#it’s their birthday AND he’s trans so i must | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scekrex · 5 months ago

Note

You said to hit you with my trans femboy! reader x Adam prompts, so here we go! (BTW if you're not comfortable writing anything in this prompt or it at all, that's totally cool!)

Reader goes dress shopping at one of those places where they take your measurements and do a custom outfit, and Adam offers to go with him. The person taking reader's measurements/doing the consultation keeps misgendering reader and making rude/cruel remarks under their breath. Neither reader nor Adam are standing for it.

Also on a completely unrelated I-just-want-to-tell-somebody note, my birthday is on Friday!

Not me dropping the request I was working on before to write this so I can publish it on ur birthday- ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY DUDE <3

She hopes I’m cursed forever

pairing: Adam x trans!male!reader

warnings: language, homophobia, transphobia, reader gets misgendered

note: not beta read bc fuck you

“I’ll be back in a couple hours,” you hummed as you crossed the living room in which Adam was sitting on the couch. It’s needless to say that a statement such as this caught the first man’s attention immediately. Adam paused the video he was watching and looked at you slowly walking to the front door. “Where the fuck are you going?” The first man seemed slightly confused, as far as he was aware you had nothing planned for the day. You simply chuckled softly, looked over your shoulder to look at Adam before you responded, “Dress shopping.”

The brunette turned off the TV quickly, “Not without me.” You raised an eyebrow at the taller male, quite surprised by how eager he seemed to join your little shopping spree. It wasn’t that Adam hated going shopping with you, he just tended to avoid it if he had the chance to, your boyfriend was an online shopper through and through. And he knew how exhausting shopping with you could be. “Since when do you wanna-” The brunette didn’t even let you finish, “Since someone has to make sure Heaven’s cunts don’t disrespect you.” Well, that seemed fair, so you simply shrugged, grabbed your jacket and left with Adam by your side.

The place you had picked was quite fancy, it wasn’t one of the more expensive tailorings nor was it one of the cheapest, the prices you had to pay for dresses were quite fair in your eyes and so far you had only made good experiences at their place.

The mood changed as soon as you and Adam entered the tailoring though. The person that greeted you was one you had never seen before, so you simply figured they must be new - nothing that really bothered you. “Hello Miss,” the woman greeted you, her eyes gave away that that was not her dream job and that she’d rather be doing anything else. You lowered your head a little, the ‘Miss’ didn’t sit right with you at all but you didn’t want to cause a scene so you remained silent. This would be a quick thing anyway, they would simply take your measurements, you’d decide on a dress and then you would be free to go - no big deal, right?

Yeah, no, dead wrong. It was a big deal because Adam turned it into one. The first man’s hand came down on your shoulder, the playful grin that usually hugged his lips was gone and he sounded quite pissed as he spoke, “It’s Mister, get his fucking pronouns right, bitch.” The woman who seemed to be the only employee at the store for that day looked Adam up and down with quite judgmental eyes before she simply shrugged and walked off without correcting her mistake. Adam immediately didn’t like her at all - not that you liked her any better, but you were better at hiding that you really just wanted to leave again.

Uncomfortably you followed the employee as she led you to a little podium where she would take the measurements. Your brunette boyfriend followed suit, he was right behind you, one of his hands was constantly on your body, whether it was your shoulder or your waist, the first man simply felt the need to reassure you, to let you feel that you weren’t alone and that he had your back. And it helped - at least in the beginning and at least a tiny bit.

You stepped on the small podium, all the confidence you had when you had entered the store was gone, you felt wrong, uncomfortable and if you were honest you really just wanted to leave and find another tailoring. But now you were too deep in, there was no turning away anymore. The woman stepped closer to you and you noticed how Adam watched the scene playing out in front of him. He was completely focused on the woman's movements, watching her carefully so she wouldn’t pull any more shit.

“Ma’am, you need to take your jacket off,” the tailor mumbled, she seemed quite annoyed by your presence and while you understood that some days were simply harder than others, that did not excuse her behavior towards you. You heard a low growl coming from Adam at her words, “He’s not a fucking ‘Ma’am’, quit acting like a fucking transphobic cunt and do your work.”

And while you appreciated that Adam was standing up for you, you didn’t quite like his choice of words, nor did you like the fact that the brunette was causing a scene when all you wanted was a simple dress that fit you. The female angel ignored Adam, not paying any mind to the first man or his rude words towards her, instead she mumbled something under her breath that you weren’t quite able to catch, however you did hear the words ‘fucking queers’ and ‘disgusting filth’ which caused you to just feel worse than you had already been feeling.

The female angel - which was slightly smaller than you were - did her job pretty sloppily, she did not care to properly measure you. You also noticed how she tried her very best to stay as far away from you as possible, she barely touched you while taking the measurements needed for the dress. And normally you wouldn’t care, if she wanted to execute her job badly, that was her deal. But in your very case that not only infected her but also you because that way the dress would not fit properly.

“God must really hate me to send me fucking gays,” she mumbled, this time loud enough for you to hear. And even though you really wanted that dress, you took a step back from her, stepped off the little podium and made your way over to Adam. The female angel looked confused at you, then her expression soured, “What are you doing?”

You were trying to get away from her transphobic hands, you were trying to escape her judgemental eyes and her homophobic words. “Leaving,” you simply said as you grabbed Adam’s hand and turned around. The tall brunette next to you squeezed your hand reassuringly, his wing wrapped around your back in a protective matter and he shot the employee a grin, flipping her off as he guided you towards the door.

“But-” the worker tried to protest, she had already taken the measurements and was about to wrap things up, she at least wanted to be paid. Yet Adam cut her off quite rudely, “You heard him, we’re leaving.” The taller man waved at her in a provoking way, a triumphant grin on his lips. You opened the door and as soon as you had done so Adam pulled you out of the store, seemingly eager to leave.

“We’ll get you a tailor who actually does their job instead of insulting you,” Adam hummed, looking down at you with a smile as he playfully ruffled through your hair. The smile on his quickly curled up into a grin though, “And then I’ll fuck your brains out in the new dress.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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dlstmxkakwldrlarchive · 7 months ago

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240415 ONEW Fromm Chat 4PM Spam

im drenched in my own sweat

how to turn the live on?

please let me know

im seeing them live now

no im reading your message live

no need to relaunch the app lol

it's raining !

whoo

the air is getting cleansed?! that's good !

this day is like getting ventilation

Call Ventilation-ssi

Now / A blurry border — Look at me / At the end of the dizzy gaze / Meeting the real me (ONEW's Identity lines)

(He's probably practicing Identity rn)

is it because it's humid?

the practice room floor got really wet

you must have been waiting for 4PM

as expected

y/n

you're the best

so incredible

i'm so touched

i've been waiting for you everywhere

i'm so happy

actually i said this earlier

anyway, this is my official intro (here in fromm)

thank you so much for waiting

im really really grateful

let's do everything even if it takes time! anything !

we also have fan meetings and birthday party

i want to see you at the concert too!

im preparing for an album

right, earlier i talked about setting up a YouTube channel and im going to try that here !

griffin-ssi said he'll do a great job

I'll tell him. thank you

lol

I delivered your thanks

griffin-ssi wants to thank you too

y/n

jjingus are absolutely the best

trans

jinki then started talking about a possible dress code for his fan meet and he asked jjingus to wear a smile, it doesn't have to be that evident, he said that who's planning to go can also simply take a piece of paper and draw one! or just smile/laugh while being there without annoying others, of course lol ridiculous kid is also allowed

he also said he's planning to meet everyone, including overseas fans, if not now, in the future!

he asked for fruits and bagel recs (which ones to eat and where) and which type of ads should he do (someone recommended an underwear ad others a drink ad)

#240415 #shinee #onew #lee jinki #jinki #fromm chat #trans #mrfreakslab #hard era #long post

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pregulator · 8 days ago

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your dad has never been disappointed in you for coming out as a trans boy. he'd never be disappointed in you for choosing not to go to college and he's thankfully never lectured you about not contributing or doing enough with your life... but he has been having a hard time getting over the idea that he might never have grandkids. thankfully, that disappointment seemed to go away once he adopted a dog named rex, a loyal german shepherd, and he became quite the dog dad. the backyard of your backwoods rural home was soon fenced-in so rex could have plenty of space to run around and dad took rex with him in the car whenever he ran errands. you thought it was cute, seeing your dad adapt like that.

a few weeks after your high school graduation, however, you notice there's a new dog crate in the living room right next to rex's. was dad getting another dog? when you ask him about it, he tells you that he's thinking about it. and you don't think anything of it. another dog might be nice to have around the house. whatever makes your dad happy.

one night, you and dad are having dinner together at home for your 18th birthday when you start feeling a little woozy. you must just be coming down with something, you tell dad, you're just feeling so fatigued. he helps you up from the table and starts walking you to your bedroom, where you remember flopping down into bed and immediately falling asleep.

the next morning, you wake up nude in the backyard. there's a collar around your neck that attaches to a chain secured around a tree. when you shout in confusion for your dad, he strides outside with a lawn chair and sets it up on the back porch, giving you a wave. you're so confused. what the fuck is going on?

and that's when dad yells, with a huge grin on his face, "i figured, if you won't give me babies, you can at least give rex and i some pups!"

before you can react, your dad whistles loud and rex bounds out of the house and comes up to greet you, sniffing your naked body as you blush furiously and try to push his snout away until he's got his nose right up against your front hole and gives it a few tentative licks. when you ball up and try to out-maneuver him, he just growls and tackles you, forcing you open, putting you in your place on your back to regain access to your cunt. you whine and squeal for your dad but he's enjoying a cup of coffee on the porch, sunglasses on, his expression—aside from the pleased smile on his face and the rock-hard bulge in his sweatpants—implacable.

he laughs a little bit as rex insistently nudges you, shouting, "get on your hands and knees, bud, he wants to show you some loving!"

and, weeping a little, sniffling softly, you give in, rolling over. but you don't get much time to adjust before rex continues licking you, that strong tongue pushing into your folds, your own body becoming aroused now against your will. you cry and whimper some more, begging rex quietly to stop it... but he's just a dog who wants to rut. and he's going to have you whether you like it or not.

after all those torturous doggy licks to your slit, rex mounts you. he braces himself with his front legs hooked around your hips, forcing the front half of you down into the ground. You don't want to get scratched by his claws anymore than you already are, so you let him, your hole clenching shut as if you aren't glistening with your own slick juices down there, soaking and horny and covered in slobber. rex thrusts hard, jabbing his hot little red cock against your ass and the backs of your thighs until it finds purchase in your cunt and you scream at the intrusion. rex barks once, loud, in reaction to shut you up, and you do.

your dad is stroking himself openly, now, and you can see him running his hand up and down the shaft of his fat dick as he continues sitting in the lawn chair on the porch, chuckling with satisfaction as he watches rex plow you from behind.

you're a whimpering mess, your little cries turning into moans now as rex is pounding into you with the speed of a jackhammer. and then something huge starts knocking against your hole. you squirm under rex but he just pins you down. you don't want him to bite you, so you submit and think of being anywhere else, though that's hard to do when your poor g-spot keeps getting slammed by the thick length of raw dog meat.

with force, rex shoves that fleshy bulb of his knot forward and, as it practically punches itself into you, he stills. the knot throbs and you feel it, like a second heartbeat in your cunt, as you spasm around it and it unleashes a torrent of doggy cum deep inside you, the tip of his cock nearly penetrating your cervix. you gasp and go slack as you feel how hot it is, filling you with warmth, pacifying you in shock as rex holds you there.

you're so lost in the sensation that you aren't paying attention to your dad, who strides over to you and gives rex a rewarding pat.

