#but i do that already on my personal account

[johnbrand]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[itsvanilles]

❤️‍🔥 Mafia Drones- Chapter 10: Anesthesia

 Q&A SOON!

You can ask me questions *only* about the *Mafia Drones* series. Personal questions will be ignored, and I won't reveal any spoilers, but I can clarify doubts that have already come up in previous chapters. You can leave your questions in the comments using the following format:

- Question for Vanille: (your question) (optional: chapter number) With this format, I'll take your question into account, and you might get featured in the Q&A >:)

This will be last chapter I will do in a while, it is time for me to focus on college + get my schedule settle! Let's hope Chapter 11 is done by next Monday, if not well...we will see 🤍

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P22 | you shut up

You and Mark got off at your bus stop. Mark honestly didn't mean to but he had accidentally snooped on what you were doing on your phone and saw you tweeting agonising over being mistaken as his girlfriend. It was nobody's fault, it was just how those aunties and uncles operated, and both of you were wearing matching cardigans, but somehow he felt a little offended disheartened that you were agonising over it.

As you walked to New Axis, Mark watched as you kick off rocks with your head down, looking deep in thought.

"You know, you didn't have to give out disclaimers that we weren't dating." You spoke out suddenly, and Mark rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I wouldn't even bother giving those disclaimers if you hadn't tweeted how you were going crazy on being mistaken as my girlfriend." Mark scoffed and walked past you, even having the gall to bump your shoulder but only because he knew you wouldn't take it personally.

"HEY! I tweeted that on my private account. You—" you let out a breathless laugh, out of pure disbelief, "—just 'cause you're a good head taller than me now, Mark, it doesn't give you the right to snoop over my shoulder. Jeez, did being shorter than me back then gave you a complex or something?"

He stopped walking and whipped his head around to look at you, "We were the same height back then, you little shit."

You pulled a face and raised your arms, "Okay, Mark. If that's what you want to believe—go ahead."

He rolled his eyes again, "Oh, shut up."

"You shut up." You huffed out.

There you both walked into New Axis, and you then realised you weren't fighting before, but you were bickering. Just like the old times. Mark even referenced to a time when you both had been close before during your bickering. However, when you realised Mark wasn't ahead of you anymore, you turned your head around to see where he went.

When you finally see him, you noticed that he was frozen behind you, one hand holding his phone out, eyes wide and fixated on something that was way past you. So you followed his line and vision to see what he was looking at so intently.

You froze like he did too, when you saw it was Yuno standing near the lobby's elevator, seething at the sight of you both—you assumed he had seen Mark and you enter the lobby together. You glanced down at your cardigan and looked back at Mark, feeling the same kind of horror taking grip of your heart that also had Mark still pinned in his spot.

You were wearing matching cardigans.

Before you realised it, Yuno had already stood between you and Mark, looking back and forth between you.

"I can explain—" You uttered out, but Yuno was quick to shut you down. He snapped his head to look at you, pointing a finger at your face.

"I don't want to hear one from you, I want to hear it from him. Minhyung, are you going behind my back?"

You clamped your mouth shut, feeling an indescribable kind of sting hit your chest with the way he addressed you, but you knew this was fully him and not the stoic bullshit he's been fronting on you since he moved in. You were a little glad he's at least displaying some kind of emotion in front of you, even if it was anger out of all other emotions.

"No, Jae. We're—we're working together for the MNA Week. She's a part of the Business Fac Committee and she's my partner for the Entrepreneurship Bureau. The cardigans is purely a coincidence." Mark gulped, seeing everyone else in the lobby weirded out with the tense atmosphere.

"Doesn't change the fact you didn't tell me about this sooner." Yuno stepped closer to Mark, and the younger man nodded in admission and defeat.

