Title Here: Multi-fandom Writings

minuseven · May 14, 2023

Jumping off the stage at Kiyomizu

Everybody wanted a more exciting life. It was why isekai manga existed.

Shinichi slumped even further in his seat at the register. Night shift was so boring. It paid well, but it was so, so boring. It wasn't like anybody came by. If he was lucky, he'd get a couple of trucks per night. And they just paid by the pumps.

He turned up the volume on his phone and changed to another game.

Absorbed in tapping out the correct rhythm, he didn't notice anything until an ad popped up and he quickly lowered the volume. He glanced up to check the pumps, more habit than anything else, and froze.

There was a girl in front of him.

1, he had absolutely not noticed her entering. 2, Great Buddha, was that a real weapon!?

"Please forgive my rudeness by asking," the apparition said, bowing just slightly, "would it be possible to make a phone call from your telephone?"

"Hm…" Shinichi raised his phone. The ad had run its course and the link for a puzzle game was colorfully lighting up his screen. Internally, he was screaming.

The girl stared at his phone like she didn't understand.

"There's a payphone…?" He cleared his throat, shoved his phone into a pocket and got up slowly. Polite. He could be polite to an anime character come to life. He was a service worker. He bowed. "I'm very sorry, but this store only has one payphone. Would that be acceptable?"

The girl frowned, but nodded. "Yes, thank you very much."

He politely indicated where the payphone was and settled back with a practiced smile. Nailed it.

The moment she turned away from him, he had his phone out and was closing his game. This was so weird, he had to take a picture or nobody would ever believe him. The girl… She wasn't some sort of weirdly intense cosplayer, right? That blade looked way too real and sharp. And now that he wasn't under pressure, he was noticing other things too. Like the blood.

The white karate jacket she had on, and the leg wraps on the same side, were definitely stained red.

Maybe he should call the police, discreetly? Or an ambulance, on second thought? She looked rough. There was mud, dirt and leaves staining her ninja outfit, and maybe she was clutching the naginata like that because she was using it as a walking stick. Yeah, he thought as he surreptitiously took a series of pictures. She was limping.

She didn't look dangerous… well, she looked dangerous but with low health points. He didn't feel in a lot of danger.

Only the danger of the girl possibly being a yokai.

The girl turned back to him. Shinichi totally didn't fumble with his phone. "I am terribly sorry to continue to impose, but would you please do me the favor of buying a phonecall for me?"

She bowed more deeply, shaking even. Shinichi suddenly worried she might fall or pass out or something. So he reflexively said 'sure, no problem'. What's this, since when had he become such a… bland person? He was blaming his weak attitude on the possibility she could actually gut him.

Trying not to be seen hovering, he strained to hear her conversation as he opened LINE. Wait, nobody he knew was on at this hour. Twitter? His old account. More anonymity.

> [img1] [img2] help , what do you do if a yokai ( ? ) visits your konbini ?

"It's been taken care of. Yes. Nothing pressing." The girl was talking in a very respectful tone to whomever on the other side. She covered the phone's receiver and asked him. "Excuse me, where is this in relation to Kyoto?"

Shinichi racked his brain before giving her a vague direction and the name she could use to find it on a gps. He hoped whoever was possibly picking her up knew how to use a gps. He hoped he wasn't inviting more trouble. Maybe he should have called an authority.

>> crazy good cosplay
>> girl looks like she needs a hospital
>> run

Yes, he knew. There were other responses to his various panicked tweets with a variety of hashtags but, well, otaku freaks did not deserve attention. What were these people smoking?

>> be nice to the yokai .
>> man living the anime life when warrior goddess picks his konbini

He shouldn't have posted anything.

There was a click as the girl ended her phone call. For the first time since she'd entered, her face wasn't a variation of polite neutral. She scowled at the payphone like it'd offended her and Shinichi felt a frisson.

"The fucking worst." But she took a deep, painful-looking breath, and her face returned to a vague placidity. "Thank you very much. My family will be picking me up shortly. I will ensure that your generosity isn't unpaid." And with a final bow, she limped outside. And half-leaned, half-sat against the old guardrail, clearly in pain.

Shinichi went back to his spot behind the register. He tapped his fingers on the back of his phone. Looked outside. Still there.

February was cold. And humid. She was shaking. Maybe that was being hurt and not the cold… Shinichi wasn't an asshole. Anymore. He'd left that person behind after highschool.

He got up and moved just until the automatic doors opened, standing on the threshold. "Would you like me to call an ambulance, miss?" The closest clinic was like, a five minute drive away.

She looked at him, then scoffed very lightly, shaking her head. "No, that would only make it worse."

Right. He walked back in.

> what kind of offerings do urban legends like ?

Five minutes later, he walked back out with several goodies in his apron's pocket. "Hm, would you like a rice ball, or like, a chocolate bar?"

The girl stared at him. Shinichi did his best to not blink.

"... Chocolate?"

She almost tore into the chocolate bar he presented. It was a bit worrying, but also cute to see the girl light up as she ate something sweet. Definitely a good choice. Now he felt a little bit less worried about the hurt kid standing outside. Because with some time to observe her, she definitely looked younger than him.

Weren't all the secret combat magic whatever societes in anime based on highschools? That was otaku reasoning, but the other option was supernatural or… some sort of cult?

After she was done, she stared at him suspiciously from under her fringe. He supposed it was fair that she wasn't trusting a random stranger like him. Shinichi walked back inside, feeling a little bit proud of himself. Offering giveth, offense not giveth.

It took at least another tense fifteen minutes before the car stopped at his station. Several cars had passed by, making both of them perk up, but none had stopped. Shinichi supposed that was a blessing because he did not want to deconflict whatever would happen if a trucker asked the girl about her very obvious weapon.

This car was different. Shinichi's throat went dry at the sight of the big, black, sleek, shiny Mercedes with tinted windows. It was definitely a yakuza car. His brain went over the last half an hour with a completely different perspective.

He bowed to the Buddha. If he'd called the cops…!

The girl had stood up, straightening her back fully for the first time. From his spot at the register's window, he could see her unclench her jaw and exhale before she was back to eerie politeness. This was some movie shit. He carefully closed Twitter, set his phone down and tried to look like he hadn't been considering filming the whole thing.

A man left the car first, dressed in the same get-up as the girl. A gnarly scar split the side of his face and his face-mask was pulled up. He was also even taller than the girl, who herself had to be about as tall as Shinichi. He looked down at her, and he didn't look pleased. But he just stepped to open the back door of the car, letting a woman step out.

She wore a traditional kimono, looking like she'd stepped straight from a tv show. What kind, Shinichi wasn't sure. He just felt like he was in the presence of somebody who could and would ruin his life. He hoped she didn't notice him.

"Mother." The girl said.

Oh. Ooh.

The woman was frigid. "At least, you accomplished your mission. Let's go, you have wasted enough of our time tonight."

Shinichi kept his face turned towards a magazine randomly opened on the counter. It was upside down. But neither the woman nor her bodyguard seemed to notice him. It was like he, thankfully, didn't exist. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw the bloodied girl give him a look before she disappeared into the dark depths of the car's leather interior.

Only when the car had pulled away and disappeared did Shinichi relax. He slumped on the counter and let out a very big, very loud curse. His life had finished flashing before his eyes.

He needed a beer, who cared about work regulations.

The girl would not leave his mind for the rest of the night. And probably the week. As much as the night's mysteries bothered him, Shinichi hoped to never see the girl again. He was more certain than ever that he'd actually made all the right choices by being polite and helpful, but not too inquisitive or meddlesome.

At the very least, he had increased his karma, paying for a phone call and a chocolate out of his own pocket. Maybe that was the only thing he should take from this.

The legendary outsider POV! poor SS-Konbini Shinichi. Man has liminal encounter, worries it's yokai or cosplayer, ends up with the not-incorrect assumption it's fucking yakuza. (it's supernatural yakuza) Honestly, this whole part should be done in one or two chapters. Next should be Mai getting home, and making her decision, and the one after should be arriving at Kyoto Tech and "Saphira's" hatching beginning.
Me this weekend: *i should be working the database* *doesn't really do it* *researches japanese turns of phrase instead*

minuseven · May 21, 2023

Jumping off the stage at Kiyomizu

Mai remembered the stone as she sat down, the weight settling against her ribs. Sitting down inside the car, her body folded in an unfamiliar way, she fumbled a bit with the naked blade she carried. The weapon was big, barely fitting in the confined space, and its covering long lost. The seat molded itself to her muscles, relieving her injury and the rest of her tired legs.

When they had been younger, Maki and Mai had dreamed of having a car like the ones parked at the estate. Maki would drive, making the machine rumble and carry them away. Mai would sprawl on the huge, heated seats and turn on the music, drowning out everybody outside. They had pretended to drive a car once, left unlocked, and Mai had pressed the horn hard, giggling. The blare had scattered birds in a wide radius and sent the both of them flying before they were discovered.

The door slammed closed behind mother, jerking her out of the past. Her mother was a knife in the dark, a patterned kimono bright in the darkness of the car, straight-backed and facing forward unblinkingly. As the wife of the head's brother, she commanded a certain respect from the Kukuru assigned to protect her, even as a woman. If she hadn't given birth to them, she would not need to endure the heckling of other women and inferior men. She would have been honored and envied, she'd always told Mai.

"You were injured." Her mother's voice cut through the silence like the car's horn, startling Mai from her semi-conscious state again. There's an edge of disapproval in her voice and Mai was too tired to be polite and confirm her mother's observations.

Yes, yes, yes she was, in some many ways and so exhausted besides. Her mother's silence was just a prompt for her to answer as was proper, because mother did not comment on Mai's bruises. She knew where they were from and Mai knew better than to expect to be soothed, when the only reason she was hurt was because she wasn't following her elder's teachings well enough.

Maki used to ask who'd hurt her. Then she stopped asking and just glared in silence. Then she stopped looking. Fuck her.

"Mai." She opened her eyes again, having closed them without conscious thought. Her mother was talking. "Will the doctor be necessary?" Was it going to be necessary to wake up the old man?

"No." She lied. "It's not serious."

She hated the old man and the piercing eyes behind his glasses. Hated his touch the most.
She had feared the relief he brought even when she was younger, the way he both dismissed and dissected them when they were hurt enough to warrant his intervention. Grown, matured, she didn't want him examining her more than necessary. A little discomfort from everyday hurts was better than his hands, insistent and encroaching like the curses from under the eaves. The ones that liked to climb into their rooms at night, to drape themselves around their victims.

"I'll take care of it myself." She'd taken care of her sister's injuries more times than she could count. She could take care of it.

"See that you do."

And that was it.

She blinked, head resting against the glass. Everything was blurred, streaks of golden and ruby lights like shooting stars running next to her. Mai was blurry at the edges, warm, numb. She floated in a black sea, the star shower reflected on the water mirror her face rested on. Every now and then, the waves rocked her body one way or the other.

The door slammed.

Heart hammering, she fell back down into her body. Muscles tensed in anticipation and she hissed, vision flashing. Her hands twisted the coarse fabric over her legs, trembling, and she had to fight herself not to touch her thigh. It would only hurt more. This was going to hurt so much.

The world narrowed down to her very immediate surroundings. The blunt edges of the door, the stone steps to their house, the engawa where she had to remove her sandals, the hallways she knew by heart and the feeling of the staff in her hand, a third leg replacing the raw mass of nerves on her right side. Like a dream she could not escape, only breathe through, always aware of her mother in front of her, the many eyes on the shoji waiting for her to slip.

Without conscious thought, Mai closed the door to the washroom behind her and shook herself. She had arrived at her destination. All she had to do was clean her leg and then she could fall on her futon. She let go of the weapon and clung to the sink, waiting for the ground beneath her feet to stop swaying.

Strip, clean, disinfect, cover. She repeated the steps to herself. She'd done it dozens of times. She raised her gaze to the mirror and told Maki, "You're an idiot."

Maki's face had never been so full of weakness. "I'm an idiot." It repeated back to her.

Wait. "Maki's gone." The one in the mirror was the spare. Dressed in her older sister's clothes, carrying her older sister's tool, doing her older sister's job, and failing worse than her stupid older sister ever had.

Tears she thought had been shed weeks ago resurfaced. "Shit, shit, shit, shit." She was so tired. Everything hurt. It was cold, she'd walked for hours, ran and fought a curse, the cursed spirit had almost eaten her!

A muffled ring echoed and Mai realized she'd leaned forward so much, her hairs were brushing the scuffed surface of the mirror. She pulled the offending stone from within her tunic.

The washroom's light was artificial and weak, but the bright azure of its surface was revealed in full, a glow to it that overtook the lamps' pathetic efforts. It wasn't smooth like porcelain, but more perfect than the most masterful lacquer work the clan flaunted. Brushing her fingers atop it, she felt the transferred warmth of her body, the only thing from this world that clung to it. There wasn't another single mark, no scuff or scratch or imperfection, not even a smudge of dirt from her hands, its veins of pear white blending in with the royal blue like reflections in water. If it was a stone, it was a precious one.

Its arrival had saved her life, but now she saw the curiosity from the forest's darkness as it truly was, almost sacred.

"You saved my life." She told the thing. Maybe it was a sign. "I don't suppose you could also heal me?" She thought she heard something, but nothing happened. Just the ringing in her ears that had been coming and going in waves. "Too good to be true." That was fine, the stone hadn't promised her anything.

Instead, she braced herself and reached for the medicine box in the corner, stocked with what was needed to treat wounds or alleviate the monthly bleeding. Dressings and disinfectant and painkillers, things she'd bargained and worked for in the shadowed corners of the servants' rooms. Mai had always made do, always survived without Maki's ridiculous strength. She was the clever one, who used her brain and got out of trouble rather than into trouble.

She'd survive this as well. She just had to figure out how. She couldn't count on miracles either way.

I struggled with the mother, truly. Ended up relegating the announcing of Mai's decision for next chapter (i think). Is Mai setting herself up for an infection? Yeeeeaaaah, but if one overconfident 20+yo can underestimate a cat bite, so can a 14yo underestimate a cursed bite. (i was fine)

I did finally settle on a name for our little dragon! As well as Mai's strategy (lie) and thoughts when she hatches. I'd totally forgotten tamed cursed spirits were actually a thing! This will be fun, especially when Miwa gets brought in. She has a lot of energy. It's more troublesome figuring out exactly how magic and cursed energy will or not work together, considering one human will have CE and one dragon will have magic.

minuseven · May 4, 2022

originally posted in my danmachi thread here (https://forum.questionablequesting....w-effort-danmachi-stories.11394/#post-3148829) 14.02.2020
minor fixes to spelling only before porting it over.

First

The Black Goliath vanished into ash and the 18th Floor collectively held its breath before erupting into cheers. Somehow, they had survived. Rivals hugged, seasoned adventurers cried in relief, and all the wine casks were open. For once, alcohol flowed in Rivira, for free! Already, the most opportunistic brewers were preparing hangover remedies for the low, low price of only mildly eye gouging values.

Erik, the Milk-Drinker, that Crazy Elf, Rivira's Weirdo, was very glad he didn't drink. It was tempting to join the festivities, but really not worth it. "Mad Gods and Sane Gods," he collapsed onto his rump, having spent most of the battle running around casting support magic to prop up the defenders, "what was that?"

"A fucking irregular on the safe floor," giggled a chientrope face-down on the ground.

"No, really, I hadn't noticed," he snarked. "What I wanna know is how the fuck that's possible!"

The chientrope shrugged her shoulders helplessly in a 'beats me' manner. Erik wouldn't get his answer until later in the night-cycle, as the story of what had happened finally circulated around, as is custom for adventurers, in exaggerated retellings, boasts and arguments.

His mug crashed against the table with a deafening bang, silencing the tables in that corner of the pub. "A goddess?" Deep within his hood, his eyes shone, two points of cold light that fixed themselves onto the low-class adventurer regaling the table with the story. "Did you just say that there's a goddess… here?"

His gaze and words were so intense that even through the fog of alcohol the lad felt himself sweat. He gulped, eyeing the man still fully armoured this late into the festivities. "Y-yeah, came onna rescue mission fer those bastards Loki's rescued- wait, where're ya going?"

Erik was already out of the pub and running through the streets of Rivira. He couldn't believe it. A god in the dungeon. He'd given up years ago, but now there was a god. In the dungeon. He should feel light, but his every step seemed to drag on, his body heaved, his breaths rasped against his throat. The fact that the entrance to the 17th was blocked didn't factor anywhere in his mind. All he could think was of being late. Of missing the god, like boats passing by.

He had never seen a boat.

He sprinted all the way to the place where Loki's forces had made their camp for the past days. He stumbled to a stop, only barely registering the alarmed looks that those there gave him. His mind was solely on the goddess, so he did not think of how he would be viewed. A heavily armored figure had just burst into their campsite, features and weapons concealed beneath a hood and cloak. It was no surprise that the adventurers, resting and recovering from the Goliath, jumped to attention, hands going to weapons and muscles tensing.

In his haste, Erik also forgot what had apparently triggered the dungeon into unleashing the irregular boss on Rivira. A dispute between the record holder and some belligerents, in which said record holder's goddess had been held hostage. As such, everybody's reactions were understandable when he asked: "Is it true there's a goddess here?"

"I don't know what you've heard, friend," a red-haired young man planted himself in front of Erik, "but nobody here wants trouble. And if you're thinking of starting some, we'll be more than happy to put ya in your place."

A tall human rose from the ground with the help of a huge battleaxe. "Leave and we shall have no problems." Behind him, Erik saw an elf in a green cloak glide with the grace of a high class adventurer, hand on the hilt of her weapons in warning.

Before he could explain that he meant no harm, the tent in front of him rustled and a figure peeked out. "What's going on out there? Bell is resting!" A short woman with silky black hair in twin-tails huffed.

She was beautiful. There was something almost unearthly perfect about her features. Clad in nothing but a white dress and sandals, a blue ribbon over her arms. She didn't have a divine aura, but Erik didn't need it to understand what she was. Her blue eyes, sparkling yet unfathomably deep, told him everything he needed to know.

