#and then sort it by perishable and waste and what will be or will probably be fine

[altruistic-meme]

im gonna need emotional support for this task ;;;

[janearts]

okay but what is the state of astarion's kidneys? what has roisia observed in regards to astarion's kidneys? i must now know!

[Anon is referencing this post.]

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Who knows? Roisia's observations below the read-more.

[Just a wee reminder that I'm not a medical professional. Take everything I say below with a grain of salt as I am just as likely to be flat out wrong. I also want to acknowledge that I'm mixing in some stereotypical vampire traits with what we can figure out about vampires in BG3.]

Roisia believes that Astarion has a partially functioning cardiovascular system. That is to say, he certainly contains blood. He bruises and he bleeds. He can even perish from exsanguination himself. He can experience erections (presumably, anyway). Why he doesn't have a heartbeat is beyond her. Does his blood just sit stagnant in his arteries and veins? What the hell is going on in there?

In the living, kidneys form a pivotal function: they filter the waste (urea) in your blood and create urine to be expelled from the body via the bladder. They also perform a critical function by regulating the blood in your body (volume, pressure, acidity, etc.).

So Roisia knows, for example, that the average medium-sized humanoid has roughly 5 litres of blood in them. The kidneys make sure you stay at whatever level is natural for you, because excessive fluid will increase the pressure on your arterial walls. So the question for Roisia becomes: if Astarion drinks blood to excess, would he experience hypertension or bloating? Or perhaps both? Or maybe neither?

In some form or fashion, the waste that Astarion intakes (e.g., if you're into the vampire version of menstruation sexy times, if he drinks from Roisia's external jugular, etc.) or generates through his own bodily functions needs to be expelled. Does he piss it out? Does he sweat it out? Does he vomit it out? Does it misty escape out of his body while he rests?

The answer could simply be: the waste is magicked out of his body and that's that. If Roisia knew that Astarion urinates, then she would assume his kidney is probably functioning to some degree. If his urinary system is non-functioning, then she would be curious as to how the critical functions mentioned above are managed or if they're even necessary at all for the undead.

TL;DR: Roisia would likely have some sort of idea, but I (IRL) don't have the information I feel I need to even hazard a guess. And I must say questions like this would make Roisia want so very, very badly to take a peek at his insides or at the insides of any vampire or vampire spawn. She is not a Dark Urge character, but that is her dark urge born from an insatiable curiosity to figure out how people—living, dead, or undead—work.

Bonus Points:

Roisia would answer her own questions above with the following theories:

Digestive system could be partially functional if the blood that is consumed is sent to the stomach and then absorbed in whole or in part through the digestive process.

Respiratory system is also likely partially functional. I.e., Astarion can use his lungs (to speak or sigh, for example), but neither a vampire nor a vampire spawn requires air.

Endocrine system is likely no longer functional. (This is my own headcanon so Roisia doesn't have to worry about an unwanted pregnancy.) She knows that the endocrine systems of a Vampire lord are likely somewhat functional due to the existence of Dhampyr. His colder body temperature could be the result of the lack of function of the hypothalamus.

Integumentary system is likely functional to a certain degree. E.g., vampires and vampire spawn are naturally regenerative, but if you were to shave Astarion bald, would his hair grow back to the way it was prior to his death? Skin also helps with temperature regulation and provides a barrier from UV radiation, so it may not be fully functional if his body is a colder temperature and is extremely sensitive to sunlight. (Are his melanocytes dysfunctional or dead?)

Lymphatic system is likely functional to some degree. This would assist the blood consumption + waste removal processes, presumably. It's a bit of a stretch, but since Astarion can experience a diseased condition type (e.g., Flesh Rot, Contagion), perhaps surviving that (after 25 turns) could be spun as an indication of a non-magical immune response?

[sassyandsodone]

Raphael or Haarlep reacting to waking up as the little spoon, even though the little mouse is smaller than the fiend. Like Tav's chest is pressed against the fiend's back, arms loosely but tenderly wrapped around the fiend's torso, Tav's head resting by the fiend's shoulder blades while the mortal's peaceful breath gently fanning the base of the fiend's wings. Perhaps the fiend's tail has ended up coiled around one of Tav's legs.

Big fan of spooning. Hope you like it.

If Raphael had been asked if he believed in intimacy, he would have said no. Sex, he believed, was a dance of power and pleasure. So long as someone won, someone lost, and rapture was found for the winner, nothing else was needed. Intimacy was just another word for weakness or vulnerability. And Raphael always won and he was never weak.

So it had come to pass that he found himself the winner of another game with his most precious client. They had been a useful tool for his pleasure, which was mandatory, and had been most pleased themself, something that wasn't needed but he was fine with.

Sleeping was an indulgence for him that, he confessed, he enjoyed partaking in after he had had his fill of bliss. Whether the little mortal stayed by his side or not hardly mattered. But he found most nights they lingered in his arms, far too spent to escape. The thought had crossed his mind that his fiendish form would hold them too tight while he slept and end their mortal existence. Perhaps his claws would rend while he dreamt, or his arms would crush the breath from their chest, or, who knows, his tail could choke them (Haarlep certainly wielded their tail like a weapon while they slept.) It would be a waste of his client’s potential as an asset but to die in his bed would be quite an honor.

When he awoke, he kept his eyes closed, just barely cognizant to the realities of the waking world. Instinctively, he reached forward to hold his little toy but found his embrace empty. His eyes fluttered open and saw an empty bed before him. Had they actually left?

He reached forward just a bit further and a pressure on his back revealed the location of his little mouse. An arm snaked around his waist, legs intertwined with his. His mouse was behind him, sandwiched between his wings, holding him while they slept.

What were they doing?

His initial reaction was one of paralyzed shock. The actor played out a familiar scene yet the roles were reversed. How did the two of them even end up in this unsuitable position?

He attempted to move, sort this out, fix this issue, when the arm on him gripped tighter. He could feel warm breath against his back, they were so small their mouth was pressed between his shoulder blades. Raphael had never had anyone lying directly on one of his wings before and he had not expected it to be quite so comfortable. No. Comforting was a more appropriate word. They were cocooned by his wings’ leathery embrace, probably not even visible to any outside view.

Strange. He was not in charge in this situation, he was not in full control. And yet, he did not desire to fix this, to right it, to punish it. A thought flitted through his mind, a simple question that he could not be sure the answer to.

Had anyone ever held him like this before?

In his long life he had seen precious few embraces. His father had most certainly never touched him except to correct errors, to fix him, to punish him. His sister had hugged him at one point, not long before he left Mephistar, but her hug had been brief and unwanted. Haarlep had touched him like no one else ever had, knew his body inside and out but he could not recall them ever engaging in such a display. Mortal bedfellows he had indulged in over the years had not left any impression on him, centuries had left their bodies and faces indistinguishable. But this, this warmth was burning into his mind.

Affection? Intimacy? Love? Perish the thought. He knew nothing of those myths. They were wastes of time for lesser beings, wastes he would never give up any of his time for. But regardless of why, or how he had ended up in such a vulnerable position, Raphael felt peace.

