got me cold

i sleep in agony, i sleep alone || stef. xxi. he/him. || writing sideblog of buh-bam-bamboo-fooledyou || ocs and canons || requests are closed

[frankdelflno]

Surnames are just as important as given names. So, I compiled a list of the websites I use to find my surnames.

English Surnames

Dutch Surnames

Spanish Surnames

Scottish Surnames

German Surnames

Italian Surnames

Irish Surnames

French Surnames

Scandinavian Surnames

Welsh Surnames

Jewish Surnames

Surnames By Ethnicity

Most Common Surnames in the USA

Most Common Surnames in Great Britan

Most Common Surnames in Asia

[bee-earthly]

[old-manrupee]

For whoever needs these.

[dragons-arrow]

I NEED THE ITALIAN LAST NAMES SO BAD

[ebvoice-deactivated20150727]

We are like fireworks…: Surnames Master Post.

[chronophobica]

Chinese surnames

Indian surnames

Indonesian surnames

Pakistani surnames

Bengali surnames

Japanese surnames

Filipino surnames

Korean surnames

Syrian surnames

Mongolian naming and clan names

Thai surnames

Asia is not a single country.

[beameized]

“Asia is not a single country.”

[thefloatingstone]

[horrjfied]

fuck all romance except whatever those dudes from shameless got going on

[anthonycrowleymoved]

concept: leather jacket that says ‘UNIONIZE HELL’ on the back

[rated-r-for-grantaire]

ORPHEUS HADESTOWN?!

[mraculous]

we’ve all heard of the fake dating trope… but have u considered.. fake exes trope…..

‘my new romance-obsessed friend asked me who my last date was with and i was too embarrassed to say i’ve never been on a date so i blurted your name and it turns out they know you’ au

‘i didn’t want to tell my friend who my real date last night was so i just pointed at a random stranger (you) but now they’re storming over to interrogate you and you’re playing along??? okay’ au

‘a mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but we’re both too embarrassed to admit that so i jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend wont stop interrogating us about it’ au

‘im egging your house for a dare but your parent is a cop and they’re yelling at me so i told them that you were my ex and you wronged me and now you’re coming outside and please go along with this i don’t want to go to jail’ au

‘my current partner is a huge asshole and i need a reason to break up with them so will you pretend to be my possessive and violent ex’ au

‘we’re contestants on a reality show and we kind of hate each other so the producers told us to pretend to be warring exes for the ratings so now we keep inventing crazier and crazier things the other did while we were dating’ au

[wellntruly]

The kids have found a way to do the old ‘30s/40s comedy of remarriage without the original marriage, that’s incredible

[libraford]

“Oh I love roses! I try growing them myself, but they never get very far.”

“Would you like to know the secret to healthy rose bushes,” I asked, knowing that she would not like the answer. 

“Do tell!”

Grin. “Blood.”

The customer paused, waiting for me to say that I was kidding. But I wasn’t so it never came. She became nervous. 

And before I could explain that blood meal is a common soil fixer and fertilizer, she put her hands up, spun around and said-

“Bye.”

You want to know the secrets to a beautiful garden? You better be prepared for some weird shit. 

[traegorn]

Well someone felt like being the ominous witch in the small, mysterious shop today.

.

…also, tomatoes like blood too.

[libraford]

My interest in plants extends beyond ‘oh look a pretty flower’ and straight into ‘plants are fucking metal.’ 

Evidently, you’re supposed to plant garlic in the same places as your roses because the garlic will repel a rose-specific aphid.

So what I’m saying is that between the romantic symbolism of the rose, the bloodmeal in the soil, and the fresh garlic all over the place-

You could really set yourself up for an encounter with some VERY pissed vampires. 

[sans--seraph]

Roses really love banana skins, too. Just… stick one in there before you plant a rose bush or spronkle around one that’s already in  the ground. They’ll adore you. 

[libraford]

Mmm… blood banana. 

[fattyatomicmutant]

I made tiny ass Home Depot Petunias blossom like magic that they’re nearly overtaking the trellises.

How did I accomplish this?

Once a week I bury a small amount of leftover meat in the soil.

[libraford]

My morning glories loved the crap out of the charred chicken bones I gave them. They’re already an enthusiastic plant, but the blooms I had this year were extraordinary. 

[dranikitten]

@thebibliosphere Well, if you ever get your allergies under some semblance of more control and want to get on Demon Rose’s good side, I guess

[thebibliosphere]

They also like fish too.

[fuckingrecipes]

For anyone curious about why plants love blood and meat and bone and ash; 

When looking at fertilizer, you’ll often see 3 numbers on the package somewhere, arranged like 10-10-10 or 30-5-10. 

This is called the NPK ratio. It stands for N - Nitrogen, P - Phosphorus - K - Potassium. 

The numbers are ‘Ratio of Nutrients’ - the percentage the product contains by volume, of each element. 

NPK, and then some other elements classified as ‘micronutrients’ are what plants need to grow. High Nitrogen encourages fast plant growth, High Potassium encourages big blooms, and Phosphorus helps the plants breathe and store energy for later.  Calcium and Magnesum are two of the larger micronutrient needs. Calcium is used to make sturdy cell walls, and Magnesium is is required for photosynthesis. 

Blood and Bone and Ash all have fairly slow releases of their nutrients, so it’ll benefit the plant for a long time afterward. Meat is a bit faster release, but generally won’t burn the plants with too much nitrogen. When bone is ground up, it’s  4-12-0 - Plus a bunch of Calcium. 

When blood breaks down it offers a lot of Nitrogen. 12-0-0 - 

Wood ash breaks down into primarily Potassium. 0-0-5 

Meat aka Fish Emulsion (Aka several fish that have been put through a blender) is really high in nitrogen and is fast-release - 5-2-2

Dried Seaweed (like the kind you use for sushi) is loaded with other micro-nutrients that plants love. 

Bat guano aka poop is 10-3-1 - Very good for rapid, lush growth. 

Pretty much every greenhouse, especially if they’re leaning toward organic, will have blood and meat and bone and ash (and seaweed and animal poop lol) as a staple fertilizers. 

Conclusion: Plants are goth af. A vampire who has excess blood, bodies, and bats just laying around will have a VERY lush and healthy garden. 

[polymathwitch-blog]

Never expected to learn this but here we are haha

[ectothermal]

Banjo + jo getting back from tour

“Baby Bo - shit. Fuck.” The front door swings heavily shut behind Jo as she cuts herself off, heavy bags thudding as they hit the floor around her feet. She pushes her hair behind her ears, frustrated, as she stoops down to pick up her bags. “Baby Girl! I’m home!”

She’s exhausted: completely trained from the tour, and physically wiped from hauling gear back into her drummer’s basement for the past several hours. Her sweat soaked clothes cling to her uncomfortably, and she knows she reeks and she hasn’t brushed her hair in three days and she hasn’t taken a real, good, long shower since she first left.

