#too easy for shit to get buried and forgotten about

[captain-krazy]

YAY!!!

New upright freezer for my basement has been purchased and will be delivered tomorrow!!!

[dinogoofymutated]

ik you just wrote for Kurt but if I could request some sfw headcanons for him? 👉🏽👈🏽 he'd be such a cuddly man especially with that tail of his

Sfw! Nightcrawler/GN!Reader

YES OFC!!! I was just thinking about this !! With how cuddly he was in the latest episode it had me all giddy and shit AAUGHH!! THIS MAN!!!

I also may or may not have gotten carried away with the fic half of this because I'm actually in love with him.

-Ps- @bl1ngringz You sent an ask for more Kurt, and I'm working on more but I figured I'd tag you in this one!

TWs: none that I can think of atm.

Touch is 100% one of Kurt’s love languages. If you're close to him, he's going to be touching you in one way or another

He really likes to wrap his tail around your waist to pull you closer to him, and it's always surprising because how is his tail that strong?? The sensation of his tail being wrapped around you in one shape or form starts to become such a comforting sensation.

If you're anxious and picking and your fingers in a social situation, he'll take hold of your hand and press a kiss to your palm, and if you're less comfortable with pda, he'll snake his tail in between your hands instead. Afterwards he always checks your hands and cuticles, just in case.

Sometimes he'll have really rough days and will just really need you to hold him. He'll teleport you out of your office if he feels like you've been gone too long and he starts to worry about you. It's surprising at first, but you quickly get over it when the furball snuggles into you, quietly pouting about how long you've been gone. It's easy to tell other things are on his mind, but you know he enjoys the silence when you choose not to press him, and simply hold him tightly.

Kurt isn't just a cuddle bug. He's a cuddle MONSTER. On the couch? He'll plop down on top of you, falling asleep on you like a cat who only ever manages to fall asleep right when you need to pee. In bed? Again, no pee breaks. He usually has such a tight grip on you, only able to fall asleep buried in your arms. It doesn't matter how hot it is, if you roll away he'll feel bad. He knows you don't hate him and that you're just moving in your sleep but :( come back. He can't sleep without you!

You wouldn’t consider yourself a morning person, but sometimes you’d wake up and simply be too restless to fall back asleep. Sometimes it was anxiety, other times excitement, but today you woke up simply content. Kurt’s arms were wrapped around you loosely, which was a surprise. He’s normally fully wrapped around you, limbs tangled tightly with your own, tail wound around your wrist, ankle, or hand in his sleep. You smile as you turn around, brushing hair out of his face. He doesn’t even stir, nor lean into the warmth of your hand. You’d be freaking out if it weren’t for his steady breathing, but the two of you had a rough couple of days. If he’s sleeping this deeply, he deserves the rest.

It’s easy to slide out of his arms, quietly padding out of the bedroom barefooted. You flinch when you reach the cold wood floors of the hallway, early spring still inconsistent with its bouts of cold weather. After quietly closing the door, you make your way to the living room on the search for a pair of slippers. You had a bad habit of losing them, sometimes stealing Kurt’s instead, but you find yours set aside neatly. You smile as you slip them on, knowing that you most certainly weren’t the one who put them there.

It’s still dark outside when you start to preheat the oven, and you know you must be up way too early. You laugh a little, with how early Kurt tends to rise, you can only imagine the time. You glance at the oven clock and notice it’s a little after 5 am. You grimace just a little, deciding to ignore it for now. Might as well make breakfast.

You feel like you’ve forgotten how to make breakfast food. Kurt always manages to beat you to it, waking you up in the morning with the smell of coffee and baked goods. You used to feel bad about it, telling him that he didn’t have to. That he didn’t have to go through with the effort. You felt guilty about such a simple thing, feeling like an inconvenience to him. That feeling didn’t last long, however. Kurt had insisted that you were worth the effort, worth his love, and much more. You don’t fight him on it anymore, having taken over lunch preparations instead. He still tries to beat you to that too, though. It’s become a competition as of late, and you smile in a giddy manner, excited to see his pout when he realizes you managed to beat him to breakfast.

    The sun has risen by the time you’ve finished the biscuits and set them out to cool. You’re scrambling some eggs when a tail wraps around your waist and a warm chest presses against your back. Kurt nuzzles into your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. 

    “Guten morgen.” His morning voice is groggy, and to be honest, he sounds like he’s about to fall back asleep right here in the kitchen, holding onto you like a pillow.

“Good morning,” You giggle, turning your head to kiss him sweetly. He’s pouting when you pull away, leaning his cheek on your shoulder.

“You weren’t in bed when I woke up.” Kurt mopes. You mimic his pout with a poorly hidden smile, kissing him a few more times. They were chaste, as you didn't want to get distracted and burn the eggs.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep, and I didn't want to wake you up.” You turn your attention back to the eggs in the pan, and Kurt sighs dramatically at your words, beginning to smile a bit himself. You see an arm sneakily reach over to take the spatula out of your hands, but you’re quick to hold it away from him. He smiles widely when he’s caught, pulling you flush to his chest as he tries to snatch it again with his other hand.

“No!” You giggle. “Kurt, stop it! I’m not letting you finish the eggs!” You may have the willpower to keep the spatula away, but Kurt still has the upper hand with longer arms and an extra limb. His laughs are infectious and he fights you for the utensil.

“Penance, then! For leaving me in a cold bed, I could have gotten sick, you know?” You gasp as Kurt manages to slip the spatula from your grasp. He rejoices in victory, holding it above your head as he turns back to the eggs. He kisses you on the cheek, holding you squarely in his grasp as he finishes breakfast for you, as he always does.

Today was a good morning indeed.

[crushpunky]

rafe returns to kook!reader

masterlist | kook!reader masterlist

!!! obx4 spoilers below !!!

Y/n scrolled her phone aimlessly, gnawing her thumbnail as she perused headlines for any sort of hint at where Rafe could possibly be. It had been nearly a month of wondering if he was even alive, the only thing giving her hope were the random, cryptic text messages she had received from him every few days… except that they stopped a week ago. Their relationship was never easy, the two of them so close it almost felt like the line between friends and something more was blurred, but no matter what, they always talked to each other. She had tried talking to Rose or Wheezie to see if they had any idea of what could be going on with him or Sarah, the both of them apparently gone on some sort of wild goose chase, but they simply brushed any of y/n’s questions or concerns off.

With a sigh, y/n turned her phone off and tossed it to the side of her bed. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her racing heart and thoughts when she was suddenly pulled out of her spiral by a knock at the door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone, her parents were both out at a dinner, and it was nearly midnight…

“Y/n?” A shout from the front door caused her heart to flip. Y/n clamored out of her bed, nearly falling down the stairs at the familiar voice. Once she reached the door, her shaky hands fumbled with the lock before flinging the door open. There, on her porch, his hair a bit longer than she had remembered, but his eyes still the same stormy blue, was Rafe. Y/n let out a sob before throwing herself at him, nearly knocking him off the porch as she hugged him tightly. Her fingers curled into his shirt, burying her face into his chest as she cried, all the anxiety and fear she had been holding evaporating the moment she saw him.

“I’m so sorry.” Rafe said, pressing his face into the top of y/n’s head, his voice cracking. Y/n pulled away, her hands grabbing the sides of his face as tears continued to stream down her face. His skin was tanner and a bruise lingered on one of his cheekbones, but he was still the same boy she had fallen in love with so long ago. Standing in front of her. Alive.

“I– I thought you were dead,” y/n sobbed, her hands soothing down his shoulders but her gaze never leaving his. Rafe shook his head, his bottom lip trembling slightly as he rested his palms on y/n’s cheeks.

“There was so much going on and—” Rafe rambled.

“Why didn’t you call? Or– or text?” Y/n said, her breathing ragged with the conflicting emotions running through her. He was here, and he was alive, but why hadn’t he called? Why had he forgotten about her?

“I tried, y/n, I tried but it was too risky.” Rafe said, his thumb running along the highs of y/n’s cheekbones.

“Bullshit ‘it was too risky’!” Y/n gripped onto Rafe’s shoulders. “I was worried sick, Rafe, I didn’t know where you were or what was going on or—-”

Y/n was cut off when Rafe wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his chest. Y/n eyes widened for a moment before she relaxed, snaking her arms around her. She could feel him trembling under her touch, melting into her for a second until he pulled back once more.

“Y/n, I– I fucked up,” Rafe panted. “I… I’ve treated you like shit, always hurting you and getting high and hooking up with girls and taking my anger out on you and taking you for granted… Being away from you for so long made me realize that none of that other shit matters, a’ight? What matters is you and I’m sorry I was too fucking young and naive and stupid to notice that.”

Rafe’s words hung thickly in the air, y/n’s mind swirling. She had watched him grow from a boy to a young man, but now, in front of her, filled with such genuine, raw emotion was the man she always knew he was capable of being.

“Please… please say something.” Rafe swallowed harshly, his hands resting gently on y/n’s shoulders.

“I… what happened? What changed?” Y/n whispered. What had finally clicked? Changed? Allowed him to see what she and everyone else in his life had been trying to get him to see his entire life?

“I, uh… I talked to Sarah.” Rafe said, chewing on his lip. Y/n quirked her brow. Y/n had known the Camerons for as long as she could remember and was well aware of Sarah and Rafe’s troubled relationship. After Ward’s death, she was more than certain the two of them would never speak to each other again.

“Sarah?” Y/n said. “You talked to Sarah?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said lowly.

“She was with you?” Y/n stammered. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine…” Rafe trailed off, his jaw clenching slightly as he avoided y/n’s eyes for a moment.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked, furrowing her brows.

“She’s, um… she’s pregnant.” Rafe whispered. Y/n hands dropped from where they rested on Rafe’s arms, her mouth falling agape. Sarah, the same girl she and Rafe had grown up with, was pregnant? As in, was going to be a mother?

“Oh my god…” Y/n said, attempting to blink back some of the shock. “I need to see her– I need to talk to her. We need to–”

“Y/n…” Rade sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“What? Why not? I thought…” Y/n shook her head, her eyes scanning over Rafe’s jittery disposition.

“She, uh— her friends— shit.” Rafe groaned, closing his eyes as took in a deep breath. Y/n waited, soothing her hands down his arms gently.

“JJ, he, uh… he didn’t make it.” Rafe finally said, opening his eyes once more.

“H-he didn’t make it, what do you mean?” Y/n stammered. Sure, she wasn’t close to JJ, but still. He was important to Sarah, he was so young…

“He… he was killed.” Rafe said lowly, nodding to himself. Y/n took in a harsh breath, shaking her head and running a hand through her hair. Y/n looked back up, Rafe’s face filled with so much turmoil, so much loss, so much… hurt.

“Rafe, I’m… I’m sorry you had to go through all that. I had no idea.” Y/n whispered.

“Don’t— don’t feel bad for me. Lord knows I don’t fucking deserve it.” Rafe said with a small chuckle.

“Rafe, you’ve… done things, but… you’ve also been through so much; your dad, your mom, your sister…” Y/n said, Rafe’s eyes meeting her own, wide and watery.

“You… you’re trying to be a different person— you are a different person. You need to give yourself some grace.” Y/n finished, her hands moving to rest on the sides of Rafe’s face. Tears streamed slowly down his cheeks, the evidence of years and years of hiding all the pain he felt.

“Thank you, y/n. For everything.” Rafe whispered. Y/n smiled gently, raising up on her toes to press a kiss to Rafe’s cheek.

“Thank you, Rafe.” Y/n said.

“For what?” Rafe asked, a small smile spreading across his lips.

“For being my best friend.” Y/n said.