He shut his eyes again, his time was not so precious that he could not afford a bit more sleep. His tail reached and wrapped around the little mouse’s leg, holding them in return. They scooched closer leaving no space between the two of them.

Regardless of whether this was intimacy or not, whether it was another step to a dance of power or not. It was warm. And it was pleasurable.

[tightwadspoonies]

Dumpster Diving and Salvage Shopping

If you asked me what my role in the ecosystem is, I'd say I'm a scavenger. I hate confrontation and I hate spending money when there are other options. I will gladly just take whatever you don't want in order to avoid such unsavory obligations.

So dumpster diving, salvage stores, and incidental meat registries and I get along pretty well save for the anxiety. This post, hopefully, takes some of that away for my fellow scavengers who would love to dumpster dive but just don't know how yet, or are afraid of getting in trouble.

Dumpster Diving:

First of all, dumpster diving is legal in all 50 states of the US, but check local ordinances because rich people get fussy about people digging through trash to the point of some cities condemning the practice. It's on a bunch of other posts but it's worth saying.

Cops, of course, will lie or imply otherwise on this. A good way around that is to look like someone who is "not breaking the law". AKA: look like a suburbanite: Wear some khakis and a polo shirt, carry a Starbucks cup, and act as white as you can possibly get away with. If approached, smile, call the cop "officer" or some such referential title, and explain that you thought it was legal. Not that you know it's legal- that you thought it was legal. If they tell you to scram, do so. No argument with law enforcement is worth what is in that dumpster.

Note that it is illegal in many places to put stuff into dumpsters that aren't yours, though, so if the cops are having a slow night, be careful about them asking you to put stuff back.

You also don't want to be the reason dumpster diving gets banned in your community. Do this primarily by never getting into a dumpster. I know the container of perfect strawberries is just out of reach, but if you fall or are unable to get out you are not only up a creek yourself but potentially causing an anti-dumpster-diving frenzy that your town's grocery stores will never recover from. Also, people have legitimately died from getting into a trash compactor.

Now, "legal" does not mean "pro-store-policy". One of the main reasons for this is that is dumpster diving can be somewhat dangerous and no store wants to be the store that's known for letting people break legs on their slippery dumpster juice or what have you.

Avoid too many store policy issues by waiting until the store closes, doing a pass-by to ensure no one is waiting to see if anyone is picking out of their dumpsters, and (again) looking like someone who wouldn't be diving in dumpsters.

Store management tends to worry that they will be sued for letting you eat expired or unsafe food. If you do get approached by a manager who isn't excited to see someone picking over their dumpster selections, it is a good idea to impress upon them how very many dumpsters you pick from and how you wouldn't possibly be able to prove it was their dumpster that gave you food poisoning. Also, if you're feeling particularly bold, let them know that you are saving their store money by decreasing the weight of their waste. Probably not by a lot, but hey, you're on their side here. If told to scram, once again, do so with haste.

On that note, there are safe and unsafe foods to pick:

Generally Safe:

Packaged shelf-stable foods even with damaged outer packaging

Milk if still cold

Cheese

Eggs

Bread (including frozen bread if still cold)

Whole Veggies and Fruits, even with bad spots

Fermented anything

Non-Food Items like dry pet food, hand sanitizer, soap, cleaning products (except bleach), etc...

Generally NOT Safe:

Sliced lunch meats

Cheese touching meat

Cut salads or veggie trays

Prepared hot foods (even if still hot)

Pre-cooked refrigerated meals

Frozen veggies (unless still mostly frozen)

You want to make sure you have some time the next day to process your haul. Everything needs to be carefully sorted, cleaned, peeled, and in the case of perishable food like eggs and veggies, cooked prior to eating.

One final thing:

Be considerate. Leave everything how you found it and make sure you're not making more work for employees. Also, if you know others in your area dive, leave some stuff there for the next person.

Salvage Shopping:

Perhaps you aren't completely up for dumpster diving but still like living your lil raccoon life? Thats fine!

Salvage groceries are a great option. Essentially, instead of throwing food away that they can't sell to traditional consumers, grocery stores sell near-dated or damaged products to salvage grocery stores for pennies on the dollar, and that savings is passed along to the consumer.

Most salvage stores are smaller than traditional grocery stores, and some are cash-only. Some have fresh or frozen sections, but the smaller ones are pretty much all packaged goods. If you are living exclusively on salvage stores, you may want to supplement with some dumpster diving, foraging, or gardening (or even maybe going to a grocery store, but that's hella expensive).

Salvage groceries are not necessarily going to be perfectly food safe. There will be expired goods (doesn't mean bad). That just means you will have to do some due diligence. For example:

Make sure that an item you want to purchase is still in a sealed container

If there are more than one of an item, make sure they are the same color

Prioritize un-dented cans

If you must buy a dented can, make sure the dent isn't on an edge or seam

Don't buy expired canned tomato products

If you open a food and it smells bad, looks like it thawed and re-froze, hisses or bubbles- THROW IT AWAY

Generally be more cautious than you would normally be at a grocery store.

In my area these are pretty much always run by the Amish and Mennonite communities, but check around in your area. They are becoming more and more common outside these communities.

Not all of them will be listed on google maps. Look for a shop called "Bend and Dent" or "Salvage Groceries" or a small store advertising "Discount Groceries". Once you find one, it's easy to find others by asking at the checkout, since they tend to cluster together.

A drawback is that, because they do tend to cluster, they may be farther away than other grocery options. If you are far away, I highly recommend getting a few friends together and making a day of it. I can't say this about most things, but the extra cost in gas is well worth the savings, even if you are driving over an hour.

[s-ephiroth]

a cat can have a little bit of soup, as a treat

Sephgeal Week Day 3 - Soup

Angeal picks up a half frosted cat. Shenanigans ensue.

-

He comes home to a decent pile of snow at his door.

Well… now that's just great.

It sort of makes him miss his hometown a little bit. Just a little. Winters were chilly but not enough that he would need to shovel his way back into the blessed warmth of his home after a rather busy workday. Back then he would joke with his childhood friend that the town would only pretend to be in winter, to give them an excuse to eat hot foods and skip school days when it was too much.

Heh, those were good days, for sure.

His shovel hits something that doesn't feel frosty. Something that lets out a tiny little meow at the offending object.

The hell?

He kneels over, digs fast with his hands to find… the saddest little thing he's ever seen; soggy and trembling, but the color of snow itself otherwise. Or so he presumes. It looks a little dirty and probably malnourished.

Definitely thin and miserable, and even then, it tries to scratch him, to bite at the hands offering sudden warmth and kindness. When its lack of energy proves to be too much for that, it hisses, and— Oh! It's a little guy!

Well, not so little, for it's surely an adult, but his junk is out for the world to see, as he’s picked up. A little man!

Now, Angeal has always been more of a dog person. But what else is he supposed to do in this situation? He wouldn't have the heart to leave a soggy, half frozen cat outside to possibly perish at his doorstep. Even if said cat regards him with a murderous green gaze; truly a creature with the most gorgeous eyes in existence. Truly unfair of nature to give him those, only for the little guy to look at Angeal as if eager to draw blood and go to some war.

The cat’s probably seen some things, alright. Probably experienced some horrors.

