#better then artificial grape anyway

[pointlessjey]

Soda pop

[weaselle]

i really love fruit. But that doesn’t mean i don’t enjoy artificial fruit flavors. But the first fresh fruits i’d reach for tend to be the last artificial flavors i’d reach for and vice versa. 

and whoever my forever partner turns out to be, they don’t have to feel the same way, but they probably do have to, like, get it

[cookinguptales]

time to shill for Big Salt!!!

Okay, so like I said in my last post, I recently became a ~Vitassium Ambassador~, which is a fancy way of saying that I shilled for this company for free for so long that now they're paying me to do it.

In salt. Much like a deer.

Anyway.

Vitassium is SaltStick's line of products specifically for POTS, EDS, Cystic Fibrosis, Vasovagal Syncope, and other forms of autonomic dysfunction. Essentially speaking, SaltStick has been making electrolyte products for years, and when they realized that a lot of their patients buying them were doing it for medical reasons, they started doing research into creating products specifically for that purpose. And that's how the Vitassium line was born.

Vitassium generally has more salt and less magnesium/calcium/potassium than SaltStick's other electrolyte products, which is good if you need a lot of salt and you don't want to take too high a dose of the rest. Personally, I tend to use a mixture of both of their lines so I can get a little calcium/magnesium boost sometimes but more salt other times. (The amount of potassium is fairly similar in both lines, with a little more in the SaltStick line.)

Either way, it has a lot less sugar than Liquid IV, which I get sick off of due to sugar sensitivities. Like... *googles* 11g of sugar in Liquid IV vs. 2g of sugar in Vitassium, with the same amount of salt in each serving. I have to be pretty careful about my sugar intake, and I suppose I can't speak for everyone, but my stomach handles Vitassium a lot better than most of the other alternatives on the market.

So I've been using it for several years now and I'm really happy with their products! Like -- I may now officially be a shill for Big Salt, but I don't plan on lying or exaggerating anything here. I use their products every day, and sometimes that's the only way I can manage to take a shower.

(My fellow POTS/EDS-sufferers know, the shower struggle is real. lmao)

Anyway, they just sent me one of everything in their Vitassium line. They didn't actually ask me to show it off, but I'm doing it anyway because this is my blog and I cannot be stopped.

From left to right, we have a bottle of their electrolyte capsules (these are sugar-free extended-release salt pills with a bit of potassium added), both flavors of their electrolyte fastchews (chewable electrolyte candies that provide quick relief... think salty sweettarts), a cute bottle full of packets of their electrolyte drink mix, sample packs of the fastchews, and some stickers.

Personally, I mostly use the fastchews. I've tried salt capsules in the past and had some stomach upset, but now that they sent these to me for free, I guess I'll try them out again. The fastchews are basically sour candy full of salt lmao. (They also have about 2g of sugar per serving, just like the drink mix.) They really are effective, though, so I tend to take them as needed throughout the day.

I usually just keep a bottle of them in my purse, but the sample size bags are resealable and fit well in pockets, bags, etc. I'm happy that they sent me some little sample bags because now I can refill them, haha.

I used to just buy the normal SaltStick fastchews, and my go-to flavors in that line are orange, wild berry, and lemon-lime! I haven't tried the mango because I'm allergic, the peach is okay if very sour, the coconut pineapple is a nice piña colada taste but a little sweet for me, and I really hate the watermelon ones!

(Look, I promised to be honest with you. lmao)

The Vitassium fastchews are newer, and they only come in two flavors so far. I always buy the fruit punch because I despise artificial grape flavor. They just gave me a bunch of grape ones, so I tried them. Good for what they are, but I still hate grape.

(Do any of my chronically ill followers want these? lmk)

The drink mix is the newest Vitassium product! I like it quite a bit; the relief is quicker when you drink it vs. eat it, and speaking as someone who generally hates drink mixes, the flavor is pretty good.

I've tried both the fruit punch and the pink lemonade, and I think I prefer the pink lemonade. The flavor suits the salt a little better, imo, and I think weirdly it mixes a little better?

I usually buy the drink mix in the canisters because it's cheaper that way and produces less waste (the canister pictured there is one I already had) but the packets are very handy to keep in your bag. They're easy to tear open and even when you tear off the whole top, the opening is small enough that it pours smoothly into small-necked bottles. I like to put some ice in mine and shake it up.

(Side note: Vitassium has specifically designed all their packaging to be as easy to open and use as possible because they know that so many of their customers have arthritis, EDS, and other connective tissue disorders. Which, as someone with EDS, I truly appreciate.)

Finally, one thing I genuinely like about Vitassium is that they try to make their products as accessible as possible for their customers who use them for medical reasons. They have something called the Vitassium Club, which allows registered users who have a medical condition to get 25% off all their electrolyte products. You don't have to get a doctor's note or anything like that, just send in a quick online form and wait for them to change the status of your account.

That brings the cost of the product down considerably for the people who need it most, which is good because honestly? Electrolyte boosters add up fast when you need to consume that much salt every day.

Uhhhh, I think that's everything for now! If you have any questions, lmk! I'm fairly passionate about this kind of thing because when I was first diagnosed with POTS/EDS like... god, 15 years ago now, they didn't have anything like this. I remember struggling to develop a diet that worked for me with no one to teach me and honestly? That fucking sucked. I don't want anyone to be in that position.

So now here in 2023, I'm happy to pass on any chronic illness-related tips I have. Like drink Vitassium! And add salt while you're cooking, not at the end! The flavor will be less strong that way! And a packet of sugar-free hot cocoa mix will often have as much sodium in it as a bag of chips!

Stay salty, friends. 🧂💜😎

[mikeyforreal]

some random adrian chase head cannons :P

a/n: just some random thought about my favorite crime-fighting goofball :)

cw: fluff, some cussing, a few depictions of violence

miscellaneous hcs

• okay so first off, i know this isn't really a head cannon but james gunn confirmed that the visor in vig's suit is prescription and idk i just love that fact

• anyway, real head cannons now

• i'm like 99.99% sure he has a playlist for when he's on patrol and makes chris listen to it with him

• also, i think he'd have the same wired earphones from like 2014 that came with his iphone 6

• adrian's favorite candy is probably skittles or m&ms because of the fun colors (sometimes he likes to sort them if he's feeling a bit bored)

• i just know he has a collection of vhs tapes that he bought from a secondhand store/had as a kid

• speaking of collections he probably also has a bunch of cd's

• i dunno why but i feel like adrian loves star wars and has since he was little (and also has all the og trilogy movies on vhs)

• definitely has a cheap walmart lightsaber lying around somewhere

• GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY !!!

• i feel like as a kid he loved finding bugs, digging for worms, ect.

• one time he tried eating one, didn't turn out good for him (he couldn't stop throwing up for like 3 days)

• since it's cannon he played/plays dnd, he'd probably play magic, the gathering as well 😭

• i also think that he'd really love the artificial grape flavor ??

• LMAO i think he'd have a little chainsaw keychain lying around somewhere

• def listens to abba, spice girls, and yung gravy

• probably good with kids? he'd set the the house on fire if he watched some but he can keep them entertained at least ?

• manchild (i will not elaborate)

• he reminds me of jake peralta from brooklyn-99

being best friends/in a relationship with adrian

• let's face it, they're practically the same thing

• i justttt know that he made like 10 secret handshakes for the two of you

• his love language is probably words of affirmation, quality time, or touch (maybe all of them, who knows)

• wants to teach you how to play mtg and dnd !!! (please let him teach you he'll be over the moon)

• def has a playlist that he wants to listen to with you

• two words: movie dates

• adrian loves watching movies with you !! even if he's seen it a few dozen times, he'd watch it again just to see your first time reactions :)

• THEMED COSTUMES !!!

• if you're down, he'd want to match with you ever year, something different and cooler than the last

• if you wear glasses, you better bet your ass that he's switching with you 24/7

• you cant go an hour without your glasses getting taken off and replaced with his

• also, i think that adrian wouldn't have the cleanest glasses 😭 you def gotta give 'em a good scrub every now and then

• dr. pepper enthusiast fs

• discounted/sometimes free food and fennel fields

• if you can work from home and go there often just to eat and work, he's definitely spending his 15 minute breaks (and longer than that) sitting with you and chatting

• he's always bringing home leftovers or breadsticks that he stole

• i think adrian has a pretty decent comic collection, and would go to shops with you for dates or hangouts

• he's probably super good friends with the owner (or at least that's what he thinks)

• when he's patrolling, he randomly facetimes you???

• like he has a guy near death and he's having a full conversation with you

• adrian has tonsss of silly and random nicknames for you !! he just calls you whatever you remind him of

• whenever he goes over to your place or vice versa, you two have a special knock that lets either of you know immediately who it is

• one of his ideal dates would probably be going to the park and feeding ducks !! (and him trying to catch them)

• he also randomly makes machine gun noises ?? what's that about ??

• the two of you'll just be chilling watching tv or something and then you hear 'CHCHCHCHC' and see him doing finger guns or whatever

• and when you ask him about it he's just like "what do you mean babe?"

• would probably beg you to get a little cat or a dog

• if you initially say no, he's gonna pull out a whole powerpoint presentation on why you should say yes (and he's wearing his fanciest clothes)

• FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS !!!

• it doesn't matter where or what they look like, if he sees some at the gas station, store, theme park, wherever, he's buying some for the two of you

• your relationship is basically that one scene in bobs burgers scene where tina makes a friendship bracelet for louise and tina's like "oh you don't have to wear it" and louise snatches it and says "no i'm gonna wear it forever, back off"

• proud malewife

• adrian is in the kitchen a lot, always fixing up snacks for you

a/n: let me know if i should make another one of these with another character !

[trev0rc0re]

Every time I replay the mwii campaign I get so starstruck when I see Alejandro and Valeria talking to each other after her capture — their energy is so INTENSE.

(rlly rough Spanish warning, I only took a year of Spanish don't @ me, I ain't an expert!!!)

like fuuuuckk enemies to lovers is such a good trope, but the reversed lovers to enemies is such a better one because god their energy in every cutscene is so fucking spot on.

It's the way they taunt each other — when she first mentions how Alejandro was always a "wild one," and all he can do is crack a huge grin, like they're reminiscing on an old joke that none of the others know, like they can look back and laugh for a moment, even if they're both changed people now, fighting for completely different causes.

It's the way Alejandro uses "usted" instead of "tú" when he addresses her inside the holding crate, a symbol of respect and formality. After all she's done, after the betrayal, after he literally said himself: "you disgraced the army," Alejandro still addressed her as if he still held the tiniest sliver of respect for the woman he once knew like the back of his hand. The one he took up arms beside, nearly falling asleep leaning on each other's sore shoulders during a night watch. The one he fell into drunken giggles with on the nights when they'd crash the local bars, warm and gasping for breath beneath the thick air of cigarette smoke. The one he'd hold in his strong arms — no matter how much she protested him to get the fuck off of her — until she sighed, giving up her fight and allowing him to bury his face in the crook of her neck. She never really wanted to win anyway.

