#i look around me and all i see is pointless suffering

[risuola]

RESTLESS // You cannot sleep but Suguru is willing to help you. — wc. 750

You couldn’t sleep.

No matter how hard you tried, flipping and turning, hopeful to find a position comfortable enough to drift off, you just couldn’t. Instead of slowly getting sleepier, closer to the sweet, well-needed rest, you were rapidly getting more and more annoyed, staring blankly at the ceiling — a dark, hazy shape above you that you couldn’t even see properly through the thick darkness of the night.

It was too cold, but when you pulled up the covers, you were hot. There were crumbles suddenly, creases in the sheets that bothered you and your pillow felt like a brick against the back of your skull, but when you pushed it away, it was too flat for you.

You sighed and thought about getting out of the bed, but an arm wrapped around your middle kept you in place. The man beside you was sleeping, his soft snores the only sound that somehow was soothing your overstrung nerves and you wished to not wake him up. You wished to allow him to rest uninterrupted, but the terror of staying awake all night, motionless in his embrace has pushed you towards the edges of your sanity.

It’s better if you leave the bed. Your shuffling couldn’t do any good to anyone.

So you moved, little by little, finding your way out of his unconscious grip, but the second your feet touched the cold wooden floor, and your body was no longer in the hold of his hands, you heard his voice.

“Where are you going?” You stopped, held your breath, hoping that the silence will encourage him to drift off again, but his mouth opened again. “Baby, it’s too late, come back here,” he mumbled, his cheek pressed adorably onto the soft pillow and he reached for you languidly. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t fully there.

“Sleep, love, I’ll be back in a second,” you lied and leaned in to kiss his temple and cheekbone and the side of his jaw, tucking him into the sheets and once he hummed, you left the room on your tippy toes.

2:13am.

You swallowed a helpless groan, watching the harsh red lines on the clock in the living room. The couch wasn’t much comfier — wasn’t comfortable at all — but at least your restless pirouettes won’t wake up your boyfriend. You were suffering, insomniac and oh so tired. Why you couldn’t just—

“There you are,” Suguru’s silky-soft, melodic voice made your droopy eyes snap wide open and you looked to the side. He was right there, in a pair of black boxers and nothing more, scratching his stomach and rubbing his eye. He was a sight that you wished to engrave into your own mind, but he was also a reminder of your dire situation. “Cannot sleep, can you?”

“I can’t,” you admitted, allowing the air to leave your lungs and you wanted to cry. Nerves knotted ties in your stomach, squeezing your insides with guilt at the sight of his tired face. He was breathtaking like this, with his raven locks down and unruly, but you knew it wasn’t the right time to admire his beauty because he should be sleeping right now. “Please go back to bed.”

“Come with me,” he grabbed your forearm, pulling and tugging you up, leading you towards the bedroom and you wished to protest, to tell him it’s pointless but you didn’t have half a heart to engage in a discussion with him right now. “Should’ve wake me up, yeah?”

“Didn’t want to.”

“But you should,” he shook his head and you watched as he got back to bed, on his back and patted his chest, “c’mere.”

“Sugu–“

“Come here, please,” he smiled softly and even in the dark night you could notice his gentle features. You felt his body relaxing as you slowly and carefully climbed on top of him. It took a moment for you two to find a comfortable position and suddenly, it felt perfect.

Suddenly, you’re melting into his warmth — just perfect against your skin. A subtle wave of his breathing, a lullaby composed entirely of his heartbeat and the idle circles he was brushing into your bare hip were enough to make your lids grow heavy. He slowly got back to sleep, with his lips pressed to the top of your hair and whispered confessions on his tongue, and you did too.

Letting go of all the stress and worries you finally, gently drifted away.

[caffeineandkerosene]

no food no money no job no family!!!!! just me crying and dissociating like i'm ten years old again <33333

[subway-tolkien]

Okay, this is 1600 words of (positive!) meta regarding the OFMD finale. Included is character analysis and a treatise on why a certain trope people keep throwing around does not apply here.

This is of course just my take, and I'm sure people will disagree, but I needed to get this out. Apologies if it comes off disjointed, I've had like no sleep.

Spoilers within, obviously. You have been warned. Heed the tags. I didn't tag any characters because I consider it a spoiler, but you know who this is about.

Listen. Listen.

Let me start off by saying I have been where you are. I’ve had beloved characters die, either because it was important to the narrative or for shock value. I’ve been there, so I’m not coming at this without empathy. I’m not an Izzy hater. I loved him as a character. I’m truly sad to see him go.

But from what I’m seeing around Twitter and tumblr, some of you do not understand the role of an antagonist in a story.

Izzy was always meant to die. The moment he said, in the first season, “the only retirement we get is death,” I knew he was meant to die in the end. The foreshadowing ran through both seasons. Izzy was the true antagonist of S1. He was there to keep Blackbeard tethered when he started pulling away, and yet he also set the plot in motion. He inadvertently introduced Blackbeard to the person who let him be just Ed. He put Ed on his own path to redemption without even knowing it.

S1 ended with Izzy getting what he wanted as Ed lost everything he had. S2 was about Izzy coming to terms with the fact that he’d gone too far, he’d turned Ed into a monster. It wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted Blackbeard back, just like old times. Instead, he got the Kraken, and it was more than he bargained for.

Especially after it cost him his leg and he realized how far gone Ed really was. The conversation that ended with Izzy’s half-assed suicide attempt was the final blow to Izzy—Ed really didn’t seem to care anymore. Where Izzy wanted him to stop giving a shit about his silly boyfriend, he instead got a Blackbeard who didn’t care about anything, and he was apparently now included in that category.

(I said half-assed suicide attempt because Izzy wasn’t meant to die then, THAT would have been an empty, pointless death. It wouldn’t have taught Ed anything—in fact, all it did was make him more self-destructive, which was Izzy’s purpose to the narrative, but not his endgame. That Ed thought Izzy killed himself pushed Ed to the brink. Ed wanted to die and take every scrap of Blackbeard with him. Had Izzy successfully killed himself, Ed and the Revenge would be at the bottom of the ocean.

It wasn’t until the crew left Izzy the unicorn leg that he realized the power of compassion, the incredible act of grace from a crew that suffered so much from Izzy’s own machinations and didn't need to forgive him. It moved him to tears, and it moved him to accept that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to let people in, to let himself be cared for. It was a foreign concept and something Izzy likely hadn’t experienced since losing his family (I fully expect a shit ton of fanfic of Izzy’s life before piracy).

Israel Hands found the capacity to let love all the way in and by god, did he pursue it.

But, again, Izzy was always meant to die, and I’m glad they stuck to the narrative they set out with instead of placating fandom and letting our influence dictate how they told this story That’s never good, trust me. Fandom should not influence a creator’s decisions regarding their own characters. It rarely if ever ends well.

[Stares in Voltron S8]

And I see a lot of people out here throwing the “bury your gays” phrase around—I beg you, please look up the definition of the trope. Izzy didn’t die because he was queer, he didn’t die because of his disability. He wasn’t one half of the only queer couple in the show fridged for shock value. He wasn’t killed off due to pressure from conservative viewers. He wasn’t the only queer, disabled character.

They didn’t kill off Lucius, or Jackie, or Wee John. Would you be as outraged if it was any of them?

Killing Eve is bury your gays. Supernatural is bury your gays. Pretty much any film, book, TV show, whatever, where a queer character dies because they’re queer, of AIDs, to further the narrative for a straight person, etc—that is burying your gays.

Izzy’s death was none of those things. Izzy’s death had meaning.

Izzy’s death freed Ed from the Blackbeard persona. It finally forced Izzy to say the things he couldn’t say until he realized it was his last chance. Izzy was also tired. I honestly think he stuck it out for Ed’s sake, because he was afraid to let Blackbeard go without making sure Ed would be ok.

He loved the idea of Blackbeard, but over time, he learned to love Ed. He finally understood what Ed tried to tell him the whole time.

“Fuck off, you twat. You’re surrounded by family.”

You’re safe. You’re loved. You don’t need me anymore. You don’t need to be reminded of who you’re capable of being, you need the people who will guide you to who you will become, and I’m not one of them.

I know a lot of Izzy fans are stung by his death, some of you are deeply upset. I get that. Like I said, I’ve been there. Sirius’s death made me throw that fucking book across the room. That Fucking Woman™ killed off my entire OTP, purely for shock value and, imho, a direct response to shippers. Trust me, I have felt betrayed by a creator for their decisions.

But I need you to understand that no, this was not a personal attack, this was not malicious, this was not “bury your gays." A show that celebrates queerness and diversity is not suddenly homophobic and ableist because your favorite character died and happened to be both of those things. But when the majority of your cast of characters is different in some way, and they’re in a show about 18th century pirates, you have to accept that one of them could, in fact, die. “Anyone Can Die” is also a trope and the more accurate one to describe E8.

If only being queer and disabled made you invincible.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

And no, I’m not an Izzy hater. I loved him, I loved him as an antagonist, and I loved his redemption arc. He was fascinating and Con put his whole O’Nussy into that part. I’m sorry to see him go, but as a mystery writer who often has to kill off beloved characters, I understand that he served the purpose he had from the beginning.

I swear, if some of you had your way, there’d be no conflict at all in any form of media. This what a steady diet of nothing but fanfic gets you. This is not a fluffy one-shot with magical healing dick and a happy ending where everyone sails off into the sunset. If that’s what you wanted, what you headcanoned, you did this to yourself. It’s not David et al’s fault that we took that character and babygirled him. That’s the risk we take when we decide to love a specific character, when we take a genuinely terrible person (in S1) and woobify him.

So, please stop harassing and attacking David, Alex, et al. David did not and should not change his story to placate us. The fact he went ahead with it despite the backlash I’m sure he expected makes me respect him as a creator even more.

Anyway, I’m going to revel that we have three (!) queer relationships with happy endings where one or both didn’t immediately die (again, the actual definition of “bury your gays”) and that we got at least two seasons of a little show that celebrated individualism, diversity, queerness, compassion, and love.

In the end, it all came down to love.

“There he is.”

Goodbye, Blackbeard.

Hello, Ed.

[minisugakoobies]

Confessions of a Dirty Mind | Bang Chan

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader Genre: smut, and they were roommates!, porn with the barest of plots, a little fluff Rating: M (18+) Warnings: incredibly thirsty pining, reader’s a bit feral for her roommate, the giggles will be deployed as a weapon, reader drops the d word (daddy) in her dirty thoughts but never says it out loud, accidental texts, body worship (abs, thighs, breasts - everything gets praised), love bites/marking, grinding, chan is thick everywhere, chan throws reader around a little, hints at dom!chan, fingering, oral sex (m + f receiving), facefucking, cum eating, reader is kind of an idiot but that's okay!, I wrote this out of a dire need to s this man’s d Word Count: 6.5K Disclaimers: NSFW; obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: The absolute last thing you want is for your roommate to find out just how much you want him. Right?

A/N: Well, as threatened promised, I'm writing for Stray Kids now in addition to BTS! This came out of absolutely nowhere last week. I've just got Bang Chan brainrot 24/7 now, so that's cool. Thanks to @minttangerines @bangtanintotheroom @sugalaritae for their support (and amazing Aussie accents!!) 💕

Unbeta'd as usual. Please let me know what you think! Like if you'd like to see more skz fics from me… that would fuel me to keep writing. If everyone hates this I'm quitting writing and moving to the wild to live with the koalas ✌️

Being roommates with your crush is its own special type of torture. Always being so close to what you want but never being able to touch. To taste. To feel. 

You weren’t always this feral. Once upon a time, you were normal. Well-adjusted, even. Then you had to move for your job and needed to find a place to stay fast and your best friend Minho just happened to know someone looking for a roommate. 

Honestly, looking back, it was too easy. Should’ve known there’d be a catch. And that catch was your sanity. 

Because Minho’s friend Bang Chan turned out to be the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Listen. A lot of people use phrases like that all the time, “the hottest man you’ve ever seen,”  some hyperbole they say for ridiculous effect, but you mean it. You have never seen anyone as beautiful as this man, with his chiseled cheekbones, thick lips, and those dimples. 

Fuck. Those dimples. Almost as maddening as the washboard abs he’s constantly showing off. You didn’t know a person could be allergic to shirts until you met Chan. 

And now you’re suffering. Every. Damn. Day. 

It’s not just that he’s the most gorgeous man on the planet. No, that would be hurtful enough, but he’s also kind. Smart. Silly as hell. You’re constantly plagued by his sweet smiles and unbelievably adorable giggles. 

The worst part, though, is the way he can flip between sexy and soft instantaneously. Like when the two of you argue over something stupid. All of your arguments are fundamentally stupid. The two of you get on so fucking well, the only things you argue over are opinions on pointless things. Like last night, when you’d joined him for a beer while he watched tv. 

“You’re out of your mind,” Chan had declared, twisting sideways on the couch to look at you. “There’s no way a koala could possibly defeat a kangaroo in a cage match!”