"you're his bitch now, kiddo," he says. "he knotted you real good."

dad squats next to you, his spent and softening dick still exposed as he talks down at you. you can only look as far up as his dangling cock head as he speaks, drool running out of the corner of your mouth.

"rex is gonna knock you up and finally give you some purpose... and i sure can't wait to see you swollen with his puppies."

archived on my ao3

#dadcon #soncon #dadcest #soncest #mpreg #ncon #stories

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fortheloveofhens-zine · 1 year ago

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Hello!

This is an introduction post explaining this project and hopefully garnering some attention!

🥚 What's this about?

This is a fanzine by Shane fans, for Shane fans. It's a fan project to appreciate this character, his story, and his growth, and how much it means to a lot of us who have been through similar things.

🥚 How will this work?

Like most other zines! The project will begin on a certain date, and artists and writers will have several months to complete a piece of their choosing for the fanzine. We will use discord to communicate, schedule, and smooth out any issues.

🥚 When is the projected release?

I think aiming for spring 2024 would be nice! It'd be nice to release the zine around when Shane's birthday would be.

🥚Will this be a paid zine?

This is a charity zine to raise money for the mental health charity Samaritans! Samaritans is a charity that operates free and confidential phone lines for people to reach out and talk to someone whenever they're having a difficult time. They provide a listening service for those who may be suffering from suicidal thoughts or otherwise unpleasant feelings. Donations will be raised via ko-fi during a certain fundraising period and after that's over, the zine will go free to download.

🥚What format is this zine in?

The zine will be formatted to A4 paper size, HOWEVER this zine will only run digitally and will not have a print release as things stand. (Mod honestly can't afford a print release as cool as that would be...)

🥚Who can join?

Almost anyone can join! There is no requirement on skill, online following, previous zine experience etc. If this is your first zine, that's awesome! We welcome you with open arms. This is a zine for anyone who has ever struggled with their mental health, and has felt comforted by a certain stardew valley character. I do require that contributors be at least 13+. Not only would it be against discord terms of service to have under 13s on the platform, but mod here, as a fully grown adult, would also be uncomfortable with it - sorry!

🥚Are there any other rules right now?

There are a few! Let's list them, and please read carefully.

We have a zero-tolerance policy for racism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, fatphobia, and anything else that falls into similar categories. ZERO. This is non-negotiable. This is a safe space and anyone displaying any of the above will be kicked off the project.

That said, proship, comship, darkship etc are not welcome on this zine. This is a safe space for everyone, including minors, survivors, and everyone else.

This is a SFW zine. There will be no NSFW art or writing included.

Every artist and writer is free to depict Shane as they like. If they choose to depict him as trans, POC, mlm, or anything else for the sake of representation, that is their choice and you must respect it. See the first bullet point about zero tolerance.

Ableism also extends to bigotry toward those suffering with mental illness, and addicts. We are trying to promote empathy and acceptance. Ableist comments will be warned (e.g. complaining about Shane's room being messy).

Your piece must include Shane as the focal point! That should be clear already, but just in case! So long as he's the focal point, you can draw or write anything! Ships are allowed.

🥚How do I get involved?

For now, I have an interest check form that I plan to run until the end of September! After that, contributor sign ups will open. Remember to follow this blog to see updates on the zine! You can also send questions to my inbox and I will do my best to answer them. For now, here is the interest check:

#for the love of hens #stardew valley #stardew #sdv #sv #stardew valley shane #sdv shane #stardew shane #shane #stardew valley zine #stardew valley fanzine #fanzine #mod post

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pickledpascal · 11 months ago

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Long Story Short, It Was a Bad Time

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel

Warnings: transphobia, homophobia, horrible parent john winchester, homophobic language, implied past prostitution, based on 14x13, angst with a happy-ish ending

A/N: in this, dean is trans and visually looks similar to another of jensen's characters, beau arlen.

Word Count: 4.8k

Jensen Ackles Masterlist

Dean Winchester had known he was a boy since he could talk. Hell, before he could talk.

He wasn't aware he wasn't a boy until after his mother died and every single teacher in every single town they went to called him a girl and separated him into the girls' lines instead of the boys. It got increasingly mind-numbing as he entered his pre-teen years. His first period came around and his dad wasn't sure what to do. Pads were one of the most expensive supplies he had to buy and he never failed to make Dean feel bad about it at every turn.

“Suck it up, Deanna.”

“Don't go tellin’ anyone I don't do anything for you, Deanna.”

“You better clean the garbage out when I get home, Deanna. I don't wanna see that.”

The name itched him like a bad rash. Made him want to scream. But all he could do was cry. After John was gone and Sammy was asleep.

His boobs were growing in and everything about his body felt wrong. He was glad he was naturally tall and that he was able to gain more muscle the more John let him go on hunts but it wasn't the same. His shoulders weren't as broad as the other guys in his class, his hips jutted out too much for his liking, and he hated his long hair.

Dean cut it on his sixteenth birthday and told his father it was under the guise of wanting to be safe. Unpullable hair meant one less thing he had to worry about when it came to monsters. John looked at him suspiciously. He must have known. But he didn't blow up like Dean expected him to. That made the wrenching feeling in his gut twist more. There had to be a catch.

He came out two weeks after that.

“Thank God.” Dean blinked at the reaction. “I thought I was gonna have a dyke of a daughter. Now, I have another son. You going by another name?”

Dean wanted to throw up. Somehow, that made everything worse. His father would rather have a son than a lesbian daughter? He didn't want to think about the fact that he still liked boys just not as much as girls.

He had a few mishaps, he'd look at a few guys as he passed them with John at his side. Dean didn't think too much of it since nothing came of it. Why would John punish him for something as simple as a glance?

Then his seventeenth birthday came.

Dean's first hunt by himself, specifically curated by his father. He watched the fire in the hole he dug earlier with his hands pushed into the pockets of his jacket. The two bodies were as intertwined as they could be for rotting skeletons.

The heat was nice. But bittersweet. He was close enough that it could burn him. Dean would've loved to burn to a crisp as well but he had a brother to protect.

Dean swallowed thickly and gathered up his supplies.

Message heard loud and clear, Dad.

Dean's top surgery was one of the things he remembered the most about his more medical transition. He couldn't get testosterone as much as he wanted to with forged signatures and documents but Bobby offered something else.

So Dean was laid down on a steel examination table asleep on some anesthetic Bobby was able to get off the black market. Bobby didn't have much experience being a surgeon so it wasn't the best but it was as sterile and safe as it could be. But Dean couldn't have been happier. His chest was flat. That's what he cared about. Even if he had to be at Bobby's for weeks. He was just glad Sam was there too instead of having to leave him alone with John.

Time passed. Dean leaned hard into his masculinity after John died. A little too hard.

“You are way out of my brother’s league.”

“Guess how many of these cheerleaders are legal.”

“She's a bitch.”

“Fucking bitch!”

“Bitch!”

Part of it was his frustration with nearly being killed every day of his life, not even by monsters, the other part was the things John beat into him at a young age. If Dean wanted to be a man, he had to be one at John's discretion. He had to like girls but not enough to actually settle down with one. He had to look out for Sam even if that meant he would die.

So he did.

Made a deal. Went to hell.

Except he didn't expect to come back.

That gas station would forever stay in his mind. He walked for hours to find it. His whole body felt a little different. Jumbled around but he could tell his body was still his. He immediately went for the water bottles and broke the seal, downing it in one go.

Dean caught a glimpse of a mirror out of the corner of his eye. He walked up to it and licked at his bottom lip, staring at himself. He noticed his sharper jaw decorated with stubble, his hair seemed to be less chopped, his shoulders more broad, and… he had bowlegs? He looked down and then back up.

Intrigued, he lifted his shirt. His lips dropped open. The scars under his pecs were still there but they were different, no longer botched and scary-looking, but smooth. And his chest. It wasn't completely flat like it was before. His pecs looked more natural, protruding a bit. Like a “real” man. Dean let his shirt drop as he breathed. The handprint on his arm was there too and, for a moment, he knew something cosmic had to be the reason for this, but something inside him felt so happy. Giddy.

He snuck a peak under his jeans. And, yeah, no he still didn't have a dick but he didn't particularly care about that anyway. One of the only things about his body that didn't matter as much. Well, at least now he felt comfortable in himself even if it came at a price.

Over and over again. He was reminded of what he “really” was.

“Daddy's blunt little instrument.”

“Daddy's little girl.”

Hell, half of it came from himself. As a joke. Not one he particularly wanted to be true.

“I've been re-hymenated.”

“Ever since I was a little girl.”

“You got anything that’s real?” “My boobs.”

As Dean grew older, he started to shed those kinds of ideals. Not only did it get too heavy to bear but he started not to care anymore. John was dead. Mary was dead. Who did he have to impress? So he didn't mind talking about the fact he didn't have a dick and indulging himself on some things that may be seen as feminine. Like a few satin panties tucked into the bottom of his drawer or the few times he painted his nails—it never lasted long when he went on a hunt.

Although Dean still thought of his body as a tool, something he could use against their adversaries, it was a little easier to live in when he was in control of what he could do to it. When it was the kind of body he always wanted. So he got more tattoos to cover his body—they were mostly covered by his layers of denim and flannel except for one that creeped onto the side of his neck—his nipples got pierced and he nearly forgot he actually had nerve endings there when it happened, he grew out his hair a bit—not nearly as long as Sam’s but enough that he could style it better—he started wearing earrings and rings again. Not many and usually not during hunts because he had a feeling any monster, or human for that matter, would take advantage of it and tear his ear in half.

Sam and Castiel didn't mention it. Ever. And Dean wasn't sure if he should be grateful for it or not.

“Why did you…” Dean breathed, glancing up at Castiel. He didn't want to finish the rest of his question. It was right after Mary came back and she had locked herself in some random room in the bunker to process something.

Dean was no longer her beautiful, young four-year-old daughter Deanna. He was a grown man with shorter hair, a sharp jaw, and stubble. He knew it would be a shock for anyone, especially someone dead for so long but he didn't expect it to reopen a wound he thought had healed years ago. People had only ever thought of Dean as Dean. A man.

Even the very few women he got with after transitioning still thought of him as a man afterward.

Castiel’s eyes softened at Dean. He could sense the turmoil inside his head. “I was given liberty to rebuild you in the way I thought would prepare you for Micheal,” He admitted softly. He could see Dean was holding in a breath. “I decided to give you the body you wanted. The one you deserved. I had never seen a soul shine as bright as yours as you looked at my handiwork in that gas station. I knew then, I made the right decision.”

Dean's cheeks flared with blush, averting his gaze to look at anywhere but Castiel. He never quite thought about him being there, watching him admire himself. He knew that was Cas, of course, he did, but to Dean, it wasn't Cas just yet. The Cas he knew was so different from that grinding, high-pitched noise he remembered hearing.

The Cas he knew was safe. His best friend. The closest thing to family he had beside Sam. He was able to be open with Cas in a different way than Sam.

More and more shit came and went. More and more apocalypses. But Castiel was a constant. Even if he died a few times. Even if he left a few times. He usually came back. Dean wanted him to stay. For good. But even if he was more open with being a transgender guy and liking girls and guys, he still wasn't that open about his feelings. His more complicated feelings.

“Sam? Deanna?”

That fucking pearl.

The sight of his father. That's not what Dean wanted. That wasn't his deepest desire. Hell, he didn't even know what his deepest desire was. And that name. He hadn't heard that name in years. Mary caught on quickly that Dean was Dean and that was it. But, of course, his father wouldn't. Even if he liked having Dean as a son more than a daughter.