I just know that these two had unspoken love for each other that was only plainly obvious through the way they interacted in their youth — through words alone, you'd never be able to tell. When Rudy and Alé would sneak out of the school gate, darting for the steep cliffs, guess who was sprinting right behind them to catch up, screeching: "Wait the fuck up for me, cabrónes!" She'd swear that the jagged rocks didn't scare her, that nothing scared her, yet she'd grip Alé's hand so tightly when crossing them that her fingernails would leave crescent moons in his palm. His pulse and the fact that his hands were always warm calmed her nerves somehow; made her feel as if she could lose balance and somehow float to heaven instead of falling to the pits of hell below.

When Valeria showed up at Alé's front doorstep with a tattoo stamped across her slender arm literally days after military selection —"When will you stop being a pussy and get one, eh?" —all he could do was drink up every inch of her; from the fresh ink, to her lively black eyes, to her thick, long hair, always braided and ready for action. For war. Her plush lips smelled like grape lipgloss from miles away, making him dizzy with want, with need. Before either of them knew what was happening, Alé's hands were gripping either side of her face as he kissed her, intoxicated by her taste. When he thought that she would kick him away, she leaned further in, moaning into his mouth. The vibration sent shivers down his spine. In the middle of the bustling street, right outside from where Alé's strict traditional mother was watching the news in their tiny living room, they gasped for breath, nipping at each others eager lips.

Valeria pulled away first: "Alright, enough of that, vete a la mierda," but from the way she was panting, licking the blood clean off of her bruised lip, pupils suddenly dilated with lust, he knew she wanted more. The artificial grape taste lingered on Alejandro's swollen lips, and he stifled a laugh, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry for grabbing you like that."

Valeria cocked her head, her stupidly attractive gaze locking him in place as she leaned in for another hungry kiss: "I'm not."

Nothing was ever the same again.

All those little fragments of their love made up the reason why it cut Alejandro all that much deeper when a figure emerged from the dust of their final battle together — not his comrade, not his unspoken girlfriend, but a whole new person entirely, as if Valeria had shed her old skin for something cloaked in much more evil. Her beautiful braids were chopped unevenly to her shoulders, face contorted into a taunting snarl. Alejandro's world crumbled around him the moment she shot her gun in his direction intentionally, missing the target by only a few Inches. She Claimed it was just good business, this is what she had to do. Restlessness, impulsivity, the qualities that had made his stomach turn with lust now made it flip with disgust.

All those little fragments of their love made up the reason why he faltered inside El Sin Nombre's mansion with Soap— hurled once again into the past it took him years to leave behind. A familiar grape scent traveled through his nose, phantom bruises and touches sweeping over his body. Those soft lips, those eyes, that passion inside of her...

Alejandro loved her. Alejandro resented her.

And Valeria was all the same.

GODDD PLEASE I LOVE THEM

[this-is-all-unreal]

My Dear Friend

Part 7

Masterlist

Warning: body horror, gore, nightmares

Sorry this part is kinda short. I am figuring out how to start the next part. And I have a killer headache but there should still be another (hopefully longer) part tomorrow. 🤗

        The house was so big I knew I'd never be able to hear what it was and there was no way I was going to be able to convince Felix to go check for me. So I pulled the covers off of myself and touched my feet to the cold floor. I was in a new set of blood red pajamas but these seemed new. The fabric was a little stiff. I didn't want to know how I got in them.

         Once I was in the hall I thought I might be able to hear some murmurs. The halls were starting to seem like less of a maze. Finally I make it to the stairs and I could definitely hear speaking. It was a girl's voice. I grabbed the railing for dear life as I walk down them still feeling weak. I follow the sound of speaking until I come to the dining room. Bruce was sitting at the head of the table speaking to Dick and a redheaded woman I didn't recognize. I peeked around the wide archway connecting the dining room. 

         "The man was hardly a saint. Could they have just wanted to kill him by themselves. We might be jumping to conclusions." Dick said, looking across the table at the woman. 

          "We saw the same video right it was definitely-" the woman was interrupted by Bruce 

          "Margaret, do you need something?" He asked with a smile. I step into the room a little more. I felt embarrassed for snooping. I shook my head no. 

       "Well it's good you're here anyway. You can meet Barbara." Dick said as he pointed to the woman.

       "Hey there I have heard so much about you." She said as she wheeled herself over to me and held out her hand. I didn't mean to but I found myself staring at her wheelchair. She seemed to notice. She put down her hand and laughed a little. "Yeah it is taking me some getting used to as well." She hits one of the wheels with her hand. 

         "Hi, are you a Robin?" She let out a chuckle and looked back at Bruce then back to me. 

         "Nah I was way cooler. I was Batgirl. I'm taking a more managerial position now though." She seemed to have a good sense of humor about whatever happened. I gave her a small smile and picked up her hand to shake. 

          "We were talking about work stuff. Why don't you go into the kitchen Alfred was just about to come up and give you some cough medicine." Bruce says from his seat. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of having to take medicine but I could tell it wasn't an option. 

         Barbara goes back to her spot at the table and pulls out some kind of papers from the bag on the desk. I sulk my way through the dining room and into the kitchen.  Alfred was there reading the newspaper and humming to himself. 

           "Ah Miss Margaret, just the young lady I wanted to see. Now we have grape or cherry, unfortunately they both taste horrendous. Which would you like?" He asked as he pulled out two bottles from under the island. I pick up the cherry bottle and open it. It was the sickeningly sweet smell of artificial cherry. I scrunch up my nose and Alfred takes the bottle from my hand. 

      "I feel better. I don't need it." I say with a fake smile. It wasn't really a lie. I was feeling better than when I first woke up. 

      "You feel better because you were given some when you were sleeping. As soon as you stop taking it you will feel sick again." He says as he starts to pour the viscous medicine onto a spoon. Behind him I saw a knife from the block lift itself up and onto the counter. It stood up on its tip and twirled like a ballerina on point. My eyes widen slightly as I stare at it. Alfred doesn't seem to notice. He was talking about when he was a boy and had to take unflavored medicine. 

       "Do you think he'd forgive you if I threw this at his back? Do you think Bruce would?" Felix and Alfred's voices began to overlap as they both spoke to me. It was dazing to say the least. The mix of such different voices started to sound like a metallic whirling, a drill maybe. It sounded like when you go to the dentist to have a cavity filled. The knife slid itself against the counter digging a path for itself. I looked back at Alfred who was still speaking. Why couldn't I hear him? He popped the spoon into my mouth and I swallowed the horrible lump of slime. I stare at him. He still didn't seem to notice I couldn't hear him. 

         "Alfred?" I ask but his mouth keeps moving. He tosses the spoon in the sink and walks right past the knife. I could tell he was still speaking but I couldn't hear him. All that came out was that horrible drill sound. Alfred sat back down and started to read the paper. I walk after him and waved my hands but he doesn't look at me he just keeps making that sound. 

       "What's happening?" I ask him foolishly as if he knew. "Felix!" I scream wanting him to stop whatever was happening. Alfred puts the paper down and stares at me no longer moving his mouth but the sound continues. He gives me a puzzled look like he could see and hear me again. My relief didn't last long. He raised his hand to his lip and started to pull it down. The skin began to tear. It was horrible. I let out a scream and stepped away from him. It's happening again. I'm hallucinating. The drilling only gets louder as more of Alfred's skin slops off his face. A small pile formed in his lap. I shook my head as I backed into the counter. I felt the knife poke itself against my back. Alfred or whoever it was stood up and started to walk towards me. His skin was falling off of him all over now. I grabbed the knife and held it close to me just in case. Just before the bones of Alfred reached me I got the sensation of falling and everything was black and quiet the horrible drilling stopped. I felt wind rushing past me and I realized I was falling. 

         I screamed as loud as I could hoping somehow it would help me. I saw a small pinhole of light that grew as I fell towards it. Just as I'm about to fall onto this light I land on an invisible ground. I didn't have any time to process what all had just happened. I sat on the ground and look around for a second. There was nothing but darkness all around me. 

         "Am I dead?"

        "Do you feel dead?"

         "No I guess not." I wasn't sure how to answer that.  "What's going on?"

       "Why don't you ask Bruce since you two are such good friends now."

        "Now is not the time." I took a few steps forward slowly. I felt like at any moment I could start falling again. A hand rose from the darkness in front of me like a flower sprouting. 

         "You see the hand too?"

         "Yep" I took a deep breath and walked closer to it. Slowly more started to rise up, some pushed against my feet making me stumble and fall. I didn't fall against the invisible floor though. Instead I was caught by what seemed to be a million hands grabbing at me. 

          "Felix! Felix help me please!" I screamed, reaching out my hand as I was being pulled under. I felt an invisible hand grabbing at mine but by that time it was too late. My head slipped under the hands and I fell onto some reddish dirt. Above me was the sky covered in sparse black smoke clouds. There were destroyed buildings all over. I stood up quickly and looked around. It was so bright and hot. If not for the buildings I thought maybe I was in a desert. 

          "I have never been so happy to see that big blue asshole. Check it out there's superman." I looked In the distance to see Superman with his back turned to me. 

          "Hey! What's happening?" I ask as I run up to him. As soon as I yelled he turned around and looked at me. He looked like he had seen a ghost. 

        "Margaret? Why are- how are you here?" He asked

        "Hey you're in my hallucination, what are you doing here?" He stared down at me, giving me a chance to see him a little better. He looked older and his suit looked kinda different. His face changed to anger and he shook his head. 

         "You did this! I don't know how but this is what you showed me! You caused this!" He screamed as his eyes glowed red. I didn't have time to say anything back because the sky grew dark and Superman froze like a statue before crumbling into more red dirt on the ground.

          "Run Margaret go now! It's coming!" I didn't waste time with questions. I turned tail and ran. I heard huge footsteps behind me. I didn't dare look back. The dirt only got deeper until finally I couldn't move my legs through it. I tried to dig myself out but whatever was following me caught up and a black shadow came over me blacking out my vision. I screamed as dirt filled my mouth and nose completely soon enough I couldn't feel my body anymore. It felt like I didn't exist.

        Like all the lights turning on in a house everything came back all at once I screamed and pushed myself up. I was surrounded by faces. It was Bruce, Dick, and Tim. I looked around and realized I was in the guest room again. Bruce was trying to console me as I continued to scream and push against him. I wasn't sure any of this was real. 

       "Is she having a seizure?" Tim asked as he grabbed at Dicks shoulder. 

       "I'm not sure." He replied. I couldn't speak. I felt like I had a lump in my throat. 

        "It's okay you fainted in the kitchen. You're in your bed." Bruce said. I shook my head no at him as I held my throat. I began coughing but this time I felt something grainy come up with it. I looked down and there was the dirt again. It continued to pour from my mouth into the bed until words could finally make their way past. 

      "Is this real? Are you guys real?" I asked frantically. They were all too busy looking at the small pile of perfectly dry dirt that just came from my throat. We were all speechless as we tried to make sense of it. I still had to be dreaming. 

        "Tim, can you go get an evidence bag?" Bruce asked. He was wanting to run some experiments on it I assume. 