“Sure it could.” 

“No, it could not!” Chan let loose a flurry of high-pitched giggles. “Have you ever seen a kangaroo? Those things are ripped! One kick or punch, and the koala’s out.” He mimed a powerful punch.

You tipped back the remainder of your beer before pointing the bottle at him. “Yes it could! Think about it - what do koalas do?” When he just blinked, you continued. “They climb! And what do koalas usually have?” Again, a blank stare. “Syphilis! So… think about it! All that little guy has to do is climb up the kangaroo, give him some germs, and boom! Kangaroo goes down.” You grin smugly. “There’s a reason they call syphilis the silent killer.” 

Chan fixed you with his signature Look™, the one you think of as “stern dom daddy” - thick eyebrows drawn, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, dark eyes scanning your face - and you felt your knees go weak. Then he blinded you with the full sunshiny force of his smile, eyes closing, dimples popping. 

“That is an absolutely insane argument, not to mention completely incorrect. I don’t even know where to start explaining why you’re wrong.” He paused. “No, actually, let’s start with the fact that it’s chlamydia, not syphilis, that koalas get, and go from there.” By the time he’d finished  and you’d finally conceded that a kangaroo would probably win, the two of you were nearly in tears from laughing.

His duality is whiplash-inducing. And always leaves you in ruins. 

So when your feelings overwhelm you, when you feel like you’re absolutely bursting at the seams with need, you do what you always do. Torture Minho. 

Your bff is used to you venting to him about your crippling inability to make a move. On anyone. Ever. Over the years, he’s weathered dozens of crushes that never went anywhere because while you’re definitely a total treasure, you lack the confidence to make any of your (usually horny) dreams come true. He’s come to expect the endless text messages you send. 

Except that now, “messages” might not be the right word for them. “Unhinged ravings” might be more accurate. 

Ughhhh he’s so damn fine Today he came home from the gym all sweaty and I nearly offered to give him a bath With my tongue. My TONGUE Minho!

Like he’s always done, Minho bears it all in stride with his usual unwavering compassion.

You’re a lunatic

He doesn’t even try to convince you to say something to Chan about your feelings anymore. Now he just waits for you to exhaust yourself and then he changes the subject. Usually by sending photos of his cats. 

It’s an odd friendship, but neither of you would trade it for anything. 

At the moment, you’re ignoring your pain by lying on your bed, in a tee and sweats, watching a movie on your laptop. You can hear your roommate rummaging around his room. Your apartment features a Jack and Jill bathroom, so it’s easy for you to hear what’s going on next door through the adjoining space.

“Channie, why are you pacing around?” you call out. 

Your phone buzzes. 

Trying to find my shirt  

“Are you seriously texting me from the next room?” Pausing your movie, you trudge through the bathroom. The door to Chan’s room is open so you don’t bother to knock, flopping down on his bed as he digs through his closet. He’s shirtless as usual, blond curls shaking with the force of his rummaging.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m in a hurry and didn’t want to stop looking,” Chan admits sheepishly, throwing a grin over his shoulder at you. You ignore the fluttering in your stomach and get comfortable, resting your head on your arms.

“You could’ve just said it out loud. I can hear you all over this apartment.” It’s not a big space. Which only amplifies your angst, as it’s hard to escape from your desires when the source of it is just constantly right there. Sprawling out on the tiny couch in the living room. Making himself a midnight snack in the kitchen. Lounging on your bed while you sit at your desk, trying not to stare at his reflection on your screen. “What shirt are you looking for?” 

“My tiger tank.” 

You know the shirt he’s speaking of - his white tank top with an embroidered tiger’s head on the chest. It’s a favorite of yours, cut low enough on the sides and in the front to show off his biceps and pecs at the same time. The first time you’d seen Chan in it, Minho had accused you of being a vampire because you couldn’t stop talking about how much you wanted to nibble on his collarbones. 

“Ah! Found it!” Chan raises the shirt over his head victoriously before yanking it on. He takes a moment to inspect himself in his mirror and you wonder if he truly recognizes just how stunning he is. He catches your eye in the reflection. “What are you up to tonight? Wanna come out with me, ‘Lix, & ‘Bin? We’re gonna get some drinks.”

Sure, you’d love to hang out at the bar with Chan and his friends. They’re always a good time. Except when closing time arrives and once again you’re forced to bear witness to your roommate getting hit on by basically every woman in the bar. Not that you can blame them. But it’s especially awful on the nights when he leaves with someone else. You’d rather not deal with that tonight.

“Nah, I’m just gonna relax. But thanks.” 

“Come on,” he wheedles, plopping down on the bed, hard enough to make you bounce a little. “You haven’t been out with us in ages. Is it the guys? Did one of them say something stupid?” 

“They always say stupid shit. That’s all they ever say,” you crack, smiling when Chan laughs. “But no, it’s nothing like that. I’m just tired.” 

Chan doesn’t say anything, just looks at you for a moment. The silence makes you inexplicably nervous, and you fiddle with his comforter for want of something to do with your hands. But then he just nods. “‘Kay. But if you change your mind, we’ll be down at Back Door.” 

“Thanks.” 

Chan heads into the bathroom to play with his hair. You slip past him, back into your room, throwing yourself dramatically onto your bed and burying your face in a plush pillow. How much longer can you stand this? 

You grab your phone. 

I’m losing my mind

You can practically hear the sigh in Minho’s voice as you read his response. 

What did Chan do now?

He’s getting ready to go out with Felix and Changbin He looks so fucking good in those tight jeans

Minho doesn’t reply. He knows to just let you get it out of your system before responding.

My mouth is literally watering It’s a Pavlovian response at this point I see denim and I start salivating

A text alert pops up in the middle of your thirsty ranting. 

Hey do you mind if I borrow your eyeliner?

“Stop texting me when you’re 10 feet away!” you yell, laughing. Chan pops his head out of the bathroom and flashes you that grin, the one that turns your insides to goo, and you sigh. “Of course you can borrow it, you know you can.” 

Thanks

“Chan!” 

His giggles float through the door and your thumbs fly.

Seriously If Chan doesn’t let me s his d one of these days I will die I will be the first person to die from ineedtosuckadick-itis

There’s a loud clattering in the bathroom, like someone’s knocked half the contents of the crowded sink counter onto the floor. Your makeup isn't cheap, so you hop up off your bed. 

“You okay in there?” The first thing you notice is the pile of smashed cosmetics on the ground. The second thing is the way your roommate is staring at you, eyes wide, sharpened kohl liner still clutched in one hand, phone in the other. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Chan doesn’t speak, but raises his phone and kind of waves it limply. 

Oh god. You were in the wrong chat. You were in the wrong chat and now Chan knows you want to suck his dick. You’ve been texting for most of your life and this is the moment your brain decides to fuck up?!

As Chan continues to stare, you realize you have two choices: fess up and own it, or play dumb.

It’s no choice.

“What, uhhhhhhh, what’s up?” 

Chan gestures to his phone. “You want to suck my dick?” He says the words as if they’re unfamiliar to him, like he’s trying them out for the first time. 

Well, shit, how are you supposed to play dumb if he’s just going to call you right out? 

“Guess the cat’s out of the horny bag now,” you mutter under your breath.

Chan cocks his head. “What?”

“Nothing,” you cough, looking at your own phone. “I mean, uh, noooo, what? Minho and I were just, um, talking about how I want to, uh, sssssss…” you glance wildly around the cramped room, hissing like a frantic snake as you fail to come up with another word that starts with s, before your eyes land on an empty glass sitting by the sink. “…Share a drink with you? Because I’m… thirsty?”

“You’re thirsty?”

Fucking understatement.

You can’t quite read the expression on Chan’s face as he glances between you and his phone. There’s a flash of dom daddy in there and then it’s gone. 

“YN. I know what ‘s his d’ means. Also, you said you had - what did you call it? Ineedtosuckadickitis.” You think Chan’s lips quirk slightly as he reminds you of your textual idiocy, but you’re too busy trying to psychically rip a hole in the floor so you can disappear forever to be certain. “Where do you get your medical info, by the way? I’m starting to worry.” 

He’s making light of the situation, which you would appreciate more if you weren’t sure you’re about to die from embarrassment. Your mind is reeling. There’s no way to get out of this. Any second now, he’s gonna realize how you feel. Then he’s gonna let you down. Gently, you hope. Then you’re gonna need to find a new place to live, because there’s no recovering from this.

“Fine.” You take a deep breath. “Yes, I said it.” Unable to look him in the eye, you focus on your phone as you speak. “I was telling Minho how much I want to suck your dick, because I’m a disgusting horny monster who can’t stop thinking about it. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go pack up my room now.” Shoulders slumping, you slink away, hoping he won’t follow. 

He does. “Wait, what?” 

You don’t answer, heading directly for your closet, tugging at your suitcase where it lies on a shelf, and he crowds into your space, arms reaching out to stop you. 

“Oi, slow down! What are you doing?” 

“I’ll try to be out quickly, so you can find a new roommate right away.” You keep pulling on the suitcase, but it’s futile. He barely has to exert any strength to push it back, so you give up. 

“YN.” Chan places his hands on your shoulders, turning you around. It’s probably the closest you’ve ever been, standing face to face like this, and the nearness of him is a little dizzying. “Back up. You don’t have to go anywhere. Just talk to me.” He lightly guides you over to your bed, taking a seat next to you. “Why do you think I’d want you to leave?” 

“Because I'm a gross little gremlin who can’t stop objectifying you?” you answer honestly. 

Chan’s eyes widen before he bursts into laughter. “You know, you’ve said a lot of bonkers things in the months you’ve been living here, but… how does wanting to suck my dick make you a ‘gross little gremlin?’” 

Oh no. You can feel it bubbling up inside you, all the things you’ve felt. All the things you’ve said. Oh, you’re going to tell him, aren’t you? 

“It’s not just sucking your dick.” Grabbing your phone, you open your chat with Minho again, and begin to read. “‘I need Chan to destroy me. Fully. Like I’m a piece of wood and he’s a lumberjack. Just split me in half. With his hands or his dick, I’m not picky.’” Your entire body radiates with humiliation. You’re a tiny sun made of molecules of mortification, on the verge of going supernova. “Um. That’s one example. And there’s more. A lot more.” 

And then you hand him your phone, looking away as he starts to scroll. 

You stare at the wall, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Until the quiet gets to you, and you give in, peering at him, expecting to find him frozen again, or worse, looking sickened by your words. 

Instead you find him smiling. And then he starts to giggle. 

“‘I’m going feral,” he reads. “‘He’s wearing that beanie again. I- ’” His laughing gets louder as he struggles to finish the thought. “‘I want him to wear me instead.’” He glances up at you, eyes glimmering with way too much amusement. “What does that even mean?!”

You groan, yanking your shirt up to cover your face. “Chan, stop!” He merely laughs harder. How can he be enjoying this? You’ve never known him to be cruel. “I get it, I’m awful, you don’t have to laugh!”

But he keeps chuckling, and then you feel his hands on your hips. Like a bewildered turtle, you poke your head out of your shirt, and he just smiles. 

“C’mere.” He keeps tugging at you until you scoot closer, swinging your legs over his lap, and pulls you in for a hug. 

It’s better than you ever imagined. His strong arms lock around your waist, keeping you in place as his chest continues to rumble with his apparently endless mirth. Tentatively, you let your hands rest on his broad shoulders, afraid that if you cling too tightly, he’ll let go. 

Chan leans back to grin at you. “You’re so fucking cute.” 

You’re so fucking confused. “I am?” 

“Yeah.” His fingers rub light circles into your lower back. The sensation is somehow both soothing and invigorating, sending sparks directly to the heat already simmering in your gut. “Just adorable.” 

You’re not adorable, you’re a dirty little freak whose mind is constantly churning out trash, but if that’s what he wants to believe, you’ll take it.  

“You’re not disturbed by all the things I’ve said?” 

“Disturbed? Nah. I’m used to the crazy shit you say.” He’s got a point. You do say a lot of crazy shit. Just not usually about him to him. “Besides, d’you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to say something?” 

“About your dick??”

Chan tosses his head back, jostling you with his laughter. “No, you maniac, just something in general! Something to tell me that you like me.” When he meets your gaze again, you’re met with that Look™, and this time those sparks head straight for your cunt. “That you want me. Because…” 

He trails off, hands gripping your sides, shifting you. Until you feel it. Poking directly into your thigh. 

“Oh!”

“Yeah. Oh.” Chan licks his lips. When did his eyes get so dark? “Because I want you too, you absolute fruit loop. Took me a minute to get my bearings, wasn’t expecting you to confess it in a text like that, or with those exact words, but…” He smirks. “I’m good now.” 

His thumb traces your jawline before he cups your chin. The gentle touch sends shivers rippling through you. His eyes drop to your lips. 

“You good?” 

Funnily enough, somehow, you are. 

“Yeah. I’m good,” you whisper, tipping forward to close the space between you. 

