#Dealers choice if they get their powers back once they find out

[shanastoryteller]

hi shana happy holidays, hope you have a good one! i'd love JC time travel if you feel like writing it, dealer's choice if not!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

Reducing his use of cultivation is the simplest way to extend Nie Haoyu's life and the one thing he refuses to do.

"You're being ridiculous," Jiang Cheng says tightly, pushing soothing cultivation energy through his palms as he works out the knots in Nie Haoyu's back. He's straddling the man's hips, which feels like a concession in the battle he's pretending they're not having, but it's the only way he could get the man to submit and stay still.

Nie Haoyu breathes evenly and deeply and eventually responds, "You should not have followed me."

He presses his thumbs into a bruise and Nie Haoyu's breathing briefly turns to a wheeze. "Oops," he says brightly before leaning back. "My mistake."

"Wei Cheng," he starts, then nothing.

Jiang Cheng is aware he has a great many admirable qualities. He's equally aware that patience is not among them. "You shouldn't be sneaking away to cursed mausoleums."

"If the spirits are not contained," he says, frustrated, then silences himself.

Nie Haoyu is a patient man. Likely for the best, considering.

"Then I'll help," Jiang Cheng answers. "I can channel resentful energy. You saw that."

He has a golden core uniquely suited to channeling resentful energy.

"You can't," Nie Haoyu begins, then changes tracts again. This conversation is going to give him a headache. "When people find out the root of our cultivation, that it is more than just our sabers, they're horrified."

He would have been, once. He was, once.

It cost him everything.

He leans down, bracing his hands against Nie Haoyu's shoulders. His lips almost brush his ear when he asks, "Do I seem horrified to you?"

Nie Haoyu isn't breathing.

Jiang Cheng leans back. "I will help you. And you will let me."

It's not a permanent solution and he's not planning on dying either. But it gives them time.

Time for A-Ying to grow up.

Time for A-Ying to grow into his power and then maybe he and Jiang Cheng will be able to offer a more permanent solution.

"Alright, Wei Cheng," he says softly. "Alright."

[godsfavoritescientist]

Drabble request: post-canon "happy" ending for Bill & Ford, but find some way to imply that something super fucked up is going on just beneath the surface. Mind control, dream bubble fantasy, idk, dealer's choice, just something messed up.

Fragments of what was once Earth drift through the empty vacuum of space. They sit together on a summoned-up couch, watching it all float by. Ford fidgets with his brand new eye-shaped gold cufflinks. His ornately-embroidered sleeves are drenched in blood.

The henchmaniacs are busy elsewhere, expanding their reign of benevolent terror to the outer reaches of the galaxy. This mostly entails eating space rocks and crashing planets into eachother. For the first time since Ford accepted Bill’s offer, they’ve had time to really sit down and chat.

Bill throws an arm over Ford’s shoulder. “Lemme tell you something, Sixer. It doesn’t really matter how necessary it was–and believe me, it was necessary! What matters more is that it was the most fun you’ll ever have! Now that you’re immortal, I won’t sugarcoat it: Earth’s entire existence is a blip in the grand scheme of things. It was like a really dry log: destined to be burned!” He pats Ford on the back. “So don’t let me catch you moping about it.”

“I’m not moping,” Ford bristles, leaning away from Bill’s touch. “I’m contemplating.”

“Hah! Contemplating! You hear this guy?” Bill asks an imaginary audience, gesturing at Ford with his thumb. “Well contemplate this: we’ve got ultimate power over the entire multiverse. You might as well be a god. You can spend an eternity studying everything that ever was and ever will be. This is a sweet deal no matter how you spin it!”

Ford makes a noncommital sound. “That very well may be true, and I am grateful to you, but… human emotion is not so easy to logic away, I’m afraid. I want to move on as easily as you did, but…” he shrugs helplessly. “It’s just hard to believe it’s gone.”

Bill pats him on the back. “A little bit of shock is normal! Took me a few weeks to work through. Of course, I was brand new to the third dimension too, so it shouldn’t take quite that long for you. But humans are more emotional than shapes, so I’ll be patient! Don’t say I never did anything for ‘ya.”

Ford doesn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Now! You know what helps me when I’m like this? A good distraction! There’s bound to be dozens of my enemies tracking us down right now–it’s not exactly hard to miss a whole planet blowing up. So we’d better get a head start on things, attack first before any of them can put us on the defensiv-” Bill squints at something approaching from the distance. “Hey, what’s that?”

Ford looks up sharply. It takes a few seconds to spot it, but as it gets closer, it’s unmistakable: a steely-gray entirely flat object, no more than two feet wide and long, flying towards them.

Once it’s right between them, it slows to a stop. From above, it’s clearly shaped like a 2D spacecraft, except that all four walls are enclosed, not just the perimeter.

A stick-thin door opens up, and out floats a dozen multicolored geometric shapes, all with skin covering their bodies from above and below, not just around their perimeter.

For the first time in eons, Bill is too stunned to speak a single word.

The leader of the group, a irregularly-shaped silver isoceles triangle, speaks first. “It’s you! It’s really you! We were starting to think you died in the aftermath of our dimension’s death. But the energy signals we’ve been following over the past week… we knew it couldn’t be anyone else.”

Bill’s voice is very quiet, and much less echoey than usual, as he says, “I thought you all died. I made sure you all died.”

The little silver triangle laughs. “Nope! The cleverest of us were able to escape. Your destruction only took the lives of those unwilling to change, unwilling to adapt to the higher dimensions. And the lives we’ve led since then have been so much better than anything our homeworld could have ever offered to us. We owe you a great deal.”

As he listens to this, Bill glows brighter and brighter and brighter, until he’s glowing the brightest that he’s ever been. “I knew it! I knew the worthy ones would live, I knew there was a way out for ones like you!”

He turns to Ford with a brilliant gleam in his eye. “Ford, these are survivors from my home dimension! Do you know how long it’s been? At least a trillion years! These guys are persistent. More than worthy of joining the gang, right Ford?”

Ford looks just as overjoyed as Bill. “Absolutely—but this is incredible! Liberating my dimension didn’t just give me an eternity at your side, but it’s also allowed these shapes to finally find you!” He shakes his head in wonder. “This whole time, you were right, Bill. You were right about everything. If our first act as joint-rulers of the multiverse can accomplish something of this scope, then there’s nothing we can’t accomplish together.”

Bill embraces Ford in a hug that sends them both twirling through outerspace. “Isn’t it exhilirating? Being free from all those stupid little ties to a planet that’ll be dead and gone in the blink of an eye?”

Ford nods wholeheartedly. “There’s a whole multiverse out there for the taking. You’ve finally made me see that.”

He lets go of Bill, and looks back at the handful of shapes floating nearby. “You must have so many questions. I know I do. But I’ll let you catch up with Bill, first.”

Bill zooms back to face the shapes. “Boy do I ever!!! How long do you guys live now that you’ve adapted yourselves to a three-dimensional world, because we’re gonna be here for a while.”

The group settles in for a very long chat, exchanging stories and ideas and many cups of tea. And way off in the distance, far out of Bill’s line of sight, his little world’s edge glimmers with the iridescence of a soap bubble.

[puffin-smoke]

redactedtober 12!! today is dealer's choice, so I'll gladly take this as an opportunity to ramble about my OCs.

Dealer's Choice; Bernadette Popovski and her Circus!!

(and sweetheart)(I talk a lot during this one, sorry!)

[F4A] Reopening The Case on Your Infuriating Illusory Ringleader

Bernadette's Circus has always walked a fine line in terms of keeping covert. It showed off the full extent of the empowered's powers while keeping it's largely unempowered audience, although there were a few shock and elation daemons who regularly visited their shows, none the wiser. It caused the Department many a headache. So the Circus was put under strict surveillance and the investigation of whatever Detective was bullheaded enough to think that they might be the one to put the Circus under.

Naturally, Sweetheart took the case.

They never found anything. Every audience member was astonished by the incredible special effects and skillful performers; the way the lion tamer could hold his head in between the lion's jaws without even flinching, the escape artist that was in chains one moment and roaming the audience the next, the acrobat who seemed to walk on air.

All they got for their troubles was a mountain of paperwork and too much time spent with the infuriating Bernadette Popovski.

"Oh, please, love- call me Bernie. Everyone does."

Sweetheart never did take that advice, and more often referred to her as "that cocky little shit". Not to her face. That would be against protocol.

So after months of getting nowhere and a perpetual headache from trying to get a straight answer out of the illusory, the case was dropped. That was the only case Sweetheart never solved.

"If this whole- detective thing falls through, feel free to give me a call. I'm sure we could find a place for you here."

It took everything they had not to deck her right then and there, and just walk out of the tent. It took even more to push their frustration and humiliation down and move on with their life, to forget that goddamn circus.

Four years passed. They moved onto different cases, different people to be annoyed at. Bernadette and her stupid smile and Russian accent faded into the deepest recesses of their mind.

Until they heard about something. An incident at the Circus. A dead audience member.

The case was back on, and this time they were going to close it.

"Detective. I wish I could say I am surprised."

It was, once again, nearly impossible to get anything out of them. Her voice had taken on a new edge, a farcry from her casual, lilting tone all those years ago. This one was defensive, tired. Now Sweetheart held all the cards, no more grasping at straws.

"I'll tell you what I told the human officer. I was debuting a new performer, a singer. Partway through an audience member fell over. By the time I got over there, they had died."

She had decided it had been a heart attack and that was all she knew. The performer, a sonal energetic by the sound of it, was holed up in her tent and Bernadette's voice took on a deadly edge when they asked to be taken to her.

"She's been through enough, she doesn't need you pestering her."

Apparently doing their job was pestering. The conversation went almost nowhere from there, and they were able to ascertain very little else. An audience member had tried to perform CPR, and clearly failed. The lion tamer, a telepath the name of Caleb, had seen the victim collapse and gone to tell Bernadette. They didn't get any further than that, but it was a start.

It was more than they'd gotten four years ago.

The ringleader didn't object as heavily to them speaking to Caleb. She was even somewhat helpful, directing them to where the telepath would probably be. But it was not without a warning.

"I understand, Detective. Go ask your questions. But, what's the phrase- my circus, my monkeys. So please don't tap the glass."

Cocky bastard couldn't even bothered to not seem suspicious during a murder investigation.

[MM4A] Interrogating Two Stubborn Circus Performers

Apparently Bernadette had trained her people well. They were just as tight lipped as she was.

They clearly knew Sweetheart had been coming, along with what that might mean for their circus; as they made their way through the rows of tents and caravans dozens of eyes had followed them, along with a a trail of whispers just loud enough for them to overhear. When they found Caleb he wasn't alone; sat a few feet away a man was giving them the death glare while simultaneously looking at Caleb like a kicked puppy. They cocked their eyebrow at that, to which the telepath laughed.

