#not using archive warnings

[tehnakki]

Honestly, Jod (God John) fucking his way through the hot officers on his flag ship in post-I killed my best friends-breakup rebound sex is truly one of the funniest things to come out of tlt.

Especially from the officers perspectives.

Fucking God has been living on your ship for the last x amount of decades. Y'all work your whole adolescence to get good enough at sword or bones so you'll end up on the flag ship. Every bit of your life is starched and pressed and exactly to the military manual. And for months all you hear of God is morning instructions passed through your platoon leaders or being called to attention when he passes through your work zone, but you're always just out of sight of God.

And then one day you are running and errand between decks and get caught in a hallway was High Command and God sweep by and it's everything you hoped. You look on the face of God and only years of military bearing keep you from bursting into tears. And then they are gone and you're trying to catch your breadth and remember what the fuck you were even doing in this hallway.

And shit's good. You've seen the glowing rings of His eyes and it affirms everything you've learned over your lifetime in His Houses. And it's almost like it opens the floodgates because days later you have the honor of standing at attention while the Saint of Patience chews out your commander for what felt like forever over someone misplacing his stash of cigarettes. And then the next week you're Blessed by the Saint of Joy's rant about never being able to figure out where the Goddamned meeting rooms are.

And that becomes you life until suddenly there are whispers that the Flagship is heading home, back to Dominicus even though God has not been back to the home system in a myriad and everyone is worried what this could mean. Then the rumors begin about First House, that God has called on the Houses to send their best to the First that they may become his newest Saints. And for a moment you find yourself breathless with frustration that maybe you should have stayed home after all, that maybe you could have served God at his side for the next myriad. But that feeling is fleeting as you're to sensible to think for long that you were the best. One of the best sure, that's how you had earned your home on the flagship, but not THE Best. And to think that you'd never have seen God laugh, or Patience rant or Joy rage if you'd stayed at home and vied for the top slot... no. This was your place in Gods realm if anything.

Week pass and everything continues as normal until the next set of rumors erupt. A call from First House, they've succeeded and they've died. And suddenly the slow meandering path the ship has been taking ends and we are at the gates to Home. The saints depart, Patience to the River and Joy to the First House.

And Joy returns. The first two new Saints in a myriad are brought aboard, and the bodies of the rest of the houses, those that could be found. Your platoon was commanded to ready the caskets to receive them so y'all were the first to hear of the fallen Saint of __, and to witness the tears of God when He visited her body.

God should never cry, you wept openly at His pain and wished their was anything within yourself that could absolve Him of it.

And then God left. He left the flagship, His home, His people. And disappeared into the River with His saints. The entire ship is in mourning. The long journey back to the Cohort Fleet is begun, but no enthusiasm is felt by anyone. It feels like being trapped in limbo.

[[A/N: I made the mistake of starting at GtN when really I wanted to talk about Fuckking, so I'm skipping to the bit I wanted to talk about]]

God's return was portentous after the preceding days news of Resurrection Beast sightings. One moment we were just another ship in the Fleet, and the next we were the Seat of God again. It was like the return of sunlight, or color, or taste! God stepped from the River alone to the Bridge of the Flagship and High Command was in ecstasy of His arrival! Every inch of the ship whispered with news of sightings. How God looked--tired, sad; How God smelled--like the paint thinner that was being misplaced at a surprising regularity and quantity; How God sounded--dull, heartbroken.

And oh how that last hurt you to think of. His oldest saints had been destroyed, only one of the newest Saints remained. And she could be found huddled with High Command, or prying God out of an officers bunk escorting Him to the closest shower then to the war room or Bridge, until God found a way around her and back into the nearest warm body.