Amazingly, despite the unyielding need to just yeet yourself onto him, you manage to hold back, simply leaning in to the kiss instead. Those plush lips that you’ve raved about feel unbelievable as they caress yours. So soft and tender, like the warmth spreading through you as he tightens his hold. Then he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, and you moan, loud and wanton, unable to control the sound, and he drops his hands to your hips again, gripping insistently. 

“C’mere,” he commands again, voice husky as his fingers hook into your sweats. “Come closer.” He exhales heavily. “Please.” 

Please? He has no idea how little he needs to beg right now. As if you’re not dying to get as close as you can! In the blink of an eye, you throw your leg over his, straddling him. His hands wrap around you again, like he can’t stand not having them on you for a second. You understand the feeling. 

You’re bolder now with your kisses, nipping and licking eagerly. A particularly sharp bite on his pouty lip makes him gasp in surprise, and you press your tongue into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy when he sucks in response. The incessant throbbing of your clit is slightly relieved when Chan’s hips buck upwards, pushing his erection against you more firmly. He swallows your whines, breathes them back out in the form of his own groans.

The need for air eventually overwhelms you after a few minutes, and you begrudgingly tear yourself away from his face. 

“Aren’t you going to be late?” you pant, marveling at how red and swollen Chan’s lips are from kissing. The urge to dive back in before you’ve gotten enough oxygen into your system to keep from passing out is strong. “To meet the guys?”

“You really think I’m gonna leave now?” Chan huffs a laugh as he gazes at you from beneath lowered eyelids, looking as dazed as you feel, and you realize, shit, Minho’s right, you are a vampire, and you’re about to eat this man alive. “Fuck no. Besides, what kind of terrible roommate would I be if I left you at death’s door?” 

“If you - what?” 

More high-pitched giggles fill the room. How can he be so cute while actively grinding his cock against you like this? “Your disease. Remember? Ineedadickitis.” 

“I need to suck a dick,” you correct him.

“Oh, do you? Well, go on then.” He cracks up completely, bouncing you with the force of his laughter as you sit there dumbly for half a second before snapping to. 

“You’re so stupid, oh my god!” With a howl, you push him away. He goes easily, until he’s lying on his back on your bed, still cackling while he swats away your fake punches. “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” His fingers lock around your wrists and with a gentle jerk you’re lying on top of him, your arms pinned between you. Before you can try to pretend that he’s wrong, try to mount yet another one of your dumb arguments, despite knowing full well that he's right, he kisses you again. 

As soon as he releases your hands, you tangle them in his hair. His hands trace down your back to grab the swell of your ass, crushing you flat against him, chest to chest. He suddenly breaks off the kiss.

“Are you not wearing a bra?” 

You shake your head and he groans, sitting up, taking you with him. His fingers curl in the hem of your top, twisting it upwards.

“Shirt off. Now.” His voice drops an octave and you shudder, quickly obeying his order. Then you grip his tank top.

“You too.” 

He reaches behind his head to peel the fabric off, tossing it on the floor. Then he lays back, propping himself up on his elbows as you openly gawk at his stomach. 

“Fuck.” He’s transfixed by your chest. 

“Jesus.” You’re mesmerized. From this close, you can see a faint trail of fine hair that runs down, cutting through the carved lines of his abs, like an arrow pointing to your desired destination. “Unreal.” 

“You can touch, if you’d like,” Chan grins up at you, obviously enjoying your reaction. 

You roll your eyes but do anyway, dragging your fingertips over his abs. His stomach twitches beneath your touch. Before you can get too far, he wiggles his hips, playfully jostling you out of your concentration.

“Can I touch, too?” 

“Jesus, yes, of course!” Grabbing his hands, you place one on each breast. “Touch me already!” 

He doesn’t waste any time, rolling your nipples between his fingers, waking the buds. You arch into him, his abs forgotten as he leans forward to take your left breast in his mouth. 

“Shit, Channie,” you whimper, combing his hair out of his face so you can watch him suckle away. He hums into you, swirling his tongue over your nipple, around and around, before dragging his tongue across to the other breast. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks, covering your chest with kisses. 

Baby? Did he really just call you baby? Is this really happening, or did you slip into one of your daydreams again? 

Nope, the hard dick rolling into the apex of your thighs as you grind down on him feels pretty real. You can’t help but moan, wondering what he looks like under those tight jeans. Is he as thick as you imagine? 

Wait, why are you still trying to imagine anything? He’s literally underneath you right now.

Your hand splays on his torso as you guide him onto his back again. Slowly, you lower yourself over him, and drag your mouth down his neck. Clearly, you’d interrupted his going out routine earlier, because he’s not wearing his normal cologne right now. Instead, the heady scent you inhale as you stick your nose into the hollow of his clavicles is pure Chan, musky and comforting. 

“Ah, that tickles!” he hisses. 

“Sorry.” You press a heavy kiss to his collarbone. “Is that better?” He nods, right before you sink your teeth in.

“Nnngh!” He lets out a throaty groan as you happily suck a love bite into his delicate skin. God, the noises this man makes! You want to record them and play them on a loop. 

You slip further down, dragging your fingernails over one of Chan’s nipples, watching his face for his reaction. A tiny “oh!” escapes him, and you repeat the motion, grinning when his back lifts off the bed. Sensitive. This is going to be fun. 

Chan raises his head when you start to kiss his abs, taking the time to lick along the ridges as you go, the salty tang of his sweat lingering on your lips. When your hands play with the skin above his waistband, he clears his throat. “You know, you don’t have to do this, just because of that text.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You pause with your fingers on the button of his fly. “You want me to stop now?” 

“I just don’t want you to think I expect anything.” Although his voice is a little shaky, like he’s trying to calm himself down, you hear the sincerity in his words. The sweetness. That warmth inside you roars into a flame. 

“Channie. I want this. Do you want this?” 

He nods. “Yeah.”

“Thank god,” you sigh, unzipping his fly.  He helps you peel off his tight jeans and you make quick work of his silk boxers beneath. Nudging his legs apart, you kneel between them 

For a moment just you stare at the sight in front of you. You were right. He’s thick. Maybe a little longer than most of the dicks you’ve been happy to be acquainted with, maybe not, but definitely thicker. 

You want to sit on him so bad. But first you want to please him, want to taste him. So much want. 

While you’re dicknotized, Chan stuffs your pillows under his head so he can have a better angle. You glance at his face and find him biting his lip, eyes looking a little desperate. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you. 

Might as well put him out of his misery. With a lick of your palm, you wrap your hand around him, and pump a few shallow strokes. He grunts at the sudden slickness, abdomen jumping slightly. 

“Ah, baby, just like that,” he says, eyes closing when you roll your thumb over the tip a few times. “Shit.” 

Your tongue darts out to follow, dipping around the head and back over, before you take it into your mouth. Just the tip, bobbing off, then a little more, then again. Each time you sink lower, he sighs. 

“Fuck, that feels so good. Keep going, take it all in.” 

Oh god, is he a talker? You’re already impossibly wet. You can’t possibly handle getting any more aroused. 

While your mouth is occupied, you lift your leg so you’re straddling one of Chan’s, resting a palm on his big thigh. You have obsessed over his thighs since the day you moved in. You refer to them as “the thunder from down under” in your texts to Minho. And here they are now, so strong and sturdy beneath you. Wild. 

Chan hisses when you deepthroat him, brushing your nose against his pelvis. Even though you pride yourself on your dick-sucking skills, you can’t help but choke slightly. More saliva floods into your mouth, and you swallow around him. 

“Oh, shit!” His hips rise up a little. You use both hands, one trying to hold him down by his hip while the other strokes in tandem with your mouth. There’s drool everywhere, and the sounds the wetness makes sounds lewd even for porn. “Baby, this mouth of yours! Feels better than I ever imagined.”

Air rushes into your lungs as you pull off, replacing your mouth with your other hand. “You thought about this?” He fantasized about you, too?

“Oh fuck yeah,” he growls. “All the time. Thought those pretty lips would look so good choking on me, and I was right.” He thrusts a little, rocking his dick up into your slippery grip. “Used to dream about fucking it.”

You moan so brokenly, he looks at you in concern. 

“Please,” you lick his darkened head almost frantically, “do it.” 

Chan studies you for a moment, brows knitting together, before he pushes your head down. 

“That’s it, go down for me,” he directs you, and you listen. “Just stay there. Let me do the work now.” 

He starts slowly, tilting his pelvis a little, fucking up into your waiting mouth. Then he cants his hips a little faster. His breathing gets heavier the harder he thrusts. Once he finds a steady rhythm, he lays his hand on the back of your head keeping you exactly where he wants you. 

You squirm restlessly as Chan fucks your throat. Having your roommate use your mouth as a sex toy is incredibly hot. Finally, you slide your hand into your sweats to give yourself some relief. Your clit is engorged, practically beating like a heart between your fingers. You let out a pleased moan, vibrating down Chan’s cock. 

“Do that again, baby.” 

You’re not denying this man anything. Again and again, you make him curse as your hums resonate across his sensitive skin. He trembles a little, and it’s intoxicating to think that you might be breaking down this big, strong roommate of yours, reducing him to a quivering mess.

At the very least, it’s something to aim for. 

Chan praises you again. “God damn it, that’s good. Gonna make me cum with that pretty mouth.” 

You suck and swallow and moan and rub yourself, feeling Chan’s thigh flex beneath you, and it hits you what he said, that you’re about to get Chan off, you, so you reach out, raking your hand up the inside of his thigh until you find his balls, squeezing gently.

“I’m gonna cum, shit, ’m gonna cum,” he moans, words slurring together. “Where, baby?” 

You stop touching yourself so you can grip the hand of his that rests on your head. He gets the point, pace not slowing, and with a few more powerful pumps, and some stuttered exhalations, he fills your mouth. You take it all, swallowing noisily and gasping for breath once he pulls out. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

He laughs as he says it. Your shoulders shake as you half-laugh, half-wheeze, slumping over on Chan’s thigh.

“Is that a compliment?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grins. “And I’m guessing from the sounds you were making, you enjoyed that as well? Just maybe not quite as much as me?”

You shrug. “I got what I wanted.”  

“Yeah, okay, maybe, but I bet you’d like more, hmm?” Without waiting for a response, he swiftly flips you onto your back. Just hauls you right over like you’re made of feathers. A rash of ridiculously giddy giggles burst past your lips, but they die away when he crawls up your body, the power of his gaze pinning you in place, and drops hungry lips onto yours.

Immediately, you surge up into him, pressing as close as you can. Both of you are glistening with sweat, his hair sticking to his face and yours as he licks into your mouth, hot and wet. You’re drowning in him. It’s everything you ever wanted. How the fuck can you possibly want more? But you do, and this feeling makes itself known as you start to whimper needily.

Chan’s hand quickly locates your breast, tenderly cupping your flesh. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are? So pretty.”

You preen at his words, humming contentedly. Fuck. Do you have a praise kink, or is it just that Chan’s the one saying these words that is getting you more worked up? You roll your hips, seeking friction, and Chan’s hand slides downward until he reaches where you need him.

“Oh, baby, so wet,” he says, voice hushed, almost reverent. “Just dying to be touched, yeah? Let me help you.”

With sure movements, lithe fingers stroke along your lips, opening you up. Fingertips squeeze your clit, playing with the aching pearl, causing you to squeal, and you could die, having made such a sound, except you’ve clearly already died and gone to heaven.

Even as his hand rubs, his lips never leave yours. You thrash in his grip when he slides a finger inside you, finding your g-spot with surprising quickness and pressing the fuck out of it, and he still chases your mouth, covering your chin in kisses. Your legs kick out as he alternates between fondling your clit and stroking your walls, until he suddenly stops, pulling his fingers out so he can rid you of your sweats. 

“You still with me?” he asks, kneeling between your legs, and you wonder if you look as wrecked as you feel, sucking in air like a fish. You must be a mess, if your appearance matches how you feel. But you’re also excruciatingly aroused and frustrated, so close to coming that you’re ready to blow.

“Yes. I’m here, I’m good.” 

“Good.” The Look™️ is back. He grabs your legs and bends them, pushing your thighs into your torso. “Here. Be a good girl and hold these.”

Yes, daddy. You bite your tongue to keep from screaming the words, and grasp your legs behind your knees, pulling them to the side as much as you can, opening you up wide.

“Yes, Channie.”

He smiles at that, eyes so dark you can almost see yourself. “So good for me. Hold tight, baby.” 

He sticks out his tongue, eyebrows cocking as he dives down, tracing your folds lightly before flattening the pink muscle and dragging it heavily upwards. You keen as his hot mouth suctions onto your clit. He rolls your clit around with his tongue before flicking it in a quick motion, over and over. 

“Jesus!” You’re a live wire, muscles jolting and twitching. As he continues working over the tiny bundle of nerves, his fingers slip inside you again, two this time, scissoring you apart, making room for his tongue. 

