#disaster con «✦» ( main

[hxllblazer-a2]

@all-nights-dreaming - starter call

It was happening again, wasn’t it? 

He didn’t make it a habit to be aware of astral space, or he at least tried to avoid it, but sometimes when the same horrific dreams haunted for years it became a bit of a habit. Probably also something to account for when said space came from one's own mind. Maybe. Magic was just stupid like that. Really stupid. 

He supposed the first sign should’ve been when the girl with the bob cut and brass knuckles started talking like a posh princess fresh out of the palace. The second? Probably the birds. Always the fucking birds. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuckin' hell... not another rainbow unicorn farty fetch quest...” His finger pressed to his temple with a bit of a frustrated groan. “Alright y’ sad soppy excuse for a secondary school goth kid, show yourself!” 

[hxllblazer-a2]

@normaltothemax || starter call with max!

“Yeah I—probably shoulda warned you that he does that.” Watching the last of the vines slink back into the sink pipe was admittedly a bit upsetting, but only because he really wished that the self-important cabbage god would at least learn how to use a phone. Or get Abby to do it for him. Though instead of leaving it be, he went ahead and grabbed a plate from a cupboard and put it right on top. 

Just as an extra precaution in case they had another Swampy related visit. 

“Try not t’ mind Alec any, though don’t think he answers to that anymore. Or even remembers...” There’s a pause as he exercises an option in his head. Bringing Max along was probably a really bad idea, but... 

“Y’ wanna come along?” A beat. “If there are dryads in the park again, then there’s probably an open hole t’ the Green. Not as bad as it sounds, just... a lot of primordial plant life. Like a vegan’s wet dream come true amount of ‘em.” 

[larkingame]

play the demo | patreon | larkin is rated 18+

someone is after you.

for over a decade and a half now, you’ve traveled up, down and across the country--running schemes and hunting fiends with your mentor, con-man-by-day, vampire-hunter-by-night, Wyatt Abrams--the prolific vampire slayer and the living descendant of Gregory Abrams, founder and prophet of the Abrams Family, the nomadic vampire-hunting cult that raised you--and was wiped out years ago.

carrying the abrams name means also means carrying on it's enemies--but that isn't to say you haven't forged a couple of your own along the way. now, it seems someone is trying to make good on old threats and promises. they've placed a bounty on your head.

so you and wyatt do what you do best: you run away. to some little town, out nevada ways, where the title of town preacher is unexpectedly thrust upon you--bringing back years of trauma you thought long tucked away.

as if that wasn't enough, on your first day in town the local mine up and explodes--leaving the reclusive family that runs the town--and owns the mine--to suspect you as the main culprit.

now you're left with the responsibility of investigating the disaster to clear your name, looking into the mysterious cult just south of town, the gang of outlaws who've been wrapped up deep in a feud with larkin's patriarchal family--a group of people which you suspect to be hiding a secret most monstrous--all while dealing with the ghosts of your past, and the roots your family left behind.

larkin is a vampire western choose-your-own adventure game, with focuses on romance, religion, horror and complicated family dynamics.

play a fully customizable character [[decide upon their physical appearance, gender identity, sexuality, customize their pronouns]]

dictate a unique relationship with your mentor-turned-father-figure and his former appentice

romance any of twelve characters, five male, three female, one non-binary and three gender selectable characters.

define your characters skillset and scheming tactics, select their weapons and fighting style, elect their feelings on religion, vampires and the cult that raised them.

the doctor [male] cyrus sokolov - the quasi-mayor of larkin, cyrus sokolov also operates as the town's doctor and mortician. he's immeadiately suspicious of you, the new preacher and the reputation you comes with. even though he doesn't like it, he needs your help.

the princess [female] celina sokolova - despite the misconceptions among the townsfolk, the reclusive third sibling of the sokolov family, celina, is actually the family’s eldest. hardly leaving the sokolov mansion, it’s rumored around town that she’s been struck with some sort of sun-related illness, others seem to hold the opinion that miss sokolova simply sees herself as too good to linger amongst the common folk. whatever the case may truly be doesn’t much matter to the people of larkin, after all, it's much more fun to gossip. she's very suddenly developed a fascination with the preacher, a hunger almost. but will she eat you whole?

the mortician's assistant [male] dominic sokolov - the youngest scion of the sokolov family, dominic works as assistant mortician in larkin, though he’s much more interested in larkin’s living townsfolk then the dead ones he’s been charged with taking care of. with seemingly endless information on everyone and everything that goes on in larkin, mister sokolov might not be the worst friend to have.

