#god killer campaign

[meilia-stims]

Song (God Killer Campaign) stimboard

💜 💜 💜

💜 💜 💜

💜 💜 💜

@ericka-the-worm ‘s character

[usedtobecooler]

okay but what about virgin eddie being eager to please and the reader showing him the ropes and he’s just naturally so good at it :( i need it :(

oh anon what are you doing to me!

part one // part two // part three // part four

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), fingering f receiving, cumming in pants, corruption kink, reader really likes that eddie is a virgin, car sex, dubious content (i think? reader rubs up against him without consent?), dirty talk, lots of eddie being called pretty and handsome!!

Word Count | 2.8K

A/N | i really took this and ran with it, god damn!! virgin!eddie just does things to me the boy is SO corruptible. i need help, jesus and a nap after this.

You sort of knew he was at least inexperienced from the get go. You'd met working at the local record store and doing the late shifts together. You never missed the way he'd get so flustered any time you'd pay him a compliment.

'Eddie you look so nice today', 'wow Eddie you should wear your hair up more often it looks good', or when you'd greet him with a 'hey handsome' or 'hey pretty boy' and he'd stumble over his words and go beet red. You could tell he didn't really get chicks, it was obvious by the way that all he could talk about on Monday mornings were his D&D campaigns that he played with literal sophomores.

Twenty year olds who barely skim by to graduate after their third year repeat of senior year didn't get babes. He knew that, you knew that. But you were so attracted to him anyway, you got a sick thrill out of how easy it was to panic him and make him blush.

You gave Eddie a ride home from work every night, the trailer park was a fair few miles from the shop and his van went bust a few months prior so it was sat like an antique with grass growing around it just outside his front door. Wayne made a point of complaining about it a lot when you were in earshot.

'Either fix the damn thing or get the piece of crap towed away. I know we live in a trailer park but we sure as shit ain't tramps.'

So yeah. He wasn't necessarily a lady killer but he was just so pretty to look at and it made your stomach do funny jumps. He was so passionate too, he could talk for hours about his guitar or Lord of the Rings and he remembered every little detail. Soaked in everything you'd ever say and remember it for next time.

So sue you. You liked Eddie 'the freak' Munson who was just the sweetest, prettiest boy you'd ever met. And you needed to corrupt him.

You were subtle to begin with. When you'd shuffle by him in the store you'd make sure to get as close to him as possible as if the space was just too tight for anymore room. You'd lay a hand on his waist to brush past, lightly dance your fingers on his shoulder. 'Whoops, sorry' you'd say when your ass would brush past his dick, you'd pretend not to notice his flustered look and his stumbling words.

It all came to a head on one Saturday night as you were driving Eddie home. Dio's Holy Diver playing as background noise. You bonded over your love of the same bands too, you'd occasionally catch his eyes go all gooey when you'd talk about Metallica. You couldn't help but notice the ways his eyes would wander over your chest, where a band shirt would usually be sitting. The way he'd look at your legs in your fishnets and tight skirts. Stutter when you'd catch him and give him a wink.

But anyway, this particular Saturday you'd asked if he wanted to go to a fast food joint for some burgers before going home. You were, admittedly, starving after bailing on lunch in favour of helping Eddie with the new shipment of vinyl that had came in.

Eddie was a gentleman, offering to pay for the burgers since you'd been driving him home and who were you to refuse a free meal. He took them to go so you could drive to a place somewhere quiet and eat in silence.

You drove up to a spot you went to occasionally when you needed some time to sit and relax on your own. It was essentially an old junk yard full of shitty banger cars but nobody ever came out here and it was nice for watching the stars on a clear night.

You eat your burgers mostly in silence, both of you chomping down like you hadn't eaten in days. You're sat in a silky leopard print skirt, fishnets all torn around your inner thighs from them rubbing together all day. You sit really unladylike, legs open and comfortable.

You catch Eddie peaking again.

"Eddie, sweetheart, its only a pair of thighs." You say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence in favour of embarrassing him, "You see them everyday."

Eddie flusters a little, mouth still full of burger but he stops chewing and goes bright red, floundering for words, "S-sorry, uh, fuck I can't help but look. Your tights are all torn." He points out, motioning towards the large holes.

"Babe, you can't honestly tell me that's the reason you were looking," You say, balling up your fast food paper and tossing it in the back without looking, "you're trying to catch a glimpse of my princess parts."

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth at the use of those words, only using them to tease Eddie and his seemingly virginal ways. Worried if you call it a pussy he'll open the door and flee.

"Uh, eh, I wouldn't know much about that," Eddie cringes at his own words, he can't even look at you and it's just so endearing, "I can't say I've ever seen one."

You gawp a little bit. Taken aback by his confession.

"What do you mean, Eddie?" You ask, the teasing way in your voice only coming out just a smidge now, "You've never...?"

"God, don't make me say it, sweetheart," Eddie grimaces, tossing the last of his burger on the dashboard, hunger long forgotten at the embarrassing conversation, "I'm a twenty year old virgin. Laugh all you want, you should."

"I'm not gonna laugh," You say, all too quickly, "I just can't believe no girl, or guy maybe, has ever pinned you down and just ridden the shit out of you. You're really hot, Eddie. I mean, really hot."

Eddie's cheeks flush so dark they're almost purple and suddenly he's shuffling awkwardly in his seat next to you, like he's trying to cover himself from you.

"Hey pretty boy," Your voice is barely above a whisper now, you lean over and tug at his arm to get him to turn to you again, "I find that kinda... hot."

Eddie scoffs at that but lets you move his arm, your fingers beginning to dance down it, edging closer to his wrist, "Yeah, right. You don't have to lie to me I know it's ridiculous. Who the fuck is still a virgin at this age unless it's by choice?"

"Means you're all kinds of corruptible, handsome." You're not teasing anymore, bringing your hand further down to drag your fingers over his knuckles, "Makes me kinda hot and bothered."

"Oh, oh right," Eddie sucks in a breath and shudders, Jesus Christ this guy has no game and it's so fucking cute you're about to burst. Your cunt is twitching already just thinking about ruining him.

"Maybe I could show you the ropes? Y'know? How to touch a girl an' get her going?" You suggest, and you can see the goosebumps littering Eddie's arms, "Obviously so that when you find a girl you really like you can wow her."

A strangled little noise caught between a whimper and a sigh escapes Eddie's lips, his head thumps back against the headrest on his seat, displaying his gorgeous expanse of neck, the veins protruding in ways you can't ignore. Admittedly, he's already got you going without even having to touch you, and you know now that you're fucked.

"You gotta say yes or no, handsome. Just so I know you're into this and I'm not adding two plus two and getting five," Your voice is gentle as you finally grip hold of Eddie's wrist gently, dragging it over to rest on your inner thigh. His fingers flex on the skin, gripping ever so slightly, making you exhale a shaky little moan.

"I, uh, I would like to. But I'm gonna be shit, no point denying it," Eddie barks out a little sarcastic laugh, his brows furrowing together.

"Oh, honey," You giggle, "you're a guitar player. Those fingers already know what to do without me having to show them. I'll just tell you what to do, where to press, how fast I like it, how hard. Can you listen to me and do that?"

You chance a glance down at his crotch and can see the thick outline of his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. Your mouth practically starts salivating, already eager to know just exactly how it looks. In your daydreams it was big, but looking now in the dim light at his concealed erection, it was obvious just how big it truly was.

You get up from your seat, shuffling a little so you can swing a leg over and perch yourself in Eddie's lap, gasping a little when you sink down just enough to rub your cunt along his hardness. Eddie bites down on his lip, a strangled, breathy moan leaving him.

"This okay?" You ask, just to make sure, and he's nodding so fast he could get whiplash. You take ahold of Eddie's right hand again, sliding it under your skirt to let his palm rest lightly over your pussy, letting him feel the heat and the damp patch that's formed in your cotton panties so quickly, "You've done this to me already and you haven't even touched me yet."

"Really? Shit," Eddie looks up at you with wide brown eyes, like a deer caught in headlights. He's so eager, letting his fingers run over your clothed folds, dipping a finger in between experimentally and smiling a little when you moan, "Can I, uh, can I move your panties out of the way?"

"Go for it, handsome. Get a good feel." You're back to smirking again, but not for long when Eddie hooks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and pull them to the side, exposing your puffy little cunt to the cold air. You gasp when two hot fingers rub between your lips, catching on your clit just barely, "Okay, can you find where my clit is?"

Eddie nods eagerly, running his fingers back up and pressing on that little hard bundle of nerves, his cock twitching at the feeling of your slick in between his fingers, "There, right?" He asks, just to make sure, but it's obvious by the way you bite your lip and whine.

"Yes there, fuck, Eddie if you do good for me this really isn't gonna last long," You admit, throwing your head back a little, "just rub me there in small circles, I like it fast."

Eddie's fingers start to almost expertly rub you in circular motions, his calloused fingertips catching and dragging your clit in the most delicious way. You turn into a whining mess quite quickly, especially when his free hand comes up to grab at the meat of your thigh to hold you in place.

"God, handsome, you're really good at this, uh," You choke on your own tongue when he speeds up a little, "wanna use that free hand and slip your fingers in me?"

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, glossy eyes dancing a little, "you sure?"

You nod excitedly, knees buckling a little when you feel his hand come up under your skirt, the pads of two fingers swirling around your entrance. You can't believe he's never done this before, you half expected him to not even know where your hole was never mind anything else. He looks into your eyes, raising his brows a little in a silent question and you nod again.

Eddie sinks his fingers in all the way to the hilt immediately and it makes you gasp, the breach unexpected but certainly not unpleasant. A nice stretch, the cold of his thick rings on the rim of your cunt making you shiver, "Pump them in and out of me and try to find a, Jesus, a rhythm that matches your fingers on my clit."

"Does this feel good?" Eddie asks, and it's clearly meant to be in earnest but it sends hot flushes all up your spine, his long fingers beginning to pump in and out of you slowly.