"It slipped my mind, dude. Honest. When I first mentioned this bureau stuff to you, I didn't bother mentioning she had been my partner because—" Mark stammered a bit, eyes meeting yours past Yuno's shoulder for a split second before looking back at his longtime friend, "—because I never wanted to have anything to do with her after it's done. I should've told you this after I set you up to move in with her though, that's on me."

Yuno sighed and rubbed his eyes, shoulders slumping and Mark took that as a cue that he could also relax now. Yuno gripped on both of his shoulders after he stepped back a bit, not smiling, but he wasn't stoic like before so it was all good for now.

"Let's go to that bar now, dude. I feel like there's a lot we need to catch up on." Yuno cracked out a smile that was barely there as he let out a breathless laugh, finding his anger and fear from before ridiculous and unfounded.

Yuno turned Mark around so they could walk out of the lobby together while you were left standing there, still frozen, and feeling like there were two pairs of feet walking all over your heart. You had snapped out of it when your phone suddenly rang. Seeing that it was Geonwoo, you picked it up right away as you took reign of your emotions again.

"Head down to the parking lot immediately. Lim Goyoung's loansharks finally left their property, and we're relocating them straight away."

You ran to the elevator.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Hey, Gowoon!" You spoke cheerfully, squatting down to his height.

"I've missed you, big sis Y/N." He spoke with a dejected voice, moving to hug you.

You accepted the embrace straight away, and quickly turned it into carrying the 6-year-old in your arms as you stood up. You watched as his mother and your older brother figures flit across the bedroom of Lim Goyoung's house, packing her valuables and essentials into two big luggages.

"I don't want to move away, big sis. I'll miss my friends." Gowoon spoke in the crook of your neck, and you could feel his tears wetting your skin.

You pulled him away so you could wipe his tears away.

"You'll make new friends at your new home, buddy. You're so handsome and nice, so I'm sure all the kids at your new home would love to befriend you." You reassured him, moving your hand to stroke his hair after you had wiped away his tears.

Once they were done with the packing, you quickly moved and got into the truck as a unit. You had already assisted Goyoung in wiping away her digital footprint and data while she was busy packing, so the loansharks couldn't track her through the internet or social media.

As you got into the truck, sitting at the back with Goyoung and her son, one pair of eyes in the alley closely focused on you—only you.

Cha Yoonsu stepped out of the shadows, cursing your name because the truck didn't have any plate number displayed. Geonwoo and Woojin weren't dumb, they'd put it back once they're sure nobody's following them before a road camera could catch them.

But Yoonsu swore he'd track you down despite this minor setback. At least he now knew you were currently residing in Seoul.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : so basically y/n's main gig under geonwoo and woojin is to assist them helping victims of loanshark scams 😔🫶🏻 im sorry if that had been obvious before this reveal

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @nessaassen02 @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @leemoonna @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[holylulusworld]

Emergency

Summary: All you wanted to do was sexting.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: sexting, wrong number trope, implied smut, horny reader

Hello, hot piece of ass. Whatcha doing? Wanna meet up?

You giggle while chatting with one of the guys you found on the newest dating app you downloaded.

He lives near your location and is a hot dude. You can hardly wait to finally meet up with him. If the pictures he sent to you aren’t fake, he’s got a big dick too.

I want to suck your dick so bad. Hey, are you online? I see the green dot. Don’t tell me you’re jerking off instead of licking my pussy.

You harrumph because your favorite sexting partner doesn’t answer tonight. He’s online, and you can see, he read all of your messages.

Dude, answer me. Last time you weren’t so shy. You better not have a girlfriend.

You can see he’s writing, but then he’s suddenly offline. No message. No reply. No sexy pictures for lonely nights. Maybe he’s a fake account too.

“Come on, asshat. Show me some skin,” you grumble under your breath. Glancing at the app, you sigh. You wait for a moment, asking yourself if you should chat someone else up.

You decide against it and roll off your bed to get your favorite toy out of your duffle bag. If he doesn’t want to meet up or help you out, you’ll take care of yourself tonight.