the lawyer [male] jacob nash -  larkin’s only practicing attorney and resident do-gooder. after passing the bar exam, nash headed out west in the hopes of making a real difference for the people there, only to spend most of his days settling petty disputes and notarizing documents. despite his disappointment, however, nash has managed to keep a level head and his fondness for the people of larkin, even though he’s not so sure the sokolovs have the townsfolk’s best interest in mind.

the bartender [female] rose holloway - larkin’s most recent transplant, that was, until the preacher showed up. former city-girl, rose has adapted to both life out west and on her own, the only way she knows how--by pushing through it. the owner and bartender of larkin’s only saloon, the emerald, rose is a popular figure around larkin whether she likes it or not, but whether that has more to do with her occupation or the fact she also happens to be larkin’s youngest widow is still a topic up for debate.

the lieutenant [male/female/non-binary] hollis - an enigmatic figure around larkin, hollis serves as a lieutenant for the mysterious rateliff fellowship. one of the cult’s few members to make the long trek from their encampment in the desert to town more than once. talked to by few, hated by most, hollis bears the reputation of the people they represent to the town of larkin--one, that isn’t particularly favorable.

the vampire hunter [male/female/non-binary] ace zhang - vampire-hunting-mercenary extraordinaire, the last the preacher knew of ace, they were the young hot-shot on san francisco’s hunting scene. once upon a time ace was a prominent figure in the preacher’s life, the first real acquaintance they managed to make on their own, someone outside of wyatt’s sphere. growing up a member of the guild, their life is one that’s mirrored the preacher’s. maybe that’s why the two seemed to be linked so closely during the preacher’s time in california, whether that was as friends, rivals or something more, their presence is one that remains prominent in the preacher's mind.

the outlaw [male] cassidy alan ward - cowboy, outlaw, bandit, cassidy goes by many names and titles, but the one he prides himself on most is leader. protector of his people, the ward gang hides out somewhere in the hills outside larkin, looming over the townsfolk as an ever-present threat, cassidy finds the sokolovs personally responsible for the death of his sister, caroline, and he is out for blood.

the gunslinger [female] ethel jackson - cassidy's right hand, ethel is a gunslinger through and through. fancying herself the robinhood type, she's got a personal hatred for the family that looms over larkin.  with the fastest gun in all of nevada, maybe even all of the west--ethel could prove to be a valuable friend--or a deadly adversary.

the stranger [non-binary] reyes - the newest addition to ward's gang, not much is known about them or their past--what everyone is well aware of, however, is the fact that nobody whose ever decided to cross reyes has ever come out of it alive.

the vampire [male/female/non-binary] montero moreau - you've hunted down their coven, debilitating any hopes for growth they had in terms of advancing in the cut-throat world of Vampires. you've made montero look like a fool, and they hate looking like a fool. They're determined to hunt you down and take revenge.

the first man [male] - adam - he believes himself to be the mirrored man mentioned in the abrams family book of genesis--the first vampire, plagued to walk the earth--and he has long been in search of his eve.

play the demo | patreon | itch.io

[hxllblazer-a2]

@huntrcsss || sc!

“An’ that—said fuck off!--is why I said don’t open the fridge.” One arm and foot’s doing a decent job at forcing the door shut while the other’s blindly groping around the counterspace next to it. The fridge on the other hand? 

Well, it was shaking. Wildly. And having some very colorful opinions on why its current contents should be on this side and the very colorful things it was going to do to John’s asshole when it got out. In John’s defense, he thought the warning was pretty obvious.  

“Dumber than sodding rocks—shoulda been able t’ see it’s one way—there y’ are!” Finally his hand curls on a rather sketchy looking kitchen knife. Fridge door open again, and the thing that he seemed to have been fighting attempted a lunge—right into the knife. Blade sunk, he then knees the creature to make it fall back. Far. In fact, the distant thudding sound shouldn’t logically be possible. 

Oh well, issue fixed so he slammed the thing closed. “Alright... takeout then?” 

