#i'm gonna tag it here so it's all in one place

[shinra-makonoid]

This is the most hilarious post I've read on this trash so I'm sharing with my followers. I'll explain to you, kindly, why this is most probably not the case:

I'm currently studying to become a doctor. Not really a "home breaker" lifestyle. I'm lucky to have the skills, the opportunity and the support to be able to do something that isn't crime. Most people in my place would not commit such crimes (because crimes happen due to circumstances and not because of people being evil, 101 sociology). Not saying it is completely impossible, but I'd say it significantly lowers the chances.

I'm lucky to be in a country where the large majority of people don't have guns. So even if I wanted to be a professional home breaker I wouldn't be afraid of being shot because that's not a thing here, especially in cities.

That may surprise you based on your imagined view of me, but I... Don't like when people get hurt or get killed. Being robbed or having someone getting into your home, threatening you etc is very traumatic. Violating someone's space causes a lot of damages. I don't support that for anyone, no matter their backgrounds, their past, or their beliefs. If souls existed and that people had evil souls, I'd still think they don't deserve being harmed. That's a fundamental core choice I made in my life, and that's even the reason I made this post to begin with.

So no... I can assure you, this isn't why I'm arguing this. I'm being honest when I say this is barbaric and isn't gonna fix the issue, because I have the knowledge and studies supporting that view point. If you argue it's morally ok to kill people because they hurt you, you have fascist ideas. That's just how it is. Doesn't make you a bad person, it's just not something I support and I will call it out, it's my right on a public website.

Now I'll ask you, kindly again, to not tag me on that post. I had it muted, everyone can have their fun time imagining why I'm arguing what I'm arguing, how evil I am etc etc. You're free to talk about me in your circles and on that post. It's all ok I don't mind. I know who I am, what I support, I explained it. If you can't read, it's your issue and it doesn't concern me.

Just don't tag me, please. That's just a simple basic boundary. And it's very difficult for a lot of you to accept it. You should think about that, instead of focusing on me, in my humble opinion. Maybe you didn't see it on my other posts following that one tho, but I've asked repeatedly to not be tagged.

Thanks for the good laugh tho.

Just read someone claiming that being ok with killing someone breaking into your house is a "facist usamerican opinion".

As a victim of a home break in, where I got beaten up for the sin of dropping a plastic bag holding snacks I had just bought, where I then had to witness an aunt and her daughter crying their eyes out tied to a bed, fearing they would get raped, myself fearing the same for them after I too was tied and gagged next to them.

And also as the son of another victim of a break in, who got stabbed in the gut and almost died of blood loss half naked right in front of his infant daughter.

I have to say

Kill all home intruders, if they have committed the sin of breaking into the place most safe for you and your family, with the intention of taking everything you worked so hard to get, not to mention the lives of you and your family, you have all the right in the world to respond with deadly force, no questions asked.

[blank-slate-jay]

Be My Guest

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore x Male!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: The opening of the Junk Joint a week prior, while being the talk of the town, has you invested in finally attending. The big question was where Stack wanted to take the night with you as a guest.

Tags: Black!Reader, SMUT (18+), Oral (reader receiving) Riding (reader receiving), Kissing, Praising, Teasing, Drinking/Alcohol, Established Relationship(s), Subtle Flirting, Hints at Interalized Homophobia, reader is 20+, n word used

A/N: Was not expecting the other one to well, thank you’ll for the support. Here’s another one that’s a bit more lengthy and has smut, with a narrative. This was supposed to be short, but hey, here’s a long one for ya’ll. Can be read as a follow-up to my last fic or as one shot! Enjoy!

Dusk falls, and the sun had nearly dipped below the horizon moments before your arrival. 

A group of co-workers, a few acquaintances, were generous enough to provide a ride, perhaps equally as interested to see the whole Juke Joint excitement was all about. You knew where you were, you’d be holding out hope you’d get an opportunity to visit after work. However, you were either exhausted or had other important matters relating to family or future plans. 

You felt awful not being there, especially since the twins paid your boss a visit a week back, talking about renovations. The twins directly informed you that you were more than welcome to come; moreso insisting. Smoke had come by to grab additional materials two days prior; you of course aiding him in filling up his vehicle. He didn’t say it then, or even hint at it, but you felt his questions regarding your absence during opening night were more than likely on Stack’s accord over himself. 

It wasn’t that you and Stack were on bad terms, but your relationship was definitely up in the air. You felt that they believed you were mad at them, Stack specifically. If Smoke was asking, then you wondered how much intel the older twin had in your relationship. It’d be impossible to decipher but you gave him the same answer, ‘I’ll be there, when I’m free.’ 

Well, better late than ever.

Upon arrival, you fix up your shirt as you exit the ford, tucking them into your jeans neatly. The perimeter was littered with parked vehicles, more than you were expecting at the hour. 

An acquaintance of yours patted your back, making his way to the entrance much like your whole crew of co-workers. You follow after a moment to ponder the exterior; a warehouse. It was quite a building to host a special place, but you weren’t complaining. Upon the doorframe, you greet a tall man who happily welcomed you joyfully. 

Entering, the music from outside became clear, the bright lights from red to yellow, and the number of guests caught you quite off guard. You might’ve even considered yourself in awe by how thoughtfully well put together everything was, even with so many people dancing and maneuvering about along the walls, in rooms, some thought was put into the layout. 

Your critical brain stirs coming to a halt when you notice a second to late the tap on your shoulder; Sammie. 

“You made it,”

“Sam”, you embrace him in a quick hug. “Damn I was not expecting ya here. Over church?”

He huffs, “Yeah, not supposed to but…the people here love me. So..” 

You hum, looking to his guitar’s headstock by his shoulder, comfortably strapped to his back, “Is it because you play now?”. He nods with a sheepish grin. “Look at ya! I’m tellin’ ya that talent will take you places.” 

“Tryin’, you know.” 

You nod, eyes drawn to the crowd. It was quite busy, overwhelmingly so, which you should’ve expected by the cars, very capable of carrying more than two people. “I'm gonna grab a drink, eh, where’s the…?”

“Counter’s this way, come” he informs you, leading the way. 

You follow him, subconsciously looking out for a red hat, “You know where the twins are?”

“No, but Smoke’s usually up there,” he points up, and your eyes trace to the short upper floor above. “As for Stack, I ain’ sure. Saw them both earlier.” 

You follow, still looking out for either one of them as you scoot by an occupied poker room, and dining space. Sammie leads you to a fairly large counter, he places down two dimes, “Mrs. Chow, one please for my hard-working brother.”

She nods, getting to work on her mixing. You scuff, sliding into a stool, watching her effortlessly prepare your drink in under ten seconds. “Thank you.” You take a sip, muffling to yourself. “You want a drink?”

“No. Gotta keep myself sober.”

“Ah, don’ wanna lose that spark, I get you” you tease, taking a long sip. “I’ll be sure to owe you, Sam. Keep me to it.” 

He shook his head, snickering, “Just don’t get fried, could get you thrown out.” 

You nod, partially taking in his consideration. He brings up, how he’s been thinking about traveling, which piques your interest. The conversation was quite engaging, Sam’s passion clearly yearning to break from the constraints of his father’s church. Soon you both were interrupted, an arm slinging over your shoulder; similarly for Sammie. 

The man, Slack, leans in between the two of you, “How are we doing today? Sam?” 

“Well enough,” the boy replied. Stack tilts to you, “And you?”

“Doin’ much better.”

“Stack, them boys back there are causing trouble earlier”, Mrs.Chow points across the open hall.

“Don’t you worry Mrs. Chow,” Stack whistles toward his brother, where you finally see Smoke just across the room, “We’ll keep the peace, no ruckus goes unheard.” He circles you, leaning against the counter and inquiring for a drink of his own. Stack states your last name, “So decided to show up, no excuse this time?”

“Yeah. I actually have time.”

“So you ain’ got other plans?”

“Nope. Not today, Stack.”

The twin takes a quick spit, looking at Sammie who was glancing between the two of you as if he’s intruding. Sammie stands, “Remember”, he reinforces to you, heading off elsewhere. Right, don't get too drunk. If you’d take that to heart, it’d be a smart move to follow Sammie; far away from Stack. You couldn’t, Stack was staring at you, expecting something more than a short response.

“You know, Stack, if I'd make you feel better, I plan to stay as long as I’m allowed.” Slack nods, “Or until one of my co-workers is ready to leave, they drop me here.”