You gasp as he plunges inside, tracing your inner walls. He’s so loud, the noises his mouth makes as he sucks and laps, and messy, too, slick dripping from his chin when he lifts his face, making sure you’re watching him. Of fucking course you’re watching him. There’s literally nothing else in the world you’d rather be looking at right now than Bang Chan, the hottest man in the galaxy, devouring your pussy like it’s his last meal. 

“Tastes so good,” he rasps, turning his face to press sloppy kisses to your inner thigh. “Think you can hold out a little longer? Let me enjoy, yeah?” 

At this point, you’re a fucking tinderbox, one spark and you’ll explode, but sure, why not let the man enjoy himself a little more? 

“O-okay,” you stutter weakly. “I’ll… try.” You bite your lip. “But maybe…” 

Chan brushes his lips over your slit. With a shaky hand, you let your left leg go so you can reach out, brushing some damp locks off his forehead, and he looks at you. 

“Maybe a little slower?” you ask. 

He smiles, nodding a little. “Got ya.” 

Instead of pulling your hand back, you thread your fingers into his hair, and he hums, burying his face again. Only now, his tongue rolls slowly over your cunt, languidly, each pass taking longer and longer. He still keeps the pressure up, makes sure he’s pushing just as firmly against your sensitive folds, still fucks his tongue into you just as deeply as he was before, but now his movements aren’t so frenzied. They feel purposeful, like he’s intent on savoring the moment. 

And you realize you should, too. So you barely blink as you observe everything he does - every kiss, every groan, every time his eyes close. You try to commit it all to memory, so you can relive this moment over and over again. In case this is it.

Chan keeps humming, not so much a melody as just wordless sounds, getting louder when your thighs start to squeeze a little. Your hand grips the roots of his hair, not so much guiding him as hanging on. Until he takes your clit in his mouth again, and you cry out, holding him in place. 

“Right there, Channie, please!” Your voice breaks as you beg him not to stop. He doesn’t let up, not even when you release your death grip on your right leg, letting it fall over his shoulder like the other one. You dig your fingers into the blanket beneath you, fisting the material. “Fuck, just like that!” 

Your hips rise off the bed as you start to hump his face, grinding harder and harder. Chan slides his fingers back into your already clenching hole and finds your g-spot again. You wail helplessly, mind already going, body not far behind, as your muscles start to contract, everything tightening - 

“Fuuuuck!” 

With a loud groan, you come all over Chan’s face. He keeps tonguing your clit through your orgasm, but has to use his hands to hold your thighs open so he doesn’t asphyxiate. You tug at his hair, riding out the waves of bliss on his mouth. 

When you finally relinquish your grasp on his head, he stops. He slides your legs from his arms, then sits back on his heels to examine his handiwork.

You’re a limp noodle. No bones. No muscles. Couldn’t move if you tried. Your climax completely wiped you out, leaving nothing behind. But you’re a very happy noodle, practically purring as you smile at the ceiling. 

Chan, on the other hand. Chan appears to be ready for the next round. A point made obvious by the massive erection he’s again sporting. You blink at him a few times. 

“I’m going to need a minute.”

He laughs, draping himself over you, arm slung over your stomach, head on your shoulder. “Nah mate, you’re done.” 

A rather petulant whine bubbles up from deep within you. “Nooo, I’m good, I’m good!” 

You try to reach for his dick, but he catches your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. Which is a surprisingly sweet move, but not what you want right now. It’s not that you don’t want to cuddle with him - if he asked, you’d wrap yourself like a blanket around him and snuggle him for hours.

It’s that you’re not ready for this moment to be over. 

“Relax,” he laughs. “Plenty of time for that later. Just rest for a bit.” 

“Later?" There’s gonna be a later?

Chan kisses your neck lightly. “Yeah, later. Not done with you yet, baby.” 

You sigh, bringing a hand up to stroke his back. Okay. Maybe a little nap is fine. If there’s going to be a later. 

Fuck, you can’t wait to text Minho. 

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

I don't feel right tagging my usual tl since that was for my BTS writing, so I'm just gonna tag some moots that I think might like this:

@moni-logues @yoongimingyu @borahae-k @nabiolive @jikooknoona @sowoozoo-7 @eoieopda @here4btsfics @candlewaxandp0lar0ids @ballelino @starlostjimin @augustbutwinter @blueversaillesdreams @hobivore @hobi-gif @seokjinger-ale @hannahbee12719 feel free to tell me if I'm way off base, no pressure to actually read! 💕

[thefuseoftemptation]

You and and Eddie don’t have money for admission to the pool this week so you desperately try to find any other fun ways to keep you cool. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

yes.

eddie munson x reader/ eddie munson x gn!reader

warning(s): language, pre-established relationship.

a/n: it could’ve been written in other ways but something about the way it turned out made me leave it so- NOT PROOFREAD.

—

It was hot.

you were sweaty, eddie was sweaty, the two of you were in little to nothing. him more so than you. and if it weren't for the way you were literally suffering, it would've been something you looked forward to seeing.

but it wasn't.

your sweat had sweat for god sakes. the only thing on your mind was how to end your obvious misery.

the two of you were on the floor in front of a battery powered fan because the ac decided to go out at the same time the temperatures were at their highest. and neither of you had got up from your spots to get out because it seemed to be hotter outside than it was in your place. and it's not like you could go to the pool either because neither of you had admissions for it. the little of what was left of your paycheck was spent on this supposed top rated fan that was limited edition.

it was not.

the thing barely rotating as you and eddie took turns to get in front of the hot air it blew. it was money out the window with how it turned out but it was something.

“this is pointless! and this fan is shit!” eddie exclaimed as he swatted the item.

“that’s limited edition your hitting!” you raised, pulling the fan closer to you and away from the hands of your boyfriend, who seems to have had enough of it.

“hey! what happened to sharing-” eddie voiced as he pulled it over to himself.

“and what happened to it being shit?!” you said, bringing up his own words that he used just seconds ago.

“I never said to take it for yourself though.”

it was beginning to be too much. but you expected nothing less given the circumstances. you just didn't like going at it with eddie even if it was for logical reasons.

you sigh, wiping your hand over your head, as you look at your boyfriend. "this is pointless, isn't it?" you question, chin resting in your hand.

eddie repeats your actions, sighing as he too wipes his head, turning off the fan.

"hey! turn that back on, are you shitting me?!" it was your turn to exclaim as you raise your brows at him.

"you just said it was pointless!" he defends.

"it was pointless arguing, edward." you reiterate, reaching over to grab the fan, only to be met with it not turning back on when you flip the switch.

"shit." it was voiced in unison. the two of you now sitting on the floor, in the heat, with no type of air circulation. you groan, shoving the fan to the side before lying yourself on the floor closing your eyes. eddie still sitting up as he watches.

you laid there for a while before he spoke.

"I've got spray bottles?"

at his words, your eyes open before your lifting your head up, brows raised when you understood just where he was going.

—

"ready?"

"ready for wh-" you hadn't even gotten to finish before your eyes shut and nose scrunched upon the sudden contact. then realizing what eddie's earlier suggestion meant.

"did you just spray me?"

"yes." he stated before spraying you again. "you looked a little hot."

he grinned as he took in his unintentional pun and gauged your reaction. your eyes slowly opened as your mouth began to stretch up ever so slightly. a sliver indication that showed you weren't all that affected by his actions. if anything, you were encouraged by them.

it's why an hour later you guys were lying wet on the floor, trying to catch your breaths from running around spraying each other.

and it wasn’t until then that you realized something that had slipped your mind previously.

“eddie.” your boyfriend hummed, looking over to you. the base of the fan at eye level as you stared at it.

“It’s battery powered.”

You guys had batteries.

—

a/n: just a little something.

feedback and reblogs are appreciated.

[ghouljams]

seeing fae!ghost mess with love's tethers makes me want liebling to use that against our resident nasty boy. make him suffer!! (in a good way)

In which the worst fae-touched woman in the world is just dying to help Liebling's relationship. Ghost please get a handle on your darling.

There's a low deep rumbling coming from König, he's growling you think. Warning whatever monster is in front of you to stay away. His hands bracket you on either side of the counter, shoulders hunched protectively over you. When you look up at him, you can just peek under his hood at his bared teeth. 

You glance at the door and sigh, great the specter of death is back. Love gives you a smile and a wave. She just about skips over to you while Ghost follows her. 

"Don't worry we're not here for long," she tells you, which you're thankful for. König is always weirder when they're in the shop.

"What's up? What do you need?" You ask, trying to lean out of König's shadow.

“I thought you might want to know a trick I learned," Love lights up gold all over, you've noticed that happening when she's excited. You have also noticed that she gets excited over weird stuff, like dead bugs and slasher movies, you usually try to proceed with caution.

"Hit me," you tell her. She grabs your hand and presses it against your chest, curling your fingers around some phantom thing with Intent. 

"Should be around here somewhere," she mumbles, she frowns and keeps smacking your hand against your chest. You almost feel something brush against your palm and you wrap your fingers around it instinctively. Love pulls back, crossing her arms and screwing her mouth to one side. "Maybe not," She says, leaning back against Ghost, "Damn, boring."

You really don't know what she's so upset about. You curl your fingers tighter into a fist against your chest. König vibrates behind you, still agitated you guess. You settle your fist back on the counter, feeling something pull like a loose string on a sweater. Something unraveling that you didn’t even know was strung tightly.

König's hand slams against your back, forcing you to bend over the counter. He hunches over you, breathing hard and ragged as his hips press against your ass. Your chest heaves against the counter, your eyes wide as you stare at Love's grin. König growls, and you feel his saliva drip wet against the back of your neck. Your fingers tighten around whatever invisible thread you were directed to grab and he grinds against you. 

He is absolutely filthy rocking against you. You try to push yourself up only to be pressed more firmly against the unyielding counter. König’s teeth scrape the top of your spine, possessive, dangerous, you try not to go boneless at the feeling.

"Alright, let's go." Ghost's arms wrap around Love's waist and hoist her up.

"Come on, it's just getting good!" Love groans, kicking against Ghost's hold. Ghost whispers something in her ear and she turns red. “Mmhm, yep, let’s go," she nods quickly, letting Ghost carry her out of the shop.

"König," you gasp, fuck that is- that is his cock sliding against you. God that feels big.

"Out," he snarls, making the other fae in the store jump and run for the exit, he rests his forehead against the counter next to you breathing hard, "Let go Liebling, or bitte-” his voice shakes, “-pull harder."

You don't know what he's talking about. Harder? You're not pulling anything, he pushed you down. You whine, your chest feels hot, and you are starting to get uncomfortably wet between your legs. You want- König's eyes dart to the gold lighting up in your chest -you want more. His stomach jumps, pulse thrumming, you smell so good. All of you so greedy for him, tethers pulling at desires he knows you won't say aloud. You are working him up and he is trying to avoid doing something you will regret.

He cannot get banned from the shop a second time.

You squirm under him, it feels absolutely, pathetically, pointless to try and fight out from under König. You should tell him to get off, that is the smart thing to do. You’re going to do just that as soon as you can think of anything but the desperate way your cunt clenches when he rubs his cock against it.

"You would look so cute on my cock Liebling," he sighs, somewhere between resignation and annoyance, "Ah, but you would be mad if I fucked you here, and I cannot have that."

“König,” You try again and he hums like he’s listening, you don’t think he is, “you need to get off.”

“I am trying, you are not very good at-”

“Off of me,” You specify, but you don’t really want him off do you? Your chest is so pleasantly warm and your fingers buzz with some strange magic that makes König’s hand slide down your back and over your hips.

“Then let go,” His voice is starting to get ragged at the edges, dangerous. You don’t want to let go. You very much want to keep holding on. If you let go he actually will pull away from you, he’ll stop letting you press your hips back against him, his breath won’t pant in your ear. 

You shake your head as his hand closes around yours.

"You are being very naughty, Liebling," he tells you, trying to pry your fingers apart. You squeeze your fist tighter and he growls at you, “Behave.” Funny that’s what you tell him, it’s strange to be on the other end of it, makes your stomach all flippy. You press back against him, away from his hand and the end of this. You feel all of him lurch forward before his teeth clamp down around the back of your neck. You freeze.

Big teeth, big König, you like big, you really like big. 

He pries your fingers loose and the tension snaps, the thread winding back into the sweater. You can’t control your breathing. All your muscles seem to shake and melt against the counter without whatever hold you had. König, fuck, you still want him but it’s gentler now. A low simmer in your stomach, not… whatever it was before that has you absolutely soaked.

“Ich werde diesen Märchenjunges töten,” König spits, and then he’s gone, and you are utterly, painfully, alone in the shop.

[sstormyskyess]

omg 16 with poly tf141 would be the greatest thing ever reader brings not one, not two, but four huge beefcakes home to their shitty families holiday party that they only throw to show off their fancy house and shitty interior design, I know that probably wasn't the original idea of the prompt but if you're interested I'd love to see you write it thank you!

