#queueing stuff with the new one. for some reason i guess

[wheucto]

man i hope the queue didn't offset 4/20/2069 4:20 PM or whatever it was

#wheucto #wheucto speaks #queueing stuff with the new one. for some reason i guess #it queues once per set amount of minutes. the highest you can go is 1440 (24 hours). i dont remember the minimum as of typing this #so you can set it towards like once per day in a specific time period per day

[undercoverpena]

you're a storm

simon ghost riley x f!reader (call of duty)

summary: because we're friends. are we? don't see a queue of other people putting up with your shit, ghost.

warnings: brief mentions of smut, p in v. friends to something close to a relationship (this is ghost). somewhat moody ghost. wordcount: 2.1k dedicated to @theashfallx who deserves a slab of softness and tattoos.

It’s raining. 

Just like the day you'd first appeared. 

You’d been drenched in it all, baptised for the introduction—droplets falling from your sleeve as you said your name, Price hanging back. 

Your credentials had been told to them all a month ago. Not really asking if any of them minded, more telling them all. More him, than the others.

He supposed he’d do the same if he were in Price’s position. 

Now, pellets hammered against everything they could, including the single-glazed window of his room. It sounded like it was hitting tin than glass, oddly reminding him of you—your talks of caravaning with your family or thin sheets and watching storms out across a sea. 

You’d shared it with him once. Your eyes all transfixed on the lightning in the distance. Hands cupped around a mug that was no longer steaming in the centre of the place they were bunkered down in.

When’s the last time you slept? When was the last time you did, Lieut?

Lieut.

Not L.t. Not lieutenant. Some shorthand version you called him, simply because. 

You who was now avoiding him because of his chosen silence. Because words had caught on the back of his teeth. His fingers not quite quick enough before you’d left him alone. 

He used to like being alone, but somewhere between your rambling and lying next to him, you changed it. Changed him.

It’s the sole reason he’d stepped out. Tired of the four walls of his room, seeking a new space rather than any sort of conversation.

After all, he despised words. He preferred orders. Something concrete, not argued against. Enjoyed the unspoken ones shared between nods and occasional glares. 

Ghost somewhat tolerated (liked) Johnny, sometimes even Gaz. 

But you were the anomaly—the difference. He didn't tolerate you, he secretly wanted you. Wanted a smile, a laugh. Happy and content with just that.

No one knew—not even you—that sometimes you managed to tug a smile behind his mask. That your words from that day began painting themselves in his mind when he should be sleeping.

You share a lot for someone with a redacted file. Well, I like to keep those poking around, guessing.  I’m not guessin’.  No. Guessing means you could be wrong, and you like to be right too much for that, don’t you, Ghost?

You had a habit of pulling things from him. Words. A snigger.

It was all as though your smaller hands had found some rope, pulling on it until he began giving them to you more easily than he did the rest. You didn’t know everything, but he assumed what you didn’t, you’d guessed. 

He’s seen firsthand how you fill in gaps. The way you assess and ascertain. It’s there when you stare at maps, hearing briefings—practically spots the marker in your mind circling things to question. 

It's why he's not sure how you didn't guess you mattered to him.

How that you couldn't see.

He hears a clap of thunder, somewhere in the distance. Thankful it's a short walk to the canteen, the air thick with the scents of mossy earth and dirt before he’s met with the aroma of food and too many bodies trying to stuff themselves before lights out.

Not you, though. 

Ghost watches you slip out through the opposite doors. Across tables and too many bent heads for him to get to with any sort of quickness.

He smirks, if only to himself.

Watching as barely a head lifts from the rest of your comrades and table at your exit.

But then, if they’d been paying too much attention, the gig would have been up a while ago. The secret out. There would have been opinions poked in the holes of their tryst—questions hurtled that had no answers either of you wished to confront. 

He didn’t have friends, but he did have you.

Some scrappy thing which didn’t like to sleep, didn’t like to lose—and had the most stunning eyes. They seared into him even when surrounded by paint, cheeks smothered in mud and lashes clotted with sand. Burned a hole right through him that no amount of time would heal. 

It didn’t help they found him often. Practically sought him, landing on him as though there weren’t others who deserved it. 

Then he gained your sarcasm. Your whispered thoughts and soft smirk. 

At some point between annoyance and admiration, you stepped over the line into friendship. He kept his eye on you outside of being your lieutenant; you checked on him for reasons he didn’t understand. 

If you get lonely at home, my address is in your phone. I don’t have a phone.  Ah yes, the very secret thing at the back of your second drawer isn’t a phone, Ghost. 

He’d considered it: texting. 

Why? Because we're friends. Are we? Don't see a queue of other people putting up with your shit, Ghost.

He'd almost called, merely to check in. Not wanting to visit or any real company, just the sound of your voice to convince him that you’re alive—that you hadn’t slipped in the shower or fallen into a sleep you’d never wake from. That you weren't hurt.

Ghost never called, didn't send a thing. Because it meant something if he did. Meant he cared, meant he’d latched—two things he tried desperately not to do. 

And then, a new line was crossed. One jumped over because of circumstances the two of you hadn’t prepared for. 

Your stubbornness and foolishness caused a blade to lodge in your thigh in a takedown—maroon flowing from around it, beginning to spread. Your radio message made something drip down his spine, his blood cold before Ghost managed to hack up gruff orders that fell from his tongue like lava. 

The metal was still sticking out when he found you, all unmoved from your leg, a half-smile plastered across your cheeks.

He's knocked out, not dead. Don't care, le— I didn't take it out, Ghost. It's better I don't, right? Let me see.

You almost don't let him. And while you’d seen his face, his hands had still shook as he slipped the gloves from his fingers, touching the edges of ripped fabric and hating the sounds of your whimpers.

It's only as he lifted his eyes, his chin, did you kiss him. Right over the mask. Before he can question, before he can surrender, your head rips back, eyes brimming with tears you refuse to let fall. 

Had to, just in case.  None of that, alright? 

Those three words don’t come out easily, almost clotting in his throat like scarlet does around your wound. 

Lift it up. Your mask. 

He’s not sure why he did. 

Why he bent to such a request—an order, but he did. No sooner is it over his nose does he feel chapped lips against his, softly moving, desperately seeking something. A moment, a chance. He isn’t sure and never asks. He just tastes you, the happiness that lives within, mixed with the desert, iron and somehow, even bleeding profusely, hope. 

You kiss better than I thought, Lieut. 

It was a month later before you brought it up. Dangled it in front of him, the chance to do it again—to kiss you, to do more than kiss. 

He’s human. And only a fool would say no to someone as gorgeous as you. Someone good, talented, full of fire and light that could, if you tried, bring him to his fucking knees. 

Which he supposes you did, ironically. 

Your leg hooked over his shoulder, tongue lapping up your want as your hand grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He was praying to you, and you were whimpering a hymn compiled of his name.

SimonSimonSimon. 

You both cross a new line together moments later, the final one. The one harder to come back from and pretend never happened.

Because then he knew how it felt to have your thighs on either side of his hips. To brush his fingers against your cheek and wipe the tears from coming on his tongue all away as he eases himself into you. 

Ghost knows how your hand feels clasped around his forearm as his cock sinks into you. How your nails dig into the ink on his skin, secretly hoping it leaves a similar mark.

So big. Too— You can take it.  I can—I will. I know. Know you will, sweetheart. 

Then it became a habit. 

You became a habit.

You're both heaven and a misdemeanour. Something he craved but knew he shouldn't let himself enjoy. Even if he did—whenever he could.

Ghost runs his teeth along your collarbone, and leaves welts under your uniform. He presses your cheek against cold walls, snaking his hand under the waistband of your trousers and standard-issue underwear, making you mew.

You’d do better with someone else—be far better suited to someone more open. Someone who’ll let you have more than scraps when night falls and will sit next to you on a canteen bench and nudge their knee against yours. 

Ghost won’t do that, but Simon might. 

That's what he clings to, that Simon could be enough.

Even if all of him have been falling for you, all unbeknownst to him until it's all he thinks. Having studied every curve of your body, taken note of each whip of your sharp tongue and marvelled secretly at how your brain thinks when challenged. 

It took him a while to see the brains behind the big eyes and the smirking lips. Now, it’s all he sees. 

He sees both a capable soldier and the person who has had their lips around his cock. The person who has laid in his sheets, staring up at him, mouth parted as you moan; the one who’s rolled their hips against his tongue, pleading for more as your fist clamps around a sheet. 

Friends don’t…. do what we do, though. Suppose they don’t.  What are we, then? 

He didn't answer, and so you didn't push. 

It stung the silence. It worsened when you dressed, when you said goodnight before the lights are even out.

You pulled away after that. And he felt it instantly. The draught of you not being beside him, your body not being curled around his before the sun rises—your laugh not peppering his ears.

Mostly, he found it torturous that your eyes don't land. Your snark swallowed, never meeting the air, never greeting him.

He tried to shake it, even if he beguns to feel the weight of the words he should have said. The ones he has thought for a while, the ones he feels. It not mattering, always coming back to the same thing: it’s easier to show than to tell. 

It’s why he’d let you map his past with the pads of your fingers rather than tell you the gruesome truth. That he lost so much, it’s hard to ever want again. He suspects you can tell, just from how your eyes land on him, when your hands feel the deeper ones—the ones who make him see flickers of how they were caused behind his eyelids. 

Ghost knew he’d fallen, having descended into want and affinity before you'd left that night. It consumed him in the time that followed.

Too many cold showers and anger-fuelled stares, before he truly acknowledges the ball is in his court. Before he lets the fact, he doesn’t want to rot away alone anymore but rather live for someone to fuel him to speak up. 

He considers ordering, demanding. 

Instead, he beckons. Fingers wrapping around your elbow, ignoring your eyes, flicking from the corridor ahead to him until the two of you are safely inside the four walls of his room. 

Then, he pours it out. Mask ripped from his face, lips burning words against yours. It’s different, fuelled by passion than relief—not soft, but not aiming to conquer the other. 

He buries himself in you differently, easing himself in—running his teeth along your jaw until he’s kissing whispered words to your ear. 

“I know…” you whisper fingers curled around his neck.

You say it as though you’ve heard his unspoken confession somewhere else. Like he’s left the script somewhere, and you know the act that's about to follow. 

“Show me,” you add. "Show me you want me, Simon."

And he does. 

Driving himself in and out in long, slow strides. He feels the feather-like touches over his back, the way your breath dances along his chin and neck. The lamp in the corner is the only light source, forcing your pupils to expand until they’ve almost swallowed the colour he admires and hopes to name. 

Ghost finds only his reflection in them—staring into wide and hopeful eyes. Seeing himself back in them, able to glimpse a person who isn’t a collection of shards, but someone almost whole. 

an: i was listening to some moody music.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod ghost x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #ghost riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #ghost cod x reader #ghost angst #ghost x you #ghost riley #ghost call of duty #cod x reader smut

[scary-grace]

Enough to Go By (Chapter 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Your best friend vanished on the same night his family was murdered, and even though the world forgot about him, you never did. When a chance encounter brings you back into contact with Shimura Tenko, you'll do anything to make sure you don't lose him again. Keep his secrets? Sure. Aid the League of Villains? Of course. Sacrifice everything? You would - but as the battle between the League of Villains and hero society unfolds, it becomes clear that everything is far more than you or anyone else imagined it would be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 4

You think about Tenko more now, but you’re allowed to – he’s your patient, and if he was your patient at the clinic, you’d expect to see him for a follow-up on the four gunshot wounds you cleaned and dressed. You’re allowed to think about him, so you think about him. You think about him a lot.

The thoughts take two directions. One is just wondering about him – how he’s feeling, how he spends his days, what he’s thinking about, what he thinks of you, whether he’s thought about you at all. The other is thinking about the situation he’s in. His parents and grandparents and his sister are dead. He’s been missing for fifteen years. He’s got a quirk and he’s a villain, ambitious and strategic enough to target UA High and escape alive, albeit badly injured. His guardian is a cloud of mist in a suit with some kind of split personality. And there’s someone else in his world – two someone elses. The doctor he referenced, who wouldn’t help him, and the one he calls Sensei, who gave him his new name and a hand to wear over his face and set him up to fail.

You think about Tenko a lot, but you can’t think about him all the time, because now that you’re a nurse, you’re twice as busy as you were before. The doctors expect more of you, and so do the other nurses – and so do the MAs and CNAs and high school students who are starting their apprenticeships, since you now have three years’ experience to go with your reputation for smoothing things over with difficult patients. Your friends keep you busy, too. They might call Kazuo to find out if something’s wrong with them, but they call you to find out what to do about it.

“You need to get a scan,” you say to Yoshimi for probably the fifth time. “I know you don’t want to –”

“It’s weird!”

“Not any weirder than whatever Yoji does when the two of you are at second base,” you say, and in the background of the call, someone snickers. If you had to guess, you’d say it’s Mitsuko – she has the guts to bully Yoshimi into making the call, combined with the brass balls to feel comfortable eavesdropping. “It’s called a mammogram. You’d have to start getting them at some point anyway, just like we all do. It’s just to make sure there’s nothing weird going on.”

“Stop it. You’re freaking her out for no reason.” Yoji’s there, too. “It’s probably just an STD.”

You’re stunned into silence for a second by the sheer classlessness of saying that about one’s own girlfriend, but you bounce back fast. “First of all, they’re called STIs, genius. Secondly, there’s not an STI on the planet that gives you nipple discharge. Yoshimi, get the scan. I’ll go with you if you want. Just get it done.”

“Can I do it at your clinic?”

