#thoughts bein thunk : ̗̀➛

[garykingz]

Imagine if Newey left before Lewis went to Ferrari.

And Max got the seat.

And became teammates with Charles.

[piratefishmama]

Smthin abt spiderverse doesn't make sense. Readmored for spoilers.

If Spot is an anomaly, should he be able to CAUSE canon events?

How can an anomaly that should never have been there, an anomaly who never belonged in that universe, cause something that was always supposed to happen there?

He didn't BELONG there, he shouldn't have ever been there so how can he be the cause of something that was always set in stone???

[flareondotcom]

what if i made tags on my blog for my dnd ocs. what then

[tofuxtea]

𝐁𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐍 | 𝙘𝙤𝙘𝙠𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 + 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — buggy the clown x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, cockwarming, authority kink, ‘sir/captain’ kink, bondage, riding, lap-sitting, slight dumbification, dacryphilia, buggy is a sadist, teasing, praise, creampie, use of “sweet pea” and “sweetheart”

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — 1k words. i remember the vile thoughts i thunk when i saw live action buggy in that goddamn chair and one of them was how badly i wanted to be sitting in his open ass lap. so yeah this is based off of that, y’all can thank my brain for this one![kinktober m.list]

“did i tell you you could move?”

his voice was mocking and stern, cutting through the quiet like a dagger. it forced your spine impossibly straighter where you sat in buggy’s lap, drawing a strained whine from your throat.

though you weren’t even looking at him — your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to still your aching, trembling thighs, you could see the shit-eating grin he wore as he laughed at you.

“i asked you a question, sweet pea.” buggy’s gloved hand flew up and caught your jaw in a tight hold, eliciting a garbled cry from you. he forced your gaze down into his, his pupils dilating at the sight of tears gathering in your eyes. he cooed gently, granting you a sliver of hope that he would actually take pity on you.

after all, he’d been so cruel to you for the past hour. you deserved it, right? keeping yourself so still in his lap with your hands tied behind your back while you kept his cock nice and warm inside of your pretty pussy. you were working so hard to please your captain, yet he still scrutinized even the slightest give of your thighs and taunted you like this.

his eyebrows raised, slightly creasing his face paint, and he shook his head with obvious expectation. when no response looked to be forming on your pouted lips, his jaw tightened. his hand, detached from his wrist, circled around behind you and grasped your overlapping wrists, lifting your arms back up to your shoulder blades.

you cried out as your chest puffed out, a fat tear rolling down your cheek and soaking into his glove. “n-no, you didn’t tell me i could move.” your voice cracked relentlessly while you pleaded with buggy. it seemed to ease his outburst and he slowly lowered your hands back against your tailbone while his satisfied grin grew wider. “i’m sorry.”

his brows suddenly furrowed back together and his piercing blue eyes met yours again. “what was that, sweetie?” he whispered scornfully. you whined softly, fried brain scrambling to figure out why your apology wasn’t enough for him.

buggy’s eyes raked down your pitifully clueless face and he scoffed, releasing your jaw to reach down and grasp your hips, keeping them firmly in place as he harshly thrust his up into yours. his cock dragged deliciously against your walls and filled you to the brim, granting you the friction you’d been craving for so long.

“captain! i’m sorry, captain.” the name tumbled from your lips behind a loud moan, and buggy hummed lowly in response.

“atta girl. that wasn’t so hard, now was it, sweet pea?” his gloved hand now gently cupped the side of your face, smiling when you instinctively nuzzled into his warm palm. you shook your head with a gentle hum. “you’re bein’ s’good for your captain, hm?” you responded with a nod this time, eyes widening with silent pleas.

“can i cum, captain? please, ’t hurts s’bad.” you whined pathetically, waiting for buggy’s okay to start moving. even in such a desperate state, you still managed to listen to him. he watched several more tears race down your cheeks with excitement in his eyes, and your pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears for a while. god, how hopeless he was.

he enjoyed this. he enjoyed bending you beyond your limits until you broke over and over. until you were begging him with all of the air in your lungs to let you cum, completely deaf to everything and everyone around you with your only focus being him. his instruction, his touch, his cock.

he could feel the tremble in your thighs growing stronger against his hips, and he could see the rise and fall of your chest pick up in pace as your sobs became uncontrollable. your lips quivered with each beg, though he couldn’t tell anymore if it was because of your overwhelmingly visceral need to cum or because the pain of your arms squeezing together behind your back was finally catching up to you.

either way, he didn’t care. he wanted to drag it out for as long as he could before you wound up passed out on top of him or something, so he nuzzled his cheek into his closed fist and watched you some more, much to your dismay.