“Nah, I got you on that,” your eyebrows raise by a slim, “Of course if you’re stayin’, I could drive you back. Free of charge.”

Your lips parted, “Free, I’m honored.”

“So what’ll be? Three hours and I’ll take you back.”

Oh boy, here comes the talking business. It always slithers its way into conversations, somehow. That fact that he was using it against you of all people was comical, you play along. “Two hours and thirty minutes”

“Two hours and fifty.”

“Drop it to forty.”

Stack bites his lip, “Two hours and forty five. Strike a deal now you get yourself a free drink.”

You take a last sip of your drink, looking about momentarily, shaking your head. He’s good at that.

His smirk grew, “Deal?”

You stare into his eyes, seeing if he’d give you some leeway. Who were you kidding, you were playing within his ballpark, his speciality; there was no winning or upholding Sammie’s remark. You turn, placing the glass down, “Deal.”

Stack queues Mrs.Chow for your second glass. You take it with exaggerated eagerness. He sips his glass as you do, sealing your agreement. Staring back at him you wonder how on earth someone like himself could even manage to retain the glint in his eyes after spending time in the army. He was likely good at hiding it under his formal attire and talkative persona. You couldn’t believe he of all people would have you in a fix. 

—

The two of you spent the night fairly close, as close as what gave no clear hints, dancing fairly close but nothing beyond what close friends would do; some occasional hand grabs came that you wished lasted longer. You just really didn’t want trouble, nor hard stares, just a calm night is all you could ask for. With any commotion, you were sure it would result in Smoke, Stack, or the big guy by the entry chucking them out. But you didn’t want to be the one responsible for stirring up the night. This notion became difficult with every performance, the singers bringing out the energy you needed to last the night.

You and the crowd give a huge ‘whoraw’ as another song comes to a conclusion, raising your third glass head high. By that point, you were through with drinking. With one hand on Stack’s back, you release, whereas his arms over your shoulder stay put. “Phew, I’m done. No more for me. I don’ wanna lose myself.”

Stack chuckles, “Good,” he takes the cup from your hand finishing it for you. “I most certainly don’ want to see you any other way. So many fine folk in here, but you-?”

You felt your cheeks get warm at the implication. You playfully push him off, flattered and a tad bit embarrassed. He follows you where you lean up against a pole, hands in your pockets. “You're talkin' drunk”.

“Now, that very well may be, but I assure you, it ain' a lie”.

"Speak for yourself." you whisper, drawn back to the stage, people cheering as the performance, two ladies, took everyone's attention. You weren't familiar with the song, but the startup had a low rhythm, perfect for dancing in groove with someone.

Watching pairs get together, swarming in front of the stage as the singers began, "Come on folks, get on in, don' be a stinker!" Her long dragged out hum was definitely the beginning to a groovy song that someone who wasn't into dancing could get involved.

Your eyes draw to Stack, who was glancing over at his brother, seemingly urging him and his significant other, who you believed was Annie, to jump in. Smoke almost looked as if he was about to do the same thing, but Annie was already dragging the cigar out his mouth and the two were off to join the main crowd.

Stack and you dancing, in a pair, you were sure that wasn't gonna happen. Noted was his silence as well, both sharing a mutual understanding of your relationship. Even then, he slowly tilts toward you. 

With your lips pursed to the side, you change your attitude, keeping your tone upbeat, "I'mma go wash up." Stack nods, watching you walk off.

You spent a little too much time in the restroom, cleansing your fingers. Some part of you certainly wanted a break from the noise, as well as the unfortunate circumstances.

It wouldn’t be long, five minutes, a guest comes knocking as expected. You dry up and come out rather quickly, to appease him.

Returning to where Stack was stationed, surprisingly he was missing. You look around, shifting through the crowd coming up short. By surprise, a hand, Stack's hand grips your shoulders, leading you forward.

You curse, which gets a snarky laugh out of him. "Tried to scare me?"

His grin grew, pushing you ahead, "Come on, now. Takin’ your sweet time in there, we’re gonna miss it." Miss it? You let him lead you with no further inquiry about the Joint, stopping at a door, he checks to make sure no one's inside before nudging you to step in first. 

You do so, entering the room filled with nothing but a few crates, bags, and cabinets. A click has you turning to face the most devious shit eating grin you've seen out of him before. 

Almost immediately he’s pulling you into him. One hand intertwined with yours, the other slipping behind your pits. Not once did your brows return to level. 

“Stack. What are you doing?” 

He doesn’t reply, he just casually sways in sync with the music, muffled but still very much audible. You huff, his quietness unusual. You sync up with his slow movement, keeping your gaze between his eyes and his shirt’s collar. 

Although he wasn’t speaking, his eyes were doing all the talking. For once, you could say a silent moment with Stack no less, was very much appreciated, just getting to share a moment as one freely in peace. You wish you could’ve gotten more moments like it, but his endeavors in Chicago and you being you, prevented any quality time. 

“You like slow music, or do you like some groove,” he jokes, shaking his hips. 

“Either or. Whichever one gets you doin’ what that old man was doin’.”, you mention. 

Stack brows rose, “You talkin’ bout that old crook? He’s been flauntin’ about like that ever since the Grand Opening.”

You bite your tongue, “He was havin’ fun.”

“You sure he was? Cause I thought a nigga was about to run our joint dry.”

You snort, leaning into him, “He wasn’t that bad.”

“I can assure you. That you haven’ seen the worst of him.”

You peel back, chuckling with him for a moment. Your eyes fell to Stack’s curved lips. Of course, he tries playing you up, voice lowering, “It’s quiet in here”.

You acknowledge that fact, a sign to let yourself lose, pulling him into your lips. You both spent the first couple of kisses, hovering inches from each other's lips, as if some force was stopping you both. It wasn't until Stack pulls you in further and kept the gap between the two of you closed. 

Tingles shoot up your back as you lean back ever so slightly; only giving Stack a chase to keep you from pulling far from him. You didn't think you've kissed anyone is good as Stack, pinpointing how or why seemed fairly intuitive, his more sensual pecks were far beyond any of the other men who were practically trying to ravage your face. With him, it felt he had planned each kiss that was now moving up the side of your face.

Stack weight, had the you backing into a wall. Trapped and pinned, your neediness took over, lips going for his neck. Stack's head shooting back, "God yes," he growls, his fingers slipping in his collar to loosen it. His weight didn't let up, his hands stuck against the wall on either side of you. "Right there," he hums, "Yeah, baby...keep going."

You feel yourself getting flushed, licking the same spot, followed up by groans that made it harder to keep your groin from feeling any less tighter. Your fingers slither down his back, scraping the vest's fabric, pulling his pelvis against yours; getting a groan out of you as well.

Stack’s hips grind, your face buried deep in his neck, his scent palpable; familiar. The distant music, muffled, ends with cheers from beyond the walls, bringing your senses back.

It was a mistake, with Stack tilting your head up, and going right for your throat; your Adam’s apple stinging. A yelp escaped you, too loud for comfort, you grip his wrist tightly, attempting to calm yourself. “Damn…”, Stack’s soft bites were asphyxiating; both in a good and bad way.

The walls were thick, enough, and the music was loud along with the people. But no-one would hear, right?

“What do you want, handsome,” he asked with a low hum that tickles your skin.

“I want…?”, you huff, a stronger bite tainting you. “I want ya to get in me.”

“You clean?” You nod, with a dubious smile, “Attaboy,” his accent ran sharp, “Oh, I knew you had it in you.”

Stack backs up, undoing his red vest, looking over you yet again as you unveil your flannel. Your black tank stayed on, but your jeans and underwear were pushed aside. He loses his tie, his undergarments thrown off, as he sits atop of a sturdy crate.

You were hard, but his was ready for you. He motions for you, and shifts it around. You happily oblige. One knee on the wooden floor, you knelt down enough for you to take in the tip. He seems to like that, how you swirl around his tip. His hand flew to your head, gently pushing it down.

Up and down, rinse and repeat. You bob your head constantly, taking in his shaky breaths as queues to either speed up or slow down. He tasted just so natural.

“More spit baby,” he says stroking your cheek. You apply a good string or two, spreading it from his tip to his balls. You weren’t even going to question if he could fit into you, all that mattered was ensuring it’d be easy. Stack knew what he was doing, allegedly, no, he likely does know. All the sweet talking he does, you were certain he’s fucked around more than enough.