“Uh –” You glance at the Imaging queue. Things look quiet, but you can’t count on that to last – but if you report Yoshimi’s symptoms, which include soreness, nipple discharge, and what she describes as a weird rash, you’re pretty sure the doctor on call will bump her to the head of the line. “Yeah, come in now. I can’t stick around after my shift, though. I have stuff to do tonight.”

“Ooh, stuff. Let me see –” There’s some rustling, which you can only assume is Mitsuko grabbing the phone. “Is stuff tall, dark, handsome, way too serious, and currently working as a sidekick?”

“That would be stuff,” you admit. “It’s not a big deal. We’re just grabbing a drink after our shifts.”

For the first time since you and Kazuo broke up, you have a date, and it’s Kazuo’s fault. Or maybe it’s you and your friends’ fault, because you decided to throw Kazuo a twentieth birthday party and invited a few of his friends from UA. One of those friends is Sugimura Hiroki, who fits perfectly with your type of dark-haired boys who want to be heroes and who’s so painfully shy that it took him six beers and the entire party to talk to you. You were sort of weirded out by that. You’re not very intimidating, and you spent the first half of the conversation trying to figure out if he knew you were quirkless, since you learned the hard way that it’s something you need to disclose up front. But the two of you eventually worked your way around to the point, which was that Sugimura wants to get to know you better, and he tripped over his tongue so badly that you finally just asked him out to end the suspense.

It’s taken you a while to actually schedule the date, but tonight’s the night, and you’re sort of anxious about it. Luckily, work is busy enough to keep you distracted. Your lunch break ends while Mitsuko is still going into increasingly nasty speculations about Sugimura’s physical attributes, and you hang up the phone without saying goodbye.

There’s a message waiting for you on your computer, from the front desk. FOF. Can you take him?

It’s not Tenko. You know Tenko wouldn’t come here again. You send the same message you did when it was him. How F are we talking?

Jumpy, talking to himself, chainsmoking. He’s in costume.

“In costume” could literally mean that the patient’s wearing a costume, but it’s also code for when the front desk thinks the patient’s a villain. You’re used to dealing with villains by now. Send him back.

When the knock on the door comes, you’re ready and waiting, and the CNA ushers in a tall man in a black-and-grey bodysuit – so “in costume” was literal this time around – and a paper bag over his head. You’re momentarily transfixed by the paper bag, and more so when you realize that he’s bringing a lighted cigarette to his mouth while wearing something highly flammable on his face. The CNA shuts the door and bolts. You face your patient and introduce yourself. “Have a seat if you feel comfortable doing so. What brings you in today?”

“I’m not – whole.”

That’s concerning. “Are you injured?” Your concern grows when he gestures at his face. “It would really help if I could see the injury. Can you take the bag off?”

He shakes his head. Instead he reaches into his pocket and produces a torn full-face mask. You look at him, then at him, putting the pieces together. “How do you feel right now?”

He doesn’t answer – maybe can’t answer – so you default to the face chart you use when little kids aren’t able to express how they feel in words. Your patient points to scared, stressed, anxious, angry. Then he throws in happy, possibly to mess with you, or to distract you from the fact that the first four emotions indicate that he’s ready to snap at any second. “How about this?” you ask, after thinking it over. “I can ask the doctor to give you something that will help you calm down –”

“Please!” The patient bursts out. Drug-seeking? “No, I don’t need it, sister! I’m so calm it’s hard to believe.”

“Okay, then we’ll just have it here in case you decide you want it. As an option,” you say, keeping your voice smooth and calm. “Either way, this is a quiet place to wait. You’re safe in here with me. And if you want, I can sew up your mask for you. Would that help?”

“You can do that?”

“Easily,” you say. “Can I see it for a second? I need to make sure I grab the right thread.”

The patient hands the mask over, which is a good sign. You’ve established at least a little bit of trust. You examine the mask and decide that you’ll need the thinnest-gauge needle and thread you have. “I can definitely fix this,” you tell the patient. “It might look a little rough, but it’ll cover you up like it did before. And it should last until you get where you’re going.”

The patient nods. You stand up. “I’m going to get some supplies, and a little anxiety medication if you decide you want it. I’ll be right back, okay? Just wait here.”

The patient nods again. Given how labile his mood is, you need to be fast about this, and get back before he gets upset or decides to leave. You step out the door and shut it behind you, heading for the supply closet, but you’re waylaid on the way there by one of the doctors. “We need you up front. Now.”

“I can’t. I have a patient, and he’s –”

“I don’t care. We’ve got a hero coming to visit, and we need somebody to keep things calm,” the doctor says. Shit. “Figure out what they want, get them as little of it as you can get away with, and get them out of here.”

“Which hero?”

The doctor shakes his head. Great. “Just hurry.”

You can’t go just yet. “My patient’s got a lot of anxiety and he’s in costume. I need him to stay calm. Can you –”

“2mg diazepam. I’ll put it in the chart.” The doctor unlocks one of the medicine cabinets, extracts a prefilled dosage cup, and hands it to you. “Go.”

Diazepam is long-acting. Hopefully long-acting enough to keep your patient quiet while you get rid of the hero. You skitter back down the hall with the dosage cup and hand it over to the patient, along with a tiny bottle of water to wash it down. “I’ll be right back. Just finding the right thread.”

The patient downs the pill dry, which is both good and bad for you. You shut the door again and head for the lobby. You don’t make it there. A cloud of black mist boils up around you, swallowing you whole.

By the time your feet hit the familiar wooden floor of the bar, you’re already out of patience. “No. Send me back right now.”

“Shigaraki Tomura has need of you. You will assist him.”

“Not right now I won’t. You snatched me from work,” you say. You’re facing the wall and the All Might poster again, and you don’t want to turn around. If you see Tenko, it’ll make it harder to say no. “If I go missing, people will notice. Is he dying?”

“No,” Kurogiri says.

“Is he in imminent danger of dying?”

“No.”

“Then send me back,” you say. If Tenko’s asked Kurogiri to get you, it means he needs medical assistance – or follow-up. You’ve needed to follow up anyway. “I can come back later.”

“No, I need you right now!”

“How much later?” Kurogiri asks, ignoring Tenko’s protest.

You think it over. You can dispense with the hero situation quickly, stitch your patient’s mask, and sneak out of work early. They’ll have to give you the emergency time off. You’ve never asked before in three years of working there. “Ninety minutes.”

“That’s too long. Kurogiri, don’t let her leave!”

“Ninety minutes. I’ll be in the alley behind the clinic.” You ignore Tenko, too, in favor of focusing on Kurogiri. He’s the one who decides if you leave or not. “All right?”

The mist wells up around you again, which counts as a yes. You land on your feet in the hallway, reorient yourself, and head for the lobby again. Tenko wants you again – needs you, your stupid brain corrects – but he’s going to have to wait for you to sort this out.

The hero in the lobby is Uwabami, the Snake Hero, and she’s got two sidekicks with her. No, students. You recognize one of them from your limited viewing of the UA Sports Festival and feel a spike of guilt run through you. She’s from Class 1-A. The same class Tenko tried to kill.

You don’t need to think about that, and you don’t need to feel guilty, because you didn’t do anything to her. You force yourself to focus. Uwabami wouldn’t have brought high school students here if she was doing any kind of investigating, which means your patient and any others who might be nervous around law enforcement are probably safe. The question of why she’s here still remains. You step forward. “Welcome to Yokohama Free Clinic South. What can we help you with today?”

“We’re on patrol,” Uwabami says. “My interns gave some feedback that our patrol involved a little too much publicity –”

The students look unrepentant. Good for them. “So we’re engaging in some down-to-earth patrolling,” Uwabami continues. “Tell us about how heroes support your clinic.”

Heroes don’t support your clinic. Most heroes strongly dislike the free clinic network, and the feeling is mutual, for a bunch of reasons you’re more than willing to articulate. Then you think better of it. Picking a fight with a hero in front of hero students is a bad move if you want to get out of here any time soon, and if you’re going to keep helping Tenko, you need to stay completely off the heroic radar. You focus on the students instead. “You’re on internships, right? They’re supposed to show you what life will be like as a hero.”

“Yes,” the girl who’s not from 1-A says. “They’re supposed to.”

“We have a program like that here, too,” you say. You gesture for them to come forward, and they desert their supervising hero at high speed. “A lot of our nurses and techs started working here in high school. Let me introduce you.”

You’re on much more solid ground talking about this. This clinic and this program saved your ass – without their sponsorship, you’d never have been able to get around your quirklessness as a barrier to nursing school, and you started getting on-the-job clinical training while most other nursing students were stuck in the classroom. You catch yourself evangelizing a little bit, but you don’t think it’s the worst thing in the world to do. You’re proud of the work you do as part of the clinic. It’s nice to get to talk about it.

You clear the hero students out in half an hour, hoping you’ve impressed them even a little bit, then hurry back to your patient. The diazepam’s kicked in nicely, and he chatters away to you while you stitch the tear in his mask. You learn that his name is Jin, or Bubaigawara, or Twice, which you’d guess are his first name, his family name, and his villain name, in that order. He doesn’t say how his mask got torn and you don’t ask, but you send him on his way in a better mood than before. “Thanks, sister,” he says on his way out the door. “You could be worse. You’re a saint!”

Different tone, different pitch, completely different meaning between the first sentence and the second. It reminds you of Kurogiri. You know enough villains now that you can compare them to one another. You shake your head, bemused, then head back inside. Time to guilt-trip your boss into letting you leave two hours early.

Your guilt-trip is successful, mostly because of how you handled the hero situation, but as you’re trying to sneak out, Yoshimi arrives for her scan. After you cajoled her into the office, you can’t abandon her to some random tech. You do abandon Mitsuko in the waiting room, though – she says the words “nipple discharge” as loudly as possible, then starts picking on the scant amount of makeup you did for your date. You don’t feel bad at all for leaving her behind.

Yoshimi’s scan goes quickly, and just like you feared, it nets her a follow-up appointment at the main branch of the free clinic tomorrow. Tomorrow’s your day off. You promise her you’ll go with her – you, and not Mitsuko or Yoji – then talk the doctor into sending her home with a dose of a different anti-anxiety medication than the one you got for Twice. Then you check your phone for the time. Almost ninety minutes exactly. You race out to the alley.

The mist engulfs you almost the instant you set foot in the alley, and you’re in the bar a moment later, facing Kurogiri. Tenko’s nowhere to be found, and before you can ask the question, Kurogiri turns and sets off through a doorway, deeper into the recesses of the building. You follow him, wondering if this counts as being taken to a secondary location. Or maybe the bar counts as the secondary location, even though you’ve been here before. Either way, you’ve listened to way too many of Mitsuru’s true-crime podcasts.

Kurogiri leads you into an absolutely filthy room. The floor is covered – empty wrappers, empty cans, old newspapers and magazines, plastic cases for game disks and chips. You have a bad feeling about who lives here, and when Kurogiri clears his throat and speaks up, you’re proven right. “Shigaraki Tomura. I have brought the girl.”

The only semi-organized spot in the room is a desk with two monitors on it, a keyboard in front of it, and Tenko slumped down with his head pillowed on one arm. He looks up, and for a split second, you can see that he’s happy even behind the hand. Then his face turns bright red and his expression twists into a snarl. “I told you not to bring her in here! Get out!”

You don’t need to be told twice. You duck out the door and retreat about twenty feet down the hallway, listening as Kurogiri tries to placate Tenko. “You asked for her to be brought to you immediately, not for me to summon you when she arrived. I followed your orders to the letter.”

“I didn’t want –” Tenko breaks off, swears. Then he mumbles something, and Kurogiri chuckles. “Don’t laugh at me!”

You check your phone. You aren’t supposed to meet Sugimura until eight, but you’ve got no idea how long this particular encounter is going to run. You might need to tell him you’re running late. You’ve just sent the text and tucked your phone away when Kurogiri reappears. “We will return to the bar,” he says. “Shigaraki Tomura awaits you there.”

So Kurogiri warped him to the bar. You wonder what that was all about. Was Tenko embarrassed that you saw how filthy his room was, or just embarrassed that you saw his room at all? Or did he change his mind about wanting you here? The last thought upsets you. You follow Kurogiri back into the bar and find Tenko sitting at the counter. It’s an improvement from the last time you saw him, when he was sprawled out and bleeding from four gunshot wounds, but this time he’s got his arms crossed, clearly pissed about something. His face is still red behind the hand. There’s a bloodstained bandage taped to his right shoulder.

A pile of supplies appears on the bar as you come closer. “What happened this time?”

“It wouldn’t stop bleeding.” Tenko uncrosses his left arm to gesture at the wound. “This is the fourth one I’ve used.”

If he’s gone through four bandages, it must be pretty deep. “How long ago did it happen?”

“Two hours,” Kurogiri says. “Shigaraki Tomura sent me to retrieve you immediately.”

“Can you fix it or not?” Tenko snaps.

“I need to see it first,” you say. You come a few steps closer, sit down facing Tenko on the barstool next to his, and reach for the bandage. He doesn’t stop you from unwrapping it, and you detour to glove up before you start peeling the fabric of his shirt back from the wound. It’s oozing blood rapidly. It’s jagged at the edges, and deep – if you suctioned the blood away, you’d be looking at exposed muscle, and you’re so horrified by the fact that Tenko’s been badly hurt again that you ask a question you shouldn’t. “How did this happen?”

“Hero Killer,” Tenko says, and your stomach lurches. “I thought he might be useful, but he’s just like the rest of them. Obsessed with the precious Symbol of Peace.”

You don’t know very much about the Hero Killer, except that he kills or cripples heroes and he’s not in Yokohama any longer. Tenko’s still ranting. “Why can’t anybody shut up about All Might? Don’t they know –”

“That he’s not gonna fuck them?” you interrupt, and Tenko nearly chokes. “I guess they can dream.”