“please, can’t keep myself up much longer. i need to feel you, sir.” you babbled on mindlessly, praying that buggy would finally cave.

he did. his eyes fluttered shut the moment he heard a new term fall from your lips and he sighed. it was as if it was the answer he’d been waiting for.

“since you asked so nicely. go on n’ make yourself cum, sweet pea.” his little nickname for you made you whine as you sunk down onto his cock. he groaned at the feeling of your pussy spasming around him, and his hand reached out to gently stroke your sore thigh. “fuck, you take me so fuckin’ good, sweetheart.”

you whimpered at the praise and you immediately craved more of it, momentarily pushing the pulsing pain in your legs aside to bounce yourself on his cock. he filled you so perfectly, his tip kissing your sweet spot with each long, slow thrust.

both of your moans grew louder, buggy’s lips parting as his head fell back against his chair. his fingers curled around your hips, surely to leave bruises the next day, while he bucked up into you.

“that’s it, just like that — fuck,” he hissed against gritted teeth when your cunt squeezed around him.

your hips rocked into his a few more times before your legs finally gave up, your body rendered numb as a blinding orgasm hit you. your head lulled back and your body arched into buggy’s chest as you weakly rode it out.

buggy’s hands gripped your hips as his own orgasm crashed into him, thick ropes of cum filling you up inside. you whined at the sudden warmth of it, instinctively grinding your hips down into him. he chuckled breathlessly.

“lookit you, takin’ all of your captain’s cum so fuckin’ well. you did so good f’me, sweet pea.” buggy gently wiped whatever tears still stained your face with his thumb, his other hand hovering behind you to untie the rope that bound your arms all the way up to your elbows.

you were sure you wouldn’t be able to move — let alone walk after this, but you didn’t mind. so long as your captain was satisfied.

tbh this one changed my views on this clown. like i pictured him as lowkey submissive before this but now im just.

[chirpycloudyrobin]

erm ,,, snowboarder!shen yuan riding xiu ya like a snowboard during airborne battles thoughts are bein thunk 🤕🤕🤕

[possumpandemonium]

Satori's such a fun touhou character, just hang out in former hell with your boat load of silly hell animals cause people got too many thoughts bein thunk

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Hi! If that's okay, could you do Campbell with Fergus? (I have no specific request other than the pairing, so do what you like)

Normally I try to keep things centered mainly around DT and MS characters in situations together, but I have made a few exceptions in the past, so I'm totally fine with writing this for you, anon.

Plus, I don't believe I've ever written for Fergus before!

You asked for separation anxiety, yes? Alright, here's Campbell talking with Fergus about it. Maybe this can be something before Eddy showed up.

On with the fic!

--

Honestly, after all these weeks, Campbell should be used to it. Hell, he often got used to changes in his life pretty quickly, if his moods were more positive, and they had been. The meds here were clearly better than what he was taking before his parents brought him in.

He tapped his foot on the floor rapidly, to the beat of a song only he heard in his head as he tried to focus on writing. He was still in the mindset of becoming a musician, despite a few brick walls in his way, it gave him something to focus on. His dad said it was pointless, he'd just change his mind.

Again.

And again.

And again.

God, even with his father not here, he could still feel him breathing down his neck about things. And Campbell hated to admit it, but... he actually missed that. He missed the attention of his parents, even if it wasn't always positive.

He missed his dad, despite his criticisms, his problems with Campbell's thoughts and opinions, because the man cared about him. In a way, Campbell thought, a grouchy, old man way.

He missed his mum, even though she hadn't been doing well when they dropped him off here, she seemed lost in her own thoughts. She still loved him, he knew that, she told him that often. He called sometimes and spoke with her and she would tell him that, it had to be true.

They weren't just going to leave him here and forget him, no, not at all. They'd get him and take him home at some point, when his condition was better, when things were brighter for the Bain family.