And one of those days, oh one of those days you were honored to be that warm body. Surprised in a narrow junction room as you struggled with a power relay, the scorching warmth of God suddenly between you and the closing door. He pressed so close that all you could see were the black depths of his eyes, sorrow shining through every inch of him and your heart ached for Him. Your tears welled and spilled for Him. Your voice choked for Him as you prayed "oh Lord, please let me ease your pain." And He answered your prayer with one of His own. His tongue tracing His blessings across your lips, your tongue. His hands slipping inside your uniform pants and bearing your cock to the air. God slips to his knees and chokes on your cock, your hands flail and he grabs them and holds them to his head. You gasp out the lords prayer as he chokes and drools on your pants, eyes squinting up at you and dripping tears. And then the air hits your wet cock like a slap and God is standing, back to you as He drops his trousers and all but backs onto your cock. You can hear His soft pants of "fuck me, fuck me" as He presses your hands to His hips, His fingernails digging in to hold yours in place.

And so you do, sinking into the tight, feverish, grasping hole of God. Pressing kisses and prayers to the back of His neck. Worshipping Him with your entire being as His hands draw your blood and His voice urges you to move faster and faster. And somewhere between frantic beats of your hearts His body spasm and clenches oh so tightly on yours that your bodies seem to meld and for one endless moment you think you can see the universe as he sees it. Spinning thenergy and thalergy entertwined forever chasing in one anothers trails.... and then you are just you again, panting on the neck of your Lord, the Necrolord Prime and God who became Emperor Emperero who became God.

And reality returns with the banging of the sliding door being forced open by Gods remaining Saint. Who takes one look at the sweaty trembling mess of God and makes a face of disgust, pulling God toward her before yanking up his pants with rough movements as she started to berate him--

"Oh for fucks sake John, really? This room is nasty, you couldn't atleast drag them back to a bunk room? Can you please stop finding cocks to shove up your bum everytime I turn my back for more than a --" God and His Saint marched out of my sight as the door rumbled shut less quietly than it had before. You'll have to submit a repair ticket for it later.

You slump against the wall as you stare at the glittering drops of Gods expulsion. Without thought you fall to your knees and shuffle close enough that you can lean forward and clean it from the wall with your tongue. Salty and bitter with a touch of dusty paint, smears of grease add an additional note as you wrap your tongue around a pipe trying to clean every drop of His sacrament. You lick the grates and the walls and the pipes clean of Him and your eyes are caught by the shine of your dick, still wet with the moisture of His mouth. And with trembling hand you skim the fluid off your limp cock and bring it to your mouth to savour. You can taste your cum but next to that is the scent/taste of God. Fuck. You can never wash your penis ever again.

[ms-demeanor]

I don't care about data scraping from ao3 (or tbh from anywhere) because it's fair use to take preexisting works and transform them (including by using them to train an LLM), which is the entire legal basis of how the OTW functions.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 6/?

Thank you for the cake and the art and your crazy tags♡♡ you feed me so well so here's some more words!!

Lets see how many of you guest right, lol, they're both stupid, I love them.

__________________________________

A group walking down the corridor on the other side of the glass before six a.m was unusual. And given the volume and rapid chatter, something had either excited them or had them nervous. But when one stopped to peer through the window, looking for Prowl ��� they would not see him, he refused to be gawked at – there was a possibly it had something to do with him.  

Prowl suspected that if that was the case, his mobility played a key part. The humans had been more skittish since he had first left the hammock yesterday. Their fear was not misplaced, with the returned ease of swimming, his threat value had more than doubled.  

While he would not act unless pressed – as it would be wasted effort with the current situation – Prowl was not completely against whatever illusion that the humans had of him. Let them fear him. It would keep most away and leaving fewer for him to deal with; those brave or stupid enough to still come near him. 

The elated shout of Jazz that came from beyond the wall drew in his attention. Prowl sighed softly, recalling the current state of the language barrier. What he wouldn't give for a stylus and a data-pad. Even a simple drawing one would suffice. 

He didn't get to linger in dismay as he heard Jazz swim by, but not stay. The view port on the gate was still shut from yesterday so maybe Jazz had just come to check if they would open it? But then he came by again a few seconds later, and then again.  