Tenko’s expression is contorting behind the hand. You’re pretty sure it’s not the result of your explorations of the wound, because you’re not touching it. You watch, concerned, as his shoulders shake and his mouth twitches, until awkward, rusty laughter finally issues from his mouth.

You always try to make people laugh. You’ve been in the habit since you were little. It’s an effective strategy for defusing tension, whether the joke is funny or not, and your jokes are usually at least kind of funny. But you always liked making Tenko laugh when you were kids. You were always just a little prouder of that than you were with other people. Tenko made people smile all the time. He deserved for somebody to make him laugh, too.

Tenko’s laughter is brief and uneven, because he’s trying to get it under control. “Stop it,” he finally snaps at you. His mouth is still twitching. “It’s serious.”

“Right,” you agree. But you can’t resist another joke. “It would be a novel strategy. If you can’t beat the Symbol of Peace, make him unfuckable instead.”

“I can beat him,” Tenko says, but his voice is strained to the point of snapping, and his shoulders are shaking again. “Can you fix my arm or not?”

“I can fix it,” you say, “but I’ll need a suture kit. And I’ll either need to cut your sleeve or you’ll need to take your shirt off.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off.” Tenko’s face is red again. “It’s ruined anyway. Just cut it.”

You cut his sleeve open from the neckline and peel it back, then go looking through the medical supplies. Kurogiri took your advice about additions to their supplies, and nothing turned up missing at work, which means they honored your request to steal from someone else. You’ve got local anesthetic this time, which is good, because you need it. You start numbing the edges of the wound, asking every so often if Tenko can feel what you’re doing. When he stops saying yes, you open the suture kit.

It’s a bit weird, but putting stitches in is one of your favorite parts of the job. You can get in the zone with it, even when the patient wants to talk. Tenko wants to talk. “People talk about the League of Villains out there. Don’t they?” he asks. You nod. “What do they say?”

“Um –” You’re not sure this is an answer Tenko wants to hear. “They’re wondering why the attack on UA happened.”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Like, if there was a message behind it,” you elaborate. You need to be careful, with the stitches and with this line of thought. “More than just killing All Might, because lots of villains want to do that. If there was a message, it didn’t get out. The police and UA haven’t shared much information – not even how the breach happened in the first place.”

Tenko scoffs. “They don’t have a clue. They won’t see it coming the next time we hit them, either.”

He’s planning something else. Your blood runs cold, and for a moment you’re torn about whether or not to ask. Tenko makes the decision for you. “What else do they say about the League?”

“Not very much, otherwise,” you say, and Tenko swears. “There are a lot of villains, just like there are a lot of heroes. People talk about the ones they see the most of.”

“Which heroes do you talk about?”

“I don’t really talk about heroes.” You tie off a stitch, trim the thread to the appropriate length, and take another. “One of my friends has this nasty crush on Endeavor, so we talk about him sometimes, but otherwise – no.”

“Your friend has a crush on Endeavor,” Tenko repeats.

“Like I said. Nasty.”

You’re conscious of Tenko staring at you, and you will your face not to heat up under his gaze. You don’t even know why he’s staring, and you’ve got stitches to do, so it doesn’t matter. Your phone buzzes in your pocket – probably Sugimura, probably confirming your date. A date you’re not sure you want to go on anymore. Did you ever really want to go on it? Or did you just say yes because –

“You look weird.”

You look up from the stitches, startled. “Huh?”

“You look weird,” Tenko repeats. “Your clothes are different and you’ve got stuff on your face.”

Tenko and Mitsuko feel the same about your makeup skills, apparently. “Sorry.”

“Why do you look like that?” Tenko presses. You tie off his next stitch. “Are you going on a date or something?”

You answer without thinking about whether it’s the smart thing to do. “Yes.”

It’s quiet for a long stretch of seconds. “Go on your date, then,” Tenko says. His voice is flat. “I don’t need you.”

It stings. You don’t want it to, but it does, and you look down at the cut on his shoulder so he won’t see it on your face. “You still need a few more stitches. At least let me finish them.”

“No. Get out.” Tenko jerks out of your grip. You barely have enough time to cut the hanging thread on your last stitch. “I don’t want you here. Kurogiri –”

“Shigaraki Tomura, I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“I didn’t ask you!” Tenko swats at you open-handed and you leap backwards. “Get out! I don’t –”

You don’t hear the end of that sentence. Kurogiri warps you away too fast, and possibly saves your life. He drops you back in the alley behind the clinic, holding half a suture kit and still wearing bloodstained gloves. You peel them off and dump them into the garbage, furious with yourself. You shouldn’t have said that. You shouldn’t have talked about your life at all, and above all else, you should have remembered that you were talking to a villain, not your best friend – that whatever’s left of your best friend isn’t enough. He’s angry with you, and he’s been having you followed. Just how angry is he? Angry enough to hurt you? Or angry enough to never talk to you again?

You’re sickened and more than a little scared to realize that you’re more frightened of the latter possibility than the former. It’s entirely possible that you’ve never been in less of a mood to go on a date.

But you do go on the date, because you said you would, and it’s – fine. There’s nothing to complain about, but there’s nothing to be excited about, either. You and Sugimura hug to say goodbye, and you promise to text each other about setting up another one, and then you walk home. Mitsuko texts you, wanting details, or DETAILS, but you’ve got nothing to share. It was just a date, and no matter how many times you try to tell yourself otherwise, you’re angry about it.

Not because of Sugimura asking you out, not because you agreed, not because you went. Because you told Tenko and gave him a reason to get rid of you. Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep finding him and losing him, over and over again? What is it going to take for you to hold on?

“So how was the date?”

The voice emanates from the alleyway on your right and you nearly jump out of your skin. Tenko’s there, hand down from over his face, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t changed his shirt. “I didn’t think heroes were your type.”

“They aren’t.”

“Then why were you on a date with one?”

“He asked.”

“And you just go with whoever asks?” Tenko looks half-incredulous, half-disgusted. You shake your head. “Forget it. Come with me.”

You shake your head again and take a step back – away from the alley, closer to the street. Tenko looks frustrated. “Come with me,” he repeats.

“What, so you can kill me?” You take another step back, well into the glow of a streetlight. You see shock flicker across Tenko’s face. “I don’t have a death wish.”

“Well, I don’t want to kill you,” Tenko fires back. He looks surprised at himself for saying it, but only for a moment – then he repeats himself, with more conviction. “I don’t want to kill you. You’re supposed to be my sidekick.”

Your jaw drops. “You remember?”

“I don’t remember everything.” Tenko takes the hand called Father out of the back pocket of his pants and studies it for a moment. Then he puts it away. “I remember that.”

Some kids played a different game every day. You and Tenko always played the same one, with a rotating cast of classmates at your side. All the heroes in the world were working together to fight one big villain, the worst villain the world had ever seen, and Tenko could never decide which hero he liked best, so he played a different one every day. But no matter which hero he played, no matter who else was playing with the two of you, you were always his sidekick. You reminded him every day that you didn’t have a quirk, and he always said the same thing in response, no matter which hero he was pretending to be that day, even though he didn’t have a quirk, either: You don’t need a quirk to be on my side. My quirk’s enough for both of us.

“Come on,” Tenko says again. He holds out his hand, three fingers and his thumb folded down, his pinky finger extended towards you. “Are you coming or what?”

You’ve never seen the world in black and white, but some things are unmistakable: There’s a line here, not visible to others but clear as day to you. On one side of it is Tenko and the darkness that’s swallowed him, the evil that surrounds him, the terrible things he’s done and is planning to do. On the other side is everything else – your dreams, your friends, your family that’s always loved you but used you anyway, a world that’s punished you time and time again for being born without a quirk, the knowledge that the world is so much crueler to so many others. You don’t think Tenko’s planning to kidnap you, to never let you leave. You’ll come back here, physically. You’ll go home and go to sleep and wake up early on your day off to take Yoshimi to her appointment at the main clinic, but you know instinctively that if you cross this line within yourself, there’s no coming back. Tenko was your best friend when you were five years old. Is he worth it?

You hate yourself for asking the question. You leave the light behind and link your finger with Tenko’s. “Where are we going?”

The black mist rises and wells up around you both. “You’ll see,” Tenko says, and for the first time since you found him again, he smiles.

#shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #shigaraki tomura #please hold

[justladders]

Who would've guessed the start of the month meant a ton of new busy work that means I can't do the things I normally do? :)

I've been doing some group magmas still to chill out before bed and will otherwise be posting stuff for fnaftober, because I don't care how late the days are: if I only get the chance to be making them up in batches when I get free time, then I will. Also maybe start using the queue bc I have a ton of stuff to reblog in there and just haven't been using the queue for some reason.

Anyways, we were doing sonamatronics last night and I wanted a weird one. I figure it'd also probably be the most effective as a vent dweller, specifically one directly above you.

And I realized I never shared anything of smoltrap with his mouth open. The teeth 100% rotate like a blender.

#fnaf #fnaf fanart #fnaf oc #sonamatronic #smoltrap #my art #midnight magma things #laddersarts

[biolizardboils]

so heads up! im popping a LOT of Prime Season 3 posts into the queue--they'll start coming out one week from now, on January 22nd! if you can see this post and haven't watched it yet, here's some tags to block: #prime spoilers, #sonic prime spoilers, #sonic prime s3 spoilers, #sonic prime season 3 spoilers.

got all that? great! here's my final unorganized little rambles about the show:

shoutout to Rusty Rose's Birdie, who only appears in the very first and very last eps for some reason 😭 her speech about it not being her power source came outta nowhere too, but i loved the message behind it

when everyone arrives at the Grim, just before the ep ends, Nine starts breathing heavily and it. instantly reminded me of Movie!Tails when the bar was calling them freaks. fuck. its a nice reminder of where Nine's coming from

speaking of Nine his poses getting more unhinged over time!! hell yeah

i love that the final fight(s) felt like a kid smashing 3 different Lego sets together, real Robot Pirate Island shit

i laughed a little too hard when the Grim's dome started closing in cus Nine's citadel-thing already reminded me of a thing that happened in Fortnite once, but hell naw they had to add The Storm too sdfghj

METAL BIG DESTROYED ME LJKHGFDV im SO glad i wasnt spoiled about it!!! a while in i started finding it creepy instead of funny, which is an added bonus

i was spoiled about the Advance flashback and its clashing sprites though. the utter whiplash of seeing that without warning mightve made me choke on my hot cheeto puffs. someone's already remade it btw, check it out

i fistpumped at the small reprise of "me beauty" gfhjk ill miss you so much Dread

we're four years into the 2020's and Sonic has nearly died an agonizingly slow death 3 times in 3 different continuities! and dare i say it was delicious every time >:)

unless Word of God says otherwise I'm gonna assume that the giant shadow at the end was The Return Of Metal Big lpoihgfds

So... Twitter, huh? My spoiler filters there had some leaks, and I saw some discussion out of context that... actually made me kinda scared to finish the show. But then I did, and had fun with it just like the other two seasons, and I remembered that Twitter gets high-strung about things that don't matter so much, and that giving it sway over how much I enjoy things is silly lol.

Yes, I think the last season could've been paced differently so it wasn't 5 episodes of the same Final Boss Fight. Yes, I think the writing switches jarringly between gearing for a young new audience and for a seasoned old one. Yes, I think the 2D flashbacks look and move worse than what fans constantly make for free. Yes, I think the final episode doesn't do nearly as much housekeeping as it should (does the Shatterverse still exist or not??). Yes, I think declaring the show is canon to the games or whatever they said probably wasn't the best idea. And yes, I think Black Rose should've had a shoulder-parrot!Birdie to match the other Amys. All valid critiques! All sensible things to think when you've been around the Sonic bush!

But I swear to god, people on Twitter act like these things spoil the whole package. Where's the nuance? Why does every opinion there become an absolute worth tearing others down for? Is it the character limit? I bet it's the character limit.

There's so much I love about this show that were infeasible for the Sonic brand just 3-4 years ago. Externalizing the characters' facets to explore them in-depth. Said exploration spanning multiple episodes instead of being one-and-done. The sheer amount of genuine Sonadow food (and I don't actively do shipping, so me adding it here should hold a lot of weight). The snappy, playful, yet blistering fight scenes that, dare I say, feel like a successful TV-budget Spider-Verse. It was all so much fun!

But I guess stuff like Green Hill being the gang's "home" is a big deal-breaker?? Like?? I thought that was silly too, but not worth ratio'ing people with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse over? Get well soon, I guess??

Rambling over, shout-out to the entire country of Canada for giving me the most fun I've had with a Sonic show since X! I'm gonna go figure out how to address all this as The End lol

#sonic prime #sonic the hedgehog #sonic prime season 3 #sonic prime s3 #prime spoilers #sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime s3 spoilers #sonic prime season 3 spoilers #sth #prime #me talking #boils watches #long

[reblogsreblogs]

I've seen a few folks visiting/moving from Reddit who are worried about reblogging too many things on their main blogs (the first blog you're prompted to make when you join is your "main").

I'm not familiar with mobile, so this will probably be a bit different there, but I thought I'd mention for new folks that you can make side blogs if you'd like. The reason I made this blog is because 1) my main blog sort of has a theme, and 2) I do worry a bit about spamming some of my mutuals (folks I follow who also follow me back) with too much random stuff, but I still find that stuff interesting or entertaining so I want to horde it somewhere!

So this blog I'm posting from, ReblogsReblogs, is a side-blog that I pretty much entirely just reblog things to (no original content). Well, until I make this post right here, I guess.