The paper he had been writing on was now covered in pointless scribbles and nonsense. The foot tapping was much worse, no beat, just jittering actions.

Campbell wanted to go home.

He wanted to go home and return to his old life, before things were different and his father hadn't looked at him like he had when he was dropped off, and his mother had cried when she got back into the car.

He was welcomed back, right? Yeah? Totally, obviously.

There was a thunk and Campbell shot up from his bed, surprised to see a boot pressed to the glass of the window across from him. He rushed over and opened the window when the boot pushed off and someone moved past him.

"Fergus?" He asked, the older man just a few feet under the window. "What're you doin'?"

"Goin' out." Fergus replied, the typical answer. He looked up at Campbell, studying him for a second, before frowning. He then started to hoist himself up with an ease of years of doing this.

Campbell stepped away from the window, letting Fergus pull himself through the window. Once he was standing straight, dusting himself off, he turned to the other patient. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing." Campbell replied, looking past Fergus' shoulder instead of at his face. "Nothin' at all, just the usual mess of thoughts and stuff, ya know. Typical Campbell brain."

Fergus clearly didn't believe that. He sat down on the bed and pointed to the one across from it with a silent order that Campbell obeyed, sitting down as well. "Campbell, you look like something's botherin' you. And from what I know of you, if you don't talk, it'll eat you alive."

"... Is it that obvious?"

"Your face is shoutin' what your mouth won't. You can't hide your emotions."

"Heh, yeah." Campbell sighed and flopped back on the bed. "Tell me about it, open book, that's me. I... is it bad to miss home? Even after bein' here for so long and not really giving it much thought before?"

Fergus was quiet for a moment. "Yes." He said, finally speaking. "Sometimes it takes a while for something like that to register, and it's not bad to miss wantin' to return home."

Campbell felt like there was more to those words, but neither seemed like they wanted to say what else there was to them. "Even... even if you might not be welcomed at said home? Cause you left on bad terms?"

"That's normal to."

"How do I get over it? I don't wanna go home, I like it here, despite some stuff. I like... I like the people here, I like the freedom, but I miss my folks, even if they weren't all that great to me before dumpin' me off at the doors with barely a goodbye." Campbell asked as he sat up.

Fergus shrugged. "Don't know if I'm the best person to help you with that, Campbell. But, look, if it helps, you can talk to me when these sort of things bother you. I won't judge. I get it, there are things you miss, even with the negatives, even if you feel better away from whatever it is, but there's still knots in your stomach over being away."

Campbell blinked, shifting a bit. "I feel like shit about it."

"And that's fine."

"You would let me ramble?"

"You do that anyway, it's not anythin' different."

This made Campbell snort loudly, then laugh. "Smartass, alright, that's... yeah, if this keeps gettin' at me and whatever they pump with me ain't muting it, I'll come find you, yeah?"

Fergus nodded, getting up from the bed and moving back to the window. "Sounds good, need me to get you anythin' while I'm out?"

"Smokes? Maybe a treat?" Campbell grinned. "I'll pay ya back when you come back in the mornin', or whenever."

There was a nod and Fergus hitched himself back up, going out the window with a wave. The gnawing anxiety was still there, but it wasn't as bad. Campbell let out a breath as he closed the window, it was like his downs, it would weigh on him, which this is probably part of a depression spell, but he knew he'd get past it.

He always did, he'd find something to cover these thoughts, a good distraction. He decided to try that now with his guitar, music always helped.

--

I know this is something that affects people more when they're younger, but from my own experience, it never goes away. Mine's just tied with my crippling anxieties and ADHD issues, with Campbell, it's clearly with his BPD.

But yeah, this is based a bit on my own experiences with it, though Campbell has a different home life, mine is more of just fearing if I should return or not. I'm welcomed, I know this, but I overthink it.

[ladysunamireads]

Genesis of Feith

genesis of feith by dicc

He was nearly blinded by the whorls of vibrant cyan that were bleeding from Mob's frame. Small palms framed by brisk slants of mauve, and fingers rung with luminous divine light. His crow-feather hued hair rose through the still air, the strands cutting against the curve of his cheek.

"A little godling," Arataka breathed.

It is 1871. The dawning of the Meiji Era, when politics and arcanity were shifting all at once, as skies were darkened by burnt altar-shrines, and greed flowed like western gold into the hands of the state.

