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#I wrote this not on my computer so
sweatandwoe · 2 years
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Holy shit, with how big vander and silco are that double teaming would DESTROY whoever was the middle
HELL YEAH THEY WOULD
Actually here's a quick drabble for that
Vander x GN!Reader x Silco (throuple) Warnings: Nsfwish, no actual mention of sex but some pillow talk for after sex
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"You alright, Darl?" It's Vander's voice, you know that from the endearment. Silco never cuts them off. Always a full, Darling or sweetheart, or on rare times when he's sure no one else can hear he'll call either of you 'Sweetie Pie'.
But right now you can't focus on it too much. You're sore, from your jaw to between your legs. Only a soft hum from yourself had Vander chuckling, and then you heard a match lighting. Pipe being lit, you can listen to his lips take the first few puffs before he's moving to lay down beside you.
You turn your head, to find him smirking. "Did we tire you out?"
There's barely any energy in your left to smack the back of your hand against his chest, but you still manage to do it. It earns a hearty laugh before he's drawing your hand up to kiss the back of it. Speaking to you with only an amused look.
"Come here, love. Silco will be back soon." And he's letting go of your hand, drawing him to you with it instead, until your cheek is pressing against his chest. The hair there is full of his scent and helps you relax further.
It's a few minutes of cuddling before the door opens.
Silco enters, carrying a tray of glasses and snacks. He's wearing his own robe this time, instead of swimming in Vander's like last time it had been his turn to grab everything.
"How are they?" It's said to Vander, as he lowers the tray on his nightstand. The robe is off next, and soon he was sliding into bed with you.
"Oh, we really did a number on them this time." Vander's voice is amused, but Silco's gaze hardens. He runs a hand over your side, checking over the marks on your hips. Vander's eyes roll, but he lets go enough for the other man to secure an arm around your waist. "They're fine, Silco."
Silco opens his mouth, to start to argue, but you move a hand down to squeeze over top of his own. Too exhausted to find proper words. "M'fine, Silco."
"You really are exhausted, aren't you." It's not even a question, but he's starting to sound amused now too. And a little prideful from how his chest puffs out, as he leans over to kiss your forehead.
And then steal Vander's pipe to take a few puffs out of it. Both men swapped it above you, but you were far too tired to care, beyond the quick caress they gave you.
When your eyes began to flutter close, there was a hand against the back of your neck. Lifting you up. "No sleeping yet, Darling."
Glass is pressed to your lips, as Silco tips the water carefully into your mouth, letting you slowly gulp it down. Once the glass is gone, Vander is quick to press pieces of food to your lips. Crackers and cheese, while Silco pressed another kiss to your forehead.
"You did wonderful, sweetheart."
"Such a good job, Darl." Vander echoes, with a kiss on your forehead. Once his lips are off, you can glance up and watch as their mouths met. Smiling at the sight, you settle back down between them. It isn't long before they both settle down beside you, each one with an arm around you.
The softness of their embrace is the last thing you feel when you fall asleep and the first thing you feel when you wake up.
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kaiserouo · 4 months
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Tired Ghost
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crybaby-bkg · 1 year
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I know I've talked about bull and bear hybrid Bakugou, but has anyone ever talked about lion hybrid Bakugou???? I thought about this concept when I was still half asleep this morning but like,,,,
lion hybrid bakugou with his big ole head and even bigger mane of hair, all soft, colored like the sand you'd dig your toes into at the beach. he has a little scruff on his chin, but he never grows it out because he hates the upkeep of it.
he's always loud, growly yawns whenever you see him, his canines sharp and pointy when he opens his maw wide enough for you to peek in. he's so big and soft where it matters, lazes around all day everyday, and gets these big bursts of energy at the most random of moments. he's basically an overgrown cat basically
omg and he has this complex where he's just sooo high and mighty, like he's some king meant to be worshipped. but all you have to do is kiss his cheeks and rub a hand through his hair when he lays his big dumb head in your lap, and he's purring up a storm.
and and and lion hybrid bakugou whose tongue can feel so rough when he's feeling lazy about it, but somehow knows how to work it just right whenever he wants to lounge between your legs. gets so huffy and growly when you mumble that you can't cum anymore, just nudges your thighs a little wider with his shoulder as he nuzzles his nose against your mound. doesn't care to hear any of your complaining, because he's still eating and doesn't intend on finishing until he's ready.
omg and and lion hybrid bakugou whose favorite position is, of course, doggy style. but only because he gets to wrap your little dainty neck up in his powerful jaws and pin you there, likes how you whimper and shiver but go limp either way because you trust him with your life. he pins your arms beside your head and grunts so loud into your nape when he finally sinks his cock inside of you. he practically lays flat on top of you, just rutting his hips against your ass over and over until he knots you.
which is his favorite part because you two get to just lay there for what feel like hours, and you keep coming intermitally because he can't help but rut his hips a few more times, and hiss at the way his knot tugs at your clenching lips. sigh just lion hybrid bakugou who looks so mean and intimidating but he just loves you so much and can't get enough of you
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mistykaru · 1 year
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i got stuff from the csp asset store and i wanted to play with it so this is a mess but i did have fun and i kinda dig the vibes
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momotonescreaming · 11 months
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Trying my hand at something different based off of a silly text post I made about a 90s/00s chatfic au. Not 100% sure if I'll continue it yet, so please let me know what you think! 💜❤️
Eddie couldn’t lie to himself that his heart skipped a beat when he got the notification. When he saw who the notification was for. The familiar bloop noise and the little pop up at the corner of the screen.
