#but i can say that they did thoroughly obliterate me with a feather and it was INSANE

[1sickpuppyy]

new brainrot new brainrot new brainrot

imagine being tied face down, no clothing to protect you, and your ler has mentioned feeling sadistic. you’re nervous for whats coming but can generally expect it. probably start with fingers, then work up to more evil tools until either you safeword or they’re done. scary, but you can mentally prepare for it.

then you feel the whisper of a cluster of feathers trickling down your spine, and it’s maybe the one thing you weren’t ready for. you spasm and giggle convulsively, the element of surprise heightening your reactions. it’s not great, but if it’s going to be a sadistic night it shouldn’t last long enough to make it unbearable.

and then they move ever so slightly to the side, targeting that ever-so-sensitive skin where the back and sides meet. then it’s really bad. your reactions are less from shock now and more from the intensity of the sensation, and from the embarrassment of still getting so worked up from tickles so light you didn’t even think to prepare for them. those feelings only get worse as they dust the deathly ticklish skin of your ass, now strong enough to bring out small gasps for mercy and pleas that you can’t take it.

“surely it’s not that bad,” they coo down at you, drinking in your desperation like fine wine, “you’ve let me brush your feet, bruise your ribs, tickle your neck and collarbones until you couldn’t breathe, and you can’t take this? poor helpless puppy, too ticklish for their own good~”

and that, exactly, is one of the worst parts. you have been through worse. you have been tickled harder, with worse tools. and some of those you could even hold yourself still for, or hold out on begging. it’s not the brush that’s doing this, not the electric toothbrush or even that godforsaken dog toy; it’s one of those stupid ticklers, the ones people keep around as jokes. and it’s currently bringing you to the edge of insanity. the way it’s making deliberate trails across your lower back, to your ass, to the backs of your thighs and knees, with the occasional regular feather teasing your paws- you’ve started to realize that this is the sadism on display.

how long can you take it before you beg to be tickled by literally anything else? how long will they make you take it, using the knowledge that knowing you can be broken like this is sooo embarrassing for the poor little pup 🥺

please let it be forever 🥺

[blame-canada]

The Sound of Fate - K2

Soulmates were not something Kyle had ever believed in. At least, not until one quite literally walked up to him one cold wintery night with a pack of cigarettes and the voice of an angel.

This was written based on a post I saw on tumblr almost a year ago that I’ve since lost track of, but I had it tucked away to write ever since I saw it. I figured a birthday was as good an excuse as any to return to my K2 roots, and I hope you enjoy it! Happy birthday @candyunicornsateme! :)

There was something unusual about himself, something he couldn’t quite put a finger on but couldn’t ignore either, that kept tugging at his heart in ways neither Kyle nor his psychologists could understand. It felt as though he walked just a few degrees torn apart from his body, every day. His mind felt tilted and split and fuzzy. He had a hard time thinking, and a hard time speaking, and each time it flared up stronger than the last, he hoped he wouldn’t have to change his medication again; it always felt like he’d only just purchased a new prescription two days prior. An entire shelf of his medicine cabinet was dedicated to half-used, useless bottles he’d rather not contribute to once more. He didn’t enjoy feeling so jarringly disconnected from reality, however, and so he continued what seemed to be a fruitless effort to ground himself with pills that barely worked if they did at all.

Then a single word snapped him back together so abruptly and so surprisingly that he found himself stunned to silence.

“Hey,” a man had said, walking up to him slowly and parting the feather-light snow on the sidewalk with sweeps of his booted feet, and suddenly the ear-splitting buzzing that had driven him nuts for years was quelled so that the only sound Kyle heard was the millions of tiny, fluffy snowflakes landing on top of each other. He’d never heard that before.

Kyle was so shocked by such a tear in the fabric of his reality that his instinct to run from a random stranger approaching him was completely obliterated, and the most he did was lower into a slightly more defensive stance. The stranger put his hands out in kind to prove his innocence, and after the initial recoil, Kyle looked down to see that he was offering a pack of cigarettes.