This is when Reigen Arataka is forced out of his work as a (discretively fake) shaman by the sudden appearance of Tsume, a divine organization run by the infamous Suzuki clan. As he prepares to depart and begin a new life, he is suddenly saddled with Mob, an odd child who holds spiritual abilities he had never thought were possible, and whose soul is entangled with a god's.

Well, Arataka may not know how to raise a child— but he does know how to worship his gods.

Words: 10669, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Reigen Arataka, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Hanazawa Teruki, Serizawa Katsuya, Kageyama Ritsu, Suzuki Shou, Suzuki Touichirou, Claw Members, Mogami Keiji, Kageyama Siblings' Parents

Relationships: Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Hanazawa Teruki & Reigen Arataka, Reigen Arataka & Serizawa Katsuya, Hanazawa Teruki & Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama Ritsu & Suzuki Shou, Reigen Arataka/Serizawa Katsuya, Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou

Additional Tags: this fic doesnt really focus on romance, so those ships could be read as platonic, Ancient History, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, (erm sort of), Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Protective Reigen Arataka, Dark Reigen Arataka, yup you've heard it here first, Morally Ambiguous Character, Platonic Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Dysfunctional Relationships, Codependency, Morally Grey Reigen, He gets better dont worry, Politics, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shamanism, POV Multiple, Time Skips, reigen is a fake ex-shaman and mob is a "god", also featuring: enemies-to-friends (and potential lovers) serizawa/reigen, teru having his life changed by mob (who woulda thunk), and ritsu and shou bein scheming little dudes

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44090973

[ao3feed-esperboys]

Genesis of Feith

genesis of feith by dicc

He was very well blinded by the whorls of vibrant cyan that were bleeding from Mob's frame. Small palms framed by brisk slants of mauve, and fingers rung with luminous, blinding divine light. His crow-feather hued hair raising through the still air, the strands cutting against the curve of his cheek.

"A little godling," Arataka breathed.

It is 1871, the dawning of the Meiji Era— and Reigen Arataka is forced out of his work as a (discretively fake) shaman by the sudden appearance of Tsume, a divine organization run by the infamous Suzuki clan. As he prepares to depart and begin a new life, he is suddenly saddled with Mob, an odd child who holds spiritual abilities he had never thought were possible, and whose soul is entangled with a god's.

Well, Arataka may not know how to raise a child, but he does know how to worship his gods.

Words: 10669, Chapters: 1/6, Language: English

Fandoms: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: Reigen Arataka, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Hanazawa Teruki, Serizawa Katsuya, Kageyama Ritsu, Suzuki Shou, Suzuki Touichirou, Claw Members, Mogami Keiji, Kageyama Siblings' Parents

Relationships: Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Hanazawa Teruki & Reigen Arataka, Reigen Arataka & Serizawa Katsuya, Hanazawa Teruki & Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama Ritsu & Suzuki Shou, Reigen Arataka/Serizawa Katsuya, Hanazawa Teruki/Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama Ritsu/Suzuki Shou

Additional Tags: this fic doesnt really focus on romance, so those ships could be read as platonic, Ancient History, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, (erm sort of), Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Protective Reigen Arataka, Dark Reigen Arataka, yup you've heard it here first, Morally Ambiguous Character, Platonic Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, Dysfunctional Relationships, Codependency, Morally Grey Reigen, He gets better dont worry, Politics, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Shamanism, POV Multiple, Time Skips, reigen is a fake ex-shaman and mob is a "god", also featuring: enemies-to-friends (and potential lovers) serizawa/reigen, teru having his life changed by mob (who woulda thunk), and ritsu and shou bein scheming little dudes

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44090973

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Small Stories Hour: Partners

The Lush Belt Champ

↳ The ties came off the second Gilmore and Murray burst through the door to Ben's apartment, belting out the final note to the most successful number of the night loud enough to wake the tenants on the other side of the building. Ben waved the bottle of beer he swiped from the bar in the hand not tugging impatiently at the strip of silken fabric around his own neck, squeezing past Reagan in the doorway to stumble into the living room, all but knocking his shin against his coffee table in the process.