        My bedding was changed and Bruce made a note to change my cough medicine. He thought it might have caused the fainting spell and nightmare. I questioned Felix mercilessly hoping he had some answers but he didn't seem to know anything. The episode wasn't too dissimilar to the lady in the TV. Alfred said I had taken my medicine but wouldn't answer him when he spoke. Then I started to scream and freak out before I fell to the floor. The doctor called it some kind of waking night terror. I have had night terrors before and that wasn't one of them. 

         I recovered from my cold and life almost got into a schedule. I asked Bruce everyday what he did with the dirt and he told me nothing came of it. I don't believe him though. 

         I sat at the island in the kitchen and had breakfast with Tim while Dick was trying to show us how to juggle oranges. Jason was leaning against the counter eating some kind of cereal. 

       "You should see him do that with knives." Jason said mouth full of food. 

       "I don't know what you mean I would never." Dick said as he threw an orange at Jason. A week had passed since my last nightmare/waking night terror/ hallucination. I was starting to feel almost normal. Barbara came in and took an orange from Dick to eat. It was a nice morning.

        The day passed quickly and soon it was late evening. Dick and Tim got around with Bruce for patrol and Barbara went home. Jason and I sat in the family room and watched some movie about a guy trying to avenge his dog. Felix seemed interested in it at least. 

         "Sorry about last week." Jason said out of the blue.

         "What?" 

          "At dinner. When I told you, you wouldn't make it. I was being a jerk."

          "Oh it's alright. I didn't take it personally. I heard you had a pretty close call so it's understandable you wouldn't be in the best mood." I say looking over at him. He laughed a little.

         "About that. I don't know what they told you but I think you can handle the truth. I died. Full on dead. I was beaten and blown up by Joker. Then I was chucked into something called the Lazarus Pit by a lady I didn't know and I was brought back." He was trying to sound so casual about it all. He stopped and looked over at me. It was hard to understand and I'd be lying if I said I didn't have questions but I just nodded. 

        "I'm sorry. What was it like dying?" I asked, having a morbid curiosity. He nodded to himself for a moment. 

        "It sucked a big one." He said shortly. I wasn't sure what I was expecting him to say. "But I got a cool white streak from it." He added. He was trying to hide it but I could tell he was really freaked out and angry with the whole situation.

       I enjoyed all the time I spent with Jason that night. He didn't seem so scary. He was really a sensitive guy. He really liked poetry. Felix seemed to like him as well which isn't normal for him. 

         All of the Bat Family really seemed like a real family at times. Bickering and arguing but also supporting each other and caring about one another. I was starting to like the idea of being a part of it.

[switch]

caffeinated beverage assessment:

zoa cherry limeade

yeah it's this piece of shit again. well, interestingly, at some point in the recent past, they either swapped in a new variety pack or i'm assuming replaced two of their original flavors with the new cherry limeade and grape (no), only leaving the old tropical punch, which is something i can't say i've ever seen happen before. i can only assume it has something to do with the notably mixed reception to these drinks' taste. these things are really coasting by on the rock's influence and, what i suspect to be the most vital component of its continued existence, being one of a very narrow selection of options for these kinds of drink you can buy at costco.

so anyway i got my hands on a single cherry limeade and was admittedly feeling a bit optimistic since anything like cherry lime or berry lime has consistently been one of my favorite flavor profiles across lines. it's.... fffine. it's definitely better than the previously 'most drinkable' zoa flavor, tropical punch, and that was not good. this is drinkable. the 'cherry' flavor unfortunately leans so heavy on the strongly flavored and artificial syrupy side that i'd liken it to a cherry tootsie roll pop. i mean, i like tootsie roll pops, but that's a significant downgrade to its far smoother tasting cherry lime cousins over at bang or xyience. and it definitely still has that distinct weird flavor that tells you you're drinking a zoa, so not the major change in formula i was hoping. what do they put in this stuff....?

i could in theory find these okay to use as a regular, the price to calorie ratio is adequate and, again, it being available at costco is a plus, but even if you like grape, the fact that it's unavoidably packaged with the old tropical punch flavor is a huge problem. not worth it.

[thyandrawrites]

I kinda noticed that Toya's quirk would actually still be enough to make him a hero.

I mean, even ignoring Aoyama and Midoriya's "borrowed" quirks, the hero course still shows the children hurting themselves with their quirks: Kaminari fries his brains, Mineta bleeds if he takes too many grapes, Iida self-multilates to make his engines stronger, and Bakugo's quirk hurts his hands during his fight against All Might.

Toya's still an effective fighter even with his burns. And we have been shown that heroes have equipment to lessen the strain on their bodies (Midoriya's gloves, Aoyama's belt, and Bakugo's outfit storing his sweat).

And now I keep rethinking Toya's backstory with this in mind. Enji had the money to get Toya accomodations, had been a hero long enough to know about support equipment. Did Enji make a concious decission to give up on Toya instead of trying to accomodate him?

I agree with this and I'm gonna expand on this in a sec, but first I think I should make a distinction between quirk downsides and quirks that are incompatible with the body. Uraraka, Bakugou, Kaminari etc just experience the downsides of pushing themselves too far, but their bodies sustain their quirks. I think a better example are Aoyama and Deku. A brilliant meta a while ago (I'm sorry but I don't remember who op was) pointed out that all the examples we have of bodies that "reject" their quirks are always the result of some kind of artificial tampering of quirk biology. Deku and Aoyama have quirks that have been passed on to them but which were not initially theirs, and Touya's is the result of an eugenics experiment. At the beginning of the manga Bakugou explained that quirks are just another extention of the body, so it makes a lot of sense to think in terms of trasplants and compatibility, you know?

Anyway. That said, I also agree that the strain on Touya's body could've absolutely been lessened with support items. Think of Deku's gloves and leg bracers, or Aoyama's belt. Said items wouldn't nullify the strain, but they would make it manageable.

And that's precisely why I think Enji didn't even consider them as an option.

What Enji wanted was not to make Touya a strong hero. He wanted a heir who could be stronger than All Might. Early on his career, around 20, Enji realized he could never accomplish that goal on his own because all his stronger moves left him on the verge of heat exhaustion. He then proceeds to see overheating as the "weaknesses" that gets in the way of getting to number one, and marries Rei in a last ditch effort to craft an heir who can combat it with frost. Specifying this is important because it sheds light on his actual intentions.

When Touya manifested his quirk, Enji knew he had no frost. The reason why he trained him anyway is that Touya's fire burned hotter, and as such he brought more brute strength to the table. At first, Enji thought that would be enough to beat his rival in terms of sheer power levels. Remember, All Might has the power of 8 people (including himself). He's a superhuman. But Endvr didn't know that. He knew that All Might was ridiculously op, and that the key to besting him was just packing a stronger punch—nevermind that it was literally impossible.

Now, Touya did pack a much stronger punch than Enji.

It's even depicted with a fist and all. Hori is not suble.

For a handful of months, Endvr then forgets his initial goal of a fireproof heir. Remember, Enji overheats when he launches his special moves.

He even says that Prominence Burn is not a move he can fire off multiple times.

That's why he backed away from his ambition so fast and entrusted it onto his children. Enji cannot rely on the power of his flames alone. To put it in simple terms, during the time he needs to cool down, All Might is free to keep fighting and widen the gap between them further. And that's without counting that the big blows in Endvr's arsenal are limited. One big Prominence Burn, saved up for the one-hit-K.O.s, and a handful of less strong supermoves. Then it's all over because his lucidity and coordination rapidly worsen and get in the way of a victory. If Endvr doesn't want to be out for the count within five minutes of fighting a big bad, he needs to pace himself. We're shown this in how he saves his big blows for sure hits.

But unlike him, Touya doesn't need to build up heat and release it all at once to launch a big attack. His son has the output to fire off those type of blows like it's nothing. Suddenly, Enji thinks he found a workaround to breach the gap. The bridge metaphor:

If Touya doesn't need to hold back the way his father does, Enji reckons he can also shorten that insurmountable distance. During the time Enji would "waste" cooling off, Touya could pose a real challenge to All Might's superhuman prowess.

So Enji trains him in that sense. His ambition flares and blinds him. He forgets that the reason he needed an heir in the first place was because bigger heat=bigger heat exhaustion. After he sees a way to finally reach his lifelong goal, he becomes obsessed with it and overlooks the dangers.

Instead of keeping an eye for heat exhaustion, he puts all his money on teaching Touya how to open a fight with finishing blows, to bulldoze through any fight and win his one-sided rivalry that way.

That's the only reason for not teaching Touya how to cool himself off. He wasn't counting on him needing to. This whole strategy hinged on Touya's fire burning hotter than ever, on firing all the one-hit-K.O.s Endvr couldn't.

Are you still following me? Good, because here's where reality crashed down on him.

In his ambitions of glory, Enji didn't consider that Touya might've inherited his "weakness" to fire exhaustion. So when he sees it not only reflected in his son, but also amplified by Touya's much stronger fire output, it's the end of the line.

Please note, Enji didn't need Touya to make him a strong hero. He needed a strong enough weapon to overpower his rival. Quirk support items could've helped Touya better cool himself down, that's true. But that doesn't mean anything to Enji, because he was aiming to get a supersoldier that didn't need to pace himself or hold back in the first place. He already tried that route himself and experienced first-hand that it wasn't enough to best All Might. What he wanted was a perfect weapon with no "weaknesses".

The truth is that he never cared about Touya's wellbeing. That was just the excuse he used to justify replacing him. When he discarded him, he wasn't safeguarding him against harming himself, but just looking elsewhere for a better puppet to entrust his idea of success onto.

Enji wasn't interested in creating accommodations for him because his goal was never centered around Touya. He just used him as a receptacle of his ambitions, but none of this was ever about Touya, or about letting him maximize on his potential. It was always about Enji crowning his goals. Touya was just a tool for him to achieve them—something easily thrown aside and forgotten when it didn't measure up to Enji's expectations.

So in other words, Touya was already doomed as a failed pet project when he was born with a body that can't sustain his quirk. It's not that he wasn't strong enough, or smart enough, or had enough resources to excel. It's that his father didn't see him fit for factors entirely outside of Touya's control. Factors Enji should've anticipated when he mixed together two incompatible quirks, but for whom he rejects accountability

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Phobos x eldritch reader - Otherworldly curiosity

You weren’t an Employer, but you weren’t like the mortals either. You were something else entirely, a writhing mass of talons and tentacles, form stretching out into the infinite cosmos. Your dominion, The Other Place, had been a sanctuary for aeons, and yet more and more frequently, these petulant little pests would invade this place, searching for the unknowable, something bigger and better than themselves. And they found you.

Your billion eyes glared at them, they’d poke and prod at you, and you’d respond in kind, crushing them like grapes since you couldn’t control your own strength. Curious as to how such little action on your part would cease their mortal souls. More would surely come, the seeds of interest sown and their minds piqued at this towering monstrosity.