His knees gave out and hit the ground, provoking startled gestures from the adventurers surrounding him, and tears pricked at his eyes. Then he prostrated himself, forehead against the ground and begged. "Please Goddess! I implore you, let me join your familia!"

""Uh!?"" Surprised exclamations rang around him.

"Please!" He insisted. "Please… take me in."

He heard light footsteps approaching him amidst hushed exchanges and the rustle of armor and steel. He could only focus on those steps. "You… want to join my Familia?" Came the soft voice of the goddess from above him.

"More than anything." He told in truth.

So close, he could hear her startled inhale. "Why?" The goddess asked almost warily. "Do you even know who I am? You don't, do you."

Erik felt a chuckle "I don't know who you are Goddess, who your Familia is or even what you do." He raised his head to meet her eyes. "I only know you came into the dungeon to save someone, but not even of that I was thinking, just that you were here. Do with me as you will. Evil or good, dangerous or not, radical or mundane, I will do your bidding. Keep me forever, discard me if you wish, but please. Please give me your blessing and take me out of here."

The goddess' brow furrowed sadly. She crouched down in front of Erik and, when she spoke, all those present could hear in her words the weight of her ageless existence. "Why are you so desperate, Child?"

Her eyes bore into his and the truth leapt from his lips before he could second-guess it. "Because I don't want to die without seeing if the sky really is that big." He averted his gaze, suddenly self-conscious. "I. I'm cursed. My… my god abandoned me. It's nothing dangerous to you, Goddess! I swear it." He hurried to say. "But the only way to get rid of the curse is to join another Familia. It's a long story. Very long. Could we, ah," his eyes darted to the handful of very curious adventurers listening intently, "perhaps talk in private?"

"Lady Hestia…" A long-haired eastern woman dithered, but the goddess, now identified as Hestia, raised a hand to stop her.

"He's not going to hurt me, are you…" She blinked and laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."

He rose to his feet and gave a shallow bow. "Erik, Lady Hestia, and I do so swear."

"Well met, Erik. Come along." She turned to walk back towards the field tent she had emerged from in the first place.

A short-haired pallum turned her head to see them enter the tent. She'd been watching over a white-haired human on a cot, and Erik recognized him as the young man that had dealt the final and decisive blow to the Black Goliath that afternoon. In his head, several connections were finally made. This was the Little Rookie, the record-holder, and this goddess was the Hestia, from Hestia Familia. He wasn't sure if he felt more or less nervous. Hestia's was a single-member familia, which meant that the goddess was either still new and openly recruiting or, considering her only member, highly selective.

Hestia interrupted the pallum before she could begin to speak, narrow eyes suspiciously watching Erik's every movement. "It's Familia business, Lili," she explained, "I'm sorry but only Bell can listen." The pallum begrudgingly stood up and left.

She motioned him to sit down, while she perched on the cot the Rookie occupied. The young man blinked tiredly, murmured something but Hestia was quick to soothe him and he fell back to sleep. A fond smile twisted her lips.

"I saw him," Erik told her. "Defeating the Goliath. We might all owe him our lives today."

"That's my Bell," the goddess sighed. "A really reckless hero. I worry about him a lot." She brushed a hair away from his forehead then turned back to him. "So. What about you, Erik? You must know I've noticed that that isn't really your name."

He nodded, having been expecting it. "Yes. But Erik is the name I chose for myself and that I answer to." After a moment of hesitation, he pulled down his hood, revealing pale skin of a slate colour and eerie, solid blue eyes. Elven pointed ears poked out from a pulled back mass of curly black hair. "If I have a real name, I don't remember it."

"A long story, I take?" Hestia

"Shorter than I'd like." He chuckled without feeling it. "In essence, a God gave me his grace and some gifts, and in return he took my memories and dumped me here."

She was incredulous, but couldn't deny the veracity of his words. "How- no. Why?"

"Why do Gods do anything?" He couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice. "For his own amusement. And, of course, that wasn't all. Not interesting enough." A bitter smirk twisted his lips. "So long as I possess his falna, I cannot rise above the 18th Floor."

It all started as a dream. He was standing in a clearing with fog by his knees, but the sky was clear above him. Constellations that he knew shone above him with pity. He had no idea where he was. He blinked. He had no idea of who he was either.

"Yes, well, mortal minds really aren't made for this sort of thing. I thought yours might hold up better but NOPE, I just had to scoop all the ruined parts out, so now you're like a potato puff without filling." A man, an elf and something else at the same time clapped him on the back. "Delicious!"

"What? Who are you? What's going on?" He shoved himself away from the gentleman only for a claw to grab the back of his neck and reel him in.

"Relax my friend or you'll end up with your entrails around your neck. For once I'd actually like to avoid that. Except, you know, not really." A pure and innocent smile twisted the woman's lips into a grimace. "I'm just a normal Prince, or a God as some of those theoreticians in the Academy say. I have followers and priests, terrible annoyances, always want me to do the paperwork for them."

"Did you bring me here?" He very carefully didn't struggle.

"Yes I did, keep up, who else would it have been? The White God? Pssh." He waved a hand. "They don't do transmigration, only the old boring reincarnation. No fun in that. And of course you don't understand, they usually don't. That's part of the fun!"

"I don't know who you are, I don't even know who I am." They pleaded with the goat.

"Hmm, lemme see." The satyr, what was a satyr? Looked into his ear and chewed on it for a while. "Forget being a sushi roll, I think you only really have the nori after all. Sort of a wonder you can even talk, it's probably the metaphysics of semi-planes of existence. Let's fix that, shall we? No fun if you just die."

A rice ball was shoved in his hands. He ate it in a single bite. He now noticed his skin wasn't a human shade.

"Much better. Everything's there now, but I don't feel like playing Tetris so I just let it fall where it did. Know where you're headed to?"

"The Dungeon." He blinked, then balked. "The Dungeon!? Under Orario? I'm going to die!"

"Eh, try not to. I'd be doing a poor job if you ended up dead before you ended up insane." The God of Madness he now recognized said next to him. "Now look up and choose your constellation, I need it for the rad tramp stamp I'm giving you." His eyes fixed on a constellation he'd never seen before yet he knew intimately. "Boring choice, but whatever."

"Wait, I'm getting a falna? Why?" What was the catch?

The Goddess massaging his shoulders smirked. "We're playing a little game. I drop you in the Dungeon with my blessing and I'll check in periodically to see how close you are to chicken soup with alphabet pasta." That couldn't be everything. "You can't leave, too boring. You're the type to run away, aren't you? So no on going above. You're starting at level 1 like all good pcs, so I'll throw in your starry blessing, racial modifiers and even magic!" He tasted rainbow on the last word. "And a knife of self-mutilation updating. Should be all you need to survive by the skin of your teeth."

He was definitely going to die, and he couldn't even slot everything that had just been said into the corners of his mind. He felt like he was missing the dot on the 'i' and it was definitely the 't''s fault. "Why?"

"I was bored. Now," the gentleman smiled with too many teeth, "say Cheese!"

Pain set his back on fire...

"... and then I woke up in this forest. I walked until I saw Rivira and I knew this wasn't a nightmare. I still tried to leave, but my feet led me astray whenever I tried to find the exit to the 17th. I tried following groups up, but somehow kept losing sight of them, and when I tried joining them, we all got lost." His fists clenched in his lap with so much force that if it weren't for his gloves his nails would be drawing blood. Small hands grasped his and kneaded soothing circles, prying his fingers loose one by one. "Cursed."

"It's going to be okay." The goddess told him. She looked tenderly at him, squeezing his gloved hands reassuringly. "We can fix this, can't we? That's why you want to join my Familia."

"Yes." He withdrew his hands from hers, carefully, and focussed. A sphere of oblivion formed between his fingers and deposited there a letter-opener with an ornate hilt engraved with faces that changed expression depending on how you looked at them. "This is the knife He left with me. Blood drawn with it can be used to update my status."

"It has to be a divine item," Hestia sucked in a breath. "How does it even work with the falna? It's breaking all the rules." Her fingers hovered over the blade.

Erik shrugged. "I don't know. It just updates itself according to my wishes. It's unbreakable by anybody but another God. Doing it will supposedly unlock my falna and allow for conversion."

Hestia nodded. "Okay." She nodded to herself again. "Okay. Let's do it."

Erik gaped at her. His glowing eyes searched her face and up close she saw that they weren't a solid sphere as she'd thought, black sclera hidden by large, indistinct irises. "It can't be this easy." He murmured.

"Why not?" She asked, and it wasn't pity in her voice but something like understanding.

"You know scarcely anything about me. You don't know what I am, or- or what I can do? Goddess, you don't even know my level. I'm not..." Erik gestured at himself and laughed in her face. "I've had to do a lot to survive the dungeon, to keep my secrets: stolen, cheated, bullied, -" killed. The dungeon had ground him down to his core, hard, hard and merciless.

Hestia shook her head. "I don't need to know any of that."

"Then what was it?" What knowledge had convinced her? What had she devised about him that gave her such confidence? Which secrets had she sniffed out?

"Erik," the Goddess asked, "how long have you been trapped here?"

"I don't know." He gave the rough estimate he used to keep track of major events in the surface world. "Can't count the days in the dungeon. More than six years, maybe seven. I was almost Level 2 when the Nightmare of the 27th happened."

"So long." The Goddess of the hearth, home and family smiled sadly. "Don't you think it's time to go home?"

His vision inexplicably blurred and his breath hitched. He tried answering her, though he knew not what he'd say, and pathetic blubbering escaped his lips. Wet trails ran down his cheeks. Hestia kneeled down in front of Erik and let him cry into her shoulder, rubbing his back and letting him air years of desperation.

He was one of her Children now, and if she ever met the bastard that had done this to him, she was going to kick his butt.

minuseven · May 17, 2022

Second

"I'd apologize, but I get the feeling you'd just tell not to, Lady Hestia." The strangely-skinned elf, blotchy-faced from his first crying jag in years, sniffed and wiped the rest of the tears away with the back of his hand.

"That's right, I would!" The short goddess crossed her arms over her generous bust, sniffing herself and blinking tears away. "There's nothing wrong with crying."

Erik felt his lips curl into a rare, sincere smile. He would never regret approaching any god or goddess crazy enough to descend into the dungeon, but Hestia was assuaging all the big and little fears he had about the divines. He'd never managed to imagine what his life would be like after he left the dungeon. The possibility was so remote, so out of reach, that his mind couldn't build the scenario for him. But now, he felt like maybe he would have a family. Friends, people he could trust. It was so exciting it was almost scary.

"So," Hestia bounced in place, "take off your shirt. Let's convert you!"

"Could I... properly introduce myself first? Not that I'm complaining, but this conversation has not gone as planned. And I had planned." He'd expected to do far more begging, bribing, and advertising of his value.

"Eheh, sorry." The goddess blushed slightly and poked her finger together. "Let me start then: I'm Hestia, Goddess of the Hearth. My Familia only has one member and we aren't very rich or well-known. I can't give my Familia much, but I promise to help all of you, anyway I can. This," she indicated the boy still deeply sleeping behind her, "is Bell Cranel, the first member of my Familia. He just became Level 2!"

He nodded. "Worry not Lady Hestia. It will be a pleasure to work with him. Even in Rivira we heard about the new record holder. And we all saw him strike down the Goliath. He's a hero." Erik pondered for a moment before deciding to grasp the nettle. "You know, he actually managed to beat my record."

"Huh? Your record?"

"To Level 2." He let himself smirk as he revealed a feat he had kept secret for years. "I'm not sure of the exact number, my first weeks were confusing, but I managed to beat the Sword Princess' record by three to four months."

"Eh!?" Hestia gasped loudly. "No way! How!?"

He shrugged, still smiling, though more subduedly. "No offense meant to the Princess, but she didn't start her dungeoning career in the middle floors. Only the best of the best can even make it down here solo, and that's at Level 2. Even the weakest monsters are death sentences to Level 1s."

The Goddess made a sound like a mouse and shook. "Eek." She was realizing what it meant to be a fresh Level 1 on this floor, abilities all at zero… She tried imagining Bell when he had started. The baby-faced adventurer that had gotten home so very excited on his third day because he'd finally managed to kill one goblin… She blanched even further. "I-I feel like I should be asking how you managed to survive five minutes..."

"Luck, speed and a very well-honed sense of self preservation." Erik gave her a thumbs up, eye glinting. "In the beginning, I stayed inside the walls until I ran out of food. When I left for foraging, I always tried to shadow other parties, and even then, running from monsters had my Agility at D before my first month was over."

Hestia could picture it. "And then you started taking small steps to get stronger but because all the monsters are so high leveled..."

Erik winced. "Ahah… And then Rivira was destroyed again." He saw the Goddess' smile become fixed. "It's a regular thing." Her eyes started looking far, far away. "But I survived! As you can undoubtedly see…" Her ponytails started twitching minutely. "... I got stronger?"

Hestia deflated, burying her head in her hands. "Just like Bell…" she muttered to herself before giving an empty chuckle. "He's going to be a problem child too, I can feel it. Whyyyy?"

"Lady Hestia?"

"It's nothing. You wouldn't happen to have a rare skill that makes you grow stronger faster, no?"

A pointed silence filled the tent.

Hestia collapsed on her back and sobbed. "Why me? I only wanted a normal Familia that other gods wouldn't try to steal away because they have super rare skills and strong spells and argh! What did I do to deserve this!?" Erik opened his mouth only for her to spring back up and shove one finger in his face. "It doesn't matter! You're going to be my child and I'm not abandoning you or Bell just because of some stupid inconvenient skills! Now, clothes off!"

"Godde-"

"Clothes off!!"

"Okay, okay!" He backed away from the tiny divinity almost perched on his lap now.

"H-hu… Lady Hestia? Is everything… all right in there?" A girl's voice came from the outside, making them freeze.

Hestia jumped off the elf, beet red, and poked her head out. "Of course Lili! I've just decided to accept Erik into my Familia, so I need to see his falna, that's all! Everything's fine! Nothing weird or abnormal, just a perfectly normal conversion that we absolutely need some privacy for, you understand!" She said without stopping, voice getting progressively more high-pitched.

After one beat of silence, there were a few mutters and complaints from the other side, but Hestia had already turned back and closed the tent flap behind her. "Hmph!"

Erik stared at her from where he was sitting down, hands clutching his cloak reflexively closed.

Hestia took a deep breath and tried to force down her blush by sheer force of will. "There is nothing indecent about a god checking a child's falna. Please remove your armor and shirt." She enunciated clearly.

Nodding, he unbuckled his cloak and set to removing the heavy armour he donned. Gauntlets, cuirass and the jerkin underneath, all made from monster drops. He had purchased or looted all of his equipment from Rivira or below, and it had the air of high-class equipment, patches, dents and all.

As more and more of his blue-tinted skin was revealed, Hestia wondered out loud. "Are you a dark elf, Erik? You don't look like any elf I've seen before." She'd only seen one dark elf in person, and it'd been from a distance. Darn Freya showing off. From his skin-tone, to even his body shape and the tight curls of his hair, Erik had very little in common with dark elves. But what other elf type could he be?

"No, Lady Hestia. I am a deep elf, Dwemer in my tongue." He chuckled somewhat bitterly. "Elves that lived under the ground. They called us dwarves although we are, rather obviously, a different race entirely. I… don't believe there's any more left other than me. Guess He thought it would be ironic..." He added the last almost to himself.

Hestia thought back to all she knew of the mortal world. All the races that had come and gone, from those exterminated by monsters, to those smited out by her peers in oft-forgotten times. Yes… that made sense, quite unfortunately. She shared a pained smile with her soon-to-be child.

Erik bared a very muscular back, unusually broad for an elf of any kind, nicked his own finger on his god-cursed knife and let a single drop of blood roll down his muscles. A rippling design, ichor-coloured, inked itself before her eyes. First and foremost, the mark of his God was a complete mess. Definitely a deity of madness, considering they had foregoned symbolism and straight-up used optical illusions. In layers.

Hestia leaned in, concentrating on what was written and cursing whatever deity they had been once more. "Alright, let's see…" And promptly bit her tongue before she vocalized anything incriminating in hearing distance of Hermes. Instead, what came out of her resembled a tea kettle at boiling point.

Looking over his shoulder, Erik met her wide-eyes with a proud smile.

"This is ridiculous." She squinted, shook her head, and squinted harder. "Zeus blast me. Erik? You…" She started counting on her fingers. "That's… this many. And… that's that many."

"It's not any better than Rookie over there or Nine Hells."

"Not separately! And yes! Yes it is!" She hissed. "Goodness. I don't think I've ever even heard of such… bountiful… err, manifold! Gifts."

"... I am indeed very skillful."

That earned him a swat on arm, one that she was sure he hadn't even felt. "Be ashamed! Now, pass me that."

She took the small blade from his hands and snapped it in twain.

Amidst the sound of shattering glass, fragments sublimating between her fingers, she heard the man release a tiny breath, eyes wide. "Oh."

Feeling a proud smile of her own, she reached towards Bell's bedside and took the Hestia Knife. The black blade parted her flesh eagerly, like it knew what it was being used for. Ichor beading on the tip of her finger, she slashed past chains, drawing the sigils of her presence, her hearth and her blessing. To be always welcome, to rest in safety, to eat plenty and to never be impeded by his own.

Unlike Bell, who'd tensed up in anticipation and embarrassment, a nervous bunny in her hands, Erik relaxed. An old, wary wolf, slumping into her lap as she kneaded his worries away.

And a wolf it was, that she was accepting into her home. A powerful, very big, very scarred and sharp-fanged wolf. His status was something else, even for his level, and if that wasn't proof enough, Hestia had gotten a glimpse at the achievements worn into his soul. She would no longer have to worry about her first, youngest and most… lucky child.

Taxes however… oh dear.