Well, maybe a little warmth, a good bath and some food could help! After all, who wouldn't be cranky in that state? Even Angeal himself is somewhat grumpy after work, after having to go out in all that snow.

The cat fights him every single step of the way, feist little thing even in his sorry state.

Once he’s clean, Angeal realizes two things: the cat ironically looks like a snowball and… what is he even supposed to feed the poor thing? It’s not like he keeps cat food lying around for emergencies. And he needs to eat just as well.

He warms up leftover soup for himself, of the pumpkin and meat variety. The cat looks at it as if it’s made of something holy and not just something Angeal put together the night before to keep things from going to absolute waste. Coming from a creature who tried to murder him and the towel after being bathed, that’s quite something.

Can cats eat soup? He finds himself typing on his phone.

Said soup is almost stolen as he’s reading on it.

Angeal barely has enough time to prevent a whole paw from going into his dinner.

-

Humans aren't supposed to be like this, he muses.

In his experience, the regular person would have just called animal control or ignored him, or worse, found a way to send him back to that damned lab somehow. And the people of the lab would do much worse than ignoring him or calling some service to deal with him.

But not… this guy.

(Apparently his name is Angeal?)

This human washes him until he’s clean and smelling like lavender, takes a good look at him and quickly decides, “You look like a snowball. Hm, Snowball… Not a bad name, I would say… But you probably have a home to go back to, right?”

No, no, no, no, no—

“But hey. I guess you can stay if we don't find your owner. I wouldn't mind the company.”

The man shares a bit of soup with him; just the kind he has always heard about but could never try before. The one he thought he would die without ever trying.

“Just this once, ok?” He explains, “We gotta get you proper food.”

Even if just once, it's already enough. Perhaps too much.

Nobody has ever treated him with such kindness before… It's so shocking. So… confusing.

He has to remind himself that this human’s intentions are still to find who “owned” him before he ended up at the doorstep, fully intending to perish to the elements, to escape worse fates. Maybe the Lifestream would have given him a new life, one where he could protect others without worries.

Maybe…

Instead, he eventually finds himself in some sort of blanket nest beside the man’s pillow on the bed, too full of soup to really care about much.

“G’night, Snowball.”

But he doesn't sleep. He watches the human, instead, as if trying to break apart a puzzle. Why so kind? Can I have more soup? Please, the soup is good. Please.

Turns out, Angeal’s unique skill consists of falling asleep as soon as his back meets a good mattress. The cat’s fascinated. How dare he sleep with a foreign creature in his territory? It's really a mysterious behavior.

But still… Snowball… Snowball, it indeed sounds decent; carries with it the irony of almost being frozen to death. He finds that he likes that.

-

Angeal doesn’t find the owner.

Instead, he finds himself getting quite some cat accessories through the weeks and, of course, cat food. Which the little stray seems to greatly dislike.

Maybe giving soup to the cat has been a mistake. Snowball is definitely addicted to his food now, to the point Angeal has to be extra careful not to put in something that would kill the poor thing, just in case the cat successfully steals something from him. Aside from his heart, that is.

If he were to find that there is, indeed, a rightful owner… it would probably break him, at this point.

He’s got too attached.

His coworkers remark on it, on the day the weather gets so bad that he’s forced into working from home. The cat shows up for enough time on the video feed that they ask to see him and oh! His little beans are so pink! So cute! The green of his eyes can’t be made justice with his laptop’s camera.

Snowball makes a home out of his lap and stays there for the remainder of the video call, blissfully asleep and being a spot of warmth.

How is Angeal supposed to move him off without disturbing him?

-

Maybe working during the winter and having to deal with ice everywhere, snow in the parking lot and other complications is starting to mess up his head.

Angeal could’ve sworn the night before that he left dirty dishes to wash in the morning… and now they’re gone. Could he have washed them and forgotten due to sleepiness? No… he’s sure he would remember that. The coffee machine even has fresh coffee by the time he gets to the kitchen. It’s just… weird.

He doesn’t have a roommate; it’s just him and Snowball, who couldn’t possibly have cleaned the kitchen and made him coffee.

He’s just a healthy little kitty. A good boy who likes to be patted behind his ears.

Would someone break in just to care for his well being? That sounded odd, but he’s heard about weirder things happening in the world.

Snowball gets his fill of soup, made just for him, and Angeal leaves for work.

He comes back home to find that his laundry’s been done too.

Well, what the fuck.

-

Maybe… he should get the cat neutered.

He doesn’t tell the cat as much, because even if cats (probably) don’t understand human language, maybe the seriousness of the situation would put him off. Or it’s just that Angeal over worries, thinking that the delicate balance of their pleasant master-cat relationship might be affected somehow.

Snowball went from an aggressive little thing to being practically glued on him at almost all possible times, after all.

It doesn’t prevent the absolute note of betrayal when he makes the mistake of mentioning his thoughts to someone over the phone, though. Shit. The cat spends the following days all tense, almost as if he understands the loss that’s to follow. Barely eats his food, hiding in obscure corners of Angeal’s place, instead.

Absolutely hisses at Angeal when he insists that he should eat.

Reminds him of Genesis, a little. Which is why he calls his friend about it, only to be ironically scolded about discipline, honor, boundaries, etc, etc.

“Gen,” he says, “you know it’s just a cat, right?”

“Yes, but you’re trying to take away his manhood! His balls! He’s not even aggressive, is he? Why would you try to do that?”

“I don’t want him to make a lot of kitties all over the neighborhood. That’s all.”

“Does he even leave the house?”

“No, but—”

“Goddess. And you’re threatening to take away his balls? Holy fuck. I’m very glad for you that I’m a whole continent away at the moment,” he says it so dramatically, emphasizing every word in such an elegant way, that Angeal can’t help but worry. “Because otherwise I would be shaking you by the shoulders right now. His balls, Angeal! How could you do that to a man?”

He’s a cat, Genesis, he wants to correct him, but only sighs instead.

Snowball lets out an angry little meow, as though he understands what can be easily overheard and agrees wholeheartedly with Genesis, despite being (apparently) just a cat.

-

The cat watches him sleep, with dread and a little desperation.

Vaccines are one thing; annoying and of no effect on him anyway, but not as invasive as… the thing Angeal mentioned to someone over the phone.

He didn’t flee the lab only to end up on a medical table all over again. That’s messed up. Why are humans like this, he wonders, while worrying over it; gently running the tip of his fingers over Angeal’s jaw and trying to fool himself, to pretend he’s not in love with the guy.

Gaia, if only he knew, if only… Maybe the kind of thought that threatens one’s virility wouldn’t be there to begin with!

He sighs, ears deflating, considering whether or not to reveal the truth.

The possibility of disgust and rejection makes him avoidant. He’s a freak of nature, after all. Perhaps it would be better to simply stay as Angeal’s housecat, even if the costs are too high. Hah…

He drops his head to Angeal’s chest, curling up a little against him and basking in the warmth without expecting anything; the guy sleeps like a brick, after all. But perhaps trusting too much that Angeal would stay asleep is, instead, his downfall.

A hand finds silver strands of hair and a shape too big to be that of a mere housecat and time freezes for a very long moment.

