#its more satisfying when its due to things out of their control and not because they can't talk to each other

[alexander-23]

Come Home

A/N: This made me so happy to write because I’ve missed writing and I know what happens next since it’s my story lol. Anyways, sorry for any grammar issues, I’ve got the sprinkle of dyslexia and such and messes with me lol. Part two is coming soon!

TW: angst, mention of torture, mention of injuries, fluff, fear, comment if I missed anything please

Masterlist

Not many know, but Ambessa and I have been an item for quite some time now. At first, the secrecy was due to the fling, then emotions taking hold and she couldn't risk the damage to her reputation, now it's to keep me from being a pawn in war against her. I understand, if I was in her position and they took her from me, I'd be weak, my emotions coming into play, controlling my actions. I would do anything, even lose a war and all power if it meant she was alive and safe. I understand Ambessa’s need for secrecy. We simply want to protect each other this way, and it works for us.

Ambessa is extra protective of me because I’m not like her, not a fighter. I know enough to defend myself until I can get help, it was a requirement from Ambessa, to ease her nerves. She is the all mighty warlord of Noxus, feared by many, and she has many enemies. Ambessa was the one to train me until she was satisfied with my skill level. If I was a soldier of hers, she would have pushed me harder, but when I reasoned with her, she understood my role in war was far from enemy lines, a safer place where fighting was barely even needed, at least for her army. I played my part in wars though, typically her strategist, and a good one at that. Ambessa appreciates my input when planning, I always think of things she doesn't, my mind thinking of things that would keep her safe when she is fighting for her life and victory. War strategy was never something I saw myself doing, but it became a talent when I realized I enjoyed the research; more so when it meant I was contributing to the protection of my love.

The day of the war was stressful to say the least. Ambessa always gives me five minutes to share my feelings, my concerns and clingy behavior, talking through my anxiety about her going into battle, scared she won't come back. She knows my concern isn't about my belief in her abilities, but rather the fears that scream in my head out of love for her. She displays a gentleness no one else has ever seen, something for my eyes only. Cupping of my cheek, arm around my torso that pulls me close, and her soothing voice reassuring me of her return, but validating my feelings. She will pepper my face with kisses before I help her with her armor, and her with mine. This was a month ago and the last time I saw her.

While she was fighting, a team made a strike on us in our camp, taking me as well as a few others. I don’t remember much of the ambush, just some yelling, a hit to the back of my head, then everything went black. Now its a month later and I'm stumbling through the battlefield. I can feel the dirt under my bare feet, a cool breeze causing a shiver to run through my body. They had stripped me of my armor and kept it, the armor Ambessa had made specially for me, an extra layer of protection from weapons and any environment our battles brought us to. I’m thinner from the lack of food I was given to scrounge on when they felt it was time to feed me, which wasn’t often enough. My body is covered in cuts and bruises from the interrogations as they called them trying to get information out of me, but I gave them nothing. I’m frigid, weak, and exhausted, but I push on, determined to get back to the love of my life, my safe haven.

When I look up, I can see our base camp far in the distance, it’s so close, but so far still. Smoke rises from what must be fires in the camp, and torches at the entrance to the camp. I want to scream out for help, anything to get their attention, but I can’t. My voice is so weak from my screams of pain when I was being tortured, my voice doesn’t even reach five feet in front of me, but I keep trying.

“Hel-“ *I immediately cough, but try again, “Help”.

I can just barely see movement up by the entrance, hoping they will see me and help me. I keep pushing forward, scared as my vision starts to blur.

“H-help”

The edges of my vision start to fade and I trip over my feet and fall to the ground, too weak to move again.

“H-h-help”

I look towards the camp while I lie on the ground, my eyes are starting to water. My eyes shut for a long period of time, but when I finally open them again, I see a shadowed figure running towards me. Tears stream down my cheeks as they get close, but my vision starts to go black again.

[nayatarot777]

What Should You Focus On About Your Internal Self?

• Pile One •

Hi, Pile One! Welcome to your reading!

You’re being called to focus on your lack of productivity. It’s keeping you stagnant when you could be creating and manifesting great things for yourself. There needs to be a death to a part of you that’s stuck around for longer than necessary. You may be satisfied with less. Or seemingly satisfied with going without what you know that you could have. It’s time to change that. And it won’t be easy (a part of you will feel like it’s dying - because it is. Your ego will resist and try to drag you back from fully laying this procrastinator within you to rest) but it’ll catapult you out of this energy of being stuck in the same place. Your ego only resists death because it’s afraid of the unknown. Thats when you have to come in and soothe yourself by providing understanding to your ego about how the unknown is new, but positive. After death comes rebirth, right? There’ll be a brand new journey for you to embark on and learn about. You’ll be able to learn about your capabilities, your creative efforts and how far they can go, etc. This procrastination is a method of self-protection that your ego has utilised for a very long time, meaning that it’s afraid of experiencing failure which would ultimately lead to shame, disappointment, etc. However, it’s already experiencing these things because you’re allowing it to prevent you from doing anything anyway. There’s a reason why your ego is so closely linked to your inner-child. What do you do when a child doesn’t want to do something that you know would be good for them, due to their own fear? You calm them and slowly introduce them into the unknown that they’re afraid of, while reassuring them and praising them for ever step forward that they take. You don’t let them allow their fear to control them. You subdue their fear with comfort and assurance. This is what you need to do for yourself.

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• Pile Two •

Hi, Pile Two! Welcome to your reading!

You are being called to focus on finding peace and contentment. Focus on finding satisfaction within yourself as well as a feeling of safety. There’s an internal transformation happening for you, and it does lead to this feeling of safety that we’re speaking of. You may have a history of not having the tools of self-protection, leaving you vulnerable to those who wanted to use you or take advantage of you. There’s a part of you opening up that is some type of warrior on behalf of yourself. A part of you that’s able to protect yourself from anyone who gets too close to you too soon. This protector is your intuition. Your crown chakra that’s the medium between your higher self and your human self. This is what’s opening and transforming within you. You may be experiencing ascension symptoms (specifically your third-eye opening a lot more, enabling you to read between the lines of what people say and the situations that you find yourself in). Trust that you don’t have to be in defence-mode anymore, because you’re capable of protecting yourself. Don’t be discouraged if you feel like your consciousness is slow to catch onto certain things either. Tapping into uncharted territory such as your intuition or your 3rd eye takes time. Let it develop naturally. The people who don’t usually end up going a bit crazy and unhinged because they’ve opened their third eye (their pineal gland) forcefully and too quickly. You don’t want to be one of them 🙃. You also need to ensure that you’re breathing life into your intuition. What do I mean by this? You need to validate that your intuition exists. Don’t suppress it - because that’s the opposite of giving life to something. That’s how you squash it, eventually killing it. Validate its existence and its being. Again, your intuition is the direct connection to your higher self. Your higher self is on a higher dimension compared to you, meaning that they see things that you can’t see with your physical eye - hence why you see symbolisms and messages in your metaphysical (non-physical eye - your third eye. Your mind’s eye). Try to bring to an end your habit of disregarding what you see spiritually.

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• Pile Three •

Hi, Pile Three! Welcome to your reading!

There needs to be a lot of acknowledgement from you towards yourself in regard to how much work you’ve put into creating safety and peace within yourself. You’ve completed the journey that Pile Two is currently on. You’ve been busy putting yourself together internally, which your physical reality is probably reflecting in some way - as within, so without. I’m hearing “you can rest”. You’ve found a lot of the safety and peace that you were looking for, thanks to your own efforts. You can take some weight off of your shoulders and just relax. Get playful and treat yourself in some way. The reason why you’ve found this sense of safety is because you’ve protected your mind, in-turn protecting your peace. “The ALL is mind; the universe is mental” - for those of you who are avid readers, I suggest that you read The Kybalion if you haven’t already. It seems like you’ve already taught yourself one of the principles of mental alchemy, which probably means that you’ll be able to grasp the other principles relatively easily too. You’ve found peace because you’ve found trust in yourself and your inner-knowing. Your intuition has been working overtime 😂. Your intuition is why you can keep yourself in your serenity. I’m hearing clapping from your higher self. They’re proud of you. You’ve reached a stage that many of us are still working on completing. Now that this ability to connect and to have faith in your intuition comes so naturally to you, you can rest. You don’t have to be vigilant all of the time. If your intuition needs to tell you something, then it will. You don’t need to constantly stay alert to it because you’ve built a great connection to it now.

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[milykins]

TMNT Headcanon – Losing Their Virginity

As much as I appreciate that a lot of the NSFW writing on here portrays the guys as being absolute experts at sex… they had to start somewhere. That is where these come in. Keep in mind they are all above 18 and paired with female characters written in a third-person POV. I am going to write one for each of the brothers. Mikey is first because he is my favourite.

Aged-up TMNT at least 18.

18+ Readers only. Contains sexual content

Raph's Story

Leo's Story

Donnie's Story

Mikey's Story

Mikey is not only the first of his brothers to get an actual girlfriend, but he ends up being the first to officially lose his virginity. It happens when he’s 18. Mike was actually pretty well-known in the party scene. Patrolling every night and saving innocent bystanders did have its advantages sometimes. Mikey sometimes would stay out until three, four, sometimes five in the morning, much to Leo’s frustration from having his sleep-deprived brother join them for morning practice.

This is where he meets her. Like him she was a free spirit and loved the party scene. He suspected she was doing it as an escape but since it was none of his business he didn’t think to ask her. She’s the first girl in his life to actually respond to his flirtatious ways and actually reciprocates. Naturally he falls HARD for this girl. They play around in a kind of will they won’t they for a bit until she actually makes the first move and invites him back to her place. He goes, not expecting anything to happen but remains hopeful that he’ll at least get to kiss her on the cheek or something.

Much to his surprise, it is so much more than he could have ever dreamed. Cuddling during a movie leads to some gentle touches, which leads to actual kissing to a full-blown makeout session. Even more surprising to him is catching the scent of her arousal. She liked this, and when she brings his hand to touch her breast, he could swears he could’ve died and gone to heaven right then and there. Still, a small part of him knows they need to talk things out before things go any further. After all, he’s still a mutant turtle. There are certain… differences that she needed to be aware of.

Luckily for him, she’s more than understanding about his anatomy and they go no further than second-base that night. He pretty much asks her to be his girlfriend when the night ends and is over the moon when she accepts. From that moment on he takes every opportunity to brag about his beautiful girlfriend. It drives his brothers crazy and by the end of the month they’re ready to kill him.

Mikey is very attentive and sweet as a boyfriend, but he’s hyper-aware of the fact his girlfriend is human and is secretly terrified that sex might not be possible at all due to how different he is. He does voice his concerns one night when things start to become more intense between the two of them. She assures him that no matter what, she still wants to try. The admission makes Mikey feel like crying.

Their first attempt is a week later. Mikey is so, so incredibly careful and doing his best to stay calm when he enters her for the very first time. He gets about halfway in, locks up, and freezes before looking incredibly disappointed and ashamed with himself. He’d finished before they had even gotten started. That night is a lot of reassurance and soft words of comfort from his girlfriend who tells him they can try again.

The next time Mikey is determined to last longer and actually does his research on how to satisfy his girlfriend first just in case they can't go all the way. He successfully reduces her to a flushed and panting mess beneath him while looking very pleased with himself. She playfully tells him to wipe that smirk off his face and tells him she’s ready. Mikey takes a few steadying breaths before pushing inside of her, going achingly slow. Upon entering her completely he’s trembling slightly as he tries to control his breathing and keep his body from getting too excited. Incredibly, she is able to take all of him, and despite feeling the obvious stretch and a slight burn, she's as excited as he is.

Mikey doesn’t move for several minutes, afraid it will be over before it even begins and babbles away nervously, asking her if she's alright and if he's hurting her. She caresses his face, assuring him that no matter what, she wants this, it feels good for her, and she wants him to feel good too, no matter what. He does an experimental roll of his hips and sees her face change into one of awe and pleasure. A few slow thrusts later, and he’s able to get into a steady rhythm. He can tell she’s enjoying it too from the soft sounds of pleasure he hears and the slight tremble of her thighs as he slightly increases the speed of his thrusts. Very quickly, he realizes that he’s going to finish before she does unless he does something about it fast. Luckily he’s had plenty of practice, and with a few circles of his thumb on her nub, she jolts and cries out. She tightens around him, and he’s completely unable to hold back after that. In the aftermath of their lovemaking they’re both breathing heavily and pause a moment before they both break out into giddy laughter together. Mikey doesn’t think he’s ever been as happy as he is in that moment.

Upon arriving home, Mikey knows his brothers can smell what he did. They’re bracing themselves for him to brag about being the first to go all the way with a girl, but he doesn’t. He’s entirely changed from the experience and wants to keep the moment to himself. It’s not like it’s some badge of honour that he needs to parade around the lair. It was special and intimate, and he feels so incredibly blessed and lucky to have had this experience. He’s hopeful about the future and feels a little lighter moving forward in his life.

The End

The others are yet to come, stay tuned!