He tilts your head up, wiping up any remnants of saliva from the corner of your lips. His pupils pull you in, more than his strong hands, until you're hovering over his lap; standing with your legs on either side of his thighs.

"'m goin' slow..." you pant.

Stack licks his lips, straightens his shaft, "As slow as you need."

Huffing, you line up on him, and ease your way down, using one hand gripped tight to his shoulder. You curse to yourself for finding it difficult to get past his tip. It wasn't long before you felt more of him go into you, a quick exhale coming through your pursed lips. Shocked, you couldn't help a, "Wow..." leaving your mouth.

Stack was snickering and humming simultaneously, "A little more," he urges, his hands helping your hips settle all the way into his lap.

You let out a heavy breath, eyes closed tightly, feeling all of Stack inside of you was way more overwhelming then you initially thought, definitely not the ecstasy you believed would occur. A very different sensation, no doubt, something you focus on a little too intently. The nibble on your chin has you locking gazes with Stack, his crimson amber was unbelievably something you could stare out for awhile, with his current starry eye expression; you'd like to extend it long term.

To stay put, wasn't optional, you move in an irregular rhythm. You lift yourself up and down, at a rate you'd compare to a slug, but it was comfortable. You weren't sure if you were doing it right, and Slack picks up on this quickly offering comfort by wrapping his arms around you.

"Slow n steady", he repeats mockingly, his hips rocking up.

You shake, "Fuckin' hell." Another thrust up, and you groan. "Shit-!"

A shift of the door came, sadly that didn't stop the moan from slipping through you. Quickly he leans up, keeping your lips locked with his. He didn't let go, his teeth keeping you from escaping. His thrusting didn't let up either. You thought Stack would come to a halt, however he didn't seem to care, his gitty breath told you more than enough.

"Shh. A little louder they might hear us."

"Hope not," you grunt, taking into account the music that you unknowingly filtered out. Taking up the challenge, the silence from the door helps in feeling secure enough to pick up your pace ever so slowly, You bit back the need to howl from your discomfort.

Stack enjoyed the additional pressure by his shaft, his teeth sinking deeper into your bottom lip. "I've been wantin' you like this for a while," he thrust up into you. "You know something about them pants? You look way too fine in those pants," he says gripping your ass.

You go faster.

"Was so close to just-" he smacks you, "But I held back."

“Elias-.” Then, spontaneously, you don't know what hit you. A flash, or surge of sorts causing your legs to give out. The spasm from your knees followed by you finishing all over the both of you, was completely unexpected.

Stack whistles, peeking down at the continuous mess staining his shirt.

“Was not expectin’ that,” you infer.

“No harm done. Now-.”, he continues fucking you, which now more than ever, felt overstimulating, your stomach bubbling with all too many tingles. You honestly questioned whether you were more drunk than you initially thought since, no orgasm has ever been as good as that.

Moreover, Stack’s tip was hitting you just right that the blues outside might have to be the second best thing to exist.

His grunts grew stiff until his voice hitches. He too blew his load, only noticing such when his pace slowed down; completely stopping. Both of you sat silently for a moment, heavy breathes filling the subtle change of the room's tempo. The hum of music was therapeutic, relaxing, just as much as Stack's fingers drawing circles on your back. 

Neither of you said anything for a bit. Simply, you both just enjoy another moment of peace. 

After gaining some of your strength, you pull Stack from your neck, his gaze visibly daze-like.

“You alright,” you inquire, as if Stack couldn’t handle you.

He hums in acknowledgement. “You’re good,” he pulls out and the two of you breathe heavily. "Would you look at that?"

You chuckle, "Get dressed, people are gonna get suspicious."

"Suspicious? It'll be just business to them. Remember, you needed a ride is all," he emphasizes.

You mouth, 'god' to yourself, dressing up in a timely manner as did he. Luckily for either of you, all the evidence could be concealed, Stack most notably, but he had his vest to cover the mess you made on his pink shirt.

After he straightens his tie up, you take a sec to ensure your garb wasn't disheveled. Stack was fairly well put back, nothing anyone could infer, no dripping shaft nor the his cum still inside of you. It was no bother. Treading to the door, he stops you from reaching for the handle.

"Hold up-". His closeness has you wondering if he might've wanted seconds already, his softer gaze said otherwise. “You are gonna come around often, yeah?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Yes? Don’t live no further from town.”

He hums, pulling out a toothpick to jam in between his teeth, “I know you're busy, and my brother and I are…gettin’ things settled here again but-,” he pauses shortly. “I do wanna see you, even though you know I ain’ been around. But, I don’ want any of that shit in between us. Not Chicago, not no money-.”

“Stack. It’s fine,” you swallow. “All of whatever you two got into, it’s over I presume? So then let’s just do it right this time," you finish caressing his vest. You snatch his toothpick from his mouth to lighten the mood.

His typical glance resurfaces, and before he could start charming you, you unlock the door  and casually push him out; following suit back out into the party. Whether it was shown or not, your affection for him had remained unshaken that not even 7 years could dampen the two of you.

[minnielvrr]

Skz AU: Captured—1.1

Lee: Hyunjin, Chan Ler: Han, Minho Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: Okay so the warning below is more for part 2 of this chapter but I'm gonna leave it here just in case😅 this is still kinda intense

*this is going to be really rough i'm ngl, bordering on tickle torture so anyone who isn't comfy with that is advised to scroll*

Tags: @itzsana-kiddingmenow, @lajanaa, @bbybumblelee, @hearted-anon, @lunalattae,

@jungwon-is-the-one, @reginald-stay09, @dusk-mp3, @lezleeferguson-120, @sophi-tickl-blog

“Feels like we haven’t all been in the same place in ages. Remember when missions were simple? Just us against the world?” Hyunjin sighed softly, stretching his arms above his head as he followed behind Chan.

“Simple, huh?” Chan glanced back with a playful smirk. “You mean when you’d rush in without a plan, and Lix and I had to clean up the mess?”

Hyunjin let out a laugh, elbowing the older in the side. “Yah, you reminisce about those times the most!” He retorted, then grew quiet. “At least we were together back then. Now it’s like we’re scattered all the time. Even Felix—he’s been a ghost lately.”

Chan leaned against a nearby tree, sharp eyes scanning the surrounding foliage. His voice was softer, almost wistful. “He’s busy, Jinnie. You know how he is—always stepping in where he’s needed most.”

“Yeah, I know…” Hyunjin sighed, kicking little pebbles into the underbrush as if venting his frustration on them. “It’s just weird, that’s all. I miss my angel.”

A thought popped into his mind—another face, another name—but Hyunjin shoved it down as quickly as it came up.

Some people leave your life for good, despite how much you need them, regardless of how much you begged them to stay, he thought bitterly, shaking his head to clear it.

This wasn’t the time to wallow. They had to stay alert.

Chan smiled faintly, his tone warming as he spoke. “That’s our Felix. Ever on his feet. They find out he could speak multiple languages, and now he’s getting whisked away all over the base. It’s like he barely has time for us anymore.”

Hyunjin nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he pictured Felix buzzing around HQ, multitasking with an effortless charm. “You’re right. Lixie always comes through. I just… I miss him, you know? His little jokes, his laugh…”

“Me too,” Chan agreed with a chuckle. “But next time we see him, let’s demand some make-up brownies. You know he won’t say no to that!”

That earned a genuine, giddy grin from Hyunjin. “Make-up brownies? You’re a genius, hyung. He’ll fold in a second.”

The memory of Felix’s signature brownies warmed him, even as the forest around them grew colder and darker.

The place was eerily quiet. The crunch of leaves underfoot was the only sound as they continued their patrol. It was as if the trees themselves were holding their breath in anticipation for something.

Hyunjin trailed a few steps behind Chan, eyes scanning for any movement, something about the silence set his nerves on edge.

“Hyung, do you feel that?” he asked, his voice hushed but tense.

Chan stopped, his brow furrowing. “Yeah,” he murmured, just as a faint rustle came from the shadows. The two whirled around towards the sound, blood rushing in their ears.

Before either could react, strong hands grabbed them in a tight headlock and the world blurred around them. “Fuck! Hyung—ow!”

There was a sharp sting in Hyunjin’s neck had a woozy feeling taking over his every sense. The last thing he heard was Chan’s panicked shout and the murmur of a voice he hadn’t heard in years. Then a heavy darkness.