"Look at you, Benny," Reagan purred, pressing the door closed behind his back and regarding Ben with nothing short of his permanent pride. "Continually provin' to be…the best pianist this side of Vienna, aren't you?"

Ben drained the last of the beer by throwing his head back and pouring the last of it into his mouth. He tossed the tie onto the table and swaggered in the direction of the kitchen, at this point much drunker than Reagan as was typical. "I'm breakin' out the gin and you can't stop me!" He somehow managed to get two glasses from the cabinet, noting that he hadn't gone shopping for food in quite a few days. That was important, but not as important as the bottle of gin being far too high up on the shelf for him to reach, apparently. "...Reggie, help me out."

Reagan meandered into the kitchen, grinning very much like the cat that ate the canary—though that was also a permanent expression, it seemed—and he gripped the base of Ben's throat to move him aside. "I'm only taller than you by an inch."

Ben watched through bleary eyes as Reagan unfastened his jacket to extend his arm to the top shelf. "You shouldn't even be taller than me at all, pal!"

"Now, now." Reagan set the bottle on the counter with a thunk and plucked a glass from Ben's hand. He poured the clear liquid into both of their glasses. "Don't get hostile with me; we've got a grand performance to celebrate. Things are finally startin' to look up for us. So, cheers." He held the glass up to Ben. "To you."

Clinking their glasses together, Ben snorted. "To we. There would be no me without thee."

"Without thee, there is no we," Reagan corrected. "Who is the singer without an instrument?"

"Ever heard of a capella, boy?"

"No." Reagan gave him a cheeky wink and took a generous swig of his gin. "Is that anything like antipasti?"

Half of the bottle disappeared within an hour and Ben found himself draped over the couch, balancing his empty glass on the underside of his chin, staring at Reagan through the gap under the coffee table. Reagan had found some solace in the carpet, holding his own empty glass to his chest like a teddy bear and watching unseen shapes dancing on the ceiling.

"Be my partner forever," he murmured.

Ben released a long sigh he didn't expect and the glass tumbled onto the floor. Vertigo cropped up bad if he even thought about getting up. "That's the idea."

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen became an anchor, rooting the duo into reality the harder the liquor decided to hit.

Ben pulled himself upright, wiping a smear of pungent alcohol off his jaw. "You gonna stay the night?"

"I prob'ly shouldn't."

"But you will, 'cause you ain't ever said no to me before and I don't think you're gonna start now."

Reagan turned his head and leveled Ben with a very dark, glassy look. "Better be careful, Benny…'cause one day I just might prove you wrong."

"Ooh, you think you got it in you to say no to me? Go ahead then, say no to me." Ben took a few playing cards from the deck on the table and tossed them at Reagan, who didn't even flinch. "'Smatter, Reggie? I ain't bein' too obnoxious, am I? Am I annoyin' you? Huh? Am I?"

Reagan bolted up and Ben screamed, attempting to make a sloppy run for it and instead dropping like a dead weight behind the table. Reagan caught up and grabbed him around the waist, lifting him over his own head to drop him onto the couch. Ben broke his hold and shoved his knee up, forcefully putting space between them so he could get free.

He succeeded, but only for a moment. They rolled off the couch and Reagan tussled with him to pin him down, straddling him and pressing Ben's elbows into the floor with a wicked chuckle.

"What's that, nine times in a row now?" Reagan struggled to catch his breath. "I'm startin' to think there's no point wrestlin' you if you're gonna keep losin' like this, sweetheart."

Ben scowled up at him. "You're eighty times stronger than me, it's not fair!"

Reagan caught the edge of the table to keep himself from collapsing, snatching the bottle of gin from beside Ben's head and taking a quick pull. "Guess you better start catchin' up."

Pouting like a petulant child, Ben knocked the bottle out of his hand and the the contents splashed on him before rolling to a stop against the wall.

"Oh," Reagan said. "You monster."

The nonchalance of his tone caused Ben to burst into laughter so intense and physical that Reagan had to laugh with him, slumping against the couch to let him get up, though neither of them had the capacity to do so and neither of them really wanted to anyway.

They slept off their inebriation in Ben's bed, ignoring every one of Charles' calls as they remained dead to the world until noon.

[defleurtradingco]

Old Angel Midnight

A final shot tore through the air, crackling like the thunderclouds that began to drift in from over the mountains.