[binsito]

disk 2.0

part one is here!

pairing: bf!bang chan x fem reader x perv!changbin

word count: 3.0k (my longest fic this far AGhhh)

synopsis: changbin knows he should return what he wrongfully stole but he can't help but want to steal another one of chris' cds..

rating: mature, includes: unprotected sex, swearing, usage of the word "cockslut", "daddy", "babygirl", "good girl", "princess", "sweetie", mentions of masturbating, some fingering (f receiving), mentions of alcohol and consumption (they just crack open a cold one), little bit of oral (f & m receiving), breeding, chan is sharing his gf with changbin, filming/usage of a camera, voyeurism/exhibitionism dynamics, cuckolding lowkey??, degradation, humiliation, shame.. i think that's it but idk man they be fuckin!

put the cd back.

simple.

that's all changbin had to do.

put the cd back and act like nothing ever happened, like he didn't watch chris fuck the shit out of his girlfriend.

like he didn't see her puffy cunt ooze with his cum, like he didn't hear the pretty moans she let out for her "daddy", like he didn't see chris bring his heavy hand to her ass cheek, marking her so prettily as he pumped into her from behind with his thick cock.

chris would never know a thing, would never even notice the cd was gone in the first place, changbin was going to toss it back where he found it and take this little secret with him to the grave.

it seemed so easy.

it almost made changbin giggle how fucking effortless it was going to be.

absolutely fool-proof.

he was getting away with such a sneaky little deed, if it was this easy, why didn't he just take another? channie had so many.. he had probably forgotten about them anyways.. they were thrown in a box so carelessly, for god's sake. it wouldn't hurt to just take another..

he had to control the twitching in his cock as he walked into chris' apartment, disk buried in the pouch of his hoodie as he greeted his friend.

he welcomed him in so casually and changbin couldn't help but stiffen in his pants, tugging his hoodie down discreetly to hide his growing erection.

however, as he carried a conversation with his friend, he felt ashamed, guilt washing over him at all the dirty things he had thought about chris and his girlfriend. he knew he shouldn't take another cd, he should leave them as is and never pull that stunt again but he was far too gone, wasn't he?

if he was going to be a pervert, might as well commit to it, right? he already had his mind set on taking another one, had already imagined what could possibly be on another video and he would be incredibly disappointed if he backed out last minute like a wimp.

so as they started moving the last couple of boxes, changbin was bubbling with excitement knowing he would soon have the opportunity to nab another cd as soon as chris would turn away and give him a second alone.

a second was all he needed.

he wasn't going to be picky, any of the cds from chris' collection would make changbin a very, very happy man.

he would be content with whatever he could get, anything would do.

when chris tells him he's going to the bathroom real quick, changbin has to act like he's not fucking elated, like he almost didn't jump up and cheer.

he had to be cool.

had to be quick.

discreet.

sneaky.

he waited until chris was out of sight and quickly started looking for the box, however much to his dismay, it was no longer among the other boxes.

it was gone.

chris had probably packed it up already on his own, maybe it was in the truck, maybe he had given them over to his girlfriend?

changbin felt like he could collapse.

his excitement fizzling down to disappointment and frustration.

at least he could keep and rewatch the one he already had but he was just so greedy, he wanted to be nosey and see what else chris was hiding.

dammit. he thought angrily, he was so close, fingertips grazing his sweet little prize only to have it ripped from his hands.

he could cry.

he tried pretending like everything was alright once chris was back, helping him continue to load up the truck and carry all his music equipment safely.

a smile on his face as he chatted with chris while he was internally screaming, wishing chan had left the box out again like he previously had.

"bin, you should come over once i settle in to check out the new place yeah? i'll cook, i know you won't turn that down." chris giggles changbin smiled and nodded "of course man, i'd love to come over." "perfect, next friday yeah? it'll motivate me to actually unpack and get shit organized for a guest."

"sounds good, i'll be there."

--

but what changbin hadn't expected when he came over that friday was for chris to have company.

his pretty girlfriend sitting on the couch with a smile.

you greeted him and gestured for him to sit down. "welcome! how are you? i haven't seen you since that trip we all took over the summer."

changbin tried pushing down any thoughts he was having about you, how pretty you sound talking to him, how much prettier you would sound gagging on some cock.

his cock, preferably.

but you were chris' girlfriend so that would be off limits.

you kept a steady conversation with him as chris came back out from the kitchen, smiling and handing changbin a beer.

"how's the place? you like it? she helped me clean up nicely, got rid of all that dust and shit" he sat next to you, arm around you as he sipped his own beer.

"yeah the place looks great, chris. congrats." changbin smiled at his friend.

"hope you're hungry, we made some delicious pasta from scratch."

"we?" you spoke up and giggled

chan just laughed, knowing he tried to help but just made a mess so instead you had him wash dishes.

"dinner should be ready in about an hour. i prepared dessert too" you spoke up "oh thank you, i knew chan wasn't going to be the one fixing us a meal" changbin joked.

"he's getting better, no more burnt chicken. just needs to clean up after himself and be more careful"

chris just smiled and kissed your forehead softly, he loved you so much. you made him incredibly happy and he loved showing his affection towards you openly, especially around other people.

changbin was no exception.

"baby why don't we put on a movie or something while we wait?" "oh, sure!" you wiggled out of his grip and walked over to the tv, grabbing the remote to turn it on

"i think you'll like this movie bin, not sure if you've seen it yet" chris said

"what movie is it?" he asked but chris just smiled at him, letting the video buffer as you took your seat next to him again.

the video loaded and changbin's eyes widen as soon as he saw what was on the screen. beer almost spilling all over him as he watched you in pretty lingerie that had been carelessly ripped by chris, sprawled out for the camera to take in your wet folds, chris tracing them with a finger as he chuckled behind the camera.

"c-chris- i think- i don't think-" changbin didn't even know what to say, quickly covering his eyes with his one free hand. was chris doing this on purpose? was it an accident? he shouldn't feel turned on, pressing his legs together in hopes to tame the angry boner he had sprung.

"open your eyes binnie.. don't be shy now." chris spoke, his tone strong and a little condescending

"at least tell us if the cd you stole was good.. was it good, binnie? did you cum to it? you must've.. i saw you waiting for me to leave to take another. i hid the box before you came over though.. wanted to catch you. i knew i wasn't crazy when i saw one missing." he giggled so nonchalantly, the humiliation of being caught making changbin's cock pathetically rush with blood.

"channie told me what you did.. so cute.. come on binnie.. tell us how it felt?"

the video played in the background, sounds of your pretty moans filling the silence while changbin struggled to find words to speak.

"i-i'm sorry.." he said weakly "i-i really am i thought it was music b-but it wasn't.. i c-couldn't stop watching.. f-fuck it was just so hot.. i-i'm sorry-"

"don't be sorry, binnie.. you liked it right? hm?" you asked him, smile on your face that was making him squirm in his seat. his eyes shifting from you on the screen full of cock, to you in front of him, crawling into chris' lap. your eyes not leaving changbin's, his mouth salivating at the sight in front of him.

chris gripped a fistful of your ass as he kissed your neck. "you gonna put on a show for our guest babygirl?" chris mumbled into your skin, kneading your ass gently

"you're so sweet baby.. always so welcoming hm? good girl. daddy likes it when you're nice to his friends."

changbin felt his mouth go dry, hands shaking in his lap as he shamefully watched how chris sloppily made out with you in front of him. low grunts leaving his friend's pretty lips as you rubbed down on him.

"come closer binnie.. come look.." you beckoned him over, his feet moving faster than his brain could, quickly leaving behind the alcohol his friend had kindly offered him. he sat right next to the two of you, watching how chris expertly took your shirt off. he wondered how often you two had sex.. a lot right? given by the collection you two had curated.. chris seemed very knowledgeable and quick with his actions, almost as if it was muscle memory. like he trained himself to be able to handle you, like he trained you to be so good and perfect for his cock.

changbin's brain was so fuzzy, eyes scanning your body as chris discarded your clothes, before he knew it you were only in your panties. chris sucking eagerly on your tits while his hands played with the waistband of your underwear.

changbin was dying for a taste, wanted to touch how soft your skin was, wanted to give you goosebumps and tug on your hair and spank you until you cried out for him to stop.

chris had bent you over his lap, ass in changbin's direction so he could get a clear view. pulling your underwear aside so he could see your cunt on display. "see this, bin? she's always so fucking wet. she touched herself when i told her about what you did. came all over her own fingers.. heard her moan your name."

chris held your asscheeks open so changbin could see your pretty hole clenching around nothing "she's a bit of a cockslut.. but nothing i can't handle. look how easy she takes this.."

with that, he pressed two fingers in, your cunt sucking him in just how he knew it would. he pumped them a few times before bringing them out slowly, letting changbin see the slick coating his fingers

"here.. taste. it's the sweetest pussy you'll ever have." chris said as he held out his fingers for changbin to take.

all pride aside, changbin leaned in and took chris' fingers in his mouth, rolling his eyes back at the taste and humming. "good right? told ya so.. such a perfect cunt.." he emphasized his statement with a harsh spank. you whined as you felt chris pull you off his lap in order for him to get undressed. he threw his shirt off and pulled his pants along with his boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free.

"can you show binnie how you good you ride daddy's cock, babygirl?"

he didn't have to tell you twice, quickly clambering into his lap again as you lined him up with your aching hole. you pressed down inch by inch, feeling the nice stretch of his cock. changbin's cock was growing impatient, he needed to feel some type of relief even if it was just his fingers. he began tugging his pants down to fist his cock, whimpering at the feeling of finally getting some friction.

"you better not fucking cum, changbin." chris scolded

changbin quickly dropped his hand, not wanting to anger his friend and make him stop.

instead he focused on the pace you had set on chris' cock, how your tits bounced with every movement, the concentrated look on your face and the way you bit your lip whenever you hit a spot that felt so good. the way you dug your fingers into chris' shoulders, how he guided you with his rough hands, his curly hair beginning to stick to his forehead.

all that alone could make changbin cum untouched.

chris trailed a hand down to where you connected, rubbing your clit to help you build up an orgasm, his other hand reached for your hair as he tugged your head back, barring your neck for him to leave a love bite.

the room echoed with noises from the video that was still playing in the background alongside your sweet whimpers as chris worked you up.

all music to changbin's ears.

it was too much for you, having chris touch you and changbin watching you come apart, your orgasm ripping through you as you chanted chris' name.

you tried collecting yourself, calming your breathing as you pulled off chris' cock but your legs felt like jelly so he helped you and gently set you besides him.

he had stood up and opened up a drawer underneath the tv, pulling out his camera and setting it on the table in front of everyone. "hope you aren't camera shy, binnie." he teased

--

once chris had finally set up the camera exactly how he wanted, he decided it was finally time to let changbin have a turn. he was his guest after all and chris always made sure his guests were comfortable and taken care of in his home.

"how do you want me binnie? tell me, sweetie.. i wanna please you.." you purred

you'd be lying if you said you weren't excited to have him inside, his cock looked delicious.. thick and so hard.. poor thing must've been struggling, his cock throbbing for attention. chris could be such a meanie.

"c-can.. can i.. taste you? want you on my face.." he said shyly

you tugged him down on the couch, having him lay beneath you as you positioned yourself on his face, caging him in.

as soon as his eyes met your pretty cunt, he was gone.

all the shame and humiliation he once felt (even if it had turned him on so badly), had completely vanished.

he was hungry.

he held you open, licking up a long strip up your cunt before he began to suck on your clit.

he was making you shake, arms feeling so wobbly as you held on to his thighs to prevent yourself from toppling over.

"oh god channie.. he's so good with is tongue.." you whimpered, kicking your head back as you let out a whiny moan.

"i think he likes the dessert you prepared for him, princess." chris teased.

you leaned forward to take changbin's tip in your mouth, sucking just harsh enough for him to buck his hips up at the pressure.

chris grabbed the camera and brought it towards you, filming the way you began to bob your head on changbin's cock. he gripped you by the hair and tugged you off, spit connecting you the the tip of changbin's cock.

"you like being a slut with binnie? like having fun with two cocks?"

you could barely even answer as you felt changbin working you up to your second orgasm, chris gripped your hair tighter to make you focus.

"can't even fucking think straight.. so damn cock hungry.." he spat

"binnie, why don't you give her what she wants hm? why don't you you fuck her nice and dumb for me?"

he pulled away from your sopping cunt, giving you a few hasty licks before chan set down the camera, grabbing you and positioning you on your hands and knees over the arm rest.

"she's all yours, binnie. take good care of that cunt for me."

chris watched as changbin lined himself up, gripping on to your hips as he rubbed his tip against your folds.

your back arched when you felt him breech your hole, his thick cock easily pushing its way inside of you, pressing so deeply it kissed your sweet spot perfectly. you felt so fucking full of him already and you were glad he was going to put that fat cock of his to good use.

he had to concentrate hard to not bust right away, your cunt wrapping around his length so good, he thought he was seeing stars.

he set a steady pace, breathing heavily as he watched his cock sink in and out of you, a ring of cream forming against his base.

"fucking like bunnies.. so cute.." chan groaned as he stroked himself to the sight of his girlfriend being treated so nicely by changbin.

"s-shit.. chris.. where do you want me to cum? i-i think i might soon.." changbin whimpered

"keep it inside of her.'

changbin swore he was having another vivid wet dream.

inside?

chris wanted him to cum inside his girlfriend?

chris wanted him to fill her with his seed?

breed her and leave her stuffed full of him?

changbin closed his eyes tightly, it didn't matter how hard he tried to clear his head and focus, he was a weak, weak man.