“Weather’s too cold to be out in a coat like that,” he said, and his voice was melodic and calm, like its own song with every syllable it spoke. “Need to warm up?”

In all of his hazy existence prior to that moment, Kyle had not only lacked the cognizant ability to choose a heavier jacket to accommodate the weather, but also failed to realize that his fingers and toes were growing numb the longer he stood there. He didn’t know why he stood there in the first place, really- the memories of everything he’d done up until that point felt so pointless that Kyle wondered if perhaps he’d been stuck in a stupor his entire life, and this man was the key to unlocking reality. Then he realized that was probably silly, and that he’d never answered him, and he shook his head.

“I don’t smoke,” he declined, “but thanks.”

The man shrugged, his coat shifting up and down with the motion so that the fur lining around his hood brushed his chin and cheeks. His face was obstructed by it, but not so much that Kyle couldn’t tell he was a conventionally attractive person.

“Where you goin’ a time like this?” he asked, and ordinarily Kyle might have gotten irritated that a stranger would want to strike up a casual conversation, but he somehow felt he owed the man a favor for having brought him to life.

“I’m not sure,” Kyle answered honestly, and he laughed, the sound of it nothing short of a masterful symphony. With each rumble of its pristine crescendos, he felt the Earth quake beneath him, sifting the snow that was falling so gently that it refused to congeal.

“Used t’ be me too, man,” he said, and he tugged down the zipper of his coat to free his mouth so that he could light his own cigarette. The flicking of the lighter illuminated his freckled face in tiny bursts that revealed every bit of his beauty, and as soon as he had it lit he began to whittle away at it with long, deep breaths. “I got a plan now, though.”

“Yeah?” Kyle said, not only because he was curious, but also because somehow the thrumming of his vocal cords was so therapeutic that he’d say anything to get him to talk.

“Yeah. I’m enrolled in the community college ‘round the corner, but I’m dropping out.” He clipped his words in odd places that made him sound organic and astonishingly real. Kyle still wasn’t quite sure that this was reality though, because as he dropped his hood to run a hand through his hair, Kyle felt a shock wave ripple from his aura that circled the world. He wasn’t just attractive, he was beautiful; his cheekbones were sharp and his eyes were bright, even from several feet away and in the middle of the night at a dimly lit bus stop.

“Why are you doing that?” Kyle asked, and he looked at him with the energy of distant stars crackling from his irises so that they reminded him of blue electricity.

“Just doesn’t seem right for me, y’know? Don’t think I’m meant for that kinda life.” He exhaled very slowly, but not with smoke. He let the pure air from his lungs puff into clouds to travel to the sky, and Kyle wished he could touch it, to see if it could hold the magic in his voice as it dissipated into the atmosphere. “I’m leaving next week. I got a friend in Cali with a spare room. I’m gonna live off my music instead.”

“Are you sure that’s a good plan?” Kyle said, but he realized it was rather rude to say so only after he’d already embarrassed himself. The man chuckled at him, and shook his head.

“Nah, no idea, dude. It’s just what my heart wants. My dad, see, he always said I couldn’t do it. Said I wouldn’t make it, all that, but he just died a couple days ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

He waved him off. “Nah, don’t be. He was a sick sonuva bitch. Anyway, guess that sorta thing just frees the soul, y’know?” Kyle had no idea, but he nodded like he did. “I wanna see what life throws at me. If I can do it.” Though he’d never heard him perform, Kyle was certain that he had music in him so powerful he could do anything he wanted. He had no doubt about that. Then he began to sing.

It was unprompted but Kyle was glad for it, because he might have feared awkwardness if he’d asked permission first. Instead the tenor of his voice shook him, his instincts proving correct, the notes he hit surprisingly tender and ringing like a church bell choir. They wrapped Kyle in a warm blanket of tranquility and he didn’t even process the lyrics, just listened to the way his voice swelled and disappeared into the empty winter night. The empty street was such a perfect stage, with acoustics -or lack thereof- that allowed his voice to fade away after echoing through Kyle’s soul so violently that he shivered. He was mesmerized, so starstruck and in love with this man. He stopped singing and looked at him, and the first hint of vulnerability showed itself deep in his complex expression.