[evolnoomym]

I’ll Make You Love Me💋

Bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: In Joel’s eyes you are an unpleasant person. Yet he has to pretend as if he would not want to get rid of you for Sarah’s sake, she loves you so much you are her best friend. Well Joel also feels terrible for the rather unethical thoughts he has of you.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni !!!!!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: no y/n, introducing “Lucky”, female oc character, Sarah is 18, Lucky is 21, Joel’s age is not mentioned but he’s at least double Lucky’s age, degradation, humiliation, Dark, Joel is mean, he calls you Bitch/Slut/Junkie, spanking, dub-con, Daddy Kink, Manspreading hehe 😉, pervy!Joel, tears, Joel enjoys her tears, manhandling, hair pulling, weed consumption, alcohol consumption, a tiny fluffy moment, alludes to BJ, Joel can also be nice,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: this is for @toxicanonymity ‘s manspreading olympics. ❤️‍🔥

Shoutout to @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics for the dividers ❤️

Big thank you to @jennaispunk and @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading ❤️‍🔥🌙

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly 💋

Songs I listened to while writing:

What You Do by James Gillespie

Bad Girls by M.I.A

Maneater by Nelly Furtado

Salvatore by Lana Del Rey

Sad Girl by Lana Del Rey

Waiting Game by BANKS

Into It by Chase Atlantic

You should feel bad for thinking of him in such a peculiar way. You should be ashamed for even considering him an option. He is totally off limits considering he’s much older, a busy mature man and most importantly Sarah’s Dad. Sarah the sweet girl that has been your Bestfriend for over 2 years.

It excited you in the beginning how much Joel hated your presence in his daughter’s life. He didn’t approve of this friendship ever since Sarah at 16 years old first brought you, her 19 year old friend, over for the first time.

In front of Sarah he tried his hardest to appear polite but you could see right through his facade from the beginning. And one evening when Sarah was already fast asleep you gave Joel a piece of your mind in the kitchen.

“Mister Miller let’s stop these silly games we both know what’s going on…you don’t like me and I couldn’t fucking care less.” You scoff and get off the counter, slowly drawing closer to Joel “You hate me so much but Sarah loves me soooooo much and imagine how upset she’d be to know that her Daddy doesn’t want her to be happy. Wouldn’t that be a shame,huh?” You question with an enticing head tilt.

Now you’re right in front of him, toe to toe with big bad imposing Joel Miller. You can feel the pulling in your lower belly from being so close and most importantly smelling his manly musky scent. You remind yourself that you gotta stay focused if you want to win this game.

You get even closer until your able to place your hands on his warm broad chest sliding them slightly upwards his shoulders. “What the hell r ya doin?” Joel hisses.

You lean up to whisper in his ear “Nothing, just letting you know that I eat guys like you for breakfast, I chew you up and spit you out. You’re not a threat to me, old man.” You pull back and give him a sinister sickly smile.

The wickedness in your tone causes goosebumps to prickle on his flesh.

You feed off of seeing him scared. You enjoy knowing what kinda effect you have on this usually so collected man.

“Goodnight Mister Miller, better start sleeping with one eye open from now on.” You giggle while skipping up the stairs.

That was the start of it all.

Now 2 years later with Sarah just having turned 18, Joel realizes that you two are gonna keep him on his toes even more than already.

The 18th birthday celebration was already a disaster, what Joel assumed would be a relaxed family gathering turned into you crashing the party and taking Sarah out, of course Sarah was excited so how could Joel say no.

Well when you two didn’t return at 12 pm like promised he admittedly got worried, but he wanted to trust Sarah so he tried to stay calm.

At 3 am he hears the screeching tires from some show off guys car and loud drunkish giggling. The princesses have officially arrived back home from their trip, almost 4 hours too late.

When Joel opens the front door he sees you and Sarah practically half draped over your shoulder stubbling up the starirs in sloppy drunk steps. You two are giggling and mumbling at each other in a language Joel does not understand, it certainly can’t be English.

You immediately glock his disgruntled face, the alcohol cursing through your system emboldens you so you haphazardly shove him out of the way. You sigh loudly and obviously annoyed at his antics all while herding Sarah up the stairs.

Joel cannot believe that after dragging Sarah off, taking her to god knows where, letting her drink and god forbid smoke… you still have the audacity to behave so entitled.

You put Sarah in danger and don’t feel an ounce of remorse. Joel hates your guts, in his eyes you are an entitled little brat that desperately needs to be put in her place.

Even though Joel hates you, he at the same time cannot keep his head clear of dirty images of your young and tight body. He thinks about the pool day where you showed up in the tiniest bikini he could think of.

Prancing around all while he had to resist the urge to just tear it off. You knew he was looking and he knew that you enjoyed his eyes flitting all over your enticing figure.

The both of you were tethering on a dangerous line, that could cause big trouble. How would Sarah feel knowing this is happening behind her back.