[faggot-greg-house]

house is autistic i will accept no criticism

i have so many thoughts about house and autism. this might be the most unhinged post on my tumblr yet but here we go so house had the illusion of normalcy forced on him from a young age. i dont think thats like, full canon, but house talks about how his father abused him on more than one occassion and talked about how he was never satisfied or happy with house no matter what. so i truly dont think its a far reach to say that he would not have tolerated a "weird child." the thing that i think, though, is that all of his actions are a response to the fact that he's not particularly great at masking. he's afraid if he lets people close to him he won't be able to hide the fact that he's "weird" (aka bad). he intentionally pushes people away with his weird creepy comments and being an asshole and that's both him masking (if he's aggressively mean all the time no one will bother to look further) and a way of coping with the fact that he cant mask. the more he pushes people away the less likely it is that they'll see that he cares about things and that he's not "normal" like he's always been told. i also think that as the show went on, he got less and less concerned about masking. he constantly stims, he hyperfocuses and burns out, he panics about change, he treats his fellows a lot more like family. once he got to a point in his life where his "weirdness" is not something he can be ruined for (he's tenured and he has people who will fight for him) he found himself a lot more able to be aggressively autistic, even if he struggles with it due to trauma.

a huge Autism Moment in the show for me is when foreman quits and house fires chase. house has been afraid his whole life of showing who he actually is, as mentioned. his fellows, though, are his People, they knew all of his shit and they never ran awayy from it. they didnt question who he was and what he knew, only his methods, and they were willing to fight back against him (something he's shown he loves). but then foreman quits because he "doesnt want to be like house" and this is house's worst nightmare. this is exactly why he had normalcy beaten into him, because being weird only makes it that people will run away once they know you. he dared to let people see a bit of who he actually is and how he thinks and acts and foreman essentially said "i cant stand to be like you." on top of that fear, his team became Different. he doesnt know if chase or cameron thought the same things as foreman, if they were also judging him or hating him for being autistic. it sent him into fucking panic mode because how is he supposed to trust them when he doesnt know if they agree with foreman!!!!! and even if he could, the team is Different and its for a reason he cant control and he cant just go back to normal. his method of interviewing his new fellows also shows this - how is he supposed to be able to tell if someone will be okay with who he is and if they'll work well together based off a short intervew where he's almost certainly masking the whole time???? anyway. to end this absolutely unhinged post ive put together an inconclusive list of autistic traits and actions from house, and i want to say that so much of this is him being written off as an antisocial eccentric genius and, while he is an ass that cant be debated, it clearly runs deeper than that!!!!

he doesnt understand how ppl feel (he repeatedly talks about how small talk is like a guessing game for him and he doesnt know what to say)

he doesnt like to be touched (for a lot of the show people just do Not touch him, wilson excluded)

he stims constantly and he needs Sensations

he's blunt, rude, somewhat monotone, etc

he has a hard time making friends

he has a hard time saying what he feels (he'd rather joke or be mean than analyse his emotions)

he has a routine that he Sticks To (even thgh its not exactly the same because of patients etc, he goes to work late, he talks to the same people, he sits in his same office. he's shown coming to work sick at one point and he doesnt rly go on vacation. plus when cuddy took his bloodstained carpet it was such a fundamental change to his life that he couldnt deal)

he notices Everything (yes ik this is a sherlock holmes thing but consider sherlock holmes - also autistic)

he has a method and train of thought that works for him and he is unwilling to break from it (he's shown at least once stopping the fellows from writing on his whiteboard, and after he loses the og three he continues trying to hold ddx's because its how he Thinks)

[bloodplague]

Creepypastsa — Blood of Salvation

little sidenote, this is a book me and a few others have been working on, so it's a pretty big thing to read. the link to its wattpad page will be at the bottom :p

PILOT

A beautiful grayish fog curtain floated its way down Akita Street, swallowing the parked cars, the cold puddles on the road and the yellowish-orange trees next to the houses. Bright moonlight hit the grass, reflecting in the water drop and the dew that customized on each little blade of grass. Crickets, owls and gentle rain drowned the silence as the night took its place. Slight wind blew, coming from the east, as no other sound dared to disturb the nature's peace. That was, until a police car rushed down the road, passing each house with high speed. Its sirens muted the owls and crickets with an instant, the blue and red lights flashing through the darkness of the night, mixing up with the yellowish light coming from laterns every time the car drove under one. Nothing seemed to bother the car on its way, the eardeafing sirens soon died, no longer echoing through the neighborhood.

"Gettin' tired of hunting some arson committers right before the end of my shift." The officer complained, keeping his eyes on the road, one of his hands resting on the wheel while he held onto a cup filled with hot coffee in the other. However, instead of a reply from his partner, all he heard was intensive slurping, which quickly got replaced by loud chewing. Confusion and annoyance was written all over his face as he gazed to his right, only to see the red haired man sitting all comfy on the police cars seat, chewing a big piece of his donut, while spilling some of his chocolate milk on his new uniform, acting completely unbothered.

The young man turned his long face to the driver, nodding in agreement. The tips of his fingers were pink due to him holding onto his sticky donut. Freckles covered his peachy skin, his eyes were as blue as the night sky and his frame overall pretty slim. "Really?" Officer Might blankly stared at him for a couple of moments, before his focus returned to the street, not wanting to crash the car over a donut. Their path seemed to grow more foggy to the point where they were barely able to properly see the houses around them anymore. "What?" Officer Hipko replied, his voice muffled because of the food in his mouth, which he kept chewing on before roughly swallowing, his throat hurting in the process.

Again, Might rolled his eyes and licked his thin lips instinctively. Eventually his gaze returned to Hipko to glare intensively, though his oblivious partner did not seem to pick up the key. "Would ya stop eatin' already!?", Might snapped. "Okay, okay! Jeez..." The younger officer replied nervously, flinching a little.

Hipko stuffed the small bag in which he had packed his food back into the car door, swallowing the rest. It was quiet for a moment, until somewhere ahead of them, behind the fog, several sirens became audible. They both let out a sharp sigh, more exhausted than satisfied with their work.

As the car drove out of the fog, they were greeted by a huge cloud of smoke coming from one of the houses. The house that was burning fiercely, hot flames lighting up everything and the fire causing nothing but chaos and sweat. Firefighters fought a lot to somewhat control the growing flames, the walls were engulfed by the bright blaze and completely carbonized, close to completely collapsing.

When the two officers got out of the now parked car, their attention was immediately captured by the huge fire and the pitch-black smoke, somehow rather fascinated by how beautiful the fire actually was. Many sparks flew wildly through the air like small whirlwinds. The flame ate its way right through the windows, doors and thick walls, as if it simply devoured everything it came into contact with. The view of the dangerous flame growing bigger and bigger was amazing, as if the element was spreading like a plague. The stench of the smoke only made everything more stuffy, as well as more dangerous for anyone present trying to control the uncontrollable. The crackling noise and the loud crunching and crackle of the wood in the house could be heard again and again, and could not really be ignored. It was as if everything was slowly collapsing.

"So?" asked Might as he approached the captain of the fire department. He roughly placed his hands on his thick belt, still marveling at the deadly beauty of those brightly glowing flames. "The flames are pretty much under control, but we don't know what or who caused the fire. We do indeed have a theory, though we aren't completely sure." The leader rubbed his forehead, visibly stressed out. "What about the people who live there?" Might sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The apartment belongs to the Hallóvgore's. A father and his step daughter. The father is dead. We've already found his corpse, but no sign of the girl." The man sighed, crossing his muscular arms tightly in front of his chest. "Then she can't be too far! We should send out a team to find her..." Might was interrupted by the team leader, however: "We've already sent several squads out to look for her, but unfortunately, she's most likely escaped far into the woods. The flames broke out about 15 minutes ago, but she's not on foot..."

Both Hipko and Might tilted their heads and stared at each other as questions flashed through their minds. The rambling lacked important information. "Well, that's basically what our theory is about. When we found the fathers corpse, he had several wounds on his face, his hand was completely cut open and in his chest was a box-cutter. We suspect his step daughter killed him before setting the fire, then, unfortunately ran over to the neighbor that just came back from a shopping trip. She stabbed the young man once he got off of his motorcycle before getting on it herself, just to use it to escape. Again, it's just a theory, though it's most likely what happened, as it explains everything that happened."

Hipko nodded along to the horrible news, swallowing uncomfortably while looking around to avoid eye contact, while his partner continued to stare into the dancing flames. "She'll be arrested for arson and murder as soon as we find her." Might assured, as his expression became more serious and cold again. Although he was exhausted and tired, he was determined to find her. His hands held tightly to his belt until he dropped them again and swung them slightly back and forth. "That's good," Jens, the captain of the fire department, mumbled quietly, glancing over at the flames to watch their movement and watch the others work as if to study every detail. With a slight nod, he repeated, quieter and deeper this time, "That's good."

"Jens!" Another firefighter called out as he jogged over to the little trio, holding onto a drawing. He panted a little as he stopped nex to Jens, holding up the drawing as he basically waved it into their faces. "Another one of *those* cases." Jen's eyes narrowed as his expression grew more stern. Obviously the sudden change of demeanor confused both Might and Hipko, so Might took advantage of the silence to ask: "What exactly is meant by 'those cases'?"

Jens snapped out of his thoughts as he looked to Might, taking a good second to reply. "...we keep finding those weird drawings of this...entity, next to random dead bodies. Same with this one, apparently." His eyes almost pierced through the paper as he stared at it, the text 'leave me alone' written on it in a very messy way and a small drawing of a tall man in a suit right under it. Something about this was just unsettling.

"As if all people that murder and draw this shit were influenced by the same thing. We did actually catch 2 murderers that also had those types of drawings all over their room or next to the person they've killed, and both talked about seeing a faceless man in a suit follow them or something like that."

Might licked his pale lips, his eyes focused on the fire with a slightly tilted head. "Probably just a weird cult they, including the Hallóvgores, were a part of." Officer Might shrugged it off, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Either way, let's get it over with and find that girl to throw her in jail or the mental hospital. She belongs in both."

"Rin, do you have everything ready?" A woman spoke impatiently, holding the microphone close to her chest and looking excitedly at the two cameramen, her eyes flickering back and forth. "Yes, Jessy... We've already prepared your lines too. Max roughly interviewed one of the firefighters, so we have all information we need." Rin replied, flipping through the papers he was holding before handing them to Jessy. "We're already late, so hurry up!", Jessy ordered, brushing her thin blonde hair out of her face, taking the papers and reading through them roughly, making sure she took in all the information. There was a lot of shouting in the background as the dark smoke took over the midnight sky.

"Do you know what to say? Because we're ready to go live!", the young man shouted back to Jessy, positioning the camera. "Give me time!" She groaned emphatically, feeling the warmth of the fire on her taut skin and some sweat that ran down her cheeks. "Okay. I'm ready." After a moment, she broke the awkward silence. Every breath she took burned and itched her throat.

Jessy stroked her hand through her hair once more to make sure she looked okay before handing the papers back to Max and putting the microphone to her mouth, ready to do her job. Finally, Rin raised his thumb and pointed the large camera at her. The only one talking now was the second cameraman, who counted down from 3 to 1 so Jessy would know when to start talking. As he did his thing, the woman cleared her throat and smiled directly into the lens of the camera, her teeth gleaming white and her stance relatively dominant as well as confident, trying to keep her back straight.

"Good evening, I'm Jessica Tolsing reporting to you live from Akita Street, where a tragic and devastating event has occurred. At around 7 PM this Wednesday, a house was engulfed in flames, resulting in the death of a family father. It is believed that his step-daughter, Angel Hallovgore, may be responsible for the fire. The motive behind these horrific acts is currently unknown. To make matters worse, Angel is reported to have stolen the neighbor's motorcycle following the violent incident, making her escape from the authorities even more difficult.

This is a truly tragic and heartbreaking situation for all involved, and we urge anyone with information on Angel Hallovgore's whereabouts to come forward and assist the police in their search. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the victims and their families during this difficult time. We will continue to provide updates on this developing story as more information becomes available. Stay tuned for further details as they unfold. This is Jessica Tolsing, reporting live from Akita Street."

————————————————————

With his knife striking roughly across the dirty carpet on which he was sitting cross-legged, Jeff stared curiously at the television to memorize all the information. He moved his tongue around in his dry mouth, clearly bored. As soon as the news was over, he huffed and scratched his head. He had very thin, burned, shoulder length and straight hair that just hung down dryly, each strand different lengths and very ruffled. Jeff also had several places on his head with no hair at all, only scars from what looked like flames.

All the burn marks that covered his body made his Skin look purely white. What was most disgusting in his appearance was the deeply carved smile that cut from the corners of his mouth up to his ears. Single pieces of skin and flesh clung to the deep, open wound, soaked in blood and spit. Though, this was not the only dehumanized thing about his face. He didn't have a nose either, just two holes as the fire devoured most of his features. In addition to that, his eyelids were barely intact, making him roll his eyes every now and then.

He sighed again and supported himself on the floor with his hands so that he could lean back and relax. A male voice on the TV continued to entertain him until the screen suddenly began to flicker. Confusion took over him which is why he immediately muttered a small curse, as if he had no patience at all. "Damn TV." With the help of his hands, he pushed himself up and dusted off the black, skinny jeans he wore, already glaring.

Visibly annoyed, he strolled over to the big screen and pulled at his bloodstained hoodie a few times to prevent it from moving up. Once he stood in front of the TV, Jeff hit it a few times with the flat of his hand while cursing under his breath. The program was already choppy and the news reporter's words were becoming an unintelligible stutter, as if the catch was gone. "Come on, fucking box!" Jeff's patience was running out, and frustration and aggression were quickly overshadowing everything else. Out of nowhere, the device crashed completely, and the screen went pitch black. With his last bit of patience, he bent down a little and brought his face closer to the TV to see if anything was still playing.

An unexpected loud, glitching sound emitted from the speaker, making Jeff move his head even closer to the television, when suddenly a large silhouette appeared on the screen. Jeff let out a shocked yelp and immediately stumbled backwards, eventually falling as his back hit the hard floor. His heart raced, a laugh coming from the speaker just before the face on the TV formed into a person, laughing uproariously. Jeff was still staring at the ceiling, pissed, but calm at the same time. "Shut up, Ben.", he muttered.

The laughter calmed down before a person simply stepped out of the screen and returned to reality. He had the body of a young teenager and looked almost identical to Link from Majora's Mask, except he had completely black eyes with a small red dot in the center, which was supposed to represent his pupil. Blood ran down his round cheeks, soaking his green clothes.

As he placed both his feet on the ground, he grinned widely and looked down at Jeff, who rolled his eyes. At least the TV was working now again. "I hope you hurt yourself." Ben taunted as he continued the teasing, placing his hands on his hips. His voice seemed to glitch while he was speaking. "Oh, and I hope you can run fast." Jeff replied in a snarky way as he glared up at the boy with a sadistic gleam in his eyes. Ben's grin dropped, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed. With a burst of speed, Ben ran off the second Jeff jumped up to chase after him, both cackling.

Just as he built up stamina, reaching out his hand to grab Ben, a knife suddenly flew right past his face. Jeff stopped in an instant and just laughed rudely as he looked around to see where the knife came from. On his left, Jeff saw Jane directly on the other side of the long table, whose shadow moved in the light of the swaying chandelier. The warm light shone on her white mask, which was adorned with black lipstick and eyelashes. She wore a black gothic dress, a pearl necklace accessorizing her chest.