Placing the toy on the bed, you sigh. Being horny and single sucks. Not only because no one wants to eat your pussy.

Ready to solve the problems in your panties with one of your toys, you glance at your phone.

Hottie is back online. Strike. You bet he’ll answer this time. Maybe he had to get in the mood. On the other hand, aren’t guys always in the mood? At least the ones looking for fun on the app.

Do you want to play? Come on, don’t you want to see more of me? I promise to give you a better angle this time.

He’s still not answering. You sigh and decide to use the bigger guns.

This is an emergency!!!

He’s writing again; this time, you receive a message.

What’s the emergency? He asks.

You hear a commotion in the motel room next to yours. It seems Dean got lucky tonight, and you envy him.

HORNY!!!!

You can hear the door of Dean’s room slam shut. Only seconds later, Dean hammers against your door.

You roll your eyes. Of all the times he wants to scrounge snacks, he chose tonight.

“Sweetheart?” He knocks again. “Open the door!”

“For fuck’s sake, Winchester,” you get out of the bed to unlock the door. “What?” You glare at him and huff. “This is not the best moment to ask for snacks!”

“I only want one snack,” he smirks that irresistible smirk. His tongue darts out to wet his plush lips as his eyes drop to your crotch. “You said it’s an emergency. So, here I am.”

“What?” You splutter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You texted me, Y/N,” he argues. “You wrote that you’ve got an emergency and that you’re horny.”

Your eyes widen. This is a serious case of sexting with the wrong person.

Well, what’s done is done.

“If you’re already here,” you fist his flannel to drag him inside your room. “You can take care of my emergency.”

[lovemyromance]

Stop polluting our inboxes with your posts, all the posts we've been recieving have been from your blog. you're just trying to start shit because nobody is giving your stupid thoughts any attention

And here's the drama at my doorstep!

Lovely. I had a feeling this would happen, because some people are unaware on how to exercise sound logic and reason, but let me just say this once and for all:

I don't have time to start this kind of petty nonsense. Yes, people have brought this to my attention so I am aware my posts are being circulated like this - but I am not the one responsible for it. I have already put out multiple posts asking for this person to stop and I have never even gone into the Gwynriel or Elucien tags to start any kind of drama. Every single time I have come across a hateful troll, I have called it out and encouraged Elriels to do the same. Every single one of my posts is always tagged Elriel and anti-whatever (if-applicable).

I don't know why you felt the need to come onto my blog and accuse me of something this childish. I get we likely disagree on ships - but why are y'all treating me like I'm some demon hellbent on causing chaos? It's disrespectful and honestly, a little hurtful.

My posts are public. Anyone can copy paste on the internet. Also - they are MY posts - if I was really that insistent on anti-elriels seeing them, then I would just purposefully tag them incorrectly...why tf would I waste my time sending them individually to anti-elriel blogs??

Like, I'm honestly even more insulted that y'all think I'd be inefficient like that?

But ok - jokes aside- I've literally never gone out and tried to antagonize anti-Elriel accounts - so idk what makes y'all think I'm about to start that shit now? Not sure how many more times I can say this but I am NOT. Interested. IN. THIS. LUDICRACY.

I don't know what you people even want from me? What else am I supposed to do? Launch an investigation? Delete my blog? Why can't we just see this is a stupid troll and stop acting like I need to release an official statement like I'm fucking Joe biden or some shit? its not that deep??

Just leave me alone. All I want to do is post in my own tags, and obsess over a ship in my own corner of the internet. Not asking for much here.

[transformersbrainrot]

MegOp is making me crazy as usual, but now I have some new, specific inspiration!

So it started with @that-fanperson-meg saying this under a post I made about the Transformers account posting a TFO MegOp edit.

