#we can get him as someone else's elemental burst

[blood-orange-juice]

Listen.

Playable Tonya with a Foul Legacy summon skill. Like Clara and Svarog in HSR.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[hello-gloomy]

Hello!!! Thank you for your amazing writing so far!!!

I hope if its no trouble could you please do a Xeno Houston Wingfield x reader scenario where the reader is captured at the same time as Gen (by Stanley ofc). And then Xeno kind of like falls for her because she also majors in rockets and space...or something. Feel free to ignore or change it up!

Thank you in advance!!

I love this sm, hope you like it and it's not to crack filled.

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

Black Magic

Dr. Xeno H. x Fem!Reader

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

Description: Being the only American in the Kingdom of Science comes in handy when you finally make the trip to America; being a fellow scientist also helps a little too well, though.

Warnings: Mild violence, touching, the reader is said to be American, maybe a bit creepy Xeno, Sarcasm, and cursing. Maybe OOC. SPOILERS FOR THE ANIME S4.

A/N: I hope Anon enjoys this; I also couldn't help but make the reader an agent of chaos. The opportunity was too good to pass up. I hope this isn't too OOC for you guys

Words: 1,300

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

The only time being American came in handy while in Japan during the petrification was when you were in the Stone World, and Senku wanted to return to America, which meant you were stuck as an encyclopedia for everyone else. When the kingdom reached Texas, you already knew something was off; it was too easy.

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!" Were the first words out your mouth while you and everyone else were running from being shot at. While you were happy that you weren't the only ones who had progressed this far with science, you hated how American this situation was. They were firing on a bunch of randoms on their land that they hadn't seen before, very Texas; at least they didn't leave behind their amendments. After your group had made off with the plane, you were stuck with the scouting group being the only one in their natural element. When Gen had noticed how easy it was to track your attacker, he volunteered to go and find him himself. You wouldn't let him off so quickly, so you followed him just in case.

"We gonna get shot at again," You mused to Gen with a smirk, earning a disapproving look from him. When you finally stumbled upon your attacker, who promptly aimed his gun at you both, you couldn't help but burst into laughter, much to Gen's dismay. As he negotiated for your lives, the blonde with the purple lipstick instructed you to follow him to his colony while sneaking glances in your direction. You had to guess it was due to your clothing; it was more native to your home country than the one you had been staying in for so long. Gen was looking around, amazed at everything but still keeping a poker face; you, on the other hand, were dismissive of the entire operation. It was obvious that they had a smaller group than yours and hadn't found out how to un-petrify anyone yet. When you arrived at what you could tell was a lab, you were finally shown the mastermind behind this whole thing. When he turned to face you and Gen, your eyes and mouth reacted faster than your self-preservation skills.

"You're that fucking Scientist from those NASA articles!" All three men looked over at you, which made your cheeks heat at all the eyes on you.

"How elegant; it brings me pleasure to know that achievements in the old world reached multiple ends of the planet." While Stanley, as you've come to find out from one Dr. Xeno, is hooking up Gen to what you can tell is a fantastic stone world lie detector, he chats it up with you, asking where you are from, how long you've been awake, what your previous occupation was; you can't help but answer him excitedly. For someone your age and with the same or higher level of intelligence as you, it was a truly invigorating experience.

"Please stop telling the enemyyay information about us." Gen pleaded with you; he had a plan, so you did decide to be a little less loose-lipped, but you still did want to talk to the doctor while you loved talking to Senku; he was still a little too young for you, while Dr. Xeno was much older and on your level emotionally speaking in a sense.

"Relax. They're just a bunch of goths."

"Can you take this erioussay!" Gen was practically begging at this point, so you backed off and went to stand by the gunslinger instead. The Dr. went to go and question Gen, and he, in turn, worked his magic to get you both on the inside. When he called Taiju a doctor, you had to steel your face so hard not to cringe at his choice of fake leaders for your group. You saw Stanley looking at you from the corner of his eyes.

"Man, Dr. Xeno must really like you." You start while glancing at his lips; he raises his brow, signaling for you to go forward with your statements about the two of them.

"Purple is a pretty difficult color to make; in ancient times, they used snails to get that color. But while doing that, the species of snail they were using were becoming less common, making it a color only used for the aristocracy." Stanley let out a huff and shook his head.

"God, your just as bad as him with this science shit." He jested, and you screwed up your face. Gen walked over to where the two of you stood along the wall and hit you in the arm. You gave him a half-hearted 'ow' while rubbing your arm.

"You can take Gen and introduce him to everyone else." Stanley nodded while Gen started to splutter reasons for you to accompany him. You waved your hand, signaling you would be fine.

"Relax, Doctor Frankenstein won't kill me." You direct to Gen. While smiling at the X-marked doctor before you, you see his lips twitch, making you smile even more significantly. Gen spares you one last glance before walking along quietly. He offers you a seat, and you take it with a small 'thank you' before taking it.

"Coffee?" he offers, and you practically moan out a yes at the thought of caffeine touching your taste buds. He brings over two mugs before pulling up a seat beside you, watching as you take your first sip and practically crying tears of joy at the taste.

"Make me a monster, and I might marry you." He huffs a little laugh.

"I will get on that for you, " he tells you while taking his own sip. He asks you how long you've been out of the stone; you hold eye contact while weighing the pros and cons of answering him. You decide to give him the time, and he nods in understanding. He also rewards you for your honesty, telling you the timeline of how long he's been out.

"It seems your technology is not too far behind ours."

"We would be farther if we weren't too busy fighting amongst ourselves." You tell him with mild exasperation, mumbling about teenagers and their angstyness.

"Why not join my group?" He offers while grasping your face and staring into your eyes intensely; those black voids make you pause.

"It would be nice to have a headstart on having more intelligence in this new world." He tells you while rubbing a clawed thumb along your face; you feel your heart move to your throat at his implication, his thoughts similar to Tsukasa's in the beginning. It made your stomach twist; you knew Senku's idea of reviving the entirety of humanity was the dream of a naive child; being a couple years his senior, you knew the reality of your situation from the start, so you decided to let Senku have his hope for the future even starting to believe it after a few years. The second you saw the shores of America is when you were brought off of the childish dream you let yourself fall into.

"There's only so many smart people in the world, you know." He chuckles quietly at your statement, moving to brush hair out of your face instead. He moves to bring out some supplies, and you lean over his shoulder in interest. Your eyes widen in recognition at what he brought out in front of you: supplies for makeup.

"Yes, and I happened to have found one of them, " he tells you, letting you make a few makeup products while he watches. He could convince you to join him and see things through his eyes; he would ensure it and never let someone with such potential slip through his claws—not now, not ever.

[witchofthesouls]

Can we get some reactions/ interactions with fae bird fledgling Jackson and other autobots or cons?

Get ready for some cuteness and horror elements here:

Bluestreak remained languid in his berth. He didn't tense up nor hitch his doorwings at the realization that someone else was inside his hab. Instead, he linked his HUD to the hidden camera on the hanging shelf...

And then promptly hailed the Optimus from a different dimension.

Wingspan and audials flicking to the soft light show, Jack planted himself right in front of the closet that doubled as a small crystal garden that Bluestreak curated over the war. Luckily, most of it survived the crash. Only a fifth of the garden was too shattered to propagate, so Bluestreak turned the remains into Energon seasonings and flavorings - a big hit to tables as mechs had literally bulldozed each other to gain a little sense of normalcy in their fuel.

Jack softly crooned along the frequency and pitch of the crystals, enraptured by the responding vibrations that changed colors.

Apparently, Bluestreak’s open-door policy was biting him in the aft when it comes to suppressed little ones.

_______

As usual, Jack does his incessant cheep-cheep-cheep calls to the nearby bird feeder outside the main entrance.

Said feeder was a cute little project by Jack, a few nature-loving mechs, and humans: tall enough for a mech to easily refill it and sturdy enough to withstand its own weight and wind force.

The sparkling was adamant for cherry wood, refusing to consider anything else. Between the metal reinforcements and wood carving, it was a lovely contraption that drew more wild fauna to the Ark.

And a growing interest in bird-watching along with arts and crafts as a few began to dabble in building birdhouses.

Hound counted the usual avian companions, vivacious as well as greedy as they gobbled up the scattered seeds and pilfered bits of fried, sliced potatoes -French fries, the sparkling called them.

Jack kept singing out 'cuckoo cuckoo,' and the birds mimicked the sound. The largest of the bunch cocked its head, cackling loudly and wings flapping. Its voice eerily mimicked Jack's.

Jack then laughed. But it wasn't the sweet chime of joy, but something high and lilting. And the blackbird answered in reverb as Jack sang out, the lyrics strange as the words echoed in Hound's audials unevenly.

Cuckoo cuckoo, cherry-tree,

Good bird, tell me,

How many years do I see?

< Not yet. Not now, Wayfinder. > The bird answered back, wings spread wide, and black feathers fell from the sky. < You have many paths to travel. These stars are not yours. >

It turned its burning red gaze to Hound, shadows writhing on the ground, and he realized that he couldn't hear any background noise, only flapping wings and distant cuckoos.

< Tell me, Gatekeeper, what do you seek? > The bird spoke from an impossible mouth from its belly, wide and strange as its entails splattered out, undulating and grotesque as a talon shifted through the organs. < Tell me, Gatekeeper, what do you wish to divine? >

Hound could only watch, entranced as the creature then ate its own-

A burst of papers flew into his face, obscuring his vision for a moment, and then the usual noise of the Ark returned to his hearing.

Spark pulling odd and extremities numb, Hound leaned forward, catching Jack, who was hanging off his front, calling out anxiously. Jack climbed upward, wrapping thin arms around Hound's neck and frame purring in that self-soothing vibration.

The birdfeeder stood empty.

_______

The mountain lion had the most tolerating look a cat could express before melting into a loud rumbling pur as Jack purred back, scratching the animal's ears and neck.

Sideswipe was still moping that his suggestion of 'Pancake' was struck down. Sunstreaker wasn't surprised that his twin took the relocation the second hardest after the bitty and would undoubtedly be upset that he wasn't able to come spend time with the mountain lion at the reserve.

Suddenly, there was a thud, and Sunstreaker turned to the noise to see-

"What-" The frontliner didn't scream or yell. He was channeling a firm Prowl because this was a sparkling and not a transfer and so far all the internal scans hadn't pinged foreign substances within him "-is that?!"

"A deer." Jack said without missing a beat.

Sunstreaker stared, optics darting between the sparkling and the carcass. Jack happily kept petting the big cat. Nightstrike rumbled, perking up at the offering, but remaining docile and indulgent.

"And where did you get it?"

"I traded it at the rest stop."

Sunstreaker could feel the headache brewing. He was beginning to understand why Red Alert was having fits over the kid and why mechs kept rechecking beneath the tables and the ceilings.

He opened his mouth, then remembered the weird insistences by the Dinobots about canaries in the caves and the weirder Ouija board experience that everyone -humans and Cybertronians at the base that day- refuse to talk about, and immediately shut his mouth. "Okay then," Sunstreaker said, tone bland as he decided that he didn't want to know how and when the kid traded for a cat treat in an empty rest spot in the middle of nowhere.

_____

"Yes." Jack said, expression serious.

"No." Ratbat disagreed.

"No, feel here," Jack grabbed Ratbat's paw to run over a colorful patch where the pattern was the heaviest.

Ratbat hummed, optics dimming, audials flicked downward. "Maaaaaybe."

Jack hummed back.

"Excuse me," a human shopkeeper interrupted their exploration. "Do you two need any help?"

Jack and Ratbat shared optics for a long moment. The human stood by. It wasn't their first time doing business with the new space aliens.

Ratbat made a whistling noise, and Jack rang back in a series of chimes, almost like a laugh. The batoid sighed, pulling out a burlap sack, opening it up to reveal rust sticks, half-empty cubes, and piles of U.S. dollars. Ratbat then handed a fat wad to the shopkeeper. "I like the cubic one back there. The purple, not the red."

"Of course," the human replied. "Anything else?"

"I'm thinking of a Persian. Do you have any blue ones? Goodie?" Ratbat simply shoved a bundle of rust sticks to Jack before turning to nibble almost delicately on his own treat.

The two kept shopping as Rumble and Frenzy were destroying high scores in the arcades, unaware the youngest Cybertronians on Earth had wandered off to a warehouse.

_____

Slingshot was startled awake by the presence of a sudden intruder right in front of his face. Jack's sleepy expression was framed by a silver blanket and a stuffed cartoonish donkey tucked under his chin.

Slingshot immediately killed his combat-related programs.

The Aerialbot rubbed in his face, taking note that the rest of the gestalt was in their own bunk, blissfully asleep and unaware of the intruder, and grumbled without true heat, "What the hell you're doing here?"

"Papa hasn't come back yet. And Bluestreak is still away. Can I sleep with you?"

His vents huffed, and Slingshot sighed. Just when he was about to let Jack climb into his berth, an arm immediately scooped up the sparkling from above.

"C'mere, baby bird," Fireflight cooed, rustling all his blankets. Slingshot could hear his brother nestled Jack into the messy nest. "You can bunk with me."