Swimming laps. But was it excitement or anxiety?  

Prowl silently approached the gate and rested his forehead against it, listening. The body of water on the other side was much bigger, that much he already knew, but most of the walls and floors of this place were like stone, leaving empty spaces all over his vision. Places sound bounced off of, but didn't pass through.  

Metal wasn't necessarily any better, but it tended to reverberate; depending on its composition, and if one was skilled enough, you could see what was beyond or within the metal.  

But the gate was metal, and Prowl was that skilled. Tuning his sonar with careful precision, he eventually found the frequency that gave him the best image.  

Inside, it was primarily hollow, with large connecting rods and cylinders leading to alien machinery that was too complex to make out with outside noise causing glitch-like distortions across what he could see. But the guts of the wall weren't his goal currently. 

Outside was where he drew in his focus. Towards the centre he could very faintly see Jazz as he circled. His sonar images may be in terrible quality, but Prowl had become quite familiar with the other orca's particular blob. It was like watching something move from darkness to light or adjusting the contrast of an image. Jazz was bright and his silhouette shape clearly a mer when he was close, while dim and barely a lopsided oval when he was far.  

He was tempted to calculate the distance and overall, the space Jazz was swimming, but – to the right he had picked up on a platform. One that more and more humans seemed to be gathering on. At first, Prowl was worried that the other mer might be in danger, but after a few more laps Jazz approached and waited at the edge. 

For a few minutes, nothing changed. Until Jazz moved to somewhere in the middle, almost straight out from the gate, and the humans began to spread out. Something was up and Prowl kept searching and listening for anything that might give him insight.  

Till the screeching hiss of the machine attached to the gate suddenly came to life, causing Prowl to recoil. Losing his sonar temporarily as he worked through the noise. It was like a camera flash that blinded you for a second, only this one was a flash against your mind and a bang in your ears at the same time. But Prowl was used to ambushes and this certainly wasn't the worst sonar attack he's experienced, so this wouldn't hinder him, it was just annoying. 

Pressing himself against the floor and the wall out of view of the door, he waited. After the passageway had slid completely open, Prowl remained only for an extra moment, just long enough to tell that nothing was coming. Then he cautiously moved to investigate. 

With the recovery of his sonar and the obstacle removed, Prowl sent a few quick clicks to pinpoint all the humans. There were seven he could find, though there could be more outside his currently limited range. A poorly laid out ambush regardless, if that was the plan, and chances were very low – seeing as the humans were providing him with medical treatment, they clearly wanted him alive – but it wasn't zero. Prowl really didn't want to fight at this stage of his imprisonment, firstly; his wounds still posed a risk to his overall survival, secondly; he needed to gather more information before he could put together a plan of escape.  

When Jazz waved at him, Prowl resigned to the fact that he – or perhaps they – were being closely monitored and there was nothing that could be done about it. So, for now, he would resume gaining an ally, or at the very least a cooperative collaborator. The other captive orca remained at the top of his priority list for making any future plans have greater odds of success. Working out the communication issue aside, he needs this 'first meeting' to go properly and smoothly before anything else could proceed.  

And it looked as though the audience had Jazz tense and on the defensive. Nothing a little show of reassurance of Prowl as an ally couldn't remedy surely. 

So, Prowl approached with an appropriate speed for closing the distance between an acquaintance, with his arms set at a relaxed, yet polite place along his sides. When he stood before Jazz, he made sure to keep a respectable space, posed with and holding a practised expression of polite professionalism. Choosing to have his most vulnerable side forward in a grand gesture of trust, further expressing that he had no intentions of bringing him harm. 

He anticipated a moment of hesitance, allowing Jazz the time to observe him, to look for signs of deceit. But when his roaming eyes became fixed on his wounded flank, admiration showing in his expression, Prowl flicked his tail for Jazz's attention. Prowl wouldn't look too deep into it, but past experience made him keep note. 