"Oh, sorry about Aslan. He's just a little bit antsy, I'm sure you understand."

When they remarked that he looked like he was about to bite their head off, he just grinned at them and turned towards the shifter. They were pretty sure he was the only one smiling in that whole field.

"Don't worry, he'd never. I'm living proof of that- hey babe! You can go, I'll meet you by the ticket booth, alright?"

That seemed to calm him down; he nodded, got up from where he was sat, and made his way over to the pair. Eyes moderately less murderous, he kissed the telepath goodbye and began to stalk through the rows of tents, checking back over his shoulder every now and again, somehow making eye contact with Sweetheart every time.

Thus the interrogation began. And while Caleb was more friendly than his boss, he was certainly no more helpful. Each question was artfully dodged or optimistically spun.

"You want to know about Bernie? Hell- she's family to me. To all of us really, even Aslan. He's a big softie, would never admit it."

His story lined up neatly with Bernadette's. He's seen a disturbance in the crowd and gone to tell her about it, since she was more experienced healer than he was, but by the time she'd made her way over there, the victim was already gone. It had been too late. The audience had been quickly cleared out after that and emergency services had been called, for all the good they could do.

As they pressed for information on the new performer, his smile faltered. Only for a moment or so, almost imperceptibly, but it was stark in Sweetheart's mind.

"Oh- well, I really think it was a spot of bad luck. They'd been singing, putting their all into it, and that person just happened to- well."

He laughed nervously, his fingers twitching at his sides.

"Look, I really should go find Aslan. We're supposed to be practising, do you mind if I go? I really have nothing else to say."

Before they could reply he was already halfway across the field, still grinning, but the smile quivering at the edges.

"Good luck, Detective! Sorry I couldn't have been more helpful!"

And with that he was gone.

And they were no closer to piecing things together.

Shit.

Surely the singer wouldn't mind if they just popped into her tent, asked a few questions. And if Popovski said not to do it, then they basically had to.

It took a few minutes of searching but they eventually found the tent, on the farthest reaches of the field, the amount of tents slowly thinning out as they approached. They hadn't necessarily meant to eavesdrop, but who were they to complain if their footfalls were particularly quiet, or the thrum of distant conversation muffled the sound of them stepping on a branch just as well as cloaking would.

"I know- it's okay. I know you didn't do anything, nothing that happened was your fault."

Sweetheart held their breath. The brittle way Bernadette spoke was so alien to her, it's previous edge still there but now akin to shattered glass. There was a gentleness to it, a tenderness.

"I'm going to protect you. I'll protect everyone."

Sweetheart wondered how far they'd go to do that. How much they'd cover up. How much they would sacrifice.

"I promise you, my Magnum Opus."

[massivechildtidalwave]

Tim did not grow up with supervision. His parents called and checked in maybe once or twice by phone per year before continuing on their adventures, often leaving him completely alone in a too big mansion.

Tim is after all A very smart boy, he’ll figure it out, and he did.

He learned about how money worked and how computers worked and how everything else worked.

He would likely never need a job because his parents were loaded but…. But he could see how having his own separate account from his parents would be beneficial, in the event he truly displeased them enough for them to disown him like they used to threaten him with after eventful galas, he wouldn’t be out on the streets.

Tim found his calling in building custom technology and tracking people down. Turns out spying on the Bats for photography had been useful. No one would buy any product from a kid even if it was Drake Industry backed which was a non issue when nobody in his life even knew he was doing it.

(most of the stalking was just hunting down cheating partners and not the Criminal he would catch as Robin. It was as infuriating as it was a relief, to have a break from the good fight being just a regular kid with an internet account.)

(most people didn’t consider stalking people online normal behavior; most people aren’t named Tim Drake)

⭕️

The Drakes had planned a trip to Italy for a year and surprisingly, Tim had apparently been “old enough to be useful” for the trip. He didn’t have high hopes and being ditched at an apartment complex owned by the family for the next year shouldn’t have been such a betrayal. It felt like it was.

The only real good news was that the Big Bat had finally gotten help and therefore would not need Tim’s Robin anymore. He had Damian now. All the Wayne’s were in Gotham where they belonged, breathing. Tim had done his part perfectly!

Tim powered up his computer, set his equipment around his new stomping grounds and went back to work in order to chase away his boredom….. only the work seemed to be different then in Gotham.

Tim had started gaining requests to find “Traitors”, like Mafia Traitors…. He was Robin, he shouldn’t be helping the Mafia by tracking down their victims for them…. However he wasn’t truly Robin anymore, and on second look the Traitors had actually done horrible things.

Huh

Who knew most Mafia Families had themselves morals? Though it did depend on the group. He also gained an increase in orders for machinery. Guns and more guns and trackers and capture devices. Tim kind of felt like HE was the Drug dealer of the group. (“what can I get you” *dramatically unzips long jacket* “got the good guns, the great trackers, which ya want”)

⭕️

In Tims defense, it wasn’t his fault he figured out about Flames..

He had gotten jumped in the city, of course he had, and he may or may not had reacted badly to a gun being shoved in his face so far from home. Now his hands were glowing purple.

He needed information and who better to ask than the Mafia.( he hadn’t slept in two nights when he thought of this plan)

but he couldn’t just ask them. No! That would be risky, dangerous, he didn’t raise himself to be an idiot, so he broke into their computers. and damn was it protected! It took him two hours to break in instead of the thirty minutes he thought it would but he managed it.

With knowledge of Omertà and everything he could find about Flames, Tim decided he needed to find a group to hide in if it ever called for it…. His first choice. The Varia. But not just the Varia, the research and technical support wing of the Varia. It had originally been a “if I ever need it” but Tim had gotten bored again and now here he was, taking the tests needed to enter the organization.

it’s ok though, he’s smart. He’ll figure it out like he always did.

[zac--zappy]

🆅🅴🅻🆅🅴🆃🆃🅴 × 🅲🅰🆁🅼🅸🅻🅻🅰 (♂️)

They are certainly a problematic couple, based on Velvette teasing Carmilla and Carmilla frustrated giving in to provocations.

However, I see a lot of potential tenderness, once an effective relationship is made.

🗡️ `📱⇢︎ #Velmilla

It's Carmilla who has the gender change, I see her better.

Velvette is the kind of person who takes what she wants, she doesn't care if he's a powerful man who can't stand her, after all it's not like she imagines she wants more than one fuck.

‌I don't even know how to get it started, because the only thing I can think of is that during the song, when they come face to face, both times, Velvette feels like she's lost her breath, for some reason she scrambles him from head to toe, finding him attractive despite the prying words he just formulated.

‌So, confused, she decides to leave the scene, especially after the debate, returning to the tower with the mood under her shoes and the desire to make someone, but not someone by chance, she realizes it when among all Valentino's sluts she does not find a single person to her liking and doing it alone she finds herself thinking about that Hispanic Carmilla, paralyzing herself in frustration after coming fantasizing about him.

She wonders how the fuck is possible, he's never liked bigger men, not to mention that he in particular is on her nerves. Look to Valentino for advice.

‌Really bad choice, she asks him how it is possible that sexual tastes can change suddenly, but he answers something like a fucking dog, with vulgarity, but maybe he also hints at something logical and credible.

‌❝ Let's say it can vary, from how the said person treats you, from the physique or body language, we can say that sexual appetite is extremely subjective and instinctive, you can't control it, it's your arousal that slams you in the face that you have no choice you would like to fuck yourself on ❞.

Val doesn't say anything out of the ordinary, he basically tells her that if she wants to get someone she shouldn't have any problems and go for it.

‌❝ Hey, Come on... You're one of the three V's, do you want to come and tell me that this asshole isn't dying to be inside you? Should I gouge out his eyes and give him new ones?! ❞.

‌As Val begins to get caught up in her ego, she sighs, thanking him more or less, going off to work without having understood much about the situation, only somehow, she wants and needs to have a night with that arms dealer.

‌She tries to get away with it, thinking about something else, working, trying to fuck someone, but her head always comes back to him, from the exciting smell she smelled when they were close, to his hands squeezing her, to his voice that could take on a Spanish accent at any moment.

‌But how do you organize a fuck with a person with whom you have been fighting for less than two days? Simple!

‌YOU HAVE TO BLACKMAIL HIM WITH SOMETHING OF HIGH RELEVANCE!

‌So, having used a Vox contraption as a bug camera, she too is aware that he was the one who ended the exorcist's life and rather than make this information a step forward in the war against heaven, she uses it to approach Carmilla and ask to be received, she alone.

‌Carmilla, although wary, accepts, finding himself face to face with the demon of social media, who immediately reveals her cards, saying she knows what he did and why, leaving him stunned and without aces to play.

‌❝ What do you want from me? ❞.

‌ “ Nothing that any sinners wouldn't want ”.

‌ Carmilla doesn't understand, Velvette sighs, pinching her own nose desperately, heading to his side of the table. Suspicious and angry, he immediately gets up from his chair, but a second later he finds himself pressing his hands on the desk to avoid bumping into our faces, having been pulled by the tie.

‌❝ What the heck ?! ❞

‌ Carmine realizes he's on top of her, her ass sticking to his own cock, leaving him shocked and perplexed.

‌She is so small that she almost disappears under him, who just doesn't know what to say.

‌“ I want this, Mr. No War, or have you forgotten how to do it? ”

‌❝ No way ! ❞ He pulls himself up but, suddenly, Velvette brings him back to the desk, rolling his slender legs to Carmine's hips, again towering over her figure.

‌ “ Do you really want to risk your daughters for a ride ? ”

‌He gnashes his teeth, bringing up his daughters was the right move, and so he starts in fifth, throwing his hands at her hips to put her at ninety, but being stopped by a little kick that throws him back on the chair.

‌“ Take it easy sample ”. Velvette moves his chair closer to the desk before plunging onto his lap and running her fingers from chest to throat, while laughing, pinching his cheek.

‌“ I want you to give me your best, if I'm not satisfied I might as well reconsider my offer of silence, so avoid that disgusted face and stick your tongue out, now."

‌He reluctantly sticks out his tongue and she immediately runs her tongue over it, sucking it before actually kissing him, while she plants her fingers in his shoulders and he clings to his chair, his nails clawed to the arms of the same, shaken and out of shape in the context.

(as he hasn't had sex in years, busy with his own business and the responsibilities that come with his every choice).

‌Velvette flusters as she hears the guttural moan rising from his throat as she unrolls her tongue into his mouth, but gets irritated that his hands couldn't be in a worse place, not on her.

‌She snorts, "Put those fucking hands on me."

‌Despite the opposition, Carmilla can't lie to himself, he realizes that he feels a confusing mix of anger, chaos and excitement, but he also feels wanted, not to mention the fact that Velvette is not ugly at all, quite the contrary.