There are cat ears, but the shape is more… humanoid, heavier. Like a strong man pressed on top of him. Angeal tries not to freak out too much, as a lot starts to make sense, as he feels a little guilty, because in retrospect Genesis was right about something.

That really is a man.

“Well… I gotta double check what I’m putting in my soup, if it’s making cats grow into men.”

“It wasn’t the soup,” the cat-man retorts, “I just… I’m what I am, I suppose.”

Angeal finds that he can’t help but run his fingers through what seems to be long, silver hair. It’s soft… it smells good, probably because he gave said cat a bath, recently.

“And you are?”

“Sephiroth. But I find that… I much prefer to be your Snowball.”

And the Goddess has no mercy on him, because Sno— Sephiroth is pretty hot.

-

Of course, that changes things. A lot.

Having a regular cat is one thing, but having Sephiroth around is… something else, really.

Angeal doesn’t tell anyone he knows, swearing secrecy on the same breath he promises to teach him how to make that one pumpkin soup from the first day they met. It has left an impression, apparently, just like the marks on Angeal’s neck that he hopes he can hide somehow, because otherwise things will be awkward at work.

Sephiroth threatens to bite the other side too, when Angeal points it out. Just for good measure. To make it clear for everyone out there that Angeal has an owner, their roles in this charade being reversed in the most unexpected way possible.

Heh.

He tries to open the door to go to work after kissing the man his goodbyes — and Goddess, how unfair it is that those are the most gorgeous green eyes in existence. Makes it too hard to leave.

There’s a decent pile of snow right outside the door.

Angeal sighs and looks back inside; Sephiroth has taken notice of the situation and giggles away at the irony of it.

Thankfully, it’s just snow this time.

[capricioussun]

Some horrorfell Sans stuff too since I never talk about him

Nickname: Eclipse Height: ~6' I think? Age: roughly probably early 40s

Let's talk about the version where he wound up on the surface. He is...a huge jerk lol Or, at least to others. After everything that happened underground, he’s incredibly bitter and untrusting of others, human and monster alike. Really the only thing he cares about is his brother, and he feels a tremendous amount of guilt over what Dusk went through. Feels largely responsible for it, especially what Undyne did to him.

Dusk is actually a large part of why he travels. It's too physically and mentally taxing for him to really travel or explore, so Eclipse tries to help Dusk live vicariously through him, going out, taking pictures, snagging souvenirs to bring back to him (only a few though, or only perishable stuff or things that can be used, Dusk hates "wasteful" spending). He usually tries to find books or other interesting things since Dusk loves learning about the world more than anything, which makes them excellent gifts (and he'd never admit it, but he likes the excuse to read to Dusk, too, whenever he tolerates it).

He himself also enjoys traveling, since it helps keep him out of his head and the strangling sense of guilt that starts pushing him toward a slippery slope whenever he stays home too long. It's also just nice to see new places, even if new faces also come with that usually. Make no mistake though, he’s not usually outright hostile unless someone is with him, he doesn't go looking for trouble. If anything, comes off a little creepy but generally "friendly" enough, but he’s quick to harsh words if someone gives him a reason. Otherwise, he enjoys the open air, loves hanging out in nature. Animals he could take or leave, but he'll snap a pic or two for Dusk and show him if he’s in a steady enough headspace.

He’s also something of a foodie, sort of. He’s gotten better at cooking from helping Dusk, but prefers seeking out stuff made by others, and tries the best local places he can find while traveling. He's also keen on exploring every restaurant and diner in their home city, too, always eager to find things to share with Dusk and the cats he pretends to not like. He doesn't have the same problem with meat Dusk has, but he'll only eat it when traveling, since he doesn't wanna come home smelling like it either.

Weirdly enough, he actually likes watching sports. Not that he cares for any teams in particular, or even any sports in particular for that matter, but there's something oddly peaceful about it, especially in person. Hangin out up in peanut heaven where no one else is sitting and watching whatever sports going on on a warm, sunny day, the low sounds of voices and music and excitement. It's grounding. Reminds him where he is and how far they've come.

Really, he just prefers to keep to himself and tries to be the brother Dusk needs (even if he'll never feel like the one he deserves).

[apex-academy]

Chapter 6: The Decay of Our Lives (#13)

When I leave my room in the morning, chunks of pulled chicken and a few stray broccolis lie forlornly on the movie night table. Next to the open ranch dip.

”Did none of us put this away last night.”

Natural consequence of all the responsible people passing out, I guess. Still, yikes.

“Maybe I can take care of this before Aidan gets out here.” Don’t need a spiel on how many germs can grow in a room-temperature cup of ranch dressing.

I dispose of the offending leftovers without issue. Maybe I could save some of the less dangerous dishes? Hard to be overly concerned about waste here.

“The young master’s clearly got plenty of money to waste.”

Which can probably be assumed of someone called “young master.”

By a robot maid.

But it’s not like the student files had writeups on everyone’s exact socioeconomic statuses. I won’t be taking Ichiriki off the suspect list, but I can’t cross anyone off on those grounds, either. 

And I can’t go back and double-check the files.

What am I supposed to do? Just keep cooking and cooperating and hoping we aren’t forced to kill again? No telling when the next motive’s going to hit. I don’t want to just stand around waiting for it.

But what else can I do?

What do I have the strength to do, at this point?

Before I can spiral or un-spiral or anything else, a door clicks open. It takes me a second to catch back up with reality.

“......”

I’m not the only one, apparently.

“Oh, Kakumi! Good morning!”

Yeah, I’m complaining about my strength when he’s like this?

“Morning.”

“Looks like you could afford to sleep in a little more.”

“I have no intention of doing so, thank you.”

“I’m not sure that I could go back to sleep regardless.”

“Just hard to nod off?” Or...

“Nightmares?”

“I’m not sure if I could call it that!” 

“I did have a strange dream, though, yes. Still trying to shake it off.”

“One of those kinds where you woke up within the dream, so now you have to spend the rest of your morning trying to figure out if it’s just going to happen all over again.”

“Well, maybe more like the rest of the hour.”

“Beats the rest of the week.” 

“Where’d you wake up? Airport?”

“An excellent guess!”

“But no, I’m afraid not. It was somewhere more like the lab room.”

“ ‘Like’ it?”

“It seemed backwards, somehow. Though you’d think I’d have a harder time telling when the room was gutted of desks and valves and all those sorts of things.”

“Hm.” Guess you have a “sense” for those things during the dream.

“It was only me on some sort of cot, with some equipment around that I couldn’t make any sense of.”

“You couldn’t make sense of some equipment? Perish the thought.”

“Right?”

“Though I suppose I wasn’t feeling terribly well, and it’s a bit more difficult to observe in the dark.”

“And without glasses, but that wasn’t an issue anymore in the dream, either.”

Enthralling. I’m sure he’ll keep on with the story, anyway. Might as well stick around the dorm hall and wait for someone else to interrupt, unless I really want to spend my entire breakfast listening to this.

“And then what happened?”

“It gets hazier there.”

“Maybe I’ll run into something later that will trigger the memory. I’ll be sure to let you know!”

“Thanks.”

