#We're Dead but We've been Worse!
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mysteroads · 8 months ago
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World Building Post-War MHA, aka:
How Mr. Compress survives, thrives, steals all of AFO's money, and gives a big ol' "Fuck You!" to the heroes by doing a better job at saving people... All while staying classy. 😉
tltr: Mr. Compress steals AFO's money, creates a non-profit, names it all after the League to remind everyone why it's important and also to thumb his nose at the heroes.
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So, mostly for my own edification, I started wondering what a Post-War MHA world would look like, and since MHA is a dystopia, how people would go about fixing the problems.
So, MHA dystopia can be described as: "Questioning the root of systemic issues brought about by a society grown both compliant *and* reliant on the protection of superheroes-- who have been elevated to celebrity/godlike status while ignoring 'Heroes' inherent humanity and all the flaws that come with being human-- while ignoring their own responsibilities as humans to help each other."
There's a reoccurring theme of Bystander Syndrome. Regular people growing compliant and being unwilling to step up to help their fellow man. Well, Post-War, I'm betting that's going to change, and that's where our boy Atsuhiro Sako can come in.
We all know Mr. Compress is going to survive. I really hope more members of the League do as well, but we know Atsuhiro Sako's going to make it. More than that, he's going jump headlong into making damn sure the past doesn't repeat itself, even if that means playing nice with the heroes (for awhile). There's going to be some sort of Villain Rehab program, or even a pardon/parole for the surviving LoV member(s). Sako's going to to be the perfect little ex-villain right up until his exit paperwork is processed.
And, since he was 1} in Tomura's inner circle, 2} he's clever enough to get Garaki to talk to him, and 3} he's an excellent thief... I'm going to assume he's smart enough to get the info he needs to access enough of AFO's accounts. 💸💸💸 And even if he's not, he's savvy enough to find the money somewhere.
I see Atsuhiro at the head of a Non-Profit Organization with several subsidiaries dedicated to different problems. Furthermore, as a unashamed former villain, I can see him naming the whole thing after the League... just to spite the heroes and remind everyone why he's doing what he's doing.😈 It's what his friends would've wanted.
The League for the Lost, and it's subsidiaries (colored for funsies):
Dabi’s Fire, for the campaign against domestic abuse and protection for the abused. 
Himiko’s Hope, assistance for so-called villainous and other maligned quirks, with a special emphasis on blood quirks and others with unique dietary requirements. 
Spinner’s Stories, support for mutation quirks and heteromorphs. 
Jin’s Friends, for free access to mental health resources. 
Big Sis’s House, safe spaces for queer youth and adults.
Tomura’s Soldiers, for the war against the trafficking of children with powerful quirks.
Honestly, this is probably the best way for the problems to be solved, and the best way to put AFO's ill gotten gains to good use. I mean, the money is there! It's going to be found eventually. Might as well use it to do whatever they can do to prevent a problem before it happens! And what better way to keep the memory of the League of Villains alive, get civilians involved in helping each other, and provide a warning for future generations-- than to put their names on Japan's biggest non-profit?
And, if he manages to piss off the old-school heroes and cops, while attracting the new generations, then that's just a bonus. 😎
If you made it this far, you are a most excellent person, a ✨gem✨ among readers!💖 And I want to hear from you! All... probably two, maybe three?... of you! What would you like to see from Post-War MHA? How would you fix the problems? Who from the LoV do you think's going to survive, and what are they going to do with themselves in the new world?
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je-suis-problematique · 3 months ago
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The CBD oil prescription can't come soon enough.
– Moony
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theminecraftbee · 9 months ago
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being in true sexyman nostalgia mode today (on account of. IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR BABY.) i think one of the most fascinating things about it is that we will never manage to do that again. like, not in a "we couldn't organize it better" way; there were better ways to do the spreadsheet, we would just turn off comments on posts and anon asks from day one so that we wouldn't then get people accusing us of censorship while we tried and failed to control the tide of things that ended up in the comments and inbox, we'd definitely have a WAY higher non-hermit contingent, both thanks to qsmp and thanks to the sexyman blog and medusa now having MUCH wider reach to other corners of the fandom and the original spread not all rooting at me, etc.
but the reason we couldn't do it again is that i don't know if we could ever replicate the exact circumstances that lead to it blowing up quite to the extent it blew up.
it was while tumblr polls and doing tumblr poll brackets on tumblr itself was still new-ish, and people were still excited about them. the idea of a mcytblr bracket was basically brand new; i won't claim we did it FIRST (because i have no idea if we did and doubt we did), but certainly we did it big first. so there's that; we can never again invent in real time "shit people are sending us threats about fraud lets legalize fraud because its funny, we can't stop it, and that neutralizes that drama as a thing anyone will take seriously", and then in turn accidentally invent a fandom culture of. um. wide-spread voter fraud.
(i don't know if we should apologize for, uh, causing the specific way mcytblr voter frauds. i still think it was better than the alternative at least, especially after seeing how so many other polls crashed and burned after us. there were MANY things we could have done better but i have seen SO MANY ways we could have done things worse since then so i think we came out looking pretty okay.)
but also: february 2023 was a very different time in mcytblr. we were in a hermitcraft dead period, where most of the hermits were either on vacation or playing tcg (which was fun, but didn't end up generating that much fandom activity by that time in february). the former dsmp crew was very much doing Nothing (and in that awkward space when the entire fandom knew dsmp 2 was never happening, but also people were still claiming it would happen, so it was just... busy waiting). qsmp didn't exist yet. there was no ongoing life series and wouldn't be for some time. i think even the dominioners and lifestealers were in a fairly dead zone. there was very little new for people to be excited about, mcyt content-wise.
enter: our poll. our poll which cleo then thinks its funny to call out on twitter. our poll, which was not only new mcyt content for the fandom to interact with (thanks to the fact we KEPT GETTING CC INTERACTIONS???), but participatory.
for about two weeks, we were the mcyt event de jour.
and like. the thing is. now we're in february 2024. mcyt is BOOMING. a new hermitcraft season JUST STARTED. we came off of vault hunters before that. meanwhile, qsmp just restarted and is, if i'm understanding correctly, booming. they just added a new guy! the two current juggernauts of the fandom are in FULL SWING. i honestly think we'd be somewhat overtaken by the fact things are actually happening in fandom. there's stuff to do that ISN'T go insane about a poll.
and it's not new, and we've seen it all before now, and frankly, it's hard to cause a mass hysteria event TWICE. lightning in a bottle, as they say.
i think part of the reason we all just REMEMBER mcytblr sexyman so much is that we could never, ever recreate it, so it remains crystalized in a single moment in time, impossible to replicate, forever memorable.
anyway: HAPPY ONE YEAR TO THE JOE HILLS SWEEP BABY,
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bingbongsupremacy · 6 months ago
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Marry Me?
Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader
Warning: I haven't seen criminal minds in a bit so idk if the Spencer in this is 100 percent accurate
Summary: Spencer asks you to marry him at the most random time. Garcia does not approve.
*Not Proof Read* ABC List Criminal Minds
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" That's horrifying. " I wrinkle my nose at the sight of the bloody decapitated woman in the photos lying scattered around the table. This is why I work with Garcia.
Sticky notes are messily pasted onto the photos, illegible scribbles covering them.
" It is. " Spencer agrees.
" Why did you call me in here? " I ask, confused why my boyfriend called me in if he isn't going to expand further on the topic.
Spencer picks up a large Manila folder and shuffles through the contents. " I think I might have figured out the pattern we were looking for. " He pulls out a small stack of papers, each with the name of a high school in the corner. " The Unsub is killing girls from the same high school. Each girl attended the school at a different year. It's like he's going down the line of years. If I'm right, he'll been picking a girl from 2002 next. "
I scan over one of the papers he hands me. " Shit, you're right. " Excitement fills my body. We've been working on this for hours. He figured it out! " Spencer, this is fucking amazing! You figured it out! We need to tell the others. "
" Yes. I also think I might know who the next potential victim is based on other patterns I picked up along the way. " Spencer rambles on. " I think he might be going after Piper Johnson next, the woman we saw on the news interview. We need to check if she's okay. By the way, do you want to get married? "
His words come out so fast it takes me a second to process.
" W-What? " My eyes widen. Did I hear correctly?
Spencer is looking at me his gaze steady. He looks serious. " I know it's a little random, but this case really had me thinking. We don't know how much time we have together. God forbid one of us gets hurt or worse. I don't want to waste any more time with you. I love you and I want to be with you. I'd be the happiest man on earth if you said yes. "
For a moment I forget we're surrounded by gruesome shit. All I can think about is Spencer and our future. All of our plans.
A large smile makes its way onto my face. " Of course I will, Spence. I love you. " I smash my face into his, our lips meeting and immediately sending shivers through my body.
" I love you too, Y/N. So fucking much. " His voice rumbles against my lips.
" You did not just fucking ask Y/N to marry you in a room surrounded by dead women. Spencer, what the fuck. " A surprised voice interrupts us.
Surprised, Spencer and I pull apart to find the owner.
Garcia stares at us, her mouth hung open in surprise. " And you accepted his proposal? Are you insane? Don't get me wrong, you guys are perfect for each other. This proposal was just...so...gory. " She glances at the pictures around the room. " I'll help you plan out a real proposal, alright? Let's press pause on this until tonight. I'll have it all ready by the time you guys get back. " She says confidently, taking on the task we didn't ask her to do.
" It's really not that big of a deal- " I begin.
" It'll be done by tonight. " She says sternly, holding her hand up to stop any argument. " Now, you go let the others know what's going on with the unsub. " She points at me. " You are staying here with me while we set everything up. "
She gently pulls me towards the door, snatching the pack of information out of Spencer's hand.
" But-! "
She doesn't let me finish, swiftly kicking me out of the room.
Behind her, Spencer stand watching me in surprise.
Garcia shuts the door in my face, leaving me standing on the other side alone.
This day has been so confusing.
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thewertsearch · 6 months ago
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And now we have to deal with this motherfucker.
It’s probable that Scratch knew things would play out like this, which means this message was always intended for Karkat.
...it's probable that that's the case, but there's always a slight possibility that we're in one of his dark pockets. If so, then Karkat wasn't supposed to see this message, and might be about to learn something Scratch doesn't want him to know.
Mr. Vantas.
Dang it.
I'm delivering this message through the console of one of my numerous unwitting proteges to give you a word of advice, and then you will not hear from me again.
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Characteristically unhelpful - and in fact, it might not refer to either of Eridan's victims. We still have Tavros's corpse to deal with, and I'm sure there'll be more bodies hitting the floor before the day is out.
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All of the bodies in the room remain as they were. There is clearly nothing to be concerned about whatsoever.
Feferi has an eldritch connection through the Horrorterrrors, and they could probably pull some dark magical shenanigans to get her body moving again. I think that's unlikely, though, since Feferi's ghost is active in the Dream Bubbles, and I don't think she'd actually want to be revived. After all, she's go a job to do.