That fucking pearl was supposed to get Micheal the fuck out of his head and kill him for good measure. Instead, it brought him the one thing Dean hated more than anything in his life.

On autopilot, Dean locked himself in his room. He nearly fell to his knees but he braced himself on the wall and had half a mind to punch a hole in it. He winced as that banging in his mind got louder. Micheal screamed. Dean slid down the wall and pushed his hands into his hair. His breathing was harbored and he felt suffocated as if something was weighing down his chest.i

Why did that pearl do that? Dean was happy without him. As happy as he could be with an archangel in his head and tonnes of baggage.

A soft knock brought Dean back to reality. Cas. He pushed himself off the ground and opened the door.

“Sam told me about your father,” His tone was deathly serious. Dean hadn't heard Castiel sound like that in a while. He was grateful for it. “Would you like me to smite him?”

Dean swallowed. The offer was tempting. “Jesus, Cas, no. I—” Want him gone. Dead. Obliterated. Erased from his memories. Back in Hell. Gone from Heaven. Tortured to be forgotten. “I need you. Here. With me.” His shoulders slumped after the admission.

“Of course, Dean. Whatever you need.” Castiel's voice softened as his eyes did as well. It was so truthful, said with such fondness Dean nearly cried.

Dean sat at the end of his bed and motioned for Castiel to do the same. The angel obliged. He knew there was this thing between them. Obvious enough Sam started to call him out on it, never in front of Cas to save him from the embarrassment, but it was always on his mind when they were alone together. He wasn't sure what to do with it. All his feelings. Everything was so complex. Yet simple. It was a strange dichotomy. One he wasn't sure he wanted to admit out loud.

But the fact that Castiel had only ever seen Dean as a man helped. Drove it into his thick skull what this thing was. Love. Castiel spoke to him so reverently. Spoke his name like a prayer. One Dean desperately wanted to hear over and over again.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Good things do happen, Dean.”

“This is a good thing, Dean.”

“He called me Deanna,” Dean admitted softly, eyes focused on his boots. He was naturally tall, even before resurrected by Cas, but the boots gave him an extra inch or so to not look as small next to Sam. He could feel how tense Castiel was after his words. “It's… funny,” He let out a dry laugh, “For years, I've been fine. Been good in that area. But that's just—” Dean took a sharp breath. “People see me as a guy now. At least, they do until they get in my pants. But Dad—John, I fucking look like this,” He gestured to himself, “And he calls me Deanna? Fuck me.” He scoffed.

For a second, he had a feeling John only humored him when he was younger. Called him Dean, got him a binder before his surgery, just because it was easier. If Dean became a man then he wouldn't look as much like Mary anymore and then maybe he wouldn't see her in his eyes or his face.

But John still did. This was proof of that.

“Your father, for lack of a better term, is a bitch.” Castiel said shamelessly. “You are so much more than a man born in the wrong body. It's a shame your father is too blind to see that.”

Dean's breath caught in his throat. And then he laughed. Hard. Hard enough his lungs started hurting and he had to gasp for air. Hard enough that tears started to form at the edges of his eyes and a few even rolled down his cheeks. He didn't register his hand on Castiel's thigh until he set his hand on top of it.

Dean pulled it away. Or tried. Castiel held it in place. “Your soul…” He murmured. “It shines so bright when you laugh.”

His voice. So soft and reassuring. Dean screwed his eyes shut. He couldn't help the fluttering in his chest. For the first time in a while, Micheal was silent. It was just him and Cas in the middle of his bed. Safe. Outside his room might be different.

Dean's eyes lifted to meet Castiel's. They were a brilliant shade of blue he couldn't quite place. Nothing matched it. Sure, he could compare them to the ocean or perhaps the sky but even those didn't come close. Without thinking too hard, Dean let himself go.

His free hand pulled Castiel close as he brought their lips together. The surprised noise the angel made was cute and Dean could feel him melting into the kiss. Castiel's lips were chapped, Dean chalked it up to him not caring for his vessel much, but everything felt so right. Their fingers intertwined while Cas threaded his free hand through Dean's hair.

A cough. And suddenly Dean and Cas jumped away from each other. It was Sam. Dean took a breath, thankful that it was Sam and not John. Sam smirked as his eyes flickered between the two men but it was quickly wiped off his face. “Mom and Dad… they want to have dinner together.” He explained, focusing on Dean.

There was still a lot Dean didn't tell Mary about John. About their life before the Men of Letters bunker. What Dean did to survive, to make sure Sam could live as comfortably as possible, to put food on the table and get a bed to sleep on, even while John was still alive. Bathrooms in gas stations on his knees, in the back of bars, dingy motel rooms.

John never asked where the money came from, he took it anyway.

If Mary knew, Dean knew she would look at John in a different light. A part of him didn't want to tarnish that for her. Even though it took some adjusting, she had accepted Dean wholeheartedly. Hell, she only messed up on his pronouns a few times, that was a lot better than when Sam first found out.

“Dean, do you want…?” Sam didn't finish his sentence. He didn't know the full extent of what John did to him but he knew Dean intentionally took the brunt of the abuse for Sam. And he could never take that back. “He's asking about you. Saying you—you finally look like a man. Wondered what kind of work you had done. Thinks you're…” Sam wasn't trying to guilt trip Dean, quite the opposite. “Thinks you get a lot of girls. Asked if you had a wife or something. Asked if you,” He coughed, “Got a dick yet.”

Dean’s fist clenched as his face contorted into disgust. Out of the corner of his eye, he could feel Castiel getting frustrated as well.

Screwing his eyes shut, Michael crept up in his mind again. The screams. The banging. It came back tenfold. “What does he even want? For us to be fucking normal?” Dean huffed.

“Yeah,” Sam said simply. “Dad… he's from 2003. That's what he does best. Act normal when nothing is.” He smiled sadly.

Dean stood up from the bed and rolled up the sleeves to his flannel shirt. He wouldn't—couldn’t—let his father undo everything he had ever built in the last fourteen years of his life. The small little family he made. Sam, him, Mary, Cas, Jack, and Claire. That was his family. Not John.

Castiel looked at Dean, concerned. “Are you sure, Dean?” He could see that little boy inside him, still scared of what his father could do to him. But he could also see the grown man he came to be, unafraid of his father because he could likely overpower him now.

Before he could think about it too hard, Dean nodded. “C'mon, sunshine. I'm not letting him fuck with my head again.” His leg bounced slightly. Not from nerves.

Dean, Sam, and Cas made their way into the war room where John and Mary sat at the map table. John’s head lifted to look at Dean. Fully look at him. Take in his new appearance. When he appeared, Dean didn't stay long enough for John to get a good look at what he had become. The last time he'd seen Dean, he was twenty-five, wore too big clothes, had a skinner frame, and his hair was short and was never styled. This Dean… was not that.

He grew into his height, broad shoulders, visible muscles under his flannel—John would have never guessed Dean was born a girl. That he was his daughter.

“Deanna.” John breathed.

“Dean.” The man corrected. “You're… here.” He wished he wasn't.

John’s eyes narrowed momentarily. Normally, he would've slapped him for something like that but he wasn't stupid. This Dean had a few pounds on him. “I am. Sam and your mom caught me up on everything that went down,” His eyes shifted to land on Castiel. “That the angel that pulled you out of Hell?”

“Hello, John.” Castiel greeted, void of any emotion. Dean glanced at him. He knew the angel inside and out and he knew Castiel was getting increasingly annoyed simply being in John's presence.

Mary sensed the tension between them and coughed. “I was thinking we could have Winchester Surprise?” She suggested softly—ever the peacemaker.

Dean cocked an eyebrow at his mother. He knew Mary was desperate to have John, they didn't have much time together and she was still very much in love, but no one else wanted him there. Dean didn't and neither did Sam and Castiel was so close to stomping John into a curb.

“I'm not sure that's a good idea, Mom.” Dean finally said. As much as he wanted to protect her from the real John, the one who was hiding behind a loving façade, he had to break the news to her. There must always come a time when the veil gets taken away from someone’s eyes, showing them the truth.

John tilted his head and Dean couldn't help but feel it was condescending. “Why not? We're all family here. We can be normal for a night,” He stared at Dean a little too hard. “As normal as we can be.”

“We were never normal,” Dean ground out. It took all his self-control not to just yell at him. Mary looked at Dean worriedly. She'd seen Dean mad, specifically at her, but nothing like this. His shoulders were tense and his nose was drawn into a snarl.

“You–You don't get it. Never will. You suck for a father. I had to raise Sam myself. You'd fuck off to who knows where drunk half the time and make me, a four-year-old watch over a fucking baby. And you liked me better as a son than a girl who liked girls? What the fuck?” Yeah. Fuck that self-control. Dean’s jaw set in place. “Guess fucking what dad? I like girls and boys. And I could care fucking less what you think of—”

Dean's jaw throbbed. Surprise shivered down his spine. John flexed his hand as he stared down at Dean as he cupped his face.

“John!” Mary yelled.

Castiel nearly jumped John before Dean did. With a single right hook, John was out cold on the floor. He flapped his hand afterward, feeling the soreness immediately. It had been a while since Dean had to punch someone, usually, he had a gun or knife when fighting, he was a little surprised at how effective it was.

“Dean!” Mary huffed as she went to John's side.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek. He decided he might as well come out with it. “Fuck him, Mom. He was never my father. He never tried to be. I was the only person who watched over Sam. A tool in his life while he was dead-set on revenge. We could have been normal. If he never went on a rampage.” He looked down at the pitiful heap that was his father with disgust. He glanced at Castiel over his shoulder.

Mary shook her head, trying to reason with Dean. “We're a family. We don't give up on family.” She whispered.

“Sometimes you do,” Dean huffed softly. As much as he and Sam fought, as many times as they took turns dying, it never got so bad that Dean thought he hated him. At least, not for more than a day or so. “I'm good with who I am. Dad isn't. I don't want him in my life. I don't think I ever had but… this is my life now. I get to live it. Meaning I get to choose who's in it,” He swallowed thickly, knowing what he was about to admit. “In ten years time, it's not with him. Never was.”

“Dean, you don't mean that.” Mary sighed. Pleading. She wanted to keep John, make up for lost time.

Sam took a step forward. “Mom, you don't get it either. The shit John put Dean through—put both of us through—no kid should have to go through that.”

Mary huffed, “Then tell me. You can't just expect me to know.”

Castiel stared at her. “Your sons don't have to say anything they are uncomfortable admitting.” He said it as if he was stating the weather forecast.

Dean pursed his lips. Hurt. He knew Mary wouldn't understand but he didn't quite expect this. He turned on his heels and made his way back into his room.

Eventually, everything was as it was. John was sent back after Sam destroyed the pearl and Dean could breathe a little more comfortably afterward. Mary shut herself off from them but he had a feeling that would get resolved as much as the gut-wrenching feeling in his stomach told him it wouldn't. He never wanted to see or think about John ever again. Hadn't wanted to for years after the shit he's gone through.

Dean heard a knock on his door after he got ready for bed. Hell, he was halfway underneath the covers when it happened. He grumbled under his breath, not thinking to put on a shirt or a pair of pants as he opened the door.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said softly. As soft as each time before. Dean was suddenly very aware of how bare he was. “Do not be alarmed, it's nothing I haven't seen before.” The angel stepped inside his room, closing the door behind him.

Castiel's words did nothing to ease Dean's beating heart. It felt like a hammer against his chest, wanting to tear itself out of him.