:: No fair! :: Slingshot yelled through the private comms. :: Jack came to me first! ::

Fireflight giggled through comms and through the blankets, shifting so much that a pillow was slowly slipping out to drift into Slingshot's view.

In response, Slingshot kicked the bunk and stole the pillow.

[thatsparrow]

debriefing thoughts on mafia nanny after having read it all in one sitting*

*all that's available so far without accessing additional episodes, which is currently up to ep25 (spoiler warning, etc. etc.)

I'm genuinely enjoying it so far! I think it's very charming and has lots of well-developed characters and dynamics (undeniable highlight is mikey, on his own, but also him and davina together, him as motivation for davina to stay in the house, him and gabriel, how him and gabriel informs davina's understanding of gabriel, etc.)

it's also so goofy in a way I didn't expect. like, maybe unintentionally goofy in how it implements some tropes or gets characters from point a to point b, but also unexpectedly goofy in ways that I'm gonna assume are intentional (can we talk about raphael's olives? i'm dying to talk about raphael's martini glass chock-full of olives.)

honestly I think ep 1 is—not the least strong, exactly, but in its efforts to introduce the characters and get them all interacting, while setting up the dynamics it wants to have, it makes some choices that are both very wild and also very cliched?

like okay, so we start with davina as a child, her parents were nebulously involved in organized crime, they get killed off-screen. lots of very familiar mafia story elements here—she's an orphan, she starts with her foot in the mafia world, she has motivation to get closer to someone else in that same sphere in an effort to find out what happened. sure, all very run of the mill

then we find out she was saved by her nanny, who promised to take care of her and teach davina to protect herself and others (also, sure, I'm with you so far)—by taking her to a secret school called the "elite nanny academy" (ENA for short) where davina and other women are trained how to be. well. what it says on the tin. elite nannies.

hey. what

like alright, the story needs justication for why davina would get hired by this mafioso, and also (liam neeson voice) "have a unique set of skills" such that she's able to help mikey and gabriel if say they feel uncomfortable turning to their guards or don't trust the people around them. sure. i'm with you. that said, introducing the concept of an elite academy of nannies who are not only trained in every aspect of childcare but also self-defense, computer programming, and more is. it's bold, I will give you that. I want to live in this world where secret academies of elite nannies exist. I want the entire webtoon just to be set in davina's school years. the fucking whiplash from this very run-of-the-mill backstory of losing her parents to a smashcut of davina learning to become a literal supernanny—unparalleled. no notes. such a big swing, and my god, I'm glad they went for it

(oops this is getting long. more under the cut)

okay, so we've established davina's credentials (again, in one of the wildest ways possible), and then the story immediately swings back into very familiar, well-trodden territory in how it introduces gabriel

a) first, his character design. I'm scrolling back through the comic for reference, and, oh my god, I fully forgot that the first panel he appears in, his pecs are fucking bursting out of his button down. tits for days. the exact level of cleavage anyone shows when hiring a new nanny for their four-year-old son (jesus I also forgot how much I loved his tasteful little cross necklace)

b) his whole demeanor—aloof, intense, and sort of positioning davina for a "not like other girls" framing when he's like "I want someone who's never worked with anyone else" and then of course he picks her out of the lineup, zeroes in on her directly, and is it because he's attracted to her? because he knows something about her backstory? because he wants something that's unique to her specifically? probably a combination of all three! but like at this point, gabriel is just checking all the boxes of a mafia romance lead, these are all familiar tropes, we know how a story like this goes

and then more whiplash! because we go straight from that office scene to the flashback of gabriel threatening the bartender when the story introduces mikey, and immediately gabriel stops feeling quite so much like any other male romance lead because who brings their four-year-old to a mafia business meeting? and what four-year-old then proceeds to conduct himself with a level of assurance and familiarity that suggests he's very aware of his father's business and has lots of opinions about it? absolutely blindsided by this, not at all what I expected from davina's future charge, or the father-son dynamic (also, I don't know kids, but is this at all how four year olds behave? I don't ultimately care all that much, because I think it's fun, but it did still have me pausing)

maybe this isn't a real thing, but I think gabriel's head is too small for his body—or, I guess, that his body is too big for his head. I get that the creators want him to have that classic triangle-torso physique, but I can't get over how comically broad his shoulders are

I'll be honest, as soon as adam showed up, my immediate reaction was "date him instead"—obviously that's not how this works, but he just seems much more laid back, inviting, charming in comparison to gabriel

the way this comic will use any excuse to have gabriel suddenly and intensely in davina's personal space is also very funny to me. don't get me wrong, I enjoy the tension of it, I'm here for it, but it's so deeply unsubtle (which I guess is itself a question, does it need to be subtle? maybe what I mean instead is less that those moments feel unsubtle, and more that they feel unnatural. like, is this really how these people would behave, how much of this feels manufactured for the sake of building tension? then again, you read a romance for the romance, and so long as the tension is there or the moments feel like they land, how much does it matter how you get there? anyway)

now can't remember if the comic explicitly addresses it or not, but curious if mikey being so involved in his dad's business pre-dated his mom's disappearance, or was a consequence of gabriel wanting to keep him closer because his wife went missing

I do really love all of mikey and davina's interactions, particularly all the moments where he's clearly set on being stubborn or trying his best not to act like a kid, and davina suckers him into it (getting him to show her his room, playing in the pool, art class, etc.)

THE POOL like this is what I'm talking about in terms of how goofy this story can get. the concept of "pool day" is actually very cute in terms of thinking about mikey wanting to spend time with his dad, who is often unpredictably called away on business, and so here's this holiday they've come up with as a way to address that. but, from a reader perspective, it feels so transparently motivated as an excuse for eye candy of gabriel sprawled out in a speedo and to compel davina to spend time with the two of them at a pool, where she now also has to be in a swimsuit and oh is that gabriel checking her out?

having gabriel and davina aligned on wanting to keep mikey out of the mafia world, mikey being dead-set on taking over as the next don, and raphael who clearly intends to have him raised as heir and successor is all a very fun interlocking set of interactions. I like that it gives gabriel and davina a way to be on the same side and get to know one another in a way that's divorced from romance, there's obviously the tragedy of this very young boy who believes he has to grow up so quickly, and then the danger element of raphael as a threat to all the characters if they deviate from his intentions

so, does gabriel know about davina's past? I can't remember what triggers it, but there's the bit where he confronts her about why she's really there (edit: it's the bit where she's helping him identify who left the teddy bear and he wants to know how she knows so much about organized crime), or if she has ulterior motives, and she comes up with the lie about being a freelance hacker, which—either he already knows who she is, and that's why he picked her, and so presumably can suss out that she's curious about her own past and how it might relate to his family, and he was lying or putting on an act when pressuring her about her reasons for being there OR he genuinely doesn't know about her past, in which case, why did he choose her out of the lineup? I think at that point in the story, the only thing she has to distinguish herself is her computer skills, which I guess isn't nothing, but isn't what I expected

maybe it's just because I haven't really grown my hair longer than my shoulders in a decade, but I swear whenever davina lets her hair down, it distinctly looks like she has way too much of it to then put it up in such a petite bun

THE OLIVES i still can't get over raphael's obsession with olives. every shot of him either with a martini glass overflowing with olives (is there even any liquor in there) or the scene where he's just eating them straight out of the jar before drinking the juice or the bit where's at the party and says DOUBLE THE OLIVES! sir!! your glass was already so full!! where are the rest of these olives supposed to go!! anyway, deeply funny the first time it happened, so unexpected, such a funny running gag, I enjoy it every time it crops up again

man I am and continue to be a sucker for a "helps someone to bed" "carries someone from point a to point b" moment whenever it happens. it's a genre staple for a reason, it always hits

"sir we may have a problem" "is it your outfit" truly I never know what I'm going to get with raphael, and I'm ready to be surprised every time

nico and valentine are fun, no question, but valentine's outfit makes no sense to me. who's out here wearing a skirt that short when you know you could get into a fight at any moment? a skort, at the very least

wait hang on, I just caught this on reskimming—when davina is looking for information on her parents, is her name "davina diavolo"? DIAVOLO AND ANGELINl come on that's so funny. it's fun! but it's also very funny

the doctor is hot, I'll stand by that

(although then again, it's a mafia romance. all of them are hot)

I think that was everything? last we left off was the fire after the party and davina finding the safe in gabriel's office. tldr, I'm enjoying it, I'm invested, it's fun and goofy (SO goofy at times, my god), but the plot is solid, the stakes are engaging, the characters and relationships are compelling, and honestly I'm not sure if I'd be enjoying it as much if it seemed like it was taking itself too seriously

[walkinghell]

Touches

Summary: Aeon wakes up from a nightmare and Dew makes things better

Rating: Explicit MDNI!

Warnings: explicit sexual content, hand jobs, knotting references, nightmares.

Dewdrop's barely awake when someone brushes against him. And worse (or better, depending on the guest) Dew's certain he went to sleep alone.

He waits to acknowledge them until they move again, keeping him closer to the edge of consciousness than he’d like.

“And why are you moving so damn much?”

“Sorry.” The whisper comes.

Aeon. Dew realizes.

“What’s up, bug?” He hums, rolling over to see the young ghoul.

“Just can’t sleep,” Aeon replies.

Dew can tell it’s more upon seeing Aeon’s red-rimmed eyes and damp lashes as they drive under a streetlight

“Yeah? Something scary?”

Aeon’s lower lip quivers as he nods and something in Dew’s chest tugs.

“C’mere, bug.” Dew sighs, pulling the younger ghoul closer.

“Didn’t wanna wake you, but it scared the shit out of me.” He whimpers, and Dew registers how wrecked Aeon’s voice is—likely sobbing or screaming himself awake.

Being summoned leaves scars deeper than the skin.

Dew’s lips meet Aeon’s forehead before he can think, empathy winning over any difficulties with the new ghoul.

“I know. I had the same problems when I was summoned. And when my element was changed.” Dew whispers.

“You did?” Aeon whispers, bright amethyst eyes meeting Dew’s amber.

“Mhmm. Most nights, I ended up in Aether’s bed for the first few months I was topside. He pumped me full of a fuck ton of quintessence just to ward off the night terrors. Even then I still woke up screaming some nights.” Dew admits.

“That bad?”

He nods softly.

“Does getting sent back hurt worse?” Aeon whispers.

“Dunno, bug. I know elemental changes hurt like a bitch, but I haven’t been topside before. You could ask Swiss. Why?”

Aeon rests his head against Dew’s chest before answering. “I’m scared, 'cause I’m going back after this tour…”

“Says fucking who?!” Dew said, shooting up so fast he hit his head on Mountain’s bunk above.

Aeon flinches as Dew makes contact with the bunk, reaching for him as Dew rubs his head.

“Say’s who?” Dew repeats.

“Swiss and Mountain said I was temporary…”

“Well, you’re not. Aether left cause he’s fucking tired. And as much as we miss Aether, you’re staying, so get that shit out of your head. You’re not going back to the pit.” Dew said sharply.

The, I won’t let you, was left unsaid.

“I’m not?” Aeon nearly sobs.

“No. You have to understand, we lost 3 ghouls before I changed. Then we got 3 new ghouls. Aether wasn’t supposed to go anywhere. He was our rock. But he’s tired. Yes, Mountain’s struggling, and Swiss is attached. But you’re not leaving .” Dew hisses, drawing the younger ghoul up into his arms.

Dew rocks him slightly, warming himself to soothe Aeon as sobs wrack his body.

Anxiety and relief flow through their pack bond in equal measure.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dew whispers. “Who else is gonna quint my shitty knee on tour? Not Swiss.” 

Aeon chokes out a laugh and Dew smiles against his hair.

They stay like that until Aeon settles and the affection turns into something else for him.

“Dew?” He whispers.

“I know, bug.” Dew hums, having already felt it through the pack bond.

Aeon allows himself to be guided to lay against Dew’s chest, legs spread over Dew’s open thighs.

Aeon cranes his neck up to connect their lips as Dew’s hand slips beneath Aeon’s waistband to stroke his hardening length.

“Fuck…” He gasps.

“I know, bug,” Dew whispers.

Dew flicks his wrist until Aeon’s writhing and whining before running his thumb across the prespend-soaked head.

“Such a good boy for me”

Aeon’s voice breaks on a moan and he bucks into Dew’s touch.

“S’good. Fuck, s’good.” He gasps, chest heaving.

Dew’s other hand presses fingers against the seam of Aeon’s lips. “Get them wet, Swiss borrowed my lube.”

Aeon sucks Dew’s finger into his mouth like a kit nursing.

Soft, muted whines burst from him as Dew’s hand continued jacking him off.

Dew pulls his fingers free and plunges them beneath Aeon’s waistband, gently massaging his ring of muscle before pressing in a finger.

“Dew!” He cries.

“Shhh, I know. I know.” 

Aeon lasts 3 curls of Dew’s forefinger before begging for more.

Dew happily obliges.

Aeon’s knot swells beneath Dew’s hand as he spreads his own pre over him like lube.

“Feel that, baby?” Dew purrs.

Aeon nods fervently at the increased pressure around something so sensitive. “Please!” He sobbed, bucking up into Dew’s touch.