Jazz showed that he was at least slightly embarrassed – good – but when he did not make a move to greet Prowl with the same gesture of goodwill. Continuing to face him head on had Prowl now searching for signs of what his intention were. But while he did, Prowl began to express slight irritation, in hopes the other would cease and desist.  

The other mer reacted by rising and Prowl tensed. Jazz must have had trust issues from past bad experiences if he was attempting to intimidate him with the present state of their body. Where he had been found gravely wounded, Jazz must had been found starving… Or there was the very slight chance that he had recently hit his last growth spurt and he was just a lanky cocksure young adult wanting to show-off. 

Jazz quickly paused, pointing and waving for Prowl to follow. Obviously wanting to move to the surface to speak. Fine.  

But then he smiled, and not in a friendly way, no, this one was clearly practised. Smooth, confident, and forward. Prowl had dealt with plenty of celebrities and politicians to know what a charming smile looks like, and very aware it was an illusion of friendliness to lure or entertain. Cocky youth had adjusted from 'very slight' to 'likely'. So, Prowl readied for a foolish game of posturing. 

{Sorry, Prowler.} Was the first thing out of his mouth and his smile diminished to a more acceptable nature.  

Good, Prowl thought at first, maybe Jazz had realized that he would not sway Prowl. However, Jazz still refused to back down, flaunting confidence with lax posture. Speaking in an almost gentle reassurance, {it's okay. Prowler, it's okay.} 

Then everything started coming together – prolonged staring, hints of interest, slight embarrassment, insistent forward facing, too friendly of smiles aimed at a stranger – and the almost certain likelihood of Jazz's youth. Prowl was both irritated and bewildered at his own conclusion; Jazz was flirting with him. 

Primus, he wanted to be wrong. But… nothing else made sense about Jazz's behaviour! 

Not wanting this nonsense to continue, Prowl kept his formal disposition of his side facing Jazz and backed off just enough to show refusal, but not a sign of submission. Prowl firmly said, {no.} 

{Wait! I —– } Jazz started to approach.  

{Stop,} he said as his scowl had grown into a harsh glare and he quickly turned his body to face him fully, but didn't back away. {trying okay.} 

Jazz did stop his advance. Though now apparently, they were locked in some sort of stare down. How else could he express his rejection without this braking out into a physical confrontation? 

Again, Jazz moves, this time slowly opening his arms to boldly offer a hug and still keeping a steady friendly smile. Like he's asking for a chance. But was only baffling Prowl further. Why are you so instant? 

" 'tzz." He said, the other mer's name was still difficult to pronounce, but he wanted to be clear. Speaking with a warning as he readied to strike. It wouldn't be the first time a pursuer needed a smack to take a hint. But Prowl really didn't want to fight. {Stop.}  

Jazz was back to rambling in the human's language, his tone was wavering between calm and frustration. But when he pulled away; after his words had done nothing to change Prowl's stance, Jazz squared up. 

Prowl did not hesitate and made a clean charge to Jazz's chest, forcing them both under.  

While Jazz recoiled and darted away to collect himself. Prowl rolled his shoulder in discomfort. The impact had still jostled his injuries, but it had been the best option. Biting would have been taking it too far, using even his right arm would have been agonizing, and spinning around to use his tail would have allowed Jazz time to react. No, this was good enough.  

Or so he thought when he returned to Jazz to see if he was willing to be respectful of the situation. While Prowl was willing to try and start anew with a mutual understanding, side-ways faced and still offering trust with showing his wounded side.  

Jazz looked upset, understandably so as that harsh of a rejection was never pleasant. But this language barrier was really getting in the way. He was speaking human words again, irritation clear in his voice. But then he took a deep breath and started slinking towards him. Still openly refusing Prowl's offer of peaceful intentions. 