Castiel’s eyes never wavered from his face, studying it as if it were a work of art. He lifted a hand to Dean's cheek. Dean felt as if the air was punched out of him. “I want to know if you're okay, Dean.” Those blue eyes—they never looked at him in pity, never. They looked at him with wonder and understanding.

Dean didn't register the single tear that rolled down his cheek until Castiel's thumb wiped it away. “Not really, Cas.” He breathed. Admitting it didn't feel as bad as he thought it would.

“Why—” Castiel took a breath, saddened by how destroyed Dean's eyes looked. “Why do you think the pearl… gave you John?” He asked softly as he and Dean sat on his bed.

Dean glanced at the corner of his room, lip trembling with a mix of rage and sadness. “Maybe the pearl thought I wanted a Dad. Someone who could love me unconditionally. But I—” He paused sharply, eyes finding Castiel's all over again. He wanted to memorize his eyes as if it were the first time he saw them. Or the last. “I have you.” He breathed. For the first time, Dean hadn't been compelled to add Sam at the end of his sentence.

“You do,” Castiel smiled. And, god, Dean's heart wrenched at the sight. Cas didn't smile, not often. “You always have.”

Dean let out a shaky breath, leaning into Castiel's hand as it caressed his cheek. He sniffled slightly. “Cas, please…. Please promise me you'll stay. Even—Even if I push you away. You,” He was full-on crying now and Castiel was looking at him as if he was the most beautiful thing in the world. “You'll stay. No matter what.”

“I will.” Castiel whispered light as a feather. Two simple words but it was a promise that meant so much to Dean.

It was a promise Castiel never intended to break. Why would he? Especially when Dean seemed so desperate. So distraught. He could never leave Dean. Not again.

“Kiss me.” Dean whispered. Pleaded. He wanted to memorize everything about Cas. The strange body heat he gave off, the tilt of his head, how his lips pressed into a thin line when he was only minorly frustrated by Dean, the roughness of his stubble. Everything.

For the first time, Dean saw a smirk grace Castiel's lips. “Whatever you want, Dean.” He brought their lips together with a sigh.

They kissed for a while, pausing for breath in between kisses but they didn't go past that, ending up with Castiel in bed with Dean after he shed his trenchcoat, shoes, and tie. Dean dozed off, peaceful enough to fall asleep in Castiel's arms.

Even with a fading grace, Castiel didn't sleep much. His body ran well enough on it that sleep wasn't needed. So he stayed up, playing with the hairs on Dean's neck as he watched over him, soothing him as much as possible when he sensed a nightmare coming on.

“You think you're cursed sometimes Dean,” Castiel cooed on deaf ears but he didn't mind. He had to get it out. “That hate is the only thing that drives you. That you're not built for love. But you are. I think, sometimes—no, I know—that’s all you're made up of. And I–I promise we will find a better way,” Cas lifted his hand to Dean's shoulder, positioning it right above his scar. The scar he burned on his skin. “I love you, Dean.” He whispered into his ear.

For the rest of that night, Dean didn't have nightmares. For the rest of that night, he burrowed himself closer to Castiel. For the rest of that night, Michael was quiet.

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marmorafarms · 6 months ago

Text

Ocean Eyes

Happy Birthday Kabru!

Pairing: Labru Rating: Explicit A/N: Trans Kabru, use of the word cunt

You can find it on ao3 or you can read it down below!

“Laios has requested your presence in the throne room.”

Those were the words that kicked off this incredible night. Kabru had been sitting his room eating food he managed to sneak from the kitchens while he focused on his latest batch of reports. The Elven Queen had said something about wanting to have a meeting, and Kabru needed to re-read the correspondence and analyze the situation from every angle. Just as he felt like he was getting somewhere, there was a knock on his door.

“Come in,” Kabru said casually, and the door to his study opened. In the doorway stood Marcille, which surprised him. Marcille rarely came to visit him, and when she did it was usually with very important news.

“Is everything okay?” Kabru asked, setting his sandwich down. Marcille cocked her head to the side looking thoughtful.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Laios has requested your presence in the throne room. He also requested nobody else be allowed in there for the rest of the night,” she grumbled. “To get to my lab I have to go through the throne room! So annoying.”

“Did he say why?” Kabru asked, frowning. This was an unusual request. Closing down the throne room to everyone except them? It must be serious.

“No,” Marcille said. “But he did say for you to come right away.”

“Alright,” Kabru said, and stood up. “I’ll go right now.”

“Great,” Marcille said, turning to leave. She paused, and looked back at Kabru. “Happy birthday by the way,” she said with a smile.

“Birthday? Oh! That’s right,” Kabru said. “I almost forgot.”

“You almost forgot your own birthday?” Marcille said, aghast. “You mean…you haven’t celebrated yet?”

“No. I’d rather not make a big deal about it though. I haven’t celebrated in years.”

“Why not?” Marcille asked.

“Misiril always made me eat a special kind of Elvish cake that she would get from the fanciest shops. It was gross and terrible and I always had to force a smile when I ate it. Stopped liking my birthday when I was around 8,” Kabru said, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Well, I’ll need to get you something!” Marcille said enthusiastically.

“And we’ll bake you a cake like the Tallmen make! So fluffy and good!”

“You really don’t need to,” Kabru said awkwardly.

“But I want to!” Marcille said earnestly. “It’ll be tomorrow though because it’s so late…but I’ll do it! Just you wait! I won’t take no for an answer!”

“Well okay,” Kabru said with a laugh. “Thanks Marcille.”

Soon Kabru was walking down the hall towards the throne room, his face arranged in a worried expression. What could he want to talk about? What was wrong? It must be something incredibly serious. The hour was late, and to be alone for the whole night? Countless scenarios flashed through Kabru’s mind, each more dire than the next. When he arrived at the throne room, two guards stood outside of it.

“Sir Kabru,” one of them said.

“Just Kabru please,” Kabru said. “Does the King still need me?”

“Indeed,” the other guard said. There was something about his tone…his face was almost completely covered by his helmet, but Kabru could still see a smirk on his face. What was going on?

The doors opened and swiftly closed, and Kabru walked in, jaw immedietly hitting the floor. There was a table before him piled up high with foods he hadn’t seen in years, desserts he only saw in his dreams. And on the throne…

Kabru gulped. Laios was seated, no not seated, lounging on the throne. He sat at an angle, one leg thrown over an arm of the chair. He was wearing loose fitting pants and his cape…but there was no shirt to be seen. His barrel chest and soft yet strong belly were on full display, and Kabru could feel his mouth watering. It had been far too long since he’d seen his king like this.

“What are you doing?” Kabru asked, shaking his head. However, the smile on his face betrayed his true feelings.

“Wishing you a happy birthday,” Laios said, and swung his leg forward. He got up and strode over to Kabru. “I did some research, and found that there were some cookbooks left over from Utaya. I had my chefs prepare some of the dishes I found.”

“Laios…” Kabru murmured, looking at the spread before him. “You didn’t have to…but since you did, thank you.”

“Anything for you, ocean eyes,” Laios said. Kabru looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“I haven’t heard that name in a while,” he said, and Laios looked away, an ashamed look on his face.

“I know,” he said. “It’s been way too long. And it’s my fault.”

“Yes it is,” Kabru said, picking up a small pastry and taking a bite. He let out a pleased hum and nodded in approval. “If it wasn’t for this, I might not have forgiven you.”

“I wouldn’t abandon you, you know that right?” Laios said, coming up behind Kabru and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Just…so many things have come up. And since you don’t want to share a room--”

“That would raise too many brows,” Kabru said firmly. “We’re not married, people would talk.”

“We could be,” Laios said, and Kabru froze.

“Excuse me?”

“We could be married,” Laios said.

“Laios…” Kabru said, turning around in Laios’ grasp to face him. “Do you think that’s wise? I’m your adviser.”

“I don’t care,” Laios said. “I lo--”

“Stop.” Kabru said, putting a finger to Laios’ lips. “Don’t say things you’ll regret.”

Laios gently removed Kabru’s hand and began kissing the side of his palm. “What makes you think I’d regret saying it?” he said.

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to t-take it back, because…because…” Kabru said, stuttering slightly as Laios took a finger into his mouth and gently sucked.

“You and your oral fixation,” Kabru said with a chuckle, and automatically began thrusting it in and out of Laios’ mouth. Laios let out a slight moan, and Kabru chuckled.

“You should activate the runes,” Laios said as he released Kabru’s finger, nodding towards Kabru’s crotch.

“You want dick tonight?” Kabru asked, smirking.

“You wanna know what I want?” Laios asked, his voice dropping an octave, words dripping with honey. “I want to suck you off and then have you ride me on the throne.”

“Oh, so you want the best of both worlds, I see,” Kabru said.

“Greedy.”

“Maybe,” Laios said. “I want you…all of you. It’s been so long. You want it too, right?”

Kabru bit his lip. Part of him wanted to be grumpy that Laios had let it go this long without so much as cuddling him. But the other part of him wanted sex, and wanted it now.

“Fuck yeah,” Kabru said, giving in, and Laios let out a low rumble of approval. A shudder went through Kabru, and he let out and undignified squeak as Laios pulled him in by the hips. Laios wasn’t usually this…assertive. Kabru was used to leading the show, but this was a nice change of pace.

Neither of them knew who leaned in first, but soon the sound of lips on lips filled the air, a soft moan escaping every now and then. Kabru briefly wondered if the guards would be able to hear them, but suddenly found that he didn’t really care at the moment. He threaded his fingers through Laios’ hair and gently tugged, getting a low moan in response.

“You like that?” Kabru asked, eyes hooded.

“Yes,” Laios said.

“Yes what?” Kabru asked.

“Yes sir,” Laios said.

“Very good. On your knees,” Kabru said. Laios looked like a cat who had just caught a canary as he got down on his knees, eyes bright with excitement. Kabru slowly undid his belt, and Laios let out a whine.

“Patience is a virtue,” Kabru said in a sing song voice, and Laios stuck out his lower lip.

Kabru undid his pants, and let them drop to the floor before stepping out of his underwear. Laios looked at Kabru’s cunt, hunger in his eyes.

“Want a taste before I change?” Kabru asked, and Laios nodded. He moved under Kabru and angled his head so he could swipe his tongue along the smaller man’s folds with ease. Kabru stifled his moans as Laios lapped at him, and finally pushed him away.

“Thought you wanted to suck some dick,” Kabru said. Laios wiped his mouth and nodded.

“I do,” he said. “But let loose okay? Please. Sir.” Laios added on quickly.

“What does that mean?” Kabru asked.

“I want to hear you,” Laios said. “Let me hear you.”

“Your guards…” Kabru said, and Laios shook his head.

“I paid them double not to talk,” Laios said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Well…okay,” Kabru said. He closed his eyes and touched the tattoo of several sigils that were written in an arc above his mound. He began to recite the incantation, and soon his body began to change.

“It’s so cool that you can do that,” Laios said, looking at the dick that was now before him.

“Shut up and suck,” Kabru said, but the harshness in his voice was barely there, his tone more teasing than anything. Laios nodded, and slowly took him into his mouth, reaching up and putting Kabru’s hand on top of his head. Kabru gripped Laios’ hair, and his eyes rolled back as his lover began to suck.

“Fuck…” Kabru groaned, and Laios bobbed his head faster. He lapped and sucked at Kabru’s cock, stroking him when his jaw began to ache. It was getting to be too much, and soon Kabru was thrusting into Laios’ mouth, fucking his face hard and fast. Laios relaxed his jaw, moaning around his cock. The slight vibrations sent Kabru over the edge, fireworks bursting before his eyes, and he cried out as his cum striped the back of Laios’ throat white.