You constantly antagonize him like that wearing short skirts and tight shirts with no bra because apparently it’s too warm for that. Running into him, pressing your perky tits against his bicep in passing, coincidentally bending over in front of him. Joel was quickly approaching a breaking point, his resolve crumbling more and more with each time that he had to tug at his throbbing length all while thinking about you.

Joel clearly underestimated how much you’d play him and how much better at it you are. At this rate you’ll win this game. He however has a plan, that might even after everything still save him the success.

Joel only has to wait for the right time to attack, catch you off guard and use that to his advantage.

He gets pulled from his thoughts when he hears something that confuses him, you are singing and it sounds beautiful.

Joel creeps up the stairs as quietly as possible to not alert either of you.

The closer he gets to Sarah's door the clearer it becomes. Joel pushes the bedroom door open by only a few inches to get a look at the situation and it makes his heart roar. You sit on the side of the bed we’re Sarah is nicely tucked in, your body facing Joel but your eyes locked on Sarah’s face. Softly singing a lullaby in a language foreign to him while gently stroking over her cheeks, smoothing the hair out of her face, almost like a mother would with her baby. Something Sarah never got to experience in childhood since her mother left so early on.

Joel realizes that despite the rough exterior you put up there’s more to you than just a cold hearted homewrecker, you care for Sarah, you take care of her and watch over her wherever you two run off to. Joel feels gratitude for someone he admittedly doesn’t know a whole lot about.

Joel has seen enough and retreats back downstairs.

When you stumble into the living room to bid your goodbyes Joel looks like he’s deep in thoughts.

So you announce “Sarah is sleeping, make sure she drinks lotssssssss of water when she wakes up and takes more aspirin if needed. I’m out.”

You turn to walk off when Joel gets up “Hey ya sure bout walkin home now? I can drive ya.” He offers but you decline “Nah it’s alright Mr. Miller I can protect myself, I’ve always done it. Besides, why do you suddenly care,huh?“ you sarcastically laugh while slipping out of the house.

When you’ve turned away from him the snarky smile falls right off your face.

Joel actually felt somewhat sorry that night for the way he treated you all those times before.

That lasted until you decided to smoke weed with Sarah in his lil work shed that was situated in the back of his garden.

Joel would’ve realized either way if not by the smells wafting up his nostrils the moment he entered the shed later in the evening, then surely by Sarah’s unstoppable giggling, her slow mumbled speech or by the food flash she got.

When the two of you begged him to let you sleep over he eagerly agreed. Chalk it up to the weed that numbs your brain that this quick reaction didn’t seem suspicious.

Joel knows you will find him, you’ll see the open back door and walk right into his trap. You never sleep the night through when you spend it over at the Millers, he can hear you getting up and wandering around the house. Sarah on the other hand has got to be blessed with an extremely deep sleep.

The thought of overpowering you makes him smile giddily into the darkness of the shed.

As usual you wake up in the middle of the night, ever since being a little child the sleeping became a struggle and nothing works except tiring yourself out.

You get up out of Sarah’s huge plush bed, slip out into the hallway and down the stairs. There you immediately catch the wide open back door leading to the garden. Odd, Mister Miller would never in a million years leave that open.

You walk up to the sliding doors and when you stand in the threshold staring into the dark backyard you see that the shed is left open too.

Out of stupid curiosity you decide to investigate, not the smartest to perhaps walk right into a burglar who has a weapon but you don’t really care.

So you pat the way across the cold grass, it tickles the sole of your bare feet and the fresh midnight breeze actually feels awfully pleasant on your heated skin. Halfway you stop and glance upward at the beautiful full moon shining down on you.

After taking a deep breath you continue onward towards the shed.

When you reach the opening of the shed there’s really nothing you can see or hear. So you step further into it, carefully putting one foot in front of the other.

You feel like someone is watching you but you are unable to pinpoint where it’s coming from. It’s unsettling so you do something considerably stupid “Hello, hello is there anyone? Mister Miller are you in here?” You call out with a shaking voice.

No response.

A light flickering in the center of the room catches you off guard and now you can see him, the one that watched you.

Mr.Miller is sitting on a bar chair behind him is his working table, he leans his back against the edge of the table.

Your eyes immediately go to his slightly sweaty face -the Texas heat is unrelenting even in the middle of the night- he looks gorgeous illuminated by the tiny lamp glowing behind his shoulder on the cupboard. He’s smirking sinisterly at you.