I'm still convinced that Kanaya's coming back, but it's hardly going to happen while our back is turned. We're out of Kernelsprites, so she can't be prototyped - and we can't use her Dream Moon Slab, if it even exists, because Prospit's been destroyed by Jack.
Frankly, I can't think of a single realistic way to revive her short of time travel, and that's not a road we want to go down. I'm really trying not to think about what that might mean.
I guess that leaves Tavros.
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There's definitely something going on with him that we don't understand. He was about to smooch Vriska before she stopped him, and the Breath symbolism surrounding the act makes me think it was more than just a typical Dream Self revival kiss. He has a hidden power, and that power seems to kick in when someone's dying.
Could Tavros be a little less dead than we've been led to believe? It's possible - his arc doesn't scan as complete to me. He'd only obtained the merest shred of confidence before Vriska brought him fatally down to earth, and I think there are still many interesting places you could take his character.
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CG: THERE YOU ARE, YOU HAD ME WORRIED DUDE […] CG: QUIT THE BULLSHIT PARTYCLOWN ANTICS AND GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE. […] TC: shut up. CG: WHAT… TC: I SAID SHUT THE MOTHERFUCK UP, MOTHERFUCKER. TC: honk honk honk :o)
Gamzee’s rocking a new quirk. He’s still swapping cases, but they’re alternating every message rather than every character, as though his mind is less scrambled than it used to be.
Could this be how he talks when he's off the slime? He already seems more aware than before, and his grumpiness evokes a hangover - but he's honking more than he used to, which is the opposite of what I'd expect if he was sober.
CG: SERIOUSLY, GET BACK HERE NOW, AND HAVE A SLIME PIE TO RELAX OR SOMETHING. TC: SLIME? TC: there is no more slime, brother. TC: AND ANYWAY. TC: shit was motherfuckin poison, didn't you know?
Yup. It looks like Gamzee’s gone cold featherbeast.
It's not a great time for this to happen, but it's not like we can stop it now. I highly doubt Gamzee was forward-thinking enough to reproduce his pies through alchemy, and things are a little too tense right now to try getting clever with an Appearifier. For better or worse, his supply has dried up for the foreseeable future.
So now, for the first time, we're interacting with a Gamzee who isn't out of his mind on soporifics. His shift in personality is already pretty drastic, and I'm interested in seeing what the real Gamzee is like.
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recuira · 1 year ago
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after hours
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after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction
for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.
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chapter one chapter two chapter three
chapter four | suede. stalking. silly.
his pov;
"Your wanted poster."
Those three words settled in my mind as I stared at the distraught girl in front of me, watching as she fumbled with her hands, a nervous exterior brushing over her. She seemed to be so horrified with the fact that I was once a pirate sought after by thousands- wanted dead or alive, though much preferred dead. Many still wanted me dead but due to my brilliant idea of hiding out here, the chance of anyone getting my bounty was thin. I, however, didn't see it being as much of a big deal as she deemed it so. The real issue I found was tucked away in one of the books within the nightstand which I was so fucking thankful she didn't find. I'd rather her not have been looking around but if she were to find one of the two? I was glad she found the poster.
I tossed another slice of apple into my mouth then set the knife down on the cutting board. I approached Y/N but instantly halted when I noticed how nervous and uneasy she was. "What's wrong?"
"H-How many people did you kill?" She asked, her voice shaking.
"Does that really matter?" I asked, waving my hands up in the air to hopefully exaggerate my point. "It was almost a year ago."
"That doesn't change the fact that it happened!"
"I know, I know." Despite her discomfort, I took a seat next to her anyway. She tightened her arms around herself, almost to make sure there was as much distance between us without her actually moving. Clenching my jaw, I patted my hands upon my thighs. "I know it's a terrible thing, and there's nothing I can do to change that. It's in the past and if I could go back and alter things, I would. Being a pirate was all I knew. My old friend was one, too. Then we separated onto different things and-"
"Did he kill people?"
"Lots of pirates kill people. It's part of the hype, ya know? It's very unlikely to raid another ship without there being any casualties. But I stopped because I got tired of it. I wanted something more."
"It's a pretty big bounty. I mean- come on, fifteen million berries?"
"Don't think about turning me in now," I chuckled, wanting to add a bit of lightheartedness to this unfortunate predicament.
"I'm not like that. I know I'm in need of money but-"
"I didn't mean it like that, Y/N, come on. Give me some slack."
"Well, why exactly did you stop? Did you lose the thrill of stealing from others? O-Or did you get bored of killing innocent people?"
I rolled my eyes, scoffing. "We've all done some shit we're ashamed of. We're humans. I did a lot of fucked up shit," I said as I pointed at myself. "But I changed that. I moved and let all that go. I left my crew, made someone else the captain, and abandoned ship. I left all of that shit behind and came here."
"But why?"
"If I say this, I'll probably make things worse but I don't want to lie anymore," I said as I laid back, folding my hands over my chest. I stared up at the ceiling. "You've obviously heard of the One Piece, right?"
"Of course."
"Well, I was one of those pirates absolutely obsessed with finding it. Fuck, I even dreamt about it. It was the only thing I truly desired in life. It was the only thing I thought about. Not riches, women, alcohol- just the One Piece. I was making somewhat decent progress but then I heard that a group of Straw Hats-" I grimaced at the thought. "-made off with the map which they stole from one of the Marine bases. I happened to track them down and I managed to steal the map from some kid named Monkey D. Luffy. But all good things must come to an end and I lost it. I was back to square one. And then I discovered his bounty was thirty million berries." I frowned then sat up, turning to face Y/N. "Can you believe that? Some newby pirate-wannabe received a bounty double my own! Seeing that brought me back to reality. So I dropped everything then came here."
"All because of him?"
I nodded my head. Just the thought of that kid irked me. There was no one, other than Shanks, who I despised more than my own self.
"So, yeah, I know what I did was fucked up. But there's a reason I'm here now. There's a reason I've given you so much. It's because I want to be a better person, maybe redeem myself for what I've done. And I can do that by helping you, by making your life a little less miserable."
"Do you pity me?" The girl asked, finally meeting my gaze.
"What?" I laughed, almost obnoxiously. "Of course not. If anything, I envy you."
"Me?" Y/N pointed at herself. "You envy me?"
"You have no bad conscience. You've done nothing wrong, you have nothing to make up for. You have a clean slate."
She shrugged, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "Thank you."
"So, uh, do you hate me now?" I asked, forcing a frown to mimic a pouting child. She giggled at this and shook her head. I sighed in relief, wiping 'sweat' from my forehead. "Thank god. I don't know what I'd do with myself if you hated me."
"I knew you were a pirate but it's still shocking to learn about your past. It'll take me a bit to get used to it but I don't hate you."
"So, we're good?" I extended my hand.
"We're good." She shook it.
I felt as if a huge relief was lifted off my shoulders. And as long as she stayed out of the nightstand, there would be no more issues. But if I hid the book, then I would be even more safe. I pondered the possibilities before I watched as she rose from the confines of the bed and approached the counter. My eyes trailed down. The backs of her thighs were exposed and the shorts clung to her ass so divinely. I bit my lip and crossed my leg over my lap.
"I appreciate everything you've done for me," She mumbled as she started to chew on an apple, then began to cut into an orange. "I do have a question for you, though."
"Go ahead, shoot." As soon as she turned around, my eyes met hers and I smiled.
"Are devil fruits real? Or is that just an old tale? I've never seen one up close and I heard they cost a fortune, even for just one alone."
"They're real," I said with a small laugh. "I would know, I've eaten one."
Y/N nearly jumped before she darted over toward me, her hands grabbing at my shoulders. She still had a slice of half-chewed apple in her mouth which made her struggle to properly speak. "WHAT? You- NO! You didn't?!" She let go of my arms and instead planted her hands on my chest, shoving me back. I collapsed back against the bed, laughing. "You ate one?!"
"Years ago, when I was fifteen."
"You're lying!"
"I'm not. It was a mistake actually."
"What happened?"
I chuckled and pushed myself back up. "Give me an orange and I'll tell you."
If my reflexes weren't so quick, the fruit would've hit me in the face with how quick she threw it. But I caught it and began to pick apart the peel. "Easy, next time," I smirked and took a bite from it. "Well, when I was younger and was a pirate-in-training, the crew I was in raided this ginormous ship and hit the motherload. Not only gold and jewels and anything you could think of, but there was also a devil fruit. I found out how much they were worth and tried to steal it but I was caught in a predicament and I tried to hide it in my mouth."
"And?"
"I swallowed it whole."
She gasped, "And you're alive?"
"It doesn't kill you. It just takes your ability to swim when you're in the ocean, in salt water. It's like the sea turned its back on you."
"Did you get a power from it?"
I shrugged and winked at her, taking another bite. I licked the juices from my hand. "Guess."
"You can fly?"
"Ha! Nope."
"Read minds?"
"It's body-altering."
"Wait," The lovely maiden smirked, taking a seat on the bed. "Did it give you that red nose?" She snickered.
"Guess again," I said flatly, my expression turning cold as I stared at her. She gulped, clenching her jaw. I laughed and looked down at my lap, now using one hand to hold the orange. I continued to chew on it. But while she was distracted with her numerous attempts to guess what kind of body-altering power I had, I detached my left hand at the wrist. It floated behind the both of us and tapped on her right shoulder. Y/N jumped up, her head shooting to look at her side. Her eyes widened and her eyebrows furrowed together before she spotted my floating hand waving at her. She gasped and slapped it away. I broke out into a fit of laughter, my hand reconnecting to my wrist. "Impressive, huh?"
"You- what?" She was still flabbergasted.
"I ate the chop-chop fruit. It allows me to pretty much chop any part of my body. Like I can-" To avoid grossing her out, I chopped my left leg from my thigh instead of my head from my neck. She watched in amazement. I smiled at this. "I can disconnect anything from my body from my toes to my ears to my-"
"Even... ya know?"
I winked. "Oh, yeah. That, too."
"That's so cool. How come you haven't done it before around me?"
"I don't know. I just never found a reason to." Shrugging my shoulders, I allowed my leg to snap back. I continued to chew on the orange before finishing it and tossing the peel into a small bin to the left of the bedside table. Y/N finished hers as well. She wiped her hands down on her shirt.
"So, uh," I chewed on my bottom lip. "Do you think you and your mother will be okay?"
"Yeah. We fight all the time. Her drinking doesn't help."
I cringed. "Really?"
"Yeah, she's one of the reasons I hate it so much."
I pursed my lips and nodded my head. I knew I needed to cut back on it but it was something I've done for well over more than half my life. Though, I was destined to do it. Not only for myself, but for her, too. I'd do anything for Y/N. "So," I began, "what do you want to do today?"
"I need to go make up with my mother. That's a big to-do. I can't stand her ever being upset with me." The girl said as she stood up, slipping her shoes back onto her feet. "We can have dinner tonight if you want. Maybe you could meet her."
"Meet your mom?"
"Yeah, why not? She was wondering where all that money came from. She thought I stole it."
"Hell, I don't know. I'm not good with meeting new people."
"Will you, at least, consider it?"
"Sure," I smirked.