Kabru felt like he was about to pass out, the orgasm had been so intense.

“Good…good job…” Kabru panted. “Now it’s your turn.”

He touched the sigils again, and soon his cock had changed back to his wet, soaking cunt.

Laios grinned, and before Kabru knew it, he had been swooped up into Laios’ arms, bridal style.

“Laios!” Kabru said, shocked, face flushed.

“What?” Laios asked innocently. Kabru knew that Laios knew full well that his displays of strength were a huge turn on for Kabru. He looked away, and Laios chuckled darkly.

“It is my turn, isn’t it?” Laios said. “I get to have you how I want you.”

“It’s my birthday,” Kabru countered.

“So you’re saying you don’t want this?” Laios asked.

“No,” Kabru grumbled, and Laios grinned, carrying him to the throne.

It took a bit of scooting around, but soon Kabru was in reverse cowgirl while Laios lounged on the throne, slowly sliding down onto his cock. Laios was an average length, but he was thick. The way he stretched Kabru open felt incredible, and Kabru’s eyes rolled back as he fully seated himself. God he had missed this. Missed getting to ride this perfect cock.

Gently, Laios thrusted up, and soon they got into a rhythm. Kabru had almost forgotten just how noisy his king was, gasps and loud cries of pleasure ripped from his throat.

“You like it?” Kabru asked. “You like me riding you?”

“Yes…yes!” Laios cried out. “I love it, I love you!” he shouted out, thrusting upwards one last time. The two of them came together, cum filling Kabru up as he wailed in ecstasy.

“I told you…not to…say that…” Kabru panted as they came down from their highs.

“Too bad,” Laios said. “I said it. I meant it. I’m not taking it back, ever.”

Kabru paused.

“Promise?” he asked.

“Promise,” Laios said.

“Then…I love you too,” Kabru said in a small voice, lifting himself off of Laios’ cock. He was suddenly pulled into a bear hug, and made a surprised sound before melting into it.

“I love you,” Kabru said again, and Laios kissed the top of his head.

“I love you too. Happy birthday Kabru.”

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #labru #kabru #laios

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 5 months ago

Text

AN: Remus is trans and Rosie is his deadname before transitioning.

******

Rosie looked at her reflection in the mirror and felt stupid. She had never felt comfortable in her own skin. Worse with lose hair and the girly clothes her dad had bought for her.

That pink shirt with hearts disgusted her. It read: "Pretty girl". The skirt was awfully uncomfortable. And she looked like a clown with the little color her mum had put on her face.

Rosie had been following the advice of Sirius’s cousins. They were older prettier teenage girls. Rosie had met them recently since they were staying at the manor for Sirius’s eleventh birthday. Apparently it was important since he was going to a boarding secondary school in Scotland next year. Rosie didn't want him to go.

"Don't you want to give Sirius his first kiss?" Bellatrix had asked after her and her sisters teased Rosie repeatedly about her being Sirius’s little girlfriend.

It hadn't helped that Rosie had blushed repeatedly at their comments.

"He is not going to fancy you if you dress like a boy" Bellatrix had added in a mocking tone.

"Bella! Don't bother the poor girl" Andromeda added with a motherly voice "Plus, Sirius is too young to kiss girls"

"I think it is about time" Bella tutted "He is eleven! He is becoming a little man"

"Maybe if Sirius has a girlfriend he would be less annoying" Narcissa commented with a little soft laughter.

The girls discussed as if Rosie wasn't there. But she surely fancied Sirius. The idea of giving him his first kiss was appealing. In a few years, that was. Rosie wasn't sure if she was ready for that kind of stuff.

Although Sirius’s cousins were right. He was growing up and each day he was more and more handsome. Rosie liked his mischievous eyes full of life and his pretty smile. He was surely the most beautiful boy she had ever met. At least prettier than the boys at her school.

The Black Sisters told Rosie everything she needed to know to get a boy's attention. "Get pretty" they said. It was all about clothing, makeup, bating one's eyelashes, and being vulnerable around them. It was about femininity and sensibility. Nothing about being genuine. Nothing about how Rosie actually was. But she had to believe them. These girls had had boyfriends and kissed boys. So they must have known what it needed to be done.

Rosie’s parents prepared a little chocolate cake for Sirius. Just like they always did for her. They hadn't been invited to dinner at the Manor. But still Rosie wanted to celebrate with her friend.

The minute Sirius crossed the Pool House door that evening and Rosie said: "Hello", he frowned as if something was wrong.

"Moony... What are you wearing?" Sirius laughed.

And just with those words, Rosie felt stupid. Of course Sirius looked good with everything he wore. And he was elegant today, for his birthday.

"Don't you like it?" Rosie asked with a knot on her throat.

"You look ridiculous" Sirius nodded realizing something "Annoyingly girly like my cousins..."

"Don't you mean she looks beautiful?"

Sirius was embarrassed by Hope Lupin's presence. He blushed in a cute way. Then probably noticed the tears in Rosie’s eyes.

"Aah..." he blinked nervously "Yes, Mrs. Lupin. Rosie looks beautiful"

Rosie blushed and looked away. Hope seemed content with Sirius’s answer. She smiled.

"Happy Birthday, Sirius" and she had no problem with giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Sirius went even more red if possible. Rosie wished she could make him blush one day.

They sang Happy birthday and ate chocolate cake. As the evening went on, Rosie felt more like herself. She forgot about the kiss and didn't pay attention to what she was wearing. She got more comfortable around Sirius. They were best friends after all.

With Rosie’s parents they watched their favorite movie: Labyrinth. It was a tradition for Rosie’s birthday. So they decided to do it for Sirius’s as well.

All was well until Rosie’s parents had to go back to the Manor for work. Why did The Black's decide to call them the night of their son's birthday, Rosie would never understand. But Hope kissed Sirius’s head, wishing him happy birthday and Lyall rubbed his head saying "You're almost a man, mate. Congrats". And they left the two kids alone.

Though Lyall's words reminded Rosie of what Sirius’s cousins had said about him. How he was becoming a man.

When the Masquerade ball scene came up with that romantic song that Hope loved, Rosie felt nervous again. And when the Goblin King danced with Sara, Rosie wished to dance with Sirius this song one day.

Rosie gave a side glance to the boy next to her. Sirius was eleven. He was leaving for Scotland in August. He would grow up there and probably date prettier girls. And he was going to forget about Rosie eventually. But not if she gave him his first kiss.

"Sirius..."

"Mmm..."

He was too pendant of the movie and Rosie knew he liked it. He usually got bored with movies.

"What do you think about.... Kissing?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow though his eyes were still on the screen.

He shrugged "I've seen Cissy kissing Lucius and it looks disgusting... Heard Bella saying that you have to put your tongue on the other person's mouth..."

"Eugh!" Rosie exclaimed "It is disgusting"

She hadn't been told she had to do that.

"I know" Sirius nodded "Never want to do that in my life"

"Not even as an adult?"

Sirius shook his head.

"Mum says is nice" Rosie tried "That when you are an adult and you fancy someone that's all you want to do... Kiss them"

Sirius made a face of disgust. Then his intense gray eyes focused on Rosie. He looked at her as if she had gone mental.

"Do you want to do that, Moony?"

Rosie blushed. She shrugged "We all do it eventually..."

"Well, not me!" Sirius exclaimed leaning back "I am gonna be the first boy not to kiss. Never marry. I am going to go on adventures... And you are coming with me, obviously, Moony"

Rosie was rather sad and disappointed. Although when she thought about the tongue she was relieved.

"Don't you want to try it?" she asked playing with the cushion on her lap "How do you know you won't like it if you don't try?"

"What are you saying, Moony?" Sirius snapped "Why are you acting so weird? It is my birthday! I was bored at dinner with everyone saying I am becoming an adult and I should behave like one. And then I come here, because I wanted to have fun with you, Moony... And you make me watch a stupid movie and talk about kissing as an adult!! I don't want to be an adult!! I don't want to become a man. I don't want you to become a woman. I want us to be kids forever!! And have fun!! And now you're acting like my cousins... Saying I should kiss girls... I don't want to! And I want you to stop being weird and annoying like them!!"

Rosie was speechless. She felt stupid again. Sirius’s cousins had been filling up her head about kissing Sirius. When she wasn't ready for that. Rosie liked him. Maybe as an adult or a teenager she should think about that. Kissing and dating. But not now. Rosie wanted to be a kid as well.

"Sorry, Rosie.... But if you are going to be like this, I rather play the boring games Regulus makes me play"

Sirius raised to his feet ready to leave but Rosie stopped him.

"Sirius... Wait!"

Sirius turned with hope.

"I'm sorry..."

Rosie got to her feet as well.

"I am gonna change and then we can do something fun" she smiled.

Sirius smiled back "Play pirates?"

Rosie grinned "We could and oh! How could I miss it! It is not a birthday without Moon Wishes..."

The smile Sirius gave her was magnificent.

"And a prank on your annoying cousins"

Sirius nodded enthusiastically.

"That's my Moony! She's back!"

Rosie loved to be his Moony.

Sirius was probably leaving in August but it was months until then. Rosie wanted to take the most advantage spending time with her best friend.

She leaned in with a smile on her face. Sirius froze. Rosie could tell he was red as a tomato. But all that happened was a kiss on the cheek. That for now...

And Rosie laughed at Sirius’s panicked expression. He was blinking hard.

"Happy Birthday, Sirius"

******

Remus could spend days kissing Sirius nonstop. It was amazing how his lips made him feel. It was not fair that they needed air to breathe and they had to stop.

Remus liked everything about it. The way Sirius used his tongue, giving Remus shots of pleasure. The way his lips were soft and so tasteful. The way he ran his fingers through Remus's hair. The way he smiled in between kisses. The way his eyes traveled through Remus's face as if he was one of the most beautiful person in the world.

"Okay, I think I need some air" Remus chuckled as he unglued his face from Sirius’s after what felt like forever.

He liked caressing Sirius’s jaw and chin delicately.

Sirius smiled in response.

"Weak"

Remus rolled his eyes with a smile.

"We've been snogging for ten minutes" Remus protested "And in the compacted space of the janitors closet"

Sirius giggled "I like kissing your lips too much"

But Sirius backed away and leaned on the wall next to Remus.

After a brief moment of silent from both of them trying to catch their breath, Remus started laughing. It was the irony of be kissing his lifetime crush in secret that for Remus was funny.

"What?" Sirius asked with curiosity.

"Do you remember when we were kids and you swore you would never kiss anyone?"

It was dark in there but Remus knew Sirius blushed.

"I was ten!"

"Eleven actually..."

"Oh shut up!"

Remus laughed once more and Sirius accompanied him with a gorgeous smile.

"To be fair, I didn't know how good it felt to snog someone" Sirius shrugged "Especially someone that kisses as well as you"

Now it was Remus's turn to blush. He wasn’t sure what exactly Sirius felt for him. He was afraid to ask. Although he suspected it was not the profound feeling Remus had for him. But Remus accepted it all. He would take anything from his Sirius. The gorgeous boy that had always owned his heart. Even more gorgeous now at seventeen.

"Thanks for that"

"You are a good kisser, Moony. I don't complain"

And neither did Remus. He couldn't. He couldn't force Sirius to give him what he wanted. Sirius needed time to figure out his feelings, who he was.

There was a another moment of silence. They were smiling though. Sirius with his eyes closed. Remus wanted to believe he was enjoying the moment. As much as Remus was.

"Oh! I am never going to kiss anyone, Moony!" Remus started imitating Sirius’s voice, exaggerating it as a kid's one. Sirius smiled and opened his eyes.