“Your pretty little knot gonna pop for me? Gonna get all messy for me?”

Dew’s fingers crooked up into Aeon’s prostate and the quint wailed as he arched up, coming in ribbons across his chest and down Dew’s hand.

Dew gently squeezed his knot to provide enough to carry Aeon through his trembling orgasm.

“Dew!” He sobbed.

“Shh, love.”

Dew eased his fingers from Aeon’s clenching hole and reached for the wipes on his shelf.

Cleaning Aeon, he eased the quint against his chest.

“M’tired.” He mumbled, a soft purr kicking in as he curled against Dew.

“Get some rest, love. I’ll be here.”

As Aeon dozed, Dew’s phone buzzed.

Glad you and the newbie are getting along, but can you keep it down? - Swiss

Quit telling him he’s going back to the pit, or I’ll kick your ass.

Dew set his phone down and fell asleep against his little quint. Entirely missing Aether’s text.

Copia said you’re taking care of Aeon. I’m so proud of you.

[hotnbloodied]

Hehehe your Zhongli one had me kicking my feet and giggling like crazy! Could maybe write some more about him? I would loooove to see more of how you write him :D feel free to take your time with it, I don’t mind waiting :3c tysm!! I hope you’re having a great day/afternoon/night :]

OMG!! Hello my first ask! It's actually funny, I was debating on finishing this other Zhongli piece I was working on. Thanks to you, I got the drive to go through with it! So I hope you enjoy~ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Zhongli X Reader

TW: Death, confinement, unhealthy relationships

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!!

It was so hard not to be constantly bursting into tears, adorn in all black you were at the funeral for the last of your family members. “You promised that you wouldn’t leave me alone…” you said to the tombstone in front of you. Everyone else had already long left, or so you thought. The tall man who was the funeral director’s assistant, Zhongli, had been here the entire time. Never once taking his eyes off you. Even through your grieving you looked like an angel to him, now that everyone has left the service this was his chance to get closer to you.

He walked up slowly to you and made his first move, offering to take you to dinner to make sure that you ate. Apparently he knew your relative and he wanted to share the memories with you. Zhongli was very attentive to you, constantly checking up on you as the days went on. Being the rock that you needed in your life now more than ever. You appreciated him greatly, it was thanks to him that you decided that after months of being at home in your depressive state, you were going to try going outside again. It doesn’t take long for you to recognize a friend of yours and the two of you strike up a conversation.

This was the first time in months that you were able to smile and talk like a person again and it was all thanks to Zhongli. But that wasn’t what Zhongli wanted, he wanted you to only rely on him so when he saw you smiling at someone that wasn’t him he wanted to kill that person right there in front of you so you knew who you belonged to. “Sorry for interrupting but I have business with [y/n],” Zhongli said as a way to put distance between you and your friend. He dragged you away and all the way back to your home.

“What’s the big idea Zhongli?” You asked him out of frustration as he locked up behind the both of you. “You’re still not well, next time you go out please let me know ahead of time so I can accompany you.” “What!?” Anger bubbled in your core, “who do you think you are? We’re just friends, and even then, you can’t control my life like that!” You went to open the door to push him out when suddenly all the windows and doors got blocked with a geo elemental barrier. “W-what is this?” You turned to look Zhongli in the eyes. Golden orbs gleamed down at you making you feel like prey that had just been captured by a predator.

Zhongli walked over and placed his hands on your shoulders. “See what I mean darling? You’re being irrational. You need me. Why don’t we go lay down in bed and I can start working on dinner for you?” Everything in your body wanted to scream and kick and say no but your survival instinct was louder. You knew he had you trapped and maybe if you were good he’d let you out again, someday. At least, that’s what he wants you to think. But hey! Isn’t this what you wanted? Someone to never leave your side?

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Hemant Mehta at Friendly Atheist:

Over the past few weeks, a couple of the children of Christian hate-preacher Steven Anderson have gone public about the physical abuse they suffered growing up. Given that Anderson routinely tells Christians to marry young and have as many kids as possible, the revelation that abuse may be rampant in his own home isn’t as much shocking as it is long overdue.

Who is Steven Anderson?

If you’re not familiar with Anderson, he’s someone with a long history of saying vile things. The Tempe, Arizona-based preacher celebrated the deaths of murdered LGBTQ people and called on the government to execute gay people with a firing squad. Anderson’s sermons have been so outrageously awful that 34 countries won’t allow him to step foot within their borders. His acolytes include Jonathan Shelley and Aaron Thompson, both of whom I spoke with this past summer. More than anything, he’s the de facto leader of a movement called the New Independent Fundamentalist Baptists. New IFB preachers are, on paper, all about following the word of God as written in the KJV translation. In reality, they spend their time gleefully trashing LGBTQ people, Jews, “effeminate” men, and everyone else they deem heretics.

[...]

The troubling posts from Isaac Anderson

About a year ago, we learned that one of his kids, Isaac Anderson, was somehow taking his father’s hate even further. The second oldest of 12 children, Isaac admitted to being a full-blown Nazi, complete with a tattoo of a Nazi War Eagle across his chest.

[...]

Isaac Anderson’s interview led to his brother speaking out

That interview had an interesting consequence, though. It spurred one of Isaac’s siblings to go public about his childhood. In early September, John Anderson (the third oldest son) reached out to Dead Domain because he wanted to share his own story and make the case for why his parents shouldn’t have any contact with his siblings (specifically the eight who still lived at home with the Andersons). John spoke even more bluntly about the abuse he suffered at the hands of Steven and Zsuzsanna Anderson. The allegations in the interview involved “closed fist beatings, whippings with electrical cords, insulting and belittling children as young as six, starvation as punishment, and exposure to the elements.”

[...]

Another Anderson child speaks out

And then, this past Thursday, Dead Domain posted an interview with a third Anderson child. This was Miriam Anderson, the oldest daughter in the family, and the one John brought up earlier because she had been “trying to get away.” Many of Miriam’s terrifying recollections echoed what her brothers said earlier about how abuse occurred at home, including mentions of specific pieces of equipment in their kitchen that were used against them. She talked how she had suicidal thoughts from the age of 11 onward because of everything she endured at home. Her brothers’ stories, she added, were “100% true.”

The takeaway… for now

In a way, these stories, as heartbreaking as they are, are also uplifting. Uplifting because at least two of these kids don’t share the worst characteristics of their father. They want the public to know what their lives have been like, bursting the bubble their father has kept around them for years. It turns out his version of Christianity has been the nightmare outsiders always suspected. His theology isn’t just awful to his ideological opponents but also to his own flesh and blood. If they can escape that environment—and they sure as hell are trying—perhaps there’s hope for others in similar situations. At the same time, it’s awful that they still have to play it cautiously because of Steven Anderson’s wrath. No one should have to fear harm from their own parents. But when their parents place their idea of God’s Word over common sense and decency, we can only hope they find solace and safety somewhere else.

Fundamentalist kook pastor Steven Anderson has at least two of his speaking out against the abuse they suffered at the hands of him and his wife Zsuzsanna.

[fanfics4all]

Mint

Request: Yes / No Fluffcember Day 29

Don’t be shy, request things! <3 Have a nice day/night

Ambrose Spellman x Fem!Reader 

Word count: 639

Warnings: Just fresh fluff!

Prompt(s): Mint

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee! 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

The Spellman Mortuary was decked out in a strange but oddly fitting mix of holiday decorations and eerie decor. Candles flicker alongside garlands of pine, and silver tinsel caught the light, casting shadows that made the place feel as enchanted as it was mysterious. The familiar hum of magic filled the air as Ambrose and I hovered over a bubbling cauldron in the dimly lit kitchen. 

“Alright…” He said, grinning as he carefully measured out crushed peppermint leaves. 

“A pinch of mint should ass a festive twist, don’t you think?” I laughed, watching as he dropped the mint into the cauldron. The bubbling potion turned a pale, frosty blue and let off a sweet, cool scent that filled the kitchen with something between holiday cheer and mystery. Ambrose was in his element, his eyes bright with excitement as he stirred the potion. 

“What’s next Potion Master?” I tased, crossing my arms and watching him smile. He wiggled his eyebrows, looking very pleased with himself. 

“Next, a touch of cinnamon bark for warmth and a sash of star anise for luck. We can’t have a proper Yule potion without luck, now can we?” I shook my head, charmed by his attention to detail. He moved with an elegance that was uniquely his. Every sprinkle, stir, and whispered incantation was infused with precision and care. I handed him the small vial of cinnamon, watching as he added it to the cauldron. A warm, spiced aroma mingled with the cool mint. The mixture was turning into something magical, even to someone without an ounce of witchy blood like me. 

“Do I get to help?” I asked, reaching for the rod. He placed it in my hand, his fingers brushing mine, and it lingered for just a moment longer than necessary. 

“Of course, love. Give it three gentle stirs clockwise, then tap the edge twice. We want to coax out the mint’s energy, not overwhelm it.” He said softly. 

With his instructions, I stirred. I felt a spark of magic course through the rod. The potion responded, bubbling and glowing faintly and I glanced up at him surprised. 

“You’ve got the touch.” He whispered, his eyes sparkling as he watched me. 

“Maybe it’s rubbing off on me.” My cheeks warming. He chuckled, taking my hand again and guiding me to sprinkle a bit of crushed holly berries into the potion. The cauldron gave off a soft, cool burst of minty mist that swirled around us, shimmering with flecks of silver like tiny snowflakes. It was enchanting and I couldn’t help but be amazed at the way Ambrose could transform even the smallest ingredients into something beautiful. 

“Alright…” He dipped the ladle into the potion and poured a small amount into a glass vial. He handed it to me with a grin. 

“...our very own Yuletide Elixir. It’ll bring clarity, warmth, and just a hint of seasonal spirit.” I held up the vial, watching the pale blue liquid shimmer in the light. 

“What exactly does it do?”

“Ah, that’s for you to discover. It’s personalized. You may find it brings you unexpected joy, or a little good luck, or perhaps just a bit of festive cheer. It’s different for everyone.” He explained. I smiled, cradling the vial in my hand. 

“Well, let’s find out.” Ambrose took my other hand and raised the potion in a toast. 

“To us, and to finding magic in the little things.” We both took a sip and the cool refreshing tingle spread through me, like the taste of mint, snow, and spice all at once. I felt a burst of joy that seemed to light up my entire chest and I looked at Ambrose, feeling like we were the only two people in the world. 

“Merry Christmas, Ambrose.” I whispered and he smiled, pulling me in for a kiss.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @kmc1989 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @madammarvellous-blog1

[fucked-up-beyond-repair]

Can't stop puking

For day 2 of Nov(emeto)ber @monthofsick

TW: emeto, vomiting, Implied object-eating, supernatural elements

----

Neal, being a hopeless werewolf, found himself eating through heaps of garbage beyond what his human body would be able to handle afterwards. Fortunately, his roommate, and mage, Lane, always has the solutions he needs.

Because I think it's cute when werewolves act like oversized dogs.

----

Neal slowly opened his eyes as the harsh sunlight streamed through the curtains. An intense pounding headache immediately hit him, accompanied by a sickly rancid taste lingering in his mouth and an uncomfortable fullness in his stomach.

Lane entered their cramped dorm room with a playful grin. "Good morning sunshine, how are you feeling?"

"Terrible," Neal groaned. As he attempted to sit up, his stomach protested; a sharp pain surged through him, regretting the movement as waves of nausea washed over him.

"I figured as much," Lane chuckled. “Luckily for you, I am such a stellar friend that I went all across the hallway to get you some water." Lane handed him the glass as he invited himself on the bed frame next to Neal.

Neal pressed a hand against his forehead, hoping to alleviate the pain before slowly bringing the water to his lips. Each swallow intensified the nausea as the water joined his already cramped stomach. The gas started to build up, making him burp weakly.

"Why did I have to eat so much?" he complained, feeling so full he was afraid he was going to burst. He couldn’t even recall doing so; in fact, he couldn’t remember anything at all. "Uhm, was I drunk last night?" he asked worriedly, even though he usually avoided alcohol.

Lane scratched his neck, unsure of what to tell him. "Someone complained about raccoons or something making a ruckus behind the cafeteria," he explained, giving Neal an apologetic look. "Turns out, it was you - as a huge golden wolf, rummaging through the trash cans.”

Realization hit in, making Neal turn green. His heart raced; panic settling in at the thought of having his stomach filled with heaps of rotten garbage. "I think I’m going to throw up," Neal grimaced, as a wet burp erupted from him.

"Will probably …" Another lump in his throat cut him off, and he covered his mouth, swallowing hard. "Need a bucket…" he panted through the overwhelming nausea.

"You…" Lane hesitated, turning away briefly trying to hide his amusement. "Kind of ate it…" he sighed, looking at Neal with a hint of hopelessness.

Neal barely registered that implication as his stomach contracted. He hurriedly tried to bend to the side, feeling a gush of watery vomit seep through his hand and falling to the floor.

Without break, his stomach continued to heave painfully, but despite the violent retches, nothing else came up. Desperate for relief, he pushed hard against his bloated stomach, wincing painfully as everything shifted upwards. It felt stuck in his throat, only resulting in a wet belch.