"Thank you." Y/N reached for the doorknob, giving it a strong and firm tug before it yanked open. A gush of cold wind washed over her, almost knocking her back. I tossed her my coat to which she whispered another 'thank you' then slipped it on. "I'll see you, Buggy."
"Bye," I murmured with a smile.
As soon as the door shut, I jumped down from the bed and pulled the drawer out from the nightstand, dropping it on the stone floor. I sorted through the numerous books and grabbed the novel I was so fucking thankful she didn't look through. As I opened the cover, the hollowed book had contents that almost spilled out. Papers among papers, among sketches fell out, wafting along the floor. Several notes about Y/N puddled on the floor. One, which was my favorite, was a letter I wrote to her- well, I refused to send it. If I sent it, any last fiber of my confidence would be crushed like a scrambled egg. My fingers lined the rigid edges as I unfolded it.
Messy paragraphs lined both the front and back of the page.
I smiled. How long ago did I write this? I haven't looked at it in so long. I usually added a sentence to it each time I saw Y/N, which is why it was so long. But I stopped pouring my thoughts and desires into it when I actually had the pleasure of speaking to her.
If she saw this, I would kill myself.
I'd purposely jump into the ocean with two anchors attached to my feet.
I looked over the first paragraph,
'I've never wanted something so badly in my life. To say I yearned for her would be a complete understatement. I longed for her, I yearned, I desired- In simple terms, I wanted her. I mean, how could I not? She was an angel. She was a siren. I would purposely listen to her enchanting song, allowing my boat to crash, just if it meant I could be graced by her presence, by her beauty. I was obsessed with her. If she found out my thoughts, my desires, she would never let herself be seen with me. I wouldn't blame her, though. I was obsessive. It was unhealthy, I knew that. But I didn't care. I wouldn't say I loved her because I didn't know what that felt like. I've never experienced it. But perhaps I did love her. I didn't know, I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was the only treasure I wanted. Not the One Piece, no. Not even that could match up to her alluring person. If I had to travel every sea in order to find her, battle every sea snake in order to touch her, I would. I would in a heartbeat.'
I grimaced, cringing at what I was reading. Thank god, she didn't see this. I didn't even want to see this.
I tucked the papers back into the hollowed-out book, closing it. I slipped the other novels into the drawer then slid it into the nightstand. With the book of secrets, I needed to hide it somewhere she could never find it- where even I struggled to find it. I didn't want to throw it out for I would be completely discarding all of those moments we had together, although she couldn't reconcile them with me because at that time, I was nonexistent to her.
Maybe I could follow my own idea and form my own message in a bottle. I never mentioned her name, nor my own. To an outsider's perspective, it was anonymous.
I shook my head and slipped the book back into the bedside table. She wouldn't be back anytime soon so I had enough time to properly execute a fool-proof plan.
But right now?
I needed to go get another coat.
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her pov;
My mother and I resolved things, just like always. And when she caught wind of a pirate suddenly becoming very fond of me, she begged me to invite him over for dinner. I didn’t think that was the best of ideas. Going out to dinner? Sure! But to have him over? At our house? I cringed at the idea.
She fell ill months ago. Nothing too major, but ever since she’s gotten better, she despises leaving the house and even made me bring her bed downstairs so she could sleep next to the kitchen just in case she had a hankering for something to eat. It was ridiculous, I knew that. But I couldn’t just tell her no. She was my own mother. While I was old enough, I definitely wasn't going to willingly disobey her.
She persisted that I go and grab Buggy so we could have him over for dinner, while I insisted we all go out to eat. She hated the idea and told me that it was her house, her rules.
I grimaced at the thought.
Now, I was just outside Buggy's home, knocking on the stone door. I hoped he was home, though there was no possibility of me being able to ask him prior to my arrival. I knew he was busy. He was a very busy man. I was surprised he made time for me.
With another knock, another silence fell. I groaned and backed up.
My eyes trailing down, I stared at the doorknob and chewed on my bottom lip. He wouldn't care if I waited inside, right? We trusted each other. He knew where I lived and I knew where he lived. As far as I knew, he never crossed any of my boundaries and I definitely didn't cross any of his- well, except for maybe 'snooping' through his nightstand.
Without thinking too much more about it, I grabbed the rusted doorknob, gave it a firm twist, then shoved it open. I almost fell through the doorway.
I caught my balance and stepped inside, closing the door behind me. Without the lantern being lit, it was rather dark, but the bright blue sky helped to illuminate the small room. He must've not been home since I left.
I looked around, admiring everything.
As I took a seat on the edge of the bed, I noticed a piece of paper laying on the floor. It wasn't there before.
I raised an eyebrow and reached to grab it but before I could, the door flung open, a certain blue-haired pirate standing in the entrance. When he noticed me, he smirked. I gulped.
"So, we're breaking and entering, are we?" The man grinned as he took a few paces forward.
"I'm sorry," I murmured, scratching the back of my neck. "I came over to ask you about dinner but you weren't here so I figured I would wait."
"No worries, I'm only teasing."
"So?" I folded my arms, leaning forwards.
"So what?" Buggy questioned as he slipped his coat off. Since when did he get a new coat? And why? I was only borrowing the one he lent me. I didn't plan on keeping it. But I guess now it was okay if I did.
"Dinner? Are you available?"
"Hmm, it depends. What time?"
"I don't know, sometime tonight? Only for two hours or so. My mother wanted to meet you. I told her about you."
"What did you tell her?"
"That you've been a friend of mine for a few weeks now and you've been fortunate enough to treat me and help me out," I said with a smile. "She thought you were my boyfriend." I chuckled.
"Heh, that's rich," Buggy said as he turned around to close the door.
"So? Can you?"
"I guess so. Just don't leave me alone with her. I really don't want to be bombarded with questions." The man said as he folded the jacket over his arm then slung it on the countertop. "Did you tell her about my nose?"
I laughed, confused. "No? Why would I?"
"It's my defining feature. It's hard not to notice it when you see me."
"I didn't tell her. I didn't think it was important. I even forget it's there."
The clown burst out in laughter, his eyes closing as he clutched his stomach and nearly fell back with his fit of giggles. I pursed my lips. "What's so funny?" I asked as I crossed my arms.
"It's cute how you're trying to be nice to me. With a nose like mine, how can you forget it's there?" He replied while wiping a tear from his eye.
I felt flustered with the first part of his monologue but I ignored it and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I just do. It's not all I see whenever I look at you, ya know. It's not my main focus point when we speak. I look at your eyes, not your nose."
"And yet again, you prove to me that you're different than others."
I smiled. "Hope that's a good thing."
Buggy smirked, winking his left eye. "Of course it is."
The pirated approached me before he knelt down and picked up the piece of paper. He examined it for a moment then laughed to himself. "Grocery list," He explained as he shoved the paper into his pocket.
I paid no attention to the paper. It wasn't any of my business. "Speaking of groceries, want to go help me get food for dinner?"
"What's on the menu?"
"No idea, but let's just grab something so she won't be bitching later."
"Guess I'll be needing this again," The blue-haired man said as he reached to grab his jacket. He slipped his arms through and adjusted the collar. "We match now."
"Mine's more vintage than yours." I winked.
"Oh, so it's yours now?"
"No?" I gulped.
Buggy giggled. "It is. I got my own now so no worries about giving it back. Unless you'd like to trade from time to time."
"No, I like this one."
The man looked at me, an eyebrow cocked upward.
I paid his look no attention and instead looked down at the tattered suede coat I wore. I inhaled softly. It smelled like him.
A soft odor mixed with whiskey, coconut, and cinnamon. And while I hated the stench of alcohol, it worked for him.
I couldn't imagine him without it.
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very-straight-blog · 4 months ago
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What do you think of a lot of the meta-discussion around Aegon being Aemonds BIGGEST bully since the beginning?
Well, first of all, as far as I remember, Aegon didn't cut out his eye, did he? This is where this discussion can end.
In general, we're shown two episodes of "bullying" and both of them are rather dubious, although in both cases Aegon behaves like an asshole.
The pig situation. Well, teenagers can be cruel, and siblings fight and even feud at this age, it's sad, but in general it's normal and doesn't necessarily affect their relationship in adulthood.
The brothel situation. Things are worse here due to the fact that this isn't a petty showdown between some boys, but a public humiliation. However, I have already written many times that I don't consider this to be something planned or malicious. Aegon was dead drunk, and in this state he thought it was funny. You don't even have to dig deeper like "he's mad at Aemond because of Jaehaerys." People do shit when they're drunk, that's it.
What worries me more is that fans talk about these two situations but don't talk about this:
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In a moment of danger or shock, Aemond instinctively protects his brother, and this, by the way, is after the pig situation. Yes, he probably does it because he hates him or is afraid of him.
And Aegon, in turn, instantly rushes to protect his brother during the conflict over dinner:
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And we also have a scene of their little dialogue before dinner, which seems quite peaceful and doesn't show that they have any open dislike for each other:
Aegon:"You don't drink enough."
Aemond:"You drink more than a Braavosi Sea Lord."
Aegon:"I drink just the right amount."
Aemond:“Even when the noose is so tight, they expect us to break bread.”
Overall, I think they have a complicated relationship - there's rivalry here, a certain lack of emotional intelligence, and yes, Aegon often acts like a moron. But we've been shown literally two episodes of bullying over the years. This is very similar to the reasoning that Alicent physically abused Aegon, because we were shown how she slapped him twice. That's not how it works.
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miss-musings · 4 months ago
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"Omega Needs You Both": A Deeper Look at Crosshair's Plan 99 Monologue
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So, I had an interesting exchange with someone on Twitter about the 3.15 "change of plans" scene and what exactly Crosshair meant -- specifically by the line "Omega needs you both."
I figured I'd share my thoughts here, and do a breakdown of the dialogue in this scene.
We start with Crosshair seeing Tantiss' defenses and his hand starts shaking uncontrollably. But, he clenches his fist and gives his brothers an update:
Crosshair: They've got heavy patrols guarding the perimeter, with lurca hounds. Wrecker: Told you we should've brought Batcher.
Wrecker, who was mauled by a jungle creature in the previous episode, has basically been running on a combination of adrenaline, determination and med patches for at least an hour. As Wrecker says this line, he chuckles and then groans with pain from his wounds.
Crosshair notices and gives him a look that Wrecker can intuit even under his helmet.
Wrecker: Stop looking at me like that. I'm fine. Crosshair: No, you're not.
Crosshair sees the situation they're in: Their five-man squad is down two people already.
Tech is dead. (RIP, bestest boy! 😭)
Echo is inside the base, but they can't coordinate with him. For all they know, he might've been captured or killed after deactivating the science vessel's sensors at the end of 3.13.
And now, on top of Crosshair's own hand tremors, Wrecker is severely injured.
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Clone Force 99 is down two people already, two of the remaining three aren't at full strength, AND they’re going into Tantiss without any (known) back-up. 😬
Even if they manage to get past the patrolling stormtroopers and lurca hounds, they still don't have an easy way in. (Of course, the Zillo beast solves both of these problems about two minutes later.)