Hestia felt herself sweat just thinking about it. Erik was just one person, but his level was going to ensure their familia jumped rank once or twice. And the Guild was not going to have any mercy. She'd heard even Hephaestus complain about her taxes, and her friend was a serious, responsible and organized goddess with a large smithing familia that never fell into the red!

Although… Hestia narrowed her eyes at the development abilities dancing cheerily before her eyes. "You don't look like it, but you are a crafter, Erik?"

The elf shrugged and half-turned to explain. "Of a sort. It started with potions, because those saved my life over and over. And well, nothing was affordable in Rivira. As soon as I could I went from making them for myself to selling them, which gave me so many more options. Plus, there's the racial bonus but I haven't done a lot with it. I've dabbled in smithing, but by then my needs were better covered by what I already had. The materials are easy to get but the tools not so much, which is a shame. Although," he tilted his head, "with the last thing I am having a lot of fun making and enchanting things…"

The goddess suppressed a smile. That had been a craftsperson's ramble. "I'm just asking because you're clearly a mage," tho he really, really didn't give off that impression, "and you also have this…"

"Yes." Erik nodded seriously. "I tried it once. Didn't peddle it, for obvious reasons. Also, it's too hard to make one of those things in Rivira. I need privacy, peace and quiet to do the delicate parts."

Mortal and deity winced just at the image provoked.

"Well, you can try again with more success soon!" She assured him.

"Hm," he scratched his chin with a slow smile spreading, "I'm going to have to find who are the right and wrong buyers. And sellers. They'll sell cheaper than down here but-"

Hestia grabbed his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "They'll sell for stupid amounts of money in Orario too."

"I thought-"

"Not these." Hestia didn't blink. "I'm going to have to hide all my children at this rate. You are all god bait."

"Lady… Hestia?" Erik leaned back slightly.

The goddess slumped forward with a tiny whimper, then shook herself. "And also! These." She poked the elf on the back. "How? It's not just… having more! I can read that these changed as you leveled up."

"From Magnus. Instead of having this," he lifted three fingers, "I got three of these." He shook his fist. "And because of whatever rules, when I level up I can switch them up and upgrade them. Well, now you will be able to, I suppose."

Hestia stared. "That's even worse than I imagined. Great! But worse." Definitely hiding Erik and Bell from… everybody. All the goddesses. And gods. She pricked her finger to secure his status from prying eyes. "Let's… let's talk more about this when we get back home…"

Secret Status for now! Look, he's a biiit broken by danmachi terms but not that much. (Not if you compare him to the protagonists.) Had to give him an edge somewhere. Also, yeah, the dwemer thing just... it fit, ok?

minuseven · Oct 17, 2022

MurderBinge for Two, Please
1.1 +++ just-in-case content warnings: murder and violence
Concrete, steel, glass. Modern. The graffiti tells me this isn't an utopia. Good. (Good.) Ah, so you are here too, for a moment I had hope.

(Blood for the blood god, blood for ME.)

No matter in the multiverse I end up, I can't seem to get rid of you. I'm slumped against the wall of alley. While behind me the building is brickwork, ahead its concrete. Why am I so weak? And you so… I pull the dagger stabbed into my chest, noticing now it's a modern looking switchblade. Whatever form it had before, now it's got a red hilt and deep dark blade, and yet it's …pitiful?

(You're back at level one and I am bound to your soul, insect.)

Wonderful. It has been decades since I've been a level one. But Tyrsfang wouldn't lie about that. It also explains the slowness to my vision and the start of a persistent ache in my gums. I'm going dry.

(Gives us blood.)

"Of course, of course… Hm." The words taste familiarly foreign on my lips. "American? Hells, it's been a long time."

There's nothing in my pockets, so I get up and inspect the body I suspect my soul has been stitched into. (Don't use me as a mirror.) If not an adult, almost there. My own cat-like blue eyes, just a bit more attention grabbing than necessary. It does help me land my catch, if you know what I mean. (I do.) Curly hair, generic enough. Skin tone is middling, tending towards white. An unfortunate mugging, likely killed this one.

I'll make a better use out of this body than he had.

Sun in the sky, blast it all, tells me it's morning. Hard to hunt then. And my shirt is ruined with blood, what a waste… Prestidigitation. Good enough. I mark the wall with the whiniest knife in existence, pardon, my powerful patron. Then I head deeper into the city.

After a while, it becomes obvious I'm in a poorer neighborhood. If this is a good one, then my chances are both better and not. It's summer of the year 2009, AD I assume. This city has gangs, it's name is probably Brockton, and I'm getting tired of the fucking sun. I return to the shade of the alleys as the sun peaks. I won't be able to hunt properly until night falls. Until then, I can shoot at pigeons. The dumb birds don't realize the predator lurking nearby. It's just a question of being a bit careful not to be seen with my eldritch blasts.

Tyrsfang counts the meager xp mockingly. Well, I'd also rather level up by killing a bunch of pigeons, but it is what it is.

I notice my watcher as I walk through the alleys. They're watching me from the low rooftops, but they're good enough I can't see more than a shadow flitting around.

(Proper prey, finally.) Calm down, calm down, let's see exactly what we're dealing with here first.

It should be child's play to climb to the roofs after turning a corner. My body disagrees. I hate it. (ahahah) Laugh it up, but like this you're not getting any food. There's no funny quips to that. When I finally make it to the roof, I quickly spot her. Teenager in black clothes and a hockey mask across two buildings. She quickly spots me as well, and points a crossbow at me. An actual crossbow! Oh, I need one of those. Tyrsfang stings with jealousy at my side. Amiably, I smile, and wave. She's already seen me popping eldritch blasts, so I keep my other hand in my pockets with my patron.

After a moment, she decides to approach. I watch, a bit more wary, as her form turns smoky mid jump. That looked like a form of Gaseous Form. But of course, regular people don't dress up, arm themselves and stalk the streets to look for, presumably, crime. Which means this will either go spectacularly well or really wrong. (If it goes wrong, then I shall feast.) She enters my base range, solid, and I turn up my charm with whispered words and flourishing gestures.

She doesn't even resist. Charm Person integrates into her mind with pathetic ease. She relaxes, approaching me now with a swagger and her weapon slung not for action but for aesthetics. Teenager indeed.

"Hey, predator." She attempts to purr and I can't help but laugh.

"Hello, hello… ahah. It's been a while." This is too easy. Like stabbing a baby. "Did you change your mask? At least tell me you've got yourself a new code name."

She huffs. "Please, criminals will fucking rue the name of Shadow Stalker." Adorable. "I did get a new mask. Put scum's money to good use."

We chat. I'm just an old friend who's back in town after needing to leave for a while. The girl is a useful source. Biased, blind, more cowardly than she tries to appear, but she has the measure of this city. Brockton Bay. A wretched hive of scum and villainy. So many easy targets. So many deserving targets! I'll kill whoever I need to, in a pinch, but it always feels so good to have the moral high ground.

(A feast.) Yes, a feast, a buffet of options! We have actual nazis, parading in broad daylight. Gangs galore, rapists and drug-addled criminals, murderers and mercenaries. Why, we're spoiling for choice. I might actually not need to bait petty pickpockets for my entire time here, or to break into regular houses to kill entire families. Effortless, boring kills worth only the blood they offer.

Of course, law enforcement is always oh so very annoying when it comes to enacting justice for that poor family murdered in their sleep in the sanctity of their home.

"Wait, you hear that?" The shadow girl balances from one side to the other. "There's an ABB checkpoint nearby, I was keeping an eye on it before I saw you. Let's go!"

She's excited, and frankly, so am I. Charm Person holds only for an hour. This whole time we've been chatting on the rooftops, I have been recovering my willpower and it feels almost there. It also means our time together is nearly over. "Lead the way." I offer her.

A car's trapped in a back street. Smooth ambush, one good obstacle and another vehicle behind. Five thugs decked in what I now know to be ABB colors, men and women, surround one man and one white girl. Well, one woman with a gun had the man at gunpoint, the four others are entertaining themselves with the easy meat. Five, armed. That's a bit more than I can handle in my state. (Coward.) It's how I keep you satisfied, isn't it?

And besides… this is a civilized world. It does have certain advantages.

"Initiation?" I propose lowly to my temporary companion.

She sees the younger chick giddy among the older members too. Liquid courage probably helping, or something else. Then she gives me a look through her mask. "Do you have something to cover your face?"

I pull up the fabric I've tied around my neck. "You hit the gun-girl, I'll handle the knife-man and then you join me?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet. I wanna see what they'll do." She's referring to the victims. She's told me enough in the last almost hour that I have an idea of her operational procedures. Unfortunately, I don't have that sort of time.

"What a shame." Tyrsfang buries itself into her jugular and carotid.

Shadow Stalker doesn't have the time to think before I rip it back, opening a large gushing wound across her neck. She flickers into shadow but I pursue. Tyrsfang magical blade hunts her with glee, catching her in the belly once before she flops like a dying fish on the rooftop. Her rasps and wheezes are muffled by her mask. The arterial spray painted my face, and I lick a drop distractedly.

A final stab and her life flees the flesh. Tyrsfang vibrates with sheer satisfaction. It laughs in my mind and I have to stop myself from doing more than snigger. Liquid power fills my metaphorical veins. As expected of a parahuman, her life was worth a lot. Enough to level up. The potential buzzes through me.

"Get me Agathys' Armor, will you Tyrs? And the Devil's Sight plus…" I reach down and tug the mask away from my first kill but it's secured. There's a commotion from the backstreet, pleading and the like. If I want to capitalize on the thugs… "No, Masks and the Eldritch Mind, quick."

My form blurs under the power of my newest invocation. A copy of Shadow Stalker now stands, taller than she was in life. (Don't you need some water?) Shit, I do. Well then, Expeditious Retreat it is then. The spell buzzes in my blood as I pick up my new crossbow and jump.

Joining battle is the rush I needed. Eldritch Blast against the gunwoman as I fall, landing on the thug to the left of the red-headed girl. My leg snaps forward, kicking away the man from atop her. The retaliatory swipe from initiation girl is contemptuously easy to dodge. I push her away and pause, Tyrsfang in hand, crossbow in another.

The white victims. The witnesses.

I dodge again, then push forward into the thugs' space. They back away, startled amateurs, and I pull up the shrieking girl from the floor and push her behind me. "Get away and run, now!" Fortunately, her father gets the message and grabs her. I stand in place, letting the enemy regroup as their targets get away.

"Fucker, you're going to pay for that." A one-eyed youngster spits, mouth bloody.

I chuckle darkly, and it reverberates in the alley. "What because now you've got the numerical advantage?" Despite being five against one, half of them are rightfully wary. Two are bruised from my attacks and the woman has a broken hand. "I just needed to get rid of the witnesses."

The one bolt loaded into my crossbow hits the man who picked the gun, the one smart man, through his skull. The four others snap their heads to their comrade as he dies, grabbing weakly at his face and the foot of light metal buried through his brain. It's laughable, so I laugh. I laugh as eldritch blasts leave my hands, painting the alley with bits of bone and brain. They're so slow to my spell-enhanced self and Tyrsfang feasts, as blows cut through abdomens.

I let the girl start to run. I let her think she'll escape, for ten seconds. I don't have that much time before those two call the police. The girl's limp body falls to the concrete. She's only alive by pure chance, and the way I smashed her face, I doubt she'll live without complications.

This is America, right? Think of it as… (Extreme American Football!) Oh, happier now, aren't you? Well, yes, if a bit racist. She could be an immigrant!

I breathe out, content. Behind me, five bodies, if I count the one on the roof. Bah, cleanup time.

(Worth it.)

"I even got another level, true."

I grab the girl and hurry back to the scene of the crime. The white van that belonged to the ambushers looks perfect, even if it's been a while since I've driven. Decades… or so… I check the driver's seat and the keys are still in the ignition. I pile the bodies on the back seats. Prestidigitation gets, what's the word here, mileage? It cleans the pavement, removes odors and keeps the bodies cool on a summer day. It takes some effort to recover Shadow Stalker's body, but the buildings aren't that tall. From atop the dumpster to the fire-escapes, I get her and her equipment and it joins the rest.

I snag the loot these idiots were collecting as an afterthought. Waste not.

The van is quieter than I expect as I reverse out of the street, the face of the smart thug layered over my skin.

sometimes you just want to go apeshit, so you write about murderbros and their sentient blades! gonna play a bit with houserules here because yes, but not a lot.
Starting at lv1, now at lv3, Doyle here is a Vampire (ixalan variety) Hexblade Warlock!
Tyrsfang is the sentient curse blade that he took as his patron. he requires nothing but a lot of lives, and one sentient a month at the very least, plz.

minuseven · Nov 10, 2022

MurderBinge for Two, Please
1.2 +++ just-in-case content warnings: threats of torture, murder, non-graphic human sacrifice
Prestidigitation was the only thing that kept the van from smelling like somebody had killed several people in here. Rightfully so.

I stop at the first empty parking lot I see, just to mark down my position and reorient myself. Fortunately, there are maps in the van's glove compartment. I also take five minutes to search the bodies for useful stuff, remember I still have a live one, and pop the batteries from every cellphone. I was fairly sure that was a thing to do in modern worlds. It's been a while.

It takes me about an hour, but I finally park the van on an empty road between two beaches. The path between the beaches has traffic, but the road going inland is much quieter. It'll have to do. The still living girl (for now) was moaning and crying, half-delirious in the backseat.

"Okay, so any ideas you bloody knife?" (blood!) "I meant about the dead ones and you know that." (The first rule has always been to not leave a body, maggot.) "Fair enough."

Let's see. I have five deads. Four of them are gangsters, so who knows if the guard… the police, right, will even be notified. I also have their wallets, which give me two driving licenses and other assorted papers. If I get something out of the girl, I could take one of their identities for a couple of days… Making the bodies disappear is probably the way to go. And I have a few options… (nerd)

Now Shadow Stalker, that's a bit more problematic. She did the smart thing and didn't carry identification. So I don't know who she is or who'll miss her. Black girl in a racist city, with her attitude… I don't think she has any superpowered partners, or even money. But she is young. In no way has she hit the age of majority, probably not even in my usual realms.

I've also already used her identity in front of the witnesses. I think I'm going to take a gamble here and keep the masked persona for a while. (assassin wannabe) Yeah.

So that leaves… "You." The girl is gagged and tied up by her own clothing. She's spent the last ten or so minutes watching me strip and clean the bodies while wearing the face of one of them. (her fear stinks) Yes, it can get stale. "You might still get out of here alive, if you cooperate. Don't believe me, do you?"

There's an aborted motion from her head.

"Well, I'd rather you cooperate, so I'll explain the rules. I'm not planning on staying in Brockton Bay for more than two days." That's a lie, in my experience you should stick close to your arrival point. "So I don't give a fuck about what you might tell your bosses, or even the cops, about… who you think I am." My face shifts between the several visages. "It's about… being a messenger to my legend. If nobody survives, how will anybody fear me?"

My teeth grow pointy, my ears elongate and my eyes inhuman. The girl is this close to pissing herself. I'd rather she didn't. I'd have to clean the seats.

"So, if you misbehave and start making a racket, I'll kill you. I'll kill you by crushing you piece by piece, starting with the small ones and working it up until I make your guts spill out of your belly." I poke her there and she jumps, crying. "If you behave somewhat but get cheeky and evasive with me, I'll just break your kneecaps, your elbows, and leave you tied up on the side of the road. You'll be saved eventually, but it will be very unpleasant." She could also die of exposure. "If you are a good girl and answer my questions calmly and truthfully, I'll just leave you tied up out there, no broken bones whatsoever. You might even get free by yourself. Got it?"

She does get it. (You are a beautiful little liar.) Ah, true that. I won't kill her because of her behavior now. But I am, technically speaking, a cultist. And I do need a human sacrifice.

It's a very productive half hour. I ask about places to sell the van, the phones I've acquired. I ask about everything in that city and in this state but her own gang. "Why a-aren't you asking abou–" "For you to lie to me?"

But, as always, sitting amidst corpses on the side of the road, every time a car passes by I feel my time growing short. "Thank you for cooperating." I tell her, smiling, and approach. (remember I need her alive) I do.

So when my fangs sink into her shoulder, I am careful not to pull too much of her essence. The blood, the life, it's revitalizing. I exult in the sensation as she grows limp and faints. I've been craving that, no lie.

(now can we do the important things?) "Sure." I purr. I throw a few more prestidigitations around. "Start listing our options as I drive."

Third level. There are quite a few options to choose from. Second level spells as well, giving me more flexibility. Of course, my pact boon as well. (blade, you disgrace) Please, I'm not an idiot.

Mask of Many Faces is too useful to let go of, but Eldritch Mind… I can have it later. For now, Improved Pact Weapon. (ahahah) Actually, wanna see if you can become a gun? (NO!) Just an idea, just an idea… (maybe) … Oh. Oh yes. I do have a gun right now too. This will be awesome.

Now spells, spells. Charm Person and the armor of Agathys are staying. For a modern city I don't know… Flock of Familiars. I can kill people just fine, it's everything else that's been bothering me. Now Expeditious Retreat… I'd replace it with Darkness if I'd kept Devil Sight. Misty Step is the next best option, but the fourth level won't be long to come. Shatter then.

The map is spread over the dashboard as I drive inland. There are several parks and marsh areas around. Unfortunately, it's also summer. There's people everywhere, having hikes. (easy prey) Disgusting. Eventually, I find a quiet enough parking space in one of those and start getting my things in order for tonight.

Before anything, I cast my new familiar spell. A cat, a rat and a raven are formed from magic and their black forms, fey and wild, peer at me. "You, scout for a good place to make my sacrifice and another to get rid of the bodies. You both, keep an eye on the perimeter."

My sacrifice is unconscious and will remain as such. The bodies I need to get rid of are piled up on the ground. They're not leaking (yet). Shadow Stalker, I start preparing. I'll leave her in a dumpster in the city proper. There's a perfect scapegoat for it, and all I need is to carve a racist message.