"i'm close too, binnie.. touch me.. wanna cum with you.." you pleaded.

he took a shaky breath as he pressed his chest flush against your back, allowing him easier access to reach over and rub your clit.

his thrusts becoming sloppy as he bit into your shoulder to ground himself. he could feel you clenching on him, consistent moans leaving your lips as you got closer and closer to your peak.

it wasn't long before you turned into putty underneath him, cumming with his name on your tongue which was enough to make him shoot out as well. he kept still making sure every drop seeped into you and did not got to waste.

he kissed your shoulder gently before he carefully pulled out as to not spill on chris' couch.

"stay still babygirl.. daddy wants to fuck binnie's cum into you. make sure it stays in you real good, kay?"

this would not be the last time changbin would make a cameo in chris' homemade sex tapes.

unfortunately, it came at the expense of dinner being ruined that night due to negligence. blame it on changbin and his horny antics.

please refrain from reposting, modifying, translating, copying or stealing my work. - © binsito

[leggerefiore]

I was watching some tiktoks where people call their boyfriends by their full name to see their reactions, and wanted to request, how do the submas (and grimsley because he's a lil shit) react when their s/o uses their ENTIRE full name? Do they panic?

cw: angst in Cyrus's part, fluff,

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Grimsley, Cyrus

▲Ingo▼

● The Subway Boss had come home a bit late – Work was never something easy to escape. Last-minute things arose right as he was heading out. He supposed it was best they happened while he was still there, but there was this sadness inside him over being late to get back to you. Your concerns for him simply were too much. Which is why he still rushed home despite everything – Ingo simply could not stand to keep you waiting. Yet, as he entered the home, he heard you call his name – His full name. Instantly, he tensed up. His eyes went wide. Were you upset with him? He had meant to send you a text, but it had been forgotten when with presented his tasks. You soon stood in entryway, staring at him.

● Then, he saw your smile and instantly relaxed. For a moment, he had his mind shoot back to his youth when he would somehow have his actions mistaken for something Emmet did and get scolded by his parents. Letting himself relax, he shook his head. Why would you do that? Your laughter was an answer, he knew. You walked over and gave him a hug as he let out the shaky breath he had been holding all along. You had been teasing him… He hugged you back and chided you for doing that. For a moment, he was genuinely frightened by the idea that had upset you in some manner. Of course, you had to also reassure him that it was absolutely not the case. Please be gentler to the Ingo.

▽Emmet△

○ The younger twin had opted to enjoy his day off quite simply, hanging around the apartment vacantly. Well, with his pokemon. His Joltiks had decided that he was their bed while he laid out on the couch, watching some shows. He was a bit exhausted after an especially gruelling shift the previous day, so he was glad to just let himself exist for a bit. Though, just as he was about to zone out, you suddenly called out to him. His full name, too. He nearly sprung up, ready for a long-winded rant. The only people who ever referred to him like that were his parents or Ingo when he had done something bad. The Joltiks squeaked as he sat up and pondered what he did. He did the dishes… Laundry had been put in the dryer… Emmet could not figure out why you had called his name like that. His heart raced. You appeared from the kitchen to get a look at him.

○ When he saw your face twisted with amusement, he calmed down instantly. A pout fell on his face. Why would you do that? He wanted to grumble about making him worry. You were verrrry mean. He was just an innocent Emmet trying to relax with his spiders, and you made him think that he had done something bad. At seeing his pout, you had walked over and gently stroked his cheek while nuzzling your nose against his own. He hummed. Well, maybe he could forgive you. He supposed he was not above teasing himself. His arms suddenly came around you to put you closer to him. A plan for you to make it up to him entered his mind. He giggled and buried his face into your nape. Work had been busy lately. There had barely been a moment to spend with you. Now was the time to make up for it. The Joltiks seemed to know it was time to flee.

♠️Grimsley❤️

♤ He had come home late after winning a poker tournament. While it had been an exhilarating experience that kept him more than energised for the whole of it, he felt exhausted now. It was nearly four in the morning, and the lack of sleep and few drinks he had were catching up to him. He was excited to creep into bed with his partner and sleep the day away. Though, maybe a shower was due. The smell of tobacco clung to his suit. It did not bother him, but he knew his partner would get annoyed. Spritzing on a heavy coating of cologne would not appease them either. Clicking opening the door to his apartment, he did not expect to see a light on in the kitchen nor you sitting at the table. You sat with your arms crossed. Before he had a moment to react, you called out his full name. His lips unconsciously pulled back into a carefully trained smile as a chuckle left him. A bluff? He had been calling them all night. What were you trying to do, really?

♤ Grimsley simply sat down across from you and stared deeply into your eyes, determining whether you really upset with him or simply playing some kind of game. His fingers tapped against the wood of the table. Unreadable. Fascinating. Another thing about you to capture his attention and drive him further into this madness. He called your bluff. You only shrugged in reply before strolling over to him and catching his chin to make him look at you again. Your eyes stared into each other's own for a moment before you leaned down to kiss him. He easily reciprocating the action. How silly… The only people that ever called him by his name like that had been his parents, who he cared little for, or Nanu when the old man was actually upset with him. Neither of which were you. To him, you saying his full name was like a Purrloin pawing at his leg for attention.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He expected unpleasant things to follow, but you instead cupped his cheek gently. Your eyes stared into his own. There was no aggression on your face, simply concern. Your thumb stroked his cheek. He let the tension leave his body. Right… You were not like that. You had never been like that. Why would he think such awful things about you? The foolishness of spirit harming him again. But before he could spiral, you embraced him and softly admitted that you were trying to tease him before apologising for upsetting him. He let himself embrace you in return as a wordless apology. It was fine… You could not have expected his reaction. He held you closer to him. Cyrus avoided coming home for various reasons, but the strongest reason was his fear of your judgement. You were his largest weakness, yet he could never do anything that would upset you.

☄️ Overworking was simply second nature for the Galactic Boss. It was rare that he left on time, and many would describe him as essentially living in his office – cut off from the rest of the world to further fester on the things that haunted him. Though, he could not truly do that all the time. Someone was waiting on him, and he was not the type to allow others to suffer. So, he entered his apartment with little apprehension. A mistake apparently, since the first thing he was his full name called out. Instantly, he tensed up. Horrible memories flooded his mind. Whenever people would call his name… His parents, his teachers, other children… He swallowed. Were you upset? There were a number of things he knew that could have had you simply displeased with him. Would yelling follow? Words about his shortcomings? You appeared before him as he contemplated far too much.

[antimonyandthyme]

antimony do u have anything else from ur carcar tlou au?? just read it and i’m obsessed

anon thank you so much for inquiring about the tlou au... it brings me great joy to imagine carcar navigating a cordyceps infested world... put them into situations amirite?

drew comparisons with joel and ellie and carlos and oscar because both parties basically speedran the enemies to whatever-it-is-they-are-to-each-other-now course. joel would of course level the entire world for ellie. he has in fact, levelled the entire world for ellie, and i see carlos doing the same, because he has decided oscar is his to protect. except there's nothing special about the package. oscar isn't a cure. they're both just trying to survive.

in my head, just like joel, carlos picks oscar up by accident. not from any group, just by coincidence. magnets, right? oscar just has something carlos wants, and carlos is very good and dispatching infected. after max and charles, he thinks he's a little too good.

after max and charles, he also travels exclusively alone, but after bringing oscar back to his city, only to see the kid bury the one person he went back to the city for, carlos offers it up without thinking. hey, wanna come along with me? i'm not very good at taking care of people. in fact the last two people i travelled with, well. but i can't really leave you here, tear-tracks still wet on your face. charles would be very disappointed in me. so. wanna come along with me?

oscar of course says yes. anything to not be alone.

carlos doesn't talk much in the car rides, until oscar somehow manages to steal them more country music cds. then carlos talks, while oscar makes fun of his music tastes. but keeps stealing more country music cds.

of course, because the world hasn't changed and everyone is still fucked up, oscar gets taken. by whatever group, the fireflies, the seraphites. whatever it is, oscar gets taken. maybe over something as simple as jacking a car with a working cd player, after their old one breaks down.

there's a switch at the back of carlos's head. he didn't think it'd be so easy, but it is, to go from killing the infected to killing anyone who stands in between him and oscar. he pulls oscar out, unconscious but wondrously unharmed. carlos's body count of non-infected probably rivals that of the infected now. that's how many people he works his way through to reach oscar.

carlos doesn't say anything when oscar wakes up in the car. he'd forgotten to wipe the blood off his own face, before getting out of there in a hurry. oscar does it for him, wasting precious water so he can clean off carlos's brow.

this is what you get for liking country music so much, oscar says. carlos hears, i don't give a shit about what you've done, i'm staying with you.

and then they never speak of this incident again.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l chapter eight sneak peek

A/N: it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted an official sneak peek for this series. I was kind of surprised that most people voted for a snippet of this one, I really thought it would be the PD fic. But I’m glad that this lil series of mine is still one people want to read. There’s a few people out there rooting for these babies and to those few people: thank you for motivating me to see this one through to the end. Few more chapters to go!

*this is from the beginning of the chapter before shit starts to hit the fan so let’s enjoy the good while it lasts! also, I made sure to post a hefty snippet because this chapter is going for 9k 👀

“The water isn’t too hot, is it?” You asked, running the wet washcloth over his chest and neck, careful not to take it near his bandaged shoulder. Leaning over the side of the tub, a lock of hair fell loose out of your ponytail and Joel was quick to lift his hand out of the water, tucking it behind your ear.

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, his hand grazing your cheek, the water dripping off of his arm landing on your blouse, soaking through the material. “Looks like you’re gonna have to take that shirt off, Peach. I got you wet,” Joel couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at his own terrible innuendo.

“Unbelievable! I just pulled a bullet out of you, and you’re already thinking of getting me naked?” You teased him with a little giggle. “Oh and by the way I hope you know that there will be none of that for a while, not until you’re all healed up. Got it?”

His face fell. “You serious? But you said it could be four to six weeks until my shoulder heals—how am I supposed to go that long without touchin’ you?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to survive, Miller.”

Joel grumbled incoherently under his breath.

Chuckling, you leaned over and pressed a delicate kiss to his right temple. Your lips lingered over the small jagged scar, causing him to shudder slightly.

“You were right about Ellie,” You murmured softly against his skin. “You were right to warn me about her.”

He frowned. “She confronted you ‘bout us?”

Pulling away from him, you nodded.

“Earlier at the stables, before Tommy showed up.”

Joel grimaced.

“Might regret askin’ this, but what did she say?”

You chewed nervously on your bottom lip.

“She wants me to leave Luke.”

He raised an eyebrow. “She did? What else did she say?”

“That the three of us could be a family. She said it wasn’t that complicated—all I had to do was pack up my things, take off the ring and leave him. Said I could move in here with you two.” You paused to let out a small, breathless laugh. “I told her I would love that more than anything in the world, but that it’s not possible. I can’t leave him.”

His jaw clenched. “Because he won’t let you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again.

Like father, like daughter.

Joel and Ellie were cut from the same damn cloth.

“Joel, I love you. And I love Ellie, too. You two have made me so, so happy,” You told him, softly. “Ever since I met you both, something in me changed. It was like I had forgotten what it felt like to love, and to be loved. That part of me, I thought it was dead and buried, but you two brought it back to life.”

“You belong with us, Peach. Your place is with us. Your home is with us, not with Luke.”

“I know,” You whispered. “I know that, Joel.”

Joel sat up straight in the tub, wincing slightly. He was really starting to feel the pain in his shoulder.

“Joel, stop. Come on, you need to take it easy.”

Placing your hands on his chest, you tried to push him back, but Joel’s hand reached up and caught one of your wrists, his fingers curling around it.

“Whatever you’re afraid of—”

“Joel, please,” You whispered, thickly. “Don’t.”

“You ain’t gotta be afraid, baby. I can protect you. I can keep you safe.” His thumb lightly caressed the thin, delicate skin on the inside of your wrist as his eyes met yours. “I can keep you safe. I wouldn’t let anythin’ bad happen to you. Neither would the kid. She loves you too damn much.”

You swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Lifting your wrist, Joel planted a gentle kiss on the inside of it, your pulse strong under his lips.

“Me and Ellie, you’ll be alright with us.”

A long, heavy sigh escaped you. “I know that.”

“Then? What’s stoppin’ you?”

You sighed again.

“Just—just give me time so I can figure things out, okay? If I have it my way, I’ll be living here with you and Ellie before winter comes around.”