‌So he resigns hisself and slides his hands behind her back, continuing the kiss, but V is not satisfied, she wants more and takes it, placing his hands on her own butt while she starts to sway the same, looking for some interesting reaction from the man.

‌The situation is getting complicated, at the moment they don't have the right physicality, but it doesn't matter. He tells himself that the sooner he does it, the sooner she'll leave, so when Velvette goes to his neck he teases her nipples, inducing her to take the next step, which is to slide between his legs as soon as she senses Carmilla's daughters coming.

‌Now on the ground she rubs her cheek against his member through his pants, when his daughters enter he panics giving her an excited look; He tries to hold her by putting a hand on her face, covering it all. But she is not easy to restrain and taking Carmine's hand she gives us a slow, eager lick, meandering her tongue between his fingers.

‌The daughters talk but it's as if he doesn't exist, now provoked and exasperated, feeling Velvette's lips on his own length and then a light bite on his thigh. He almost gasps.

‌Somehow the man gets rid of his daughters and as soon as they come out, he pulls Velvette to her feet with blue fur, but remains seated.

‌❝ What pops into your head?! ❞ In response, she snorts and points to his very visible erection.

‌“ Stop preaching daddy, is it really that exciting to be discovered by your daughters ? Pervert... ”.

‌He can't help but look away, frustrated, feeling like his own executioner.

‌❝ N-It's not me... Is it you ❞

‌Velvette smiles mischievously, placing her hands on his knees. “ I... Do you want to tell me that I'm good enough to make you hard unwillingly ? ”.

‌He growls but before he can open his mouth Velvette starts with another kiss, suddenly ripping off the front of his bodysuit and then unbuttoning his shirt, being able to admire his muscles and fiddle with his pecs and abs.

‌Carmilla acts indifferent but by now it is clear that a part of him wants her, so while she enjoys teasing him, Carmilla grabs his face and kisses her, Standing up only to turn her around and make her feel it against her back.

‌ Velvet suddenly shudders, for the first time since the beginning of that game she is not in charge. This is particularly exciting.

‌ Camilla starts by taking off her fur, running his hands along her back, moving her hair around so she can admire her better.

‌ Velvet, for her part, lies completely on the man's desk, dangling her hips to encourage him to continue.

At this point, Carmilla tears off the upper part of his bodysuit, already crumpled In any case, being able to comfortably take off his pants up to his thighs, grab Velvet by the thighs and place her on the desk in such a way as to leave her with her legs dangling.

‌She protests that she can't do much.

‌ Carmilla places a hand on her back, helping to remove her pants and underwear. It's not long before the actual sex begins, and neither of them knows what to say anymore except panting.

FROM HERE ON YOU CAN IMAGINE..

Art by @hawkeyyee

[numinous-scribe]

Dp x Dc prompt

This is an old thought that I had shared with @stealingyourbones awhile back, but I've been thinking about it a lot lately so consider this:

Steph technically didn't fake her death. At least not all the way. She did code on Doc Thompson's table, but in a twist of events the good doc got her hands on vial of green goop with revitalizing properties that, up until this point she's been testing out on small wounds. Desperate to not lose another kid to Bruce's crusade, and with nothing else working, the Doc takes the vial and injects it into Stephanie.

Girl Wonder is revived, with a few ghostly perks in tow.

Now to expand on this: At this point, it would be likely that she isn't aware of the Lazarus Pits; Bruce withholding information? It's more likely than you think, and two can play that game, ergo why she resorts to testing it on her own rather than handing it over and letting him deal with the glowing mystery goop. But then that begs the question of how did the good Doc get her hands on this stuff? Was it a gift from a rather odd ghostly stranger? Was it something she slipped off of a kooky scientist couple after overhearing a discussion about its properties? Maybe it was part of a medical trial run presented to her through DalvCo— Dealer's choice.

And then there's Steph, freshly revived, healing faster than anyone she's ever personally tended to. And she's glowing. Phasing through objects. Parts of her are turning invisible. She's even levitating in her sleep! (Talk about a heart attack walking in on that one.)

Doc Thompson was already going to convince Stephanie to go underground once she was stabilized, as part of her plan to drive a point home to Bruce, but now it's become a must with all of these new, supernatural powers coming to the forefront. And for once, Stephanie doesn't put up an argument. As much as she wants to stick around and get back into the swing of things, those few minutes where she was actually dead have put a new perspective on life for her. And now she's got powers coming in? Yeah, she needs to get that shit figured out before jumping back into the scene.

Steph's not familiar with a lot of her extended family, has barely ever stepped foot out of Gotham over the course of her life. But she sorta remembers her cousin, Star, from this middle of nowhere city out in Illinois. It's not much of a plan, but it'll be a place to stay off the radar for awhile and practice getting her new powers under her control.

Now imagine her surprise when she finds she has a lot more in common with some of the residents than she could have ever expected....

[griefabyss69]

Steddie prompt: former Experiment!Eddie messing with Steve using his gifts because he’s bored. What that entails is entirely up to you! :) NSFW or SFW, dealers choice.

This is such an interesting concept! One that I've somehow never thought to write about before. I could've written like double this, but it was already like four drabbles long. I might come back to the concept one day!

[Drabble request series on ao3]

---

4.1K words - Steddie - Rated: E

Contains: Tiny bit of dub-con (basically nothing is negotiated but they're both into it all), metaphysical anal, face slapping, ass slapping, Eddie taking control of Steve's body

Once the poisonous, bloody, dust has settled, and the fluorescent sterile aftermath endured, Eddie comes out to everyone.

Not in a Robin kind of way, but in an Eleven kind of way.

Or rather, reading the tattoo he's kept hidden under his watch this whole time, Twelve.

Steve had been kind of shocked, like way more surprised than he thinks he should've been, but he absorbs the information and adjusts, just like always. Eddie's still the same guy after all, they all just know him a little better, and he gets to take some of the super-powered pressure off of El whenever being that kind of weird gets rough.

And call him naive, but Steve didn't really think he had anything to worry about, it's not like the guy's actually a murderer or evil or whatever, even though the town hit too close to home with the whole Has-Powers-Like-The-Devil thing. It burns Steve's guts a little, makes him feel sick with how close Eddie could've come to getting snatched up by the wrong people again.

So when he gets a weird glint in his eye one evening, Steve doesn't think "Oh shit, he's going to Devil-Power me to Hell". He thinks, "He's about to go find a pen and a notepad and spend the next hour ignoring me.", which sucks way more than having any kind of evil attention.

Well, his wish for it certainly gets granted.

Eddie stretches out on the couch, eyes slotting into place right where they should be – holding Steve's gaze – his shirt loose enough at the bottom to ride all the way up to his ribs when he wriggles around restlessly. His mouth quirks up into a little smirk, Steve can't tell if there's meant to be humor in it or not, but he's sure if he's about to open up with something dry and sarcastic he'll find out soon enough.

For a minute though, it's just a staring contest, one that has Steve enthralled. He doesn't even think about looking away, even when he feels his own hand raising up into the air, knuckled into a loose fist.

He does frown though, confusion tugging at his mouth when his fist punches down into his own leg, not hard enough to hurt but definitely not something he did on purpose.

"Eddie?" He asks, trying not to sound too worried.

"Yes, Steve?" Eddie replies, raising his eyebrows.

Another punch, this time with his fingers clenched tighter, harder into his jeans, and Steve finally breaks eye contact, looking down at his hand.

The spell over the internal mechanism that urges him to gravitate towards Eddie is broken, but the one over his hand isn't. A couple quick punches and Steve glares over at him, finally trying to actually fight against whatever's moving him.

"What're you doing?" He asks, and Eddie laughs, rolling over onto his stomach.

He puts his chin in his hands and gives him a doe-eyed look, blatantly false innocence pooling under his eyelashes.

"What do you mean?" He shoots back, lips quirking into an enigmatic little smile.

Steve wants to stick his tongue into the corner of it.

"Well. I'm not punching myself on purpose. So if that's not you, then maybe we should do something about it," he says, watching his fist turn into an open hand, slapping down against his thigh.

Eddie sighs, shaking his head at him with a fake kind of pity.

"Oh Steve, I'm all the way over here, how could that be from me?"

Well, he knew it before, but now he really knows that Eddie's doing this.

"Then I guess I'll go call a code red and get the super nerds on the case," he says, getting to his feet.

He doesn't get very far, Eddie halting him mid-step, keeping him off balance with one leg in the air.

"No need to do that, I'm sure I can protect you against the ghost that's possessing you," he says, kicking his feet up behind him.

He looks like he should be twirling some of his hair around his finger as he sighs dreamily about a boy at a sleepover. The look kind of suits him even with the new tattoo that's peeking out from under his shirt.

Steve wants both of his feet on the ground, so he tries, and finds that he can push through Eddie's power like it's molasses and not a brick wall.

It bodes well for not falling over when he lets him go, but it doesn't bode well for the mischievous way he's looking at him. The thing about Eddie is, if he wants to toy with someone, he'll give them a way out of it, if they work hard enough for it. No brick walls there, but you have to want the escape.

Of course, that's always been during things like stupid arguments about movies or the casual flirting he does with everyone, not physically controlling someone like a puppet. At least not in Steve's experience anyway.

"Right. Can you see the ghost? Are my eyes glowing red?" Steve asks, voice bland.

Eddie laughs, wiggles his fingers at him with a wink. It looks fruity and has Steve's gut tugging his heart around on a leash. He can't believe that actually does something for him.

"Yeah, I can see it right now, looks pretty strong," he says, eyes sweeping over Steve's body like he's checking him out, not pretending to assess a threat. "It might take me a bit to fight- oh!"

He's a good actor, but Steve knows he's fucking around, so his pretend surprise when Steve's open palm slaps into his own face doesn't work on him. It's not very hard, doesn't even sting, but it does make him jump, heart racing at the unexpected hit.

"He got you good!" Eddie says, eyes so wide and so absolved of his actions.

Steve gives him his nastiest glare, regaining control enough to rub at his cheek, a small trickle of humiliation building between his shoulder blades.

Eddie laughs and makes him slap himself again, and this time it stings, the pain spearing him in whatever part of the brain that lust resides. That's a fucking problem, has him hoping Eddie gets bored of him soon, because he's known him long enough to know that he'd hold that kind of information over his head forever.

"Man, I'm sorry, this ghost is really beefy," he says, his legs still kicking.

"Call in some reinforcements, then?" Steve replies, rolling his eyes at him.

He fights to get both of his hands down by his sides, trying to brace himself against what comes next, waiting as he watches the gears turn in Eddie's head.

"You're not going to want anyone else around," Eddie says, and Steve feels a weird, nebulous pressure under his chin, forcing it up.