The rest of the loot is divied up. I have half a dozen knives, a pair of knuckle dusters and one gun. There are two extra magazines in the glove compartment. Wallets aren't poor at all, particularly not the one they stole from the man I 'saved'. Several hundred dollars, which feels cheap when I usually get paid in hundreds of gold at the minimum. Then there's random things, most of which I throw into the garbage bin. I keep the porn mags. Most of the SIM cards for the phones are useless, but the girl did give me her own pin number.

I switch the card to the best phone and turn it on. It's a busy minute turning off all notifications and tracking. I use her meager internet, shitty as fuck where I am, to look up racially motivated murders in Brockton Bay. Tyrsfang dances in my hand.

It's past mid-afternoon when the raven calls to me telepathically. Twenty minutes later, I'm pulling up on a disused road leading to a ruined property for sale. I grab the sacrifice and lock the car behind me. The bodies are guarded by the cat, behind a cluster of trees nearby. My little friendly shadow is rolled up in a stolen tarp, set aside. I just don't want their stink to devalue my vehicle.

Tyrsfang sings through the air as I twirl it.

The ritual will take several hours. Carving the circles, lighting the fires. Binding the handgun as my pact weapon for the first step. Tyrsfang's own ritual, to bind my pact weapon as its own physical form, which will require the girl's bone, heart and blood.

Then, there's a pond for disposal of remains.

Nine times called and bound in blood and hair. The gun lies disassembled on a flat rock in front of me. Thank you internet, for how-to guides and free diagrams. When it finally clicks, hours later, the Rock Island Armory .45 hums beneath my skin. It's clean like it's never been, the metal alternatively black or dark red that blend too well into shadows. The grooved grip shifts under close scrutiny, like it's crawling away from the norms of its world. Which it is.

I chamber a round and fire at the water. Blam, it carves a path straight through. I summon and dismiss it at will. It wasn't a great gun before, and I can certainly update it later, but for what I'm used to it's better than a crossbow. (Good damage, so much faster. Quick, let's reenact a school shooting!) Thoughts for later, baby. (Adopting the local slang, maggot?) There's a pinch as Tyrsfang make me bleed. "Sorry, sorry. How about numbers, do you have them?"

(2 to 12, 8 shots) Really, it's half-abstraction, half-magic bullshit. 2d6 is good. Haven't updated my own HP either. (long rest bread-brain)

"The sooner I'm done binding you to this, the sooner we can blow the corpses to bits," Corpses that my familiars have been steadily gnawing and burying away. No identifiable bits for the police, no sir. "And get back to the city."

The sacrifice is insensate and anemic. It makes it easier to carve the required symbols and start the chanting. Nothing too spectacular. Tysfang is a spirit that enjoys actions far more than words or symbolism. I do need to feed it a soul every month, and carving ominous symbols and phrases doesn't do much, although he doesn't complain when I do. (it's the aesthetics of being feared)

My patron's presence shifts fully from the form he was occupying to myself. Power. Raw bloodlust that makes my gums ache and salivate. Levels? What are those but abstractions of what little potential I can grasp? We are one and we (HUNGER—

Well, when I come to, there's a bloody new addition to my weapon. In front of the trigger, the gun's frame has shifted and grown to include a blade that extends a few inches past the barrel. It glints with malevolence.

Of the girl… well, there's less to get rid of.

I twirl the new extension of my self and will. A bullet shaped eldritch blast shoots out of the barrel with the right grip and the right words.

Perfection.

When I collapse on the motel room's bed, there's five corpses blasted into bits resting with the fishies somewhere northwest, and soon the police will have another 'dead black teen stuffed in a dumpster by neonazis' case. All in all, a productive day.

delivered thesis number 1. wrote that bitch in a week and a half. spent the ensuing week recovering sleep. now thesis 2 is looming over my shoulder and grinning evilly. why did I decide my low-effort live involved getting two masters in a year?

minuseven · Nov 17, 2022

MurderBinge for Two, Please
1.3 +++ just-in-case content warnings: plans for violence and murder against religious minorities and majorities
The television plays the news quietly in the background. I have about three hours before I have to vacate the room.

On the wobbly coffee table, I spread out my useful items. I sold the van in a garage recommended to me by… actually, I never caught the girl's name. She also didn't have an id. Regardless, some fast-talking while wearing the owner's face, a Song Wen, and the other obviously-connected man had bought me the van for a little over one gran. Grand? Hm, american slang.

Song Wen is an identity I am going to have to discard. People are going to ask about either him or the van or anything. I Prestidigitate away my fingerprints and burn his card with a lighter. The smoke detectors aren't working and the window is open, it's fine.

I'm remembering so much about the modern world the more I exist in it. My original soul definitely came from one of these.

(obvious) Shush.

The other two ids, also drivers licenses, could be useful if used sparingly. Sooner or later this man and woman, Fan Peng and Qian Xia, will be declared missing. Probably. If they have relatives or friends, those will be on the lookout. The cops are less of a possibility, from what I understand of this city's situation. So, to use in non-ABB areas if I need to quickly give a fake identification. Buying beer, for example.

Mask of Many Faces is being, like Prestidigitation, a very useful tool.

Then I have about $1500, two .45 caliber magazines, several lighters and a dozen cigarette packs, and about three distincts changes of clothes in two duffel bags. And assorted magazines, pens, pencils and paper maps. Oh, mask, black cape and my new backup crossbow with a handful of bolts.

"Hm, how much 'til level four?" (2225) "Shiiit." I would have to kill over two hundred critters. Homeless or random people are included by the way. Killing gang members will cut that down to about… fifty plus. "No way I can do it without calling too much attention to myself. Shadow Stalker was the one who got me the good xp yesterday." (She was worth… more.) "The powers, I'm guessing."

Discounting magic, what do we have that gives us more? XP is such bullshit. Also very much not calibrated for a modern world. Priests are worth 450, supposedly.

Objective 1: A church.

(police looking for religiously motivated serial killer!) Would they be wrong? (not!)

But mundane animals also get fun returns. Horses of all sorts are worth more than the basic human life. Cows, found plentifully in the US, are worth 50. Elephants are worth more than Shadow Stalker. I'd only need to kill two, but zoos are definitely too attention-grabbing.

Objective 2: A farm. (boring)

It's going to get tough the stronger I get. Unless I find a way to gather and kill massive amounts of animals in one spell, humans will plain be more effective. And even then, I'm talking about humans that aren't easily disappeared like the homeless. How much to level 12, in total? (185 thousand, 660 thousand to epic)

That's 66000 people. A sizable city's worth. Might as well start putting up advertisements for the local band of lunatics, what's the name, Slaughterhouse Something? Well, unfortunately, I'm nowhere near tough enough for that sort of renown. I'm a warlock, but in a superhero world even barbarians would have problems. I'm 24 hit points. I can survive getting shot twice, thrice with luck. At my apogee, how much would that be?

(at this rate, 143 times)

So when I become a minor god walking… Getting sprayed by a machine gun could still end me. That's before getting into any of the bullshit that this world has. Alexandria, Legend, fucking Eidolon… the local Tarrasques, that happen to come in three different varieties!

So, can't make good progress in the shadows… but the light is too damn strong.

I almost hesitate to ask. "How much would we receive, if we went non-lethal?"

Tyrsfang's displeasure is obvious. I don't cry blood on the regular. It hurts appropriately, but even my patron must understand our situation because it soon passes. We can get xp without killing, theoretically. I never had to do it. Objectively and obviously beating a foe in battle can grant advancement, but from what I understood, all those years ago, the nature of our soul and pact makes it so much less it's laughable.

(One fourth.)

I blink, cleaning my face with the back of my hand. I don't dare to use magic just yet. "That's… better than I was expecting?"

(The battle must be fought and the foe vanquished with certainty. I will require more sacrifices in return.)

"Our pact in murder, I do not forget nor do I object. Tyrsfang of the Hungry Death thrice I swore and thricefold I've shown… I'll deliver the deaths owed."

The hex on my soul hums pleasantly. (It is in accord. But I want a priest in return. Two priests.)

I laugh. "We can depopulate the churches and shrines and temples. It'll give us another identity to mislead for a while." One fourth is better than nothing, but I don't relish the thought of being powerless for that long. "We can establish a vigilante face to deal with the better angels of this city without fearing persecution and reliably gain something from fight, money and xp. In the shadows, we shall serve death and feast."

It's a plan we both like.

We start with research. Democraties, gotta love them for the public libraries. After a small detour to pawn off my trophy cellphones and get my own equipment, I stick my bag in the library's lockers. There's a metal detector just before the entrance to the reading zone, and private security. Modern democraties, gotta hate them for their constant surveillance.

There's the distinct feeling that some arcane libraries have better 'informatics'. Not organization systems, from the debates I've been privy to, but who cares about that. What I need is the local rumor mill, obviously online, an apartment to rent and a map of religious institutions.

Technomagic would be really useful right now. I only remember that particular branch of the arcane as I sit in front of a dirty keyboard padlocked to the desk.

Navigating the information-sphere of this world, the internet… is challenging. Surely it makes sense to the natives, but the usability isn't aimed at the out-of-context population or youngsters. No, I shouldn't apply wizard standards to a magic-less population. The elderly mayhaps? Finding the internet browser amidst a set of unfamiliar icons, then guessing which… bookmark? was a search engine, then having to go around reading about two dozen topics just to get context…

(my non-physical brain)

It's past lunch time when we disconnect, our recently purchased notebook many pages fuller. A list of locations, names and a sketched map will contribute to tonight's hunt. With that, it's time to move on to more familiar materials. Newspapers and phonebooks. But first, a trip down the street to get a bite in. (?) Not that sort of bite, unfortunately.

It's a productive day, all in all. Not unexpectedly, our previous sources had somewhat inflated the role of the ABB gang, was it? Their leader is notorious and showy, but the amount of gang warfare reported indicates that his takeover of the ethnic enterprises in this city is an ongoing thing. Lots of new blood trying to prove themselves, lots of old blood with connections playing it a variety of ways: safe, ambitious, spiteful.

Of course, the fact that it's summer helps with the whole caped-crusader games this place has going on.

Then the established bastards of the more affluent sectors, the racists protecting their territory from 'barbarians', were taking a hands-off approach. Lots of image building, not a lot of direct intervention. Let them fight, or something to that effect. (division?) I was thinking that too, something internal could be going on.

Lots of small names, literally a dozen full. Every neighborhood has its racketeers, but they don't appear a lot in the actual paper news. Mostly bands of thieves, but a couple of them appear to have religious connections. It's hard to tell.

And yet, (the common denominator) Yes, that. Parahumans, as they call them here. Interesting. Priority targets, see-and-run, snacks on legs, there's a lot I could call them. Both criminals and 'heroes' cluster around them. Not unexpected.

There's even a group that took off the masks… (fools) helpful fools. I think I'll call them… Emergency Rations.

But for now, there's a few temples to scout out. A couple of synagogues to vandalize. Hmm, what else? Oh right, acquiring a moderately faster method of transportation.

We end up getting a bicycle. (ahahah) Oh, thou can laugh, but this thing is cheap, repairable, doesn't have a license plate, it's nearly untraceable, and I can just throw it away into any dumpster and nobody would give a flying fuck. Not to mention it's far harder for me to get tired, unlike humans.

Look at me, a creature of bloodshed and horror, pedaling innocently through a city full of prey. It's hilarious to have this many helpless little lambs looking at me like I'm the helpless one! Oh, just thinking about it… 'Lost are the lambs and must be guided to the altar as God decreed!' I will write this down somewhere when I finally kill those priests. No, actually, I'll do one of those letters made from clippings of magazines and newspapers. Set the serial killer mood properly. Maybe I should do a couple of decapitations… or crucifictions.

(plagiarism) Whatever. (you are getting ahead of yourself) Yes, yes, I know.

Most of the churches in this town are, naturally, in the old zones and the white zones. Not as fortified as expected. I mentally mark down the clergy houses attached to them. (it's called a buffet)

Now the synagogue, the only one remaining in this town, now that's a fortress. Remarkably, not as damaged as it could be. The Empire, as they like to call themselves, probably know it's too much of an easy target. Too watched, I can see several cameras all around, and private guards. Their uninitiated likely do hit and run egg-ings and graffiti, I can see those traces. Those more bold spring the trap, maybe get caught. And if a show of force is ever needed, well, the building's not going anywhere.

Which is exactly why I'm going to do it.

I'm going to send all the flies on this turd of a city flying around in a momentary panic. Everybody is going to point the finger at the Empire. The Empire's going to point fingers and pat themselves on the back with the other hand. And nobody's going to be expecting the dead bodies the next day.

Switch targets, keep them guessing. Chaos in the religious community is chaos in the streets. Retaliatory strikes against the assumed guilty. War on the streets if things get really spicy. A few new parahumans with individualist streaks. A body slipping into routine shootouts.

And, amidst everything, the homeless community is left even more bereaved.

I am going to turn this city upside down. I'm going to get them to call in the army. And when the crackdown starts, I'll be standing with the caped angels, laughing to myself.

well, yes. a psychopath is going to commit apparent hate-crimes to frame a white supremacist organization. this is not good, but this is also a fuck everything, deadpool kills x style of story.

minuseven · Aug 23, 2022

#1#

ONCE UPON A TIME, having crimson red eyes would be abnormal. In the current era, it was just another color of the human phenotype. Not that the field of genetics wasn't a chaotic whirlwind of discoveries and counter-discoveries ever since the appearance of 'Quirks', or meta-abilities for the scientifically inclined.

So, looking like an anime character was a possibility.

Chikara Bang looked in the mirror. Five years old today, he had to stand on a step-stool to see himself. He scowled. Couldn't he have been reborn into somebody less… chuunibyou? One parent was blonde, the other was black-haired, and both had spiky hair like shounen characters. So of course Bang had spiky yellow hair with black stripes. The eyes? Crimson with pupils that were just a bit too oval to look normal.

The clock had hit midnight and this midget body had been woken up with the memories of a normal and peaceful past life in which he'd been a regular anime-loving retail worker who still lived with his parents. Now he was five years old in Japan with super-powers.

He wasn't excluded. In fact, all he had to do was cast his mind to the other set of information free-floating in his brain: a comprehensive database of pokemon everything.

"Way, way too early for this shit." He hopped down and shuffled back to bed.

Might as well take advantage of the superpower he'd just been given. He burrowed into the nice, warm blankets and activated Soundproof. Sleep had been his past-life's favorite activity and, in hindsight, actually the best thing ever.

He found himself rudely awoken by his mother shaking him. "Wake up Bang! Why did you sleep through the alarm clock?" She towered over him, hands on her hips.

The kindest way to describe Chikara Natsumi would be 'intense'. Over six feet tall and built like a comic book character, Bang knew that his mother had been a hero in the past. Now she wasn't. It was from her that he'd gotten the yellow hair. Quirk: some form of not-physical superstrength. Toxic Parenting Style: "Living out the dream through her child"

The person he was before would have turned over and groaned. Bang however, had inherited this body's defense mechanisms, so his eyes snapped open and his heart started racing. An apology was immediately forming on his lips. "I'm sorry, it was just my quirk, it came in and…" Well, he'd used it to slack off. Wisely, he didn't mention that.

Immediately, a transformation seemed to overtake his mother. "Your Quirk came in? Finally! I was so worried something was wrong with you." Bang couldn't help how his face twitched as her large hand engulfed his shoulder. "What is it?"

"Uhh… sounds don't hurt me and I can sleep through what I want?" He hurried to add, "And more I think? I don't know."

Now his mother was frowning. "Just that? There's got to be more than that to it. Well, we'll see about it when we go to the specialist. Now stop being lazy and get up, you're late for swim class!"

Oh, that's right, his mother had booked a quirk specialist for his fifth birthday, to check what was wrong with him. There was nothing wrong with Bang… probably. His mother's disapproval always made him doubt. There was something about having a grown-up perspective meshing with a kid's natural instincts. He was already up and getting ready for swimming.

At least, Bang liked swim class.

LATER THAT DAY, the airhorn's shriek was muted. The doctor scribbled down something more on his notepad. Bang reigned in the urge to sigh tiredly and instead removed the tiny microphone from his mouth.

"Well." The doctor said. "Until further notice, I believe we can classify Mr. Bang's quirk as sound-based emitter-type. It seems to nullify any harmful sounds within his body."

Chikara Natsumi was gripping her son's shoulder with a bit too much strength. Bang couldn't see her face, but he was sure it had one of those fake plastic expressions.

Chikara Akihira, by contrast, was all smiles. "We are very grateful for your help, Dr. Fujiyama." But then again, Bang's father was always all smiles. Somebody had to play public relations officer to Natsumi. He then started making impressively astute questions that also mollified his mother. Could possibly the quirk expand its range with training, how strong was it, how could it be tested further, was it just sound or vibrations in general?

Bang's father was a big time hero nerd. Medium height, black hair, but with impeccable teeth and a handsome if unremarkable face, you wouldn't be able to tell the level of his hero otaku ways. Quirk: slow, medium range telekinesis. Toxic Parenting Style: "enabler".

That parenting combo was lethal. Bang knew he was being groomed, even if he had lacked the words before. Being a hero in the future was everything. His education was structured and planned for that goal at the behest of his parents, regardless of cost. His quirk coming in so late had been a worry. Five was the traditional quirkless cut-off age.

And now he apparently had gotten saddled with a useless quirk.
A small part of Bang was reveling in the destruction of the long-term plans his shitty parents had made for him. A big part was anxious. Now what? Was he going to get thrown away or replaced, or just worked harder and harder?

And sometimes the answer was all of the above.

minuseven · Aug 23, 2022

#2#

BANG WAS SEVEN when his younger sister was born. To his complete disgust, she had the perfectly reasonable and traditional name Sakura.

In the two years since his quirk had come in, nothing much had changed. His parents still pushed him hard, and within their specific path, but maybe not any more than his own father had in his past life. Extracurricular activities to enrich children weren't that out of the norm. Past-Bang had ended up a loser with a retail job anyway, so it didn't seem to matter a lot in his eyes.

