#superpowers? In my mind?

[careful-knives]

@googoogojob tagged me (thank you 💜💜💜), I did this quiz and it appears my super power is...

It seems I'm that little girl from Spy x Family then xD

I'm tagging (no pressure, only if you want to): @starlithumanity @the-names-salomea @death-by-cuddles @venusdebotticelli @follows-the-bees @chocolatepot @veeagainsttheday @anacrowley @ofmd-ann @jadedaceofspades @peacesmovingcabaret and anyone else who wants to 💜

[farshootergotme]

Occasionally I picture Nightwing calling Red Hood "little wing" in front of others and people looking between this huge, 6'0 feet tall man with growing white hair, and then Nightwing, a shorter man who has flawless skin, probably around his 20's, and a fit but not too buff build and they just- don't know what's happening. Is it some kind of inside joke they aren't aware of? Why is Nightwing acting as if he's years older than Red-fucking jacked-Hood?

Nightwing: Little wing, you actually were decent in that fight! I'm impressed.

Hero, who was helping during this fight as well, listening in to the conversation: little...?

Red Hood: Wow, feeling very appreciated right now. Got any other backhanded compliments in there?

Hero: Wait, excuse me-

Nightwing: As a matter of fact-

Red Hood: Nope! I'm outta here. Screw you!

Nightwing: You know you love me!

Red Hood: In your dreams, dickhead!

Nightwing: Hey! We don't use that-

Red Hood: Not listening!

Nightwing: Jeez, kids these days...

Red Hood: I'm an adult and fuck you too!

Nightwing: What? Thought you weren't-

Red Hood: See you never, I'm out.

Hero: ...

Hero: what the actual fuck?

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #97

The Justice League fought hard against the anti ecto acts but unfortunately it wasn’t enough and the laws were passed anyways but not before a clause was added to them that states the JL had the right to pull a ghost out of a facility of they had potential to work for them. When they see the potential hero Phantom is caught by the GIW they of course do their best to acquire him. Unfortunately the government sees Phantom as JL property now instead of his own person. Phantom seemed content being trapped on the watchtower and explained it was better than whatever the GIW was planning. Superman thinks something weird is going on with the ghost as when he supposedly went to bed in the room he was assigned he’d temporarily gain a heartbeat again. Constantine is just glad the young prince hasn’t decided to kill anyone in the US congress yet for passing such a ridiculous law. Batman’s adoption senses are tickling.

[roachingurcoach]

okay I don't really know how to frame this. but like. funniest way to confirm Dean is Ben's dad is

20 year-old Ben takes a genetics test for fun or whatever, and the results he gets back are just batshit insane. it's like. oh hey. my biological father is a known serial killer who's still on the FBI's most wanted list and has been found or thought dead multiple times. and my uncle. and my grandfather. and my grandmother. and my--

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You stub your toe and the mind control breaks.

Your power snaps from the shock and the hundred or so clones you’d been controlling disappear with a pop! You hold your breath as the steel they’d been carrying clangs loudly in the cavernous room. You’re the only one in this sector but that was loud. If by some miracle nobody heard that, surely your abductor will notice you’re free any moment now—

Devil Eyes doesn’t notice.

You cover your mouth with both hands, pressing so hard that your teeth creak. There’s a hysterical giggle struggling to claw its way up your throat. You’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, but this is what it takes to break Devil Eyes’ control? Your pinky toe throbbing after kicking a stray steel beam?

Fuck, that’s funny.

You breathe in through your nose slowly. Only when your lungs hurt worse than your toe from how much air you’re holding in them do you release your mouth. You breathe out in six quick bursts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re free.

Holy shit, you’re free! How long has it been? Six months? Eight? You know it’s not summer anymore, but Devil Eyes has had you working in the depths of his lair for weeks now and you’ve lost track of time. That’s fine though, you’re pretty sure you’re still in Arizona and there’s sunshine even in winter. Your breath hitches in your chest. The sun! Oh, the sun, you want to see the sun so bad and now you can because you’re free--

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. Assess. Act.

Escape.