I recognized the name of the song but had never actually listened to it, and hooooo boy, it activated something in the part of my brain that thinks about MegOp... So, I'm listening to this song, and I have the clearest vision that it's about Megatron's mindset/thoughts during his mental health's lowest point in the worst depths of the war. (fair warning, my analysis/brainrot is based on my own personal continuity/au, so there are some minor references to that, but it's all fairly standard, and I explain it a bit, so just go with it, and you shouldn't be confused.) Ok, preamble over. Time for the lyrical analysis:

I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a failsafe plot To piss off the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late

Megatron assumes that Optimus is in just as bad of a place as he is. He's wrong, of course, OP certainly isn't enjoying himself, but he has an actual support system that he feels comfortable leaning on. On the other hand, Soundwave is the only thing even approaching a friend for Megatron (and he is waaay too closed off at this point to admit it). Starscream is a backstabbing, power-hungry sycophant with his own heap of baggage (I really gotta make a post about my version of all that sometime); Shockwave is purely logic-driven as usual, only interested in advancing the Cybertronian race via the Decepticon cause. By this time, Megatron feels like both sides are too deep into the war to even consider peace. He honestly can't fathom it.

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town again in my life

Megatron has always wanted to escape the path that was decided for him. But now, after losing what he and Orion had and the resulting fallout, he won't go quietly into the night, not before causing some irreparable damage first. And the war will do just that. He hopes the destruction the great war causes keeps pushing him forward, even out beyond Cybertron. At least then, he won't ever need to face the past and who he used to be. He couldn't recognize himself now if he tried, so he doesn't even try.

I hope I lie And tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die

Even though it's clear to him that they hate each other and are not good for each other, Megatron still has some form of loyalty to what he and Orion had. If somehow, someday, someone were to ask him about them, he wouldn’t tell them about all their problems, but instead that they were good together. Maybe if this hypothetical future version of Megatron doesn't mention all the pain their split caused, then maybe it was a little less real. He knows that as long as Optimus is around, he won't be able to stop fighting; he's just too hurt and angry. He wishes Optimus would just die, that they both would.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober

Soundwave, the only even semi-positive influence on him right now, is the one telling Megatron it's darkest before the sun rises. Soundwave is a true believer in the original cause of the Decepticons, probably the last one in High Command; everyone else is either using the cause as a means to take out their pain (Megatron and Starscream) or as a means to an end (Shockwave). Megatron is finding it harder and harder to believe Soundwave with each passing day, and yet again assumes Optimus is doing the same. He's starting to hope it never ends. He's comfortable with it now; the war fills the hole that his old life left in him. All he really knows is that he can't bring himself to yield to Optimus and doesn't think he ever will. If he did, he wouldn't know what to do with himself.

And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way

Megatron is hoping that Optimus is suffering too, since he is, and doesn’t want him to feel anything positive through this since he cannot. But at the same time, he’s trying so hard to be a bastard so that it won’t hurt as much. He does still want to speak well of their past if he gets the chance, so some loyalty or fondness remains deep down. If there were good times to look back on, there would be sadness that those times are over. If Optimus has nothing good to say about him, all he would feel is relief that that part of their lives is over.

I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

Megatron can't see any way out of where he's gotten them. To him, there's no path to peace anymore. The only solace Megatron can find is the hope that Optimus falls with him. Even now, the two of their fates must be interlocked, as if it were a universal constant to him - simple common sense. He just wants it to be over, even as he can't bring himself to stop.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ Marquis of Los Angeles: Ch. 3 - A Manageable Situation

ཐི♡ཋྀ Thank you for the beta-read, @evrensadwrn! ཐི♡ཋྀ

Summary: As LaCroix brings Vincent home to Venture Tower, each one has a very simple plan. Surely all will go well.

TW: mind control, emotional manipulation, kidnapping

Vincent drifted through the city of angels, a prisoner in his own body. Bars and restaurants and strip clubs flashed past in neon and chain link and rain-drenched concrete. The downpour did nothing to stifle the city stench, but rather enhanced it. The air was too warm, too humid, the look of palms and alien plants more unfamiliar than it should have been, given that he’d watched American movies. But everything looked different in person. He had been to the states before, but never the west coast. It occurred to him, in fact, that he was probably farther from Versailles than he’d ever been.