"Stomach not keeping up?" Lane teased, placing a hand gently on Neal's abdomen. Lane quickly frowned at the tightness that pressed into his palm as Neal breathed shallowly.

Lane reached for his pockets; having already predicted that Neal's digestion system would need some help. "Drink this; it should help your stomach dissolve whatever you ate last night," he said, offering Neal a small vial.

"Thanks…" Neal mumbled weakly before carefully taking a sip. However, the thick bitter mixture induced a gag, and was quickly expelled onto Lane's shirt.

Ignoring the mess, Lane gently guided Neal’s hand back to his trembling lips. "Try to keep it down; you will feel better soon."

Neal's nausea grew for each swallow, making it harder to keep the liquid down. The mixture seemed to do its work though, relieving the tightness in Neal's stomach briefly before the nausea became unbearable, feeling the dissolved contents slosh inside him.

"We should probably head to the bathro-" Lane was interrupted as Neal shot upright and reached for the pillow. He hurriedly stripped off the pillowcase, and buried his head into it, desperately hoping it would contain the mess.

Neal closed his eyes tight, feeling everything rush up his throat at once. He lurched forwards with a violent heave as thick chunks of vomit filled the thin fabric.

"That’s good, just let it all out." Neal was somewhat aware that Lane remained next to him despite the mess, rubbing his back as he puked his guts out. His stomach was so incredibly full, bringing up wave after wave of lumpy vomit.

"Why can't it stop" Neal groaned. The stench of rotting garbage filled the room, triggering another round of vomiting. It was more liquid this time, seeping through the pillowcase and onto the bed.

When he finally stopped retching, Neal was left weak and trembling, his entire body drenching in sweat. "You think you are done?" Lane hoped, taking away the makeshift vomit bag after seeing it dripping onto the bed. Neal weakly nodded, still panting as the nauseous feeling persisted.

However, Lane could feel Neal’s back tense up again, and a grimace formed on Lane’s face as he sensed a warm, sticky puddle of vomit soaking through his lap.

"Sorry…" Neal managed to utter before another belch interrupted him, bringing up mostly bile by now. "Sorry about the mess…" he whimpered, feeling utterly drained as he leaned into Lane with exhaustion.

"I’m sure you'll find a way to make it up to me,” Lane murmured, a slight blush tinging his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he swiftly returned to his usual smirk. "Let's just get you cleaned up for now. Then you can rest in my bed for today."

[simping4villains]

