#long list but it’s a necessary evil

[rubywolf0201]

Ok change of plans: I plan to just farm for more Trace materials and play Cosmodyssey tomorrow, do the 2.1 Trailblaze Quest on Fridays to weekends, tackle the new Stagnant Shadow for Gallagher’s Ascension Materials and also gather farming materials for Aventurine + Jingliu as well.

[fairuzfan]

Would you rather have a president that enables a genocide? Or would you rather have a president that vilifies immigrants, promotes facism, dismantles the rights of women and minorities, emboldens white nationalists, worsens the wage gap, defunds vital services, AND enables a genocide?

It's an unfair and unreasonable question to ask. I know. Unfortunately those are our choices for president. It sucks, but it's a 2 party system. And until any change is made where a 3rd party vote is no longer equivalent to not voting at all, it's better to just vote blue for the presidential election. Not because Democrats are the "lesser evil", but because NOT having a Republican president will prevent further suffering of Americans and will lessen the risks of minorities' rights being threatened and revoked.

The president chooses the members of the supreme court who hold lifelong positions and whose legal decisions have decades-long ramifications. Trump picked 3 of the 11 current members who currently hold a Republican majority. It was that supreme court that overturned Roe V Wade and that decision is harming thousands of people today in multiple states.

Biden already nominated one SCOTUS, and in his next term he could appoint 1-2 more Democratic members who would work to protect rather than erode American rights.

The Trump administration was lethal for thousands of Americans for a multitude of reasons, including his failure to properly respond to and then proceeded to politicize the COVID-19 pandemic.

As awful as it sounds, as hard as it is to believe in the moment, ESPECIALLY with the atrocities Biden is perpetuating in Palestine right now, don't believe for a moment that this genocide would be even slightly less cruel under Trump. The difference is Trump's cruelties would extend to Americans as well— especially immigrants.

The point I'm making is the only ethical choice for this election is to vote for Biden, but at the same time that vote is not the same as condoning his actions. Don't let voting be the end all for political action, and I hope you understand why this choice is necessary in an unfair voting system. Please participate in your local elections, Call your representatives. Continue demanding a permanent ceasefire and an end of Israel's occupation over Palestine. And please keep helping Palestinians.

I think it's quite wild to say people domestically haven't been dying under Biden. Hundreds of thousands disabled people have died during the Biden presidency due to covid. I myself only got covid because people around my family stopped masking. Even some of my family members stopped masking because of the CDC thing. There have been countless other things that I'm too tired to list as well that directly contributed to the death of people.

I'm sorry I don't know why you sent this I'm not going to change my mind. I'm not voting for the man that killed people I know and lied to our faces about it.

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE BATFAM x MAKIMA! READER CONCEPT PROPOSAL

is something that i wanted to write for a long ass time now but never really got a full concept for until now so here’s like a bulleted list for the idea and why you should totally like and reblog this so i get the motivation to write a full fic

tw/cw: spoilers for chainsawman manga, yandere themes, violence. this fic assumes you know what makima is so-

in any case, enjoy.

All of this is semi-based on the batfam x makima! headcannons i made before but going more into detail

Basically reader starts off as Batman’s parallel. Less of a nemesis than Joker, but not completely his ally cause you’ll represent the other side of saving people. The ‘necessary evil’ one must make.

Also known as the deaths of many in order to assure a perfect world.

So while Batman’s motto is “Never Kill” yours is “Kill as much as necessary.”

Batman is essentially powerless against you, but you give him one chance. One chance to end your entire concept as a devil. Essentially ending all fear towards control.

This plan comes as Damian Wayne. You are to reincarnate and grow alongside his first born child and that child would choose your fate.

By that I mean he’s the only one who can kill you.

Literally making his ‘born to kill’ backstory even more prevalent.

I won’t spoil the ending ofc but that’s basically the gist of it, or at least the main plot mechanics.

ofc the other batboys appear as well, maybe even batgirl.

but as of now i don’t have that many plot mechanics i can throw at them but Jason Todd

I feel like he’d be a nice wrench in the mix considering he thought Batman’s policy fucked him over.

In any case, any suggestions, additions, changes and improvements are welcomed.

Let’s hope this blows up so I can write a full on fic or something.

OH! And we can also make an alternate version where Batfam aint Yandere if that’s what you guys prefer. Would still be pretty dark though.

[charmedreincarnation]

Hello! How are you? I am very good for now. because after trying for over a year I switched to void state last night very easily! it was an incredibly amazing experience for me. I stumbled upon your account on tumblr a few days ago, I saw a lot of people have succeeded with the method you suggested! I felt so happy for them!

Now I will tell my own success story.

I used to be so obsessed with it that I was just procrastinating and "trying" to get into the void when I had so much work to do whenever I had free time.

Throughout this process, I always thought that I would not succeed and always went back to the beginning. I was very bad with everyone around me, I was constantly fighting and exposed to violence. In short, I was experiencing hell on this earth.

Months passed and I decided to focus on my life a little bit. I tried to think positively and convince myself how easy it was for me to manifest. But there was one very important thing that I forgot, all the evil forces in this hell were coming only on me, only me.

I spent the whole of last year and the first months of this year like a living dead...

But in these last few days, I have made a decision that will radically change my life. Before, I tried every method to enter void constantly, but something was not going well every time. So I decided that it would be easier and more useful to just assume that I woke up there, rather than making dozens of efforts to enter void 2 days ago.

THE DAY I FINALLY ENTERED THE VOID CONSCIOUSLY!

I didn't listen to the subliminal, I just did a 20-minute meditation, my wish to revisit life in more detail. At the end of the meditation, I said only one affirmation: I will wake up in void tonight.

I wasn't tired and very sleepy that night (these are usually what people think is necessary for a void).I just lay on my bed in my usual position and affirmed that I would wake up in void at night. After that I already went straight to sleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night, I didn't move. The sounds were so muffled, it's like you're listening to a song through a broken earpiece, that's how I heard it. I stayed like that for a few minutes, then the sounds suddenly stopped and I felt myself being pulled into the darkness. My heart was beating so fast, so I focused on calming myself. I couldn't feel my body anymore, as if someone was separating my soul from my body and floating it in a vacuum of space. That's when I realized that I really succeeded! And I calmed down for a while and then said my affirmations. I didn't make a special list, so I said it all one by one.

My manifests:

The face and body I dreamed of down to the smallest detail

My desired name, surname(i have two names in different languages)

My dream room and house with all the items on my Pinterest board(There were almost 50K pins on the board I mentioned...)

I overhauled my father as someone else entirely. With his nationality, zodiac sign, appearance, name.(I also added that he is a person who gets along perfectly with his 4 children and his wife!)

I made my mother younger in appearance, not in age, I also wished her a happy and peaceful life in every way.

As for our financial situation, my father is an extraordinarily wealthy businessman, we own the largest house and the most luxurious car in my city. We also have 4 modern apartments and 1 huge villa in another city! It does not end with these, we also have houses in America, France, England!

I also manifested new phone and other electronic gadgets.

We are 4 siblings in the family and we all get along very well, no hurtful words and no violence!

I have a private room for my unfinished clothes in my room and a very nice bathroom adjacent to my room!

I also manifested success in the lessons: no matter how long the paragraph is, it stays in my mind only once I read it and I never forget it! I do not have a single error in all the tests I have solved.

We have a total of 4 pets including 2 cats and a puppy and a husky dog. Our garden is huge, with a big swing, a covered area to sit in in the winter, and lots of lavender flowers, white roses!

By the way, I manifested that I have lived this life from the beginning, so our house is full of memories we have accumulated with my siblings and parents since childhood, our childhood photos everywhere, emotional diaries my mother wrote when she was pregnant.

I also manifested new friends to myself: one of them is famous (keep this part private lol), I wished to meet him since childhood. Apart from her, I also have a male friend who is our family friend and my best friend who lives with us.

That's all I wanted, I left everything else to my subconscious and my last sentence before leaving the void was "I will open my eyes to the life I dreamed of".

Finally, when I came out of the void, I heard my brother's voice, scolding me for turning off the air conditioner in my room and leaving it on until morning, and saying that he would be very upset if I got sick. (it did indeed come true more perfectly than I had imagined! )

The reason why I wrote my success story and the life I manifested at length is this: most people limit their desires and try to make do with less. Believe me, I was thinking the same way a month ago, thinking that living the life I wanted was unfair to the people in my life. But lately, thanks to what those people did to me, I realized that all this time I had been unfair to myself, not to them. After realizing this, I reminded myself that I only deserved the life of my dreams.

And now that I'm who I should be, I'm pretty happy with it. I can't thank you enough  my dear. The success stories you shared motivated me a lot and helped me take action.

I am so proud of you my love. I absolutely adore revision stories as well as the usage of intention which is my personal favorite method. No method is stronger than your will to have your desires. Thank you so much for sharing your story and I hope you continue to always live your best life <3

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 1: Looking Death in the Eye

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people?

Part 2

.......

series inspired by the art below!

If there was anything your parents taught you, it was to never mix with the lower, working classes. You were royalty: there was never any need for you to lift a finger, let alone even ask for anything. Everything will be served to you on a silver platter. The heads of your enemies were no exception.

You grew up watching executions like it was a normal family affair, like it was the same as lazily observing geese land in the pond behind your castle as you sat with your chin in your hand. It was always the same. Your family's star executioner, up until now, would force the victim on stage and enact whatever cruel punishment your king and queen parents decided. It was a routine. There was no malice or passion behind it, it was just a job. Chopping heads off blocks was the same as completing a to-do list for most executioners, and you grew accustomed to seeing bloodied heads rolling over cobblestone.