By the clock on the dash, it was just past 8 PM local time. The whole night lay ahead of them. And LaCroix was just getting started, taking his “early” business calls in the front seat as the city’s nightlife shook itself awake. Meanwhile, Vincent fought against the hunger and exhaustion that had not been properly addressed for days even before he was taken.

With Sebastian’s concentration slipping to other concerns, Vincent’s numbed emotions were slipping back into the pit of his stomach, where they tied themselves into an aching knot. Horror was there, in nightmarish quantity, but so was hope - a feverish, desperate kind of hope. This was not the time to panic, but to plan. This was really a very manageable situation, all things considered. “No one is looking for you because no one knows you are missing.” He kept repeating those words to himself. LaCroix was quite right. All he had to do was contact someone. Even being seen alive in public might be enough. And then everyone would be looking for him. And they’d take him away. And LaCroix would be so devastated…pictures of him kept intruding into Vincent’s mind, crying over Vincent, losing him, missing him. There was some overwhelming desire to see LaCroix utterly pathetic on his account. It wasn’t ideal to be so fixated on LaCroix, but…better to hate him than to love him. In the midst of this feeling, it was possible to dream of escape, and so he clung to it.

He’d been directly commanded not to jump out of the vehicle, but he rested his forehead against the glass, hoping to be seen as the streetlamps passed over him in cycling flashes of yellow. But they were, of course, moving too quickly for anyone to recognize him, even if any of the passersby somehow knew who he was. Without any incident, the car came to a stop in front of an enormous skyscraper which LaCroix announced as Venture Tower.

The building itself seemed hostile, designed for intimidation. What kind of a man flanked his doorway with these god-awful Modernist figures of what Vincent could only describe as emaciated shadow people? It was chilling, but in such an unsophisticated way, like hoisting up a head on a pike for all to see. He wondered if they were meant to represent those Sebastian had drained of blood. He tried to play off his shudder of body horror as mere aesthetic disgust. “How is it that you lived through Romanticism without absorbing a single one of its artistic principles? It was wasted on you.”

LaCroix’s eyes widened and Vincent realized too late that he’d given himself away. Until now, the Prince probably thought he was still under full domination. “Already running your mouth again? Extraordinary, how you break free. So much so, in fact, that I’ll indulge you.” He gestured to the dismal grey lobby that would have been better suited to a penitentiary. “I change with the times and the requirements of leadership. It’s called branding, Vincent, and it saves lives. You’ll find the penthouse better suited to your tastes, but there’s no reason for the masses to see how I furnish my own living space. They have a tendency to start lopping off heads when they see too much open gaudiness…or firing bullets through skulls, as the case may be.” The Prince eyed Vincent’s embroidered greatcoat pointedly, as if that had been the sole reason for Wick’s dispute with him.

But he hadn’t stolen Vincent’s voice again, and that was something. Better try for a compliment, keep him talking.

“It does make for a brutal spectacle, at least, which is its own sort of…functionality.” His eyes were fixed on the elevator’s emergency call button, and his mind on the phone at the front desk of the lobby. His own cell phone had been confiscated at some point in his unconsciousness. Who was carrying it? LaCroix, or the Sheriff?

LaCroix nodded, no doubt pleased with his own advice. That confident smile, the way his mouth curled back against his fangs…Vincent suddenly felt like he had lost command of himself again. It was so difficult to look at this man without wanting to crush him to pieces. “You’ll learn a great deal with me, Vincent. I’m offering you an opportunity, to serve the interests of the Camarilla, to rule over LA at my side…and eventually much more than that, as your regnant’s hold expands.”

An opportunity to serve. How enticing. Vincent physically bit his tongue until his irritation subsided before replying. “Do you take me for a fool, LaCroix? I know what it means to share power, and it does not interest me.”

