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▶ BLANKET CW: alcohol; BDSM; body modification; competition; costumes; dubcon; group sex; petplay; public sex; punishment; sex toys; stripping; supernatural; transformation
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Theft is low-risk when you can turn invisible. It takes Dodger about as long to get his heist done as it would to just leave the ryokan, especially since he teleports to get past the front desk. And sure, it means he didn't give himself time to grab his more comfortable clothes, but that just leaves them both on equal footing.
Dodger appears with another burst of sparks in front of Sand, and offers him a bottle of awamori.
"Here - no clue what this is, but the ABV's above 35, that's all I need." He tips his head. "Let's take a walk, we'll see where we end up."
It's probably going to be an hour of wandering that ends in a Mating Season pod, knowing Dodger.
Sand will take the bottle and read it before turning it to show the label.
"Awamori. Traditionally consumed in the Okinawan prefecture of Japan, though they've switched to mostly using rice from Thailand." He smiles ruefully at the bottle. "Shame I left my kara-kara at home." But he heard Dodger loud and clear. "This bottle looks like it's about 80 proof so that should serve for you."
Not gonna do shit for him, but what else is new? He likes to experience things. That's what it's for. And on the principle.
"Any particular destination we're heading for?" A pause. "I heard there's a hookah lounge?" One of his vices, surprisingly.
Dodger rolls his eyes while Sand is explaining it - he is listening, it's interesting, but he does want to sell the idea of being too cool to care about this. Sometimes nerds have to over-correct.
"It's booze. It's strong enough to work on me. That's what matters."
And he's about to waffle about their destination, but... ugh, the hookah lounge. Dodger tenses a bit, and his smile gets strained. Rather than going straight for his own bottle, he pauses to pull out his cigarettes and light a new one. Snapping his fingers to light their tips on fire, and holding that up to the tip.
"Not the Smoked Egg. Smells god-awful in there. Why don't we swing by the shopping center? I'll get you something to wear that isn't... that... and you can pay me back after."
He raises an eyebrow, but he nods and agrees by gesturing for Dodger to lead the way.
"I'm good with this, but I don't mind knowing where the shopping area is. Not sure I'm going to have much to spend any time soon, but still, good to know."
"Not with that attitude." Dodger shrugs. "But visit me a couple times and we'll raise enough chips to more than make up for it."
He probably won't actually spend enough money to need multiple payouts. He just wants them.
Regardless, though, he takes off in a direction while he's working on getting his awamori open.
"And no, not really. More of a jeans and bomber jacket kinda guy. This feels like wearing a dress." Which is a fate worse than death, but he's managing it just to not having to fight the staff.
"I bruise your ego, hotshot?" He asks with a good-natured smile. Then he shakes his head but he doesn't touch him. He just dips towards him. "Come on, Dodger. You're attractive, to be sure. And I'm here, aren't I?"
It's kind of the only thing he seems to have going for him, a lot of the time. And Dodger has a lot of mixed feelings about that fact, even if he'd like to behave like the only thing he cares about is sex anyway.
But... hm. Dodger glances over at him, mulling that over. He doesn't mind virgins, they're... fun, and frustrating, just different. And, y'know, you can't have a thing for teenagers if you're not willing to be the first guiding hand.
"93, come September," he says as they keep walking, like he just mentioned his favorite color (purple), "though there was about fifty years where I was frozen that I wouldn't really count."
"I do care." He answers, deadpan. "I'm planning to fuck you, I figure it's good to know if anything's going to affect that."
He'd be hard-pressed to say he cares about anything going on with Sand past that. But he doesn't not care either. He's in that... nebulous stage, interesting enough that Dodger wants him to stick around but new enough that he's sure he'll move on if this date goes badly. Or if Sand doesn't end up sticking around to get a proper card rank.
"The equipment is in perfect working order," is his answer, because that's what Dodger is concerned with. "And my form is perfectly stable. You're not going to stick your junk in a sand dune. Promise."
It's an answer to the most basic concern. But he's just... incredibly bemused that Sand's story still leaves about forty years to never score. Dodger has been a sex addict for a little longer than his entire adult life, he just can't wrap his head around it.
"I was in an accident," he answers, eyes forward, "with an experimental weapon. It activated my meta gene. My form expanded and couldn't keep together and I looked like a monster even though I was still me. I didn't know how to communicate and everything hurt, but people don't assume giant sand monsters growling and smashing things are really teenage boys screaming in pain so they froze me and put me in the Velvet Cage."
Dodger's expression softens a bit. Yeah. He's never been in the situation himself, but he's seen things like it often enough.
"Your world doesn't have anything to force mutations back, huh."
He takes a long gulp from his bottle - drinking about a fourth of it at once, as if it's water.