Turning over the body of your latest invader, you were in turn curious. Confined in a tiny, frail body, never able to reach out and graze far off planets, never being able to comprehend anything beyond what laid in front of their eyes. Curious little beasts indeed. Your great form shifted, pulling in on itself, twisting and contorting ever inwards, mimicking the tiny vessel you toyed with.

It was rather cramped, being bundled up in such a tiny state, but you could bear it. The next time there was a link to their world, you leapt into it, crashing hard into a sterile white room, more of those tiny men and women gawking at you. Your eyes blinked in the harsh artificial light, this world was a lot brighter than you were used to, and it hurt.

Their leader stood out amongst them, a tall and imposing figure compared to the short beings around him. He wasn’t like them, he didn’t shrink away from you, didn’t even hesitate before he grabbed the cluster of tentacles wrapped together that formed an arm, soft and dry digits exploring your rubbery and slimey skin.

Others feared this mimic, lost in the depth of the uncanny valley, something so familiar shaped and so, so wrong, but Phobos was positively enamoured. His singular eye drank in as much as your form as it could, he only stepped back as your body contorted again, pushing out slightly to tower above him, only stopping as your head met the ceiling.

This world was claustrophobic, too many tight spaces. He would speak to you, but you couldn’t understand a single word, all garbled nonsense, you’d tilt your head to him, eyes fixated on this strange mortal.

Plap.

One of your slimey faux hands came to rest on his head, cutting him off mid sentence. His own hand brushed up to meet yours, rather intimate for strangers, neither of you understood a single thing about each other, so why the hell was his heart thudding so fast? More of your tentacles began to rest on him, curiously prodding and squeezing as so many of his underlings had to you.

You gave his helmet a little push, and it fell loose and clattered to the floor. His guards raised their guns, ready to attack you for this slight against him, but he raised his hand to stop them. Again that warbled speech came, it seemed to make them back down, lowering their weapons, not that those little toothpicks and boom sticks would’ve hurt your anyway.

His singular eye was rather beautiful, a soft lilac, reminding you of the deep violet ones that coated your own form. Your hands kept pushing against him, prodding his strange orifice, a hole filled with talons, jagged and pointed, his noise maker, you’d never had the need for such a strange thing.

He pushed your exploring hands out of his mouth and shook his head, and when you tried to search again, he covered it with his own hand. You were just curious, he wasn’t mad, it was just a rather unpleasant feeling.

Phobos was eager to see what you were, what secrets lay within your shifting form, and could they be replicated to grant him this power too. You could be the missing piece that secured his godhood, consolidated his power to the Employers, with you under his control, they couldn’t deny him any longer.

Love at first sight of this beautiful, otherworldly enigma.

[amusicianwrites]

Adverse Effects - Whumptober Day 1

My post for @whumptober Day 1!

Alasdair Reid was sick.

This was a fact that he knew. 

He woke up with his body aching and a pounding in his head that left him dizzied when he sat up. He’d kicked off the sheets while he slept and his shirt was sweat through completely. The bandages he’d carefully placed on his calf had gone a dull red instead of pure white over the night. He tested how it felt when he put weight on it and while it hurt it wasn’t the worst pain in the world and he would still be able to walk for the trip his students had. 

His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, still about twenty minutes until he was supposed to get up, but he got up anyway and started to clean his wound and dress it once more. 

He took a shower, put on some makeup to conceal the eye bags, and started rummaging through his drawers for any medication. 

The bottle he found didn’t have the wrapper, but he would always bring medication for students home once he rebought his supplies. He took the half-empty bottle and downed it, nose scrunching at the artificial cherry flavor. Alasdair started to turn but stopped. 

This was kids' medicine; half a bottle wouldn’t do anything. 

He fumbled with the drawer and pulled out another, mostly full, bottle and downed that as well. 

Alasdair gagged after a second. It was grape flavored. 

He wasted no time, pulling the cardigan with constellations adorning the fabric over on. He glanced at the mirror and frowned. Even with the makeup, his dark blue eyes were tired and his brown curls looked lifeless. 

The drive over was uneventful aside from someone flipping him off for going the speed limit. 

He walked into his classroom, glad that he’d set up before leaving the school the day before, six minutes before they started taking students. The vigilante dropped his head on his desk and groaned. 

Everything hurt.

“Reid,” Fuck. He knew that voice well enough by now; had heard it call his alter ego’s name plenty of times in the night. “You’re usually at your door.” Alasdair plastered a smile on his face and sat up, only for it to drop when he saw only the CEO walking into his room. 

“Where’s Ben? He was so excited for today.” Leon blinked, pale pink eyes softening at the mention of his little brother, and gave a small forced smile. 

“Poor kid woke up with a fever. I had him go back to sleep after I promised that Mr.Reid would take him to the planetarium when he was better. Back to the question at hand though,” He walked around Alasdair’s desk, glancing at the door before tapping underneath his chin. “Rose, why aren’t you standing at the door with that cute little smile you always have for the kids,” Leon brushed back the brown curls on Alasdair’s head.

The touch was so comforting, so gentle, Alasdair leaned into it. It was something he knew he craved. He needed it like oxygen and yet he never let himself indulge. 

“Rose?” Leon pressed the back of his hand to Alasdair’s forehead. “Oh, treasure, you’re not feeling well are you?” He couldn't help the noise that came from the back of his throat, keening and desperate and feeble. “There’s that pretty blush. Why didn’t you stay home today if you’re so out of it?”

“The trip,” When had he shut his eyes? Leon has shifted to hold Alasdair’s jaw with his free hand. “The kids were excited. “

“There are other chaperones.” 

“Cruz is a bitch.” He wheezed, breaths coming in short rasps. He lost himself in the touch, enjoying the warmth.

Then he was on his back, looking up at the ceiling. He could see Leon, hovering above him. He looked frantic but when he looked down and noticed Alasdair looking at him he gave him a soft smile, those pale pink eyes softening as they stared him down. 

“You’re gonna be fine. Can you tell me what you took? The paramedics are going to be here soon.” He felt a hand on his chest, flat against it. His fingertips drummed comfortingly against his collarbone. 

Alasdair blinked, trying to process what had just been said.

“No,” He wheezed, trying and failing to pull himself ups. “No ambulance. No hospital,” Leon shifted and pushed Alasdair back down. He’d taken off his suit jacket and from how soft the floor behind Alasdair’s head felt, he figured it was his pillow for the time being. 

“Nope, stay down, love,” He pressed a hand on Alasdair’s head. “He’s burning up,” Leon spoke to someone in a hushed voice. 

“M’fine.”

“You are very fine, but you’re also incredibly sick, dear,” His hand stayed pressed where they were, on his head and chest respectfully. “Reid,” He said firmly. “Paramedics will be here soon.”

Alasdair’s eyes went wide, a soft shade of purple starting to line the rims. He bit his tongue and tried fighting back against the desperation. 

Despite what his instincts were screaming at him to do, he would not command Leon.

“Reid?” Leon was over him again, worriedly looking down at him. He gave him a look that in his delirious state he couldn’t quite place. “Look, I’ll take care of you,” Alasdair shook his head. “Shhh, It’s fine. No hospitals,” That reassurance in his smooth, baritone, voice was enough to have Alasdair relaxing on the floor. “You have to stay awake though,” Leon looked away, telling someone something that was unintelligible to Alasdair. 

He felt himself being shifted, lifted in strong warm arms. 

“Alasdair, stay awake,” Was the stern command but Alasdair’s body was fighting against it. 

His eyes slipped shut, and he felt himself go limp. 

He woke up feeling the thin, cotton sheet over him. He usually hated the texture of these types of blankets but he still wasn’t feeling things properly. He felt the light tubes of the nasal cannula in his nose, making him groan quietly and jolt. 

The bed shifted next to him, on his right side, and then on his left to a lesser extent. 

“Hey, Rose? Are you finally back with us?”

Leon. 

Alasdair sighed, taking a deep breath, before prying open his eyes. The room wasn’t bright, the way he expected a hospital to be. There was dim lightning coming from the ceiling and a small amount of natural light pouring in from the windows. He blinked to clear his blurry vision and saw Leon leaning over him, the same way he had been leaning over him in his classroom. 

“There you are,” He seemed relieved, at first glance. The furrowed brow was gone, where it had seemed permanently etched onto his face when he walked into the room in the morning, but there was something about his eyes that set off alarms in Alasdair’s head. 

They were sharp, slightly narrowed. The gentleness that he’d seen before he passed out was gone, replaced with something. 

“Your boss is worried as hell, he’s been calling like crazy. Only stopped when I got the doctor to speak with him.”

“I’ll call him soon,” The teacher croaked out, wincing at the sharp pain in his throat. 

“Hurts, huh? I’ll have someone bring in some ice chips. Consequences of getting your stomach pumped,” He pulled his hand away from Alasdair’s left side and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He was still wearing the black suit, though the suit jacket was nowhere to be seen and the white shirt was wrinkled. His shirt was wrinkled. Alasdair frowned, looking at that wrinkle. He heard that signature tone of a message being sent and then pink eyes were back on him, losing their edge for a second before they hardened once more. 

“Two fucking bottles. Two bottles of cough syrup. What the hell were you thinking? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Alasdair pouted as Leon’s voice got louder and louder. 

“It was kids’ medicine though.” 

“Are you - what? What?” Leon’s eyebrows shot up, eyes wide as he stared at Alasdair. “You didn’t just justify overdosing because it was kids’ medicine. Right? You didn’t just try to do that.”

“Half a bottle wasn’t gonna do anything,” His voice was wavering, raspy and weak, but he kept a steady calm look on his face. 

“How the fuck did you survive this long?” Leon seemed to think for a moment, eyes glancing back and forth between Alasdair’s face and the door. “How the fuck did you survive this long, Siren?” 

Alasdair didn’t process it for a second. 

“Hey, I’m twen-” Then he froze, eyes wide in fear. He stopped breathing, for just a moment. The vigilante turned his head to look at Leon mechanically, his heart monitor sounding quietly in the background. He couldn’t help it when his eyes glassed over. He wanted to deny it. Laugh in his face and shrug it off. He wanted to play dumb and ask who that was. There were so many things he wanted to do at that moment. Run and hide. Scream. Disappear. Leon was sitting there though, that goddamned wrinkle in his white shirt. His eyes looking at Alasdair with so much pain in them. Betrayal. 

“Ho-how di-” He cut himself off, looking at the ceiling instead. His eyes burned. “I’m sorry,” His voice cracked, his face burned in humiliation. “I wanted to-,” He was cut off by the sound of a soft knock at the door. He didn’t look back at Leon, too afraid of what he would see. It was quiet, Leon’s breathing was the only thing he heard besides the frantic heartbeat sounding off on the monitor. 

“Come in,” He stood and walked away from the bed. Alasdair caught a glimpse of him as he walked out. His brow was furrowed once more. 

The doctor gave him the rundown of what happened as he’d handed Alasdair a cup of ice chips. He had overdosed and they had to pump his stomach as soon as he arrive. He was currently in Leon’s penthouse which had its own medical wing with a fully stocked medicine cabinet and an entire staff on call. Rich people. Leon had made sure that Alasdair wouldn’t have to pay anything, apparently, he’d told the staff that his insurance wouldn’t cost much. While he wasn’t wrong about that, Alasdair still held out hope that this was Leon’s way of protecting him. Going to a general hospital would lead to god only knows how many tests and he isn’t even sure what would come up on them. 