This is the third chapter of a new Shigaraki college au fic I’ve been working on, titled Losing Streak! Updates will be posted on my ao3 and wattpad!

~~~~~

Warning: Sexual content/non-con elements

   When you woke up the next morning, your head was pounding. The light from your windows was searingly painful, prompting you to pull your pillow over your head in an attempt to block it out.

   You didn't remember a lot of the previous night. The more you thought about it, you didn't even remember coming back to your apartment. That was concerning.

   You grabbed your phone off of the nightstand to check the time. It was almost noon, which meant you'd slept through breakfast as well as two of your classes. At least they'd be serving lunch in the dining hall. Your stomach felt incredibly hollow and you still had the taste of alcohol on your tongue.

   You were scrolling through your notifications—a few worried messages from Akiko and a text about some online sale—when you saw one from a number you didn't recognize. You tapped on the chat and immediately felt your heart drop.

   Someone had sent you nudes. They weren't just the standard low-quality dick pic you received every now and then from desperate men around campus. These pictures were all women—or, all the same woman.

   They were pictures of you.

   You were panicking, your hands trembling. How did someone have photos of you like this? You didn't take nudes. You certainly didn't send nudes to anyone. You didn't even have anyone to send nudes to! So had someone taken these of you. . . last night?"

   You took a deep breath to calm down and stared typing.

   'Who is this?'

   Three little dots appeared in the bottom of the screen. You held your breath until a response came.

   'You don't remember?'

   'How did you get these photos? How did you get my number?'

   'Meet me in the north dining hall in twenty minutes. We can work out a little deal so no one else has to see these."

   Panicking, you fought your hangover and jumped out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt and sweatpants as quickly as possible before rushing out of the house, not even bothering to grab a jacket. You shrugged against the chilly fall air. It was a fifteen minute walk to the north dining hall, so you had to hustle if you didn't want to be late.

   You burst through the doors of the campus center and practically ran through the lounge and up the stairs to get to the dining hall. You froze when you got to the top of the steps. There he was, leaning against the wall across from you. You should've known.

   "Shigaraki."

   He looked up from his phone. "Oh, hey, y/n."

   You rushed up to him and grabbed his hand. You needed to find somewhere more private. You didn't want to talk about this out in the open where anyone could hear that he had nude pictures of you. There were conference rooms on the next floor up. You decided one of those would be as good a place as any.

   You dragged him into one of the conference rooms, shutting and locking the door behind you before closing the blinds. You felt so ashamed by it all that you couldn't even stand the thought of someone seeing you with him—like they might somehow know.

   He took a seat and watched you do all of this. "You gonna talk?" he asked. "Seems like something's on your mind."

   "I should've stayed away from you. They warned me. My friends warned me that you were a creep."

   He frowned. "Wow, okay."

   "Where did you get them? Because I never sent photos like those to anyone and I refuse to believe that we. . . that we actually. . ."

   He cocked an eyebrow.

   You sighed. "You're gonna make me say it? The nudes. I don't know how you got them or why you're blackmailing me with them, but just please don't leak them, okay?"

   Shigaraki couldn't help the wicked smile that spread across his face. He didn't know what kind of karma he'd put out into the universe to deserve an opportunity like this, but he wasn't going to let it go to waste.

   "You'll have to do a better job of convincing me than that."

   "I'm literally begging you. What more do you want? You want me to get down on my knees?"

   "I mean, for starters, yeah. I certainly wouldn't say no."

   He loved the look of shock that flashed across your face as you realized what he was implying.

   "You can't be serious?"

   "Would a creep like me joke about something like that?"

   He'd hated that you'd called him that, but if you were gonna label him as a creep, then he'd be sure to exceed your expectations.

   "Well? Go ahead."

   You slowly lowered yourself down to your knees in front of where he sat, your eyes full of horror as you gazed up at him. You were frozen, fighting yourself on whether or not you could really go through with it.

   "Do I have to fucking walk you through it? Jesus."

   "Sorry," you whimpered.

   You didn't want to do this, but what choice did you have?

   Your hands trembled as they fumbled with the waistband of his joggers. You found his boxers too, hooking your fingers under them and pulling them down along with his pants, coming face to face with his already erect cock.

   Was this actually happening?

   "Are you just gonna stare at it?" He asked.

   You blinked away your panic and looked up at him. There wasn't even an ounce of remorse in his eyes. This asshole loved what he was doing to you—as if his erection wasn't proof enough.

   "If I do this. . . you really won't leak the photos?"

   "That's right."

   "You swear?"

   He rolled his eyes. "I swear."

   "Will you delete them? I'm not doing this unless—"

   He grabbed you by the hair, yanking so hard that you yelped.

   "I don't think you understand the position you're in. I'm not a patient man, so hurry up before I change my mind."

   He let you go and spread his legs a bit wider, inching his cock closer to your face. You tentatively wrapped your hand around the base, causing his breath to hitch. From the way he was already seeming to fall apart, you guessed this wasn't something that happened to him very often, if at all. For a moment, a flicker of hope burned in your chest. You thought maybe you could get him off quickly like this so you wouldn't have to—

   "Use your mouth."

   Yeah. That.

   As much as it crushed you, you knew you couldn't refuse. You stuck your tongue out and licked a stripe up his length. He sighed contentedly, letting his eyes flutter shut. It made you feel sick to your stomach, but you knew you couldn't stop.

   You decided it was time to bite the bullet. You had to just get it over with. As much as you hated him and wanted to skin his dick with your teeth, you knew that the better it was, the sooner he'd. . . god, you hated to even think about it, but you needed it to be over as quickly as possible.

   He groaned as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip. "Fuck, yes. Just like that."

   Your eyes remained trained on his lower stomach as you bobbed your head, taking more and more of him until your gag reflex wouldn't allow you to go any further. You didn't want to look at him. You tried to tell yourself that it was relief and not some fucked up version of pride that you felt as you listened to his broken moans above you, but you couldn't deny the spreading warmth between your legs.

   You hated your body for reacting that way. There was no reason for you to be so turned on by this. He was using you. He was blackmailing you. He was everything your friends had warned you about.

   But still, you couldn't get past his desperate, heavy breathing that bordered on whimpering. . . and the way he lightly tugged at your hair. . .

   Your hand started moving to match your pace, making up for the inches you couldn't fit in your mouth. You thought Shigaraki was satisfied with it until he tightened his hold on your hair, using the grip to guide you further down. You started to gag at the sudden intrusion, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. He hardly gave you time to relax around his length before he started abusing your throat, thrusting his hips up as he forced your head down.

   Your hands were on his thighs, simultaneously trying to push him away and trying to ground yourself by digging your nails into him. His moans only grew above you as he chased his high, using you for his own pleasure. You could tell he was close. His movements were becoming more erratic and his grip on your hair was so tight now that you were sure he'd manage to rip it out. After a few more thrusts he gave your head one final shove and shot his cum down your throat.

   "Swallow it for me like the slut you are," he said to you before pulling out.

   You did as he asked. It wasn't really like you had an alternative anyway. You didn't want to leave any evidence of what had happened behind in the conference room. Someone would have noticed for sure.

   Once you had caught your breath you took a seat in one of the chairs that surrounded the conference table. Shigaraki was leaned back in his with his eyes closed, basking in the after glow.

   You wouldn't let him enjoy it for very long.

   "So when are you going to delete those photos?" You asked.

   Without opening his eyes, he shook his head. "I'm not."

   "What? But you said—"

   "That I wouldn't leak them, which I won't, if you keep doing what I ask."

   You couldn't believe it. You had been foolish to think he'd really listen to you if you did what he wanted. You had to find a way to get those photos off of his phone so he couldn't keep holding them over your head.

  

   "You really are a creep."

   He smirked and reached out to rest his hand on your thigh. "Whatever you say."

   You shrank away from his touch, which only annoyed him. He tugged on your hand, hinting for you to get up.

   "What?" You asked with a sharp edge your voice.

   "Come sit on my lap."

   "No."

   "You're not being a very good listener. Maybe I should teach you a lesson and send those photos out after all. I'm sure there have got to be at least a few people in the entire student body who haven't seen you naked yet."

   You glared at him. "You know what? I bet you wouldn't even know how to go about that. You're just bluffing so you can treat me like your little plaything. Well, I may have been dumb enough to fall for it once, but I won't let it happen again."

   You got up and stormed out of the conference room. You weren't going to let Shigaraki push you around, and you certainly wouldn't keep giving him sexual favors, no matter how desperate you were for him not to leak the photos. Still, maybe he really was bluffing after all.

   As you rounded the corner into the main lounge, you heard a wave of notification alerts going off. Looking around, you saw students checking their phones and shaking their heads. Petrified, you pulled your own phone out of your pocket to see a notification from him.

   He hadn't sent the photos out, not yet at least, but he had proven that he wasn't bluffing. It seemed that all at once, every student on campus had gotten the same stupid spam article sent to their phone. For everyone else, it was an annoying text from an unknown sender, but for you it was a very clear warning.

   Shigaraki was telling you that he wasn't bluffing, that he could absolutely ruin you if he felt like it, but he was giving you another opportunity to play nice. Otherwise, he would have just sent the pictures out and been done with it.

   Shortly after, you got another text from him. It was an address and a time. "Last chance," it said.

   You understood what it meant.

   "I'll be there," you wrote back, though it was the absolute last thing you wanted.

   You'd have to play along for now, until you could find a way to beat him at his own game.

[augment-techs]

Color Theory discussions: BillySkull and maybe the addition of Matt. Because I’m curious now.

Okay, now follow along with me here: it would be a very rare universe where both of these boys would be able to be Powered up at the same time, because it is feeling more in more like, in direct relevance to canon, Orange is only allowed on screen/active, when Blue is not available for the team or in the moment. In the world of the Coinless, Skull only took on all the roles associated with Orange when he had to go undercover in the guise of a Red when Billy was shot through the chest. Fern, in Cosmic Fury, was only brought into the fray because Ollie went evil and the team needed someone to pick up the slack. The Orange Empyreal only came into being because Kiya literally murdered the Blue Emissary and their shadow came to life.

Orange is basically the blood that coagulates in the wound left by a Blue being missing. But they are not the same and it really shows in how they operate.

Blue can't work with what isn't there, but Orange can not only work around such a deficiency, but actively works to bring about change despite the lack of materials and spirit.

Blue is the memory of the Morphin Grid. If we take that into consideration for this pairing, Billy retains all the knowledge and memory of every relationship he's ever had. Which, whole awesome in the long term, is not great for short term because he gets caught up in the good, the bad, the awkward, the misunderstandings, the accidents, the hurt, and the love all at the same time. Being with him can be exhausting because he is a brilliant mind trapped in an flesh prison that doesn't allow him to operate both his wits and his mouth at the same time.

Skull, contrariwise, in almost every universe and timeline, never got the chance to embrace his place in the Grid for what he actually was. It was short lived and the memory was always taken away from him. And in the Coinless universe, this is a handicap, because he is in fact drawn to Morphin Energy and can act and react to what that means in the moment--and in long term, because Orange might be the doer, but that doesn't point to the WHEN he's doing anything. He can play the long game or act on the fly, because Orange is a dual Color in tune with Change. Despite what everyone wants to believe, Blue is also based in the elements of space, slowness, and loudness. Orange based in water, thinness, and quiet. Winter is still Blue's realm, where stasis is all, allowing the Ranger to observe and say "Eureka!" Autumn is Orange's, where everything is on the cusp of something else, always changing and yet also reliable in its change. They are good together in short bursts in the beginning of their relationship, and can only become more deeply entwined if Blue recognizes their little and big failings--because Orange already knows it has failings, often more aware of them than any other color, which is a big, big part of why it's so rare. The sheer amount of AWARENESS in Orange can be exhausting; as opposed to Blue, where it can go on for days to make things better, much to the detriment of the user.

That equal yet opposite thing is REALLY strong in this pair, so it's kind of no wonder that it would take FOREVER to become a true pairing.

Now adding Green into the mix, on the other hand...

Green is the hardcore survivor of the Morphin Grid. That's a given. It occupies Spring, which is a different kind of Change than Orange, often a much more violent one. It settles easily into air, brutality, bravery--which is different from courage (Orange) and sureness (Blue)--and a cunning; that on dark nights is more insidious and selfish than it should be.

Which is probably why I have a theory that Green and Orange and Purple are something of an antithesis of each other. Green could smash Purple (both a Summer and Winter type) into the ground with little effort, while Purple could--but would prefer not to--do the same to Orange. Orange, by rights, would be perfect to teach Green a lesson if the need arouse.

Now, bare with me, because this is a lot of where my subjective thoughts come into play.

Green/Blue are generally a rather harmonious duo in canon as friends and teammates, but if the bedroom came into play, we get into something a little bit awkward, because...well, for lack of a better way to put it, I think that Blue would be the dominant in this relationship, because there is just something in the Grid dynamics that makes it feel like it's...better...than Green? Like, there are no teams that exist in any meaningful capacity without Blue. Duos are a thing, but usually cased by calamity and death. A TEAM however, can't exist without Blue. So Blue is a little bit classist as well as carrying a superiority complex towards a Color that has not only been out of the loop in team dynamics for millennia, but is HALF of Blue itself taking on Yellow.

True, Billy spirited away the Green Dragon coin to Grace Sterling to cleanse it, revive it, and lobbied to give it to Matt because he saw the potential in his friend that had been there all along, but there is still something to be said about the Color influencing the Ranger. Billy has seniority in experience and would not let Matt forget that in close quarters when frustrated. Which basically means that they'd have an insanely primal sex life with Billy NEEDING to prove superiority. I think that the sex would be just a hair's breadth away from hate sex, with both of them being totally exhausted afterwards, and the both if them CONSTANTLY forgetting about things like hydrating, aftercare, and being generally kind of stupid for days afterward. With Matt flirting and flirting and flirting SOME MORE--like a peacock--and Billy just kind of...ignoring or being annoyed with him.

Green/Orange would be the ideal starter relationship, really. Because while Green was out of the loop for ten-thousand years? There is no record of Orange EVER being used in Zordon's lifetime on Earth, except for that one time, and again, that barely counts because it was for less than a day and he was a manipulative, condescending prick about it. He doesn't want to have Rangers on the team that would call him out when he's wrong, and Orange is nothing if not THAT ONE COLOR that every single person has an opinion about; it's either loved or hated and the same thing goes for the Ranger. And Green can empathize with that, given the rocky start it had with its team because of Rita.

Not to mention that now that Matt is also the only Ranger at present that had his life put under a microscope by outing himself to give Angel Grove someone to trust during the Dome Fiasco, he is probably fully willing to find some understanding and compassion from someone who has had ample opportunities to make his life harder, but just...hasn't? Orange/Skull being that very strange combination of compassionate, stable, and bluntly honest would be something incredibly appealing to Matt in the aftermath of losing all of his friends to Rangerdom, suffering the untreated trauma of abduction on the moon, Kim dating a guy that was evil for a little while there and also for a little while was incredibly aggressive about Matt getting the Dragon Coin, and now the whole Matt killing Grace thing. Say what you want, but Skull being water and Matt being air has a HUGE symbiotic thing going on there.

Also it goes without saying, Orange and Green are a kind of equal opposites. They share something that Blue does not have and in a POLY relationship this means communicating and translating things that can't be understood from just two sides. And where Blue is urged to be on top with Green, and in control with Orange, the two can find a soft middle ground that allows harmony to go on with all three at the same time. (This would kind of fuck Green and Orange ever if a breakup or going evil thing happened in earnest, because of really obvious reasons, but we are not getting into that here.)

TLDR:

If they want a real, solid, perfect relationship, they would have to be older, at least over eighteen. They would have to know themselves a little better. They would have to be honest with themselves and EACH OTHER.

Also, and this is just my opinion, Blue/Orange works in the early days as a fling, or playing around, but would never lock down until something bad happened. Since something bad is always happening, at some point, with Green and Orange, the ideal combination and timeline for this poly would be: Blue+Orange x mistakes/miscommunication= Blue | Orange << Orange+Green x years+jealousy/experience+Blue = Green/Orange/Blue going clockwise.

[reginrokkr]

Today was a great day to be a Dain fan and I hope that the quest in itself delivers as much as the trailer did. We have him fighting by our side as if he were a 4-star echo and I'm all here for it. There are a few things that caught my attention (without mentioning that he finally gets to interact with someone else that isn't Aether, besides Kaeya— bless Iansan):

First, it feels so very satisfying to see him take on the strongest-looking member of the Abyss Order from the trailer at least. This one is particularly nasty with its elemental resistance, which makes me all the more curious to know how Dain's power behaves if it happens to be something different than a fancy type of pyro like they did with Skirk (come on HYV, you showed him fight and wouldn't even show the number damage to see its color—).

Another thing that caught my attention is that after the burst of this animation in particular, the symbol of his chest appears alongside another one of the elements of his attire. It does beg the question if this was a thing going as far back in time as Khaenri'ah days given that he used to wear these clothes as well, and if he had this power back then as well (if I see one more person say that this is some abyssal power just by looking at the colors one next to each other, I'm going to nuke someone plS).