KingSteve85 is Online
Finally. Steve had moved away for college almost two weeks ago now, and Eddie had barely heard from him. Logically he knows that he and Robin needed the time to drive up, and set up in their cramped little dorms, and do other fancy college orientation things. But he missed them. Now that he had them, people who weren’t scared of him, people who weren’t afraid to call him out on his shit, people who got it. They talked almost every day after… everything.
Eddie would log on to the shitty old computer he and Wayne had fixed up and wedged in the corner of the trailer, scroll the internet, listen to music — and chat with Steve. He was a good fucking guy. And funny. And hot. And now it felt weird not chatting to him every day. Not logging on after a shift at Thatcher Tyre to find the little green Online dot next to his username. Not logging on at 2am after a nightmare to find Steve also online.
But Steve’s at college now, and his PC is currently boxed up in Robin’s childhood bedroom. Didn’t trust his new roommate, he said. Or his parents, after he moved out.
Without hesitating, ignoring the flip of his stomach and beat of his heart — he sends Steve a message.
c0rr0d3d_3dd13: soooooo how was ur 1st wk of college? :D
Steve replies immediately.
KingSteve85: so crazy haha KingSteve85: sorry i haven’t been online haha c0rr0d3d_3dd13: lol allgud. i know ur a big college boy now C0rr0d3d_3dd13: don’t have time 4 me anymor lol ;_;
Eddie cringes as soon as he says it, as soon as he hears the click of the enter key sending the message. Recoiling into a ball, hands over his face, curling up on the wheeled office chair, he lets himself spin as he watches the screen. Waits for the KingSteve85 is typing… message to pop up. God, Steve’s barely left and Eddie’s already a needy, self deprecating, mess.
Fuck his life. Crushes are stupid.
Because that’s what that is. He can admit that to himself now. Now that Steve’s left. He’s got a big, fat, gay crush on Steve Harrington. Him and all the other repressed queer kids at Hawkins High. What a cliché.
The computer pings with a new message, and his gaze is ripped towards the screen.
KingSteve85: never! there was just a lot of events and stuff this first week KingSteve85: did not have time to go to the library and log on lol KingSteve85: haven’t even called Dustin yet c0rr0d3d_3dd13: ur messaging me b4 dusty? Ur gonna make a girl blush harrington
Hunched over on the office chair with the broken wheel, at the computer he helped fix, with the shoddy speakers him and Wayne haven’t gotten around to yet — Eddie felt special. Dustin was Steve’s brother, one of his best friends. And yet Steve chose to message him first.
He tries to humble himself, hold back the blush with the knowledge that if Robin went to a different college than Steve (which was highly unlikely), he would have messaged her first. But Robin isn’t at a different college. And Eddie got the message first.
c0rr0d3d_3dd13: wot sort of events were there? music and drinking? Rotfl KingSteve85: literally yes haha KingSteve85: during the day there were like,,, tours and stalls advertising clubs and stuff KingSteve85: but as soon as it was night it all popped off haha c0rr0d3d_3dd13: u go 2 any? KingSteve85: some! not a lot haha. Robs wasn’t super excited and i didn’t want to leave her alone
It warmed his cynical heart, how much Steve cared for Robin. And how much she cared for him in return. They cared, and they love each other so much. Eddie thinks they’d still be close, even without all the debilitating trauma that glued them together. Robin had mentioned wanting to merge her and Steve into one being before, so they could always be close and balance each other out. Steve had immediately agreed.
Eddie had friends in the Corroded Coffin boys, but he wasn’t sure if they were at the ‘merge into one mega being’ stage of their friendship yet. Maybe Jeff. Jeff had gone off to college this year with Frank — to a different place than Steve and Robin — and Eddie had already received a postcard from him. It was nice to not be forgotten. A part of him wondered if he would be, when everyone went off to college.
But Jeff didn’t. Steve didn’t.
c0rr0d3d_3dd13: wot a gentleman lol c0rr0d3d_3dd13: wots ur timetable lik now? KingSteve85: fucking crazy dude KingSteve85: got lectures & tutorials & work & been thinking about doing a sport again c0rr0d3d_3dd13: which sport lol? u’ve got like… 3 to pick from c0rr0d3d_3dd13: ALSO DAMN DUDE THATS BUSY KingSteve85: i guess haha KingSteve85: been thinking either basketball or swimming. maybe baseball lol KingSteve85: which’ll add practices and meets and games and stuff haha
Before he left, Steve had quietly admitted that he wasn’t sure if he’d try out for a sport or not. During his senior year Billy Hargrove gave him a concussion so bad it benched him for months, and he’d spent ages trying to work back up to it again. So he could play without wanting to puke. And then he didn’t get into college when he applied to the fancy schools his dad made him apply for, and he missed out on any possible scholarships he would’ve gotten.