But her baby girl, her Bee, rockets into the entry from the living room, every bit as tall and handsome as she ever was, grin threatening to split her weekend-stubbled face right in half, and Jolene feels renewed. Baronetta wraps strong arms around her, lifts her right up the foot she needs to get on her level. Jo hooks her sweatpants-clad legs around Bee’s hips, cups her pointed jaw between her hands.

“Hi, Mama,” says Baronetta, dark eyes soft with affection and shaded by her eyelashes.

“Hi, baby.” Jo ducks to tuck her head into her girlfriend’s neck. “Sorry. I messed up when I came in.”

“It’s okay.” Bee nudges her nose in Jo’s hair, hefting her weight to get her hands situated better under her butt. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Jo mumbles, mouth smashed against Baronetta’s pulse. “I smell like garbage.”

“Okay, like, honestly? I didn’t wanna say anything, but… you really. Really do.” Jo snorts a laugh against Bee’s skin, letting her legs down and slipping down Baronetta’s torso until her toes touch the ground.

She takes a moment to herself, to close her eyes and lean her forehead against Baronetta’s chest, to feel the steady beat of her heart. To lay her hands on either side of her familiar narrow waist, to map her out as the woman she is and will become. To really let it sink in that she’s home, now.

“’M'gonna shower, baby,” she says, after a long moment, lifting her head and tilting way back to smile up at her Amazonian baby. “Meet me in bed in 20 for a nap?”

“Oh, bitch,” Bee says, heaving a joking-yet-absolutely-typical fond, dramatic sigh, “I’m there.”

i finally wrote them are u proud of me son

oc roleplay ship: jo belongs to me, baronetta belongs to stef.

send me a prompt!

[ectothermal]

“open your mouth.”

“bro, wait -”

“i said open your fuckin’ mouth, dave.” bro’s fingers are fast and opportunistic, slipping back between dave’s teeth when he opens up to talk, forcing his jaw wide like he’s forcing a stubborn cat to swallow a pill. he holds his son there, admiring the way his thick fingers pull the corner of dave’s mouth way back, the way pretty pink lips pull over his gums to bare teeth, the sharp frustrated glare that bro can just barely see behind dave’s shades. his grin is sideways and sharp as he works his pants open with his free hand, pulling his soft cock out from the vee of his fly. dave shifts forward, assuming what’s expected of him, and bro presses his fingers further into the back of his mouth until he gags, places a heavy foot on a skinny thigh to force him back down.

“did i tell you to do anythin’ besides open your mouth? come on, i know you’re not fuckin’ stupid.”

“fugh ough.”

vitriol drips from dave’s glare and mangled words the same way drool drips from his round bottom lip to paint a pretty wet spot down the front of his shirt; it makes bro laugh, mocking and fond in equal measure.

“shut up, dave.”

he can still feel tension pull through the lean muscle under the sole of his shoe, can feel dave’s jaw straining to not chomp right down on his father’s fingers, can feel spit soaking his glove.

bro is a patient man, capable of biding his time, but he doesn’t like wasting it - so he doesn’t waste any time taking aim, shoulders sagging as he starts to relax. dave’s defiant expression shifts to disgusted recognition as the stream starts to splash against his face and glasses, thick drops rolling down the lenses and onto his cheeks, rivulets running from his nose into his mouth. he jerks back, hands reaching to shove at bro’s thighs, head turning to try to escape, to loosen his dad’s grip, but bro only bears down on him, foot digging painful into his thigh, fingers wrenching his head back and mouth wide until piss splashes right off his tongue, filling his mouth and spilling down his chin with his refusal to swallow.

it’s not long before bro finishes, tucking himself back into his pants; he withdraws his fingers from dave’s mouth only to force it shut, one hand clamping over his mouth and the other rubbing up and down dave’s throat until he can’t fight the reflex anymore.

he swallows.

bro steps back, eyes roaming over dave; head bowed and soaked, even the tips of his hair wet and gathered into points where they hang in front of his face. he drips from his nose and gasping mouth onto the floor, a small puddle formed underneath him from what his clothes couldn’t soak up in time. his shirt clings to him, positively see-through, the cooling dampness pulling small nipples into peaks underneath the fabric. similarly, the soaked denim of his jeans stretches taut over his lap, doing absolutely nothing to hide the strain of his cock growing hard in its confines. bro’s mouth pulls into a cruel smirk - no matter what he does to dave, or how much the kid protests, his body always tells the truth. bro could do anything he wanted to dave, and dave would take it.

because after everything, dave is a little freak.

like father, like son.

bro turns away from the display in front of him.

“clean that shit up.”.

[dateamonster]

original theory: succubi are always women, incubi are always men 

facts: in fact succubus comes from the latin word “succubare” which means “to lie under” and incubus comes from the latin word “incubare” which means “to lie on”

new improved theory: incubi are always tops and succubi are always bottoms. gender doesn’t matter at all.

[aimofdestiny]

addendum: if the sex demon in question is versatile, they’re a concubus, from the latin for ‘to lie with/beside’.

[fasdkljfaaflksdfhj]

A BDSMber Playlist?!

That’s right, that’s right! @holdyourthroat and i spent hours and hours making a sexy jams playlist to write sexy fic to. and now! we’re sharing it with you:

👀👅🍆🍑

it’s on my girlfriend’s youtube because she and i share.

ENJOY!

[fasdkljfaaflksdfhj]

BDSMber Day 4: Praise

Duke Crocker (Haven)/Sam Winchester (Supernatural). High school/youngest Winchester!Stiles Stilinski/trans woman!Sam Winchester AU. For @transsammywinchester . Song in title, as always.

Girls Your Age (2693 words holy shit) [Part I of Outside Trailer Walls]

Duke Crocker and Sam Winchester are neighbors. They live in the same trailer park, the distance between their front doors is about thirty feet, and the Winchesters have lived across the dirt alley long enough that Duke knows that Mr. Winchester and his oldest son are gone at least as often as they’re home. Duke knows that the youngest Winchester piles into the same black BMW that the Parrish boy does as soon as they leave.

Duke knows that these things leave Sam as alone as he is.

Duke’s not surprised to find that Sam is on his stoop when he gets back from his shift on old man Poindexter’s boat. The Impala is gone and the tire tracks have been mostly blown from the dirt by the wind, or replaced by the tread of the BMW’s tires. He would have been more surprised if Sam wasn’t over.

“Hey, Sam,” Duke says, unlocking the door so Sam can duck under his arm and scurry inside, drop himself on the couch. It’s possible, Duke notes as Sam brushes past, that he smells like fish, but he can’t really tell anymore. Poindexter’s boat is good practice for when he gets one of his own, but the fishing part is extraneous. Duke thinks it’s nasty, but no one else will hire him. He lets the screen door shut behind him and doesn’t bother with the other. It’s summer and the airco is broken and he doesn’t have the money to fix it. He kicks his boots off next to the door. “What’s up? Can I get you a beer, or something?”