"God, yeah, yeah it does, Eddie." You whine, hips having a mind of their own and helping him with the process, helping his fingers sink in and out, "Crook them a lil, you'll find a soft spot, kinda feels like a sponge."

Eddie's brows furrow together, his fingers starting to falter both inside of you and on your clit as he tries to find a rhythm. It comes back to him quickly, both of his fingers sunk deep in your cunt crooking ever so slightly and finding your gspot almost immediately.

You choke out a moan that sounds wet, like you're about to cry, "Fuck, right there, handsome. Keep doing that, m'gonna cum."

His fingers are heavenly dancing inside of you. His assault on your clit is hard and fast and soon enough you're so wet that you can feel it running out of you, probably slicking Eddie's hand, wrist and arm with creamy slick, "How does it feel for you, Eddie?"

You're looking at each other and the lust is apparent in Eddie's face, the way his brown doe eyes are hazily watching you, "Feels so good. Your pussy feels like heaven on my fingers, you're so tight."

"Fuck, dirty talking already are we?" You almost squeal, a hot flush taking over your whole body as you chase your orgasm, "Love hearing dirty words coming from your mouth about me, keep going."

Eddie leans forward, hot mouth kissing and sucking wetly at your tits, your collarbones, your neck, "Y'like that? Like my fingers in you? You're whining like a little slut."

You fucking lose it at being called a slut, the mixture of his hands, his mouth and the obscene slicking sounds coming from your cunt have your legs buckling, your stomach twisting as you reach your high, cumming so hard that your pussy constricts and grips at Eddie's fingers tightly, a loud moan slipping from your mouth, hands automatically coming up to grip at his curls as your hips fuck back and forth, riding out your orgasm.

You're sensitive, shivering a little as Eddie rubs you through the last of it, so you rest a gentle hand on his wrist to let him know to stop. He stops immediately, long fingers sliding out of your cunt slowly as not to startle you.

"Was - was that okay?" He asks, looking at you again with those gorgeous, stupid doe eyes, the nervousness back and apparent in his voice. You're all orgasm stupid, barely able to keep your eyes open, so you lean forward and smash your lips onto his, greedily lapping your way into his mouth with your tongue as a way of confirming it was good.

Eddie's big hands come to encircle around your waist, deepening the kiss. So, okay, he's not the best kisser just yet but you can show him that too. It's sloppy and wet and everything you need right this second.

Your hips begin to rub along the length of Eddie's still painfully hard cock straining in his pants, you put down enough weight to grind perfectly against him, your sensitive clit loving the friction of the thick denim running against it.

"Wha-" Eddie pulls away from your lips, confusion on his face turning to ecstasy, a moan escaping him. Fuck, he's so loud it's making you flutter.

"Was gonna try an' get a hand on your cock but that can be for another day," You hum, hips still gliding back and forth roughly, "wanna see you cum in your pants, though."

"Fuck, sweetheart, you have no idea what you're - uh, god - what you're doing to me," Eddie's whimpering, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, matting down his fringe, "m'gonna cum, shit, shit, I'm cumming."

You watch every bit of it, the way the veins in his neck pop, his eyes squeezing shut as he vibrates against you, fingers squeezing you so hard it'll bruise. Fuck, he's so pretty you want to die, you can't believe you're the first person to make him cum and you didn't even have to lay a hand on him.

When Eddie eventually opens his eyes, the blush is back on his cheeks, as if he's mortified by what he just did, "Damn, twenty years old and I just came in my pants like a teenager."

"It was hot, pretty boy," you sigh, leaning down to peck his lips, "I'll get a hand on you soon though, I need that thick cock everywhere on me."

He whines at that, hips bucking up of their own accord, "Fuck, you dunno what you're doing to me, sweetheart."

"Corrupting you, Eds. And you're gonna love every fucking minute."

[russellsppttemplates]

I'm always over the moon (Lando Norris)

A look into your and Lando's little life moments

Note: english is not my first language. It's fluffy, so you know I pratically melted (and am now feeling single in about seventeen different levels)✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions accident drop of a glass and possibility of injury

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

Today's training session was particularly hard, Jon having Lando run a considerable amount of kilometres more than the usual distance followed by a weights session. By the time he was finished his cryotherapy session, he was more than ready to go home and snuggle up to you in the sofa.

Setting his keys on the little bowl by the door, Lando left his shoes on the coat cabinet by the door before walking to the ensuite bathroom where he heard noise from.

"I'm home, baby", he said, crossing the corner and resting his body on the side of the door, watching you rub product on your face.

"Hey, Lan", you smiled at him through the mirror, putting the lid on the pot you were using and storing it away.

Approaching him, you laced your arms around his neck, fingers playing with the curls ay the nape of his neck, "how was your session?", you wondered before kissing his lips.

"It was a killer, Jon set out to push me to the limit today", he hummed, hands finding your waist and holding your body close to his, "and you?", he checked.

"I worked all day, finally finished the prototypes for the next Quadrant campaign, then I worked out and I was just finishing my shower when you arrived", you added.

"I should've come home earlier, I could have joined you in there", he smirked, lowering his head to your neck and kissing the skin softly, earning your giggles as you squirmed.

"You're tickling me", you smiled, curling yourself closer against him, "but it's alright, baby, we'll do it another time".

When you separated yourself from his slightly, Lando noticed what you were wearing, "ugh, baby, I don't know what would be better, getting home when you were in the shower or this", he complimented.

"What do you mean?", you scrunched your eyebrows, looking down at your outfit. Because you had moisturised your whole body, from head to toe, after your workout, you decided to put on your tiny pyjamas shorts and one of Lando's t-shirts, the bottom piece fitting your thighs loosely while his t-shirt fit snug on your hips and chest, the fabric leaving little to the imagination. Even though he knew everything it kept away, he loved the way your curvilinear body looked in his t-shirt.

"I love it when you wear my clothes, they look so good on you, too god even", he nibbled on your ear lobe, hands tapping your thighs so you knew to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

"I thought you were too tired, baby", you brushed the curls away from his eyes, "I am, but that doesn't mean I won't spend the evening glued to you", he winked, carrying you to the sofa in the living room, laying you both down and wrapping you both in a blanket.

"Can't have you feeling cold, baby", he mumbled, fixing the blanket before his hand travelled under the t-shirt and settled on your tummy, making you hum in content, "I love you, baby", you cooed.

.

"Alright, let's get to work!", Lando clapped after setting the last box on the living room floor.

When you moved all of the things you wanted to Monaco, Lando insisted you should bring your favourite books, reasoning that the apartment should also have some of your things instead of just his helmets for decoration. So, three boxes were shipped with your favourite book collections and stand alones and, you and Lando took the afternoon to organise them.

"I get this can be boring for you, Lan, I can do it myself if you want to go stream or just game", you added, kissing his cheek lovingly.

"Absolutely not, baby, I want to help you! So, how do you want this?", he asked as he looked at what was in the boxes, "do you want to do this by colour? Genre? Date? The ones you've read and the ones you haven't read yet", he suggested.

"We can go a bit with the colour schemes you already have with the helmets", you tried, looking over at the colour palette the books made up.

Wiping the shelves one last time, you sat on the floor and handed the books over to your boyfriend, guiding him through the order and way you wanted to display them.

"Oh, I remember this one - I read it to you the first time I spent the night at your place! You didn't want to seem weird and admit you needed to read a little before going to bed and thought you could go without it for one night!", he smiled at the memory, "Little did you know that it was another one of the things that attracted me to you and I was more than happy to read to you", he winked, leaving you flustered as you handed him the next book, "very smooth, Mr. Norris", you blushed.

"I like to keep you on your toes", he chuckled, "next, there's room for that big collection there", he pointed to the eight books that shared the same design, "might be a tight squeeze, but I think it's fine", he muttered as you handed him the books.

By the time you finished, the living room looked like a good mixture of you and Lando. The books added a pop of colour and softer tone along with the new picture frames you scattered.

"It looks great", Lando said, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, "our home is coming together nicely", he kissed the side of your head.

.

"They can spend the day, of course I don't mind", you smiled as you out the cutlery away in the drawer.

"It's your home too, baby, just wanted to make sure you're fine with it", Lando reasoned as he wiped the counter.

It was still weird to refer to the apartment as your home, but you wouldn't have it any other way. Closing the door and moving to the cups drying on the counter, you grabbed a tea towell and started drying them before setting them in the cupboard.

"I'll make sure to not make too much noise, or I can go and work at the café down the street, it's - shoot!", you cursed as the glass slipped from your hold, falling on the floor and shattering into little pieces.

"Careful, darling, you might hurt yourself more", Lando urged, stretching his arms and helping you stand where there were no glass shards.

"I'm sorry, I thought the towell wasn't that slippery", you said as Lando scanned your hands for any cuts or injuries, moving to your feet and ankles.

"It's okay, baby, I don't care about the glass, I care about you", he kissed your fingers, "there's a little graze here", he pointed to the small nick on your skin, "go wash it off while gather these", he kissed your cheek and looked for the broom.

Making sure he had sweeped all of it and then passing the vacuum cleaner just to make sure, Lando finished putting the glasses away as you stood by the door, "it's fine,Y/N, we'll go to IKEA and get a new one", he conforted, "now, are we ready for bed?", he wondered as he held your hand as you walked to the bedroom.

.

"My shoulders are killing me, I think I slept funny", you mumbled, trying to find a good position against the office chair, Lando's look questioning your movements.

"Are you in pain? You should've said something", he tutted, hands coming to rub the muscles along your shoulders and neck as Ria went over the latest filming plans.

"Y/N, are you okay, girl?", Ria asked, concerned at the faces you were pulling, "are you sure he's helping you rather than making it worse?", she teased.

"Hey!", Lando yelled, "I'm trying to be a great boyfriend, making sure she's feeling well and taken care of! I think that's jealousy", he smirked, poking his tongue out at her.

"It's feeling good, handsome, especially right there", you groaned, earning a whistle from Max.