Just as he’s swearing he has more interesting dreams most of the time, a door swings open—silent, but far enough away for us to have fair warning. Not that there’s much we can do about it.

“Ah, the sinners have already arisen, I see.”

“Only a few of us so far!”

Not even correcting her, huh. Better to just move on, anyway.

“Any big breakfast plans?”

“Seeing as some lesser creatures have seen fit to leave this realm...”

“...not particularly.”

“...”

Yeah, no more lining up for Yuki’s omelettes, that’s for sure. Or dorayaki. If you’d eat that for breakfast for some reason.

Or if you’re someone who doesn’t need a reason to do things. I could name a few of those people here.

Tsunyasha tosses her boa-thing over her shoulder.

“Well! I see no need to tarry here with you lot.”

“Not even to tell us how superior you are?”

This time, Aidan actually elbows me.

“Ow.” 

"Surely you don’t need a reminder of that. Are you fools truly so quick to forget?”

She clicks her tongue, as if telling us not to bother answering.

“I’ve no need to humor sinners. Share your pathetic regrets among yourselves, worms.”

She strides past with an extra little oomph, to put us in our place or something. Doesn’t quite give the full effect when she has to wrangle with the bedsheet-movie screen to actually leave the dorm. She curses something about silver and lime and finally pushes her way out.

“...”

I sigh and turn back to Aidan.

“You in a big rush to go after her?”

“.......”

“...”

“...........”

“Aidan?”

I wave a hand in front of his face, but his eyes don’t track it.

Do I... need to take him to the Nurse’s Office?

For all the good that is without a nurse. Were there first aid guides in there? Or would I need to stop by the library? Itsurou’s study hall, even? That would be a good bet if it’s something... potentially lethal.

Or something else! There are plenty of not-dying things you have to research for stories, right? 

But before I can get too caught up wishing we at least had a librarian, if not a nurse, Aidan stirs again.

“...Kakumi?”

“That’s me. You okay?”

He slowly adjusts his glasses frames, lets out a breath, and nods.

“Still waking up, it seems.”

“You didn’t get drugged again, did you?”

“Golly, I hope not.”

“It doesn’t feel the same, I’d say. I’m just...”

“...”

“Tired?”

“...A little bit.”

Yet you’ve been out here arranging whole movie nights instead of resting. Uh-huh.

Sidestepping the pile of half-hung sheet, I move to the doors.

“You in the mood for eggs? I’ve been thinking of trying something different, and I could use a second opinion.”

“...”

It’s less like he’s zoning into the stratosphere this time and more like he just sees straight through me.

“Sure, I’ll give it a shot. Though I will warn you, I usually don’t do anything more adventurous than ketchup or hot sauce myself, so I may not have the most advanced palate for the judgment of egg dishes.”

“Fine by me. I’m not the most advanced chef of egg dishes, either.”

Okay, successfully strong-armed him into not making his own breakfast, at least. It’s not much, but that’s probably half the reason he agreed. Small gestures are still better than nothing.

Now let’s hope I don’t drop enough eggshells in his dish to make him change his mind.

[BACK] [NEXT]

[outoutdamnspark]

OC Thoughts: Reina

- Reina doesn’t think her birthday is anything special; if anything it’s just A Day to her, and she’ll often forget it entirely for like two weeks - though it does make her sad sometimes, because her little sister’s birthday was the day immediately after.

- Not only has she never been in the driver’s seat of a car, she's also never learned how to swim. She can probably tread water at least a little, but that’s it.

- [PTSD and food mention] Sadly, due to a lifetime of PTSD, she is a bit of a food hoarder. Nothing perishable, and she makes sure to use everything before it goes bad, but her pantry is always, always, always fully stocked. She’ll rotate her stash in the “First-In-First Out” method, so that anything new goes behind all the rest and the stuff that’s been in there the longest gets used up first. She probably has a hidden “emergency” stash of a rationed three-days-worth of canned goods somewhere in her apartment. Anything going to waste makes her extremely upset - whether it’s at herself or at somebody else.

(She would probably also tear up if someone she cares about surprised her with homemade food, because it means they care about her enough in return to make it.)

- So long as they didn’t outright hurt her or her pokemon, Reina would... probably easily accept being in a yandere situation if she was into the person(s) enough. Someone she thinks is cute yoinks her away and promises to keep her safe and happy for life if she agrees not to run? Sold! Let her keep her team and grow a balcony garden and she’s all yours! She’s pretty starved for stability and affection - to the point where her judgement might not be all that great anymore.

- Gonna be honest, she’s not someone in the healthiest of mindsets. In a relationship she’d honestly be kind of clingy (though not distrustful or paranoid), seeping over the line into codependent. She’ll try and be more aware of it if called out, but it’s definitely there.

(In the Age Gap verse especially, with the way I headcanon Barely-Holding-It-Together silverfox!Emmet to be, his and Reina’s relationship - while mutually so, and not actively harmful - really isn’t the healthiest. It works for them, certainly, but it’s worth noting that the pair of them are just a liiiiiittle too obsessed with each other to be normal. Being away from one another for too long probably gives them both some hella anxiety...)

- In addition to her little potted garden that takes up almost her entire balcony, she also has probably half a dozen or so indoor grow boxes scattered around her apartment for her more delicate plants.

- Speaking of, her Nimbasa apartment came furnished. Yes, it added to her rent cost a little bit, but she reasoned it would take her forever to save up to buy any sort of furniture (if she could make herself spend the money at all), and also what would be the point if she decided to leave again one day?

- (She has a tiny, portable memorial alter to her sisters when she thinks they’re dead, made out of an old jewelry box. She wants to upgrade it and give them a better one, but she’s afraid of having to leave it behind if she goes back to wandering.)

- It’s a utilitarian apartment, affectionately called “the shoebox.”

(Move the front door to the kitchen and put a sliding glass door out to the balcony on that living room wall and this is basically what it looks like. She has to use the coin washers in the apartment building’s basement.)

- She doesn’t like to sing but her voice claim is Rain Paris.

Expectation vs Reality

- She calls Kana “nee-sama” because she practically idolizes her, and Hina “Hi-chan” because it’s adorable. Kana is 5 years older than her, and Hina is 3 years younger, but Reina is equally close to both of them; she acted kind of like a bridge-gap for the other two for a while there, since Kana and Hina are 8 years apart.

- She will not tell you when she’s sick. She just won’t. She’s not used to having anyone to help her except her pokemon, so it genuinely slips her mind that she even can ask for help. (Gingersnaps, her carnivine, knows how to operate her phone. He can’t read, but he can recognize her contacts from their pictures, and knows what button to hit to call them.)

[werothegreat]

This is why I only ever buy groceries that I have a plan to eat/cook. I never buy food "just in case". I can remember going on shopping trips with my mom, and she'd fill up the cart with eggs and fruit and coldcuts and all sorts of random stuff "because we're low" and then we'd end up getting takeout or cooking something that didn't use it and half of what we bought would just end up getting thrown out. They're still the same way, when I visit the fridge is always full to bursting with stuff, and half of it is probably inedible. Meanwhile all that's in my fridge is almond milk for my cereal, apples, fruit preserves for my daily PB&J, and the Brita pitcher. Anything else is transient - leftovers I plan to eat the next day, or ingredients I'm going to use imminently. If I don't plan to eat something within a few days of buying it, it better either be non-perishable (canned soup) or freezable (frozen pizzas). Otherwise you're wasting both money and food.