Motionless, Jane stood on spot, glaring at Jeff through the two black holes where her eyes were supposed to be, though covered by her mask. Jane also wore a black wig, long, curly hair falling down her back. Their skin seemed almost similar, burned and covered in marks, yet Jane's seemed darker and more scarred.

"Please. Don't play these games. What will your parents think of you?" Jeff mocked, fully aware he was the one that killed her parents after all.

"One day..." Jane whispered softly, not blinking once. "The master wants to speak to you in his office.", another quiet mutter escaped her lips before she turned her curvy- yet slenderish body away to return to the kitchen.

"Heh. Freaky bitch." Jeff didn't take her seriously. Under his weight the floor creaked, snapping Jeff out of his thoughts just to captivate him in new ones. The lights above him flickered briefly, when someone slapped the back of his neck out-of-nowhere. Jeff flinched, swiftly moving his head back, only to see Ben sprinting away once again.

"I will drown you!" Jeff shouted aggressively and ran after him. The darkness was clearly visible through the huge glass windows on the old walls, soothing moonlight shining through the dirty glass, right into the old mansion. Even though the large building was in the middle of a gloomy forest of leaves and fir trees, there was hardly ever any silence.

Hooting owls, rustling leaves and loud crickets kept the forest alive, but so did the proxies. Serial killers that lived in a guarded place, hidden from society and protected from the police. Not only did they go undercover to terrorize villages, towns and even cities, but also served a whole different purpose. Several actually, but not even the proxies themself knew all of them. At least not yet.

And so the old wooden door opened, squeaking as it moved, a woman stepped in followed by a fresh breeze, her eyes flickering all over the place as if she scanned it. With a heavy breath, she took a step inside, her head slightly lowered and her back a little hunched. She closed the door with trembling hands before taking another deep breath to calm down.

Her body was clothed in attire that hid the majority of her features, a zip up jacket, wine red t-shirt, loose dark jeans, black boots, and gloves. The only thing visible was her thin, black, shoulder-length hair, which fell roughly out of her blood-stained hood, as her face was hidden by a white face mask with weird black stains all over it, as well as a hole on her mouth and eyes.

A hand trailed over her body as she searched for her knife, which ended up being in her jeans pocket. Still out of breath and extremely tired, the woman strolled a few more steps inside while orange leaves and mud fell from her jeans. The goose bumps she had a few seconds ago seemingly vanished, so her body stopped shivering. Thorns and acorns still clung to her dirty clothes, some of them bouncing on the floor as she moved.

Unexpectedly, a small, fluffy mouse scampered past her on its tiny paws, scurrying across the oak floor. Kate tilted her head like a cat and looked down at the small animal scrabbling around not far from her. The mouse stopped and stood up on its two hind paws, turning its tiny head towards Kate as they made eye contact. It shivered intensively, pricking up its ears. Kate was oblivious to everything around her and continued to stare at the tiny creature, so focused on the cuteness of the mouse to the point where she didn't even notice Tim and Brian walking towards her.

That was until Tim stomped full force on the feverish mouse, crunching it under his boot. The animal squeaked before it was crushed by the weight, its organs bulging out of the limp body between the floor and the boot. It squelched and stuck in the grooves of Tim's shoe sole, who took no interest in the poor mouse.

Kate flinched a little and blinked a few times as Tim lifted the shoe again. The burst head, the crushed body parts and the sticky blood were now stuck on the floor, as well as on the sole of Tim's shoe, the fur wet and soaked with blood. With a hint of hesitation, her gaze traveled up Tim's body until she met his eyes.

He was wearing his blue jeans, brown boots and a yellowish bomber coat that covered his grayish-blue t-shirt. His dark brown hair fell over the left side of his forehead while the rest ran down his head. His sideburns and dark eyes that sparkled in the light, adding a lot to his appearance.

Kate growled something quiet which turned out to be more muffled than expected due to her mask. "Mission...?"

"Yeah." Tim answered dryly, his fingers toying with the Glock-19 on his belt. There was nothing special about his voice, except that he had a slight American accent. "Toby's coming with us. We'll be in the south part of the territory, pretty far from here 'n close to the nearest town." Kate nodded a little. "Must be a special mission if you're going this far. It's already dark now..."

"New proxy. Apparently some girl that stole a motorcycle, making this whole thing more difficult for us." Tim explained, crossing his arms tightly around his chest.

"But it's already dark. Cryptids will most likely be all around the woods?" Kate tilted her head as her gaze flew to Brian, who just stood there, all reserved.

"We'll take a map with us and mark where we are as soon as we find tire tracks so that we can return tomorrow in the sunlight and follow the tracks to find them... or well- her." Again, Kate nodded slightly, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as she listened closely.

"He really can't get new proxies himself anymore." Tim complained, rolling his eyes as he gazed around to avoid any eye contact for a brief moment. "And Toby's being a pain in the ass again."

Brian glanced over his shoulder to check on Toby, who was still absent. He turned his head back, adjusting his clothes a little. He pulled on his yellowish-gray hoodie, providing a casual yet comfortable look. Over it, Brian wore a sleek black coat, contrasting nicely with the lighter hoodie. His brown jeans were well-fitted, going well with the dark boots he wore. He just towered over both Tim and Kate being 6ft tall, his fingers scratching his lip, feeling the mustache above his lip brush against his skin.

"It's most likely because of the Zalgoids... The master doesn't wanna risk getting injured.", Brian shrugged a little, his voice careful as he had no intention in defending Slenderman.

"So he can't risk getting hurt but risk getting us killed. What a surprise." Tim sarcastically remarked, growing more impatient and frustrated. He pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his jeans, strolling over to the door that led outside. "I'm gonna go smoke, so I'll be outside now." He waved uncharitably before placing his hand on the door handle, pressing and opening it to leave. Brian nodded to Kate in farewell before pulling his hands out of his jeans pocket and following Tim. Kate smiled slightly until she realized he was wearing a mask, which made her quickly go awkward.

The silence seemed almost embarrassing, so Kate broke it by letting out another snarl which was supposed to mean something like "good luck"- before Brian also left the mansion. Outside, the two men were greeted by the gray moonlight, noisy crickets and rustling bushes. The grass under their boots felt so soft to the point where it was pleasing to walk over it.

They both looked at the forest in front of them, which was not far, appearing really gloomy. Fog bubbled out from between the fir and deciduous trees, dancing slowly in the light wind. Thanks to the yellowish-orange light coming from through the windows of the mansion, creating patterns on the earth and bushes, they could look around more properly. Tim blew out some smoke from his nose, feeling the burning sensation in his nostrils.

"Do you have everything?" Brian asked quickly. Tim blew more smoke out of his mouth and nodded as he opened his brown pouch, holding the cigarette between his thin lips.

"Mhm. Flashlight, pills, box cutter, rope, tape, and more stuff." Tim roughly dug through the bag with his eyes focused on the content. Satisfied, Brian nodded once and pulled his camera up to his face to prepare it so he could film once they set off.

Tim nervously wiggled his foot as he shifted his body weight to the other leg, leaning against the wall. The smell of smoke was dominated by the scent of the forest not long after the cigarette burned out.

Berry bushes, flowers and brambles grew wildly around the building, some rose and thorn bushes detailing everything. The wind brushed over his rough hands and tickled him lightly, also flowing through all the wilted shrubbery and bushes beside him. Individual leaves wafted elegantly through the cool air, as if they were flying through the air like kites. The ivy on the wall wound its way between the grooves, up to the roof, only to be blocked by the guttering. After a moment of eternity, the door next to Tim finally snapped and let out a loud squeak before sliding completely open. Tim and Brian immediately looked towards where the noise came from, both seemingly tensed up.

Out of the door stepped a young man, looking like he's in his early twenties, although he looked very strange. This man looked everything but healthy. His skin was so pale to the point where it appeared to be gray, his hair dark brown, thick and a total mess, going down his neck and curling up behind his ears. Under his chocolate-colored, wide eyes were dark circles, hinting towards severe sleep deprivation. In addition to that, his pupils were foggy as if he had cataracts. On his face he wore a mouthguard that looked like a hannibal lecter muzzle, made of metal bars and black leather. Right above the mouthguard were his yellowish goggles, covering his thick brows and protecting him from the cold breeze that lurked around the forest like a predator searching for its prey.

As he stepped out of the mansion, his goggles reflected the light until he stepped out of the lantern light again, heading towards Tim and Brian.

He was wearing a beige button-up hoodie with dark tan stripes and lighter tan stripes above on the sleeves along with a navy blue hood. On his legs, Toby wore gray, older-looking jeans with a belt around them, two hatchets with different colored handles hanging from holsters attached to the belt: One hatchet had a fairly new, yellow metal handle, while the other had a normal wooden handle. His shaky hands rested on the metal of his hatchets as his fingers kept tapping against them, also covered by gloves that had metal attached on his knuckles.

As he continued to leisurely stroll towards the other two, his nose, which peaked out of his mouthguard, turned more red due to how cold it was.

"Took you long enough." Tim hissed the second Toby stepped outside, glaring at him for a brief moment before rolling his eyes away from him. "Now it's dark and too dangerous to do much!"

"Yep, I can see that too." Toby contered with a smirk under his mouthguard, using his own sass to match Tim's as if he found pleasure in getting on his nerves. His head twitched to the right, making his neck to let out a small crack, as if his tourettes began to fuck around with him again.

"If you won't move your ass, I'm gonna make you run after the truck." With his head snapping over to Toby, Tim narrowed his brows further, trying to express his anger through facial expressions.

Toby just let out a quiet chuckle, fidgeting with his gloves, acting all hyper and upbeat. "Exercises are healthy!" He teased.

——————————————————

As they drove through the forest in Tim's dark gray truck, the mood didn't really lighten up either. The hum of the engine somehow held everyone's attention, especially Tim's, whose hand was gripping at the steering wheel loosely.

There was a constant cracking and crunching under the wheels as they were still driving on wet leaves and pine cones. The noises quickly died out as they finally reached the road and the car made contact with the cement, now driving more smoothly.

Tobias stared out of the car's window, not blinking nor really moving. The only times he did move was when his body twitched, making him let out a quiet whimper.

Brian's camera beeped, the little button finally glowing red, which meant that it started to record. The beep snapped Toby out of his thoughts and brought him back to reality. As soon as he stabilized a little, he tilted his head and looked at Brian curiously. "What a-are we doing aga~in?" He stuttered and started smacking his foot against the car door, lightly but repeatedly.

Brian's eyes remained focused on the metal camera. "We're looking for motorcycle tracks. Once we've found them, we'll mark where on the map and come back here tomorrow in daylight to follow them."

"And why aren't we just... searching for the t-tracks tomorrow, when we're coming back anyway?" Toby narrowed his eyes a little and adjusted his hips, leaning further back into the seat to get more comfortable.

Before Brian even got the chance to respond, Tim spat out; "You have a brain, Toby. Use it more often. Do you think the tracks will stay there forever? They'll be much harder to find tomorrow, so we'll look for them now to be prepared." The frustration in his voice wasn't hard to pick up.

Toby narrowed his eyes, this time in a rather angry way. "I j-just asked a s~simple quest-tion!" The young man stuttered and crossed his arms, his fingers digging into his soft sleeves. "Not my problem your old a-...ass! is grumpy all day long."

"Just think before you talk for once." Tim let out an annoyed sigh and kept glaring at the road.

Tim's harsh words have been everything but pleasant for Toby to hear. Anger bubbled up inside him within seconds and the urge to just hurt this man was almost unbearable.

Out of impulsiveness, Toby roughly kicked against the driver's seat from behind, not thinking about the severe consequences of his actions. The sudden wave of emotions made his body twitch and tic even more.

Toby's outburst caused the car seat to bend to the front harshly, throwing Tim against the wheel, who winced loudly. The impact against the steering wheel caused it to sway, thanks to Tim, who firmly held onto it and pulled it to the side without intending to. "Damn it-" Tim cursed under his breath, instinctively trying to straighten the wheel again the second the car started moving to the side uncontrollably.

Within a few seconds, the car slipped off the road and right into the mud, almost hitting some trees. Fortunately, Tim hit the brakes with full force, bringing the car to a standstill. The squealing of the spinning tires finally came to an end and the heavy breathing of all three was the only audible sound left after the sudden event.

It took Tim a good moment to process what just happened before he shot Toby a cold glare over his shoulder. "What the hell is your problem? Can't you control yourself for once in your damn life?" He growled, his heart racing as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

"Y-y-you're asking m-me what my problem is!?" Tobias barked back, throwing his hands up defensively.

"On skibidi!", a distorted voice spoke through the radio.

Toby let out a growl, smashing his hatchet into the car's radio. "Get o-out of the damn radio, Ben! You deadshit!" The impact of the hit quickly caused the glass to shatter into tiny pieces and the plastic to break, leaving a big hole in front of the gearshift.

Despite the now-broken radio, Ben still managed to communicate through it. "What the freak is a deadshit?"

Toby's whole demeanor suddenly switched, the anger in his eyes vanishing with an instant. "Oh, it's so stupid that you want to stab your eyes out so that you never have to look at them again!" He happily explained, straightening his back again and smiling, his mood rapidly changing.

"Bipolar fuck..." Ben muttered before teleporting himself out of the radio, leaving only stattic in his place.

As he disappeared, Toby turned his head back to Tim, giving him a casual comment with the same sassy smile under his mouthguard. "Tim, you are an absolute failed abortion!"

That was Tim's last straw. The man swung the car door open and got up with one push, reaching out for the door handle on Toby's side. Knowing Tim, Brian already knew things weren't gonna end well if he wouldn't step in. He flipped the camera shut and threw it onto the back seats before jumping out of the car and sprinting to Tim's side. Just as Tim yanked Toby's door open, Brian grabbed Tim's arm and pulled him back. "Tim, don't-! C'mon, let's not get too impulsive!"

Tim let out a grunt, sharply glaring at Tobias as Brian pulled him further back. As if nothing happened, Toby stepped out of the car and looked around the dark forest, feeling the cool wind softly blow his messy hair to the side. He took a deep breath, cracking his neck the same moment he let out a small 'click' sound with his tongue. "Do we still have chips in the trunk?"

Tim was about to yell into Toby's face, already taking a step towards him, though he paused, his angry expression slowly forming into a more confused one. "...Are those tracks?", Tim asked.