[chvnnie]

I know you just did a soft dom Chan but I personally am obsessed with soft dom Changbin. Just the care-giving-est praising-est most adoring dom. He's all big and strong and he uses it to make you feel tiny (even if you physically aren't) and safe and warm I just.....

get out of my head rn this is some of my favorite shit of ALL. TIME.

i’m on the daddy dom agenda today and you’re all coming along for the journey.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

Changbin thinks it’s endearing that you still get flustered when he looks at you. How you shy away when he grabs your hand in public. The little giggle you give any time he hugs you, squeezing and lifting you as he spins in a circle.

It would be impossible to pick his favorite thing about you because everything about you is his favorite. So, he tries to narrow it down depending on the moment. What has him so infatuated that he feels like he’s falling in love all over again?

Right now it’s your disheveled hair, coming out of the braids you put them in before bed. His worn out shirt, too many sizes too big on you, clinging to your body from the static of the bedsheets. The fist rubbing your eyes, the lips parted to release a big yawn.

Oh, you precious little thing. Groaning as you flip in the bed, rolling into his body and clinging to him by the side like a koala. Your ear rests just above his heart, the gentle thud like a lullaby. Easing your eyes shut once more.

“Sweetheart.” His voice is raspy, dry and cracking from sleep. “It’s time to get up—“

“No.” You bury your face in his bare chest, the heavy scent of his body soap soothing your fussy soul. “Don’t want.”

“I know.” Softly, he takes off the hair ties keeping your braids in, letting the hair fall free before he combs it with his fingers. “But we gotta.”

Changbin tries to sit up, to move so you have no choice. Though exhausted, you find the effort to roll on top of him. Pinning him down.

“No.”

As if you’ve forgotten his strength. It’s okay, it’s early; it takes his brain a minute to wake up too. Arms firmly wrapped around you, he stands up with ease, despite your whines of protest.

“Yes.”

He loves the cute way you put, eyebrows furrowed as you give your best glare up at him. It doesn’t stop him from putting the fluffy, pink headband on your, pushing the stray hairs out of your face. He lathers the face wash in his hands before massaging it on your cheeks.

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” He teases, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him and get soap on the tip of it. As grumpy as you are, you don’t move a muscle. Sitting perfectly on the bathroom counter as he washes your face before his own.

It’s like this every morning. You on the counter, him standing in front of you. Helping you get ready for the day as he readies himself. Are you fully capable of doing it on your own? Of course, and if you wanted to, Changbin would back off. But doing things for you is his favorite way to show his love.

Why does baby have to do anything when daddy is here?

Once your face and teeth are clean, you follow him into the closet. Sitting on the ground as he picks your gym clothes, packs an extra outfit to change into after you’re done.

“I don’t really want to go today.” You say with a sigh when he places the matching pink set in front of you. “Can we skip?”

“We had a rest day yesterday.” He takes the sweats he slept in off, tossing them aside before he starts to look for his own clothes. “It’s an easy day today. Just cardio.”

Oh, how dramatic you must be feeling today. Sighing before laying on the plush carpet floor, arm slung over your eyes.

“Just cardio? Daddy, cardio is the worst—“

Changbin’s hunt for a gym fit is abandoned, laughing as he kneels over you. In your show, the shirt you’re wearing has hiked up, cotton panties peeking from underneath it. Light blue with clouds decorating the fabric.

“Oh, baby.” His hands wrap around your wrists, moving your arms from your face. “It must be so hard to be you.”

Though you try to hold your pout, he can see the smile cracking. Nodding up at him.

“If you go, I’ll give you a treat.”

Suddenly, you look serious. “What kind of treat?”

Changbin just smiles at you before squeezing your wrists, bringing them above your head and holding them there.

Oh, how precious you are with wide eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Suddenly aware of how close his hips are to your own, how you’re stuck beneath his body. The fussy, pouty little girl he’s dealt with all morning now too shy to look at him. Squirming under his hold, not because you want out. But because that fuzzy, warm feeling has started to bloom.

You mumble something, and he’s pretty sure he knows what you said. But where’s the fun is giving in?

“Speak up, baby.” Changbin says, moving your wrists to one hand so he can turn your head back towards him. “Daddy can’t hear you.”

You swallow dryly, batting your lashes up at him. “W-want it now.”

“Already?” He teases with a chuckle, thumb stroking just beneath your lower lip. “But we were up late last night playing, baby. Isn’t that enough?”

It’s quick, the movement of your head. The soft whimpers that vibrate on his thumb. “No. No, I want more-“

Changbin loves how insatiable you can get. How one look or little word can turn you into a whimpering, needy girl. So obsessed with his cock that it’s all you can think about, slowly going mad the longer it takes to get it.

He loves how badly you need him, because he needs you just as much. If not more.

Your little gasps are so precious, dainty hands clutching at his broad shoulders as his cock works it’s way inside you. What he lacks in length, which isn’t much, he makes up for in width. The stretch always a little painful, burning and making your legs snap close.

“Shh, baby.” He whispers when your eyes start to water, face scrunching in pain.

“O-ouch—“

“I know, princess. Daddy’s got you.”

He makes sure to hold you close to his body, thumb stroking your hip bone as he bottoms out. Letting your head roll back, a broken, tearful moan coming from your lips. Leaning down, he kisses your exposed neck softly.

“You’re doing such a good job.” He mumbles against your skin. “So proud of my baby.”

When your walls flutter around him, the praise making your dizzy, Changbin begins to rock his hips. Rolling in a motion to get you more comfortable, pain morphing into pleasure as your cunt starts to adjust to him.

“More?” You whine out.

As long as you are his, you’ll want for nothing. Happily, Changbin starts to properly fuck you. Head buried in your neck, kissing and biting the skin. Carefully sucking beneath your ear to feel you twitch, to mark what’s his.

“Fuck.” He groans beneath your ear, his own eyes fluttering a bit. While he’ll tease you for slipping from him, so overwhelmed by his cock that you lose all thoughts, he feels it too. Drunk on your cunt, consumed by the perfect feeling that takes over his body when he’s deep inside you. You don’t notice how his groan has shifted into a low whimper. “It’s like this pussy was made for me.”

You let out the most delight cry when he hits the best spot, twitching intensely in his hold. Clinging to him as the grip on your sanity is lost.

“I-is yours.” Your words are slurred, almost incoherent. “All daddy’s—“

“Aw, baby. You’re so sweet.” He grunts as he thrusts harder, lingering deep inside as the tears break from your eyes. “Always perfect for daddy.”

He loves the way your eyes seem to brighten when you look at him, as if all of the love in the world is held within them. It makes him feel fuzzy, heart hammering and giggles scratching at his throat. Dizzy with how lovesick you’ve made him.

Your little hands cup his face, holding it still so you can look at him. Every inch of him, every bump, scar, ridge. The stroke of your thumbs on the apples of his cheeks is so soft, as if you’re holding fragile glass.

“Daddy perfect.” You whisper, lips trembling as they form an earnest smile. Beaming at him brighter than any star in the sky.

Changbin can’t pick what he loves the most about you, but he really thinks it’s how much you love him.

[bow-of-aros]

Just Like Sunshine

Summary:

Owen knows where Curt is ticklish and enjoys thoroughly exploiting it, so Curt thinks it's about time they evened out the playing field.

Guys. Guys. I'm obsessed with these two. Owen Carvour my beloved you deserved so much better and by God will I give it to you. UGH THEM <33333 Anyways I hope that everyone enjoys my labour of love that's been the only thing that I've been doing for the past 2 days (Which ended up 3.5k words. Holy shit) :D

Owen snapped awake as the sun’s rays filtered into the room. With his occupation, he doesn’t afford himself the luxury of slowly coming to consciousness, of basking in that hazy space between the sleeping and waking world.

It was never a certainty, where Owen would find himself in the morning. If everything went as it should, it would typically be the same place he fell asleep the night before. But then there’s also the abductions, the drugging, the being knocked out, all things that would result in needing to be alert as soon as possible.

Thankfully, he woke up in his own bed, curled under his barely-used sheets and tucked snugly against against a warm chest.

Reassured that he wasn’t going to plan some sort of escape, Owen let himself sink into the embrace, enjoying the rare feeling of being protected. Due to the height difference, something that he knew that Curt secretly loved, Owen tended to do a lot of the holding. But here, with his head tucked underneath his partner’s chin as strong arms wound themselves around him, Owen figured that he could bear getting used to this.

He listened to the steady beat of Curt’s heart as his thoughts trailed off. It was moments like this that made going back to their respective countries all the more difficult. It wasn’t easy, going from the certainty that Curt was alive and breathing here next to him to not knowing if one day he’d show up to work to receive the news that his partner had been killed in action.

Owen hadn’t even realized how much he’d tensed up until a thumb started rubbing back and forth along the nape of his neck and he let out a heavy sigh, allowing the hands on his back to coax him into relaxing again.

“It’s too early to be thinking about whatever you’re thinking.” Curt’s voice was rough from sleep and half-muffled from the way his face was buried in Owen’s hair.

It’s one of the most beautiful sounds that Owen’s had the fortune of hearing.

“I find that I’m rather inclined to agree with you there.”

Curt’s fingers being trailing across Owen’s back, tracing the all too familiar scars that map out his career, that illustrate their time spent together. He allows the soothing motions to lull him back into a doze, his body trusting Curt to look out for both of them should anything happen.

Of course, things can never stay calm for long, but Owen’s enough of a man to admit that this one might be his fault.

It starts when he shifts up just a bit to press a kiss to Curt’s neck, earning a pleased hum. Owen can’t help but smile and chase that sound, brushing his lips over his collarbone before tangling his fingers in Curt’s hair in order to pull him down for Owen to reach.

The sharp exhale fades into stuttering breaths as Owen continues to kiss his way up his partner’s neck, tugging gently at his earlobe with his teeth before moving behind his ear. He only manages a quick kiss there before a muffled noise escapes Curt’s mouth and his shoulders scrunch up to protect his neck.

Oh, he’d forgotten about Curt’s little weakness.

Owen could feel a smirk push its way onto his face as he leaned in close to whisper, “Sorry, love. Forgot you were a bit sensitive there.”

He leaned back just enough to see how Curt’s face had scrunched up, grin only widening as Curt caught his eye with a nervous smile.

Something melted in him at the sight. Curt Mega, the best spy that the American Secret Service had to offer, laid out and vulnerable just for him. Smiling at Owen even though Owen finds great joy in exploiting what Curt thinks is an embarrassing trait for a spy to have.

Owen thinks that it’s perfectly Curt, so they agree to disagree.

“Owen,” Curt’s voice trembles with the giggles he’s holding back and isn’t that just precious, “You don’t have to do tHIS. Hehey!”

He really should be paying better attention to where Owen was keeping his hands, put those spy skills he’s always bragging about to good use. How could Owen resist when a few sneaky flutters of his fingers against the back of Curt’s neck drew out and honest to God squeal?

Bracing his arms on either sides of Curt’s head, Owen leaned in close, “I don’t know, Curt. It’s not good for a spy to have a weakness such as this, it’s my solemn duty as your partner to train you out of— oof!”

Before Owen could even finish his sentence, Curt had managed to hook a leg around Owen’s waist, flipping them over so that Curt was now looking down at him, sporting a particularly proud grin. A quick tug at where Curt had tucked Owen’s hands under his knees confirmed that he was well and truly stuck, and a faint warmth began to crawl up his cheeks.

“You have me at an advantage, Agent Carvour.” Curt placed his hands on Owen’s shoulders and Owen had to suppress a flinch when his thumbs smoothed across his chest.

Still, Owen had to scoff, “I have the advantage? Need I point out that you’re quite literally on top of me at the moment?” He shifted his hips a bit to prove his point, but Curt only tightened his hold.

Spoilsport.

“Yes, Owen!” The suave tone Curt had been going for slipped into more of a whine, “You know where I’m ticklish, but I have no clue where you’re ticklish. It’s not fair!”

Ah. So this is where this was going.

Owen pasted on his most charming grin, “Yes, well, that happens to be because you’re ticklish everywhere, dear. Fortunately I am not predisposed to such an enfeeblement, so do us both a favour and give up before you embarrass yourself.”

Instead of conceding the point like he’d been hoping, Curt’s smile only grows.

“What?”

Curt makes a show of cracking his knuckles, and Owen does a worse job than he’d like to admit at pretending it didn’t effect him. “You’re using fancier words than usual. You only do that when you’re nervous.”

He opens his mouth, perhaps to protest, perhaps to deflect, but Curt continues before he has the chance to speak.

“So, you definitely are ticklish, and I’m gonna give you two options. You can either tell me where your worst spot is, and I’ll call it even, or I can find it for myself.” He leans in closer, a mirror of how Owen had done the exact same thing just moments earlier, “And I promise to be very thorough.”