That almost gets a sound out of him, but it's not until the pressure is sliding down his chest, lighting up the nerves in his nipples on it's journey, that his throat opens up and lays a moan out into the air.

"What's the ghost doing now?" Eddie asks, eyebrows raised.

"Being some kind of pervert," Steve says, eyes flying wide when he feels a tugging at his belt.

"Oh, that's a shame, I guess."

Eddie's got his belt all the way undone before Steve can get his hands up to it, and he tries to think over the pounding of his heart.

This is totally on purpose, and seems like a whole different kind of thing than all of Eddie's harmless flirting. Does that mean Eddie's noticed things about him? How he lingers around him too much, how he finds it hard to tear his attention away from him a lot of the time?

Or is this Eddie just fucking with him in a new way?

"Looks like I might get a show, though," Eddie says, bypassing where Steve holds the two ends of his belt in place to get his jeans undone, button fly popping open quickly enough that Steve doesn't register it happening at first.

"Eddie," he starts, not sure what he's going to say.

Should he ask him to stop?

His the leather in his hands slips out of his fingers and his pants fall down his hips a few inches. He should ask him to stop, but that would mean… well. Stopping.

"Uh-oh," Eddie smirks, playing with a piece of his hair. "Interesting tactic this ghost has."

Steve pushes his hands against the power to clutch at his jeans, grunting with the effort, holding them up just before they can fall further and reveal the swell of his cock in his underwear.

"Honestly Eddie, cut the bullshit," he says, aiming for stern and getting lusty leading actress instead. "We both know I know you're doing this."

Eddie laughs, hiding his grin behind where he's twisting his hair in his fingers, looking up at him through his eyelashes. It's cute, though all of the mocking innocence has melted away.

"What, don't want to blame this on a third party?" He asks, all pretend-sympathy. "That way you won't have to admit that you're getting bested by a nerd."

Steve rolls his eyes, because the whole nerd thing is not what this is about and Eddie knows it. It's about facing the fact that Eddie's toying with him in a way that's homosexual, and the fact that Steve's protests have been so weak he can't even call it acting.

"You haven't bested me yet," he says instead, managing to get the top button of his jeans done back up.

"Don't egg me on like that, I might end up thinking you want it," Eddie says, dark eyes giving him another once over. "I'm also not trying very hard, my nose isn't even bleeding."

Steve knew he was pulling his punches, a fact driven home by the way his arms fly out from his sides, trapped in midair like he's stuck under something heavy. Struggling against it does nothing, no molasses to wade through, and Eddie's finally stopped kicking his feet, doesn't look casual anymore.

A real show of his power, even though Steve knows this is still pretty surface level.

"Try to move your arms," Eddie says, nodding at him with his chin as if he's not already putting in the effort.

Steve glares. Eddie grins.

"Alright, if you don't want to, I guess I could find a way to motivate you."

The button on his jeans pops back open and his pants are yanked, pooling around his ankles before he can even open his mouth to tell him off.

He doesn't think that's what he would've done, though. He wonders if Eddie's aware of that, or if he thinks he's doing something that Steve hasn't fantasized about before. Like sure, in his fantasies, Eddie's using his hands – sometimes his mouth – to undress and touch him, but what is this if not an extension of his body?

It comes from him, after all.

Steve doesn't say anything, just watches him, pokes at the little feeling of humiliation and lets it grow, letting the shame for wanting Eddie to defeat him have it's cruel stab in his chest, as he finds his eyes held in place by Eddie's gaze again.

"Nothing, huh?" Eddie says, less playful for a moment, almost like he's frustrated.

Does he want Steve to protest? To beg and fight against something he knows he's not capable of physically overpowering? To ask him to stop?

He sighs.

"You know I'm trying, I know you can feel it," he says, frowning. "I'm not going to beg you to let me go."

Eddie stares at him, the gears once again kicking into motion as he visibly understands what Steve's not saying.

"I'll make you," he replies, pulling Steve's shirt up over his head to brace it against the back of his neck.

Steve's used to being shirtless around people, but the unexpected rush of cool air against his skin has him shivering, has his cock thickening up even more, definitely obvious by now. There's no giving up now, no way he can walk this backwards and laugh it off as freaky ass roughhousing.

"Yeah? You want me to get all sad and desperate to move? To get my clothes back on?" Steve asks, drawing his bitchy smirk up easily. "I bet you think about doing this when you jerk off, getting me on my knees or something. Do you? Think about forcing my mouth open so you can fuck it?"

He watches Eddie's face burn and something hot and satisfied curls up in his gut. He's not often on the offensive with him, prefers to take things as they come and secretly enjoy them, but when he can make him blush hard out of nowhere like that it makes him want to pin him down and kiss him.

"I-I… don't do that," Eddie says, piecing his composure back together. "I don't think about you at all."

Steve hopes that's a lie.

"I'm just bored," he continues, still a little subdued. "And clearly you're a bigger slut than I thought."

That'd hurt, if Steve didn't take it as a compliment, coming from a guy who once went on a half hour tangent about how people should just be able to have sex without judgment, no matter how many partners they had.

"What does that make you?" Steve asks, relieved when Eddie's smirk finds it's way back.

He loves how it looks on Eddie's face, sue him.

"King slut, I guess," Eddie laughs, and with a faint pressure at his waist, Steve's underwear pulls down his thighs, his cock springing up with the force of it.

"God," Steve moans, attempting to pulls his arms out of position, instinctively trying to cover himself.

"Yeah, that too," Eddie says, not bothering to pretend he's not staring at his erection.

Steve has to take a few moments, basking in the attention and also to just catch up with exactly what's going on, how fucking weird it is, how turned on he's getting. There's a lot that Eddie could do to him that anyone would expect him to say no to, but he finds himself hoping that he doesn't have to ask for any of it.

He told Eddie he wasn't going to beg and he meant it.

"Can't believe you're so into being this weak," Eddie says, slowly dragging his eyes up to his face, the nebulous pressure following the path they take.

He's not going to beg, but he moans freely, wants Eddie to know how good it feels, wants him to try to get more sounds out of him.

"I could hold you in place and strip you anywhere, and what? You'd get hard just like this?" Eddie asks, his hips giving a hard grind into the couch. "I can do whatever I want to you, and you're not even scared, are you? You’re like the world's bravest, horniest, action hero."

Steve laughs, finds he can't even move his head, his whole body held in place except for the places he wants to be touched. His cock and his balls are free to move, no invisible pressure holding them in place – which is a little embarrassing, he wonders if it looks stupid – but mostly he just wishes he was being touched everywhere.

"Should I be?" He asks, voice a little strangled. "Scared?"

The pressure around his throat gets softer and he tries not to feel disappointed.

"Depends on what you fear," Eddie says, his hips starting to slowly roll and press into the couch like he's doing it subconsciously. "I'm not gonna injure you or anything like that."

Steve goes to shrug, but he can't, so he just makes a vague sound. He has to think for a minute to figure out how to bring up the slapping without outright asking for it.

"What was the slapping about, then? You could've hurt me."

Eddie rolls his eyes, arranging one of Steve's hands into an open palm.

"Injuring you is different than hurting you," he says, and even though it's expected this time, Steve still gasps when his own hand comes down hard on his cheek.

His head doesn't even snap to the side, stuck in place.

His cock jerks as he struggles, the pain drawing another moan out of him.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie whispers, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth for a second as he looks at him. "You loved that."

Steve knows how he must look, with his eyes watering and he's assuming a red mark on his face, and he leans into it, letting his mouth drop open just a little bit as he licks his lips.

"If you weren't so committed to making love to my couch I'd tell you to come over here and use your own damned hand for it," he says, unable to keep himself from pushing at him.

Eddie hides a laugh behind his hands, his head ducking momentarily before he looks back up, beaming at him.

"You're so fucking cute," he says, getting all of his limbs in order as he gets to his feet. "Also, really fucking hot. And gorgeous? Yes."

He's walking towards him now, and Steve didn't think that was going to work so well, but all he can do is watch him, unable to move.

"Sexy? Beautiful? A Pretty boy? That's three check marks, baby," Eddie's saying, little zings of pleasure building in Steve's chest with the compliments. "And I don't think you could handle it if I slapped you."

Steve raises his eyebrows, still trying to move, still utterly trapped.

"Well, not your face, anyway," Eddie says, and then like a strike of lightning, his palm collides with Steve's ass.

"Oh fuck!" Steve yells, his body trying to jerk away from the impact.

He didn't ease him into that one, the pain hot and sharp and already throbbing as Eddie steps back from him.

"I've always wanted to do that," Eddie leans in to whisper, his teeth glancing off of Steve's ear, his hand back on Steve's ass to grab where he smacked him. "I hope you think of me whenever you sit down for the next few days."

Steve groans, breathing through it as the wall of pain steals the thoughts out of his head.

"You want me to hurt you?" Eddie asks, and he tries to nod. "You get off on it? Being defeated and slapped around?"

Not historically, but he thinks Eddie could punch him in the face and all he’d do is drop to his knees. Let him think he’s forcing him to open his mouth, like he teased him about earlier.

"What about something else? I'm sure losing a fight with someone is familiar to you, but what about something new?"

Steve manages to get his mouth to work, his eyelids fluttering shut as he asks -

"Is this the first fight you've won?"

Eddie steps back, an offended scoff preceding a slap to the face, not even Steve's own hand this time, drawing a high and reedy moan out of him.

He thinks he might be able to cum like this. Even with just the pressure that builds in the base of his spine as he struggles against the nothing, the invisible force – this whole situation is starting to get him there.

"S-something new is good," he gasps out, unable to open his eyes as Eddie's fingertips tease over his face.

"Good," Eddie says, satisfied like he approves, his fingers moving to trail down Steve's neck. "Should I assume some things about you, or should I ask first?"

Steve scrunches up his eyebrows, knowing that the right answer and the answer that he wants are two different things. He's not about to make a good decision like this though – his balls are starting to ache and he's getting desperate, craving all of the slivers of Eddie's attention that he’s being given.

"Do whatever you want, I can take it," he says, prying his eyelids open against the force of nothing but his own fogginess.

Eddie looks momentarily shocked, like for whatever reason this is where he'd draw the line and stop doing things they know are kind of stupid, but he schools it quickly, getting his hands on Steve's chest.

"You know, my plan wasn't to touch you at all," he says, squeezing Steve's tits. "But I'll be honest, you've been driving me fucking crazy."

Steve makes a weird sound, a mix between a laugh and a moan, trying and failing to push up into his hands. He has to hope he gets to do this again, without Eddie's powers holding his whole body in place, but right now being forced to go at whatever pace Eddie wants to set is kind of intoxicating.

"Show me, then," he says, challenging him.