And he would’ve gotten them. Eddie’s not much of a sports guy, but he knows Steve was good. Great. One of the best.
Eddie quietly believed in Steve. He wouldn’t be himself unless he was exercising or playing a sport. You could see it in his face when he watched a game with Robin, when he played pick-up basketball with Lucas. It made him happy. So Eddie wanted Steve to try out. He was at the sappy stage where the thought of Steve being happy made his heart swell. He was happy he was happy.
(A part of Eddie just wondered if maybe Steve could be happy with him.)
c0rr0d3d_3dd13: do it!! i’ll cheer 4 u from here c0rr0d3d_3dd13: but leave som time free lol or u’ll go mad KingSteve85: enough free time i can chat w you? Haha
His hear clenches at the fact that it was Steve who bought it up. Their chatting. Maybe he thinks of it as often as Eddie does.
c0rr0d3d_3dd13: obvs??? c0rr0d3d_3dd13: if u 4get ab me im gonna cry dude KingSteve85: of course i won’t haha KingSteve85: gotta chat w you so you won’t go crazy back in Hawkins c0rr0d3d_3dd13: and i’ll make sure u don’t go crazy over there with your full ass schedule KingSteve85: its not that bad haha KingSteve85: but thank u c0rr0d3d_3dd13: i’d argue it *is* that bad c0rr0d3d_3dd13: i hav a full time job and the thought of ur schedule makes me cry
Wayne had managed to get him a job at Thatcher Tyre, through a few mutual acquaintances and a favour he had yet to cash in. It made him feel like one of those rich shit kids who go to college on daddy’s money and get a job in his company without having to work for it. The type of kid Steve was.
But Eddie can’t be picky now, and he and Wayne need the money. He’s good at cars, doesn’t completely hate it, and it pays. So he bit his lip, and now he has a full time job with a schedule of his own.
It is not as busy as Steve’s. He knows if he asks Robin, hers will be the same. Filled with band practices and sports games. Birds of a feather.
KingSteve85: i’m used to it haha KingSteve85: at least i’m only planning on one sport and not two lol c0rr0d3d_3dd13: u better stick to that harrington c0rr0d3d_3dd13: or i’ll drive up there and kick ur ass until you take care of urself
There’s a pause. The KingSteve85 is typing… message flickered on the screen, loading whatever message Steve was typing.
It eventually came through.
KingSteve85: i promise. but maybe i should break that rule so you can come visit c0rr0d3d_3dd13: u dont have 2 con me into visiting stevie. just say the word
Another pause.
KingSteve85: i will
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i think i've drawn lankmann a few times. just a couple
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accirax · 7 months
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and finally, here are the last two prompts of DRDTtober 2023! thank you to @librariansrose and @mikmiho for organizing the event, and to all of you for leaving such nice comments on my comics :) i haven't done a -tober event since, like... 2017? so, it was a fun-yet-definitely-time-consuming exercise to try it again.
although there isn't a given prompt for halloween day itself, i still have something drdt related planned to close out the month (assuming i finish it in time... :|) so, stay tuned for that!
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LA, 29/01/2023
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spookythesillyfella · 1 month
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man writes a fanfiction . makes art for said fanfiction .
hi yes this is tony lore . and digitaltime . rolled up into one .
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autumngracy · 2 months
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Not me creeping up to the wordcount of the fourth longest book ever written
#A Reflection of Starlight#AROS#valvert#fanfic#writing#Hey I switched back to LibreOffice again after setting up my new computer#(RIP my old computer's installation of MS Office 2009)#And also my old computer in general as it is now giving me the blue screen of death upon boot#but ANYWAY#does anybody know how to make LibreOffice stop highlighting formatted areas? BC with Dark Mode it's highlighting white text#which makes it impossible to read my footnote and page numbers#Also I CANNOT believe this program was coded to be so that 'Ignore' and 'Ignore All' options only do so for the CURRENT SESSION ONLY#Like what in god's name???#I spent 3-4 hours reformatting AROS after converting it only to learn that all the 'errors' I told it to ignore just popped back#the second I reopened the document like jesus christ#Why even offer those options if it doesn't do it permanently for that document file#HHHHHHHhhhhhhHHHHHH#I then spent another several hours being forced to change the language formatting to French for all the French bits#JUST so it would stop underlining all of them in red#And there's no way for me to get rid of the underlining on things like cut off bits of dialogue#bc they are NOT proper words and I refuse to add them to my Dictionary (thus polluting it) just to get rid of them#Ugh#So anyway remember years ago how I joked about what if I accidentally wrote a fanfic longer than the source material itself#That being one of the longest books ever written (technically THE longest book ever written#if we're counting the FRENCH version of it and not the English translation#And yeah I know I technically split AROS into 3 books but that was only for reader convenience#It's still one book in my heart#And also because I think it would be REALLY funny to surpass Hugo's wordcount#Which is entirely plausible bc in English it was only about 531k so I only a little over 100k off and I think I can easily make that#with the material I have left to write but is already mostly plotted out
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queer-reader-07 · 5 months
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the worst thing about me being a Gen Z with a Gen X father is that i routinely use Gen Z slang & internet lingo around him to the point that he's able to accurately parse what it all means. AND THEN HE GOES AND USES IT AT WORK TO IMPRESS HIS TWENTY SOMETHING COWORKERS
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dailydegurechaff · 11 months
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Today's Daily Degurechaff is… that fanart style meme
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whumble-beeee · 2 months
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What's In a Name?