And... now we've come down to a battle for dominance. Wonderful. Prowl had a slight bit of respect for the other's determination in not wanting to submit when clearly out matched, but this was hardly the time nor the place. Prowl fixed Jazz with a glare, promising punishment as he started to plan out his attacks that would not cause too much pain, but enough to humble the punk. 

{Please, Prowler, stop.} 

Gladly, but you first. {No, you stop, ['tzz.]}  

He did, {what,} but not without pointing back and forth between them, {why?} 

WHY!? 

Despite his mounting frustration of being unable to explain or even have Jazz possibly clear things up on his end as well. Prowl did his best to make it as physically clear as he could by returning to the calm request and offer to have no ill intentions between them, that they can be on equal ground. He even went as far as to break eye contact and look away, just in case that was feeding into his miscommunication with Jazz. 

{Prowler,} Jazz sighed, calling out to him softly, and daring to inch closer.  

Prowl tensed; he had tolerated that nickname due to his own inability to say Jazz's properly. But him using it– using it like that was–  

That was not– I'm not submitting to you, you punk!  

Bristling, Prowl twisted and lunged for the other mer. Only clipping him this time, but was swift with a sharp turn to follow through with his earlier threat. And Jazz tried and failed to escape him. Charge after charge, Prowl battered him with carefully made strikes. Making it clear that when he stopped and let Jazz get away, that he had allowed it to happen.  

When he met Jazz on the surface once more. Prowl remained facing him head on, silently asking if he wanted another round of showing just how out of his league he really was. Regardless if that kind of movement put strain on his healing body, that he could feel the sharp pull of new tissues fighting against the flex of muscle. He could probably get away with a few more attacks before something popped open. 

{Please, Prowler. Please, stop.} Jazz begged. 

But Prowl waited to see if Jazz was being honest about putting this to an end. After a minute of neither of them making a move. Prowl once again turned so his side face Jazz and this time Jazz mirrored him.   

Prowl then gave a loud breath of relief and laid down to float on his back. Finally! No more idiotic posturing.  

Jazz also followed him in releasing the tension and floating, though he looked humiliated. 

Good, you should be embarrassed. 

__________________________________

I hope you found this as funny as I did. XD And now that the boys can be in the same pool, it's time for bonding and shenanigans!! >:3c

Prowl: doing everything by the book and reading into every micro expression to aim for the best results.

Jazz: trying to restrain his overflowing excitement and desire to make a friend. (but also has a budding crush) be cool, be cool OuO;;

Prowl: sees Jazz's not-so-hidden excitement and desire. what – here – right now – but also why? … sigh, you're just a shameless flirt aren't you? :/

IS IT really a jp fic if they aren't– Check List ✔ Arguing at least once ✔ Fighting at least once ✔ Jazz being an absolute flirt (unintentional currently, but still counts!) ✔ Prowl greatly misunderstanding a situation with Jazz at least once

Also, I've seen the pleas of the lovely readers!! I will post this fic on ao3 in the next day or so. But since this is my gift to my platonic love ♡♡♡Keferon♡♡♡ updates will be delivered here first.

Until you want me to stop dropping the fic in your inbox♡ -GLC

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WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEZE oh my god they're fucking stupid ahahajjakfkfmgndb

I was wroNG ahaha I was completely wrong. Jazz wasn't saying "fuck you" in the last part it was "let's fuck" /j

To be fair. If I was held captive with the other random human and they greeted me by staring at my ass and then enthusiastically approaching despite me showing that I'm not okay with them flirting with me? Yeah no I completely understand Prowl haha.

Also. This isn't directly related to this part but. Sigh. I made some doodles of Blaster after reading the previous part and then.uh. completely forgot to show them. So I guess I'll throw them here now lol

[frownyalfred]

gently grabs you by the chin hey. if an author selects “chose not to use archive warnings” on a fic, they’re allowed. even if you don’t like it or disagree.