Eddie ducks his head, and it seems bashful, until his teeth sink into Steve's neck and both of them are groaning, Steve's a lot louder and ruined than Eddie's.

"Fuck, that's so go- Oh shit!"

There's a sudden pressure inside of his ass now, not even stretching him open, just the presence of nothing, all of his nerves singing through his spine as he tries to breath around the solid tension in all of his muscles. It spreads, more pressure adding to press into his taint, to grip his balls just lightly enough that it doesn't hurt, and then there's –

Eddie's hand, real and warm and calloused around his cock, stroking over the head to catch the pre-cum there, getting the rest of him wet as he slides down to the base, squeezing it hard. That does hurt, and Steve almost tips over the edge, feeling his eyes start to water again.

He's never felt anything like this, having a hard time wrapping his head around how he's getting fucked in the ass without actually being entered by anything, but it feels so good that he wants to live like this forever, trapped under Eddie's power.

"Next time, I want to get inside of you," Eddie's whispering, like he doesn't want him to hear. "I want to hold you in place and fuck you until I'm done with you, make you feel so good you forget who we are."

It's the thought of Eddie's cock slamming into him that does it, the fantasy of being helpless to do anything about it, forced to take whatever pleasure he gives him whether he asks for it or not. He cums hard, shooting hot where Eddie aims his cock, getting cum up in his chest hair and down his stomach.

The invisible pressure starts to ease up from his ass and his balls, reluctant even as Eddie keeps working him with his hand, making him try to squirm away from it when the orgasm ends and the raw nerve feeling of over-stimulation hits.

"Fuck, please," he whines through his clenched teeth.

"Please what?" Eddie asks, the mischievous glint in his eye coming back as he continues to work him over.

"Your hand," Steve manages to grit out, unable to move away from it at all.

"What about my hand?" Eddie asks, laughing.

He does let go though, watching him closely as he tries to catch his breath, casually licking Steve's cum off his fingers like there's nothing loaded about that.

"Gonna drop you now," Eddie says, moving to stand behind him.

He gets his arms around Steve's waist, bracing him as the pressure holding him up slowly eases off, and soon he's slumped and sinking to the floor, Eddie guiding him as he goes.

He doesn't even care that his bare ass is on the cold floor, finding it kind of soothing against what must surely be a hand print so well engraved that he could get Eddie's fingerprints from it.

"God, you're a mess," Eddie murmurs, pressing his thumb into Steve's lips. "I'll clean us up though, hang tight."

Steve's body feels like jello, so he just lays there, frowning as he thinks about what he said.

Us?

Eddie comes back with a towel, a wet washcloth, and a wet spot at the front of his jeans.

"You didn't have to cum in your pants over me," he says, the words a bit murky as he tries to articulate them. "Could've just used my hand or something."

Eddie groans as he kneels down beside him, cheeks blazing as he glares at him.

"I know that, but I…" he cuts himself off, frowning as he shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, okay?"

Steve's silent as Eddie cleans him up, taking his time to get the cum out of his chest hair, basking in the sweetness of it after all the half-manufactured posturing they just did. This feels more honest than Eddie holding him in place and stripping him, as hot as that was, and he doesn't want to ruin it by making fun of Eddie for cumming in his pants. Maybe he would've too, if their positions were reversed.

"Next time we do this you have to get your cock out sooner," he says, mumbling around a sleepy smile.

[sweetearthandnorthernsky]

44 for dealers choice?

44. Torture/Interrogation. part 1 of morinel's fun times in dol guldur that started as an au but i have no idea where its going now. It goes with/is very adjacent to this one, though it takes place before it. Warnings for uh, torture, obviously, although it isn't too graphic (I think). And also 'Sauron Gorothul Being an Asshole' (no this is not the one the poll was made about)

You wake in the dark. 

Your head screams at you, and you reach to steady yourself as you sit up from the hard, packed dirt beneath you. 

Your hand brushes rough stone –

The malice rolling off the bricks burn and you wince, pulling back. You cannot see your hand very well in the darkness that feels like a heavy blanket, but by the way your hand throbs, there must be a lingering mark. 

The cell is tiny.

Your clothes, slightly ripped and slightly singed, brush the walls. The motion causes faint heat-blisters on your shoulders and ankles every time you breathe.

You have to sit very, very carefully in the center to keep yourself from touching more of the cursed stone – and they are cursed, and you recognize the foul residue of he that cursed it far to well – than necessary, though by the very design it is impossible to completely avoid touching the walls.

You were foolish. 

You were incredibly foolish, stumbling headfirst into what you knew would lead to such a folly if you made the slightest mistake, which you did.

Your rune-stones are gone, your sword is gone, even the small blade you keep hidden in your gauntlet is gone. 

Your boots are gone too, though you cannot fathom why.

There is no door to your cell, just another long line of brick. There is a faint light that falls through a tiny, tiny opening dozens of feet above you.

It reminds you of being trapped in a well, though your cell is not circular.

You don't know how much time passes. The light that peaks through the ceiling remains the same at all hours. You do not sleep.

Sorcerers flood the cell, one of the walls swings open. The engineering of the door almost impresses you.

Almost.

Your eyesight swims in the fumes that the open door lets in, and you cannot count them very well, but you would guess that there are maybe eight.

You try to speak, only to find that you cannot.

They yank you to your feet with that same burning touch, and you wince. They bind your eyes, bind your hands and even bind your ankles.

The jagged gravel is rough beneath your feet, and you stumble more than once.

You feel strangely powerless without your runes, and your hands twitch at your side as you walk.

The sorcerers don't like this.

They reward you with a burning hand on your shoulder and you bite your cheek to keep from crying out.

You marvel at your captors and their strength that they can wound you with just a touch. They are sorcerers, and yes, that makes them powerful, but you are a child of the Eldar, and a grandchild to the Spirit of Fire himself. 

You cannot fathom where they get their power.

(A lie -- you do not want to fathom where they get their power. Deep down you already know.)

You are shoved through a doorway and a wall of heat washes over you. Your fingers twitch as a voice speaks a language that is both familiar and not. Your blindfold is ripped from your eyes and you stumble, trying to orient yourself.

When you take in the sight before you, there is nothing for you to do but laugh. It echoes strangely in the space, bouncing off the bare metal walls and the workstations before fading into silence. 

The irony is not lost on you. 

“How original,” you manage, looking at Gorothul. “A forge? A little… heavy handed on the symbolism, do you not think?” 

You continue, because you have never known when to stop.

“Tell me, Sorcerer, when was the last time your master touched a forge? Do you think he still remembers how? Why else would he elect to build a forge here of all places? Tell me, what has he made? It would surely be a shame if he did not remember how.”

Gorothul crosses his arms as a scowl flickers across his face but it disappears as quickly as the storms on the Helevorn would. “We are not here to play games,” he says succinctly. He takes a step closer to you. 

“We are here to discuss what you know of this assault, and surely, you must know much.”

Your hands are still bound, and you aren’t sure what the sorcerers did to the rope that binds your wrists, but it seems to bite deeper into your skin the longer it stays on. 

“What makes you say that?” You ask, trying to stall. You don’t know how much information Gorothul already has, and you are loath to give him more.

His face turns into a mask of steel as he scowls. 

“I thought–” He raises his hand, and the ropes around your wrists burn and you stumble back involuntarily. “–I said no games.”

“I was asking a question,” you say, blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face, breathing heavily. “What makes you think I am privy to the details you wish to hear?”

He takes a step forward, menacingly, the sorcerers that surround you fall back. He is taller than you, which is strange for a mortal man.  “Because, daughter of Caranthir,” he hisses, “One cousin of yours leads this foolish assault, and the other orchestrated it.”

You laugh again, though even to your ears it borders the edge of manic – the mention of your father’s name has given you an idea. 

He raises a hand and you feel like you’ve been slapped with an iron bar. Warmth trickles down your cheek, and you are certain you hear a tooth crack. This only encourages your laughter. 

“What makes you think they trust me?” You manage once your laughter has calmed some. That is not, entirely, true. But, for the sake of this moment, you are more than happy to play along. 

“They are my half-cousins.” You emphasize the ‘half’ so well that you are certain your grandfather must be proud, though you never met him. “They are of the line of Fingolfin and Finarfin. Elven memories are long, and old wounds leave scars. They would never trust me with the information you want until the breaking of the world, if then.”

Gorothul is not pleased with the answer, and the ropes burn hotter. 

“I see you insist on doing this the hard way.”

His eyes flash dangerously.

“Very well.”

He barks an order to the sorcerers and you are unbound, though you have no time to do anything before you are rebound to a wooden structure that looks almost like a bellows, save that there is no actual bellow inside the frame.

The world around you goes flickering in and out of focus, like you are adjusting a lens to examine a gem – startlingly close, then distant, and almost abstract. 

The bite of the wood against the skin of your wrists. The crackle of fire in your ears.  The throbbing of your cheek where Gorothul had struck you using his sorcery. The crack of leather against stone.

It will do you no good to be present for this.

You breathe and focus outward, into the distance.

Your mind is far away as the blows begin to fall.

You are in the courtyard of Caras Gelebren, in the days of its youth, before that charlatan ever appeared. You sit on the edge of a fountain, embroidery in your lap as the wind tugs your hair.

You draw breath as steadily as you can, focusing on the texture of the fabric beneath your fingers, and the steadiness of each stitch and the soothing choice of choosing each color -- blue, red, yellow, green, soft blue, purple -- and not the sting.

The Sorcerers move deliberately slow, leaving time between strikes for the quick stinging pain to be swallowed by the slow, agonizingly burning one, leaving time to wonder if they were done, time to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there would be no following blow.

There is some cruel art twisted into the whip, because every strike feels like fire and darkness and you try to keep sewing, but the stitches blink out.

As the pain grows, you throw yourself further back.

Gone is the noontide of Caras Gelebren, and the fire on the air is the burning plains of the Bragollach, as you and your mother -- and recently father -- join your two youngest uncles at Amon Ereb.

The sky outside is dark, and you are scared most of the time but in your father's study, where it is warm and cozy and almost like home, you feel safe.

You are sprawled out on a rug in front of his desk, and your fingers tremble as you turn the page of your book. Upon the crown of Túna the city of the Elves was built, the white walls and terraces of Tirion; and the highest of the towers of that city was the Tower of Ingwë, Mindon Eldaliéva, whose silver lamp shone far out into the mists of the sea. In Tirion upon Túna the Vanyar and the Noldor dwelt long in fellowship.

You swallow the taste of ash as the strikes are drawn apart, though each time they connect, they are harder.

But the Noldor were beloved of Aulë, and he and his people came often among them. Great became their knowledge and their skill; yet even greater was their thirst for more knowledge, and in many things they soon surpassed their teachers.

The strikes slow.