Family Affairs

author's note: i actually got to pull from personal experience with this one tbh, i’m gonna have to go to a party like this near the end of the year. unfortunately, i don’t have four beefcakes to bring with me 😔 at least i can imagine it though! thank you for the request, hope you enjoy!!

cw: poly tf 141, general fluffy stuff, reader has a big family [just like me, i have 14 members in my extended family just on my dad’s side]

word count: 1800+

TF-141 x GN!Reader

You groan, burying your face in your hands. You were hoping, praying that you weren't going to get that one little text message that always spelled disaster no matter when it came across your phone screen. It had been a good run, too; you hadn’t suffered this fate in a good few years. But, apparently that winning streak was too good to be true.

You look at the notification on your screen again, re-reading it for about the third time. ‘We hope to see you at the party this year! P.S., please bring your boyfriend along this time, your aunt won’t drop it,’ the message from your mom read. Boyfriend. Little did she know, you in fact had four boyfriends, none of which had met your frustratingly nosy family.

Speak of the devil—or, one of them at least—John walks into the common area, a stack of papers in his hand. “Morning, love.” He shoots you a smile before focusing his attention back on the documents he was scanning. “What’s on your mind?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite you, leaning back and crossing his legs, one ankle on the other leg’s knee.

You think for a bit before sighing. “Off-base things. Family stuff.” It’s clear he was unsatisfied with your vague answer when he met your eyes with a raised brow. You huff, knowing you wouldn’t get away with dancing around the issue for even a moment. “My mom wants me to bring a boyfriend back for my aunt’s holiday party.”

John continues to look at you, his air gone from stern to confused within a second. “You do have a boyfriend. Four of them, actually.” He tilts his head as he states the obvious. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “I know that. I just don’t wanna subject any of you to the torture that is being at those pointless parties.”

He just smiles at you again, his eyes returning to whatever was on the papers in his lap. “Maybe we’ll make it better for you. I’m sure the rest of our boys will be glad to accompany you.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, thinking about the prospect. Frankly, it did sound like a good idea on the surface; it would be nice to spend some down time with all the people you love, after all. After another few moments of thought, you nod and stand up from your chair. “You’ve got a point. I’ll go talk to the others, then—see if they’ll be able to come with us.”

John hums in approval, catching your wrist as you walk past toward the door. “Hey. Come here.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him and appreciating the feeling of John’s hand coming up to the nape of your neck, his fingers rubbing a loose circle on your skin. “Things will be fine, darling,” he says after pulling away. “Don’t worry.”

A deep sense of dread starts to build inside of you as your mini convoy starts to approach your aunt’s house, which is technically more like a mansion based on the size of it. It had already set in the moment Simon convinced the others to let him drive. Yes, he got you to your destination way faster than any of the others would, but that was only because he drives like a maniac.

The dread slowly developing wasn’t caused by Simon almost getting everyone into a wreck at least two or three times, though. It was caused by the fact that you could already see your family’s cars lined up along the road and sitting in the driveway, memories of past parties flooding your head.

Kyle beside you must notice the way you’ve started shrinking into yourself and he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you close to kiss you on the cheek. “I’m excited to meet your family, sweetheart.” An underlying joy is hidden in his voice, which brings a small smile to your face. “You sure?” You chuckle, leaning into him. “They can be a lot.”

“I’ve dealt with worse, no need to worry.” He ensures you, pressing a couple more kisses to your temple and your forehead. Your cheeks warm and you push his face away. “Stop it,” you say playfully.

Johnny helps you out of the car and wraps an arm around your waist when Ghost pulls over to park his car on the side of the street. “Who do you think is gonna be the favorite?” He asks with a grin on his face. You hum, tapping your chin and feigning deep thought. “Probably John. And not you, the responsible John.”

Johnny scoffs, dramatically putting a hand over his heart. “I am responsible! Can’t believe you would say such a thing!” You simply pull him closer and kiss him on the cheek, giggling under your breath. “I’m sorry, baby. Please forgive me—” You’re cut off by him giving you a big kiss on the lips. “Fine, you’re forgiven.” He gives you his bright smile, the one that reaches his eyes and crinkles the corners of them.

Simon walks past and tugs on Johnny’s sleeve, pulling him forward. “Get moving, Johnny.” He grunts, dragging him along and taking you with him in turn.”We’re coming, we’re coming,” Johnny huffs.

You take a deep breath once you reach the front door of your aunt’s house, amping yourself up to face the music head-on. You feel John’s comforting hand between your shoulder blades and you smile, his silent support soothing your nerves and giving you the courage to ring the doorbell, officially sealing your fate. No going back now.

Surprisingly, the night was actually going well. Just like John said, being able to sit in-between two of your ruggedly handsome partners while the other two were pulling your aunt’s attention away from you was massively more comfortable compared to your other experiences in this house.

Johnny and Simon, seated next to you on either side, chatted with a couple members of your extended family while Kyle was off in the kitchen making a plate of hors d'oeuvres for you, and John was busy entertaining your aunt and mother with various war stories from his yesteryears. It seemed like everyone was having a blast, their easy smiles contagious.

You look up when Kyle sits in the armchair next to the loveseat you, Simon and Johnny were posted up on. You grin when he presents you with a small plate full of various meats and cheeses. He kisses your hand as you reach over and take the plate from him, making your face heat up. You shoot him a pointed look, but he flashes his pretty smile in return. You can’t possibly stay mad at that smile—I mean, have you seen it? You just shake your head, unable to mask the flustered look on your face.

Your grandmother looks away from her conversation with Johnny and turns her attention to Kyle. “Oh my! Who’s this lovely young man?” She listens intently as he introduces himself and then starts up her usual questioning whenever one of her grandbabies brought someone to meet the family.

You let out a long sigh, your senses already getting overwhelmed after the past hour or so of entertaining the party with your boys. You start to pick at your hors d'oeuvres, building a little stack of what looked like some sort of salami and a piece of cheese on a cracker, popping it in your mouth. 

Simon’s hand comes into your downturned gaze and rests on your leg, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze, a silent check-in. You cover his hand with yours, looking up at him and smiling, effectively quelling his concerns. He nods and intertwines his fingers with yours, an affectionate glint in his gaze. You return the look wholeheartedly and let him pull his hand away to rest in his lap.

You glance up when you hear your name being called across the room and see John and your mother looking over at you. She beckons you over and you sigh, standing up and starting to head over to the two of them. You jump when Johnny’s hand pats the back of your thigh a couple times, smirking up at you. You roll your eyes and mutter a quiet ‘stop that,’ trying to hide the fact that your heart skipped a beat at the smug look on his face.

John wraps an arm around your waist once you get close enough, his hand petting up and down your side. “Your mother wants to know how we met,” he explains. Your mother pipes up, “I also want to know why you were hiding these lovely men from the family for so long.” She gives you a look. The look. You groan, running a hand over your face. “Of course, mom.”

“I’ve no idea why you were so worried about tonight, bonnie. It was perfectly fine!” Johnny pulls you down to the couch in the living room of the house you and the others had bought recently, his arms tight around you. He held you in place to pepper kisses all over your face. You try to push his face away so you can actually respond to his comment; the effort was futile, but after a few pushes he pulls away on his own. “It seems like they were on their best behavior since you four showed up with me. You’re all pretty imposing, to be fair,” you say, leaning back against Johnny’s chest.

Simon walks in with a handful of mugs filled with warm spiced apple cider, passing them around the room and then sitting in his armchair, his legs crossed loosely. He notices your eyes on him and raises a brow. “You talking about me?” You laugh and shake your head. “Not just you, silly.”

Kyle catches the tail end of the conversation after coming downstairs in his lounging clothes, sitting next to John on the loveseat opposite the couch Johnny had you buried in. “I’m sure it was mostly you, Simon.” He grins, leaning into John’s side. You roll your eyes. “Well, I’m sure most of my family was intimidated by your dashingly handsome looks, good sir.”

John rests his arm on the back of the couch, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Kyle’s neck. “That’s a good point, darling,” he smirks, taking note of the bashful look that crosses Kyle’s features. He hides his smile by taking a sip from his mug.

“Hopefully your family feels a bit more comfortable around us next year, yeah?” John takes a sip of cider from his own mug, before setting it down on the coffee table and picking up the remote to put something on the TV, probably some shitty holiday movie. The exact kind that he likes.

You hum and hold your warmed up mug in your lap, happily cuddling up with Johnny. “Yeah, hopefully.” There’s a brief pause before you realize what he just said and the implications of it. “Wait—next year?” And once again, that signature sense of dread hits you and you groan, knowing you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[impishjesters]

Little Thoughts

warning(s): suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideations, child neglect, child abuse, suicidal thoughts of a child, abuse, financial abuse, hurt/comfort(?), mentioned manipulation, casual talk about death/dying, pre-relationship, uncertain reactions (basically Jax nor you really know how to go about the situation), implied crush (both ways) A/N: This was written for myself, read it or don't, I don't care. I just wanted validation and acceptance from somewhere, even if it's fictional...

“Do you ever just wish you were dead?”

Jax slowed his oncoming approach towards you, blinking in confusion. “What happened to, hi? Hello? How are you?” He heard you scoff and crossed his arms loosely in thought. Sure, he was used to hearing some pretty questionable things from you, but you’d never flat out ask him—or anyone else for that matter—if they wanted to be dead.

“Well?”

“Uh, can’t say I do. Sure, this place sucks but think of all the entertainment I’d miss out on if I was, ya know—” he swiped his thumb across his neck and made a noise, “—dead.”

“You’ve been here longer. Aren’t you tired?”

What was this? Morbid fifty questions?

“You doin’ alright there sugar?” Jax circled around you, allowing you to see him long before he approached you taking a seat beside you. “I know you usually say some pretty…intense shit, but this is a little too intense even for you.”

You shot him a blank stare. Huh, you did say some pretty out-of-pocket stuff when it came to the dark subject—but to ask him flat out if he ever wanted to just be dead? That was new, but it was a valid question in your mind.

How could they choose to suffer instead of just dying?

“This isn’t anything new… I’m not like you guys. I haven’t been here for years on end gradually going mad.”

“Hey, rude. I’m not nearly as bonkers as Rags or King-face.”

He got a playful eye roll from you and that was more than enough of a win for his little joke. Sure it was a serious topic but he didn’t do so well during talks like this.

“I’ve always been like this… for as long as I can remember, as a child I thought it’d just be better if I was dead. That way my family could stop fighting, and I could stop being the rag doll in their arguments.”

As you spoke the grin that was glued to his face started to fall, slipping bit by bit until his lips ran flat. What child wants to kill themselves? He remembers his childhood not being the greatest but he never thought about death, that’s for sure.

“We didn’t have a lot of money growing up, they’d spend it on unnecessary stuff and worry about food and bills later until years of it caught up and put them in a bind.” Your gaze fell to your hands, fingers picking and peeling at the flesh. “Most would say I was a very spoiled kid, I always got toys and the holidays were jam-packed with even more unnecessary toys for a growing child to outgrow.”

He had a feeling he knew where this was going…

“But I didn’t want that, I didn’t want all those toys. Expensive or cheap, I never asked for any of them. If my eyes made contact with something and lingered just a second too long they’d buy it for me.” You sighed, looking up at Jax. “All I wanted was my family to give me the time of day, to play with me. To love me.”

“Fuck, I’m..” he hesitated, saying sorry felt pointless, that was ages ago and he wasn’t there. He wasn’t at fault but he couldn’t even imagine that—his own parents argued but they kept him out of it.

“It’s fine you don’t have anything to apologize for.”

He shuffled in place awkwardly, how are you supposed to respond to that? Luckily he doesn’t need to because you are already looking away and took a deep breath before continuing.

“It never got better, toys became electronics and games. Because of my family, I didn’t get to socialize growing up and I’d be quiet and withdrawn at school. The older I got the more vocal they started to get about me, even though they didn’t want me they kept me chained down and limited my ability to fight them.”

“What they lock ya up or somethin’?”

“They didn’t need to, I had no reason to leave the house. I didn’t have friends, we didn’t have stores or anything fun to do that wasn’t an hour’s drive away.” He hates the way you laugh so casually about it. “No, they’d limit any money I’d receive making sure I’d spend it instead of save it. I used to think it was their way of trying to make sure I wouldn’t run away, but even if I didn’t have savings that wouldn’t have stopped me from leaving with nothing but the clothes on my back.”

“Why didn’t ya?”

“I was a coward.”

Jax snorted and caught your attention. “You were a child, not a coward.”

“Whatever, pointless to think about it now. Did me fat lotta good in the end anyways, here I am trapped in this hell hole where the closest thing to death is abstracting.” A dry laugh left you at the irony. “I can’t even fucking off myself properly.”

The two of you simply sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you seemingly aware of how to continue the conversation. There was no reason to give Jax the whole sob story that didn’t matter anyway, and he couldn’t think of a response.

Sure he wasn’t the greatest at times but he didn’t want you to just…die… but he wasn’t going to try and guilt trip you into living for him. Even if that outcome sounded far better than you dying, he could live with a guilty conscience—probably…

“You don’t have to worry about responding, I sort of just… dropped that all on you. It’s fine, it’s the past.”