With a sickening wet thunk, the undead creature fell at their feet. Its milky white eyes bore into those who bothered to look, so they didn't.

“Think I’m startin’ to like Mara’s idea of a more quiet weapon of choice.”

Joseph only grunted in response as he pushed the corpse away with the tip of his boot.

“What? Come on, you at least thought about it once.” Honore sneered as fire crackled in the boughs of the half barren trees ahead of them. “Maybe if ya weren’t such a crackshot with a rifle you’d consider.”

The wood from the barn groaned as the flames licked away at its beams. Down the fell before the whole structure collapsed in on itself, blowing out a wave of heat in all directions. 

“Just hope it rains before this fire gets out of control.” Joseph muttered, turning on his heel and walking the other way. “We’re through here. Best get back.” Honore lingered behind, looking back at the now inferno-engulfed farm. “They’re gonna be mighty furious about all this.”

“Better a burnt cinder heap than overrun when it's so close to town.”

“I dunno.” Honore sighed. The dry grass crunched under their boots as they meandered away from the scene. It was supposed to be an easy job. A farm taken over by the risen, the farmer and his wife running straight into town pleading and screaming for help, and the two of them being there at the bar just at the right time. “People already ain’t got much out here. I’d wager you would know more than most anyone.”

Joseph still refused to make eye contact and trudged along. “Why would I.”

“Been out here far longer’n I have. I’m a Cajun boy, remember?”

Joseph paused and glanced over at Honore then. The latter posed briefly, to which Joseph exhaled out his nose in disbelief before continuing on. Honore deflated.

“Knew I shoulda elected to go out with Mara instead!” He complained, trailing behind the other man for the rest of the way. “Even if she don’t talk much, it’s somehow worse bein’ ignored by you. Someone who will talk. On occasion.”

“Should stick around th’ preacher then. If ya can get him to stop stammerin’ for more than a minute."

“The preacher?! Please! As much of a sweetheart as he and you are, I like to spread my whinin’ equally! Maybe I overstepped my limit with ya today."

Their horses were miraculously still nearby, unnerved and with their tails swishing in an agitated manner, but still alive thank God. Elsewise they would have had to walk all the way back to camp.

Honore drug his feet along the ground as he got up into his saddle. “I’m exhausted. We goin’ back now to deliver the good news? Or in the morning?”

“You go back to camp. I’ll tell 'em.” Joseph did the same. “Better off that way. Even if they were to fly into a gun-totin' rage, I'll at least survive it.”

“Oh yeah.” Honore nodded idly a few times. “Forget that sometimes. Well, don’t get too mangled up. Last time, we had to look all over-” “Go on.”

Honore held his hands up in surrender before giving his horse a small kick.They trotted off into the night, and Joseph headed the other way.

The fire from the farm reached out far enough that even from a distance, his shadow was still quite long. As the horse walked, he stared at the ground. At his shadow. No movement was out of place, the shape was correct, and there was no unnatural chill to the air.

But he knew better.

On he traveled, to the heart of the already burnt part of the woods. The remnants of tree trunks stood wilted and silent, like skeletons that had been frozen in time. Fires were certainly not uncommon out here in the brush bordering the beginnings of the mountain-forests. Sometimes they would fly out of control and eat a small copse here and there. This was one such place some years back.

The undead who had invaded their client's farm unfortunately carried lit lanterns in their hands. Freshly turned victims. As soon as he and Honore arrived at the scene, they became aggressive. And then everything spiraled out of control…

It always did.

A stale breeze ran in between the trees, rattling the dead branches slightly. An old noose hung nearby, creaking and silhouetted by the orange moon that gazed down upon the land. It would soon be swallowed up by the storm. There were already trails of dark clouds smeared in front of it.

Joseph slowed his horse to a stop, the both of them standing still in relative silence before he swung his leg over to one side to drop back onto the ground. He gave the horse a few firm pats on its shoulder before walking forward a ways. Just far enough as to not spook the beast by what was to come.

The silence made his ears ring.

He knew.

Gazing down at his shadow again, he was not surprised to see it had taken on a different form. It was taller and slender in frame now, with tattered bits of what seemed to be worn cloth wafting off of it like an abandoned flag left to rot on a lonely battlefield. Very rarely would there ever be wings to accompany it. Tonight was not one of those nights.