You are on the banks of the Helevorn, the lake breeze ruffling your hair as you sit, your knees drawn to your chest. You are very young again, and the plains around you have not burned and the waters have not been defiled.

The pain grows louder now.

Your father's two middle brothers are visiting Thargelion, and they bring wonderful stories with them, and to your great delight, the older of the two had no qualms carrying you around on his shoulders for hours on end, or bringing you across the plains and teaching you to shoot or even hunt small game.

(Though, your mother is the one to have qualms about that at your age, since you barely came to your uncle's hip).

The pain burns across your shoulders.

A small mechanical bird is pressed into your hand. Your other uncle tells you to press the very small button on the top of its head, and to your delight, it whistles a short tune. You instantly adore the thing, and throw your arms around your uncle who casts your parents a smile and your parents exchange glances, though you didn't know why at the time.

The pain becomes a blaring noise that makes it harder and harder to think of anything else. You cannot control your breathing, you hear it, you feel it catching in your throat, uneven gasps and gulps--

Memory flares and skips, now coming in flashes like thunder over the distant hills.

“Hold the hammer like this," your cousin says, adjusting your grip. The heat of the forge startles you, making you lose your form, and you are barely up to his shoulder -- a visit before the Bragollach.

The haunted look on your father's face after the battle where you lost everything as you wander with your family among the woodlands.

“Look at how well this turned out!" Your cousin's voice is proud, as he hands you the small, slightly misshapen star you had chosen to make for your father for his begetting day. He assures you that for a first project, it was very good, and you could only get better.

Tumbling down a hill of grass as barking echoes in your ears as laughter bubbles up in your throat.

The frigid cold of the day that your uncle gave you back the necklace you made for your father since your father no longer could.

Your father, bent over a gash in your arm, carefully cleaning the rocky debris from the wound -- you'd taken a nasty fall off your gelding. When the gash is clean, he begins stitching the raw edges with careful tiny knots. He speaks to you, and his voice is soothing and gentle as you grip your mother's hand so tightly, your knuckles go white.

Ash falls from the sky as Beleriand sinks beneath your feet.

Gorothul -- you recognize the voice -- is counting the blows. You do not know the language, but the number sequence is unmistakable.

You cannot cast yourself out again, you are in too much pain but you decide the numbers will do as well as anything else and start counting.

X+1. X+2. X+3. X+4. X+5.

You let yourself be carried by the sequence, like a current of a river drifting you out to sea as the numbers turn into a graph in your mind.

X+15. X+20. X+25

The lines waver.

X+55.

The points bleed.

X+70--

You can no longer see your father's face.

[fruit-salad-ship]

I’ve been thinking bout arcane au and the way it’d pan out a bit more so bare with me I’m here for this one, it’s a little special interest area.

So peach was once a topsider like grey, she studied and grew up in Piltover, and became a successful doctor at a young age, destined to do a lot of good for people. She however was lacking is bed side manner, her people skills sucked, and while she could sew you up in a jiffy, and fix ailments with tonics and medicine, her ability to make people feel comfortable and cared for just fell short. To work around the issue she found a partner, someone who was more front of house, trained as a nurse, not a doctor. This friendly face made her small practice reputable, she found great success, built a reputation. Together they were on track to a bigger location, to help more people in need. Unfortunately her staff became complacent, and took a patient in to perform a standard procedure peach was known to successfully complete regularly. This was not her job, and she should have never done the job. The patient died and the blame fell to peach, her employee pinned it to her boss, and dodged taking the fall. Peach had her licence revoked and merits stripped, and her life fell apart, coming to be known as a failure in her field. Her life drifted to the lanes where they did not care about qualifications so much, if you could help people, that’s all that mattered. She was hired by another doctor who trained her in less practical methods, combining traditional practice with more…back alley.

There she stayed, getting caught up in the fear of the location, she didn’t belong, and people saw it. So she turned to shimmer, mild micro-doses, figured if anyone could control the symptoms it was her right? Wrong. She slipped into it, and realised her choices were being altered because of it. Her lack of control angered her, no more would she be the one being pushed around. She gave up the drugs, had the worst cold turkey she’s ever gone through, and probably ever would, and got far fitter to fill her time. The anger never left, and her time was spent fighting under bars for extra cash after her shift. As she grew in size less people messed with her, word spread that she was a doctor, and so she experienced less trouble for that too. The respect of the lanes found her, and her cold and sarcastic bedside manner fit the location perfectly. She still longs for the old days, to be above the smog and dirt, saving every penny she can for a ride out of the area. When hextech developed their speedy transportation gates, it felt even more achievable to leave one day.

Plum learns of peach’s desire to leave and doesn’t wish to lose the doctor in her pocket, mostly because she’s grown fond of her, but also because a medic is a rarity. She sabotages any steps peach makes to leaving by pulling strings and using her power. Eventually peach is in so deep with her evil deeds, getting caught up in bad situations and dodgy deals that she’s not able to leave. Peach is alerted by grey that plums been seen with some dealers, and so peach goes to her boss’ home and questions her. Plums strung out, looks like she’s had a rough night, and it’s unmistakably a come down, peach knows it first hand, and has seen many patients with the same symptoms. Calls plum out instantly, gets in her face and angry. She’s become fond of the lane royal, knows she’s bad news but it’s hard not to find her oddly compelling. Plum argues back, how could peach possibly know what it’s like? To be small, to feel weak? The more she shouts at the doctor, tries to rationalise her decisions to use shimmer, and eventually, after enough hostility, peach snaps, grabs her little companions arm and gets right in her face. Tells her the truth, that she was once smaller, and very hooked on the stuff. Their heart to heart is not believed, plums sceptical, and doesn’t believe it until peach shows her, the whole chunk of her hip and side scared and discoloured thanks to the drug. Proof. Plum shuts up and sits down. Peach ends the confrontation with an offer, come to her practice, get free of the junk. It’s not needed, she’s plenty strong without it.

Plum does, sheepishly turns up after a day, starts the process of pulling shimmers claws out of herself. It’s not fun, a messy, uncomfortable, awful process. But peach is there every step of the way, doesn’t leave her alone, no room to touch it again, not losing her to it.

Peach in this au is about 6 years older than the other two, and for that reason alone both grey and plum take to calling her Dr.Mommy, it started as a way to annoy her, but ended up being weirdly appropriate. Both parties have issues in that area, and look at her like an authority figure of sorts. They’ll get drunk and stand at street level howling up at peach’s apartment until she comes out onto the balcony, a woman who spends her free days in nothing but underwear and an open kimono. They demand drunkenly that she let them in, to which she throws shoes at them to try to get them to leave. As soon as she goes inside plum scales the side of the building, sneaks to let grey in, and they jump into Docs bed without hesitation to bother her.

This care costs extra.

[thegeminisage]

Hmm. 20-22 inclusive …. making you be negative 😈 I’m assuming you’ll do zelda but as a scholar I’m also interested in your spn thoughts so you pick mwah

oooh dealer's choice this is so tough...what if i just answer for both LMAO im so sorry ok Lets Go

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

for zelda: i really, really wish i liked wind waker. i wanna like wind waker so fucking bad. i love wind waker's story. i love wind waker's ganondorf. i love how bright and cheerful the graphics are contrasted with how solemn it is underground. i love the dungeons and the gameplay. but god i HATE the cartoony little balloon heads. it takes me right out of those serious moments. i don't mind stylization but if it could have been just a LITTLE BIT. less stylized. just a LITTLE LESS like animal crossing characters. it's beautiful to look at but for a game with such serious hidden elements WHICH I LOVE i find trouble taking it seriously.

for spn: god, all of crowley's little arcs. he was almost never interesting, and while you can excuse bad writing for cas because it's cas, you can't make crowley happen. fetch is never gonna happen! you can show me his fun hot mom and his dead son and it still isn't happening! he's just the walking talking embodiment of the "angels and demons are just like OFFICE WORKERS" trope which i hate so fucking deeply because it's the least sexy direction they ever took and the exact opposite of what i want from my angels and demons. all of the middle seasons suffered deeply from this. crowley COULD have been interesting, but tbh, i liked him best in the season they killed him off.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

for zelda: i could do wind waker again but actually i completely understand the hype, bc wind waker is a great game even if i can't deal with it like a normal person. same with botw - i found most of the joy thru exploration, so it just didnt Hit on replays the way other zeldas do, but its influence cannot be understated and the hype is deserved. what if everybody is right all the time to hype any and everything about zelda?? oh wait actually. sorry. twilight princess ilia. idk if people hype her but if they do theyre wrong. love and light to her, she's Fine, but it feels kind of like a knockoff of malon (superior) and i generally dislike when link has romantic interests besides zelda, even if the love interest gets amnesia (wistful sigh). this sin was especially egregious bc zelda barely has any screentime at all, but i forgive tp for this because what screentime she DOES have is spent being in lesbians with midna. so it works out just this once due to the power of gay people, but that's some thin fucking ice. anyway, sorry to ilia and ilia fans for being a misogynist

for spn: i hate canon claire. i can't get into it in depth but like...sorry, even without the issue of My Own Claire Ideas, i still don't know if i could do it. being gay does not save her from having the exact same "damaged but spunky teen girl" personality given to almost EVERY OTHER TEENAGE GIRL (or young woman) on the show. to some extent she, krissy, mary from the winchesters, charlie, jo, alex, etc etc all have the same personality with a few defining quirks tacked on as an afterthought. do i love some of these characters? yes, of course. are they well-written? absolutely not <3

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

for zelda: in general, i think skyward sword gets a bad rap despite lanayru desert's entire (waves hand vaguely) and zelda being a fucked up evil goddess who canonically manipulates link's love for her. AND GROOSE. never forget groose. more specifically i think not enough people have acknowledged 1. the champions corpses are definitely still in those cockpits 2. oot link essentially became a stalfos by walking into the lost woods without navi and never came back. hello?? generally those dark little implications that u have read between the lines to get <3

for spn: oh baby its michael!dean. i waited so long and i only really got what i wanted for one episode but it was so good. it was SO good. no one else is as hype about the fact that it took nine REAL LIFE YEARS to get there. a DECADE of my finite time on earth. but ohhh was it ever worth the wait. what else could i possibly write 100k+ about

[ASK MEME]

[unrepentantgeek]

For personal preference and less complications let's say no anti-ecto acts, no Ghost King!Danny. Maybe "The GIW were never legitimate government officials" as a treat. Danny is just Some Guy who used to be a small time her and falls under the Meta Protection Acts. (Because I find the "no Danny you're not actually "just some guy" AUs very amusing.)

He CAN make his own portals now but it takes up so much energy it's not worth it most of the time. Thus his personal man-made portal in his home lab. Which DOES follow lab safety unlike his parents. I love gremlin Danny but let's see "actively avoids being like his parents" Danny more please. Plus sometimes he forgets to USE the powers that make lab safety superfluous and he's not gonna risk a guest by lacking the necessary precautions.