So, knowing full well what they're going up against and seeing the bad shape his squad is in, Crosshair offers a solution:
Crosshair: Change of plans. You two head to the communications array and try to contact Rex. I'll infiltrate the base myself. Hunter: Not happening. Wrecker: Yeah, we've handled worse situations than this countless--
Wrecker of all people knows that their squad isn't invincible. But, I think he's trying to infuse some optimism into the conversation and convince Crosshair not to do something rash.
Meanwhile, Crosshair basically tries to do the exact same thing to Wrecker, but in a much harsher way:
Crosshair: Wake up, Wrecker! Clone Force 99 died with Tech. We're not that squad anymore.
Crosshair says what they're all probably thinking:
Clone Force 99 charged into every battle in the Clone Wars with full confidence and zero hesitation. Maybe they weren't exactly stupid about it, but they were definitely reckless.
Crosshair is trying to tell Wrecker that they're not that invincible squad anymore. They lost their MVP in Tech. They cannot afford to go recklessly charging into battle like they used to, which he believes Wrecker is suggesting.
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Crosshair: I've been inside that mountain. I know what we're up against. If we all go in, we're not all making it out.
Again, even if they manage to get inside, Crosshair knows exactly how well-defended Tantiss is. He's trying to convince his brothers to get to safety, because he knows the odds are stacked against them and he doesn't want to lose them.
He wants to keep them safe. He wants to protect them. So, he uses the best logic he has to try to convince them: 🥺
Crosshair: Omega needs you both.
I know a lot of people look at this line and interpret it as: "Crosshair thinks Omega doesn't need him (like she needs Hunter and Wrecker)."
There's definitely an argument to be made for that.
Crosshair has major self-esteem issues throughout Season 3, and he definitely feels like he failed Omega after missing the shot to track her ship in 3.11.
I do think he believes that Hunter and Wrecker matter to her more.
I also think he doesn't know or fully accept exactly how much he means to her.
But, he must have some sense that his well-being is important to her — that she cares about him.
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She refused point-blank to leave Tantiss without him. She spent five months telling him, convincing him, that they were going to escape together. For all his efforts to push her away, she never gave up on him. And when the opportunity finally came, she kept her word and freed him.
Between 3.05-3.11, Omega spends a lot of time with Crosshair.
She helps him reintegrate back into their family and reconcile with Hunter. She doesn't like when he suggests taking on CX-2 by himself. She tries to help him heal his hand and his mind. When she tries to convince them people can change, she reminds Crosshair that she never gave up on him.
She also told him multiple times in Seasons 1 and 3 that he was her brother. Omega always saw him as part of her family, and she wanted him in her life.
(EDIT: It’s also totally possible that Crosshair realizes Omega cares about him while ALSO believing she doesn’t need him. “She cares about me” =\= “she needs me,” especially compared to how much she needs Hunter and Wrecker. He is still weighed down by guilt and insecurity, after all, and feels like he failed her in 3.11.)
Again, I do think Crosshair underestimates and/or doesn't fully accept how much he means to her (or how much she needs him).
But, I think he’s ultimately trying to tell his brothers: "You two can't die, because Omega needs you."
Crosshair knows how much they care about her. He probably thinks they'll agree to anything -- no matter how stupid -- if helps guarantee her safety.
Omega is the best reason he has to convince them they need to live.
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In general, Tech went through a similar process in 2.16.
He first told his family to "sever the connection hinge now," and Wrecker refused. He called for Plan 99 and Wrecker still tried to talk him out of it. So, he shot the connection hinge himself, because he knew they'd never let him go even if it meant they’d all die too.
(RIP. He really was the bestest boy and the squad's MVP.)
Crosshair is doing the same thing: he's trying to convince his brothers to let him sacrifice himself to ensure their safety. 😭
Now, Tech's situation was different. It really was "either he dies or they all die." There was no way around it.
But that's not a guarantee here in 3.15, although Crosshair thinks it is. (And as we see later, he's basically right. The CX operatives could've and would've killed them, but Hemlock apparently wanted them alive.)
Anyway, let's close out Crosshair's monologue:
Crosshair: So, I'm doing this alone. It's-- It's what I deserve.
Pairing this with his previous statement that Omega needs Hunter and Wrecker, it can definitely sound like "I don't matter to Omega (like you do), so I need to sacrifice myself." Again, there's an argument to be made for that.
(EDIT: I really think DBB’s delivery of “Omega needs you both. So, I’m doing this alone. It’s what I deserve” is a BIG part of why people interpret it the way they do. And they’re arguably not wrong to do so. It does feel in-character for Crosshair.)
But, I'm guessing he means that sacrificing himself will finally atone for everything he's done -- hunting down and nearly killing his family, killing all sorts of people for the Empire, failing his loved ones, etc.
He's telling them: "I've made so many mistakes. Let me make up for it now by keeping you safe."
Thankfully, Hunter and Wrecker talk him out of it.
Hunter: Don't even think about Plan 99, Crosshair. Omega needs all of us, and so do those clones. Wrecker: We've always known the risks, and so did Tech. We do this together.
Hunter affirms that Omega needs all three of them. He's using the same logic that Crosshair tried: "Don't throw your life away, because Omega needs you too."
And Wrecker tells Crosshair more clearly that he knows their squad isn't invincible anymore. But, if they're going to do anything, they're going to do it together.
I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Crosshair planned to keep arguing with them, but then they got distracted by the Zillo beast. 😅
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In summary
If I had to rewrite Crosshair's monologue so it would more clearly convey what I think he's trying to say, it would go something like this:
Crosshair: Wrecker, we're not wild Clone Wars frat boys anymore. If we go rushing into Tantiss like we used to, we're all gonna die. You two need to live for Omega's sake. So, stay here and stay safe, and let me sacrifice myself. I nearly killed you all, and did a whole bunch of other bullshit, so I need to make up it.
As I said, I think a lot of these points are open to debate and discussion. But, I wanted to offer alternative interpretations for some of these iconic lines, because I feel like everyone keeps landing on the same (wrong) ones.
Feel free to comment/reblog with your thoughts!
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johnwickb1tsch · 1 month ago
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The Devils' Triangle Part 10
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A Yandere Tex Johnson x Witness!Reader x John Wick (& now John Constantine too) Imagine by:
@treedaddymcpuffpuff @sweetwolfcupcake @johnwickb1tsch (@tammykelly on hiatus) (with honorary dream weavers / shit stirrers @lilspookymeh & @kurai-hono-blog 😘) --> ALL CHAPTERS
Warnings: So many dead doves! Do not eat! Unless you like dead doves, that is. You're in good company here. 😘 Violence, sexual content, blood, murder, kidnapping, possessive behavior, dubcon, succubus magic, yandere sh!t...it's all here! Please take care! 😘 *divider by firefly-graphics
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That's the thing about Midnite's. There is no shortage of cloistered nooks and crannies in which to stage a debauchery. John Wick already seems to have scoped this, as he carries you like you weigh nothing to the nearest shadowed booth, settling in with you on his lap like you never parted ways and it's just another Tuesday in the club. Even now, he will not give his back to the room. You try to turn but he holds you fast with one of those big hands around your throat, and the other already sliding up your thigh, under your skirt.
"John, I need–”
"Hush," he tells you, quiet but firm. "We've done things your way. Now, we're doing it mine."
As his long fingers dip past your pantyline you whimper and writhe back against him, that delicious hard bulge already pressing into your bottom. You've  never been so determined to be a good good girl for this very bad man.
"Please…" It's all you can manage, with his thick fingers exploring your wet slit, and this clawing, excruciating magic singing through your veins, wanting sex with every fibre of your being, undoubtedly made worse by your forbidden longing.
"What are you on, honey? Don't lie to me." His breath against your ear is just gasoline on the fire.
You laugh, and it comes out as a sob. "Succubus shit." It's all you can really think to call it.
You feel him pause behind you, a rare moment in which the legendary assassin isn't really sure what to do. Maybe he's seemed to take the eldritch aspects of your new world in stride, but it's still all pretty fucking weird to him.
"Ok, baby. We'll deal with it. I've got you."
“Call…Constantine,” you beg him, even as your hips are bucking against his hand. You should feel guilty. You should stop, because Constantine deserves better than you grinding on your ex in the den of your boyfriend’s enemies…but you can’t. You just can’t, and you are sure that bitch demoness planned it that way, but right now you are a slave to the magick she infected you with.
John, however, just snorts behind you. “I don’t think I will,” he replies, before snaking a hand into your hair, pulling your neck at an almost painful angle for a kiss. He devours you, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if the magic has infected him too. His strong fingers between your legs are as merciless as his mouth, remembering maybe not how you like to be touched, but how to make you cum in spite of yourself. 
That howling need rises inside you, fierce as a hurricane, pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Thank God & gods for John, for the inexorable strength in his arms–a lesser man couldn’t handle you, in this state. As it is, he struggles to hold on as you writhe against him, utterly, hopelessly desperate for relief. Surely that will break the spell? Sate whatever arcane magick the succubus filled you with?
In the end it is hard to say who is claiming whom, as you manage to turn in John’s lap so that you can straddle those tree trunks for thighs, and press your aching center to the hard bulge in his trousers without a care for who or what might be watching. 
And at Midnite’s, there is always someone watching.
You’ve never really got off on exhibitionism before, but now you are too power-drunk to care, having managed to loosen John’s tie and undo some of his shirt buttons in your ravenous craving for bare skin. “I need you.”
He slides down in the booth, giving you access to his belt while his paws for hands continue to roam under your skirt, his thumb never leaving your clit. He makes you work for it, smirking up at you, maybe taking some revenge for having to watch you in the arms of another man these past weeks. But when you free his impressive member into your hand, giving that thick velvety-smooth flesh an appreciative squeeze, you see it in his eyes. How badly he’s missed you–and he needs you too.
With zero patience left to your name you push your panties to the side and impale yourself upon him, taking him nearly to the hilt in your drenching wet cunt. This wins you a groan that feels like a victory, and you ride him at the pace you need. He can come along if he wants–but he’ll have to catch up.
“Fuck, baby…” He loops one arm around your waist, holding you against him, angling deeper.
“Make me cum, John,” you half beg, half taunt him. “I feel like I’ll die if I don’t cum.” The magick is riding you, filling you like searing hot lava beneath a volcano–if you don’t find a way to release it, it’s going to burn you alive.
“I’ve got you, y/n. My pretty girl, my perfect little one, still so tight for me.” He finds your nipple through the bodice of your dress, pinching and rubbing as he thrusts his hips for you. It’s all so good, and you know you’re done for a moment before it takes you, mind-numbing pleasure curling through your loins and up your spine with such force you feel like a tree split in two by lightning. The violence of it brings him with you, filling you with the hot rush of his seed. That is when you feel it–his very life essence, so proud and strong, and some of it passes into you, absorbed as your rightful due. 
This man has the heart of a wolf, and somehow you know, somewhere in the hindbrain where the seed of this ancient magick dwells, that he could feed you for days.
As though somehow he senses something of your new predatory nature, maybe even that you took something more from him besides his blown load, he meets your eyes, so defiant even while he sits beneath you with his hair still tangled in your fingers. “Alright, princessa. You want to play? We’ll play.”