“Okay that was the last of it. Jisung-ah, are you done yet?” Minho’s voice echoed in the dark room as he stood back and admired his handiwork. “Hmm, yeah! This ought to be enough.”

The two victims’ wrists and ankles had been bound to chairs as soon as they were brought in. Their muscles were stiff and sore and a splitting headache from the drugs had the duo whimpering in pain as they regained consciousness.

Hyunjin woke up first, eyes fluttering open to fall on Han, dumping a heavy box on a table nearby with a resounding boom.

He groaned in pain. The loud noise seemed to stab at his ears. Han whipped around at the sound, an unnervingly elated expression on his face.

"Oh! Finally awake princess? Thought you'd sleep forever." His condescending voice had Hyunjin's blood boiling.

"Jisung, you asshole." His voice dropped with venom and barely contained hatred.

Han grinned at him, "Are you sure you want to talk to me that way? You do realize the position you're in, don't you?" Hyunjin glared but kept quiet.

A voice sounded just then, making them both jump. "Who are you? Where are we?"

"Channie hyung..."

"You're Chris, aren't you? I've heard a lot about you from Lix.”

Chan’s struggling body went very still. “Lix……How do you know Felix? You motherfucker, if you’ve done ANYTHING to harm him, I swear on—”

The chair rattled violently as Chan struggled to lunge at their captor, a vein popping out on his forehead in anger. If looks could kill, Han would be six feet under right now.

But the man just laughed nonchalantly, as of Chan was a toddler throwing a fit. “Ooh, how scary~” He mocked in a high pitched voice, bursting into laughter soon after.

“Didn't you know? Lixie's one of us. We sent him over to your side as a spy.” Han goaded, pausing dramatically to let the weight of his words really sink in.

A maniacal smile appearing on his face when Chan blanched and Hyunjin’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his bangs. “What?!” They chorused in shock.

“How naive, did Lix really trick you all that easily?” Han was prattling on, seeming elated that he had caught the duo by surprise. “Wow, I can’t believe how gullible you’ve become Jinnie! The Hyunjin I knew would NEVE—”

“What do you want?” Chan’s quiet voice cut through the taunting, giving the younger pause. Han observed him for a moment before he replied.

“Give us the location of the other three. What were their names again? Cha…Changbin! Ji—Jung? Oh! Jeongin and… Seungmin, right? Tell me where they are and you can be free!”

It was a blatant lie; he had just found Hyunjin again after an eternity apart and he wasn’t about to let him go so easily. But that was a tiny little detail they wouldn’t have to worry about…for now at least.

“What Felix couldn’t find that for you?” Hyunjin spat out, his handsome face contorted in disgust.

It hurt to think about Felix’s betrayal but Hyunjin knew there was more to it. There had to be.

There’s no way the other had betrayed them just like that. It didn’t make any sense.

Hyunjin resisted the urge to beg or even ask Han why he was doing this. He didn’t want to give the other the satisfaction of seeing him be desperate and scared.

"Do your worst, you asshole. I won't give you anything."

"Should I hurt him instead, Jinnie? Would you give me what I want then? Or do you not care about your hyung at all?" Hearing that nickname fall from Jisung’s lips sent a pang through Hyunjin’s chest.

He hated the way it had morphed from the familiar love to a deep-seated hatred. But when the words finally sunk in, Hyunjin froze; wide, scared eyes turning to look at Chan.

"You wouldn't." He sounded winded, even to himself. "Care to test that out?" Han’s voice was suddenly deeper, more authoritative. It wasn’t an empty threat.

Hyunjin struggled against the ropes, his shoulders screaming in pain from the unnatural position he was in. His arms were wrenched behind the chair, rough ropes biting into his skin as they secured him to metal hooks at the back.

They had to escape this hell hole. Han was insane, willing to hurt anyone to get his way. Or so it seemed to Hyunjin.

Han’s collection of blood-chilling torture tools lined the walls, each one meticulously placed, whispering a silent promise of unimaginable pain.

The room was a graveyard of twisted steel and splattered blood. And the reality of their situation finally seemed to set in.

Hyunjin gulped as discreetly as possible, fear clawing at his throat. He tried to hide it, but Han noticed. Of course, he did. Han stalked over, leaning in uncomfortably close.

With a single finger under his chin, he tilted Hyunjin head up to look up at him. "Are you scared Jinnie? Don't worry, darling, I won't hurt you too much. But I can’t promise to not break you if you don’t comply."

The second time was the charm. Jinnie. It fueled a roaring fire within him. He despised the easy way it rolled off Han’s tongue, and his fury boiled over.

"Don't you dare say that name. You lost the right to call me that that the moment you betrayed us." Hyunjin gritted out, eyes blazing.

Han just shrugged, as if he didn't care. He probably didn't, that damned traitor. It left a bitter taste in Hyunjin’s mouth.

With a cold chuckle, he whispered, "You’ll never be anything more than a lapdog, Han. A pathetic little pawn doing someone else’s dirty work.” Han’s left eye twitched, then.

Han growled, frustration bubbling up as his gloved hand snapped to Hyunjin’s throat. The rough texture of the rubber pressed into Hyunjin’s sensitive skin.

But instead of choking, he squeaked, cringing away, his face flushing red, yet Han held firm.

"Hmm?" Han let out a quizzical sound, gripping Hyunjin's chin and forcibly tilting his face to the sides, examining his neck.

Perhaps he was injured? In that case, Han could use that to his advantage to get the information he needed.

On the other side of the room, however, Chan muffled a giggle at the situation, everything being too funny for him to hold back.

They would both be so screwed if Han realized what was going on. But something about the situation told Chan that Han wasn't planning to hurt them.

It was just a hunch but he felt quite sure of it, despite knowing close to nothing about the younger. Hyunjin stayed still as a mouse, sweat beading his forehead as he tried to stay quiet, every muscle tensed in a futile resistance.

Suddenly Han's hands slipped down his neck to where his shoulders met his ribs, brushing his gloved fingers curiously over the area. Hyunjin jolted, barely managing to rein in the shudder and whimper that threatened to escape. He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking his lips in.

He understood how dire this situation was. He knew Han would do whatever it took to get what he wanted to.

He was infamous for his ruthless nature and odd interrogation tactics. The trait having caused quite a few disputes in the time he worked with Hyunjin’s team.

Unfortunately for the older, he had never thought to ask Han what exactly he did.

"Oh?" The smirk that adorned Han's face had even Chan, seated all the way on the opposite side of the room shivering. Hyunjin was not going to survive. It was over for them.

Cautiously, Han dragged the tips of his gloved fingers over the exposed skin of Hyunjin's armpits. "Mhmhm!" Hyunjin protested, lips pressed together desperately. He had to endure this, he had to, he had to!

His skin tight attire might’ve been invincible in battle, but under Han’s wiggling fingers, they only served to amplify the effect.

Hyunjin tried to curl in on himself but was quickly reminded of his current position. He was helpless.

There was nothing he could possibly do to even mute those torturous sensations spreading all over his skin.

Han, on the other hand, seemed to relish every moment, his mind racing as he realized the control he now had over Hyunjin.

“So, are you still not going to spill their location?”

“Fuck off Han. You’re a fucking traitor and now you pull this stunt and actually expect me to snitch?”

“I was hoping you’d say that. You see, Jinnie, I have this special way to get my captives to talk. You’re gonna be the first one too! Don’t you feel honored?”

Han had never failed to make his victims talk. And he knew Hyunjin, they'd been friends before they were enemies and no one knew Hyunjin better than him. That, unfortunately, included all his weaknesses.

“You look just as sensitive as you were back then, maybe even more so now.” Han observed, sounding as though he were in a trance.

“Are you still ticklish everywhere, Jinnie, or has that changed?” He sounded excited, like a child getting a present they’d wanted.

“Isn't that such an easy thing to exploit? ” Han brought his clawed hands closer and closer to Hyunjin's belly, watching in fascination at how the ferret trembled in his containment, sucking his stomach in as much as he could to stall.

But his demise was inevitable. Hyunjin lurched forward when the younger's fingers made contact, flinching with a shriek. This really was the one thing he couldn't stand.

No one had ever prepared him for such a scenario and poor Hyunjin was stumped for an appropriate reaction.

