#it's not a good feeling. it sucks even more that so many politicians here are aligned with trump. pp for example is a conniving menace

[coulsonlives]

As a Canadian, I'm really nervous right now. I just have to say that. :(

[tenderhungering]

veep headcanons? :3

oh this will take a WHILE……i love veep so much. i’m about to wrap up season 6 right now ! i think i’ll do little headcannons / analysis for each character ! i might do a part 2 because i want to also do some more supporting characters. like you know damn well im gonna wanna write for catherine and marjorie as a whole,,,

Selina

named catherine “catherine” like her mother in order to be able to yell said name in anger the way she never could yell back at her mother

the severe mommy issues make her need every single one of her staff to be emotionally involved in her. if she isn’t the center of their life, she gets anxious about it, even angry. she needs to be validated

depends heavily on spellcheck,,, i just think she hates phones for some reason.

she can tell EXACTLY how someone is feeling by making it up in her head and believing it ❤️

got arrested once in her youth and it was wiped off the record. #supportwomen’swrongs

Amy

would do super super well taking up something that makes her adrenaline pump. they keep trying to get her to relax by making her get massages, meditate and be in quiet. she needs NOISE. she should be allowed to beat someone up at least once a day

had a little gray cat whenever she was younger. she likes them ! they’re similar to how she is whenever it comes to boundaries.

bisexual but she has a stressful job so she doesn’t have time to think about that rn

she would benefit from me in her life actually

actually really liked dan bc dan seems to personalize the relationship to the person (dan is so kind ❤️) so she was into him but suddenly got the ick.

Dan

trigger warning for SA and grooming: i think dan’s relationship with sex is so affected by the fact he slept with his teacher whenever he was younger in exchange for a good grade. it has made him view it was an exchange, a transactional affair. it’s why he’s so shit at intimacy, he doesn’t see to her anything out of it.

watches all the latest movies but it’s only because he keeps taking women out to go see them:

has a really sensitive stomach,,,,he says it’s something he ate but i feel like whenever he gets anxious it happens to

catholic guilt galore but he’s busy so he CANNOT get into it

he’s so the type of boyfriend who does baby talk and when he’s recorded he gets real mad about it. get that camera OUTTA here

Mike

he is like a baby duckling to me that’s why he wanted to raise them actually

has so many useless apps on his phone. why do you have a flashlight app you have a flashlight BUILT into the phone. its okay though bc he watches lot of youtube tutorials

probably wanted to vlog at some point but he got yelled at by selina in a clip so he stopped

the personality hire,,, everyone loves him but god he can be so bad at his job sometimes. everyone gets mad but never enough to fire him

because he started dating wendy, he started to dress up a little more ! ties and handkerchiefs match. i love you dad

Jonah

he so ran one of those private meme accounts whenever he was younger but he got so bad at everyone saying they were lame he just posted a screenshot that said SUCK MY DICK SON and blocked everyone

his incessant gross comments are a result of being around a bunch of rich white men that happen to be politicians that tend to laugh at them. he has daddy issues. he needs the validation

his little curls going missing are a result of him getting his hair straightened because he wanted to look more professional actually. he burnt his hands so he begged his mom to help him

gets really anxious about his health CONSTANTLY and has a will written out already because he’s scared one day it’ll (he doesn’t know what) catch up to him

Gary

he knows the lyrics to every new pop song ever. he loves it. he used to play Just Dance whenever he was in college or something i don’t know i feel like he might’ve even been in a club that requires that

has an extensive skin care routine. he puts on those fluffy headbands sometimes but stopped bc he realized it was to keep your hair dry and his is so short lmao

definitely has an undiagnosed anxiety disorder. he just pops a pill of whatever and hopes that it works (it doesn’t)

needs heavy validation from authority figures,,,like badly,,, i think that’s why he enjoys it so much whenever any of selina’s boyfriends acknowledge him as a person (or anyone gives him any importance)

he needs someone to tell him what to do because he is so lost on having any identify that isn’t directly tied to someone else ? he’s not even really sure what he himself likes anymore. uses “we” more than he uses “i”

[onwriting-hrarby]

privated works in ao3

dear all,

long time no see! i've been busy at work, at home, writing a lot for myself, and reading even more. but here i am to address what's been happening at @transformativeworks about AI possibly given permission to scrape our fics to learn/train the intelligence.

since they made the newsletter public (two days ago) i am privating all my fics except for liquid confidence. this was not a decision that i just took on the spur of the moment—it had been brewing a lot of time, considering the fear of plagiarism i have, the harassment i had been getting from anonymous commenters, etc. however, i never did until now because i wanted everyone to enjoy it—i, myself, was not an account on ao3 before i started uploading my fic.

however, on light of recent events, i do think there's no way i can leave my works unprivate: the disgusting timing of OTW to inform about this decision (in the middle of the WGA strike, after their donation), the blatant inability of the board to give a profound apologetic statement after the ratio, and the insecurity i have about my fanfics not being "sold" for anything else than the enjoyment of readers have pulled me to this.

back when wattpad announced that they were collaborating with paramount to look for "fictions" to "gather inspiration to bring up new ideas at studios" (i wanted to attach a link to the news, but worringly... the net is clear? yet i did not dream of it) i deleted all my works from wattpad. why? because i didn't want my fictions to be read by some rich higher-ups producers, to be given the idea to some other people to write.

as you know, i want to be a published author. fanfiction allows me to experiment with plots, characters and form before allowing myself to create something more narrative, a fully-fledged work in my native (minorized) language, which is very difficult to publish.

so, most of all, i write for myself. not for readers, not for anyone else: i write and publish fanfiction because i am experimenting. i have been writing 16 years of my life, as a constant thing. i am young. i don't know if i have talent but i do have persistence and crafting. this effort is impossible to replicate in a machine. this passion is impossible for an AI to feel. all of this is what makes me human, and a human writer—the contradiction in between pursuing and achieving, the deception, the sadness, the joy, the excitement: my comments, your comments.

and even though i am human by default—not by permission—what i craft is not.

i do not give my permission to train a machine that is not being regulated in any ways because i fear for a future where jobs, passion, art and what i know and love disappear: we live in such horrible capitalism that i do not see any way in which robots can help people at their jobs without entering this productivity system we're all sucked in. redistribution of richness when ai takes over won't happen—the system is too greedy for that. so, while i acknowledge the good things it has and the potential to change humanity's life for the better, i have seen too many examples of algorithms going wrong, spying on people, taking people as mere products, raging about politicians—effectively changing democracy. far too many right-wing presidents have won presidencies because of the inability (or unwillingness) of tech ceo's to stop getting millions. the largest shop that destroys your neighbour's little corner business is own by one of those ceo's. the platform you used to get informed about feminism is now owned by one of those ceo's, who's putting a female in his stance to clear up the shit he's made.

it is not a fair world we live in, so the applications of AI—as of now—can't be fair. so, because AI becomes dangerously misused, i will not be partaking in any form of sharing, contributing, or exalting AI. the possibilities of AI are endless—but the greed is not. going against AI as of now, for me, is standing for the world i have always advocated: one that doesn't turn their back on little crafters, one that acknowledges intelligence, brilliance and difference of opinions in the people who contribute, the freedom of writing what we want—and the freedom to read it.

if @transformativeworks doesn't make clear that our works won't be scraped by AI, i will also be eliminating my account permanently.

i am sorry for any inconvenience. my works will be available to those with accounts.

(also: if you're a reader that supports AI because you want your fanfictions to be delivered to you at the speed of light, just like you want it, good luck to you. i hope all your favourite works get taken down and you drown in the little, pea-sized, influenced brain you have.)

—hera

[limpfisted]

BALDUR’S GATE, GORTASH, ULDER, WYLL.

what if i told you, that ulder’s vision u uncover when u look into his mind, and u see wyll, ulder, and gortash usher in a new glorious dawn for baldur’s gate, and u see that the part of ulder that is legitimately him, is the part that wants the best for baldur’s gate, is a FASCINATING BIT OF LORE, that is further proof that in many ways, gortash is GOOD for the city, and has probably been working for the good of the city, for quite a long time, WITH ULDER. and what if i also told u, that while wyll sees the beauty in baldur’s gate, the adventure of his childhood—the city was actually an incredibly evil and dangerous place to grow up in, where he was only truly protected by his father (neutral) and the flaming fists who all enact dangerous, corrupt brutality and thievery under his father’s watch.

what if i told u wyll would have complex feelings about baldur’s gate. what if i told u he didn’t JUST learn to spar with his father because he loved to fight—but probably because he feared his child would get stabbed, and that he knew his son would have to be TOUGH while he delivered messages to all the taverns snd brothels of baldur’s gate. what if i told you the grandduke wasn’t elected to be grandduke until seven years ago, right before wyll was exiled, and that means that likely wyll WAS a rich and new money almost-noble/politician’s son that was allowed to go to balls. but that he always was Apart, always smarter, tougher, street savvier. and yet not as street savvy as the REAL poor people. he was always protected from them

what if i told you the steel watch and the iron theone would have taken AT LEAST 3-5 years to build and maintain to fer o this level. that ulder probably would have had to approve some of this, though not all of it, of course. (he probably didnt know about the slavery or human experimentation, but still.)

what if i told you ulder was willfully, intentionally blind to a LOT. that to be a politician in power and to do right by the city he loved like the hero balduran he loved, his idealism made him simply. jetral instead of good. he had to make deals and work with people he didnt like. he liked people he didnt agree with.

and for someone like wyll, who would see that, who would see his “uncles” in the flaming fist hurt people, take bribes, etc, i imagine that taking a deal with a devil didn’t seem all that different.

he is nostalgic for baldur’s gate and the good in it, and even the bad, but it is easier to be nostalgic in a baldur’s gate that is BETTER because of gortash and the steel watch making sure there arent bodies everywhere on the streets of the lower city. that its not a gothic horror hellscape, isntead of the fresh open airs hes now used to

baldur’s gate is his home, and he loves it. but gods, sometimes it is hard to love when it is built on so much suffering. and just like his idealistic to thr point of delusional father—it helps to have hope in something, even if that someing is a fairy tale metal knight with a broad chest who can be imparitsl and controlled and doent take bribes or commit unnecessary violence, or a fairy tale creator, like balduran, who was a perfect leader in every way, who espoused every virtue possible.

wyll would be DISGUSTED with the truth of the steel watch. but also. i think. if u grow up around thr flaming fists, and kind of…. hate them, even tho u see them as ur father’s “necessary evil”? bc u see the truth of them more than anyone? u kind of. realize shit. and dont stop realizing it.

coming back to baldurs gate and starting to rule it himself is a huge wake up call of ohhhhh this sucks this sucks this alllllll sucks LOL.

because there is also a part of him that would always lrefer to ignore how bad it truly was here and he…. can’t now. and now it’s his responsibility. and he has to make the necessary evil calls.

i think wyll would be a fool to kill gortash, honestly. like i think he would WANT to. as the blade of avernus, hed do it without a second thought. but as the archduke of baldur’s gate? that’s stupid. gortash has vastly improved the quality of life by making sure the average person is safer than they would have been when wyll left

like it cannot be overstated how gortash might be lawful evil, but so is. evryone else in baldur’s gate. in a lot of ways, he’s a lesser evil, and one that ACTUALLY wants to help baldur’s gate

it’s not so cut and dry. like maybe he wants to sap you of your free will. but he wants to give you a good life, a decent life, where u can be happy, where u can be proud of ur son, and proud of ur father.

and maybe being mind controlled and happy and SAFE is better than ur whole family being dead? or dying urself? or starving in the streets? u know? idk.

gortash was wrong and is a fascist, and he’s undoubtably evil. but wyll can objectively look st things like the steel watch, and go, “…. without the human experimentstion and slavery, it would be really really coll to have steampunk knights going around helping people, objectively.”

[firendgold]

Albus percival ulfric Brian dumbledore for the bingo.

I got these practically at the same time, so I'll answer both simultaneously. (And btw, thanks for asking about Albus first. ^^)

Heehee.

blorbo: unsurprising. Albus has had a hold on my attention for almost two decades now.

I wish I could save you: it has been SO MANY YEARS since HBP came out and I still am very selective in what post-HBP fics I read, if any. Killing off mentors is a lazy trope. Especially in fanfics that are supposedly canon-divergent retellings but will repeat this same mistake every time. It's 2023. If you're going to have Albus be more than a Merlin copy-paste, actually make his relationships with other people matter.

Complicated Feelings: Albus is hardly without serious flaws. I actually enjoy works more which grapple with them. It's just difficult to find authors who do so correctly and fairly, so most discussion about Albus is black-and-white and I lean hard toward the white to compensate.

Please for the love of god etc.: seriously whose dick do I have to suck for people to write more good Dumbledore fanfics? notice I said "good Dumbledore" and not "good!Dumbledore" though the latter would also be preferable; I just want some quality. also notice I did not say with gr*ndeld*re, because do you know how hard it is to find a fucking fic about my fave nowadays that doesn't bring that other dude into it--

I have so much to say about them: goes without saying. He's one-half of the subjects of this sub-blog. Child-blog? Whatever these things are called.

they intrigue me: OF COURSE, Albus Dumbledore's life is very fascinating. Even with the bad movies there's so much we don't know about just what he was up to for huge portions of his life. I really want to see more exploration of his relationships with minor characters.