Dark laughter spills from your lips that does not sound like you at all. Something is changing in you, and you don’t know how to stop it. You need Constantine. The thought surfaces and sinks again like a tiny toy boat whipped amongst stormy waves, scuttled to the depths by the weight of this ravenous magick coursing through you.
You’ve barely managed to right yourselves again, before he is bundling you out of the club through a side entrance, half carrying you with a firm arm about your waist. A vintage mustang awaits down the street, a sleek black ‘69 that purrs like a jungle cat when he turns the key.
If you were in your right mind, you would have noticed that John took off in the absolute opposite direction of the humble house your share with John Constantine. He goes north, up, up through the winding roads of the Hills, until it feels as though you are on top of the world.
If you were in your right mind, you would have been worried about the fact that you are in John Wick’s power again, and the formidable assassin seemingly has zero interest in returning you to your home or your chosen partner in life. He pulls up to a modern style mansion perched precariously on the peak of a mountain.
“What’s this?” you ask, lounging back in your seat, unconcerned as a cat.
“Rental,” he answers. “Got tired of that shack you're calling home.”
You find this amusing, reaching across the seats to run your hand up his thigh. “Does it make you mad, that I like my little house, John, with my wizard boy?”
The mention of John Constantine should absolutely fill you with guilt, but the grip of the succubus magic still doesn’t allow for it.
“You deserve better.”
“I deserve what makes me happy,” you answer cheekily. “It’s nice, not being totally poor,” you admit. “I do thank you for that. But the greed in this town is nothing but a rat race.”
“Money is power, malushka. I learned that a long time ago. So did you.”
“Maybe. But maybe it’s just a means to an end.” You climb into his lap, and he doesn’t stop you, kissing you with those long fingers twined in your hair. “Does all your money keep you warm at night?”
“Cruel. You know you’re the only woman I’ve wanted.”
“Do I?” you ask, tugging on his hair. “Then why’d you let me go?”
“No fucking idea anymore.”
Then he is guiding you out of the car, leading you by the hand through the front door, eager as a child on Christmas. The space is big. Luxurious. Modern. Huge banks of windows that look over the glittering city below. You only vaguely take it all in, because John’s mouth is on yours, and he is sweeping you off your feet in a bridal carry, porting you up the stairs like you are nothing but a feather. The magick has awoken in you again, no longer sated, ready for a second course. Something very far in the back of your brain is alarmed by this, afraid of what you will do to John, if this goes on without intervention.
For maybe the first time ever, you have this feeling that John Wick is not, in fact, in charge here, no matter the outward appearances.
He carries you to a bedroom, sets you onto a mattress that is soft as a cloud. Immediately he is on you, his hands and his mouth, pulling your sundress over your head and dragging your panties down your thighs. “I missed you. So. Fucking. Much.” Every word is punctuated with a wet kiss upon your skin, traveling higher and higher until he is so close to your center. His dark gaze rakes up your body, and something gives him pause.
“What’s wrong?”
“Your eyes are glowing.”
You smirk, even when you should be alarmed. 
“Rethinking calling the calvary?” you challenge, this time knowing Wick will never admit he can’t handle you himself.
“No,” he answers, his voice low and rough with desire. “I don’t feel like sharing you tonight.” He touches his tongue to your clit, licking lightly, tickling you the way he knows you can’t stand. You try to squirm away, but he holds you down with one big hand upon your belly, licking you harder, making you melt. He smirks up at you again, a dark glint in those polished jet irises that raises the hairs all across your skin, the magick surging to an unbearable prickling, an army of angry fire ants doing their worst to your tender flesh unless he touches you. “Tonight,” he tells you, “you belong to me.”
It may be true, but it’s a double edged sword, and he has no idea how sharp this supernatural blade can be.
***
You are killing him. 
You can feel it, every time you bring him to yet another luscious climax, some of his life force passes into you. This man, so indomitable in his strength, has finally met his match in this strange succubus magick that infects you.
You are sure it does not help, the fact that he is in love with you, has longed for you while watching you in the arms of another man. He cannot keep his hands off you, even past the point where even he would be dead asleep usually. It’s ironic, that his legendary stamina may prove to be the death of him. 
In the twilight just before dawn, the sated beast that dwells inside you grants you a moment of your own lucidity, a rare chance to regroup before you need his cock ramming inside you again. “John…” you urge him, kissing his chest because you cannot help yourself. “You have got to call them. Please.”
He strokes your hair with that careful tenderness that always filled your heart, made it so difficult to hate him when you had every fucking right to.
“Tired of me already, baby?” he teases sleepily. You can tell he is bone tired–utterly exhausted, almost haggard in a way you’ve never seen him. Spent and drained, in a way that is concerning to his health. There are dark circles under his eyes, a hollowness to his cheeks.
“You know something weird is going on. Please? I’m scared. That succubus did something to me.”
“Why were you there, anyway?” he asks lazily, slowly turning to rifle through his discarded clothing on the floor for his phone. Relief floods you as he produces the device.
“I had to talk to Midnite.”
“About?”
“It’s personal.”
He snorts at that. “How many times have I been inside you tonight?”
Touché.
“Ok fine. I think I’m cursed.”
“How so?”
“It’s like…I’m some kind of magnet.”
“For?”
Bad men. 
Looking at him like this, rumpled from your lovemaking, those soulful dark eyes fixed on you–something shifts in your heart, and you can’t bring yourself to say it. This swell of emotion in you begins to call up other things, and you recognize the first signs of the demononic sex magic kindling inside you once more, lust stirring in your loins. You bow your head, your fingers clenching in the high-threadcount sheets.
“John. Call them. Now.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, tapping his screen with his thumb. It only rings once before you hear Tex’s voice on the other side of the line. “Where the hell are you?”
“Been a wild night,” John answers with a smirk. 
“The fuck does that mean?”
There’s a tussle, Constantine in the background trying to get the phone. You hear him demand, “Did he find her?”
“I’ve got her,” says Wick, sounding unbelievably smug. “Come to this address. Bring Wizard Boy.”
He gives the address and hangs up before they can ask for more details, or in Constantine’s case, sling more threats.
Hearing Constantine’s voice should absolutely inspire direst guilt within you, but at the moment all you feel is excitement. Tex and John are on their way, and you can’t wait to see them.
“We’ve got just enough time,” he muses, rolling on top of you with that half smile that always short circuited your brain.
“John…” you protest, even as you are twining your legs with his, rolling your hips against his growing hardness. Your clit pulses and purrs with approval, as his thick tip kisses your wet entrance.
“You worried about me, sweetheart?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Don’t worry, y/n. I’d die a happy man in your arms.”
As his mouth claims yours you let the wave of scintillating magick wash over the both of you, losing yourself yet again to this insatiable lust, and your last real thought is that Constantine better hurry.
Sweetwolfcupcake: 
"Slow down wizard boy, I don't think we've got extra lives stacked up in your fridge."
"What is he even doing there with her? When did he even buy that house?" Constantine is fuming, yes. But more than that, he is concerned.
Tex's words do little to deter Constantine as he pushes on the accelerator firmer.
If a man like John Wick is asking for HIS help, he knows that something is awfully wrong. There is this feeling in his stomach...
"He's John Wick. What did ya expect? He'll wait and watch you parading your relationship with our girl."
"She isn't your woman anymore." He snaps, glancing at Tex briefly before focusing on the road again.
Constantine pushes on the accelerator harder, speeding through the isolated roads towards the given address. The fact that it is by the woods makes him anxious. Those woods have some tales he would rather not think of. You see, darkness lurks at every corner.
"We'll see about that when we reach their Wizard Boy."  Constantine knows that Tex knows John better, and his confidence in John unsettles him.
"How are you so chill about it all?"
"What's the matter Wizard boy, afraid to lose?"
This man...
"I wasn't the one who abandoned her, you know, I found her, she found me. We rebuilt each other."
"Careful there."
He won't admit it, but the way Tex's voice drops, it makes a man like Constantine straighten up a bit. Tex is a seasoned assassin after all. He and John, both are bad news to you, in Constantine's eyes, but it is ultimately up to you to decide. Hailing from a world people like him would rather not deal with.
You and Constantine were doing fine, were happy even. In his mind, he could trick himself into believing that happily ever after, or at least something akin to that existed. His happily ever after, if, he can dare to dream, was and is with you. But then, the night your past came knowing at his door. And everything changed.
Looking at Tex right now, there is something selfish in Constantine that likes to imagine what if the two of them---Tex and John never came back. It would have been just you and him.
But whom is he kidding? He sees it in your eyes, he feels it. Your love for them runs deeper than it is apparent. But there is something else at play. He hasn't been able to focus or put a pin on it but...He can feel it. it's like a faint smell at some corner that he hasn't been able to figure out.
The rest of the ride passes in tense silence before his car reaches the place. The closer Constantine gets, the faster his heart beats.
He presses on the doorbell desperately, and his hold on his took box tightens in anticipation. Oh, he is familiar with this energy. He knows this energy. Something demonic.
John answers the door with dishevelled hair and tired eyes.
"Where's she?"
Even before John can answer, Constantine pushes past him, letting his intuition take the lead. He opens the bedroom door to see you sprawled on the bed. You are every bit of a seductive painting from a classic and the room is vibrating with the energy, the spell that pulses in your veins at the moment.
"Oh boy..."
The box drops from his hold as soon as your gleaming, blown-out eyes meet his.
"What's wrong with her?" Tex comes up behind him, his voice lacks the usual playful tinge as he eyes you.
"It's killing her. Consuming her, getting hold of her. Her body, mind, now her soul."
Constantine whispers out, pushing Tex behind him. He is the most vulnerable out of the three at the moment.
"I found her at the club. Some succubus spell I guess." John runs his fingers through his wild mane, telling Constantine what he knows and can decipher.
"Gear up,"
Constantine warns before reaching for his box on the floor. Perhaps, this is his true test.
Treedaddymcpuffpuff:
“Watcha doin Johnny?” You ask, stretching like a lazy cat, eyes dulled pink and wide, the length of your body novel and vintage all in the same. His cock is already much, much harder than it should be.
“Fuck.” Tex leans on the doorway. “Look at you.” 
John’s T-shirt rides up your thighs as you scooch to the end of the bed, smiling and glowing, imbued with wicked sex magic that even Constantine is having trouble thinking past. 
“Tex,” Constantine warns, “I wouldn’t. This type of magic puts a whole new meaning to the phrase, “fuck the life out of you.””
“Doesn’t sound so bad,” Tex murmurs, stepping a little further into the room. 
The part of you that cares whether or not you drain the life from each of them through their cocks is dwindling terrifyingly fast. You’ve never felt so powerful, or horny. Salivating for Tex’s broad frame and big, veiny hands that you know the capabilities of. 
“It’s not bad at all,” Wick agrees, kneeling down next to Constantine. “A great way to die.”
Constantine glares at both of them. “How about back the fuck up?” He thinks for a minute, putting his sweaty head in his hands, trying to shake some of this raw, possessive feeling clouding his mind. It’s hard to do, especially when you’re fucking his. His girl. His. They lost their chance a long time ago. 