Sam nods, motions jerky. His lips are pursed, jaw tight. “A beer-a beer would be nice. Would be good.” He swallows. He’s more nervous than Duke has seen him since the first time Sam asked if they could kiss. His hands weren’t shaking then.

Duke walks into the kitchen and gets two beers. He breaks out the Landshark because Sam looks like he could use a brew that’s easy to stomach, and, anyway, it’s about time for his mom to come by and take the monthly welfare check, not to mention anything else she can get her hands on. He comes back, sticking the top between his back teeth to pop the cap off on the way, spitting it in the general direction of the TV. He hands the beer to Sam.

Weakly, Sam says, “Thanks,” and takes it.

“No problem, Buddy,” Duke says. He takes his plaid overshirt off and uses it to pat sweat from his neck. He sits on the table and opens his own beer. “So,” he says. “What’s on your mind?”

Sam immediately takes a big sip of his beer. For courage, Duke muses. Sam runs his hand over his mouth. “Listen, Duke,” he says. “I’m,” he laughs. “I haven’t even told Dean what I’m about to tell you, so. If you don’t mind.” Duke mimes zipping his lips, locking them, throwing away the key. “Sealed up tight, so no worries.” Sam gives Duke an unsteady half smile. “Thanks.” He rolls the beer bottle between his palms like stubborn clay. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while, for hours, actually. I think I ought to just come out with it.”

Duke laughs a little, eyebrows raised. “Sam Winchester, are you breaking up with me?” he jokes.

“I’m trans,” Sam says, looking up at Duke. “I mean, I’m a girl. I mean, I’m a trans girl.” He casts his eyes to the side, darting them back to Duke to evaluate his reaction every two seconds.

It takes two blinks to catch up, his brain bringing up incongruent pictures of Nathan in his mind’s eye, which he knows is wrong. He’s seen Sam’s cock. Once he processes the full confession, he realizes that what Sam is talking about is the parallel-opposite problem to the one Nathan has. So Duke nods, lets his mental portrait of Sam adjust to this new information, and proceeds. “Okay,” he says.

Sam looks at him like he’s just said something bizarre, unexpected, offensive, or some mixture of the three. His--no, her eyebrows are mostly flat, the thumb shaped wrinkle between her eyebrows just starting to appear. She’s only squinting at him a little. “Okay?” she asks, incredulous.

In the back of his head, Duke wonders if he always gets this reaction from queer friends and partners because it doesn’t phase him at all, or because he seems like the intolerant hick type. He hopes to God it’s not the latter. “Yeah,” Duke says. “Okay.” He raises his eyebrows at Sam. “What am I gonna do? Throw things? Kick you out of my house?”

Sam shrugs, lips pulled into a grimace.

He purses his lips at Sam, furrowing his eyebrows. “No,” Duke says. “No, what the fuck? I’m not gonna do that. You’re a girl, that’s your truth, and it’s damn brave to even admit it to yourself, especially considering where we live, and how the people in this park tend to talk.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise again, hopeful. “Do you really think so?” “Damn, Sam,” Duke says. “We all know I’m a liar, but I thought you knew me better than that.”

Sam falls forward on her knees in her haste to get up. She leans forward between Duke’s legs and wrap her arms around his waist, tight. “Thank you,” she whispers, voice thick.

Duke pets her hair softly, her relief choking him. It makes him sad. It makes him so angry his veins could blister. Sam hasn’t been anything short of lovely since he met her, and she’s been living with all of this pain and anxiety and fear coiled up in her belly like a noose waiting to be used. He puts his beer down and leans around her, holding her shoulders, a shield between her and her home. He understands why she hasn’t told anyone yet. Dean sometimes sounds more like John than John does, and you don’t have to live thirty feet away to know how he feels about things that fall outside of his masculine, toxically nuclear way of thinking.

Duke has previously been glad that John doesn’t have any daughters, and now Duke is very, very afraid.

He pulls back to look at Sam. He’s given pause by the tears on her cheeks. He wipes them away with his thumbs and leans down to give her a soft kiss on the mouth. He holds his face in her hands as he looks down at her. “Listen, Sam,” Duke says, voice soft. “If you need anything, anything at all. Don’t hesitate to ask me. Say okay.”

Sam nods as well as she can with her face in Duke’s hands. “Okay,” she whispers.

Duke kisses her forehead. “Get up off the floor. We both know it’s bad for kneeling.” He winks, and Sam lets out a dumb, wet little laugh. He helps her back onto the couch and goes to the master bedroom. He pulls an envelope out of the shoebox under the bed and dumps the contents into his hand. He replaces the box and goes back to the living room, sits back on the table.

He holds the key up for Sam to see. “This is the spare key to the trailer,” Duke says. “If you need inside for any reason, use it. It’s not a whole lot better than your room, but it’s outside those walls.” He takes Sam’s hand and folds the key into it.

“Duke,” Sam says softly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” Duke insists, and he does. He wants Sam to be safe. Getting naked together aside, them even being friends, neighbors, classmates, aside, she deserves to be safe. Everyone deserves to be safe.

Sam pulls her hand from his grip and looks at the key. It’s a simple, barely shiny spare made by the local hardware store years and years ago. She tucks it back into her palm and then brings her other hand to Duke’s neck, pulling him in for another kiss. And another. And another. “Duke,” she whispers, “take me to bed.”

Duke, bone tired but eighteen, doesn’t have to be told twice.

“I stink,” Duke says, taking off his shirt as he follows her to his bedroom. “Probably.”

“Definitely,” she says with a coy smile on her lips that pops her dimples. “But, it’s okay. Trust me, I’ve smelled much worse than fish.”

Duke takes her word for it, because he doesn’t want to know what she’s smelled that was so bad that she’s willing to fuck him while he smells like this. It’s not long before his tank top is on the floor with his jeans and socks, leaving him in just his briefs and freeing him to turn his attention back to Sam.

He slides his fingers through the belt loops of her jeans and pulls her back against him, kissing her neck. He gets his hands up the front of her t-shirt, pushes it up until she takes it from him. He steps away while she pulls it over her head, and he walks around to her front, sliding his hands over her stomach until he reaches denim. He pops the button on jeans as she tosses her shirt away, and pulls her pants down her legs until he’s crouched in front of her. She slides a hand through his hair. He kisses the head of her cock through her briefs and then trails them up until he gets back to her neck. Duke cups her neck in his hands as she finishes the job, stepping out of her jeans and kicking them away, and he pulls her in, kissing her on the mouth. It’s a matter of steps backward until he gently pushes her down on his bed and rids her of her underwear, too. She retaliates in kind, long arms snaking out to snag his and pull them down. She gives him a firm smack on the ass and smiles, satisfied with herself.