"If you guys need a room, I'm sure they can find something relatively kept away!", he laughed, luckily missing the pillow your boyfriend threw at him, "no need to resort to violence, guys!".

"Bring that pillow over here, please, I actually need it", you asked him, taking it from his hands as he quickly walked away, "what, are you afraid I was going to make you trip?", you giggled.

"I don't know, the two of you are never up to any good!", Max raised his hands in defense as Lando kissed your forehead, "He's just jealous because we're a great team and P isn't here with him".

.

Weekends with no racing and no plans quickly became your favourite because you were able to spend as much time as you possibly could with Lando, the triple header ahead of you already promising to make spending time just with him on your own a bit difficult.

When Lando woke up like clockwork, he stretched his neck just enough to watch you sleep cuddled up to his side, your hand grabbing a handful of the sheets that were keeping you warm as you peacefully slept, and knowing how much Quadrant had kept you up late that past week, he thought it would be nice to let you sleep for a bit longer.

Carefully getting up to not wake you up, Lando kissed your cheek soflty and made his side of the bed, tucking the sheets around your body as he lightly kissed your head one last time before he went to the ensuite to change into his workout clothes.

Heading to the kitchen, Lando filled his water bottle and grabbed a pre-workout snack to take to the home gym. Looking at the equipment in the room and the cardio indications Jon had sent him, he decided that he was going on the bike, figuring that, even though the sound isolation was pretty good, it would be the least likely to make too much noise to the point of waking you up, following up with some weights and then stretching.

He was all sweaty when he walked back into the bedroom, ready to have a shower when he heard the sheets ruffling, "hey, baby, good morning", he smiled, "you can go back to sleep, I just need to take a shower, I'm sorry I woke you up", he pouted.

"Morning", you yawned, "I'm going to shower with you", you smiled sleepily, getting up and joining him in the ensuite.

Leaving your clothes in a pile on the floor, Lando got the shower started, making sure the water was warm as you both liked before stepping in with you, letting the water wash away before you grabbed your shower gel, lathering it on Lando's hands and then on yours as you both helped the other wash off, stealing kissing and caresses along the way.

When you got back to the bedroom and dressed in lounge wear clothes, you were ready to have breakfast, finding the overnight oats in the kitchen, "I don't mind if you want to eat something else", Lando offered.

"These are good, I don't mind it", you said, "but I am going to make my latte because my brain can't go without the caffeine", you scrunched up your nose, earning his giggles as you turned on the coffee machine.

"Can I have a little sip, please?", Lando asked once you frothed up the milk, "of course, here baby", you encouraged, bringing the mug up to his lips and having your hand form a shell under it just in case it spilled.

Lando was left with a little foam moustache, earning a giggle from you as you kissed him, "my little frothy man", you cupped his cheek before kissing him properly, "I love you, Y/N", he whispered, pulling you into his embrace.

.

"You pick the movie, I have to go pee", you said to your boyfriend, letting him walk inside the living room as you continued down the hall to the bathroom.

For tonight's plan, you and Lando decided to stay in and cook together, wanting to enjoy the small task without rushing or heating up something from his meal plan, still making something healthy and approved by his team.

When you got back to the living room,

Lando had his Spotify app on the TV, a slow song you recognised from his brother's wedding playlist ready to play, "would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?", he asked, kissing your knuckles before looking up at you, eyes sparkly as you replied, "yes, I will", you smiled, allowing him to push you flush to his chest, slowdancing in the living room once he started the song, your head in his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.

"Everyday I thank my lucky starts that we met, that I was bold enough to ask you out and that you've stayed with me all of these years", he broke the silence as he unattached his lips from your temple, "and I never want to loose this, little touches, giggles, wins and losses, all of it", he smiled.

"You're the best thing that has happened to me, Lando", you cupped his face in your hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks as he smiled, "I can only hope you feel as happy as I do when I'm with you".

"Darling, with you, I'm always over the moon", he giggled, kissing your lips softly as he stumbled you two into the sofa, roaming hands and tongues battling eachother as a night of love and passion unfolded.

[genericpuff]

Not related to lore Olympus but this discussion seems a bit uhh strange. Some of the comments are calling Mattie bites a right woman hater. If you don't believe me,check this out.

https://www.reddit.com/r/webtoons/s/4zaDi6fWos

god okay I feel like I'm opening Pandora's Box with this shit but I have lots to say about it so... yeah fuck it, let's do this, I'm brave-

So I can absolutely agree with OP's sentiment that BlackLightJack's content has become uh... more aggressive and mean-spirited , and don't get me wrong, that was always sort of his vibe, but now it feels like he's straight up just weaponizing his fanbase and like... y'all know how curt I get about LO here, I can be a real asshole about it, even I think what BLJ is doing feels really shitty, immature, and frankly just uninformed? Because most of his videos are just him pout-screaming profanities into the microphone, like I know this is gonna sound nitpicky and petty but I can literally hear it in his voice that he's enunciating his words the same way an 8 year old would so that spit would land on the person they're yelling at ("STOOOOOOOOO-PPP-UHHHHH") and lately his content just feels like what it used to feel like being in CoD lobbies back in the day. Him having the name 'webtoon killer' just gives me such a sour taste in my mouth. Like... this feels like some kind of Batman villain in the making LMAO

But maybe no one wants to hear that opinion from someone like me who's literally called themselves the "far superior off brand" as a gag LMAO and that's fine honestly if you think I'm full of shit, this is also just my opinion!

But like... and I know I'm being an asshole going 'b-but-!' but... BLJ is also building an entire ass monetized platform off his vibe and using that platform to specifically go after Canvas series and creators. And let me tell you, while many would argue "well it's just the webtoons that are grossly negligent / breaking Webtoons' ToS / etc.", his fanbase is also constantly just sending him new comics to read and trash on and I feel like it's only a matter of time before he goes after a completely innocent creator whose only crime was being not great at webcomics which... shouldn't be viewed as a default crime punishable by pitchforks. That sorta already happened with the Fulcagay situation, I don't know Fulcagay and he almost definitely wouldn't know me, but he's a fellow Canvas creator who I've run into and shared a space with, and BLJ's original comments about him just felt incredibly off-base and volatile without giving even a shred of benefit of the doubt. I get the sense BLJ doesn't know about Hanlon's razor ("Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity") because EVERY video he does about every comic and creator he's addressing assumes maliciousness always.

This is the same shit we got with Youtube creators like Leafy who became infamous for just taking the piss out of everyone until they took it too far. Like, take it from me, it can be VERY easy to get so entrenched in being an asshole and taking the piss out of everything that completely innocent people get hit with splash damage, and if you're not willing to take responsibility for that, then you're gonna look like a bigger dick than the people you were aiming for. This pee analogy working for y'all? 😆

As for what Matty Bites has to do with that, I don't really get it? Like maybe I'm just misinformed here, maybe I haven't watched enough of her stuff, but she's never given me anywhere near the amount of red flags I get off listening to even one episode of BLJ. Matty feels like someone who actually reads and analyzes and researches the stuff she's criticizing in a way that's relatively harmless with her own flair sprinkled in (and her humor is hilarious btw, her opening skits are great LOL); BLJ meanwhile feels like he's constantly one opinion away from starting a #victimofcancelculture campaign because he's just trying to be as edgy and angry as possible LMAO (and ironically they're both often criticizing the same thing, but it goes to show how delivery makes a hell of a difference when it comes to dishing out criticism)

All that said, if there is something with Matty Bites that I'm missing here, I'm fully open to being informed because I haven't watched many of her videos and there could just as well be something that I've missed. But I don't think she's anywhere near as hostile as BLJ tends to be, I don't think Matty Bites' comedic video editing and sassy commentary has ever resulted in creators actually being attacked and bullied like BLJ's have.

Overall I think anyone who builds a platform or audience off criticizing content (and this includes me!) needs to practice responsibility and accountability in what they put out and what they choose to focus on and criticize. It can be really easy to accidentally use "criticism" as a get-out-of-jail-free card to just be a bully. It can be really easy to wind up leaving your criticism so unrefined and surface level without any deeper reflection that you never actually open your mind to anything and you just end up echoing out hate speech without even intending to. And it can be really, really easy to ruin your own palate from willingly consuming nothing but shit all day.

Just to quote some very famous words from a fictional character that absolutely apply here:

[scoops-stevie-archive]

ik i said 'modern take' in the wip post but that's not what ended up happening, so have a very vague timeline. this was written mostly around midnight and it's unbeta'd so there's bound to be mistakes and incoherence.

Eddie Munson is no stranger to people knocking on his door at all hours, for all sorts of things. During the day it's neighbors needing Wayne's help with a busted pipe under the sink, or a ride into town, or a pack of Camels and a six pack traded for gas money. He and Wayne don't ask for anything in return on these occasions; the trailer park is a community on the outskirts of Hawkins' elite and they take care of their own here, no payment or judgment.

But during the night, when Wayne's long gone and already at work, people come knocking looking for a quick fix with shaky hands and nervous glances over their shoulders. Eddie’ll run them through his (Rick’s) prices, give them a little discount if needed and cover the lost earnings out of his own pocket. He keeps a pocket knife on him in close reach when they’re real shifty and skittish – knock on wood, but he hasn’t had a deal go bad yet.

That changes when Chrissy Cunningham dies in his living room and throws him into the deep end of the Upside Down. No knife can protect him from the monsters he thought only existed in his campaigns. The town turns against him (not like they were on his side in the first place) and brands him a murderer, sends a manhunt after him. When it’s all said and done, hardly anybody wants to buy from him and he loses half his income. He spends most of his free time nowadays cleaning spray paint off the side of the trailer.

All this to say, need for a helping hand and a good high weren’t the only things people came to the Munson’s for.

There’s always been whispers of Satan worshiping, all because he plays D&D and listens to metal music and preaches about the evils of a capitalistic society.

Only a few knew of how close those rumors were to the truth, just a bit skewed to the left.

Eddie Munson is the seventh son of a seventh son. A healing man, as his mamaw would say. He’s never laid eyes on his daddy so that makes him able to do things no other member of his family can.