Another instance of this man being speed™ as shown in 「We Will Be Reunited」 and how he can appear out of thin air like it's nothing. May I give the reminder once again that he's supposed to be a sword user, one of the dead giveaways being that he's the Twilight Sword and yet he's pulling all of these without one?? It'd be funny if he were to deal huge numbers just with this and... it also explains things as to why Lumine still struggled to defeat Dain after 500 years, without him lifting his own sword.

Special mention to how beautiful he looks on the party and the colors used for him there to indicate that he's ready to attack. Hello again, 4-star echo lol

Lastly, can we have one moment to appreciate that beautiful smile?? I want to squish his cheekies so bad. The little cute sway of his fringe when he tilts his head is adorable too. Also, this comes from the KR livestream where his VA claimed that he didn't want to spoil anything, but according to him "he will show a great appearance" which I'm really crossing my fingers for. Let him shine at least this once, HYV ;;

[semimedieval]

the beach part 7: I dunno, don't judge my Chuji metaphor

We begin with a crowdsourced call to action.

Rim saw a pearl lying on the ground. Could it be the pearl? MOOPY277: (Vote A if yes, or B if not. Then vote C for him to be attacked or D if he won't be attacked) DRAGONODSESSED: BC! TOESOCKSQUEEN: BC. they should all be attacked and the pearl should be sparkly and magical,wrapped around by the dragon as he sleeps. Let's get all of our charcters in one central place in the water.

Augustine is conspicuously absent, a fact that will surely not come back to bite anybody in the ass as they make decisions about his storyline plan. The decision has been made, though, and the storyline acts accordingly. This kind of flops too.

To his dissapointment it wasn't the pearl. He started to swim up when a huge snake slammed into him. He glared at it and swung his fist, causing a massive water current to slam into it. (Someone wanna control the snake?) DRAGONODSESSED: Dracus (the snake!) was thrown back by the current, but went forward right afterward. (BBL, dinner.) TOESOCKSQUEEN: (Me!Me!)The Snake hissed and glared at Rim. This was not his battle, for there was no need to kill just one. Yes,he would wait until they were all together. He swam back into the depths of the water, letting his silvery wings flap behind him.

I love it when Jack and I both go for something and it's equally lame. That said, it's roleplays run by 11-year-olds - they're always going to be corny. Mine isn't corny but it's boring, which is the far greater sin. It's no wonder that Jack won this one.

That said, I can still giggle at the way he wrote villains the same way I giggle about the way I write villains:

Dracus looked up and smiled sadistically. He knew what to do. They had woken him from his slumber and now it was time to pay. He swam round and round, swirling the water. (Dracus is'nt a bad guy, he's just protecter of the pearl. If it got into the wrong hands, mass choas could be realesed.)

Jack makes a great point: what the hell are the greater implications of the Soul Pearl? 15-year-old me made exactly the right move by defining its rules in very specific terms, that is to say, fairy tale rules. It appears as a favor, to reward a great deed done for the fairies, rooted in stories about the Fairy Queen's own loss. I think we should double down on that in part 2 – maybe there should be something big that someone (Mari or Lark?) sacrifices to the fairy queen bring back Tallin? Maybe it should be a reward for freeing the kids in the Castle on the Strait? Either way, maybe the most important part isn't just the sacrifice – it's real people caught up in fairy tale rules. Tallin's return is joyfully impossible, but it's also strange and frightening in the same way that a fairy showing up at your real-life baby's baptism to give her gifts would be strange and frightening. Even if magic was otherwise real. Operating by fairy tale rules in real life would be, well, weird and scary.

Anyway, in the original roleplay, no element of the Soul Pearl's lore is ultimately addressed at all, though Jack does try here. You sly dog, Jack, you've got me monologuing!

Everyone's like 'ah, the water, it's shaking!' We get stock reactions from everyone. Wow, Moopy was LOVING Indiana Jones that summer.

Suddenly, the whirlpool got faster and faster, threatining to suck them all in. The dragon burst out of the water,curling it's massive body round them, as to not let them escape. Rim hammered it with water, trying to squeeze out of its coils. "SO THIS IS WHY INDIANA JONES HTES SNAKES!!!!" He screamed

There's a reaction from all four (!!) of my characters (Katia ditch Lorcan or else, I am no longer asking), the unniest of which is "Obsidian attempted to use his powers, but they appeared to have been drained." Are they drained, Obsidian, or are YOUR POWERS simply no use against a fuckoff sea dragon? Much to consider.

I try to control the dragon again but Jack once again writes a significantly better post than me, which I hope means I've given up on the 'sharing' thing and just ceded control for once. The time to assert leadership was 10 pages earlier, Katia, when everybody was milling around on the beach without anything to do. I was always too unauthoritative as RP leader – collaborative storytelling is built on strong ideas, not vibes. That's right, I'm a narrative authoritarian.

He closed his eyes and the sea started churning, another snake began to form, made out of hardened water. The serpent concentrated on using it's powers to make a magnetic pull that stopped all powers from being used in the circle. But wait...the boy. He had water, the only power he was unable to block. the Snake muttered a curse in a foreign tongue.(rim get's to be the hero! XD) Ky tried to cry out, but was cut off as salty water filled her mouth and nose.

I like the idea of Rim getting a big story moment but I do giggle at the idea that water is the 'only power Dracus can't block.' Shouldn't it be the power Dracus has the most authority over??? Clearly in the coherent version of this story the gang can't use their powers because they are BUSY DROWNING and rim is ok because HE'S THE WATER GUY AND CAN'T DROWN.

Obsidian gets owned by a wave of water, Lupus and Ky hold on to each other until Ky is pulled away from him by a wave, Quartz loses track of Obsidian and calls out his name. This is the lamest part of this adventure, the fact that every single person online except Moopy decides that every single one of their characters JUST HAS to heroically rescue someone or get heroically rescued.

I must really have had some kind of undefined Jack Problem this summer and been trying to disguise it as character development for my newly deep and edgy character, because I have Lupus's internal monologue be an actual genuine jackass:

Ky drifted down into the water, frozen in shock. She watched as the bubbled escaped from her mouth and floated away. A sort of calm washed over her, and she exepted it. She was going to die. "What about Lupus?" she wondered. How would he fare with it all? Lupus....she must find Lupus.....there he was swimming towards her....she wanted to say "It's too late. I'm gone." and reach out to touch his face. Her eyes began to close and darkness started to take over her vision. "Ky!" he tried to yell but only bubbles exited his mouth. "KY!" He pressed down toward her. (wow, dramatic.) He took her hand and kicked upward, making little progress. A tiny part of his brain, the treacherous part, was complaining that she had to pick this of all times to be the damsel in distress, but he ignored it as he often had to.

SHE IS DROWNING YOU STUPID ASSHOLE. SHE DID NOT "CHOOSE" TO DROWN. EVERYONE AROUND YOU IS DROWNING ALSO, IF YOU WOULD CARE TO CHECK THAT OUT.

Anyway, a fairly similar story plays out between Quartz and Obsidian while Rim fights the snake. Meanwhile, my middle school playlist reaches Starships, which means we're officially in Summer 2012, or Extranei Summer. Being a middle schooler in the early 10s means having nostalgia moments over the silliest fucking songs. It's so incredibly funny that this is one of Nicki Minaj's big hits, given that I do not feel it has a lot to do with her general artistic identity. Also i love that 2018 me put the fucking clean version on this playlist for peak authenticity to what my friends and I were listening to. Good lord. Also I fucking put Good Time on this playlist when it was transparently the Summer of Call Me Maybe. Liar, revisionist, tasteless, you are not too good for Call Me Maybe, NOBODY is too good for Call Me Maybe, i'm going to have to remake this stupid idiot playlist aren't I –

Sorry. Where was I.

Tim yelled louder then he had ever before and the snake of water smashed into Dracus. He was in the water snakes head now, controlling it. He made it wrap itself around Dracus, a test of, well, strength. Obsidian! She had to find Obsidian! She tore through the water, catching a glimpse of Rim's snake and the serpent entwined; they were pretty evenly matched. Obsidian felt the whirlpool pulling him down. Despite fighting against it, he was still drowning.

Jack starts setting up for a pretty silly anticlimactic ending while Moopy, to their credit, maintains a very appropriate sense of stakes –

Dracus thrashed against Rim's water snake. He felt Rim's presence in his mind. Was the water....speaking to him? He stopped to listen.(Rim,say something to explain to Dracus about Tozi and the Soul pearl ect. ect.) Rim gritted his teeth and managed to negate the whirlpool. He concentrated harder on his snake, but he was slowly going down hill, he couldn't keep his snake hard enough, and fight Dracus at the same time. &quot;Freeze the snake a little!&quot; he screamed hoping Lupus would hear. Spark treaded water much more easily as the whirlppool stopped. She looked around, seeing Quartz swimming to Obsedian as quick as Chuji to fresh Rassberry pie.( I dunno, don't judge my Chuji metaphor...XD) Rim true to speak to Dracus through the pendant, maybe it would work. "Please, we don't wish to fight! We only wish to brig back our friend Tozi with the soul pearl! If your guarding it, then I will ressurct him where you like so you can stop or kill me if I begin to do evil!"

I love him. What a great negotiator. I do love the aspects of Extranei that involve Negotiating With Powers Beyond Your Comprehension, and I wish the original roleplay and especially the novelization had more of these moments.

Lupus heard and letting go of Ky with one hand extended it and sent a blast of ice, albeit not a very strong one. Quartz pulled Obsidian from the water and held him close. "Obsidian..." Rims snake froze a little, giving him an edge.

Dracus is ready to negotiate but the act of ice freezing sets him off again. Meanwhile, Spark realizes she hasn't had a chance to do a heroic rescue yet, and runs off to rescue Miyong. She does "CPR minus mouth to mouth...XD" but mouth to mouth isn't really an effective part of CPR and is not included in current procedures – the chest compressions make all the real difference. I don't know if that protocol was already in place in 2012, but if not, Jack was ahead of his time. Good on him!)

Rim negotiates a little more, while Quartz and Obsidian reunite.

Rim dissolved the snake and landed on a part of the snake in front o it's face. "I apologize, and I am deeply sorry for the fate of your brethren, however we were not the ones to do it. Though if I were to meet them, they would not last a second. I to am a guardian of sorts, I hunt down people who kill and steal. I am not an evil person." Quartz grabbed Obsidian's hand. "Obsidian! Can you hear me" Obsidian's vision wavered and he saw a figure in front of him...it looked vaguely familiar. "Quartz?" he asked thickly. The dragon nodded and all hostility vanished. The waves stopped and he unwrapped his tail from around them. "I see. Thank you. Remember me. If I ever see you again I will consider you my allies. Let me get that pearl for you and I'll meet you at the shore."

Several takeaways from this, including 1) that rim is a cop, boo, 2) that picking nostalgic taylor swift songs for the playlist is hard because so many of them are ubiquitous enough to not REALLY work as nostalgia-triggers, but "ours" REALLY hits, right down to the memory of that cringe as hell video where her Cool Alternative Boyfriend Her Dad Disapproves Of is... in the us military??? 3) that the problem with this adventure isn't that the ideas are BAD, necessarily, only that there are way too many ideas! I would say the sea dragon is more compelling the pendants if I had to choose one, but the pendants are the thing that's directly relevant to the future of the story, so...??!! I guess I could include one of these stories as a Lost Years feature, but that feels iffy, 4) that we came SO CLOSE to getting that damn pearl in the way Jack rather than Augustine envisioned. In fact Jack straight up narrates Dracus getting the pearl!!!! It was the wild west out there!!

I narrate Obsidian standing up and Jack replies with "Stood up? We are still in the water...XD" This is a certified 'bro is onto nothing' moment, how did Spark give CPR while floating in water?? I don't think that's possible without at least like a flotation device??

Anyway, Dracus shows up and has a cool new twink form, which is stupid but completely to be expected. Rim explains that his deal with Dracus entails Dracus having the right to kill Rim if he feels he's fucking up, which is actually a really cool idea and works better as a Chekhov's Gun for Rim dying than a stable plot solution, but Rim dies under pretty unrelated circumstances so let's not worry about that.

I rip off Discworld in a pretty lame way – 'where mass goes' during a shapeshifter transformation is a profoundly lame question in a non-comedic (not intentionally comedic) work of fiction like Extranei, because the very easy answer is 'IT'S MAGIC, WHO CARES' - but it's okay because we get another one of those subtle little Rimquartz moments. Aw <3

"Yes. There are many like me, who can shift their shapes between their guardian animal and human. We have the choice to walk among you." Rim nodded in reply to Lorcan. "I thought you might of been some form of Asian lung, apparently not. We're Extranei" "Interesting," Quartz said thoughtfully. "How does shape shifting work then? A sea serpent must have a much larger mass than a human, where does that go?" Normally Rim would have veen annoyed, but it was hard to dislike Quartz.

It's a pretty personal question. To Jack's credit, he gives a pretty good "shut up, it's magic" coded answer:

Dracus looked at her, with piercing silver eyes and began to speak. "Our mass mixes with our aura, a practically weightless glow that surrounds everything."

Oh, hey, I did put Call Me Maybe on the playlist after all. Thank God. But "Good Time" came out after "Call Me Maybe," so it had no business at all coming first.

Anyway, Rim thinks ominous thoughts about shapeshifters and their physics, Quartz glances at him in a worried manner because glancing at boys in a worried manner is the most fun an Extranei girl can have without glancing at girls in a worried manner, and Dracus has "three bags of chips, a whole chocolate bar, and a leg of chicken", which is like... not an unreasonable amount of food. Hey, wait, we're doing Rimquartz! Quartz, maybe he seems different because he's narrowly avoided death twice in one day, ever think of that?

Quartz turned to Rim. "What's happening?" she asked. "You seem...well, different." Rim hesitated. "A year ago, there was a crim hiding in a forest, and I was looking for him wih some soldiers, he had a gun," He whispered. "We came close to an object, it was glowing, the soldiers went to take when we were attacked by a huge tiger, the soldiers, they shot it, it turned into a boy before it died and tried to say something, and then it faded away," He swallowed, the horror of it trickling back into his memory. He hadn't like it at all then, and it was even worse now. "Oh." Quartz was unsure of what to answer to that. "Sorry I asked."

Go, girl, give us nothing! Also, AT LAST, we have resolved the pearl situation, which is good because you'd think that, if we were planning to get it back Dracus-ways, there would have been SOME HINT OF NARRATION INDICATING THAT. But what do I know.

TOESOCKSQUEEN: (Rass wants us to find the soul pearl a different way. Let's just say Dracus gave us a Dragon blessing and was protecting the rare dragon egg.) DRAGONODSESSED: Okey-dokey. I didn't know that ;)

I don't know if the wink is supposed to indicate that we talked it over at school and I'm pretending we didn't for Moopy's sake, or that I'm just being nice. It's anyone's guess. See, I can forget things about middle school!

Rim drops his line AGAIN, a melancholic feeling comes over the beach, and Quartz completely fails to play ball. I'm sure that what Rim was planning to tell Quartz about was something convoluted involving magic lore, but I wonder if I was half-convinced Rim was gearing up to confess his love. I think at this point in my life I was getting teased by Jack and Augustine about having a crush on Moopy, which I don't think I ever did. I mean, maybe a little? But certainly not moreso than I had a crush on Augustine. Pick your battles, guys.

The song changes to "Here's to never growing up" by Avril Lavigne, which is a song I have a lot of fondness and nostalgia for but came out in 2013, *not* 2012. Sigh.

Rim looked at his feet. "But how am I supposed to tell her about it?" He asked, half to her, half to himself. Obsidiabn glanced at Quartz. She was changing again. Quartz looked out onto the ocean. The wind was building, and waves crashed over the shore. "G'bye," Quartz muttered, distracted.

She keeps ditching him to talk to Spark. Another lull falls over the story – Moopy disappears before Rim can say or fail to say anything to Quartz, Augustine remains absent, Obsidian takes a nap, Ky and Lupus commit to frolicking on the sandy dunes, and Quartz approaches Spark for their famed field trip into town. There are very interesting Quartz character things coming up, but we will tackle those next storyline and I – to my regret – will go back to doing my actual job. 12:22 letters done? We can only hope.

And Die Young by Kesha is on. It still goes hard. It's a shame about the circumstances. Some good things from your young years (like Adventures of the Extranei) are enriched by context, and some (like the Kesha discography) only make you sad and a little sick to consider.

[vixstarria]

Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 4 - The Dancing Siren

Chapter summary: How in the hells are they managing to run a theatre, anyway? Also, we slowly begin the descent into smut.

Chapter word count: 4,100

Previous chapter | Series masterlist | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut (not all in this chapter), with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy

Rating: Explicit

Sometime in the past five years

“It’s perfect!” Asmodea burst into the bedroom above their tavern.

Astarion had been lying, corpse-like, in bed in the darkness of drawn curtains and shuttered windows, staring off into space, as he was wont to do of late.

He knew he could have gone downstairs - everything was arranged in a way that made it perfectly safe for him during daytime, but he simply could not bring himself to play the amiable host role just then. It wasn’t necessary, anyway - someone else was down there looking after things. He wasn’t necessary.

“It’s in a heavily impacted area and most of the buildings around it are damaged - must be why no one has snatched it up yet - but it’s completely intact.”

Her arrival was a sudden explosion of noise and activity, drawing him out of his lethargy. Candles throughout the room lit up with a flick of her wrist and a murmured incantation. He sat up as she continued.

“A little bird told me that the area around it is going to be cleared for other entertainment venues. Restaurants, taverns. A brothel or two. Just what we want nearby. No temples. No solitary manors.”

She threw her jacket onto a nearby chair, kicked her shoes off and hopped onto the bed next to him.

“I can’t wait to show you - we can sneak back in once it gets dark.”

“As much as I enjoy skulking around abandoned buildings with you, I’m starting to feel like I’m a pet you take out for walks,” said Astarion, his tone sour.

“You’re not-” Asmodea began with a sigh.

“Shh, I’ve already heard everything you’re about to say,” Astarion cut her off, shaking his head. “Just tell me about this new place you’ve found.”

Asmodea gave him a concerned look, but continued.

“What the seller’s asking for is already reasonable, but I’m sure I can get them to knock it down further. It’s huge, more than what we need - but that’s hardly a problem. We can tear down some walls, erect others…” She went on, describing the building she’d located as a potential site for the theatre she wanted to open.

The expression on Astarion’s face thawed at her excitement, before growing sombre again.

“I suppose you have an answer for how we are going to pay for all that as well..?”

“We’ll get a loan,” she answered, with the intonation of one explaining something to a child.

“And what bank is going to give us a loan big enough to cover all that..?” he asked, copying her tone.

“Any bank, with Duke Ravengard as the guarantor,” she answered.

“Is His Grace aware of his role in this enterprise..?” Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

“We’ll have dinner with him later this tenday and inform him,” she said, leaning in to give him a peck on the lips before getting up again.