But his mother in particular had become more distant and what little praise she used to give him to motivate him was now entirely absent. At first, there had been exercises to expand his quirk but as they kept amounting to nothing, his position solidified. Bang was a disappointment. It hurt… but it was also familiar to a retail worker with a college degree.

Quirk-wise, he'd actually gotten three new abilities: Technician, Overgrow and Mimicry. Only Technician was worth anything. Bang had figured out his attacks sometimes counted as moves and essentially all basic attacks a human body could do were covered by the ability. In a fight, Bang was stronger than he should be.

He never told Natsumi or Akihira. Being a borderline gifted student, with the maturity he had from his other memories, never mattered to them. His passion for games and anime were ignored on the best days, actively shut down on the others. And his mother was quite fond of mentioning how much of a waste it was that his martial arts would always be wasted on a body with his quirk.

Still, neutral relationships weren't inherently bad. School was really good most of the time. He actually liked martial arts. He slept well and deeply every day.

He knew the moment he noticed Natsumi was pregnant that all of that was going to change.

Naturally, Natsumi's pregnancy meant most of the house's resources, always a bit stretched, went to her. That was fine. Her outbursts of temper, that was normal too, according to the pregnancy books. Bang was glad that both of his lives were boys.

He had more time to be alone between all of his extracurriculars.

But then Sakura was born and Bang became invisible. The baby was everything. Now there was no money for swim lessons or martial arts at his dojo. They had to save up, except Sakura got the really expensive baby formula and diapers and brand new toys. Bang's old toys were given away.

What was so great about his sister anyway? She didn't have a quirk yet. Maybe it would be just like him all over again and what were his parents going to do then? Have another baby?

Bang kicked a rock away. He knew he was being unfair, but he didn't care. It wasn't like he was complaining to anybody, so he wasn't hurting anybody. And sure, his parents had stopped paying for his expensive extracurriculars outside of school, but it wasn't like those things were entirely gone. Bang still woke up early to go swimming some days, in the community pool's free slot. He had to quit the judo dojo, but he'd joined his elementary school's club. Kung Fu was gone too, but he'd been enrolled in a cheaper Karate school. At his age, it was all physical conditioning anyway.

He kicked another rock. "Still unfair."

minuseven · Aug 24, 2022

#3#

JUST AS SAKURA WAS TAKING HER FIRST STEPS and approaching her first birthday, Bang became eight. And like every birthday since he'd become five, he woke up at midnight with a new ability. Mummy.

He squinted at the dark ceiling as he parsed the mental database that still lingered in his brain. If he got hit by a physical attack, the opponent's ability would become Mummy too. "Well, that's useless." He told himself. Just like he didn't have grass moves that would benefit from Overgrow, he didn't have opponents with abilities.

Bang curled up on his side and engaged Soundproof before letting sleep take him away. He was the only person who'd been sleeping full nights in a house with a baby.

EIGHT HOURS LATER, walking to school after missing swim time again, Bang revised his mental schedule and ground to a halt.

"Wait." Did quirks count as abilities?

A horrible sense of dread took over him. A quirk that changed other quirks, that was strong. What would his mother do then? Start expecting things out of him again? Abandon Sakura? And what would everybody say when they discovered he'd been lying? When it came out his quirk was weird and grew on its own? His eyes darted to and fro.

There were other kids on the sidewalk with him. He had to keep moving. So he did, anxiety churning in his guts every step of the way. Bang was pale and withdrawn the entire day. Scribbles covered the margins of his notebooks. He knew a bit about quirks. There had been a time when quirk improvement had been Natsumi and Bang's not-fun bonding time.

Mummy would definitely only happen if Bang got hit on purpose, so Karate and Judo were the problems. Mummy would probably only work on passive quirks, maybe. It was a theory. Those were the closest things to abilities. And Bang really doubted Mummy would do anything to mutant quirks.

Like, probably.

But it wasn't like Bang could quit the club right now. And honestly he didn't want to quit. He liked martial arts. They were cool.

The dojo and the school club didn't let them use their quirks in matches, so cautiously, Bang went to Judo like every other day. His luck held that day. The one person in the club with a quirk that was always on was a bubbly-headed girl, whose hair kept producing a soft foam but was otherwise unremarkable. And the teacher insisted on boys and girls sparing separately. For once, Bang was grateful. And Mummy didn't linger after a 'battle' finished, so he didn't think anybody noticed.

Regrettably, his distraction made him lose his grip every time and landed his ass on the floor consistently for the day.

Mission of the day: Do not get your quirk discovered. Mission accomplished. Collateral damage: pride, anxiety attacks.

Bleeding from his nose, Bang trudged home. That was it, tomorrow he wasn't going to Karate until he figured out how to turn off Mummy. And then he was going to think about what to do with his powers.

THAT NIGHT, be it was karma or the will of God, he was once again woken up by a new power.

minuseven · Sep 10, 2022

#4#

THE BIG QUESTION WAS: did Bang want to be a Hero?

He felt like it was a pretty big question to ask of an eight-year old. It was a big question even if said eight-year old sort of remembered his past life.

His parents had wanted him to be a hero. Like any kid, Bang had wanted to be a hero. Superpowers, saving the day, who wouldn't? Being essentially discarded because of his quirk had left a sour tinge on the whole concept.

Maybe another kid would jump at the opportunity to have his parents return to heap praise upon him and pay him attention. Bang didn't want fake sentiment or a mother that existed to be his trainer and show him off, always mentioning how it was her experience as a former hero that had done this or that. He just wanted to rub their faces in.

"See here? I am awesome and you were wrong!"

So maybe Bang did want to be a hero, even if his reasons were petty.

His past cousins had always told him he could afford to be more petty. He'd always thought they were like that because their life was much worse than his. Now, himself saddled with a bad home-life, Bang understood. There was a part of him that was always angry or jumpy or sad, and martial arts and swimming had been what helped him keep it content.

Now it was time to grab that feeling and use it.

THE NEXT SUNRISE, Bang used the time he could have been swimming to start on his new goal.

He paused. He scratched out the title he'd given the blank sheet in front of him. He penciled in a new title.

Actually, his first goal was to figure out how to hide his quirk. Going hero or not, he didn't want people to know about his weird past-life-influenced quirk. This was his first priority.

He tapped the paper with his pencil. Hiding his quirk… he'd have to quit the sports that he needed for his own well-being. And who knew what new ability he'd get next birthday anyway? He jotted down: check all possible abilities.

It would be best if he could just turn it off. There wasn't any reason he couldn't, in theory. It was an emitter-type that wasn't connected to any mutation, but quirks could get weird. He wrote down a reminder to do some research on quirks.

Really, he should have experimented with his quirk before. He just… didn't like the associations he had with it and thus saw no point.

So what did Bang's quirk do? Well… it got him minor powers.The abilities. And, apparently, it treated him like a pokemon in terms of mechanics, maybe. It also had a handy manual of sorts.

The rules were: he got a new ability every birthday. And: sometimes he just randomly got a new ability for no discernible reason. Finally: his abilities were always on.

That made sense. Pokemon abilities were always on too.

It was just the opposite of what he needed. Bang banged his head against his desk.

No. He couldn't give up now. How did abilities work exactly? If his mental database didn't have a clue, he'd try meditating. That always seemed to work for other reincarnated-into-another-world people.

Pokemon could only have one ability (two in the dungeon games) at a time. But Bang had six. Something didn't add up there.

Unfortunately, the only thing he could think of doing was meditating. He wasn't confident, but he made himself comfortable in his bed and started a breathing exercise.

When he finally did grab a mental hold of his quirk, it felt a lot less organic than quirks probably should. He could feel his abilities there, almost visualize them. The immediate image was marbles of different colors. Starting with the easiest one, the one he knew the best and had been the most useful to him in years, he turned his focus to Soundproof.

Could he grab it? Yes? It was slippery. It wanted to return with the others or…

Slot itself right on the forefront of Bang's mind.

Bang's anime eyes snapped open. He had one ability slot. How did that work, when his abilities were still all there, working? No, he had to focus.

It was almost nostalgic. There'd been a time when Bang had only had a single ability.

At that point, Bang sat up, turned around and yelled quietly into his pillow. When he'd been a smaller kid, he'd been able to activate Soundproof. Which meant he could also deactivate it. He'd only done it once because he disliked people yelling at him and giving him a migraine. So he'd forgotten about that tiny little detail.

The good: Bang had control over his abilities, including turning them off, when they were in the slot.

The bad: Bang was certifiably an idiot and his consciousness was never going to let him forget it.

The ugly: Bang had no excuse to not be a hero now.

the reason is he gets one per 1k words. teehee.

minuseven · Sep 10, 2022

#5#

AN HOUR LATER, Bang had a nice little list of his abilities and what they did. He'd only had to turn off Mummy. Everything else was okay. Unfortunately, they were also really passive abilities that having better control over them wasn't a game changer.

He could finetune Soundproof to block out more or less sound, which wasn't… useless? But it didn't boost his hearing in any way.

He did have a few ideas for Overgrow. Two, specifically. Leaf Blade and Grass Whistle looked like maybe they could be emulated. But then he'd also have to get his life to a third of his healthy self. Really not ideal.

He hoped the next abilities he got would be more directly useful. Trace, Intimidate, Flame Body, Iron Fist…

Perhaps he should focus on testing out Mummy. He was still just speculating about its effects. Bang wondered if he could bribe pre-schoolers to use their quirk on him.

SAKURA GOT HER QUIRK AT THREE, fulfilling Bang's expectations.

Kinetic Field was a great quirk, of course. Sakura had a forcefield surrounding her body, just two or so inches away from her skin, with which she could control movement. She'd first used it to float just an inch away from the floor. Bang suspected she'd actually first used it to seal her lips shut when she didn't want to eat gross carrots.

Blasphemy. Carrots were the best root.

Anyway, she was doomed. Poor kid. Akihira was already brainstorming how to turn the quirk to combat. Fairly simple: like a one-inch punch, Sakura would be able to impart kinetic energy to her movements. The field included her body at all times. And the way quirks worked, it was nearly certain that Sakura's field could grow in size and in capacity for energy as she aged and trained.

Bang? Bang was ten. He had nine quirks and none of them were good.

Klutz was horrible. Bang had deactivated it at once and never touched it again. He couldn't use items. Well, items wouldn't have any effects. So his clothes stayed on! They just stopped protecting him from… everything.

Multitype belonged to Arceus! It needed Plates. Bang had no plates. Bang couldn't create plates. Oh, he'd tried.

Now Unnerve… eh. Bang had used it once or twice to intimidate people during lunch.

He had managed to go fifty-percent hikikomori towards his parents. Unnerve a meal here, a meal there… His parents were already letting him not attend 'family' meals when he spouted homework bullshit. Now they didn't even try.

Bang ate leftovers.

He was fine.

He could finally see the end of primary school. Just this year and the next. Five years left before he had to apply for a hero school. Five chances in over two-hundred to get a usable ability.

THIRTY OF MARCH: four chances left.

He didn't know why he was panicking. Sure, Justified was once again a very situational buffing ability. But not getting into hero high school wasn't the end. The weird government body that regulated hero work didn't impose an upper age limit to getting a hero license.

Bang was still biting his pillow to death.

He needed to figure out how he got abilities away from his birthday. He stumbled to his desk and his meager, pathetic notebook on abilities. It was an upgrade from loose sheets.

New abilities had no real rime or reason. He only had a sample size of three. Close to his birthday? Stress? Connected to his sister? Those were his guesses.

It was his birthday. And he was stressed.

Time to do something drastic. Something that had an impact. If he was older, he'd go get an underage tattoo. Maybe he could pierce his ears. Except he had no money. He was eleven, he couldn't even hold a part-time job.

Well, there were apple slices somewhere in the house. Needles. Alcohol. Did his mother have old earrings she didn't use? Not like she would bother to look in his direction. Also, scissors and a razor.

Bang was going Punk.

Was it punk to quit always through piercing your ears? Was punk even the right word? Whatever, single-earring was a style he liked. And the hair had gone much better, because he'd lowered his expectations and only went for artfully shaving the side of his head.

Things that did not happen after Punk Bang was a thing: No immediate new abilities. No screaming matches about how he was ruining the family image. No punishments for stealing jewelry. No parental unit action because there was no parental unit interaction.

Things that did happen after Punk Bang: Vacation ended and school started. People told him his hair looked cool. The senseis at the club and dojo sighed and reminded him to keep his ear taped up.

Bang was going to keep the look. When he finally became old enough to get a job for himself, or if he managed to get remuneration for odd jobs here or there, he was investing in earrings and a good hairdresser.

This was the last year of primary. He was only going to get more independent in middle school. Anything to keep away from his family.

minuseven · Sep 10, 2022

#6#

GRADE SIX was good for Bang.

Science and English classes finally became something other than eye-wateringly dumb. Home Economics finally let them handle blunted sharp tools. There was, finally, a school trip that spanned longer than a single day, even if it was just to a neighboring city.

The start of actual independence: Bang could cry.

He was a loner by nature and circumstance. No parents to take him to friends' houses, being the too smart kid, having a bunch of disconnected activities that ate into his free time. And for his part, it was really hard to talk to and make meaningful connections with people that weren't even old enough to be chuuni.

He wouldn't trade his mental age for the appropriate one. One can only appreciate the easy-going nature of childhood and the lack of responsibilities when one knows how bad adulthood gets. Bang could complain and rant a lot about his neglectful parents and the infantilization he was rightfully subjected to, but at least he wasn't the one paying taxes.

Natsumi, his designated mother, didn't even hit him anymore. Okay, she cuffed him over the head if he got in the way. But Bang avoided being in the way. Akihira was a condescending prick that still appeared for all necessary meetings and school functions as if he was an actual parent.

To be clear, he was just saying his shitty parents could be worse. In absolutely no way, none, was he given them any credit. If Bang hadn't been a weird reincarnator person, he'd be a mess of a child.

'Fuck You, Also Smiley Face' was still the general sentiment.

THE CLOCK APPROACHED MIDNIGHT ON THE SECOND TO LAST DAY OF MARCH, Bang anxiously twiddling his thumbs. He was about to be twelve, leaving him with only three chances. Three years of middle school that would start the next week.

The moment came. He'd never been awake for it. For a moment, everything blacked out, fuzzy with static.

"Ah." Bang grinned savagely. "Fuck. Yes yes yes… I can work with that."

Two abilities had appeared. Merciless was another extremely situational power, but Ice Scales…

Slotting the new ability as his active one, Bang watched as he made tiny scales of ice appear over his arms. They were almost transparent, but the low light made it look like they sparkled. He ran his hands over them.

Cold.

Ice Scales would half damage from special moves, effectively providing a defense against most emitter quirks. Along with Mummy and Technician, Bang now had enough to feel like he had a chance.

It was also a quirk with visual effects. Unnerve made him look more intimidating, but it didn't change him.

He got up and opened his ability notebook. Quickly, a new page with Merciless joined most of the pages in his notebook. Name and a basic description. For Ice Scales, he also started marking down ideas for quirk training.

Bang could work the active ability a bit like it was a quirk. He'd tried it out with Unnerve and Mimicry. Ice Scales was much more straightforward. It actually had a physical manifestation and he didn't have to be throwing darts in the dark at an extra small target. While drunk.

Increasing the scales's toughness, size, their temperature, the speed at which they appeared, maybe even forming layers! Bang had a lot of ideas. If he could make even half of these work, he'd be fighting capable for sure. He could even work with this underwater! The community pool only had one swimming fanatic and an older pair at the hours he went there.

He couldn't sleep. His time had finally come. He had a fucking quirk! Fuck Yeah!

Who needed sleep? School wasn't in until next week. He sat down to work through the night.

minuseven · Sep 11, 2022

#7#

IT WAS SUMMER and time had never passed so quickly for a chuuni-looking second-lifer.

Too many people had the pool, because it was summer, so Bang went for morning runs instead. He had to look kinda crazy, running in full winter gear, but it was good training. And he wasn't in any risk of overheating. A thousand glimmering ice scales covered him from head to toe.

Morale boosted, his training had gotten results.

He would be taking his black belt in judo this year. He'd made brown in karate. He was in great shape for a child. His grades were still unfair to other children without a past life.

Ability-wise, Ice Scales had gotten the most improvement. He'd discovered it was not reptile or even fish scales but, like the bug pokemon the ability originally belonged to: insect scales. If there was a way to make them bigger, he hadn't found one. They could get tougher, he hypothesized, like a real scientist! But the real value of training laid in making them colder and layering them. Give him a bit of time and he would have functional and flexible ice armor.

He'd gotten some Mummy training in… if he wanted to lie to himself. Some weekends he walked the long way to a hangout spot far away from his area and picked a fight. Punk life.

The real training had been in translating more and more pokemon moves into a fighting style. He had Pound, Tackle, Fury Attack, Mega Punch, Mega Kick… Headbutt… and he was working on Glare and Bide. Technician even worked with a few of those.

Huffing and puffing, he focussed on melting his scales as entered his street. The water was going to melt and make him look extra sweaty. Of course, the elevator was broken, so he was going to have to climb the stairs. All four floors of them.

"Why do I do this to myself? Oh yeah, I hate them and I'm paranoid." He muttered as he took off the cap plastered to his hair and stuffed it in a pocket. Ice gone, he was in danger of overheating now.

He opened the door to the house, unbuttoned the stupid fleece jacket and looked up to see Sakura staring at him.

Okay. That was new.

Bang and Sakura did not interact. That wasn't a thing.

"Sakura. Where's mother?

"Mother" and she used a more familiar term than Bang's own impersonal and formal speech "is getting ready to leave."

He blinked. The landlords didn't usually vary from their schedule. It was why he felt safe enough going for a run or a swim at this time. Natsumi took her to her own swim lessons at a better place.

Most times seeing Sakura repeat his steps felt surreal. Then sometimes, he'd catch her crying in the bathroom while Natsumi scolded her, or he saw a bruise from training, and he just dissociated. It was that or murder.

"Uh." Bang said. "Where are you going?" Because Natsumi went nowhere without Sakura if she couldn't help it.