But your family's loyal executioner died suddenly. The peasantry said he was possessed, that the devil had finally taken the man's soul for all the heinous acts he committed. Whatever the case, your family needed a new executioner, fast. It wouldn't be long before people committed more crime, knowing the axe of judgement was temporarily frozen above their heads. you could hear your parents frantically whispering in the dead of night over which executioner to choose. there were so many contenders for the spot. you couldn't have cared less who the new executioner would be. executioners, though their jobs were necessary for functioning society, were spurned and looked down on. a necessary evil, as some may say. your parents taught you to never speak to the executioner, much less even look his way. not out of respect, but rather to keep your eyes clean from the monstrosity of whatever man could live with cutting off heads each day.

the day eventually came when your parents decided on a new executioner. they seemed pretty excited about it, and decided to get right to the "festivities" to commemorate the occasion. the new executioner would, the moment he reached the royal ground, execute the line of prisoners whose deaths had been delayed since the passing of your previous executioner. You strode elegantly, as you were taught, to your seat on the elevated surface as the victims were lined up on the lower stage. the crowd watched anxiously. there was a different feeling in the air. everyone seemed even more scared than normal. the blood-stained oak chopping block had never seemed more foreboding.

and then you saw him. out of your family's royal carriage - the oldest and dingiest one, mind you - this giant of a man stepped out and scanned the crowd. everyone went silent. not even the birds dared to sing as he walked across the stage silently, his axe slung over his shoulder, the wooden boards underneath his jagged leather boots creaking loudly. he was nothing short of a giant. his shoulders were broad, and even though his chest was clothed with black cloth, you knew he was toned. he carried that monstrous axe like it was nothing but a butter knife. the only thing that reminded you that he was, in fact, human was the faint reflection of the sunlight in his eyes from deep within his black hood.

your breath caught in your chest as you observed him. he stood still by the chopping block, so naturally that you felt your spine tingle. your father bellowed out the reason for the execution spree - something about celebration - but your mind was completely fogged, filled with nothing but morbid curiosity for this new death-bringer who would be living in your castle. the executioner was then commanded to turn towards your family and bow before the executions began. this grim reaper turned his broad back and faced your family. his eyes scanned each one of you, but they lingered on you the longest. you felt like a gust of ice wind had just raced up from his gaze alone, manifested somehow by whatever mental prowess he seemed to possess. He bowed lowly to you and your family before standing, glancing at you once more, and then facing the crowd.

your father yelled out with raised arms, "my kingdom! this is your new judge, your executioner! the one who will bring you to justice from here forth is Konig!"

king. His name means king, you thought. how ironic. that a man with such a name - likely an alias - would be performing the work that no one dared do.

for the first time in your life, you watched avidly as this new executioner, as konig, swiftly cut each victims' head off like he was slicing butter. konig commanded respect. even the crowd was silent as he worked, his grunts and the dull sound of the axe meeting wood and bone were the only things to be heard as he performed his duty. it should have scared you. he should have scared you. and when the last victim's head rolled off the block and konig rested against his up-turned axe, you released a breath that you didn't know you had been holding.

hope you enjoyed! this will likely be multiple parts, and a slow burn. i just love this so much

[namwool]

fave shen jiu fics? i need to read more of him!

I'm incredibly sorry for answering so late!

I made a list with everything I've read and liked so far, hope this helps and can somehow make it up for my lateness! I tried to link the fics but tumblr is being a little bitch, so I had to remove them.

Also, this list includes smut as well, make sure to read the tags!

Liujiu (This is my fave couple, I dream of them like 24/7)

Ongoing

Twin Lotus by s_unfl0wer

The Orchid Grows Where Others Cannot by Iwannabe_lieve

The Wrath Of The War God by NazakiSama166

Devotion by NazakiSama166

Through The Well by NazakiSama166

To You On The Other Side by blackflowertea

Completed

'til death do us part by blackflowertea

The Sword And His Shield by blackflowertea

reluctant romance by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it) 

Bamboozled Into Parenthood by Renyo 

Surrender by xpityx (Restricted)

Would you dual cultivate with me? by FakeAlice

talking is hard by technorat

Curse of the Black Moon Flower by cannon_fodder

skyfire circle by mercurials

night time, hide my eyes by technorat

One Night of Sleep by Otno (restricted)

Flower of Fondness by mohuji (togaki) (restricted)

Tainting You by scumshizun

A Necessary Darkness by xpityx (restricted)

push furniture in front of the door by formerlyknives (restricted)

Je te laisserai des mots by xnemone (restricted)

Utterance by EasternWarrior

spar with me by revesdelimonade

best laid plans by revesdelimonade 

My annoying demon by FakeAlice

forever and ever and ever and ever by pennydaniels

Mamazun by shorimochi

An unexpected visitor by Parmse

Traces by shypersomniac

Give Me Your Best Scripts by Dandesamm

Guide Dog by FakeAlice

a trip around the ninth sun by ectocosme (restricted)

hustling for the good life by Chesra

Jingwei by xnemone (restricted)

Indebted by UmbrellaMartialGod

it's that talk again by revesdelimonade

you and i by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

it’s a crime you’re not around most of the time by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

Loving You is Easy by Anonymous

uh... you fight good. by saccharinings

behind the scenes and be vulnerable by Anzie (anzie)

The Downfall of Cang Qiong by Anonymous

Sweet Nectar by Anonymous

altar by fencesit

your long tongue runs along my heart by ectocosme (restricted)

The War God's Redo by GT_GoldenTrashbag

Convenience by Phnx

A Poor Choice Of Words by Pancakes_With_No_Clean_Fryingpans

Comfort by xpityx (restricted)

LiuJiu Week 2022 , Promise , Rewritten by xpityx ( all 3 restricted)

like real people do by revesdelimonade

This Omega Just Want His Off Days by shorimochi

In This World by Ehann

tag team carry romance by Chesra

an open/shut case by Chesra 

Alcohol Free by Dandesamm

make sure i die first by pennydaniels

we should stick together by pennydaniels

you're my best friend, i'll love you forever by pennydaniels

Autumn Leaves by dead_leaves_fall_like_tears

Mirror of Truth by dead_leaves_fall_like_tears

Affection curse by FakeAlice

BREAKING NEWS by mohuji (togaki) (restricted)

be good to me by pennydaniels

As the West Wind Blows by demoniqt (restricted)

to tell you the truth by leviiio

Look Into The Mirror And What Did You See? by Invidia_Envy

you got a way (of making me feel insane) by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

Gold Amidst Snow by ClearAutumnVibes

Evil Blankets and Senseless Shidis (These Maddening Delights Have Surprising Ends) by I_dont_know_anything_im_sorry

Marital Bliss by Aledono

Who had you was? I yes you would by technorat

Opposite by Ehann

Two Peak Lords Walk Into A Flower Field (you won't believe what happened next!) by Space_Samurai

Secondary When Compared To You by I_dont_know_anything_im_sorry

Old Ghosts Haunt These Hallowed Grounds by xnemone 

Mu Qingfang / Shen Jiu (this one is kinky. You've been warned.)

Just what the doctor ordered by Space_Samurai

In the carriage by Sakuja

Poisonous Love or Mu Qingfang is a psycho bastard by Sakuja

Doctor's orders by Anonymous

Too Much But Not Enough by Anonymous

healer's prescription by ectocosme (restricted)

etch me a third eye to see deeper by ectocosme

make it hurt by technorat

Shen Yuan / Shen Jiu (This one is my guilty pleasure.)

Almost Perfect by kiseki_pop 

Taboo by Anonymous

Captive by Anonymous

five times shizunyuan couldn't get off by YandereDay

I (26m) drank my best friend’s (28f) breast milk by Kasasagi (restricted)

the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated by zigur_zig_ah

Romancing the Villain for Dummies by Chesra

You're the pink in my cheeks (And I'm scared 'cause that means I'm a little bit soft) by BambooSpirit (restricted)

One Thing or Another by Ilthit

the places where others gave you scars by Blue_tea06, Chesra, SteamingOwl

I Don't Take Insults Lightly by D20Owlbear (restricted)

Perfectionist Complex by YandereDay

Dear You by YandereDay

A coat of copper and a bamboo fan by BambooSpirit (restricted)

Press A to romance the Scum Villain by BambooSpirit (restricted)

Tianlang-jun / Shen Jiu (The potential of this couple is honestly amazing.)

Tie Me Down by Anonymous

Seducing the Villain's Father by demoniqt (restricted)

Remarried Empress by demoniqt (restricted)

True Treasure by MissMegh

Spread your Wings by Araceil (restricted)

Gongyi Xiao / Shen Jiu (Cute. That's all I have to say about them.)

Home is With You by Anonymous

Plum Blossom by hasa3810 

Honey Sweet by jeejaschocolate

Because I admire you Master Shen by IrisEvergreen

The Love Letter by shorimochi

Qiu Jianluo / Shen Jiu (pls don't judge me for this one, I am desperate for more Shen Jiu content.)

Mend, Scar by Anonymous

a whiff of coffee and healing, by im_sevenn

Dirty Laundry by im_sevenn

My Life in Your Hands by shorimochi

Target Captured by Anonymous

An unlikely savior by Midnight_illusi0n (not really Qiujiu, but I kinda hope??)

Xiu Ya / Shen Jiu (listen... desperate times calls for desperate measures, ok?)

I've only got Xiao Jiu for one day and if something happened to him I would kill everyone. Period by ectocosme

Through The Time by Invidia_Envy

Bingjiu (.... I have no excuse for this one. I am terribly ashamed.)

What it Means to Fall by xnemone  (restricted)

youtiao by revesdelimonade

The Touch Of Your Hands, The Taste Of Your Lips by mercury_retrograde

Finally by Shireyaki

Spring Flowers by xpityx (restricted)

an inch of longing, an inch of ash by xpityx (restricted)

bigger, not better by backspacedintooblivion (Evil_and_I_know_it)

Matrimony by spearpoint

The Court of the Night King by 1V1

to break your teeth on love by dearly_anonymous (restricted)

Tale as Old as Time by mrblank8l, shorimochi

When the puppy met a little snake by FakeAlice

Satisfaction Guaranteed, I'm Your Sunshine by YandereDay

Where He Cannot Follow by bloodsongs

No thank you, next! by singlewheelrolling

The Adventure of Bingpup and his Tsundere Shizun by CrazyNekoChan

It's Not Much, Goodness Knows by Anonymous

You are not alone, not anymore by Elis98

Through the Looking Glass by FarawayDreamer (restricted)

and perhaps the greatest grief is being left in a universe where you are gone by sweetlolixo

the hands of fate (my achilles' heel) by Chesra

Soft Skills by beelzebaozi

Smug Kitten's Splurge-Spending System by Anonymous

I didn't put it on the list because it's the most popular and easier to find through the tags, but Yinhua is also one of my faves.

I think I covered everything?

If anyone has anymore suggestions for some other fics I can read, please let me know!!

[ckret2]

At long last, we get to see: this moment.

Chapter 11 of Human Bill Being The Mystery Shack's Hella Depressed Prisoner, featuring: Mabel giving Bill a ✨beautiful makeover✨—and Stan and Ford almost dying from laughter. And thus begins Bill & Mabel's inevitable befriending. Previous chapters here!

####

Every time Mabel had to use the stairs, she paused to look at Bill sitting in his window.

He never seemed to move.

A few days ago, it was creepy. Now, it was just kind of sad.

Last year, after Mabel and Dipper's parents had heard the whole story about their summer, they'd immediately packed the twins off to therapy—which Mabel didn't think was necessary, but whatever, if it made their parents feel better. (It had taken them some time to find a therapist who would engage with their barely-averted-apocalypse story at face value rather than search for the root of these "delusions.") At their current therapist's office, before each appointment, Dipper and Mabel had to fill out checklists that they gathered were to measure whether they'd come down with a case of depression—Please read the following statements and circle the word that shows how often they happen to you. Never, sometimes, often, always.

She'd filled out these things so many times that she could practically recite the list of statements by memory. Nothing feels very fun anymore. I have problems with my appetite. I have trouble sleeping. I have no energy for things. I feel like I don't want to move. Far be it from her to try to diagnose an evil demon monster space triangle who'd tried to murder everybody she knew, but. Well. You know. Sitting curled up in a window seat, day after night after day, barely moving, barely talking, barely eating... Yikes. She could only guess how he'd answer statements like I feel empty and sad or I feel worthless.

In Mabel's mind, there was a piece of paper. On that piece of paper were the faces of everyone currently living in the shack. Herself, Dipper, Waddles, Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford, Soos, Abuelita, and Melody as an honorary part-time resident. Next to each of their faces, there was a sticker, reflecting their current overall mood. Right now, everyone had either a happy face or a flat-mouthed neutral face—not bad, but could be better.