Now he and Wayne never openly advertised it when they moved to Hawkins when Eddie was eleven. They knew these people weren’t as open-minded as the folks back home were, with their holier than thou attitudes towards the more "primitive" practices of the mountain regions.

Wayne wasn’t normally one to speak ill about people but when he told Eddie, with a not unkind voice, “These are the type of people that get huffy when they think y’ain’t usin’ the book the way the good Lord intended.” Eddie remembers nodding along in the truck’s passenger seat, even though he didn’t really have a firm grasp on what his role in this was just yet. Wayne continued, “but one day these folks are gonna need someone and their medicine won’t be able to help ‘em.”

Eddie understands now. It’s been ten years and he’s seen all kinds of people for just about everything under the sun, from the common cold to warts to colic. He isn’t a man of faith by any means; doesn’t really believe in God in the way most Christians do – he just knows that the religion goes hand in hand with the mountain magic he was taught and it feels like he’s breaking an unspoken rule when he tries to leave it out.

It’s been ten years since people started seeking him out, mostly under the cover of night where prying eyes can’t see, but business has been kind of slow because of the whole murder allegation fiasco, even though his name was cleared and the blame was shifted to a copycat killer.

So he isn’t expecting someone to be pounding on his front door at two in the morning.

The explicative he has on the tip of his tongue dies when he opens the door to a woman carrying a toddler bundled in blankets.

“Please,” the woman says. “She’s sick and I heard you could help.”

Eddie looks at them and weighs his options. He could turn them away and the kid potentially gets worse with whatever she has and the guilt would eat away at him. Or he could be a decent fucking person and help. He opens the door further and ushers them inside.

The kid is awake, he notes, turning on the overhead light in the kitchen. She just looks like shit. Probably feels like it, too. The corners and edges of her mouth are tinged red, a dead giveaway for thrush.

“How’d you hear of me?” He takes the kid from her mother and tilts her head back toward the light. “Can you open your mouth for me, kid?” She does and the back of her throat looks like she went to town on a whole tub of cottage cheese. He winces in sympathy and hands her back to her mother.

“When I went to the pharmacy to pick up Katy’s medicine, I couldn’t afford it out of pocket. So I started asking around and a woman told me of a boy that cured her own son a couple years ago.”

There’s been so many people, Eddie has no clue who she’s talking about.

The woman tells him her name, Michelle, and he motions for her to lay Katy on the couch. He’s getting a rag from the bathroom when his bedroom door opens.

“Wa’s goin’ on, Eds?” Steve asks, still half asleep and rubbing his eyes. “Why’re all the lights on?”

If it were another time, Eddie would coo and pull him close, tuck his face into his shoulder and rock him back and forth until he was asleep on his feet. Instead, he tries to guide him back into the bedroom with a gentle hand on his hip.

“Nothin’, baby,” he says quietly. “Go back to bed, I’ll be there as soon as I’m finished, alright?”

Steve looks like he’s about to agree until a nasty sounding cough from the living room has him perking up.

“Is there someone else here?” he frowns, eyes darting from the end of the hall back to Eddie. He pushes past him before Eddie can even get a word out. Eddie sighs and follows him, detouring into the kitchen to run the rag under cold water and grab a bowl.

“Steve, this is Michelle and Katy,” he introduces as he carefully moves Katy’s head onto a pillow. “Katy’s sick and her mom brought her to me.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “You? What can you do?”

Michelle looks alarmed at this but Eddie is quick to reassure her, “You have no reason to worry. Steve here’s just never seen me in action before. Has Katy eaten anything at all?”

Warily, Michelle shakes her head. “Just liquids. She hasn’t been able to swallow anything.”

Eddie nods but gives a warm smile to Katy and feels her forehead for a fever. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” She nods, looking absolutely miserable. “Don’t worry, kid, by tomorrow you’re gonna be feeling right as rain.”

Addressing her mother, “I’m gonna do some things that might look a little weird to you, but I promise I know what I’m doing. You were told to come to me for good reason.”

He starts wiping Katy down with the wet rag and mutters the Lord’s prayer under his breath, does this three times until the rag is warm, and then wrings the water out into the bowl. Next, he holds Katy’s mouth open and blows air into it. Steve and Michelle give him odd looks but he ignores them in favor of getting a lid for the bowl and throwing the rag into the ice box. He and Steve walk her out and Eddie hands her the bowl after Katy is in the car.

“Keep this under her bed and make sure she stays there until the fever breaks. As for the thrush, it should be cleared up by morning.”

Michelle’s brow furrows. “How? You didn’t do anything, how can she be cured?”

“I’m confident enough in my abilities to know she’ll be alright.”

Michelle leaves with a healthy dose of skepticism, as Eddie thinks all people should, but he knows that not all people believe he’s the real thing until they witness it for themselves.

“Care to tell me what that was all about?” Steve asks after they’re back inside the trailer, door locked and lights off as they crawl into bed. Eddie just yawns and does what he wanted to do earlier: pulls him close and tucks Steve’s head under his chin and runs his fingers up and down his back.

“It’s a long ass story that can wait until the sun is up and I’ve had at least three cups of coffee and seven hours of sleep. This shit is exhausting.”

it is said that the seventh son has healing powers that can cure thrush, talk the fire out of a burn, and stop bleeding. for thrush, he blows into the patient's mouth (in some instances, they'll spit into the mouths, as it's believed their saliva holds the healing properties.to cure fever, you gotta stave it out. don't eat anything once the fever comes on. wipe yourself down with an ice cold wash rag and recite the lord's prayer three times. when the rag is warm, wring the water out into a bowl and put the rag in the freezer. keep the water under the bed or couch and lay on it until the fever breaks.

[admirableadmiranda]

Sometimes it feels like the main message that a lot of people miss in MDZS in their leaps to justify one character’s hatred for another or attempting to remove them from the world because they will never be at peace until that person is completely eradicated, is that it poses a question of “how much blood does it take to satisfy the anger? How much death is necessary to live? How much pain that you want to inflict is truly equal to what you have suffered? Where is the line between justice, vengeance and murder?”

MDZS does not have our modern sensibilities and laws for such a thing, and it’s on purpose. It’s set in a time where there is no emperor or god onscreen to merit out justice or retribution, it’s all in the hands of the mortals. They get to decide how much is enough.

And the thing that so many people miss is that for almost every character (and I will include Wei Wuxian in this with a caveat) go too far at some point. Sure, the desire to kill your brother’s killer is understandable. But what about the people who you harm in that path? Nie Huaisang does end up taking down Jin Guangyao, but the cost is that Qin Su also dies, destroyed even before her death by the reality of what the men around her will stoop to do out of pride and anger, what they will use her for in the process.

Why do I stand so firmly against the people who say that Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng had their reasons, that they were right to go as far as they did? Because the text itself does take the time to show us what is reasonable in that world and what is greedy, wrathful, unjustified.

Jiang Cheng has every right to hate the men who invaded his home and killed his family. In the natures of their society it is not wrong for him to step him and take revenge against them. The supervisory camps in Yunmeng were built on the blood of his people. I have no qualm with him removing them from his land, even though it ends in their deaths.

But that does not mean that his righteous war should extend to all who bear the Wen name and that is where the gap comes in. Wen Chao had him tortured and his golden core crushed. By the rules of that world as extolled by Xiao Xingchen when talking to Xue Yang, it is reasonable to take back what was done to him in blood there.

But Wen Ning is not Wen Chao. Wen Ning risked his life, his sister’s life and ultimately ended up contributing to Wen Ruohan’s campaign toppling and ending in dust because when he was offered the choice to either stick by his family or stick by his morals, he chose the former. The Wen’s attack on Lotus Pier was wrong. The lives they took were unjustified. Their actions were deplorable.

By standing up and protecting Jiang Cheng in the way he does, smuggling him back out of Lotus Pier and hiding him away from the Wen who would kill him, he is declaring that his own family is in the wrong, and instead makes a sacrifice that could have had him and his sister killed should Wen Ruohan ever find out about it.

Jiang Cheng knows this. This is where the right of hatred falls flat. This is where his righteous anger becomes a hunger for blood that will never be satiated.

Now I’m not saying that Jiang Cheng should hug and kiss Wen Ning for everything. There are limits to what humans can endure, even ones as good as Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji. But he refuses to ever acknowledge what he knows. He refuses to ever act in kind. He owes a debt and he knows it. And he instead not only refuses to pay it by not necessarily taking them into his lands, but even acknowledging that they did anything. He buries them with their family and his words. He lets his hatred overwhelm all else.

He was not powerless at the end of the war. Far from it, in fact! He had a sect that was still rebuilding its forces, but it had been three years since the start of the war so it can’t be tiny anymore, and he had Wei Wuxian with the Yin Hufu. The only two necromancers in the world, who are powerful enough to hold whole barriers on their own. This is the whole point of the display at Phoenix Mountain. Wei Wuxian is showing the other three great clans and all the smaller clans that it does not matter how many of them they have, Yunmeng Jiang has him and while they have him, they are untouchable. This is a known fact.

Jiang Cheng would have faced no long term retribution from doing anything. He could have simply let Wei Wuxian pull them out of the Jin indoctrination camp and take them through Yunmeng to somewhere else and after some grumbling and some pleading on Jin Guangshan’s part, nothing would have happened. Wei Wuxian is too strong and the other clans are too aware of that. No one was safer than Yunmeng Jiang at the end of the war.

That is why the Jin play off of his jealousy and anger and get him to throw aside Wei Wuxian. It is literally their only option.

This brings me to the other half of my discussion, which is where does the bloodshed end? What is enough spilled blood?

If Jiang Cheng hates Wei Wuxian enough to try to kill him, then this should be a vengeance that ends with Wei Wuxian’s death. Death ends all obligations. We owe no more money, we settle no more debts, we leave the shackles of the living in life and the dead move on as do the living.