The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 8
Content: mentioned past attempted noncon, hysterical whumpee/nervous breakdown (seriously yall, it gets bad), disabled whumpee, trans whumpee, tied up/handcuffs, noncon unshirtening, past captivity references
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Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters
[While following this guide, as well as generally while playing the wonderful game that is villainy, you will find that the advice can rarely be fitted to every specific scenario. But one piece of advice is universal: If you value your freedom, your loved ones, and your life, you must never reveal your secret identity to your captured hero. As soon as you do, there is no more facade. Villainy is no longer a game. It is your life. And heroes will not hesitate to destroy your life if it means they can win the game. 
If a hero (or ANY untrusted party) ever happens upon your secret identity, it is your responsibility, as a villain and as a human being, to accept the end of your life as you know it…
Or to ensure that the hero can never tell another living soul.]
* * * * * * * *
“See you soon?” Deeby repeated Sweater-vest’s last words incredulously. “See you soon?! Christ, and you know he knows– god, he just needs to stop being such un pendejo and shut the hell up, stop making everything about his goddamn god complex and shoving it en las caras de todos–”
The sudden anger from the usually cool and smug Deeby did not help the apparent panic attack seeping ever so quickly into Stan’s consciousness, especially with said seething bounty hunter circling around the room like an angry shark as he muttered to himself and gesticulated wildly. 
Stan cowered to hide his shirtlessness from said angry shark. His chest and limbs started to buzz from all the excess oxygen entering his system as he took in heavy breaths, his head spinning, dizzy, hurting, every muscle clenching.
“--y quién se cree ese cabrón para venir a joderme MI TRABAJO?” 
He was so angry. So loud, talking so fast, and what the hell was he even saying?! It was too much, too much.
 “Y la puta Lana no puede ni aparecer para decirme que me está jodiendo la vida OTRA VEZ porque es lo único que le encanta hacer, joderme TODO lo que–”
Stop it stop it stay calm stay calm please not now please please please not now you can’t show weakness like this in front of your kidnapper you can’t stop it STOP IT–
He took in an involuntary loud heaving breath. Then fell into a stuttering slew of smaller breaths as he tried to keep quiet, and Deeby finally took notice of the state of his captive. 
Stan squeaked and pulled the jacket around himself tighter. He was small, he was silent, he was invisible. 
Then he gasped in another desperate heaving breath with an involuntary cry of panic when he suddenly ran out of air. He’d stopped breathing entirely with all his efforts.
“Stan? Qué es–... Ah, you good?”
Stan nodded quickly, shaking. “F-fine, fine.”
Deeby raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t lie to me. What is this, you having a panic attack?”
He couldn’t get his eyes to focus, but he shook his head fervently. Then reeled as it made the dizziness and headache so much worse.
“Stan, talk to me, chiquito. If he actually did something to you, tell me. I need a good reason to kill him, you’d be helping me out a lot.”
He didn't actually even hurt me, did he? 
“No–! I-I u-uh-uh yes-s-s, but– but–” 
I don't WANT to ‘help you out’! I don't want to talk about it! ESPECIALLY not with you. 
He let out a whine and failed to swallow the giant knot forming in his throat.
“Alright, is this about the shirt then? Or the uh, the chest thing? Is that why you went from colonizer white to ghost white when you thought I was gonna make you strip earlier?” He walked over to the tattered shirt and scooped it up. “Because if that's what got you, I can assure you I don’t give a single crap what you’ve–... got in your...”
Deeby trailed off as he held up the grey strips of fabric that used to be Stan's button-down. 
And just stared.
Stan gawked at the unrecognizable shredded fabric hanging in the bounty hunter's hands. His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't realized how utterly destroyed his beloved shirt was. What was he supposed to wear now?
“That… Motherfucker…” Deeby muttered, almost as as aghast as Stan. “Christ, I knew he'd pull some grade-A bullshit, but this–”
“Y-you KNEW?!” Stan gasped out, surprising himself with the volume of his outburst. “You– You knew he was gonna– gonna try to...”
Deeby didn't look up from the tatters in his hands. “Yeah. He's predictable, if nothing else.”
Stan's entire body felt like it was full of angry bees. “You–... You left me-e alone with ‘im. On pu-urpose.”