You can see here in this screenshot of this post I'm currently writing that I can select from the dropdown which of my blogs that I want to make this post on, and it works the same for any reblogs I make of other people's posts.

There's probably a better guide somewhere, but if you're new and you're feeling worried about reblogging too much now you know one of the possible solutions! Or maybe you can finally just live our your dream of having a side blog dedicated entirely to deep sea animals? That's good too.

If a side blog doesn't sound any good to you, I've seen some folks mention the queue and scheduling options we have on Tumblr and that's also a good solution for extra things you want to reblog, but don't need to reblog immediately. A lot of us have BIG queues that we fill up with interesting stuff that keeps getting posted until it runs out, so our blogs keep posting fun stuff even if we're on vacation or w/e.

I was a Tumblr person before I became a Redditor, years ago, so it's been cool seeing some Redditors come over and check things out. I hope some of you stay and enjoy yourselves, Tumblr can be a refreshingly non-toxic space if you curate it properly. Fuck Spez. :)

#redditors #reddit migration #reblogging #reddit exodus #welcome to the hellsite #fuck spez #side blogs

[jazzytrait]

Emilee's time on Simdr seems to have paid off with some amazing matches! Guess it's time to get out there and see if any of them are a great fit. Posts of the challenge (tagged with "#emilee's simdr") will begin Sunday after my current queue of stuff for her is done. Keep an eye out! (More info beneath the cut)

Alright! We are ready to begin!! Since I'm not using any set rules for how this will work, I'm making them up as I go along. In-Depth Plan of Action:

All contestants will be added to a single household. (Yes, I'm building them a motel. Not a hotel, this is a low budget thing, k?)

Jealousy is gonna be turned off because it'll just complicate things.

All contestants will have their attractiveness preferences generated randomly. (WonderfulWhims mod)

We'll check out all their first impressions.

After an initial respectful introduction, there will be no interference for any other reason than to keep the sims on the lot (if they wander too far afield, I'll just teleport them back. "GET IN THERE AND STAY IN THERE!")

We will hold a 5 hr group party at the hotel just to get to know everyone.

After the party, each contestant will get to go on a one on one date with Emilee. The location and lot type will be randomized based on this handy dandy tool I made. (just hit refresh to generate a new combo)

For the first date, autonomous flirt will be turned off. Let's take it slow!

After all of the first dates, we'll see who has the highest friendship level. The lowest 2 will be out of the running. 😭

There will then be 2 small group dates of 3 contestants each. The participants will be randomized using the same kind of doodad I made further up. These dates will be overnight camping trips to Granite Falls! (Tents, not cabins)

After the group dates there will be one more round of solo dates, again randomized (no repeats of first date, I'll reroll if they get the same thing twice).

At the end of the solo dates, the lowest 3 combined romantic and friendly relationships will not get a call back. 😭😭

The last 3 contestants will go on a 2 day trip to a rental in Sulani.

After the trip, the sim with the highest combined relationship will win and then we got wedding to plan soon after, folks! 💍🔔

Ties will be decided through various competitive activities including: card games, Don't Wake the Llama, Horseshoes, Bowling, Ping-pong, juice-pong, or chess. The activity will be chosen at random.

Thanks to all the people who entered their sims! 1. Orlando "Dodo" Harper by @akitasimblr 2. Arati Narang by @m0ckest 3. Devon Hearn by @challengedsimmer 4. Isaac Flores by @sweetestsimvotion 5. Sloane Huxley by @piinkplumbob 6. Cyrus Huxley by @piinkplumbob 7. Omar Murphy by @simsinfinitylt 8. Cassandra by @wastelandwhisperer

*I realized after taking all their photos that their eyes all defaulted to the same color. This will be corrected before gameplay.

#simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 simblr #marsters legacy #luxelattesims legacy #the sims 4 legacy #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #emilee's simdr #marstersgen1

[blueberry-beanie]

Bastille at Stadtpark Open Air in Hamburg | 01.08.2023

A little story about my trip to see Bastille and a very rainy time in Hamburg and my former home city. The text is divided into sections to make skipping to the concert easier.

The Journey

The last time I was at a concert at the Stadtpark Open Air in Hamburg it was really hot and sunny. We were baking in the queue for hours and I was lucky not to come home completely sunburned. This time, however, it was pouring. Buckets. Almost the entire time.

I have to admit that my enthusiasm to pack my bags and board the 8:30am train to Hamburg was kept within reasonable limits. The journey was actually pleasant though. I passed time by listening to Max Uthoff's CD Gegendarstellung as well as some interviews with him and Claus. The one hour break in Berlin due to a delayed train was actually good because I could buy a much needed rain cape and had lunch at the Vapiano there.

When I finally reached Hamburg it felt like I've come home. Everything is so familiar. The U3 I had to take to the hostel is also the line I used to take twice a week to get to Hamburg Media School for classes. I discovered that the hostel was nearby Knust and Uebel & Gefährlich (that huge grey concrete bunker) where I've seen Inhaler and White Lies last year in spring.

The hostel itself was small and nice enough, except for having sockets only on top of the wardrobe and next to the trash bin and no hooks on the wall at all. Happens when you're broke and get the cheapest accommodations, I guess. My roommates were a permanently absent party guy (who would come in at night saying "oh fuck" and then fall into bed and snore) and two Danish friends from Copenhagen. They were nice enough, although a bit loud and messy.

I gathered my stuff and made my way back to the U3 to get to the venue. As I discovered, that was my mistake because I accidentally got out at the station on the opposite side of the park. While walking I met two local girls who didn't seem too keen to make another concert acquaintance, so we eventually parted ways and I went through the rose garden to the left side entrance.

Queueing and Support Act

It was shortly before 5pm and there were already more than 100 people. Bastille started sound checking and we heard Overjoyed and Good Grief. Then they separated the lines and I got sorted into the "cloak room" queue because of my umbrella. That was my luck because this line was much shorter.

However it started pouring shortly before 6pm just when we had to hand over our umbrellas. I ran - no, carefully walked - through the muddy field to the left side of the stage and got to the front row, although on the very edge of it. No time to ponder though, I frantically put on my rain cape to not get entirely soaked and offered my spare to the girl to my right who only had a jeans jacket.

I was really far from the center and the stage this time and honestly didn't expect to have a great view. The stage in this venue is very odd. It has a small catwalk in the center and the front row is a double-curved line with a weird grassy breaker in the middle. An envelope was passed around, containing many little fanmade booklets with the lyrics to These Streets. It is very cute and sadly it has a few spots from the rain now. The support act, anaïs, was quite awkward and I honestly did not like her that much. She had a whispery voice and tried hard to engage the crowd, although most people did not seem to feel it. She premiered a new song for us and that was the best of the bunch. I was happy when it was over though. Then it was already time for the roadies to come back and get the stage ready for Bastille. The sun came out and it actually stayed dry from now on, which was a blessing given the rainy weather.

The Concert

Then shortly before 8pm it was finally time for Bastille. They started an intro with something on the screen I couldn't really see. These were snippets from their tours and funny stories. They would be played regularly as interludes, but I can't really comment on them because I couldn't see the screen. And then the band walked onstage, with Dan being the last one to appear. He actually wore funny sun glasses and as it appears he had an endless stash of jackets to change into as well.

They proceeded to play the entirety of Bad Blood in full, divided by these video interludes and Dan talking to us a little bit. At some point he commented on the extraordinary location. "I feel like I'm kind of in Hobbiton. Or in someone's garden. This is the first time we've ever played a tea party. It feels like a tea party, apart from you guys. We've never had a hedge in the crowd before," he said, referring to the high hedge fencing off the venue from the rest of the park.

I really enjoyed hearing all these songs I knew since I was 15 and remembered how half of our class went crazy for bastille and the girls gathered to go to their concert together. I didn't go, my parents wouldn't have allowed it. But I did borrow my friend's Bad Blood CD and have kept these songs ever since. The band sounded amazing live and I was surprised how good Dan's live vocals are! Very close to the recording, he is a great singer.

They had a huge platform onstage that was made to look rusty. It didn't only have space for the drum kit but also for the two background vocalists, two Black women whose names I sadly didn't quite catch. But they were amazing as hell and sometimes came to the front to engage with us. One of them sang together with Dan on the catwalk. Truly awesome singers. Dan sometimes disappeared on top of that platform to sing or to walk on some sort of treadmill that was installed there.

Their drummer Woody on the first glance reminded me a bit of EE's Pete, but that is probably because of the long hair. He came to us later during a song called "The Draw" to get us all to show our hands and make the Bastille triangle shape. He also threw some drumsticks to fans and everyone seems to really love that guy! Their guitarist sometimes went absolutely wild with it to the crowd's delight. I did not see quite as much of Will, the bassist, but he also did a great job and for one song came to the catwalk to show off and be overall awesome.

Dan was crazy enough to go straight into the crowd at two occasions, apologising to us because it was so slippery. He did not come close to us though and explained he didn't want to be directly in front of the speakers to avoid possible feedback. At some point he took a fans phone and they had a sign explaining something about a friend who couldn't be there. So Dan recorded a short video with greetings for him.

They actually did play a lot of songs I don't know after finishing with the album, but that didn't mean I did not enjoy them. They were cool and just made for jumping and dancing. The two girls behind me, Jacky and Corinna, were jumping together with me and we had an overall great time singing and dancing.

Overall just an amazing band it seems, I would definitely want to see them again and at a venue with a better view so I can see more of what is going on! Looking at the photos my camera with its super zoom surely saw more than me! Once again I was the crazy person with a handbag full of prisms. I was trying to take good shots from an angle no photographer would ever go to because it is so shitty. At this point a big shoutout to @flamingplay for providing me with a new wonderful triangular prism after I broke the last one at the Foals concert in Amsterdam. It is wonderful for the daytime and I could use it to reflect the famed hedge right onto the stage to Dan.

The concert ended somewhat abruptly with them just waving and leaving. We stood confused for a minute until the roadies arrived and started disassembling everything. Jacky, Corinna and me took a few photos and then decided to head to the overcrowded merch stand on the opposite entrance. I thought they might have a few CDs or posters but there were only t-shirts which were too expensive for me. We parted outside with them going to the S-Bahn and me going to get my umbrella.

On my way I realised there was a small crowd waiting at the tour bus and decided to join them later. The park was pitch dark and I called N to tell her about the concert. I waited a little while at the bus, watching the roadies loading in the trucks, but we only saw Woody once and nobody came to say hi to the fans. Some fans were clever enough to manage to order food right to where they were waiting? The marvels of modern day food delivery... It was getting late by now, so I decided to join two girls, Luisa and Christina, who were also catching the U3 in the Direction of St. Pauli. We had some nice conversations about concerts and about the crazy Coldplay ticket sale. Then we parted and I went back to my hostel.

A Visit to My Home Town

After a rather short night I got my aching grandma self out of the hostel at 10am, just early enough to catch the train to my old home tome I used to live in for five years.. Although I've been in my new town for almost an entire year now, it still feels like coming home every time. Everything in me relaxes and it seems like I could just get my keys out and go back to my old flat to eat some warm bread from my favourite bakery and fresh cucumbers from the market. Everything sounds, looks and smells familiar. Maybe one day I can come back. I love this town very much.

I met up shortly after 12 with Vamsi, my former flat mate. We went to the market to get some cucumbers and a tray of raspberries and then walked to his new flat (he was made to leave our previous one because they wanted to renovate it, presumably to rent it out for the double price after). His new flat is gorgeous, with a beautiful kitchen and a large balcony looking over the town and with the church tower in view. Once we arrived it started raining ceaselessly. We made an Indian dish, drank some lemonade and played a game.

In the evening we decided it is time to go out despite of the rain. Afterall I wanted to see some of my beloved town. We ended up finding a present for my now-flatmate and friend Maja's birthday: A little travel journal for her upcoming semester abroad in Manchester. Then we kept wandering around until it was time for me to catch a train back to Hamburg. Deutsche Bahn decided it is not necessary to announce that a train is 10 minutes late and to tell us to which platform it would arrive... Vamsi and I hugged and parted ways. Back in Hamburg I got out my old grandma personality again and stayed at the hostel on a call with N while the others were out partying. Honestly, how do they do it... after two days I was already so so tired.

Last Day in Hamburg and Travelling Home

On the last day Hamburg decided to show me some mercy and it rained a little less. I packed my heavy bags and headed to the Speicherstadt, which I somehow have never been to before. It is right where the famous Elbphilharmonie is situated, but I did not go there. Instead I visited the tiny little Speicherstadtmuseum which deals with the history of the ware house district, how and why it was built, the people that worked there and the goods that were stored in here. It was very interesting and kept me dry from one of the frequent rain showers.

After that I briefly thought about visiting the nearby Zollmuseum, but then I came by the entrance of a spice museum with a spice shop. I didn't want to pay the entrance fee to the museum so I wandered through the extensive spice shop. Vamsi inspired me to get some (mild) curry powder and I got a vegetable roast mixture as well as some greek herbs.

Then it was already time to walk into the direction of the Hauptbahnhof as my train would depart half past two already. A quick stop at a shop and some cheap Asian noodles later I was already in the train home. This time the journey went as planned and I arrived back half past eight in the evening to a surprisingly warm and dry weather, thank the lord...

Dear Hamburg, it has been a wonderful time back home. Just a tiny suggestion: Don't pour a month worth of rain on me in the matter of three days please. Anyways... would definitely do it again.