Would laughing mean that he'd already lost? How long was Han going to torture him this way? What would happen to them after this?

Hyunjin shook his head frantically, trying to kick out but his legs didn’t even budge in their restraints.

No no no no NO!

This couldn’t be happening right now. It was much too ridiculous. What kind of interrogation involved tickling of all things?!

Hyunjin blushed, feeling extremely flustered under the stares of the 3 men.

“W-what? N-no of course not you idiot!” He snapped quickly, clenching his fists as if it could slow his racing heart. He knew from Han’s sadistic smirk that the ruse was up.

“NO! Stay awahay!” He yelped when Han approached him, picking something up from a table as he sauntered over.

He hadn’t expected it to tickle as much as it did, and by the looks of it, neither had Jisung.

A delighted look bloomed on his face, eyes keenly drinking in Hyunjin’s every reaction as he dug his gloved fingers further into his victim’s ribs.

The door opened then and another man walked in. His impassive face seemed to be sculptured by Michelangelo himself. The very picture of beauty. Han smiled sweetly at Minho, earning a smirk in return.

“Hyung check this out! Guess our usual tactic would do perfectly for our cute little victims. Hyunjin looked frantically from Han to Minho, he did not like where this conversation was heading.

And with that Han leaned forward and dug his hands into Hyunjin’s sides. The poor man tried holding back, sucking in a sharp breath and biting his lip.

As if that would help. Han was determined and in seconds, he had broken down Hyunjin’s resolve, leaving him squirming and giggling uncontrollably.

“Fahahahack stohohohop ihihit youhu ahasshohole!!” Hyunjin squealed, a frantic high pitched noise, trying but failing once more to lurch away from the unbearable sensations.

He looked cute like this, thought Han, writhing helplessly under the lightest touch.

It was humiliating, the way Hyunjin couldn’t hold back his sounds and that only seemed to make the younger that much happier.

Minho stood in the corner, his watchful gazed locked onto Chan. A few things were immediately clear to the observant kitten: firstly, if Chan's reaction was anything to go by, he seems insanely sensitive.

And secondly that Chan's ears were growing red just by seeing Hyunjin get wrecked, his front teeth biting into his lower lip until it was glowing painfully.

So, with an amused hum, he left the older be. Maybe allowing him to get a glimpse of what would soon happen to him would make him spill faster?

Minho’s cat like eyes flickered over to his new toy. Chan’s breath hitched when they made eye contact, making Minho’s lips coil up in a smirk.

“Hmm what should I do with you? Your partner seems to be very ticklish. What about you?” Chan hadn’t ever felt more put on the spot than in that moment.

He gazed fearfully up at Minho’s calculating stare and easy smile. He looked like he was already enjoying this little mind game. “Answer me, Chris. Or do I have to make you?”

A chill ran down Chan’s back when he felt Minho’s stare on him. His head snapped up to look at the silent man approaching him and Chan felt pinned under the steely look that was trained on him.

“Th-that won’t work. I’m not ticklish at all! NO—you-you’re just wasting your time please!”

The older’s frantic blabbering only sealed his fate. Minho’s brows quirked up, an amused smile making its way onto his face as he kneeled in front of Chan.

“Don’t you worry! I have plenty of time to spare Channie~” Minho’s velvety tone had Chan’s heart racing anxiously.

He was so screwed.

[rad3oachwastes]

AU info below the read more !!! Cause it's a little bit.

OK so! I finally made the first little intro to my AU I've had... plotting. I don't wanna get into all of the details right now, because I have plans to post more, but here's just a history on it.

So, first off - this is, quite simply, just me getting INSANE brain worms where I just really wanted my faves to interact soooo hence the Sunstorm and Bumblebee cross. These two page-things take place after the war has ended, and the Autobots have won. Though, small things pop up here and there, which means that someone has to handle it. The autobots say "make a little team of people to go out and make sure people aren't dying or being weird" and Bumblebee is apart of it. Blah blah, words get around, spooky lab in the hills... and there is an irradiated weirdo living in a tube.

The art isn't crazy impressive cause I wanted to make the first ones quickly but maybe they'll get better, who knows! I'm gonna just tag this as Radroach AU for now cause I can't think of anything creative. Lmk if this is actually interesting or not please. I might just be the brainworms monster

[sunsetno4]

Pokemon AU Tag Game

Thank you @fallenheroreblog for this tag! :D This is a lot of fun to think of, mainly because Vendetta being the most subpar trainer in the world, lol. This so got away from me. First tho, the rules.

How to Play: 1. Make a Pokémon trainer AU for a character of your choice 2. Make a Pokémon team of six or less for said character 3. Add a blurb about your choices 4. Tag your friends and followers 5. Have fun

I'm gonna tag @darkfire1177 @thecryptidenthusiast @glitterdustcyclops @payloadofgeckos (if y'all want to, I'm not sure who likes pokemon around here, no pressure!) and anyone else interested. :D <3 Tag me please! I wanna see what people come up with~ Ok! Let's go!

Vendetta Frey is basically just a contest trainer, no battles for nem or nir team. They'd all suck at it and not have fun with it, which is the important thing. Ven just wants them all to be happy and fulfilled. Nir empathy is alive and well, and probably more intense (but only for pokemon, people can go fuck off).

Perish Song, aka Perish (Hattrem) // Vendetta's first pokemon. Ne still has telepathy and was basically kidnapped by some of those weird world-dominating groups, you know, as it happens. Ven doesn't know the whys, or doesn't remember a lot of nir time there was a blur, mainly because of Perish. They got paired together and Vendetta has to assume it for for a reason. But it was just awful. Ne feels too much and too intensely, which caused Perish a lot of pain. She'd lash out, which upset nem more and caused her more pain in return, and it was the world's worst feedback loop :'l When Vendetta finally escaped though, ne couldn't leave Perish behind. She didn't deserve that.

Their relationship was extremely rough in the beginning, and even now, it's more trauma-bonded neutrality. Ven wonders if finding Perish a quiet and nice home would be better, but Perish is scared to leave the only person she really knows. The world is terrifying and loud and it hurts, but she knows Ven does try to keep it as quiet as possible. :c Perish doesn't do any contests. They prefer hanging back and hearing the nonsense after the fact, lol, but she's good friends with Wherewithal. She likes their silly antics and plays (secretly, can't let people know that, nope!).

Relish (Trapinch) // Ven stumbled over Relish shortly after escaping, who was severely hurt at the time. One heal ball later, and Relish was all good and very attached to Ven …who didn't think that through, at all, Perish was already a handful at the time! Thankfully, the trapinch is a very chill soul (gentle nature, all the way!). He's actually the reason Ven got into doing contests too. Relish loved watching them on the tellie, and loved to reinact the different routines. Ven asked if he wanted to try himself and Relish! Geeked! So hard! :D

…except Relish has terrible terrible stage fright. He normally doesn't make it on the stage before digging his way back to Vendetta. But! Sometimes! He does make it out under the bright stage lights and… then, digs his way under the stage and back to Vendetta. His record is about fifteen seconds being on stage, and Ven is So Proud!!! He keeps trying his best and it's lovely and Ven is so encouraging. Relish is also the main reason the team is more often than not broke as fuck. All that stage damage… Ven still says it's worth it. Anything for Relish. :'l <3

Wherewithal (Audino) // Wherewithal has the Klutz ability, and it's why they and Vendetta met. Their old trainer was an impatient asshole and often screamed at Wherewithal when they failed at battles, and especially when they dropped items. It was a bad time. Ven saw one of these times, and would've dropkicked the trainer in the face if Perish didn't beat nem to it. TOO LOUD! ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭!!!!!!!

The trainer all but abandoned Wherewithal on the spot after that, and Ven offered them a safe place to stay and they're still here, lol. Wherewithal is kind-of the team therapist. They help Ven regulate nir emotions more with their feelers, and Perish too. They both need a lot of help… :'l They are a very silly pokemon too, often using their feelers to make a little monocles and mustaches to try and get giggles out of the others. They're just a fancy busymen~ No battles, their anxiety is still too high but sometimes they like to join contests when they're on the smaller side. And they're actually pretty good! :D

Fuffle (Pyukumuku) & Kerr (Kecleon) // They're a bonded pair of pokemon that Vendetta stumbled over while visiting a coastal resort town, while they were pulling cons~ Fuffle enjoys pulling in a crowd due of their shiny nature, and then violently puking up their innards and playing dead. While the group (understandably) stands horrified and sometimes crying, Kerr comes in from behind while invisible and steals all the shiny things she can find. They often make out like bandits (and Kerr sometimes will grab Fuffle and pretend like its corpse it floating around to scare people further, for fun).