Duke kneels between Sam’s legs and palms her cock. She inhales sharply, pushing her hips against him. Duke grins, stupid. “Baby Girl,” he says, “you’re gorgeous.”

Sam flushes a delightful pink down to her collarbone. Duke leans over and presses a kiss to it. She bats at him. “Duke,” she says. “Shut up and fuck me.”

Duke swallows. “I can do the latter,” he promises. He leans over and pulls a condom and lube out of the plastic top drawer of his ‘nightstand.’ He rips the condom wrapper open for later and pops open the cap of the lube, pouring some into his hand. He coats his fingers as well as he can and starts to slip one inside of her. She inhales pretty again, fisting a hand in his dingy blanket. “That’s it,” he whispers. He works her open, adding another finger when she makes an impatient noise. “What a good girl.”

Sam whines, high, and Duke doesn’t know if he’s ever been more turned on in his life. She presses her free hand to her face and says, “Shh!”

Duke hums, continuing to fuck her with his fingers. “Sam, baby,” he says. “If you really don’t like it, I’ll stop.”

Sam immediately grabs his wrist, making a soft little noise of frustration. “What am I?” she whispers, propping herself up on her elbow. Duke smiles, slow and wide. “My perfect baby girl?” He watches Sam swallow. She says, “Hurry up, Duke. I want you inside of me.”

“Now that,” Duke says, voice rough with arousal, “was just unfair, Baby Girl.” Duke slides another finger inside of her, and maybe is a little sloppy with the final preparation, but he’s so hard he thinks he might actually die if they don’t get on with it.

When he can’t take it anymore, Duke gently pulls his fingers out of her. He grabs the condom and slips it on, lubes himself up and slips inside of her, slow, until he bottoms out. He groans, low in his throat as Sam keens prettily underneath him. “Christ, Baby Girl,” he manages. “Do you know that you always feel like heaven?”

“Oh, God, Duke,” she whimpers. “Move, please. Jesus.”

Duke kisses her once, lightly, and then pulls out and presses back in, the downbeat of the rhythm he’s been fucking Sam to for months. He pulls one of Sam’s thighs over the curve of his hip and holds it there. She whimpers his name so sweet that if he didn’t know any better, he’d say he imagined it.

Sam fists one of her hands in his hair and holds tight as the tempo builds. She screws her eyes shut and Duke doesn’t know when the last time he saw a girl looking so pretty was. He skims his mouth over her neck, and as always, he’s careful not to leave marks with his teeth that another Winchester could see. That doesn’t stop him from sinking his teeth in, just hard enough to make her catch her breath.

Duke kisses her behind the ear. “That’s right,” he says. “Keep singing for me, Beautiful.” And, God, she does, crooning like an angel because there’s no one to hide it from here. They’re all alone, together, and it’s the closest thing to bliss they’ve ever felt.

Sam pulls his hair with enough force to drag him from her ear as he grazes her prostate. It forces a short, filthy series of curse words from his mouth and he feels his cock twitch inside of Sam. It’s almost a shame when she lets go, but she cups her palm around his tricep. She opens her eyes again and they’re dark, pupils blown. “Duke,” she says. “Duke, please, I’m so close.” She’s desperate, and it sets him on fire.

He lets go of her thigh and reaches up to stroke her cock in time with the rhythm in his head. “Are you gonna come pretty for me, Baby Girl?” he asks softly. “Are you gonna spoil me like I’ve spoiled you?”

“Yes!” she promises. There are tears beaded in her eyelashes. Her voice quivers. “Yes, yes, yes, I’ll come so pretty for you that you never forget it.”

Duke is convinced that he died at work today and none of this is real. “Good girl,” he says, with some semblance of composure. “Then you can come for me.”

She digs her nails in, coming over his hand. She moans long and loud, and if there was anyone in her trailer, they’d definitely hear it. He fucks her through it, watching her writhe and arch. It’s breathtaking, the way it’s been since he saw it the first time. And, she’s right. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to forget the way her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks, or the way her hummingbird pulse beats in her neck, or the way a sheen of sweat sparkles up from the hollow of her neck like a jewel.

Sam looks up at him, still taking heaving breaths. She takes his hand from around her cock and maintains eye contact as she licks her come from his hand, and that’s what does it. His rhythm stutters like a scratched record as he comes, eyes locked on her tongue on his hand. He crumples his sheets in his other hand. “Oh,” he whispers, “my God, Baby Girl.” He feels hot and cold and numb.

She sticks his finger in her mouth to finish cleaning it and pulls it out with an obscene pop. She smiles at him, that same infuriating, wonderful coy smile from before. “Was I good?” She lets him have his hand back.

“The best,” he promises. “The best girl I’ve ever had.” She preens, and he pulls out of her. He ties off the condom and tosses it at the trashcan. He falls forward, half on top of her and says, “Fuck.”

Sam laughs. “I agree.” She brushes his hair behind his ear. “Is it alright if I spend the night?”

“Sam. Baby,” Duke says. “I gave you a key. You can spend as many nights as you want.”

[fasdkljfaaflksdfhj]

BDSMber Day 3: Safe Word

January Anderson/Duke Montavon (ocs). For @transsammywinchester . Duke is mine, Jan belongs to him. Song in title.

Lydia (1434 words) [Part I of Graphic Artists Do It Better]

When Duke gave Jan the pacifier, it wasn’t because he had an ulterior motive. Baronetta didn’t want it, and he was hard pressed to find another person who’d be delighted in a gift like that. It was a very soft purple with a crown on it, and sitting next to Jan and sketching them the following morning, Duke had realized that Jan was just the type of perfect, sweet baby to like that kind of thing. Remembered them mentioning something to the same point.

The solution appeared, simple and easy. He exchanged one unopened pacifier for another, this one with Winnie the Pooh on it, and to Jan the pacifier had gone.

Duke was an artist, so Duke had always known Jan was beautiful, sculpted by the hands of God herself, maybe. You didn’t draw someone every morning five days a week without knowing every part of their pretty little face. And so, the joy so powerful it brought tears to his Jan’s eyes, and the declaration of love that followed receiving the pacifier, combined with this heightened awareness of features and habits, had turned the fond feelings Duke had for Jan into a complicated mess in his chest.

Okay, that was fine, that wasn’t a big deal. This happened to him more than he cared to admit--Baronetta, Evie, Rory, that handsome detective, and now Jan. Which is to say, he was always falling in love with people he’d never come first for.

And that was okay with him. He excelled at second fiddle, actually, thank you. ‘Unconditional’ was a hard promise to live up to for most men. Duke found it to be as easy as as anything else. He put his pants on. He made his eggs. He did his art. He loved his friends.