#bastille #dan smith #bastille hamburg #my photo #my concerts

[ettawritesnstudies]

IE your 'what would i pay for poll'. I would pay around $3 monthly feasiblhy but honestly I would be more invested in doing that if you were a bigger presenc3e on here again, over if you had anhy fun treats for subscribers. mostly i just miss seeing you alkl over my dash! i like to support the people who are big involved in the comunity or who post a bunch of fun snippets or moodboards or character rambles. and i dont see that from you very often!

Hey Anon!! That is SO FAIR and honestly I wish I were a bigger presence here too, and one of my concerns about offering memberships is that creating all the ~*exclusive*~ content will take away my time from shitposting and playing tag games and just generally hanging out. The more I'm splitting my energy between several platforms the more my "presence" on each platform will suffer if that makes sense and I miss the days when I only had tumblr and I could just ramble about whatever.

That being said there are a couple reasons why I've changed my approach so I hope you understand where I'm coming from

I'm on Draft 5 of the same book I've been working on for like 3ish years now and if I shared the same snippets for every "find the word" tag I think people would be sick to death of it by now

I'm on Draft 5 of the book I'm planning to publish and if I share too many excerpts of the in-between drafts, those things are both A) subject to change, B) probably spoilers and I want to be very very picky about the excerpts I choose to share from now on

Tumblr (and instagram, and tiktok, and other social media sites) regularly get nuked by the companies that own them so I don't want to put all my eggs in one basket which is why I've doubled down on my website.

I'll share more moodboards and fun snippets and stuff soon! But they'll be in the promotional/marketing vein probably because if I'm going to spend time making that stuff it's going to be multitasking

You raise a really good point. I'd love to be more involved here, and I'll try to set more reminders for things like WBW and STS. That being said, I've been trying to support the writing community through other ways like ARC reviews and interviews!!! I put so so so much work into these every month and they do fine in general, but for some reason they don't get any traction on tumblr. Not for my lack of trying, but I don't know? Nobody wants to reblog a link to a youtube video I guess? It's discouraging because just because it looks different than the old traditional games and things doesn't mean it's not still contributing something to the community - a way to find new authors and promote your newly published books - that's largely going unnoticed and unappreciated.

If you want me to reblog snippets and moodboards for the love of god please send me stuff my queue is empty! I love seeing what people have going on but I'm also following well over 1000 people so sometimes stuff gets lost.

#ask answered #I am sorry if this comes across as snarky but I've been burntout for like two months #and I'm going to continue being balls to the wall busy for the next year and a half #so I'm so so exhausted and tumblr games are low on my list of priorities unless they fit into the Grand Scheme of Productivity somehow #but also I just finished the runaways revisions so I should have more time this month hopefully #I've been slowly clearing out my drafts #sighhhhhhhh #I think part of this is that I started my blog in summer 2019 and so I really got my traction in the midst of Quarantine #So my Quarantine Blogging was not reflective of my regular busy life but that's how most of my old friends got to know me #and now I don't have the bandwith for that anymore because my real life is insane #So you're not seeing the other 85% of the craziness that's going on now that I'm not locked down at home #sitting in front of my computer doing zoom uni #etta rambles

[burnwater13]

Mandalorian, Din Djarin, stands in a room filled with meat (heads) hanging from hooks, with the Darksaber ignited and held in his right hand. Bodies of people are strewn on the floor. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Episode 5, Return of the Mandalorian. Concept Art by Brain Matyas. Calendar from DataWorks.

Din Djarin had pretended that nothing special had happened while Grogu was away at Luke’s Jedi Sleep Away Camp. Since Grogu had no reason not to believe the Mandalorian, he let it go. Their reunion had been exciting enough and, what with one thing and another, he hadn’t asked the bounty hunter or anyone else what he’d actually done during that time. 

Of course that all changed when Grogu agreed to go to the Mos Eisley Food Fair with Peli Motto. His dad had agreed to let Grogu attend the event with Peli, knowing how much they both liked foods, especially foods that no one else would eat, even on a bet. The Mandalorian was going to stay at the garage and work on the N-1. That ship always needed something done to it. It was no where near as resilient as the old Razor Crest had been. 

“Yeah, well, I’m sorry ‘bout that kid. I tried to find him one of those old rust buckets, but a lot of them are out of service. Seems like the New Republic is cracking down on ‘em for some reason. Probably yer dad’s fault. Now that Naboo starfighter is a beautiful ship, if a little finicky, but anything this of beauty has the right to be that way. Why I was just tellin’ Majordomo…”

That’s when Grogu tuned Peli out. He’d learned that as soon as she brought up the Twi’lek who worked for Fennec and Boba that she wasn’t going to stop talking about him until he showed up for their next date. Unfortunately, Grogu knew that next date wasn’t taking place for at least two more days. Uff. He was going to hear a lot of stuff about what makes for a good partner that he was sure he was way too young to learn and probably would be his whole life.

He turned his thoughts away from his companion and began to wonder what the best and most interesting foods were at the festival. Frankly, he was somewhat surprised that he hadn’t been asked to be a judge for the event. No one on Tatooine had as diverse a diet as Grogu. 

They entered the queue to access the fair grounds and Grogu continued to ignore Peli and focus on the food as they crept forward slowly. He had to admit that he was a bit surprised that she was taking the slow pace of the line well. Usually she bustled ahead of folks, explaining that she was joining another group, was visiting the event organizers, was one of the event organizers and the like in a continuous stream of words that made Grogu wonder how she managed to say so much without passing out. 

“It’s all in the rhythm, Kid. Breathe in, talk, breathe out as you talk, breathe in as you talk. I learned it from my old man. Ha! That man could talk ya outta yer own wallet!” At least that’s what she told him the first time he marveled at her super power. 

But she wasn’t doing any of that kind of talking while they waited in that line. Instead she had managed to reach a point of describing the people she had bought the N-1 from, knowing that they had no idea what they had and therefore didn’t know it’s value which was just what she liked. Opportunity. Sweet, delicious credit filled opportunity. 

“And yer dad almost spoiled it all insisting that he needed something more practical. Can’t imagine why that mattered. Not like he was ever bringin’ anyone in warm. That scar on his leg came from goin’ after that Klatooinian, what’s ‘is name. I guess usin’ that Jedi toy he got isn’t as easy as it looks. Any how, he followed my advice, which is always good advice and you two lucked into that N-1.”

What!

Grogu tugged on Peli’s leg coverings to get her attention as she launched right into a detailed description of the N-1’s engine control system and all the tweaks she had implemented. 

“Huh? Whaddaya want kid?”

Grogu coo’d and grumbled his question at her. He knew he couldn’t trust himself to use any Gal Basic to ask his question he was so surprised.

“Whaddaya mean he didn’t tell ‘ya ‘bout it? Uff. Mandos, every one of ‘em filled to the brim with stories and an absolute aversion to sharin’ them.” Peli pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Are ya sure ya wanna hear ‘bout it from me? I don’t have that kind of time kid, if we’re gonna eat our credits’ worth here.” Peli pointed toward the rapidly filling fairgrounds.

Grogu really wanted to scold her about finding the food more important than the story, but considering how often he did that to absolutely everyone else, he put up with it. He pointed to the entrance and sighed.

“Okay, okay. I can see that y’er itchin’ to hear the rest.” Peli dropped her voice down to an almost whisper. “Now, I can’t vouch for all the details. I didn’t go there with him. But I did see that patch on his outer layer and mentioned that if he needed a tailor I knew a good one. He got all crabby with me, nothing new there, and said that if he wanted a tailor he’d bring one in warm. I gotta tell ya kid, I laughed out loud at that. Anyhow, he said it happened when he brought Kaba Baiz in cold. Like ‘head in a bag’ cold. Uff. Glad he didn’t bring that thing back with him. Klatooinian blood is hard to get out of everything. I once dated a Klatooinian…”

Peli stopped talking as soon as Grogu yelped like he’d been stepped on. He hadn’t, but he didn’t want to hear anything about dating Klatooinians. Uff.

“Dank Farrik! Will ya watch where yer walkin’? The kid is delicate and I’m not explainin’ any marks or dents on ‘em. You can explain it to his dad, the Mandalorian.” Peli barked at the stocky person standing just in front of them. 

Grogu tried not to giggle as they watched the man quickly leave the line, looking all around for Grogu’s dad. 

“I gotta remember to do that more often. Any how… where was I? Oh. Right. Apparently, in order to put together enough credits for the N-1, your dad went back to bounty hunting and collected a real bad actor named Kaba Baiz and he used that crazy Jedi sword to do it. Never could understand why Jedi used ‘em. Nothin’ but trouble. Any how, if you were thinking that delivering a head in a bag was bad, another one of those Klatooinians wasn’t that lucky. Now, that better be enough because I don’t want to ruin my appetite. Have your dad tell you about it. Frankly, I think he was missing you a lot and just wasn’t dealing with it well, but don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want to see him cry again like the last time I said anything about it. Hey! Here we are. Come one let’s eat!”

Apparently the person Peli had threatened told folks to let them through or a Mandalorian would be coming after them. The crowd had been happy to part and let the two of them cut through the line like a lightsaber. Grogu guessed that the rest of them had heard Peli’s story already and didn’t want to wind up cold or in a bag. He supposed that made sense, but he could have told them that he’d never known his dad to carry any bag with him since Grogu returned to Tatooine. Grogu had wondered why, but he was pretty sure he understood it now. Somethings did not need to be reused or recycled.

#calendar prompt a day #din djarin #the mandalorian #grogu #the book of boba fett

[timeoverload]

I am about to rip my hair out. I don't even want to talk about how I'm feeling right now because I'm too upset. I feel like I am going to explode though. I have been having a panic attack since I pulled in the driveway.

My car also fucking broke down AGAIN on my way home. It started misfiring not long after I left the shop so my check engine light was flashing. I had to drive with my hazards on and my car sounded like a lawn mower. It smelled like burning plastic but I popped the hood when I got home and didn't see any smoke so that's good I guess. It seems like that always happens when I drive downtown for some reason. It's really starting to scare me. I can't keep doing this. I want to feel safe when I am driving. I need a new car.

I really don't want to go to the shop again until I have a new one. I may need to reschedule my next appointment because I can't keep pushing off my bills and responsibilities so that I can go get tattooed. It's getting ridiculous. I know I probably spent several thousand last year on that. I think I could have been out of debt by now. I am very happy with my tattoos and I enjoy seeing you but I know I am more than just a customer. I am so sick of having to get stabbed just to see you. I am tired of getting so anxious about going down there and I didn't feel good all morning. Why can't we just hang out??? Maybe I am too boring for you. I wish y'all could give me a job or something. You know I am good at cleaning and sterilizing stuff!

All I have right now is $200 so I'm fucked. Thank God I made it home. I don't usually pray but I had to. If I would have gotten stranded somewhere, I wouldn't have had anyone to call since my dad isn't in town at the moment.

I think it's so fucked up that my dad is literally the only person I can rely on anymore. I am thankful for him. He is the only person in my life that makes me a priority.

I am so sad now. I have to spend the rest of my time off sitting inside. I don't know if I am going to have enough food so I might need to get a ride to the store at some point. I can't even go for a fucking drive. I am so sick of my life right now. I feel like I am being buried alive. I think the light I saw at the end of the tunnel is just a train coming to run me over. The future looks very bleak for me. I'm sorry for being a pessimist but it feels like I have been getting beat up for a long time and I am tired.

My queue is probably going to run out later but I do not have the energy to work on that right now. I am sorry if I sound like a bitch at the moment because that's not my intention. I am overwhelmed and I don't know what to do with my feelings. My head hurts from crying and I think I just need to go to bed for a couple days.

Thanks for listening.

#personal

[auxiliarydetective]

Thank you for your response but literally I'm not sure how to take it at face value because I witness on real time you reblogging stuff for the fyeah blog and there's a number of people you passed over whilst acknowledging others. I just take it because you know them but it's put me off big style because handpicking 'popular' creators to interact with is pretty common on here. I know you can't interact with everyone but it's just suspicious you only pick people with their posts commanding a lot of notes. There's a lot of random people making OCs so I'm guessing you're making sure what is most beneficial to you subconsciously

Don't worry about it we interact with the community in different ways so it's cool you do it your way and I'll just keep away and do my own little thing and won't tag the fyeah blog etc

I think there's been a misunderstanding here. If you want reach, tag the fyeah blog. That's the best way I know and how I met the friends I have right now. I reblog stuff for the fyeah blog, yes. But I only reblog stuff for the fyeah blog that has the fyeah tag. That's how fyeah blogs work. The fyeah blog is an old concept and I'm just a worker bee for one of them. The people whose posts I reblog have that many notes probably because they got reach through the fyeah blog or through the ocappreciation blog. You've got your causalities mixed up, but I get why that would happen. There's no way to tell when a post got its notes. Also I tend to be fairly late on some of the reblogs because I'm busy studying, so that might be another reason.

If the people I passed over have the tag #fyeahonepieceocs on their posts, I honestly don't know how I managed to miss them. We had a phase where all mods were busy and nobody had the time to reblog anything, but I was convinced that we had caught up. If the posts are older than the fyeah blog then that's also a possible reason. The only other reason I could think of is that I could have someone blocked, but I don't block any blogs except ones that look strikingly like bots. Which, for any new Tumblr users: If you haven't changed your profile picture and don't have a description or anything, people will assume you're a bot and block you just to be safe. That's nothing against you personally, that's basic Tumblr safety.

Either way, my point being: I don't reblog posts based on popularity, I reblog posts solely based on whether they have a certain tag, which is stated in the blog description. If there's posts that I'm missing, please let me know. The process for fyeah blog reblogging is literally: I check the fyeah tag, then I queue all the posts since my last check in chronological order. That's it.