They left him with some medication that left him groggy. His heart was still racing too much for him to sleep though. They had done him the favor of turning it off at his insistence and helping him sit up but when he looked outside and saw the skyline of his beloved city, his heart started pounding harder. 

He took a shaky breath and put a hand on his chest, only now noticing he was wearing a comfortable pair of blue pajamas. They must've changed him into this when he was out of it. Alasdair crossed his legs, surprised to feel the bandages going around his leg in a much more compressed and professional dressing of the wound. 

They saw his leg too, huh? 

Alasdair took another shaky breath in and put his elbows on his knees, face in his hands. 

How on earth could he have fucked up so badly?

He didn’t hear the door open over his shuddering breaths. 

“Alasdair?” His head shot up. Standing in front of him, his hair unkempt, in black sweatpants and a sage green t-shirt, was Leon. “Alasdair, why are you crying?” His hands went back up to his face, wiping away the tears that had been falling. 

“I’m not. I’m not, I’m fine,” He repeated, more to himself than to Leon. 

Leon walked over to his left side and sat next to him, cutting off his sight of the door. 

“Hey,” He placed a warm hand on Alasdair’s cold one. “Look at me,” He looked up and saw a small smile on Leon’s face. “We’re gonna be fine, okay? We’re just gonna talk. I think we should talk.”

Alasdair took a deep breath and shifted so he was holding, clinging, onto Leon’s hand.

“Okay,” He nodded, tapering away into a small flicker of hope. “Let’s talk.”

[thepringlesofblood]

just finished rogue protocol and i have several emotions for your consideration

1. martha? you didn’t need to do that. you know what I mean

2. the dynamic of mb bring presented with a good, wholesome aspect of humanity and going aaaahahsadagaa what is that???? is never going to get old

3. for once i am so glad tumblr warned me about a Certain Character Death bc i would have been inconsolable. I was damn nearly inconsolable anyway, but if that had come out of nowhere i wouldve been OUT. like in an ideal world I would’ve liked to be surprised but I got too much shit to do to take the requisite 3-5 business days to Mourn

4. Scientists Baffled By Secunit’s Insistence On Becoming A “Security Consultant” To Complete Strangers

except not ‘insistence’ bc in every internal narration it frames it as like ‘ugh that was stupid of me to say but I guess I just have to go along with it’ *commits to this fake job harder than any of the humans actually on it*

its like that ‘bet I can fit all these grapes in my mouth - NO ONE ASKED- god i can’t believe you guys are making me do this lol’ except Grumpy and Dystopian

5. seeing mb work as basically an independent Secunit is awesome bc like. it can do pretty much whatever it wants now since its not on contract, and its not pretending to be human, so just the raw unprocessed power of how good it is at security when left to its own devices is on full display. like it just keeps crankin out action-movie level stunts and being like ‘fuck i couldve done that better’

6. mb being surprised that in general, people trust each other in less corporate professional settings, is hilarious and heartbreaking. like it keeps going ‘huh there’s only like 2 cameras they don’t monitor personal stuff at all’ and i’m like yeah bud, it’s called basic privacy. someone needs to tell this dude that in general, people trust each other to not be plotting each other’s ultimate doom.

7. i. cant wait. for next book. need reunion. neeeeeeed.

8. this one was kind of a filler one for me. I mean meeting Miki and mb getting to see what just a happy, well-treated bot consciousness looks like was transcendent, but nothing can really compete with the introduction of ART as a character. It was great and I’m very psyched for the next one but I get a sense that I won’t be coming back to this one over and over like the first one.

9. i need the reasoning for these titles, wells. so far the only one I can figure out is Artificial Condition, bc of that quote Tapan says. All Systems Red is I guess kinda generically true in that everything goes wrong? but red isn’t like a big theme or anything? and I have no idea why this one is called Rogue Protocol. Any spoiler-free (for the rest of the series) explanations are welcome.

[zukuist]

confetti

“todoroki experiences a difficult time when it comes to getting out chunks of confetti, and luckily- you’re there to provide him some aid.”

 @/gingerbreadmonster said: “congratulations on 100!!! 🎉🎊🎉🎊 i only found your blog recently but i really love your writing and you deserve all that and more 😍 may i please request "can we stay like this?" + todoroki shoto for your drabble prompts? 💕💕💕 (idk how you like your reqs formatted so it's cool if it's not your thing!)”

includes: todoroki shouto (x reader)

your name is shortened to y/n, a gender neutral reader, lowercase intended.

warnings: none, honestly really fluffy

notes: LMAO so i accidentally posted my draft summary, where the original concept was scraped so.. sorry about that. advanced happy birthday to candy cane boy :))

---

todoroki sighs when he catches a glimpse of his reflection on his phone, an assort of glitters and gold pieces of confetti liter the contrasting colors of his hair. it is the result from something called a ‘surprise birthday party’

he stands on the sidelines of the common room, as everyone had returned to their room, or they had indulged in their own thing. he just got up to get a glass of water, but he ended up staring at the aftermath of the small birthday party that was thrown by the class.

it’s pretty evident from the looks of the slightly eaten birthday cake that sits on the kitchen isle, and the empty ceramic cups that sit on the dryer. he huffs in mild annoyance, attempting to clear out the glitter and confetti by brushing his soft locks, but it feels like the pile is just never ending.

he might need to wash his hair after this..

“todoroki?” he hears a familiar voice call out to him in a hush like voice, and he whips his head back to meet gazes with you. “are you okay? you were staring at the microwave for a while”

his stomach is tickled with that feeling again, and he doesn’t pay too much attention to your observation. he doesn’t know what that feeling is really, as he’s only felt it one time, and that one time being around you.

“i'm fine,” he automatically responses to your question, “what are you doing down here?”

“i actually left something on the couch, earlier” you smile, “but i saw you just staring at the microwave for a pretty long time.”  

you’re happy to see the corner of his lips slightly turn up, and he brings a hand up to his head, but his brows furrowed when he can’t seem to get out the confetti that litters in that one particular spot on his head.

“is it the confetti?” you ask, and you just never cease to amaze him with the fact that you could just read him so well.

he can only nod, as he tries to brush out the stubborn confetti once again, “it’s not really getting out.”

you’re quite silent, and you tilt your head to get a better view of his hair. it looks quite soft, and you want to touch it, in all honesty. but that’s not the entire point. maybe he might need some assistance.

“how about you sit down over there, todoroki? i’ll try to pick it out for you- i mean, if you want me to.” you try not to sound overly eager about.. picking out confetti out of his hair, but todoroki doesn’t really seem to care about what you’re implying.

it feels like his heart’s skipping multiple beats.

he can only nod, and you smile- pulling a chair, and you cringe slightly from the way it scratches against the floor. todoroki sits himself down, making himself comfortable since it feels like he’ll be there for a while, based off what he saw in his phone’s reflection.

he finds himself enjoying the way your fingers weave through his hair, picking off the confetti- and brushing it off his head. you lean forward onto the wooden chair,  as an attempt to grapes a clearer view of his scalp,  and there’s a lot more glitter than you ever thought there would be.

you end up plucking a larger chunk of confetti harsher than you wanted, and you can see the way his face contorts in mild pain. “ah, sorry. didn’t mean to tug your hair.”

he only stares at you, and you ignore how your heart flutters at the sight of him staring at you.

you tilt forward to brush off the glitter particles off his silky milk white hair. you take a look on how his hair looks a lot clearer than it did earlier, and even with the confetti and glitter- his hair was still as luscious as ever.

but then you realized you were lingering on your thoughts a little too long. you shake you head and continue intertwining your fingers through his hair.

you make a decision to start making small talk, the silence was almost too loud for comfort. “so, did you enjoy your birthday?”

todoroki thinks. his day wasn’t really too spectacular. he called his mom in the morning, went on his day like usual, and came back to a surprise at the height alliance.

todoroki feels like the day hasn’t really concluded though, “i suppose i did. it was really any other day though.”

“hm, but being a year older is special!” you chortle, and he can only stare amused with your light hearted reactions.

it dawns on him that you’re quite close to his face. his eyes are transfixed on your expression, and you’re so focused with your task, your tongue slightly peeking out and onto your bottom lip, and you continue to brush particles off his hair.

it’s becoming quite captivating.

“it seems to be that i’ve gotten all of them,” you huff, and leave momentarily to search for a dustpan to sweep away the fallout, and discard in the trash bin.

todoroki runs his hand through his hair, and he can no longer feel that unsatisfying feeling of glitter chunks, and confetti pieces sticking out of his hair, it’s cleared him of that sort of trouble.

“anyways, happy birthday again, todoroki. i hope whatever you wished for on your birthday comes true!” you lean forward, brushing his hair again, before patting his shoulder. you move to retreat back up to your room.

but there’s one last thing he’d like to do before the day concludes officially.

“wait,” todoroki calls out to you, and he tugs on your wrist and pulls you down with him onto the wooden chair. he doesn't seem to care about the fact that the both of you guys are so close to each other.

your mouth is slightly agape, shocked by the suddenly action, but you’re left just staring at his dashing good looks. the contrast of both of his eyes colors are beautiful, even under the artificial lighting of the kitchen.

“i.. honestly wished for you to be with me,” he hates how he said it, so he looks away from your appalled gaze for a split second, “will you?”

oh.

how could you even say no to him? before you could process it properly- your lips press against his. it’s a chaste kiss, but it feels so warm, and delightful. how you always imagined what kissing todoroki shouto would feel like.

he smiles when the kiss is broke off, “can we stay like this? even if it’s just for a little bit longer?”

and how could you say no to him? it is what the birthday boy wishes after all.

---

©️ izukulie 2021, bnha|mha belongs to horikoshi kohei. do not steal

word count will be added soon.

[worldsover]

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically.  “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-"  Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher​ and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley, Chapter 6

Plans were made.

And discarded.

Different plans were made.  

These were also discarded.  

The problem (besides the fact that their best planners (except Yaoyorozu) were out of commission) was that no one knew what needed to be done. If anything.  Yes, Midoriya had run out of the testing center.  Yes, the whole situation where Midoriya was initially placed in a group apart from all the rest of them was shady.  Yes, the fact that Aizawa and the other half of class was still missing was distressing.  

But they didn’t know what was actually happening.  They didn’t know if the others needed help, or what help they would need.  They didn’t know why Midoriya was running, chased by heroes of all things. Jirou had wondered out loud if Midoriya had been mind-controlled by a villain with a quirk like Shinsou’s.  In response, Kaminari had a (brief) breakdown agonizing about whether he had inadvertently helped a villain kidnap his friend.

What a mad banquet of darkness.  

Luckily, they were training for… well, not situations like these, to be honest, but situations.  Just. In general.  Dark, mysterious situations, where one wrong step could send a person plummeting into an abyss of misery.

Anyway.  

When in such a vexing a perilous situation, the thing to do, as Momo had pointed out, was gather information.  