I can make them worse: I so could. These randos think they're writing actual manipulative!Dumbledore? HAH. Out here creating OOC old men who are either Grindelwald's Happy Boyfriend, Voldemort in the Wrong Skin, or just Incompetent Politicians who somehow have enough memory to twirl their moustache and sign bank forms but not enough memory, brain power, influence or magical ability to subdue a teenager who comes to their place of power to wail at them. Pathetic. No one can corrupt a character better than someone who actually understands and loves that character. I never would, but I'm confident I could write an elite fanfic where Albus was either an infallible Dark Lord ruling the country or an expert international Mugwump who was so deliciously interfering that it made complete sense in-universe why the wizarding world was still as corrupt as it was. Besides, of course, the already existing reason of one-or-two-or-six-good-government-officials-can't-override-hundreds-of-bigots-no-matter-how-high-up-their-title-is.

[charmanderxerneas]

I can't sleep and i was having thoughts about Scott cawthon and fnaf. Lets ramble while im sleep deprived at 5 am. I have a weird perspective because i still think its okay to like fnaf and i dont think scott is the WORST person in the world, but i also dont think hes great and i think the fnaf fandom reacted very shittily. You can think of you will of me and my opinionz but i totally do understand and think youre justified if you disagree and think that fnaf is bad to support because of scott

(What the fuck where is the "read more" option on mobile.... Fuck it)

The whole drama with scott cawthon like. Last year. Was really fucking disheartening. As a fnaf fan who happens to be bigender and queer, seeing a majority of the stupid fucking fnaf fans immediately go "we support you scott you did nothing wrong!!" While being shitty to actual trans and queer people who were rightfully upset... I can't even put into words how disheartening and awful that is, i think those who jumped on the "i stand with scott" bandwagon should frankly feel ashamed.

I also understand that a majority of fnaf fans are kids and some were probably too young to understand the nuance of it all. It felt like their favorite game series was being attacked! And they wanted to feel like they could still like the game, so when scott made his super shitty response they were all like "its okay we forgive you" even though they weren't necessarily the ones able to make that call (not saying a cishet white person cant forgive Scott cawthon, just that they should listen to and seriously consider the voices of queer people or poc or anyone else who is harmed by the polititions he donated to.) But ultimately, being young isnt an excuse for excusing bad things.

Scott isnt the best person. And by supporting him, you do in a way support the shitty politicians he donates to.

However, i dont actually think scott is like. 100% completely immoral. Im going to be very generous here: this next paragraph is just giving him the entire benefit of the doubt and playing devils advocate, so feel free to disregard it: but hes not as bad as joanne rowling or anthing. He doesnt activly go out of his way to spread hatespeech, hasnt filled his game with antisemitism and homophobia and transphobia like she has, and by all accounts seems to be a nice guy who has been caring to queer fans, even if he is a Republican. I don't necessarily think being a Republican makes you an evil person. Yes, if youre extreme about it you are an evil person, but like. Im sure many of us have Republican family members you wouldnt necessarily call evil. Like, i have a wonderful grandma whos a Republican but she also fuckin hates trump and supports me and my identity and is generally a good person. I also think its worth mentioning that a lot of Republicans didnt like trump, but felt like they had to vote for him because they were Republican.

Now im not saying that last bit applies to scott cawthon: hes said he voted for trump so Yikes Man. He did support trump and other bad politicians, and in doing so he supported the terrible policys they push forward. Thats awful. And thats what makes him not the best person. More fnaf fans should consider that.

Finally: even if scott is bad, i don't think its bad to still like and play the fnaf games. Like i mentioned before, the politics of all that arent really written into fnaf and its story (claims to be pro life, makes a game where all the kids die anyways 😳). Scott has basically given steel wool the games now (even if he is still behind the scenes😔). And i dont think you're a bad person if you like. Buy fnaf merch and the games (yeah it sucks that in some way you are supporting someone who financially supports bad policies... But i can also see some removal from it simply because in this society today it is near impossible to not support Any Business Or Person that supports a Republican... In america at least, like half of our stores/businesses go towards that shit)

Sorry for this rant over i need some sleep i have a final paper due tomorrow that i havent started and im going to denver and im sleep deprived. FUCK

[caffeineandsociety]

I think of voting the same way I think of taking medicine. Sometimes it's really, really, really fucking hard to stay motivated to do it when the difference is between "fucking awful" and "slightly less awful" - but I still do it anyway, every time. Why?

Well, sure, as a severely disabled person who can't get a conventional job, there is no politician at a level high enough to make a meaningful change in a reasonable timeframe who will have my best interests at heart (and by extension the interests of those like me). It's great that AVERAGE wages are finally outpacing inflation, and we SHOULD be celebrating that more than we are, but not to the point of forgetting that MINIMUM wage still isn't keeping up except in a small handful of bluer areas at the local level and disability benefits REALLY aren't.

But it's so much worse under conservative policies that won't let ANY of the working class stay afloat - even for me personally; at least this way my limited independent work has customers - and the fact that bluer areas have a middle class again and are raising local minimum wages is not exactly meaningless.

American foreign policy is ALWAYS trash. Always has been. I work, I petition, I call my representatives, and hell when I have the physical capacity to I even protest to make it less so, but as long as it's been so dogshit or even worse I do sadly fear that the best I may be able to do in my time on earth is make it a LITTLE less dogshit.

But it's easier to work under leadership that's LESS enthusiastic about criminalizing protest - at least I'm less likely to die at a blockade - and it's more likely to be effective under leadership that's just greedily sucking off military contractor companies for money than under leadership where killing as many people as possible is the point.

I live in California, home of State-Level Homonationalism. I fucking despise how much we act like the fact that we love Amazon-sponsored Pride parades makes us immune to invading privacy and "save the children" rhetoric, never mind a truly disgusting level of classism and smugness about red states as if they're not rigged to shit. I complain about this a lot. My representatives probably know me by name and go "oh boy not this guy again" every time I email them about some anti-privacy bill that they think SURELY won't be used to prosecute people for just not being cishet because come onnn, maaaannn, we LOVE the gays here~!

But I still try to get friends from out of state in with my doctors and offer my couch while they get their shit done, because I know that we'll likely always be one of the last holdouts no matter how bad the national anti-queer backlash gets - if nothing else, I believe these naive dumbasses' claims that they'll (TRY to) always be a sanctuary state even if other states are frothing at the mouth to prosecute me over whatever's in those records, because they've lived up to it before, and in the VERY worst case scenario that policy buys me time to flee.

It's hard to see how much worse things can be when they already suck, just like it's hard to see the motive to take a horse-choking pill when the consequence of not doing it feels theoretical but the disgust of how stale the pill tastes to result in still feeling like crap feels very, very real.

But here's the situation. We have a presidential election coming up in, at the time of this writing, just over 5 months. One of two candidates WILL win. One of them is a doddering old man who's done pretty damned good things for the American working middle class, some people with certain very specific common disabilities, and very few other people, who just like any other politician at his level, is in bed with US weapons manufacturers because it pleases The Line. The other is an omnicidal fascist dictator wannabe, or maybe a less openly rabid but, terrifyingly, more competent understudy for him, depending on how a series of criminal proceedings go. This will not only decide the next 4 years, but thanks to the balance of powers and namely how the Supreme Court is structured, have knock-on effects that may last for generations.

I do not have ANY confidence that "sacrificing ourselves" to "punish" the former into being better will work, particularly because there is no universe in which replacing a guy who's in bed with weapons manufacturers with a guy who explicitly WANTS to escalate our imperialist bullshit, the-cruelty-is-the-point style, says "Americans want more compassionate foreign policy". Historically, they've typically compromised WORSE to regain lost votes, not put their foot down for better, because it implies the "kill everyone" policies are the more popular ones - and also, I don't consent to being fucking sacrificed! It's not just you, personally, who will suffer!

Similarly, I do not have any confidence that we will be able to start, fight, and win, a sweeping revolution - a.k.a. a fucking civil war - in 5 months to get a third option. Not only that, but even in the long term, I fully recognize that as a high cost, high risk option, and therefore want outright warfare to be doing as little of the heavy lifting as is reasonably possible.

So I vote for the same reason I take my fucking disgusting-ass pills every morning - because of the options I am given, I would rather be sick but semi-functional than bedbound, hospitalized, or dead.

[grappel-writes]

Part 2 of Orion as a companion: approval/disapproval, how to make him leave the party, recruiting/dismissing, and some unique dialogue from interacting with the story.

Approves:

Political maneuvering. An alliance now, a betrayal later. Helping someone not necessarily out of the goodness of your heart, but because they could potentially help you later. Playing a situation to your advantage. This can be influenced as you guide him, to either use that sort of maneuvering for good for others, or to use it exclusively for selfish means.

Taking a moment to have fun. Orion comes from a life of leisure, and treasures his free time. Throw the ball for scratch, humor a kid, get on a stage, tell a bad joke. This world sucks, and finding the fun in it is the only thing that makes it worth living. He'll also approve if you send him on stage with Dribbles.

Succeed medical checks: help the paralyzed gnome, resurrect Gale according to his instructions, fix the owlbear cub's hurt paw. He admires healers, and any successful attempt at aiding another will win his approval.

For his personal quest, encourage him to follow what he actually wants to do, and not what he feels he should do. There are a lot of influences and responsibility put on him in his story that he can step up and handle - it's up to you to decide if he should or not though. Let him live his own life, and he'll appreciate it.

Disapproves:

Doom and gloom responses: pessimism and a defeatist attitude won't get you far with him. Between his unwavering optimism and sense of invincibility, he only sees this as a waste of time.

Encouraging him to do the right or responsible thing with no justification. He'll do it - but needs to be given a reason. Good leaders always explain why, draw the full picture, and demanding his support or obedience for no reason other than "because I said so" will piss him off.

Stealing the Blood of Lathander, or anything else that mocks, desecrates, or belittles a religious practice. While he doesn't consider himself to be a good representation of the faithful, he respects those that are.

Trying and failing to get him to accept the tadpole's powers. Similar to how Karlach and Wyll feel, Orion doesn't trust these things one bit. He could care less about the powers they provide, he's sure he's strong enough without them.

Evil aligned decisions in general: jumping to kill, being cruel, many Durge exclusive options all fall under this. When asked, he explains that he doesn't mind being self serving, but does it always have to involve mindless violence and gore? Surely all those people would be more valuable alive? (Bonus: he really dislikes grossness. He'll disapprove of touching slimy things, dumping blood on him, and complain loudly the entire time they're in the sewers.)

Can he be made to leave the party?

Yes, but not right away. Even with very low approval, he won't leave until the beginning of Act III. Once you're at Wyrm's Crossing, you'll find a note in your camp (like Arabella's and Volo's) explaining that he's gone ahead and gone home. Please, don't follow him, and no he won't be giving you the address. Like a good politician, he used your party and resources to get him this far despite how he feels about you, and now that he doesn't need you anymore, he's gone.

Durge specific: "I don't know what you are or what you're trying to do anymore. I thought we had a plan, an idea to save ourselves, but you've been sidetracked by bathing in blood. Best of luck with whatever game you're playing with the dead three, but I'll go it my own from here. For your sake, I hope we don't run into each other again." Additionally, during his storyline, if you kill his brother when he appears in Act III (either just to see if you can or to remove him as a political opponent), he'll leave your party. Defeated and broken, he'll tell you to finish your journey on your own, and if you ever cross paths again, one of you isn't walking away from the encounter.

Recruiting/Dismissing Lines

>Come with me, I've got people for you to hit. "I love when you say that. Ready when you are, just point and say march." >I need you to stay in camp. "Ah, sending me back to guard our friends and valuables? >I am. "I'm honored you trust me with that. I'll see you there." >Actually, never mind. Stay with me. "Of course, you're probably carrying all the good stuff anyway." Unique Dialogue Reactions (For Now) If you steal the blood of Lathander: He'll look genuinely sad for the first time at this point in the game. "Well... that's. I don't even know what that is. Probably the worst thing I've ever done, is what that is. I always did wonder if praying did me any good, now I know for sure it won't. No coming back from this one. Whoever holds my soul now, I just hope the take mercy on me." Trying to force through his sadness, putting on a smile. "But the mace is a sight to behold. I'm glad I get to see it up close like this."

After killing Minthara: "Just dead weight in fancy armor... I can't stand her type, you know. You're only as good as the men you lead, and acting like you're above them, not willing to get on the ground floor and help them when they need you... Well. Not like she did anything more than hide in the shadows anyway. No one's going to miss her."

Finding Volo: "Volothamp? The Volothamp! Oh-ho! I would throttle you if I wasn't raised better than that! I had to read every single one of your rambling tomes! So many lost hours to the most menial, and dubious, details!" laughs, taps his chest with a fist, he's in disbelief that he's meeting his childhood tormentor. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sorry it isn't under better terms."