“And everything turned out fine, you're fine. Look runt, we need to have a little talk about what–”
“NO!” Stan cried, ignoring the drop in his stomach when Deeby's eyes took on a slight challenging glint at the interruption. “No, don’t change the subject! You left me alone with him! You knew he was gonna try to– to rape me and you left me alone with him! Handcuffed, chained to the floor, powerless, immobile, beat up to hell and– a-and unable to defend myself and you-you left me alone with him!”
The floodgates were opening. The stifling sense of justice suffocating Stan from the inside out wouldn’t let the injustices go unsaid any longer, crashing through his body and just about ready to make him burst. Ironic, given the everything.
Deeby’s jaw set. “Stan. I wouldn’t have left that shit-for-brains alone with anyone if I didn’t have to.”
“Oh, but you– you had to?” Stan taunted, hoping the sarcasm came through in his voice even with the stuttering and heaving breaths. “What, Dee-deeby the great bounty hunter actually answers to someone? Enough to put the uh, the bounty in danger? Or are you just scared of him, wanted to get away?!” 
Deeby snorted.
“Hell yeah, I'll do whatever if the buyer asks it,” he proclaimed. "And I'm not scared of that human cringe-fail. The day I'm scared of him is the day I'm dragged away screaming and turned into… well, you, basically. But I mean, that's when he's actually dangerous…" 
He seemed to think on it for a moment. Then crouched down in front of Stan, smug grin replaced with something like the look a friend gives when they think you're about to ruin your life with a single dumb decision.
“Honesty, bud… I wouldn't be so tough around a guy like that if I were a guy like you. Best to just fuel his ego.”
Stan physically recoiled. “Don't tell me what–! Who-wh–…”
That insult sounded way too genuine. Since when was the mercenary genuine?
“Wait, wait, you'd…” Stan shook his head, trying to untangle his thoughts from the spaghetti of his mind. This concussion was killing him. He could barely think. “If you were… Who even was th-that?”
Another chuckle. “What, Tweedy? That was Vaughn. He said that earlier, though I applaud your ability to block him out. Wish I could do that.”
Then again, the hunter was most likely just trying to psych him out. Get him to behave again. Stan wouldn't fall for something like that.
“No, idiot, I mean–... I meant who is he? Why is he going to-to see me soon?… And– and for that matter, are you working together? Because it seems like you hate each other.”
Deeby let out a huff of air. “Look, bud, we need to talk about that phone call I had to take, the boss–”
“You're avoiding the question.”
“Well frankly, there's more important things to talk about,” Deeby dismissed quickly. “So I was talking with the boss-lady on the phone while you were–”
“I don’t care about what that Lana person has to say!” Stan said, slamming his hands on the floor for effect, a breath-stealing pang running through his ribs at the jostling. “Jus– Just tell me who you guys are, tell me why I’m here, tell me why I should be scared of ‘a guy like that’! Who ARE you?!”
Deeby narrowed his eyes slightly. “We need to talk about what's going to happen to you next. And you're gonna listen to that. Not yell demands at me like some asshole 6-year-old, because you already know I don't deal with all that ‘who am I, secret identity’ crap, so you're not getting those answers.”
Well actually, judging by the horrible sticky weight that slammed Stan in the gut when Deeby said that, he didn't want to know what horrors awaited him next. So next best thing? Keep being an asshole 6-year-old.
“Why?”
“Anonymity is the most valuable tool you can have in this game.” Deeby recited it like a script, exaggerating a monotone boredom. “Also I'm not an idiot, it's protocol that's saved me before, it helps me do my job without getting invested… take your pick.”
“You're not even wearing your mask any more!” Stan cried. “So much for secret identity!”
“I think what you're meaning to say is ‘thank you for rushing to save my damsel-in-distress ass from some twink with scissors when you heard me screaming for help even though you were dealing with a really important phone call from the worst person ever’. And you're very welcome. Now we need to talk about what I found out in that dumbass phone call and what it means for you.”
He always had an answer for everything, huh? Always another quip.
Stan's blood started to boil, and he may have actually, genuinely growled a little. 
“S-so-so so what, you are scared of her, then? You're scared of her and that's why you left me with that monster?!” He tried, spitting back as much smug asshole-ness as Deeby had been throwing at him. “Is that why you hate them, you’re just their damn lackey doing whatever they tell you to do?! Just a puppet for them to guide around, running around capturing supers and serving them up on a silver platter like a good little servant?!”
Deeby stared at him, genuinely stunned by the sudden venom in the captive's words. His fists clenched by his side.
 Hm. Stan may have gone too far.
“Look, McKellen,” Deeby spat as he took an authoritative step forward, voice slow, low and dark. “There are things at play here that you can’t know about–”
“Why not?!” Stan felt like he was losing it, voice creaky and high and hoarse. “Obviously I’m gonna be trapped here with you assholes for the rest of my short life until you kill me with some new form of torture experiment bullshit! Why not tell me everything?! Why not do whatever you want with me?! Just tell me! Please!!”
Stan glared desperately at the bounty hunter. He knew he wasn’t even just crossing the line at this point; he was sprinting over the line and stomping on it repeatedly in a panic-fueled frenzy, kicking at it and letting out his full fury as if the line itself had done this to him, as if absolutely decimating the line would somehow fix everything.