As she looked at Bill, she mentally promoted him at last from "entity haunting the attic" to "temporary resident." She added his face to her imaginary paper. And she slapped a big blue crying sticker next to it.

She wouldn't stand for that. Not even from him. Not under her roof.

####

Today, Bill wasn't even in the window. He'd elected to curl up in a corner of the attic, hiding in the shadows with his stolen blanket. The window was probably too hot. Mabel typically used acrylic yarn, and she knew from experience how quickly Sweater Town could turn into Sweaty Town.

For the first time, Mabel sauntered, quite casually, across the invisible barrier separating the rest of the attic from Bill's nest. She offered her winningest smile and her cheerfullest, "Hey, Bill!"

The Thing Beneath The Blanket gave her a look that, she suspected, could probably be described as deeply suspicious. "Shooting Star."

"Yup! Haha! That's—that's me all right! You got me." Mabel laughed. (This was going great so far. This was very natural.) "So, anyway!" She grabbed one of the couch cushions Bill had been using as a bed, dragged it a little closer to the corner, and plopped down. "This is such a weird coincidence, but one time, I got gum stuck in my hair and had to shave it off! I mean, crazy, right?"

"Uh huh." Bill didn't sound impressed. "Second grade." (And Mabel was uncomfortably reminded of the first time she'd ever seen Bill. I know lots of things.) "Hey, since you brought it up, can I ask you something about that little incident?"

"Uh..." This was what you signed up for, Mabel. You volunteered for a conversation with Bill. You've gotta converse. "Sure, I guess."

He leaned forward, triangle face looming above her. "Did getting gum in your hair change your species? Did you still look like yourself when you shaved it off?" The face bobbed as he pantomiming looking her up and down. "You still look human to me! So what's your point."

Okay, so he'd immediately recognized she was trying to establish common ground, aaand he was throwing it in her face. Great start. "Jeez, don't be so mean! I'm trying to tell you I get it. Not... the species part, but the other part. I wanna help!"

Bill scoffed. "Sure you do."

"Really!"

"Why?"

"Because you're all sad and it's making me sad."

Bill, o wise and ancient being that he was, had heard of "empathy" in a conceptual sense. He was aware that it was a thing that happened to some people. He even knew that it was common among humans. But on some level he kinda sorta felt like it only really happened to mindreaders that didn't know how to establish proper psychic boundaries. He laughed in Mabel's face. "No, seriously! What are you getting out of this."

Mabel decided she had no interest in explaining compassion to an alien mass murderer. "Okay, I want Soos's blanket back. I gave it to him, not you."

"Fine. If you want his blanket back, make me one."

"What? No! Those are our Team Zodiac-That-Defeated-You blankets, you don't get one."

"Didn't you make one for everybody else on the wheel? I'm on the wheel, aren't I?" He pointed at his face. "Bam! There I am, right in the middle! Star of the show! If everyone else deserves a blanket, so do I."

"Why do you even want one? It's a symbol to kill you."

"It's got my face on it! It's not that deep." He crossed his legs and propped his chin in his hand, getting more comfortable. "So do I get to pick the colors? I'll take yellow if that's all you got, but if you get me metallic gold I think I can swing you a favor."

"I'm not making you a blanket," Mable said. "I was thinking maybe a wig?"

Bill shuddered. "Pass."

"Aw, come on! I bet I could find you a really cute wig. Summerween's coming up, I could go to the costume store—"

"Don't even think about it." Bill leaned away from Mabel, back into his corner. She was losing him. "Listen. Kid. Do you think I did this by accident?" He pointed vaguely toward his scalp. "Being stuck in a human body? Disgusting. Being a human and secreting fifteen miles of hair out of a hundred thousand of pores? Infinitely worse."

"Wait, wait, fifteen miles?" Mabel had never considered how long a full head of hair laid out end-to-end would be. "How much hair do I have?"

"Huh." Bill tilted his head consideringly. "How dense is your hair?"

"Super dense. I've broken multiple brushes."

"Could be up to fifty miles."

Mabel's eyes widened. "Whoa."

"And you've got fifty thousand miles of blood vessels," Bill added cheerfully. "Anyway, if you want this blanket back? You won't get it with a wig. All I want is to look..." he formed his fingers into a triangle, thumb to thumb and forefinger to forefinger, and held it over the face on the blanket, "... like this. Now, if you're offering to help me get my real body back—"

"Never in a million years."

"Didn't think so!" Bill retreated fully into his corner again, knees pulled back up under the blanket, like an eel hiding in a hole to await its next prey. "But hey, if you've got an offer that's a step up from the blanket, I'm willing to negotiate."

"Huh." Mabel frowned thoughtfully. Something triangly. Something triangly that was better than a blanket, without helping Bill return to full power.

She got to her feet. "Let's put a pin in this conversation and circle back to it later. I'll come back with some proposals for you to review."

Bill laughed. "Okay, business girl! Have your people call my people. You know where to find me."

Mabel leaped down the stairs three at a time, ideas already forming in her head.

####

"Hey, Grunkle Ford!"

Ford was sitting at the former controls of the interdimensional portal, studying some radar readings; but he glanced up with a smile when Mabel ran out of the elevator. "Mabel. What brings you down here?"

She dragged an office chair up beside Ford, plopped down in it, and spun a couple of times. "I need to ask some questions about Bill!"

Ford's smile faltered. "Ah."

"Last summer, when we were burning all your art of him—"

(Ford winced in embarrassment.)

"—you said he could do some kind of magic with pictures of his face? What's all that about?" She stopped spinning. "Do they give him more power? Can he fire lasers out of them, or...?"

"No, nothing like that, thank goodness. Depictions of his face granted him a different kind of power: the power of knowledge. When he was trapped in the Nightmare Realm, he could tap into our world's collective mindscape and see through drawings of himself as if they were cameras. Ironically, plastering images of his face everywhere to symbolically represent an 'all-seeing eye' is what made him so all-seeing in the first place."

Mabel nodded thoughtfully. "Did you know you talk like one of those experts they hire to explain things in history documentaries?" she asked. "You should be on TV. You'd be good at it."

Ford gave her a confused smile. "Er—thank you."

"So, if Bill's already here, making new pictures of his face doesn't do anything?"

He supposed she was wondering about the zodiac blankets she'd spread around town. "Probably not. At a minimum, he'd have to be in the mindscape to be at the right 'angle' to see through the eyes. As he is now, trapped in a human form?" Ford let out a slow, thoughtful sigh. "It's hard to say for sure, without knowing how he got to be this way or what kinds of powers he's still hiding... but based on everything I've seen so far, I doubt they do anything for him."

"And if somebody put a picture of him on his face, it wouldn't do anything at all! Because that's like, his face. He already has eyes there."

Ford chuckled. "I suppose that's true. It would be like he'd grown a third eyeball, that's all." He paused. Put a picture of him on his face? "Why do you ask?"

Too late; she was halfway to the elevator. "Thanks, Grunkle Ford! I'll see you at dinner!" And she was gone.

####

"What's all this?" Bartholomew asked.

Mabel was dumping a bag of costume makeup and cheap convenience store makeup palettes onto her bed. They sparkled in varying hues of tacky gold glitter. "Art project!" She scooped Bartholomew out of his cradle by Dipper's bed, climbed the rickety ladder to the storage loft over their bedroom, and set him down leaning against a box. "You're on guard duty. Stay quiet and if anything goes wrong, get Dipper."

"How do you expect me to get Dipper? I'm a doll. I can't move."

"Come on, Mew-Mew. You think we haven't noticed that you teleport when nobody's looking?"

Bartholomew paused. "Touché."

Mabel rummaged through her art supplies; put tape, glue, and a couple of flattened cardboard boxes on the bed; added all the yellow crayons, markers, and paints she could find; and finally, satisfied, she ran out of the room. "Bill!"

"Still here."

"I've got the perfect solution. I'm giving you..." Mabel posed, hands on her hips. "A makeover!"

Bill waited for the follow up. There was no follow up. "Heh."

"Laugh now, but before I'm finished, I'm gonna make you more beautiful than your wildest dreams!"

"Kid, with all due respect, your idea of 'wild' taps out where my dreams are just getting started."

"Then I'll just have to up my game, won't I?" Mabel held out her hand. "Just give me that blanket, show me that weird bald head of yours, and let me make it into a canvas for high art! Trust me!"

Bill contemplated her extended hand. Did he trust her? In most situations, he considered trust irrelevant. He expected most people to do whatever they thought would benefit themselves the most; sometimes that meant keeping their word, and sometimes it didn't.

On the other hand. Was he really curious to find out where she was going with this? Yes. And the worst thing she could possibly do to him was make him very slightly more ugly than he already was. And playing along would fill his empty afternoon.

"Okay, kid." He reluctantly handed the blanket over. "You haven't given me a bad makeover so far." (He hadn't actually seen her marker mask, but it never hurt to flatter the person about to paint all over you.) He stood and stretched. "Show me what you've got. But if I don't like it, you owe me a blanket."

"Yes!" She grabbed his hand—his whole arm immediately went stiff—and dragged him toward the bedroom. "Welcome to my salon!"

####

Sure enough, just like Ford had said—when Stan checked Bill's attic nest, there was no sign of him.

Stan didn't like that one bit. Where the hell had their prisoner gotten off to?

As Stan approached the attic bedroom, he could hear Mabel talking: "More glitter?! That's crazay! Okay, here goes! I bet you could pull off such a glam rock look." (That explained where the kids were. He'd been starting to wonder.) "Hold still, I'm gonna try something I saw on a Russian supermodel—"

"Kids," Stan called, "do you know where the demon went?" He opened the door. "Poindexter says he can't find him anywhere, and—"

Mabel was kneeling on the floor, surrounded by the widest variety of makeup brushes and palettes Stan had ever seen. Her fingers and sleeve cuffs were coated in gold glitter and paint.

Kneeling in front of her, with his legs splayed awkwardly and his hands on the floor like he wasn't sure how to lower this body down to Mabel's height, was Bill. His face was liberally coated in acrylic gold paint and amateurishly contoured with a mix of craft glitter and golden eyeshadow. One eye was shut—the eyelashes delicately dusted with more gold eyeshadow to help it blend in—while the other was coated in a layer of mascara so thick it was a miracle his lashes didn't glue shut when he blinked.

And to cap off the gilded absurdity, his face was sticking through a hole in the middle of a cardboard triangle helmet, painted sunflower yellow with bricks shakily traced on in marker. Bill looked like the poor kid assigned the part of "the pyramid" in a fourth grade class play about ancient Egypt.

Mabel and Bill stared at Stan.

Stan stared back.

He covered a snort with a cough. "I'll—I'll tell Ford you've got it handled." He slammed the door.

He let out a bellow of laughter.

Mabel put a hand on Bill's shoulder. "He doesn't understand avant-garde fashion. You look like a million dollars."

"I know," Bill said. "All the same—maybe a hat would class things up a little?"

Mabel reached for a sheet of black construction paper. "You're so right."