“Too late for that,” John says, watching him rummage through the confines of his suitcase for something useful. It’s a bit like trying to focus on reading while at a Metallica concert. 
“John,” you say, before he can wrap his hand around Wick’s throat, “I’m sorry, please don’t be mad. I just needed—“
“Angel,” he interrupts, eyes soft milk chocolate for you, Adam’s apple bobbing in that way it does when you have him tied to bed, slowly nipping and sucking your way down his tummy to his leaking cock. “It’s alright, it’s not your fault. I’m gonna fix this.” 
“I know I just…I missed you so much. Can you hold me?” It’s the most convincing argument he’s ever heard, especially when you stretch out your arms to him with those big candy pink eyes. 
“Christ,” he grits. 
“Fuckface,” Tex is saying to Wick. They are toe to toe. “How long were you planning on keeping her all to yourself, huh?” 
Wick smiles, pretending to think about it. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” 
You put yourself between them, fast and agile, like little Catwoman sliding into a 1v1 with Batman and Superman. “Stop it,” you tell Tex, leaning up on tiptoes to thread your arms around his neck. 
John’s hands wrap around your hips, and you lean back against him while Tex eyes the kiss bruised skin of your throat. It doesn’t take long for his teeth to sink in. 
“Stop,” Constantine commands, trying to get you out from between them. John grabs him by the collar while Tex licks and kisses down your sternum, into the valley of your breasts, saliva coating John’s shirt. 
“Gonna fuck you stupid,” Tex says against the pert flesh of your nipple. 
“Let me go, you fucking idiot,” Constantine hisses, as Wick backs him up against the wall, nearly removing his feet from the ground with the force of his body. Even drained of his eight lives and clinging weakly to the ninth, John’s strength is un-fucking-matched. It makes you throb. 
No, you’re already past throbbing. Convulsing, as Tex sucks on your nipples and kneads your ass. 
“John,” you call, and the low whiny pant of your voice stops this testosterone quarrel dead in its tracks. “Please don’t fight.”
“Angel…” Constantine says, while Wick just grins at you. 
“Just…C’mere.” 
As far as these men are concerned, you might as well be a famous lawyer with the way you win that fight before it can even start.
You’re not sure whose hands or mouth is whose. Only that they are all over you, and you are ending and beginning all at once. A fire in you, blazing so fully it consumes and destroys everything you are or want to be. Just a fucktoy, a cocksleeve, a desperate fucking whore who gets on her knees and licks and sucks and swallows. 
John’s lucky he has a big enough bed to fit all of you. Lucky he can devour your tits while Tex lets a big glob of saliva fall from his tongue onto your pulsing pussy, then dives in. You’re not sure where Constantine is, until you feel his mouth on yours, kissing you like you mean something to him. Like you’re the only thing in this fucking world that matters. 
He pulls away, hand on your chin, pushing your sweaty hair back from your face, and you know that he loves you. That they all do. But it’s not enough. You need more. Need something that transcends love and devotion. 
Wick is right, money is power, and so is sex. You look up at Constantine, hand threaded through Tex’s hair, chest red and swollen from John’s tongue, panting and heaving and drooling after losing yourself and finding God so many times already. “John,” you call, “come to me.” 
“We’re fucked,” he says, before descending back into your mouth.
tbc...
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wheelerpilled · 10 months ago
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'forced conformity is killing the kids'
Mike Wheeler ST5 Theory/analysis
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So we've all seen the new BTS of Finn Wolfhard on the set of Stranger Things dropped and OH MY GOD. THE DUALITY FROM LAST SEASON.
I have to TRY write about it ATLEAST...because wow I have a lot of potential thoughts, sorry it's once again unstructured, messy, and repetitive but stay with me please!!!!!!!!!!
I've seen ALOT of people happy we're getting s1-2 Mike hair back but guys .....it's not a good thing!!!!!!!!!! Mike is going THROUGH IT.
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In Season 4 it's acknowledged that Mike is finally coming into his own a bit, Eddie says he was wearing 'whatever his mom bought him' when he first came to highschool, but in episode 1 when we see him for the first time in S4, he's clearly been influenced by Eddie and has figured out what style he likes and what he's interested in, he's in a DND club, he's comfortable being known as an uncool nerd, he's growing his hair out (yes I DO believe it's because he idolised Eddie, I have more to say about that in a second)
basically: his hair and his outfits, aswell as pretty much the way he acts in Hawkins (NOT California- he goes back to pretending to be something else) in S4 represents the ideology non-conformity and his sense freedom in this new persona
he doesn't feel lost in highschool anymore, he's doing what he likes with his friends (DnD) and he's proudly wearing his hellfire shirt around school/Hawkins, basically, he's accepting that it's okay to enjoy 'different' things that aren't considered the norm, and it makes him happy, he feels comfortable!
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But now in Season 5, from the pictures we've seen, it looks like he's fully reverted back into his shell, I guess I understand why tbh I don't blame him:
he comes back to Hawkins after everything and everyone believes he's in a satanic cult- townspeople probably treat him badly and Jason's team mates probably blame Eddie and the rest of hellfire for Jason's 'disappearance' (death). They directly connect him with all the horrible things that have happened to Hawkins as of late
...which is probably what the BTS of them walking towards Mike are about, they probably keep harassing him no matter how he acts and Mike just wants them to leave him alone, let's face it:
High school has probably gone full circle back to middle school for Mike and he's getting bullied/mistreated again. So he feels his only option is to remove himself from Hellfire and become 'normal'.
Hellfire might maybe even be blamed for the gates being opened. Last we heard, the townspeople were hunting down Eddie and the rest of hellfire, and the graffiti on Eddie's grave in the S5 pics shows that he's still very much hated.
Mike probably got harassed by multiple people who don't believe Eddie's dead, or believe Mike was in on it and are out looking for him, or think Hellfire contributed to some satanic ritual causing the 'earthquake' and thus Mike is also a target and it's dangerous for him.
So I think part of the style change and haircut is due to THAT, he doesn't wear his hellfire shirt anymore because he doesn't want any affiliation with the club.
As Finn Wolfhard has said in previous interviews 'mikes just trying to act as normal as possible' so by seperating himself from Eddie/Hellfire and becoming more conventionally 'normal' he won't be treated like an outcast.
He won't be assaulted, bullied, blamed, or worse if he conforms. He has a greater chance of everything becoming better/easier while living in Hawkins if he does this, he might have even given up DnD aswell- so yeah he's gonna be pretty MISERABLE in season 5
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Alot of people wanted to see his reaction to Eddie's death, I think we'll definitely be seeing the lingering after effects of it, and alot of Mike's arc will kick off because of the aftermath of the vilification of Hellfire.
Only few people know that Eddie died to try protect Hawkins, Eddie was a role model for Dustin and Mike, but they're grieving him in COMPLETELY different ways
Dustin decides to honour him by taking up a similar style and proudly wearing his hellfire shirt, and is also probably trying to sway the town's opinion on Eddie and prove him innocent.
....But Mike seemingly decides that he DOESNT want to end up like Eddie anymore: dead and hated, known as a satanic freak.
Someone he idolised is now deceased, he doesn't know how to properly handle that fact, it's intimidating that someone he looked up to do much could be so hated, and in turn has caused the reaction from Mike that is basically 'if my idol is treated as such a horrible outcast, and I wanted to follow in his footsteps, where would that leave me?' he's feeling lost and hopeless, especially with the state Hawkins is in, so he probably decides the best thing to do is just blend in. Be normal.
It probably scares him that even merely his interest in DnD and all these other factors immediately make him a target, as far as townspeople believe- Mike is one of the kids who was close with a brutal serial killer, they probably think he's just as 'messed up as Eddie the freak was' for staying friends with someone who'd do such horrible things
I think Mike just wants to hide as much as he can right now, he has ALOT on his plate and doesn't need the rest of the town out to get him.
so if anyone asks: he'll probably say things like 'I didn't really know Eddie! I would never join a cult like that, I didn't know!' or something to try seperate his name from the hellfire club.
Mike will end up picking protecting himself and hiding his true identity and values/traits rather then living exposed and vulnerable; yet true to what he actually believes is right....And that is the opposite of what Dustin is doing,
Dustin is a proud hellfire member and friend of Eddie, he's picking what he thinks is right over self-preservation from the town, he's still wearing his battered shirt, now HE'S the one growing his hair out, he still adores Eddie and misses him (so does Mike probably, but he feels he CANT outwardly publicly show support or stand up for him)
I do wonder if this will cause some sort of tension between Dustin and Mike, because Dustin is doing the opposite and becoming more like Eddie instead of distancing himself from the hellfire name, he might feel betrayed that Mike 'gave up' on Hellfire, and maybe accuse him of not even caring about Eddie or his death?? Idk!!!!!!!!!! I feel like Dustin will also be going through it this season 😭😭😭
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I do also think Mike will try to be clinging alot to El this season (I mean, before they inevitably break up which I believe will probably happen kinda early on if it actually happens at all)
this is also because just the idea of having a girlfriend corresponds to his idea of conformity and being 'normal'. He just wants to be a normal guy, his life is nothing out for the ordinary, he's not interested in satanic things like dnd and hellfire, he's just a normal person. A normal person who is PROBABLY a target of Vecna in season 5 😓
I believe his arc for this season will be trying to breakout of these notions of conformity in exchange for things he actually likes and is interested in, we saw him sort of branching out in season 4, but I think THIS time it's happening for real, and he'll end up fully embracing his own views and interests after some sort of emotional arc-which will also probably be part of the M*lev*n break up (not censored because I'm against them/hate them I just don't wanna clog the tag for others 😭😭) OR set off by the breakup
Throughout season 1 he was told he liked El, or others assumed it, so I think he assumed it aswell, they just never broke up because El ALSO thinks having a boyfriend is normal and expected, and because Mike was the boy she was closest to she assumed it was romantic feelings (and he kissed her in S1 which probably contributed to her assuming they were romantic feelings)
Alot of the people around her are also in relationships, and she watched alot of TV with happy romantic couples so she thinks it's more normal to HAVE a boyfriend then to NOT have one, I think Mike and El kinda stayed together because they think they're SUPPOSED to by these social standards,
They obviously care about each other alot, and mistook it as reasons to just stay together, she wants to be a normal girl because only being a superhero isnt good for her, she needs to be 'Jane Hopper' and not '011'. I do think she definitely needs to be single for awhile and find herself, even if her and Mike are to be endgame, she NEEDS at least some time to gain some experiences outside of living her life as a superhero, (Mike also needs character development outside of being 'Els Boyfriend's)
Which is why it was vital that her time with max in S3 existed, so El could realise her value and that there is a life outside having a boyfriend- I think Mike needs a similar moment aswell, a wake-up call of sorts where he can take a step back and consider maybe rather than letting society dictate his actions, he makes decisions for what he wants for himself ('we make our own rules')
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If m*lev*n is endgame then sure that's great for them, but I genuinely don't know what big character arc could be in store for Mike that doesn't involve a breakup and themes of non-conforming, it doesn't even have to involve Byler endgame at all (although I AM a byler truther)
I think Mike learning that it's okay to let go of that romantic relationship if he doesn't feel that way anymore is a big step for his character, or atleast taking a break so he can work on himself, anything along those lines of actual development on himself rather then on his relationship- El and Mike have been romantically paired from the start, he needs to learn that it's OKAY to breakup with someone if thats what he feels is right, (side note: I DO believe El would/will be the one to breakup with him 😭)
I don't think he realises that he'll be able to stay friends with El, it's not 'shes my girlfriend or else she'll hate me for breaking up with her. No other options'
he doesn't want to lose her because he cares about her but he can't find a way to balance that romantic relationship alongside his other friendships. So I think for his character to develop they have to breakup, even temporarily, but obviously that's only my opinion if M*lev*n is endgame then oh well, it's endgame, but I think they would be a really awesome platonic duo and I'd like their relationship alot more if it was that way
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I think later in the season he'll realise that living this way not actually what he wants, and he doesn't want to give up who he is, or pretend to be something he's not- because he IS a nerd who likes DnD, and he does support Eddie, he cared alot about him because he idolised him, and i think season 5 is about him learning that that's okay and he doesn't have to feel so much pressure to conform by societal standards, bro needs a better grief process, forced conformity GOT HIS ASS 😭😭😭
What I'm trying to say is: all of this, and his new look is a safety net of sorts, he's still pretending to be something he's not because he feels he HAS to, otherwise it's dangerous for him in Hawkins because of hellfires reputation, but he's also acting this way because of other factors that I haven't really thought through yet LMAO
I believe season 5 will probably be him accepting those things about himself and embracing it, maybe also undoing his emotional repression along the way, I guess I would describe it as coming of age and I think if it's handled well it could be really beautiful in a way
OH MY GOD I RAMBLED SO MUCH AND IT ISNT EVEN A SOLID THEORY JUST A COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS😭
Sorry that was long and repetitive but uhhhhhhhhhhhh yeah..........anyways Mike Wheeler ily keep ur head up king please don't die in S5‼️‼️ stay safe‼️‼️
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argisthebulwark · 3 months ago
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TES Summer Fest Day Three: Ghost/Hungry
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summary: Vilkas swears that he's just being a good friend - you're stuck far from home and he can't let you starve. gn vampire reader/Vilkas, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. warnings: blood obv, fangs in skin, description of biting/feeding. sexually suggestive, minors should not read or interact with this post. @tes-summer-fest TES Summerfest Masterlist
"Just do it already."