And Sakura, because she was five, brightened. "We're going to see schools!"

"Makes sense." He sighed. He'd gotten not-that-shitty public education. But Sakura was going to get the elite private school experience. It was a particularly shitty thing to do to a kid, damaging their upbringing to give their more talented sibling more chances. "See ya little sister." He patted her hair carefully, since he didn't want to get scolded for ruining her hairstyle, and left to wait until he was alone in the house.

Good thing Bang wasn't exactly a kid.

Sakura uses Okaa-san, Bang uses Haha.

minuseven · Sep 13, 2022

This thing is now on AO3. should i link in the index? i should probably link in the index.

#8#

CHRISTMAS TIME was not family time in Japan. It certainly wasn't for the Chikara family.

Wow, Bang's family name really was just 'POWER'. It sucked. Major cringe. How did every teacher not bust a gut every time they had to do roll call? Was it all the other kids and adults running around with chuuni names? Best Jeaninst was a respected adult jean-person, that reflected on society. Was it because they knew Bang's family?

Well, nothing like knowing it will be possible to put that hypothesis to the test, because the Chikaras were moving!

"Wait what." Bang had not been informed of that. Now he was just expected to pack his bags, well expected to start on the packing, so that they could move in March? He'd been in a good mood and everything, having gotten a new ability like it was the universe's own little christmas gift. (Sturdy was the usual: ok.)

Oooh, Sakura's going to a good school in another city, so Bang's going to have to uproot his entire life just like that.

He bit his lip and pointedly did not tell her to get fucked.

ANGRY PEOPLE AT NIGHT make bad decisions. Like drinking. Bang had done the college party scene for a semester before turning around due to, surprise, flunking all the things.

However, Bang was currently twelve and a half, and neither Akihira nor Natsumi kept alcohol in the house. So what did a young teenager with issues and no supervision do?

He took up vigilantism.

Now, that seemed like an overreaction and a terrible idea. It was both. He was aware, he just didn't care.

Tere were, however, other, good reasons… semi-good reasons for Bang to be stupid. For one, Bang was sure this would help him get more abilities. Major stuff happening to or around him usually resulted in new abilities popping up either the day before or the day after. For another, if there was a time to take up illegal activities, then nothing better than when an escape route was already being prepared. Finally, he stopped being a protected minor under the eyes of the law in three months.

Kids under thirteen couldn't be criminally charged. He knew, he'd checked.

So really, it was the perfect vigilantism window. He just had to go around in weirder parts of town, patrolling, in hopes of catching criminals and thugs in action.

The weirder parts of town being, as far as he knew, the bars and pachinko parlors that were open most of the night. Alcohol and as much gambling as you could reasonably find in Japan, a recipe for probable trouble. Of course, Bang had no money, so he had to resort to lurking as invisibly as possible in an alley.

Squatted atop a dumpster, reading a book. From the school library. Cuz Bang had no phone. Cuz his parents were shit.

Just as he was, for the eleventh or twelveth time in the last hour, wondering why there was no crime, a skinny dude got shoved into the alley.

minuseven · Sep 13, 2022

#9#

BANG LOOKED AT HIS WATCH: TEN AT NIGHT. Okay, that wasn't that late.

That explained the highschool bullies pushing their victim further into the alley. One of them swayed. The underage drunk assholes that were probably partying western-style since it was almost january. Bang felt a twinge of second-hand embarrassment, a faded memory of vomiting when the other him had been that age.

Well, he'd never been a bully, so he wasn't going to feel bad about what came next.

The dudes were trying to get their victim to drop his pants, and Bang didn't know if it was going to be humiliation or something else but he didn't like it. "Okay, whoa! That's heading into sexual assault! Back off, kids."

Three bleary, and one teary, pairs of eyes turned to the medium-sized figure standing on top of the dumpster. Bang hadn't had time, and he plain didn't possess the resources, to make himself a costume. He had a plain and faded dark red hoodie, so dark that it was approaching rust brown in true coloring, a knit cap around the same color and his good sneakers, unfortunately white. White-ish brown by now. The only thing that could have marked him as a vigilante were his black leggings. They were so close to the skin that his scales formed both under and over them. They glittered.

Or they would have, if the alley had any sort of illumination.

Bang wasn't sure they could even see his mask. Which was an old bandanna with holes, which itself had been an old t-shirt. And ice. If Endeavor could cover his face with flames, Bang could do the same with patchy looking ice.

Yes, he knew that sounded bad, but it looked somewhat cool, honest!

He jumped down and calmly walked towards them, hands out and visibly covered in ice. The victim took the moment to scramble back and put Bang between him and the others.

"The fuck, short-ass? You trying to be a hero or something?" The taller, blonde one in front spat down at Bang. He felt it was a bit hypocritical, since bully number, three let's say, was a heteromorph that made him shorter and rounder.

"Trying? I am a hero, bitch." He raised his hands into a guard position. "Now scram."

There was a hesitation in the air. Drunk and young, they had never been confronted with this scenario. Bullies usually folded when confronted with enough resistance. Bang wasn't sure if it was because of his outfit or because they were drunk, but somewhere in their brains he mustn't have looked intimidating enough.

"Like hell you're a hero!" Blondie lunged, a shiny disk in his hand. It went wide as Bang ducked, grabbed his arm and threw him. It was almost too easy. Really, Blondie had thrown himself.

The clatter of the boy hitting the ground made his companions hesitate. Bang grinned. Number Two, looked like he went to the gym, bald, threw his own punch. Bang intercepted the punch, deflecting it upwards. Before he could respond, Band had hooked his leg around his overextended ankle and shoved him.

"Oof." The bully hit the ground, barely managing to catch himself on his hands and butt. "Wha- How!?" The wood-like armor he'd been forming cracked and started sloughing off as he squirmed.

Parrying an attack still counted as getting hit by a move! Bang crowed in his head. Mummy had activated, turning the ability from a smooth mental marble into a rough mental rock. "Not that brave without your quirk, now are you?"

The boys freaked out and ran. Bang relaxed. Mummy's effect would fade now that they had fled, but he didn't think they'd notice for a while, much less come back. Messing with quirks had that effect. He'd never managed to practice with Mummy because of that. With a sigh, he turned to the victim… who was gone.

"... smart kid, I guess?" He looked down at the groaning teenager still sprawled on the ground. "Now how about you…" He hadn't made him hit his head, right?

Shit, this wasn't a dojo with nice mats. Bang knelt down next to the bully and checked his head and neck. He did have a bump, and he'd vomited at some point, but that could be just the alcohol. Fortunately, he did have a phone, so Bang did the responsible thing and called 119 because there was an underage idiot with a head injury that was too drunk to seek medical care.

Then he scrambled home himself. Illegal vigilante and all.

minuseven · Sep 13, 2022

#10#

FOR TWO MONTHS, Bang's birthcity had a new vigilante. For the city, it amounted to nothing. It was just another dude that hung around alleys and broke off fights between thugs. He caught a mugger and an incredibly minor drug dealer. Both of which were never charged.

No hero license, no ability to drop people off at the police station without sharing a cell. Actually, vigilante laws would be harsher if he was of age to be criminally liable.

It wasn't strictly illegal to make an arrest as a private citizen in Japan, but not for most minor things Bang stopped or intervened in. Scaring off a car thief, keeping drunkards from starting fights or harassing people, … he hadn't actually stopped the girl spray-painting on the side of a store. It was harmless vandalism, genuine social protest! Bang's lawfulness walked a very fine line on some topics. But using a quirk in public oh dear! If it wasn't a genuine case of self-defense, you were fucked.

Well, Bang had just been getting in some practice, not get more angry at Japan's stupid societal views than he already was. For that alone, the time on the streets had been useful. He'd even received Gale Wings, which made him just the tiniest bit quicker when he had it active.

But March was approaching and the family was leaving the moment classes ended. Bang's sole school-free week between grades was going to be spent helping with the move.

Natsumi had to take care of getting Sakura all ready for school, and introduce herself to neighbors, and the like… also, flex by moving the heavy furniture into the new place like it weighed nothing. Akihira had to take care of the bills and get the utility contracts running, being moderately useful at least. Bang had to get everything else.

Cleaning the floor and the windows. Moving smaller boxes. Unpacking. Getting everything in the right place, in the right way, at the right time, or there would be hell to pay. Working his back into an early retirement for the sake of a little girl who was going to grow up spoiled and arrogant and never think about her useless older brother for a second.

He counted backwards from ten in his mind. It wasn't her fault. She was going to have to think about him anyway when he rubbed his hero license in Natsumi's face anyway.

SUNSET PAINTED THE BUILDINGS IN WARM COLORS, buildings Bang would not see again for several years. He sat atop the slide in the kid park of his neighborhood. He hadn't spent nearly any time playing here like a normal kid. Even when he had been the golden goose in the making, it was swimming and training and getting ahead in his studies.

Bang had no friends his age. None. He was too surly and too busy. Teachers always complained to Akihira about his lack of social connections and grace.

Well, there was the Judo Club, but activities often clashed with Karate. And Bang had prioritized the dojo and its all-ages environment over the school club. At least, both the club and the people at the dojo had thrown him farewell parties.

Which was more parties than he'd been to in… literal years. "Wow, that's depressing."

Nobody else was really going to notice him transferring out at school. They certainly hadn't mentioned it to the class today, as they closed out the year. He wasn't sure the teachers even knew. If the judo advisor did not tell them, would they ever?

It wasn't like this city was important. But it was more important than the vaguely bigger and more 'appropriate' city they were moving into. The prefectural capital and all. Bang had grown up in this city. He had thirteen years of memories here, give or take. He knew these streets and their corners, good and bad, close to home and all the way in the night districts.

He had the buses memorized. The crosswalks. The shortcuts.

He knew which were the good lockers at the pool, the cracks in the pavement on the second street, the orange tabby that lounged on the mailbox of the old lady's house.

He had more memories here than anything he remembered from his past life. Even if it was just a collection of places, there was more human connection here than he'd ever managed with actual people.

Two years in the prefectural capital. Three years in whichever hero highschool he managed to enter. Then college if he was lucky. Was he ever going to find the time to return and wander these streets again? Be a proper hero this time?

"Cheers! I'll see you again one day, I promise." He raised his ramune bottle to the spirit of the city, clinked it on the plastic railing and drank.

minuseven · Sep 13, 2022

Warnings for this chapter: An adult get physically abusive towards a child (minor/perceived as a child). There's also an instance of nudity in front of family members that would be culturally ok but that the minor is uncomfortable with due to past neglect and abuse.
There's nothing "on-screen" or graphic, and I will not write such, but the implications are there. I'm going to put a spoiler-ed summary beneath just in case.

#11#

HIS BIRTHDAY STARTED OUT GREAT ACTUALLY. He could now stick a fork in an outlet and live. Volt Absorb was fantastic. It healed him! Keen Eye was cool too, with the way his eyes became raptor-like. And on top of that, it was a sunday, so school was very appropriately going to start on April the first.

Bang did appreciate cosmic coincidences.

He should have remembered 13 was an unlucky number. It started when Natsumi called him out for breakfast.

"Sakura's school requires her to be accompanied from home-to-school and back by an adult or other family member." She glared down at him, six foot frame still towering. She didn't look happy. "Your father and I," They weren't actually Bang's parents, thank you very much. "Are going to be working at that time, so you are going to walk Sakura to school in the mornings."

Which wasn't bad… if he was fair about it, most older brothers did that. "Yeah, okay."

Natsumi scowled. "It's 'Yes mother', have some respect."

Bang hadn't had any respect for Natsumi since he was five, and in the years since he'd lost most of the fear he had for an adult who could break him in half. The rest of it was justifiable, in his opinion. Something must have shown on his face, because she only got angrier.

A meaty hand grabbed at his hair and pulled it this way and that. "And what did you do to your hair?" It hurt. "Fuck! Let me go, you bi–" She slapped him. "Watch your mouth!"

"Bang, be quiet." Akihiro spoke from the sidelines. "That's no way for a young man to behave."

He grit his teeth and bit his tongue. He just had to keep his head down. Don't meet their eyes. Get ignored. Punch them in the dick when they've forgotten you exist.

"This won't do. He doesn't look at all like a respectable young man. He even" A hand pulled his ear, showing the cheap earring he'd managed to purchase last year, "did this! A disgrace! We'll look like slobs who can't raise our children if we let him out on the streets looking like some sort of delinquent."

The lack of navel-gazing was so complete Bang could scream.

"We can fix that without problems. My electric shaver is–" That was it, Bang couldn't take it anymore.

It got ugly. He yelled, he got yelled at. Natsumi had super-strength and she was a trained fighter. It was hard to struggle after a hit to the diaphragm, but he did his best.

Bang couldn't help the tears as the pair of scissors got to work. Entire yellow and black locks fell to the drain of the shower. Natsumi's hand was as big as a bear's, holding him by his neck. The buzz of the razor was threatening, set to the minimum as she left nothing but the barest of blond fuzz on his skull. Freezing cold water washed everything away. By then, Bang was too tired to fight.

It wasn't even nine in the morning. Thirty minutes non-stop of being berated, of being told how much he was hurting his family's feelings, and their reputation, and how much he owed them, and how bad Natsumi felt that she had let his education slip… It even went into insults about his appearance and his sexuality that he had no idea how she'd gotten there. It became brain-numbing. The anger and frustration and disgust and embarrassment.

"Wash yourself." She ordered, crossing her arms. "I have to do Sakura's hair."

Bitch, he didn't mumble. Sakura was standing in the corridor. The door had been open the whole time, hadn't it? She looked scared as Natsumi pulled her into the bathroom. "Are you and Sakura going to let me–?"

"Take a damn shower." She sat his sister on a stool and started brushing her hair. "What are you talking about, we're family."

He was left alone so much in this house he'd almost forgotten this wasn't abnormal. At least she wasn't touching him anymore.

What a birthday. He didn't know what was worse: that they'd forgotten about it in the first place, or if they'd known and decided to do this anyway.

Bang's mother takes issue with his look because he will have to walk his sister to school. This gets physical (hair pulling).
She then shaves him by force, physically restraining him with her super-strength.
After that, she orders him to take a shower while she and his sister are also in the bathroom.
While culturally not shocking/inappropriate for japanese, Bang has showered alone since he was six or seven, and feels discomfort due to habit, but also due to having past-life memories of a different culture and his own hangups about his mental age.
All of this happens during his thirteenth birthday, which none of his parents bothered to remember

minuseven · Sep 15, 2022

#12#

THE NEXT MORNING, Bang didn't have bruises. Not visible ones. He didn't bruise easily in the first place.

His anger had gone all the way and cycled back into apathy. It was a trend that should worry him a bit. Instead, he blankly waited for Sakura to put on her shoes. It was a bit crazy to think she was already six years old. That was half his age. She was starting school.

Bang was going to have to think about his sister in more than theoretical terms, if he was walking her to school.

He heaved a long sigh. "Come on, let's go."

It was actually still a bit of a walk until the elementary school. Then Bang would have to double back and walk a fair bit more to get to his own school. Well, actually, he would have to run, to avoid being late. Of course, if he was allowed to take Sakura earlier, that wouldn't be a problem. Sakura had swimming in the mornings. So Bang could be late for all they cared.

"Hm… Big brother?"

He shook himself from bad thoughts. "What is it?"

"What does it feel like to not have hair?"

He almost tripped. He looked at the kid. She was trying not to look at him. "It's cold. My head. And light, but I'm getting used to it. Even if now I look like a monk." He'd also lost one of his earrings.

"Ok." Sakura was pulling at the tips of her ponytail.

Bang blinked and decided to go for it. Maybe he was wrong, but it wouldn't hurt any of them if he was. "She's not going to cut your hair, you know?" Wide red eyes met his own. "You're a girl, and girls are only pretty with long hair. So your hair is safe."

"Really?" "Top sure kid. … Yes, yes I'm really sure. You don't see bald heroines on television."

AFTER HE'D MADE A GOOD IMPRESSION on Sakura's teachers, looking all like a serious older brother who might be considering Buddism, Bang headed to school. He knew he was scowling heavily. He knew his resting bitch face was legendary.

So was his anger, so it was fine. Fifteen minute walks weren't enough to process feelings he was still feeling from last night. His stomach was still churning and he felt hot and cold at times. He was going to have a breakdown soon, he recognized the feeling. College had been tough, finding a job had been hellish, and being Chikara Bang was somewhere up there lately.

Perhaps because it was the first day of school, the homeroom teacher didn't make a fuss. She also didn't seem very impressed. Bang was just going to love mornings, wasn't he?

He stood up to introduce himself when prompted to. "My name is Chikara Bang, I just transferred in last week. My Quirk is Soundproof. I practice martial arts and I like swimming. When I grow up," the irony and bitterness was so much that he deviated from his usual excuse. "I'm going to be a Pro-Hero."

His declaration rang with more force than he'd expected. He'd never said it out loud.

Then someone sniggered from behind him. Lowly, they whispered something about his quirk. The exact words escaped him.

Bang turned to look over his shoulder, and somewhere in the back of his head he knew he'd lost any and all semblance of a composure. He saw every pore in a girl's skin as she paled, and he only noticed his teeth were bared when he unclenched them to speak.

"Lo haré o moriré, connasse de puta."

Nobody understood, but the tone was enough for Bang to be reprimanded. What a fucking auspicious fucking start to a brand new school experience!

Lo haré o moriré, connasse de puta = i'll do it or die, [insulting french term also meaning bitch/whore] of a whore.

minuseven · Sep 15, 2022

#13#

THE FIRST FEW DAYS HADN'T BEEN THAT BAD IN THE END. Aside from that little outburst of his. And his general attitude that certainly hadn't made him any friends.

But Bang was a teacher favorite for a reason. He kept quiet, always delivered everything on time, always knew the answers when he got asked, and had consistently kept his grades in the top three of his year since school had been a thing for him. Unfortunately he was going to be chronically late, but someone had called his family and Akihira had informed them of his need to accompany Sakura.