Both Brian and Toby looked towards where Tim was looking, seeing clear motorcycle tracks on the ground, leading straight into the dark forest. "See, I'm SO good, we only found them because I made us crash the car!" Toby cockily commented, crossing his arms.

With a deep breath, Tim closed his eyes, trying to keep his patience in check. He pinched the bridge of his nose, forcefully nodding a little. "At least we found them."

Brian quickly pulled out the map from his bag, his hand digging further inside to search for the pencil. "I'm gonna mark it on the map and then we can return. Just calm down a little, you seem pretty tense." His eyes softened a little as he gazed up at Tim, trying to smile a little.

"I'm just tired. I don't have the patience for this right now." Tim dragged his hand down his face, his eyes flickering up to Brian.

"I know, I understand that..." Brian huffed. "So let's get it over with and go back home." Finally, he pulled his hand out of his bag and opened the map, scanning it roughly to search for their current location.

"Don't call it 'home'." Tim almost hissed, grinding his teeth. "It's not our home. At least not mine."

Toby blinked, pushing his tongue against his snakebites. "Wow. And I thought I was the edgelord here."

"Okay, Tim, ignore him." Brian quickly placed a hand on Tim's shoulder, searching for eye contact from him as he stuffed the map back into the bag. "Let's just go back h-..to the mansion."

In response, Tim nodded a little. Instead of being able to reply, he got cut off by the sound of a car coming towards them, which caught everyone's attention. They turned their heads towards where the noise was coming from, just a second before the car drove around the corner, its lights shining directly at all three. It was a police vehicle.

"Get in the car, Toby." Tim commanded, smart enough to know that Toby's threatening appearance might not be a good impression to the police. Surprisingly, Toby actually listened without making any more sarcastic comments like the jerk he is, quickly climbing back into the backseats.

The police car slowed down on the opposite side of the street, eventually parking. With the lights on and the engine still running, an officer stepped out of the car, his hands resting on his belt, crossing the road to walk over to their truck. "Good evening, gentlemen. Is everything okay here?" The officer lifted his hand, tapping his fingers against the front of the car before leading his hand back to his belt.

Brian and Tim nodded, exchanging glances. "Yes, Officer. We were just getting something from the trunk." Brian assured with a friendly smile, as if there weren't several blood-covered weapons in the truck.

There was a gleam in his eyes that made the officer feel suspicious, at least suspicious enough to take a quick glance in the truck. "You wouldn't mind me looking into it, right?" The man brushed his hand through his short, blond hair, grunting a little.

Both seemed to tense up a little, though Tim hesitantly nodded, his mind racing with different scenarios. "Of course." As confident as he tried to seem, there was still a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Everyone sensed the tension in the air, prompting the officer's hand to trail his hand to the loaded firearm. He walked stiffly to the trunk before reaching for the handle to lift the hood, curiosity taking over his thoughts.

Knowing that whatever the cop would find in the truck wouldn't please him, Tim also moved his hand towards the gun he had hidden in his pocket, taking a small step towards the man from behind. Just as the man lifted the hood to expose the inside of the trunk and Tim drew his pistol from his jeans pocket to aim it at the officer, a loud, low-pitched roar echoed through the trees and bushes, washing a wave of dread over all four of them.

"The hell was that..?" With a swift motion, the officer pulled his gun out and pointed it at his surroundings, looking around in all directions to see where the creepy noise came from.

Once Tim recognized the noise, he could practically feel his heart drop, his lips parting a little. "Brian..." He uttered, keeping his voice quiet. "Tell me my schizophrenia is acting up..."

Unfortunately however, Brian shook his head a little, just as tense as Tim. "No...Not this thime."

"That was either some bear with rabies and a severe seizure, or-" Before Tim could properly speak, a skinny, human sized creature suddenly lunged towards the policeman, who could only yelp helplessly. It tackled the poor man down onto the ground with full force, hissing and roaring furiously as it dug its claws into his face, scratching off the skin and flesh as blood poured out of the fresh wounds.

Brian and Tim both quickly backed away from the scene as their eyes widened in horror, watching the hairless creature tear apart the man, ripping off his arms and digging its teeth into his face. Torn pieces of cloth and thick skin hung from the beast's jaw, turning the corpse into an unrecognizable gory mess. "Get in the car!" Tim yelled as he snapped out of his frozen state, quickly running around the truck and hurrying back inside. Brian followed with no hesitation and ran after him, almost jumping back inside.

His hand flipped the key and pressed a button before the car turned on, pressing his foot down on the gas immediately afterwards. Toby, who was still sitting on the backseats without much awareness of what just happened, turned his head back, looking through the glass to see what was happening. He squinted his eyes, tilting his head to the side. "That looks like me on my tanning days."

Brian just face palmed at that comment, Tim's heart dropping further. "It's chasing us!?" Tim gasped.

"Well there's an ugly dog sized rat running after the car, so I'd say so!" Toby casually blurred out, his tone almost upbeat and excited. "Can I keep your h–head- in case we die, just for memories of the good old times?" A small sadistic chuckle escaped Toby's lips, his head turning back to the others.

It wasn't usual for Toby to be fine with driving in such velocity ever since what had happened in his past, but ever since the Master worsened his amnesia a little, he seemed more comfortable in cars again.

"Quit being obnoxious!" Tim's stern eyes focused on the road as they rushed it down, all three feeling how their adrenaline was returning through the whole racing. "I need to focus! Damn it, the road is so dark!" He glared briefly in the rear-view mirror to give Toby a decidedly pissed-off expression.

"TIM, WATCH OUT-" Brian shouted and quickly reached his hand out for the steering wheel, trying to spin it to the side as the car was close to crashing into a tree. Tim instinctively turned the steering wheel to the right, as there was a large tree trunk in the middle of the road.

The car slipped off of the road, now back in touch with the earth, the slippery mud and wet leaves. Regardless of how hard- and in which direction Tim turned the steering wheel, the car's tires immediately skidded across the unstable ground. After what felt like minutes, it finally stabilized a little, driving back towards the mansion. "Toby, call Rouge and Wilson!" Brian commanded loudly, as he himself didn't carry a phone.

Toby clumsily pulled his phone out of his pocket, struggling with pressing the buttons through his thick gloves on the cracked screen. Out of curiosity, Toby turned his head back again to look at the creature that chased them, furrowing once he noticed that it was gone...

It wasn't chasing them anymore. He was so focused on spotting the seemingly vanished creature that he didn't even realize he was already on call with Wilson, who kept calling out Toby's name through the phone. "Um, Tim? The tanned thing is gone..." Toby muttered, though put more effort into his voice to make sure it was loud enough for Tim to hear it.

Somewhat confused and still visibly stressed, Tim looked into the rear-view mirror again, also not spotting anything. "The hell?" He was about to come down a little and looked back at the road, but that feeling dropped the second he saw the same creature again, not behind them, but in front of them.

Its eyes glowed in the darkness as the car lights shone directly onto it, which angered the being even more. With a quick, agile movement, it jumped up with its long claws first, directly onto the windshield of the car just to break through the glass while letting out a loud, deafening roar. 

Creepypasta - Blood of Salvation - Pilot - Wattpad

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖Make it Stick: Pt. 2 The Princess

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Bucky x ofc x Steve

Word Count: 4331

Tags: dark!fic, mob/mafia au, mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, dubcon/noncon, sexual coercion, half-sibling incest, m/f/m, non-con drug use, mentions of torture (non graphic), double penetration, forced tattooing, forced orgasms, enemies to lovers

Summary: When his babygirl—his sweet pea, little one, puppy ... half-sister—is recaptured after her latest attempt at running away, Bucky makes a power play in front of the entire Bratva to remind her exactly who she belongs to.

Dark and smutty content below the break. Consume responsibly. Bucky and Lena’s relationship was partly inspired by that cuckoo half-sibling couple in The Crow 😅

Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!

Brighton Beach has always belonged to the Mob.

Decades ago, it’d been the Odessa Ukrainians who reigned supreme, but Bucky’s father was a weak man, and once he’d died and Bucky had taken over leadership of the Rusă-Română Bratva at nineteen, things had changed.

In the ensuing eighteen years, he’s not only seen to it that his faction rises to the top, he’s also been ruthless enough to ensure that their dominance is never challenged, his position as the Dragon of Hydra firmly cemented.

The Dragon’s Den is one of many businesses under his direct control. It’s a popular club in its own right, located on a busy strip of similar nightlife lining the two hundred block of Neptune Ave., and acting as the unofficial epicenter of Hydra operations.

Extra bouncers have been placed outside tonight to weed out the undesirables, but even with the modified guest list due to the night’s more … illicit activities, it’s still as packed as ever. The downstairs is filled with bodies, booze, and music in no time.

At first glance, it really could be any other night, but look a little further, and the incongruencies are readily apparent. Bucky’s had everything set up in the back, a space no more than ten feet by ten. It’s just a corner, not some stage or grandiose point of focus. It’s not like they have the lights all trained on them or anything dramatic like that. Viewing isn’t mandatory by any means. … But what he’s doing is also right there for anyone who wants to look over and see. And he’s under no illusion that every single soul present doesn't know what’s going on—either because they’re watching it, or because they’re making sure to pointedly not watch it. Tongues have been wagging ever since they'd tied up Gleb and dragged Lena out.

He starts with Gleb, putting all his “tools” within view of the poor bastard but not using much more than his fists and his words. He gets a gut punch in, breaks a finger or two. Kid stuff. Bucky’s never been overly enthusiastic about torture, but you don’t hold control over any faction of organized crime if you can’t at least make yourself comfortable with it. Bucky can appreciate it for what it is, and for the nastier stuff he’s got his specialists. Besides, sheer terror and anticipation can be just as crucial to putting on a good show as anything else. Gleb’s been a crying, sniveling mess since three minutes in, so Bucky’s halfway disgusted and halfway satisfied. Mostly, he’s just discouraged that his little one has been letting such a weak man stick his prick in her. Ugh.

He takes his time, stepping away to have a drink or to chat with someone every once in a while. Bucky usually enjoys his Friday nights lounging and socializing amongst his friends and associates, after all, and he’s not about to sacrifice his entire evening to Gleb.

The Den is Bucky’s home away from home. He even has private quarters above—an amenity he’s taken frequent advantage of after many a night spent overindulging. In his youth, when he’d been new to power and Polina had been nothing but an irrelevant child of his father’s second wife, the luxury accommodations had hosted Bucky’s escapades with dozens of the most beautiful women that Brooklyn had to offer.

But that lifestyle changed once Lena came of age eight years later.

Bucky hasn’t touched another woman—hasn’t wanted to touch another woman—in the decade since, his obsessive love for her often resisted but always returned, despite her token protests. It’s an open secret, considered fodder for gossip amongst the wives. Bucky doesn’t see why anybody should be shocked. He’s always wanted things that he knows are off limits. His little one included.

She’s finally back, and Bucky is more thrilled at that than he is about anything else. Of course Gleb’s betrayal can’t go unaddressed, but Bucky’s working him over more out of obligation than any true recreational interest. He’s got him tied to a pipe. The man is panting and breathing open-mouthed at this point, some of his blood on the plastic sheeting from the fist he’d taken to the nose to start off their evening together. He’s sweating through his undershirt like a pig.

Bucky himself has been naked from the waist up ever since Natasha returned to deliver the requested transfer sheet and blithely remarked that he was “seeping” through his shirt. Normally, aftercare would see her slathering him in ointment and taping bandages over the raw skin, but Nat’s pissed at him and she’s not offering, and he’s pissed at her for being pissed at him, so he’s not asking. He just chucks the shirt when it becomes a lost cause to the blood, plasma and sweat. Whatever. It's hot in here, anyways. And he knows Lena is looking her fill whenever he turns back on her to go focus on Gleb, which is even more satisfying.

It’s because of her that he hasn’t done anything too gruesome. As a rule, Bucky usually leaves the worst of his torturing to those who have a better taste for it (the widows). And while he fully intends to make Gleb hurt before he’s given his very own pair of cement shoes, Bucky still doesn’t want to do anything too traumatizing in front of his main audience.

He walks back over to where Steve has her. He’s been holding her still against his chest, Bucky’s own tie looped around her neck and gripped in Steve’s fist behind her back, his other hand wrapped around her waist to keep her still as she plays her part in the demonstration.

Bucky stands mere inches in front of her and sips his drink, letting his eyes rake over her form. “You haven’t been eating enough, sweet pea. We’ll have to fatten you back up.”

Her lip curls. “You’re such a fucking pervert.”

“Takes one to know one.” He leers at her even longer for the snark, letting his free hand trail lightly along the curve of one silk-covered breast. She’s small. Barefoot like this she barely comes up to his chin. But she’s got a fat ass and a bitty waist that’ve always made Bucky want to do bad things to her, even when they were younger. Lena is blonde like her mother had been, with pale skin and other Nordic traits that set her apart from the darker hues and Slavic features that most of Bucky’s family sport.

How could he ever have been expected to keep his hands off of something so tempting?

She’s beautifully disheveled right now: hair fallen loose from however she had it up before Belova tranqued her and Pietro stuffed her on a jet, body barely kept decent in some slip of a dress that Steve’s put her in, tears already making her mascara run in grey-black tracks down her cheeks. Bucky’s always had a kink for watching pretty girls cry. “You should smile,” he tells her, mocking her by sticking his lip out in a pout. “People’ll think you aren’t having fun. This is your party, after all.”

“What are we celebrating?” she says, her effort at sass somewhat hindered by the waver in her voice. She’s not as brave as she wants him to think she is, but the front she insists on putting up makes Bucky’s heart twinge in fondness. His stubborn puppy.

“We’re celebrating your glorious and long-awaited homecoming, of course,” he coos. “All these nice folks? They showed up just to welcome you back.” He leans in to kiss her cheek, lingering there to whisper right against her skin, “And I missed you too, sweet pea. You got no idea how much.” He feels her shiver before she hisses at him, like a cat. He pulls back and gives her an assessing frown. “You’re so uptight,” he scolds. “Never did know how to let go and have a good time. I’ve always had to help you relax, haven’t I?”

Her pale skin colors beautifully. It takes her a moment to recover, but when she does she tries to hit him where it hurts, simpering a snotty little, “Oh, I don’t know. I was having a pretty good time on your yacht.”