####

"Well?" Mabel leaned around Bill, trying to see what he looked like in the full-length mirror. "What do you think?"

Bill stared in the mirror. A horrific abomination of flaking paint, cakey makeup, and taped-up cardboard stared back.

He grinned so wide it cracked his face paint. "I think that's the hottest human being in history."

"Yes!" Mabel pumped a fist into the air.

####

Ford said, "Stanley, what is it?"

Stan wheezed until his lungs ran out of air.

Concerned, Ford leaned across the kitchen table, lacing his hands together. "Did you find Bill?"

"M—Mhmm."

"He hasn't hurt Mabel, has he?" Ford asked, flashing back to their conversation earlier. "Or—or Dipper? Anyone?"

Stan bit his lip and shook his head. Tears of laughter pricked the corners of his eyes.

"Did he... put some kind of laughing curse on you?"

Stan shook his head more emphatically. "H—" He couldn't get one syllable out before he had to choke back his laughter again. He pounded on the table.

Grasping at straws and defaulting to the first worst case scenario he could think of, Ford said, "He hasn't found a way back to his true form, has he?"

Stan let out a noise like a balloon that had been untied and unleashed to fly around the room. "I MEAN—"

"Gooood afternoon, gentlemen!" Beaming brightly enough to rival the sun, twirling an umbrella like a cane, Bill strutted in.

Ford clapped one hand on Stan's shoulder, clapped the other over his mouth, and turned away, shoulders shaking. Stan smacked Ford's arm in sympathetic hysteria.

"I see we're all in high spirits today!" With the brazen confidence of an illegitimate prince marching into a throne room to demand his crown, Bill strolled through the kitchen, barely sparing the Stan twins a glance. Mabel followed behind him, grinning from ear to ear. "I wouldn't mind some spirits, myself." He paused in front of the fridge. "Could someone—?"

As the closest person to the fridge, Ford pulled it open, then turned to watch so he could make sure Bill didn't do anything he shouldn't with the food. This required him to look in Bill's direction. He curled his lips into his mouth and bit down. His eyes watered.

"Finally." Bill hungrily surveyed the inner contents of the fridge, grabbed an armload of condiments, a jar of pickles, and a tub of leftover chicken nuggets, and dumped them on the nearest counter. He tried to reach for a bottle of spoiled corn syrup toward the back of the fridge, banged the sides of his cardboard helmet on the fridge's doorframe, and quickly backed off and felt the corners to make sure they weren't too damaged. He had to turn sideways to reach the bottle without hitting the edges of the fridge. One corner of his mask tipped over a bottle of apple juice. Watching this performance very nearly killed the Stans.

"There." Bill triumphantly set the bottle on the counter, grabbed a can of alphabet spaghetti off an open shelf, and asked, "Where do you have the bowls hidden?" He rapped on one of the cabinet doors with his umbrella.

The sight of the umbrella knocked Ford out of some of his hysteria. "Where did you—?" He snatched the umbrella out of Bill's hands. "No weapons."

Bill gave Ford a withering one-eyed look (Ford suspected his other eye was glued shut with paint), then elected to ignore him. "Shooting Star?"

"They're down here!" Mabel opened one of the base cabinets. Bill retrieved a bowl and started filled it with his condiment haul.

"Okay," Stan said, voice strained with suppressed laughter. "Okay, what—what are we looking at?"

"A masterpiece of cosmetic art," Bill said. Mabel's grin widened.

Ford elbowed Stan across the table. "Do you remember the 'living statue' performers on the Glass Shard Beach boardwalk?" he asked. "The ones who'd paint all their skin and clothes gold—?"

"Oh yeah!" Stan let out a bark of laughter. "That's exactly what he looks like!"

In his bowl, Bill had layered mayonnaise, Tabasco sauce, mustard, sour cream, and maple syrup, and carefully stuck in as many chicken nuggets as he could without the mix slopping over the edges. He got Mabel's help to stick it in the microwave, then turned toward the Stans with a smug grin. "So you agree that I look like a work of art."

"No," Stan said, "they looked like idiots, and so do you."

Bill scoffed. "You don't know anything! You look at a human body, and all you see is a human with things stuck on it. I can look at a human body and see a canvas. I've stripped this vessel of its association with humanity and transformed it into an idol of myself."

Mabel loudly cleared her throat.

"Okay, she did most of the work."

Ford seriously considered the artistic merit of Bill's proposed "human body sans humanity as art material" paradigm. After a moment of deliberation, he said, "You have cardboard taped to your face."

Stan slapped the table. "HA!"

Bill opened a can of alphabet spaghetti, slopped half into a glass, filled the rest with incredibly spoiled corn syrup, and then filled the can with corn syrup as well. The mixes bubbled threateningly. The absolute picture of good cheer, Bill announced, "I'm the most beautiful thing any of you have ever seen. It's just too bad your closed little minds can't enjoy the marvel in front of you." He stirred his toxic alphabet spaghetti concoction with a pickle spear.

Stan watched Bill mix his drink in mild alarm. "What in the world are you making?"

Bill held his wrist over the glass and a knife to his wrist. "A Bloody Mary."

Stan's alarm increased. "No you aren't."

"That's your opinion." 

"Where did you get—!" Ford leaned over to snatch the knife out of Bill's hand.

"It was in the fridge, it was sticking out of the leftover casserole!" Bill rolled his eye. "Re-lax! I wasn't pointing it at you." He lifted his drink, nearly poured it into his eye, caught himself at Mabel's shout of alarm, took a sip through the correct hole, then inspected the thick gold lip stain left on the rim. "Huh." He looked at Mabel.

She shrugged. "I could have set the makeup with baby powder, but I thought it might dim some of the sparkle."

"You chose form over function. I respect that." He sipped his drink more carefully.

The microwave went off, Mabel opened the door, and Bill scooped up his condiment-and-nugget stew and both alleged Bloody Marys. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go be handsome somewhere else—"

The corner of his cardboard helmet banged into the kitchen doorway. He dropped one of his drinks, stumbled against the wall, and looked in dismay at his syrup-and-spaghetti-sauce-soaked skirt. He turned to Mabel. "How's my head?"

She grimaced. "We... can fix that with tape."

Bill sighed. "Come on, let's do it before my nuggets get cold."

"Now hold on!" Ford stood up. "Are you going to clean this mess up?"

"No!" Bill was out of the room. Ford could already hear him tripping on the stairs. "You don't trust me with a mop!"

Well. It was true, they didn't trust him with a mop. Sighing, Ford trudged across the room. "I'll get it."

Stan said, "You know, I think I'm glad he looks like an idiot. He's been so mopey the last couple of days, I was almost starting to feel bad for him."

"Thank goodness, you too," Ford muttered. "I was afraid I was going soft."

"Nah, he really was that pathetic," Stan said. "Like a sad show poodle that doesn't understand why it's been shaved in weird shapes."

Ford barked a laugh.

Once the floor was clean, Ford confessed, "I've—actually really worried about that. Going soft, I mean. I'm... afraid that Bill could find a way back into my head."

"Literally or emotionally?"

"Emotionally." Ford paused. "Both, actually—but this time I mean emotionally. The night he burned his hair off, I..." He winced at himself; but he needed to tell Stan. There was no one else he trusted to give him a reality check. Maybe Fiddleford, but... Ford hadn't figured out how to approach him about all this yet.

He put back the mop, to have an excuse to pause and gather his words. "I... brought him something to eat," Ford mumbled. "And, told him I knew what it was like to be trapped in an alien universe, and—that he should take better care of himself, for his own sake—and I don't know why I said that, anything good he does for himself just makes things harder for us, it's not as though I forgot that, but—What? Stanley, why is this funny."

Stan had started laughing; but he cut it off a cough. "Sorry. It's just—do you remember how Mom would go 'Well, I can tell you two are related' any time we did something particularly—you know—twinnish?"

"Don't tell me you've been making sandwiches for Bill."

"Ha! No, but I've given my arch nemesis a pep talk when he was having a mental breakdown. I felt bad for him!"

Ford chuckled. "Really?" He dropped back into his seat. "I didn't know you have an arch nemesis, who's that?"

Stan considered Ford's reaction if he admitted that his nemesis was that ten-year-old with a crush on Mabel, and said, "Ah, he's been out of my hair for ages. So what, is that all you talked about?"

"Somehow it turned into him trying to convince me he'd been planning a welcome party when I fell through the portal."

"Ha! And did you believe him?"

"Absolutely not." Ford paused thoughtfully. "But—part of me wonders whether he believes it himself."

"He seems like the kind of guy to buy his own bull." Stan shrugged. "I don't think you have to worry about him getting in your head. Just don't let him fast-talk you into any decisions and don't buy anything he's selling without telling him you'll think it over for twenty-four hours. And the more he says decide now, the harder you say no. That's how the pros get you, they don't give you room to breathe, let alone think."

Ford was pretty sure Stan was just describing the Mystery Shack's souvenir sales strategy; but he nodded slowly. "I know exactly what you're talking about. When I gave him permission to pilot my body, between the first time he mentioned it was an option and the moment I agreed to it... well, I was asleep at the time, so I can't be sure how long it took—but I'd guess it was less than fifteen minutes. In retrospect, I couldn't believe that I'd agreed so thoughtlessly. But I suppose that's exactly what he wanted." No room to breathe was a good way to describe it. Never mind being nose-to-nose with somebody trying to pressure you into a sale—how do you take a step back to get a little space from somebody who's already inside your head?

"Did he make it sound like a limited-time-only deal? You know—'buy now while the price is low, you'll regret missing this offer'? But with more mystical woo-woo phrasing, I mean."

"Not exactly, but..." Ford tried to remember back that far, grasping for the details of the conversation—the real conversation, not the heady, excited version he'd summarized in his journal. "At the time, I'd been worried about falling behind schedule on the portal's construction. He wouldn't have had to introduce an element of tension—it was already there. All he had to do was exploit it." He shook his head. Falling behind schedule. What schedule—the one he, himself had made? He was sure Bill had encouraged him to finish as fast as possible, too.

"There, you see? You got swindled by a professional swindler," Stan said. "What's important is that you know what he is now, and you know his tricks. He won't get you the same way twice. I'm not worried about you."

There were a couple of odd thuds from upstairs, accompanied by a yelp from Bill. That wasn't odd; he'd proven to be remarkably clumsy in a human body. At any given time it was possible to tell where he was by the random bangs, and if he hadn't made a noise in the last five minutes it meant he was curled up safely in his window seat.

What was odd was hearing Mabel's voice: "Careful, careful—! Augh. ... I'll get another sheet of cardboard, we'll replace that!"

Stan and Ford looked warily toward the stairs. Stan muttered, "Mabel, on the other hand..."

Ford nodded. "I'll keep an eye on her."

####

(If you've read this far, I'd really appreciate hearing from you! Things you liked, things you're looking forward to, jokes, thoughts, even typo corrections. Thanks!)