“Still doesn’t change that ya still feel like ya should’ve died because your family sucks.” You shot him an unimpressed look and he shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, you were just a kid stuck with a shit family and should’ve been given help a lot sooner.”

“Gee, thanks—”

“I’m not done,” he used your name, no silly or insulting nicknames, “someone should’ve done something, I know people are stupid and think if they just look away it’ll be fine. But someone should’ve stepped in, it’s still abuse, it’s neglect.”

It went unspoken about how you clearly didn’t seek any form of therapy or help as you got older, he already felt like he was pushing it saying what he did.

“Look nothing I say is gonna make ya not wanna pop yourself, but it’s different now. Yeah, ya stuck here but you aren’t alone, and the others like ya.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” he blinked, you weren’t asking him if he…

“Do you like me?”

Jax coughed into his hand, casually turning himself to face the same direction as you. He refused to budge even when you turned yourself to face him, he was not gonna lose his cool.

“Ya alright, better than King-face and Rags that’s for sure.”

His answer pleased you enough to pull back but still face towards him. Occasionally, you’d see him peeking over to see if you were still looking at him until he finally kept his gaze forward.

“Thank you Jax.”

It felt wrong to accept your thanks, he didn’t do anything. But again you responded for him, as if knowing his plight.

“Thank you for sitting here with me, and listening… nobody’s ever listened to me before and not tried to justify what they did like I was the one at fault. You don’t need to feel like you have to have done something to be thanked.”

His shoulders shrugged before relaxing, his gaze that had glued itself to nothing finally turning to you. “Look just, promise me if you get those icky thoughts again you’ll come to me instead of stewing in them okay?” He saw you hesitate and cautiously reached out for your hand. “Promise me.”

You sighed. “Fine, I promise…” Ironically, you didn’t think you could trust anyone but Jax with this sort of information. Personal feelings aside.

“Good, now shut ya face and enjoy my presence and this beautiful moonlight night.” He threw his arm around you and pulled you closer, hand lingering at your side. He was going to make sure not to take advantage of this information, he wanted things to be genuine and not manipulated—as easy as it would be for him.

If the two of you were stuck here he wanted your feelings towards him, and vice versa to be genuine before taking the next step.

[antimatterz]

I'LL BE BY YOUR SIDE.

dan heng x gn!reader

summary: fear of abandonment is terrible, but your lover is there for you.

cw: reader has fear of abandonment, dark thoughts, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship

enyo's note: please, just please, don't come at me saying "this is toxic" or anything like that. this work is personal, so much that i'm hesitant to upload it but i still chose to do so in case more people are struggling with this. fear of abandonment is something serious and it's super hard to deal with. we don't choose to freak out when our person isn't near. we don't choose to need constant reassurance that they won't leave us. we don't want any of that. this is what it looks like for me on a bad day. feel free to come talk to me if you're struggling with the same !!

content under the cut | masterlist

lonely.

that's what you felt when you sat alone in the empty compartment of the astral express. there was no one, and that wasn't good for your mindset. you were restless, antsy, afraid, your mind wandering off to dan heng the entire time. it was always like that when he wasn't around you, but when you were utterly alone, it got severely worse.

nothing seemed to help; seeking distraction did nothing, it brought no peace to your mind to text march or himeko or anyone else, you couldn't focus on any activities, which let your mind roam endlessly.

where was dan heng? what was he doing? why wasn't he responding? was he okay? did something happen? was he going to leave you behind? your mind paused at the last line, realization hitting you like a truck.

the possibility was there.

leaving you was always an option, right? and to you, it seemed very likely. you weren't a fun and easy person; you were troubled, broken even. tearing at the seams almost perpetually. sure, you had your good moments, but did those make it worth to stick around? you had no idea, but the longer dan heng stayed away, the more you started to doubt his return. sure, you trusted dan heng – or you wanted to, at least. your fear of abandonment often wouldn't let you fully trust him.

everything was okay as long as he was with you, but as soon as he left to do something, fear crept up your spine, leaving you short of breath and extremely worried. bad habits awoke, you kept checking your phone, the express' entrance, every single thing that could hint at dan heng's arival was on your radar. it was tiring, so tiring, but you couldn't help it.

and you felt guilty. you just wanted to let dan heng live his life without having to consider you all the time. sure, he told you so many times that it was okay, that he chose to console you as anxiety struck, that you could text him whenever you needed him. but you refused; you didn't want to bother him. that would only drive him away eventually, right?

so you suffered alone.

your heart was beating frantically, following the cadance of your unsteady thoughts. it was pointless, it was useless, you were useless, you told yourself. couldn't even stand an hour without your beloved. what kind of toxic partner were you? it was certain, he was going to leave you sooner or later, just because you were a failure who could do nothing. everyone left, so why wouldn't he do the same?

tears of distress welled up in your eyes, and your breath stuttered. you felt truly alone, as if he had abandoned you already. maybe he really did, seeing how he left the express two hours ago. yet, you still refused to text him, despite the many times dan heng told you to reach out if you needed him.

you just couldn't burden him like that.

it felt like ages when the compartment's door slipped open, and footsteps came inside. you gazed up and found dan heng approaching you, and you swore you felt your heart levitate in your chest for a moment. relief washed over you and you wanted to jump up and hug the life out of your boyfriend. he was back!

it must've been obvious that you had been crying, as a look of worry ghosted over dan heng's features. his quiet grey eyes looked right through you, and he instantly knew what was up.

"y/n, i told you to text me if this happened," he lightly scolded you, pulling you to your feet and engulfing you in a tight hug.

"don't wanna bother you," you mumbled against the fabric of his clothes. "i don't want you to feel trapped just because i have separation anxiety."

"we've been over this, angel," dan heng sighed, his puff of breath rustling your hair. "you're too hard on yourself. you're not bothering me at all. i love you on good days and bad days alike, and as we enjoy your good days, i want to help you on your bad days. never forget that, love."

you breathed in his scent, relishing in the comfort it brought to you. he was with you again, he didn't leave, and he still loved you. with your voice still muffled by the fabric, you told him you loved him too, as you slowly felt the fear that had your body rigid diminishing. darkness slipped from your mind as dan heng held you closely, until all was good again.

"listen, angel," dan heng began, loosening the hug to cup your cheeks instead. he made you look at him, and his gaze was solemn. "i won't leave you. not today, not tomorrow, not ever in my life. and i will remind you every day. got that?"

you nodded, feeling as if you were on cloud nine. dan heng was right; you've been through so much together, he saw you on your darkest days, and he was still with you. if only you would remember that as anxiety rose, but such was wistful thinking. once you were alone again, the cycle would repeat itself, and you'd be terrified once more, as if the reassurance of today never happened.

fear of abandonment was painful, it tore you apart so often, writhing in your mind like a sick disease. but you had gotten lucky to find a patient lover, one who treated you right and never grew tired of reassuring you – as much as you needed.

it was true.

dan heng wouldn't leave you.

you smiled at him, and he offered you a faint smile in return. you knew he wouldn't move from your side today, and you leaned against him lovingly. another episode had passed, peace had returned.

it was okay.

[ahlyasimps]

A Crucio so Cruel [O.G.]

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x GN Reader (tried to make it GN)

Summary: Ominis would take a crucio for you, and that’s exactly what you feared.

A/N: Requested by Anon!  

Man, today I’ve written my first fanfic and then 5 more oneshots (2 in drafts). The devil works hard but my thirsty ass works harder. 

As the three of you approached the door blocking your path, Sebastian spoke up, his voice firm. "We need to use the crucio curse to open this door. It's the only way."

You glanced at him, then at Ominis, feeling a shiver run down your spine. The crucio curse was one of the most painful and torturous spells in existence, and you weren't sure you could bear to watch either of your companions suffer through it.

You and Ominis were already holding hands but you felt him grip yours even tighter at those words. He turned to you, his expression suddenly fierce. "Not you," he said. "I won't let you do it."

You frowned, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. On the one hand, you didn't want to experience the curse firsthand. On the other hand, you didn't want to watch either of your friends go through it either.

"I don't want either of you to do it," you said softly, looking from Ominis to Sebastian. "Let me do it. I don't want either of you to have to go through that."

Ominis scowled, his face the very picture of anger and desperation. "No," he said firmly. "I won't let you do it. I know what it feels like, and I won't subject you to that!" he cried gripping your arm. He couldn’t let you go through with this. “I don’t care, I’ll do it. Cast the curse on me!” His voice was practically a sob now. You watched as he became the little boy forced to cast crucio on muggles for his family’s sick entertainment. You saw him remember all the times his own family cast it on him instead, annoyed at his pointless sympathy for what they viewed as wastes of space.

But you could see the determination in his face, and you knew he wouldn't back down easily. You knew he wouldn’t let you go through with this but if he did it, you didn’t think he would be able to recover. So you squared your shoulders, let go of his hand and, while side stepping his attempt at grabbing you back towards him, stepped forward to face the door.

"No," you said, your voice steady. "I'll do it." And so you turned your wand on your beloved, “Petrificus Totalus” and as the light left your wand you sobbed watching your beloved fall to the floor with a look of betrayal and heartbreak on his face.

You turned back to Sebastian who watched this altercation with a look of pain on his face, feeling a surge of fear . You didn't know how you were going to do this or who was going to cast it, but you knew you had to try.

“I can’t do this to you Sebastian,” you whispered, “cast it on me instead.”

“But I can’t do it to you either!” he replied, his voice cracking. “You must.”

As he raised his wand, you closed your eyes and braced yourself for the worst, but seemingly instead of casting a spell, he simply stood there, staring at you. "What?" you asked, feeling a sense of unease settle in your stomach. 

Before he could answer, there was a sudden burst of pain, so intense that you couldn't even scream. Your body felt like it was being torn apart, your bones breaking, your muscles spasming uncontrollably. It took a few moments for you to realize what had happened: Sebastian had cast the crucio curse on you. The pain was so intense you would have done anything to make it stop. You clawed at your stomach as if doing so would gouge out the pain. And then it was over, leaving you gasping and trembling, tears streaming down your face. 

You could hear Sebastian's worried voice, distant and muffled. But all you could think about was Ominis. 

Suddenly you heard a thud as Ominis was freed from your cast and was feeling around the floor desperately trying to find your lying form. His hands found your leg and you quickly felt him move his hands onto your face, tears falling from his. With all the strength you could muster, you leaned forward and kissed his cold lips. “I’m fine,” you whispered “I’ll be alright.”

“No, you won’t be! We need to get you out of here.” He whispered into your lips, breathing heavily from the fear you caused him.

Ominis looked towards you, his expression a mix of horror and worry. You could see the guilt in his eyes, and you knew he regretted making you do this.

Sebastian was silent, his face pale and drawn. You could see the pain in his eyes, the guilt and shame of having to cast such a terrible curse on you.

But despite the pain, you knew you had done the right thing. You had opened the door, and you had saved your lover and friend from having to go through that terrible ordeal.

"It's okay," you said, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."

But you weren't fine. The pain lingered, a constant ache in your bones, a reminder of what you had endured.

[sapphorror]

Short Moderate Length List of Small(ish) Things I Appreciate About The Wettening

Dib being conspicuously absent from the opening pan of the classroom, only to cartoon-teleport into existence at Zim’s desk the second Zim starts expressing mild apprehension at the sight of unfamiliar weather. This kid spends his time just hanging around staring at Zim, waiting for him to show the slightest sign of discomfort, confusion, or unease in order to immediately taunt him about it—and the surrounding chaos, if anything, is just an opportunity to come watch even more closely. We all already knew this, but it still kills me to see it in action.

Also, he’s animated popping up from below, and like… were we meant to interpret this as him just chilling underneath Zim’s desk? No, absolutely not—but is it funny (and, to add to the hilarity, miraculously somehow not completely unbelievable within the context of the show) to imagine that he was? Yes. Yes it is.

Zim confidently walking out into a downpour he has already confirmed to be acidic just because Dib implicitly dared him to—no one’s looking, Dib hasn’t even said anything or made a claim against his humanity, Zim just can’t stand to give Dib the satisfaction of seeing him vulnerable or afraid of something (which backfires pretty spectacularly, since I’m pretty sure ‘writhing on the ground shrieking in indescribable agony’ is a significantly worse look in terms of appearing vulnerable, but all’s well that ends in Victory For Zim, I guess).

Also Zim's little baffled gesture right beforehand like he's silently asking Dib to confirm he's not hallucinating the rain dance (he does not receive an answer)

Gaz presumably seeing Zim sneaking up behind her brother, saying nothing and making no reaction that’ll tip Dib off… only to immediately be made to regret her choices when she gets caught in another splash. Shows her for trusting Zim to be at least a little bit cool about tormenting Dib (honestly, we see her exact fitting justice on Dib at the end of the episode, but I cannot imagine she wasn't still planning to do something equally petty to Zim).