"I am gonna be a lips virgin forever and probably a virgin forever as well... And we are going to only have adventures! Because that's the only thing that is worth!"

Sirius laughed openly and loudly, dropping his head back. It gave Remus pleasure to provoke that.

"Such a cute little boy you were, Padfoot..."

"Oh shut up, Remus Lupin! You wanted to take my lips virginity so badly! You, pervert!"

Remus chuckled. It was true.

"I even put the Labyrinth song that I liked"

"Such a romantic"

That made Remus laugh. And Sirius was looking intensely at him. He had that kind of look that left people speechless, out of breath. Remus loved that he was using those eyes on him. He liked to believe he was the only one. That no girl had ever had that privilege.

"Enough break we've had, don't you think?" Sirius asked as he bit his lip in a really sexy way.

Remus genuinely smiled because he was happy. And as Sirius pulled him for another kiss, Remus gave into it willingly. How crazy was life.

Sirius hadn't been his first kiss. But he was the only one that mattered.

#marauders #maraudersera #muggleau #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #trans remus lupin #childhood friends to lovers #Remus would be the biggest Labyrinth fan #And the song As The World Falls Down is so Wolfstar coded

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changingplumbob · 8 months ago

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York Household: Chapter 9, Part 11

In this final part my evil one is now Artemisia, Deanna suffers through a bug and we get some new family photos!

The Yorks are Italian so if you see them using words that don't look like English it's Italian, or what google assures me is Italian. Caro/Cara: Dear Buongiorno: Good morning Piccolo: Little one Tesoro: Treasure Nonno: Grandfather Nonna: Grandmother Si: Yes Grazie: Thank you Per Favore: Please Buon Compleanno: Happy Birthday

Of course if Kelly needed a wardrobe refresh there was only one sim who would do, older sister Devin! As well as being obsessed with her image she’s also getting pretty wealthy. Free shopping spree anyone? Back in Tartosa Kelly and Devin get a commemorative selfie.

Kelly: Grazie for the shop Devin and... grazie for finding the breastforms as well

Devin: Nessun problema, my director Norah knows where all the trans friendly stuff is. I’m just glad one of my sisters may like shopping. I know we may have gone overboard on the make up…. But the grey highlights your eyes

Kelly: It’s nice. When I go to school or wherever I want sims to know I’m a girl you know?

Devin: I can only imagine cara

Kelly: Well as an actress your imagination must be pretty good

Devin: *mock shock* A compliment? For little old me?

Kelly: Shut up. It’s never happening again

Devin: Forget the Starlight Accolade, I have now reached the pinnacle of my career. Come, let’s go find pa and he can tell you his next plan

Aaron: I didn’t see it coming. She never was interested in dresses or skirts or whatever. But I suppose Deanna wasn’t either. How you reacted to Onyx made me think a lot about how I’d react so I suppose I have you to thank for not having a bad reaction

Bob who is much younger than Aaron can’t quite believe that he’s had a positive effect on someone so he just smiles and nods.

Kelly: I’m here

Devin: She means… *sing song voice* we’re here!

Kelly: Do you have to announce yourself everywhere

Devin: It’s called main character energy sis. Besides, everytime I enter a room my theme music plays

Kelly: In your head and your head only

Devin: Oh my gosh can you not be a toad face for five seconds

Aaron: *sighs* As you can see Bob the change has not resulted in less bickering

Devin: Pa, we’re Italians. If we don’t be passionate about something daily, somewhere out there our Italian cred pass gets revoked

Kelly: So why is Fergus’ dad here?

Aaron: Because he’s not just Fergus’ dad. He’s Onyx’s dad to

Devin: And I’m here because I’m brilliant at everything, but also baby names

Kelly: You called your kid Rilian Villareal. Had you written that down in full and seen how weird it looks before you chose it

(the watcher chose "Rilian" independently. She did not think about the pairing with "Villareal" and how the whole thing just looks like a bunch of l's and i's with a couple of r's for good measure)

Devin: *scoffs* Let’s just get the brainstorm underway

Kelly: Brainstorm?

Aaron: I thought Fergus and Onyx could come over after school and help us think of names to shortlist. Unless you’ve already picked one?

Kelly: No I hadn’t… grazie pa. But I still get to choose right?

Aaron: 100%. Just not a swear word

Onyx: I don’t know, I was just thinking of names that were genderless and Onyx came to me like the watcher put it in my head or something

Devin: We should pick something Italian!

Bob: There are lots of food choices. Someone’s kid is called Apple

Fergus: Pick a voidcritter name, they’re cool

With lots of phone googling, laughing, and discussion the group arrive at a small list of names Kelly is happy to choose from. She goes into her room to ponder and settles on her favourite, Artemisia!

Deanna didn’t go to classes today; she was sick all day and chose to finish her coursework between naps.

Artemisia: This seat taken

Deanna: Aren’t you worried I’ll infect you with my germs

Artemisia: Suits me. Let me be the carrier of contagion and those kids I only slightly hurt can suffer without it getting blamed on me

Deanna: Kelly I’m trying to work here

Artemisia: It’s Artemisia

Deanna: Ahto -who – what?

Deanna: Sorry goblin, you’ll have to write that down for me to follow- no, not on my textbook!

Kelly: Too late

Deanna: So do you want to be called the whole mouthful? Artemisia

Artemisia: If you're too dumb to say the whole thing then say Emi or Emisia. But why not make other people suffer trying to say my name

Deanna: Well that’s on brand for you

In the kitchen Aaron has filled Calista in on the days progress and they’re doing their best to practice the new name.

Calista: Artemisia… My daughter is Artemisia… My youngest girl is Artemisia… Have you seen Atemisia…

Aaron: Bob suggested apple

Calista: Of course he did, man loves his food. Thank you for taking the day to be with her. Ti amo

Aaron: The dyslexia is something we need to support her- Artemisia with as well

Calista: *sighs* We would have bought our dream house right before all these expenses came up. I hope we can afford all she needs

Aaron: We can tap into the retirement fund

Calista: And what about when they make you retire

Aaron: I’m a hard worker, I think I’d be allowed to stay on past 65 if I wanted to. We’ve still got 7 or 8 years of work to save up with

Artemisia: Look at that, I did my homework faster than you, Artemisia for the win!

Deanna: You also had less of it

Artemisia: Do you know what anemia is?

Deanna: Why?

Artemisia: You do science

Deanna: Physics is not the same as biology dummy

Artemisia: I got an email that my blood tests came back saying I have it, whatever it is. I better tell ma and pa

Deanna enjoys the silence as Artemisia leaves for the main house. It’s hard enough focusing normally but when sick it’s even more difficult. She’s just gotten back into the rhythm of the work when-

Artemisia: Means low iron apparently

Deanna: Ke- Artemisia! Can’t you go eat your food elsewhere? I’m trying to focus

Artemisia: Oh, am I a distraction for you? So sad. I think I might have to cry about that

Eventually Artemisia finishes and leaves, also leaving her plate for anyone else to take care of.

In the middle of the night Artemisia gets woken up by terrible news, puberty is arriving via facial hair!

Artemisia: Don’t look at me mantis, it’s awful

Mantis: *sits silently*

Artemisia: Oh I’ve just got to get rid of it

She leaps from her bed and heads to the spare bathroom where she knows Aaron leaves some razors in case of guests needs. After watching a few youtube videos she does her best to remove the offending hair. The whole time she’s telling herself, three more years. Just three more years then we can take stuff to make this stop. Three more, I can survive that.

While this is happening Deanna is also having an awful night. With her term paper submitted she naps until she can take more painkillers. Unfortunately they seem to be making her woozy so she decides to skip a dose at her 2am dinner time. She manages to get back to sleep but in the morning she’s still feeling lightheaded. Another nap after breakfast clears up her illness and she’s awake for her exams. She averages a B+ this term, pretty good considering all the stress she’s been through.

Before work Calista and Aaron fit in some nectar creation, two more normal bottles of grape nectar tucked away to age. Artemisia may have flunked her exams today but she’s still riding high from the confidence of changing her name to suit her, so she’s unbothered. When everyone is home the family is invited around so we can get some photos of Artemisia looking like herself with her family. Joey is of course trying to show off despite being skinny… Zio Joey’s got this!

Alfred and Rilian eat in their high chairs. Surprising nobody, picky eater Rilian decides he doesn’t want to finish his meal actually. Instead he babbles with his twin. The others happily chat until it gets past the twins bedtime. Nonno Aaron is only to happy to usher the toddlers home before they start throwing tantrums.

Tamika: You haven’t seen me all rotation

Deanna: I’m sorry Mika, I got overwhelmed with everything

Tamika: Are you better now

Deanna: I think so. I mean I miss having Paris around but... I'm past the sad longing phase

Tamika: Good! Then we can start visiting the university nightclubs looking for guys and gals

Deanna: I don’t know if nightclubs are my thing

Tamika: That’s okay. We’ll check out the campus’ social pages, there’s bound to be some singles events, we’ll be each other’s wing woman

Deanna: Deal. Just… maybe keep the cute blondes to yourself for a while

And we finish this York chapter! Deanna may be single but she’s not falling apart, with my sim days to years maths it has been a year since she broke up with Paris. Artemisia is dreaming about making everyone at school embarrassed trying to say her name. Aaron and Calista haven’t gotten any promotions but are chipping away at the charisma skill. They do have years left to reach the top yet.

Previous ... Next (Chopra)

#sims 4 #the sims #the sims 4 #simblr #ChangingPlumbobStorytime #R0901 #KellyYork #ArtemisiaYork #DevinVillareal #AaronYork #BobPancakes

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romanarose · 2 years ago

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Triple Frontier Masterlist

A masterlist for all Triple Frontier fics

Tumblr messed up u links so im slowly trying to fix them! anything in bold SHOULD be goo to go. if i miss anything, let me know! If you really wanna read something and cant find it searching, send and ask and ill try to find it for you

Santiago "Pope" Garcia

Leather and Lace (Completed): While on a mission, Pope, Fish, Benny and Will find a girl tied up in the basement of a drug lord, a victim of trafficking. She won't hardly talk or look at them. Will she learn to trust Santi? Will he be able to help her? ♥️🖤🌶

Match Made in Heaven: Benny and Will play matchmaker with you and Santi. It works.

Full: At a fundraiser, you are all dressed up and Santi can't help himself.

Santi with a Reader on her Period: You wake up with your period unexpectedly. So unexpected, that you have bled all over your boyfriend and his bed, and freak out. Santi tries to make it better.

Gross Reality: A sorta sequel to the last period fic with Santi but this time with the gross gory details of the reality of periods.

Hello Sunshine, Won’t You Stay?: A song fic to a Bruce Springsteen song for @astroboots fantastic series, Homecoming

Honest Mistake (Co written with the wonderful @missdictatorme) : Santi accidentally forgets your birthday, bringing the delta force on one last mission to not let you find out.

If You Wanna Be Wild ft. Javier Peña: Javi and his new partner, a young Santiago Garcia straight out the military, begin to take down Lorea with the help of Candy, a charming and beautiful prostitute.

Please Don't Go?: You are going through an extreme depressive episode, and Santiago is afraid of leaving you alone.

Big Boys Don't Cry: Trans!Santi fucks you with a dildo, has a lot of feelings.

Benjamin "Benny" Miller

Just to be Your Man: You go to a bar with the express intent of hooking up with someone; something you never do. Will Benny Miller be that man?

Puzzle Pieces: You’re Toms girlfriend and honestly, he’s a dick. All the guys know it, all the guys tell him to be better, but Benny always finds a way to make it better himself.