"No. I told you I'm not doin' that." Vilkas rolls his eyes and bites back whatever insult his tongue has lined up next. Your crossed arms, the guarded way you're standing a few steps away from him, the way you won't meet his eyes - it's unlike you. Usually he's begging for an inch of personal space yet he quickly decides that this distance is far worse.
"We don't have an option."
"Of course we do. I can wait."
"You plannin' to starve?" He barks, stomping closer. He notices the nervous flush in your gaunt cheeks and can hear the way your heart kicks up when he grows near but your glare is gone. He's heard your stomach growling and seen the way you struggle to eat the salted meats he's offered - it's not enough.
"I'll be fine -"
"We've been snowed in here for days. We're out of options." Grinding his teeth together, Vilkas swallows back against his temper. He sees the fear in your eyes as they stare up at him, hands nervously playing in front of your chest.
"I can't ask this of you." Your voice wobbles, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes and his rage fizzles out. He's choking on words he can't bear to say aloud, choosing instead to grab your wrist and tug you toward the bed.
The blizzard began five days ago. If the mission had gone as intended, a branch of the Silver Hand would be extinguished without issue and you'd both be warming up in the grand hall of Jorrvaskr. Vilkas snorts at the mental image of your nose pressed to a frosted window demanding that he, your 'very best friend', play in the snow with you.
Instead, you'd taken an arrow to the gut and Vilkas' pack was abandoned in favor of speed. He'd carried your broken body to the nearest village and pleaded with the one healer to patch you up enough to get home. He didn't give a shit about the villagers glowering from their porches, he knew how terrifying he'd appeared; a bloodied stranger limping in to town and begging for help fixing some half dead vampire didn't inspire much warmth from the locals.
Vilkas is relieved that you fall to the rickety bed at his side. This abandoned cabin doesn't offer much but coverage as you wait for the storm to pass, expired rations enough to keep Vilkas alive and a couple blankets to stop your shivering. Your fingers are chilly when he feels them on his chest and he stomps down on the fucking ramming behind his ribs.
"What if I hurt you?" You whisper, big eyes staring down at his face. Vilkas fights to convince himself that his heart is hammering because he's about to let a vampire feed on him, that it has absolutely nothing to do with the idea that your lips will be on his skin. He forces his gaze to remain locked in yours, staunchly refusing to look at your uneasy grimace.
"Just stop before I'm dead." He grunts, squeezing his eyes shut. It has to be because he's looking at you that he's so flustered; your wide, worried eyes and the way you bite so nervously at your lower lip. It'll be over in a moment and he can forget everything.
Fuck, he's wrong.
Your lips sear into his skin when they press to his throat. Your hands are pressed to his chest and he knows you feel the breath he sucks in, praying that you interpret it as mere nerves. His skin is tingling when you lean in closer, lips lingering over his throat just close enough to tantalize him.
"You sure?" Your breath ghosts over his skin and fuck, all those walls he's built up are crumbling. Vilkas spirals from the threat of your mouth on his skin, entire body suddenly alive.
"Get it over with." His words are missing their usual venom. Excitement colors his cheeks as anticipation chokes out whatever quip he tries to make, mind going blank when you bite him.
Sharp and quick, Vilkas feels your fangs sink into the sensitive skin of his throat. He'd worried about the pain or discomfort but he hadn't prepared for this - the shameful, all consuming arousal flooding his brain. Fists clenched at his sides he swears to withstand this without making a scene.
Vilkas fights to tame his mind, though each slight shift of your body against him leaves him wishing once more. The feeling of you relaxing into him, fingers curling into his shirt and lips resting easily against his throat, it takes time to curb the need to touch you. This is a necessity, an offer to keep you alive. Nothing more.
He will get through this. He repeats those words to himself over and over, gritting his teeth and forcing his body to remain rigid against the bed. It is for survival. It means nothing. He will remain calm. He will not make a fool of himself.
It takes all of his willpower to disregard the little fucking noise you make as his blood flows over your tongue - the soft sigh of contentment. His jaw aches from holding back the filthy sounds your touch summons, even the hint of pain feels good because it's you.
Vilkas isn't ready for your tongue to run over his throat. It's quick - the sensation of your fangs slipping from his skin and tongue skimming over the little marks but it's enough to wreck his self control. Some needy little sound rumbles through his chest and he's grabbing for you, dizzy from the loss of blood and drunk on your touch.
"Sorry, did I hurt you?"
Vilkas gazes up at you, completely speechless at how beautiful you look. Loose hair falls in pretty strands over your worried eyes, cheeks fuller and more flushed after feeding on him. And oh, the way your parted lips are smeared with the bright red of his blood - he can't look away. Vilkas watches numbly as his hand raises to your cheek, thumb swiping at the stain on your soft lips.
"No." He mumbles, distracted only by a tickling on his neck. He watches your eyes dart to where you'd bitten him and instinctively Vilkas arches his chin back, pleading with you for one more touch.
Fuck, your tongue traces up his throat once more and Vilkas sees stars. His need for you consumes every thought, each nerve in his body alight in a way he'd never felt before when you press a little kiss to his wound. Some desperate sound claws up his throat and Vilkas can't clamp down on it anymore. He needs you.
"You should rest." You instruct, tugging a blanket around his body. Vilkas wants to thank you or curse you for breaking down his walls but his mind is shamefully empty. He gazes up at you, one hand closing around your hip in a silent request for you to stay.
Thankfully, you remain at his side. Vilkas' eyes drift closed once he feels you curl into his chest, whispered thanks and apologies occasionally floating to his ears. He doesn't say a word, too focused on the feeling of your finger tracing little circles around the mark you've left on his throat.
He hopes it leaves a scar.
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seat-safety-switch · 1 year ago
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I don't know what it is, but for some reason, I really hate having the city inspector show up. Every time I get an improvement or repair to the house done, I always get nervous that they're going to find something wrong. This, of course, is ridiculous. I didn't do the work. Some other person, who I paid with my missing landlord's credit card, did some professional business-type things with the full expectation it would be inspected.
To make matters worse, something real creepy happened to me the other day. Soon, I would discover exactly why I had such anxiety around allowing a stranger to peer into the innermost guts of my home, and gaze upon the work performed by another.
I had to put in a new hot-water heater. This job could be done by myself, but it would involve getting slightly wet, and it was better to let my absentee landlord, who disappeared under mysterious circumstances, improve the equity he has in his house with a much-needed renovation. Besides, I was too busy out in the yard, using a chunk of tree trunk to dislodge the recalcitrant passenger-side motor mount of a 1968 Dart. That's a story for another time; you're here to hear about this Bob Vila-ass homeowner shit.
A technician showed up, riding a relatively primo-looking late-00s (I guessed 2006) Ford E-250 work van with a couple dings on the rear bumper that were evidence of an aggressive attitude towards parallel parking in the urban environment. I don't remember what she looked like. She dropped off a big hot water heater, hooked everything up, then carried the old one off slung over one shoulder. That's when things went weird.
For weeks after, my surveillance network (a bunch of deer cameras I stole from the woods) was constantly tripping with sightings of a mysterious new home invader. When I checked the photos in the morning, all I'd see in the shots were khakis, a city-coloured polo shirt, occasionally a pair of anti-slip, steel-toed low-rise sneakers. Never a clear picture of his face. He'd stick a "sorry we missed you" label to the door, and escape into the night.
When I called the city to complain that home inspections should not be done at 3 am, they told me that the inspector by that name had died long ago. I started to get really freaked out, which I guess is a common reaction, because the municipal help-line technician went on to explain.
"We're really short on staff, so we've been getting some of our inspections performed by the living dead. Keeps the pension payments down, too. Don't tell the union."