Unfortunately, telepathy beats invisibility so Vendetta knew it was happening. Fortunately, ne found it funny as hell and offered them some protection as a trainer. The pair didn't agree at first, but were quickly won over. They still pull cons, sometimes at the contest venues, sometimes during the contests themselves. Kerr often has more money on her than Ven nemself too. It's the team's main source of money, since they rarely place in any contest.

Demure (Clobbopus) // The last team member to join, and no one entirely knows how that happened. One day, Demure was just there and never left~ She is an very curious and very enthusiastic Clobbopus that absolutely loves contests!! Along with Relish, she's normally joins all the contests she can and she loves the spotlight as much it loves her. However, as the contest goes on, her enthusiasm often …let's say it overflows. :') She doesn't fight the other contestants, but bopping them in aggressive hugs and the like is very frequent and she's never really finished a contest fully because of it.

But Demure has fun anyways, and loves all the last place pity ribbons she and Relish get, lol! And the sweets!! :D She's probably the biggest Poffin fiend out of them all and loves getting sweets post-contest. Honestly, even if she finished and placed higher, Demure would probably be disappointed in the prizes. Where's the treats???

---

But, yeah, lol. Ven's team is ...not good but they have a lot of heart. And silliness. And kleptomania. And rage! But Ven is deeply fond of them all. They're all nir family now, and they make Ven feel safe again~

As for the art, I honestly just wanted to see Ven in Pokemon style, so I used May's trainer art as a base/edit/whatever you have. ^^;;;!!!! And then, I got so lost in the sauce making nir outfit. The hoodie has FOUR variants! Six if you included the shiny ones. :')!!!!!!! Gengar and Dracovish ones are better imo, but Shiny Breloom, my love~ But! It was a lot of fun, so again. Thank you for the tag, fallenheroreblog! It was very fun, and I have a new love for Hattrem and Kecleon now, lol!

[max--phillips]

Hey, kid. Yeah. You. You want free movies and TV shows?

Well, first of all, Internet Archive. Yes, the Wayback Machine people. They have a lot of movies and shows 'n shit you're gonna have a hard time finding elsewhere. (Also, the Alien movies?????) So if you're looking for something weird or niche or old, you might wanna start your search there.

Second of all: In order to get free goodies ✨elsewhere✨, you need three (3) things.

A VPN (virtual private network)

qBittorrent (or some other torrent client, but this is really the go-to these days.)

Places to go, y'know, get stuff.

First: the VPN

This unfortunately is probably going to cost you money. Free VPNs typically collect data, are extremely slow, and/or don't even allow peer to peer downloading in the first place. Beyond that, they're more likely to turn tail and rat you out to your internet service provider (ISP) and get you in trouble. You then get a nice little DMCA letter in the mail threatening you. Get enough of those, and your ISP will kick you out of your plan with them. That's why you need the VPN in the first place--to avoid that.

Be careful to choose a VPN that won't sell your data, allows peer to peer downloading, and won't rat you out to your ISP. There are plenty of discussions about that, and recommendations you can find. Just don't blindly go for the ones you see advertised everywhere (NordVPN, for instance) as those are more likely to sell your data, which is like... antithetical to why you would be using a VPN anyway. Just read the ToS. Personally, I use Mozilla VPN, and I'm very happy with it.

Mozilla VPN, if you buy a full year, is $4.99/mo, billed annually for $59.88. As far as I can tell, this is pretty average as far as cost goes for VPNs. As opposed to spending two or three times that a month for one (1) streaming service... you're gonna save some money.

(Also, as a bonus, if you live in a state where porn websites have started requiring age verification or have completely stopped functioning, you can use this to get around that by making the website think you're in another state! Region locked youtube video? Not anymore! Nervous about being on a public network at the airport or in a coffee shop? Worry not my friend! There are many benefits to having a VPN. Just be aware that some websites and applications do not like VPNs and will flag as suspicious activity (i.e. your bank, paypal, Netflix...) and you're going to be filling out a LOT of captchas and Cloudflare might not like you. But it is what it is.)

You can also host your own VPN, but that's pretty technical, even for me, so... idk, do what you will with that information.

Second: qBittorrent

Idk man, it's qBittorrent. Just download it.

(for real tho, it's free, it's open source software (yay!) and it's not stealing your data or shoving ads down your throat. It's THE torrent client at this point.)

Third: Places to, y'know, get stuff

I gift unto you the r/Piracy megathread. Enjoy.

Frankly, most information you need, recommendations, etc. is gonna be on r/Piracy. They're a godsend. I also recommend this website for a more detailed guide on all the stuff I just put forward. I would tag the user here I got it from but it looks like they deactivated.

Also for the love of god just switch to Firefox and install ublock origin already. Trust me. Just do it. You'll be so much happier. I promise.

Okay thanks bye! Enjoy your free stuff!

[seventh-district]

Dying Star

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

- - - - - - -

Sam’s words have been weighing heavy on your mind ever since you discussed your shared future and the various forms it could take. You didn’t realize just how heavy they were until it all came spilling out of your tired mind on a late night spent together beneath the stars.

Pairing: Sam x Darlin' / Reader

Word Count: 4,053

Contains: [angst] [a dash of humor] [a hint of chubby!Sam bc i like 'em strong and soft] [crying] [cuddling (dub-con cuddles with Quinn in the past & consensual ones with Sam in the present)] [emotional hurt/comfort] [implied/referenced dub-con sex (nothing graphic) (in the past between Darlin' and Quinn to be specific) (refer to my Ao3 notes for further explanation)] [mentioned Quinn] [not quite Dissociation i guess but Darlin' does zone-out/get lost in thought more than once] [pet names (Darlin' (obvs.) and honey)] [Reader is Darlin'] [Sam wears a cowboy hat bc i said so] [some passive suicidality from Sam if you squint (hell, maybe you don't even have to squint)]

A/Ns: Well, well, well, here I am, the person who said they wouldn't write any Redactedverse fanfic. I recently felt a mighty need to expand upon the blurb I wrote in this post, and I'm braving my fandom anxiety by sharing it here. pls be nice 2 me abt it

Timeline-wise, this fic takes place sometime after the ‘Talking About the Future With Your Vampire Mate’ audio but sometime before their presumed eventual departure from the house that William gave Sam, given that they've already had the 'turning' discussion but are still on the same roof in this fic.

This is a songfic, inspired by and quoting verses from 3 songs. Those being:

‘Dying Star’ by Ashnikko feat. Ethel Cain

‘Fix What You Didn’t Break’ by Nate Smith

‘No Plan’ by Hozier

The roof of Sam’s house is far from a ‘cushy’ place to relax. But as you lie here next to him under the stars, a knowledge settles within you that you wouldn’t trade the rough shingles beneath you for the softest mattress in the world. Not if it meant there’d be anyone other than him lying next to you.

Some people might counter that it’s an easy thing for you to say, given the number of nights you’ve thrown a balled-up shirt onto one end of a worn-out couch and called it a bed. But some people don’t know you as well as they think they do.

You’ve known luxury. Quinn might’ve been just as content taking his fill on a seedy motel bed as he was wrapped in silks at a Hilton, but he knew how to play up the luxe when it served him to do so. And in the early days as he worked to lure you in, it did. Plush sheets and expensive drinks helped to soften the preordained blows and dull the imminent pain that your nights with him held.

Once you’d latched onto the bait though, he let the act drop one piece at a time, like props collapsing on a stage. After all, what was the point in all of those frivolities when you both knew what you really came to him for? It wasn’t to be wined and dined, it wasn’t to be dressed up and shown off, and it wasn’t even to be slowly stripped of it all, laid out across the rolling clouds of a pillowy mattress.

It was to be used. Tranced. Restrained. Bitten. Drank from. Choked. Hit. Edged. Denied. Made to writhe and whine and bleed and plead. Plead for more, for less, for nothing, for anything. Anything to quiet your mind and fill the ever-expanding void inside you where you suspect love was supposed to live.

That’s what you both really wanted.

At least, that’s what you told him you wanted.

That’s what you told yourself.

You only got what you asked for.