Part one; You try to show off your finished puzzle

Part Two: Tom won’t look at your tomato’s

William "Ironhead" Miller

Temptation: Redfly’s estranged daughter comes back into his life, and this makes things difficult on Will Miller

Lucky: You are having a tough time, but Will is there for you.

He Didn't Have to Be: You and Will hit it off immediately, but being a single mom but a past, you didn't think that he'd be interested in you. You were wrong, and Will asks you on the sweetest date you could imagine.

For the Longest Time (series): Lorelei is suspicious of everyone around her, especially men. She’s jaded, but keeps running into this man and excepts something to be wrong about him… but he only ever treats her with kindness. When she really needs him, he’s there… but that leads to an unexpected turn in her life. Can she learn to trust him and the kind, loving found family he has?

Francisco "Catfish" Morales

Take Your Time (series): Taking place after Leather and Lace (but not necessary to read Leather and Lace before this), Frankie is struggling with his sobriety, and needs his friends and family to rally around him.

Partner in Crime: you have trouble orgasming, but Frankie is there to help you

Cola: Frankie is thirsty, and you’re the perfect drink

Two or More

Awakening Series Masterlist: You find you and Santiago share a mutual fantasy; being shared with his friends

End of the Innocence: Not really a Triple Fontier fic but a fic based off a Triple Frontier fic, do what you must with that. A song Fic for Watch Your Step🖤

Hungry Hearts: You, Will and Santi have some fun, Will and Santi finding a new side of themselves

Benny Miller X Frankie Morales

Boys of Summer: Told over the series of summers, we follow Benny and Frankie as they meet, fall in love, fall apart, and come back together again.

I Won’t Be Afraid Anymore: A sequel to Boys Of Summer. Benny and Frankie figure things out as promised.

Take Care of You: Frankie wraps Ben’s hands before his fight.

Meletonine: FishBen chapter of awakening but can be read seperate. Catfish and Ben finally fall into each other.

Headcanons

TF Boys with a Reader with an ED

Love Langauges: Acts of Service

Love Languages: Physical Touch

Love Languages: Words of Affirmation

Love Languages: Quality Time

Love Languages: Gift Giving

Biggest problems in relationship

Santi with Curly Haired Reader

#Triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago Garcia #Santiago Garcia reader #frankie morales #frankie morales reader #will miller #will miller reader #benjamin miller #benjamin miller reader #ben miller x reader #santiago garcia x reader #franie morales x reader

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bunnyreaper · 1 year ago

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STRUGGLES TO THINK OF A REQUEST!!!

SOMETHING REALLY SOFT AND FLUFFY WITH GN/TRANS MASC READER?? LIKE PRAISE N STUFF; MAYBE READER IS A VIRGIN OR SMTH !!!I GET DYSPHORIA WITH AMAB READER BUT I DONT WANT TO BE CALLED A GOOD GIRL EITHER YK??

ps look at my gorgeous man

okay, wrote a lil gn!reader x gaz, with birthday theme!! it's a bit silly but i hope you enjoy!! mild 18+ below + alcohol consumption!

Being in the army was never convenient. Thrilling, challenging, life changing, yes--but never, ever truly convenient.

You suppose the universe took pity on you somewhat, as the stakeout in a sweltering hot campervan had been moved forward to yesterday, narrowly missing your birthday, but only just.

Today you're still left with the fatigue of the late night you pulled staring down binoculars and making the awkwardest small talk ever with Ghost.

But, today at least, you'd entered the rec room of the Los Vaqueros base to the most pleasant surprise.

Kyle must have spent the whole afternoon preparing it, as there were balloons and bunting and even a small cake waiting for you when you arrived--as well as the man himself, all soft eyes and beaming smile.

The cake has long since disappeared (largely courtesy of Johnny), and you've both been making your way through a fairly expensive bottle of tequila, one shot at a time.

The Captain didn't stick around for too long, and Ghost headed to bed after him and Johnny swept the floor with you and Kyle in a particularly heated game of beer pong.

Johnny is currently drooling into the couch cushions as you and Kyle try and finish off the last of the tequila while playing Never Have I Ever. You're a few rounds in, and Kyle is rapidly realising that there's a lot of things you haven't done.

"Never have I ever... had a threesome." Kyle says, with a shrug and a melodic laugh, and is unsurprised when you don't drink.

"Never have I ever had a twosome, even." You counter with a snorted laugh.

Then, mortification washes over you, as you stay stock still and wait for the realisation to catch up to Kyle.

"Oh, you've never...?" His lips part and his eyes widen adorably, but they hold no judgement within.

"Nope." You shake your head, taking a hefty sip now anyway to deal with the blush of your cheeks at such a reveal.

Kyle follows suit out of habit, his face scrunching at the taste. "With anyone?"

"Nope, I've done some things but... no one I wanted to go all the way with." Really, you aren't embarrassed about this detail in particular, more so that you're sharing it with Kyle, who you've been crushing on pretty much since you first laid eyes on him.

"Well then." His initial surprise dissipates, replaced with an entirely too sweet smile that just makes you melt. "Hope you find them soon, if you're ready."

His voice is laced with sincerity, and as you get lost in his gaze all you can think of is that above everything, you're so thankful you get to call Kyle your best friend. "Thanks for not being weird about it."

"Nothing to be weird about." He says, completely nonchalant as he reaches out, his hand resting on your arm to rub reassuringly. "Though I do think you're missing out." As he says those final words, his face splits into a smirk for the ages, before he wraps his lips round the bottle once more.

"Oh I know I am, trust me." You groan, desperately wishing to experience everything you hear people talk about, especially with Kyle.

"Tequila brings out the wild side of you, apparently." He chuckles.

You shove him playfully, knowing deep down you haven't gotten as wild as you could. "You say that like it doesn't do the same to you! I remember when you were doing shots in that bar we went to, and you ended up shirtless on the dancefloor."

He hangs his head in embarrassment, but smiles through it anyway. "Thanks for reminding me of that."

"Anytime, Kyle." You wink, the alcohol making you just a little bold. "Think I might head to bed though, actually." Best to go now before you end up straddling him right here, you think.

"We outlasted Soap, so I'll call that a win." He screws the cap on the tequila before setting it down on the table and offering you a hand to help you stand. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I really did, thanks for remembering." You smile, trying to fight the urge to rush to him for a hug. "I'll clean up in the morning."

"Let me walk you back to your room, yeah?" He offers his arm now, allowing you to hold onto him as the two of you make your way out of the rec room.

"Oh, you're being extra nice, it must be my birthday." You tease, eyes ahead so as to not focus on the muscle you're clinging to and the heat radiating off him.

At that, he gasps. "You're my favourite person, I'm always nice to you."

"If being cheeky is nice, then sure."

His head dips down ever so slightly, and he stops walking for just the briefest of moments, his voice almost a whisper. "It's how I show my affection."

It takes everything within you to not fall over your feet then and there.

"Does that mean you have heart eyes for the Captain, because you're always being cheeky with him?"

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

"Why? You jealous?" He laughs, now properly coming to a stop outside your door.

"Desperately." You drawl sarcastically, hoping he doesn't see right through it--and hoping he doesn't notice your shiver when he pulls away.

Things fall comfortably silent between you, as you stand and share fond looks. You swipe your key card, kicking the door open ever so slightly as you cling to his presence for a moment longer, not really wanting to go inside.

"Kyle..." You begin, not really knowing what you'll say next.

"Yeah?" His smile is so bright, so warm and loving that it almost hurts to lay eyes on.

"Thanks again."

"S'aright." He shrugs it off like it's no big deal that he remembered, and made sure that everyone made a fuss. "Not too bad as far as birthdays go, I hope."

Little does he realise, spending time with him is the best birthday gift you could ask for. Well, almost.

"Not bad at all, though I just thought of something else I want as a gift." Bravery courses through you, your brain ticking over into a needy territory where you just need something from Kyle--something beyond barely-there touches and friendly smiles.

"One wasn't enough?" He teases, his eyebrow quirking and lips turning up in a way that makes him all the more attractive.

"Nope." You take a step closer, and he makes no effort to retreat.

"Lay it on me then."

And with those words, you snap. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down so you can slot your lips against his and pour out all your pent up feelings into kissing him silly. He tastes like tequila, and mint, and heaven, as he kisses you deeper and deeper, and sends your head into a bigger spin than the alcohol did.

He pulls away after a moment, pupils blown wide and hands still gripping onto you. "Fuck."

"I mean, the actual gift I'd like would be a lot more... involved, but..."

He pushes you through the door, slamming you against it as he closes it behind the two of you. "How about we make a deal?" He begins, before trailing kisses down your jaw, to the sensitive spots on your neck.

"Oh?" You ask, voice barely there as light-headed dizziness and arousal takes over.

"Tonight... I'll give you part of your gift, but the rest has to come when we're both sober." He whispers, his words full of promise.

You whine as he nips at your throat, already wanting more, wanting everything. "You're no fun."

He pulls away to meet your gaze, eyes sparkling as his hardness presses against you, and he flashes that oh-so-handsome smile. "If I'm gonna be the one to fuck you for the first time, I'm gonna make damn sure you remember it, yeah?"

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #wkwjeheuejen i hope this is okay #i feel like this what counts as my true writing gaz virginity so #sweating rn #i just want to see him smirk at me ok

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virgo-dream · 1 year ago

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Happy birthday virgo!!!! I have not finished the trans!Hob fic yet but please accept this snippet from that 'verse as a birthday gift <3

---

“Coming together,” Hob says, leaning in the doorway as Dream loops their arms around his waist, tucking their chin over Hob’s shoulder.

“I still wish you’d let me do it. I am perfectly capable of applying paint to a wall.”

“I’m not—”

“Ill, I know,” Dream says, rubbing circles with his thumbs into Hob’s belly. “Merely seven months pregnant and utterly unable to sit still.”

“Baby never bloody sits still,” Hob complains. Even as he says it, there’s movement towards Dream’s hands.

It loves Dream. Anytime they come near, it reacts. It knows Dream, already. Hob’s certain of it and no one’s going to convince him otherwise.

“It will get that from you,” Dream says, nuzzling his neck. “I like this yellow,” he adds. “Do you think it’s the final choice?”

This may or may not be the third time Hob’s painted the nursery.

It might actually be the fourth, but he got one in without Dream noticing, so he’s saying third.

“Maybe,” he allows. “I’ll have to see it in the morning.”

Dream huffs against Hob’s neck, lips curling into a smile. “I love you.”

“Just as well, probably,” Hob says. “Feeling’s mutual.”

“Just as well, probably,” Dream murmurs. “If the paint must wait until the morning, do you think we could go to bed?”

“Are you propositioning me?” Hob laughs.

“I am,” Dream says, dropping their hand to Hob’s, linking their fingers with his. “Will it work, do you think?”

“Oh,” Hob squeezes his fingers tight. “If you play your cards right, it just about might.”

Oh soft!!!!! This is such a wonderful gift, thank you!!!! 😭🙏

Also, there’s a full fic coming?! 😭😭😭😭 like honestly made my day

#softest-punk #t4t dreamling #this is so cute I’m so happy 🙏😭#dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #the sandman #morpheus #fic rec

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 6 months ago

Text

KEN BURNS' COMMENCEMENT SPEECH AT BRANDEIS

TCINLA

MAY 29, 2024

Something worthwhile to read and consider at this fraught time.

I am deeply honored and privileged that you have asked me here to say a few words at such a momentous occasion that you might find what I have to say worthy of your attention on so important a day in all of your lives. Thank you for this honor.