You’re in the delivery sector. There are piles of steel everywhere you look, tossed this way and that so that it looks like a giant failed game of Jenga. Your clones were carrying the beams from the truck in the docking bay to the appropriate facilities deeper into the mountain when they disappeared. Ha! Fat chance Devil Eyes finishes construction without you around. You’re the only reason this mountain lair is even possible. It would serve him right to spend so long stealing materials only to have nobody around to do the hard work for him.

That’s why I need to escape.

Spite is what keeps you moving. The truck driver is gone. He’s a real minion of Devil Eyes, not a brainwashed one like you. That means he’s probably in the living sector enjoying the benefits of willing servitude. Benefits like soda. And beds. And those little pillow mints they give you at hotels.

Your mouth waters.

Don’t you dare go back for a pillow mint, you scold yourself. It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve been craving one, forced to set them out and never allowed to eat one. You have the chance to escape and you’re going to take it.

You climb into the cab of the truck. The driver took his keys with him, but you’re a villain. You have the engine turning over in less than five minutes, the bed of the truck detached within three, the seat and mirrors adjusted in less than one.

Ten minutes after stubbing your toe, you’re driving out of the mountain and into the deepest of Arizona nights. Nobody sounds any alarms. Nobody starts shooting at you. How could they? You were the one manning the graveyard shift in the security room. You were the one at the turrets. You were the one doing it all while Devils Eyes and his crew slept.

The stars stretch above you. You crack the windows of the truck and suck in the fresh air greedily. Your eyes burn.

Not yet, you think. Your eyes smart and you bite your lip until the lump in your throat goes away. Not yet. As a villain, you’ve always made it a point not to let your guard down until the job is done.

This job isn’t anywhere near done.

----------,

Getting into one of Hero Force’s headquarters is either the best thing to happen to a villain or the worst.

Breaking into one is a badge of honor, especially if you’re able to get away with a trophy. Information, a hostage, even a paperclip. Anything that proves you were there and they couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.

Getting taken into Headquarters is a nightmare. It means you’ve been caught and caught good. Getting taken into Headquarters means the end of a masked villain’s career. Hero Force knows who you are from that point on and, even if you escape, they’re not going to lose track of you any time soon.

You’re not sure what walking into one is. A disgrace? An act of stupidity?

You park your truck illegally and push both doors open at the same time just a little after sunrise.

“Hello,” you say to the receptionist. He’s wearing the characteristic black mask of Hero Force personnel and you wait until his brown eyes shift from his computer to you before continuing. "I’ve been held captive by the villain Devil Eyes for the last six or eight months and I’d like to talk to somebody about it.”

“Pardon?” the receptionist asks. His fingers are frozen over his keyboard. “You—pardon?”

“I don’t know what month it is,” you say. Abruptly you realize you’re not wearing a mask. A chill shudders down your spine. Devil Eyes knows what you look like and now Hero Force does too. You are so fucked, you’re going to need to flee the country-- Think about it later. “So I don’t know how long I was brainwashed for.”

“Brainwashed?”

“By Devil Eyes,” you say. When the receptionist continues to stare at you, you shift your weight from side to side. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is there someone higher up I could speak to?”

It turns out there is. The receptionist is only too happy to call them for you and things move very quickly after that.

They take you to the fifth floor of headquarters and into a very nice conference room. The receptionist brings you coffee, water, and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t bring you pillow mints when you ask but makes up for it by fishing out a crushed granola bar from the inner pocket of his blazer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say. Crumbs tumble from your lips and onto the oak table. “Fuck.” You lick your fingers and pick them up as best you can, scooping them into your mouth as you go.

“We’ll have something delivered,” he says, eyes skittering away from you. “It’ll probably arrive before Arctic—”

“No, it won’t.”

You twist in your seat, granola bar stuffed in your cheeks. Arctic is standing in the doorway in full costume, sans cape. Her slate grey eyes study you a moment before she steps into the room. Rag Doll, her second in command, follows silently behind. Unlike his boss, he’s half in his civvies– jeans and long-sleeved Henley that shows off the extra joints in his arms and legs. His patchwork mask does little to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Ma’am,” the receptionist says. He’s flustered in the presence of the A-rank heroes, you can see it. He sketches out a bow and then seems to think better of it, jerking ramrod straight and shuffling towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Arctic watches him go with one pale brow raised.