Saving Oskar: "Do we really think he's going to make it on the road by himself? I guess if we see a trail of canvases, mediocre portraits, and paint we'll know where to find his body, at least. Do you think his patron would want him delivered if he were dead?"

The Reveal of the Emperor: "I feel... dirty. All this time, he was under our skin, swaying us and telling us everything we wanted to hear. All for his own benefit. I go back to what I said when we thought he was just a friendly guardian: I don't trust it. I don't like it. And we don't need him."

Gortash's Inauguration: "I heard about the Steel Watch, but never knew it would get this big this quickly. I know my father voted in favor of it, and knew I usually disagreed with the things he supported, but this is a new level of disgusting. Whether it happens amongst the patriars, or at the end of my blade, we have to see this taken down."

Saving the Duke: "Duke Ravenguard, pleasure to finally meet you. And save you. No worries - I won't cash in this favor until you're well and recovered, and the city doesn't have the looming threat of destruction hanging over it anymore."

[korgbelmont]

Part 3

Eric is hired to eliminate a Vampire, but this case is showing a few too many red flags for his liking.

Written in the present tense

Warnings: Use of guns, swearing

Word Count: 1079

Notes: The Detective made on cooltext.com

Fast asleep on his bed, Eric remains oblivious to the moving lights outside his window. But is soon woken by the sound of his door breaking and immediately grabs the dagger on his bedside as footsteps approach the apartment door. It gets broken in and people in uniform aim their guns at him. Realising he's brought a knife to a gunfight, he sets the blade down and raises his hands.

Eric - Okay, who did I piss off?

Man - No one, yet.

A man in a suit steps in, switching the light on.

Man - Mr Eric Willow? Investigator of the supernatural.

Eric - Something tells me you already know that.

The man scoffs.

Eric - This is the part you tell me who you are and why you broke two of my doors so I know who to take to legal action against.

Richard - My name is Richard Dukes.

Eric - The bloke running for mayor? Didn't know you had a private army.

Richard - Private security firm I hired during my campaign run. You can never be too careful.

Eric - Uh huh. You better explain why you're here.

Richard - I wish to hire you for a job.

Eric - Could have turned up in the morning or made an appointment.

Richard - This is something off the books. For the matter of my family.

The mention of off the books immediately puts Eric on edge.

Richard - A few weeks ago, my son met a woman.

Eric - Good for him.

Richard - Except she's a Vampire who wants to kill him.

Eric - Oh. Right. Well now we're in my territory.

Richard - I want her taken out. For the sake of my son. You'll be provided with all the resources you need. I expect it done as soon as possible. Understood?

With all the security around him, Eric knows that Richard isn't asking.

Richard - You'll be compensated for your silence in the matter after. Ten thousand should cover your doors.

Eric - (This guy ain't messing around.) Fine.

With the sun now up, Eric sets up a temporary fix for the broken main door. Outside, a few security members stand ready. Realising that this will be a thing until the job is done, Eric goes over to grab a couple stakes before heading out.

In the car, he looks over the information provided to him, and it's obvious that Dukes has done his homework on his son's new girlfriend. A name, photo, everything. But there is something bugging Eric about this case, something that doesn't add up. But rather than raise any questions and risk the consequences, he keeps his thoughts to himself.

Once he is dropped off at a hotel, Eric heads inside, making for the stairwell. As he makes his way up the stairs, he ends up thinking out loud.

Eric - Okay, Vampire, Politician. Bunch of red flags. Why am I doing this?! Oh yeah, to fix my bleeping door.

He sighs as he checks the papers again and rolls his eyes, heading out into the corridor. He goes to the elevator, deciding he doesn't want to do the stairs all the way to the top of the building.

After a much quicker elevator ride, Eric steps out and goes to the room number that is in his information folder. Knocking on the door, he puts his thumb over the spyhole, despite the fact that he knows the Vampire will know he's there. The door opens to a woman matching the photo.

Woman - Can I help you?

Eric - Hi. Richard Dukes sent me to kill you for apparently wanting to suck the blood out of his son who you're dating.

Woman - I sense a but coming.

Eric - But I have a feeling there's more to this.

Man - Who is it?

The woman looks to Eric, nodding behind her.

Woman - Come on in.

Eric follows the woman into the room where he finds a man sat on the sofa.

Eric - Evening.

Woman - He was sent by your father.

Eric - Tom, right?

Tom - Yeah.

Ava - My name's Laura. I'm a Dhampir. We met and instantly connected. I have no intentions of killing Tom.

Eric nods.

Eric - All of this has stunk from the beginning. So why does he want you dead?

Tom - Because she's not who he picked. And he has some weird grudge against the supernatural world.

Eric - Oh great. A prick. No offense.

Tom - None taken. You're completely right.

Eric - Well. Enjoy your evening you two. Good luck for the future.

Laura - You're not going to kill me.

Eric - I see no reason to.

Eric takes his leave, much to the surprise of the couple.

Later that evening, the soldiers surround Eric as Richard takes a seat opposite him.

Richard - I hired you to do a job. I gave you all the information you needed. What are you thinking! Why does she still live?!

Eric - You wanted me to kill an innocent woman. All because you don't like her. I want nothing to do with any of this. In fact, I made sure of it on my way here.

Blue lights flash outside as two Police officers step in.

Richard - You've made a dangerous enemy, Mr. Willow.

Eric - I gave them the folder you gave me. I'm not who they're here for.

Police #1 - Richard Dukes, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Laura Bailey.

Richard is handcuffed and soon taken away, leaving Eric with the soldiers.

Eric - Look, I'd just go home, perhaps start searching for new employment.

The soldiers look around at each other and soon take their leave. Now on his own, Eric grabs a toolbox and reattaches the door.

Eric - That'll do as a temporary solution.

The next morning, Laura drops by Eric's office, finding him on the phone.

Eric - Yeah, it's good for the short term... Thursday works... Yeah, I'll be in... thank you... bye.

He sets the phone down and gestures to the seat across from him.

Eric - Sorry about all that last night.

Laura - Forgotten. I came by to thank you.

Eric - I've seen different kinds of evil, different kinds of monsters. None of it was in that hotel room. But last night, it was sat where you are now.

[dmcoffee]

TW: Suicidal thoughts Jhix should've been more cautious. They'd delved into many minds from many species. Each was it's own challenge. They should've known a new person would come with their own issues. It had been the amused look on the guard's face. A sort of lazy smile, with a gleam in the eyes. Jhix had thought those were hidden tears. They weren't. Tha subconscious had been laughing at them.

Inside the human's mind was a minefield of pain, fear, self-loathing and doubt. It was like the shifting sands of the desert planets, or the raging seas. A black hole sucking them into darkness deeper than the farthest reaches of cold space. Jhix was left shivering in a quiet corner. Away from the angry caretaker's screams. Away from the stress of unrealistic workloads that strained mind and body daily. This little shelter was their only relief from the stares of people they didn't understand and the judgement that seemed to emanate from them. No more choking clumsily over interactions and no tears over a misspoken word. No mirrors showing them every flaw of their appearance, the pathetic quality of their skills to highlight their better features or artfully create something pretty to look at. No one was here to see how bad they were at their hobbies. How scared they were of their small world. No one could see who or what they were attracted to, or how confused they were by physical touch. Nor were there nagging thoughts that trailed after every terrible feeling. The ghost of a thought that grew louder every day until it was screaming "What if we stopped this? What if we didn't do this anymore? What if we didn't live?" Here, it was just quiet... "It's okay..." A small human peeked in at them. "I come here too, sometimes...When it's too much..." Jhix peered at the tiny human. A miniature of the one who's mind they were in. The younger version. "How can you live like this?" They asked, wings curling tighter around their body. The little human smiled softly. "Dunno. It's hard. Sometimes I don't know why. But...There's stuff I like." "Stuff?" They repeated. "Hmm!" The child reached out, the little chubby digits connecting to Jhix's crest above their eyes. It was warm... Jhix could see things now. A tiny feline batting at a string. A lake. A ridge of rocks blooming from a snow covered peak into a green horizon, before turning orange, crimson and gold. Constellations over an abandoned sports field. Warmth from the smiles of familiar faces. Colorful markers sweeping over a page in a sketchbook. A perfect row of double crocheted stitches in a cheerful color. The taste of something sweet and decadent in their mouth. Text of stories detailing heroes, lovers, and tricksters. "Stuff..." They repeated softly. "Stuff." The human child was replaced with the older version they were familiar with. "It gets ugly in here sometimes. You really shouldn't go poking into places so freely." Jhix huffed a laugh. "I needed to know your secrets. Your language, your culture...I at least managed that much." "Shortcutting?" The human made a disapproving sound. "That's a good way to get hurt." "So I see..." they agreed wryly. "But I wasn't sure you were sapient." "And now?" "I think you are the strangest species I have ever encountered." They shuddered. "In my thousand...Decades of life...you are by far the most frightening form of life." "I'm mentally ill." The snort was unmistakably at their expense. "Not that I think I'm the worst mind to go poking around in. I don't even want to imagine what shape you'd be in if you entered a politician's mind." They had to process that. Then they shuddered. The memories and experiences of the human left Jhix with the distinct impression of how deeply unpleasant that might be. "But if you've got what you came here for," The human held a hand out. "I'll take you back. It's hard to navigate this place--even for me." Jhix took it, reveling in the warmth the touch offered. "Oh," They human paused. "But you owe me for this. Maybe shelter for me and mine whenever you guys decide to invade or whatever. I think we qualify for some kind of Asylum." "At least four." Jhix agreed. "We'll make a list upon our return." The human smiled warmly. "Well then this little tour was well worth the trouble." Jhix nearly asked if that had been the plan all along. However, as the human led them through the harsh experiences of their lived experience, they decided against it. Better not to delve any deeper into a human's mind.

An Alien interrogator delves into a human mind to find out it’s secrets, and finds a large rusty locked door. The subconscious guards the door but doesn’t stop the interrogator from opening it.

[writingpracticetime]

Interactions with other villains

From the notes of Mitchell Newman:

Let me set the scene.

First, the Discreet Entrepreneur’s Network, or the DEN as it is appropriately titled, is a loosely organized guild of sorts for villains to meet and exchange illegal goods and services. It’s members are vicious, super-powered criminals of all stripes--master thieves, serial killers, unethical scientists, the whole spectrum. They’re dangerous, violent, and not at all kind to non-members, or even new members.

Second, we have Constructor. A famous hero and  goody two shoes who only ended up in prison for protesting a mass eviction. More to the point, an (admittedly, not self described) pacifist who at the time was famously bad at combat.

The DEN should have torn Constructor to pieces, and this whole problem should have ended there. Instead our goody two shoes swipes dozens of members and eventually breaks the whole network into pieces.

How?

---

You have always been bad at public speaking.

You don’t stammer.  But seeing lots of eyes on you makes you freeze and all of the words you planned slip away. It doesn’t help that at least half of the people in this room are murderers, but they would have the same effect if they were third graders.

You wish Sandy was here again. She was always good at coaching you through these things. The only reason you ever made it through interviews or press talks was because of her prep work.

"The pipeline," you try again.

The Organizer quirks an eyebrow at you. For a second he looks to his assistant, a pale woman whose eyes are fixed on, and then he motions at you. "Go on."

"the pipeline they're building," you try again. "Its damaging to the environment. The people don’t want it there. And it’s. Illegal."

The crowd actually bursts into laughter.  You’re too used to talking to politicians.

---

Afterwards, Bonfire nods sympathetically at your grimace on your way out.

“There’s a reason I’m not a member,” she tells you.

“Did you hear? Did I…?”

Did I do good? It’s the sort of approval you used to seek from Sandy. You stop yourself, because you already know the answer regardless. Not a single person in that room approached you to join your next operation.

“There’s still the two of us,” Bonfire shrugs. “Best not to work with too many, anyway. That’s how snitches worm their way in.”

“Yes but…”

“Wait!”

A reedy voice calls after you. You don’t recognize the stick figure man who darts after you, eyes darting.

“Wait, okay okay okay okay,” he says, quickly. “Constructor. I’m--Cyberscout. I, your pitch, I mean--”

You wait. You hear a flare of irritation at your shoulder.

“Okay, your pitch sucked,” Cyberscout says. “Didn’t you used to go on TV? Man. N-not to down you or anything, what I mean to say is, just… I can help you with that. Not with your speaking skills, but getting the word out other ways, and doing some information gathering for you. So I’ll sign on. Pay back the favor.”

“Favor?”

“Yeah, uh. You jailbroke me,” he says. “I don’t work for nothing, normally I’d ask for a favor or cash but… since you already did me a solid… just this once.”

You hold out your hand, and like that you make your second ally.

---

Your second venture into the DEN goes better. You practice with Bonfire and Cyber ahead of time, so your voice is stronger. When you enter the latest venue, you nod at the Organizer and the silent pale woman next to him, taking a deep breath and refusing to feel intimidated.

Again, you  describe what you’re opposing as wrong. Again, you talk about the people’s wishes. Again, you call it illegal, and again there is snickering, but instead of falling silent your voice booms.