So why then is it acceptable that Jiang Cheng spends the next thirteen years killing people that remind him of Wei Wuxian? That the moment that Wei Wuxian does return, his first action is to try and kill him again? That he tortures him multiple times and it is only Lan Wangji’s presence and Jin Ling’s quick thinking that save him on those occasions? By all rights including our modern ones, Wei Wuxian should be free and Jiang Cheng should have moved on in thirteen years. Thirteen years is long enough to raise a child almost to adulthood, but Jiang Cheng clings to a hatred that has had no outlet for that long and continues to try and demand Justice that he has already received.

Where is the line? When is enough? Why does the blood of innocents have to be paid too for the hunger of the mighty? Wen Ruohan subtly assassinated Nie Mingjue’s father, but Nie Mingjue decided that there was only to be death for anyone related to the Wen. They didn’t have to do anything, even if they tried to stop him it wouldn’t be enough. Only the death of every Wen would slake that hunger, and then in death when he is driven only by that hunger, only the death of every Jin. Including the ones who weren’t even old enough to hold a sword at the time he died. Jin Ling is as good as Jin Guangyao for Nie Mingjue to kill. All that matters is that he’s connected. All that matters is that there is another body to feed the never ending hate that fills him.

Xiao Xingchen says that for Xue Yang to take a finger or an arm from the man who harmed him as a child is reasonable. Even to kill him if that is truly the only way to end his hatred. But what is a finger to an entire family? “Because it is mine!” Declares Xue Yang and this is where the crux of it lies. “It is my hatred, it is my anger. It is my right to kill anyone because I am angry and I refuse to let it go.” This is the trait that Jiang Cheng, Jin Guangyao and Xue Yang all share. “I am angry and I am hurt so it is my right to do as I will and no one should take that away from me or I will hurt them too.”

This is why they are antagonists. This is why two of the three of them end up dead. This is why Jiang Cheng staying his hand in the temple and Wei Wuxian’s mercy towards him is the only reason that he survives the end. You can’t ask the world to feed your endless hatred. Eventually you will hurt the wrong person and by the very laws that you and the world have set, will come for you. There is no such thing as bloodshed without pain. There are people who will miss those who are gone. And not all of them will be as good as Lan Wangji. Not all of them will move forward in their lives and ignore you. Sometimes the oriole will stalk you in the shadows, waiting for the moment the praying mantis slips up. The wheel ever turns and those on the bottom eventually rise up.

Now as for Wei Wuxian, we see a different answer on him from the others and this is where his morals really come into play. Cause at first he does exact justice for those lost at Lotus Pier. Steps in which the narrative does not fully condemn him, but suggests lightly that it is the sort of thing that he does not linger in, as well as he himself looks back and decides that maybe he did go too far then. Maybe he did do too much in the name of anger and justice. Three months after the event he is willing to kill and torture Wen Zhuliu and Wen Chao. But three years later he looks at the members of the family that killed his and goes “I do not love you. But this is not right. You do not deserve this. I will not let you suffer this any longer even though your name is Wen.”

For Wei Wuxian, the line ends at the end of war, at the deaths of those who directly caused him the most pain. He does not necessarily forgive or absolve. But he does recognize that there is no sense in continuing the bloodshed or allowing others to continue it out of some misplaced sense of vengeance. He is offered a chance to stop the wheel and he tries. He tries so goddamn hard. He tries until it kills him and everyone else he protects because the anger of the rest is too wrapped up in their self righteousness to examine what is reasonable and what is the cost for what they do.

I do not exonerate the Lan here, but I do point out that they at least actually make an attempt to change things afterwards. We see it in the way that Lan Wangji continues to act in the world. We see it in the way that Lan Xichen stops and reconsiders what he knows of Wei Wuxian, and helps him when the wheel attempts to spin back to where it was before. Where the juniors go out hunting on their own to help people of all kinds. They find weird mysteries and they follow them, they are kind to all. It does not absolve what they have done in the past, it does not make them blameless.

But it is a start. And one that Jiang Cheng has not taken. If he had, we wouldn’t be having these debates and arguments about what is a reasonable enough amount of death and destruction that he can cause on account of his past.

This is where the line is.

Modaozushi asks the question of how much death is enough and concludes at the line “when you continue to court death to satisfy your anger, you will eventually find death standing at your door too.” It happens to Xue Yang, who after killing Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen and A-Qing and everyone in Yi City, finds A-Qing’s ghost leading those who can end his hurting of others for good. It happens to Jin Guangyao who assassinates and hurts so many people that Nie Huaisang finds allies in Mo Xuanyu, Sisi and Bicao, all of whom are willing to help him drag Jin Guangyao to the depths by the chains of his reputation.

Jiang Cheng is offered another chance. Leave Wei Wuxian alone and move forwards with his life. At the end of the book he accepts that chance. It is probably the last one he will get, but he accepts it. This is why he finishes out the book alive no matter how much blood he has on his hands. You can always change your actions until you are dead.

This is the question that Modaozushi posits and answers to all of us and to which I now offer to you when you consider the actions in story. What is enough? How much blood must be spilled before you are happy?

Why does it matter to you that those who are hurt are allowed to hurt without consequence? Where do you draw the line when all of those who caused you pain in the past are buried?

What is the price that you demand for your happiness? When is there enough blood on your hands to be happy?

When do you say “there has been enough death. I will stop this here and now because it is enough.”

Will you be the hero or the antagonist in someone else’s story?

[justburningdaylight]

The Art and the Aesthete

Eddie Munson x Fem Henderson!Reader, Best Friend Steve x Fem Henderson!Reader

Summary: The first time reader meets Eddie is also the first time she truly appreciates art.

Warnings: fluff, slight paul mccartney idolization, a LOT of art comparisons, ted bundy reference, no real ending at all (sorry guys), like one f-bomb i think, no spoilers!

Word count: 1.4k

a/n: i finished stranger things and naturally i wanted to write a lil something for eddie so here we are. p.s. requests are open come talk to me! 

You were sitting on the floor of your bedroom with your back pressed contently against your bed, silently willing your best friend to stop talking. Steve had come over to complain after what you could only hyperbolically guess was his hundredth date this month.

“And it’s like okay, it’s cool if we have similar opinions! But there’s no way you actually agree with every single thing I say! I mean seriously (y/n), I said the Beatles were better than the Rolling Stones just to see what she’d say and she agreed!”

“That’s because the Beatles are better, inordinately better actually-”

“Woah, hey, I just wanted to make sure you were listening! Please don’t give me the Paul McCartney is a god speech again.”

“I was listening, I just wasn’t sure how to reply. You don’t want to go out with her again because she agreed with you? You really dodged a bullet Harrington. I mean imagine if you had gotten serious with this girl? ‘Hey honey do you want to go out to dinner tonight?’ ‘Yes Steve, that sounds nice.’ I mean seriously? What a psycho!” You quip, making sure to use a vocal impression of him that you know Steve hates.

“You’re not funny, Henderson, anybody ever tell you that?” He exclaims, flopping backwards onto the plush fabric of your duvet.

“I do! Tell her all the time actually.” Dustin suddenly appears in your room without knocking you can’t help but notice.

Steve lets out a diminutive chuckle, unsubtly attempting to cover it with a cough.

“You know what I tell you all the time? To knock, like on my door, before you just walk in. Does that sound familiar?”

“Hmmm. No, no not really.”

“Oh? Do you want me to tell you again in a way that you won’t forget?” You threaten, trying less than gracefully to pull yourself off the floor while conjuring up the most menacing look you can and aiming it toward your little brother.

“Ooh I’m real scared. I shouldn’t have to knock anyway cause you were supposed to drop me and Mike off at Hellfire Club like five minutes ago.”

“So because I forgot, the basic concept of privacy is thrown out the window?”

“Yep! Let’s go, chop-chop! I’ve got a campaign to win.” Dustin throws haphazardly over his shoulder as he walks out of your room, knowing you already agreed to drive him and wouldn’t want to chance getting another lecture from your mother about the importance of being there for each other.

“Hey how much do you know about this Eddie guy? Dustin hasn’t shut up about him for weeks,” Steve says as you start your walk to the driveway.

“Well I’ve never actually met him, I just drop the boys off for their club sometimes.”

“You’ve never met him? And you just leave them there? That sounds right to you? What if he’s some Ted Bundy type?”

The look you give him is the middle ground between amusement and confusion. Though you’re sure a small part of him could be worried for your brother’s safety, it seems far more likely that he’s jealous Dustin has another older friend to hang out with.

“Please! If you were a killer, would you let Dustin live this long?” You’re joking, but you’re completely convinced that your little brother is far too annoying for someone with murderous tendencies to keep around long-term.

“Ha! And I said you weren’t funny,” Dustin’s voice sounds again, dripping with sarcasm, “Seriously (y/n)! If I’m late to this thing you’re gonna have to explain it to Eddie.” He’s bordering on whining now and you resist the urge to roll your eyes and take twice as long just to spite him.

“Alright!” You shout and turn back to Steve “See you later. Oh hey! Watch out for agreeable girls on your way home! You can never be too careful.”

“Alright, okay, point taken. Maybe I’m being a little too picky.”

“I’m glad you picked up on that.” You say getting into your car.

“See you later Hendersons!” 

“Bye Steve!” Dustin’s impatient form calls out waving goodbye from the passenger seat.

“Finally!” Mike and Dustin chorus in unison as your car pulls into the parking lot. You silently praise yourself for mustering up the strength not to fling an insult or two at the boys after what was one of the more infuriating car rides in your recent memory.

“Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up! Glad you boys found the time to fit me into your busy schedule.” An unfamiliar voice weaves its way through the crisp evening air.

“We’re sorry!” “So sorry! My sister doesn’t seem to know the meaning of the words I don’t want to be late so y’know here we are, late.” Mike and Dustin sound as they promptly scramble to get unbuckled and out of the car.

“What was that Dusty?” You question sarcastically, “Thank you for driving me even though I’ve been a proverbial thorn in your side for the entire night? Oh you are just so welcome!”

Unappreciative little-

Your internal strife is short-lived as you hear a chuckle sounding from the unfamiliar boy, who you’re now certain must be Eddie. You finally look over at him and your eyes widen emphatically at the sight you behold.