As soon as the door shuts, Rag Doll sighs. “It’s his first day.”

“He didn’t get their name, did not relay a proper history, and called me ma’am,” Arctic says in her heavy drawl. She frowns and smooths her white hair away from her face. “That’s three strikes.”

“Wait until he watches all the HR videos before you start handing out strikes.”

“He should have finished those before he was stationed at the front door.” Arctic strides around the table and takes the seat at the head without looking at you. She pulls out a notebook from her utility belt, flipping to a blank page, and then finally looks at you. “Do you need another granola bar?”

Oh. She was stalling until you could finish eating. A smile comes to your face unbidden. “I missed your southern charm, Arctic.”

Arctic drops her pen.

Rag Doll, halfway into his seat, freezes. He stares at you with wide eyes. “Virus?”

Oh yeah. You used to compliment Arctic’s Southern manners a lot before Devil Eyes got you. “Long time no see.”

“Long time—it’s been a year,” Rag Doll says incredulously.

“You look awful,” Arctic says without a bit of manners to be found.

“A year?” The room swims. Since the wallpaper kind of reminds you of bile anyway it’s no surprise what happens next. “Fuck.”

You throw up.

------------------.

“I was going on the straight and narrow,” you’re saying an hour later. You’re in a different conference room, this one on the third floor. The walls are a nice, soothing blue and there’s a vanilla air freshener plugged into the wall. “I really was.”

“You’ve been with Devil Eyes this whole time?” Rag Doll asks. He’s seated across from you, leaning forward onto his elbows. He’d stopped Arctic from putting the power suppressors on you. She agreed when he pointed out they might kill you in your fragile state. “There’s never been any indication he can hold someone that long.”

“Well, he can,” you say. You wordlessly accept the tea Arctic slides across the table. The heat of it shocks you in the best way. You drink greedily, relishing in the warmth as it slides down your throat. “And not just one person. He could hold me and five of my clones at first. Then ten. Then twenty.”

“But your clones are you,” Arctic says. She refuses to sit, standing behind Rag Doll. She crosses her arms. “It’s impressive he was able to hold you that long, but it was just you.”

“Impressive?” You laugh without humor. “I’m not exactly impressed.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Rag Doll says. He looks over his shoulder at Arctic and, when she nods, he continues. “It’s just that, from what we know about your powers, holding you and your clones would be the same as holding one person.”

“It’s not,” you say. You’re giving away too much information about your powers, but you don’t care. Devil Eyes needs to be stopped. “Every one of my clones is an exact replica of me. An exact autonomous replica of me. Otherwise, I’d have to be some sort of supercomputer to control them all.”

“You’re not?” Rag Doll asks. His voice is light, like it used to be during your fights. Teasing banter.

You’re not in the mood for banter.

“No,” you say shortly. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been caught.”

Rag Doll sobers. “How did that happen?”

“I was getting out of the game,” you say. You wipe the back of your mouth. The tea is sitting better than the granola bar, but you’re still feeling unsteady. You clear your throat. “I should have just disappeared, but I didn’t. I let a few of the locals know I was going to be leaving. Stupid of me. Stupider when I agreed to come to the goodbye party they were throwing.”

“Locals?” Arctic asks. Her voice is smooth and cold. “Which locals?”

You shrug. “Dreadwatt. The Ice Twins were in town back then, they said they’d stop by.” Your lip curls. “Devil Eyes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party,” Rag Doll says.

“No.” You didn’t think so either. But how do you explain that they were the only people who thought your low-level villainy meant something? Heroes and civilians just found your antics annoying. Villains found your schemes clever. “It was a way to mark the end of an era.”

“What were you going to do after?” Rag Doll asks.

Were. You can’t get mad at the past tense. You’re sitting in Hero Headquarters without a mask. Arctic has probably memorized every single one of your freckles. Even if she hasn’t, Devil Eyes knows your face. There’s no way you get to retire to an honest life now. “I was going to be a librarian.”

Rag Doll perks up. “You like to read? What genre?”

“Mostly science fiction.”