[era-the-witchy-birdkid]

DP X DC Prompt/Idea

Long time writer for the DC fandom (mostly Batman specifically Tim Drake joins the batfam early AUs and Titans Tower AU) on Archive, Danny Fenton also known as Astroboy2025, decides three days after his ‘Accident’ to create a Jason wakes up a Halfa in his coffin fic. He only does this to help himself process his emotions after well lets be honest his death and revival. And later once the ghost attacks pick up and he picks up the mantle of a hero as a way to covertly get advice/figure out on how to fight ghosts better by transplanting all his ghosts into Gotham for Fic!Jason to fight.

Danny wasn’t expecting much to come from this, he wasn’t expecting the fic to blow up in popularity for ‘creative storylines’ and ‘unique original villains with a ghostly flare to go against the ghostly Robin now named Phantom’ it was just a vent fic with a bit of wishful thinking on his part with Ghost!Jason and Bruce's relationship being so close (He ends up writing Jason getting hugs and affirmations that Bruce still loves despite all the ghost stuff that happening now whenever his Parents go on a tirade about how all ghosts are evil and need to be ripped apart molecule by molecule)

He definitely wasn't expecting his fans to find out about the real Phantom and figure out his identity from there. (Blame Penelope Spectra she had a history unlike the others in his rogues gallery with a bloody trail across America of sharply increase Suicide rates in more isolated smaller cites/large towns that was being tracked by Redditers that had hard stopped in Amity park just a few days before he dropped the chapter of Jason facing her himself)

While the Amity Park tourism to see a IRL Hero in action, and the Anti-Ecto acts Riots, as they would later be called, made by DC fans throwing a fit about the threat to the world’s first superhero were the lesser consequence in the grand scheme of things. Finding his fan Discord was a trip and a half especially since Tucker had to hack into it into the first place because his fans we're extremely protective of his secret ID and reinforced the server a crapton to be stronger then most banks.

While Sam was insisting on this being a horrible Idea and he should try to dissuade his thousands of fans from the truth of his Identy. Danny was just chill with it after the brief panic. And the Fan Discord was super helpful for getting Advce with! while the jokes that he was Batman Adoption bait was annoying the group was amazing for ideas on how to train his powers and advice on how to better fight ghosts. the Discord even make a Power list for him so he wouldn’t forget a power because he wasn’t training it. plus the comfort they gave after Circus Gothica was A+ even with the jokes about how the Batfam curse of clown trauma, despite matching the look as a human batman isn’t real so as much as his fans joke about him being the prefect Bat bait that will not happen.

To bad after a particularly nasty ghost hate rant in front of him in ghost form while being shot at by his parents that before the server would spawn 3 chapters of Family fluff in his fic, was whatched angrily by a fan who in a fit of annoyed rage said these words. “I really wish batman WAS real, then maybe you could be safe in your home for once”

unfortunately Desiree was out and about and heard the wish granted she had no idea who Batman was so went to read the DC comics after that. Good news the DC universe is so messed up as is that Desiree decided no twisting was necessary she’d just to bring everything to life. Bad news all the supervillains now exist along side the now existing superheros and Desiree is now Kaiju sized and now way to powerful for Danny to deal with alone... 

At least the now real Batfam are taking their sudden existence well? and are willing to help Danny stop the Mad Genie dispite the risk that they would pop into nonexistence (with the entire city of Gotham and the other cities, villains, and heroes made real by Desiree’s power) if she’s stopped

[thethirdromana]

Kira's hairstyles throughout Deep Space Nine, rated

All screengrabs from Trekcore, all opinions from me.

As seen in season 1, episode 1: The Emissary.

A poor start with what I think might be the worst haircut on the list? Nana Visitor is all of 36 years old in this photo and she has the haircut of a granny. It also makes her face look very square, which it is not. 0/10.

As seen in season 2, episode 2: The Circle.

This is the first of the definitive Kira hairstyles and it definitely gets points for that, and many more for its butch energy. This is practical, this is kickass, this is a woman who can fight off a Cardassian invasion then put up some shelves without breaking a sweat. 7/10.

Also as seen in season 2, episode 2: The Circle.

I know this is basic of me but I really love the pixie cut. And I love the way that Kira is relaxing in a monastery at this point, in beautiful surroundings, and her whole look from her hair to her clothes has softened in response. 10/10.

As seen in season 2, episode 8: Necessary Evil.

I'm so conflicted about this one. On the one hand, I really like how it's been styled, especially in comparison to Dax's version of the same hairstyle, which looks uncomfortably stiff. On the other hand, Kira with long hair just doesn't seem right. 5/10.

As seen in season 3, episode 15: Destiny.

Another definitive Kira hairstyle, and probably the one that's most overtly masculine; this is a classic 1950s man's hairstyle, though somehow the overall effect is more femme than the brushed-back version. Mostly this is a hairstyle that doesn't take attention away from her face. 8/10.

As seen in season 4, episode 4: Indiscretion.

I'm not sure this is Kira's most flattering haircut, but I like the way that as she gradually becomes less angry and abrasive, and I suppose starts to work through some of her trauma from the Occupation, her hairstyles also become softer to match. 7/10 for character development.

As seen in season 7, episode 4: Take Me Out to the Holosuite.

This is my FAVOURITE of the longer-term Kira haircuts. Not just because it's pretty, but because the asymmetrical shape means that the whole effect is to draw your attention to her Bajoran earring. Her confidence and her pride shine through. 9/10.

As seen in season 7, episode 25: What You Leave Behind.

A serious hairstyle for a serious time. We've lost the fun full asymmetry of season 6 and early season 7 (which were also quite serious times, but never mind that). This is a surprisingly shapeless hairstyle for Kira. 4/10.

Because I was sad to end on a disappointing hairstyle, here's a bonus Nana Visitor:

This is the very cool hairstyle Kira went for post-canon, and you can't persuade me otherwise.

[prince-kallisto]

Okay, I’ve been convinced BAHXJSH. Hana recommended me to play Ikemen Villains- it’s been a while since I played an Otome or romance game in general, but I’m really a sucker for fairytale themes and dubious morality characters so😭🙏 I was recommended to try this because there’s a character that’s like Crowley…👀💖

*This is not spoiler free, it’s whatever my thoughts are as I play along 🌸🐦‍⬛*

Anyway, here we go ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Completely off topic, but did anyway else play this one Alice in Wonderland Otome many years ago? “Guilty Alice” from 2016 I believe…Ah, the memories- the graphics looked better in my memories (´∀｀*) I’m fairly sure my love for fairytale and Wonderland themed media bloomed from there.

This game also had several warnings for mature themes and having an age rating. I’m unsure of the actual extent of this (it listed the warnings but you know) but I will add content warnings above the cut in my posts when necessary 🌸🐦‍⬛

o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o ANYWAY, I am liking this theme of our character believing in the ideal of never doing a “bad thing” to ensure a happy ending. It would be nice if that was the guarantee, no? But even then, what can be considered bad versus good? Does this “force” behind the fairytales care about the circumstances of the trouble you get into? I literally just opened the game BAHXHD so I don’t know if the story get, but I’m getting the vibe that our character follows more…”simplistic” fairytale logic, as in the sort of picturebook fairytales you’d read to children for morality of bad versus good, and the concept of karma. But the villains we romance are more of the classic fairytales (the lines of Grimms Fairytales), of darker themes and never a guaranteed happy ending no matter the protagonist’s suffering and trials for love.

Robin is so cute what? 😭🙏 At NRC, if I work a black version of this uniform, could I be called a raven? 🥺

…May I help you? Abdjsjx, he looks interesting 🌸 Very vampire, I love his cape. It’s always a funny trope to me in Otome where we always meet A Man by dropping something or bumping into him…and then that classic “…” from him because he thinks we’re interesting! 🤣

AHXHDHXHDBD VICTOR IS THAT YOU??? AUGU ROMANCABLE CROWLEY I NEED YOU! AH HIS LONG HAIR!!!!😭🙏 Anyway, do you see what I mean? “Red-eyed man” has to comment about us even though we bumped into him for two seconds 🤣

Part one of the prologue! 🎉 ^_^ I like how it’s cut into sections. “Between good and evil” is giving The School for Good and Evil energy lol. Victor is giving all the Crowley vibes with the castle in the background 😭🙏

I feel so intrigued by this game…the art style is very gorgeous and I love the fairytale theming I have a good impression of it so far- I want to romance Victor already 🥺 (he ISNT A ROMANCEABLE OPTION YET WHICH IS TYPICAL OF ME ANDHDJD)

I’m also open to any other mobile Otome or romance games anyone recommends ^_^

[canichangemyblogname]

People need to realize the label "terrorist" is, more often than not, a political label. When you point this out, people often accuse you of terrorism apologia, but it's actually quite the opposite.

If we were to- say- define a "terrorist group" as "a non-governmental organization that violently targets civilian populations as a tactic to score political points, often relying on 'propaganda by deed,'" many more people and groups would be included under this definition. It would rightfully exclude the Ukrainian military as it engages directly with the Russian military, in direct contrast to Russia's rhetoric, while it would rightfully include groups like the KKK, which has been excluded from official terrorist organization lists.

It is not a perfect definition, but it is one of many working definitions proposed to counteract current political labeling. Current political definitions and usage often result in organizations like the PLO being included on the list for a year before the US government waived it or non-violent protesters in Georgia, USA, being hit with the label. It also leaves out several groups of violent extremists, providing them with more of an air of legitimacy and more discretion in their operations than those groups with the label.

Labeling a group as a "terrorist" group often legally allows a government, like the US government, to heavily surveil the group's members, freeze group and member assets, imprison group members, and engage with the group militarily. The label also often serves to justify any treatment of group members under a government's authority, like denying them due process. Some will argue it is a necessary evil. Others will point out how many men have been released from places like Guantanamo without charge. Or how the US "No-Fly" list appears to racially profile people and primarily target Muslims.

As long as labeling a group "terrorist" allows a government to legally circumvent certain rights, like that of a free and speedy trial, it will be used politically and ideologically, often against civilian separatists and opposition to the state, as we see in Georgia's Stop Cop City protests. But the US is not the only country that does this. Nor is it the only country primarily focusing on Islamic Extremism to the detriment of National security and democracy.

"Terrorism" is the pretext, but involvement in "terror"-related occupation has objectives other than stamping out terrorism. Just as there are socio-political gains in labeling common Georgian protesters as "terrorists," there are geo-political gains in the primary focus on Islamic fundamentalism and violence, like an unwavering international gaze on the Islamic world and multiple different military occupations in the Islamic world. If people's gut assumption is that Muslim = terrorist, they won't think twice about something like US military strategies in the Islamic world. It has led to 30% of Republicans and 19% of Democrats supporting things like the bombing of the fictional nation of Agrabah in polls. It has also led to US militarized counterterrorism in 85 countries worldwide with limited Congressional oversight and next to no public knowledge.

When I point this out, most people like to straw-man my argument to assume my goal is to let listed terrorist organizations prance around and kill people indiscriminately. The goal is not the absence of justice, but strengthening protections for the accused so a label is not an automatic guilty sentence. No government or military should simply be able to invade another to play judge, jury, and executioner on the people of that country. Morally. They also shouldn't be able to justify suspending due process for anyone. It sets a precedent.