Duke had assumed that would be the end of it. They’d continue to flirt over their tablets, and then Jan would visit Daire after hours for ‘School,’ and then Jan would go home to Storm. Duke would go back to the increasingly empty apartment he shared with somewhere around, say, maybe ten or fifteen Kelleys, make dinner like everyone would be home, and draw on the balcony until he ran out of cigarettes or steam, whichever came first. This was all okay. Rory and the twins were usually home for breakfast, or, at the very least, an emergency quickchange twenty minutes before they all had to leave for work. He only very rarely had to hire a lyft to take him. Besides, when the house was full, when all fifteen Kelleys showed up in rare form, loud and irreverent, it was enough to make him forget the way loneliness had nested in his chest just hours before.

Storm takes him by surprise on a Saturday morning. He tells Duke that Jan is sitting on the floor in their living room watching reruns of My Life as a Teenage Robot and Danny Phantom and eating Lucky Charms, and that they need to talk to him.

Duke understands that this an important moment, having lived the last fifteen years at the whim of three babies of a similar disposition, and so tells Rory that he’ll be home later, and kisses him on the forehead. He lets Storm take him to their house, which is huge and beautiful.

They walk in and Duke finds Jan exactly where Storm said they’d be. They’re wearing a long, soft-looking skirt the dreamy pink of cotton candy and a cloudy black t-shirt that was possibly purchased as a crop top for Storm, but hung loose and a little long on Jan’s matchstick frame, held back with a hair tie so it seemed truer to their size, only the sleeves free enough to give them away. It says HARD CANDY in rainbow letters on the front and Duke tries to remember how much money he has in his pockets because if he doesn’t try to buy it off of Jan for Baronetta, she can never know it exists. Their hair is braided, fishtail, over their shoulder, and their feet are bare.

All this to say that Jan sitting in the middle of the living room with their legs tucked to the side and a bowl of Lucky Charms in their lap makes Duke feel like he accidentally swallowed his bubblegum, at once alive with the thrill of it and uncomfortably breathless.

“Oh!” Jan says, finally. They set the bowl on the floor. “Hi, Duke.” Duke smiles at them. “Hi, Honeybee.” A smile opens up Jan’s face, lets light shine out. “Buzz, buzz!” Storm smiles and sees himself to the backyard, where coconut rum and warm sun are waiting for him. American delicacies.

“What can I do you for?” Duke asks softly, sticking his hands in his pockets. Jan folds their hands and rests their chin on them. “I thought we could have a playdate,” they say. “If that’s okay with you.”

God, Duke thinks, is not as merciful as he’d hoped. To Jan, he says, “Of course that’s okay with me. What did you have in mind?”

Four hours later, Duke has eyeshadow on and is in the middle of sketching The Darling Honeybee with crayons he’s sharpened half to death. He’s testing about fourteen shades of pink on a stray piece of paper to find the perfect shade of pink for Jan’s mouth when they say, “Hey, Duke?” in a soft, hesitant voice. Duke looks up immediately. “Yes, Baby?” “I’ve been thinkin’ about this for a long time, and I was just wonderin’.”  They bite their pretty bottom lip. “Do you like me?” “Yes,” Duke says. “I like you very much.” “I mean. Do you like me the way you like Rory? The way Mr. Hughes likes me?”

Duke feels caught. “Would that be okay with you?”

“Yes!” Jan says immediately. They dial it back a bit. “I mean. If you do, we can have more playdates. Funner ones.” They rock forward on their knees, fisting a hand in their skirt. “You’re a lot of canvas to paint, and I bet you’d make me look so pretty. And,” they shrug a shoulder quickly, “you know. Other nakey stuff.”

Duke swallows. “And is that okay with Mr. Hughes?”

Jan nods. “I asked ‘im. Mr. Hughes said he’d talk to you about sharing.”

“Oh,” Duke says. And suddenly all of those weird little comments that Duke had chalked up to Daire being a lot Irish and a little drunk a lot of the time (“Thank ye for that overnightin’ checklist, mate, I owe ye one,” “I dunno what ye do when yer together, but the kid won’t stop talkin’ about ye,” “In case no one told ye, their bedtime is midnight,”) started to make sense. “Right. Yes. He did. He did do that.” “And you want to?” Duke runs a hand over his jaw. “Yes. Yeah, I do, definitely.” Jan beams at him again. They launch themselves the five feet between them and wraps their long arms around Duke. “I’m so happy,” they say into Duke’s shoulder.

Duke melts a little, wrapping his arms around Jan and holding them close. “Me too, Honeybee.”

“So,” Jan says, leaning back in Duke’s arms just far enough to look into his face. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Yeah,” Duke says, leaning down and tapping his nose against theirs. “You can have as many kisses as you want.” He leans down and presses his mouth to Jan’s parted bubblegum lips.

Duke kisses them thoroughly, until they’re gasping for air. Duke watches them pant lightly and sets his jaw. “Now ain’t you just bright as sunshine,” he says.

Jan shushes him gently, eyebrows half furrowed, mouth round and pouty. Duke steals another kiss off of them. They chase his lips as he pulls away.

Duke pats their butt lightly where it half hangs off of his knee. “First thing’s first,” Duke says in the voice he uses to rein the Kelleys in, soft but firm. “What’s our safe word?”

“Lydia,” Jan says half a second later. “Lydia?” Duke repeats. He doesn’t figure he should be as surprised as he is. His other safe words are ‘daddy,’ ‘undercover,’ ‘spaghetti squash,’ and ‘Charleston.’ Nothing should phase him at this point.

Jan nods. “Why would I say it if not to stop?” Duke has to give them that. “I--You’re absolutely right, Honeybee. Lydia it is.”

“Great!” they say. “Can I help you take your clothes off now?”

“Yeah. Are your paints in this room?”

Jan giggles at Duke. “No, silly.” They smile, pushing Duke’s jean jacket from his shoulders. “You know. Other nakey stuff.”

[fasdkljfaaflksdfhj]

BDSMber Day 2: Blood

Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf). Urban Fantasy AU. For @holdyourthroat . Song in title.

Desire (1718 words) [Part I of Base Instinct]

Stiles’ chapstick tastes like coffee, It’s rich and bitter and highlights the natural taste of their mouth and Ronan’s pretty sure Stiles knows that. He’s been stuck thinking about it since they locked themselves in that broom closet and had to be bailed out by the janitor, both satisfied but made spectacle.

That was three months ago.

Ronan’s convinced there’s something in that chapstick of theirs, and he’s also convinced Stiles is a witch. These two thoughts are mostly unrelated. Like, yeah, there was definitely love potion in the chapstick, whatever, but Ronan’s eyes keep finding the lower edge of the skirt of Stiles’ uniform, and that has to be a hex. He’s never even looked at a skirt before.

But, every day, he finds himself dragging Stiles this way or that way, and every day he finds himself with his nose pressed to their throat, mouth on their pulse. Below the collar, Stiles is free real estate, and Ronan is more than happy to invest.

And Ronan, who has taken years to come to terms with a crush, knows that has to be magic, too.