Owen considers his options, despite the fact that he already knows what he’s going to choose. Owen Carvour is a proud man and a damn good spy, he didn’t get this far by simply giving up information.

So, he flattens his lips and raises his eyebrows in a clear challenge.

And if there’s one thing that Curt loves, it’s a challenge.

“You know, I was hoping that’s what you would say.” His finger’s came to rest under Owen’s jaw, and Owen did not appreciate the way his grin sharpened as he flinched. “I think that we start from the top and work our way down. What do you say, Carvour?”

It’s rare that anything holds Curt’s attention for long. His mind jumps from topic to topic with no discernible link, even Owen struggles to keep up when he really gets going.

But now? Curt’s laser-focused on Owen beneath him. Even if Curt hadn’t had him in a very secure pin, there’s a chance that his gaze alone could keep Owen in place and, normally, Owen does not appreciate being made to feel like prey.

It’s different with Curt. Right now, all Owen can feel is a curl of giddy nervousness that he’s trying very hard to ignore.

The fingers twitch against his neck and Owen curses his wandering attention as a small gasp escapes him.

Curt’s still looking down at him, but his grin is softer. Amused.

“Cat got your tongue? Or am I really just that breathtaking?”

“Well,” Owen drawls, trying to cover for his lapse, “This certainly isn’t an unflattering view. As for your other proposition, I find it completely unnecessary to—Wait! Cuhuhurt nononono!”

Christ this was embarrassing. Owen had been hoping to last a little bit without cracking, but from Curt’s smug-ass grin, he’d probably gotten Owen talking looking for this exact outcome.

“Awwwwww! Has anybody ever told you that your giggle is adorable, baby?” Suddenly, Owen is significantly more desperate to regain control of his arm to, at the very least, cover his burning face.

“Sod ohohohoff!” Curt switched sides and Owen was doing his level best to connect his shoulders with his head, “I do not gihiggle!”

Yeah, he knows that he’s not exactly making his case here.

And apparently, Curt agreed with that assessment.

“Sure. Whatever you say, giggles.” He used one finger to scratch a little mockingly under his chin, and Owen wanted nothing more than to melt into the bed at the snort that escaped him.

It took Owen a moment to realize that Curt had paused his attack, and he allowed the residual laughter (that were not giggles) to pour out of him as he opened his eyes.

Curt’s face was flushed a light pink and sporting an awestruck smile. He gently brushed away some of Owen’s hair from where it had tangled around him before leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to his lips. A soft sigh escaped Owen as a hand cradled his cheek and he leaned into the contact, savouring the moment.

When Curt pulled away, that same dopey smile on his face, Owen raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Sometimes I can’t believe that I get to see you like this.” It was said like a confession, breathed into the air between them. “You’re beautiful, Owe. Your laugh sounds just like sunshine and you snort which is fucking adorable.”

Curt ran a hand through his hair and Owen had to admire the way it fell back into his face, framing soft brown eyes in a way that not even the most talented artist couldn’t begin to replicate because it would be Curt, here with Owen. Safely tucked away behind locked doors in a place where they can just be.

“I love you, Owen. Sometimes I feel like I’ll explode with how much I love you.”

Owen would love to have his arms back, to take Curt’s face in his hands and never let him go, but he settles for trying to pour every ounce of what he feels into his smile.

“Didn’t know that you were a poet, love.” Curt huffs a laugh and tweaks his side, eliciting a yelp. “Okay! I love you too, you twat. I spend our time apart counting down the seconds before I get to see you again.”

And it’s true. Owen would spend every moment of the rest of his life with Curt if he could.

They stay like that for a bit, just savouring the moment, until Owen offers up a dry, “Does this mean that you’ll get off of me now?”

Curt’s evil grin snaps back into place and Owen’s going to take that as a resounding no.

“Look. Your giggles were cute and everything, but I think we both know that that wasn’t what I was looking for.” He starts walking two fingers up Owen’s stomach and towards his ribs and, yeah, maybe it’s a little more intimidating than Owen had been anticipating.

“Curt, love,” Owen curses the way his voice wobbles just the slightest bit, but he powers through, “You don’t have to do this. Can’t we come to some sort of agreement?”

He feels Curt begin to lightly trace his topmost ribs and snaps his jaw shut, breathing sharply through his nose in an attempt to keep his composure.

Curt just sits there with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You know, I’m pretty sure I said something like that earlier and you didn’t look like you were going to have mercy on me. But,” He adds, slowly travelling down, “My original offer still stands. You give up your worst spot, and we’ll call it even. After I test it out to make sure you’re not lying, of course.”

He wasn’t daft, Owen saw the bargain for what it was: An out. Curt was always willing to put Owen’s comfort above all else, and he was giving him the chance to escape if it was all too much.

But, to be completely honest, Owen had dished out his fair share of this kind of affection, and he wasn’t exactly opposed to being pinned by his extremely attractive boyfriend. He could think of worse ways to spend his morning than laughing under Curt’s hands. Not that he would ever admit to that out loud.

So… “You can take your offer and shove it right up your arse—CURT! Shihihihit I cahahahan’t!”

Owen had barely had the chance to finish his sentence before Curt dug in, clawing down his ribs and occasionally rubbing his knuckles over the bones. The sensation was overwhelming in the best possible way and Owen threw his head back as frantic cackles were drawn out of him.

Distantly, he heard Curt chuckling above him, “This is definitely closer. What do you say, Agent Carvour? Did I find it?”

While he was speaking, one of Curt’s hands had switched to sporadic pokes and light tracing between his ribs while the other one continued its ruthless attack. Owen honestly didn’t know which one was worse, just that both desperately made him want to curl up into a ball to protect himself.

He decided to throw a Hail Mary in the hopes that he could sneak one by Curt, “YES! Yehehehes it’s the wohohohorst! Lehehet me gohohohoho!”

A contemplative hum sounded and Curt’s fingers slowed, allowing Owen to suck in greedy breaths as he fought to recover from the brutal attack.

“You know,” A small squeak escaped Owen’s lips as Curt’s breath curled around his neck in a way that should not be that sensitive, “I don’t believe you.”

Owen’s eyes snapped wide in panic. “Curt wait! Waitwaitwait you can’t! Shihihihit cohohome ohon!”

Curt, not exactly known for his patience, had already moved to his stomach, kneading it like a particularly dedicated cat before scribbling up his sides, pitching Owen into a significantly higher octave than before.

“I think you’ll find that I definitely can, baby.” Curt mimed pushing up a pair of glasses before noting, “Hm, not as bad as the ribs, but perfect if I’m itching to see the way his nose scrunches up. Good to know.”

At that, Owen desperately tried to smooth out his face with very minimal success, prompting Curt to prod at his ribs, speaking over his surprised shriek.

“Ah ah ah, no hiding that smile! Got it?”

He gave a few more pokes until Owen frantically nodded. At this point, he was pretty sure that his smile was glued to his face anyway.

“Excellent!” Curt cheered, “Now, where to next?”

Owen spared a second to be grateful that Curt was perched on his hips before he started squeezing down his legs and his struggling increased tenfold.

“Oh? What do we have here?”

Oh shit. Ohhhh shit.

“Curt!” Owen tossed out desperately, “Cohohome ohohohon! Just gihihive it uhuhup! Plehehease not thehehere!”

“What was that?” Curt sounded absolutely delighted, that evil, evil man, “Did Owen Carvour, the best agent the MI6 has had literally ever, just beg?!”

The further Curt moved down his thigh, the more frantically Owen kicked his legs in an attempt to dislodge him. The shocks running through him were slowly tearing what little composure he had left to shreds, but it was more the anticipation of what was to come than the attack he was currently suffering.

Owen could barely bring his addled brain to form words and settled to shaking his head in denial.

“Aw, c’mon!” Curt goaded, pausing for a moment as his hands hovered threateningly, knowingly, over Owen’s knees, “If you do it again, I might consider showing mercy.”

That was a bald-faced lie and they both knew it. Owen pretended to consider Curt’s proposition, and Curt pretended to believe him, both gearing up for what was sure to be the grand finale.

“Curt…” Owen infused his voice with a note of defeat just to see the way he briefly cocked his head in confusion like a puppy, “Fuck you.”

A shocked laugh echoes between them, “You little—” He cuts himself off, shrugs, “Well, you asked for it.”

He squeezes at the tops of Owen’s knees, and Owen almost manages to send Curt flying with how hard he kicks.

“CURT! Nonononono plehehehehease! I’m sohohohorry SHIT!” This is how Owen’s going to die. He dug his fucking grave and now he has to lie in it but holy fuck what a way to go.

Owen manages to worm a hand from under Curt’s knee, but any and all coordination and strength that he might’ve had has been effectively sapped out of him. He gives Curt’s leg a few frantic slaps before holding on for dear life, using Curt as an anchor even though he’s the cause of the fucking storm!

Curt, for his part, is having the time of his life. He’s getting some long awaited revenge on the many attacks that Owen’s launched on him ever since he pressed that first too-light kiss on his neck. And it’s not an unwelcome boost to his pride to have one of the greatest spies ever at his mercy, pleading from just a few fingers.

Yeah, he might be a bit of a sadist, but there’s a reason he and Owen fit together so well.

Owen can just barely remember what Curt had said about being thorough, just that he was holding very true to his word. He could feel his partner mentally cataloguing his reactions to different techniques, testing for weaknesses and then fully exploiting them before moving on to the next.

Squeezing at the tendon just above the knee produced shrill hysterics. Scribbling and slowly dragging nails over his kneecaps introduced incoherent babbling that could’ve been pleas for mercy or threats to his life.

By the time Curt moved to the soft spot behind his knees, Owen was nearly spent. A few tears trickled down his temples and his hair was a complete disaster. As curious fingers wormed between his legs and the bed, Owen’s laughter pitched up desperately, cracked, and went completely silent.

Curt only kept it up for a few more seconds before deciding that revenge had been exacted to its fullest extent. When he heaved himself off of Owen, watching him recover with adoring eyes, Owen couldn’t even find it in himself to curl up. He simply laid there, catching his breath and sinking as far into the sheets as his body would let him.

He flinches a bit when Curt reaches out to him but Curt just says, “Don’t worry, I’m done,” and wipes away the drying tears before leaving his arms open in an invitation.

Maybe Owen should’ve hesitated more before collapsing into his partner’s chest, but he was exhausted and Curt was there, running soothing hands through his hair and down his back.

“You’re an evil, rotten man, Curt Mega.” Owen mutters this into his chest, body betraying him as he presses as close as he can manage into the comforting warmth.

Curt just places a fond kiss on his forehead, “Well, maybe. But you deserved it and now the playing field has evened itself out. And,” He says, scratching at Owen’s scalp and earning a contented groan, “I didn’t hear you say red, which makes me think that, maybe, you didn’t mind it as much as you were trying to let on.”

There’s a cutting remark sitting on the tip of Owen’s tongue, but then Curt’s hand gets caught in his tangled hair and the gentle tug washes it away. He settles for swatting at Curt’s arm and mumbling, “Whatever. Like you’re one to talk.”

Curt’s breath hitches minutely in his chest, but Owen still counts it as a win.

“You know,” Curt says, “We should probably be getting up. We only have one more day before I need to go back to America, there’s lots we could be doing.”

Owen just clings on tighter, “I swear to Christ, if you try to drag me out of bed after what you just put me through, I’m never letting you stay here again. And anyways, love, I can’t think of much I’d rather be doing than laying here with you. Just try to savour the moment.”

Neither wanted to think about their inevitable separation, so they didn’t, choosing to bask in the others’ presence for as long as they could. Enjoying the warmth and security that came with being together.

“I love you, Owe.”

“I love you too, Curt.”

Everything, every mission and life-threatening injury, was worth it as long as it lead them back to each other.

[remnantsofsleep]

The brightest Star

Fair warning, This is gonna get a little sad

*implied death*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why'd it have to be you?

It'd been a normal day, Or rather as normal as it could have been, considering you lived in a Zombie Apocalypse

That was something that you prior to this would have considered to be fiction, a Horror story meant to make readers Shiver..

God this had felt surreal at first, all the chaos and panic, but now it was the new normal

And it seemed this is how your story would end

You had been sent out on a easy simple mission, A gas station not too far from where you and your companions had Staked out for the night, an easy in and out, or so you thought

You dont quite know how it happened, it had been empty in the main area, but as you moved towards the back, a walker had somehow slipped your gaze, and You'd stupidly forgotten how loud your gun really was, and had used it to kill the lone Walker, attracting more to your location

You'd killed em all, but one had managed to bite you, Right on your forearm

How the hell were you going to tell Daryl?