So his homeroom teacher didn't like him, but less in a 'let's screw Bang even more' way and more in a 'I'll be watching you' way. He could deal with that. (He couldn't deal with Stench, who was useful but unfortunately potent, so that had to be shut down.)

Things should have been stabilizing for Bang, but Natsumi had certainly taken the defiance he'd shown seriously. So now Bang was going to eat breakfast with the family. And he was going to get ready at the same time Sakura did. He was even going to the same kickboxing place they would start frequenting.

Not that Bang was complaining about that last point. But having to share time and space with his sister, and their genetic donors, was bad. Worse… were the things he was starting to notice about the way Natsumi raised Sakura, and the attention she paid to him.

Which was why Bang was hoping to all gods that his phone, also a new thing for him, managed to connect to the school's wifi.

Connection failed. "Fuck!" He'd had this one chance!

The one unsecured network and it wasn't strong enough. He didn't have a data plan, Akihira had only gotten him this old brick because it was absolutely necessary. In case something happened with Sakura.

He buried his face in his hands and tried to cycle his breathing.

"Hm, are you okay?" A girl was standing a few feet away. Short, chubby-faced, a small mutation mark on her cheeks, short-haired. He'd seen her around, maybe, who knew.

"I'm fine." He waved off, but puberty decided his voice had to crack now. Or maybe it was the tears he'd been suppressing for a week. Just his luck, guess he was having his breakdown in front of a girl during lunch break.

She fluttered around awkwardly as he cried and sniffed, sitting down next to him and offering him a tissue as he calmed down. "Oh, it was nothing, you needed it! Are– Are you feeling better?"

"Nothing like a good cry to clean the sinuses. Yeah, thanks." He'd needed this.

"Hmm, can I help?" Ah, what a good, wholesome kid.

So, Bang wasn't going to dump on a thirteen year old his problems. He doubted she'd even get, really get the whole: "I'm looking up the law again so that I know what this country considers child abuse and neglect, grooming, and now sexual abuse because I'm being abused and if my little sister isn't yet it's just a matter of time. And I have no money. And my only hope of doing private research was this shit of a phone and now I'm back to square zero." So he didn't say any of it out loud.

Instead, he said. "It's been a really long week, we just moved and stuff at home isn't going great with my parents." Which was true. "So no, but thanks. You… could distract me from my problems tho! How can I help you?" Flawless delivery.

"Oh, well, I'm Uraraka Ochako from 2-B. I want to be a Pro-Hero in the future too!" She almost sparkled. "Hm, I heard from a friend that you also wanted to be a hero? You're Chikara-san from 2-C, right?" He nodded. "Oh, good, that would have been embarrassing otherwise. I came to ask what martial arts you did…"

Bang tapped his chin, looking up at the sky. "Well, I did Judo and Karate back in my old town, and I did a bit of Kung Fu when I was in first grade. Here, my parents got me into a Kickboxing place, and I don't know if I'm going to do anything else yet."

"Whoa, so much!" A megawatt smile was pointed his way. Holy smokes. "What belts are you?"

"I'm black belt in judo and karate, but only first dan! All that means is that I've mastered the basics, it's not like in movies."

"Still cool!" She clapped. "Hm, would you mind giving me tips about choosing a martial art for myself? I want to start learning too, but I don't know where to start…"

Hm, it was hard to tell which build Uraraka would have in the future. She didn't seem too tall or short, and her weight was also mid-pack at a glance. Also… "Well, first maybe tell me what your quirk is. That can influence your choice a lot if you want to go hero."

She spread her hands, showing him how the pads of her fingers also exhibited a mutation. They looked a bit like the pads of a cat at the tips of her fingers. "My quirk is Anti-Gravity. I need to touch things with all five fingers and they start to float."

Bang whistled. "That's a nice quirk. Five-point contact? Is it automatic?" She shook her head. "Well, regardless then, I think you definitely should look for a grappling art, something with throws. But also something that focuses on striking fast. You touch somebody and they're yours, but how do I explain, you're getting in their range to do so… so knowing how to grapple and react when you're grabbed is essential."

Uraraka was nodding rapidly. "Teach me sensei!"

"Judo would be good, but if you could find Jiu-jitsu, Aikido… really, any kind of Jujutsu." He listed. "As for strikes, anything based on punches will do. No Kickboxing or Taekwondo, but otherwise it'll be up to personal preference."

"Hm, Judo, Jiu-jutsu and strike arts! Thanks Bang-san." His schoolmate bowed, smiling all the while. "You're really good at this. I–"

The bell rang. The kids shared a look, then scrambled back inside.

I rolled for 1A character Bang would befriend. I am very happy with the rolls.

minuseven · Sep 16, 2022

#14#

THE NEXT DAY, AND AFTER THAT AND BEYOND, Uraraka returned. She, apparently, liked talking to Bang and spent her lunches with him. She also joined the school's judo club, of which Bang had nominally become a member. His schedule continued to be packed for the most part, so he was more of a ghost member

So, she probably counted as a friend. Indeed, she went from Uraraka to Ochako.

She wasn't even bothered by the lack of time Bang had for socializing. Ochako herself had scheduled time to study since, unlike cheating people with past-life memories, she needed to spend some actual time on that. She had also dedicated herself to judo and on top of that she helped out her parents and their business when she could.

Having a phone, finally, completed the friendship circuit. Now Bang could talk to people without being physically present. Beautiful, amazing, revolutionary! And his plan did include unlimited text messages, so he had no compunctions about chatting with Ochako whenever he could.

Chikara Bang had one (1) friend. Applause please.

"Are you coming to the judo summer camp?" Ochako asked after a mouthful of rice.

"Don't think so." He bit into his own poor bread. Saving money required sacrifices. "Mother will probably want me home." Still not over his rebellion, he thought. "Also, here."

She received the paper bag with a gasp. "Again! Thank you! How do you even manage to find honeycombs like this?" At the rate Bang was giving her honey, her family was starting to share the bounty themselves.

Honey Gather was only activated sometimes, and those were already too much. "I'm lucky and I'm not afraid of bees."

"Mmmh, but your parents are really strict." Ochako mused. As the daughter of truly loving parents, she actually had absolutely no clue. "I should invite you over to my house one of these days. You could spend the night!"

Bang blinked. He hadn't had a sleepover… ever. "I… I'd like that." He wondered if painting nails were actually a thing people did…

THE BELL RANG AND THE MATCH STARTED.

Kickboxing was useful. Bang dodged, ducked, got in close to trade a jab only to get one to the jaw. With a huff around his mouth guard, he launched a flurry of jabs. Furry Attack hit much stronger than it had a right to, leaving his opponent unprepared for the follow-up kick.

It gave Bang more combat training and a way to vent his feelings on the ring.

He even had the chance to match with Natsumi, even if he always lost.

The big downside was having to participate in Sakura's training. Natsumi was friends with the owner and had a set of keys to the place.

Bang never hurt his sister. That refusal to hit a six year old hard was also exploited. Natsumi had quickly turned it around into reprimanding Sakura for not doing enough, making Bang into a condescending prick in his sister's eyes.

That was a theme. Natsumi and Akihira pitting Sakura against Bang.

Bang was the best student in his year. Didn't seem to matter unless it was to compare with Sakura's grades.

Bang was a black belt in two martial arts. Irrelevant except as a goal Sakura also had to achieve.

Bang was quiet when Sakura was being too loud. Bang had a delinquent streak when Sakura was being well-behaved. Bang was late, Sakura was on time, Bang was reliable, Sakura needed to work harder, Bang was moody, Sakura was personable, and on and on and on it went.

It turned dealing with Sakura into a landmine field. Usually being nice and attentive was fine. But if she was in a bit of a mood for any reason, probably good reasons, she could take it as condescending or nasty.

He also had to let the kid vent to him when she found the courage. He never let her be physical with him. (She'd tried kicking him once, and he'd had to pin her down and have a good talk with her.) But he got that he was the only person she could safely unload on.

Emotionally, it got draining.

minuseven · Sep 16, 2022

#15#

IT WAS RAINING WHEN HE KNOCKED ON THE DOOR. Damn, it was night-ime. Were they even awake at these hours?

A puzzled Uraraka the Father opened the door. That turned to shock and worry as he took in his daughter's friend, halfway to soaked. Bang was summarily pulled into the house and bullied into being smothered by a towel.

If he'd had a choice, he wouldn't have come here. He'd left through the window of his room, taking his old running shoes and setting off after the fight. If it hadn't started raining, he wouldn't have come, really.

And now adults, people, that he liked were fussing over him. And he was tearing up.

Okay, Bang was lying to himself. He could have slept on the streets. But he'd wanted… this.

He'd missed this. Parents, actual caring people in a position of authority and responsibility.

He'd just buried his face in Ochako's pajama clad shoulder when he registered Uraraka Mom saying they had to call his 'parents'. In hindsight, maybe launching himself into a full dogeza prostration wasn't the best way to go about it. But it did have the effect of getting everybody to just stop.

And not call Akihira or Natsumi.

But also obligating him to explain why he'd been out on a freezing February night.

"Just… I got into a fight with my parents about grades. I overreacted and yelled and… I ran away. It's my fault and I'll go back in the morning before anybody even notices I'm gone. Really, there's no need."

Uraraka Dad seemed sympathetic, but, like an adult who actually loved his child, he wasn't getting the dynamic present. "That's no reason not to call your parents, Bang. They'll be worried if they notice you are gone…"

Bang let out a huge, frustrated sigh. "Look, it's fine now, but if they find out I ran away they'll hit me and I don't want that."

Now alarmed looks were exchanged. Next to him, Ochako was biting her lip. Uraraka Mom leaned forward and, carefully "Bang, darling, what happened? Did your parents hit you?" And that had his friend audibly sucking in a breath.

Oh boy, that was a trap of a question. Bang prayed that japanese propensity to not get involved in other people's home life would prevail. It was bad enough that he'd shown them this much.

"No, they just… weren't happy about the grades…"

"But you're top of the class!" Ochako interrupted.

He deflated. "Not my grades. They weren't happy with Sakura's grades. Which is completely unfair!" Everybody at the table knew his little sister went to a private elementary, which had much greater expectations and workloads. "Sakura had great grades anyway, above average. So I said that, and I've been stressed with the exams too" lie "so I ended up yelling in my mother's face" truth "without any reason" lie "and I ended up grounded. That's it. Nobody hit anybody."

Natsumi hadn't hit Bang. She'd hit Sakura for crying.

Then Bang had flipped. And only then did she beat him.

So, to be fair, there had been an amount of violence. But they hadn't just hit Bang because of his grades. See, he hadn't lied about that.

"I've just been so stressed…" He laid his head on the table so that he couldn't see their faces. "I'm sorry for bringing my problems into your home."

After a silent conversation, Uraraka Dad cleared his throat. "Bang… are you sure you really don't want us to call your parents?" He shook his head. "Okay, okay. Then, just for tonight, I'll allow it. But! If anything like this happens again, I want you to call us first. Bang, look at me." He did. "And if there is a next time, I will have to call your parents to let them know you are spending the night over."

"Thank you."

minuseven · Sep 21, 2022

#16#

FOR A LONG TIME NOW, Bang had been considering taking one big risk. Telling Ochako about his real power. There wasn't much time left either. They would start their last year of middle school in just a few days.

If he didn't tell his friend (his friend!) now, when would he? When they met at UA Highschool's entrance exams? Ochako and Bang were both aiming for the top. They trained together and everything. He knew her quirk inside and out… but she didn't know the truth about his power.

The more time passed, the shittier he felt about his big deception. Not that he wanted to reveal his power. He'd have to change it at the quirk registry… later. Once he got emancipated…

Bang's plans for the future had grown and changed across the years. But they all culminated in roughly ten months.

He wanted to tell Ochako. Wanted to stop holding back with her, both physically and emotionally. He finally had a great combination and a basis for a fighting style! Long Reach would allow him to use Mummy to its maximum extent. Maybe he'd even get to practice Drought.

It was a risk worth taking. Even if he lost their friendship and potentially had to go on the run from his parents and the authorities. He believed in her. He also had a bug out bag hidden nearby and ready to go. But Ochako was good.

He was also going to have to get closer to the truth about his family situation.

Deep breaths.

"Bang! Happy birthday!" His best friend hugged him and suddenly he was floating. All the weight of the world gone from his back.

He laughed. Ochako knew he loved this feeling. He loved this girl. "Thank you!"

Back with both feet on the ground, Bang hesitated before diving head first.

"Ochako. I want to tell you something. It's… a really big secret. It has to do with my quirk and my family. I… can I tell you and– and you'll listen to the end? And not tell anybody afterwards?"

His best friend, still holding onto his hands, nodded seriously. The smile that had been on her face had dulled as he spoke. "I promise." She hit her chest. "Cross my heart. Swallow a thousand needles."

Bang exhaled. Inhaled. And told her. About his parent's wishes. About his quirk. About his reasons.

Not everything. Not anything a fourteen year old wouldn't need to know.

And when they were done, sitting on the empty playground, Ochako made him promise: "Become a hero with me!" So that one day they could both be heroes, unafraid and proud.

It was the easiest promise Bang ever made.

minuseven · May 13, 2022

.1

Wake up. You're standing up on a beach at night. There's a white, crystalline feather shoved into your mouth.

You gain powers from eating things that have powers. You have no idea how you know that.

Gulp.

For the record, Ziz feathers taste like tears, INT and mirror. With a distinct aftertaste of smugness. My mouth tasted of, for a lack of better words 'Gendo Ikari smirking behind folded hands while the glare of his glasses obscures his eyes' for hours. Ziz in the Sky with Diamonds. It's the good stuff.

A day and a half later, I find myself, entirely of my own volition I assure you, in front of the hospital. It's big, gray and has more run down watermarks than a zebra has stripes. It's just like every other building in Brockton Bay. I waltz up to the reception area without being looked at twice. It's honestly really weird. Nobody stops me and I reach the reception desk without any problem.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if I could visit a patient?"

The nurse behind the plexiglass shoots a tired look at me and asks me who I want to see. I get the feeling the glass isn't here to protect him from a virus. Might be the scratches and knife marks, just a bit.

Only when I tell him who I want to see does he sit up and pay more attention. Not ideal, but I prepared for it. Today, I'm just Christopher Reid, the lucky student council dude who drew the short straw and gets to skip school to deliver crappy, store-brought get-well-soon cards.

I wave the fake flowers in my hands with my best teenager brown-nosing face. "It's okay if I leave these? They're, like, plastic. They don't need a jar." Really, the hard part is keeping my voice low enough to sell the whole "male" thing.

"Real plants aren't permitted in most wards. That was a smart choice. Third floor, ask at the nurse station to your right." I sign a list, get a little paper bracelet saying 'Visitor' and just like that, I'm in. On the third floor, it's even faster. I get a room number, directions, and free reign. Realistically, I'm spoiled by 2020 security measures.

She's not alone in the hospital room. I freeze on the doorstep, mentally cursing myself and everybody else. All this work to hide my tracks and I have a witness? Luck is on my side, because the woman on the second bed is tied down and snoring. I'm not even going to bother trying to guess what the meds she's on are. I can just thank god that at least one of them is a sedative.

My target is on the first bed. Laying down with her eyes open and staring into nothing, Taylor Hebert doesn't notice me.

I didn't have any expectations. She's definitely taller than me, stupid americans, and her face is not… you know, really pretty. It's not my fault I notice her physical appearance. She's the one who made such a big deal out of it in the first arc. Whatever. Yes, I'm a shallow person, and I have better things to do than looking at teenagers' looks.

She doesn't react to me putting the flowers down, or the card and the letter. I poke her arm and nothing. I pinch her lightly.

"So far, so good." I say to myself. "Hey… Taylor. Taylor?" No answer. "Awesome. Great."

With an ear tuned to any sounds from the corridor and my eyes on the kid, I carefully press down on the crook of her elbow, where the catheter is inserted.

Then she blinks. I freeze. Nothing happens. There are at least ten reasons to be very afraid, and I'm feeling all of them. Too late to turn back now, I suppose. Lifting the tape holding the needle down, I press on the vein until a drop of blood appears. Two or three, really. I wipe then with my fingers and-

Cannibalism alert: I lick my fingers clean.

Unsurprisingly, it tastes like a bunch of wasps buzzing, repeatedly hitting the inside of a small glass cube. It unfurls behind my eyes. I push it back down for now.

I know three things. That Taylor Hebert triggered. That my power really, really works. And that this is my one and only chance.

Skitter doesn't bleed much, protected by spider silk and beetle shells.

No time to lose. I take a plastic bottle from the inside of my jacket, unscrew it with one hand and stick it next to Taylor's vein. I have five minutes. Slowly, agonizingly, the bottle fills up. I start eyeing her hair. Easier to take… several thousand orders of magnitude grosser. Perhaps. Does texture also get filtered by my ability? Because blood and alien crystal did not feel like blood and alien crystal. A shame I got worried about metal detectors and didn't bring a knife. Pressing on her arm speeds the flow. My legs are legitimately shaking. I cap the full bottle, stuff it inside my jacket and take out another tiny bottle. This one I filled with dollar-store ethanol. It's a matter of wiping off the evidence, making sure the catheter didn't slide out and nothing happened.

I do get one single hair.

I don't think my rush job will trick a nurse. Hopefully, they won't care about just another random patient! "I'm so sorry, Taylor. Hopefully you won't… you know." Remember any of this. My face in particular. "Trust me, if I had any other choice… well, I included some very sound, very adult advice in the letter. You probably won't take it, but who knows."

I actually drink my vampiric energy drink in a bathroom just down the hall. The freshest it is, the better. The hair I somehow slurp like spaghetti. Tastes like screaming.

I dare say that plan actually worked, I think as I walk through the hospital's parking lot/entrance. If Taylor does remember anything, I've left quite a few false trails. I'm not a Winslow student, which she'll be looking for with what I've written on the letter. Christopher Reid is a real person, part of Winslow's last year's student council, who will hopefully not be accosted by either Skitter or the police. He's blonde anyway. And a dude. This whole plan cost me twenty bucks and one day in the public library.