“Are you going to pretend you all don’t care?” you ask, and you hear yourself echo from the back of the hall. “How many of you have been thrown into solitary Akonite cells for store robbery, for having? How many of you got beaten by guards? Now CEOs are lining their pockets with medications they got from experimenting on prisoners just like you have been, and they go completely free. This is illegal, against the public good, all of the things they say about your own actions--and yet the men doing this go free.”

Dead silence.

“If the hypocrisy doesn’t make you furious,” you say. “That’s because you have no fight left in you.”

---

When you leave the conference, you know Bonfire heard because she’s smirking.

“Better?”

“Better,” she agrees. “Still no takers?”

“They’re probably worried about losing face,” Cyberscout says. “I mean, I was. But after a talk like that, just wait. They’ll trickle in.”

And they do. Days after, a greying old woman approaches you. She seems hesitant to meet your eyes or speak at first but when she does his tone is cold, brusque, and to the point.

“You may have heard of me, you may not have,” she says. “But to the point, I know a few things about unethical experiments, how they are run...and how to help the subj--victims. If you are willing to look past my past indiscretions, I can be an asset.”

“I care more about what you’re willing to do now than anything you’ve done in the past,” you tell her.

She holds out her hand stiffly.

“Call me Asag,” she says. “Dr. Asag.”

---

At your third DEN meeting, the Organizer’s lips thin as he sees you. He once again exchanges whispers with his assistant before glowering at you. You brush him off, and stand to explain your next venture.

“One more thing,” you say. “Before anyone here thinks of joining, this is going to be a no-kill operation.”

“What?” booms a hulking figure in the back. “Are you fucking serious?”

“No interrupting,” the Organizer drones, but you speak up.

“Wait,” you say. “Let him talk.”

The man steps forward, and you have an instant flash of recognition. It would be impossible not to recognize him, actually. You don’t think you've met anyone else that big.

“You don’t know shit about what it’s really like out there!” the giant says. “You really expect anyone to go out and not defend themselves?”

“I didn’t say you can’t defend yourselves,” you explain. “I said you can’t kill anyone.”

“You can’t get shit done if you’re not willing to kill,” the man says, darkly.

“Really. And how has that worked for you? Wait--” you make a show of trying to remember him. “Oh wait, I know. It got you in prison. Where I broke you out, without killing anyone.”

There is actually some laughter. In your favor this time. It makes you grin.

“Hobbes, right?” you ask. “It’s possible to fight and neutralize someone without killing them, and it’s usually better that way because then the feds can’t justify using as much force against you.”

“Then I’d like to see you try to neutralize a real super,” Hobbes spits.

“Alright,” you say. “Come at me then, and I’ll show you.”

“Absolutely not!” the Organizer shouts. “There will be no fights during conventions!”’

You don’t even spare him a glance. “Outside, then”

The Organizer hisses at the entire crowd follows you both, eager to see blood. “This isn’t--the rules--”

After a fight that admittedly takes a lot more out of you than your previous efforts neutralizing low ranking heroes, Hobbes grumpily becomes your next ally.

---

More and more come to you. Some asking for monetary compensation, some asking for prison breaks in the future, and some who seem to be as drawn to your ideals as you are, deep down.

With each venture, the Organizer seems less and less happy to have you appear, until one day when you are about to come to another gathering you find yourself barred.

“You’ve broken enough rules,” the Organizer says, darkly. “You aren’t welcome in the DEN anymore.”

“What rules?” you ask.

There are a few, of course. Some minor things here and there, but nothing that got anyone else banned. He tells you, and you are about to object but someone else cuts in first.

“You’ve been cutting into his profits.”

It’s the pale assistant. Her voice is weak and thready, like she can barely speak up.

“What are you talking about?” the Organizer sneers. “I never--”

“He’s been working with some of those corporations you’ve been undercutting with your, um, stuff,” she says, her voice getting higher. “B-both sides. Always got to work both sides, he thinks. Get some villains to help, sell out the others.”

Other people inside are listening, murmuring. The gathering of villains are getting agitated--clearly, this is news to all of them, as well.

“Please,” the assistant says. “I have proof. I’m a--I read minds. I can tell you everything, just get me away safely and I’ll--”

He turns on her and attacks, hands around her throat. You don’t even have to think about it. You slam concrete into the Organizer’s face, and all hell breaks loose. Someone grapples you--and then Hobbes wrings them off you. Bonfire, always drifting at the edge of the event, darts in and jerks the coughing assistant out of the fray. And with that, your last venture at the DEN becomes an all out brawl.

You decide it’s still better than public speaking.

---

---

MN: So, real talk for a moment. How did you do it? Money? Threats? Brainwashing? I know there were a few mind control types in your group.

#4598: Hm?

MN: How does a hero go to a bunch of violent crooks and end up leading them?

#4598: The only way you can. With their consent.

[burnedbyshoto]

hole in the wall

In a party for the ages, Shouto comes across a room with hole in the wall that has him coming back for more.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

pairing: todoroki shouto x fem!reader

warnings: 18+, smut, PWP, cult activity, drug mention, alcohol consumption, glory hole, cursing, degradation, praise, possessive jealous!shouto, stuck in the wall, spanking, overstim, bruising, bleeding, breeding

word count: 7,831

a/n: read the fucking warnings bro, im tired, I hate formatting, here’s to finally writing what I wanna write! also, this is for a lovely bnharem collab that kept getting pushed back... make sure to read the intro to understand my story! anyways, gloryholes is peak anonymous sex and I just,,, if thats the only way imma get to suck shoutos cock, I will. I had something else to say... I forgot. oH THIS IS WRITTEN IN A NEW STLYE-ISH??? porn from shoutos pov!!!

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Traditionally, when people think of the connection between heroes and cults, they expect that the heroes eradicate the cults, not that the heroes are a part of a cult.

It was somewhat ironic that a group of people who advocated for public safety, for the wellbeing of every citizen of the country - the world - would demand compensation in areas that didn't involve financial compensation. Heroes saved the day countless amounts of times, but when they needed... help at night because they've been so busy saving the world, there needed to be compensation.

It had shocked nearly everyone within the hero community when none other than Yaoyorozu Momo brought them a solution. For nothing more than loyalty to saving the day, all heroes granted the benefit of joining the Savior of Eight Million, an… organization brought forth by the prodigious hero. It had shocked the hero community at first that the once thought of a modern-day princess, putting together a wicked group that served the beastly needs of heroes, was almost laughable. But as time passed, as trials tested the organization (cult), the more heroes realized how lucky they were that it was Yaoyorozu who created this.

The Yaoyorozus, in all their riches and connections, made this group untouchable.

Police were bought off, apprehended, silenced.

Heroes with the savior complex were put down.

Villains were never believed.

The Savior of Eight Million held ties with the greatest, the most esteemed people in the world. The parties were unworldly, dripping with diamonds and gold, the sweet smell of champagne barely drowning out the bitter acidic and burning plastic smell of the drugs used vicariously at their gatherings. All heroes joined, politicians and celebrities fought to get in, and commoners wished they could be the servants of the night, whether that meant they would be serving food, drinks, or drugs, or allowing the heroes to do what this was all started for: to fuck them.

Of course, it didn't help that each commoner was paid for their service, discretion, and loyalty. Those who attempted to give away the secrets of the nights were always taken care of, and every gathering after someone tried to snitch, there was always a complaint that a sex slave just wasn't good enough.

Yaoyorozu Momo was a sweet girl, a helpful woman. She was a hero.

Heroes far and wide grovel at her feet in thanks, and even more surprisingly, even her old class supported this. Oh, how great life was when you were the most significant, greatest, and most untouchable cult in history.

To Todoroki Shouto, well, he didn't really have an opinion on this all, not really at least.

The cult - the organization, was created to help out heroes such as himself live comfortably while having such a busy lifestyle. His sex drive had never been that high, with his twenty-fifth birthday approaching, he could count on his two hands the number of times he'd been attended to with the help of the organization within the past five years.

Yes, two years after debuting as heroes, Momo had approached the graduate class with her plan. Todoroki Shouto could never deny a friend, especially not someone as smart and intentional as Yaoyorozu Momo. He had been one of the first - if not the first - voice to approve of her project.

However, the fifth-anniversary gathering (it was not a party) was finally here. Two months ago, the first round of reminders came around in the form of a beautifully handwritten card by their fearless yet kind leader. Shouto wondered if she really had handwritten each and every card, or if she had created it with her quirk - while he wasn't that heavily involved, he was not ignorant to the numbers of the cult, group, organization.

TO TODOROKI SHOUTO,

I WRITE THIS LETTER TO ASK IF YOU WILL BE JOINING US IN TWO MONTHS FOR ONE OF THE MANY GREATEST CELEBRATIONS WE - THE MEMBERS OF THE SAVIOR OF EIGHT MILLION - WILL HAVE FOR OUR FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF BEING SUCH A WELL RECEIVED AND INFLUENTIAL ORGANIZATION. I AM GRATEFUL TO RELAY THAT OUR ESTEEMED MEMBERS BAKUGOU-SAN AND MIDORIYA-SAN WILL BE HOSTING OUR EVENT!

I FEEL AS IF WE HAVE NOT SEEN EACH OTHER IN SO LONG, TODOROKI-SAN, AND I MISS YOU SO DEARLY. I HOPE THINGS IN YOUR LIFE HAVE BEEN FINE AND THAT WE SHOULD MEET UP AS SOON AS POSSIBLE! PLEASE MAKE SURE TO RESPOND TO THE RSVP TO EITHER JIROU-SAN, KAMINARI-SAN, OR ME!

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN, YAOYOROZU MOMO

The letter had been kind, inviting, and so fleeting it made Shouto feel like he needed more from one of his most missed and trusted friend. Still, there would be time to catch up with everyone, no use in pushing now.

Grabbing his phone, Shouto typed in Momo's contact name into the search bar, tongue swiping his lower lip while he typed in his message and sent it. He had never been one for these parties. Too often, there were just too over-the-top. The festivities and friends were fun, but having to fight the impossible crowds for a moment of peace kept him from attending.

A truly mundane member.

But this was different after all, it wasn't every day that they celebrated five great years of service.

I'll be going, Yayorozu.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

Two months went by before Shouto had even realized it.

In those two months, he had received a formal invitation with a day and time. 

2X28, OCTOBER 23

STARTING FROM 20:00

Of course, the lack of an address is a precaution for keeping their organization out of the limelight should they be betrayed. Events of all shapes and sizes were always planned by the upper board of the organization. Only a specific few knew the place where the night would befall, and the rest of the members would be brought to the festivities by a chauffeur provided by the Yaoyorozu's. Getting to and from the party was always stressfree, no matter what befell that night, their safety of getting home was still safe.

The invitation was tucked away into the inside pocket of his jacket, it was his ticket to getting into the party, and it was best to not leave it behind. 

With the invitation now securely placed into his jacket, the smooth inflexible material stiff against his chest, Shouto stared into the mirror he stood before.

An elegant full-length mirror reflected his image to him, and truth be told, he was impressed with his presentation.

A charcoal grey Italian suit trimmed glinting silver nearly gleamed against the white light; the jacket was undone, exposing the white-collared long-sleeved shirt underneath. Typically, Shouto was a tie man, but the sleek black tie he was to wear lay hanging on the hanger, the first few buttons of the shirt undone. It highlighted his toned chest, the few pale scars on his chest just visible enough on his exposed skin to look like it was intensional. He looked good.

His fingers touched his hair, the once long style had been cut in a recent fight with a villain. It hadn't mattered much to Shouto, and in fact, the sudden haircut had spiked his overall ratings. It was short now, just long enough for his fingers to graze through the locks. It was slicked back, the swirl of red and white mixing and strands of red falling into his sight.

“Todoroki-sama, the car is here.”

Shouto didn't bother turning to the attendee, his gaze taking him in one last time.

"I'll be there."

His footsteps were quiet in the hallway, his waxed shiny black shoes gleaming in his hands as he walked to the front room. He slipped on the tight shoes and looked up to his servant, who stood at the front door with a patterned, black mask.

Nodding, he grabbed the mask and slipped it inside of his jacket as well.

A kitsune.

"Safe journey."

"I'll be back tonight."

And into the car, he went, the warm smell of leather and spices filling the backseat of the self-driving car. Shouto relaxed against the black leather, his eyes staring at the road while he slipped the mask out from his jacket. There was no reason to don the mask while stepping out of the house, being caught with it at his home always smelled trouble. 

In the car's silence, his fingers rested onto his lap, his lips set into a firm line while his thoughts lingered to what was to come at this party. 

The last time Bakugou and Midoriya hosted anything, it had ended with an overall disaster. Thankfully then it had been for their agency's founding party and not something dealing with the organization. But before he could muster the will to seek out further information on the private event, he realized that the car was already pulling into the large mansion where the event was being held.

People emerged from the cars before his own, the sleek masks donning on their faces, keeping their identities from unwanted eyes. The covers were specially made by none other than Yaoyorozu with the assistance of Hatsume Mei to ensure that those who wore it would be unrecognizable unless they were within a certain radius.