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cowboylikedean · 2 days ago
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i just really am laughing like i'm just a bit crazy cause what am i supposed to do? cry about it? be anxious about it? lmao democracy is dead. how does american history keep sliding worse and worse into buffoonery? like for a while we all told ourselves this was an era of american politics that the history books would look down on... but we've been in it so long. how do we get out of this? i'm trying not to be hyperbolic or to be overly dramatic in a scary way for my own sanity.... but I don't know what's about to happen in a way where we could literally start ww3 and all die within a year or suffer like we did in 2016-2020 and switch hands again. we really don't know.
and of course, the riots will be horrible either way... we're looking at a lot of reactionary violence like we got in 2016/2017. and so we all need to brace ourselves.
this is bad.
but again, what am I gonna do? so I'm just.... laughing. cause what else
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ghostmaggie · 2 months ago
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i am sooo setting myself up for hate with this but like...damn! y'all really hate epic calypso and i...really don't? i don't know if it's lack of background knowledge on one (or both) of our parts or just knowledge of different versions of the myth/character or different interpretations of love in paradise/not sorry for loving you but like...
calypso hurts odysseus. but not maliciously? he's a victim, and so is she.
i think possibly the lyric "under my spell we're stuck" is making people think she's the one keeping them on the island? she's not. she's a prisoner, too. hopefully the next saga makes that clearer? i think from the clips we've got of not sorry it might.
i don't think she's using the words of his dead friends to mock or trigger or harm him or even to try to manipulate him. it's possible she doesn't even realize what she's saying - how would she know the origins of those phrases? If she's hearing them as he talks in his sleep, even odds they sound like affirmations. they sound positive - i'll stay in your heart! greet the world with open arms! in the best possibility, she's trying to comfort him.
that is of course an optimistic view. call me polites, i guess. but even as she is hurting odysseus - and she is, i don't deny that! - i can't see it as because she's another example of an evil god. i think for better or worse - she doesn't know any better. it doesn't excuse her violations of boundaries, but she has a childlike, self-centered perspective because for so long she HAS just been herself. the world DOES revolve around her. it doesn't make it right. but it doesn't make her a villain.
i've already seen people complaining about how she refuses to apologize in not sorry for loving you. but she does. she apologizes for everything (say too little too late, fine, but she does) EXCEPT loving him. and her love has never been the thing causing harm. her actions have. she shouldn't apologize for loving him.
also also - within epic canon, as of what we know now, i don't think those aforementioned actions include sexual assault. there are differences between epic and the odyssey. that has been made abundantly clear. and other incidents of violence and sexual assault within epic are clearly articulated. if these aren't, i don't think we can assume they're there.
epic calypso isn't odyssey calypso. or pjo calypso. or any other calypso except: epic calypso.
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peachesofteal · 1 year ago
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hi Peach IM BACK and i CANNOT get the cramps fic from dead disco au out of my head. like i need to know what happens after she slammed the door? like did they continue knocking? were they able to persuadr her to open the door and go to the hospital? did she let them back in? did she let them be at the birth? was she gonna keep bee or give it to simon and johnny? DEAD DISCO BRAINROT
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🖤🖤 Takes place after this.
18+ mdni / baby trap au / twisty themes, angst, reader is pregnant, in labor.
"Darling, open the door." Simon calls, trying not to yell but still be loud enough to hear, no idea if you're even listening, or if you could hear him. He can't stop thinking about the look on your face, twisted in pain, panicked.
Something is wrong. Something is wrong, or you're in labor. And that has to be wrong, because if you're in labor, then you need to be in hospital.
"Darling, please. We want to help ye." Johnny tries. His voice breaks, and Simon closes his eyes, steeling himself against the pain there, the pain that he's inflicted on all of you, the misery and agony that has been their lives for the past six months. "We're not leavin!" He insists. Simon casually looks up and down the hallway, looking to see if anyone is around. He could, in theory, break the door down. He could force entry, even if he doesn't want to, if it's for your own good, he-
The lock clicks. Johnny darts for the handle, pushing the door open just enough to see that you're standing on the other side, a bag in one hand, the other laying flat against your belly. Your eyes are red, clearly distressed, and you look exhausted, and in pain, and all he wants to do is pull you into him and never let you go.
"Oh, darling." It's soft, and you shake your head.
"I only opened up because I knew you'd try to get in anyway." you hiss, stepping through the doorframe. He can't fault your logic there.
"What's goin' on?" Johnny tries, watching your hand shake as you put the key into the lock. "Talk to us."
"I think-" Your words grind to a stop, and you swallow like you might vomit before continuing. "My water broke. I'm in labor."
Many things happen at once. Johnny starts asking too many questions- when is your due date, how are you feeling, where is your doctor, did you call a cab, do you have a birthplan- as you stare at him, gobsmacked, and clearly stressed. Simon's heart free falls through his body, a million emotions ransacking his brain. Love. Happiness. Sadness. Fear. Anxiety. Anger, at himself. But one thing, one sentiment rings out over everything, it's truth written as plain as day across your face, panic sinking into your features as you try to process Johnny's questions. You need them. You need help.
"Johnny." Simon cuts him off, and and grinds to a halt, nodding in self awareness. You take a deep breath.
"I need to get to the hospital." You grit out. "But I don't want to call 999 because I don't need an ambulance. My contractions are still far enough apart." you insist, leveling them both with a hard stare.
"Would you like us to help you?" Simon asks gently, not trying to push. He knows, you'll come on your own. You would not have opened the door otherwise.
"I don't forgive you." You tell them both, looking them in the eyes. "But I- I don't think I can do this on my own. I- Ahh!" You yell this time, dropping your bag and almost kneeling until Johnny gets an arm around you, supporting your weight with his own.
"Okay, alright. We've got ye." Simon punches in the hospital address for the car as they both lead you down the stairs. Your building doesn't even have a working elevator, and he tries not to feel sick when he thinks about you walking up and down these flights every day with your belly and worse, with the baby in the future.
When they get you out the front door and into the car, Simon dials your doctor, who assures him you've already called. She asks him to time your contractions, and when he says they're about fifteen minutes apart, she gives him instruction before chastising him for not calling 999.
"Your doctor is there, and they'll be waiting to get you all checked in." He tries to reassure you, but you're so tense, locked up tight, he grimaces. "Darling?"
"What?" you grunt, closing your eyes.
"Are you breathing?" You're not. And when you realize, you let out a huge gulp of air, and slump in the seat.
You burst into tears a second later. Johnny is stricken.
"Hey, hey." He tries. "It's alright. We're on our way, everything is going to be okay."
"I'm ss-scared." you sob, and he nods sympathetically.
"I know darling, I know. But yer strong, ye can do this."
"I can't." you cry louder, and the driver looks at you in the mirror with concern before Simon glares at him and he jumps his eyes back to the road. "And it fuckin' hurts. What if it's too late to get the drugs? What if something goes wrong? I don't know how to be a mum, I don't even know how-"
"Darling." He can't do this. He can't watch you fall apart like this, in this mess that he created. He has to take control of this situation. "Look at me." You blink up at him with wet lashes, so sweet and sad, and he wants to kiss each tear from your face. "You can do this. No matter what happens, you are strong, you're a fighter, and you're going to be okay, alright?" Your lips part, and he can see your brain turning, mind working you into something a little more malleable.
"Okay." you sniffle, and then lean a little to the side. Your head tips back against his shoulder, and at the same time, you reach for Johnny's hand, squeezing it tight and tugging him closer, like you're trying to hold onto his entire arm. "Oh fuck." You groan.
"Contraction?" Johnny asks and you nod miserably.
"Deep breaths." Simon murmurs into your scalp. "In through your nose, just like that, good girl."
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atimeofyourlife · 29 days ago
Text
Worried about your love
day 10| rated: g| wc: 900 | prompts: BLOW TO THE HEAD | Slurred Words | Passing Out from Pain | "I can't think straight." |ao3 Buck gets a head injury on the job, he's slurring his words to Tommy later in the hospital.
It wasn't the first time they'd been called to a collapse in a hoarder house, hell it wasn't even the first time they'd been called to a collapse in a boobytrapped hoarder house. It made just about everything about the job more difficult, not knowing where they could step without triggering a collapse or a trap. Buck was heading in first, making sure the way was clear and using a pole to detect any traps before they reached them.
He froze when a pile of newspapers ahead wobbled. He slowly crept forward, hoping to be able to sure it up with a beam that Eddie was following him with. But then it collapsed just before he reached it. And triggered an unseen trap. Buck didn't have chance to see what it was before the suspended heavy weight hit him in the head, sending him to the ground and knocking him out.
--
Tommy was in a good mood as he finished his shift. It'd been a good, easy shift. No bad calls, no major emergencies. Just enough calls to keep them from getting too bored. A couple of stuck hikers and a handful of medical transfers. He was going to head home and start dinner for when Evan came over. Evan's shift was a couple hours behind his own, but then they had a rare three days off together, and they'd planned to make the most of it with Evan coming over after the end of his shift. His good mood quickly soured as he reached his car and his phone rang. There was no good reason for Eddie to be calling while still on shift.
Evan had a head injury. He'd been knocked unconcious by a booby trap in a hoarder house. He may have broken a handful of traffic laws as he drove across town to meet the 118 at the hospital. Apparently the scene had been handed off to another company on the account of Evan's injury. He barely remembered to put his car in park before he was rushing in to the waiting room.
"How is he?" He asked as he approached the group in the corner.
"He's getting checked out. He did wake up in the ambulance but he was pretty confused. Slurred words and everything." Howie replied. "They're waiting on results of the scan before making the decision if he needs to be kept in overnight. It's far from the worst he's had."
"Thanks, Howie." Tommy let out a sigh of relief, and took a seat alongside the rest of them.
"You good, man?" Eddie asked, sitting down next to hi, and offering him a cup if the lousy coffee on offer at the hospital.
"Yeah." Tommy did his best to swallow back his feelings. "Yeah, just worried about Evan."
"I get it. We're all worried about him, but the rest of us have more experience with Buck being injured. We've all seen him bounce back from a lot worse. But it's your first time seeing him injured."
"But I've known about all the other injuries. That he came back from being dead."
"Knowing it and seeing it are two very different things. And I know Buck will be just as worried if and when you get injured. It's natural when you love someone." Eddie said quietly.
"I. We haven't-" Tommy didn't try to deny loving Evan. It'd been so easy, so fast for him to fall in love with him.
"You don't need to have said it yet. It's obvious to the rest of us how much you guys love each other at this point."
Tommy didn't reply, just ducked his head slightly. They lapsed into a comfortable silence while waiting for more information.
A nurse came out a while later. "Family of Evan Buckley?"
They all got up and made their way over to her. "How is he?" Bobby asked.
"He's awake, but there's still a little confusion. It's a grade three concussion, and we will be keeping him in a little longer for observation, but he should be able to head home tonight as long as he has someone to watch out for him. He can have visitors, but we are limiting it to a maximum of two people at a time, and we request you keep your voices down." The nurse explained. "Now, he's asking for Tommy."
"Go on, man. We can see him later."
Tommy nodded and followed the nurse down the hall.
"It's my Tommy." Evan said, his voice slightly slurred. His face had lit up the moment he noticed Tommy enter the room. "Sheila, I told you my Tommy would come."
"Hi, baby." Tommy said quietly, taking the seat next to the bed. "How're you feeling?"
"Hurts." Evan pouted. "But 's okay. They got me on the good stuff."
"Mmm, I bet. Make the most of it because once I get you home all I've got is tylenol." Tommy replied, aiming to get Evan to smile.
"Can I- can I tell you a ssecret?" Evan's eyes darted around the room, as he said it, stumbling a little over the words.
"You can tell me anything, Evan."
"I loves you." Evan tried to whisper, but failed. "I loves you so much 'm gonna marry you one day."
"I love you too, Evan." Tommy replied, a soft smile forming. "But lets leave the marriage talk until after you feel better."
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