“How unfortunate. Then you will have none. You’ve lost your privileges again.”

A violent jolt of compulsion followed, stronger than anything on the aircraft. He was a passenger in his body again for the remainder of the elevator ride. He drifted powerless into the heart of Sebastian’s domain, gliding past the collection of history paintings that had been missing from the art historical community for hundreds of years, past the gold filigree flickering with firelight and the white moon that flashed through driving rain to cast a sliver of halo against the Prince’s hair. Sebastian wasn’t joking – he was a man of taste after all, and to be at the epicenter of his power was to walk in a decadent dream.

Never had Vincent felt so completely in the power of another person. Never had he felt another person’s strength so directly, inside of his own body and surrounding him on every side with the fruits of his superior’s machinations. He was totally and completely in Sebastian’s hold, spurred to the point of some manic envy. Two centuries of power were concentrated in this room. It made him want to sing and scream out loud, to climb the walls and knife the cushions, to tear the curtains with his teeth, to fling himself at LaCroix and…and…

To outdo him. How good it would feel, to conquer the most magnificent man he had ever seen. An opportunity. Yes, an opportunity to conquer. To see you broken and wretched. To impress you, REALLY impress you, until you bow to me. You’ll look so pretty weeping on your knees when your new pet disappears back to France with all your secrets, Bast…shame I won’t be here to see it… He shook himself, trying to focus only on the return home, but the return home was tied up with a powerful vengefulness towards LaCroix. To live, to be himself, was to struggle against LaCroix. His blood was pounding wildly all through his body, livid with another man’s vital energy.

Then Sebastain’s hands were on him, guiding him gently into a chair. “Easy. It’s hitting you, isn’t it? You like my pretty things?”

Oh, Sebastian. You don’t understand at all. In a wrathful haze, he grinned. “…Oui.”

“Good then.” He straightened up and snapped his fingers at the Sheriff. “He’s coming under control. We should be alright.” They were whispering about some assignment, and the Sheriff was gone.

Vincent stared into the fire, half insensible and trembling. I’m going to devastate him. I’m going to make him hurt. I’m going to devour everything that’s his and make it MINE.

.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸. ཐི♡ཋྀ.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.*✧*.¸¸.

LaCroix opened his briefcase, removing the contents from his travels and settling in at his desk for the night. He was thoroughly relieved. It was really a very manageable situation. The Marquis just took a while to feel the full effects. Perhaps that made sense, given how long it had taken him to heal from the bullet wound. Regrowing a brain was such a long process. But the vitae had finally taken root, and he was completely entranced.

Sebastian’s eyes lingered on Vincent. He was shaking in some ecstasy of reverence or lust, his eyes fixed on a Ventrue crest above the fireplace. It was strangely…disappointing. To see him like this was such an insult to the Marquis who had been fighting for his freedom tooth and nail just minutes ago. The Prince couldn’t help the sense that he had crushed something irreplaceable, and that it wasn’t worth it. Brought to heel, Vincent was cute, but before he had been…

Well, anyway, he wasn’t just cute. He really was bright. It was only a matter of how best to use him. He’d make a uniquely opportune spy within the High Table if there was some way to send him back in without compromising the Masquerade. But that was doubtful, and besides, he’d make just as clever a spy within the underworld. It seemed a shame to waste him among the kine - a specimen such as this wasn’t meant for such a life.

Or he could be useful on the trail of the Sarcophagus…

“Join me for a moment.” It was somewhere between hilarious and painful, watching Vincent cross the room. He wasn’t unsteady exactly, but pulled taut as a violin string. He practically vibrated. Sebastian could hear his racing heart. Vincent’s wide eyes locked onto his face and could not turn away. There was still something terrifying in them, and he found himself wondering whether he hadn’t best calm him down before attempting conversation. “…Are you quite well now, Vincent?”