Anyway I realize this is a jokey post and I got serious all over it, who cares, the world is ending from global warming anyway, it's almost triple digits Fahrenheit in New England today and summer literally just started

[sleepyeri]

"YOU HAVE A QUIRK??!!"

im not happy with mha's ending

and im delusional so here we go!

no i will not be making a part two or anything this entire fic is stupid copium (imagine the timeline like 2 years before he got the suit or smth)

cw: toxic waste, boom boom, mentions of blood and injuries, this has zero logic i made this while having a mental breakdown, ooc characters

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

"Are you sure this is even a good idea?"

Izuku stares wide-eyed at the nuclear power plant, wondering why they were even there in the first place. The place is dangerous for heaven's sake, THEY'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.

"Yep. Positive." his companion says and grins, forcefully dragging the taller male.

"Besides, it's like in the comics! The main character falls into a bucket of this stuff and they have super powers!"

"IT DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY."

"Who knows? I mean, AllMight was probably dunked in this stuff when he was younger which gave him super strength..."

"AllMight didn't get his quirk from toxic wast-"

"Shh the guards might hear us.."

Izuku stares at his companion in disbelief, wondering why he even allowed himself to be dragged there. He pulls his hand away, getting annoyed.

"What are you doi-"

"I'm leaving. I'm sorry but we aren't even supposed to be here."

"I thought you wanted to be a hero??"

"Yeah, but not like this. Just... let it go already. I... feel fine being... quirkless. Besides, what are the chances I would survive being thrown into toxic waste??"

His companion goes silent, pondering his words. They sigh, defeated, and turn around. Izuku breathes a sigh of relief, thankful that his companion was still a bit rational.

They both march towards the exit of the plant.

Until...

"MIDORIYA!"

An particularly loud explosion sets off and shakes the whole building, causing the floor to be unstable. Debris flies everywhere, crashing into different parts of the building.

Causing the platform they were on to tilt ever so slightly.

Izuku holds onto the railing, breathing heavily. He attempts to pull himself up but to no avail. The handle creeks everytime he does so, and he curses the management internally for not even checking if the plant is stable. He calls for his companion, who is desperately trying to escape the pile of rubble that surrounded them.

He panics, wishing he still had One For All at that very moment. He would be able to swing himself off easily, escaping with his companion unscathed.

Another explosion sets off, causing the whole building to shake again. He looks around, trying to see if he could use anything to get him and his companion to safety. But to no avail.

Is this really the only option...

Izuku looks down at the bucket of toxic waste below him. He breathes, closing his eyes and praying that it would work.

Otherwise he just perishes and everything meant nothing.

He breathes one last time before letting go and falling into the toxic waste.

A figure shoots up from the bucket at lightning speed. It lands on the unstable platform, scanning the area for a pile of rubble. Spotting it, the figure rushes toward it.

"St. Louis..."

"SMASHHHH!"

Underneath the rubble was a blue forcefield that shielded the user. The figure knocked gently on the forcefield, causing them to look up.

"Holy shit- MIDORIYA IS THAT YOU??"

The figure stays silent and just nods toward the exit. Squeaking, the forcefield person deactivates their quirk before the figure grabs their hand and runs to the exit.

And they escape! (hooray)

The figure emits a smokescreen of sorts before coughing was heard.

"Midoriya..?"

"I hate you for dragging us in there."

The smoke screen dispels, revealing an Izuku Midoriya with black tentacles coming out of his hands. He coughs out some of the toxic waste, wiping his mouth as the tentacles retract.

"Was that waste a rewind or something..."

He mutters to himself, trying to test out his theory.

"7th. Float."

And he floats. (wow magic)

His companion's jaw drops.

"YOU GOT YOUR QUIRK BAC-"

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

im not finishing this goodbye

[the-firebird69]

Watch "Pink Floyd - Welcome to the Machine (1975)" on YouTube

https://youtu.be/7S8wllPmazM

Dave is a rebel like you more like car and might fall just like ghwb and Paris Hilton if she's up to they're not big enough and the computer program would eventually be cracked it's not a fair game that the max are playing but they never have and you're almost out so the decisions you make is going to be important and usually see you have a huge fleet and usually there's a problem and there is a problem Mac probably doesn't run those plant toys but you're probably attack them and perish and it looks like you do because you're on game of need in the film you're on you're on gammymede and you're on Titan and it does not mean that you're going to make it it means that you destroyed your friend and although I'm not an enemy combating I am fine living with you to be almost impossible. And the max of course are using you as a tool so they don't have to suffer so you have these fleets and it might be a waste of time because of what you do with them just as a note

Zues Hera

So you say it like it is where at each other so much it's ridiculous we can't get anything done they won't stop it's a swirling mess of you did this you did that and Max running and it's right we're going to go up there and ruin our friend then it's our turn to get extinguished permanently and I can see it coming I can't do anything about it and he can't either and we do way too much to him he's way over his limit is just a young person is very smart I have to leave him alone he said during the day you're doing okay and then there's always this blowout and I guess it's going to happen but we have to find something else to do

Trump

The blowouts are happening more often and we have to come in to quilt them and we need to do it quickly and we also are out in the Midwest and last night the upper Midwest cleared out of several areas and we grabbed tons and tons of stuff huge huge amounts of things and they were cars and trucks and bikes and all sorts of equipment and tons of it it's probably about 1/3 of it and we are distributing it shortly after processing and yeah we are also grabbing Ferraris and Porsche cars and Lamborghini and lotus and all sorts of vehicles are being grabbed from there storage and soul tons and tons of people are buying them and they're the 22 versions and some 23s and the 23s came out a little better because their son made suggestions that did not copy other majors cars especially ones that are Chevy and Ford. And they didn't do that they say but we shall see but it's just a slight copy they were going ahead and we are designing ours no we built them and we're going to manufacture them after and send them out and the 23s are going to be considered to be 22 a late model. And we are in possession of several items of trump and one of them is his plan and it's quite extensive now but it's pretty clear that he's following it we also have the plan of most of the other warlock and big pieces of Max plan and you guys are lazy pieces of crap tonight we're going to take another third yes that will be tomorrow and you guys are trying to amass in a prevented thus far 200,000 until trying to amass on land and 100, for the ocean they didn't make it and it's starting to become huge numbers again pretty soon they'll be out. There's a lot of people who will see what's going on in these shows and they can't stand it it's happening everyday we have to tell you it's a melodrama that would not part of we don't like what you're doing and it's only by force and it never comes out right but today we have a lot going on and it's a big list I'm going to publish this it's important

Thor Freya

[tele-caster]

Journal.

11:47 PM 4/9/2023

Hello world. Funny how I get to write back exactly the date of my soul taking presence in this world, wow... So yeah mate, here I am once again talking to myself and making myself promises that some will be done and others probably considered, HAHAHAHA... We can't live in denial or acceptance to everything  and anything can we loves?