My second point: Please, do the opposite of what you said in your last paragraph. I'm asking you to send me a message so I can get to see your OCs. How do you expect me do find your OCs if I don't even know what your URL is? Or just send me your post somehow? If you want me to appreciate your OC, I need to see it, so let me see it.

I hope this cleared things up in case you were confused about how reblogging for the fyeah blog works. If this is a me problem of me not seeing posts in the fyeah tag, I can try asking someone else to help out, but otherwise I don't know how to help you. We as a mod team do not have the capacity to go through the entire one piece oc tag, especially since I'm currently solo-ing the blog because everyone else is busy, so we narrow it down to just the fyeah tag. If your post isn't in that tag, that's not our fault.

Once again, hope this helped, hope it didn't come off as rude and hope to get a message from you with your OCs!

#ask

[yuikomorii]

Yui’s friends

I've had a strong desire to write game scenarios based on Yui's life prior to meeting the Sakamaki brothers. I also didn’t name the friends since in the game the classmates or other characters are basically nameless and only letters such as A, B, C and so on are used to differentiate them. This was mostly inspired by an old post in which it was shown that Yui has never had true friends(sadly). Enjoy! <3

Yui: (Today is my first time going out with someone other than my father, therefore I'm definitely looking forward to it! I'm glad I was finally able to make some friends, these girls… They appear to be very nice!)

Friend A: Hello~! Earth to Yui-chan, are you there?

Friend B: Seems like someone is spacing out again, huh?

Yui: Eeh!? Ah..— I’m so sorry! Have you called me for a long time…?

Friend A: Don’t worry about that, shall we finally go now?

Friend B: We should if we still want to catch the mall open.

Place: Mall

Yui: Uwah… it’s so big !

Friend A: Fufu…haha..!

Yui: Eh? Why… Why are you laughing?

Friend A: N-Nothing, I just liked your reaction; it’s only a regular mall.

Friend B: Say Yui-san… you never went shopping before, did you?

Yui: T-That’s…— I did but the mall I visited with my father… it definitely was different from this one.

Friend B: I see… well, don’t you think this is your chance to find something nice to buy?

Yui: That could be the case. Although, I wouldn’t like to spend a lot of money.

Friend A: Eeh? Why not? Those are yours for a reason, no?

Yui: Uhm… not really. You see, my father gave me some money for today, I didn’t work for it, for this reason it’s not entirely mine.

Friend B: However, you should not pass up the opportunity to buy anything you want simply because of this. Don’t you think your father would be pleased if you bought something that made you happy?

Yui: Well, now that you’re phrasing it like that…

Friend A: Come on~ Look at that shop! The prices aren’t even that high, we should check it!

Timeskip

Friend A: Hoh… heavy…!

Yui: Do you need help?

Friend A: No, no, I’m fine. Anyway, what did you buy?

Yui: Me? Ah… I didn’t buy anything.

Friend A: Wah…——! N-Nothing at all!?

Yui: That’s correct. I thought the outfits were cute but something else actually caught my attention.

Friend A: Let me guess, it was a boy, right~?

Yui: W-Woah… that’s not it! I just thought the necklace over there looked really pretty…!

Friend A: And? What’s stopping you from buying it?

Yui: Hmm… I don’t think it’s very affordable.

Friend A: What a pity!

Friend B: Girls! The mall will close soon, we should really hurry up!

Friend A: But Yui-chan should buy something t—

Friend B: There’s no time for that anymore!

Place: Alleyway

Yui: Over there is a cotton candy shop, and it looks delicious!

Friend B: Really? Cotton candy?Are you perhaps still a child?

Yui: Eh… I can’t see what’s so bad about it. Cotton candy is for everyone!

Friend A: Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth fufu, but you should get one if you’re already drooling.

Yui: W-What…!?

Friend A: Just kidding~ Now go, go!

Timeskip

Yui: Yummy! Do you want some?

Friend B: No thanks, I’m not really a fan of sugary stuff.

Friend A: Look at the new purikura cabin!

Yui: Ah… Uhm… I actually got to go. I'm about to miss my curfew, and if I'm late, my father will be worried...

Friend B: Geez, it’s just a photo, it won’t take that long!

Yui: But… the queue is long! I really don’t want to be late and get scolded…!

Friend A: Scolded…? Your father still does that? But you’re not a child anymore, you know.

Yui: Yes but uhm… my father is rather protective hence he simply wants me to be safe.

Friend B: Fine, fine, you can leave. I'm going to stand in line.

Friend A: Hey Yui-chan… before you leave, I want to let you know that I’m sorry you couldn’t get that necklace.

Yui: Don’t worry about that. I’m simply happy I got the chance to hang out with both of you today. You see… it was actually my first time spending time with girls, for this reason this day already became very special to me.

Friend A: And it won’t be the last time, our friendship will just keep blooming more and more!

*flashback ends*

Place: Ryōtei Academy

Monologue

I couldn't help but feel caught in a confusing emotion

as I remembered those moments.

The once-blooming bond between us

disappeared without trace.

I had to come to an abrupt conclusion

that I could never have predicted.

The reply I was longing for

Was never received.

#yui komori #diabolik lovers #dialovers #komori yui #admin

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Secret Lairs

A JSE Fanfic

SepticHeroes AU: Part 17

Previous Part

Totally didn’t forget to queue this last night and am now just posting this now, haha. (If you were here for me posting it live you saw Nothing!) Anyway. In this chapter Jackie has a meeting with Lorelai, a fellow Hero, and also one with Spitfire Cat, regarding the new SAM the League sent him. And yeah. Keeping it short this time. Enjoy :)

===============

“You get a lot of packages.”

“Huh?” Jackie blinked in confusion. “Well hello to you too. Good to have a nice greeting when I get home from work.”

Chase looked over at him from where he was sitting on the sofa playing video games. “Hello,” he said with a grin. “But seriously. Feels like you get a lot of stuff.”

“I guess.” Jackie looked down at the box in his hands. The mail worker on the ground floor of their apartment building had flagged him down the moment they saw him, telling him something had arrived that morning. He had a suspicion what it was.

“Do you order, like, clothes or stuff online?” Chase asked.

“Uh yeah. Various stuff.” Jackie nodded. “Hang on, I’m gonna see if this is what I think it is. If it is, I’ll be right back.”

“Cool.”

Jackie took the package to his room and began opening the cardboard box, slicing through the tape with a pair of scissors. He opened the flaps and found... a different box. White and green, made of sturdy plastic. Bold lettering across the front proudly read The Semi-Autonomous Machine - by SepTech. A clear window also revealed the product inside.

“Yes!” Jackie pumped his fist in the air. He’d thought this would be it! The League had said they’d be shipping a SAM out to all the Heroes in the county, after all. Even though those deliveries had been delayed, Jackie kept his eye on the calendar, knowing it would be soon. And when he’d picked up the package downstairs and felt how heavy it was, his first thought was a SAM.

The model inside the box was the size of a volleyball, its metal a dull gray. But not to worry! The back of the box listed several features, including customizable color. How was it possible to change the color of metal? Technology was amazing. Jackie was about to open up the box and take the SAM out when he remembered.

“When you get your Machine from the League, I need you to bring it to me. Before you turn it on, or even take it out of the box. I don’t want to keep it. I just want a friend of mine to look it over.”

Spitfire Cat had said that a while ago. And he’d reminded Jackie about it in an email.

Jackie hesitated, staring at the SAM through the clear plastic window. He’d initially denied Spitfire’s request. But... something had changed since then. Jackie no longer distrusted Spitfire. Well, he still didn’t trust him, either. He’d be an idiot to fully trust any villain.

Except that he’d trusted Schneep, even after finding out he was the Specter. That whole revelation had thrown his worldview into disarray. It was hard to maintain a solid line between do-gooders and evil-doers when you found out your friend and doctor was also a practiced thief. So, the question was now, did he blur that line even more for Spitfire Cat?

He thought about it. And then he sighed, and walked over to his laptop. As soon as it booted up he went into the burner email and sent a message to Spitfire. I have the SAM from the League. The Semi-Autonomous Machine. You wanted a friend to look at it right? Well now’s your chance. But only if I can be there to watch whatever’s going to happen.

“Jackie?” Chase called from the living room. “You okay in there?”

Right. He’d said he would be right back.

Jackie picked up the SAM box. No reason to keep this a secret. They were commercial products, not just some tool for the League. He carried it back into the living room. Chase had his game paused, staring at him. “Look what I got!” Jackie said, grinning.

“...no way.” Chase gasped. “Bro! How’d you get one of those?! They cost a fortune!”

“Well, it was a gift.”

“Who do you know who can just give something like that away? And can you introduce me to them?”

Jackie laughed. “Just someone from work. A work friend. I got lucky, really. They were doing a giveaway thing.”

“Bro.” Chase was completely stunned. “We have our own robot. It can do anything for us!” Sitting on the sofa next to him, Frosty lifted his head. He stared at the box Jackie was carrying and growled. Chase laughed. “Oh, sounds like someone’s jealous. C’mon, boy, you know some robot can’t replace you.” He scratched Frosty’s ears and he seemed to calm down. “But seriously, Jackie. That’s insane. Open it up!”

“Oh. Uh... not yet,” Jackie said. “I hear there’s a whole startup thing and I don’t really want to do that right now. I’m tired. Worked all day.” Not technically a lie. There was a traffic accident while he was out on patrol, and he’d stepped in to stop the car from going out of control and make sure everyone was alright. Nobody died, thank god. But there were injuries. After all that... he didn’t really want to think too hard.

Chase stared at him. Then slowly nodded. “Yeah. Uh, sure. It’s your Machine.”

“I actually prefer calling them SAMs. It’s an acronym for the name.”

“SAM!” Chase grinned. “Aw, that’s adorable! It’s like it’s your kid and you named them.”

“I was thinking more of a pet, but yeah.”

Frosty growled again, but was satiated with more scratches. “Have any plans for the night, bro?” Chase asked. “Wanna play something?”

“Maybe. I have to wait for a work email, but if that gets taken care of, sure. We can play Smash or something.”

“Nah, you have to mentally prepare to Smash. We can do Mario Kart or something.”

Jackie made a face. “You know what you were doing with that phrasing.”

 Chase flashed another grin. “Perhaps. We’re both adults here.”

“Yeah yeah. Ask me again after dinner. I’ll be in my room until then.” Jackie turned around and headed back to his bedroom, where he shut the door behind him.

He didn’t have to wait long for Spitfire’s reply. We need to meet up. This Saturday, head to 8915 Waterlow Street. There’s a pub at that address called Hannah’s Bar. Wear something to cover your face, but not your supersuit. ANYTHING BUT YOUR SUPERSUIT. And you should probably hide the Machine in a bag or something. Go inside and ask the owner for a ruby eye cocktail. When they tell you they don’t serve that, say, “I’ll pay extra if you look in the kegs.” They’ll take you into the back. Follow them, and don’t ask questions. Me and my friend will meet you there.

Well. That was sketchy as all fuck. And also inconvenient. I have plans on Saturday, Jackie replied. Does some other time work? Saturday was the day Lorelai—the Hero known as Pink Sunset—wanted to show him some surprise League welcome. And he was not going to miss that.

Spitfire responded within ten minutes. Sunday, then. Evening would be best, 4:30 or later. But show up no later than 7:30. We need to finish by eight. See you then.

Jackie had a bad feeling about this. But he supposed this was what he got for working with a villain.

===============

Saturday came quickly. Even though he was supposed to meet Lorelai at two o’clock, he left the apartment around ten. Lorelai had said it would take a couple hours to drive to this secret meeting place, so Jackie figured he could fly there in double the time. He said goodbye to Chase, telling him that he was going to meet up with some work friends and he’d be home late, then headed out.

Lorelai had messaged him the coordinates soon after their talk, and Jackie plugged those into the Red Line’s GPS function to tell him which way to fly. Northeast. Interesting. While there were some smaller suburbs and isolated business facilities around Daindover, the northeast was mostly wilderness. Just fields and forests for a while. Not even many roads, only a single motorway that cut through said fields and forests. His intrigue and curiosity made the flight over less boring.

He reached the coordinates at almost exactly two o’clock. Looking down, he saw a small dirt road, leading to a small dirt parking lot in the middle of a forest. A campsite? There were a few cars sitting in the lot, and when he flew closer to the ground, he saw... a woman in a familiar pink and orange supersuit. Lorelai. She saw him at around the same time, and started waving her arms. Light flashed in the air, harmless pink fireworks going off around Lorelai.

Jackie landed in the middle of the lot, and took a moment to catch his breath. Lorelai hurried over. “Hey!” she said, smiling. “You found it! Glad I didn’t mess up the coordinates, ha. Well? What do you think?”

“Uh...” Jackie looked around, still recovering from the extended flight. He was pretty physically durable, but four hours of concentration could wear anyone down. Not to mention the cold wind. “It’s... a forest.”

Lorelai chuckled. “Well, yeah. We had to be discreet. C’mere. This way.” She walked over to the nearest tree, and Jackie followed her, curious. “You’re gonna love this, watch.” Lorelai grinned at him, then reached up and grabbed a small branch. She pulled. A mechanical CHA-CLUNK! echoed from inside the tree, and then a section of it slid upwards, revealing a metallic inside.

“Whoa!” Jackie gasped. “Secret entrance.”

“Yep. There’s a few around here, inside that tree, and that one, and those two...” Lorelai pointed out the trees as she spoke. Now that Jackie was paying attention, he noticed how all these trees looked basically the same. The same size, and with the same small branch jutting out from the side. “They’re only big enough for one person, as you can see, so be warned if you’re bringing a big group here. Everyone should come at different times.” She stepped back from the tree. “Here, you use this one. Just press the white button and it’ll go.”