A small puff of air escaped Shouto's lips as his car pulled up to the unloading zone, and his strong fingers slipped on the mask before the car door opened. With the confidence and power, only those who worked as a top-ranked hero had Shouto emerged from the car immediately greeted by the entrance staff. 

With his hands moving to button his jacket, he nodded his head when receiving information on what to expect upon entering. Shouto felt like he nodded forever while making his way up the entrance of the event, his hand reluctantly offering his phone and wallet over and receiving a ticket for retrieving it. Of course, the ticket came the bundle of condoms.

An eyebrow arched under the mask, and Shouto couldn't help the amused smirk that befell his lips as he pocketed the condoms.

The fuckers made this a sex party.

Why they even bothered to deny that they were a cult was beyond him at this point.

But as the grand doors opened, Shouto couldn't help but tense at the room's mixing aroma.

The sweet smell of champagne bubbled in his nose, wafting in powerfully with the perfumes secreting from every person in the room. If it had been his first time at an event like this, Shouto would have missed the undertone of burning plastic in the air. His eyes followed a civilian dressed up in a zebra zentai bodysuit holding a silver powder with most definitely not cocaine to who looked like the Prime Minister since he had his mask on.

Rolling his eyes, Shouto walked further into the room, ignoring the offers of drugs and alcohol as he carried on. 

"Todoroki, my man! You made it!" came the loud and energetic voice of Kaminari Denki.

It shouldn't have shocked Shouto to immediately be swarmed with who looked like Kirishima (who wore a mask resembling a bear) and Kaminari (who had his mouse resembling mask resting on around his neck), who by the smell at least, were not sober.

"You're the last one to show up, dude! We almost thought you were gonna flake!" Kirishima added, his hand coming to land on Shouto's shoulder, his lips perked into a broad smile. "Everyone else decided to join the orgy room a few minutes ago, but this guy here—" he made a pointed jab at Kaminari's chest. "Was causing a large enough disturbance that we were kicked out."

"Bro, it's not my fault that those dummy civilians can't handle a few jolts of pain!"

"You literally electrocuted everyone in that orgy and left everyone unable to speak for a solid minute, bro!"

"Everyone else is here?" Shouto interrupted rather impressed to here that even Mineta was invited to this party - or maybe he had snuck in - choosing to ignore the mention of an orgy room.

Typical cult things, he reminded himself.

"Yeah, Denki and I don't have to go in tomorrow, so we pre-gamed at his place before coming. Sero did too, but after a few minutes of talking with some trapeze girl, they went into a room and well…" Kirishima trailed off, letting Shouto put two and two together. "Mina is flirting with the crown prince, Yaomomo and Jirou are in the orgy room, Bakugou and Midoriya seem to be micromanaging everything—"

"Those two need sex the most out of the entire class! Have you ever seen a bigger work pole up anyone's asses than in those two?!" Kaminari groaned, his fingers roughly rubbing the skin of his face, and Shouto laughed softly in agreement. It was somewhat ironic that their virgin classmates were the ones who organized and put together a sex party.

"I can't begin to imagine Midoriya having sex. Although that man is basically becoming sex on legs," Kaminari continued to gripe, Shouto grunting softly in thanks when Kirishima handed him a cup filled to the near brim with a copper liquid that burned smoothly down his throat. Shouto grimaced as he managed to down the entire thing. "I can see Bakugou just blowing a hole into the wall and fucking it and considering that sex. Ain't nobody normal who can — OH MY GOD!"

Shouto looked at his friend with nearing annoyance; however, the alcohol already taking a humming effect over his body made the annoyance slip easily.

"Bro, you're gonna get us kicked out of this party, and that's gonna be the shittiest thing!" Kirishima groaned while Kaminari spazzed with what seemed to be the biggest lightbulb of an idea.

"The hoes — the holes! For the glory!" Kaminari slurred with how fast he was speaking, his hands fisting into both Shouto's and Kirishima's jackets, his yellow eyes burning bright in his excitement.

Shouto tried to keep his annoyance down, and the itch to rip Kaminari's iron grip from his shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Kirishima tried again, his hand resting on Kaminari's ribcage to steady him. 

"Ei, the gloryholes!"

Gloryholes? 

Shouto numbing mind searched the banks of his memory to figure out where that word came from and why it sounded vaguely familiar.

"Oh, fuck," came Kirishima's strained approval, and Shouto looked at his two friends who were grinning pervertedly at each other.

"What's that?" Shouto asked, his lips buzzing slightly as the alcohol was fully absorbed into his bloodstream, and somehow the smell of sex filled his nose, and the noises of unadulterated carnal lust filled his ears.

"Oh man, Todoroki, if you don't know," Kaminari trailed off, his lips pinched into an elfish smirk, and electricity coming off his hair in his evident excitement. "Just trust me, you gotta experience this shit!"

Shouto wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that thrummed merrily in his veins or the knowing glint in his friend's eyes that whispered to him to find out just what it was, but he felt his head nod without his full awareness. The feeling of their hands on his upper shoulder felt fuzzy as they took him away, intent heavy in every step they took.

He could barely take in the passing rooms as they went, the aerial artists, the sex rooms, the orgy rooms. There were so many rooms designated for just about every kink imaginable that even the stoic Shouto felt his cheeks flaring in embarrassment. With each passing step and opened room, the smell of sex, pheromones, and lust grew in Shouto's nose; the more the sticky sweet moans and screams of the cult members clung to his skin.

For a hero that was never too hot or too cold without his own ministrations, his skin was feeling feverishly hot with cold feet when they finally stopped in front of the only closed door in the hallway.

"Welcome!" came a cheery voice, Shouto blinked, and a woman appeared from nowhere.

She wore a powder blue ava tea dress; it was elegant, sleek, yet too old-school for an event such as this one. Shouto immediately assumed that she was not partaking in the sexual activities, but was instead acting as a hostess of sorts.

"Just you three patrons tonight?" she asked, her head tilting to the side and Kirishima speaking up in agreement for the group of three. "Good, good. We do have enough openings for the three of you, most people haven't found our little… hole in the wall, if you would," she took a moment to giggle joyfully, her gloved fingers pressing to her ruby red lips and Shouto fought the urge to walk away. "So please, feel free to look around and stay as long as you want!"

Her words were light and breezy, but still, there was rising suspicion and tension in Shouto's spine at her small quip.

With an innocuous smile and a glint in her eyes, she opened the door with a gentle, "have fun," and Shouto's friends ushered him in.

His initial reaction? What. The. Fuck?!

The room they entered was large and spacious, or well, at the very least, Shouto assumed it would have been if it wasn't for the obviously installed maze of walls. But with every wall, there was a collage of pictures. Faces of women, men, humans, mutants, everything you could think of plastered above a hole. Curiously enough, the images above one hole were of the same person.

His eyes swept the room, and he saw a few spots already taken, men with their pants and underwear dropped to their knees pressing up against the wall so that their noses were smushed to the makeshift walls.

Shouto blinked.

Gloryholes? Pictures of random people?

Were they fucking ghosts?

"This is paradise!" Kaminari groaned in pleasure, his arms spacing out as if he had come with fantastic news. "These normies always look at you so weirdly when you fuck at orgies, here… you get the nut and don't have to have them staring at you!"

Paradise?!

Shouto stared as his electricity wielding friend approached a hole that adorned photos of a girl with hooded eyes and a tongue piercing. He dropped his bottoms before sticking his hardening cock into the waiting hole with two raps of his fist. At this point, Shouto wasn't sure if what he had drunk was actually alcohol now. 

"These aren't dead people, are they?" Shouto couldn't keep himself from asking, his palms sweating while Kirishima laughed deeply in his chest.

"Not at all, man, it's real people, I promise! Pick your hole and have fun!" Kirishima encouraged, placing a solid pat on Shouto's shoulder before approaching a hole with a picture of a girl with bright eyes and a bright smile.

Nodding numbly to himself at this point, Shouto meandered the different walls, his eyes absorbing the various pictures on the walls.

But he fell on the spot with a picture so vivating that drew him in. The chasms of your eyes defiant yet shy, a smile that called him in, and lips that looked supple and strong.

He stood no chance in defying the itching, burning need to follow suit of every other person in this room. Shouto approached the hole, his fingers pulling at his belt, quickly lowering his charcoal grey slacks and black boxer briefs. He stared into your pictured eyes, mesmerized by them, and grasped onto his hardening cock.

A soft shudder invaded his skin as he pressed his cock through the awaiting hole, the skin of his heated cock scraping against the hole, making him strangle a grunt in his throat. But when the wet heat of your mouth enveloped his cock past the hole in the wall, Shouto's face nearly crashed against the wall.

Shouto wasn't sure what to have expected, but he had summed up that this was some over-glorified handjob, a vigorous clumsy jackoff he could have done himself. But he did not expect, in any sense of what this was, to be met with warm, wet lips and a tongue that pressed underneath the head of his cock.

A guttural noise slipped past his lips, and Shouto's palms pressed against the wall, his head spinning dizzyingly from the sensation.

Shouto's breathing was erratic, his cock hardening more, twitching within your mouth as he felt your head begin to bob against his length at a slow, leisurely pace. 

His hips thrust toward the wall, his vision spinning from what this heightened sensation of what he always thought to be a mundane act. Shouto's slacks were too far up his thighs; however, the fabric spread to his max despite his attempt to lower down. He wanted to get closer to the wall, get whoever you were past this wall to take in his entire cock without an issue, so mindlessly, instinctively, he shoved the slacks further down, grunting with relieved pleasure at being able to spread out further, at getting closer to you.

"Holy shit," Shouto grunted, his forehead pressing against the cold wall, undoubtedly crinkling the paper of your photos. His hips came forward, hitting the wall dividing him and you with low, vibrating thuds, and you let him, allowed him to keep his rutting hips at the pace they were. You took him in as if it was nothing, the smooth skin of your lips gliding against his throbbing length, your tongue running alongside the bottom of his cock, tracing the veins of his skin, twisting against the sensitive skin, providing new sensations and shivers.

Shouto knew immediately that you were letting him fuck your mouth however he saw fit.

He felt you moan around him, a long, deep, undeniable noise that somehow drifted through the hole, vibrated against his cock, and could be felt against his curling toes. The sound and sensations were proving to be effective, a pooling heat building in his balls, simmering up and down his spine and neck. How he wished to grab you by the back of your head and drive his cock down your throat without mercy.

Snarling in the back of his throat, suddenly fueled by the image of fucking you, the thought of you on your knees, tears built in your bright eyes and tears rolling down your cheeks feeding him. And as if you knew what he wanted, Shouto's knees near bucked out when your mouth took him in even further, the soft choking noise, the feeling of his cock pressing against the back of your throat sending his fingers digging into the wall.

He drilled in faster, grateful for your ability to keep up, the feeling of his cock pressing down the back of your throat sending his jaw flying open, curses and praises spilling past his lips with every inch you took him further down your throat. The area of his cock unable to be taken in your mouth was surrounded by your fingers — by god, what fucking fingers you had — warm and robust, they held his skin, sliding effortlessly against the spit lubricated skin.

"You can hear me right, whore?" Shouto growled against the wall, the hot air of his breath almost fogging the area he was standing in. Somehow, he heard the choked noise of agreement, the bobbing head vigorously nodding, sending you into a sputtering choke from the awkward angle. But Shouto liked hearing you choke, liked hearing the needy tone in your whining agreement, and he swore he was feeling his heartbeat in his balls. "You're not here entirely on your own will, are you? Came here for money, to suck some rich mans' cock?" His hips stammered when you sucked your cheeks in around his length, his eyes rolling in the break of his concentration, his blood pumping in his hormone pumped euphoria. "I want you to fucking choke on my cock, you hear that? Take me all the way in, don't be scared, I know you probably don't see much cock, but I promise if you can handle me, you'll never want other cock, slut. Take me all, and I promise you, you won't regret it."

A hiccuped breath came from your side of the wall, and Shouto almost wanted to simply burn the wall down to claim you for all his need and glory, someone with a mouth as gifted as yours definitely needed to be fucked correctly. Still, his hips reigned down, slamming against the wall so that the thuds of his impeding hips were heard softly in the other areas. 

And you? Behind the wall?

He could feel the weight of your head pressing forward, the feeling of his length sliding further and further down your throat. The pulsing of his cock ridiculously stilled with the restrained muscles of your throat, and the almost excessive drool and spit that dripped from his length with your choking movements.

More, he wanted more, he needed more.

"Fuck, slut, you're taking me so fucking well. You almost have me entirely in your mouth," Shouto growled, an inch or so of his cock still not entirely in your mouth, but not letting your tight fist work his cock. "Don't give up, take me all, I know a whore like you who shows up to be a sex slave can take my cock."

A whine (was that a horny or a frustrated whine?) emitted from the wall, and with a strained noise, Shouto felt your wet, hot lips make contact with the base of his cock as he continued to drill into you. Spluttering groans poured from his throat, the feeling of your hot cavern and resisting throat, sending him over the edge.

"Yes," Shouto gasped, the smell of sex, electricity, and barely burning walls simmering in his nose. "Fuck, yes, just like that."