Oh, the letter? Just the best advice I could give her. Drop school now. With an explanation of the sunk-cost fallacy, a sprinkle of personal experience, and a few links to online support groups and research thrown in.

Power: Eat from power-entities, get powers: precognition immunity, control some bugs.

minuseven · May 13, 2022

.2

My power isn't straight up 'you are what you eat', or 'you are immune to what you eat'. It's a choice somewhere in between.

That day, two days ago my god, I'd eaten one Ziz feather. A small one, dow type if the Simmurgh had dow. I'm not sure of what the human equivalent is. Doesn't matter, because it was potent.

There's nothing more terrifying to fight than large-scale, Worm-like precogs. That was my mentality when it went down. So that was what I gained: precognition immunity. Boring, a staple, contrived and a plot-device by the author of yet another fic? Sue me. Read my lips. Sue-Me.

I don't know what dropped me here. Honestly, I could very well be a clone, or a mind-whipped Simmurgh bomb that she dropped, including fake memories of another world where I read a web-novel about the events of one particular future. I have a friend who does philosophy, but personally, I don't.

It doesn't matter. I'm here, I may die horribly from a million things or worse, 'survive' a million horrible things. Maybe I am a laser-guided precog missile to… something.

There is nothing I can do about that. Trying to fight causality like that is like Master Shifu sending the Duck to Tai Lung's prison. Spoiler for Kung Fu Panda: The Duck was the only reason Tai Lung got free. Oogway was right.

Don't worry about it, and do your best to be happy.

Is it mighty suspicious that I had a key to a shitty motel room paid for one week in my pocket? Yes. But I don't want to sleep on the streets just yet. I do have to use soup kitchens but well, nobody said life in another world was easy. Oh, wait. May several thousand authors feel my not very justified rage!

Anyway, I'd targeted the protagonist for a couple of reasons. Besides knowing where and when she'd be available as a mcdonalds on legs, if you'll excuse the vampirism. First, bugs is a versatile power that has already been muchkined to hell and back by people far more dedicated than me, sparing me a lot of trouble. Second, it was almost made to surreptitiously take bits from people for me to eat.

Now, I didn't have Taylor's exact power. For one, I'd only gotten one bottle of blood out of her. Sure, it looked like a lot of blood, but I'd done the calculations to make sure I wasn't taking too much. Not even half a liter of blood, at most half a percent of her body weight. It wasn't a one to one thing, but maybe it was close.

I'd tweaked what I'd gotten, semi-consciously. It's hard to explain. I'd thought very loudly to myself 'oh goLLY, IT WouLd bE nICe if I GoT Less BUgs in SNIPEr VIEW tHaN all tHe BUGS In hUggiNg raNGE!' and it worked. I only got to control a kilogram of flies instead of scary Skitter numbers, but one thousand wasps were nothing to laugh at. My 'select your fighter' range is big, over one hundred meters, and my 'control your army' range is a bit bigger than that.

This is less than one percent of Skitter's power. Talk about putting things into perspective.

Something older I had laying around. It's exam time. aka Escapism time.

minuseven · Jul 1, 2022

.3

A piece of paper that would be found in a skeevy motel room if I hadn't burned it (with a lighter stolen from a skeevier shop by dastardly, thieving flies):
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~
STEP ONE: SKITTER - all the bugs ✔

STEP TWO: everybody else
-new wave. find addresses.
-prt : missy biron, dennis red hair, chris, carlos, browbeat not yet, dean gallant rich boy find by victoria. colin wallis, the shadow bitch, hannah (immigrant, lives on base?), nephew? of mayor christner, evil snake man thomas calvert
-DINAH ALCOTT !!
-travelers not here yet. Boston? <-research
-e88: max anders, theo anders, kayden russel, twin blondes maybe cousins to kaiser. All others by association. Public identity to hookwolf maybe.
-azbb: ??? bug recon???
-undersd: lisa wilborn??/sarah livsey rachel lindt, brian laborn and aisha, jean paul vassil
-merchants unknown and hard to find.
-uber leet. Tech?
-FAULTlinie. Palanquin club, easy pickings.

Priorities
~~Tattletale -> immunity~~
Panacea: heal/buff biotinker !better bugs! moar powah
~~Faultline-liza~~
tattletales for power immunity
Newt: knockout
Aegis: brute MANPOWER! Electricfield brute!^^^
dinah/coil: precog
Stalker or Grue: stranger
Kaiser- offensive options
NewWave all in one buffet flying shields lazers and lightsabers

OTHER FCUKING SHIT
Check tinker tech. Check remains oooo goodie grave robbing! Also, marquis, butcher, other groups.
~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~

Heard on the street at the same as a facepalm:
<"Fucking Parian! Duh, oh my god, why dude, why. Motherfff-grrr…">

Random internet searches by yours truly at the local library:
"Are phonebooks still a thing"
"Where can I buy bees?"
"endbringer bug out bag essentials"
"Brockton bay tourist advice"
"Anime 2011"
"Medhall contacts"
"How to recognize gang members brocton bay"
"Cornell university"
"Authentic parahuman fight souvenirs"
"Could dragon be a dragon"
"Night hours with least people"
"Wasp extermination services Brockton Bay"
"New Wave Official"
"How much blood can ticks take"
"Cape tourism a thing is?"
"Earth aleph differences internet"
"Apartment rent brockton bay"
"Famous graves capes"
"top 10 rock bands"

look, it was written, might as well

minuseven · Jul 26, 2022

4.

I started with Panacea. This because I did a few rough calculations. On a napkin. Based on maybe-respectable semi-scientific sources. A relatively light person has something like 4 to 5 liters of blood, which are around 10% of their body weight, of which I can only take 15% of that volume without noticeable side-effects. Taylor was hooked up to an IV in the hospital, she was a different story.

Well, anyway, that's 1,5% of a person, so 1,5% of a power, sorta. Also, something like 60 to 75 milliliters. I'd used a 2 ounce, -ounze?- bottle I'd bought for the express purpose of, well, taking the right amount of teenager blood, at the hospital. Which was just about that.

A normal tick, flea, fly or otherwise can drink up to around a milliliter. Less than one. And only when given entire days to work. Quick napkin math: that's on average 0,25% of a person-slash-power per bug on a good day.

Could I use several bugs? Obviously. Was it going to be suspicious? Eh, maybe? Did I want to eat more bugs than strictly necessary? No.

But throw a little Queen Shaper their way and things became oh so much easier.

My first hurdle: New Wave lives in an upper-middle class white suburbia zone. Loitering around past sundown, to secretly collect the blood of superheroes, like a bum or a reporter, was just not going to be disregarded (without even suspecting the vampire bit). If I was New Wave or their neighbors, even seeing an unknown car parked in the street would be suspicious. And I had to get to the girl while she was asleep. She'd know something was up with my insects if she was awake.

So during the day I scooped out the streets around their house. Identified the manhole cover with most space underneath that was also out of sight of cameras (very common) and, well, dry.

We're still in the beginning of January. Survival isn't glamorous.

And then I didn't have money to buy the supplies I needed so I aggressively napped through the day, took hilarious amounts of coffee around eleven at night and finally robbed a supermarket.

I'm kidding, it turns out that, like people with two brain cells to rub together, supermarkets take the cash out of the till after they close and put it in safes.

No, I looked up Alan Barnes in the phonebook, walked there at 2AM and then used bugs to swipe all the cash in his wallet. It was easy. So easy in fact that I repeated the process in a couple of random rich-looking houses per street. On a smaller scale.

Nobody really notices if they have one less banknote. You probably miscounted it or misplaced it or whatever. In the meanwhile, Alan from over yonder got pickpocketed, the sucker.

And then I slept the whole morning away. So, in the afternoon of the second day of the Quest for Biokinesis, I got myself a better backpack, food supplies, overalls and gloves, a set of tools to lift drain covers. Plus noseplugs and earplugs.

On the second night I went into the blasted place, regretted many things, ate bugs, cried.

On the third day, I did not raise myself from the dead.

No, I spent it inside a hole in the ground because the window of opportunity to get in and out of the sewers is unsurprisingly small. I had to wait until it was 2AM again. Only then did I drag myself to the nearest gas station to buy vodka, chocolate and incense sticks.

Look, a lot of times I make stupid decisions and do stupid shit. I've gotten the post-stupid pity party down to a science.

why yes, tomorrow i have a thesis presentation for which i am hilariously unprepared. in fact, as you can see, i yeeted my self-insert into the sewers because of it.

minuseven · Aug 5, 2022

5.

I've never taken a bite out of a person, obviously. I'm not that kind of cannibal. (…yet?) But Panacea's power 100% tasted like people. I was expecting it to taste a bit more of DNA, somehow. Maybe because all she ever does is use it on humans, it tasted of people. Yes, the whole lot of a person, including the nasty intestinal bits. Or maybe that was the sewer trying to seduce me through my clamped nostrils.

Things not worth thinking about.

Because I was greedy, I wanted the full biokinesis. There had to be a trade-off and in my case, speed was my dump-stat. It wasn't like I was going to rely on Panacea's power for offensive or defensive ops. I only needed that little bit of buffing boost to my insects.

Regardless, I'm going to keep my distance from New Wave for a bit. If anything, this has illustrated my need for stealth-slash-stranger powers. I said, even as I groaned at the mere thought of staking out a house ever again.

So, robbery or grave-robbing?

Christ, I am creepy. Robbery!

But why, I ask myself in mockery, when you know that you can't exactly make money that way? Three hours of practice aren't enough to get bugs with metal-eating acid. Plus, you know, it's not exactly stealthy. Well, how about I don't rob a place for money, but rather for more unlimited 'powah'?

Currently possessing power nº1: a beach ball cloud of bugs with moderate range; and power nº2: extra slow, really slow touch-biokinesis, I could do with some offensive options. Not that a beach ball made out of bugs wasn't horrifyingly effective, look at what Taylor could do with one of these. But I wanted something quicker and more tangible. And my research had yielded one juicy target.

Turns out that there's a… guy, a white guy, a white shaved-head guy in Brockton Bay (yes, a neonazi) who owns a bar. But this bar is known for its interesting decorations. Namely, this old chap has several pieces and bits of bone spears from Marquis, hanging over the mantle-piece. A true display of the people's (read: the Empire 88's) victories.

How had he not gotten robbed before? Probably because he was smack-drab in the center of white supremacist power in the city. No enemies were that stupid.

(It was the government's laissez-faire that I actually couldn't understand? Were they understaffed or something. Wait, stupid question.)

Did that make me that stupid? No, don't confuse things.

Destroying that guy's bar and/or robbing his Empire trophies was a thing a gang would do to a rival gang to humiliate them. It would need to be flashy, or at the very least followed by copious bragging. Inter-gang relationships are essentially dick measuring contests after all. Besides the territorial disputes. Maybe. Sometimes.

I was just gonna tiptoe in (metaphorically), nab the things I personally wanted (with thousands of tiny ant hands) and abscond into the night (sike your robber is in another block). And then I was gonna avoid the whole district for at least a week. Flawless plan.

…

So why. The ever-living. Fuck. Are there. Fucking. Capes! In there!?!?

why yes this is short, but i changed my mind midway through this so now it's gonna be this.

minuseven · Aug 5, 2022

6.

Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious. Don't be suspicious. DON'T BE SUSPICIOUS!!

Bruh, the bartender must think I'm waiting here for a drug deal or something, the way I ordered orange juice and started sweating like a pale-faced pig after (pretending to) checking my (fake-ass) phone. Or worse, a cop.

I raise a finger to call him. "Can I get a orange vodka, just vodka and juice, sort of like, you know–"

"Vodka and orange juice, a screwdriver vodka. Yeah, coming right up."

"Yeah, that, thanks."

"Everything alright?" He asks nonchalantly as he prepares my drink. Only things I drink are the ones where I can't taste the alcohol because it burns too much. Ah, absinthe… Flavored vodka is a good 'thou shalt not get smashed tonight' compromise.

"I screwed up." I say with a thin, fake smile. "I think my boss might actually kill me."

His eyebrows rise. "That so?"

"Nah, but I might be job-hunting tomorrow." By necessity, tomorrow I might be applying for the oft vacant, very coveted, definitely deadly position of local vigilante. Seeing as I am listening in to what amounts to conspiracy– no wait, it's definitely conspiracy to murder and hate crimes. Dear lord, christ almighty, grant me the appropriate mental gif for the following words:

What do you mean 'acquire' 'undesirables' for the 'novices' 'initiation'?

"That's rough." NO SHIT.

"You have no idea." I murmur. Every single word out of Krieg's mouth makes the milk curdle in… Heaven? In good people's homes? Well, it definitely makes my spine contract. Like that Tom and Jerry cartoon about Tom singing Figarro but Jerry gives him lemon and his face goes crinkle-swoosh-nnnn ? Yeah, that's my faith in humanity right now.

Naturally, I feel very inclined to be the Jerry to these Toms. … wait, isn't that another name for a pimp or something? …the Twitty to their Sylvester? Hm. Okay, no. Let's restart.

Naturally I feel very inclined to –murder the shit out of these dickbags!– absolutely ruin their day.

Tiny, itsy-bitsy problem? I can't. Like, I am physically unable to, my powers are too weak or unsuitable… probably. The more I think about it, the more I'm finding I could ruin their lives. Hello neuro-toxins~~ Don't you just looove biology? But, well, that might put Taylor in danger eventually. I'll still do it, but I need to take that into account.

The real problem is that they aren't giving me locations. No locations, no stake-outs, no vigilantism, not even a police tip-off. I won't be able to follow any of these guys around for a whole day.

The way I'm hearing it, they're planning on nabbing a couple of people with ABB colors. Ugh, smart nazis, first let them do violence unto criminal minorities to start justifying it. But it sounds like they will be roaming on the lookout for targets, to get a measure of these new guys' 'hunting' skills. Which leaves me with no location to even call the police to.

I sit there for another hour, slowly sipping my orange vodka. It has to be slow-going. I get queasy with rage just hearing these guys talk. The hearing, by the way, is the product of long-time fan-favorite combo: Skitterpan. You may laugh if you wish. I wanted to test out the new eye-flies and hear-wigs, as well as my mini-hercules and spider-people. C'mon, there's at least one good pun in that batch!

Finally, finally, just as the meeting is winding down to a close, they finally spit out a meet-up spot. Washington Avenue! Could it be more cliché? Only in the South.

I stay in the bar long enough to let them leave, change bars, leave them another hour before I breach the security systems of the bar for good, cutting through the cameras' wires.
Then, unsecured as my prizes are, it's a question of having a trusty group of friendly ants, beetles and cockroaches pull little menhirs using their bug-power and pulling on tiny spider-silk ropes.

Adorably terrifying.

And because bone is nicely dense and heavy, say hello to more than one percent of Marquis' power. Keeping in all the required secondary superpowers like regeneration, I focus on the tips of my most prominent articulations. I don't need a lot. But I need it fast and I need it tough.

It hurts, god damn, it does and it doesn't even come accompanied by a nice shniickt sound. But I have ten tiny daggers of yellow-white bone sprouting from my knuckles, so in the end, I win.

plot? i dunno. but the power count is now at 3.

minuseven · Feb 28, 2023

7.

I had a flawless plan to stop hate crimes! I lied. I was shit out of ideas. Well, I was out of subtle ideas. As I scrolled down the chemical composition of several neurotoxins in an online encyclopedia, I realized once again the awesome assassination potential of skitterpan. (I needed to find a better name for shaper-modified insects.)

Tetrodotoxin, my beloved.

Poisoning would be my first choice. I could, potentially, maybe, use bug-rats to chomp through their vehicles' brakes, fuel lines, and other general electronics. It wasn't like it would be any less suspicious than a random disease-sickness-allergy-pick your poison here… of these particular people who just happened to be hate-criming.

Going after their equipment however, was ineffective. As in, nothing was stopping a neo-nazi from getting another car and continuing the night but more determined and suspicious at the same time.

So. Methods that would incapacitate racists.

Preferably not forever. (maybe it was the fact that Worm hadn't been, you know, real just a few days ago but) Murder wasn't entirely off the table.

For ethical reasons, however, I would prefer not to go that far unless I had no other choice.

(Also, legally, murder was worse than… aggravated assault? Hm, help me, internet. Oh, I had been right!)

Anyway, the issue I was running into was that just because I knew the chemical formula, didn't mean I could design an organic process to get that chemical. Panacea definitely had a thinker-like element to her powers. I, apparently, had not. Or rather, my sacrifice was speed. And the speed of that element of her powerset was also very reduced.

Was it helpful to not overload my poor little brain with all the bacteria that existed everywhere? Yes. Was it helpful in designing war crimes- I mean, biological weapons? No.

I had thought of a good way to utterly fuck these nazis Getting them high. Like, injecting THC into their veins high. I just needed a bit of a cannabis plant. Or a hemp plant. Guess which alternate reality country had turbo-charged their War On Black- I Mean DRUGS?! That's right, Bet-USA. And I did not believe I would manage to find a cannabis plant in Brocton Bay. They definitely existed here, but people really tended to underestimate how big cities were. I wasn't Skitter. Bug recon had its limits, hard and soft.

So I guess we were going to go with mushrooms.

Why mushrooms? Well, wiki-crawling had gotten me to psilocin, which was the active compound of magic mushrooms, apparently. Injected into somebody via bug bites, I was certain it would lead to quite a trip. Mushrooms were plentiful, even in january. Much easier to find. And if I didn't manage to find any mushroom from that particular family, I was sure I could get my hands on enough chemical compounds to rot somebody's genitals off.

Which I wasn't going to do. Seriously.

Then I just had to combine Mr. Fungi with Ms. Insecta and enjoy the show. Cue evil laughter.

yeah, somebody liked this thing and I got motivation to write this specifically bc I always have motivation to write something. i just... have a lot of 'things'.

Title Here: Multi-fandom Writings

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life

low effort life