You’d heard tales of Eddie Munson. Word of mouth told you that he’s a Hawkins aberration, an unwelcome presence in a town with an already less than stellar reputation. Hearing what you have, you weren’t entirely sure what to expect. What you hadn’t expected, however, was for him to look so entirely beautiful.

His face was comparable to a work of art, an ancient roman statue permitted to be standing in a museum somewhere, as though his cheekbones could have been carved out by Michelangelo himself, dimples and all. His eyes were the purest shade of brown, tantamount to a jar of honey, warm and saccharine. Sinuous dark brown hair lay lustrously on his head, winding its way toward his broad shoulders. Perhaps he was a recently stolen work from a modern museum.

You were staring, taking in his statuesque form nearly unabashedly until you realized how impolitely it could be perceived.

You found yourself lifting your gaze back to his eyes, only to find them already looking into your own. 

“Forget about it.” He’s talking to the boys but his caramel eyes haven’t moved from yours.

Dustin furrowed his eyebrows at the interaction but muttered a quick ‘bye’ to you as he and Mike hastily dashed inside.

“So. You’re the sister huh? (y/n) right?” He asks, the beginnings of a smile leisurely forming on his delicate lips; a true masterpiece in the making. 

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes and, though you can’t discern what it is precisely, you don’t mind it for a second. Surely there was an art gallery somewhere itching to put him on display. 

“Yeah, mmhmm, yep, that’s me.” Okay. That’s definitely something you just said. Cool. “You must be Eddie.” He nods, that same ghost of a smile still perfectly haunting his graceful lips. You’re pulling it together, a coherent sentence and everything! “I feel like I should thank you or something,” He furrows his eyebrows together in a winsome display of confusion, and you hurry to continue before you make yourself appear nervous again.

“Y’know for looking out for Dustin. All of the boys, really. They’re good kids but high school can be hell and they’re insistent that it would be if it weren’t for you. So thank you, really.” You smile widely, visibly pleased that you haven’t made a complete fool of yourself in front of the perfectly composed work of art before you.

He’s smiling now. An expertly crafted smile. A smile that makes it feel as though the sun itself is rising higher into the sky. How does he do that?

“They’re good kids you know? And high school is a fuckin’ nightmare, I would have wanted somebody to do the same for me.” He’s downplaying his kindness, but you can see straight through the display.

The two of you stay like that for a while, gentle small talk flowing between you like a river through a secluded valley. His caramel eyes locked on yours and both of your faces adorned by unwavering smiles.

Reluctantly he releases a soft sigh and straightens his form out “I should probably get in there, give ‘em a little hell.”

“Yeah, go on. Have fun! Preferably kick Dustin’s ass.” 

“Always do.” He smirks at you, bowing his head in a near imperceptible nod before turning his back and walking off.

And without a moments notice, you were an aesthete.

[theantonian]

The Antonian Reading List

Mark Antony: A Life by Patricia Southern (Highly recommended!)

Mark Antony: A Biography by Eleanor Goltz Huzar (Highly recommended!)

The Life and Times of Marc Antony by Arthur Weigall (Recommended)

Marc Antony: His Life and Times by Allan Roberts (Recommended)

Marc Antony by Mary Kittredge

Antony & Cleopatra by Patricia Southern

Antony & Cleopatra by Adrian Goldsworthy (By far the most negative book on Antony by a modern historian, the Cleopatra portion is better)

Mark Antony: A Plain Blunt Man by Paolo de Ruggiero (Recommended)

Mark Antony and Popular Culture: Masculinity and the Construction of an Icon by Rachael Kelly

Mark Antony's Heroes: How the Third Gallica Legion Saved an Apostle and Created an Emperor by Stephen Dando-Collins

A Noble Ruin: Mark Antony, Civil War and the Collapse of the Roman Republic by W. Jeffrey Tatum (Highly recommend!)

Mark Antony & Cleopatra: Cleopatra's Proxy War to Conquer Rome & Restore the Empire of the Greeks by Martin Armstrong

Actium and Augustus: The Politics and Emotions of Civil War by Robert Alan Gurval

The Roman Revolution by Ronald Syme (Recommended)

Octavian, Antony and Cleopatra by W. W. Tarn

Fulvia: Playing for Power at the End of the Roman Republic by Celia E. Schultz

Cleopatra: Last Queen of Egypt by Joyce Tyldesley (Highly Recommended!)

Cleopatra by Michael Grant (Highly Recommanded!)

Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff (Highly Recommended!)

Cleopatra - A Biography by D. Roller

Cleopatra and Antony by Diana Preston

Cleopatra by Alberto Angela (Recommended)

Cleopatra by Jacob Abbott

Cleopatra the Great by Joann Fletcher

Cleopatra and Egypt by Sally-Ann Ashton

Cleopatra and Rome by Diana E. E. Kleiner

Cleopatra Her History Her Myth by Francine Prose

Cleopatra Histories, Dreams, and Distortions by Lucy Hughes Hallett (Recommended)

Cleopatra’s Daughter Egyptian Princess by Jane Draycott

The Storm Before the Storm by Mike Duncan

SPQR: A History of Ancient Rome by Mary Beard (Good for beginners)

The Last Assassin: The Hunt for the Killers of Julius Caesar by Peter Stothard

Robicon by Tom Holland

Alesia 52 BC: The final struggle for Gaul (Campaign) by Nic Fields

Actium 31 BC: Downfall of Antony and Cleopatra (Campaign) by Si Sheppard

Pharsalus 48 BC: Caesar and Pompey – Clash of the Titans (Campaign) by Si Sheppard

Philippi 42 BC: The death of the Roman Republic (Campaign) by Si Sheppard

Mutina 43 BC: Mark Antony's struggle for survival (Campaign) by Nic Fields

The War That Made the Roman Empire: Antony, Cleopatra, and Octavian at Actium by Barry Strauss

The Battle of Actium 31 BC: War for the World by Lee Fratantuono

Rome and Parthia: Empires at War: Ventidius, Antony and the Second Romano-Parthian War, 40–20 BC by Gareth C Sampson

Rivalling Rome: Parthian Coins and Culture by Vesta Curtis

Classical sources:

Plutarch’s Lives

Cicero: Philippics, Ad Brutum, Ad Familiares

Appian, The Civil Wars

Dio Cassius, The Roman History

Suetonius, The Twelve Caesars

Flavius Josephus, The Jewish War

Livy, The Early History of Rome

Tacitus, Annals and Histories

Friction:

The Tragedy of Julius Caesar by William Shakespeare

The Tragedy of Antony and Cleopatra by Willian Shakespeare

All For Love or The World Well Lost by John Dryden

The Siren and the Roman – A Tragedy by Lucyl

Caesar and Cleopatra by George Berbard Shaw

Cleopatra (play) by Sardou

Antony by Allan Massie

I, Claudius by Robert Graves

I, Cleopatra by William Bostock

Cleopatra by H. Rider Haggard

Cleopatra by Georg Ebers

Kleopatra (Vol I & II) by Karen Essex

Last Days with Cleopatra by Jack Lindsay

The Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George

When We Were Gods by Colin Falconer

The Masters of Rome series by Colleen McCullough

Caesar's Soldier: Mark Antony Book I by Alex Gough (Ongoing series)

The Antonius Trilogy by Brook Allen

The Last Pharaoh series by Jay Penner

Throne of Isis by Juith Tarr

Hand of Isis by Jo Graham

Woman of Egypt by Kevin Methews

The Ides of Blood 01-06 (Comics)

Terror - Antonius En Cleopatra (Erotic yet pure love, Dutch comics)

Cleopatra - Geschiedenisstrip (Dutch comics)

Les Grands Personnages de l Histoire en Bandes Dessinees – Marc Antonie (French comics)

Les Grands Personnages de l Histoire en Bandes Dessinees – Cleopatre (French comics)

Les Grands Personnages de l Histoire en Bandes Dessinees – Julius Caesar (French comics)

Cléopâtre (French Manga)

 Ils Ont Fait L'histoire - Cléopâtre (French Graphic Novel)

[neoncat666]

The Suckening ep 6 spoilers

so about that episode

first of all Emizel going back to the unseen one and asking why he was abandoned beat me with a rock. same with Shilo explaining why he was going to follow Arthur even if it was unsafe because Arthur never left them before.

anyways I write this as I listen to the Vanya encounter and I won't lie a lot of what I thought Arthur's backstory and, well, curse has been flipped over for me. We knew his family had died and possibly due to fire and vampires but idk why I never thought it was him that killed his family. The biggest reveal was the fact that he can't burn from the sun. It completely recontexualizes his "any progress on my relationship with the sun" comment and project with Magnus cause holy shit he wants to fucking die?? there's so many questions still and I fear that this campaign isn't going to end with all three vamps alive.

god this wasn't even a stranger either fucked. Arthur's entire deal is just tragic to the bone. Anyways I love Magnus so much.