So, since the last time I wrote A LOT has been going on. I wanted to actually stop writing for quite a while so I could take a break not only from updating myself or remembering myself about the life I am constantly living and what I am supposed to do about it but for also to breathe. These days social media bombards you, society is expecting and asking for, people get more pitty and anxious, working stations are stressful and hostile, too much to talk about from the average living wordly person, and so on, if you will... But yeah, I had the chance to get distant from everybody and everything. I'd spent a lot time totally alone in my apartment, no visitors nor visiting.

To me it was some sort of peace UNTIL, I had this small touch while watching a couple walk their Dog on a Christmas Day Afternoon. No, no working by then... But it was more like a touch because of being alone for a certain amount of time, " I believe " it has made me somewhat notice how distant or disconnected I am from such a feeling of " being " with someone I guess. Then I remember, not the pain of previous  experiences but the time. My only concern is the time I don't want to invest into the incorrect person, emotions, moments and more things that come with that.

Besides... As having friends? I'm finally all alone. I know, sounds weird right? Thing is that now I don't need to worry about someone else besides me. Wether if it's a comment, an action, a suggestion, a manner, a thought or whatever that makes me go out of my lane on being focused who I am, and who I want to be; just makkes it perfect. I survived all these years alone and I for sure as as hell can do it 10 times again. Stop visiting and see who visits you. Stop texting and see who texts you. Stop calling and see who calls. Stop inviting and see who invites. Just... Stop, for a moment and regardless their actions just evaluate them as a " Through the mirror experience ". What cause does it have for me to have friends, that are not aligned with my thoughts, manners, actions and more? Again, we shall here see the representation of " Time " passing by also known as wasting it, in something that indeed does stresses me, makes me a little uncomfortable and also outside of my lane.

Having people like this... Oh, Oh-Oh... Trust me; they're tight and close to me. In my world we're not just going to call them friends, because a friend never hits rock bottom on my level of morality as for betrayal. But as life has said in many old scripts, books and acknowledgements... It's part of it all. You understand my point now? I just do not want to " be part of it all ". I've reconstructed myself during the winter season in ways that I've heard that I am still such a " Dick " " Over confident " " Cocky " man... HA! I am loving how they complain of their own LOW self-esteem, so my so called friends are also like this... Still awaiting for the " What they are going to say " the fake good looks, and the not aplaudible hollywood role of a nice gentleman. So no, I dont want to be part of of this, nor anything that has to do with that. I know; you're guessing. I planned out, you're investigating. I perish sleep, you adore it. That simple my dear friend...

So, for '23 NYE I can't deny I was invited to this amazing dinner. Answer to my invitation was no. Quite a bit UN-fun for myself since I like the fun that parties and things like that have to offer. I dinied the invitation because again; I preferred to have the night for myself... With my best friend, true, only loyal, friend; the moon. I don't know if people actually do remember that on NYE she was bright, milky and twilighty... So I guessed that no one would dare to go ahead and match my vibe; I just wanted some indie, little bit of drugs and wine.- But THEN! At about 2:00AM on the first day of 2023, the dicks of my " friends " forced me to go to the beach; ( which I did enjoy I liked with them ) to see the first sunrise of the year. Bloody loaded of people, not going to lie. However; after that day... I think that things have been changing so dractically and rapidly. Modelling is a full time job now, my passion for fashion... I think it was what I was actually looking for, finally got to make 2 products and now we're just setting things up for manufacturing and after process of market and blah blah, the boring shit. Can't believe also that time flies, 25 mate... At least a great, intelligent, well-educated, sophisticated, groomed and styled 25 year old man. Fucking hell, now we can trully say I am a man of my own balls. My result? I live alone, I had struggle to come up this far, not supported, used and abused of, laughed and ashamed of, money had been a real trouble for me to advance or level up for me due to my mental walls and irresponsibilities back then.

Now, this era, this time, this decade... Trust that the man you shall see you will even scare you sometimes. I am only concerned about myself, for myself and by myself.- Lesson learned, we do not need to discuss it. So yeah, like I mentioned... I was profiled, tagged and stated as a " Dick " " Arrogant " or whatever the fuck these bloody fucking pussies said; probably I am, in their world not mine. To me, they're weak for stating such comment on actually believing that you are capable of many things and more, to believe and create a mindset that you're the shit ( in your world and after God ), to have the confidence to say you'll make it no matter who laughs, critics or points fingers at. And I am the crazy one? Bruvvah you the prey in this jungle and depredator, and for sure as hell you have many more as me; so get tight.

So yeah; those are my recent updates for these past 3 months, April still hasn't had something interesting besides my Birthday, Spring Break and Holy Week. Work is amazing, money is going up, house is getting greatly furnitured ( missing the red lights for the room ), business and hustle is tight and we have secured the bag... HAHAAHAHAAHHA, MATEYYY what a way to start the year. No stress, alone and free of judgement, compromise, people and locations! Literally will be starting to live the life I was working so HARD to have for, I have to thank the universe, God and whatever that has me here present writing this at the moment.

It's a wrap up, just expect the unexpected.

[signedaiko]

I want to resend one of my previous messages cuz I feel I rambled on that one way too much lol Hope that’s ok. My request is for your HCs for an unaligned bot that’s revealed to have the power to summon and create Energon, and how TFP bots and cons of your choice would react to such a sight. When said bot was found, their stasis pod was encased in Energon crystals. They were told about the war from their rescuers, and the impact of such news caused said bot to anxiously pace around. In doing so they were leaving a trail of Energon crystals that would grow wherever they stepped. However they didn’t notice until after the bots and cons of your choice pointed it out to them. In the past, the unaligned bot was a scientist and they gained their powers from a freak lab accident. As a trade off to such a power however they have no combat experience whatsoever.

Coffee Birb

Ratchet [Prime]

- Ratchet would not mistake who you were, a renowned scientist that dabbled in the medical field - He took significant doubt in your survival, as that would mean you went on for millions of years without being seen - After various scans, checks and a surprising resuscitation from yours truly, it was no doubt the bot that had seemingly perished so long ago - And with you came the only thing the doctor would ever consider a miracle; the power to create energon - Ratchet was careful with you, as you could be all sorts of fragile after such time - He would lecture any bot willing to be reckless in your vicinity - Being such a small team, there were many times you would insist on helping the team - But Ratchet was sure to keep you in base - Not only had you no war experience whatsoever, but you were also a walking combustible - Who knew what one laser could do with whatever trail you lead - Not to mention you were probably the most valuable cybertronian known to the universe - Both because of the energon and because you were a joy to have in the lab - Ratchet would never tell you that

Shockwave [Prime]

- What they found in the mines was at first thought to be a large energon cluster - But upon drilling and cracking through the ginormous crystal, something Cybertronian laid within - Your stasis pod was brought immediately to Shockwave - He took a great time picking each crystal from the device to ensure whoever was inside would not suffer from an explosion - And the scientist was filled with a temporary pride when he managed to salvage what he thought at the time to be a corpse - He was wrong - You burst upwards and smacked right into him moments before he was going to cut into your arm to analyze you further - He wasn't planning on keeping you alive as it would be a waste of energon - But he quickly realized that excuse was most illogical considering you created it - I like to think you both worked together a long while back, but he does not care to remind anyone of such

Soundwave [Prime]

- Your status pod crash-landed right near the Nemesis, so it was all easy to recover and bring on board - Knockout saw to your care when you were pulled from the rubble, and that was when Soundwave's interest piqued - No insignia, no identification node, no alt mode as seen by lack of transformation cog - Among all else, the TIC was an interrogations officer, so it was in his duty to interrogate you - Your designation was unmistakably the same one as the great scientist that fell just before the war had started - He lands you a position among their rank in the labs and has found you produce much more energon when content - Soundwave sees to it that you are protected in the Nemesis, but naturally, he would have seen whether he wanted to or not

----------------

Authors Note - I kind of went for the 'scientists' of the groups because I felt that opened a big door for possibilities here :)! Less focus on romance or anything here and more lore aspect of this because I realllyyyy like the prompt here!