Additionally, the goal is not to let a terrorist organization operate without impunity, but to admit that the "War on Terror" was a failure, in large part due to its violent and indiscriminate strategies. That is the second thing people need to realize.

This theoretical war against this nebulous force has been nasty, brutish, and long. It has also been ineffective. The "War on Terror" has only contributed to more violence and extremism worldwide. In fact, terror-related incidents have increased fivefold worldwide since 2001. The number of existing terror groups is at the highest level since 1980, and they've seen their numbers swell. And they have become increasingly transnational.

We've learned that it is impossible to win any terror-related "conflict" without destabilizing a nation or region. It is impossible to win any terror-related "conflict" without inflicting a tremendous number of civilian casualties, especially due to modern governments' aggressive military strategies. It is also impossible to win. Period. You cannot defeat terrorism. An organization, sure (although only about 7% of terror organizations have been quelled by military action). Terrorism itself? No. Mostly due to the diversity, scope, and decentralization of the threat. It is simply not possible to eliminate armed terror groups through the use of force and armies. It's quite literally counterintuitive.

The Hot War on Terror replaced the Cold War on Communism. And leading powers in the Global North are repeating the same failed tactics they used between 1950-1990. An overemphasis on military force to achieve state goals (most terror planning *does not* take place in a dedicated physical location, which military force primarily addresses). Neglecting non-military instruments of statecraft (terrorism is a tactic, not an ideology, so you can't "war" against a tactic). Focusing so narrowly on military action, you practically ignore other foreign-policy goals (like economic and political stability, anti-corruption, and nation-building because terrorist groups thrive in instability and disaffection). Creating the state's enemies of the future (see: arming Afghan rebels to fight the Soviets). And disowning and contradicting their country's own stated moral values to achieve its goals abroad.

Declaring war on terror is nothing short of a forever war. It ends only when counterterrorism measures stretch governments so thin they collapse.

[fitzrove]

Rambling about Hass in Elisabeth for a REALLY long time. TL;DR - yeah, it is necessary as a song...

Because of the costumes and staging people often just see it as "the antisemitism song", which it is, strongly, but I think sometimes the wider context presented therein is ignored. Really, the song shows how antisemitism and hatred are fuelling and entangled with other movements!!

The nationalists in that song come from various groups and social classes, and identify as their enemies:

Socialists

Pacifists

Jewish writers

Jewish women

"Those who are not like us"

Crown prince Rudolf (because of his - historically strong - friendships and other positive associations with Jews)

The Habsburgs as a whole

Elisabeth and her Heinrich Heine (= a Jewish poet) monument project (which also attracted such strong criticism from German nationalists [Austrian Germans who were nationalists, not "Germans" in the modern sense] historically)

Hungary

The "barons" - so the nobility

The "slavic state"

The ongoing "betrayal of the people"

And to contrast, they identify as good:

Strength ("the strong wins, the weak fails", and also "strong leaders") and "purity"

"Unity"

Glory/splendour ("pracht")

Christian values

"Unified Germany", an alliance with Prussia and even an Anschluss (the joining of Austria and other "ethnically German" [so-called] lands to the German Reich. Hmm does anyone remember who also strove for and eventually implemented this... /s)

The conservative Wilhelm II as emperor (again, they want to join Austria into the German Reich)

So like. There is a glorification of all things "German" and of conservative values (religion) and reactionary power politics ("weakness" was and is by similar groups now considered to be a major flaw of liberalism and a liberal world order - in the song, pacifism and socialism are also connected to it), as exemplified by Wilhelm II's Germany specifically. To contrast, racial enemies ("non-Germans") threatening "racial purity" must be eliminated, with violence if necessary. And the Habsburg monarchy, being a multinational empire, is described as immoral and weak because of it being multinational (and the position of Slavs and Hungarians in politics and imperial administration).

The themes of "betraying the people" (Volksverrat) are especially interesting because the enemies of the nationalists as listed in the song, Jewish women, pacifists and socialists, were also the people blamed for German defeat in WW1 (the "stab in the back" at the home front myth). It's overall 19th and 20th century anti-establishment fascist imagery.

Ajdkkf I don't think I'm clearly making my argument but the song's key functions are:

To dispel the myth of the late 19th century being "the good old days", the glory days of Austria before the world wars somehow magically came to happen and ruined it. In fact, the songs shows that the developments leading to the world wars stem from politics and mass movements of hatred that developed alongside and gave power to & drew power from nationalism in the 19th century

To show the audience exactly what Rudolf is talking about in "Die Schatten werden Länger (reprise)". What is the "evil that is developing"? It's not Rudolf's personal petty wish for more power, or his angst about not being emperor yet, or some generic amorphous disdain for how FJ is reigning; it's not the lack of Hungarian independence either, for god's sake. I will die on this hill, if you cut Hass or replace it with conspiracy or whatever you can cut Rudolf as well, Elisabeth as a show is (in my opinion) a good portrayal of him precisely because it depicts him as a political thinker (in contrast to many depictions and post-Mayerling accounts which diminish that and just talk about Mayerling and his "immorality" - a talking point devised by the nationalists and antisemitists who hated him lol, liberal politics were connected to lack of morality) and someone who, unlike most of his contemporaries, saw that antisemitism, emphasis on "power" and realist power politics, exclusionary/hateful rhetoric and excess nationalism would lead to ruin. AND Hass also shows that he was hated by the German nationalists for this! As was his mother, for her sympathy to Heine...

To connect genuine popular dissatisfaction (from Milch - Hass is a reprise of Milch in terms of rhythm and the call-and-response structure where Lucheni talks to the crowd) with inequality, the lack of democracy and the excesses of royalty... to the rise and presentation of fascism as a "solution"

To show that 19th century nationalism was, in many ways, exclusionary, antisemitic, racist and "war-mongering", and that this rhetoric is old - not somehow magically appearing for WW2 and then disappearing again - and will time and again rise... and that it's everyone's responsibility to recognise it for what it is when it happens, if we are to have a reasonable, decent world to live in.

The framing of Hass sometimes confuses people I will never recover from that one post cancelling Elisabeth das musical for being antisemitic because Hass exists ajiddfkdllfgl what's next, it's pro-suicide and homophobic because a character technically dies from being gay? but to me it's rather clear that it's unsympathetic lol, with the whole doomsday atmosphere (no music, just footsteps/marching and drums and screaming, it's meant to be threatening), the way the ensemble harshly criticises the most sympathetically portrayed characters we have seen so far (Elisabeth and Rudolf) for things that seem petty and harmless (having Jewish friends), and the extremely direct comparison drawn to N*zism (to indicate what such a movement would develop to) in many stagings. I don't know how to say this but somehow I've always assumed that "H*tler and n*zism = evil" is EXTREMELY common knowledge and it mystifies me when people like. Think it should have been stated more clearly in the show. Like, the show is working off the assumption that you know what it is and that it's bad because of the millions and millions of people they killed............. this is EXTREMELY common knowledge in Europe, not least in Germany and Austria lol.

So um yeah akwkldlf, sorry for the ramble, I just feel like the song can be poorly understood and criticised on shaky ground sometimes. I mean, I am not Jewish and not equipped to talk about whether it's triggering or traumatising to watch especially with lived or family experience of antisemitic violence... But I think for non-Jewish people there is a huge responsibility to be aware and vigilant of antisemitism, historically and in the present, and sometimes it needs to be hammered home for people to understand...

By that last point I also somewhat mean... I think you don't "get" to be triggered by it if you're not Jewish but perhaps otherwise affected by politics of hatred. Of course I'm not emotions police lol, but many Jewish people have intergenerational trauma AND have to live with extremely similar antisemitic rhetoric and culture to this day, so there I understand criticisms - and there is also a discussion to be had about how and to what extent it is ok to use and display Jewish suffering as a device to educate non-Jewish people.

But anyway, to my original point. This is something I've seen people say and I just... if you're queer and it makes you uncomfortable to see Hass because modern n*zis hate you and it's traumatic, I mean, it's valid to feel uncomfortable and you can choose not to watch it personally to avoid being triggered, but you don't get to call for it to be erased from the show for "problematic content" or for "escapism" or to make you feel better. It is there because the destruction of the 19th century world, and Rudolf's and Elisabeth's suffering, is intrinsically tied to the rise of such hateful politics and without that being shown there is no show. You don't get to make it something it's not, this show is not ONLY an epic gothic romance with imaginary boyfriend, it's a commentary on past, present and future politics in that it shows the dangers of conservatism, antisemitism, racism and illiberalism. Calling for or supporting censorship, or state emphasis on militarism/"destroying the enemy", or advocating hatred, violence or oppression against any group based on ethnicity, religion, race, political views, etc. are all political stances held by and propagated by various people today in various political contexts. And you are not immune to antisemitism or reactionary nationalism if you're queer or whatever, so you have the constant responsibility to think critically about your worldview and your politics!!

[nahoney22]

I LOVE your work 😍🥰❤️

Could I please get

“why are you really here? to mock me? to... make me hate you more?”

“no. none of that. i came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.”

And/Or

“i don’t think you’re evil.” 

“you don’t?”

“no. i think you’re just lost. misguided. and you don’t know anything else.”

with Hunter? Maybe some enemies-to-lovers/friends angst where the reader is a separatist informant or something that the batch was brought in to capture.

(she/her reader preferred but GN is good too)

Thanks so much! (And as always, please don't feel obligated to do this bc it's totally fine if you can't or don't want to!)

Love ya! 😘

Prompt List Celebration 3000 Followers

Hunter X F!Reader

SFW

word count: 1.3k

Prompt:

• “Why are you really here? To mock me? To… make me hate you more?” - “No, none of that. I came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.”

• “I don’t think you’re evil.” - “You don’t?” - “No, I think you’re just lost. Misguided. And you don’t know anything else.”

Warnings: none really, mentions of reader being female and an ex-seppie informant for the Trade Fed. Can be seen as romantic or platonic relationship. Captured reader??? Tiny bit of angst.

Authors note: here’s your request lovely! Ngl, it’s not the finest work and I’m quite underwhelmed but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

"I daresay that the woman in question is not as irredeemable as you all make her out to be," Tech mused from his seat in the cockpit, eyes glancing over towards you in the back of the ship.

Echo shot him a disapproving glare, his voice cold as he spoke up. "She is a separatist informant. That alone makes her guilty enough."

You could feel their gazes on you, and you berated yourself for not being more careful in hiding. It was true, you had worked as a separatist spy in the past, but that was a lifetime ago. You had been paid to gather intelligence and report back to the Trade Federation outside of the Republic Senate. But somehow, someone had discovered your identity and put a target on your back. You just hadn't expected to be caught by four clones and a child.

Hunter, on the other hand, was quieter on the matter. When he had tackled you to the ground and restrained you, he could sense the fear coursing through your veins. For the first time in a long while, he felt a hint of pity for someone like you. And Tech’s words may have convinced him otherwise.

You kept your silence, trying to figure out a way to plead your case to your captors. But your mind drew a blank, as you listened to the constant derision being hurled your way from just a few meters away.

But you found yourself being able to tune out their voices, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe an hour or two passes and you find yourself drifting off to sleep but unfortunately, this peace was short-lived when you heard someone approaching. You glanced up and saw the young girl, Omega, and one of her brothers.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, holding out a ration bar. But the thought of eating on an already queasy stomach didn't appeal to you.