The faucet drip scene and the underlying awareness that this is just what Zim and Dib do to each other during class. Every day. It is, in fact, probably one of the least disruptive forms their constant warfare takes on a routine basis. Suddenly I understand a little bit of why their entire class hates them.

Also Dib’s happy face while he's terrorizing Zim into a shell-shocked stupor is absurdly cute and heartwarming. If I cropped that picture no one would ever guess what he's smiling about. This kid? A sadist? Impossible.

“I don’t even feel good about winning this one,” and it's said with his hands clasped together, practically vibrating with glee, his expression vaguely reminiscent of a teenager in the throes of hormonal infatuation (the hypothetical object in this case not so much being Zim himself as a personified abstraction of Zim’s suffering). If someone hit him with the Return of Keef happy goo in this exact moment, I am completely certain it would kill him. His statement is only true insofar that a more accurate term for his current state of being would probably be euphoric.  I take back everything I’ve ever said about Zim being unreasonable in this episode—he was merciful.

Also this face the moment Zim gets up and starts threatening him. Zim still isn't even all that intimidating at the moment, but Dib knows he just fucked up. Maybe he's getting flashbacks to Dark Harvest.

Dib’s ridiculous water balloon device. Seriously. I feel like it gets (reasonably) overshadowed by the sheer absurdity of Zim’s entire operation, but it really is so amazingly stupid and pointless in a way that is… not dissimilar to the ultimate Irken water balloon. Not only is it really not necessary for the task it's meant to accomplish, it's actively detrimental in that it slows Dib down, blatantly telegraphs his attacks, and reduces accuracy by a significant degree. The only actual benefits I can think of would be the exponential increase in force and range and the instant accessibility of a water supply—the former of which is totally unnecessary in this scenario and the latter being possible to accomplish with a much simpler device (or even just… a water tank). To summarize, it is an incredibly impressive feat of both skill and creativity in design that is also completely and utterly useless! Which is just the perfect demonstration of what I mean when I say Dib really does share nearly all of Zim’s flaws, just to a less obviously ridiculous degree—he comes off just calm and clever enough to pass as moderately reasonable  at a glance, and in some ways, that makes him more of a potential flight risk than Zim. At least that's a lunatic you see coming. 

Irkens are collapsible, apparently

[lizaluvsthis]

The Girl in Fatal Lavenders

Fanfic Written and Illustrated by @lizaluvsthis

Idea of creation by @itsajjanea

Summary: SMG4 has found someone new, much to Three's dismay. He couldn't help it but feel like something is wrong with his new "Girlfriend" and that there is something more going on with her than just being all 'kind' and 'polite' to people, especially with SMG4.

will SMG4 still end up being inlove with the Lavender Girl? or does he end up with Three's open heart

Tags: Enemies to Friends, Sun and Moon, angst, betrayal, catching feelings, comfort, hurt/comfort, drama, enemies to lovers, enemy, fluff, oblivious, slowburn, fruityass, gayness

Relationships:

SMG4/SMG3

Mario & Meggy Spletzer

Meggy & SMG3

SMG4 & Original Character

PuzzleVision(TvAdware) & Original Character

SMG3 & Mario

SMG4 & Mario

Chapter: Prologue...

A month ago…

Down from the hell hold of the monstrous abyss, the flesh and eyes, the wandering of its small parts. Scattering like worms around the floor.

As one of the pieces of rotting flesh makes its way out of the shoes where it happened to appear.

“Why isn’t this quite exciting?” a static audio of the voice played on, whereas he picked up the rotting flesh with his bare gloves. “This shall do with my perfect creation… I’d be dying to see torment with our view… don’t you just love how they suffer?”

TV Adware smiled at the small creation he made, seeing it wiggle out from the pinch of his fingers, he let it go, dropping itself to the ground as he proceedingly stomped at his failed creation.

As it dies and serves up its insides shown.

“Pointless” Adware rubs off the remaining blood from his shoe, scraping it down to the hard and solid ground. He ventured across the remains of each and part of the hell hole in search for a specific object.

The USB…

Searching through the pile of rocks, adware had finally found the missing USB… Thankfully the contents still remain on track and still keep it working.

“If I couldn’t get my hands on reach to the “Content man” then I prefer settling this, with a trick up my sleeve… my fellow friend”

Adware then raised the usb concentrating his power, putting a strong force at the object. The color that was yellow turned to the color of red, switching up to blue.

As it mixed together it formed the glow of lightish purple.

With the usb holding steady in the air, the sides bursted out black ink revealing its form. The black goo is now set free holding itself to the usb.

“My, my little creation. You seemed feisty in your little cage…” the goo shared out whispers in a quiet submerged air.

“This is going to be so… fun…” he smiled, raising both of his hands, pulling out the goo and putting it on its form.

His new creation has now been formed from the goop’s liquid. “I have a mission for you…” he walked around the creation as the goop went inside its mouth.

“Your body is in its human form, tho it wouldn’t last. Temporarily, get us our target little one. His name is SMG4” The creation opened its dead eyes, as Adware gave them the Usb.

“What shall my name be called? Master?” Receiving the usb, she held onto it with a grasp on her left hand bowing down at her creator.

“You will be named- —------” he patted her head.

“Run along creation, you will be starting this…”

The creation looked at the usb, opening her mouth as she swallowed down. Inheriting amounts of content and loads of memes giving its body life.

The dead eyes of hers began to have a sparkle.

“Do not worry master…” adware chuckled, “manners, call me PuzzleVision…”

“I will succeed my duty as a living vessel from this mortal body, and I will give back our target. SMG4…” in her truth of evil, she walked away at PuzzleVision with the devil themself. She smiled.

Seeing a close to broken computer from a feet away, still worked its own power from the software.

With just a little knowledge of memes she had from the computer, they made this as an opportunity to bring SMG4 down.

Logging in from discord, she joins a server located where SMG4 is currently active.

“Welcome to the “House of Memes” Server @----- you’re free to stay in our humble home of meme contents! Please read the #rules and be respectful to everyone, remember to put your intro at #introductions”

They quickly went to the intro channel, typing down the common notes. Name, Age, Hobbies, interests, goals, etc. Sending out the message, surprised for people to get caught up on.

—

7KNightsWrld: YOO @SuperMayroGlitchy4 look at this!

SMG4: Hey there new member! Happy to have you aboard!

—----: thank you.

—

This is a perfect opportunity to talk to the man and convince him.

“I hope you’re prepared for this SMG4…”

The creation hummed from their evil idea, and started to laugh. With SMG4 unaware of what will happen- His life is in its debt.

There is a picture from the media where SMG4 is having a gaming night with the orange haired girl, the red fat man, and next to him was the purple and black.

The goop suddenly recognized the faces during their last encounter with them. “Pathetic.”

They looked at the purple man, with his clear face and red eyes. Over with the beard and the hat.

He was the danger. He is a distraction. “Who would’ve guessed that a person like him could ever love SMG4?” recalling the past where he opened up to save SMG4’s life and risked everything just for him.

“Disgusting.” love is never part of them, pain and hatred ruled over the parts.

-

7KNightsWrld: you’re lucky to be here cause SMG4 said he’s been wanting to find a girlfriend xD

SMG4: KN STFU I’M PUTTING YOU ON MUTE-

@SMG4 set @7KNightsWrld on timeout for 24 hours

-

“Perfect… I’ll be his “wonderful” girlfriend…”

Her eyes turned red, craving out of Four’s wants.

This will be… Interesting…

End of Prologue...

--------

Next Chapter- 1 New Person, 1 New Goal

[1ST CHAPTER COMPLETED ]

[jeankluv]

Happy birthday my love || Satoru Gojo x gn!reader

Words: 0.8k

Warnings: hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, short fic, fluff, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, my love)

Notes: a few days ago was my birthday and this short fic came to me. It doesn’t have anything special but I wanted to post it. And since I’m preparing a Gojo college fic I wanted to post a one shot about him before releasing it, maybe in the future there are more one shots.

Materialist

You hated your birthday, ever since you were 7 and no one decided to show up at your birthday party you hated it. It was that moment you decided not to tell anyone when your birthday was because it was pointless, no one would remember it anyways. And no one bothered on asking.

So now turning 28 you do it on your own, the only called to wish you a happy birthday is from your mom but no one else called and you don’t blame them. In the end they don’t know when your birthday is. Is more your fault than anyone else but you don’t want to suffer what you suffered back on the day. So it’s better like this, at least that’s what you tell yourself, but the pain is still there.

Now you are on your sofa, with the sun already gone and watching a random film you found on stream. It’s entertaining, even funny you could say but your mind is lost in other parts.

You heard three knocks on your door. You are shattered at first until you see a message on your phone.

Open up! It’s me

You rolled your eyes, what was he doing there? He was supposed to be out of city for the weekend. You got up heavily from the couch and shuffled to the entrance. You opened the door to see the smiling face of your boyfriend, Satoru Gojo.

You had met through a dating app almost a year ago and after a couple of dates you had started dating. Satoru or 'Toru as he liked to be called, used to spend a lot of time away from home, his work made him travel and be away from there for short periods. You can't deny that at first he gave you a bad feeling, all those “trips” set off alarm bells, but after 9 months of dating, Satoru had never done anything to make you doubt what you had. Rather everything he did made you fall more in love with him. You could safely say that you trusted him completely.

“Hello baby.” He said giving you a kiss on the forehead, he was way taller than you so it was a gesture he would always do. “I got us pizza.” He said showing it.

“That’s great.” You closed the door. “But I thought you were out for a business trip.” You sat down next to him on the coach.

“Yeah, but I finished everything earlier so I came here as soon as I could.” He hanged you a piece of pizza.

“Hmm.” You tasted it, pepperoni, you’re favorite.

It was scary how well he knew you sometimes.

“Besides.” He looked at you. “How could I leave my baby alone on this day?”

You looked at him confused. “What do you mean?”

He smiled and turned around to search for something on his jacket. “I know you have never told me.” He paused for a moment. “And maybe this is crossing the line and I’m sorry if I’m crossing the line but.” He turned around and you saw what he had on his hands. Two candles, a 2 and an 8. “Let me spend your birthday with you my love.” He placed the candles on one slide of pizza and turned them on. “Happy birthday sweetheart.” He placed the portion in front of you.

“How…” Your eyes stung, you were going to break at any moment, how long has it been since you blew out the candles? You don't even remember it anymore. “How did you find out?”

“It's not very gentlemanly of me but look at your ID. I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “Now make a wish my love.”

And for the first time in years you blew out the candles making a wish. You opened your eyes to find Satoru's blue eyes looking at you and smiling.

“I was going to buy a cake but the bakeries were already closed. And since you loved pizza you decided it could be interesting to be a cake right?”

“‘Toru.” You threw yourself and braced him. “Thank you for this.” You couldn’t contain your tears any longer, so you let them flow.

“Don’t thank me babe.” He kissed your hair. “Next year, I will take you out and we will have a big birthday party for you.”

You shook your head. “If it’s you and me, like this, next year it will be perfect.”

He touched your cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too, ‘Toru.” You kissed him.

“Happy birthday my love and thank you for being in my life.”

[princesssarcastia]

things i’m still thinking about after my second showing of across the spider-verse

Ham and Noir never showed up at headquarters, but they showed up at the end when Gwen and Miles needed them.  I’m actually very curious about that—they both enjoyed working with Miles, Peter B., Gwen, and Peni in the first movie, so they don;t object to working with others on principle.   I wonder if their spidey senses pinged when Miguel or Jess showed up to recruit them, and they said no.  Or: they got all the way to headquarters, caught the vibe, and refused to sign up, not even to see their new friends.  Certainly, Noir is enough like Hobie to see the problematic elements of this place quickly and refuse to take part in it.  And Ham really loves Miles.  If he made it all the way to the part where they explain the anomaly, and how Miguel believes Miles fits in...I think he’d walk out.  My boy Ham would not have stood for that chase bullshit

(Or:  Miguel took one look at Ham and Ham’s world and said “Fuck that, no way.”)

(Or: Peter B. didn’t push for Miguel and Jess to recruit Ham and Noir.  Didn’t push for them to recruit any of the people he grew to love and love working with, during the collider incident, because he knows Miguel, and knows deep down that this environment is toxic, and not at all what he wants for them)

Which brings me to another thing I can’t stop thinking about: how Peter B. definitely knew Miguel before this whole inter-dimensional spider club got started.  They are definitely friends, or they were.  It gives Peter more leeway to fuck around with Miguel, and it gives Miguel more leeway to be an uptight fascist with Peter.

I also think that the reason Peter B. and so many other Spider-People buy into that bullshit narrative about canon events is because they, like so many traumatized people before them, want it all to have meant something.  They want there to be a reason, a divine purpose, a plan, so that their suffering isn’t pointless.  Peter B. has convinced himself that purpose makes the loss hurt less—and it’s not until Miles rightfully calls them all out on it that he starts to realize it actually makes it hurt more.

“All this loss makes us who we are!”  Bullshit, Peter B., you should know better.

We never meet another Miles, not once.  I know some people are speculating that 42!Miles was supposed to get bitten by that spider, but I don’t think that’s true.  