Shouto could feel his nerves being shot out, the feeling of the compliant mouth keeping him pumping into the hole, his fingers digging further and further into the wall into it cracked and crumbled, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, to break through the wall to get to you. He was almost there, so close, but needed to get over the hill. And then Shouto was swallowed completely when his slamming his stopped, he could feel your lip press to his skin hidden by the hole. He had no doubt that it must have been sorely uncomfortable for you, yet you were doing it to the point where he was fumbling for words, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your tongue wrapped around his cock, massaging the skin. Fuck, fuck, "Fuck!"

His head dropped back with the shooting electricity in his blood, sweat dripping from his temple and you, the stranger behind the wall, gave one vicious, strong suck, your mouth only surrounding the head of his cock, your wet tongue flicking the slit on his head, and he was spilling over.

Hot, thick, heavy ropes of white cum spurted from his cock and Shouto shuddered, his shaking breath echoing in his ears, and he could still feel your tongue moving, coaxing out the finality of his orgasm, teeth scraping against his sensitive cock just enough to have him seeing stars.

But the giggle that erupted in your throat was well noticed by Shouto, and he grunted in slight annoyance. Pulling away, a soft, almost unwanted pop echoed on the other side of the wall.

Shouto watched as his spit and cum covered cock pulled back to his side of the wall, and he grunted unwillingly. His forehead still rested against the wall, and he looked up to his left side with a disgruntled noise to see that he did, in fact, scorch his fingertips into the wall.

As he tucked himself back into his underwear and slacks, Shouto's blissed-out eyes fell onto the hole where your hand was perched out of it, your pinky the only finger visible.

"Pinky promise you'll come back later?" your raspy voice asked, and Shouto wondered if that was how you usually sounded or if it was from what happened.

"As long as you promise to do something like that again," Shouto smirked, his pink taking yours anyways.

He could promise that to the hole in the wall.

Shouto slips out the door and is immediately greeted with a bummed out Kaminari and a profusely apologizing Kirishima. He later finds out that Kaminari let out yet another round of voltage of electricity (he's banned from fucking anyone that can't absorb his quirk without damaging themselves), and that Kirishima in his blissed-out state accidentally went into his unbreakable mode and tore a hole into the wall. Shouto didn't bother telling them of the scorched walls and left with his friends.

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It only felt like a few minutes before Shouto found himself outside the same closed door of the room with gloryholes. The alcohol had long since been burned from his system, he is practically positive that you managed to suck it out from his bloodstream.

For the past two hours, he had been around the mansion, aiding Kirishima in his objective to keep Kaminari from accidentally killing a sexual partner. It had been for the best, Shouto believed. He was no prude and definitely didn't hate indulging in the occasional orgies - especially at parties like this. But for some reason, as strangers attempted to shed him from his clothes, lips, and fingers roaming his scarred, heated skin, he thought of you and only you.

Your tantalizing mouth and fingers.

He had exited the orgy room faster than All Might at his peak. 

He was strangely obsessed with a stranger, a person who was no more than someone past a hole in the wall. Who knew if your picture was what you looked like, but he sure hoped it was.

But when Mina had appeared out of nowhere, her perfectly manicured fingers pressing against Kirishima's chest as she emerged from behind him. She was, obviously, one of the few easily discernable members of the cult. 

"So, the crown prince does not know how to use his dick, and I am disappointed in men all over again!" Mina pouted, but her usual sly grin was back on her face before Shouto could ask if she needed help scouting potential 'dick appointments' as she so fondly calls them.

This was where things got strange in that Kirishima pointed out that Mina should just fuck a woman to teach men how to fuck women properly. Kaminari filled Shouto in with a horribly done stage whisper that the two of them had fucked before and that despite the experience of any man, Mina was never truly satisfied. 

"Alright, student Kirishima," Mina had thrust her finger into Kirishima's chest. "Follow me to the hole-y wall and watch the master do her job!"

Once more, Shouto was outside the door, the woman seemingly materialized from thin air in her same powder blue ava tea party dress and ruby red smile. 

"Welcome back! For four patrons this time?" the woman gleefully smiled, her gloved fingers clasping below her chin.

"For one, actually," Mina spoke up first, "I'm teaching these boys—"

"I've actually never had a problem," Shouto spoke up, his calm and collected gaze unwaveringly met the hostess despite the chilling horror and embarrassment of his words that crawled up his spine. At the same time, Mina looked up him and down with a small, small smirk. "I'll be taking a spot."

"Ho ho, well, excuse me," Mina giggled, turning back to the hostess with a brightness to her stance. "Two spots then. I have boys to teach!"

"Of course!" the hostess spoke unaffectedly by the group's dynamics. "Please enjoy yourselves! This part is a special treat for you lovely patrons, don't forget to be mindful of our poor angels stuck in the wall!"

The door opened, and in the group of four walked in.

If Shouto had been taken by surprise the first time, he was beyond belief the second time he entered this same room. His first time coming, there had only been those beautiful glory holes, but this time? There were no material holes.

Where the holes used to be, there were only large holes where the person assigned to the area was now presented to the public.

Asses curved to the sky, asses pointed to the ground. Cocks leaking, limp, and red with overstimulation, cunts soaked, throbbing, and swollen with overuse. It was indeed as if these individuals had been stuck in a wall, and Shouto already felt his cock twitch in his carnal lust and need to see just how you were positioned. How he prayed that you were at your spot, laying on your stomach, ass hanging out to the world waiting for his cock to claim you, waiting for him to ruin you. He wanted to feel your liquid lust drip from your cunt, splashing and trailing down your inner thigh.

Shouto didn't bother saying goodbye to his friends, the smell of sex, and his own lust switching his brain onto a one-track mindset with the growing need to get to you immediately. 

And almost to his raging hormonal anger, he came to the aisle where you were parked, and while his heart hammered with the growing pleasure to see your ass hanging in the air, your thighs pressed to the wall, his vision turned red at the sight of some no-named man rutting his ugly cock between your dry folds.

In no time flat, Shouto was behind the man, his hand fisting into the collar of the man's shirt and tearing him away from him.

"Mine." he all but growled, his aura darkening while he glared at the red-faced idiot who attempted to cover himself up in the act of running away.

It didn't matter that what Shouto did was probably entirely rude and could result in him getting thrown out, you were his, and no way was someone going to fuck you when he was there. The weirded out gazes that fell upon him temporarily did nothing to Shouto, his focus back onto your squirming bottom, no doubt weirded out by the sudden lack of contact.

But with a sigh, his fingers combing the few falling free strands of hair out of his face, Shouto stood centimeters from your shifting thighs, watching you continue squirming until he finally moved. His hands pressed against your supple, smooth ass, enjoying the way you fit against his hands perfectly. 

He stepped forward, allowing the bulge of his strained cock to press against the top of your ass — the perfect height for him. Shouto leaned forward, his forehead once more pressing against the cold wall, his eyes taking in the still visible scorch marks he had left behind and chuckled deep in his throat.

"I'm back, my precious whore, I bet you missed me," Shouto spoke through the wall, hoping that you would respond back to him. He thought he could hear an agreeing sound on the other side of the wall, another layer of muffled, and he wondered if maybe you had been gagged. The thought made him exhale slowly, his hips strained from rutting against you, but against his belief, your ass ground against his hardening cock, sending waves of pleasure through him. "You did miss me, huh?"

His calloused fingers moved from your supple ass to the outsides of your thighs, feather-soft touches skimming your skin, leaving behind trails of goosebumps and twitching nerves. Shouto's gaze remained hard on your body, watching how you completely stilled when he found his fingers against the inner part of your thigh and just shy of the excessive heat that was radiating from your cunt.

And he leaned down, his lips pressing against the curve of your ass, his eyes partially hooded when he felt you relax against his hold. But the relaxed position you held quickly erased the moment his teeth sunk into your skin, and his finger pressed against your swollen clit. 

Immediately, your body arched, a weak attempt to buck out of his hold while he heard a muffled cry from the other end of the wall. But Shouto was a hero, he was some with extreme control over his body, and as his tongue moved to soothe your throbbing ass, one finger continued to delicately dance against your clit, while the other shifted over to your softly beating cunt. 

Shouto groaned against your skin, his pants feeling too tight, the material of his underwear too hot and stiff for how strained his cock was right now, yet it was nothing to the feeling of your tight, wet, hot cunt. In and out, he pumped his finger, curling the long digit against your puffy spongey walls, the thumb on your clit circulating in slow, intentional figure-eights until you were pathetically rising and falling against his finger, a garbled whine for more barely audible through the wall. He chuckled at the feeling of your inner walls forcible clenching against his intruding finger, and he rewarded you with a second finger.

"Doesn't this feel good?" Shouto groaned, his body straightening back up so that he was flushed against your ass, his forehead resting on the wall, and his now free hand slowly grinding your ass against his crotch.

He watched you with the intensity of a predator stalking their prey, his mouth twitching into a smirk when your toes curled with a sudden drag of his fingers over a ribbed area of your core. Growling in need, Shouto's hips slammed into you, mindlessly fucking you even with his clothes on. His fingers doubled in speed and intensity until the rapid clenching of your walls was unignorable around his fingers.

His forearms ached slightly with his continued fingering, his thumb almost stiff as he continued to assault your clit, but with the arching of your back, the stuttering of your hips as an impeding orgasm was growing bigger and stronger. Shouto barely registered the sight of his own hand rising and falling heavily onto your ass, the sound of the spank echoing loudly, but that had pushed you over the edge.

A loud mewl sounded from the wall, your legs trembling entirely uncontrollably against Shouto, who still drove his hard crotch into your soaked cunt. He didn't care if you were to wet the expensive suit, his mind now solely on the fact that he needs to claim you, needs to sink his cock all the way in, and make sure you were bruised for days to come. 

Wasting no time, Shouto sheds off his pants and his underwear, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud before aligning his already hard and swollen cock head to your clenching, sopping cunt. Shouto nearly shivers as he grips his fingers into your ass, his eyes mesmerized with how your flesh molds to his grasp, moving and shifting accordingly. With only a moan as a warning, Shouto wasted no time in pressing his cock to your cunt, and thrusting in with a single, sharp thrust.

If he had thought your cunt was tight with just your fingers, if he had thought the instance where you had vacuumed your mouth while sucking him off was tight, he was in a world of surprises when he came through from entering you. Your cunt was hot and oh so fucking tight around him, milking him dry of all and any precum that he had gathered at his swollen slit. Your inner walls flutter around him, intensely and quickly trying to adjust to the monstrous thickness that he was, and he could hear the pained panting pleasure of you through the wall, and he almost lost it at the keen whine on your tongue.

He shifted, moving his hips just so slight as to regain what little sanity he had left to ensure that you were thoroughly and roughly fucked. 

"Fuck," Shouto moaned, his fingers digging bruises into your skin, his skin feeling sticky and sweaty as he felt you continue trembling beneath him. "For a fucking whore, you have a really tight cunt. I bet you wished I had used fucking lube, huh?"

Shouto took a tentative thrust into you, his legs quivering at the feeling of the way your cunt gripped his cock, making it almost impossible for him to move as he did. "Should've made your pussy wetter then," he spoke in a near whisper to the wall, unsure if you had heard him as he began his conquest in fucking you.

With his fingers gripping your hips, he enjoys the way you bruise against his hold, almost as much as he enjoys the way the wall rocks with every slam of his brutal hips.

The sounds of his cock slamming into your sopping cunt send loud, wet noises ringing in his ears, sending a few other nearby patrons to turn their heads to look at him - to look at him in his conquest of claiming you as his. It only fueled him on, and he picked up his pace until there was a medley of sounds: his thighs crashing against your ass, the squelching of your wet cunt against his thick cock, and your thighs slapping the wall. 

Shouto growled at the feeling of your cunt stretching for him, the tremble of your legs, the way your feet twisted and curled against his knees, almost as if in a silent beg to get him impossibly closer, to make him fuck you impossibly faster, harder. 

His gorging fingers break your skin, and Shouto delights in the painful, garbled scream from your side of the wall. Your body is weak against him, yet he can still feel your hips jutting against his rutting hips, your body desperately trying to keep up with his insane speed and lust.

And when his hand presses to your lower back and the other right above your crotch so that he can raise you higher, the new angle of penetration sends Shouto fumbling for strength. It's then he can feel the head of his cock pressing against your cervix, your toes digging into his skin as he continues to pound away at your cervix, and he takes the rolling shrieks and moans from your mouth like a good thing. 

"Such a good fucking whore, I never found many of you who enjoyed when I literally rearranged their guts," Shouto huffed, his fingers tweaking and yanking at your clit until you were shaking in his arms. "You're enjoying this so much, I bet you wanted this the entire time after I left, didn't you? You wanted my cock in your pussy, I wanted to have my seed pumped into you until everyone knows that you're mine. You'd look so pretty pregnant with my babies, your stomach swollen, and your tits just fucking leaking milk for our children, huh?"