“Me too! Have you read—”

“Devil Eyes got you at the party?” Arctic interrupts. She shoots Rag Doll a chiding look and claims the seat next to him. She fixes you with her chilling gaze. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t remember the moment it happened. That’s the scariest part. It took you weeks to be able to feel Devil Eyes’ control. Until then, everything still felt like your choice. “He had me start construction on his lair about a month after that. He was sure his control would hold by then.”

That makes Arctic lean forward. “His new lair? You’ve been there?”

You grin bitterly. “I’m the one who dug it out.”

“Dug it out? It’s underground?”

“Some of it.”

“Where?” Arctic flips open her notepad. “We know it’s east of the city and, judging by the truck you arrived in, it’s in the deep desert. Can you give us coordinates?”

“I’m pretty good with stars,” you say. Even now you can remember the exact position of them the moment you left the mountain. “I know exactly where it is.”

Arctic can’t hide the impatience in her voice. “Where?”

“Not so fast,” you say. You lean back, crossing your arms. Your heart pounds against your ribs. “I want a deal.”

Arctic snarls. “You don’t understand what’s at stake—”

Rag Doll puts a hand on her arm, quieting her. He smiles at you. “Now, Virus, you know—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rag Doll blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call me Virus,” you say. Your skin itches and you dig your nails into your arms to keep from scratching. Devil Eyes called you Virus. “I retired. I’m not Virus.”

“Then what would you like us to call you?”

Your mind scatters. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Alright,” Rag Doll says gently. He waits a moment and, when you don’t offer up anything else, says, "You know we can't offer immunity agreements. Foresight would have to be here for that and we don’t have time for him to fly down from New York. What I can do—”

“I don’t want immunity,” you interrupt.

“You don’t?”

“You don’t?” Arctic echoes. She frowns, seemingly shaking off her impatience. “You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes, Viru—sorry. You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes.”

“That’s fine.” It’s not. You rub your arms, fingertips worrying at the half moon indents your nails bit into your skin. It’s the price you’re willing to pay to take down Devil Eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll pay for those. But I want to be there when you raid his lair. I want to be there when you catch him.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Rag Doll says immediately. He shakes his head. “Arctic and I both have mental defenses, but you don’t. We know your power and now, knowing the extent of it, we can’t risk having him turn you again. It’d be like facing an army—”

“You’ll need an army against him,” you interrupt again. You press a hand against your chest. “I know how many minions he has. I know the layout. I know the location. You need me.”

“But if he gains control of you again—”

“He can only control twenty of me,” you say. You’re feverish and jittery so you stand. You pound your hand against your chest. “Only twenty, so I’ll be a hundred of me. I’ll be so many that those he manages to ensnare won’t stand a chance against the rest. I can do it. I can be more than he can handle. He got the jump on me but he won’t again.”

Arctic furrows her brow. “A hundred? You can make that many clones?”

You laugh darkly. You weren’t a good villain. Your goals were always too small. Robbing a grocery store, taking over the local theater, stealing the water from the water tower. They don’t know what you can do. “I can do more than you know. I can do more than Devil Eyes knows.”

Silence fills the room as the heroes think. The air freshener sprays a new puff of vanilla.

Rag Doll clears his throat. “If we let you come—”

“Rag Doll!”

“—if ,” Rag Doll emphasizes to Arctic. To you he says, “You won’t kill anyone?”

Of course I’m going to— “No,” you say. You cross your fingers under the table. “It’s just….” You look down at the wood grain. You say in a small voice, “I had to escape alone.”

Whatever protest Arctic was about to voice dies on her lips. “There were others there?” Her gaze sharpens, a bloodhound on a scent. “Who? Where?”

Aha. You guessed right. Arctic is patient. Arctic is polite. She’s been neither of those things during this conversation. What she has been is impatient and demanding. Devil Eyes has someone Arctic cares about. Devil Eyes might even have a hero from Arctic’s team.

“I didn’t see them,” you whisper. You glance up from under your lashes to find the heroes hanging onto your every word. “But I know where he keeps them.” You bite your lip. “I—I shouldn’t have left them there. I know what it’s like being under his control. I know what he does.” You sit upright, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. “I want to save them. I’ll pay for my crimes after, I swear. I won’t run. But Devil Eyes needs to be stopped.” You let your voice crack. “Please. I need to help stop him.”

Arctic softens. “Virus—sorry. Please, is there anything else I can call you?”