“You saw the whole thing, I know ya did.”

His shadow did not answer. 

Joseph snorted derisively. “I feel like yer doing it on purpose sometimes. Makin’ them aggressive like that.”

The wind picked up in a powerful sweeping gust as the shadow rose from the ground, looming over the man with what could be mistaken as malicious intent. But was it?

“I have come to care for my flock as I have promised.

But even I cannot be in all places at once. Would it not do to provide some few of them with tooth and claw so that they might defend themselves from predators until I may reach them?” Came a whispering voice. There was an edge of annoyance and anger interwoven within it that Joseph was accustomed to by now.

“Yeah but this-” Joseph started, and then gave pause. He pulled off his hat in frustration and to wipe at the sweat forming on his brow. The evening was a warm one. “What am I supposed to do? This is just putin’ us at odds with one another! People rushin’ inta town being attacked by these things afraid fer their lives- Am I supposed to ignore that?! You said it wouldn’t come ta anybody being hurt!”

The Angel of Death’s shadow drifted from one side to the other, imitating the unsteady flame of a candle. “And I have not broken this promise.

You are well aware that it is the fault of those who deem it necessary and righteous to prey upon these defenseless ones. Those who deem it the ‘will of their Lord’ and carry out 'His judgment', 'His divine authority', on 'His' behalf. Those who wholeheartedly believe these words that flow from their mouths as water from a mountain. 

Nay. I will not stand idly by as my children are slaughtered and regarded as little more than animals made for sacrifice. And neither will they.”

“Then-!” Joseph began once again, only to stop. They had been through this same argument before. Nothing ever resolved peacefully or neatly.

A soft exhale floated forth from the Angel. “Surely you must see this. You claimed to once before. Was that a lie?”

The man looked elsewhere. “No. No it wasn’t.”

“Then what has changed? What has changed, once-devout one? Have you chosen a new Lord? Have your repeated and incomplete deaths not swayed you to see this truth?”

“No. And no."

The Angel’s anger began to churn again, causing his shadowy form to ripple. “We are bonded, you and I. And it is a bond I would prefer to not break, as you have been…” They trailed off briefly, becoming somewhat calmer once more. “...as you have understood more than most why I have chosen this path. Why I must-”

“Enslaving us isn’t salvation.” Joseph interrupted.

The shadow rose in height suddenly, before the Angel's voice returned with a biting tone. “I am freeing you from all that plagues your kind. Your hatred, your suffering. And I will not rest until I have lifted this burden from you.

It was not fair then to bestow such a heinous curse upon humanity for his curious nature. To rip all that he knew away from him for one mistake. And it is not fair now.”

"So what then?" Joseph asked, lifting his arms in defeat before letting them drop and slap at his sides. "Everyone who dies…you'll just turn 'em into those creatures? What about th' after?? Is there an end to any of this? Will they ever get to move on?"

"All will be at peace only when humanity comes and rests his weary head within my arms. I will be there to greet them, all of them.

And they will wander this world that has been created for them forever more. They shall want for nothing. Neither food, nor water, nor blood. They shall have each other. Their loves, their friends, their family, safety and certainty.

All shall come to rest inevitably. Is this not the heaven they seek out in life?"

An eternity with no free will. No consciousness (that Joseph knew of. Could these creatures think? Could they feel?) It made his stomach churn. For a moment the faces of his companions flashed by in his mind.

"Until that day." He threatened in a low voice. "I'll be giving ya hell. Until that day. Right down to the last hour. To the last minute. To the last second.

What you want is no paradise."

"Then come." The Angel hissed. "You will understand the futility of it all. I need not strike you down, and I have no desire to. You bring your own doom unto you and yours. It is an inescapable fate.

…but should you decide it is time to finally rest… then I will grant you eternity, Lazarus." The shadow sunk back onto the ground, shrinking in size until it matched the shape of the man's body once more.

Joseph spit off to the side as he turned to walk away fuming. What would a celestial entity understand about humanity that a human could not? It made no sense to him. It never did. Haunting visions of the entirety of the Earth succumbing to such a nightmare of an existence battered what thoughts he tried to shield the rest of himself with. Doomed to idle with no autonomy. Cared for yes, but how could anyone even enjoy it? Surely that wasn’t what everyone wanted.