He was the love of your life, and he was not going to be happy, But knowing you only had a limited amount of time, you had to try, or at least see him before he or Rick put a bullet in your skull

Mercy kill, as you say

You trudged back, pushing branches and Brush out of your way, your backpack filled with the few supplies you found, A makeshift bandage around your arm, and soon the fire light came into View

The moment you stepped into camp, Daryl was up and at your side, "how'd it go?" He asked, Curiosity hidden in his voice

Like shit you thought, but instead of that, "it went fine, A few walkers but hey, I grabbed all the Canned goods in sight" you said

"Good, s'just us up, 'sides from Carol an' Maggie, but those two're Lord knows where" He explained, guiding you towards where he'd set up, only for you to pull away

"Why dont we sit out here a bit? You know how I like the stars" You suggest, Although you knew you wouldnt make it to the next night

Fortunately he agreed, and you two took a seat under a nearby tree, Vaguely keeping an eye out

"..ya a'ight? Yer usually Tuckered after runs even tha shorter ones" He pointed out quietly, Letting you cuddle into his side

You nod, you knew you were lying, your emotions all over the place but hidden behind a Facade of being okay at the moment, "yeah, Just glad to be back here" you muttered

"Baby, Yer lyin'. Care ta tell tha truth?" He asked, of course he knew, he knew you better then anyone else

You shakily sit up, showing him your bandaged forearm before slowly unwrapping it

You can practically see his heart drop

"Is tha what I think it is?" He asked, his voice suddenly quiet, Almost fearful, as he watched you slowly nod

"Wanted to see you 'fore I go" You murmured, Tears filling your eyes, "Daryl I'm scared"

"I know Darlin', I know" he whispered, kissing your forehead, "s'gonna be okay, Ya gon be a'ight" his words so comforting, It almost made you forget about the wound

Almost

He pulled you into his chest, one hand on the back of your head, the other on your lower back, letting you cling to him, He knew both of you knew what he had to do

What you wanted to happen

You buried your head into his shoulder, A tremble escaping your body as you felt the arrow pierce your back and soon another

His arms never loosening around you, Simply tightening as if he didnt want you to witness what he had to do

At least you got to see him again

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You always liked the stars, He never understood why, You always said they were Pretty, and reminders of what once was, How humanity had been prior to the Outbreak, How it would survive, and how the stars would witness everything.

One thing you liked reminding him of was that People who had passed could possibly be stars, that was how you found comfort in killing walkers, and those bitten by em

He never quite saw it that way, but what he knew now was..

The brightest star was you

[xxlady-lunaxx]

I'm sorry for this | {Kokuzan}

Theme: Fluff + Angst 

Note: The stupid wheel chose this to be fluffy angst of holidays and execution so let's see how this plays out 💀 I'm sad bc idk what to write-

Demons usually don't give a single fuck about holidays. They're just stupid days that humans use as excuses to take off of work or school or whatever. Sometimes celebrations that leave them drunk and wasted. Easy prey. But sometimes demons did celebrate them. Although, not exactly celebrate as much as acknowledge. This was one of those times.

It was a silly little holiday. Valentine's day. The one that people meet up, give chocolates and flowers and gifts. Typical lovey-shit. But this time Muzan decided to 'celebrate' it as well, which was extremely unexpected of him. As nearly nobody knew, he was dating Kokushibo, his oldest (if you ignored the traitor Tamayo), strongest, and his personal favorite demon. He didn't know what to do, so all he did was put some nicer clothes on—the ones he had on before were drenched in blood. Then he went in search of Kokushibo. He found him quickly and demanded that the Uppermoon must come with him somewhere. For Valentine's day. Kokushibo agreed. He had forgotten that 80% of the time, people do things with ulterior motives. 

Muzan and Kokushibo traveled for a little, walking and teleporting equally until they reached this one site. It was old. Very old. There was the remains of a building left there, and besides that there were just trees for miles and miles. "Eh, Master, what is this place?" Kokushibo hummed, confused.

Muzan said nothing and just nodded for Kokushibo to keep going. They went inside the pit of the broken down building and sat on these makeshift chairs they made by stacking up the rocks. Then Muzan said, "Kokushibo. Do you trust me?"

"Huh-? Yes, yes I do," Kokushibo said, more confused than ever.

"Good." Muzan pondered how to go through with this when he had an idea. "Okay, uh... Here," he said, holding out some flowers he'd messily snatched on the way there.

Kokushibo took them, surprised. "Oh! Thank you," he said, a small, teasing smile playing on his lips.

Muzan ignored it, feeling slightly flushed. Then he cleared his throat. "Uh.. If you want you can.. have some of my blood? It will make you stronger too," he said quietly.

Kokushibo thought his mind was playing tricks on him. "Really??" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, sure, of course," Muzan said, stumbling over his words. 

Kokushibo waited for Muzan to hold out his hand and drop blood into his mouth or whatever, but it didn't happen. He cocked his head, confused, when Muzan realized he should clarify. He tapped his neck and Kokushibo looked at him, perplexed. "Ah.. could you explain, please?" he asked.

"Oh. Uhm. Just- Just bite my neck," Muzan said awkwardly. He quickly added, "ONLY because I don't feel like puncturing myself. That's it."

"Right, okay," Kokushibo said nervously, standing up. Muzan did as well and then sat on the stone tabler, waiting. Kokushibo placed his mouth on the side of Muzan's neck and gently bit down, drawing blood. He didn't take much and tried to do the least damage, wanting to make sure Muzan wouldn't get angry or something. He quickly sat back down as his body processed the blood that slowly flowed through his veins and strengthened him. He tried not to make a sound as the blood caused pain throughout his body before it settled. Kokushibo looked up and saw Muzan, still on the table, covering his mouth and flushed. 

Kokushibo was confused at this, but said nothing as the pain started subsuding. Muzan continued looking flustered, his face slowly burying in his hands. Eventually, Kokushibo was able to speak again and he cleared his throat. "I.. Thank you, Master," he mumbled.

Muzan nodded slowly and took a deep breath, then slid off the table. He walked over to Kokushibo and promptly sat on the Uppermoon's lap, uncaring of what Kokushibo thought of this. It was certainly a surprise and Muzan's demon was very flustered at this action, not having expected it.

The play of small affection continued through the night for a while. Eventually Kokushibo completely forgot about dawn and only just enjoyed his time with Muzan who was playing his role carefully. Now, only a few minutes till dawn, Muzan said, "Kokushibo.. do you trust me?"

Remembering the words, Kokushibo nodded quickly. "Yes, I do."

Muzan nodded. "Good," he said, the same as before. "Kokushibo, stand here and close your eyes. If you feel warm, it's not the sun, okay? I promise," he said, with so much conviction Kokushibo didn't question this. He just nodded and closed his eyes, standing still.

Muzan nodded then went to kiss Kokushibo but realized he was too short to reach him properly so he went over and stood on a stone. He places his lips on Kokushibo's and then pulled apart. Kokushibo had been surprised by this but smiled at it. 

He heard the sound of scraping stone and figured Muzan was just moving the rocks around a little to get through it more easily. Eventually he heard the sounds of footsteps and they seemed to get a little more quiet with each step. "Master?"

Muzan's voice sounded a little more distant as he called back, "One minute, I'll be ready in one minute. You can open your eyes in one minute, when I say so, okay?"

Kokushibo hummed his agreement and waited. One minute later, he felt a strange sensation. It was warmth, a weird warmth. One he didn't like one bit. He heard Muzan shouting that he could open his eyes. And he did. And he realized Muzan had set him up to.. kill him. The sun rose above him and he went to turn to find a way where he could hide but he found he was surrounded in every other side by rocks, the rocks Muzan had moved earlier. Where there were no rocks was rope tied around to make it harder to climb through them, and above him were more rocks which were tilted in a precarious way. 

"Why..?" he mumbled. "WHY!!"

He vaguely heard Muzan saying, "I'm sorry for this, Kokushibo. But it's for my sake. Besides, you trust me, no?" before he crumbled to dust.

Muzan sighed as he hid from the sun. He did like it, being with Kokushibo, but he couldn't risk Kokushibo turning into Yoriichi, so he did this. He had to. It was a necessary precaution.

He turned away and walked off as if nothing had happened.

{Word count: 1086}

My sister's mad at me for writing this I think 💀 She's shitting on Muzan now- I was saying he used the sun to feel less guilty but she took none of it and said that nobody cares. She just said "Seriously, Muzan, you could've killed him on a different holiday!! Seriously, nobody cares about your stupid fears!! You're literally the worst boyfriend ever!! 🙄" 

I'M LAUGHING THE WAY SHE ACTS SO SASSY WHEN SHE SAYS THINGS LIKE THIS AHAHAHAH

Anyways bye 🫠 I tried but imo I failed at writing this but who cares anymore 😋

watch me just continue to repost my wattpad work on tumblr-

i should stop doing that ngl

[motherstone]

The implications of the curse on Kanalis. Does it only affect people born there? It must, because it's a port town and that wouldn't make a ton of sense otherwise. Also who cast it? There's no indication that stone magic has that kind of power. Stone magic seems more energy manipulation inclined, but there are probably other kinds of magic, given the whole everything of Alledia. Talking trees, giants, etc. Stonekeeper's Curse talks about harnessing the life inside everything, so I decided maybe some people use that magic without stones, in some sort of exchange with the universe/world at large. Definitely not to make an OC that has non-stone magic, I would never mess with canon like that /s.

Only mildly related, but would a giant tree that absorbs a person's life force to produce a fruit that gives immense power to the eater fit within the Amulet universe? It feels like it would.

Lemme be insane for 5 mins:

Ok, but like, I sort of addressed this in my rewrite. Alledia is an alternate version of earth with magic, and humans discovered it pretty early on.

Anyone can learn it w sufficient study and effort. Experimented w it like crazy, advanced many things, and changed many thngs. Precursor elves has an ancestor that changed their appearance and botched an immortality spell. Precursor Kanalis citizen has several ancestors fuck up transformation magic. Gadobas was a result of experimentation with magic. So on and so forth. Magic got widespread enough that it harms people and caused many wars and conflicts. Precursors tried to put restrictions/regulations but shit got apocalyptic enough that many people died and most of the magic is forgotten.

I like to think a few of the "long-lived humans" aka the elves of a long time ago has lived long enough to eventually learn that this precursor magic needs to be forbidden but also recorded as to never be repeated again, hence the elven culture's great emphasis on learning history. There's a small group that's dedicated to keep such magics forgotten or forbidden or regulated and maintains a massive archive of history and magic bc of it (aka, the village where Virgil is from).

So there's probably like, a human that lives as long as an elf, there's a few people in all three countries who has sparse knowledge of that precursor magic but gets passed down as "tradition", nothing too big. Gets mistaken for the magic to be "hereditary" but actually it's just passed down from parent to child

but tbh, precursor magic has limits in terms of energy. Moving a glass's worth of water using magic, easy peasy. Moving ocean's worth of water? next to impossible. Precursors made the Mother Stone for war times to gain immense energy to do that impossible energy levels of magic. Precursor magic is more like AA battery, and needs to be casted, not unlike a computer code? The Mother Stone is more like a generator. But they realize MS is dangerous and buried out of shame and horror and end up forgotten. Basically, it's the equivalent of us inventing the nuclear bomb, realizing it's pretty bad to use it, and then buried it so it can never be used.

A long time passed; civilization eventually recovered but bc of lost history, many of the technology regressed. A new start after that era of magic, you could say. Humans and elves eventually discover MS, ignore sign DANGEROUS CRYSTAL DO NOT FUCKING TOUCH. Stonekeeping becomes widespread. It was free for all, stonekeeper conflict ensues. Cielis is a kingdom that conquered other lands through stonekeeping and established Windsor. Could not penetrate Gulfen bc the mountain ranges proved impenetrable and a natural and difficult gate. Eventually, they used up 2/3rds of stone before some people with sanity realized that power needs to be regulated, overthrew corrupt stonekeeper,s and established the Guardian Council, now putting a metric on whether or not you should be a stonekeeper. Era of peace starts, it was kinda short tho.

The first GC was a mix of humans and elves just a heads up.

Advancements happen, economy improved. Eventually, Cielis lost sight, started lowering their standards on the quality of one's character on who gets to be a stonekeeper. Started resticting the stone power to nobles and people in power. Started having a strict hierarchy, started cutting out "outsiders" (elves, animal people etc). Basically, they're going back to their roots. Started a toxic education system where might is right.