I think the Miles Morales in 1610 is something wholly new in the entire multiverse, and I think that should and does terrify the everloving pants off of everyone involved in the status quo.  In every peter who likes feeling special, who likes being The One And Only Spider-Man, In Every Universe.  In Miguel, who’s clinging desperately to the boxes he’s shoved the universe into so he doesn’t have to try and get better.

And Miles Morales is...oh, he’s mind-blowing.  I can’t stop thinking about the way he! plows! through! an! entire! multi-verse’s! worth! of! spider-people!  All of them!  It’s hard, but he fucking does it and he beats them and he’s RIGHT.   They should fucking crown him king.

Not only that—he beats them at the violence from the moral high ground!  He doesn’t give into despair, doesn’t take the easy route of “I couldn’t stop it, leads to, I shouldn’t stop it.”  He puts the onus on himself to do both.  To save the world and his father.

Miles Morales Is Better Than You

The way that Miles and Gwen seem to have some sort of trans-dimensional spider-sense hookup is so fucking cool.  Gwen stands in his room long enough to spider-sense out through the whole UNIVERSE and tell that he’s. not.  here.  they’re CONNECTED they have a CONNECTION.

Speaking of, Gwen Stacy is trans as fuck.  Claiming her now.

Hobie is a delight.  He sees, I think, what Peter B. sees (and what I think Ham and Noir see) which is that there’s something special about these kids.  (Obviously, that something special is that they’re the main characters.  But for the most part, Miles and Gwen are fighting head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd, and on their way to thinking head and shoulders above the crowd, too)

I wasn’t expecting the movie to focus on Gwen so much, but her story was heart-wrenching.  Her dad, picking her job over his daughter.  Getting a second chance, with some people she clearly desperately wants to be her new family, but that second chance is contingent on her ability to perform for the Mission—and comes at the expense of the only friend she’s made since Peter died.  And then...then she fucks up the mission.  And loses everything.  Big oof.  She gets punched in the face so many times, but every time she gets up angrier than before and starts hitting back.

[dreamcatcheresss]

My interpretation of Buddha’s character in Record of Ragnarok

We don’t know what the real Buddha was like, but we have a certain idea: kind, compassionate, intelligent, generous, resolute, open, endlessly loving and he abandoned hatred, jealousy, lust, pride, greed, violence and ignorance. In my opinion Buddha in Record of Ragnarok isn’t so different from how we imagine the historical Buddha to be. Let me explain, but keep in mind that it’s just my own interpretation of this fictional character.

I want to talk about the most shocking things: hatred against the gods, violence and malicious joy over their suffering.

Does he really hate them and enjoys their suffering like we could understand the meaning of these words he says himself? No! It’s easy to get that idea, when you just look at him without any sense of interpretation. The base for this character is the real Buddha and sure, the creators have made him their own character in a way. But if we look closely, the real Buddha constantly shines through. It’s all about interpretation – really.

It looks like he hates the gods and is happy about their suffering. He says that. Why? Because that’s what they believe in… and what they want to believe in. It’s not his task to change other’s opinion about him. He leaves it all to them. It’s more like he is giving them a lesson without giving a lesson. Your thoughts create your reality – that’s what the real Buddha said. It’s not Buddha’s style to teach someone, who doesn’t want to learn. But this way he can make a statement. Basically he chooses to mirror their behavior to show how pointless it is and he can still be himself doing so.

The gods are basically like humans, but they behave like they are better beings and have the right to be cruel – a typical human behavior. They are too proud to admit their weakness and to learn – also very human. They have the chance to change and be better, but they choose being unhappy and arrogant and harm themselves and others – VERY HUMAN! And still they thing they are better. Of course, you can’t teach them. Buddha knows that. Maybe he can talk like from soul to soul with a human or demigod, but not with the prideful gods. THIS must be very entertaining to him. The great gods are just poor creatures and they don’t want to see it.

The interesting thing is Buddha’s behavior towards them, the way he looks at them, the way he talks to them. He is always calm, confident, peaceful, but also mocking and no one is allowed to push him around. He shows openly his disapproval for their behavior, not for them as beings in the first place. He doesn’t make a difference between creatures AND THIS IS WHAT THE GODS INTERPRET AS DISRESPECT AND HATRED TOWARDS THEM. They feel attacked and hurt in their pride that his former human MADE HIMSELF A GOD, COMES TO HEAVEN LIKE IT’S HIS PLACE AND DOESN’T CARE ABOUT AUTHORITY.

The gods say: “He has to respect for us as higher beings and he teaches humans that they don’t need gods… He hates us so we hate him, too. We’ll humble him!”

Buddha says: “You know what I’m teaching and you choose to interpret it this way. Fine. Your thought will become your reality. You know where you can find me, when you actually want to learn. You have no power over me.”

So the Gods are the ones being humbled. That must hurt.

But look at Buddha! Where is the hatred? It doesn’t come from him. It’s just his disapproval and going a personal and peaceful way in front of triggered creatures. His eyes aren’t burning with hatred and his speech isn’t toxic and hateful. This “malicious joy” over the gods’ suffering isn’t malicious or hateful. It’s more like enjoying the fact that someone is getting a lesson and still doesn’t get it. Like watching a fly hitting the window trying to get out, but the fly is calling itself a god. Of course, the gods want to see the hatred in it, but Buddha’s actions just say: “You still don’t get it.” He’s still calm, understanding, observing and lovingly neutral with a huge dose of mocking and teasing humor (if you get what I mean).

The same with violence – there is no hatred in it. The only point it that you can call it very controversial for someone like Buddha, but all the violence is a reflection of the attacking person. When words don’t work, dodging isn’t enough and he wants to protect himself or others, he must defend himself. That’s what he does. His intention is to make clear that it’s no use to try this on him. Killing is not the intention, but… if there is no other way, he is ready to do it to protect. That’s what we see in his fight. Buddha says that he is ready to kill any god who will get in his way, but it doesn’t mean that he wants to do it when there’s another way. It’s not the result of hatred. It’s the result of a limitless love towards ALL.

Even the awakening hatred or anger in him during the fight isn’t a toxic one. He takes, understands and overcomes it and this makes him even stronger. It becomes a tool. Here is nothing left of hatred after the fight. Maybe it’s not even there anymore during his win.

Our Buddha doesn’t force anyone into his heart, but he also doesn’t close it. He leaves it open to everyone who wants to come in. It doesn’t matter who you are and what you have done. You are just a soul like everyone else in the first place, even as a god or demon – you are welcome to come in. Just look at his body language and listen to him. He isn’t only relaxed, he is OPEN. The gods are not excluded, but they want to be. It’s much easier than overcome pride and prejudge.

Maybe you can interpret it this way, if you have an idea about the real Buddha and his wisdom and lessons. Even though this character is a fictional creation, you can’t deny that the essence of the real Buddha is very visible, if you just look closer. The authors change everything more or less or interpret differently, but they still capture what’s important and special. I don’t think that we should ignore the real Buddha, if we want to understand Buddha in Record of Ragnarok – especially when a character has so much space for interpretation and such a strong, meaningful and beautiful base (the real Buddha). It’s important to see all the little parts separately and also everything as s whole – his words, not mine.

By the way, not only the gods think that Buddha hates them… The same misunderstanding was with Adam. He didn’t fight because he hated the gods. It was out of love for his children, for humanity. Others simply thought it was out of hatred and learned the truth later.

Anyway, it’s very refreshing to see a cheeky and mocking Buddha, who enjoys candy, has a great style, makes fun of the gods and treats everything with humor and love. I’m also sure that it wasn’t needed to trick him into helping humanity. He’d do it himself. Not because he hates the gods, but because he loves all beings and humanity needs protection. A great chance to humble the gods more and more. This is also love. Love isn’t always about being soft and sweet. Sometimes you must be strict and hard.

[onekindredspirit]

Eagles - Revisited

(a train journey across Canada in the months before the pandemic)

For Maria

“I reckon they’re eagles!” That’s Tim. He’s excited. The dining car is full of people and it’s loud. For some reason, if you put a lot of humans into a confined space they will yell at each other. Around our table there’s Tim, he’s a retired London detective, there’s a teacher from Newfoundland, an Australian and me. We’re somewhere in the Rockies of Canada and Tim thinks he sees eagles. Tim also thinks I ‘know things’, so I’m not totally convinced he’s seen eagles.

“Where?” That’s the Australian. Her accent is a brutal drawl, like the sawing of a blunt serrated knife across the back of the hand.

“There! They’re big birds.” He’s pointing, very excited now.

I can’t see anything but I decide I need to contribute something anyway, “But are they real?”

Retired London detectives don’t much care for nonsense.

“Of course they are!” Tim snaps back at me.

Perhaps coming to my defence, the Australian decides to take him down.

“They’re not eagles … I reckon they’re crows.”

Tim’s hurt “They are!” The level of his indignation easily exceeds the pointlessness of the conversation and so the farce begins.

I tune out. A mind is a wonderful place if you can tame it … but good luck with that.

Suddenly I’m brought back – “He ‘knows things’ you know.” Tim’s making a public declaration and all eyes are on me.

“Whadda ya mean?” The Australian is sceptical.

“He ‘knows things’ I tell you!” Tim is my biggest supporter.

“Like what?” The Australian picks up the scent.

Now Tim has to prove I ‘know things’ … I hope it doesn’t go to a Senate Committee.

“Well, he knew how old I was.”

It’s true.  Tim had asked me, “How old do you think I am?”

I didn’t hesitate - “71.” My immediate reply stunned him.

“How did you know that?”

“I just do.”

Magicians don’t show their audience the secrets of their tricks, do they? But okay, in a previous conversation Tim had told me the year he’d joined the ‘force’ and I had then enquired about his age on joining … mathematics is also a wonderful thing.

But the Australian isn’t going to accept this flimsy story as evidence of my “knowing things”. She wants more proof. I expected that. Their entire culture was built on a challenge to authority. So perhaps I do ‘know things’ after all.

“Okay, whadda ‘bout this?” the Australian begins. Now it’s the big test for me. I’m feeling fit, I’ve been in training for months and my fighting weight is perfect.

The Australian continues “We were at a talk last night, in the observation car, about agriculture in Alberta.”

Tim nods “It was good.” I love his optimism.

“You weren’t there were you?” The Australian would have done well during the McCarthy era communist ‘witch hunts’ of the 1950’s.

“No.” I almost laugh. Of course not, I was someplace else on the train, enjoying my somewhat tamed mind.

“Okay then, tell us … how much do you think a combined harvester costs?”

I don’t hesitate “Between $400,000 and $500,000.”

The look of disappointment on the Australian’s face is kind of funny. Tim, on the other hand, is gleeful to be proven right after suffering such a bad loss over the eagles.

“See, I told you!”

The Australian narrows her eyes. She smells a rat. “You were there weren’t you?”

“He wasn’t!” That’s Tim, he’s still my biggest supporter.

“No, I wasn’t there.” I confirm.

“Tell him!” Tim is going in for the kill.

“$450,000 ...” Her voice trails off. The Australian doesn’t like being wrong.

So the wonders appear to continue but there’s no mystery here either. I live in a rural community and I have an inquisitive mind. One day I had asked myself “I wonder what a combined harvester costs?” You’ve probably asked yourself the same question at one time or another.

For the rest of the journey I wear the aura of a man who ‘knows things’. It’s an enigmatic position to take in life. In part, you are ‘messiah’. You walk the corridors of the train surrounded by a spectral glow, robes flowing, your hands outstretched offering benedictions and people whisper “he ‘knows things’ you know.” On the other hand, being ‘messianic’ is a lonely business but I don’t mind, I have my somewhat tamed mind for company.

Of course I made the ‘messiah’ bit up. I have a wish that life could be just a little more absurd than it already is. In truth, only Tim thinks I know things. The Australian thinks she’s been tricked and everyone else on the train couldn’t care less, which is how I like it.

Later … days later our train pulls into Toronto. My hotel is only 100 metres from the station so I linger in the compartment, packing, dreaming.

When I finally get to the baggage carousel I’m surprised to see Tim. He has his back to me. There is a younger man with him and they have the body language of two people who know each other well. Both are English and it’s obvious the younger guy was also on the train, judging by the baggage labels on his luggage. But this is the first time I’ve seen them together, which I find strange.

Then Tim reacts. I presume the hairs on the back of his neck have suddenly stood on end because he turns. Maybe that’s how he became a detective in the first place – he has good instincts.

Tim recognizes me and completely fails to disguise the look of alarm in his eyes.

There’s something about the younger man … and then comes that feeling, like the fitting of the final piece in a jigsaw, and I understand.

We all have things we feel we need to hide. Mostly the world isn’t looking but if you happen to end up on a train with someone who ‘knows things’, it’s very hard to escape the truth … some people just ‘know things’.

Tim hurriedly looks away.

I’m sorry to have unsettled him and all I really want to say now is “Tim, eagles are real”.

- One Kindred Spirit