Listen, I am in the business of history. It is not always a happy subject on college campuses these days, particularly when forces seem determined to eliminate or water down difficult parts of our past, particularly when the subject may seem to sum an anachronistic and irrelevant pursuit, and particularly with the ferocious urgency this moment seems to exert on us. It is my job, however, to remind people of the power our past also exerts, to help us better understand what's going on now with compelling story, memory, and anecdote. It is my job to try to discern patterns and themes from history to enable us to interpret our dizzying and sometimes dismaying present.

For nearly 50 years now, I have diligently practiced and rigorously tried to maintain a conscious neutrality in my work, avoiding advocacy if I could, trying to speak to all of my fellow citizens. Over those many decades I've come to understand a significant fact, that we are not condemned to repeat, as the saying goes, what we don't remember. That is a beautiful, even poetic phrase, but not true. Nor are there cycles of history as the academic community periodically promotes. The Old Testament, Ecclesiastes to be specific, got it right, I think. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again. There is nothing new under the sun. What those lines suggest is that human nature never changes or almost never changes. We continually superimpose that complex and contradictory human nature over the seemingly random chaos of events, all of our inherent strengths and weaknesses, our greed and generosity, our puritanism and our prurience, our virtue, and our venality parade before our eyes, generation after generation after generation. This often gives us the impression that history repeats itself. It does not. "No event has ever happened twice, it just rhymes," Mark Twain is supposed to have said. I have spent all of my professional life on the lookout for those rhymes, drawn inexorably to that power of history. I am interested in listening to the many varied voices of a true, honest, complicated past that is unafraid of controversy and tragedy, but equally drawn to those stories and moments that suggest an abiding faith in the human spirit, and particularly the unique role this remarkable and sometimes also dysfunctional republic seems to play in the positive progress of mankind.

During the course of my work, I have become acquainted with hundreds if not thousands of those voices. They have inspired, haunted, and followed me over the years. Some of them may be helpful to you as you try to imagine and make sense of the trajectory of your lives today.

Listen, listen. In January of 1838, shortly before his 29th birthday, a tall, thin lawyer prone to bouts of debilitating depression addressed the young men's lyceum in Springfield, Illinois. "At what point shall we expect the approach of danger?" He asked his audience, "Shall we expect some trans-Atlantic military giant to step the earth and crush us at a blow?" Then he answered his own question. "Never. All the armies of Europe, Asia, and Africa could not by force take a drink from the Ohio River or make a track on the Blue Ridge in a trial of a thousand years. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of free men, we must live through all time or die by suicide." It is a stunning, remarkable statement, one that has animated my own understanding of the American experience since I first read it more than 40 years ago. That young man was of course Abraham Lincoln, and he would go on to preside over the closest this country has ever come to near national suicide, our civil war, and yet embedded in his extraordinary, disturbing, and prescient words is also a fundamental optimism that implicitly acknowledges the geographical forcefield two mighty oceans east and west and two relatively benign neighbors north and south have provided for us since the British burned the White House in the War of 1812 and inspired Francis Scott Key.

Lincoln's words that day suggest what is so great and so good about the people who happen to inhabit this lucky and exquisite country of ours. That's the world you now inherit: our work ethic and our restlessness, our innovation and our improvisation, our communities and our institutions of higher learning, our suspicion of power. The fact that we seem resolutely dedicated to parsing the meaning between individual and collective freedom; What I want versus what we need. That we are all so dedicated to understanding what Thomas Jefferson really meant when he wrote that mysterious phrase, "The pursuit of happiness". Hint, it happens right here in the lifelong learning and perpetual improvement this university is committed to.

But the isolation of those two oceans has also helped to incubate habits and patterns less beneficial to us: our devotion to money and guns and conspiracies, our certainty about everything, our stubborn insistence on our own exceptionalism blinding us to that which needs repair, especially with regard to race and ethnicity. Our preoccupation with always making the other wrong at an individual as well as a global level. I am reminded of what the journalist I.F. Stone once said to a young acolyte who was profoundly disappointed in his mentor's admiration for Thomas Jefferson. "It's because history is tragedy," Stone admonished him, "Not melodrama." It's the perfect response. In melodrama all villains are perfectly villainous and all heroes are perfectly virtuous, but life is not like that. You know that in your guts and nor is our history like that. The novelist, Richard Powers recently wrote that, "The best arguments in the world," — and ladies and gentlemen, that's all we do is argue — "the best arguments in the world," he said, "Won't change a single person's point of view. The only thing that can do that is a good story." I've been struggling for most of my life to do that, to try to tell good, complex, sometimes contradictory stories, appreciating nuance and subtlety and undertow, sharing the confusion and consternation of unreconciled opposites.

But it's clear as individuals and as a nation we are dialectically preoccupied. Everything is either right or wrong, red state or blue state, young or old, gay or straight, rich or poor, Palestinian or Israeli, my way or the highway. Everywhere we are trapped by these old, tired, binary reactions, assumptions, and certainties. For filmmakers and faculty, students and citizens, that preoccupation is imprisoning. Still, we know and we hear and we express only arguments, and by so doing, we forget the inconvenient complexities of history and of human nature. That, for example, three great religions, their believers, all children of Abraham, each professing at the heart of their teaching, a respect for all human life, each with a central connection to and legitimate claim to the same holy ground, violate their own dictates of conduct and make this perpetually contested land a shameful graveyard. God does not distinguish between the dead. "Could you?"

[Audience applauding]

"Could you?" A very wise person I know with years of experience with the Middle East recently challenged me, "Could you hold the idea that there could be two wrongs and two rights?"

Listen, listen. In a filmed interview I conducted with the writer James Baldwin, more than 40 years ago, he said, "No one was ever born who agreed to be a slave, who accepted it. That is, slavery is a condition imposed from without. Of course, the moment I say that," Baldwin continued, "I realize that multitudes and multitudes of people for various reasons of their own enslave themselves every hour of every day to this or that doctrine, this or that delusion of safety, this or that lie. Anti-Semites, for example," he went on, "are slaves to a delusion. People who hate Negroes are slaves. People who love money are slaves. We are living in a universe really of willing slaves, which makes the concept of liberty and the concept of freedom so dangerous," he finished. Baldwin is making a profoundly psychological and even spiritual statement, not just a political or racial or social one. He knew, just as Lincoln knew, that the enemy is often us. We continue to shackle ourselves with chains we mistakenly think is freedom.

Another voice, Mercy Otis Warren, a philosopher and historian during our revolution put it this way, "The study of the human character at once opens a beautiful and a deformed picture of the soul. We there find a noble principle implanted in the nature of people, but when the checks of conscience are thrown aside, humanity is obscured." I have had the privilege for nearly half a century of making films about the US, but I have also made films about us. That is to say the two letter, lowercase, plural pronoun. All of the intimacy of "us" and also "we" and "our" and all of the majesty, complexity, contradiction, and even controversy of the US. And if I have learned anything over those years, it's that there's only us. There is no them. And whenever someone suggests to you, whomever it may be in your life that there's a them, run away. Othering is the simplistic binary way to make and identify enemies, but it is also the surest way to your own self imprisonment, which brings me to a moment I've dreaded and forces me to suspend my longstanding attempt at neutrality.

There is no real choice this November. There is only the perpetuation, however flawed and feeble you might perceive it, of our fragile 249-year-old experiment or the entropy that will engulf and destroy us if we take the other route. When, as Mercy Otis Warren would say, "The checks of conscience are thrown aside and a deformed picture of the soul is revealed." The presumptive Republican nominee is the opioid of all opioids, an easy cure for what some believe is the solution to our myriad pains and problems. When in fact with him, you end up re-enslaved with an even bigger problem, a worse affliction and addiction, "a bigger delusion", James Baldwin would say, the author and finisher of our national existence, our national suicide as Mr. Lincoln prophesies. Do not be seduced by easy equalization. There is nothing equal about this equation. We are at an existential crossroads in our political and civic lives. This is a choice that could not be clearer.

[Audience applauding]

Listen, listen. 33 years ago, the world lost a towering literary figure. The novelist and storyteller, not arguer, Isaac Bashevis Singer. For decades he wrote about God and myth and punishment, fate and sexuality, family and history. He wrote in Yiddish a marvelously expressive language, sad and happy all at the same time. Sometimes maddeningly all knowing, yet resigned to God's seemingly capricious will. It is also a language without a country, a dying language in a world more interested in the extermination or isolation of its long suffering speakers. Singer, writing in the pages of the Jewish Daily Forward help to keep Yiddish alive. Now our own wonderfully mongrel American language is punctuated with dozens of Yiddish words and phrases, parables and wise sayings, and so many of those words are perfect onomatopoeias of disgust and despair, hubris and humor. If you've ever met a schmuck, you know what I'm talking about. [audience laughs] Toward the end of his long and prolific life, Singer expressed wonder at why so many of his books written in this obscure and some said useless language would be so widely translated, something like 56 countries all around the world. "Why," he would wonder with his characteristic playfulness, "Why would the Japanese care about his simple stories of life in the shtetls of Eastern Europe 1,000 years ago?" "Unless," Singer paused, twinkle in his eye, "Unless the story spoke of the kinship of the soul." I think what Singer was talking about was that indefinable something that connects all of us together, that which we all share as part of organic life on this planet, the kinship of the soul. I love that.

Okay, let me speak directly to the graduating class. Watch out, here comes the advice. Listen. Be curious, not cool. Insecurity makes liars of us all. Remember, none of us get out of here alive. The inevitable vicissitudes of life, no matter how well gated our communities, will visit us all. Grief is a part of life, and if you explore its painful precincts, it will make you stronger. Do good things, help others. Leadership is humility and generosity squared. Remember the opposite of faith is not doubt. Doubt is central to faith. The opposite of faith is certainty. The kinship of the soul begins with your own at times withering self-examination. Try to change that unchangeable human nature of Ecclesiastes, but start with you. "Nothing so needs reforming," Mark Twain once chided us, "As other people's habits." [audience laughs]

Don't confuse success with excellence. Do not descend too deeply into specialism. Educate all of your parts, you will be healthier. Do not get stuck in one place. "Travel is fatal to prejudice," Twain also said. Be in nature, which is always perfect and where nothing is binary. Its sheer majesty may remind you of your own atomic insignificance, as one observer put it, but in the inscrutable and paradoxical ways of wild places, you will feel larger, inspirited, just as the egotist in our midst is diminished by his or her self regard.

At some point, make babies, one of the greatest things that will happen to you, I mean it, one of the greatest things that will happen to you is that you will have to worry, I mean really worry, about someone other than yourself. It is liberating and exhilarating, I promise. Ask your parents.

[Audience laughs]

Choose honor over hypocrisy, virtue over vulgarity, discipline over dissipation, character over cleverness, sacrifice over self-indulgence. Do not lose your enthusiasm, in its Greek etymology the word enthusiasm means simply, "god in us". Serve your country. Insist that we fight the right wars. Denounce oppression everywhere.

[Audience applauding]

Convince your government, as Lincoln understood that the real threat always and still comes from within this favored land. Insist that we support science and the arts, especially the arts.

[Audience cheering]

They have nothing to do with the actual defense of our country; They just make our country worth defending.

[Audience applauding]

Remember what Louis Brandeis said, "The most important political office is that of the private citizen." Vote. You indelibly... [audience applauding] Please, vote. You indelibly underscore your citizenship, and most important, our kinship with each other when you do. Good luck and godspeed.

[Audience applauding]

#Ken Burns #Commencement speech #Brandeis #election 2024 #democracy #us and them

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