“Alright.” Jackie stepped inside. She wasn’t kidding about them being only big enough for one person. He couldn’t fully extend his arms. “So it’s a lift?”

“Yeah. I’ll take another and meet you down there.” Lorelai gave him a thumbs up. “See you down there!”

“Uh, see you.” Jackie looked around, and quickly noticed the panel with three different colored buttons: red, white, and yellow. He pressed the white one, and the tree-door slid closed. Then he felt the floor move. It was just like any other elevator he’d been in, just much smaller. He was glad he wasn’t claustrophobic.

A few seconds later, the door slid open again, and he stepped out into a large room shaped like a half-circle. The walls were painted a cool blue on the top half and white on the bottom, and the carpet had a design of different-sized blue and yellow polka dots on a black background. White bar lights overhead lit up the area in an even glow. The elevator was on the curved wall, and he saw four other small metallic doors that no doubt connected to the other trees above ground. On the curved wall were two bathroom doors and a wide-open archway, through which drifted some faint, upbeat music.

Ding! Jackie turned around and watched one of those small doors slide upwards. Lorelai stepped out. “Pretty efficient, huh? You’d never know we were twenty meters below ground.”

“Twenty meters?” Jackie looked up at the ceiling, imagining the earth pressing on it. 

“Give or take.”

“Huh. You’re right, I never would’ve guessed that. The elevator was pretty fast.” He looked back down. “Hey, what’re the other buttons in there for?”

“The yellow one stops and starts the lift, while the red one calls for help in case you get stuck in there,” Lorelai explained. “I don’t know why they have the yellow one, to be honest. Probably for maintenance. Anyway!” She grinned. “C’mon, this is the place.” She started walking towards the archway, gesturing for Jackie to follow, which he did. “Welcome to the League Lair.”

Jackie stopped in the archway and stared. This was a huge, open area, easily the size of a basketball court. Maybe two. It looked like someone had mashed together two restaurants with a lounge and a public gym.

On the left wall was a long counter with a buffet of food, and on the right was another counter that blocked off a kitchen from the rest of the area. Round tables and chairs were dotted around, clustered close by both these areas. In the back, partly cordoned off by a half-wall, were professional-grade workout machines, sleek and streamlined, and the very back wall had been converted into a fake mountainside for rock-climbing. In the middle of this all were sofas and armchairs, sitting on top of plush-looking rugs and accompanied by coffee tables and a few TV stands—with TVs and all their accessories. The ceiling was high overhead, with mounted lights giving off a bright glow. The walls were painted black, but hanging on them were several large, colorful framed pictures. The furniture was sleekly designed, all smooth white and grays with highlights of other colors.

“What the...” Jackie trailed off, stunned.

“Pretty cool, huh?!” Lorelai patted him on the back. “You’d never guess this was down here!”

“N-no, I—I didn’t even think about—” Jackie laughed. “So, is this place for Heroes to hang out?”

“Anyone who works for the League can get in. Did you bring your badge?”

“Oh, uh, no.”

“Bring it next time. There’s a scan that happens once you get in the elevator, it won’t go down if you don’t have one. Usually.” Lorelai leaned close. “I thought you might forget it, so I asked the maintenance guys to turn off the scan for, like, half an hour around two.”

Jackie laughed again. “Well, uh, thanks.” He kept staring at this giant room, this League Lair. There were people in here. Almost everyone was dressed casually, business casual at most. The one exception was a familiar face sitting on one of the sofas. “Is that Terra-Man?”

“Oh yeah, it is!” Lorelai said excitedly. “Hey, Josh!” She waved and started walking on over. Jackie hurried to follow.

Terra-Man—(his name was Josh?)—looked up at the shout and grinned. He wasn’t wearing his mask. “Ah, Lorelai! Oh, and young Windstorm, too. How’ve ye been?” 

“I’m not that young!” Jackie protested.

Terra-Man—Josh laughed. “I know, I know, jus’ messin’ with you.” He grabbed the TV remote from the sofa next to him and paused whatever he was watching. “Well? What d’you t’ink? Nice place, huh? Nicer t’an the one we have back home, I’ll tell you t’at.”

“Y-yeah. I’m... in shock.” Jackie looked around again. “Are those... comic book pages?” Yeah, those framed pictures were definitely comic book pages.

“Yep. You know how the League produces comics about the Heroes,” Lorelai said, taking off her mask as well. “The ones here are prints retelling the adventures of Heroes in this county. Greatly exaggerated, of course. And the Council members, too. My favorite is this one of Red Huntress and the Shadow over on the back.”

Jackie nodded. “Are there any of you here?”

Lorelai shrugged. “One. Over in the corner. But I think it looks great. You’ve only been a Hero for a little while, so I think they’ll start making comics for you about a year in? Unless you do something really amazing before that. If the art is good, it’ll be put up in here! We don’t have much say in that, to be honest, it’s mostly Marketing’s decision.”

“...wow.” Jackie was completely overwhelmed. He knew that Heroes had comics made about them—hell, it was how he’d heard about a lot of them—but it was really starting to sink in that he could have a comic about him. Kids could read about him the same way he read about others.

“Like I said, much nicer t’an the Lair back home for me,” Josh added. “We don’ have comics on the wall, or a rock-climbin’ section. Jesus, t’at’s insane.”

“When are you going home, anyway?” Lorelai asked.

Josh shrugged. “Whenever t’ey need me to. You know me. I love t’is place. Some o’the best Heroes t’is side of the globe are from t’is county, and I choose t’believe it’s because of all the great perks you have.”

“So you’re just gonna mooch for a while?”

“Ah, you know me so well.”

The two of them chuckled, and Jackie laughed a little too, trying to match the energy. It seemed to work. At least, the two of them didn’t look at him weird or anything. “Oh, I-I should introduce myself to you. I’m Jackie.” He pushed his mask onto his forehead. “And your name is Josh?”

“Got t’at right.” Josh gave a little salute. “Likin’ bein’ a Hero so far?”

“It’s not that different from what I was doing before, honestly. This, though...” Jackie gestured vaguely at everything around them. “...this is all new. How many of these are there?”

“Well, there’s one per county in the UK and Ireland,” Lorelai said. “I can’t tell you much about other countries. America has a lot, but I don’t know the specifics. One per state, maybe?”

“Uhhh some of their states are bigger than most countries, I doubt it’s that.”

“Point is, there’s at least one in any country where the League has jurisdiction,” Lorelai continued. “Gotta give the Heroes some place to have their free time. I'm here a lot. Love the rock-climbing, it’s better than any gym in my city and well worth the drive. Josh is gonna hang out here a lot, seemingly—” Josh raised his hand in acknowledgement “—but it’s mostly local Heroes. Moonstone came in here at least once, but you know her. Busy with national team stuff. It was crazy, though. We had an obstacle course set up that day and got the top time. Then she made it float and got the top time while it was floating!”

“Holy shit, while it was floating?!” Jackie gasped.

“While it was floating! I know, right?!” Lorelai grinned, bouncing on her feet. “God, you know, I’m so jealous of your city. The last two superheroes from there—before you, I mean—could control gravity and time, do you know how rare those are?”

“Oh yeah.” Jackie felt a swell of pride. “They’re super cool.”

Lorelai giggled. “You’re super cool yourself, you know? I’ve never seen anyone zoom through a probation period so fast.”

“Aw, thanks.” And now Jackie was blushing, flattered. Was he really that good?

“Anything you want to do while you’re here?” Lorelai asked.

“Whatever you do, can ye do it somewhere t’at doesn’ block the TV?” Josh asked.

“Oh come on, it can’t be good watching in this wide open room. The sound’s got to echo.”

“The echo adds character.”

Just then, Jackie’s stomach growled. “You know what? I think we’ll start with lunch,” he said. “What do they serve here?”

Lorelai and Josh laughed. “Just about anything, really,” Lorelai said. “And everything has different options for different food restrictions, too. Come on, menu’s this way.”

Jackie followed her.

He spent a good three hours checking out the various features of the League Lair, including the workout machines and some of the video games they had. Lorelai and Josh were fun to hang out with. He could almost forget they were Heroes that he’d admired from afar for so long.

He left around five, and probably should have left sooner. It got dark quickly on the flight home, and that meant it got cold. He was so glad his new suit had insulation, but even with that, his face was freezing by the time he returned to his apartment. He said hi to Chase briefly, then went into his room and fell asleep almost immediately.

This had been a good, busy day. But tomorrow would be just as busy... and maybe not quite as good. It depended on what Spitfire Cat had planned.

===============

“You’re going out again?”

Jackie paused as he walked past Chase’s open bedroom door. He glanced inside and saw Chase sitting in his swivel chair, facing the doorway. “Uh, yeah.” Jackie smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back in time to do that editing on your video I promised.”

“Right.” Chase nodded. “So, are you going to work, or are you hanging out with someone?”

Anxiety jolted through Jackie’s heart. “Are you implying something?”

“I dunno. Your schedule has just been pretty inconsistent since you got your new job. It doesn’t help my memory problems.” Chase shrugged. “But you can do whatever you want, y’know.”

Jackie let out a breath. “It’s just for work. Shouldn’t take too long, I hope. I’ll be back by eight at the latest.”

Chase laughed. “Alright. Hope you do whatever you need to. Don’t feel too pressured to help me edit. I mean, the commenters do love it when you make witty comments in text, but no pressure.”

“That sounds like pressure to me.”

“Only if you want it to be.” Chase swiveled back around to face the desk. “Oh yeah, you might want to come back through the side entrance. There’s gonna be repairs on the lights in the lobby starting in, like, thirty minutes. Might be easier to avoid it.”

“Got it.” Jackie gave him a thumbs-up. “See you later.”

“See you.”

Jackie continued heading out. Well, it sounded like he’d better come in through the window when he returned. That’d be easier than taking the side entrance.

There was a knot in his stomach from that whole conversation. The more he talked to Chase, the more uneasy he felt. He had to tell him. He had to tell him.

But he didn’t.

===============

Jackie followed Spitfire’s emailed instructions and headed to 8915 Waterlow Street. This whole thing was making him nervous, so he didn’t risk flying, instead taking the train and walking the rest of the day. His nerves were not helped by the fact that Waterlow Street was well-known for being... shady. It was full of run-down businesses that seemed to think throwing on some paint over brick walls made them look presentable. No need to clean their windows or fix their broken signs or cover up the spray-painted villain signs on the sidewalk.

Honestly, the whole north side of town was known for less-than-savory activity. There was a reason it was called the Villain’s Haven. Jackie felt bad for the people who lived in the area. They had to be scared. He wondered why no one seemed to move away.

Hannah’s Bar sat at the address where Spitfire said it would, identified by a hanging sign. The stone building looked like it had sat here for at least a couple centuries. Jackie made sure the blue bandanna covering his face was secure, then pushed open the door.

It was fairly dark inside, courtesy of dim bulbs and small windows. Completely empty, too. Except for a dark-haired woman standing behind the bar checking her phone. She looked up when he entered, and gestured vaguely to the menu written in chalk behind her.

Jackie took a deep breath, and walked up to her. “Hi. I’d like to order a ruby eye cocktail.”

The woman raised an eyebrow. She gave him a long look, assessing his hidden face and baggy hoodie. “That’s not on the menu,” she said.

“I’ll pay extra if you look in the back,” Jackie said.

She looked him over again. Then she stood up straight and lifted up part of the bar. “Almost right,” she grunted. “But I’ll let it slide because you clearly haven’t been here before. Come on.” Before Jackie could say anything else, she turned around and walked through a side door.

He hurried after her, following her into a small room with racks of bottles, including one of those checkerboard wine racks that took up a whole wall. The woman began moving bottles around, taking them out of spots in the checkerboard rack and putting them in new ones. Soon, something clicked. She pushed on a portion of the wine rack and it retracted, sliding behind the rest of it. A hidden doorway, revealing a staircase. “Go on,” she said, gesturing for him to go.

“...yeah.” He nodded, then descended the staircase.

Jackie expected to walk into an even darker basement. But, strangely, the staircase got brighter as he went down. Soon, he walked into a wide-open area that looked like... an American diner. Tables dotted the black-and-white tiled floor and booths lined the walls. A counter with bar stools ran along the back, another menu behind it blocking off the kitchen from view. Lamps dangled from the ceiling. There seemed to be a red and silver color scheme for them, as well as the rest of the furniture. Faint rock music filled the air, coming from an unknown source.

But strangely enough, the walls were decorated—not unlike the walls of the League Lair—with pictures of supers. These weren’t framed comic pages, but instead wall-size painting drawn to look like comic panels. And instead of depicting the Council of Heroes, these all depicted villains. Jackie recognized many of the costumes. But... these villains looked... heroic in these drawings. Their smiles were dashing, not menacing. As much as that threw him off, it made sense when he thought about it.

There were people sitting at the tables and booths, and they all paused in what they were doing when he entered the room. Every single one had their face covered in some way. Jackie shifted uncomfortably at all the eyes on him.

Then he saw motion. A wave. His eyes locked onto it. Spitfire was sitting in one of the booths, wearing his full costume. There was someone else in the booth with him, but they were partially hidden by some of the other customers. Jackie didn’t say anything, just hurried over. As he walked, the others watching him turned away, going back to whatever they were doing before.

“Glad to see you found the place,” Spitfire said as Jackie slid into the booth, sitting opposite him.

“What is this place?” Jackie whispered.

“It’s a... hangout,” Spitfire said carefully. “For certain types of people.”

Jackie glanced around. “Nicer than I expected for a certain type of hangout.”