Anger sweeps through Bucky, white hot and thrilling. Little Polina Barnes thinks she’s good at pissing him off. She is, but she’s got no idea how much her brattiness turns him on, too. If she did, she might think twice about opening her smart mouth (and Bucky can’t have that, he’d be so bored). Aside from her new penchant for leaving the flipping country, he’s always kind of enjoyed the thrill of hunting her down and dragging her naughty butt home.

But Belize is taking it too far. His yacht is taking it too far. And letting another man touch her is way beyond too fucking far. Bucky needs to reel his Little one in.

He sets the rim of his glass to her lips, tutting when she only glares up at him. “Don’t be that way, Lena. C’mon, have some. I want to see you loosen up a little.” She just presses her lips tighter together, and Bucky feels his cock thicken in his pants as he imagines using it to pry that prissy mouth wide open. He gives her a knowing smile. “No? Hm.” He finishes off the drink himself and sets it aside. He grabs her face and thumbs roughly over her lower lip, smearing the matte red of her lipstick down onto her chin. “Have it your way, Puppy. Steven?” he says, not looking at the man holding her still. “You’ve got our party favors?”

“In my left pocket,” Steve says, not reaching for them himself because he’s holding Lena’s waist and the tie wrapped around her throat. He’s not choking her, but the pressure on her neck has another effect. Bucky knows a few dirty secrets about his Little one that he’s sure she wishes he didn’t, namely that having a firm grip around her neck gets her wet. Bucky smirks and keeps his eyes on hers as he takes the liberty of reaching around her body and slipping his hand into Steve’s pocket. His fingers find the small shapes and close around them.

“Here we go,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back and holding the items up for Lena to see, chuckling when her face goes slack in shock. Her cheeks darken in a fierce blush and she starts tugging against Steve’s hold with renewed effort. It gets her nowhere of course, and Bucky and Steve share a brief amused look from over her shoulder. Bucky steps closer and pins her between them, hands stroking over her shoulders. “You didn’t think I brought you here just to watch Gleb get his, did you sweetheart? Oh, no.” He shakes his head slowly. “Mm mn. You’re gonna get yours, too.” He puts his lips to her ear and looks in Steve’s eyes while he whispers, “How long do you think before you’re cumming in front of all these people?”

Her struggles intensify, and she tries to head butt Steve behind her, but of course she’s too short for it. She huffs when his grip only tightens and she runs out of steam. “Ugh!”

“Don’t fight it,” Steve tells her, and she sneers back at him.

“Still playing the loyal dog, Steven?”

“Eh, I prefer attack dog. But sure.” He winks at Bucky and bares his teeth in a fake snarl. Bucky laughs. He really does love Steve.

“Ugh! Lemme go, you pathetic dumbass!”

“Hey. Don’t you be mean to Steve. He’s only doing his job.” Bucky puts the smallest of the three party favors in his mouth, letting it sit on his tongue and gripping Lena’s jaw hard to force her to open up for him. He shoves his tongue in, delivering the pill against her will and moaning theatrically to make her even more outraged. He holds her mouth shut after, pinching her nose until she finally capitulates and swallows. Only then does he allow her to have air, tutting in mock sympathy as she regains her breath. “What’s the matter, puppy? What’s got you so worked up, hm? I know it’s not whatshisface back there. Is it just being back home?” He cradles her face and murmurs tenderly, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

Her face crumples and she sobs a little, the sound hardly audible in the room's loudness, but Bucky couldn’t possibly miss it when he’s this tuned in to her. He kisses her again, this time very gently, letting their lips rest together for a moment afterwards; and he can feel the way she has to fight the urge to lean into it, to seek more. She absolutely despises him, but she has an enduring need for him as well, and she’s never been very good at hiding it.

“Tell me you missed me,” he breathes, his own desire winning out over the game for just a moment. “Please. What’s it gonna hurt to admit it?

“I hate you.”

“Mm. I know, Love, I know.” He brushes his lips against hers. “But you missed me all the same. Missed this.” He lets his hand trail down between her legs, working up underneath the silk of her slip. She whimpers and begs tearfully,

“No! Bucky, don’t.”

"Don't?" His fingers trail over the seam of her panties and he hums knowingly. "Your fancy panties are getting wet, Sweetheart. Did you wear these for me, or for your loverboy back there?"

“People will see!” she hisses.

“So? Let them see. You think anyone's going to step forward and stop me? Hm? Think somebody in this room is going to tell their дракон that he can’t touch what’s his? Because it’s what? Indecent?” He chuckles, thoroughly enjoying her humiliation. “Mm mn. You know that’s not happening, Princess.”

“Don’t. Please. Just … not here. Take me upstairs.”

For a second, Bucky actually pulls back to look at her face. But then he sees what it is she’s uncomfortable about, her pained expression flicking over to Gleb’s bound form behind them. Bucky feels jealous rage shoot through him. He’s always been meaner when he’s jealous. “You don’t want him to see?” he grits, then forces himself to soften his tone. “Oh, no no no. You can’t hide it anymore, puppy. Not from him or anyone else. I know what you like,” he reminds, cruel and quiet. “You know just how well I know.”

He’d bugged her devices starting when she was fifteen. He knows every dirty thing she’s ever watched, from the time she first learned how to touch herself. And his Little one knows this because he’s told her. It’d been the most satisfying moment of his life, when he’d told her that he felt the same way and watched the shock and mortification bloom on her face. That was the day he’d finally made her his—though he’d forced her to admit every single one of her filthy little fantasies out loud before he laid her down and took her virginity.

“I know how you like to feel owned,” he whispers in her ear, thrilling at the hitches it elicits in her breathing. “How you like to feel watched while powerful men touch you. What better way to satisfy those urges than by being taken by the Dragon, right in front of all his men?”

“Please don’t. You can’t.”

“What can’t I do?” he purrs, and she cries softly,

“You can’t, please. Because they know …”

“They know what?” he coaxes, wanting her to say it. He peeks up and looks at Steve from over her shoulder. “Know that you’re my sister?” he whispers. Steve’s eyes darken and Bucky's mouth curls. “Well, that shouldn’t bother you either, puppy. You and I both know your affinity for all those naughty step-sibling videos.” She whines miserably and he hushes her. “Aw, don’t be embarrassed. It’s actually a really popular genre. Number … seven, on Pornhub?” He kisses her cheek. “Right up there with M/F/M threesomes.”

Adorably, her breath catches and she stiffens against Steve’s body, now even more aware of his hulking form behind her.

Bucky hums, pleased. “There’s no need to be ashamed.” He peels her panties to the side and slips the tip of one finger along her lips. She’s not exactly soaked, but she’s not completely dry, either. “Of course, actual brother-sister incest isn’t quite as popular, but we know there’s a niche market for everything, don’t we?” Lena makes an outraged little sound that goes straight to his dick. He leans back enough to watch her expression as he holds up the second of the party favors for her to see. It’s white and thin, less than two inches long, and shaped like an itty bitty torpedo. “Something else to help you loosen up,” he tells her gleefully. “Do you want to take a guess where this one goes?”

She makes an adorable ‘meep’ of a sound and clamps her legs closed over his hand. “Don’t.”

He laughs. “Aw, good guess, little sis’, but not quite.”

“Step-sister,” she corrects shakily. “Bucky ...”

He smiles as he tries to read her, confused and tentative at first, but then growing into something devious. “Oh, I see. You’re honestly embarrassed about that? That people know we grew up together, shared the same house? Mmm." He licks his lips. "That’s not all we shared.”

"Stop it."

He watches her, thrilling in a huge surge of lust mixed with something dark and nasty. “Wow,” he astounds, goading her. “Oh boy. Just think what you’d do if they all knew the truth.”

“Bucky please.”

“Steve knows, you know. I told him forever ago.” He watches her eyes go wide and her body stiffen against Steve’s.

“You … you told …”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweet pea. He thinks it’s hot, too.” Lena looks honestly too shocked for words, and Bucky leans down to give her an absolutely filthy kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth and holding her jaw there for it while, between her legs, he drags the suppository through her moist folds. She squeaks, and he pulls back. He lets her see him handing it to Steve. “Will you do the honors, pal?”

“What?” Lena breathes, lost. The sweet, dumb thing.

Steve keeps hold of the tie wrapped around her neck, but he has to let go of her waist to get at her. Bucky’s able to grab her just as she starts to try and fight it. “Ah ah ah, hold still,” he coos, yanking her wrists down at her sides in an iron grip. He steps even closer, squeezing her between his body and Steve's to subdue her wiggling, pressing his thigh forward between her legs. She freezes when her fighting just puts more pressure on her clit, and Bucky hums, pleased. “Good. Be a good girl now, Lena. We don’t want this to hurt.”

She goes straight back to struggling, and Steve shoots him a peeved look from over her shoulder. Bucky growls and sticks his face in her hair, warning lowly, “You know: there’s a syringe of morphine waiting in the wings for your boy back there.” Lena stills again, and he hums, “That’s right. Now, if you want him to actually get it before I let the widows have at him, then you’d better stop fighting and take what’s coming to you.” She sobs at the corner he’s got her backed into, but she doesn’t go back to fighting them. Bucky keeps her in his firm grip so that Steve can get to work behind her. “And you were wrong, puppy: It doesn’t go in your pussy.”

It’s too late for her to react. By the time her eyes widen in realization, Steve’s hand is already at her backside.

Bucky grinds his thigh forward as her pupils expand from the feeling, the bundle of aphrodisiacs summarily pushed up inside her tight little pucker. “You keep that in, now,” he warns. “You should start feeling it in the next few minutes, then I’ll give you your real consequence.”

She sobs quietly. “I hate you.”

“Old hat, baby.” He steps away from her, leaving Steve to keep her in place. The promise of lessening Gleb’s upcoming pain seems to be motivating her to behave. Bucky walks back over to the pole where he's got the sad sack tied up. Just to scare the crap out of him, he spends a moment tracing all the different tools that’ve been laid out for their use.

“Please,” Gleb begs.

“Shshsh,” Bucky coos, stepping close and cradling his face, intimate. “You fucked my baby sister,” he says. “What did you think was going to happen when I got a hold of you, hm?” Gleb trembles in his bindings and Bucky reaches for the pliers—a classic. Gleb’s eyes all but bug out of his head. “Colectăm mereu,” Bucky purrs in Romanian, reminding him who he’s dealing with. “You stole from the Bratva, son. Now you have to pay the price.”

“Please. I-I’ll do anything!”

He punches him in the gut, then grabs him by the hair and hisses in his face, “You already did everything! Took what belonged to me. Not very smart.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

He punches him again. "I sure hope that pussy was worth it.” He smiles while Gleb is trying to regain his breath. “Eh, it probably was. I should know.” Gleb squints in disbelief, and Bucky feels another perverse thrill shoot through him. “What?" he laughs. "Don’t look at me like that. I thought you knew. She didn’t tell you she likes to fuck her brother?”

Gleb’s face screws up. “Stepbrother.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of that misconception,” Bucky drawls, turning back around to get a look at his Little one’s face. Her head is tipped back against Steve’s shoulder, the drugs working into her system by now. Bucky grins. “I told you I’d get you to loosen up, didn’t I? Big brother knows how to make you relax.” He tosses the pliers aside and saunters slowly back over to her. "I just told Gleb about us,” he says. “But I think it’s about time we make a more public announcement, don’t you, sweet pea?”

Her eyes widen. “Bucky, no.”

He grins wolfishly and spins around. He calls out to get everyone’s attention, and in a few seconds everything has quieted, the room eerily devoid of chatter despite the continuing pulse of the club’s music. Bucky goes over to the bar and demands something to toast with, and a flute of champagne is produced with shocking speed. He turns back to the room. “Thank you all for coming out tonight to help me welcome our beloved Polina back home!”

Some people clap, perhaps expecting some long, heartfelt speech. But Bucky cuts to the chase and says, “I’m sure you all know about she and I.” He waits, amused and sipping the champagne. When the crowd shifts nervously, he waves his hand at them and scoffs. “I mean that’s common knowledge, right? Everybody’s tongues were wagging when my father dumped my mother to marry his whore.”

He gestures back to where Steve is holding Lena, supporting her increasingly drugged little body. “Sweet little Polina was only a few years old, back then. And my dad’s infidelity wasn’t her fault." He shrugs. "So I inherited a bratty little sister. I guess the fact that we were still both kids makes the whole thing even juicer, huh? I know you all talk about it: 'The Dragon likes to fuck his own step-sister'. How scandalous.”

He laughs and walks back over to Lena. He caresses her face, leaning in to give her a dirty kiss with plenty of tongue. The crowd murmurs louder. Bucky pulls back and looks out at the room. “The Bratva wives love a good scandal. Don’t you, ladies?” A few of the wives in the crowd look flustered at being called out. Bucky salutes them with his champagne glass. “Well you’re in for a real treat, my dears. Because little Lena back here isn’t just my step-sister. Oh no.”

(Bucky’s always liked putting on a show, so he’s unfazed when making the actual announcement makes his cock harden further in his pants.)

“You see, dear old Dad was fucking around with his pretty shlyukha for a few years before he finally married her, and you know he even knocked her up.” The room goes absolutely silent, and Bucky feels a sick thrill go through him. “That’s right,” he croons, looking back over his shoulder at the stricken expression on his Little one’s face. “This sweet pea isn’t just my step-sibling: she’s my father’s daughter.”

It takes a surprisingly short amount of time before the crowd goes back to chattering, everybody staring wide eyed—some with disgust, others with excitement over this incredible new thing they have to be outraged over. Bucky shouts at the bartender to hand out champagne to anyone who wants it. He toasts the room. “To Polina!” Only a few dozen people raise their glasses and murmur in response, too shocked to know what to do in light of this revelation. Bucky really doesn’t give a crap. This is just a display of his power, just another way to show them—and her—that he can do whatever the fuck he wants and nobody is going to do a thing to stop him. The room slowly returns to the bustle of before, and Bucky returns to stand in front of his girl. “See puppy?” he taunts, lifting the champagne flute to her mouth. “I told you nobody would care.”

It’s a lie. Everybody cares, of course. But his point has been made. He watches as she willingly drinks the champagne. “Good girl,” he praises, setting the empty glass aside. He cups Lena’s face and gives her a tender kiss. “Now, why don’t we give them a show, huh?”

“Bucky,” she whispers, a plea.