“I am…hungry.” It was said with all the strained desperation of a newborn vampire. “Please, Prince. I know you don’t need to eat, but it’s been all day and night for me. Won’t you get me something, anything?”

He smiled, indulgent. Vincent wasn’t just cute this way, he was adorable. Those pleading eyes. “Alright. One moment, and then we’ll have a talk over your breakfast.”

One moment, turned away to call the front desk. And Vincent had already retrieved his cell phone from the briefcase and run halfway across the room. It was ringing.

He swore and made after him. “Oh for - Just where do you think you’re going!?” Vincent only sped up and disappeared into the stairwell. For god’s sake, his legs were so long…

Down they spiraled, Sebastian shouting useless commands that only seemed to spur him onward. It was no use to take him by force, it would have to be old-fashioned reason. “WHOEVER THAT IS WILL DIE IF YOU SAY A WORD!” The words echoed down some twenty stories. More quietly, for Vincent’s ears only, “The Masquerade. Recall what I told you.”

Vincent went still. In the sudden silence, a voice could be heard on the other side, barely loud enough to filter out towards LaCroix. “Hello? Who is this? It’s not possible that this is the Marquis.”

Panting, staring up at LaCroix with unbridled hatred, Vincent hung up the phone. Why did that look cut him so deeply? He pushed the pain aside and continued his descent, slowly now. Vincent did not retreat any further. “Good boy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But you have to understand that I couldn’t let you go now even if I wanted to. It’s a violation of all our laws. To save you, I had to take you away. Permanently. You cannot go back.” He came to the same step as Vincent, looking up at him now, their bodies inches apart. “And now that I have you, can you fault me for putting you to use? When you are such a sharpened tool that you frighten even me?”

Very softly, “I frighten you?”

“…Dreadfully.”

Vincent’s eyes had never looked softer, never more innocently pleased. “Merveilleux.” And he lifted Sebastian right off his feet, and hurled him over the railing.

◃ Back ⚜ Next ▹(coming soon)

Image Sources: One (background) | One (Vincent) | Two

[lukedruid80]

MY TWO FRIENDS MANIFESTED FOR THE FIRST TIME AND IT WORKED FOR THEM, SO CAN YOU !

First one, she's not even a shifter BUT she does find it interesting and is the most respectful person ever. She tried manifestation for the first time and IT WORKED. My second frienf tried it the first time too, and he's a shifter, it worked out so well for him.

Shifter or manifestation person or both or not, it is prove that ANYONE CAN DO IT. If my two friends who tried it the first time and it worked, SO CAN YOU. YOU ARE NO DIFFERENT THAN ME AND MY TWO FRIENDS.

For me personally, how i manifest and what i told my two friends to do, start off with baby steps. Manifest something small, something that YOU are able to adjust your doubts and your trust on yourself. My friend manifested a croissant, she manifested something SPECIFIC though she didn't get that flavor she wanted, but she managed to get specifically a croissant from the exact same shop. My other friend manifested a book, nothing specific on what genre, what title, what author. No, just a book. And he got one.

Because it is something small and easier to adjust, it's more simple to trust yourself with it. Build up your way to take small baby steps to big steps. My personal goal is to adjust my manifestation to finally be able to adjust my doubts on manifesting shifting.

If you start of with "I'll get a thousand money in my bank account tomorrow" it can work, if you believe. But if you're someone like me who got trust issues in their brain, that something like that seems "unbelievable", try small simple manifestation.

Baby steps: manifest you'll get 1 coin

Second steps: manifest you'll get 10 bucks

Big steps: manifest you'll get 20 bucks

Bigger steps (you're more confident): You'll win a lottery

Manifestation and shifting is seriously all about YOU. YOUR MINDSET. YOUR TRUST. AND YOUR WORTH. You NEED to BELIEVE IN YOURSELF. Think of it as like those motivational speech people always give where they pull that card "The key to achieving your goal/dream is to believe in yourself." I'm not saying you HAVE to have a good mental health and mindset all the time, but it is really about trusting your mind. You have to believe.