“You’re so sure of all this..?” Astarion sighed, laying back on the bed with his hands under his head, to look up at the ceiling.

“You know Wyll’s got a soft spot for us,” she said.

“A hard spot, you mean,” Astarion snickered despite himself.

“Probably best not to bring that up over dinner,” Asmodea cautioned. “We’ll promise to donate part of our proceeds to an orphanage or a hospital or some other cause he’d approve - he won’t say no.”

“If you say so,” he assented. “Have you made any other devious plans I ought to be aware of..?”

“Well…” she drawled, “there is one more thing.” She disappeared in the adjacent room. It sounded like she was rummaging for something - for what, he had no clue. “I need your name,” she called out, offhandedly.

Astarion gave pause, frowning.

“My name is Astarion.”

“I need your surname,” she said, appearing in the doorway.

“What’s wrong with yours?” he asked, genuinely dumbfounded.

“I can’t. Use it. Due to my pact,” she gritted through her teeth. “You know this. And buying that building and all the construction work required would be a big undertaking - much bigger than just unofficially renting some dingy tavern space - and I can’t sign legal documents as simply ‘Asmodea’.”

“So why would your dear patron allow you to use mine, if it prohibits your own..?” he blinked.

“Fuckface said that marriage would fall under exceptional circumstances, and they would allow it,” she said.

“Mar-!?” he cut himself off mid-word. “Now… Hold on. Wait a minute,” Astarion started to grin. “Let me get this straight.” He sat up again, looking at her. She had coloured, he noticed. “Although I applaud you for your guile, using your patron as a means of trapping me into marriage… Did you just propose to me..?”

“I would never!” She disappeared back in the other room, making a ruckus with gods know what again. “You can do that yourself. Like a gentleman.”

“What?!” Astarion let out an involuntary giggle.

“And make it romantic!” she shouted. “I’m thinking midnight, someplace nice outside. Moonlight reflecting on water, that kind of thing. Maybe swans. I like swans.”

“Swans?! Is there anything else I should arrange - perhaps some jugglers and mimes..?” he tittered.

“Absolutely not! But a nice ring would be in order. One that no lady is going to grab my hand for, saying she’s recently had one gone missing that looked just like it.” Asmodea reappeared in the doorway. “And make it all a surprise, will you? I don’t want to see it from a league away.” She continued as Astarion got up and off the bed, making monumental efforts to keep his face straight. “If you manage all that within the next few days Wyll might even be compelled to provide us with a nice engagement gift when we see him.”

She made to disappear again, but Astarion reached out and grabbed her, drawing her against him by her waist before she could get away.

“Will you stay still for two seconds..?” He gently tilted her face up to make her look him in the eyes. “You sweet, ridiculous fool… So that’s what you want, is it..?” he murmured, tenderly stroking her face.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He kissed her, unable to contain a smile. His teeth clacked against hers mid-kiss, clumsily, as she also couldn’t keep from spilling into a wide grin. They both dissolved into giddy laughter as he pulled her after him, stumbling backwards to the bed.

Present day

Asmodea made her way to one of the stairwells leading down into the theatre.

The entire top floor of the building consisted of private apartments. A large section was used by her and Astarion, their rooms being connected to a private terrace. The rest were offered to visiting artists and other guests. It was much easier to secure an act whilst an entertainer was in the city, if your offer included lodgings.

A downside to this was that there was always a high likelihood of bumping into someone within what they considered to be their home. There was always someone around, whether in the guest rooms upstairs, in the theatre or in the kitchens, no matter the time of day or night. The Dancing Siren never slept.

After descending, she passed by the dressing room, pausing to greet the performers who had begun arriving.

Asmodea usually carried out her own preparations upstairs, but Astarion had an honorary vanity at the far end of the room. Lacking a mirror, instead it sported a multitude of drawings pinned to the wall, ranging from an impressive charcoal portrait of Astarion - its depiction of his semi-profile uncanny in its realism - to a doodle of a stick figure with fluffy white hair, fangs and red eyes.

She moved on towards the auditorium.

The audience section of the theatre was filled with plush, red velvet couches arranged in clusters around small tables, in tiers. Raunchy art lined the walls. The lighting in this area was perpetually dimmed. It was vulgar and decadent, but intentionally, even brazenly so. There was no room for subtle, alluring sensuality - the raucous bawdiness slapped the attendees in their faces. Their guests immediately knew what they were stepping into.

Astarion had been sceptical about this venture at first, having about as much enthusiasm about taking part in anything as he did back when Asmodea unwittingly forced him onstage with Dribbles the Clown’s doppelganger.

He did not have a single creative bone in his body, he said. He had no idea what he was doing. And, above all, he had had enough of being on display - he did not want or need any more eyes on him.

Blatant lies, all of it, it turned out.

It took some time for him to let go of his apprehension and inhibitions, but he eventually found himself diving headfirst into this new endeavour. Apparently attention was addicting when it was on his own terms, as was receiving genuine appreciation for his craft. Swaying an audience to laugh with him was gratifying and empowering. …As was having the authority to direct others and actually having them listen. Having recognition and respect.

Seeing him thrive was a joy - Asmodea only wished that most of the day to day minutiae of running the Siren hadn’t fallen on her shoulders, especially at the beginning. She’d spent her days organising advertisements, luring in performers, or crunching numbers with their accountant until she dreamt of requisitions, whilst Astarion spent his time planning choreography or getting costumes just right. Oh well, she thought. They had hired help for most of the mundane details now.

Asmodea found Astarion lounging on one of the couches, in the company of their stage manager and assistant director.

A rendition of a classical play was being portrayed on stage. Unrequited love between a maiden and her pining lover, cruel fate disallowing them from being together; the story concluded with a tragic suicide pact that somehow culminated in half a dozen dead bodies - everyone in Faerun was familiar with and sick of the story - that didn’t matter, as it wasn’t the focal point of the performance.

Instead, everyone’s attention was intended to be drawn to the shadows projected onto a screen behind the actors. As the actors performed their sorrowful dialogue, their shadows - in reality silhouettes of other actors behind the screen - displayed them doing anything but talking.

“How did you get the shadows to be so sharp?” Asmodea asked, impressed.

“Matrim devised some trick with mirrors,” Astarion answered.

Matrim was, quite possibly, the worst wizard they had ever met. The man was hopeless in everything but illusion magic, which incidentally made him highly sought after for high end spectacles and performances. He provided lighting and visual effects for the theatre, and in turn he was provided with a living and working space in the Siren’s basement, on top of his wages. His lack of proficiency in other schools of magic did not prevent him from stubbornly pursuing them, often with near-catastrophic results. Still, between spending much of his time in the company of scantily clad dancers, and Asmodea and Astarion ignoring the occasional explosions that shook the building, he was likely the most self-satisfied wizard in Baldur’s Gate, despite his professional shortcomings. 

As it happened, it was Matrim who managed to conjure a perfect mirror image of Astarion (much to Astarion’s shock), absentmindedly, almost as an afterthought, just as Gale was informing Astarion that he had exhausted all avenues and deemed it impossible.

Gale politely commended the achievement which had eluded him, but ultimately dismissed Matrim as a one trick pony. Regardless, as far as Asmodea and Astarion were concerned, the man was worth his (rather abundant) weight in gold.

As the actor portraying the male hero onstage performed a heartfelt monologue, professing his undying love for the heroine, his shadow was shown to grow an enormous but otherwise anatomically correct phallus.

Asmodea’s patron hummed in approval.

“If Fuckface’s reaction is any indicator for how our audience will respond - this is great,” said Asmodea.

“It still baffles me, some of the things it finds to be funny,” Astarion murmured.

“I’m still under the impression that the concept of gender is alien to them, but they can appreciate a dick joke as well as anyone.”

Fuckface made no comment.

As the scene went on, the shadows began ravaging one another in progressively creative and obscene ways, performing acrobatic feats of increasing complexity.

“It’s good! And now no one will be able to say we don’t pay tribute to the ‘great works’,” Asmodea went on as the female’s shadow was picked up and flipped upside down by the male. “The only thing that concerns me is- OH! By Shar’s tits!” Asmodea gasped as the female suddenly opened and held her legs in a perfect spread eagle split, her crotch level with the man’s head.

“Indeed…” murmured Astarion. “Can you do that?” He glanced at her with curiosity.

“If I ever feel like dislocating a hip I’ll give it a try,” she muttered. “Who’s behind there?”

“The new girl,” Astarion answered. “Elora.”

“Hmm. I hope she sticks around. …Anyway, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but this might actually be too crass,” winced Asmodea. “Aren’t they teenagers in the original work?”

“We could give them both beards,” offered Astarion. “Or add a line at the beginning about them struggling to pay their taxes - it will make their state of distress all the more plausible.”

Astarion stood idly swirling a glass of red wine spiked with blood, observing the crowd from behind a curtain off the side of the stage, concealed by darkness. He had been very pleased to learn that drinking wine this way was still enjoyable for him, even without the tadpole.

“See anything you like at the buffet tonight?” Asmodea purred in Astarion’s ear, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind.

He wore a corset beneath a bedazzled suit jacket, together with an obscene amount of jewellery. He preferred to keep his scarred back concealed, when he could. And apparently it was a pants day. Some nights he felt more conservative than others.

He made or altered everything he wore himself, just as he did many of the more outlandish costumes worn by their performers.

Asmodea herself wore her usual rendition of the evening attire she kept to when she wasn’t appearing onstage - a relatively simple red dress tailored to her figure, complete with a high thigh slit. A balance of sophistication and practicality - she made it a life principle to never wear anything that might be too constraining for her to be able to deliver a swift kick to anyone’s groin, should the need arise - all whilst keeping with the theme of the Siren.

“There are a few tempting options…” Astarion responded. “But why don’t you choose tonight?”

“What about the new bard? Devyn. He’s not performing tonight, just watching.”

“You always go for the men,” commented Astarion. “Should I be worried?” he teased.

“They’re more likely to follow through, and less prone to suddenly catching feelings and expectations in the morning,” shrugged Asmodea. “And I like watching you make them squirm,” she whispered in his ear, as he smirked. “But if you’re not up for that, what about that new dancer? Elora?”

“I thought we decided to avoid regular employees after the last fiasco?” Astarion lifted an eyebrow, glancing back at her.

“I’ve noticed she’s been making doe eyes at both of us - I think the other girls have been gossiping to her. Wouldn’t want her to feel left out.”

“Hmm,” hummed Astarion. “Maybe next time. The bard does look appetising.” He downed what was left of his wine. “I’m up.”

The way it started was unintentional. A wood elf ranger visiting their tavern, years back. Warm, guileless, companionable. Perhaps he reminded them of a younger, unburdened Halsin. They were drawn into a conversation with him late into the night. He had recognised Astarion for what he was, and was not frightened by it. Rather, he was curious. Unlike the blood merchant at Moonrise, there was something genuine and almost naive about his curiosity. He wanted to experience being bitten.  

They’d explained to him the way it would affect him – the aphrodisiac-like element of being bit by a vampire. It only further sparked his curiosity. Of course that thought wouldn’t deter a wood elf, Astarion would roll his eyes later. They explained the way it would most likely affect Astarion, for that matter – thinking creature blood still tended to go straight to his dick, no matter the source. ‘You can’t argue with your nature’, was all the ranger said. ‘No, but sometimes nature needs to be ignored, replied Astarion. 

He brought the ranger’s wrist to his lips, holding his gaze, and bit into it. It was meant to be an arrogant, snarky gesture. An “I told you so. Happy now?”. Instead, the moment the blood hit his tongue, something passed between them. Astarion found his eyes locked with the other elf’s, unable to look away and break the unspoken sultry exchange. No, this could not so easily be ignored.  

An indeterminate amount of time passed. It couldn’t have been long, but each moment seemed to hold the significance of a lifetime. ‘Shit,’ thought Astarion, breaking away at last and glancing back at Asmodea, hoping she would write off any change she might have noticed in his demeanour as irrelevant and beyond his control.  

Instead, she palmed his cock through his trousers, encouragingly, spellbound by the sight of them. He rutted against her hand, involuntarily. No, it could not be ignored at all.  

‘Do you want to continue this upstairs?’ the wood elf breathed, shakily, taking in both of them.  

They did.  

Words of re-affirmation would follow between Astarion and Asmodea the next day. Was what had occurred fine? Yes, it was. Should it happen again? They didn’t see why not. Ground rules would be set out. Only together. Only with each other’s unwavering consent. Any hesitation meant no. Astarion would drink from their ‘guest’. If they did not want him to – they would not bother at all. Procuring sufficient blood for him to be able to dull the eternal gnawing hunger was still problematic back then. After, it had simply become part of the custom.

The new bard lounged between them in their booth, happily chattering away about his recent travels. He wasn’t scheduled to perform until the following evening, and was spending the night enjoying the evening’s show, at the invitation of his hosts.

Asmodea laughed and talked with the bard, as Astarion mostly kept his eye on the stage, interjecting at appropriate moments. This didn’t require his full attention.

The young man seemed fine. Jovial. Unpretentious. Slightly awkward. Suggestible. Undeniably attractive. He was tipsy, but not sloppily so. In other words, perfect.

Astarion shifted his attention to Asmodea, catching her eye over the bard’s head, as he babbled something about his recent time in Waterdeep. Asmodea held his eye, as he raised an eyebrow at her. She tilted her head slightly and smiled. He had her approval.

The rest was a game consisting of a multitude of little probes, trials and tests, one of several they’d worked out for themselves.

‘Doesn’t this remind you of… ‘before’,’ she’d asked him when they first started getting into this routine.

Of course it did. That was the point. Finding his own ‘prey’ for himself, by his own volition, without pressure, without anyone’s death, without pain or fear of punishment, knowing he could stop any time he wanted, and all of it with her every step of the way. It wouldn’t erase centuries of horrible memories, but having sufficient pleasant experiences might just throw a veil over them, eventually, or so he hoped.

Asmodea reached for a bottle of wine on their table, placing her hand on Devyn’s thigh, as though for balance, and kept it there.

The bard stammered mid-sentence and looked up at her, surprised but clearly pleasantly so. The hand stayed, as she smiled back at him, gazing at him through lidded eyes. He was attracted to her - that much was obvious. One of the little boxes ticked. He went on talking, until he suddenly froze, a touch of panic writ on his face, and turned towards Astarion - as though suddenly remembering that his hosts were a couple.

At that point Astarion had half turned towards him, his arm thrown over the back of the booth’s seat, above Devyn’s shoulders.

Devyn found Astarion’s carmine eyes inches from his own, when he turned. All he could do was look into them, hypnotised like a mouse before a cobra.

Astarion ran a single finger up the back of Devyn’s neck, making the bard’s breath hitch and the hair on the nape of his neck stand on end. He briefly toyed with the idea of further petrifying him, perhaps by insinuating that the bard had the audacity to flirt with his wife in his plain sight, but decided against it.

At that point Asmodea had inched her hand further up the young man’s thigh. He let her, and had even spread his legs further, all while continuing to look at Astarion with a mixture of trepidation and a growing excitement. Bold. Promising.

Astarion learned further in, slowly, to gage Devyn’s reaction. The bard stayed entranced and did not shrink away, although Astarion heard his pulse quicken.

It was all as good as sealed.

Astarion finally leaned in for a kiss, which Devyn returned eagerly. The little tease actually got cocksure enough to cover Asmodea’s hand with his own, encouraging her to go higher along his leg. 

This left just one little detail.

Astarion slid his lips along the bard’s jaw and up to his ear.

“Do you know what I am..?” he whispered against the shell of his ear.

Devyn let out a shaky breath.

“I’ve heard many rumours… I don’t know which might be true,” he managed, voice thick with desire.

“Many rumours..?” Astarion smiled. “Seems I’m gaining notoriety. But I’ll give you a hint.”

His lips dipped lower, trailing along his neck, nibbling on it softly as Devyn gasped and threw his head back, to give him just the slightest nick with a single fang. He drew only the tiniest drop of blood - only enough to make Devyn crave more, and just enough for Astarion to determine that the blood was appropriate and untainted. He had learned to identify disease - he’s had plenty of test subjects over the past few years after all. Not to the point of determining what was wrong with his target, but enough to be able to tell when to stay away.

Devyn let out a low moan as Astarion continued to lick and lightly suck on his neck, no longer breaking the skin.

Astarion reached out to place his hand on Asmodea’s knee. She covered his hand with hers. They had developed little silent, basic tactile signals for each other. Sharp staccato taps - caution. Intertwined fingers - stay, more. Nails digging into skin - stop immediately. But she only caresses his hand back, reassuring and encouraging him. Everything was fine. She would take it from there.

“Would you like to join us after the show..?” she purred into Devyn’s opposite ear.

“I’ve never done this before,” he stuttered.

“What?!” she teased. “And you say you completed bardic college - I thought lewd indecency was a prerequisite for graduating.”

“No, I mean with-” his eyes darted between Asmodea and Astarion.

Astarion never learned whether he meant vampires, men, women or a combination thereof, as at that point he had to excuse himself and get back onstage. He got up with the strongest feeling of deja vu taking him back to their time with Wyll.

He left as Asmodea was cooing at the flustered bard, promising to teach him whatever skills he was lacking. She found this type particularly entertaining, for whatever reason. It didn’t matter: if she was happy, he was happy.

His new little snack and entertainment for the night was secured, and would eagerly await him.

Asmodea was interrupted by Ban, one of the bouncers, who looked uncharacteristically apprehensive.

“Madam, there is a man at the door asking to see you or the Master. He said he’s a friend of yours.”

“Did he give his name?” Asmodea asked distractedly.

“He refused to, but he is very persistent about seeing you.”

“Can you describe him?” Asmodea frowned.

“Human male, somewhere in his 30’s. Long brown hair. Not your archmage friend. And he has a small child with him.”

Asmodea racked her brain trying to remember anyone they knew that fit that description, who happened to have a child and might act this way. She shook her head.

“Ask him to come in, I’ll attend to him soon.”

Ban leaned in closer to whisper to her.

“He said he won’t enter without the express permission from the lord or lady of the house.”

Fuck.

Asmodea got up, smiling apologetically at Devyn.

“Another time.” She turned back to Ban. “Thank you. I’ll get Astarion myself and will see him.”

Part 5