Way deep down, almost too far down to admit to himself, he almost hoped the mercenary would see through the insults and the fighting to see the pleading, hurt, scared man underneath. And then take pity. Just let him have this one thing, before he broke entirely.
But the bounty hunter glared right back at him.
“No.” He stated venomously. “Right now, you're going to shut up. And listen.”
As if Stan would ever listen to the orders of his kidnapper. Of a villain.
A small laugh, just a little chuckle, took root his chest. A disbelieving smile cracked across his face.
The absence of the signature unbothered grin, the absence of the mask, the deathly seriousness? Not to mention the gun, the knives, the chains, the handcuffs, the power suppressing collar, no cane or crutch or any viable mobility aid in sight, and beaten so hard multiple times that he probably couldn't run properly anyway even if he did have a knee that actually worked…
This really was hopeless, wasn't it? 
He could rage against the dying of the light all he wanted. Scream and shout and cry and fight and say witty things to hide the excruciating, never-ending pain. 
But the light would still die all the same.
He clutched Deeby's very own stupid cowboy-ass jacket around his shoulders. He couldn't even defend himself from getting his shirt ripped to shreds right off his body!
And this bitch–
“You– you don't think…” he had to pause to let out a barrage of inappropriate giggles, then shoved up shakily to his feet, back braced against the wall. “You don't still think I'm gonna– that, that I'm gonna escape, do you?!”
Deeby gave pause, eyeing Stan up and down. Really thinking about it. He took a deep breath. A low grumble emanated from the base of his throat.
“No. I don't.”
Stan laughed out again, full force this time. Desperate. Tearful.
“Then just–... just TELL ME!! IT DOESN'T MATTER!! IT DOESN'T!! IT'LL DIE WITH ME!!”
The mercenary's mouth pressed into a thin line. Was that confusion etched into his features? Or worry? Maybe anger…
“It does matter,” He growled through gritted teeth. “It's probably the most important thing you could know, who I am. Who we are.”
Stan let out a loud cry of anguish, screeching out every single frustration at the unfairness of the world, at this situation, at Deeby and Vaughn and whoever Lana was, at the collar and the chains and the cut and bruises and broken bones and his broken, useless knee into a single, guttural sound. 
“WHY WON'T YOU TELL ME ANYTIN-GAH-AH!!”
Very, very suddenly, the lapels of Deeby's loosely draped jacket tightened around his body and slammed him back into the wall, the fleece-lined collar of the jacket twisting and pulling on the power-suppressing strap clamped around his neck, contracting it, choking him just as the slam forced all the breath out of his lungs. 
Stan clawed back against the force, only managing to grasp at Deeby’s forearms uselessly as they twisted the jacket ever tighter around him. Pinning his arms. Trapping him. He had to heave in and out gasping breaths just to get enough air to breath through his half obstructed airways.
“Look at me, chiquito,” the bounty hunter snarled. “Look me in the eye!”
Stan's panicked eyes paused their sporadic dance around the room. They locked dead onto the mercenary's fiery gaze.
“Did you break your damn brain in the 3 minutes I was gone?” Deeby hissed into his ear. Stan almost screeched in terror. “I don't know what sort of fuckery your mind has been conjuring up that you can't get this very simple concept without going insane,” he jolted Stan and dragged out an involuntary whimper from his throat. 
“But whatever it is, shut it down. Now. I'm gonna tell you the bare minimum of what you need to know, and you're gonna sit there and listen or else I won't tell you jack shit and knock you unconscious so I don't have to deal with your bullshit. Agreed?!” 
“I– Ah, a-ah, I– No, I- I, no-no no No-o–”
He couldn't get his thoughts to line up properly. They swarmed around his head like locusts in a dust bowl, bouncing into each other, frenzied, an indecipherable cloud of fear and frustration that his horrible attempt at defiance, futile as it may have been, always just made everything worse.
He could never stop himself.
Angry tears rimmed at Stan's eyes. His body hurt. His brain pounded in his skull. His ribs cried out in protest as they pressed into the wall. The various bruises and their dull, throbbing aches, the cuts and bleeding wounds and their sharp, searing screeches, the sticky and caked on dried blood, so familiar now it was almost a second skin, Deeby's weight pinning him to the wall, so similar and yet so different to the way Vaughn had done the same.
No. No, no, no, no.
He squeezed his eyes shut, tears finally falling in hot, fat drops down his cheeks. The bounty hunter was so close, too close. Stan tried to pull away, and he just leaned on him harder, their faces barely inches apart.
“Agreed, chiquito?” The voice rumbled through his entire body, sending shivers up and down his spine.
No no no no no no no he needed to get away, get away now, please please that's all he needed he couldn't get away he couldn't even move his arms he could barely breathe–
“WHY DON'T YOU JUST RAPE ME ALREADY?!” Stan screamed into the endless cacophonous void.
And silence.
And the entire world went still.
Deeby’s mouth fell literally agape.
His grip on Stan loosened considerably. Not out of pity or any other considerate emotion. Just shock.
At least Stan could finally breathe again. Not that he took a single breath in the silence.