Tip for reassurance: When you have manifested something already and you want to manifest another thing, use your proof "I've manifested (the thing you managed to manifest before) before, I can do it again."

[navree]

"rhaenys could have ended the war by dracarysing all the greens right there" yes because a distant relation to the throne deciding to barbecue an anointed and publicly positively hailed king and his entire family who is well loved within the city and in multiple other parts of the country for the sake of the succession of a far-away princess no one was ever on board with who hasn't been seen by the populace in literal years, her psycho husband, her three obvious bastards, and two toddlers from the psycho husband would go over super well with westeros and especially in king's landing where scores of the still-cheering population were killed for no reason by that same dragon who would do the barbecuing, because when targaryens act unilaterally without thinking of how the people would react there's never any problem, which is why the storming of the dragonpit and robert's rebellion were actually just collective delusions dreamed up by readers who hate rhaenyra and not key parts of the story and house targaryen's history that directly contributed to their demise and are intrinsic to the plot

truly team black stans are made up of only the most genius and media literate amongst us

[egberts]

louis 9 weeks old vs 12 weeks old with the ball tower

[imaybe5tupid]

if you see absolutely anything that has kabru in it. And are unable to stop yourself from making it about L/abru (even when Laios doesn’t even appear or is irrelevant to the content in question!) and reduce kabrus entire deuteragonist-level character into wanting to fuck laios. I’m stealing something out of your house!!!!!

disclaimer: If you ship l/abru and gaf about kabru and don’t do this then this post isn’t about you 🤓

[goldkirk]

hey this isn’t aimed at anyone in particular but I’m saying it for the record here: if I tell you no, please stop messaging me about fundraisers and mutual aid.

I get enough messages that it’s impossible for me to keep up without devoting at least half an hour each day, when I’m not even on tumblr that long most days. Me having a boundary about this isn’t a moral failing, it’s a lifeboat for me on my own blog.

In my personal life I’m already advocating and donating literally as much as I can spare. This is not me not caring, it’s just me not willing to interact with that on the one place I go online to not interact with irl news and world events for the most part.

I cannot be upset all the time. I cannot be upset everywhere. I cannot use all my emotional and mental energy fielding my own upset from ongoing events. My options are to hold boundaries about this or stop coming online at all.

I’m all for sharing information and signal boosting to reasonable extents, but the scale of it this year is so large and so enduring that it is literally not possible to for me to participate on every account I have. I’ve previously shared links to Gaza eSIM donations and a major hub of verified Go Fund Mes here and elsewhere online. We, the online humans, know how to look those things up ourselves by now. There are many, many people choosing to do advocacy work, and right now, I can’t be one of them.

If you’re extremely upset when I tell you I can’t share/donate right now about a Gaza family or personal fundraiser you ask me to share here, just unfollow and block me. That’s what those buttons are for. Protect your own emotions and energy and get me off your feed instead of staying upset and continuing to engage with online people or content that upsets you.

Please don’t send repeated angry messages based on manufactured purity politics and moral outrage into my messages and inbox when I exercise the right to run my own blog.

[thegreatyin]

this nemesis ambition started out a little slow but I am getting closer to finding that bastard who killed my wife, and I’ll not rest a minute now that im far closer to on his trail

sorry got in character for a second

Anyways fun ambition so far very fucked up though

congratulations on joining the murder club anon!!!! depending on who you ask the name refers to either people who have murdered or people who have witnessed murder. usually both. actually extremely often both. it's a swell time you'll feel right at home (don't mind our collective skyglass knife collection in the back)

[plulp]

hey guys. remy design

[galedekarios]

the plagiarist posting an "apology" to creators, including myself, who he has ripped for months on end despite us asking him not to while he still has us all blocked is... a choice

[katmaibearfan]

periodic reminder that I'm a nonbinary man and i block transphobes when i see them