You let your eyes wander over his broad shoulders that are clad in a green flannel. Inevitably your eyes slip down to his wide spread jeans covered thighs, they look so big and muscular.

He catches your staring and drops a hand on his thigh that slowly starts stroking up and down. Making you gulp audibly.

“M..M-..Mister M..Miller what are you doing here?” You stammer out.

“I was waitin for ya to come find me.” He huffs gruffly.

He continues “Close the door behind ya Lucky.”

You feel somewhat hypnotized by his slow calculated words as you, out of pure reflex, reach for the handle behind you.

As you shut the door, effectively trapping yourself with him he murmurs “That’s a good girl. Ya do know how to listen Lucky Girl.”

Hearing Joel call you a good girl in his signature dark molasses like voice had you squeezing your thighs together.

“Hmm ya like that baby, huh?” He inquires

“N..no, that would be fuckin weird.” You try sounding sincere but to no avail Joel has seen through you a long time ago.

“Lucky you are liar, a slut, a junkie..-“

You hiss “What did you just say?” While stepping closer to where he sits.

“Ya heard me right Lucky, you are a fuckin junkie, smoking weed in my shed with Sarah. Are ya outta your mind?” He throws back

“You gotta be kidding me, right? Big Bad Mr Miller is shitting his pants cuz of a bit of weed.” You wheeze.

“That’s enough.” He decides, getting up in one swift imposing movement. Suddenly he’s the one towering over you and he looks pissed.

He’s on you in the blink of an eye threading his hand through your hair grabbing a decent amount by which he pulls you with him.

“Ouch…ouch what the fuck let me go.” You huff while trying to get his hands out of your hair. But he doesn’t appreciate the disobedience and starts pulling even harder, which brings you to tears from the pain.

“Ohhh poor baby Lucky, look at those tears, ya not havin’ fun huh? That’s too bad darlin’ but I don’t care.”

He sits back down on the chair and in one swift motion pulls you over his thighs. Your belly rests on his crotch and your whole world is turned upside down.

“Clearly no one has ever taught ya a lesson, that’s why ya always behave like a bratty bitch.”

His free hand flits to your sleeping shorts and practically tears them off of you. At the ripping sound you yelp.

“Hmm look at that plump ass and those sweet lacy panties…ya always wear this slutty underwear when ya have a sleepover?” All while he’s groping you.

“What the hell are you doing Joel?”

“Aw is it not Mr.Miller anymore? Have we lost our manners lil girl? Or is there a better name for me, hmm?” He inquires.

For some reason you know exactly what he wants to hear but you're not inclined to give in. Yet.

“It’s fine baby ya don’t need to say it now, I’ll make you scream that goddamn name you fucking slut.” He pulls on your hair “Ya hear me bitch.?”

All you manage is a meak nod before he lets go off your face.

You can feel his warm and calloused hand on your cheek squeezing, stroking and poking. Then his hand is gone but not for long. You can’t even react. He's that fast in delivering the first smack to your behind.

“Ya gonna take what i give ya and behave cuz you wanna be a good girl, right? Ya wanna be my good girl,hmm?”

“Y..y-yes I do Mr.Miller.” You say defeated.

“Atta Girl. I think 10 should do it, for now, until ya feel like acting up again..”

He is unrelenting when it comes to punishing you, each time the impact is harder and more unexpected than the previous. You have to bite your lip in order to suppress a moan, even though it hurts it’s incredible. You can feel yourself becoming wet, with each time that his hand collides with your behind more slick gushes out of your pussy. At this point there must be a wet patch visible.

His bulge pressing against your stomach tells you how much this is affecting him too.

“Lucky I know ya try to hide it but I can smell how she’s leaking and if I check I’m sure I’ll find that cunt all sloppy for me, right?”

“Y..y-yes.”

“That’s what i thought.” And with that he continues the assault on your cheeks.

And it may be only ten but he makes them count, the blows are measured and hard. You guess your cheeks must be glowing at this point.

When he finally reaches 10 it feels like hours have passed since you decided to go wander around. He’s massaging your bruised ass. You finally feel like you’re getting a moment of peace but that couldn’t be further from the truth, because Joel threads his hand back into your hair and yanks you to face him.

He’s just staring at you, accessing you and then he kisses you.

It’s rough, teeth clashing, tongues swirling around, his hands urgently grabbing your face, your fingers tangled in his graying curls.