It's then that your cunt around his cock becomes a vice grip, and Shouto shudders at the feeling of your orgasm rocking through you, your pathetic keens barely audible in his blood rushing ears. And he continues, Shouto could feel the familiar sensation of his nerves being shot out, the feeling of your cunt desperately trying to milk him of his seed and worth as you grew limper in his arms, his fingers raking raised lines against your ass, forever marking himself against you, his grip trying to keep his shaking legs from giving out, his mind solidifying over the need to somehow appear where you were now so he could fuck you with no restraint. He thought of your crossed eye gaze, the possible spit pouring from your mouth as you took his every drop of seed greedily into your cunt. He imagined seeing your eyes spilling with tears, seeing your fingers rip into the fabric as he fucked you with no restraint, and with his imagination, he lost himself.

Shouto continued to blindly ram his cock into your cunt, a savage, insane last attempt to spill himself into you, fumbling to keep his head on straight as your cunt pathetically clenched against his hammering cock, finally sending his left hand to the wall, fire bursting from his palm as finally his orgasm tears through him. Shit, shit, "Shit!"

Shouto's temples are damp with sweat, and his vision swims with his overwhelming desire for you and the need to get to your room without destroying the wall to completion.

He picks up his pants and underwear, quickly fixing himself up so that he's almost remorse in the way that he can't appreciate watching his cum spill from your cunt, but the lack of you on his cock is enough to have him zipping up his pants and racing to where the hostess appears.

She doesn't stand a chance when both fire and ice bite against her neck.

"How do I get into the rooms?"

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After being caught flirting with whoever you had pinky promised, you had been gagged. It wasn't a bad thing per se, that man had been the last person to visit you when the room was still functioning as glory holes. With the new stuck in the wall theme, it only invited men and women to be aggressive, and a part of you guiltily and ashamedly enjoyed how rough they would get in there attempt to hear you against the gag.

But you couldn't help the flutter in your cunt and in your heart when the familiar voice of the pinky promise man sounded through the wall. Right now, however, your body felt wholly and thoroughly used. Every inch of your asscheeks and cunt was abused, but the orgasm that came with his fucking was otherwordly. 

There was still nothing to prevent the shameful clog in your throat when he abandoned you after a single orgasm, but then again, you didn't expect the door to your cubicle to be thrown open, and a man stood there with a black kitsune mask. You wondered who it was, but there was the distinctive, infamous red and split white hair behind the cover, and you whimpered at the sudden shame at being caught like this by a Pro Hero you absolutely adored. 

The mask was torn from his face, the door closing behind him, and you were ripped back into the tight cubicle, pressed flush against his chest as he sealed off the hole with his ice. You were speechless as his obviously hard cock pressed against your diaphragm, and you trembled upon hearing the zipper of his pants coming down.

And the voice of one Todoroki Shouto sent shivers down your spine, reigniting the flame in your cunt.

"I got to fuck your mouth and your cunt through other people's rules, I think it's about time I get to fuck you however I see fit."

[toastess-with-the-mostess]

The Galaxy Garrison sucks ass and this is why I think so Part 3

This is my OWN interpretation, Voltron as a whole never gave enough context about the GG to ever show it in a purely positive or negative light. I'll be excluding VLD, Beastking Golion, Armored Fleet Dairugger XV and any comics here since that's a hard reboot, the original Japanese dubs have nothing to do with each other, and because the comics are their own beast to deal with.

This part will be focusing on Voltron Force and Voltron The Third Dimension

Parts: 1 2 3

Rant after the cut for dash reasons, feel free to add your own opinions and/or additions to the post, I really want to hear about other interpretations of the GG!

Starting off with Voltron The Third Dimension (V3D) as my thoughts on it are short Say what you want about the 3D rendering but the story absolutely hits, I'd listen to it as a podcast AT THE LEAST because it's so good V3D made some good points by having the Garrison be a villain to the newly reinstated team! I will cut them some slack and admit that Zarkon tampered with Amalgamous (a robot built to be the decision maker for the entire alliance with all their stances programmed into him) which made him a lot more crappy However that doesn't stop me from tearing into him! Amalgamous is supposed to be the love child of the alliance yet still got tricked by Zarkon when most if not all those planets were harmed by him in some way? I don't believe it He repeatedly caused issues for the force and at one point ORDERED THE DESTRUCTION OF THE LIONS because "it's what the leaders would've voted for!" Not to mention he held a vote to permanently disband the force because THEY WERE DOING THEIR JOB, and it almost worked too if the actual alliance leaders weren't actively voting Now he did get a lot nicer after the tampering done to him was reversed, but he was still an asshole, and it also irks me that NOBODY THOUGHT TO TAKE IT TO DEBATE ABOUT SERIOUS THINGS LIKE THIS INSTEAD OF LETTING A FUCKING AI DO IT

Next is Voltron Force! Don't come to me trashing the bad 2d art and 3d rendering mix, I will make you cease to exist from my blog. Obv I love this show a lot so I have many things to say as I focus heavily on the story One of the main antagonists once again IS the Garrison, except this time it's not an AI, it's some wack politician! The show made an amazing choice with that, because the GG BREEDS those kinds of people, will cut some slack as it's Wade specifically causing ruckus but with the power of a multi-planetary military under Wade, the villain, only held the top seat of the military division, the division that is absolutely the most funded of them. Not only did he have full control over the raw firepower but he eventually took over the GG ENTIRELY It shows that the GG is either weak willed as hell or the rest of the leaders were only a little less bad than him if he could take over so easily Episode after episode shows that Wade is power hungry and will do anything to take Voltron down. We learn that Wade sabotaged Voltron and basically outlawed it only to steal black for himself in order to experiment in making himself stronger Nobody besides the planets allied with Voltron chooses to stand up to Wade, except the planets we do hear attempt to do so never have it end well for them For example, he forcibly mines a precious resource from a planet called Arial even after its spiritual leader forbids him too and causes the area and presumably the PLANET to go wack as it's thrown off balance Planet Ebb (a planet that's sustained on trade) is placed under blockade, its people are starved to the point where it's ruler works with Wade in order to get any food he can to them, and even when he does his part Wade still says he won't lift it causing the leader to switch sides and worth with voltron In the same episode, he takes a page out of the 9th kingdom's book and PRACTICALLY ENSLAVED PRINCESS ALLURA, HER NIECE DUCHESS LARMINA , AND CORAN, THROWS ALLURA AND CORAN INTO A GLADIATOR RING AS HE LIVE STREAMS IT TO THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE WHILE FORCING LARMINA TO WATCH Another side character mentions that his home planet was invaded with the cloaking technology he made because Wade forced him into manufacturing it on a military level, only for Wade to turn on him in the end. With what he says, we can only assume his planet was wiped out, and he is one of if not THE sole survivor. This guy works in a secret prison btw, housing both the worst criminals and political prisoners of Wade, especially those who go against him Only after the gladiator incident is Wade taken down, but not before WADE TAKES OVER VOLTRON AND ACTIVELY DESTROYS THE CITY AROUND GG HQ JUST TO PROVE HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE ROBOT BEING DANGEROUS And the force themselves (minus allura but plus their three cadets) have to take him down because nobody else in the alliance WOULD DO ANYTHING TO STOP HIM OR EVEN VOICE THEIR CONCERN

I should point out that both V3D and VF are pseudo-sequels of dotu, meaning both shows happen with dotu already in its timeline! So these points of interest are just layers on top of layers of issues that the Garrison has

TLDR: I hate the GG with a passion because they're useless and the only time they ever do anything is when they're backed into a wall. The only good to come out of the GG was the LV and VV teams as they were misfits that were gotten rid of but somehow all came back as saviors of the universe and to an ENTIRE RACE OF PEOPLE WHO'S PLANET ALSO EXPLODED respectively

[titleknown]

And also, I may as well add, I feel like a big chunk of leftists who respond to this "As Marx said, capitalism inevitably automates artisanal jobs, so tough shit, the only way out is to end capitalism" also aren't helping.

Like, while it's not technically wrong, it is also wildly unhelpful and smug and furthermore doesn't do shit to provide material solutions in the now and leaves shit we cannot get back to be destroyed (and also provides a convenient excuse to do nothing in my experience) which ends up driving people into the arms of copyright maximalist shitheads.

Even if we think the Revolution is in our lifetimes if we just sacrifice hard enough and so we need to suck it up and die for The Cause, which a lot of leftists in their political ineffectuality are very bad at convincing people of, people can't revolt when they're dead from starvation on the streets after their livelihood's gone. People can't revolt when their passions are dead and they're stuck working a dead-end job too exhausting for anything else.

And, most relevantly, people aren't going to be motivated to revolt on your side when you've left something important to them to shrivel and die before some imagined revolution, because you don't have anything to offer as material sustenance or aid in the now because "sucks to be you, maybe if you spent less time voting and more time shooting politicians we'd have won by now"

You cannot resurrect an artistic ecosystem from scratch after it's been destroyed, you can't un-burn the Library of Alexandria, and it's monstrous to say that all the good things that might be gone never to come back would be "worth it" if the inevitability of artistic automation is as true as you say it is (Which, I think is debatable TBH, at least 100% in the here and now).

Like, if you want to actually get people to stop being simpering lickspittles for laws that will only help megacorps for fear of the alternative, start doing the work my fucking movement has failed to do to provide viable alternatives NOW!

Not in some hypothetical future that's somehow always more important than the aid that needs to be done to lay the groundwork for that future, I'm talking shovel-ready actual fucking material proposals!

Start up organized artists' collectives with work the creative commons in a way that still gets creators paid! Try it in as many different ways as possible, one of them's got to stick!

As I have said before on other issues and I likely will often say again, just do something now rather than saying "Well, this is inevitable, only revolution will save us" and providing no fucking organizational help! Theory only gets you so far without praxis, and tomorrow only matters if you live through today!

...Seeing everything I care about wrt copyright minimalism crumble in the face of the "anti-AI-art people" makes me think of how the Creative Commons movement basically failed to create an economic model for collective artistic wellbeing, and how that lead to us getting fucked by the "copyright will save artists" people.

Like, the examples provided of piracy/the Creative Commons helping artists make a living were always individual cases, often of pre-established larger artists, never organizations or collectives that could provide that sort of institutional foundation.

And I can;t help but think that part of that was because of how much that movement descended from the tech scene and Unix with its libertarian tendencies, so of course they wouldn't advocate for collective institutions to allow for artistic wellbeing while producing Creative Commons works because "tHaT wOuLd Be CoMmUnIsT,"

Which ended up under-developing our best tool for artistic labor security outside of copyright, while leaving copyright maximalism to be able to pretend it's the pro-labor position even though; just like any rent-seeking institution, the benefits will always end up aggregated at the top, and copyright isn't meant to protect you so much as the guy who buys you up.

This gets even more infuriating when you think about how vulnerable online freelance artists; one of the most under-organized groups of artists; ended up in this gap, and how much more vulnerable to copyright maximalism bullshit they ended up due to that lack of collective institutions in their corner; with so many of them advocating for the destruction of fair use that will inevitably make their jobs so much worse.

Like, on my side everybody fucking dropped the ball on this one, and I am pissed.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy

Bakugo x Reader , Dabi x Reader

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by "heroes" Now that she's out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together?

Words: 2738

Masterlist

************************************************************************

You tried and failed to lift your head. This should alarm you, but it was something you had unfortunately gotten used to over the past… how long had you been here? You couldn’t even say. Maybe a year, give or take? But it honestly felt like a lifetime. You could hardly remember your life before. Back when you had a life, friends, family, a promising future. Now you were nothing more than property to some secret fucked up government funded hell.

You spent most days in a drugged-out haze. They liked to remind you that it was your own fault. All you had to do was cooperate, now you had to face the consequences of your stubbornness. But those hazy days were by the far the best. Those days it was easy to let the darkness take you and dream about what your life would be like if you hadn’t ended up here. You can still see the soft smile of Todoroki as he helped you study. You could feel the warmth of Kirishima’s hugs. You could hear the quit mumbling of Midoriya as he scribbled in one of his many notebooks. You could smell the most intoxicating mix of smoke and caramel as you and Bakugo trained. You wondered what your friends where up to now. Did they miss you? Did they still think about you?

The other days though… they sucked. They were filled with needles and experiments. Always forcing you to use your quirk on some poor helpless person. Always trying to find a way to use your quirk without your permission.

Compliance was key. Just do what they ask, when they ask, and do it right. Any kind of mistake whether it was intentional or not was seen as insubordination. At first you tried to be sneaky about it, thinking that if anything they would just punish you. But you soon found out that they not only punished you, but the person you were meant to be using your quirk on. It was better for everyone to just submit.

You’ve always hated your quirk. People tended to avoid you, scared of what you had the potential to do. No one understood that just because you had the ability to do something, didn’t mean you were likely to do it. It wasn’t until you got to UA and finally made some friends that you started to appreciate you quirk.

They called you Siren… like the mythical creature. You could control and manipulate people using the five senses. If they looked you in the eyes you could see into their head, and their private thoughts. You could hypnotize them with just your voice. You could paralyze them if they tasted your blood. Your smell…. was quite the aphrodisiac. As for skin to skin contact, it helped you share and feel emotions and sometimes even pain.