"I've helped with clean-up on a few uh... similar situations. Usually the police come in and force a power suppression collar on the perpetrator. Not sure they'd be able to find your neck, though." Another, smaller sip. "My crew tries to get in before they do, figure something out that doesn't involve a paper trail. Anything to keep people off the mutant registry."
"There's no reversing it, no," he says with a soft huff. "Though he thought he had for a while. Wes. My mentor."
He glances over.
"Where I'm from, metahumans and the like aren't discriminated against but they are sometimes targeted by organizations that want to use the more powerful abilities for their own ends. The JSA's main mission is to give them family, elders to turn to, and to let those older members pass on what they know to the next generation."
Ah. Well, that's... more disappointing than he wants it to be. He'd sort of been hoping that this was leading toward a revelation that metahumans are also an oppressed class.
Granted, even Scott's version of their world isn't a bleak as Dodger's. He's very keenly aware of how much worse he has it than every other superhuman here.
"Sounds... aspirational."
Maybe best not to mention that the Atlas Corporation, the organization Dodger is attached to, is also very much seeking out powerful mutants for their own ends - good ends, as far as Dodger's concerned, but not quite as altruistic as what JSA seems to be doing. Best not to lie about it either, Sand seems too bright for his own good.
Dodger wavers a bit, very... aware, of the fact that he has nothing to contribute without giving something away. But maybe just going quiet is giving something away too. Hm.
He takes another drink.
"You'd think doing good work like that would get you laid at least once."
"I have work," he says with a shrug. "Some of it's in the day, some of it's at night." He keeps walking. "None of it's really 'mundane'. I'm not an accountant or a doctor or anything. But most of what I do isn't what you'd call 'hero' work anyway. I don't go after supervillains or masked criminals most of the time."
"Fair enough." He shrugs. "We don't really have traditional 'heroes' in my world. Power usage is pretty much criminalized, so... 'heroes' are criminals, just like- any other mutant."
Just like me. He knows better than to say that, but he's not a particularly good liar at the best of times.
"Vigilante work is actually criminalized, too. Sometime in the late 80's, the government rounded up all the old superheroes and either killed them or put them in jail for life. It's easier to just... hide your powers and keep your head down, than deal with the cops."
Whether Sand buys it or not is anyone's guess. He doesn't seem to indicate he picked up anything else.
"They tried something like that in the 50s, McCarthy and his lot." And Sand sounds similarly dismissive. "One of our members told him where to stuff it, but while it broke up the JSA, and a few people hung up their capes, most of them just kept working in their own way." Wry. "Vigilantism is always illegal. But not all of them have powers. My mentor, what abilities he had were just to tell him where to look. But he didn't have anything like you or I."
Dodger nods along - his knowledge of history largely begins and ends with music and vintage fashion, and he's never really been interested in politics past his current predicament (or what was current, before he came here, it's no longer really his problem). So he files this information away, but figures it won't be terribly important.
"Humans are scared of what they don't understand, in every reality." He shrugs. "But, we don't have to worry about that here. No one really cares if you use your powers here - some people think it's hot, actually. Not sure what you could do with sand, though."
Dodger's eyes light up at the sight of that lava. There's no hiding his reaction - his gaze is locked onto Sand's fingers, and he licks his lips without noticing himself doing so.
"Do you think you could burn me with that?"
There's a limit his own fire resistance, even if he's only met a few people here that can manage it and none at home. And with how many wires are crossed in Dodger's brain between pleasure and pain, he can't help wanting to seek out more of that feeling.
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peacockstop2026-01-15 09:00 pm
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Dodger appears with another burst of sparks in front of Sand, and offers him a bottle of awamori.
"Here - no clue what this is, but the ABV's above 35, that's all I need." He tips his head. "Let's take a walk, we'll see where we end up."
It's probably going to be an hour of wandering that ends in a Mating Season pod, knowing Dodger.
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"Awamori. Traditionally consumed in the Okinawan prefecture of Japan, though they've switched to mostly using rice from Thailand." He smiles ruefully at the bottle. "Shame I left my kara-kara at home." But he heard Dodger loud and clear. "This bottle looks like it's about 80 proof so that should serve for you."
Not gonna do shit for him, but what else is new? He likes to experience things. That's what it's for. And on the principle.
"Any particular destination we're heading for?" A pause. "I heard there's a hookah lounge?" One of his vices, surprisingly.
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"It's booze. It's strong enough to work on me. That's what matters."
And he's about to waffle about their destination, but... ugh, the hookah lounge. Dodger tenses a bit, and his smile gets strained. Rather than going straight for his own bottle, he pauses to pull out his cigarettes and light a new one. Snapping his fingers to light their tips on fire, and holding that up to the tip.