He's close enough to Gotham and Bludhaven for the ambient ectoplasm he needed to start up his portal and to fall under Bat-family jurisdiction without constantly having his work put at risk by rogue attacks. The Bats' numbers and competence means he won't be tempted to come out of retirement plus he trusts the vigilantes Lady Gotham likes enough to bless with extra luck and better perception skills.

Your choice of non-Bat JLA affiliate ends up teaming up with Justice League Dark for something that turned out to fall more under JLD's jurisdiction than theirs. But JLD needs a special artifact for a ritual to do what's needed. An artifact kept in the Infinite Realms. Cue research because idk HOW else they'd know about Danny's portal. Cue deciding if they take or ask for permission to use the Fenton parents' portal Amity Park could become a hot spot again and they don't want to risk that with Phantom MIA.

So they pick Danny's. And really, it's kinda concerning the son of the mad scientists who instigated Amity Park's ghost problem even HAS a portal, why does he think he needs one? (For visits to his ghostly friends or Sam & Tucker without visiting his parents.) And so with 'it's for the greater good, really. He'll probably thank us later.' mindsets the deed is done with little further thought.

Later that same day, Danny gets home, and goes downstairs to check on or work more on a private project only to find the hole in his wall. Does he have damage done to his home somewhere? Did portals and some other magic make a clean job of it? Let's say dealer's choice. For argument's sake and to make him a little more determined let's say even with portals to get the JLD in & out unnoticed nobody there had a method of removing the portal neatly so there IS damage in the lab for sure.

Gremlin!Danny or Feral!Danny would cause chaos taking care of it himself. Right now Danny is just confused and annoyed, with his pettiness and mischief dormant as they ever are. Just looking at the mess leaves him exhausted before he actively think through everything he now has to do to deal with the aftermath of the robbery, and he's still determined to keep his retirement intact. So he does the normal thing, something most people the JLA thinks could be trouble (and those who are used to getting robbed by heroes) wouldn't bother doing. He calls the cops.

Once the local police division/' officer sent to question him and investigate the case has the full picture, they wince. "Around here your most likely bet is a Gotham rogue unless it's not a local job. I'll be honest with you, from what little I have to go on it's almost definitely above my pay grade."

Do the cops call in the bats? Or refer him to a hero team's help request forum or phone line?

If it's a team instead of the bats is it the Justice League or another team like the Titans?

How long does it take whoever he contacts to figure out what happened? How do they react? How do the JLA & JLD members involved react?

Is the portal given back to Danny or does he have to make a new one? Does he just start making a new one anyway in the time the investigation takes? If the League keeps the portal do they listen to him about maintenance requirements and safety precautions?

Bonus: when Batman finds out he is NOT happy with his friends and colleagues.

Bonus bonus: a dash of dead on main or Danny Fenton/Dick Grayson.

Where is my Portal?!

So! Heroes have a bad habit of stealing Technology when they need it.

The Flash usually stole from Star Labs or any of the dozens of smaller Labs in Central City. Batman was suspected to steal Tech from Wayne Enterprises to build his gadgets. Even Superman stole from Lexcorp every once in a while, although that was more understandable considering their history.

Heroes, despite their main job being to stop people from stealing, were not exactly paragons of The Law. They committed crimes on occasion to stop Villains, and most people just agreed to ignore the tiny crimes every now and then.

Now the Big Crimes, that was a different story. Taking the big important pieces of Tech from these Labs was definitely liable to get people made at them.

All this to say, Danny was not amused when he walked into his Personal Lab one morning only to find his Whole-Ass Portal missing from it's spot in the Wall.

[sewers-headmates]

DEALERS CHOICE GoT AU ALTER!!!! GIMME ONE OF UR GUYS. IM BEGGING. WILL ALSO ACCEPT LORE DUMPING

OK! getting loredump and then an alter! so this au basically is each house has the physical traits of their symbol. for example:

Arryn: wings, feathers, & talons

Baratheon: deer horns, ears, & tails

Greyjoy: bright blue eyes, gills, & can stick to surfaces

Lannister: lion teeth, claws, and mane

Martell: glowing eyes & can manipulate light/fire

Stark: enhanced senses, direwolf ears, tail, fangs, and claws

Tully: gills & a few scales

Bolton: slit pupils & rotting skin, every once in a while one will be born who can’t feel any pain

Tyrell: flowers bloom out of skin & manipulate plants

Targaryen: a few scales, fangs, wings, and every once in a while they can breath fire

ok so those are the main houses and it follows 3 general plot lines (Ramsay, Theon, and Sansa trying to save Robb / Reny raising Viserys, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon in Dorn / Cersei and Jamie in King’s Landing).

The overall plot generally is instead of following threw with betraying Robb Theon jumps overboard and swims back to the mainland (only possible by his water breathing) once he’s back he gets snagged by the Boltons still but is genuinely saved by Ramsay. The fic starts with them saving Sansa in King’s Landing and then the three are on the run trying to find Robb.

The second plot is about Jon as him and his siblings in Dorn raised by Reny and Oberyn. Due to bad events Jon and Daenerys are forced to return to try and sands their family.

Finally the last plot is Cersei and Jamie as they try to navigate what the hell their lives are.

sorry this is kinda short and i have so much more about this so if interested dm me >:3 but i would love to make more alters from this! I went with Reny and Oberyn because he’s my favorite and they kiss in it and raise dragon children

Name: Renly Baratheon

Age: 35

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: gay

Species: human w/ deer characteristics

Source: game of thrones au

Roles: caretaker

cisIDs: house baratheon, brown hair, buck antlers, stormlander, ADHD, PTSD, pacifist, little brother

transIDs: transFather, transHarmless, transBlueEyes, nullRoyalty

Other Labels: polyamorous

Memories:

- during Robert’s Rebellion he was basically given a message by the Old Gods to save the Targaryen children, due to their help he was able to get them all out. he was assumed deceased in the war when he disappeared which ironically made Robert hate the Targaryens more

- he took the kids to Dorn to try and find safety, due to him saving Elia’s children he was welcomed and they kept him hidden

- he eventually ended up falling in love with Oberyn and they kiss a lot <3

- was childhood friends with Lyanna

- while his brothers used their horns as a weapon he normally filled his with jewels and flowers

- cares deeply about Viserys, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, and Jon genuinely raising them to be good people and be siblings

Appearance: + antlers and deer ears

Name: Oberyn Martell

Age: 40

Gender: male

Pronouns: he/him

Sexuality: pansexual

Species: human w/ powers

Source: game of thrones au

Roles: protector

cisIDs: dormish, house martell, black hair, anger issues, warrior, glowing orange eyes, fire manipulation, light manipulation

Other Labels: polyamorous, has many daughters who he loves dearly

Memories:

- still despise Robert and the Lanasters for what they did to his sister

- very protective over Rhaenys and Aegon and eventually the other kids as well

- in charge of keeping them away from people (so no one could report back to the other kingdoms about them)

- it took him a while to fall in love with Reny but when he did he fell hard, they are he fell first but he fell harder smh

- doesn’t die (as soon) because he remains in Dorn with his family

Appearance: + glowing eyes

sorry if this makes little to no sense! please feel free to dm me for more info >:3 i kinda get excited and ramble. i also wanted to make the husbands from my silly au (i will be making this a fic)

-estella & richie

[spindaonateaspoon]

for the salty ask game: 19, 22, and dealers choice (you pick one) for homestuck (or whatever fandom)

Shucks, two great asks AND dealer's choice? You spoil me!

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?

Basically any pairing I liked that appeared in the epilogues has been ruined for me. I will speak no more on the matter

19. What is one thing you hate about the fandom?

I still resent how the fandom cannibalized itself ~2017. Why did so many homestucks just... Decide Homestuck was trash and become extremely anti about it? I can understand growing up means recognizing problematic elements in things you once loved, but goddamn people became MILITANT. It's embarrassing to see.

The other, less dramatic side of this is how after people lost interest, a lot of them erased any sign of enjoying it. So many creators at the time are just gone. I go back through my archive and it's a sea of ghosts. Heartbreaking. Why?

22. Popular character you hate?

I fucking hate John Egbert. Rant ahead.

John is, in my opinion, the weakest main character in the entire series, by a wide margin. He continues to fuck around long after the other characters get serious, and as a result he never reaches the level of seriousness that the characters surrounding him are at. He remains tonally out of sync for the entire story. I find this incredibly grating.

John is also way more passive than the other players, which is infuriating since he's constantly framed as the main character. He gets to the action late, has no fucking clue what's going on, and then needs to be told what to do before he has an impact on the story. He makes almost no choices of his own throughout Homestuck. He is constantly riding the coattails of his friends and sweeping in at the last moment for a heroic finale. He seems to take his friends very unseriously (in large part because he never knows what is going on; tonally out of sync) and we never really see him be a good friend over the course of the story? He gets his moments in flashbacks but generally he is in the way, wasting time, or not around when shit is going south. Because he never makes any of his own choices, his power ups don't feel earned, just forced upon him, gained through happenstance, or developed off-screen. He has no concept of the stakes of things until he can do nothing about them, at which point he stands around waiting for someone to tell him what to do. If he had a supporting role I don't think I'd have a big problem with him, but his inability to do anything worthwhile without handholding and direction makes him insufferable to me.

He also has all the worst traits of an ex friend who did me dirty so even if I was proven entirely wrong about all this I still couldn't like him due to the association

The epilogues were the nail in the coffin but that's a whole other rant

Boy I love complaining. Thanks for spreading negativity anon ❤️

[immortal-elements]

*crawls out of my hole* Good afternoon OP! I heard you wanted some low intensity ele builds!

I made a guide a while back about lowering the elementalist barrier to entry, which I'm shamelessly going to plug here, but I have a few more builds that would work well for low intensity! (And, by low intensity, I am defining it as 2 or fewer attunements with very little repetitive button pressing or several skills cast in quick succession).

Disclaimer for all of these builds. They will more than likely be pretty fragile, they are designed for instanced content where you will have a dedicated healer. If you are wanting to play them in open world or story content feel free to make tweaks to get them to the level of survivability you need. The guide I linked has some great tips for increasing your survivability without sacrificing too much damage.