Your lip trembles. “My mother called me Dandelion.”

“Dandelion,” Arctic says. “That’s lovely. Dandelion, I understand how you feel. I don’t think—”

Rag Doll stops her with a hand on her arm. “Arctic? Can we talk in the hall?”

“Of course.”

You watch the heroes leave the room. As soon as the door closes, your lip stops trembling. Your shoulders straighten. Your eyes stop glistening.

Rag Doll and Arctic will argue for ten minutes. You’re a former villain and, despite your lack of real villainy in your history, you can’t be trusted. You know Devil Eyes’ hideout, but you’re also fresh out from his control. You’re powerful, but that power can be turned against them.

But those arguments will only last ten minutes. The reality is that they don’t have a choice. You're not going to give them the location without being allowed to tag along. They don’t have time to wait for Foresight or even the Mind Squad who specialize in dealing with mental powers like Devil Eyes’. They’re heroes and the villain has one of their own. They have to act.

You settle back in your chair. They’ll agree to your terms. Your stomach twists. It’s nauseating to think about going back there. A year. Devil Eyes stole a year from you.

You hide your grin as the door opens.

“Alright. Let’s get you kitted out. You’re coming with us, Dandelion.”

You’ll be stealing a lot more from him.

Then instead of crying, maybe you’ll be laughing.

Only one way to find out.

--------

Thanks for reading! I love mind powers in the Superhero universe but they sure are a pain to write!

If you’d like to read stories like this or like others on my blog a week before I post them here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Next week’s story is already up! Summary:

Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. TW blood, death, violence, child death

Thanks again for reading!

[whumblr]

"Whumpee, stop! Stop! That attack will destroy everything around you! You'll destroy us!"

Whumpee lets out a maniacal hollow laugh. "What does it matter?" they scream, bracing themself. "Everything's fake, anyway! All illusions created by him! By you!" they spit at Caretaker, a wild glint in their eyes. "I should thank you, really, Villain! At least now I can go all out!"

But when the smoke clears, Villain is still standing with a smug smile on his face, and the destruction remains.

And Whumpee sinks to their knees among the rubble. It's all real. So are the bodies around them.

[mac-ann-cheese]

It's been a long time...

I saw in one of the reblogs someone (I hope you see this!) mentioning that the combo of Alfred and LDR is underrated, oh well I've got good news for you... as I have a bazillion of Lana's songs that I associate with him (the -tism goes BRRRRR)

It's embarrassing to say that I've completed this in a span of 3 days, cause I started it way back in February

Procrastination at its finest.

[kayvsworld]

I LOVE THAT LITTLE MECHANIC MAN

[snail-email]

Everyone's heard the question "If you could have any superpower what would it be." but what about a superpower you would HATE to have. You would consider it a CURSE to have.

In this scenario you would HAVE to use your power like, at least a couple times a week. For your job or something. You can't just pretend you have no powers at all.

You also have to learn to control your powers precisely and use them with skill but you can't like. Use it accidentally/unintentionally. You aren't going to set anyone on fire because you sneezed.

Immorality isn't an option because I feel like it's an easy cop-out. Also if you're choosing something else it has to be a power that could be considered desirable to other people. It can't just be objectively bad.

Please reblog! I'm genuinely curious to see what the results will be!

[beanghostprincess]

Sanji having the finest gaydar for trans people is such an amazing concept to me.

Imagine this guy suddenly fighting a closeted trans man and all the crew is like "What happened to you and what did you do to our Sanji who doesn't hit women?" and Sanji just stands there like "No, no. This is a man. Right, dude?" and the trans guy they're fighting against has the most gender-affirming moment of his whole fucking life.

Same thing with trans women. But, unlike when fighting trans men, Sanji would probably drop some sort of cheesy thing like "I could recognize the soul of a woman anywhere" and would refuse to touch the girl he's supposed to fight against.

It has absolutely nothing to do with his years in Momoiro Island, by the way, he's just built different. And also he's genderqueer too, so maybe that's why.