[avariceaside]

giggling and kicking my feet as I listen to blorbos from my podcasts go through the most horrific experiences a person can imagine

[snekberry]

Honey I'm Home - TMA PMV

[ID: Animated clips from the linked Magnus Archives animation.

Jon prays with a strained expression while root-like tendrils reach for him. A flatlining heart monitor starts to beat as a crown lowers over his head.

Elias reaches out a hand with a smirk while inside a jail cell.

Multiple frames are shown over a spiderweb background: They show season one Jon signing his contract with a grinning Elias.

Multiple frames are shown over a collage of various cut out statements in the background. They show season four Jon noticing Jess Terrell and speaking to her, eyes turning green as he smiles unnervingly. End ID]

Thank you @/princess-of-purple-prose for the description!!

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

"Download all your fics before Project 2025 goes into effect-"

Shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up. Shut up, shut up, shut up!!!!!

Fandom is one of the only safe spaces for mental escapism that some people have right now, and fear mongering and spreading misinformation is helping no one. Fanfiction is not going to disappear off the internet tomorrow.

I understand that a geriatric orange beast winning the election is very upsetting and it has led to a lot of people mentally spiralling into doomsday scenarios, but the last thing that fucking cheeto is coming for is your fanfiction. AO3 is so fucking low priority - it's not even on their radar.

And even though you consider smut to be porn, by most legal definitions, it's not. If they would try to institute a porn ban (which would be incredibly stupid and would probably upset a lot of old Republican white men anyway, and we all know they don't do things that go against their own personal interests) - they would be going after visual media. Not written media. And while Project 2025 does talk about banning books, it speaks about banning mass produced, widespread books with certain subjects in them - not some indie fanfic with fisting with 100 hits on AO3.

The fact that AO3 is a non-profit and does not make any money and does not have any ads is usually what protects us in these legal situations. And like I said - scrubbing 10,000 gay Destiel fics from the internet forever is incredibly low priority (likely not a priority at all) for the Trump administration.

So don't panic download every fanfiction you've ever read, and please don't panic if you don't have 7 hard drives to download all of AO3 onto. Everyone is just upset about the results of the election and apt to believe that the world is going to change overnight, but it won't. If (and that is a big fat IF) the internet will be censored (which will be damn near impossible to do) and IF the future of fanfiction will be jeopardized, we will have more warning to prepare before it happens.

Carry on as usual.

PS: fuck you to everyone spreading the misinformation and speaking about this as if it's going to happen for certain tomorrow. You are only adding to the gloom and causing more dread and anxiety where there is more than enough.

[mblematic]

so weird that the lymond chronicles aren't more of a thing on here. most "author would have been posting jawdropping, DEEPLY psychologically upsetting m/m smut on ao3 dot org" books ever

[neptunnnnnne]

i have a feeling you got every thing you wanted....

my tma oc animatic is finally done!

some stills

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder/tip, particularly for newer pjo fans: do not crosstag!

for those who don't know, crosstagging is tagging irrelevant tags on a post, usually popular tags to try and get more views on the post.

Tumblr doesn't work the same way instagram or tiktok or twitter does. Crosstagging is considered spam, and your blog will be flagged if you do this.

particularly in pjo fandom, crosstagging includes tagging characters that don't actually appear in the post, tagging books or series unrelated to the post (like tagging "TSATS" on a post not specifically about TSATS, or tagging HoO on a post about first series specifically, etc.), tagging "pjo fanfic" or "pjo headcanon" or similar on a post that, obviously, isn't that, and/or tagging irrelevant ships. More recently, this also includes tagging the show (PJO TV, etc) on posts that are completely irrelevant to the show.

This mostly only applies for original posts - Tags you put on reblogs only apply to your own blog's organizational system, and has no bearing on the original post itself. But it's really annoying to the original poster if you spam tags, because it will appear in their notifs. It's pointless to spam tags in reblogs for these reasons regardless, so it's best not to.

just remember: crosstagging is not allowed on tumblr, doesn't work that way here anyways, and is just generally rude. so don't do it.

