

------

"We're home!"

Heart and Mind had come back, Heart's cheery voice signaling their return. Just as his fingers were starting to cramp too, a sure sign Whole had been working too long.

He stretched out his hands with a groan, taking off his head-set as well. As he got up, his eyes were drawn to his bed, where Soul was sound asleep. He'd assumed the third had left, quiet for so long, but it seems he just tuckered himself out instead.

After a moment's consideration, he decided waking Soul up was probably for the best; it was around dinner time now, and the Sun and Moon probably grabbed food while they were out.

Creeping up to the bed, quiet in a way he probably didn't need to be-- he was going to be waking him up either way-- he sat down next to him.

His Soul was curled around the calico-themed headband, a relaxed smile spanning his entire face, halves mismatched but both softened by concord.

He touched his own face at that, surprised. The darkened half was supposed to mirror his own; he didn't know the last time he'd smiled like that. As if brought on by the attention, he finally noticed how much his face ached from smiling.

He shook his head, knowing he couldn't be dwelling on this. Focusing on the present instead, he shook his shoulder, "Soul? Can you wake up, dude?"

He curled up further, getting further into that catlike ball. Cute, if he didn't worry he was actually annoying him. Maybe he shouldn't be trying to wake him up...

The choice didn't seem up to him though, because there was a harsh knocking against the door. Three sharp raps: Mind. Its voice coming through a second later only confirming that, "We got dinner; get out here soon."

He called back an affirmative, trying to keep his voice down, but the effort was characteristically worthless. Mind wasn't one to control his volume, and he could already see Soul shifting to wakefulness.

"Hey Soul..."

"Urghgh- Harmonia?"

That word, usually he didn't use it out loud. It seems that was who he was to Soul still, "Dinner time, Heart and Mind came back."

He just blinked up at Whole, visible eye half-lidded and sleepy, "You're so pretty..."

He tried to ignore the flutters he set off in his chest, nervous, giggly, "Hey- hey. Eyes on the prize, dinner time."

He hummed, folding out in a cat-like stretch; he seemed to be categorizing the feeling of the bed before, almost like a flip was switched, he froze.

Sitting up like he'd been dragged up, he grinned at Whole, "Ah- morning." A glance at the clock, "Evening, I mean. Sorry to keep you here so long... it's dinner now, right?"

Hoping he wasn't overstepping any bounds, he placed a hand on Soul's shoulder, "Anytime, Soul. I'm just glad you enjoyed the gift."

The thirds hands shot right back to his lap at that, clutching the headband, like he'd forgotten it was there at all; the motion making it jingle all over again. "Yeah... it was nice."

Soul was still a mess from his nap, relaxed in ways he usually didn't allow himself, and Whole couldn't help but admire the way this experience had let him see that. See the way even stripped bare of his mask, he still looked at him like he hung all the stars in the sky. He still didn't know what he'd done to earn that.

He didn't think there was anything he'd ever done that could measure up. Maybe that was okay though. Maybe it was time to accept that he didn't have to earn every scrap of happiness in his life.

Another call from the kitchen, breaking the two out of their reverie.

He didn't mind, trailing after Soul to meet the other two in the kitchen. Warm, soft, another domestic day. He wouldn't have it another way.

#cccc #cj #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium #cj soul #cccc soul #cj whole #cccc whole #fanfiction #fan fiction #jbird's art #jbird's fiction

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