“That’s one a’ the first ones I wrote. Y’know, you have beautiful eyes.” Kyle felt his face heat up, the sensation odd on his cold skin. “Anyone ever tell you that? Beautiful. Reminds me a’ my sister. You both got your souls right in your eyes.” He smiled, a grin that put dimples in his cheeks, and Kyle couldn’t believe him, because there was no way anyone on earth could have eyes as beautiful as the ones staring back at him now. They were so painfully alive, and Kyle felt glued to them, captivated by their every move.

“Well, I gotta be goin’,” he said, and Kyle protested loudly in his mind, begging that he please, please not go, ever again, but he was struggling to find the guts to say it out loud. “I got a meeting to go to. I’d rather stay here though.” His smile showed his teeth and Kyle could see one missing just at the corner of his mouth. The way the motion twisted his face brought his freckles to life and lit his aura on fire, and Kyle felt so horribly captured, kidnapped by him, that he took a few steps to follow him before he walked too far away.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Kyle blurted out, and the man paused, turned back on one foot.  He felt ridiculous, but forged on. “I mean, do you believe people are meant to meet each other?”

“What, like fate?” he asked, and Kyle nodded, his breath caught in his throat and fingers shaking. “Maybe,” he said quietly, lowly, “maybe.”

He turned back around and Kyle wanted to grab him, because he was so suddenly terrified of the rest of his life that he feared it wouldn’t happen if he let this man out of his sight. “What’s your name?” he asked, louder so that his voice could carry to his savior in an orange parka, but he shook his head.

“Don’t matter. We’ll see each other again, I think.” He started walking away. A name, at least, a name would keep him going, but he hadn’t even offered that. Kyle wanted to cry, but also felt uncontrollably angry.

“Yes it does matter, asshole!” Kyle yelled, and though he knew he was being an asshole by calling a stranger an asshole, he didn’t entirely care, because his life was on the line. “It does matter because this is some sort of magic fate bullshit, isn’t it?” He turned back around looking thoroughly confused, and Kyle huffed, letting the frustration take the wheel. “Everything I know feels like it doesn’t matter all of a sudden because you just showed up. That matters! Is that,” he cut himself off, feeling the color drain from his cheeks where they’d originally flared red, “is it just me?”

He jumped when the man started walking briskly toward him, and before he could react any further, he was wrapped in a warm hug. He gasped; Kyle felt raw energy pulsing from him, like a god or an angel or something completely ethereal and foreign that he never wanted to stop feeling. “It’s Kenny,” he said, “and it’s not just you.”

“Oh,” Kyle breathed, and feeling like he’d just run a marathon in the ten minutes since his life began, he relaxed into his hold, and closed his eyes against his slippery coat fabric. “I’m Kyle.”

“Okay Kyle,” Kenny said, and it sounded so immaculate on his lips that Kyle considered pausing to pray at that very moment, to thank God for His blessing. “It’s nice t’ meet you, but I think we’ve already done that before.”

Nothing had ever felt truer, and so Kyle nodded, unable to speak anymore. It was true, it was true, they had met before, they had to have. There was no other explanation for how his embrace felt like one he’d fit into for thousands of years. His ears were no longer ringing the way they had his whole life, and Kyle felt such relief he felt ready to collapse entirely.

“I may be goin’ off next week, but I’ll still take your number, if ya want,” Kenny said, reluctantly stepping back from their hug, and Kyle breathed a heavy sigh that felt like it released years of tension off his aching soul.

“I would love that,” he said, breathy and pathetic, and Kenny laughed.

Kyle was ten minutes old, and this old soul was melded with his so tightly that it felt like ten eons, and he felt stronger in his bones than anything else that it was how it was meant to be.