Was Jirou plugged into the wall?  Yes.  Did Shouji manifest enough ears and eyes to make even Fumikage slightly disturbed? Yes.  Did Yaoyorozu make tiny listening devices that fit on the mice and insects that Kouda had called?  Yes.  Did Kaminari spontaneously manifest hacking skills that no one knew about and then deny that they were hacking skills?  Yes.  Had Dark Shadow pressed herself flat to sneak under doors and temporary room partitions?

Also, yes.  

He tugged on Dark Shadow with his mind, directing her to return.

“Find anything new?” he asked.  Tsuyu, his current partner in not-crime-quite-yet and lookout, leaned closer as well, interested.  

“The lady whose quirk they were using passed out,” reported Dark Shadow.  “Everyone she used it on is still asleep.”

“Nothing about Midori?” asked Tsuyu.  

Dark Shadow’s facial expressions were often limited, but, this time, her scowl was clear.  “Stupid stuff.”

“Like?”

Dark Shadow huffed, and Fumikage felt her annoyance. “Like he’s a villain or a spy. Stupid.”

Tsuyu closed her eyes and swallowed with obvious distaste.

“Do you think that’s why he ran?  It seems unlike him.”

“Huh?” said Dark Shadow.  “Midori didn’t run.”

“What are you talking about, Dark Shadow?” asked Fumikage. “Speak clearly.”

Dark Shadow elbowed him.  “Midori’s friends ran!”

“You mean Ochako, Todoroki, and Iida?” asked Tsuyu.

“No, they’re still asleep.  His friends.  Like you and me are friends, Fumi!”

“You mean his quirk?”

“Uhhuh,” said Dark Shadow, bobbing.  “They’re like us.  Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really,” said Tsuyu.  

Fumikage leaned and against the wall and slid down to put his head in his hands.  “What a mad banquet of darkness, indeed.  It is as if we journey at night, through a verdant and shadowy valley—”

“Come on, we have to tell the others,” said Tsuyu, nudging him.

.

“What happened?” asked Hitoshi, softly, not quite believing what he’d heard.  He rubbed his fingers over the folds of his artificial vocal cords, stored in the top pocket of his backpack.  Legally speaking, he wasn’t supposed to have it, or any hero support gear, outside the school he wasn’t licensed, even provisionally.    But Hizashi had insisted, and Kayama-sensei didn’t object, so…  

“According to the Hero Commission,” said Hizashi, voice tighter than his hands around the wheel, “Shouta and some of the 1-A students were targeted by a villain at the testing center.”

“What?  What villain? Shigaraki?”  That was the one that had been targeting 1-A again and again and again.  The one that had hurt him so badly at the USJ.  

“No,” said Hizashi.  “They said it was Midoriya.”

Hitoshi blinked, his brain first trying to find a villain that matched the name before shoving his fellow student’s face into his mind’s eye. “You mean, he’s the one that wound up fighting the villain.  How many bones did he break this time?  Or did he get a new quirk?”

“No,” said Kayama-sensei.  “They’re really saying that Midoriya is a villain.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” stated Hitoshi. “They think the second coming of All Might sunshine child is a villain?  If he got locked in Tartarus, half the population would, I don’t know, start confessing their sins and become model citizens before the day was out.  If his quirk wasn’t bone-breaking nonsense, I’d say it was the power of friendship.”  He stopped, considered that last sentence.  “Wait, this is about his quirk, isn’t it?”

“We don’t know,” said Hizashi.  

“They’re saying he kidnapped All Might.”

Hitoshi wondered if this was what people felt like when he used his quirk on them, because his brain had just bluescreened and was struggling to restart.  

“They’re what?” screeched Hizashi.  It was a good thing he was the one driving the car.  Hitoshi winced and covered his ears.  

“Didn’t All Might steal Vlad-sensei’s car?” asked Hitoshi, feeling dazed.  “How do you get from that, to Midoriya kidnapping him from across town.”

“I don’t know,” said Kayama, “but it’s all over Heronet and the commission is starting to release it to news networks.”

“That has to be the- the stupidest thing I ever heard! I’d put more money on Yagi kidnapping Midoriya,” said Hizashi, loudly and angrily.  

“What the rat god said before we left makes much more sense now,” said Kayama, mournfully.  

Hitoshi blanched at her reference to the principal.  But then curiosity got the better of him.  “What did he say?”

“That to keep custody of all our staff and students, we were going to have to be creative.”

.

Hizashi had expected many things upon arriving at the testing center.  Being refused access to the unconscious teacher and students was one of them. Obstructive bureaucracy was one of them. People telling him something was illegal or forbidden by protocol when he knew it wasn’t was one of them.  Chaos was one of them.  Confusion was one of them.  Lack of organization was one of them.  

In these things, he was not disappointed.  

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the remaining half of Shouta’s class to not only be one hundred percent down with kinda-sorta kidnapping, but to have already laid a lot of the groundwork for it already.  

Maybe he should have.  But he didn’t.  How was it that Shouta, aka Mr. Expulsion, aka Mr. ‘you have no potential,’ had kept all the students from a class that had no scruples against committing things that most people would consider crimes?  A class that, having been given time to bond, would probably collectively turn to villainy rather than betray one of their number?

He paused and considered his long relationship with Shouta. Mentally squinted.  Never mind.  He could see it now.  

Well.  It wasn’t as if Hizashi wasn’t like that, too.  He’d never really considered expelling any of them.  Except Mineta.  Grape Juice was on thin ice.  

“We most likely would have acted already,” Yaoyorozu said as the rest of the class distracted the commission officials who were supposedly supervising the pickup of the children, “but we didn’t know what we’d do after. No escape plan.”

Reasonable.  The bus driver (Green Light, the Transit Hero) had gone back to the school after dropping them off and had to turn around once he heard the news.  

But, now, Recovery Girl was coming around with a fleet of ambulances from the hero hospital UA contracted with.  A hospital that was, incidentally, not the same as the one the Hero Commission wanted to bring all the people still affected by Saito’s quirk.  

Ambulances had room for riders.  It was unorthodox, but it would work.  

“Well, you have one now,” said Hizashi, quietly.  No one expected him to be quiet.  It made him almost invisible when he was.  

“I know you already have a plan,” interjected Hitoshi. “But is there anything I can do?”

Momo blinked.  “Actually, yes.  We could get them out anyway, but it would help a lot if we had the keys.”

.

The search for Uraraka hadn’t been going well before the city started to fall apart around them.  In fact, it had been going incredibly poorly, because various versions of All Might kept popping up to try and punch Suzuki’s face off.  Literally.  At least two of the All Mights had declared that as their intention prior to attacking.

Tenya wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about his friend’s mental state or baffled about his incredibly violent mental view of All Might.

Perhaps the eyeless villain in Kamino had left a strong impression on him?  But All Might couldn’t have been responsible for the villain’s injuries! It was All Might.  He hardly ever injured villains he took down.  

On the other hand, the villain at Kamino had been terrifyingly strong.  If there were to be an exception to the rule, he was certainly it.  

But the real reason, in Tenya’s opinion, the search had been going poorly was Suzuki.  The man would not stop talking.  His theories were even worse than Todoroki’s!

“That All Might is fake,” he was saying.  “He isn’t even using his quirk, just like Midoriya.”

“I think we all know that the All Might that exists in Midoriya’s mind is not, in fact, the real All Might,” said Aizawa.  

“This destruction is just another ploy, another distraction—”

“We get it,” said Aizawa.  “But it isn’t centered around us, so, logically, it must be centered around Uraraka.”

Suzuki scoffed.  “We should be looking for what Midoriya is trying to hide.”

“The only reason we aren’t beating you up right now,” said Aizawa, “is that we are looking for Uraraka.  So, shut up.”

“What about me?”

Tenya whipped around to see Uraraka stooped over behind them, breathing heavily, hands on her knees.  “Sorry,” she said, “I ran all the way here.”

Aizawa hurried over to her.  Tenya noted that he never quite turned his back to Suzuki.  

“What happened?” he asked.  “Where were you?”

“D- Izuku wanted to talk to me,” she said.  “He said something dangerous was about to happen, but if we went farther in, we could maybe get out?”  

Under normal circumstances, the overly vague report would have been cause for scolding, but Tenya could see how her eyes flicked to Suzuki. There were details she didn’t want him to hear.

“Did he say how to go further in?” asked Aizawa.  

“No.  That happened and he ran off.”  She gestured towards another building that was slowly collapsing.  

“Wait a moment,” said Suzuki.  “If you’re here, what’s there?”

“Uh,” said Uraraka.  

“He told you, didn’t he?  What did he say?”

“Excuse me!” said Tenya.  “You are being very rude right now!  Uraraka has just come back from a harrowing experience!”

Tenya was not very good at lying, but this wasn’t really a lie, per-se.  

The distinction didn’t seem to matter to Suzuki, who gave him a brief, incredulous look before turning back to the gathering storm.  “He doesn’t want us to see this.”

“Don’t you dare,” said Aizawa, eyes narrowing.

Suzuki didn’t listen.

Tenya caught up to him without any trouble and punched him in the back of the head.  “Ow,” said Tenya, who had forgotten he wasn’t wearing his hero costume.  

“Did you break your fingers?” asked Aizawa as he dragged Suzuki back by the foot.  

“I’m going to have you all arrested and stripped of you licenses, unless—”

“Because we didn’t help you with an illegal interrogation? No, you’re not,” said Aizawa.

“Nana!”

The voice bounced off the buildings and was swept away by the wind.  

“Nana!  Master, where are you?”

It was the voice of the younger, vigilante All Might.  

“Is he calling the name or the number?” asked Uraraka.  

“Master!  Please! Answer me!”

With a shuddering heave, the building right next to them tipped over, falling into rubble before it even hit the ground.  The storm wind, heavy with rain and lightning, whipped down the street with all the force of a hurricane.  Tenya had to brace himself and cover his eyes.  

When he could see again, it was to discover Suzuki had run off again.  Towards the fallen building.  

Tenya was honestly torn between letting him get beaten up by whatever had flattened the building, whether it be Midoriya’s subconscious, the illusory All Might, or something worse.  Although, arguably, all those were the same the same thing.  

But Tenya was training to be a hero.  Heroes couldn’t pick and choose who to save.  He, and everyone else took off after Suzuki.  

They all stopped, though, when a boy in a torn UA uniform clambered over the rubble.  The boy cupped his hands around his mouth.  “Nana!”

That hair was recognizable from a mile away, not to mention the height.  All Might. Yet a different version.  Tenya had known UA was All Might’s alma mater, but seeing him in a uniform like this, seeing him vulnerable, not in the way of a man at the end of his career, but as someone just starting out, someone like them, was oddly humbling and completely terrifying.  

What pushed him to this?  What put that distraught tone in his voice?  What put that bloody slash in his uniform and bruised his face?

Tenya had a sinking suspicion he knew what.  He didn’t even want to come into contact with the memory of that monster from Kamino.  

All Might was scanning the ground, looking for- Looking for something.  Someone?