[jovialjuggernaut-draws]

“so...if i liked you, i don't by the way, but if i did-" Arkhamverse <3

"So… if I liked you- I don't, by the way- but if I did…" Edward chewed at his lip, picking at his nails. The streetlights occasionally flashing through the Batmobile's windows reflected off his tinted lenses, making it hard to tell if his cheeks were actually flushed or if it was just the purple of his glasses. Bruce had a pretty good guess, regardless. "...what would you… do?"

Bruce kept his eyes on the road, expression as neutral as he could force it. "You know, I've heard this same strategy from Catwoman a dozen times, Poison Ivy once or twice, and even Harley once, but this is the first time I've heard a man try it," Bruce mused.

Edward's lip curled. "It's not a strategy, it's a question."

"You want me to empathize with you with the end goal of staying out of prison. It's a strategy."

"It was just a hypothetical," Edward groused. "I should thank you for reminding me why I don't like you. Bastard." Then, glare turned resolutely out of the window, voice dropped to a nearly-inaudible grumble, he added, "...shouldn't have said anything…"

Bruce's knuckles tightened on the wheel, the armor of his gloves creaking under the pressure. Was he… being genuine? "As for… what I would do… hypothetically speaking, of course… I think the first thing I would do is comment that you have a funny way of showing it, if that was the case."

Edward blinked over at him, eyes wide with shock. He recovered completely gracelessly, fiddling with his sliding glasses as though it would hide the darkening flush now undeniable on his cheeks. "And you- well, you wouldn't be wrong, necessarily, but I might say- oh, something along the lines of suggesting the signs were there all along, should the World's Greatest Detective care to look for them."

Bruce thought back to the endless taunting and insults in between the ceaseless puzzles, racking his brain for what could possibly have been a gesture of affection. "Like what?"

Edward shrugged, picking at a seam on his fingerless gloves. "Oh, I don't know. This hypothetical Edward probably did a lot of things that the real Edward would never do, but maybe he… spent every waking moment thinking of you, memorizing every little detail, until he knew more about you than about himself. Maybe he got so jealous every time you wasted your time on all those simpletons, and he went to moronic lengths to get your attention back where he wanted it. Maybe he always regretted not getting through to you the first time, and kept trying and trying and trying to give you gifts, things you'd be too stubborn to accept unless you thought you'd stolen them. Little things like that."

"Hmph," Bruce grunted. "You know, normal people would go for something more straightforward. Like asking me out for drinks, or taking me to dinner."

"Oh, please." Edward rolled his eyes. "Batman would never go on a simple dinner date."

Bruce wished he could argue. He'd taken plenty of people out on dinner dates. He… usually had to leave abruptly, though. Or had to reschedule. Or stood them up entirely-

Maybe Edward had a point.

"But what Batman would do- and has done- is catch someone on a rooftop after doing something dastardly and all but devour them in a passionate embrace- at least, according to my many, many informants scattered around Gotham. The walls do have eyes, after all. My eyes."

"And is that what you want?" Bruce wondered. "A quote-unquote 'passionate' rooftop rendezvous?"

"Perish the thought," Edward scoffed. "I said it was all a hypothetical, didn't I? If I liked you- which, as I've firmly established, I do not."

"Of course not."

"Not the slightest bit. Not one little iota. Not even under threat of the worst sort of torture you could imagine. That's how much I definitely don't like you."

"Uh-huh." Bruce pulled the car off the side of the road, parking under the growing cover of trees that lined the way back to the old asylum. Edward's nervous tics came back in full force, darting glances between the darkness outside and the vigilante looming in the driver's seat.

"Wh-what- uh, what, exactly, are you-"

Bruce buried his hands in Edward's thick hair, leaning far enough into his seat to pin him against the rigid cushion. Edward shuddered, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, making no moves toward or away from Bruce's imposing figure, waiting for him to take all the initiative.

Good. Bruce preferred it that way.

He took one singular, albeit aggressive, kiss from the ferrety little hacker, holding him firmly in place and devouring him, as he'd put it, tongue exploring every inch of his eagerly awaiting mouth, the hand not pulling his hair travelling down to his waist to clutch him tightly against his armored torso. When he finally allowed Edward to part for air, the irritating little man was blessedly quiet, breaths too labored for any stupid quips.

"I'm still taking you back to prison," Bruce murmured into his ear, before dropping back into the driver's seat and cranking the Batmobile back into gear.

"I-" Edward gasped, "really- fucking- hate you."

[hylialeia]

How do you think Dany would have reacted if Aegon had come in Meereen to meet her?

Suspiciously and cautiously, with good reason. Tyrion has a pretty accurate (albeit somewhat harsh) description of what Aegon would sound like to someone in Dany's position--a position he also happens to have an excellent read on, given his current knowledge:

"I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad … a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet. Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?'" (Tyrion VI, ADWD)

Granted, Tyrion's intentionally poking at Aegon's sense of pride here, trying to steer him towards Westeros, but he's not exactly wrong, either. Daenerys might long for familial connection and kinship, but she's not going to blindly trust someone claiming to be a blood relative based solely on that desire; in ADWD especially, Dany has enough experience to be wary. At the very least, Aegon's story is the sort of thing she would find suspicious enough to investigate--though, since he'd still be on track with Varys and Illyrio's plans for him, there's less of a chance Dany would find any particularly damning evidence.

That said, even if it's not a particularly glorious or trustworthy position to be in, Aegon probably would have been better off approaching Daenerys directly than carrying on like he is in canon. Though Tyrion's advice to head to Westeros isn't terrible in itself (he's spot on when he says Daenerys is, "above all a rescuer"), I think it's clear that Aegon's going to take things a lot further than planned. As per Varys and Illyrio's plans, Westeros is prime for conquering, so it won't take long for Aegon to actually conquer King's Landing, declare himself king, and even potentially marry someone else before Dany ever arrives. Combine that with Daenerys finding out about his more-than-likely Blackfyre heritage, and suddenly Aegon's actions look less heroic and more like a coup.

Tyrion says it best during their cyvesse game:

The prince stared at the playing board. "My dragon—"

"—is too far away to save you. You should have moved her to the center of the battle."

"But you said—"

"I lied. Trust no one. And keep your dragon close."

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.