“Some people have standards.” Spitfire gestured at the person sitting next to him. “I should introduce you. This is—”

“I am the Disassembler!” they interrupted. “No, wait, that sounds stupid outloud. Uh, I am the—not the Destroyer, uh—I am the Dismantler!”

Jackie blinked in confusion. The other person in the booth... was a teenage girl. Or, about that age. Even though she wore a black face mask, he could still tell. Maybe she was slightly older? Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore a black jacket that had circuit board designs applied in silver fabric paint. “I... O... kay?” he said slowly.

Spitfire sighed. “This is the Dismantler,” he said. “Dismantler, this is the contact I told you about.”

“Hi.” the girl—Dismantler waved.

“I’m... sorry, I’m a bit...” Jackie paused. “Uh, how old are you?”

“I am an adult,” she said insistently.

“Right.” Jackie looked at Spitfire.

“Don’t stare at me that way,” Spitfire snapped. “Her dad’s one of my best contacts. That’s how we know each other.”

“He sells weapons,” Dismantler said helpfully.

“Gw—Dismantler, don’t just offer that up!” Spitfire gasped.

“I know who you are, by the way,” Dismantler continued, looking at Jackie. “Spitfire told me. And I don’t mind. Mom and Dad hate you cause you arrested my Uncle Soren, but I get it. You were just doing your job. So no hard feelings. I’m not gonna mess with your stuff or anything.”

“Soren?” Jackie repeated, picking up on the only specific detail from that. “Do you mean Soren Moizone? Also known as Pathos?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you’d know his name,” Dismantler said.

Spitfire’s head dropped into his hands. “I thought you said you wouldn’t say anything,” he groaned.

“Sorry.” Dismantler looked embarrassed behind her mask. “I got carried away. I just wanted him to know I don’t have a grudge or anything.”

“He wouldn’t have thought you’d had a grudge if you didn’t tell him your entire family history. That’s not—that’s really not safe, you know. He could easily figure out who you are now.”

“I don’t think he’d do anything to a teenager, though.”

“You said you were an adult,” Jackie said faintly.

“I’m eighteen. Still technically a teenager.”

Silence fell over the table. Dismantler looked back and forth between the two men. Spitfire was still doing the facepalm of the century, while Jackie was bewildered and a bit lost. “Uh... so I have this,” Jackie said, taking off his backpack. He tilted it so Spitfire and Dismantler could see the SAM in its box inside. “What’re you gonna do with it?”

Spitfire finally lifted his head. “We’re going to inspect it.”

“Inspect it?”

“Yep!” Dismantler nodded. “That’s what I do.” She leaned forward, reaching out. “Gimme. Please.”

“Y-yeah. Sure.” Jackie pulled the box out of the backpack—or more accurately, shoved the backpack away from the box, since it was big and kind of awkward—and set it on the table in front of him.

Dismantler grabbed it and spun it around to the clear plastic window. “Oooo! I can feel it even through the box,” she whispered excitedly. “Are those nanoparticles coating the surface? I bet they change the color.” She began opening the box, but it proved more difficult than expected.

“Here, I can help,” Spitfire offered.

“Laser open this flap and I can get it from there,” Dismantler said.

“It’s not a—yeah.” Spitfire pointed at one of the box edges. A thin, hair-wide beam of red energy severed part of it with the smell of burning plastic.

“Thanks.” Dismantler tore the box open the rest of the way and pulled the SAM from the protective packaging. “Oh yeah! Nanoparticles for color change! That’s so cool.” She set the SAM down on the table. Her eyes, previously a pale gray-green, started to glow white.

Any questions Jackie had were immediately silenced by what followed. The SAM started to pull apart. The metal plate of the coating floated away, and the camera extended until all its parts were separated. Countless wires unwound themselves, and the single tail-like appendage peeled open like a banana. Everything stayed where it was, floating, even as the Machine was slowly dismantled.

Oh. Dismantled. So this was her super power.

Once the SAM was fully disassembled, parts suspended in the air, Dismantler reached into the floating mess and grabbed some tiny, fingerprint-sized metal bits. “Got it,” she said cheerfully. In a matter of seconds, the parts of the SAM had once again converged into a solid device, lying unremarkably on the table.

Jackie was speechless. “I... I’ve never heard of... such... precise... telepathy.”

“Oh, I’m not a telepath, I’m a technopath,” Dismantler explained. “I can control technology with my mind. I’m not surprised that you’ve never heard of it, though. It was only recognized officially about ten years ago. But I’m pretty sure we’ve been around for longer. And I think I’m one because my dad works with a lot of advanced technology. I said he was a weapons dealer earlier, really it’s more of general smuggling.”

“Technopathy,” Jackie repeated in awe. Then he shook his head and got back on track. “What did you take out of my SAM?”

“SAM? Oh, that’s so much cooler than Machine! It makes it sound like a robot on a scifi spaceship.” Dismantler laughed. “But anyway.” She opened her hand and showed Jackie the small metal bits. “These are what we in the business call ‘bugs.’ You know, like trackers and listening devices and stuff like that. These ones also have wireless NICs, which are really hard to make, but basically they let the devices transmit signals to a source.”

“Someone bugged my SAM?” Jackie asked. “But... I-I hadn’t even opened it...” He looked over at Spitfire.

Spitfire just nodded. “I thought they’d do something like this. That’s why I asked you to let Dismantler look at it.”

“Why would the League bug the SAM they sent to me?” Jackie asked.

“Don’t take it personally. They probably did it to all the Machines they sent to Heroes.” Spitfire shrugged. “It might be alright if you left it in there. Depends on what you used the SAM for. But personally, I thought you should know. It gets creepy when you don’t know about things that listen to you. I bet they didn’t even give you the terms and conditions to sign.”

“They didn't,” Jackie admitted, speaking slowly. “But still... why?”

“League likes control,” Spitfire said simply.

Jackie leaned back in his seat. He felt a bit dizzy all of a sudden. “Well... a-at least that’s taken care of.”

“Not entirely.” Dismantler curled her hand back into a fist and retracted it. “There could be spyware programs on it. I don’t know. My super power only works on, like, physical hardware. I can’t help with any software. Like programs or viruses.”

“Oh.” Jackie stared at the SAM, suddenly uneasy.

“Don’t worry about it too much, though,” Dismantler said. “Just don’t let the SAM go anywhere you wouldn’t be expected to be. Or do stuff you don’t want it to see in front of the camera. Or talk about stuff you don’t want it to hear without putting a muffling device over it. Those are really easy to make.”

“Alright... if you say it’s fine, I’ll... yeah.” Jackie nodded slowly. “I guess... it would be weirder if I suddenly got rid of it. Um... I’m going to go home now.”

“Aw, don’t want to hang out?” Dismantler sounded a bit disappointed.

“Sorry. I have a roommate, and I-I don’t want him to worry too much.” Jackie stood up. He picked up the SAM, placed it back in the box, then awkwardly shoved the box into his backpack.

“I’ll email you if there’s anything else,” Spitfire said. “You said we were dropping the search for the Specter, but there’s still the Puppeteer. That was our original goal, anyway. If I find anything... you know.”

“Got it.” Jackie nodded. “I’ll see you around then.”

“See you around.” Spitfire nodded back, then turned to Dismantler. “Hey G—Dismantler, can I see those bugs?”

“Sure.”

As Jackie walked back over to the staircase, he glanced over his shoulder back at the table. Even from here, he could see the bright yellow glow of a solid-heat sphere. Spitfire was going to get rid of those bugs the only way he knew how.

===============

“Hey Chase? Do you still want me to edit your video?”

“Holy hell!” Chase jumped at the sudden voice. He’d been walking down the hallway towards his room when he heard it. Frosty nudged him, making sure he wouldn’t fall, and Chase hurried over to Jackie’s room. The door was open, and Jackie was inside, sitting on his bed with his laptop. “When did you get home?!”

Jackie blinked in confusion. “I don’t know, six-ish? I’ve been home for a couple hours. Where have you been?”

“I took Frosty for a walk,” Chase said. “And then I thought I’d get dinner while I was out. Just walked down to Wendy’s and ate there. Uh... anyway, yeah. Editing would be cool. Just give me a second to pull everything up.”

“Cool.”

Chase hurried over to his room, gently closing the door as soon as Frosty passed through it. He pulled out his phone and texted a number: Rebecca, one of the mail room attendants for the apartment buildings. He was familiar with her, enough that he’d asked her for a favor. Hey did u see Jackie come in thru the front lobby around 6:00?

A moment passed. Then she replied. No definitely not. And I didnt hear any complaints from the guys working on the lights. Theyve complained every time someone walked past.

Jackie hadn’t come in through the front lobby.

But he also hadn’t come in through the side entrance. Chase knew that because he had watched that entrance for hours since Jackie had left. It wasn’t too hard. He just sat on a bench and kept glancing up at the door every few minutes or so. He’d brought his phone and a portable charger, bouncing between checking social media and reading some new e-books he’d downloaded. So he could have been distracted, maybe? And missed Jackie going in? But he doubted that. People rarely approached the side entrance, so the people who did got his attention right away. All residents. None of them Jackie.

How the fuck did he get into the building? There were only two entrances! Had he lied about the time he came back? Where had he gone, anyway? And why had his backpack been full of stuff?

Chase closed his text messages and opened up his notes app. He used the notes a lot to make up for his terrible memory, and recently, he’d been noting Jackie’s weird inconsistencies. He was out a lot. Usually said it was for work or a work-related thing. Which, sure, Jackie had said he was working with law enforcement, he was probably on-call as cases happened. But Jackie seemed to be always on call, no matter what time of day it was. Even for a job like this, he had to have specific hours, right?

Not to mention Jackie had been acting... strange lately. He seemed nervous. And Chase felt like he was avoiding him. Was he hiding something? He’d tried asking Schneep if he’d seen Jackie lately or noticed anything weird with him, but Schneep said it had been a while since the two of them had seen each other, and that if something was going on, Chase should ask Jackie about it in person. JJ said something similar when Chase texted him.

Had Jackie gotten involved in something... dangerous? Something that would earn him a lot of money? Because frankly, Chase didn’t believe Jackie got a Semi-Autonomous Machine from a work giveaway. Those things went for thousands. No job would just give that away. And Jackie couldn’t have that much money to spare. Otherwise he wouldn’t be rooming with Chase in a mid-tier apartment.

He knew he had to confront Jackie about it soon. But when? Tomorrow seemed too soon, and next week seemed too late. Especially if Jackie really was in danger.

Maybe a couple days from now. Yes, that seemed good. It gave him enough time to be sure about stuff. Chase made a note of that, then went over to his computer and started opening up the editing software. If Jackie offered to help, Chase would let him help. And maybe he’d try to get Jackie to open up while he did so. But he doubted that would work.

Chase really hoped Jackie was alright. He hoped his friend wasn’t wrapped up in anything harmful.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #jacksepticeye au #jackieboy man #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #brigid writes fanfiction #septicheroesau

[einpressens]

Amazing dedication, guess I need an exercise in not cringing at my past self too much for enjoying stuff at the time. I hope you have fun and come out not too scathed from the experience! Also that's not a ghost but a japanese/white radish. Unfortunately I don't have those gifs saved anymore but maybe if you google for them/reverse image search for them you might be lucky?

Oh my fucking god the tumblr decided to be stereotypical high school bully and show everyone (ok only to me) your embarrassing old photo with braces (old tumblr post from 2014).

Like I idk how it could have happened.

Actually I think what might happened. I clicked on post and there's was that recomendation feature that shows you several random post near a big main post. And for some reason it decided that postcard post with radish gif is going to be my jam (and I liked the rsdish boi so unfortunatly it was right) .Then I clicked on the blog icon but when you do this on mobile you get send not the the latest post of the blog, but to the post that you get to the blog from (aka2014 radish postacrds ) and there's was only older ones from dow there so my stupid ass just assumed that they are some form of tumblr time capsule, cuz they were 10 years old an had queue hashtag.

Now as I think about it I never saw your old post on mydash I just misremembered things. That actually explains why I get a bunch of likes on my random reblogs to which I made no additions to. some additional thing that made me be sure tht's it's modern queue was that I got away from my phone after scrilling your blog for a while and when came back I was at the top of your blog with new posts (still from 2014) added. And you know tumblr does that. If you scroll trough someone's blog on mobile and they create a new post you get immideatly send to the start of the blog, so It just made me more sure that they were live reblogs or at least live queue posts. Honestly I thought the radish postcard post was from this year, cuz it's christmas/new year and stuff so I didn't suspect I thing till it was to late.

TL DR IT tumblrs fault not mine. I not going to agree to be hold accauntable this time

#I was trying to answer on your other ask but tumrld disn't allowed me #Guess it was deleted or something

[kkittyco]

Hi there!

(This is just a little update, nothing important)

I saw the poll results and you guys like Pip the most!

Also, I did put this there:

but I wasn't completely intending to do it in the first place when I had originally made the post (the poll was on queue, I made it before it was posted)

But then I saw this:

So, I guess I'm doing it now lol, but I have a bit of a problem;

I lost the pen that I make the drawings with. And I absolutely WILL NOT ever use a pencil while drawing. I absolutely despise pencils with a burning rage, and you will never catch me alive using a pencil while drawing. (Unless it's a mechanical pencil, which I will tolerate.)

Btw I use these types of pens, kind of the reason why i haven't gotten any new ones because i can barely find them anywhere:

But I am trying to get a new one soon so I can post some more stuff as soon as possible!

Bye-bye! ^_^

#kkittyco #:3 #sketch #drawing #hellpark #south park #nothing important #update #tumblr polls #my post #hp #hp fandom #pip pirrup #hellpark pip #pen drawing #pen #doggo #dog #puppy #gif #sp