Though the kissing is over before it can escalate too far, Joel is once again pulling you by your hair, this time he’s more gentle, he pulls you off of his knees and pushes you down on them in the space between his spread thighs. You’re at eye level with his crotch now that looks painfully hard.

As you peek up at him through your lashes you muse “Looks like you got a problem, a big problem…Daddy. You want me to help you?” All while innocently tilting your head at him.

He grabs your face roughly “Shut up Lucky and put ya smart mouth to better use.”

“Don’t underestimate me Daddy. I’ll make you love me.” You say while giving him a cheeky wink.

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

Npt: @toxicanonymity @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @joelsdagger @tonysopranosrobe @luxurychristmaspudding @mountainsandmayhem @moonlitbirdie @joelalorian @sawymredfox @thundermartini @ace-turned-confused @almostfoxglove @pedropeach @joelsgreys @joelstummy @ovaryacted @iamasaddie @wintrwinchestr @littlemisspascal

[hxllblazer-a2]

@normaltothemax and the one bat he'd Actually Like || sc!

“Y’ don’t look half bad for a dead guy.”  

He probably could’ve also lead off with something condescending like ‘my hero’ or ‘at least it’s you’. Time and a place, probably, and right now apart from struggling a bit with the key he had slid up his sleeve John was also doing quite the concentration number in keeping his keepers grounded. 

Well, more like drooling in separate corners muttering vague nothings about things at the edge of their eyes. It was still at least better than making them blast their own brains out. 

“They’ll be fine. Assuming they forget this mess in a few hours.” A bit of a grumble as he wiggled from the rafter. “You mind? Each one’s got a key in th’ left pocket.” 

[hxllblazer-a2]

@huntrcsss || sc!

“Y’ know, Theo, I like to think I’m pretty good at the whole not being found bit. Makes me mysterious.” 

Of course he’s trying to not be serious about it, especially because he was used to people and things showing up. It came with the territory, though John couldn’t say he was used to the things being of the slightly more living variety.  

Case in point now where he’s doing his best to try and wave off the one laughing in his ear and making comments about how John was clearly getting sloppy in his old age. Emma, if he had to guess from the way the light voice still made his chest tighten and tickle at memories best left with his past life. It’s been so long since he ever heard her happy about anything... 

“Make yourself at home with the rest o’ the peanut gallery I s’pose--” Another voice in his ear, male this time, probably and—for fuck’s sake... “Hang on.” 

Attention turned again to the space just behind her. Empty—or probably empty to her. He didn’t pretend to understand completely how attachments and shit worked with hauntings but John knew how to clear ghosts for a bit. Hands cupped around his mouth and... 

“Anyone not with a pulse, piss all the way off ‘n keep on going! Privacy necessary, not that I expect you tits t’ get that!” And just for good measure... “You lot don’t move an’ I’ll personally stuff ye in the First’s fucking fish tank next to Ric!” 

That at least seemed to get them to dissipate. “Fucking arseholes always nosing whenever...” 

[hxllblazer-a2]

@ultramariiin || sc!

"... This ‘cause I said y’ look handsome for a dead guy?” 

It was a joke, or it was supposed to be a joke. Honestly? Shit was hard to tell when one had spent the hour or so on the worse end of the internal possession job being handled by a thing that really shouldn’t have been trying to possess someone who’s soul was already a tattered dish cloth. In John’s defense, he had warned ol’ Percy that would be a terrible idea. 

Or maybe it was Phil. It was hard to tell with old demonic sometimes. 

“Look--thought you suit sorts ‘d be happy for once I did the good thing without getting anyone killed?” There’s a frown as he stands—or rather struggles to stand. Everything’s pounding, everything hurts, just side effects from punting out a body neighbor. “Just be—thankful it’s gone now.” 

A grunt, followed by John pressing a hand to his forehead and swearing. “Sodding sickness...” 

[hxllblazer-a2]

@bruz3r || sc!

“Bit unfortunate innit? Cat missed the tongue.”  

Where did he come from? Probably best no one actually thought about it, much less how he seems to have let himself in. Was the absolutely dramatic and disrespectful way he seemed to languish on a couch like a cat actually necessary? Probably also not, but John took a special kind of enjoyment. 

Sure, he could just hand over the rock but where was the fun when he couldn’t just annoy the privileged masses just a little. 

“Not gonna ask what y’ might think this is for, but I’m still team ‘smash it with a hammer and pray the side effects ‘re not gonna bung up me day’.” John went ahead and tossed the shiny rock over, shrugging. “But that’s just me.” 