Arthur never wanted to kill people and we knew he didn't want to be a vampire but god I never expected him to had been a serial killer. The fact he reads out the names as he drinks almost as a ritual fucks me up. Maybe I fear that Arthur is going to die by the end of this but I also feel as if he doesn't care if he does or not anyway. Its... telling that Arthur wants Magnus to kill him if it ever comes to it. He's probably one of my fav npcs and his relationship with Arthur is so facinating cause as much as the boys may like or vaguely trust Arthur, Magnus seems too trust him almost completely and cares for him deeply and Arthur does to him too. Charlie and Grizzly play their friendship extremely tragic and real and it kinda fucks me up tbh. Anyways I have an hour left and we're back with the boys but I need a break to calm down lmao

[meilia-stims]

Thagorought (God Killer Campaign) stimboard

🏳️‍🌈 🍃 🏳️‍🌈

🍃 🏳️‍🌈 🍃

🏳️‍🌈 🍃 🏳️‍🌈

@tumblingclockwork ‘s npc

[mockingmolly]

I still can’t get over how completely vulnerable laudna was at the end of the episode. In her relationship with Imogen, she’s often seeking the role of comforter, which she does very well. She’s beyond attentive to imogen, seeking to provide her comfort even before she’s had a chance to ask, yet any conversation over her own history is waved away, downplayed, or even delighted in. Given her devotion to imogen, it makes sense that the first time we do see her in need of comfort and advice from others, it’s over something symbolic of her broken relationship with imogen. And while it’s definitely a serious character moment for her, developmentally, it was still played up for comedy much of the time by Marisha. But now? God, I don’t think we’ve ever seen her feel so small. She’s spent an entire campaign dancing around the topic of her death with indifference at best, and delight at worst. She waves off the fact that her killer lives in her head, shrugs like it’s nothing more than an annoying roommate. And obviously, the situation with the shattered rock changed a lot! But after the bubbly, delightedly blasé-about-death laudna that we’ve grown to know, it’s almost surreal to finally see her let it sink in. Delilah’s words aren’t just words anymore. Her death isn’t just a story to tell. It matters that she was alive, once, and she cares enough to fear it didn’t

[blindmagdalena]

A Transactional Relationship ( Homelander x Victoria Neuman )

18+ 2.7k mild coercion, transactional sex, blood/period, cunnilingus.

In exchange for aiding her in her political campaign, Homelander makes an outlandish request of Victoria. She attempts to dissuade him, but what's a little blood between two serial killers?

people have been asking me for a fic where Homie earns his red wings since i started writing him. i've done it. written for this prompt by @deliciouskeys! 🖤

Throughout Victoria’s life, she’s come to terms with a great number of what she would consider to be necessary evils, and there is no better example of this than being forced into doing business with Homelander.

Admittedly though, there is some satisfaction to be found in dropping in on him unannounced. It’s late enough in the evening that she doesn’t risk drawing undue attention to herself, and perhaps enough that she’ll catch Homelander entirely unawares. 

As she waits at his door, part of her wonders if he’ll answer it in cute little American flag pajamas.

She could use a good laugh.

Victoria straightens up slightly when the door swings open. To her delight, Homelander does look properly caught off guard. 

No pajamas, though. Too bad.

His brows are reaching for his hairline, his lips parted in bewilderment, though the curve of them melts slowly into an incredulous smile as he looks around her, confirming that she is, in fact, alone.

“If it isn’t my good friend Vicky Neuman,” he says, forearm braced in the doorway. “Don’t tell me Singer’s got you campaigning door to door for him.”

“Singer doesn’t know about this,” she says brusquely. They both know that. He just takes pleasure in making her out to be a lackey. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

His expression falters at that, gaze dipping to give her a once over. She’s not dressed any differently than usual, but he’s looking at her like she just broke out into a completely different language. After a beat, he turns sideways and extends his arm, gesturing her inside.

The door closes behind her with all the weight of an iron gate, and what greets her on the other side of it renders her momentarily speechless. The rich, dark walls of Homelander’s penthouse are decorated nearly floor to ceiling with replica paintings of various historical Americana. Historical figures–primarily presidents–spy her every step into the house while gaudy statues adorn every corner she rounds, all of them leering at her with hollow stone eyes. 

She knows she wears her distaste plainly because Homelander is quick to say, “I didn’t have much say in the decor.”

“I don’t believe you,” she responds simply, giving the statue of Atlas a poke. It’s solid marble. Vought clearly spared no expense in Homelander’s eerie little superhuman terrarium. It reminds her of a themed fish tank.

God knows she’d much rather be on the outside of the glass, tapping at it just to see how he squirms.

“Rude,” he snorts, though he doesn’t press the matter. Caught him.

It’s obvious even in casual conversation that Homelander isn’t accustomed to being contradicted or corrected. He watches her with an unsettling sort of bemusement, and there are times where she gets the sense he says things just to see if she’ll refute him. She makes a point to keep it up.

“Please, sit,” he says, gesturing to a stiff looking sofa that has a very large American flag mural for a background.  Of course it does.

“That’s not necessary, I’ll be quick,” she says, reaching into her bag.

“Ah, ah, ah. I insist. Sit. I won’t listen to a word you say until you do,” he says, causing her to look sharply back up at him. He’s smiling cordially, arms folded behind his back. No matter how garishly they dress him or how lightly they bleach his hair, there are moments when the predator lurking beneath cannot be disguised.

Her upper lip twitches, her initial satisfaction with whatever she thought she had accomplished–inconveniencing him?–disappearing in a flash. Of all the things in this world to despise, men and their insufferable little power trips sprinkled into every interaction certainly rank the highest. With an unfriendly smile, she sits and brandishes a thin ring binder from her bag, offering it to him.

“Don’t tell me it’s another senator,” he says, taking the binder from her. He begins flipping through. Despite his insistence that she sit, he remains looming over her. She leans back against the couch, disinterested in being face to face with that ridiculous codpiece of his.

“Nothing so exciting. More of a laundry list. Simple but tedious tasks. You can handle that, I’m sure,” she says, trying to keep too much of the venom on her tongue from permeating her words. 

“I’m not your errand boy, Vicky,” he says, lacking any of her vitriol. He actually seems to be in a strangely pleasant mood. Still, she loathes how ugly he’s made her name with his snide use of that little nickname. His brows pinch as he reads. “Scholarships for Godolkin?”

“Pawns on a chess board,” she says vaguely. “Keep reading.”

He does. After a few more pages he scoffs out a half-laugh, closing the binder. “You want me to shmooze for you?” He asks, gesturing with it.

“An election is nothing but schmoozing. Your side is pro-supe, and we need that. Like I said: simple but tedious tasks. Nothing you aren’t already used to,” she says, crossing her legs.

Homelander looks down his nose at her, studying her while he absently taps the binder against his palm. “And… What do I get out of this little transaction?”

She really wishes he wouldn’t play coy. As if they haven’t established this already. “Quid pro quo,” she says, lifting her hands in an open gesture. “Tell me what it is you want. We negotiate from there.”

He gets a look to him that tells her that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. Casually, he tosses the binder onto the far end of the couch. “Alright,” he says, and to her confusion, he lowers himself into a kneel. She draws her legs more snugly to the couch, but it doesn’t stop him from putting a hand on her knee. “I want to taste you.”

His words are immediately followed by a piercing ring in her ears, like the blare of sirens. She stares numbly at him, replaying the words again and again in her mind until they begin to lose their meaning.

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, Vicky. Don’t play dumb with me. You really think I believe you came here to ask me to run errands?” As he speaks, he pries her legs out of the tight cross she’d put them in. She fights it, but you wouldn’t know it by watching them. The machine press of his strength is so overwhelming, so utterly insurmountable, she’s briefly dumbstruck by the feel of it. “You know what I think? I think you like having me in your back pocket. I think you enjoy feeling like you can control me, showing up out of the blue for your petty little favors,” he says with a truly feline look of self-satisfaction, settling on his knees between her legs. “But y’know what else I think? I think… I can do so much more.”

“I don’t want more,” she says through her teeth, jaw clenched. She grips the armrest of the couch tight enough to make the wood beneath the leather groan. “I want what I’m asking of you. Or are you incapable of following a simple agreement?”

He laughs, kneading both of her knees through her pants. “I’m abiding by the agreement. You said I could have whatever I want.”

He really just hears what he wants to hear. She narrows her eyes. “Not once did I say that.

“Don’t be pedantic. You asked what I wanted. I want this,” he says, sliding his hands up her thighs, thumbs pressing firm lines along the inside of her legs. “Just this. Just a taste. Just until you come.”

She slaps her hands down on top of his, halting his hands at her midthighs. “If I say no?”

Despite the minimal hold she has on him, his hands stay still under hers. It gets under her skin the way he looks up from her hands on his, how pleased he looks with the whole situation. She despises feeling like the mouse in this game between them.

Those gaudy eagle epaulets bounce as he shrugs. “Then there’s no deal. Your loss, honestly,” he says, evidently content to leave his hands right where they are.

“You’re disgusting,” she says, no longer withholding the acrimony from her voice. He looks unaffected by it–no, not unaffected. Amused. She gives his hands a shove and they lift away so easily she almost forgets how heavy they felt a second ago, poised in the air like a sign of surrender. She snaps her legs tightly shut. “Besides, it’s a bloody mess down there.”

“Oh, please,” Homelander scoffs, lowering his hands to either side of the couch, caging her in. “Don’t tell me that you, of all people, are squeamish about blood. You’ve already put blood on my hands, congresswoman. What’s a little on my tongue?”

“There is something profoundly wrong with you,” she says, feeling claustrophobic with the way he’s bracketing her in.

“And yet you haven’t said no,” he points out, leaning closer, pressing her knees into his sternum. She puts a hand on his shoulder to halt him and a little thrill runs up her spine when it works. She feels as though she’s holding a tiger at bay with her bare hands. His nostrils flare, taking in some scent that curves his parted lips into a faint smile. “In fact, you’re actually getting off on this.”

She briefly considers making her move. Boom. One big surge. All that hot blood rushing to his skull with such speed and force that not even that thick neanderthal skull can stay in one piece. Or maybe it would be the only thing that remains and all his blood and brain matter would just go shooting out of every orifice like a macabre sprinkler.

Victoria swallows the thought like bile, clearing her throat. If it doesn’t work, she’d be dead faster than a drop of blood left his nose.

“Fine,” she says eventually, ignoring the way it seems to fill his chest with air to hear. “In exchange for everything in that binder. Everything. No half-assing. Full measures taken.”

She can’t afford to lose. She keeps that in mind as she unbuttons her pants.

“Rest assured, Vicky. I’ve never half-assed anything in my life,” Homelander purrs, taking hold of her slacks and underwear in one go, helping to slide them down her legs. He slips her heels off with them, setting them aside.

Meanwhile, she slips out of her jacket, tossing it over the arm of the couch. It feels too strange to be so dressed only from the waist up. 

Looking back, it sincerely bewilders her to watch him take a moment to fold her slacks before he puts them down next to her neatly placed shoes.