Ronan finds himself in his BMW on his way to the Stilinski house on November 22nd--after a Thanksgiving night consisting of him eating Chinese takeout right out of the box and drinking a whole carton of orange juice alone while Gansey eats a five-course meal with his parents in DC--because he can’t say no to Stiles, not really. Not that he wants to. And, of course, it’s the night of the full moon, This is a stupid idea, even for him. He races cars, drinks inside the town’s Catholic Church in the wee hours of the morning, and spends too much time looking at pretty, pretty boys, but, by God, this is the dumbest thing he’s ever done.

It’s the night of the full moon, and he’s going to a witch’s house. His human brain says danger, but his monster brain says it’s time to mate, and this close to the full moon, he’s almost all monster.

Ronan parks on the side of the road, and walks the rest of the way. He knocks on the door and waits, hoping he’s not at the wrong address, because that would be really embarrassing.

Stiles opens the door in a pink and black striped t-shirt and a pair of dark blue overalls that end just below their hip. Their Keds are white and it takes fifteen seconds of staring at them before Ronan’s gaze returns to Stiles’ eyes. He manages a stunted, “Well, you look nice.”

Stiles brightens visibly, and it’s enough to set Ronan’s stomach rolling over itself. They say, “Thanks! Come in!” and Ronan does. Stiles leads him up some stairs. “I know I said I wanted to bring you over so we could do like homework together, and, uh, maybe other stuff. But,we both know you don’t do the homework unless it’s in Latin, and I know I never intended to do the homework at all, unless that homework is you. Haha.” They pull a ladder down from the second floor ceiling and gesture for Ronan to climb up.

Ronan’s already here, so he says a mental fuck it and starts to climb into the attic.

“So, I guess the first thing I should say is that I’m a witch--”

“Called it.”

“--but we’re not--wait what?”

Ronan hauls himself into the attic and sits cross-legged on the floor. There are shelves of herbs and crystals, an altar, books stacked everywhere, a cauldron, mortar, pestle, vials and bottles, only some of which are full, and enough matches to set the town on fire. Part of the roof has been replaced with glass, presumably to charge crystals and potions with moonlight. The night is clear and the moon lights the whole attic in understated color. In a few minutes, Ronan might be able to read the tarot spread on the altar. He imagines that if Gansey were a witch, his... workshop? Sure, workshop, would be similar. “Called it. I could practically taste it in your chapstick.”

Stiles looks completely lost when their head peeks into the room. “I don’t.... Chapstick? There’s nothing--you know what. Never mind. We’re not here to do magic.” They make a face. “Not really. We’re here because I want to see if I’m right.”

“About?”

Stiles pulls the ladder up after them. “Go sit in the circle for me.”

The circle is painted on the floor underneath the skylights. Ronan knows that this, too, is a bad idea, but if Stiles wanted to kill him for being a werewolf, they could have done it by now. A little silver in their lipgloss or some wolfsbane behind their teeth would have killed him months ago, without the need to drag on a charade of affection any longer than strictly necessary.

Ronan sits in the circle.

Stiles comes to join him, pushing his legs down so they can straddle him. Ronan swallows, but accepts this, setting his hands on their waist. Stiles brings their mouths together and Ronan’s grip turns possessive. A shiver runs down Stiles’ spine.

This is, of course, Stiles’ ‘other stuff.’

Ronan feels feral. He turns the position on Stiles, trapping them between floor and chest, turning his body into a cage. By the way Stiles’ lips part, they don’t seem to mind. There’s a series of questioning and affirmative grunts, and then Ronan is desperate to get Stiles’ clothes off while he still has regular human fingers. He can feel his body starting to blur around the edges. The beast inside of him is roaring and wild and ready to be let out. The moon calls to him.

Stiles kicks off their shoes and helps Ronan get rid of their clothes. Ronan’s fingers fumble on Stiles’ bralette because they always fumble on Stiles’ bralette. It’s so cute that Ronan wants to destroy it, but he really shouldn’t do that, so his fingers trip and hesitate until it’s off and gone. Ronan has no such reservations about Stiles’ panties.

They reach up and slide Ronan’s leather jacket off of his shoulders. They whisper, “You, too,” as they lay the jacket on the floor and sink down onto it. It smells like forest and cologne and a little like mint, and Stiles can feel their heartbeat in their cheeks.

It takes Ronan no time to strip out of his shirt, toss his chucks into the far corner of the attic, separate denim and cotton from skin. He settles in the space Stiles makes for him between their legs and catches their lower lip between his teeth. He slides his palms up Stiles’ slender thighs, over their perfect little cock until he hears the hitch of breath that gives Stiles away as losing the little bit of control they have. Their skin is pale and creamy in the moonlight, dark hair and eyes in sharp contrast. Ronan swallows. He’s  never looked at someone and wanted to eat them before, but, God, is Stiles one hell of a snack.

Stiles looks up at him and bats their pretty, dark eyelashes. They reach up until they can cup Ronan’s neck in their hands, pressure too heavy to tickle but too light to choke. A tease. Ronan’s world narrows to doe eyes and soft voice when Stiles asks, “Do you want me, Ronan?”

His whole body tenses, animal. “Yes,” he growls, and when he closes his mouth, there’s blood on his lip. Teeth are always the first to go.

Stiles smiles that little imp smile of theirs. “Then take me,” they say, as if it’s that simple.

Ronan lines up and that’s all. He says, “You know what tonight is?”

“Yes.”

“And you know what I am?”

“Yes.”

“So you know what’s going to happen, and you want me to continue?”

“Please, for the love of God, Ronan.”

Ronan presses his mouth to Stiles’ again, careless with his teeth. He sucks the blood off of Stiles’ lip. He takes a moment to line up and slides inside of Stiles with no resistance. They’re as wet as they’ve ever been for him, maybe wetter. Ronan gets a few thrusts in, gets to suck a dark mark into the soft flesh of Stiles’ breast, before the transformation.

The clock strikes 12:39 a.m. on November 23rd.

Before 12:40, it is no longer Ronan as Stiles knows him looming over them, whose cock is inside of them. Next to Stiles’ head is a huge paw, and they look into the face of a wolf. Stiles slides their fingers into the fur under Ronan’s large head. They smile, triumphant. “Wow,” they breathe. “You’re even more handsome than I imagined.”

Ronan lets out a low, pleased bark. He nuzzles against Stiles’ chin as he pushes the larger cock as far inside of them as he’ll go. Stiles’ mouth hangs open as they pant, eyelashes fluttering. A moment later, Ronan finds his rhythm again, thrusting his cock inside of Stiles with desperation. This isn’t a game. The wolf recognizes this little witch as his mate, and so his intentions are clear.