"No," you rasped, avoiding eye contact.

Omega looked at you and then at Hunter, who had approached her side. He lingered his gaze on you for a moment longer than necessary, then back at Omega. "Let me speak to her."

Omega nodded, handing over the food and exiting back towards the cockpit, leaving you and Hunter alone.

You still avoided eye contact, hugging your knees tighter to your chest. "Can I help you?" you asked, your tone bitter and harsh.

"You need to eat or drink something. You've been with us for a whole rotation now," Hunter said sternly. You scoffed, realising that your attempt at being civil was futile.

"Why are you really here? To… mock me? To make me hate you more?" you spat, finally meeting his gaze as he crouched down to your level. You had put up a good fight initially when they had captured you, and Hunter seemed aware of that.

"No, none of that. I came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now," Hunter said with a small smile.

Your face twisted in confusion. Where the kriff had that come from? You glanced towards the cockpit, expecting the others to be watching and laughing at your expense. But they were all occupied with their own tasks. You turned back to Hunter, raising a skeptical brow. "Why are you being nice to me? You don't even know me." You quizzed.

Hunter hummed, amused, but shook his head. "Because I don't think you're that bad. I took the time to go over your records, and I have to say, I don't think you're worth turning in for credits."

"Then let me go," you said quickly, your eyes pleading. "If you read what I did, all I did was pass messages back and forth. Times were hard and so was money. And I understand that what I did was wrong. But I've changed, I swear."

Hunter regarded you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I believe you," he finally said. “That’s why we’re going to let you go.”

For the first time in a long time, a wave of safety washes over you. Your eyes tinged with tears at the thought of a safe haven but you couldn’t trust what he preaches just yet. “Even after everything I’ve done?”

“I do not believe that one's past actions define their worth as a person,” Hunter interjected, his voice carrying a gentle wisdom.

You suck on your cheek and shake your head, somewhat disagreeing. “What I did was… evil.”

He blinks at you, his eyes kind and gentle that send a wave of somewhat comfort your way. “I don’t think you’re evil.”

“You don’t?”

“No, I think you’re just lost. Misguided. And you didn’t know anything else.”

His words hung true in the air but you find yourself staying quiet to his response. Oddly, you found comfort in his eyes and felt the nervous twinge of perhaps being sucked into them.

Hunter lets out a shaken exhale, palms sweating but a genuine smile plants on his lips. “Now do you want something to eat?”

You roll your eyes but find yourself chuckling a little. “Maybe a drink if you don’t mind?”

Hunter situates himself onto his knees, reaching behind him and grabbing a water canister and passing it over. He watches you take a sip and takes in your appearance silently.

When you’re done, you set the canister to the side and lean your head back against the ship's walls, not minding the gentle vibrations it was sending to your head. “Where are you taking me then?”

“Uncertain for now. But, it’ll be somewhere safe for you to start up again.” Hunter replies softly and you smile at his response.

“I wouldn’t mind staying here to be honest, I like the company.” You didn’t mean for it to sound so forward as it was a mere attempt at a light-hearted joke that hindered some truth. But by judging the surprise glance on his rugged face, he took it maybe literally.

“Between you and me?” He looks between you and the cockpit where the others remained, “I wouldn’t mind you staying too.”

You raise a brow, a small brush creeping up your neck. You had a feeling he wasn’t messing with you either, brown eyes showing sincerity.

“I mean yeah,” he clears his throat, not like the fact he was getting a little bit too attached to you rather quickly, “though I don’t think the others would be too fond of the idea.”

“The others meaning Echo?” You whisper to which he nods.

“Yeah,” he sighs but understands why his brother would be a little burnt out about you being a possible new recruit, “but anyway, I’ll make sure to look after you wherever you end up.”

You were grateful for his kindness, something rare to see, and with the comfort he provided, and you knew that you were in good hands.

He did pique your curiosity but you were in no mind to make a move on the Sergeant. Both of you lead different lives and of course, you were almost considered a bounty to him and his squad. It was too soon to try and initiate anything. Perhaps friendship, however. And if he stays true to his words about looking after you, perhaps something more could surface.

But for now, you let the gentle hum of the engines and the soft glow of the control panels enveloped you. As you closed your eyes and let yourself drift off to sleep, under the watchful gaze of Hunter, the soft sounds of the ship filled your ears. The gentle whir of the engines mixed with the occasional beep of the control panel created a soothing melody that lulled you into a peaceful slumber. At last, you can finally rest.

Masterlist

Prompt List Works - Requests are closed but may open some time in a few weeks.

tags: @nunanuggets @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @cwarssimp @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @oohyesplease @megafrost4 @theroguesully @equalityforcats @mustluvecho @misogirl828 @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @chxpsi @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @photogirl894 @autumnleaves1991-blog @tech-depression-inventory @s1st3r @taskfork-archive @by-the-primes @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @agenteliix @rintheemolion @seriowan @kaminocasey @hotpinkplastoid @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @cosmic-persephone @imalovernotahater @swiftiexstarwarssimp @the-good-shittt

[fontanacollymore]

Ward S: Serial Killer Aizawa x Deaf Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Minors, Ageless blogs DNI, I will be checking and blocking.

Warnings: Sexual Assault. Not from Shouta. Graphic descriptions of gore in later chapters. Dead Dove Don’t Eat. 

Part 2 Here: https://at.tumblr.com/fontanacollymore/ward-s-serial-killeraizawa-x-deafreader-part-2/15sjbtsuzlsp

Welcome to Ward S. 

Blood, spit, feces, and urine mark the entrance to the off-white walls of hell. Long corridors of mint green and pale yellow checkerboard floors contain the stories of Ward S’s various patients in the stains. People have died on this floor, remnants of their internal organs forever embedded into the ground. Hair and dirt cake the floor, both of which get dragged down the various corridors on the soles of the wardens’ boots, almost as though the leftovers of whoever came before are reminding the world that they existed at one point. 

The floors used to be white as well, just like the walls. They aren’t anymore. 

Shouta Aizawa remembers when the floors were white.

UA Penitentiary opened the same time he was committed; in fact, he was one of the first inmates to grace its walls, as though he and UA were destined for each other. He’s also the only one from his batch that’s still around. If you ask him about it, he only laughs and says he deserves some kind of medal for it, like it's some kind of an accomplishment. 

To be fair, it is. Even if it doesn’t seem like much. 

See, everyone who goes to UA either ends up crippled, insane, dead, or any combination of the three. It’s not a prison — oh no, ask anybody that question, and you’ll get corrected real quick. It’s not a prison. Prisons are for criminals. UA is for the criminally insane. Big difference. 

When the doors are closed and the world turns its head, though, nuance goes out the window. 

Not everyone at UA is a criminal. Lawbreakers only make up about a third of the population, but one third is enough that the hospital still carries the stigma around. The only thing separating these men from the ones that go to prison is a piece of paper. Criminal insanity is a weighty title, one where each part of the word joggles the verbal scale. The insane are still criminals, but the criminals are insane, so the only thing really to do is shove them all into one building and hope for the best. 

Aizawa is one of the insane ones. He’s also the most violent. 

Aizawa has a list of diagnoses with enough letters to fill an alphabet soup bowl, and, when it came to securing his insanity defense, he was very fortunate. Between the A to Z letters, however, lay something that separated Aizawa from the rest of the world’s liars, thieves, murderers, and rapists, and that was conviction. See, unlike most of the other people in the ward, Aizawa’s logic, his reasons for the atrocities he commits — they actually make sense. Nothing he says has to be justified. He says exactly what he thinks and feels, and, in Aizawa’s own eyes, he’s completely, certifiably of sound mind. 

It’s his methods, though, that landed him in UA. 

The cops didn’t want to arrest him the night he was incarcerated. In the eyes of most moral, upstanding people, killing a child abuser is a necessary evil. No one bats an eye when someone says public executions should return to society or that people should be taken onto the street and shot; however, Aizawa doesn’t like words. In his eyes, they’re pointless. Everyone and anyone can sit around and talk without ever wanting to do something. Words don’t make anyone special, and the police know the weight of actions versus words. If they had merely walked in on him sitting at a table with a gun in his hand and a singular bullet hole in someone’s skull, they might have let him walk. 

It was his sister, the police and all the detectives later found out, a sister, his mother, and his father. The little boy had been left unharmed, and, almost hilariously, he didn’t even think more than two thoughts about his mother and his grandparents being gone. Aizawa had hidden it from him — hidden it so well in fact that life continued as normal for a week until the smell grew so grotesque that it had to be taken care of. The little boy was sent to a friend’s, all the while his dear uncle was driving a circular saw into his mother’s body. A neighbor became suspicious and called the police. 

Aizawa went with them calmly. Didn’t want to cause a scene in front of the kid, he said. He still doesn’t know if the boy knows the truth.

Aizawa doesn’t know where he is now. No one will tell him. 

What scares everyone when they meet Aizawa is just how much they like him when they learn about him, and, more than that, it’s how much they genuinely like him. He’s not trustworthy by any means, oh no — the doctors learned that the first time they left him alone with the first thing that could be used as a weapon (a spoon of all things) — but he’s certainly likable when Aizawa is interested in being liked. He’s terrifying to look at, certainly with inky, greasy black hair that hangs in his face like a shaggy dog’s fur does when it’s wet. His dark eyes are piercing and deeply unsettling, almost as if they’re permanently locked in this intense stare that you’re forced to look away from. 

The only people he likes are children, and, given his case record, it’s not that surprising. The first person he ever spent any amount of time conversing with was his attorney’s son, with whom he crouched on the floor and spent an hour playing with while answering questions in various annoyed tones. That one hour of playtime equated to about five hours of interrogation during which Aizawa provided such stellar testimony that he might have been acquitted if he didn’t have such a shitty attitude. 

If he had taken a plea deal, he could have ended up with a couple years in federal prison that could have been waived on good behavior. Aizawa refused, saying he was innocent and that taking a plea meant that he agreed he did something wrong. Going in front of the judge and firmly stating his lack of remorse did not help things either. In the end, Aizawa was declared incompetent to stand trial and was committed to a mental asylum until he came to enough of his senses to stand before a jury. That was ten years ago.

He hasn’t left since.  He most likely never will. 

He still says he was in the right. 

He’s calmed down somewhat in his decade of living at the asylum. When he was first incarcerated, he spent every other week trying to escape only to be dragged back to his room by security. As the years dragged on, age claimed him, and he grew weaker from the refusals to eat or do any sort of activities. Even as a thirty year old man, it’s rare for Aizawa to move very much beyond his hospital room and his regular seats outside and in the cafeteria. 

For the last few months, however, Aizawa has found something else to occupy his thoughts with. 

Across the street from UA Penitentiary and Asylum is another little hospital owned by the same board of governors presiding over UA, only this hospital is a sanatorium rather than an asylum. Unlike the generally male population of the asylum, UA’s sanatorium’s demographics are a bit more diverse. During his observations, Aizawa has seen a fairly even split of men, women, and children roaming about the courtyards, and, just from his silent viewings from the window, Aizawa can tell the sanatorium is a much better place to be. The doctors in the asylum all vie for shifts at the sanatorium, and, while they don’t know that Aizawa pays their conversations any mind, he’s constantly listening in to what they have to say. 