“I–...” Deeby finally choked out. “I-I beg you finest fucking what?!”
“Just fucking do it,” Stan hissed, gasping. “We both know you could. I couldn't even stop Vaughn, you think I could stop you?!”
The words spewed out of his mouth faster than he could stop them, like a volcano that had finally exploded its top off in a fiery glory. And the way Deeby looked at him, as if his features were having an all out war over shock, horror, or honestly very justified anger? Oh, that did nothing but fan the flames of Stan's sorrow-filed hysteria.
“Tall ass muscle-bound freak with an actual gun that captured me and beat me up again and again then left me to die?! I don't even know who you are! You can do whatever you want and I can't do jack shit to stop you! Just do it, hurt me, rape me, it doesn't matter! Vaughn knew that, you can too!” Stan attempted to shove the bounty hunter off, but he still didn't move. 
“Please, please, I'm begging you, is that what you want?! I'll get on my knees!”
Stan collapsed against Deeby's hold, and to his surprise, Deeby finally let him. Well, not ‘let him,’ more like ‘recoiled and jumped back when he felt Stan collapsing in his grasp'. 
All the same.
“Chiquito,” Deeby rasped. “I'm– not exactly sure what or why you're demanding, but I'm not going to–”
“Why not?! It doesn't matter!” Stan assured, holding his arms out to fully present himself now, shedding the jacket onto the floor behind him and taking a daring scoot forward. “I bet you just kicked Vaughn out because you wanted me all to yourself! I bet you just love seeing me scared and helpless and half naked in your stupid fucking yee-yee jacket–”
“Alright, Stan, enough!”
“AT LEAST VAUGHN had the decency to not pretend like he was a decent fucking person like you!” Stan yelled. “We both know you're not above it, fucking professional kidnapper and torturer! So just do it! Like Vaughn wanted to, like he tried to! Finish what he started, you have me all to yourself now! DO IT! DO IT I DARE–”
“The name's Declan.”
The statement was a whisper in the storm. Stan almost missed it. But the resolute certainty of the southern twang stopped him dead in his tracks.
“What–… What did you just–?”
It was astounding how quickly his voice had turned meek from the cacophony of chaos mere seconds before. Dark freckles stood out against an even starker white face than usual.
“It's Declan,” the mercenary stated once more. “My name. My name’s Declan. You wanted t’know who we are, who I am? Fine then, I'm Declan. Want the last name too?”
“I– wait–!”
“It's Cansano. Declan Cansano.”
Stan was shaking, a million thoughts crashing down upon him like a tidal wave. If he weren't already on his knees, surely he would have collapsed. 
He hadn't actually… meant any of that. No. Had he? No. He couldn't have. He didn't want to know who the mercenary was. No, he didn't. He didn't, not really! He would never want that! Never!
“That’s not… Wh-why would you…?”
The bounty hunter shrugged. “You wanted to know who I am. You asked, you screamed, you insulted me and you went fuckin’ nuts over it.” His thunder-filled eyes betrayed his completely relaxed demeanor. “Declan Cansano. Don't forget‘t.”
“I just– That's not what– Wait, Deeby, you– Where are you going?!”
Deeby was already halfway to the door when he swiftly spun around, fists clenched and any trace of the easy demeanor vanished in those bright blood-stained eyes. 
“I can't fuckin’ deal with you right now!”
Stan nearly launched himself back in fear, right back onto Deeby's stupid, soft jacket. He grasped it up as a barrier between him and the mercenary without even thinking. The mercenary's demeanor relaxed from absolutely terrifying to merely extremely angry at the sorry sight.
“I'm leaving for a bit.” He whipped around and grasped for the lapels of his jacket to yank it on, only for his grasp to come up empty. He whipped around a third time. “And I'll be expectin’ my coat back when I get back! You better've calmed the hell down by then, if you know what’s good for you.”
Wait, wait, he was leaving? No!
Stan tried to scramble after Deeby, but immediately fell to the agony of his knee and the length of his leash. 
“Don't go, please!” he pleaded.
Deeby didn’t stop. “Why?”
What if you come back with more torture tools? 
What if you don't come back at all? 
I still have more questions for you. 
You can't just leave me here, I'm hurt! 
I shouldn't be alone right now. I can't. I'm scared of what will happen, I'm going insane.
Even you are better than no one at all.
“What– what if Vaughn comes back?!”
Deeby scoffed. “I'm not going that far, damn. Eat some protein bars while I'm gone so you don't die, should help with the insanity. Back soon.”
And the door to the room closed shut behind him, the click echoing off the walls in the sudden unbearable silence. 
Stan collapsed to the floor, defeated.
He clutched the jacket closer. 
Pulled it tight around his shoulders, fingernails leaving small crescent-shaped indents on the well-worn hide. The cotton lining was so surprisingly soft against his skin. Hell, he could smell the dirt and musk that permeated the jacket from years of use, the smal signs that this jacket had seen the capture of dozens of supers.
Declan.
Declan Cansano.
Professional Superhero-Hunter.
Stan screamed into the endless abyss around him.