None of that mattered if you didn’t activate your quirk though. You could live your life just like everyone else. You didn’t just walk around every day controlling people like puppets. It didn’t stop the fear that festered in the hearts of the public though. Your biggest mistake was deciding you wanted to be a hero. You wanted so badly to prove to everyone that you weren’t the monster they thought you were.

You could have lived your life off the radar. But once you took part in the sports festival there was no chance at that. Civilians complained about how you had a villains quirk, how you shouldn’t be allowed to walk the streets unsupervised, let alone be given a hero license.

So, when there was only one agency willing to give you a job after graduation you jumped on it. They told you, they planned to utilize you in most recon and interrogation missions. Which made perfect sense given your skill set. They were going to train you to be the perfect spy.

At first it was normal for you to be gone for weeks or months at a time, with no contact with your friends. They understood you had top secret stuff to handle and always looked forward to hearing your stories when you got back. But the longer you worked there, the sketchier the missions got. Tracking bad guys turned into tailing fellow heroes. Interrogating criminals turned into “persuading” politicians. The last straw though… they had asked you to start sleeping with targets. The ultimate honey pot.

You started to be more vocal about your disapproval. You should have known better.

Now this is your life. Strapped to a bed, drugged up, and used as they pleased. You almost always had on a blindfold and gag. Except for when you had to “work” you lived your life in darkness, you lived your life in silence, you lived your life in solitude.

Your neck itched and bled under your collar. The humiliating thing was what kept you under their control. It acted as a shock collar, a tracking device, and it also monitored and recorded all of your vitals. They have to keep you alive after all.

You heard the familiar buzz of the electric lock on your door, signaling that someone was about to walk in. You felt anxiety bubble up inside you. Just remember the rules. Just behave and you’ll be fine.

You could hear quick quiet footsteps step into the room and your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. After all the time you’ve spent here you had gotten really good at telling everyone apart by the sounds of their footsteps.

“Shit, what did they do to you?”

You felt tears well up and your hands began to shake. You’d know that voice anywhere, even if it sounded strained and emotional. It was Bakugo.

Warm hands pulled your blindfold off, quickly followed by your gag. Your hands jerked in their restraints as you tried to reach for him.

“Hey, its okay we’re here now. But you need to calm down. Your heart beats all over the place. They’ll know something’s up.” His hand smoothed your dirty hair out of your face. You could see the pain and disgust painted on his face.

You wanted to say something. To thank him. Anything. But you were in shock. You were also terrified this was a trick. What if they were testing you? So, you just stared at him with glossy eyes as he continued to free you.

He made quick work of the rest of your restraints, leaving only the heinous collar. He gave you a sympathetic look. “This is going to hurt, and I’m really sorry about that. But I have to get it off before we leave.” He cupped your cheeks in his hands, “Are you ready?”

Without breaking eyes contact you nodded silently. This was the first time someone has willingly made eye contact with you in months. You could almost drown in his vermillion eyes.

His hands moved from your cheeks to the collar on your neck, “One… Two…” Without waiting for three, as impatient as ever, he set off several small explosions that busted the bulky metal collar to pieces, but not without burning a thick ring around your neck.

You winced in pain, but you still made no sound. It was like there was still some part of you that was scared to break the rules. To speak without permission. Before you could even start to think about how messed up you were, Bakugo was scooping you up. He sprinted through the door and was racing down the halls. You wondered why there were no alarms going off. This seemed to easy. This had to be a trap, or maybe a dream. You felt yourself start to shake in his arms.

One of his hands wound through your hair. “Hey it’s okay. We’re almost out. The others are waiting for us. I just need you to keep your shit together for a little while longer okay.”

Before you knew it, he was kicking a door down and all the sudden you were outside. You gasped as you felt the cold rain hit your skin. You blinked in surprise at how bright it was, despite the fact that the sun was hardly even up yet.

A van screeched to a halt in front of you and the door slid open just in time for Bakugo to jump in. “WE’RE GOOD! GET US OUT OF HERE!”

The door slammed shut and the Van lurched forward.

You were now sitting in Bakugo’s lap clinging to his shirt as silent tears slid down your cheeks. You could hear the voices of Todoroki and Kirishima coming from the front of the van, but you couldn’t understand what they were saying. You just clung tighter to Bakugo and continued to sob.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t said a word since I found her. I think she’s in shock.” His fingers tangled in your hair while the other hand rubbed circles on your back.

At some point you must have cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up you were in clean clothes, curled up on a soft couch.

You could hear voices coming from somewhere behind you.

“I know I don’t like it either, but we don’t really have any other options. We have no idea who’s on what side. Outside of the people here right now, who can we honestly say we trust enough to protect her?” You had never heard Midoriya sounds so rough and defeated. “She’s in no condition to look after herself and we can’t help. Not right now.”

You could hear pacing behind the couch, “You weren’t there. You didn’t see what they were doing to her. It was…. Sick a-and twisted. I say we take them down and ask questions later.” Bakugo only stuttered when he felt helpless, which wasn’t often.

“Bakugo you know we can’t do that. They may borderline evil, but officially on paper they are heroes. It’s a hero agency after all. If we attack that makes us villains, best case vigilantes. Both of which result in us ending up in Tartarus.”

“Okay and? You’re trying to hand her over to villains anyway!” You kept your eyes closed as Bakugo leaned over and pulled a blanket over you.

“I don’t know if I would consider my brother a villain. At least not anymore.” Todoroki sounded tired. “Ever since we… reunited… we’ve had a don’t ask don’t tell policy. But I keep tabs anyway. He’s still shady, but he’s not working with villains anymore. If anything, we have more in common now than before. He’s my brother but he’s also a dick. He doesn’t really care about heroes and villains anymore. He just doesn’t like people in general.”

You stiffened. Were they talking about Dabi? Why would they trust him? Wasn’t he one of the villains that kidnapped Bakugo?

“You say he doesn’t like people, so why do think he’ll even help?” Bakugo was making his way around to sit on the end of the couch, gently moving your feet into his lap. He seemed to calm down once his hand found your calf.

It was quite for a while before Todoroki sighed, “Because unlike the rest of you… my brother and I know what it feels like to be an experiment. He won’t let anything happen to her. Villain or hero, he doesn’t care. He has no rules or code of ethics to follow. He’s our best option here Bakugo and you know it.”

You couldn’t take this anymore. All these guys sitting around deciding your future as if you weren’t sitting right here.

You slowly sat up, pulling your legs away from Bakugo. You blinked as you looked around the small room. Todoroki and Midoriya were sitting as a large wooden table that was littered with files and paper.

You blushed when you realized everyone was looking at you now, yet the silence persisted. Were they waiting on you to say something? You cleared your throat and winced at how dry it was. “Oi! Get her some fucking water, would you?”

You nodded your head in thanks as Midoriya handed you a bottle of water before taking a seat on the floor in front of you. “Listen y/n. None of us can even begin to try and understand what you’ve been through the past few years. It might be a while before you are ready and that’s okay. But when you are, please know we are here to listen and help in any way we can. Any information you can give us on what happened, what they are doing there, will be helpful in making sure we take them down.”

You nodded as your grip tightened on the water bottle. They wanted information. But what information could you possibly have that could be helpful. You spent almost the entire time drugged, blind, and chained to a bed. Your heart began the thud against your chest at the memories.

Bakugo was quick to scoot over. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted you to know he was there. “Hey it’s okay. Like he said. No one’s asking you to say anything right now.”

Todoroki grabbed something off of the table in front of him before strolling over to hand it to you. “Here. I noticed you are having some difficulty speaking. Given what you’ve been through it’s not really a surprise. So, you can use this to get your thoughts out. Whether they be private or not. It might be good to just get things off of your chest.”

Again, you nodded as you took the leather-bound notebook from Todoroki. You flipped to the first page and traced the empty lines with you hand. You opened your mouth to say thank you but were shocked to find that you couldn’t make yourself do it. You hadn’t been allowed to speak in the labs. Not unless given permission, which was hardly ever.

You glanced around to the other men, gesturing with you hand that you needed something to write with. Of course, Midoriya, Mr. Takes notes on everything had several pencils in his pocket.

You wrote the following:

Thank you. For everything. I didn’t think anyone was coming for me. I don’t know why I can’t speak, but it’s probably because of the rules.

Bakugo read over your shoulder as you attempted to show the other two men. “Rules? What rules?”

You sighed and gripped your pencil tighter to the point of almost breaking.

I will not look anyone in the eyes without permission.

I will not speak unless spoken to.

I will not touch anything, or anyone without consent.

I will do as I am told without resistance.

I will remember this is the consequence of my actions.

You turned the notebook so they could see and you could feel the tension rising in the room. You almost jumped out of your skin when Todoroki’s phone chimed.

He quickly walked away to answer it, giving Midoriya a nervous look as he did.

You turned to look at the angry man sitting next to you. His eyebrows furrowed and his fists were clinched. Finally, his eyes left the notebook and met yours. “Hey I just… I just want you to know I’m sorry.” You gave him a confused look, but he pushed on not waiting for you to question him. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize something was wrong. I’m sorry I couldn’t find you sooner…I- fuck- I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

You went to put your hand on his shoulder but paused right before you made contact. He growled as he gripped you hand and put it on his shoulder for you. “You aren’t there anymore y/n. There’s no more rules.” His fingers found your chin as he guided you to look at him. Your eyes widened and you gulped. “I don’t know how much of that conversation you heard earlier. But I promise I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I’ll check in with you as often as I can. If Todoroki says we can trust him… then I guess we’ll just have to trust Todoroki.”

You tried your best to give him a reassuring smile, but in all honesty it felt more like a grimace.

Todoroki walked back in shoving his phone in his pocket. “Okay he’s on his way. We have probably about fifteen minutes. Let’s get ready to move.”

[amaraeshepard]

Normandy Launch Party - Part One

Earth, Canada, Vancouver Alliance Military Command 2183 AD

It began as a slow boring gathering of both pompous and sincere politicians and military officials from both the Human Alliance and the Turian Hierarchy. It had been less than thirty years since first contact, and the war that followed, but here they were, together in the early summer sunshine toasting each other and enjoying the beginnings of a hopefully long lasting alliance.

Three stories up from the party, Amara watched as both races played the game of politics in thier own way. She leaned over the balcony and noted that there were two camps on each side. The for and against.

Those Humans for the alliance for the races, mingled with those Turians that felt the same way, while those uncomfortable or worse stayed around the edge of the large stone tiled patio.

Even now you old racist bastards will find a way to fuck this all up.

Her attention drifted to one of those she knew hated anything not human, though he hid it well, Donnel Udina. He was the current ambassador to the Citadel, the center of galaxy politics, and hated the fact that Humans still had no real say or power there. He fought for every scrap of power he could get, though Amara had a feeling that he did so for personal gain more than for Earth. But then again, she never liked the man.

Regardless of her feelings towards him, it was those he stood with that caused her curiosity to spike. Anderson and Hackett were standing close and locked in conversation with the political weasel. Something was going down and she was to far away to read lips. From what she could tell, it was a heated discussion with Udina not liking what he was hearing.

Not surprising. He was probably complaining again at how Anderson, Captain Anderson had chosen her for his XO. She had known Anderson - Well, David for years. He was one of the few men that her grandmother trusted with her life, and Amara's life for that matter. He was the one that had inspired her to follow in her fathers footsteps and become a soldier, not through his words, but his manner. He was just a good person. She wanted to be like that.

Over the years she had come to see him as a second father to her. Not to replace her own that had passed away when she was a child, but a mentor figure that understood her and would advise her when she asked.

The real question, was what were they talking about. She would find out, of course, she usually did. She had the soldiers heart from her fathers side of the family, true, but she also had the politicians social soul from her mothers. She could read people naturally and if she wanted, usually change the narrative and make situations work for her. It had helped her move through the ranks as well as in training, N7 and otherwise. It was, she mused, probably one of the reasons she was still alive. She knew how to break people and how not to let herself break.

. . . Even in places like Akuze.

"Naji? What are you still doing up here?" A deeper, rougher female voice than mine sounded from behind her. The voice sounded cold to many, but to Amara, it was one of the few places she felt she could find home in.

Standing straight, Amara Shepard smoothed the form hugging cream cloth of her dress over her skin. Watch time was over, she would have to go down there and lose herself in the sea of pomp and ceremony. At least she would be able to get a drink, maybe meet some of the crew.

"Naji?"

Amara smiled towards the older woman and nodded approvingly at her blue attire. Alliance blue was in fashion as of late, and her grandmother made it look good. Not bad for a woman nearing her seventh decade.

"Nana Kali." Amara stepped from the railing and into an embrace. "You look lovely."

"Psh, save the sucking up for a lover. We have to make ourselves seen my girl."

Taking her grandmother Kali’s arm in hers, Amara put on her Shepard mask, and led them to the elevator. It wasn’t a physical mask, but it was one none-the-less. It kept the world away from the girl she was and close to the woman she had to become. The survivor. The soldier. The woman who had survived hell and was more than willing to do it again and again. The first Biotic to not only survive, but excel through her N7 training. The woman who as her grandmother had proclaimed - Got shit done. The woman called Commander Shepard.

Part two Part Three