Stiles hangs onto Ronan’s fur with both hands. They press down against Ronan’s cock as best they can, mumbling and whining things like, “Oh, that’s it,” and “Oh, God,” and “Good boy,” and “Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy!” They can feel the burn in their thighs from how wide they’re spread to accommodate Ronan. It’s all too much for them, really. They planned this moment, set the pieces in place to get here as soon as they realized what Ronan was, and still. Nothing in any of Stiles’ nasty daydreams, alone with their fingers in their mouth and an unreasonably large toy in their pussy, could have prepared them for this.

Ronan’s claws bite into the flesh of their arm, sharp and heavy. It keeps Stiles still for him. Ronan drags his nose from one of Stiles’ shoulders to the other. It’s all instinct for him now, endorphins and adrenaline and knowledge passed down his father’s DNA into him.

It happens at once: Ronan forces his knot into Stiles and bites down on the junction of their neck and shoulder.

Stiles’ back arches. The pain is as heady as the sensation of Ronan’s cock inside of them. They see stars, howl as animal as Ronan, when they reach orgasm as Ronan fills them up with come. Ronan’s jaw releases and he licks the blood as it pours from the punctures. When it’s over, Stiles is limp against the floor.

It’s an endless amount of time with their face pressed to Ronan’s fur as Ronan tends to their wounds with his tongue before Ronan’s knot slips out of them. Ronan lays in the circle half on top of Stiles, panting. He presses his nose to Stiles’ cheek.

Stiles laughs softly. “Good boy,” they say again, scratching under Ronan’s jaw. “Aren’t you glad you came over?”

[fasdkljfaaflksdfhj]

BDSMber Day 1: Bound

Crona/Ragnarok from Soul Eater. For @reaperninja . Song in title.

Flesh (698 words) [Part I of Bad Blood]

Miss Medusa brings them home in silence. It’s worse than if she had yelled the whole time. She opens the door to The Room and continues to say nothing, standing silent as she waits for them to go inside. They didn’t do a good enough job. They didn’t collect enough souls in Croatia and she knows they know it.

Crona’s whole body shivers as they walk inside. They face the wall as she closes the door behind them. She knows they know the drill: when they’re ready to do it right this time, they can come back out. The strip of light against the wall doesn’t slowly disappear until there’s only a sliver left and then vanish. The door slams and Crona is plunged into absolute darkness.

They sigh.

Ragnarok appears out of their back and takes them by the face. “Good going!” he says. “We were out! We could have eaten as many souls as we wanted!”

“Please,” Crona says through lips pursed by the force of Ragnarok’s fingers. “I don’t know what to do when you squeeze my face like this.”

Ragnarok lets go only to bring his fist down on top of Crona’s head. “And this?”

“Ragnarok!” Crona yells, throwing their skinny arms up to protect their head. “Stop it, that hurts.”

“How about this?” Ragnarok says, hooking two of his fingers in Crona’s mouth. “Since I didn’t get my fill of souls out there, I can eat you instead.”

Crona’s head follows Ragnarok’s fingers until they’re looking up into where they know, instinctively, somewhere untouchable inside of them, Ragnarok’s face to be. “I don’t know what you mea--” Crona cuts themself off as they feel the black blood over the wounds they sustained in Croatia--the wounds that forced Miss Medusa to pull them out of the country early--liquify again. The blood hardens, pulls their arms behind them, resolidifies. Their arms are secure, range of motion minimized, as if they could push out from Ragnarok in the first place. Ragnarok is their blood. How are they supposed to get away from the man that’s, quite literally, always inside of them?

Ragnarok’s breath is hot, wet, on their skin. The brush of his lips against the shell of their ear sends them into a fresh bout of shivers. Ragnarok’s voice is low, dangerous, when he says, “Do you remember now, Crona? What I mean when I say I’m going to eat you?” and it’s like tires on gravel. It’s like the crunch of glass under the flesh of a heel. It’s fear in its rawest form, pure energy, the same way being bowled over unexpectedly sets nerves alight with adrenaline.

It’s like resonating souls, vibrating with the pulse of Ragnarok’s eternal, exquisite agony.

Crona’s eyes unfocus, sightless in a way that has nothing to do with the expansive darkness of The Room. Ragnarok pulls their legs apart with his tentacles. He uses his fist to take Crona’s skirt and rip it where their hip turns into thigh and whip it blindly behind them. They whimper. He forces them down onto their knees, and attaches the tentacles around their ankles back to their wrists. Their back curves until Crona’s head is pillowed in the crook of Ragnarok’s neck.  His fingers in their mouth cause Crona to start to drool.

“Yes,” they whisper. “Yes, I remember.” Ragnarok pulls Crona’s head to one side and flicks his tongue over Crona’s jaw. Their eyelashes flutter. “Are you ready to be devoured?” Ragnarok asks. Crona feels Ragnarok stretch. They’re bound, blood and vessel. Connected, Crona’s shoulder blades to Ragnarok’s waist, his navel the anchoring point. Crona can feel everything Ragnarok even thinks about doing. Ragnarok’s abs go on and on until Crona feels Ragnarok’s pelvis at their backside, the warm head of his slick, enormous cock pressing against their pussy, crude but effective. A tentacle wraps around Crona’s little cock and gives a teasing squeeze. Of course Crona loses their breath.

They fist their hands. It’s ineffectual, but it’s all they can do. Light, airy, Crona begs, “Please, Ragnarok.”

At once, their weapon bites the vulnerable flesh of their neck hard enough to taste himself and sheathes himself inside his meister.

[fasdkljfaaflksdfhj]

BDSMber fic list

BDSMber is supposed to be November but catch ya boi making it November and December both bc he sucks at deadlines. also filling prompts out of order. i’m an outlaw. yeehaw.

link to each fic attached to ‘complete.’

List:

Bound - Crona/Ragnarok (Soul Eater) for @reaperninja - Complete

Blood - Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle) /Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) for @holdyourthroat - Complete

Safe Word - January Anderson/Duke Montavon (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Complete

Praise - Duke Crocker (Haven)/Sam Winchester (Supernatural) for @transsammywinchester - Complete

Sick - January Anderson/Duke Montavon (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete

Please - Loki Laufeyson/Thor Odinson (MCU) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Bruise - Judas Bondurant/Kevin Stockard (ocs) for @bluelilly-lillyblue - Incomplete

Mute - Baronetta Kelley/Ashley Roesall Jr. (ocs) for @rokusqsu - Incomplete

Consent - Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Aftercare - Part 1: Baronetta Kelley/Jolene York (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete Part 2: Lyra Anwyn/Baronetta Kelley (ocs) for @sleepzawa - Incomplete

Dom - Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Sub - January Anderson/Duke Montavon (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete

Breath - Crona/Ragnarok (Soul Eater) for @reaperninja - Incomplete

Masochist - Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Sadist - Eli Washington/Shiloh Waters (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete

Discipline - Duke Crocker/Mara Cross (Haven) for @sleepzawa - Incomplete

Voyeur - Baronetta Kelley/Rory Kelley/Duke Montavon for @rokusqsu - Incomplete

Hunter - Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Prey - Ronan Lynch (The Raven Cycle)/Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Sorry - January Anderson/Duke Montavon (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete

Attention - Judas Bondurant/Kevin Stockard (ocs) for @bluelilly-lillyblue

Sight - Barry Allen/Bruce Wayne (DCCU) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Blade - Duke Montavon/Kelley!Evie Wickham (ocs) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Stay - Duke Crocker (Haven)/Winchester!Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)/Sam Winchester (Supernatural) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Tears - Baronetta Kelley/Kelley!Evie Wickham (ocs) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Trust - Duke Crocker (Haven)/Sam Winchester (Supernatural) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete

Gag - Baronetta Kelley/Jolene York (ocs) for @transsammywinchester - Incomplete

Master - Barry Allen/Diana Prince (DCCU) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Slave - Larissa “Lardo” Duan/B. “Shitty” Knight (Check, Please!) for @holdyourthroat - Incomplete

Sex - Alphonse Elric/Edward Elric (Fullmetal Alchemist) for @rokusqsu - Incomplete

i don’t think it’s necessary to remind you that this is gonna be hella nsfw right? right.

general requests will reopen after i finish these.

[leicawri]

‘Tis I, a writer, togetherslapper of words.

[thewritershandbook]

List of Elemental Abilities

Air/Wind

Aerokinesis -manipulate the air, wind, and gas.

Aeroportation - teleport using air/wind currents.

Air Mimicry - transform into a cloud of gas, fog, or mist.

Atmokinesis - manipulate the weather by mixing water, fire, earth, air, and lightning/electricity.

Deoxygenation - suck up all the oxygen from a place.

Lung Adaptation - breath anywhere

Wind Generation - create blasts of air.

Divine Winds Manipulation - create and control heavenly winds.

Dark Wind Manipulation - create and control eerie winds.

Earth

Geokinesis - control, manipulate, and reshape the earth at will.

Atmokinesis - control and manipulate the weather by mixing water, fire, earth, air, and lightning/electricity.

Crystallokinesis - manipulate minerals and crystals.

Ferrokinesis… manipulate metal at will.

Fraxikinesis - manipulate burnt matter.

Geo-Thermokinesis - manipulate, control, and create lava, magma and volcanoes.

Golem Creation - make golems out of inanimate materials like rocks, wood, plants, magma, etc.

Granulation… can turn things into sand.

Halokinesis - control and manipulate salt.

Hyalokinesis - control and manipulate glass.

Koniokinesis - manipulate and control dust particles.

Plassikinesis - manipulate and control all forms of plastic.

Psammokinesis - can control and manipulate sand.

Terrakinesis - control, manipulate and alter/reshape the surrounding terrain and landscape at will.

Terraportation - teleport via the earth and earth-based materials.

Sacred Earth Manipulation - Create, manipulate, control, reshape divine earth minerals.

Black Earth Manipulation - Create, manipulate and control tainted and evil earth minerals.

Fire

Pyrokinesis - create, control and manipulate fire, flame and heat.

Atmokinesis - control and manipulate the weather by mixing water, fire, earth, air, and lightning/electricity.

Fire Breath - breathe out flames.

Geo-Thermokinesis - manipulate lava, magma and volcanoes.

Heliokinesis - manipulate and control the sun and sunlight.

Hell-Fire Manipulation - Generate and control flames of hell.

Holy Fire Manipulation - Generate and control flames of Heaven.

Inflammation - burn things.

Melting - heat molecules to melt things.

Plasmakinesis - can control plasma.

Pyrotechnics - create fireworks.

Self-Detonation - explode self and reform.

Thermokinesis - create, control and manipulate heat.

Water

Hydrokinesis - manipulate and control liquid water and mold it into any desired shape or form.

Aquatic Adaptation - adapted to underwater living.

Aquatic Respiration - breathe underwater.

Atmokinesis- control and manipulate the various aspects of the weather by mixing water, fire, earth, air, and lightning/electricity.

Dehydration - absorb water.

Hydroportation - teleport across short or long distances through liquid water.

Water Mimicry - turn into liquid water.

Holy Water Manipulation - create, manipulate and control graceful waters.

Dark Water Manipulation - create, manipulate and control evil and dangerous waters.

Darkness

Umbrakinesis - can manipulate and control darkness or shadows.

Animated Shadow - Animate one’s shadow.

Light Absorption - block out light in an area.

Night Vision - see in the dark.

Sacred Darkness - create holy darkness.

Shadow Camouflage - be unseen in shadows.

Shadow Mimicry - become a shadow.

Umbrageous Teleportation - teleport via the shadows and darkness.

Electricity/Lightning

Quintessence Force -Can generate whitish-blue lightning that also contains pure life energy.

Electrokinesis - control, generate or absorb electric fields and shoot lightning bolts.

Activation & Deactivation - turn stuff on and off.

Positron Manipulation - control positrons, the antimatter counterpart to electrons.

Electrical Absorption - absorb electricity.

Electric Mimicry -transform entire body into a lightning-like being of pure electrical energy

Electrical Transportation - teleport with lightning.

Divine Lightning Manipulation - create and control the brightest lightning.

Black Lightning Manipulation - create and control the darkest lightning.

Energy

Dynamokinesis - manipulate existing energy.

Energy Blast - create blasts of energy.

Energy Emission - release energy.

Quintessence Force - create and manipulate unique form of electrical and life energy.

Mana Manipulation

Chi Manipulation

Electricity Manipulation

Energy Manipulation

Ice

Cryokinesis - control ice, snow and other forms of frozen water.

Freeze Breath - freeze things in solid ice.

Freezing - lower the temperature in kinetic atoms to freezing temperatures.

Frigokinesis - control snow either as precipitation or already on the ground.

Ice Beam - shoot beams of freezing energy.

Ice Generation

Light

Dark Light Manipulation - create the darkest light in existence.

White Light Manipulation- create sacred light from the divine.

Photokinesis - create and manipulate pure light.

Force-Field Generation - create protective shields of solid photons.

Invisibility - be unseen.

Laser Emission - bend light wavelengths to create lasers.

Light Absorption -absorb the light around you.

Light Generation - emit blinding light or glow in the dark.

Light Mimicry - take on the traits of light.

Photoportation - Teleport by using photons.

Projective Invisibility - turn other things invisible.

Evil Banish - Rid and banish all spirits of evil and black magic.

Light Manipulation

Weather

Atmokinesis - manipulate the various aspects of the weather by using water, fire, earth, air, and lightning/electricity.

Atmokinetic Resistance - immunity to all weather-based abilities and effects.

Atmokinetic Sensing - sense the future weather patterns.

Other

Aether Manipulation

Cosmic Manipulation

Gravity Manipulation

Nether Manipulation

Space-Time Manipulation

From Superpower Wikia. See their complete list of superpowers HERE.

[nightskywriter]

This is perfect! Thank you OP! :D