But he can see her body relaxing into Steve’s hold despite her mortification, the drugs softening her up just like Bucky’s been waiting for. He pulls the remaining party favor from his pocket and holds it up for her to see. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “Your punishment isn’t going to hurt nearly as bad as Gleb’s.”

He turns the base of the tiny pocket vibrator on and starts it buzzing. “Now, let’s get you really begging, why don’t we?”

Part 3

Masterlist

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[stick-ball]

saw a hc about jean moreau being hyper sexual especially post-ravens. thoughts? feelings?

thoughts AND feelings! Oh the joy of being given a chance for a hot second to discuss this. You came to the right place my love. ❤️

Trigger and age warning : rape, sex connected trauma, dissociation, psychological abuse, controlling relationships, discussion of sexual acts.

Okay so, being hyper sexual. You know who does that in the books? Andrew actually. I know some might look at me weirdly rn like, 'what the hell are you talking about, he doesn't let anyone touch him'. Yeah, that's true! But that doesnt take away from the knee jerk reaction. (I'm sorry I know this isn't exactly what you asked but I need to discuss andrew first, and that has a lot to do with jean, bear with me).

Andrew finds a partner that he can to some limit trust (leverage, deals, careful observation, "training" them to behave how he tells them) to follow his instructions, which gives him a sense of control. They can fuck, but it's him who's doing it. It's him who's touching, kissing ect. The other person, of course if they consent, get to partake but not create the experience. It's one of the very, very valid scenarios of hyper sexuality as a responce to rape. He is rewriting every poisoned nerve ending in his body. He doesn't actually get off from the sex. For his own release he needs privacy, as shown in the books. Andrew's problem can be, that due to his truly inhumane trauma he can fall into the mindset of defining his sense of self through sex. It's an action and he's a tool in this scenario. Then again, We circle back to control, which is also a key feature of his decisions and protectiveness. Taking total control of the situation which used to be utterly outside of it, with no way out of it. Rewriting it, giving the traumatic experience a positive ending, hell an ending - when, and as suddenly as he might want it to end, is the motivator here. I think what he finds satisfying in terms of sex, not control, is giving sexual consent to his partners and, which he finds just as important, them giving it to him. Because it wasn't given to him. It's a way of building trust.

The motivations sound pretty nice, even if heartbreaking, don't they? Seem uplifting? The problem is, even if in good faith, this process can be very harmful, trauma surviviors mention that (at least ones I discussed it with personally) it feels good, but in the long run it does what this type of coping mechanism always does to your brain (similiar reactions can be seen for different traumas), which is hurt it. It's a form of desensitisation that limits your brain's ability to percieve the situation. It's hard to rewrite and leads to hot and cold kind of reactions, so yeah, having a relationship with a capital R is, difficult. That's what I always understood as Nora saying they are never actually okay (andrew and neil). Or at least partly understood it as.

Okay, so this cleared a couple things up. Now JEAN. Jean and Andrew share some factors of their trauma. While not treated as such, Jean was technically fostered by the Moriyamas, and well, Andrew's experiences with being fostered are faaaaar from what it's supposed to be as well. The difference is in Andrew's situation everyone tried to pretend the horror is not happening, there must have been a lot of manipulation and coercion and just plain fucking gaslighting in these houses. Its hard to talk about but I can imagine some of these monsters wanted him to act like he is enjoying it, and thats just out if the emotional range of dealing with for anyone. Jean knew he's in a trap from day one. Moreover, when it comes to the rape's he was victim of it was ordered by Riko to be done by others. That's a different level of fucked up. What's even more important as distinction here is he stopped, when Jean stopped reacting and fighting it. Because what Riko wanted wasn't violation, that was the tool. He wanted to psychologically break him. When the fish stops flailing on the cat stops pushing it around.

And Riko was constant, his modus operandi was regular, and the psychological torture was the motivator behind most of his "conditioning" of Jean. This is a situation where the abuse has a cause for the victim. It sounds sick and I don't agree with it, but it's a game in their mind. In the books we can see that he learned how to limit the amount of attention Riko gave him and as we know he is not confrontational like Andrew with his problems. And yeah I don't mention Neil as confrontational here bcs he has conditioned himself to run from everything and say he's fine to everything so..., sometimes it erupts frk mit but that's not exactly the same, its a last resort.

Circling back, I think Jean is more likely to be sex repulsed. For him sex, which was a form of punishment, is a cause of anxiety. Sexual tension is easy to mix up with nervous tension because of a feeling of losing control of the situation. That's why if we do get romance in the new book, I am putting my money on it being very messy from his pov. The magical thing about trauma responces though, is that they're not black and white, and someone who is sex repulsed might also seek an ending to their anxieties through it. Yet, it's ts a bit of an opposite motivation to the one Andrew has. When Andrew thinks of himself as a tool, Jean is more likely to think of himself as an object. There's a difference. While Andrew wants to take control, Jean is more likely to use it as either a way to retraumatise himself - so his version of hypersexuality would include less control and more roughness and violence, actually trying to rile the partner up. It might stemm for him from low self worth or be a way of letting out his angers and frustrations. It's not that he is used to being hurt, it's that he doesn't expect anything different. I also think he is more likely to have problems with opening up in therapy. Where Andrew is active Jean is passive, and the opposite. The upside is he might actually be more likely to communicate emotionally than through rules and laws, it will take longer, but be a smoother transition, because more people understand it than Andrew's way of building relationships.

Hope this anwser satisfies you, I'm sorry if I got a bit carried away. 😅

[angelinpiink]

May I ask for some hange nsfw head-cannons❤️

❥ note: ofc! ive been waiting far longer than forever for someone to request some hange fics so i'd have a reason to expose my obsesssion w them so yayy with that being said enjoy ^-^

Hange Zoe Nsfw Headcannons࿐ྂ。

Given their personality, hange is neither submissive nor dominant. They are an experimentalist always wanting to try something new to keep things exciting in the bedroom. They’re so very versatile, so much so you never know which version of hange you’ll get– the sadistic side of them waiting to inflict sexual torture with some new toy she’d discovered or the side that is desperate for you to do the same to them.

Hange often uses pet names like “darling.'' And let's not forget to mention the tons of praise you'll receive for just existing. They call you “good girl.” any chance they get as if your life depends on it. They’ll do just about anything you ask with the exception of degrading you. They just can't seem to bring themselves to say such awful things to you without feeling guilty afterwards. Hange just adores you far too much. However, that's not to say they can't find joy in it when it's done to them.

In fact, nothing makes hange more turned on than when you are mean to them. It's exciting for them to see how far they can push, teasing you until you are a whiny mess, begging for them to take care of you. Or How when the roles are reversed and you are the one in control, they say all the right things to make you cave and give them what they want.

Hange has a high sex drive and truly doesn't care where you are or if you too fucked a few minutes ago. They will never ever get enough go you. Just being in your vicinity is enough to get them worked up. Did I mention they don't know how to keep their hands to themselves? They have to be touching you at all times because let’s face it they are obsessed. This will undoubtedly lead to you two fucking at the most inappropriate of times.

Public places are not exempt from the list of places they’ll have their way with you. Hange will make you sit with a vibrator inside of you, when going out to dinner together with friends and turn the settings to the highest vibration, giggling to themselves because to them it’s a fun little experiment or game to see how long it takes everyone to notice you're on the verge of cumming. Originally they don't notice at all. Instead they just take your shuffling in your seat, the fumbling over your words or the random inflections in your voice when you you speak as hange’s personality rubbing off on you. That is until the two of you excuse yourself from the table mere minutes apart from one another, your reasoning for this being to head to the bathroom and hange’s unclear gibberish answer of where they’re headed off too makes its obvious that their destination is the same as yours.

During sex, hange likes to start things slow and sweet despite what their personality may suggest or how eager she may come off as, things are more enjoyable to them when they have a chance to savor it. This is not to be confused with hange being slow in bed either because the second you ask them to quicken the pace of their fingers pounding into your pussy, I hope you can take it. Hange will fuck you mercilessly until your thighs are quaking and tears are streaming down your cheeks and all because hange is so fond of savoring the moment they're not going to let you cum anytime soon.

It's safe to say that hange is a one of a kind lover, you won't ever find anyone who can satisfy you as well as they do or who’s as wrapped around your finger. Never will you be bored of them due to them constantly introducing you to new things and helping you uncover what it is that gets you off. In short they are the full package, any needs you have can and will be met.

here's my masterlist!

ps. be on the lookout for nsfw headcannons for all aot characters.

[funhouse-mirror-barbie]

I’m in a weird place now because honestly???

I’m more interested in Emily as character than Charlie now. And don’t get me wrong, they’re both very very bland, but they have potential to be developed further. At this point, amazingly, I find myself more engaged with Emily’s potential development.

I think this must just be very particular to the sort of stories I like personally, so I’m not expecting anyone to agree—below is just a lot of musings on things I would have been excited to see in the story, and how I find Emily to have more potential to be interesting as of right now. Not a real review//

I find the idea of a character who fully believes that they live in a utopia, and that their group is objectively correct, only to learn the ugly truths about how their group maintains its power and control and has their whole world view shattered as a result is a lot more interesting.

Emily having her beliefs about her home and her sister, someone she clearly trusts above all else and admires, completely destroyed is something that raises a LOT of really engaging questions and character traits to explore.

If Emily was the main character, how would she work to change things after learning the truth? How would she rebel? Would she be able to bring herself to rebel at all?

How would she grieve for the sister she thought she knew? Would part of her be in denial?

What we do see in the show is that she seems to have been genuinely interested and excited about the idea of a human soul improving and ascending to heaven after death.

and is then rightly furious when she learns about the exterminations:

This is a start, but there is still a lot more to explore with her reaction to make this a more emotionally satisfying scene. It’s clear she’s horrified by this revelation, but because we JUST met Emily and we JUST learned that the general population of Heaven doesn’t know about the exterminations; it falls weirdly flat.

I want to know more about Emily and what she was told about hell before meeting Charlie. I want to know about her general impression of hell in contrast with her beliefs and what she thinks she knows about heaven. But that’s not something the show has time for, because it barley has time to show character depth for ANY of the characters.

I do I think Charlie had the same potential when the only thing we had to go on story-wise was the Pilot—where Charlie, and the audience, believed that the reason for the exterminations was due to overpopulation.

But the series proper seems to have thrown out that idea completely, and the reason for the exterminations now is to keep the demons from becoming…too empowered? I think?

Imagine if the show had kept the idea that Angels kill the demons to keep them subjugated a secret from Charlie and the audience, and built up to the reveal that it was NEVER about overpopulation.

Charlie would have a REASON to want to fight heaven that late in the show.

Honestly, I don’t know why she didn’t want to fight them before, since in her opening monologue, she confirms that she KNOWS that heaven is killing her people to keep them from rebelling or challenging heaven’s judgement.

Charlie would then be having the same revelations Emily had in the last episode. Hell, maybe you could have Lilith or Lucifer being the only ones who know it’s not about overpopulation and keeping the truth about the executions from her and public to “keep the peace”.

But instead, Charlie knows that Hell is just being purged to keep the demons from rebelling from the very beginning. And for me that changes the dynamics of story’s conflict and plot—because now it comes off like she’s trying to redeem sinners despite KNOWING that they’re being killed off so hell doesn’t get stronger. The sinners may not be innocent or “good” people, but if Charlie cares so deeply for her people and wants them to improve-why is she now trying to get the sinners to heaven, instead of doing more to improve and protect hell and fight back?

Man. With the right pacing and build up we could have had a double reveal—where Charlie learns the reason for the exterminations isn’t overpopulation, and Emily learns that the exterminations EXIST. Or heck, have Emily learn the same thing as Charlie and be SHOCKED—maybe Emily knew about them, but has always been fed the lie that the exterminations were for hell’s own good. That it was something done humanely to keep the sinners from being miserable due to overpopulation, or from suffering indefinitely.

If she learns the truth WITH Charlie, that it’s never been about overpopulation and it’s never been to being the sinners in hell relief, this gives Emily and Charlie stronger reason to ally with each other imo.

Idk man. I’m just. I get what the writers are trying to do with the hypocritical Heaven concept, but we don’t have enough world building for how heaven and hell work, and we don’t get in depth studies of the characters and their motives and goals and personalities. There’s NOT enough build up for these moments’ payoffs to feel meaningful.

Sorry, this really isn’t a review, just musings on what could have been. “Character loses their innocence and learns their home isnt the paradise they thought it was” is a common plot point in a lot of stories, but there are so so many ways to make it work for your specific story, and Hazbin had the chance to do this with Charlie and Emily so that the emotional impact of the scene would have been greater.

But because Hazbin the show doesn’t believe in it’s own story and story-telling, we won’t get to see those sorts of scenes.

I just. I don’t know what points Hazbin Hotel wants to I make and what the overall thesis of their story is. I really don’t.

Fuck, man. What else is there to say?

[santoschristos]

Sexual Energy

1) Sex is actually only the relationship of the inferior nature with the higher self; it is then elevated to daylight, so that man can attain complete union with divinity. Man discovers that sex (which has up until then been a purely physical function, performed sometimes under the impulse of love) is elevated to its correct plane as divine marriage, performed and consumed at the levels of perception of the soul. This great truth lies in the sordid history of sex expression, sexual magic, and the distortions of modern tantric magic. Humanity has diminished symbolism and its thoughts have aged sex to the point of making it an animal function, and it was not elevated to the realm of symbolic mystery. Men have tried to obtain, through physical expression, the fusion and inner harmony that they crave, and this cannot be done. Sex is only the symbol of an internal duality that must be transcended and brought to oneness. It is not transcended by physical means or rituals, but it is a transcendence in consciousness.

2) ... the force of sexual attraction... comes from the physical plane, and is the retrograde of an inclusive energy type on the path of return. Speaking cosmically, it manifests itself as the pulling force between spirit and matter; speaking spiritually, it demonstrates as the activity of the soul when it tries to bring the lower self into full realization. Physically speaking, it's the impulse to unite the male and female for the purposes of procreation. When man was purely an animal, this did not imply sin. But to this impulse was added emotional desire and then sin infiltrated; the purpose by which the impulse was manifested was perverted in satisfying desire. Now that the race is more mental and the strength of the mind is felt in the human body, there exists an even more serious situation that can only be resolved without danger when the soul takes control of its triple instrument.