Gonna put these bad boys under a readmore, but I'm gonna give you a low(ish) intensity build for each elite spec:

Condi weaver: Healing signet, Signet of fire, primordial stance, and dealers choice for the final utility, (I recommend signet of earth, glyph of elemental power for a stunbreak, lesser glyph of elementals, or lightning flash. Heck, even cleansing fire if you need on-demand condi cleanse), and weave self for the elite. The snowcrows build recommends pistol/warhorn, but we're aiming for low intensity so we are going to stick with sword/warhorn (because counting bullets with weaver hurts my head). Take your pick of sigils, but sigil of bursting is never wrong, sigils that boost duration on your burns and bleeds are also never wrong, but you can take sigil of earth and sigil of torment, or sigil of doom/geomancy. Build your stats for condi damage, duration, and crit chance if possible, viper's is usually a good high DPS option, but you can slot in some carrion if you need more health. Relic of the fractal and runes of the trapper.

As far as rotation, your attunement loop will go as follows

Fire/fire -> earth/fire -> earth/earth -> fire/earth -> fire/fire -> repeat. You cast your weapon skills off cooldown, use your utilities whenever the heck you feel like it, and make sure to finish your auto-attack chains if able.

As for weave self, here's the rotation for that:

Cast it in fire mainhand -> let it expire after 20 seconds while continuing your loop. You got 20 seconds of +20% condition damage. If you want to squeeze a little bit more damage out of it, you can follow this loop instead:

Fire/fire (cast weave self) -> earth/fire -> earth/earth -> air/earth -> fire/air -> fire/fire -> water/fire.

That loop isn't entirely necessary, but it can help you get an extra 10% strike damage and increase the duration of all of your buffs for an extra 10 seconds.

If you ever find yourself in danger, attune to water and mash 2.

As for tempest, the guide I linked earlier has a single attunement condi build, but I only briefly touched on fresh air tempest, the current top 3 in snowcrows benchmarks and mainly uses 1 attunement! (it dips into two others alternatingly, but I digress).

For stats, use whatever mix of berserker's, marauders, and dragons will let you hit 75% crit chance with signet of fire and sigil of accuracy, (fury will get you the rest of the way to 100%). For utilities, take Feel the Burn, Glyph of Storms, and Signet of Fire, as well as the elite glyph of elementals. For weapons, use Scepter/Warhorn. Sigils of force and accuracy. Relic of fireworks and rune of the scholar.

The rotation for this is very simple! Overload air at every opportunity, cast scepter 2, feel the burn, and the elite elemental skill off cooldown (even during the cast of air overload or during your auto attack). Cast glyph of storms and air warhorn 5 while waiting for air overload. Once the overload completes, swap to either fire or water, cast two skills, and go back to air and repeat. The instant cast skills you can get a little loosey goosey with, just use em whenever you have the ability to, preferably in air, and if you can time it so you've just attuned to air then they get the bonus from fresh air.

In water attunement, cast scepter 2 and 3. In fire attunement, cast 5 if it's off cooldown, 3, and 2 if you didn't cast fire 5 this time around, (remember, only two skills per non-air attunement!)

Your rotation should look like

Air -> water -> air -> fire -> air -> repeat

For CC bars, air 4 and water 4 both are strong defiance damage.

Does this break my rule of "Only 2 attunements and as few as possible instant cast abilities", yeah, maybe. It's still the lowest intensity build that is still somehow top 3 of the snowcrows benchmarks.

Now, for Catalyst. This one is a little bit less LI simply due to the nature of catalyst, but here goes!

For utilities, take heal signet, glyph of storms, signet of fire, and arcane wave, and either glyph of elementals or the catalyst elite. Use sword/warhorn with sigil of accuracy and force, and stat into whatever combo of berserkers, marauders, and dragons you need to hit 100% crit chance, runes of the scholar and relic of the thief.

The main idea of this build is to follow this order of operations for each attunement you go into

drop jade sphere

sword 2 and 3

auto-attack until you can swap attunements again.

Notably, the only attunements we really need are fire and air, but you can dip into earth if you want more DPS. Do note, you can't gain energy while you have a jade sphere deployed. The official snowcrows rotation (TM) that I grinded out 40k DPS on a while back says to drop two jade spheres as close together as possible to minimize the time you can't generate energy during, but we are taking it easy sleazy, so keep this in mind but don't worry about it too much.

Cast glyph of storms in air off cooldown, use fire warhorn 5 whenever it is available.

Use air warhorn 4 just before swapping to fire, and use arcane wave once in fire after you drop your jade sphere. Make sure that you've put down either a fire field or an air field before you use air 2, (you want to either get a fire aura from leaping through a fire field or a dazing strike from leaping through a lightning field, this will help upkeep elemental empowerment)

The main things to keep in mind, even though most of these will just happen as you do the simplified rotation outlined above: You get an aura every time you combo for the first time in a new attunement, and you get a stacking bonus to damage for every aura you get (up to 5). You get elemental empowerment every time you disable or immobilize a foe (or get an aura), and you want to upkeep 10 stacks whenever possible. You get a stack of Persisting flames whenever you hit an enemy with a fire field (jade sphere, sword 2, warhorn 5), and you want to keep 10 stacks of this whenever possible.

Anyways, hope this helps!

You know, apropos of nothing, I really appreciate that a lot of the big benchmark build sites are starting to include more low impact builds. As someone with memory issues and not great reflexes, having builds that only require a few button presses are intensely game changing for me.

With that in mind, though, I'm always taking suggestions for LI builds to help me get into playing classes more (ele, for example, is one I don't touch often if at all)! If anyone has any they'd like to suggest, I'm all ears!

[misguidedsilhouettes]

✦ AYÇA AYŞIN TURAN, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER✦ AYLIN POLAT the TWENTY-SEVEN year old has been in Hidehill for FIVE YEARS and was a STRANGER to Miyeon Kang, the murder victim. Whispers on the streets are that the FLORIST AT BLOOMING TRAILS who lives in HARTLEY AVENUE. She is said to be METICULOUS and GUARDED but I guess we’ll find out for ourselves.

ABOUT AYLIN: I caught you sleeping before, and now I'm in your head.

CHARACTER BASICS

FULL NAME: Aylin Ela Polat

NICKNAME(S): Aylin

AGE: Twenty-Seven

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis woman, She/Her

FACE CLAIM: Ayça Ayşin Turan

EYE COLOR: Blue

HAIR COLOR: Brown

HEIGHT: 5′6″

DATE OF BIRTH: September 6th, 1994

ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Hufflepuff

OCCUPATION: Florist

HOMETOWN: Los Angeles, CA

FAMILY

MOTHER: Isra Polat ( née Kucuk )

FATHER: Selim Polat

CHARACTER HISTORY [TW: PARENTAL FINANCIAL ABUSE, ADDICTION, DRUGS]

As far as being born was concerned, Aylin wasn’t planned. Isra Kucuk thought her relationship could withstand anything, but within the first year of Aylin’s life...he vanished. Her mother’s job could only provide so much, but Isra saw a bright future ahead of her daughter. Putting her into acting seemed like the logical choice seeing as a baby didn’t have to do anything more than sit there. (Think Full House, Aylin played the part mirroring Michelle Tanner but there’s no spin off.) Growing up Aylin thought everything was under control, not needing to want much other than to know where her mother would disappear to late at night. She’d learn when she was 10 that her mother was battling an addiction to heroin, but it wouldn’t be revealed how severe the addition was until her show came to an end at age 14. The air at home changed causing Aylin’s focus to be all over the place, especially when she found difficulty trying to land another show. She looked for any chance of a bright side, but all her hopes went out the window once there was no more money to spend. Throughout the years Isra was using the episode royalties to cash in on her addictions, not worrying how the two of them would end up if things ever went sour. There wasn’t enough money to keep their house and the debt she was still piling up. 9 years later, Aylin was 23 and they’d officially ran out of money but that didn’t matter to Shane, Irsa’s dealer. They two women packed up their things and took the car as far as it would carry them until the gas meter reached empty. There were a few strangers along the way that helped them, but Isra figured it’d be easier to be caught if they stayed together and decided to leave without leaving any other sign than a brief note. She reached out to her cousin, the one she’d grown close to over the years during summer vacations: Alara. It was a breath of fresh air when she offered Aylin a place to stay and to cover the travel costs it would take to bring the two of them back together. The brunette was thrilled to finally get away from all the mistakes and debt her mother left behind and start over in Hidehill. It’s been 5 years and she’s found a home at a florist shop called Blooming Trails, loving the feeling she gets from putting beautiful visions of flowers together. Things have seemed to really turn around for her, though she can’t help but think Shane could be lurking around the corner trying to draw out her mother.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

cousin/roomate: alara

cousin: nadia

the almost boyfriend: it started out as a summer fling, quickly turning into more as they spent more time together. seven summers ago she finally got the nerve to have the ‘what are we’ talk and let the sparks finally fly, even if it meant things had to be complicated once she returned home, but what she found was the man she’d developed feelings for was in a relationship with someone else. now she’s been back for five years back to stay for good and she’s been doing everything in her power to avoid his existence. avoiding having an awkward conversation to find closure on what happened that summer.

the awkward hookup: last year aylin ran into jordan at a bar, ending in a hookup and her phone number landing in his phone. she hasn’t heard from him since. (jordan hayes)

close friends: carter

regulars at blooming trails

childhood friends she gained from summers

hookups/fwb

[imperialsportbikes]

The Importance of Choosing the Right Motorcycle Dealer

Buying your first motorcycle might not be the most life-changing decision that you are bound to make in your life, but it is certainly that will transform your life for the better. The sheer boundless joy and unrestrained freedom that you get once you are mounted on 1000ccs of pure power and are cruising down the highways cannot be compared to anything else.

But in order to truly experience that joy and freedom in their entirety, you need to find the perfect motorcycle suited to your needs. Whether it a scrappy-looking vintage scrambler, a laid-back classic cruiser, or a speed junky sports bike that keeps you on your toes, finding the right bike is a significant decision and one that requires a lot of forethought and research.

Finding an excellent sport bike dealership can help you immensely in choosing the perfect bike for you. Dedicated dealerships have a lot more to offer apart from the bike itself. The people you come across at the dealership are bound to be passionate about motorcycles and will be more than willing to chat with you for hours about the merits and demerits of a particular bike company. They will be able to tell you which bikes require frequent tune-ups and ones that break down very easily. A good dealership will also offer you your choice of spare parts and after-market, mods to install in your bike.

If you are looking for a Denver motorcycle dealer that can help you find the motorcycle of your dreams, you should visit Imperial Sportbikes on Bryant Street or visit their website. Imperial Sportbikes is the largest supplier and seller of new and pre-owned motorcycles in the Denver, Colorado, area. They are also verified sellers for new and used motorcycle parts, as well as different models of bikes that you can test ride and purchase. You can take a look online at their detailed inventory before making a trip down to Denver, Colorado, or even order what you need online.

Apart from having used street bikes for sale in their inventory, Imperial Sportbikes also offers tuning, maintenance, and repair services on all of the motorcycles they sell. What’s more, they even organize track days on which you can test out your newly acquired motorcycle and even test out your skills and participate in some of the races they hold