[renegadeshroom]

i am once again procrastinating my bedtime but i just realised that i never had my final thoughts on the whispering skull! i finished it like a week ago or something. assorted ramblings under the cut

george faking his death by looking into the mirror at the end there got me REAL good. poor eyesight W lmaooo. i am so so so glad lucy made the only smart move possible -- im giving her this position over winkman bc though he was smartER about it than most everyone else it was just base profiteering on his part, which simply endangered someone else further down the line -- in relation to the mirror and smashed its shit in. megacursed mirror deliberately made out of seven ghosts that kills anyone who looks into it for too long and makes everyone who doesnt look into it long enough to die obsess over getting another better look into it is, shockingly, bad news! im still wary of deprac and dont entirely trust them and tbh barnes lucy probably saved your ass from getting mirrored to death by smashing that shoddy piece of shit thing into pieces. so like, thank her. idk, get her a cake or something. i am of course also suitably wowed by how um. literally explosive things got at winkman's auction. did not expect them to blow the whole thing up. and i am glad they were fiiiinally able to work together with kipps' team to mutually save their own asses. it had to happen eventually ofc, but we know the threshold now. amused that lucy got out of this whole ordeal without further meaningfully interacting with another girl whatsoever though things of interest to me:

afaik we did not learn the name of the whispering skull, despite learning the names of like everyone else in bickerstaff's little death cult. i wondered very briefly if maybe the deceased's relationship to ghosts in life is a factor in how their own ghost manifests, vis a vis the type system. even with the skull being the only type three so far, i think bickerstaff decidedly put that idea to bed however. im also beginning to think that particularly old ghosts are more powerful, generally speaking, but thats probably just a survivorship bias?

the skull was marginally helpful to lucy when the chips were down?? genuinely did not expect that, but i suppose it has a more powerful interest in exploiting lucy's ability to commune with it than it does a desire to see her and her friends get their shit kicked in. im sure the skull would greatly enjoy watching all of them kick the bucket in a variety of gruesome and horrible ways, but it has a very material interest here, and it seems remarkably easy to manipulate with the simple threat of being buried somewhere and forgotten forever. much to think about! it makes me wonder if lucy is the first person to be able to hear it... i would suspect, given marissa fittes reporting the existence of type threes, and the fact that george stole the skull from the fittes agency, it may have been one of the type threes encountered by her

thinking on it now, the skull is not, afaict, mentioned to be smaller than an adult human's skull. so despite the skull serving as bickerstaff's psychic protege in life, it seems to not have met its end at the same time or circumstances as bickerstaff. then again, maybe he just started out as bickerstaff's psychic lackey, but proved to be useful enough to hang around for longer than his psychic ability was potent

this really just turned into a list of musings about the skull huh. whoops

[quietwingsinthesky]

For the fanfic asks, 18 and 19?

Hi Stel!

[questions are here]

18. oh, gosh. hard choice. hard choice. uhm. I always gush about how much I loved writing 'it would have buried you' so I feel like I should give the spotlight to one of my other favorites, which is Another Night (it doesn't get easy). It's full of lines that I fucking love, and I have no idea where they came from or why they ended up in a FNAF fic of all things, but. specifically right now, I'm thinking of the line, "Your father, the walking blasphemy, can see you now." which is really just. the culmination of the whole fic's point for being, really. And I really loved narrating that line too, alskdjalskjd i dont know if you can tell listening to the podfic, I savored that damn thing.

19. Okay okay small teaser let's see what I've got here. hm. So there's another prompt I'm working on in bits and pieces asking for something between Sam and Lucifer, specifically during the era where Lucifer is possessing Castiel, which. Fascinating challenge to me (<- dislikes casifer greatly) and I am up for it. So here's a little bit of it.

tw for lucifer being a creepy dude and doing shit he should not be doing to sam while he's asleep. nothing terrible but he is being. So Weird.

Sam is smarter than this. He should know he's not safe here, not even in this hole in the ground. Does he really sleep here, night after night, without anything protecting him? Lucifer strokes Sam's cheek, feels his sleeping exhales against this vessel's wrist. Not anymore. Lucifer has taken care of everything. Sam's room is warded against any being that might wish him harm, and all of it is scratched so subtly into the walls by Castiel's guided nails that he won't even notice the difference.

That's alright. He doesn't have to know that Lucifer is watching over him. He never knew about Azazel's gang guiding him, not until their jobs were long over and he had been shaped into Lucifer's true vessel. Those demons even made the perfect present for him when he accepted Lucifer into his heart and bloodied hands.

Someday, Sam is going to understand that Lucifer doesn’t give so much to just anyone.

He has another gift for Sam, beyond the protective wards on the walls and his company behind Castiel's face. He kisses Sam's forehead and lets grace curl inside his mind, locking him into the deep slumber Lucifer walked in on. Sam's face is so relaxed when he's asleep. Gently, Lucifer's thumb glides down the side of his face to his lips. They part with barely a hint of pressure. Lucifer smiles.

His wings rise around him and Sam, light sent dancing over his true vessel's skin. (Beneath them, Castiel's worn-out rags of bone and feather drag along the floor, forgotten.) Lucifer reaches between his feathers, seeking. Grace sparks under his fingers, and the sensation is calming. He's almost tempted to sit here a while over Sam's prone body and preen, letting the loose feathers glide down to rest over Sam. Another time, maybe. For now, he has purpose, and he takes hold of a feather still intimately connected to his own power. It's a living part of him, and he pulls it out. The pain is awful. Lucifer bows over Sam, stifling a scream against his neck.

Sam doesn't wake. Lucifer rubs Castiel's throat. This vessel doesn't fit right. Even its vocal cords vibrate wrong. He hates it, and with Sam so close, right there, one word away from letting Lucifer taste the euphoria of being inside him again... But he is so stubborn. Lucifer wouldn't love him otherwise.

For now, he takes the feather between his fingers, sparking and glowing and connected to him, even though it’s been cut off. He can feel it. He can track it.

He wouldn't have to do this if Castiel hadn't tried to hide Sam from him. As if he was allowed to write runes into Sam's ribs without Lucifer's permission. Lucifer can't even erase them. Loathe as he is to admit it, they're effective at keeping every other angel away from his vessel, too.

Here's a simpler solution. He opens Sam's mouth wider, and he drops the small feather inside.

[duckduckquackity]

[Note: I am putting little warnings for this. They aren’t anything majorly descriptive and are really light, but I’m adding them just in case as a little heads up.

Warnings: mentions of drowning (feelings more so), brief alcohol mention, out of body experience/no control at certain points.]

Flowers. Outside of Bad’s house. It was after the ‘jort storm’ as it was officially nicknamed. Normally, Quackity wouldn’t do anything nice for anyone, but Bad had been different recently. It was nice. Scary as fuck. But nice. So he decided to clean up Bad’s landscape, help the flowers out a little bit. They all looked wilted, oddly enough, but Quackity just assumed it might have been the jorts covering different sections. There was one in the middle of it all that looked like it was trying to stand up tall, rise above the rest, but it too was beginning to sag.

“Fuckin’ hell man..” Quackity groaned, stretching his wings out behind him. Bad better like this. Quackity felt like he was sweltering out here, it was too damn hot! It felt like stabbing prickling sensations all over his skin and his feathers felt uncomfortably damp. “You little shits better grow now! I’m gonna fucking die out here handling you!”

Gardening was.. weird, Quackity decided. You give your hand to a plant, you take care of it, it looks like you do all the work. The plant works too, though. It just needs the right environment. The environment isn’t something it can change on its own, it has to be manipulated by an outside force. It’s an influence thing. Every little detail affects a single flower.

Quackity stabbed the trowel into the dirt, looking towards Bad’s house. Maybe he should show Bad? The flowers are getting a little healthier. He could show the others that he’s putting effort somewhere. This was proof he was improving somewhere.

What he didn’t realize is that the trowel was used to dig up some of the flowers. Oh well. Some things should stay buried. He’s done this before, new life, no need to carry past baggage.

A grin graced his face. Surely Bad would like the look of the place, knowing it was by Quackity. Maybe Dapper and Gegg would like the colors. It was a nice thought, them liking the big picture and not the numerous wilted flowers. Those were surely easy to overlook. It was easier for the onlookers and not the flowers.

Racing towards the house he had grown familiar with, Quackity shouted. “Bad! Bad get your ass out here! Get Dapper and Gegg too, hice algo!” Something about that last line made Quackity chuckle. The idea of a concerned Bad wondering if that was a good or bad thing from him made it all the more exciting.

There was a moment where touching the door handle felt wrong. It was cold. Freezing, actually. It was supposed to be hotter than hell outside, why would the handle be cold? Maybe he’s just too hot. Yeah. He’s felt intense heat before. Everything else feels cold after that

“Bad where the fuck are you- hurry the hell up ma-,” Quackity paused. The door slammed open. Instead of Bad’s entryway that he had grown so used to, it was a hallway. The way ahead of him was colored in crisp white, surfaces practically reflecting like it was heaven. If he squinted he could see what looked like a fountain down the way with a larger room. Whatever this shit was though, Quackity didn’t want it. “Bad..? Are you playing some prank on me or some shit? This is.. a lot. Even for you.” Excuses. Bad wouldn’t do this.

Quackity tried to turn around and shut the door, but instead there was a deep slate wall blocking the way to the outside. It was covered in vines that looked hand placed. Someone wanted that to be forgotten.

The only way to go was “forward,” he mumbled. All things go forward. Normally. Quackity felt like he was going backwards. Especially now in these halls.

So. Forward he went. Everything in these halls felt empty. Before they held opportunities and chances, now? They held regret. They held his stupid desperation to have an upper hand. Quackity avoided looking at the walls, he knew who he would see reflecting back at himself. Now wasn’t the time to feel trapped like this, he needed to get out. Why was he even here? They never sought him out before. It’s like he had never been here in the first place, they forgot about him. People usually do that anyway.

Quackity stepped into the larger room, walking past water so clear that he wonders if it’s just air or if he would drown. Right. He’s a duck. Logically he can’t do that unless something keeps him down. Right.

There was a door, a plain white metal door. Going inside it was less white. It was customized. The most custom thing Quackity probably had done. There were shitty images on the walls of random funny things he found online. They weren’t funny anymore. They were taunting him like a sick joke. Behind the desk were two bookshelves filled with an assortment of trinkets and books. Random supplies like plans were scattered around. Quackity wonders for a moment how many times he’s made major plans, plans like designs or terrible strata. There were markers and pencils galore. The drawings themselves were literal shit, he wasn’t an artist. Usually he had other people do that sort of thing, but he worked with computers not paper.

Walking over to the desk he began to gather a few said papers, these ones with print instead of childlike marker drawings. They were designs advertising ‘Quesadilla Island’. It was rough making some pleasing designs, but hopefully these did the trick. Out of curiosity Quackity decided to peer at the screen, avoiding looking at the black trench coat draped over his chair. Why he kept that ashy thing he didn’t know, it was the one thing he woke up with.

The screen was a jumbled mess of programs of all kinds. Mostly photoshop programs but there were a couple video editing softwares up too. Ever since getting here he’s been trying to play the part of ‘hard-worker’. It sucked, but at least it guaranteed a reward. He just needed to play it slow. Fixing the papers in one arm he slung a pale over his shoulder, rushing out the door.

There was nothing stopping Quackity from winking at himself in the reflection. That day he decided to wear a work-formal dress. Why the fuck not? These guys were cool with it. Plus he wasn’t sure he ever dabbled in this sort of thing. Self identity shit wasn’t his jam, but rocking his looks absolutely are his thing. Quackity doesn’t even realize the reflection isn’t the dolled up one, it’s one looking confused and horrified at him. One that doesn’t quite understand what’s going on.

The heels tapped against the tile of the floor. It was the only sound reverberating in his ears as he walked. Something about today felt conflicting. Almost like none of this was supposed to be happening and that he should be running, should be searching for someone he knows. Who does he know though, really? No one knows him. Quackity doesn’t know anyone else, either.

For a moment he thought he was just going to drown in his thoughts, up until he’s walking through a doorway and the scene is different. It was definitely more lounge-like but still blindingly white. The white was really starting to hurt his eyes, that's for sure. Distantly Quackity wondered if this was what the room actually looked like or if everything was slightly distorted. Out of his control however his free hand raised, waving eagerly at someone. Quackity didn’t mean to do that though, why was he waving, who was he waving at-

“Hey, cutie! Almost thought you bailed on me!”

Oh. Oh what the fuck. Now’s the time Quackity wants his control back. Right now would be the perfect time to start yelling. Everyone said he needed therapy and that sounds therapeutic as hell right now. Desperately he wants to ask them what the fuck this is, but he isn’t sure that would matter.