3) We live in a world of ways, which are made up of lives, and these lives have their own emanating and contributing influence. In turn it consists of three main groups:

• Those emanations that when emerging from the cells themselves and depending on their quality, produce good or bad effects, and densify or refine, raise or lower, due to their influence, the physical vibration of the unified cell body. As we know well, the physical effect produced by man of a dumb, gross and animal nature, will be different from the refined and beautifying effects produced by contact with a mature soul, acting in a refined, well-groomed, disciplined and purified body.

• These emanations, essentially physical, responsible for that chemical affinity between an animal body and another, produce the attraction of the sexes. It's an aspect of animal magnetism and the cells' response to the call of other cells, acting according to the Law of Attraction and Repulsion. It's shared by man and animals, and being instinctual, it's free of any mental reaction.

• Those forces or emanations, cell response or harmonic rhythms, therefore depend on the cell having something to which it responds. Such emanations are still little understood; but they will be evident as the race progresses. This type of force is that mysterious thing that allows the physical body, for example, to recognize as harmonious or congenital to the surrounding physical environment. It is that undefined reaction that makes two human beings (apart from all sexual attraction, because people of the same sex feel it mutually) have a harmonious physical effect with each other. This, externally, is the esoteric basis of every group relationship, and understanding these emanations allows isolation and segregation of races to be carried out according to the grand evolutionary plan;

4) ... The relationship between male and female physical bodies, which man calls sexual relationship (is) considered of utmost importance in this age. In the valley of illusion the symbol often absorbs attention and forgets what it represents. With the solution of this relationship, racial initiation will prevail, and this is now taken care of by the race.

5) The instinct of sex has its main root in the fear of separatism and isolation, in rebellion against separatist unity and against loneliness on the physical level, and its result has been to advance the race by the persistent spread of forms, because of which race can come to the demonstration.

6) Sexual instinct has developed and finds its logical consumption in the relationship - consciously understood - between the soul and the body. This constitutes the key note of mysticism and religion which, currently and as it has always been, is the expression of the Law of Attraction, not by marriage on the physical plane, but (for man) in the sublime marriage consumed with conscious intention between the soul positive and the negative and receptive form.

References:

Treated on the Seven Rays Volume III pag. 209/291 Treated to White Magic. if. 179 Treated to White Magic. if. 205 Treated to White Magic. if. 74 Treated to White Magic. if. 447 Treated to White Magic. if. 448/449

Original post: Enseñanzas del Maestro Tibetano

[opal-owl-flight]

7. Do they take part in ink battles? What kind and how often?

Absolutely! Inksport leagues are what most of the NSS do outside of agent duties. Theyre a major part of most Inkfish's lives in my writing, a lot of the themes I explore revolve around uh. Sport Movie kinda dealios BAHAHAH (alongside rhe Horrors but shh. When it comes to ocs outside the NSS, Inksports are the main focus)

3s a turf war legend both topside and underground. They were there when the sport was something only the delinquents did, unregulated and dangerous, matches that moved at a fast pace and where they had to leave IMMEDIATELY after or be caught by the authorities. Squid Force eventually found this sport and started sponsoring a safer, more regulated version of it. 3 rose up the ranks all the same (while complaining abt how EASY it is now). Theyve been here since the start. Their splashtag is whispered in awe ans reverence. They are usually followed around by a gaggle of fans or press (please leave them alone qoskw). They still participate in trench turf to satisfy their desire to turf like the good old days. 4 and 8 and Neo3 have no clue about it. They show up with new light scarring and people think its from agent stuff they do on their own -- nope!!

They also play ranked. Tower Control is their favorite mode! Positioning is critical in all modes, but this one has some very specific spots they can exploit and the battles have a flow thats easily readable to them. Its the same route every time! Opposing teams move in pretty specific ways! Its like chess to them. Massages their brain just right.

4s a rising star in the turf leagues. She was great at it back in her hometown in the highlands (the sport has been established here for awhile), but she feels that people are intentionally throwing their matches against her because shes a clan singer. She wanted to have the Real Deal. Moving to Inkopolis, she had a taste of what real turf matches are like...and saw how much more brutal they are. She grit her beak and learned, explosively, in fact, how to play properly. She rose up the ranks quickly the second she found her main weapon class. Shes only ever played topside turf but she is a force to be reckoned with. 3 complains that the new regulations made the game "easier", but someone who grew with the rules can see that its added more complexity. You cant just brute force everything in here. 4 weaves around these added limitations with ease. One can argue shes just as good as 3, if not better...

Her favorite ranked mode is (obviously) Rainmaker. Sneaking around, getting up close and personal with the carrier or their teammates clumped around them is something she greatly enjoys. Holding the nuke itself also gives her quite the rush!! Literally. Shes so beefy that she can carry it faster than the rest of her team (Judd flags her for that, she has to slow herself down to keep the game fair for everyone else). The Rainmaker mode is also reminiscent of some of the ceremonies she does/participates in back in the highlands. Its her job in those ceremonies to call the rain. It involves moving from place to place, carrying a relic that will make her voice heard to the heavens. Despite her not liking how suffocated she was in her homeland, she admits that she misses it, as well.

8 is relatively new to the turf scene. Shes always yearned to be a part of it, back when she was still underground. Now that shes on the surface, she frankly doesnt understand why its such a big deal anymore. Its just a game?? Why are people sweating over this?? And why is all this violence so revered here?? I think her general dislike for combat/conflict may be due to her being raised in a wartime context. She got out of that life, shes not going to go back to it. Still, bc she adores hanging out with 4 (and later 3), she plays the more casual turf war leagues. She occasionally plays ranked modes (splat zones are a favorite), but she tends to stick to the casual side of things. The high octane action and vigilance of the pro leagues makes her uncomfortable...

Neo3 is very new to the turf scene. She compares it to the sacred salmon runs that shes been a lucky witness to (its her only point of reference, bless her hearts). A fight for honor! A fight to the death! And you get to keep living after them? Its the best of both worlds! She enjoys terrorizing the opposing team in any mode. Shes as tenacious and as stubborn as a salmonid that easily slithers over enemy ink. Hitting from blind spots. Easily overwhelms foes with strength and numbers. As annoying as a flyfish. Occasionally, she claws and bites her opponents...which gets her flagged down by Judd. Its fine!! Shes having fun here!

Her favorite ranked mode is definitely Clam Blitz. In salmonid spawning season, the survivors of the runs gather the dropped eggs around the battleground into the nesting grounds to hatch them. Neo3 is reminded of that time as she gathers clams. She defends them as if they were eggs. (And then you see her trying to crack the clams open so she can eat them after the match....)

[chiharuuu22]

It's Just a Mug of Hot Chocolate, I'm Not Mad

It was the coldest middle of winter night, and Caretaker was busy making hot chocolate in the kitchen while Whumpee sat at the dining table. The aroma of chocolate wafting through the kitchen made Whumpee's nose feel relaxed. It had been a long time since he last smelled delicious chocolate. Not long after, Caretaker brought two mugs of hot chocolate. just plain hot chocolate without any toppings. One mug was placed in front of Whumpee, and one mug was placed across the table. Caretaker smiled and seemed to remember something, then returned to the kitchen to reach the food storage area.

Whumpee stared at the mug of hot chocolate. With his hands still shaking, Whumpee grabbed the mug and took a sip of its contents. It's delicious, not too sweet, and Whumpee loves it.

Caretaker returned with a plate of cookies topped with chocolate and almonds. Caretaker smiled, then adjusted Whumpee's jacket, which had shifted slightly, to keep him warm. A plate of cookies was placed in the middle of the table, and Caretaker sat in her place.

"You like that?" Caretaker asked.

Whumpee nodded slowly, and his face looked happy. "It's been a long time since I had hot chocolate; it was delicious. Thank you, Caretaker."

They sat quietly and were busy sipping their respective hot chocolates. Suddenly, Whumpee's shaking hands became weak enough to grip the mug and drop it to the floor. The mug of hot chocolate broke, and the contents stained the floor and Whumpee's pajama pants. Whumpee was shocked, as was Caretaker, who swiftly ran towards Whumpee.

"Are you okay, Whumpee? Are you hurt?" Caretaker asked worriedly.

Whumpee shook his head, his eyes staring at his hands, which were now shaking more violently, this time because of his guilt. Caretaker checked Whumpee's feet and found there were no burns.

"Thank God you're okay. Now stay there, and I'll take care of everything. Don't move; you could get hit by a splinter."

Caretaker rushed back to the kitchen to get a cloth and a plastic bag. Caretaker immediately cleans up all the mess and makes sure there are no chocolate spills or mug shards left.

Once satisfied with cleaning, Caretaker turned to Whumpee and found him still staring at his shaking hands. This time, his whole body was shaking, his sweat was pouring out, and tears were starting to hang in his eyes.

Oh, no.

"Whumpee, hey, hey. It's okay. Everything's safe; there's nothing to worry about."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker with a blank look. It seemed like there was a trauma replaying in his memory. Caretaker took Whumpee into her arms and stroked Whumpee's back patiently.

"It's okay; it's okay. Calm down. Breathe slowly."

Whumpee tried to control his ragged breathing. When Whumpee managed to regain control of himself, Whumpee started sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Caretaker; the mug broke."

"Jeez, Whumpee. It's just a mug. I even have plenty in the kitchen. No need to worry."

"But it was yours, and I just ruined it. There was still a lot of chocolate left, and I spilled it."

Caretaker tightened her embrace when she heard Whumpee's sobs getting louder.

"Don't worry, I don't think about it. Sometimes, I also break my own things."

Whumpee continued to mumble words of forgiveness and regret. Caretaker sighed and felt her heart ache. What has Whumpee been through that just accidentally breaking a mug due to his unsteady hands can make him so scared?

Caretaker loosened her embrace, cupped Whumpee's cheeks in both hands, and looked into his eyes.

"Whumpee, calm down. Look at me."

Whumpee looked at Caretaker with teary eyes. Gently, Caretaker wiped away his tears with her thumb.

"Whumpee, I'm not angry, and I don't mind it. Calm down, okay?"

"But you should be angry because I ruined yours. Why aren't you angry?"

Again, something abnormal about Whumpee made Caretaker want to cry.

"I won't be angry with a sick person who is recovering and needs help just because he accidentally broke a mug of hot chocolate."

"I, I..."

"Whumpee, listen to me. I understand that you are afraid that I will be angry because you made a mistake. You have to understand that every human being can make mistakes. Because humans are prone to making mistakes, we can learn from them and not repeat the same thing, okay?"

"I understand your hands are still unstable. So it's natural that your hands don't have the strength to hold the mug. I can make you the same hot chocolate again if you still want it."

"Calm down, Whumpee. No one will be mad at you just because of this. You're safe with me, with all of us in here."

Whumpee didn't answer, and his eyes still continued to shed tears.

"Okay, that's it. Once you're strong and healthy enough, let's go to the convenience store and buy me a new mug. Deal?"

"Just like that?" Whumpee asked.

"Yeah, just like that."

Whumpee nodded and wiped away his tears. He took a deep breath and fell into the Caretaker's arms.

"Thank you, Caretaker."

"You're welcome. Now, let's go to the bathroom. We should wipe your body with warm water and change into your pajamas before the night gets colder."

Whumpee nodded and let himself be led by Caretaker towards the bathroom at the end of the kitchen.

[salmalin]

Final Fantasy XII, Ashe, Vayne, "Us V.S. Them" Mentality, and What Makes a Hero

Something I really love about FF12 is that beyond the whole "free will" plotline that underscores basically every FF game, it actually has something else to say. And it gets pretty specific with it in a way that not many other media I've seen is willing to properly explore: the extremely thin line between hero and villain.

Possibly due to the disaster that was its development, Final Fantasy 12 was able to get extremely specific with its themes and messages, and the rush that occurred when a second team came in to finish for an entirely different team may have allowed for most of this to make it to the final game. It's also ridiculously topical and hits a modern problem on the nose—"Us Vs Them" Mentality, and the oversimplification that follows. This is something that I've only ever seen Terry Pratchett attack so violently.

The villains are not villains. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only villains because of how they do things. But more than that...

The heroes are not heroes. They are people, like us. But more than this, they are only heroes because of how they do things.

In the eyes of a wider plotline, Vayne might have been the hero if not for his methods. This is made clear from the get-go. He's freeing man from the control of the Occuria, after all. He's fighting God—something you always do in the Final Fantasy games. What's worse, he was raised in a situation where his ruthlessness was not just an asset, but a necessity. He'd disposed of his elder brothers, and endeavored to build a world where Gods and Emperors did not dictate the movement of man—only him. It is, in my humble opinion, a response to excessive trauma from a young age. He is a brilliant character, beloved and loathed for his ability, and he is not arrogant about it.

Meanwhile Ashe is the last remaining descendant of Raithwall and seeks her country's freedom. Her characterization could have ended there and the audience would have been satisfied. Except it didn't.

She was angry. Arrogant. Uptight. She made rude assumptions about the people around her. And then...

Then Ashe decided to use the Nethicite.

And after her declaration, the first person to speak is the lowliest in standing of all in the room—a boy who'd seemed unimportant from the very start, who she'd degraded practically on sight. He'd been the most impacted by the war out of all of them; a boy who has had little to say up until this point besides seemingly shallow statements about theft, independence, and revenge.

"You even know how to use it?"

Vaan's words cut through the moment, changing the vibe instantly before Fran can take the scene. It's a good point, and highlighted a critical flaw in Ashe's thinking until that moment.

She doesn't. In a literal and figurative sense, this is the core of the entire story of Final Fantasy XII—Ashe does not know how to wield Nethicite. Not just as a weapon, but as a weapon.

There is rebellion. There is freedom-fighting. Then...

Then there's mass murder of civilians.

One of these things is not like the other.

But Ashe doesn't even see civilians. She's angry at Archadia as a whole for some reason—likely because they were "complicit" during the war. She sees them as all the same, and doesn't even think of them before suggesting using the uncontrollable Nethicite. She's convinced that her people will never get along with Archadians to the point where it's a plot point. She thinks they all want revenge. And seeing what we have until that point in the story... Yeah, that makes sense.

Until it doesn't. Until Vaan—the "unimportant" character mentioned before, the one who spoke, the main character everyone seems to overlook—actively does what she needs to do before it's even spoken aloud.

He trusts an Archadian.

He makes friends.