His eyes fell on them, and even from this distance, Tenya could see them widen.  All Might began to scramble down the hill.  

“You,” he shouted, as he came closer.  “You—Underclassmen.  Have you seen-?”  He gasped for air.  

Even Suzuki, from what he could see, looked taken aback.  

“Have you seen a woman about—” He hesitated and adjusted his hand downward, to about the height of his chin.  Which was still taller than Tenya.  

All Might was tall in high school.  Or, at least, Midoriya thought All Might was tall in high school.  

This was confusing.  

“A woman about this tall.  She’s—She has black hair, and she wears it, um, half up.”  All Might fanned his hand behind his head to illustrate. “She’s a hero.  Wears- Wears yellow gloves.”  He paused for a moment, eyes flicking from one to the next.  “You haven’t seen her.”  He whipped back around.  “Nana!”

“What even is this supposed to be?” demanded Suzuki.  

“Truly,” said Todoroki, “their bond is inspiring.  For All Might to tell Midoriya even of this tragedy…”

“Todoroki!  That’s entirely inappropriate!” exclaimed Tenya, turning to face his classmate.  

The wind picked up again.  The buildings began to twinkle.  

Earlier, you said something about being a vigilante. What was up with that, anyway?

Midoriya’s voice sounded like it was right next to him, and yet the sound was entirely sourceless.  

The colors shifted.

.

Izuku wasn’t sure if he wanted to curse the bystander culture encouraged by the hero system or bless it for its unintentional effects.  Even though Toshinori was clearly suffering, slumped against a wall and shoulders heaving, no one stopped to help him.  In fact, most people were averting their eyes, barely looking at him.  

Generally speaking, Izuku decided, he’d curse it.  In this particular instance, however, it benefitted them.  

He looked back and forth before dashing across the street, not caring about jaywalking at the moment.  He jogged up to Toshinori, swallowing the name before it left his lips. Right.  They were undercover, and the commission definitely knew Toshinori’s real name.  

“Dad,” he said instead, and mentally felt himself collide with a wall.  Couldn’t he have picked something else?  Come up with some fake name?  Or just not used a name to begin with.  With effort, he picked himself up and his dream-self kept running.  “I got your text,” he said, instead, for the benefit of anyone listening.  He inserted himself under one of Toshinori’s arms.  “Let’s go home.”

He smiled at a couple of people who were staring and hoped they wouldn’t report this.  

“I can walk, I can walk,” said Toshinori heaving himself off the wall with a shudder.  “I’m fine.”

This was a lie.  Izuku could still see the flashback playing out in his mind’s eye.  Even so, he nodded and tried to give Toshinori space, even as Toshinori put one hand on his shoulder and leaned on it heavily.  

This mental invasion was wearing both of them out.  No.  All of them out.  This was not, they reminded him, at all normal.  

Five gently pressed ways of dealing with flashbacks into his awareness.  Thank goodness for Five and his comparative normalcy.  

“We’re okay,” he said.  “We’re just on a street in Musutafu.  You can feel me, right?  And the sidewalk under your feet.  And you can hear the traffic and smell the cars.”  He kept going.

Toshinori gave a hum of assent after each item Izuku listed, but he could tell it wasn’t enough.  He might be able to see and hear, to touch and taste, but he could do the same things to that mental battleground.  

“What if,” said Izuku, desperately, “you tell me a story?”

“A story?” rasped Toshinori.  

“Y-yeah.  Earlier, you said something about being a vigilante.  What was up with that, anyway?”

.

It isn’t well known, said Yagi’s voice as the world came back into focus in an entirely different city with entirely different weather and signage, but I didn’t grow up in a terribly pleasant area.  

In fact, there was quite a lot of crime.  

Aizawa caught sight of a familiar head of yellow hair positioned above a plain gakuran.  The younger version of Yagi was staring down an alleyway.  

Suddenly, Aizawa felt himself pulled to stand right behind Yagi. A man with a mutation quirk was being mugged by two young men with fire quirks.  He blinked.  The scene didn’t change, even behind his eyelids.  He couldn’t see his students, or Suzuki.  

What was this, a cutscene?

I, ah, rather disliked that.  Obviously, my thoughts about become a symbol of peace for the world were, well… Just thoughts.  But even then, for my own little corner of the world, I wanted to make a difference.

Yagi, showcasing the fact that he’d always been a bit of an idiot, pulled on a medical mask and threw his bookbag at one of the muggers and punched the other one in the face.  At least he wasn’t using his quirk to do it.  The villain would have been paste on the side of the building.  

On the other hand, this was presumably some imagining of Midoriya’s, possibly based on a story he heard from All Might, if the voiceover was anything to go by.  

Oh, said Midoriya, I did that a couple of times.  Stop a mugging, I mean.                                                                                                                                          

I thought you said you weren’t involved in any vigilantism.

It wasn’t vigilantism!  They were just things I happened to run into, and I couldn’t just not help.

Sometimes, I wonder if your quirk really isn’t something like a villain magnet…

The scene shifted again, making Aizawa feel dizzy, even though he wasn’t moving.  Except, maybe that was why he felt dizzy.  Motion sickness.  

I never knew my parents.  I grew up in a foster home.  

Aizawa blinked, and the scene became clear.  A small apartment building with a tiny, tattered lawn. Someone’s shoe had been left on the sidewalk in front, and Yagi was climbing the stairs to the door.  

Then, Aizawa was inside, and internally wincing at the noise level.  Screaming preteens were so far out of his comfort level you couldn’t see it with a telescope.  

(The exception, of course, was Eri.)

As he watched, Yagi was shoved several times, tripped, and had a water-manipulation quirk used to drop something that Aizawa suspected was toilet water on his head.  

Overall, the attitude towards people like us wasn’t quite what it was now, but to be parentless on top of that?  Many of the other children at the home thought there had to be something wrong with me.  There was a sigh.  Judging from what I’ve seen of your memories, I suspect you had the worse time of it.

I had Mom, though.

Aizawa found himself in a small bedroom.  Pinned to one of the walls was a corkboard.  Which looked distressingly like Todoroki’s.  Yagi crossed his arms as he contemplated it.

Once I had built up my confidence, one of the things I was trying to do was find out about a human trafficking ring.

Oh, yeah, those suck.  

… Why do I feel like you have personal experience in the subject.  

It wasn’t my fault.  

Soft, fond laughter filled the room before it was whisked away and replaced with a warehouse that just screamed ‘villain hideout.’

There was a fight.  

I tried my best, tried to be sneaky… I knew I wouldn’t win in a straight-out fight.  But…

Yagi was surrounded and clearly losing.  Then the doors burst open.  A figure floated, framed by the threshold, backlit by the streetlights.

First contact, whispered a voice like the wind.

Nana, said Midoriya.  

Nana, agreed All Might’s voice.  She saved me.  I… Didn’t want to get caught.  I ran. Went back to the muggings.  

And then?

And then—

Another change in scenery.  A sidewalk by a stream.  Yagi stood in his gakuran a few meters away from a woman in a hero costume.  The yellow gloves stood out.  

And then, a week later, she found me.

The woman’s head snapped in Aizawa’s direction, and he had just enough time to realize she could see him before the scene glitched out and he was falling through an empty sky.

[hood-ex]

Your writing is so good and I loved that de-aged Tim fic :) If you’re still taking drabble prompts, could you please do either 114: “Oh my god, that’s a severed hand.” or 139: “The store was having their post-Easter sale so now I have a pantry full of cheap candy.” with Tim and Bruce?

LOL, Ren, you sent me this prompt like 2 years ago and I’m only just now finishing it. So fuckin sorry about that!! But hey, better late than never… right… alskjdla. I suck. Anyways, enjoy! 

Tim gripped the edge of his mask and carefully peeled it off his skin. He blinked away the tightness lingering around his eyes from the dried glue and threw the mask down by his feet where his tunic, gloves, and pants were clumped together. 

He always felt a little ridiculous whenever he had to change out of his costume in the car. Mostly because he kneed himself in the face an ungodly amount of times while taking his pants off. Bruce had it even worse with the Batman suit, hence why they tried to avoid mobile wardrobe changes as much as possible. 

Tonight’s impromptu wardrobe change was all thanks to Damian. The kid had been spewing his demon germs all over the manor since yesterday, and he’d polished off the last of his cough syrup around dinner. Since Alfred was busy making sure Damian didn’t die of his nasty sickness, Tim was the one who had to go fetch Damian some medicine from Walgreens.

The problem was that they weren’t carrying any cash, and obviously, Batman couldn’t be seen using Bruce Wayne’s credit card. Since Tim had the easier costume to get out of, Bruce decided Tim would be the one to go in and buy the medicine.

Tim was in the middle of putting on a white shirt when he heard a sharp gurgle that overpowered the rmm-rmm-rmm of the batmobile’s engine. He placed his hand on his noisy stomach and rubbed gentle circles over the freshly bruised skin.

“Can we stop at a Batburger? Peter’s hungry.”

Bruce, who was bobbing his head along to “Paint It Black,” paused. His cowl was off, and Tim blatantly stared at Bruce’s disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes. The dark bags he was sporting didn’t help the fact that he looked like a raccoon heading to an AA meeting.

Bruce blinked once, twice, and then sighed deeply through his nose. “Who’s Peter?”

“My stomach,” Tim said. “You didn’t hear him talking just now?”

“Hnn.”

“You and Peter would probably get along since you both speak in monosyllables.”

The crease between Bruce’s brow made an appearance. “Why are you personifying your stomach?”

Tim kicked his feet up on the dash. He’d have to clean off his muddy shoe prints before Alfred noticed. “Because I’m not me when I’m hungry.”

Judging by the deep frown on Bruce’s face, it was likely he’d never seen a Snickers commercial before. What a waste of a joke. Tim would have to save that one for the next time he went on patrol with Dick.

“Grab a snack while you’re in there,” Bruce said. He pulled the batmobile over into an isolated area that was a block away from the Walgreens.

“Sweet. You want anything?” Tim asked.

“No.”

Tim hopped out of the car. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in twenty.”

He shut the door and then sprinted down the uneven cracks of the sidewalk, praying he wouldn’t catch his foot in a pothole and go flying. The lack of light certainly didn’t help with that problem. Seriously, did all the street lamps on this block spontaneously bust or what?

By some miracle, he made it to the store unscathed. He walked through the automatic doors, squinting his eyes to protect them from the bright fluorescent lights.

The lady at the register was a middle-aged brunette who looked like she was about to fall asleep on her feet. She regarded Tim with a quick look and threw out a greeting in a tone that didn’t match her expression whatsoever. Tim gave his fellow graveyard shift worker a nod and then made a beeline for the medicine section.

It took him way longer than it should have to meticulously scan each shelf to find the cough syrup, and when he did find the cough syrup, he had a crisis over which flavor to get. They had strawberry, cherry, and grape. What the hell would Damian like the most? All he knew was that Damian was a vegetarian. He didn’t know shit about what kind of fruit the kid liked, and he’d never really seen Damian eat a lot of candy either.