"Not the Smoked Egg. Smells god-awful in there. Why don't we swing by the shopping center? I'll get you something to wear that isn't... that... and you can pay me back after."
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"I'm good with this, but I don't mind knowing where the shopping area is. Not sure I'm going to have much to spend any time soon, but still, good to know."
His mood is positive enough.
"Not your style?"
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He probably won't actually spend enough money to need multiple payouts. He just wants them.
Regardless, though, he takes off in a direction while he's working on getting his awamori open.
"And no, not really. More of a jeans and bomber jacket kinda guy. This feels like wearing a dress." Which is a fate worse than death, but he's managing it just to not having to fight the staff.
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He keeps walking and his tone is wry.
"But I'm a virgin, not a kid."
cw: dodger having predator thoughts
It's kind of the only thing he seems to have going for him, a lot of the time. And Dodger has a lot of mixed feelings about that fact, even if he'd like to behave like the only thing he cares about is sex anyway.
But... hm. Dodger glances over at him, mulling that over. He doesn't mind virgins, they're... fun, and frustrating, just different. And, y'know, you can't have a thing for teenagers if you're not willing to be the first guiding hand.
"...How old are you?"
Re: cw: dodger having predator thoughts
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"And you never fucked anyone that whole time? Are you impotent or what?"
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"Do you actually care or is it just something you want to know to use?"
There's no heat to the words. It's matter of fact.
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He'd be hard-pressed to say he cares about anything going on with Sand past that. But he doesn't not care either. He's in that... nebulous stage, interesting enough that Dodger wants him to stick around but new enough that he's sure he'll move on if this date goes badly. Or if Sand doesn't end up sticking around to get a proper card rank.
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There you go.
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It's an answer to the most basic concern. But he's just... incredibly bemused that Sand's story still leaves about forty years to never score. Dodger has been a sex addict for a little longer than his entire adult life, he just can't wrap his head around it.
"So how'd you end up in cryostasis?"
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"Your world doesn't have anything to force mutations back, huh."
He takes a long gulp from his bottle - drinking about a fourth of it at once, as if it's water.
"I've helped with clean-up on a few uh... similar situations. Usually the police come in and force a power suppression collar on the perpetrator. Not sure they'd be able to find your neck, though." Another, smaller sip. "My crew tries to get in before they do, figure something out that doesn't involve a paper trail. Anything to keep people off the mutant registry."
no subject
"There's no reversing it, no," he says with a soft huff. "Though he thought he had for a while. Wes. My mentor."
He glances over.
"Where I'm from, metahumans and the like aren't discriminated against but they are sometimes targeted by organizations that want to use the more powerful abilities for their own ends. The JSA's main mission is to give them family, elders to turn to, and to let those older members pass on what they know to the next generation."
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Granted, even Scott's version of their world isn't a bleak as Dodger's. He's very keenly aware of how much worse he has it than every other superhuman here.
"Sounds... aspirational."
Maybe best not to mention that the Atlas Corporation, the organization Dodger is attached to, is also very much seeking out powerful mutants for their own ends - good ends, as far as Dodger's concerned, but not quite as altruistic as what JSA seems to be doing. Best not to lie about it either, Sand seems too bright for his own good.
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A smaller laugh, but there's always a bit of a bitter edge these days. The raccoon eyes haven't gone away, after all.
"It is. It's a hell of a thing to live up to." He shrugs. "I do the best I can."
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He takes another drink.
"You'd think doing good work like that would get you laid at least once."
Yeah he's... still stuck on that.
"Do you have a day job or just hero work?"
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Just like me. He knows better than to say that, but he's not a particularly good liar at the best of times.
"Vigilante work is actually criminalized, too. Sometime in the late 80's, the government rounded up all the old superheroes and either killed them or put them in jail for life. It's easier to just... hide your powers and keep your head down, than deal with the cops."
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"They tried something like that in the 50s, McCarthy and his lot." And Sand sounds similarly dismissive. "One of our members told him where to stuff it, but while it broke up the JSA, and a few people hung up their capes, most of them just kept working in their own way." Wry. "Vigilantism is always illegal. But not all of them have powers. My mentor, what abilities he had were just to tell him where to look. But he didn't have anything like you or I."
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"Humans are scared of what they don't understand, in every reality." He shrugs. "But, we don't have to worry about that here. No one really cares if you use your powers here - some people think it's hot, actually. Not sure what you could do with sand, though."
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"Withstand your heat for one thing, hotshot," and he'll lift up his own fingers as they start melting not into granules but molten lava.
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"Do you think you could burn me with that?"
There's a limit his own fire resistance, even if he's only met a few people here that can manage it and none at home. And with how many wires are crossed in Dodger's brain between pleasure and pain, he can't help wanting to seek out more of that feeling.
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