He puts aside his rage in favor of cooperation.

And he does this so casually that it's in the background when it happens. Until Basch brings it to her attention, Ashe didn't even notice. She was so fixed in her idea of what her people would want that it never occurred to her that yeah, maybe they do want this... in a moment of rage. A moment that would pass.

A moment that would pass in favor of guilt, horror, and disgust if she used the Nethicite.

We get to see Ashe's bloodthirsty nature before any of her other traits, but for Vayne we are shown he is charismatic, intelligent, and thoughtful.

It is Ashe who is the hero.

It is Ashe who is the hero because she does not fight with blinders on. Instead, she loses those blinders in no small part due to Basch, who points things out to her, and Vaan, who literally shows her the way. Vaan loses his rage first. Vaan moves on first. There's dialog around this a few times, and plot movements as well, and it's made pretty clear that every emotional development Ashe is going through, Vaan is going through directly in front of her and without the support that she had for so long. Vaan and Ashe are so acutely similar that it's almost alarming.

Vaan hates Archadians and then he changes his mind. Vaan hates Archadia until he changes his mind. Vaan hates soldiers until he changes his mind.

Vaan hates until he realizes that hate is a symptom, and to cure the symptom you can't just repeat the circumstances that led to the problem in the first place.

The main characters—the "heroes"—very nearly become the villains of a whole other country until they decide... no. No, we're not going to do this. No, we're not going to use this. Instead, we're just going to get rid of it. We're going to get rid of the chance of anyone using this great power again. This power would end the war in a split second before it could even begin. We've got so much of it, we could rule the world.

And then they don't rule the world. They destroy the ability to rule the world, and take that power out of the puppetmasters' hands.

You don't kill the occuria.

Heck, the only person they really kill is Vayne.

There is no "us".

There is no "them".

There are just people—people like us. And we are just as capable of being those people. One wrong step, and we become the people we hate most in the world.

There is no "us" and "them". You have no way of telling if a person is a monster on the inside. There's no way to look at them and know, or talk to them and know, or work with them and know. Vayne is charming and kind and gentle when he wishes to be, yet we only see Ashe's "undesireable" qualities.

She is the hero.

Ashe is the hero because where Vayne was prepared to burn everything and everyone to the ground for the promise of a day that might not come, she was not. Vayne was a battering ram where they needed a scalpel, and her team—six people with questions and some luck—was that scalpel.

Being a hero is not about being nice. It's not about being able to make connections or read a room. It's not even about how kind you are to others with your words. It's about what power we have, and how we are willing to use it. That is what makes a hero.

[coyotere]

Coyo you’re not posting that much lately. Is everything okay? We miss you

-🌼

to be honest I've run out of a lot of ideas, which has made writing hard but I think I have an idea/ solution but I'll adress that in a second.

the other thing is due to some money troubles ive upped my hours at work I'm now working 6:30am to 5:00pm which has been leaving me exhausted so I haven't been writing in the evenings like normal :/ I love love love writing but sometimes it's gotta kinda go on the back burner while I pay my bills lol

now onto the solution...

if you are a fan of my smut or general sluttiness, please please reblog my posts, all my smutty stories or nasty things I say, it helps out way more than you know, leave me asks or requests or anything so I 1. have something to write about and 2. feel like people are actually reading and want more of my stuff.

I'm also thinking about actually making characters and it's own universe which ill detail some of my rough draft below, if you want to see this it'll be its own blog but I think itll be nice esp for me cause then it'll be easier to write because I'll be able to say more than mine or you, and I can actually give my stories more personality when they fuck.

Plot: an ffm thruple who all lives in the same house living out their kinky desires i am leaning towards my requests both on here and that blog are things that they try out or do on a regular basis, the characters themselves im still kind of working on but they'd be a stand in for me and two of my types when it come to partners or how I view myself when I'm going through gender grunk.

M: tall semi muscular male with long dark hair and tattoos, a switch, when he is dominant he is mostly a primal, cnc, hard kink dom who unforgivingly fucks his partners and leaves them satisfied but their holes bruised. when he is submissive he is a puppy boy very obedient (until he gets frustrated) likes to be teased and edged and overstimulated put in a muzzle or on a leash and is a service sub focusing on his partners feeling good.

F1: a dominant, chubby pet owner and Domme mommy, probably also dark haired and tatted medium height, is a control, rigger, Domme who loves to trade and edge her subs driving them into insanity before fucking them over and over, pulling orgasm after orgasm out of them till their bodies can't take it anymore.

F2: a bratt princess submissive, who is short and fairly petite and probably blonde who loves to be tied up and used, is typically free use but will whine and complain about it despite her wetness, she'll have a smart mouth and an attitude but can be very sweet and endearing. loves to tease M for being so rough with her but then turns around and is obedient for F1.

if y'all are interested in this LMK PLEASE I think it'll be an easy way to keep me writing more, cause I can just make a filler episode or something between ideas, I would also like to have a schedule im probably going to take Friday or Saturday evenings and just make them my writing night! where I'll write for my BIG story and then if I have your request in it for that post I'll reblog it here and if I don't I'll write you your own smut like normal, that way I'm not burnt out I can make a time and a place where I can write uninterupted and not feel burnt out you know?

[littlecactiguy]

I wrote this earlier instead of getting out of bed in my phone's notes =D though I've now edited and polished it.

Arthur and John's first (brief) conversation after Arthur wakes up from dying

.

To return from death is…well, it’s certainly not unlike waking from a deep sleep where the position you slept in meant one of your limbs went numb and you have to move it carefully while the feeling returns to it.

That is, if you also happened to have fallen asleep on a bed of nails that dig into you with every movement you make.

The dream of it is quickly fading from Arthur’s mind. He knows he should grasp on to the lingering wisps of its memory. It could be useful to hold onto that knowledge.

He doesn’t. He won’t? The thought is honestly rather foggy.

Arthur is on his back. He can feel the harsh ground beneath him. There’s a rock under him, uncomfortably digging into his shoulder. He should probably do something about that. But that would require moving, and he only has control over one hand, and the rock is under the shoulder that hand belongs to, and—

“Arthur? ARTHUR! Arthur, answer me, damn it!”

Arthur inhales, and pointedly does not consider the pain that shoots through his stomach as he does. Regretfully, his brain perfectly recalls he ended up in this situation by being stabbed through, the specific location on his person where the blade pierced him, and it now informs him of multiple other places where his nervous system is indicating pain.

He has a feeling that he doesn’t really want to know what happened to his body during his absence from it. Arthur will ask John about it, later, because, despite that feeling, he also truly does want to know.

He just wishes he didn’t.

It takes a couple swallows for him to croak out, “What, John?”

“You—you weren’t responding. I—you need to answer me! We need to work together, Arthur. To—"

“I just died, John,” In volume, Arthur’s voice isn’t loud enough to be heard over John’s, but John still silences himself as Arthur speaks.

Momentarily. His immediate response to Arthur’s words is very loud.

“I KNOW!”

Despite being burdened with two entities, Arthur’s mind is remarkably resistant to shooting headaches. Or there’s simply too much pain elsewhere in Arthur’s body that there was none left to allot that much to it.

John softens his voice to a tone that doesn’t make Arthur’s mind throb. “I know. I know.” He hesitates. “But that’s why you have to respond to me. I…”

Arthur waits. Raising his hand is impossible due to how heavy feels, but he manages to twitch it in the direction of John’s.

“I need to know you haven’t done it again,” is what John finally, quietly, says. “You—Arthur, you can’t do it again! If you do, I’ll take over your body! I’ll—”

“Kill me yourself?"

John’s silence indicates the attempt at a joke went over extremely poorly.

“Sorry.” Arthur coughs, which turns into a hacking fit. He heaves himself onto his side, scattering blood droplets around. He feels the tatters of his clothes move with him. There are more tears in them than he cares to count. “I’ll try not to do it again.”

“Good.” John sounds not content, but at least satisfied with his answer.

Arthur lays back down. His head rests against a soft lump that he hopes is their pack and not something else. “I think I need a minute. To rest.”

“Alright. Rest, Arthur,” is spoken gently.

It makes no difference if Arthur’s eyes are closed or not for him to sleep, but he feels that they are anyway. Before he drifts away, a vague memory floats across his mind. He mumbles, “There was music, John.”

“Music?”

John’s question feels like it’s coming from very far away, or Arthur is wandering very far away from it.

“Arthur, what music?!”

“It was nice,” Arthur whispers.

Before he fully gives into the rest, the last thing Arthur hears is Yorick’s distant voice, “It is only sleep, my king. To return to one’s body from death is a difficult ordeal. He will wake again.” The fleshy clacking of the jaw bones pauses. “Will you tell him, then, when he wakes, what you spoke earlier?”

Arthur doesn’t remain awake long enough to hear John’s response. Nor will he remember to ask about it when he does wake back up again.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Snowflame

(WARNING! This analysis contains C-C-C-COCAINE!)

Imagine this absurd concept: A supervillain cartel boss whose powers are fueled by him getting high off his own supply. Imagine too that this man wears a ridiculous outfit, and exists to be an anti-drug PSA that fails epically because he makes doing drugs look awesome. Now also imagine that everything about him is played completely straight without a single bit of acknowledgment of how absurd and campy the whole thing is.

That, my friends, is Snowflame.

The New Guardians is a comic series that would have been long forgotten as a crusty relic of the late 80s if not for giving the world the absolute coolest villain ever conceived. Snowflame has amassed a cult following the likes of which would make Jim Jones envious, due to the sheer absurdity of his existence and the pure unadulterated action movie villain charm of his dialogue. He’s perhaps one of the most minor villains out there with only a handful of appearances to his name, but he’s loved more than villains who’ve appeared twenty times as much as him.

I’m here to show you why.

Motivation/Goals: Snowflame is a cartel leader, and so he really wants to peddle drugs. Guess which drug is his forte. Go on, guess. And that’s really all there is to him! I need to reiterate that his threat as a cartel leader is played completely and utterly straight even as he spouts off the hammiest dialogue you’ve ever seen and literally gets a power up by snorting coke. This is the very core of his appeal, in that he is something genuinely terrifying and threatening but presented in a way only a comic book can pull off.

Of course, his true motivation is far, far simpler.

Look at this man. That is the face of a man who exists solely to snort illicit substances up his nose. He lives to be high. That is the extent of his desires, and all else is second to that simple goal. As long as he can ignite and continue to be the instrument of cocaine's will, he is satisfied.

Final Fate: Every single time Snowflame shows up, he dies. In his initial appearance, he apparently blows up, but three decades later, he makes his coke-fueled return to do battle with Catwoman, and despite inhaling enough cocaine to kill an elephant, a feat that should theoretically make him nigh invincible, he fucking dies.

...Or does he? Snowflame returns yet again in Peacemaker Tries Hard! Here he does battle with, you guessed it,

...who puts a poison dart frog in his cocaine and kills him.

Maybe. My theory is that Snowflame is the Kenny of the DC universe, and whenever some bastard kills him his coke-fueled powers just respawn him the next day.

Best Scene: While his fight against Catwoman is unfortunately lackluster as ordained by the writers (Selina is not lasting two seconds against Snowflame and his coke-fueled powers under realistic circumstances), it gave us one of the most gorgeous and badass panels ever made:

Really brings a tear to your eye, doesn’t it?

Best Quote: Yeah, there’s no fucking contest here, it’s this:

Final Thoughts & Score: I think I speak for all of us when I say Snowflame is one of the greatest fucking characters ever conceived.

Everything about him is a towering testament to what makes the medium of comic books great. The best villains tend to be the wildest and most out-there concepts, like a giant alien starfish that mind controls people, or a gay gorilla in love with a brain in a jar, or a giant racist communist egg. And don’t even get me started on the villains the Doom Patrol fights! Snowflame is the epitome of that; he is what would happen if Tony Montana was a DC supervillain by way of Captain Planet. He is absurd, over-the-top, and so goddamn cool.

It’s very obvious they were trying to do an anti-drug PSA here given the time the comic was released, but it absolutely falls flat on its face when the strawman constructed to be defeated so that the lesson might be dispersed is an absolute lunatic who dresses in colorful spandex and spouts off the most epic lines to ever come out of a villain’s mouth. Everything about him is absurd, but unlike something like Egg Fu he’s absurd in a tasteful and cool way rather than a shockingly racist way. Snowflame is just a dude who snorts cocaine to gain superpowers, it’s as simple as that and yet it’s also completely bonkers.

It’s genuinely unsurprising that this guy managed to get such a massive cult following that he spawned a fanmade webcomic and then got to pop up in the comics again over three decades after his supposed death. And it’s said cult following that has allowed him to pop up time and time again, even getting an appearance in the fourth season of Harley Quinn. I’m sure you can guess that I’m part of that massive cult fanbase, and I can only dream of writing a villain as incredible and grandiose as this drug-addled madman. Infinity/10 isn’t a real score, so he’ll have to settle for a 10/10 instead.

...Oh yeah, remember in the Egg Fu review when I said I wasn’t going to review Hemo-Goblin?

Psycho Analysis: Hemo-Goblin

This is gonna be really short, because there is so little to this guy. He is a one-shot, but boy what a fucking shot he is. Hemo-Goblin is a racist vampire created by South African white supremacists to give members of the New Guardians AIDS. You read that right. This is a racist AIDS vampire.

Now, unlike Egg Fu, who was a horrible racist caricature created from topical anti-communist sentiments of the time, Hemo-Goblin was seemingly created with better intentions. But you know what they say about intentions; the road to Hell is paved with good ones. I get wanting to do a commentary on the AIDS crisis, and I don’t think it’s out of the question for a superhero book to handle such a thing, but maybe having an AIDS-powered vampire give HIV to a Jamaican woman and a gay man isn’t the most tasteful and nuanced way to do this.

Oh, and by the end of his only appearance, he dies of AIDS in jail.

I’m not gonna lie, guys: I kinda love this stupid fucking creature. His weird design, the absurdity of his concept, and the awful execution of his premise makes him memorable for all the wrong reasons, but he’s memorable nonetheless. I think if Snowflame didn’t exist and wasn’t the coolest villain ever, more people would talk about the insanity that is Hemo-Goblin, though having a single appearance before dying and never appearing again doesn’t help his case much. Still, he’s just cazy enough to earn himself a 3.5/10, so he’s got that going for him.