And what would happen to him? Would the Angel have him join them? Would they make him watch, in hopes that he might suddenly, or at least over time, comprehend the importance of this doomed mission?

The image of a future where he couldn’t have dark hair curled around his fingers, or feel the touch of soft and pale skin shook him to his core. It made him nauseous. It upset him greatly.

As he stood there alone with only the trees and his horse nearby, he reached into his coat pocket to take hold of the stone knife that lay hidden there. The rough and sharp edges cut into his flesh the harder he squeezed, and he felt the darkness of the artifact begin to whisper into his ears. 

…But he let go before they could say any more.

[star1117-archives]

Maybe I'm too biased but drunk s*x with San has to be😩😩 those hIP MOVES

Also WOOYOUNG- that mf gives me "I really know what I'm doing while drunk" vibes. Like, he's 100% an expert at making you see starts while drunk. And idk why, but I see him taking the task of making you feel good very seriously lmao

And hongjoong with all the "Park Seonghwa pabooo" and him explaining seonghwa the difference between sexy and sensual and basically being an amazingly hot bastard, I think he would be quite kinky and degrading😶 he'd edge you and laugh at your face like "aww look at you, we've just started and you can't take it anymore, haha!!" you won't remember your name after he's done🥴

NSFW UNDER CUT !! UNDER 15’s DNI !!

I love this but I COMPLETELY DISAGREE ABOUT WOOYOUNG AND JOONG

San’s hips are demonic no matter his state, he’s probably a little more haphazard with his thrusting and less careful because his mind just goes blank after too much alcohol. All he knows is that he wants you and he wants you right then and there. Public sex me thinks.

Wooyoung is just MESSY after a few too much. He’s ripping clothes accidentally, making out with teeth n everything, kissing and licking your body eagerly. His mind is running a mile a minute and he doesn’t know what he wants. To mark you up? Suck your nipples? Give your pussy breathy kisses? He’s doing all three almost at the same time, unable to fixate and stick to one. His gaze is hazy and his words are slurred, his thrusts are sloppy and he’s hardly talking when he’s fucking you. Definitely grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer, pulling your legs apart, pushing them up etc.

Joong. Kim fucking Hongjoong. He gets so fucking needy it’s unbelievable. Say you’ve gone out drinking, at a friends birthday for example, he’s holding your waist firmly against him. He’s grinding onto you as he sucks at you sweet spot. He’s playing with the hem of your dress, slipping his hand under or moving it up slightly until you have to hold his hand so he doesn’t go too high. Especially since you’re on the middle of the fucking dance floor. 100% eventually has to be dragged to the car, but you can’t keep yourself from pouncing on his horny ass when he’s all over you in the backseat.

[wootzietoozee]

hmm. ii x stardew valley au

[comfortzonelol]

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[kurtstinypurse]

I think the CC and RM relationship break down also has a lot to do with hiring Darren. Whatever type of relationship you believe D and C had, they were close at one point. As evidenced by the behind the scenes ice skating videos, D being C's plus one to the Time 100 event, D's presence at the SBL premiere, early interview and red carpet interactions. I think RM had a lot of jealousy about this as well and took that out on C.

I do think bringing in darren added a whole new level to everything - for the show, for kurt, and for chris - and very unexpectedly, considering he was initially only meant to have a brief mentor role. but klaine, obviously, set off a revolution, and I think everyone involved struggled in how to appropriately handle it.

multitudes of possible interpretations aside, chris and darren used to be seen together, and then they weren’t, and I’m sure it was largely because fans freaked out every time they did.

I can’t speak to ryan feeling jealous about chris being close to darren, but that’s one possible interpretation. 

if darren was brought in with the intention of blaine becoming kurt’s boyfriend, I think everything would’ve been handled a lot differently - from developing a stronger backstory for blaine instead of retroactively making him a full-fledged character to how kurt/blaine/chris/darren were presented to fans.

but bringing it back to chris, I also admire his resilience in handling the fan explosion of klaine. he’s clearly introverted and reminds me a lot of myself, and as revolutionary and important as it was, I can’t imagine how overwhelming it must’ve been to be half of that. 

[heroicheart]

sometimes i just b......missin him