And this time, Declan didn’t come back to save him.
* * * * * * * *
Next
Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy | @pirefyrelight | @cakeinthevoid | @painsandconfusion | @books-are-everything | @paperprinxe | @lovethiswriting
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possessable · 7 months
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here's preemptive proof that I'm NOT just doing an amazing digital circus knockoff for when i inevitably make a "large strange glitchy area that a bunch of people accidentally find themselves in with no memories" series except it's a convenience store instead of a circus
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crystal-lillies · 7 months
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a rambling retrospective on the last year as a new Critter
So, it's been about a year (a little over) since I fully dipped into the Critical Role fixation.
Last year around this time, we got the other Halloween episode in Whitestone, just before the Mighty Nein Reunited two-parter, and gee, we just got a Halloween episode in Whitestone and we're about to go into a Mighty Nein Reunion this week! And a LIVE show at that, the first one since pre-COVID!
And last year at this time, I was just starting into a work D&D group and I'd just gotten my first set of dice at a renaissance festival, and I'd just bounced around a bunch of compilation videos, several oneshots, and some out-of-context Campaign 2, along with The Legend of Vox Machina season 1. I was just barely dipping my toe into the wider CR + TTRPG world.
So much has happened since then.
Every Thursday since that Halloween in Whitestone last year with Bells Hells, I've been tuning into the stream (despite the ET time difference) and sometimes even making it through all the way (for some exhaustion points that are still worth it). I watched more of the oneshots (the Call of Cthulu one and Nautilus Ark being particular favorites I've seen in 2023). I've also watched a lot more of Campaign 2 and even went back into Campaign 1, bought myself some merch (I'm actually wearing the Hot Topic Ashton shirt, haha), and I got friends into The Legend of Vox Machina before and after Season 2 dropped on Amazon.
I even wrote a little fic when Matt slammed us all with the Apogee Solstice on the 8th anniversary session :)
And, as anyone who's been following me has noticed, I got the Exquisite Exandria cookbook and have been making the recipes from it whenever I can, and that's also been amazing.
Plus, I've watched some Dimension 20 (Mentopolis was incredible and Burrow's End rn is fascinating) and dipped into Worlds Beyond Number thanks to that.
My work D&D group has since dissolved, but I took a leap of faith and I joined a pickup oneshot game of D&D5e in April, and around late June/early July, the DM of that game invited me with a few others to a campaign set in that homebrew world the oneshot was based in.
We started playing at the end of July, and I've been having such a blast. Each session is so much fun and the highlight of any given week we play. I cannot believe I went so long in my life without having D&D until this point, honestly. But I'm so glad I have it now.
All of this to say, a lot has happened in the last year, and I'm so glad to have stumbled into the Critter community and gained knowledge of Critical Role and the wider TTRPG sphere as a whole. The fandom has been so welcoming and supportive in a way I haven't felt from many fandoms in my experience. It feels like it's been more than just a year of being invested in Critical Role, but I suppose that the fervent intensity of the story and the people involved and the genuine excitement in front of and behind the cameras.
I guess, just... thank you for everything. And here's to many more years of Critterdom to come :)
Love y'all very much, and is it Thursday yet?
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innytoes · 9 months
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Leverage + JATP crossover AU?? Like. Imagine Eliot and Sophie specifically having to deal with Caleb Covington
-I am so tickled by this idea. Like, they didn't even die, they're still alive. Like, you know that if ghosts were real, at least Sophie and Eliot would know. Parker too, but she's just like: um what's the big deal? They're just people who died. They're still awkward to talk to. (She is pissed about the whole, they can walk through walls and don't set off alarms thing, but then she realises they can't actually steal stuff so it's fine.)
-Parker has 100% heard someone skateboarding through an empty museum while she was stealing a painting, and just been like: that's none of my business.
-Nate never knew about the ghosts because everyone who did agreed it would send him off the deep end trying to get his son back.
-Somehow, Sophie got into the club (as a guest while grifting) and somehow managed to avoid the whole 'Caleb steals your soul' thing and he's still mad about it.
-You know she 100% enjoyed the show, though. She was sad she had to slip out to finish her whole grift before midnight.
-Eliot knows about Area 51/52, he knows about the Ghosts, okay. Moreau 100% had dealings with Caleb. Eliot totally had a stare off with Caleb's Chair Twink. No he will not have anything to drink, he's bodyguarding and also his Granny taught him better than to accept food or drink from what may or may not be one of the Fair Folk.
-Hardison is NOT OKAY when he learns about the ghosts. He is even less okay when he realises the others all KNEW.
-Breanna is just super stoked that the Phantoms in Julie and the Phantoms are real ghosts.
-Things hit the fan when they realise Caleb Covington owns the soul of Willie. Either Sophie or Eliot recognises him in an old photo album Nana was showing the team (much to Hardison's embarrassment because she was showing them his old tween pictures).
-Because Willie was one of Nana's foster kids. He was only with her for a few months before he got hit by that car, but he was One of Theirs and the fact that his soul is trapped is Not Okay.
-Let's go steal back a Willie.
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