[hxllblazer-a2]

[COMFORTS] The sender reassures the receiver, offering comfort while tending to the injuries. || @elliotglover

It was probably the thousand-yard stare that was doing it, or the fact that John was still alarmingly quiet. Either way, he hadn’t really expected Elliot to shake him just a bit after applying the antibiotics on the worst of the burn marks.

The glare was instinctive, but he wasn’t upset at Elliot. No… he was upset at himself. Even whatever sweet, sweet words were being spoken wouldn’t change any of this. He dragged Elliot in after promising to keep his bullshit out. He put Elliot in a position to let that fucking—thing out…

“… Y’ shoulda left me to die in Dis.” A sigh, tired, and he ran a hand through his own hair. “Open yourself to better opportunities t’ actually care about yourself. Get a better fiancé, a better life.”

[hxllblazer-a2]

"Why should it?" He shrugged, a rather obvious little shrug at that. "Mate, I've tossed 'n tangled with things that'd drive a normal bastard right fuckin' mad from glimpsing. I've experienced things that y' probably woulda blown your fuckin' brains out over. Be understandable, that, this life's not for the sane and sound of mind."

John snorted. "Could also be 'cause I'm scarier than anything y' beasties think's scary. Just some food for thought."

Ethan was sure that he'd never watch a horror movie in the same way again. Though it wasn't really something he did anyway, aside from whenever his brother managed to rope him into watching one. "Don't it ever scare you? I mean... all... all this? What's out there?" Including himself, he supposed.

[hxllblazer-a2]

"You're a mess. How did you even get into this situation?" || @thejadedking

“This you bein’ sweet? Should I expect dinner ‘n present on your bed with a bow on me bits that says ‘dessert time’?” Definitely up for debate if any of that was a joke or what percentage of that was most definitely the concussion he definitely had after taking that fall.

On the plus side? Majority of the impact was cushioned. Donwside? It was a very smelly and very gross cushion… And John definitely wasn’t going to spend too long even trying to think about just what the red and muddy muck clinging to his skin was. He could already smell it and fuck was he going to hate how he was going to have to burn these clothes later.

A shame, really. He was rather fond of these trousers…

“If you gotta know, the butler did it. Like… literally just—” He mimicked the whole picking up and throwing thing—or at least did his best to one handed. “Dunno what the shit y’ got me involved in but I’m tripling me finders fee. And using your shower.”

[hxllblazer-a2]

"Hold still, John, this might sting a bit." || @nosaintxavier

“Think that’s—ow, th’ nicest thing I’ve heard all week.” The snort is dry, even in the middle of what had to be the fifth bandaging this week. God, why did it always have to be the chair? “’m not paying for it, y’know… not me fault th’ dickhead uses his favorite mahogany—ow.”

Alright, maybe he deserved that one… There was probably some joke to be made about it not being fair and crimes against furniture but John was, surprisingly, more keen on complying. Or at least his ribs were going to probably kill him if they didn’t get set. Again. Hell of a way to go meet the maker and then some if he had any say to it. “Didn’ fix yer thing but think they’re—mn, less keen on nosing about now.”

A beat, thinking for a moment. “Maybe. Anyways. Fuckin’ nosey tight arses, you’d think they’d have more fun stalling up your Congress than trying to ‘fix’ the nonexistent problem at the front lines…”

[hxllblazer-a2]

@defyxoblivion parker gets a present || sc!

This hurt.

Yeah, that was probably a given, anyone who woke up in the same situation that John did would agree that this? Indeed did fucking hurt. He had to reckon that was from whatever the fuck big idiot number two had decided to whack him over the head with and big idiot number three who apparently couldn’t pull drawstrings on a hood sack without trying to choke the target out.

He’d probably make some terrible joke about usually needing to pay for this kind of service if it wasn’t for the fact that this appeared to be a summons…

“… Oh fuck me.” A wheeze, maybe taking a moment to make sure his teeth were all still in place before looking up from where he had been shoved. “What’s with you New York goonish types. Can’t send a note through th’ fucking post like a normal person?”

[hxllblazer-a2]

“I’ll keep those in mind if they ever start makin’ fake sheepskin rubbers outta beehives.” It’s the thinnest shred of a half-joke. Partially to distract, somewhat. No real sense in ruining the moment with a dabble of trauma dumping, though it’d definitely be on track for the latest round of self-inflicted cockblocking habits. 

Not that it was important to remember at the moment. The hot breath in his ear and tempting heat pressed against his dick was doing a lot of heavy lifting for his focus.  