To your right, Sam stirs, stretching gently with a yawn. The soft noise he releases as he does so reminds you of where you are, and you trace back through your thoughts to find how you got so lost.

…Right. Luxury.

While your relationship with Quinn certainly changed over time, you never forgot what it felt like in the beginning. 

You remember nights laid next to him, body sore, mind quiet. Quinn’s idea of aftercare was lacking to say the least, but you had nothing better to compare it to at the time, and you’d take what you could get. At least your head felt empty, and the bed was soft. Exhaustion would pull you under soon enough.

The mattress, sheets, and pillows enveloping you were likely worth more than you even made that past month. ...Or several. You found that display of luxury hard to be impressed by though, when it wasn’t the type of comfort you’d been seeking.

As Quinn shifted in his presumed sleep, pulling you in tighter, you didn’t fight it. You found yourself unwilling to fight anything he did, like his mere presence was enough to drain the fight right out of you. You told yourself that you were okay with that. Because you wanted it.

Lying there with your head on his bare chest, you took a deep breath and told yourself that you liked the stench of cheap cologne, poorly masking the cigarettes and alcohol on his breath. You silently told yourself that you liked everything. You liked the pain that he chased with hints of pleasure. You liked the loss of power, the way you couldn’t fight back if you wanted to once he looked you in the eyes. You liked all the things he said, no matter how much the truth might hurt.

He was right, you supposed. Your desires, the things you craved, the depravity that you so enjoyed, wasn’t normal. It was uncommon, unusual, and in the eyes of some, unfathomable. To possess such dark desires, there must be something truly broken inside you.

How lucky you were, to have found someone willing to indulge you. Someone that could give you everything you wanted, and be so kind as to keep it a secret too. He promised that word of the things he did to you, the things you let him do, would never get out. You remember the way he held your hand as he told you, falling for the guise of sincerity in his eyes. You remember his warm smile, and his razor sharp teeth.

You remember seeing that exact same smile on his face through one-way glass as he sat across from Sam and told him everything.

You stood in that room and thought back to those nights of luxury. To the feeling of his nails ghosting over the freshly healed punctures in your neck. To the way he held you against him. You remember laying there, lifeless, feeling like prey playing dead. Afraid to move, afraid to disturb him. But why? He hadn’t threatened you. He never told you that you had to stay. He never said that you couldn’t move, or pull away. So why did you feel that way?

As you stood, helplessly witnessing hours of his slander in that interrogation room, you understood. Your rose-tinted glasses had long since shattered, and you saw that smile for what it was. It was the smile of a man playing a dangerous game, brimming with satisfaction, thinking he’d won.

The radio near you begins to crackle, static obscuring the hosts voice as they announce the upcoming song. Sam doesn’t even open his eyes, just raises a hand and reaches out, blindly adjusting the antenna of the old device.

You’ve teased him for holding onto it for so long, as he is wont to do with damn near all of his possessions. But as you watch him deftly extend and angle the antenna with practiced care, the response he once gave you proves itself true once again.

“I don’t wanna replace it, Darlin’. It’s not broken. It just needs someone who knows how to make it sing again.”

The static clears, and music flows through the radio’s old speakers once more.

You watch Sam return his hand to its prior position beneath his head, acting as a makeshift pillow of his own. The way he’s lying has his hat pushed forward, and it’d be doing a damn good job of shielding his face from the sun if it weren’t somewhere around midnight at the moment. Still, it suits him somehow, despite its lack of any practicality. All he’s missing is a stalk of wheat between his teeth and a tree to lean against and he’d be the spitting image of the cowboy he swears he isn’t.

His other hand rests on the soft curve of his stomach, rising and falling again as he breathes. He’s the image of peace in moments like these, and you’re drawn to it like a moth to flame. Maybe one of these days you’ll find some of your own, but for now you’re more than content to bask in his.

As you admire him, he takes a slow, deep breath and you mirror it on instinct. The grounding practice helps you leave your mind and return to your body, if just for a moment. In doing so, you realize just how tense your ruminations have made you.

You relax your hands, releasing the blanket beneath you from your iron grip. You brush your palms over it, worried that you’ve torn the fabric once you realize that your nails had halfway shifted to claws. You don’t fret much over damage to your own possessions, but this blanket is Sam’s and you’d hate to ruin it. Though, you suppose he doesn’t prize it too much or he wouldn’t have laid it out here across the roof in the first place.

“If I buy somethin’ it’s because I wanna use it. Now quit frettin’ and get over here.” You recall what he told you earlier as he patted the blanket next to him in invitation, and you smile.

Doing a small stretch of your own, you release the tension in your shoulders, turning your attention back to the stars above you. For a while, you let the soft music wash over your tired mind.

“I asked him not to kill me politely. He drained my magic core, bottled up at the source. I washed up on the sea glass shores. I’m nobody's captive.”

In spite of your best efforts to relax, you’re still subconsciously futzing with the loose threads of the old blanket beneath you.

You’re made aware of it when Sam reaches a hand down, gently laying it over yours and effectively stilling your anxious motion.

“Burning like a dying star, invasive weeds rooted in my heart, set in a crooked trajectory. The journey here was hard, I was almost pulled apart. Trying to leave his orbit took what’s left of me.”

You flip your hand over beneath his so you can hold it properly, lacing your fingers together.

For reasons beyond your understanding, emotion tightens your throat, the threat of tears pooling in your eyes.

…You must be more tired than you thought.

As minutes pass and one song fades into another, your gaze dances across the blurry, scattered points of light in the dark sky.

“You were the star in the pitch black, shine the way on the way back. Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers.”

Sam’s always been so much better at identifying stars and finding constellations. But as the music plays, you begin to see one of your own.

“Picked up the towel that I threw in, took in a heart that was ruined. Showed me the past ain’t a tattoo, loved me even when you didn’t have to.”

“Sam.” You squeeze his hand to get his attention.

He squeezes back in acknowledgment. “Hm?”

“I want you to look at something.” You swallow back the emotion that tries to seep into your voice, but it catches his attention all the same.

He leans up and lifts his hat from his head, setting it aside near the radio. He then reaches to turn a dial back, lowering the music’s volume to give you his full attention.

You release his hand, raising yours up as he turns back to face you. You don’t say anything at first, nearly too lost in your own mind to realize you need to actually voice your developing thoughts.

"What—what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Your hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in your line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above you. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow your less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', your pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along your exposed wrist where your sleeve had slipped back, he takes your hand in his again and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." You say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." You nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting you. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

You scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh. "No—no I mean—like... what's another name for it... Oh, it's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but you cut him off before he can start. "But no. No, this isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in your overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Your frown is audible in your voice as you latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at your over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, honey, I promise."

You huff, but begrudgingly shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention.”

Sam’s brow furrows as you continue to explain, realization setting in that you really are being serious.

“I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...And there you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places and people that I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, at Wonderworld, surrounded by the ghost of him. Your warmth, your presence, your aura—even with all of your walls up, you outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me home."

In the back of your mind, you recall something you once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can still see a star that's already burnt out, because its light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

You remember Sam's words, once whispered to you on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

You think about dead stars.

You think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand squeezes yours tight, his urgent tone pulling you out of your thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

You look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, faint shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

You reach out, pulling him down into you. He falters for a moment at the sudden proximity, but quickly embraces you in turn. Burying your face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear your words, muffled against the thick flannel, but his hearing catches them just fine.

"Don't burn out too quickly. Please. I still need you here. I don't—I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

The words feel like a weight being lifted from your shoulders, but with it comes a flood of emotion they’d been holding back. You cry harder into him, and as much as it pains Sam to witness, he lets you feel it, for as long as you need.

Your fear of losing him manifests itself physically, nails curling and sharpening again. When he feels them prick his skin through the fabric of his shirt, he calls your name but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans further down into you, letting his weight ground you. “Darlin’, I am right here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

As you eventually cry yourself out, enough wherewithal returns to you to realize that you should probably release the poor man from your grasp, and the awkward position you pulled him into. When he pulls away enough to see your face, you notice a string of snot running from your nose to his shirt collar. Quickly batting it away out of embarrassment, you cringe, voice thick as you apologize. “Eugh, gross. Uh… sorry. About that.”

He shakes his head, laughing good-naturedly as you wipe at your nose with your jacket sleeve. “It’s completely fine, honey. After all, I’ve been covered in plenty of your, uh… various fluids before. When you come from my line of work, this is child’s play.”