[zimmerdouche]

time for a dumb baseless frog senior year headcanon

dex bets the new freshman backup goalie if he shuts out during his ice time in the next game he’ll let the team roast him for exactly 5 minutes in the locker room after.

that madman does it. and leads the charge with “dex you strike me as a man who puts on a porno and has to turn it off 2 minutes later because you noticed an osha violation”

[uncanny-tranny]

I decided to go through my old warm-up notebooks from my honours english class and in one of the warm-up prompts, I said I wanted my superpower to be "controlling the effects of [my] puberty," and I'm glad to say that I've gotten that superpower. It took a very long time, but that's a superpower I can check off my list

[mmmichyyy]

michelle <3 “You’re seriously like a man-child.” please, if the spirit moves you.

#8: "you're seriously like a man-child."

"how many more do i need to sign?"

a heavy cardboard box is dropped on the table, right beside the stacks of books he spent the past hour signing.

"a hundred more and you can take a break."

"a hundred?!" mickey exclaims. "how many people are even coming today? and why the fuck do people need my signature anyway?

"the coordinator said over two hundred people signed up for the event," sandy says, not looking up from her phone. "surprise - people actually like your book and they want to meet you."

"you know i hate small talk," mickey grumbles, massaging his cramping wrist. "if i knew this was part of the book tour, i would've never agreed to it."

sandy rolls her eyes. "god, you're seriously like a man-child. does cranky baby need a nap? a juice-box? a smoke?"

mickey throws a sharpie at sandy, which she dodges with a laugh. "get me a snickers bar and i'll contemplate not firing you."

"good luck finding someone who will put up with your ass," sandy snorts.

"ahem."

mickey looks up to ian, the tall redhead bookstore owner standing by the door, looking sheepish and scratching his head.

"just checking in. everything okay in here? do you need anything before the event mr. milkovich?"

"actually," sandy starts, "he'd love a pacifier for his afternoon nap–"

"fuck off," mickey cuts his cousin off, ignoring her snickering in the background. "you got any smokes, red?"

ian pats around his jeans pocket and pulls out a crumpled pack of marlboros. "i was just about to go for a smoke break, actually."

mickey pushes up from his chair and grabs the pack from ian's hand. "let's fucking go, then."

sandy watches in amusement as mickey struts out of the room with a smirk on his face, and she catches the way ian not-so-subtly checks out her cousin's backside before hurrying after him.

guess mickey found someone to put up with his ass. literally.

[negativepeanuthoarder]

character design headcanons for @dusk-in-neon 's fantasy evil au >:)

[itstherainbowstringsforme]

ending midnights with this

to start ttpd with this

is haunting me and not in a good way ----------

---- 2003 unbearable (for other reasons)

(birds of a feather)

(patch your broken wings)

--- could be a figment of my imagination

maybe i've watched too many movies

also not implying that this is

what she's litteraly refering to

you know, storytelling

art

up for interpretation

and your imagination

----

----

sad stories with happy endings

betty one time i was ridin' on my skateboard

all dressed in blue just for you

[whump-me]

Unseen Masterpost

A living weapon in a gilded cage

When the head of the Couvillion Syndicate dies unexpectedly, his ruthless and brilliant daughter Yvette should be the unquestioned choice to take his place. Or that’s what Yvette thinks. But her father’s people still see her as a child. They think they can take what is rightfully hers.

They don’t see that she’s every bit as cold-blooded as her father was.

She’s heard of a group that trains assassins with unnatural powers. A living weapon who can turn invisible at will sounds like just the edge she needs. But this organization won’t just give one of their assassins away. As always, Yvette will need to take what she wants—by any means necessary.

To Delta-Nine-308, who has never left her training compound, Yvette’s gilded cage is as good as freedom—and freedom is terrifying. She longs to go home to her familiar cell. But living with Yvette means soft beds and cookies and the novel concept of free time. It means late-night conversations with her desperately lonely captor, who has started confiding in her as if they’re friends. She’s never had a friend before.

She doesn’t want to give all this up.

And all she has to do to keep it is kill whoever Yvette wants her to kill.

---

Unseen is a novel in the Mind Games universe—a series of standalone stories about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. It’s got living-weapon whump, a cold but conflicted female whumper, a sheltered and naive female whumpee (who is also a highly trained assassin), and a friendship as emotionally satisfying as it is deeply unhealthy.

Chapters Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24

(Here from a reblog? Here’s the most recent version.)