There’s something freakishly clinical about him sometimes.

Turning, Homelander takes hold of her ankle, and slips her heel back on.

“What’re you doing?” She asks suspiciously.

He glances over at her, and for the first time, she doesn’t see arrogance or condescension in his expression. He looks a little sheepish, actually. “I like them,” he tells her simply, putting the other one back on as well. 

Deciding to let it go, Victoria leans back against the couch. Homelander eagerly nestles back between her legs, spreading them. She reaches backwards in an arch, behind her head, and grips the back of the couch, tense and thrumming with a sickly kind of anticipation that makes her gut churn. She glances down at him, and to her dismay, she finds him just staring between her thighs, gloved fingers digging into her inner thighs where he’s keeping them spread. 

“What? Do you even know what you’re–” looking for, she means to ask snidely, but the words turn into a hiss as he dips down and ruthlessly sucks her clit.

“Mmmmhm,” he hums. Even the sound of that is smug. The pull of his lips is indescribable, so relentless that it doesn’t feel human.

“Jesus Christ, Homelander,” she grits out, her other hand moving to grab a fistful of his–surprisingly soft–Barbie blond hair. “Softer. Your mouth feels like a goddamn Dyson,” says, giving his hair a harsh pull. It makes him moan. Embarrassingly, the combination of that noise and the way he instantly, obediently eases his mouth on her feels… good. Very good.

Initially, she’d resigned herself to closing her eyes and enduring him until the stimulation provided a bodily response that would satisfy him enough to stop. Instead, she watches him, taking in the sight of her hand balled up in his hair, his expression. His eyes are closed, head slightly tilted. He looks different like this, expression content. Downright blissful, even.

“Use your tongue,” she hears herself say, giving his hair another yank. Already she’s more of a participant than she told herself she would be, but if she’s going to do this, she may as well do as she pleases. He lets out a light grunt, flattening his tongue and nuzzling in against her, moving his head back and forth. It sends a spark of pleasure through her that makes her buck her hips, breaths coming in progressively more shallow huffs.

Lifting her leg, she catches her heel on his shoulder and jams it in, using it as leverage to grind up against his mouth while simultaneously pushing his head down. He’s so compliantly loose-limbed that she can almost believe she’s overpowering him. Using him. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat, holding her thighs tightly to either side of his head. 

She can tell from the way he’s rocking that he’s thrusting his hips, but there’s nothing for him to move against. He’s putting his all into laving his tongue in aggressive patterns, matching her energy as she fucks herself harder and faster on his tongue. Insufferable as he may be, he eats pussy well enough that she can feel herself climbing steadily towards the edge of climax.

All she has to do is come, and then this is over.

She gives his hair a sharp upward pull, but aside from a moan, his pace doesn’t lessen. “Stop,” she growls with another pull, and this time he lets her lift him. She doesn’t know why, but she knows she has to see him. Look him in the eye.

Their eyes meet, and the state of him makes something in her stomach lurch. He’s a fucking mess, blood smeared on his mouth and chin, tongue dragging hungrily along the seam of his lips. He looks drunk on her, eyes hazy and blown so black she can hardly see the eerily bright blue of them.

Victoria swallows, her mouth dry and her heart pounding. She holds him there, but he doesn’t speak, doesn’t protest. He just watches her, wholly pliant and awaiting her next move. He’s so utterly beneath her at this moment, stupid for the taste of her cunt and eager to please. It’s so intoxicating that it would make her angry if it didn’t feel so good.

She shoves him back down on an upward thrust of her hips and he moans for her. That tongue of his is immediately back on her, swirling as he absolutely devours her, hungrier for her than ever. This time she skyrockets back up to the precipice, biting back strained little moans. She doesn’t want him to know just how good it feels; the fact she’s actually going to finish is bad enough.

She bites down on her tongue and comes hard, her whole body tensing up as she all but crushes his head between her thighs, arching her back. Maddeningly, he licks her through her orgasm, moving his tongue with the pulse of her body with inhuman precision. It makes the aftershocks last twice as long, which leaves her limp and panting on the couch, his face pressed firmly between her thighs while she savors the process of coming down with his tongue still tracing languid figure-eights on her pussy.

“Enough,” she says eventually, lazily pushing him back with the heel she has on his shoulder. He falls back onto his ass with a satisfying thump, his hair thoroughly mussed and his face a mess. He smiles so dreamily at her, you’d think he was the one who came. He licks his lips in a slow, purposeful display that should make her roll her eyes. Instead, her sensitive clit throbs as she follows the movement of his tongue.

Fuck, she thinks woozily.

This may just be the beginning of a problem.

[korodere]

give in your mind, all mine

guys idek how to explain how shit escalated already in the campaign turns out isra murdered a bunch of people just to wake his sire from torpor but his sire basically forced him to forget it and suppressed his malkavian madness for his entire unlife

but as soon as mykolas' hold on his mind slipped he went batshit insane and killed dozens of people over the course of 2 years just to wake him, being used and goaded by people with bad intentions to do so..

but now mykolas is kidnapped and suddenly his hold is slipping again and he doesnt know why and he regained his memories and oh my god isra is behind the current main murder plot point that occured 30 years ago and is currently being replicated by a copycat killer getting revenge for isra's victims that the coterie has been investigating and he didnt even know until it suddenly came back to him mid investigation

i am clinically insane rn

[directdogman]

Howdy dogman question regarding plushies. Do you play on only makin plsuhies of the datables? (Ex. Karen, randy etc) or will you make plushies of minor/side characters (ex. Theoroar, mingus).

I would love to make plushies of non-datables! Mingus would make a killer plush! I'm keeping the plushies paced out (I've got the Karen prototype right here with me, I'm just waiting a lil longer to launch the campaign so you guys' wallets don't evaporate!), so that opportunity wouldn't come 'til next year at the earliest. but, if future plushies keep selling well, I'm all for adapting many of the fan favourite non-datables into plushies! Characters like Mingus, Theoroar, Crown and God would be strong contenders for sure!

[david-goldrock]

Muslim Citizens and of Israel. At the beginning of the month of Ramadan. I would like to wish you first of all a blessed Ramadan. May it be a month of family gathering, a month of faith and prayers. These days, the State of Israel is in a difficult campaign that began with the murderous attack by Hamas terrorists on all Israeli citizens, including Muslims. Our war is not against Islam, but against those who harmed the values of Islam, against those who committed crimes against humanity and sought to tear apart Israeli society and our common future Even today, the killers of Hamas want to see the month of Ramadan turn from a month of prayers to a month of blood. But this is not our way. I know they do not represent the absolute majority of Arab Israeli citizens October 7 proved to us, perhaps more than before, that Arab society is an integral part of the State of Israel. When we are in danger we are all in the same danger and face it together The State of Israel will again this year allow freedom of worship on the Temple Mount and the holy places. Do not listen to the extremists who try to incite and harm us Yes, we will act hard against those who try to provoke provocations, we will stonewall every terrorist attack, we will not allow Hamas to desecrate the houses of worship because it is our duty as a country to protect all our citizens Let's preserve the sanctity of this holiday and with God's help we will all know better days that Ramadan Karim (something in Arabic, I don't understand the language)

~ Benni Gantz. former replacement Prime Minister, former security minister, second leader of Israeli Opposition, leader of the leftist bloc in Israel, and current minister in the war cabinet in Israel

[deadthingposting]

I don't know of anyone else had made this post but I stated thinking about the Names in what we do in the shadows so i googled the meanings and Holy fuck I don't regret

So

Starting with Guillermo

His name is a Hispanic version of the name Willehem or William that means fierce protector and de La Cruz means of the Cross, but this isn't just a reference to his status as a vampire killer as the cross is usually a metaphor for sacrifice and pain his name is literally "overprotective of his sacrifice " which is perfect for him as Guillermo do spend most of his time actively taking care of things that cause him suffering

Now Nadja we don't have her maiden name but her first name means Hope her name is Hope of Antipaxos and again fucking perfect as Nadja ad a character is full of a cruel sense if eternal Hope she is the only surviving child of 17 siblings survived extreme poverty and all other horrible things and of course she is tied to her land her homeland despite being far from it she is from antipaxos and proud despite the place being called many times by the show "small" and quite shitty

Now Laszlo is interesting as his name fells opossite to him his name means glorious Ruler, his last name is Cravensworth doesn't have a translation but it can be separated in two parts Cravens meaning coward and worth meaning value or valuable so his name Would be Glorious Ruler coward worthy, Laszlo hates to rule he is disgusted with the idea to take leadership of the vampiric council, he is far from a coward he does runaway sometimes but he takes many chances to be brave (defending Guillermo, choosing Nadja, killing gregor) but the worthy part it depends on what is considered worthy as if we take a nobleman concept of worthiness he isn't he is a whoreman married to a peasant who drinks blood and prefer arts not policts so he isn't worthy of the noble class

(He is also called Leslie the name translates to holly garden which is apparently a reference to the Holly plant a plant associated with fertility and eternal life also red like blood)

Now nandor the relentless , Nandor means bold voyager or journey prepared, and oh my God the layers on this, like starting with the second part of his name relentless it's pretty obvious thus mf will die before admiting doing anything less than perfect or great but the traveler part it's just sweet Nandor is in need of change that's the point of his character he needs to move forward to travel not on a literal sense but on a emotional sense to mature and grow to learn, he is a brave character who needs to move to stop being stagnant.

Now collin is so interesting like Collin means Victory of the people and Robinson means son of Robert and Robert in it self means bright fame and I dont know what to associate him with except his short campaign for comptroller bit like his real name Arthur Simon santino is more interesting Arthur means Strong as a bear Simon to be heard santino means little Saint, Strong as a bear we all saw how he can be OP in the episode he overfed the irony of a energy vampire being named "to be heard" just gets me and little saint I can only think of his time as baby Colin

So yeah I just went on this rabbit hole I know the shit and farts comedy show wouldn't think so deep about this but I do and I really liked okay