The more Tim stared at the bottles, the more he was aware that Bruce was waiting for him in the car. His hand twitched anxiously between each option until he decided he’d just choose the old fashioned way.

“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. My mother told me to pick the very best one and you are it!”

His finger landed on the grape flavor. Tim shrugged at the result and snatched it off the shelf. If Damian didn’t like it, he could just suck it up and pinch his nose while he swallowed it.

With that out of the way, Tim headed to the candy aisle. Even though a bag of chips would have probably been more filling, he wasn’t in the mood for something super salty. He figured he might as well indulge his sweet tooth a little since Alfred would probably have some kind of leftover nutritious sandwiches that he could eat at home.

The candy aisle was full of both regular candy and Halloween themed candy, even though Halloween was still two months away. Tim thought he wanted something chocolatey like a Kit Kat until he saw a bunch of Halloween gummies.

While he was deciding between the two, his stomach growled. Tim frowned and rubbed soothing circles over it.

“Hush, Peter. Your father works long, grueling hours, and he’s trying his best to decide what candy is best for you.”

Peter gurgled again as if in protest. Tim ignored it and debated playing the eeny, meeny, miny, moe game again to choose. Fuck it he thought and swiped the Halloween gummy mystery pack. He could get Kit Kats any day of the week, but Halloween gummies were seasonal. Might as well take advantage of it now. He probably wouldn’t make it out to a store during October since it was always crazier than usual that month.

Decision made, he went to the front and got checked out by the same lethargic looking worker he’d greeted earlier. With the goodies secured in the plastic bag that was clutched in his grip, Tim took off into the night back to where the batmobile was hiding.

Bruce must have seen him coming because the door opened up for him as soon as he was close enough. Tim climbed in, noting that Bruce was now tapping his hands against the wheel to the beat of some Hindi song.

“Did they have it?” Bruce asked. He waited for Tim to buckle himself in before driving off.

“Yup!” Tim said while digging through the bag. He pulled out his candy and waved it in Bruce’s peripheral. “Annnd I got these bad boys. You want one?”

Bruce glanced at the bag and scrunched his nose. “What are they?”

“Let’s see here,” Tim said. He ripped open the bag and worked on opening one of the individually wrapped pieces of candy. “It’s a…” he paused, staring at the white and red piece of candy that came out of the wrapper. “Oh my god.” He held it out in front of his face and smacked on the overhead light to get a better look at it. “It’s a severed hand!”

Tim placed the severed hand on top of Bruce’s shoulder. “Look, it’s comforting you.”

“Hn.”

“Don’t you feel comforted, B?”

“By gelatin and artificial dyes?” Bruce asked with a raised brow. “No.”

Tim grabbed the gummy off its perch and plopped it in his mouth. “Peter finds it comforting.” The taste of the gummy didn’t hit until Tim bit into it. “Oh, gross!” he said while forcing the bland gummy down his throat with a grimace.

“You know,” Bruce said, a rare grin on his face, “I don’t think he does.”

Even though Tim’s mouth tasted like rubbery ass now, he grinned back.

[robotnik-mun]

More Robotropolis Notes

Predictably I decided to take another crack at a ‘Free-For-All’ Sonic setting. Even more predictably, I focused on Robotnik crap. 

Enjoy some rambling, incoherent worldbuilding that’ll never go anywhere, folks!

V.E.G’s

Justice in Robotropolis begins and ends with the VEG’s- the Vassalization Engineering Gulags. The VEGs are the prison-fortresses of Robotropolis- massive installations where prisoners of war and criminals are sent to in order to be processed and either subjected to Roboticization or a slow, lingering death as a bio-battery. VEGs are enormous, multilayered complexes bristling with external weaponry and housing near endless numbers of robotic troops, and are dispersed all over the territories of Robotropolis. VEGs are strategically placed across the internal borders of Robotropolis, with a single VEG taking processing the prisoners of several surrounding territories and often acting as a nexus point between Zones.  The reason for this is due to Robotnik’s paranoia about the potential capture and reverse engineering of Roboticization technology- as such there are relatively few VEGs in proportion to Robotropolis’ organic population and geographic size, but each one is responsible for the Roboticization of thousands each year.

While Roboticization is the primary fate of anyone unfortunate enough to be shipped off to the VEG, there is another, arguably even more horrific fate- namely that of being converted into a bio-battery powering the very machinery that enslaves Mobius’ peoples. A refinement of the technologies designed for Badniks, to become a Bio-Battery is to be slowly killed over a course of many months or even two years, depending on the health of the subject. Subjects are placed within the life draining ‘pods’ of the batteries, wherein they are gradually drained of their life force until nothing remains but a decayed husk. The pod clusters are located in reinforced sub-basements, and due to their resemblance to grapes on a vine, some individuals with knowledge of their existence have morbidly compared them to vineyards.

Some VEGs, besides serving as Roboticization and Bio-Battery processing plants, also fulfill a secondary role of carrying out scientific research and development. One such ‘Science’ VEG is located within Robotropolis-occupied Trailius, where it serves as the HQ for the local Legion chapter and is administrated by Legion Prefect Maw the Thylacine. It is the only VEG to be entrusted to one of Robotnik’s organic agents, as the rest are exclusively staffed by robots.  

VEGs are not individually named, but are instead referred to by number, in order of construction- VEG-1, VEG-2, etc. The largest and most infamous of the VEG’s is the prototype facility first created by Robotnik, and designated as VEG-0.

VEG-0 was created by converting a massive volcano springing from the ocean, using its magma core as a thermal power plant for the entire facility. VEG-0 upon completion was set to immediate work, and by the present has been responsible for Roboticizing millions. It serves as the face of Roboticization, even as the task of creating Robian slaves was delegated to other VEGs. The subsequent VEG models were created smaller than the original and incorporated Bio-Battery technology to make them independent from Robotropolis’ main power grid, but even so, VEG-0 remains an ominous and terrible symbol of Robotropolis’ might in the eyes of its citizens and the world itself.

Prisoners at VEGs are not kept in cells, but rather in suspended animation within special capsules before being unloaded for Roboticization or Bio-Battery integration.

These capsules are essentially miniaturized, self-contained Bio-Batteries unto themselves, using the life force of the individuals imprisoned in order to be powered. While nowhere near as lethal as the Bio-Batteries proper, the capsules none the less are painful to be trapped in… which suits Robotnik just fine.

The Robotropolis Legion

The Robotropolis Legion (disparaged by many as ‘The Dark Legion’) wears many hats- it is at once the civilian government, law enforcement, and civil defense corp of Robotropolis, at least on paper. The easiest way to advance in Robotropolis’ society without being a scientist is to join the Legion, and the Legion eagerly takes all comers- collaborators seeking to be spared Roboticization, lunatics eager for someone heart, the destitute and desperate seeking ANYTHING in life… and rarely, even a few true believers of Robotnik’s foul vision join the Legion. All who join the Legion are granted cybernetic enhancements and military grade training before being deployed, either to the streets of Robotropolis’ Habitation Zones or to further Robotnik’s influence overseas. Many have come to know the image of the Legion Trooper- clad in red armor and in face concealing helmets abstractly resembling skulls, the troopers serve as constant reminders of Robotnik’s control over the denizens of Robotropolis and the promise of power to those who would willingly submit to his rule.

The Legion is surprisingly loose in its organization, compared to other military organizations and in contrast to Robotnik’s own demands for absolute order. The Legion is divided up into Chapters based around the location in which they operate, which depending on circumstance can be individual communities or general areas. Each chapter is headed over by a Prefect, who is in turn served by a commander, and oversees the various units of Troopers under their command. Beyond that though, each Chapter is essentially run as the Prefect in charge sees fit. So long as order is kept and Robotnik’s quotas are filled, Robotnik doesn’t care what his subordinates do as long as it doesn’t interfere with the efficiency of his empire.

In the early days of Robotropolis, this wasn’t the case- the Legion’s authority was more centralized, and there existed greater co-operation and synergy between the Legion chapters, with all Legions being under the direct command of The Grand Marshal of the Legion, whom also was an active participant in Robotropolis’ government. The first and only such Grand Marshall was one Conrad Targo, an Overlander general who betrayed his government to serve Robotnik. Targo was instrumental in the Legion’s formation and implementation within Robotropolis’ territories, particularly with Robotropolis main robotic armies occupied elsewhere, allowing the Legion to pick up the policing that would otherwise distract the machine armies from their primary function of conquest. This, in effect, made Targo the head of domestic defense and Robotnik’s effective third in command.

After an accident seemingly killed Robotnik and his second-in-command Snively, Targo briefly assumed control over Robotropolis. During this brief time, Targo instituted a draft for service into the Legion, intending to expand the cybernetic army. His reign however proved brief- sensing the weakness brought on by his transition of power, the Kingdom of Acocrn hoped to take advantage of the brief instability to decapitate Robotropolis’ leadership and thus weaken the foul city enough so that they might reclaim their homeland. A special, covert strike force was assembled and deployed into Robotropolis to assassinate Targo and to cause general mayhem within the Inner Empire in the hopes of causing widespread chaos across Robotropolis. Led by Colonel Tig Stripe, the squadron came close to its goals… only for Robotnik and Snively to re-emerge, unharmed and ready to reassume command of Robotropolis.

The assassins where subsequently destroyed, and a near-dead Targo was kept alive by artificial means. Julian had long been suspicious of Targo’s loyalties and ambitions, as well as his control over the Legion. His ‘death’ had been a ploy from the start to set Targo up so that he could fall, and to make his enemies on the global stage reveal their hands in this supposed moment of weakness for Robotnik’s Empire. In the aftermath of this incident, Robotnik eliminated the position of Grand Marshall and re-structured the Legion to grant each chapter greater independence from the other and more decentralized leadership in order to make them less able to organize against him. Finally, Robotnik roboticized Targo and then further modified him into a new breed of command class robot to oversee his SWATBot armies. Thus was Conrad Targo, Grand Marhsall of Robotropolis, reborn as Supreme Commander Brutus.

Since that time, the Legion has maintained its role as the effective state police of Robotropolis and the closest thing it has to a ‘civilian’ government. Members are afforded greater freedoms than non-members as well as better access to things like food, water and high end medical technology, for both themselves and their families. Robotnik maintains the relative inefficiency of the Legion because it keeps them divided and thus unable to organize towards overthrowing him, while providing additional targets for local resistance groups as well as a means of recruiting people into his service. Given that the robot armies of Robotropolis vastly outnumbers the so-called ‘Legion’, Robotnik is more than willing to put up the Legion’s presence… for the moment, anyway.

Technically, there are two Legions- the Home Legion, which policies the habitation zones of Robotropolis, and the Away Legion. The Away Legion is effectively a secretive terrorist army for Robotropolis, a series of subversive cells that seek to chip away at nations until they are vulnerable to invasion by Robotnik’s machine armies. The Away Legions are even more individualized than the Home Legions, and this creates a degree of friction between the two branches.

All of which proceeds as intended by Robotnik.

With the absolute loyalty of his robots to pick up the slack, he can afford distractions from his more flawed subordinates. Sooner or later, EVERYTHING will be machinery anyway.