“Ah, boss! I just got a little caught up, lo siento!” Quackity felt himself grin. Always so cocky. Always thinking he was ahead of the game. “I got some great new shit, I think this’ll really bring in some people.”

“You mean you’re working during lunch? Didn’t peg you as the type.” She dramatically sighed. It would have been humorous if everything about this situation didn’t feel wrong. “Why do I always end up with the boring ones?”

“Ayy, you hired me because you needed results, no?” Quackity offered back. Not that he wanted to. He had some choice words for her. “I just need your confirmation on some designs, confía en mí, I think these will bring in a lot of traction.” Quackity feels himself walk up to the table, sitting across from her and sliding the smaller prints in their direction.

“I’m not fucking looking at these until after lunch.” He watched as she slipped them into her bag. Gods he wanted to say something. “And neither should you. You’re the propaganda master, not me. I’m sure it’s fine. Now come on, get some food. Love a little! We’re off the clock! I brought drinks.” From the same bag they pull out two cans of beer, all while wearing a smile. It seemed so friendly at the time.

Quackity felt himself grin. Why was he grinning? He wants a fucking explanation! Things went too far! “Whatever you say, you’re the boss after all.” He wasted no time reaching over, accepting the can extended to him and looking at it. “They have the good shit here too? Where has this place been all my life!”

It’s sickening now to watch them laugh. They took a drink. “Eh, most privileges are reserved for higher-ups. If we work our way up the ranks, we might be sharing a blunt out here.”

“Oh that shit sounds like a goal,” Quackity opens his can and listens to the hissing sound, “as long as the cards are played right it should be an easy game to win.” He sipped his. At the time he didn’t mind drinking, it was enjoyable. Now? It burned. Quackity stopped that shit for Tilin. A wasted effort because they were gone by the time Quackity had actually felt confident giving it up. “Just have to have the right strategy.”

That grin. She wore a grin now. Everything about it pissed Quackity off more. "Damn straight. Keep your eyes on the prize, hombre." It’s like they are preparing the right words to say with that pause in conversation to take a drink "You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but I hear there's major clout if you do the island yourself. But it's easier if you can hook people you actually know...then again, our records show you've had dealings with some pretty interesting people in the past. [____], [_________]...”

Everything in Quackity’s head screamed at him. Why was he so fucking stupid? That should have been his red flags. Why do they have records about him? They know more about him than he remembers about himself, that leverage seems minuscule but something in Quackity fears knowing the truth. He’s already a bad person and he doesn’t want any more salt in that wound.

Instead of questioning it or having any sort of suspicion Quackity felt his eyebrows raise, head tilting to the side as it sometimes does. That sometimes is when that facade to hide that he’s a duck falls. “Huh? So.. what all I do is take a free vacation and get a few assholes to take bait? Sounds more like a deal.” There was a heartbeat, his heartbeat in his chest, as things seemed to slow. Awkwardly, Quackity laughed, looking at her. “I uh, don’t really remember too much before waking up in [_________]. But ya’know what? I can appeal to the people. I’ll try to remember some viejos amigos. If my feelings are anything to go by, they’re mostly all assholes. As long as I’m in luxury none of them are a big deal to me.”

That felt so wrong. But Quackity did say that once. He really felt like that at one point. Some of the faces he knew now were vaguely recognizable to him, but their relations never mattered. It didn’t until Quackity got to speak with them again, got to actually see them as more than rotten feelings from pasts he can’t recall anymore. Quackity hated that so much. There wasn’t supposed to be any attachment to any of them yet right now all he wants is to be with them again.

None of them probably felt the same.

Finally it felt like he could move his body again, like he had some control. Quackity wasn’t going to miss the chance to get some answers, but by the time he looked up they were gone. The room was trashed now. There was dirt all over the floor, webs strung about the room and vines again clinging to the walls. The entryways were no longer lit up, now were dark and dimmed. It wasn’t possible to see what was down them. Startled, Quackity pushed himself out of the seat, nearly falling over as he stepped on what appeared to be a trowel on the ground. Unburied.

Okay. Okay, Quackity has seen enough of this shit. First step: get the fuck out of this place. Then maybe he can find someone and have them tell him this is a dream. That none of this was real or ever happened before. Hear that maybe he’s a different person. What?

As long as he could find an exit all would be well. With stumbling steps Quackity made his way towards the doorway opposite to the one he first entered in. He could make it out. Things can be fixed. It’s not impossible to change sides. Quackity just needs out and now.

Thonk! Quackity’s head banged against a surface that wasn’t there before. “Lo que-!”

Glass. Quackity was behind glass. Holding his now pounding head he tried to focus his eyes. It was hard to see anything. Is this what it was really like? Having no power, no real knowledge of what was going on? Quackity couldn’t lie to himself, this is how it’s been the whole time. He was just desperate to pretend it wasn’t. Placing his other hand against the glass he pushed lightly. Somehow he didn’t think trying to push closer would help but his options were limited.

Right as Quackity was going to turn around and find the next best exit a hand from the other side of the glass went above his.

“¡oh diablos no!” Quackity pushed off against the glass, backing up. It didn’t matter, trying to get away, right behind him was glass too. It was a tube. “¡Eh! ¡Eh, qué demonios! Let me out asshole!”

The shouting didn’t seem to work, but kept spewing curses and insults. As he ranted loudly his eyes locked on the hand which finally seemed scarily familiar to him. It was his hand. His hand on the outside of the glass. But he was in the glass too. Wasn’t he?

Quackity tried to look up at the face, a face that was his own, but before he could even register any more details of the face he fell into the floor and began sinking again. Just like that, he was wilting again. So badly Quackity wanted to blame it on them or the entire Federation. The guilt was fucking drowning. The reality is that it is his fault. Quackity got attached. That was his biggest weakness, getting attached to things he shouldn’t. It doesn’t matter. It was his fault.

It was Tilin that started it first. A snowball effect. Now he misses them. All of them. That was gross. They probably don’t give two fucks about him, but it’s probably always been that way to Quackity.

It could have been her fault, after all, nothing they discussed mentioned anything about these kids showing up. Then again it was Quackity’s fault for agreeing, for being so gullible to fall for something so obviously a tactic to string along a fool. Things always come around back that make him a tool, don’t they?

Quackity could hear his own heartbeat again. It was rushed, stressed against whatever the hell was going on. Admittedly he tried to fight it. Everything felt too numb but he was kicking his legs and pushing his arms but it didn’t matter. Something was forcing him down. It was hard to keep his eyes open.

There’s something familiar about things going dark and then waking up again to a new place. New place, new faces, new stupid attempts at seeming like something he wasn’t. Maybe this time when he woke up he would be home again.

Where was home to Quackity? He wasn’t sure. He would like to think Bad’s house is his home but that’s temporary, so would Charlie’s place in time. It could be people that are his home but he doesn’t want to think about how one-sided it would inevitably be. So instead, Quackity hopes he would just adapt. That’s how it always goes.

[ashe-delta-manic-mumblings]

Happy Birthday, Ashe

I tend to name my demons. Gives 'em personality, and when you can address them by name, and lets you specifically call them out when they try to bother you.

Not all demons are bad, of course. Some are just misunderstood, with good intentions. Some are straight up good to you.

I'd call the transgender part of myself a "demon". Her name is Ashe. It wasn't always Ashe, but it is now.

Ashe laid dormant for over 17 years. The first time I saw her was in 2017, in junior year of high school. She worried me, terrified me, mystified me. She was set on destroying my life from the inside and making me, no, her, into the person she wanted to be.

I agreed. This gender shit was stupid anyways (at least, that's what she told me).

For three years, she was in charge. She had a plan for life, one that required secrecy and staying vigilant. She promised me that as long as she was in the lead, she'd take both of us to a better place. Just make sure to not make too many friends, and have as little connections as possible. Get a job as soon as possible and run. Run and never look back.

Little did I know she was in cahoots with Susie (the demon of anxiety and depression, of course).

Three years later, she quit. She failed, and gave up.

I stopped hearing from her. My closest friends, those who helped me find her in the first place, knew she existed. I couldn't just pretend that she wasn't a part of me anymore. Yet to me, it was as if she never existed. I stopped hearing her whispers, her promises.

Even if that spark was gone, I couldn't give up. I wasn't allowed to, at this point. I had told my family about her at this point, so even if she was gone, I can't back out now. So I carried this façade of still having Ashe within me, because it was easier for everyone.

I think part of me wanted to believe she was still there. She rubbed off on me, after all (I mean, she was me).

I was always caught up on how hard Ashe's dream was to start. Find a doctor. No, one wasn't enough, you might need a couple. Get their signatures, go beg for meds. Don't forget the waiting list. So I gave up. I'd say I'd love to, but it was too difficult, so I shrugged it off. Future me's problem.

It's always future me's problem.

A year ago, I made a brash decision. Even if Ashe was all but a distant memory, I decided to take a long shot. Scheduled an appointment with Planned Parenthood to see how they could get me started in this path Ashe wanted to work so hard for. See if her dream was worth realizing.

April 27th, I entered the online meeting and signed some documents. The next day, I was holding the pills she tried so hard for her to get.

A long forgotten memory spoke out to me, holding the pill bottle I'd grow to become familiar with in the coming year. A voice I thought who had died, and was long since buried.

She cried out to me, laughing. "It was that easy?"

I couldn't help but laugh as well. All that work I was afraid of was that simple, it was such a cruel punchline. Her dream, no, our dream, was in my hands. All from an appointment I made on a whim.

It was refreshing to see her again, I wanted to cry. Holding that pill bottle was the happiest I've ever been in years.

I told her to wait just a bit longer. It wouldn't be long until she could have the helm again, but we should only do it when we're ready, the both of us. She agreed. She knew I wasn't long for this world after all. She's used to waiting. Another year or two is nothing to her.

A month into taking meds, she started pointing out the little things she was noticing. She seemed giddy. I was glad.

Three months in, Evelynn (the demon of lust, obviously) quit. That was pretty weird, but Ashe didn't seem to mind. It was a side effect of the meds, and shrugged it off. Bit of a shame, I liked Evelynn, but also I didn't need her or anything. Anything to see Ashe's dream realized.

5 months in I abandoned he/him pronouns. They didn't feel right anymore.

About seven months in, Ashe didn't like my name anymore. I was inclined to agree, as it felt weird to still be attached to it. I started researching names over and over to no avail, nothing ever stuck. Ashe suggested to just name myself after her. Worked for me. It would be her vessel soon, anyways.

Nine months now, and Susie started throwing fits. Couldn't figure out for the life of me why, but Ashe had a theory, that it was her. Can Ashe even do that? Turns out, yes, taking Estrogen can give you period like symptoms. Ashe was strangely excited about this. I guess she cherishes the little things. I loved that part about her.

Finally, yesterday, laying in bed, she spoke to me. Or rather, I spoke to her. I guess the lines between us were blurring at this point.

Her birthday was coming up. April 28th, the day I started taking the meds. I wanted to celebrate for her, how far our dream has come, even if it's little by little. We weren't nearly done yet, but to make it this far after the both of us have given up was an achievement in and of itself.

I called it Ashe's birthday, but that wasn't right. Ashe's birthday, well, my birthday, was on the 7th of July.

I looked down at my arms, Ashe's arms, my arms. Then the legs, Ashe's legs, my legs.

I got up and looked in the mirror, I needed to see something.

Ashe's face. My face.

That sly dog. I knew I said that she could take the wheel when the both of us were ready, but it snuck up on me. The old me had been gone for a long, long time now.

It wasn't some sudden outburst, or huge revelation, like I figured it would be. I didn't just decide to cast away my old self in a spectacle unique to me. It was a slow burn, over the course of a year, into a new person unrecognizable to who I was when I started.

I laughed, and maybe even cried. I was Ashe. It wasn't a dream. It was a reality. I wasn't "going to be transgender", going to do it in the future. It wasn't future me's problem.

I just was.

Ashe simply smiled. It wasn't the first one I've seen, and heaven knows it won't be the last. She was seeing her dream realized right in front of her eyes, and only now have I noticed it.

How cliché.

I know Ashe isn't done yet. We've only gotten started.

She, no, I seemed giddy at the prospect. This journey that we worked so hard for was just beginning.

I wonder if that demon from over 5 years ago is happy with the results of today. Probably not, to be honest. We were young, and dreamers. But now that I see it in real time, we can't help but be mystified, like I was in junior year when I first saw her. She helped me become this, to better fit her image, my image.

Thank you Ashe, and happy early birthday. Here's to the rest of our lives together.