He leans to his right, reaching back and pulling—of all things—a handkerchief from his jeans’ left back pocket. You laugh at his words, and at the sight, but with how congested you are it turns into more of a hacking cough than anything. Accepting his offering, you blow your nose into the black patterned fabric.

As soon as you can speak somewhat clearly, you can’t stop the teasing remark that slips out of you, gesturing with the wad of fabric in your hand. “You know, you really aren’t beating the cowboy allegations with stuff like this.”

He rolls his eyes but his soft smile remains. “It’s a practical thing to have on me, ‘allegations’ be damned.”

You shake your head with a smile of your own, but don’t disagree. As you’re visibly unsure what to do with the dirtied fabric, he takes it from you, setting it aside. “I’ll toss it in the wash when we go back inside. Along with my shirt, and…” He eyes you for a moment. “…that jacket of yours too, given how long you’ve probably been wearin’ it.”

Normally you’d argue that it hasn’t been that long, but come to think of it, you actually can’t recall when you last washed the thing.

Reaching up and rubbing your temples, you already regret your crying fit as a headache begins to set in. “Fuck, Sam... I’m sorry for… whatever that just was. I don’t know what came over me.”

His expression falls into something serious again. “You never need to apologize for feeling. And it certainly seems like… you needed to feel that.”

You nod quietly, but don’t elaborate, prompting him to question you gently. “Darlin’. What was that about? The—the askin’ me not to leave. Are you… afraid that I’m gonna leave you?”

You close your eyes, weighing out your response. “…Not in the sense that you’ll break up with me or something, no.”

His gaze narrows and his head tilts as he rolls your answer over in his mind. “If it ain’t that, then—” He remembers how you mentioned ‘forever’ and cuts himself off as the puzzle pieces start coming together. “Oh. …Oh, Darlin’, no.”

You open your eyes to watch as he shifts from leaning next to you, moving to sit up beside you. “Is this about what I told you, when we sat up here and had our uh… turning discussion?”

You hate to admit it, but you nod in confirmation. “…It’s your choice, Sam, and I never want to take that away from you. I shouldn’t have said what I just did, I—I don’t want to make you feel guilty, or like you have to stick around for my sake. But I’d be lying to you if I said it hasn’t been playing on my mind. The thought of you… leaving. Like that.”

He reaches up, running a hand through his hair. “I… think I maybe should’ve been a bit more clear, when I said that. Because I wasn’t talking about any time soon. I didn’t want to give you the false impression that I plan on sticking around for centuries, but… I also wasn’t trying to imply that I’ve got plans to do it next week either.”

You bolt upright, voice cracking. “Next week?! I sure as shit hope not!” You grab your head, pain flaring and suddenly dizzy from the quick shift in position.

He places a hand on your shoulder to steady you. “I’m not, honey, I’m not. Did you catch the rest of my sentence? I’ve got no plans to leave this world any time soon. I promise.”

You groan, head pounding. “I heard you, I did, I just—fuck, I don’t even wanna think about you leaving so soon. Here I am, stressing, thinking I’ve only got—I don’t know—some odd years left with you, and…” You sigh, trailing off.

Sam stays quiet for a minute, letting the crickets sing.

Eventually, he interrupts their chorus. “…Can I get closer to you?”

You nod. “…Please.”

He closes the gap between you, carefully wrapping a strong arm around your curled shoulders. “You’ve got way more than a couple years. I promise you that.” Your tension begins to ease a bit as he clarifies. “You… you’ve helped me find a life that I actually feel like livin’ again, for the first time in a long time. And I want to experience it with you for as long as I can.”

“…Really?” Your voice sounds so small, so unsure, so… unlike you when you question him that he wants to kick himself in his own ass for the role he unintentionally played in making you feel this way.

“Yes. Really. I mean—” His voice takes on an edge of humor. “If you decide to set your sights on the year 3,000…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know about that. But as far as the 21st century is concerned? …I think I’d like to see it through. For as long as you’re there to see it with me.”

His words cause fresh tears to well up in your eyes, and you sniff in an attempt to hold them back. The sound catches his attention, and he leans forward, thumbing across your warm cheek. “…I’m makin’ you cry again…”

You shake your head, clearing your throat. “No—No, it’s okay. It’s good. They’re… they’re good. It’s… relief.”

He breathes out a relieved sigh of his own. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning into him. “Yeah.”

As you rest against each other, breathing in the cool night air, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Can we… lay back? For a bit?”

He squeezes your arm in gentle confirmation. “Of course.”

He twists and reaches back to straighten the wrinkled blanket beneath you, before laying out across it himself. The radio crackles as he turns the volume back up a bit. Watching him with tired eyes, you smile at the sight of him patting his chest in habitual invitation.

“Sit in and watch the sunlight fade. Honey, enjoy, it’s gettin’ late. There’s no plan. There’s no hand on the reign. As Mack explained, there will be darkness again.”

Curling up against his side and laying your head on his chest, you release a heavy sigh when his hand comes up to rest on your shoulder. As his fingers press rhythmically into the tense muscle beneath them, you breathe in his scent. Black coffee and wildflower honey… he smells like home.

“Your secret is safe with me, and if secrets were like seeds, when I’m lyin’ under marble, marvel at flowers you’ll have made.”

You reach your hand out across his broad chest, slipping beneath his open flannel and sliding down to rest on his waist. He sighs, relaxing further beneath your touch.

“My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand. That’s how I know now that you understand.”

Yeah, you’ll take this over ‘luxury’ any damn day.

“There’s no plan. There’s no race to be run.”

Laying there with him, listening to the low hum of the radio, the moment grows so comfortable that you almost hesitate to break it.

“The harder the pain, honey, the sweeter the song.”

“…Sam?” You whisper into the night.

His hand sweeps across your back before returning to your shoulder. “I’m here, Darlin’.”

“There’s no plan. There’s no kingdom to come.”

You smile. “I… I’d like to be there, to be here, to see it through with you, too.”

It takes him a moment to recall exactly what you’re referring to, but when it hits him he hums a low understanding tone, clearly pleased. “Then let’s see where it takes us, yeah?”

“But I’ll be your man if you got love to get done.”

He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “We’ve got plenty a’ time.”

A/N: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. You can find my extensive notes and commentary on this fic right here on Ao3. My Sam & Darlin' Playlist My Sam Playlist My Darlin' Playlist My Sam & Darlin' Moodboard My Sam Moodboard My Darlin' Moodboard Header Image Credit: Gage Smith on Unsplash

[cappycodeart]

I got tired of circling back to frustration over my nitpicks on the f&c series so I OC’d my boy. Whoops. 😅💦. I'll still post stuff in the future about the AT version because I still have a lot of doodles I haven't posted yet and doodle ideas I want to draw!!... Buuuuuut in the meantime my brain gears have been turning hardcore over incorporating this version into my OC-verse... he's a silly astronaut now <3

[summergoodwife]

Gonna say it again, "Just stop consuming the genre" is THE WORST POSSIBLE RESPONSE to someone complaining about the lack of representation in their preferred genre!! And "Consume other stuff too" is not much better!!! I don't care how much you think varying media consumption is a Good and Holy lifestyle, not everyone wants to do that! There is no obligation to do that and there should not be! Because it's fucking entertainment. It's not a college major.

And! And and and. I would be remiss to not point out that when you tell someone, "If you want well written (minority) just get out of (genre fandom)" you are, regardless of your motivations, rhetorically aligning yourself with the exact same bigots who just want the pro-representation crowd to shut up and go away.

[breadwheathead]

gotta go harvest my celery or whatever I planted in tunnel town

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[theha1rarch]

it's literally 2 am & no one's around but i plan to write tonight. life's just been busy lately & also struggling with the weird feelings i talked about in my previous posts/posts last night (all deleted bc i don't like keeping negativity on my blog, i save the nice words), but i really do want to get some done tonight & i'll probably be up for quite a while. steve is staying my current most consistent muse & i wanna get shit going, i know things have been piling up. sooo yeah <3

[front-facing-pokemon]

[ying-doodles]

my brain is running a million miles a minute rn

help

[bitchthefuck1]

I will never understand the fanfic impulse to take characters with thee most coo coo bananas codependent/nuanced/toxic/insane relationship and turn them into love interests #1 and #2 in a generic romance novel. like what is even the point anymore

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this