~~~~~

Thank you for reading. PS. If you’re wondering whether anything mentioned about the theatre or play is a reference to something that exists irl - the answer is most likely ‘yes’.

Thank you @elora-the-slutty-songstress and @brabblesblog for the OC cameos. 😁

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @asterordinary @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @spacebarbarianweird

@brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @ayselluna

@mj-bites @bardic-inspo

[acestories]

Arc 1 Chapter 2

Seattle city streets have an average speed limit of about 32 to 40 kph, or about 20 to 25 mph if you suffer from a severe case of being a Patriotic American™ like my grandpa. As a major city, the streets are never truly empty, but this early in the morning, traffic isn’t too bad. People are more likely to speed as a result. And that includes the hijacked bank truck, going… 80 kph? I think? I don’t know, it’s fast as hell. 

Good news, I’m fast as hell too. I’m matching a similar speed, able to keep up despite having to weave between the buildings of Downtown Seattle/Financial District. Bad news, everything else around me isn’t, hence not going my full speed while in Downtown Seattle/Financial District.

I mean, I’m actually pretty decent at this. That’s not bragging either; I’m one of the vanishingly rare lucky supers that didn’t need to take physical therapy for more than a few weeks to get the hang of not turning people into jelly. It all just kinda came naturally to me somehow ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .

The radio signal chattered through my headphones, saying the perps had turned down a different street. Shit. I do what I can to turn, but momentum is a pain, and I have to somersault over several cars, vans, and at least one truck. God I wish I could fly. I mean, I can, but I’m a hazard when I do. 

Wait, that’s right! I can leap over buildings!

Chastising myself for not remembering earlier, I hop over a short building in the direction of the perps, but they make another nonsensical turn. What is with this route? It’s all over the place. WAIT. I think I know what they might be doing, but I need to check my phone’s map to make sure. Stopping myself when I land on the sidewalk this time, I pull off my head phones and-

“HELP!!!” 

My cat ears perk up at hearing someone scream for help. I wait a few seconds to hear it again, being able to tell me which direction it is. I turn my head to see a store being robbed. Looks like a group of mundies with guns. Well, that’s easy. Putting my phone back, I ran down the road and surprised them by taking their guns from their hands before they could even know I was there. Standing before them, holding their guns, I nod my head in their direction. They try to run, but I catch and tie them quickly. Tied up, I returned the money to the store employees as they called the police and thanked me. 

Awesome, now I can check the map to see-

“HELP!!!” 

Ok, uh, let me check. Radio chatter says guys are still just tearing up the financial district. The robbers aren’t particularly close to me, so, uh… Let’s see what that someone needs. Shit, someone is falling from the tower!

Ok, they need my help. I do the building jumping thing from earlier, but much gentler. When I reach them, I scoop the poor maintenance worker into my arms and bring them down to the ground as gently as I can. 

“There, you’re ok, right?” I say as I let go. The worker looked shaken for a few moments as they processed everything that just happened. 

As they got their bearings, I turned around, when “Can you take me back?” made me turn back and stare at the worker. 

“What do you mean?”

“Back to the tower, my boss is an ass and will chew me out for ‘leaving the premises.’” They said, using their fingers as mock air quotes as they said the last part. “And we are a pretty good distance from there?”

I nod in apologetic confirmation, picking them up again and running down the street towards the place, setting them down at an entrance. They stumbled towards the door with a quiet “Thanks.”

Cool, now I can check-

“HELP!!!”

Ffff- Ok, who is it now? What is it now apparently, as a fire bursts out of a nearby building as some elemental, lava man looking guy walked out, waves of heat distorting the air around him as he stared down some poor sucker. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but I got enough to know he wanted revenge. There was a lot of revenge lately as people finally started to get the hang of their powers.

With a sigh of resignation, I run down the street, beating the snot out of the lava guy enough to disorient him. As he stumbled backwards after his nose crunched, I ran to grab a fire hydrant, tearing the top off of it and turning it towards the guy, creating great heaps of steam as he was forcibly cooled. Next, I grab a metal beam of sorts that glowed orange from the building, wrapping it around the lava man, and making sure he is knocked out before I turn the fire hydrant to the building so it puts out the fire. 

Ok, now I can-

“HELP!!!”

Sure, this might as well happen, hope the robbers haven’t proven my guess right. Looking in the direction of the sound, I see that… No way. It’s the truck. Kick ass. I think as a grin spreads across my face. 

WAit shit it’s going to hit someone in the road. Working quickly, I grabbed them and got them out of the way with enough time to catch the- “My baby!” 

Ok, wait, let me get the baby stroller back to the mother. That done, I turned from the mother into the street to try and catch the truck when WHAM!!! the truck slammed into me due to me not paying attention, my body ragdolling up the windshield. I grab the top of the cabin on reflex, my fingers going through the metal like it was play-doh.

It takes me a moment to get my bearings enough to flip over, grabbing on with my other hand. Just then, the truck started moving. FAST. The wind whipped against me, my cheeks rippling from the force as my hair was forced back. I can see why dogs enjoy this. 

The truck swerved aggressively as it wove between the cars on the street. Probably equal parts them trying to get through traffic ASAP, and trying to get me off of the roof. I will admit, they're doing a decent job. Had I or the metal of the Truck been any weaker, I probably would've fallen off by now. 

Well, this has been an experience, but I got a job to do. I shimmied my way over to the passenger side as best I can, punching new finger sized holes into the metal as I do so. Finally on the side, I grabbed the door, and forced it open, pulling it off its hinges. “Please pull over, I–”

BLAM!!!

Ok, they have a shotgun. And while I'm bulletproof, there is still a great deal of crap that just flew into my eyes and mouth, all of it very unpleasant. I started to cough, my eyes watering as my body's automatic responses kicked in. It took me a solid few seconds to even realize that the one with a shotgun was kicking me, thinking that was going to get me to go.

Thoroughly done with this situation, I glared at them, my eyes still full of tears as I grabbed their head, slamming it into the dashboard hard enough to make them pass out. “Let me ask again. Pull over now–”

BLAM!!! 

I stared back at the driver, thoroughly unamused at his attempt to shotgun me a second time. “I like this hoodie. My mom got me this hoodie.” I stated in a flat, monotone voice as the wind further widened the tears in it. 

The driver, presumably in a fit of blind panic, sent the thing to its maximum speed, plowing through the concrete dividers and straight into the water. God fucking dammit. I only have a few seconds to think, and in my moment of blind panic, I brace myself against the back of the Truck's cabin, and I fly. 

Flying is such an odd sensation, like falling, except you know you’re in full control. The metal groaned as I pushed against it, doing everything I can to not be too rough. Unfortunately, I wasn’t trying hard enough, and I found myself going through into the back of the truck. I stopped flying immediately, and the truck began to hit the water in a wild and savage manner, water spilling through the lack of a door. Panicking, I grabbed both a comically cartoonish bag of money and the guy who shotgunned me earlier, hugging them tightly as the water came charging in. 

As the truck truly began to sink in earnest, its front falling towards the mud and rocks below before the rest of it followed. I work quickly to keep the bag and dead weight above the water as I march towards the back doors. Turning my back to them, I push back as hard as I can, breaking the doors as I and a massive bubble of air come rushing out. The distance between me and the surface was much shorter than I thought, as apparently we hadn’t gone very far from the shore.

As the truck continued to sink, a series of bubbles being the only thing that marked where it was, I paddle my way to shore, money bag held above the water while the perp's head rested on my shoulder. A pair of cops came my way as their colleagues arrested the driver. I was wondering what happened to him. 

“You with the robbers?” The closest one asked me.

“No.” I sighed as I reached the point where I could properly stand again, briny water coming off of me in streams that splattered. I was now cradling the bag in my arms as I set the perp on the rocks.

“You do realize you can’t keep that, right? You don’t get that kind of reward, especially since the bank is down one truck.”

“I don’t want to keep it, asshole!” I snapped maybe a bit too harshly, I opened the bag, pulling a little girl out of it. “She wanted to surprise her dad. I don’t remember which bank he’s at, but he’s got to be worried sick about her.”

I set the girl down as gingerly as I could. Poor thing was shaking like a leaf, though how much of that was nerves and how much of it was the cold, I had no clue. After a moment for her to get her bearings, she walked to the police officer that came running with a towel for her. 

I started to sit down on the sidewalk, its warmth welcome after my impromptu dip in the Sound. The first cop came and sat next to me. “So, apparently the robbers had a speedster working with them. They kept driving the way they did so they could rob as many banks as possible.”

Hearing that, a smile broke out across my face. "I sure hope somebody picks up that phone, because I fucking called it!"