[wednesdaythesecond]

i wake up. i think about waycest rape. i make coffee. i think about waycest rape. i make breakfast. i think about waycest rape. i feed my cats. i think about waycest rape. i take my meds. i think about waycest rape. i think about waycest rape. i think about waycest rape. i think about waycest rape. i think about waycest rape. i think about wayce

[philtrashnumberunus]

DOCTOR give her 2ccs of post-canon fix-it SHE’S CRASHING

[sauntering-down]

i generally don't mind at all when people ask 'hey could you tag your fic for [thing]' because it's usually something i either didn't realize should be tagged or knew and just downright forgot, but guys, the 'creator chose not to use archive warnings' tag exists for a reason and i am using it for exactly that reason!!

[demadogs]

Since you wanted Byler asks: How do you think they will build up Mike's feelings, like slowly show to the audience that it might just be requited? And what could be the scene that fully confirms it is requited (presuming before an actual kiss scene)?

i am once again pushing my Mike Gets Vecna'd agenda! i've talked about my reasons why here but essentially the short version is, max says that vecna targets people who have something thats haunting them. mike is the perfect target for this. he is ashamed of being gay and hes pretending to be someone hes not ("its forced conformity. thats whats killing the kids"). i think mike will get vecna'd and vecna will taunt and torture him for liking will and thats how the audience finds out. and its also how el finds out. she was piggybacking. i've said it before, but i think it would be great if vecna used "its not my fault you dont like girls" against mike, and that could be the line that confirms it to the audience.

i also know that the duffers and everyone have been yapping about will being a huge threat this season, so im not denying that he is also likely to be vecna'd. i think vecna wants to hurt will and his method of doing so will be to hurt mike. the way vecna tortures will is to torture mike. and i also think will figures this out.

we leave off with will saying vecna is hurting though, so i think vecna is limited in what he can. i use vecna as a verb just for simplicity's sake, but it'll likely be a different method of getting in peoples heads than we've seen so far. it wont be like what max went through or even nancy. it'll probably be more like the early seasons because vecna has been getting stronger with each season and now he may be starting from square one. it might be like barb (only he doesnt die).

as for hints that his feelings are requited, i think there will be little things throughout the season that clue into mikes feelings before he gets vecna'd. similar things to what we saw in s4. hes awkward about physical touch with him. he and el kinda feel forced. but it would also be interesting if once he learns that vecna targets people who are hiding something, we see him visibly stressed about this. he knows hes gay and he knows he likes will. he might know immediately that hes at risk of being vecna'd but he can't tell anyone without outing himself. the audience might see this distress in mike and start to question what he could be hiding. maybe he hears this news and immediately looks at el or will. probably el. because he feels really guilty for still being with her knowing he doesnt love her.

my confidence in mike getting vecna'd being the way the audience and el finds out hes gay has wavered a bit since s4 came out. i dont want to imply that im 100% convinced this will be how it happens the same way im 100% convinced byler will happen. this is how i would write it if i was in the writing room. i think it would SLAP, but this is more of a "i want it to happen" thing, not a " i think it will happen" thing. but i genuinely have tried many times to think of another way it could go down and i just always go the vecna route. i know theres plenty of other possibilities but i only have eyes for vecna'd mike. its such a perfect opportunity. i really do hope it happens like this.

[updatebug]

Hmm. Still not sure whether I believe that Jon-Chester is evil theory BUUUUUT seeing as I was deprived of my Thursday ritual by the hiatus I decided to listen to the first two eps again.....and I know we all latched onto the 'Canaries should stay above ground' as Jon being around and trying to warn people about the Mag institute but if Jon is evil and still a being of the eye than that wasn't the warning that was the angler fish.

The warning was the very first episode, when Martin told us about a woman and a creature who was nothing like her dead husband....but did have his voice.

[iaminjail]

the horrors may be everlasting but we keep slaying