“Didn’ ever want any in the first place... but I tell y’ that story? It’s gonna kill the mood.” A beat. “And m’ dick.” At least the Constantine charm of being an idiot in the bedroom hadn’t been stolen away yet by the devils so he had that going for him. Laughing against her, it gives the silliest idea he could possibly come up with in order to forgo the inevitable questions or push them off to later. 

In all fairness, he at least had fond memories of this going over quite well with a number of women in the past. 

“Now c’mon... think you’re overdue for your yearly checkup, Beth.” Grinning, it’s with a surprising bit of effort to twist their positions but John’s careful to not put too much weight down. It’d probably knock the sharp ache in his back, knowing his luck, and right now he wanted to just forget about the ravages of time. “Let’s see here...” 

Bedroom magic was always a careful effort, and right now was no different. A quiet whisper and weave of something simple, less costly to keep a hand comfortably hot to the touch, the other with the illusion of chill. Not the weirdest thing he’s let a goblin or imp nibble a piece over, but it was at least fun. He muttered quite a bit of nonsense he was sure feigned enough sarcasm to sound jokingly smart as he shimmied down. Squeezing the flesh of her breasts, feigning an inquisitive hum of thought as he rubbed and rotated each mound. 

“Aaah, think I found th’ problem.” A particularly lazy drawl as he pinched at both nipples, rolling the nubs between his fingers. “Not enough attention. Real bad for comfort ‘nd all that, y’know?” John then shifted a little further, enough to lick a solid line before sucking on a nub. 

“Luckily? Got a good treatment for that.” 

"Mmhmm. Wool, too. An' bees." Not that she thinks John is about to whip out a sheep or a beehive but stranger things have happened, specifically with him, in the course of their relationship. Softly shifting her thoughts away from the visceral want of him is what she needs right now. To let go by degrees so she doesn't feel like she's being immolated from within. Everything feels tilted on its axis around her and if he could only hear the internal howling of her disappointment, at odds with such a simple caress as his thumb. The quaver that runs through her when one grazes the three aquamarine studs that are more-or-less bolted in place. He tries to change the subject, offers a lie on his lips about the reasoning, though she doesn't think her counterargument would hold sway. Since being marked by her 'aumakua, she's never suffered any scar. No broken bone, no common cold. Life flows through her preternaturally to the point that even when she sits perfectly still in another room, it flows outward and slips into others, bringing health and vigour without any need to cast a spell or make a wish. And while she has her own footing in the spirit world, Beth doesn't really know much about the denizens of the dark umbra that John wages his battles against, save what Father Vinnie tells her of mortal sin and vigilance toward temptation. "What a weird and storied life you've lived." Her resolve wavers before him, the way her eyes shut, or the soft noises she makes between words. "Couldn't give you one anyway, even if you asked." A patina of actual hurt washes over her face but it doesn't have anything to do with him. "Can't conceive, bad genetics, don't have working parts." Behind her eyes she catches a glimpse of a smiling toddler with his hair and her green eyes. It vanishes like smoke with a quietly garbled curse that hisses out between her lips. Beth doesn't use that language and the word doesn't come out completely. His lips catch hers but he doesn't let her delve into his mouth, doesn't let her savour the whisky and nicotine and something a little like rosemary on his tongue. Beth caves with the sinking of her knees on the edge of her bed. Pitches her forward until she braces herself with palms flat on either side of John's neck. Her hair falls into his face and the bed dips beneath him. Her hips twist. The heat between her thighs is inviting as she presses against his own need, stroking him with that shift. In tandem, one hand comes away from her duvet to settle itself on the column of his throat. With the lightest squeeze she forces his chin up and kisses him.

[hxllblazer-a2]

@defyxoblivion john and dane go on a trauma spree-- || sc!

It feels like a weight that’s licking over his very form… except he’s pretty sure the actual feeling thing has been tuning in and out since bouncing from London.

“F-fuuuck… an’ that’s what ye deal with?” It’s hard to tell if its specific proximity to the relic or if Dane’s been tuning with it or—well, anything really. Ancient shit always just seemed to leave a lingering touch on whoever’s been dabbling in his own experience.

Though John was pretty sure this lingering touch was about ready to smack him upside the head.

“Yer gonna owe me for fixing your shite, mate.” A bit of a grunt, mostly from pressing the cigarette he had out into his thumb. Not ideal, but at least the pain cut just enough to make the idea of losing last night’s dinner less appealing. “Big time.”