“I’d rather deal with the consumption than be here,” he heard one of them whisper to a colleague as they were walking about the cafeteria at dinner, “I heard one of the governors has a daughter committed there, so they keep it nice for her sake.” 

“Good luck getting approved by Doctor Chisaki,” the other muttered back, “he was hand picked by that family for their daughter, and he’s a bitch about who he hires. It’s insanity how anal he is about upkeep. I mean, why would you go into medicine if you’re so afraid of getting sick—” 

Aizawa didn’t pay much attention anymore after that. Inane work chatter bored him, and he was counting down the hours until recreation time. Stray cats would occasionally wander in through the gate or jump the wall, and Aizawa had taken up the habit of sneaking them scraps or trying to hide them in his clothes. He’d made it to his hospital room once with a cat that he’d successfully kept a secret in his room for close to a week until staff found the animal and confiscated it, and he’d like to do it again if possible. 

However, when Aizawa went out to recreation that day, he found the cats would not be the only things capturing his attention that afternoon. 

Having lived in the asylum for so many years, it was inevitable that he would learn some of the intimate details of the hospital and its staff. The board of governors had always been a hot topic among the doctors, most notably the L/N family who had twin girls with the misfortune of having one that was an invalid. For some reason or another, the family aimed to have her committed for a short amount of time which ultimately turned into an eternity for unknown reasons. She was a simple girl who the staff apparently got along with well enough. 

Aizawa would learn that day just how beautiful she was. 

The asylum and the sanatorium were located on the same yard, separated by a brick wall and a large stretch of rolling green hills. If you were outside, you could see the sanatorium’s back yard from the asylum’s recreation grounds, and it wasn’t uncommon for the two medical facilities to release their patients for recess at the same time. Aizawa had been outside, lingering about the asylum’s gate under the careful eye of the guards looking for cats 

Aizawa didn’t mean to see the h/c woman wandering about the yard — he hardly ever paid attention to anything other than his personal affairs — but, in hindsight, not noticing her would have been much more difficult than noticing her. She was dressed much differently than the rest of the patients, wearing normal clothes rather than a hospital gown like the other long term patients. She was also much better groomed than the others, her hair finely combed.

Although he tends to mind his own business, Aizawa can’t help himself from observing her from his place behind the gate. He’s never been much of a romantic or been interested in love or in a wife beyond having a family, but something about the way she carries herself, the way she tries to make herself smaller, the awkward sway of her body as she moves — it’s driving him mad.  

His eyes won’t remove themselves from the sight of her, no matter how hard he tries he can’t bring himself to tear himself away from her. It’s like a man in a desert seeing water for the first time in months while trying to discern if his eyes are playing tricks with him before he runs to the oasis. Only a wall and a few rolling hills separate him from this beautiful creature that he can’t even fathom as being real, and Aizawa is pushing his way through the recreation grounds until someone walks up to her and collects her by the arm before leading her back inside. Aizawa only stands there, empty and broken at the sight as though his entire world has been ripped away from him. 

The whistle is blown not long after that, the shrill call beckoning the inmates back into their dungeon, and, while Aizawa’s feet move his body, his spirit is still standing out on the barren ground overlooking the rolling green hills. 

*

Aizawa doesn’t sleep that night. 

By midnight, he’s out of bed searching for any way possible to escape the building, right when the guards assume the inmates are all asleep and are in the common room playing poker or drinking. One of them won’t be back to survey the halls for at least an hour, and Aizawa feels that, if he was able to smuggle a cat in for a week, being absent from the hospital for an hour and coming right back is mere child’s play. 

Aizawa doesn’t know what exactly he’s going to do. His plan exists as far as his ability to get into her room at the sanitorium, anything beyond that is up to circumstance. He’s not even certain about what he plans to say or even what to do about initial introductions. Staying any amount of time is risky, but even a second of watching her sleep will be enough for his satisfaction. 

Breaking out of his room isn’t difficult. He’s done it many times before, and it only gets easier with every repetition. Soon, he’s out onto the grounds, his feet sinking into the sodden earth with each step he takes down the rolling hills. Although a torrential downpour is raining on his body, he feels as though he’s walking on a cloud when he finally reaches the pavement marking the entrance of the sanatorium, and it’s only then that he realizes he has no idea which floor she belongs on. Luckily, the hospital has balconies that begin as soon as the second floor, and, within seconds, he’s beginning the climb up the building. The moment he hits the first balcony, he’s walking down the terrace in search of the first open window he can find. 

About three rooms down, his search is concluded, and Aizawa is crawling into a stranger’s hospital room on light feet. The only noise he makes is the sound of the water dripping off him and onto the floor tiles, his steps slow and deliberate in order to avoid slipping. When he’s out into the dimly lit hallway, Aizawa scrambles into every room, looking for the h/c haired angel he saw earlier. When the second floor proves empty, he scrambles towards the stairwell, lacking the courage to brave the elevator lest he run into any of the staff, and continues his search on the third floor. 

The third, fourth, and fifth floors prove utterly worthless, as Aizawa is unable to find any trace of the woman in any of the rooms. He realizes there’s only one floor left, a small apartment located at the very top of the building, but, strangely enough, Aizawa finds that the stairwell concludes at the fifth floor. Although there is an elevator door, it’s only one way, providing a gateway between the fifth and sixth floors but completely separated from the floors below. Even worse, it’s only accessible by a keycard that he most certainly does not possess. He stares at the keypad as though it has personally offended him, his whole body beginning to tremble before he goes into the nearest bedroom and forces the window before climbing out onto the balcony again. 

He’s relieved to find that there is, indeed, a balcony on the sixth story, but, as he begins the climb, he discovers that the bricks composing the wall are covered in slick moss and algae. His fingers slip and struggle to grip the structure, and it takes him significantly longer to scale this final stretch than it did the first, but, after ten minutes of climbing, stopping, and panicking, Aizawa pulls himself onto the ledge, collapsing into an exhausted heap on the hard cement like a drenched rat that saved itself from drowning. 

The apartment is much nicer than the rest of the sanatorium in that it almost looks like a tiny house, and, if Aizawa didn’t know any better, he would assume the doctors’ quarters were here. The curtains are a completely different feel from the rest of the hospital’s design, and, as Aizawa pushes the glass doors open and enters the moonlit room, he’s almost amazed at how habitable the room is. All the furniture is a soft cream color with knit blankets and crocheted lace throw pillows littering the chairs and sofa, and a small bookcase with worn children’s books and a few newer looking encyclopedias resting on the shelves occupying an alcove in the wall. 

It isn’t until Aizawa looks around that he hears the sound of running water and realizes that someone is awake, and he prepares to walk over to the bathroom when the doorknob turns. Although he came to see her, something instinctual within him possesses him to hide, and Aizawa barely takes refuge behind a couch when a male exits the bathroom with nothing more than a towel hanging about his thin hips. His confusion mounts further when loud wailing comes from within the bathroom, and the man does nothing more than plant himself down on a footstool and pick up a paper as though he’s unbothered by the noise. 

The pieces pull together slowly when the sobbing continues for minutes on end as the man, planted mere feet in front of him, only grows more irritated as he dries himself off. His irritation breaks into anger when the man walks back to the bathroom, and Aizawa watches as his arm moves before something hard hits the wall before barking out “Shut up, will you?” The crying jumps to a welp when the collision happens, and anger twitches throughout all of Aizawa’s muscles. The only thing preventing him from attacking the man then is the fact Aizawa knows he’s too exhausted to win. All he can do is watch as the man groans, rubbing his lower jaw with his hand before getting dressed and walking over to a door and pushing a card into a slot. Once the elevator arrives, the man steps inside and leaves. 

Aizawa pulls himself to his feet the second the elevator door closes and walks into the bathroom only to find the h/c haired woman from before huddled in the corner of the still running shower, her face buried into her knees as the wailing continues. A hairbrush lays in the shower, water soaking the strands of hair clinging to the bristles, and Aizawa assumes it’s the object that was thrown at her. Although rape isn’t exactly unheard of in UA, it’s usually between inmates as the doctors are usually much smaller and weaker in comparison to their patients or are smart enough not to attempt things that will get them killed. When things happen, it’s usually within solitary. 

A feeling akin to dizziness forms a vortex in his stomach as he backs out of the room silently, careful to ensure that his feet don’t slap against the floor. Her cries echo throughout the shower as he retreats into the midnight blue atmosphere of the room as reality crashes down on him. The cushy atmosphere erodes in a way that is almost palpable to him, the white lace seeming to turn to cobwebs in front of his eyes and the calm blue atmosphere taking on a much more sinister hue. This isn’t a bedroom. It’s a prison cell — a comfortable cell perhaps but a cell nonetheless. 

She’s a prisoner here.

Within moments of his realization, the water running in the shower cuts off, and the sound of crying becomes noticeable in the silence. Feet slap against the bathroom floor quickly, the soles of her feet still wet from the shower, and Aizawa barely has enough time to move out of the way before she rushes into the living area. He ducks into a tight corner out of sight and observes as she throws herself onto the nearest couch cushion before wailing to the heavens. The sight is pitiful, guttural noises becoming something of a haunting prayer as her fingers wrench into the threaded quilt covering the couch. 

Speaking to her right now will do no good. Aizawa knows he must leave before she takes notice of him — the floors and walls aren’t very thick, and even the littlest sounds run the risk of alerting security or that man. As little as he wants to leave, he knows that, for now, it’s for the best. 

He takes slow, hesitant steps towards the window, still uncertain of whether he’s making the right decision when his foot knocks against something on the floor. Obscured by the darkness, he can’t exactly see what it is that his foot collided with, but Aizawa whirls around immediately, expecting the young woman to attack him. However, when he turns around, Aizawa finds that she’s still strewn across the couch, her sobs undisturbed. 

Aizawa halts, his chest tightening with a deep ache as he observes her. Pity coats his insides like a thick, gloopy ink, gluing him to his spot on the carpet. His calloused hand palms at the back of his neck as indecision chokes him even tighter. Everything clicks into place at an ungodly rate. She’s deaf. It’s why she makes no more noise than her sobs. It’s why she still hasn’t been alerted to his presence. 

Aizawa doesn’t really want to leave, but he can’t foresee any scenario in which staying is a smart idea. Leaving riddles him with grief, but he knows that, for now, it’s the only option. One thing remains certain, though. 

He will be back.

[remiratboi]

Hey there! :)

The TW covers the entire thing but all things are not necessarily in every chapter. This is a fantasy, consent is required, read at your own risk. Also I’m making up my own rules about creatures/nonhumanraces and shit here ok? Anything’s possible.

Cernis Sulxan - He/Him - AMAB

Ellory Broadmoore - He/They - AFAB (post top surgery and testosterone)

TW - Anxiety, OCD, OCPD, Autism, Minor Hoarding (like hoarding but it’s all paper no dangerous hoarding), some body image issues more related to gender dysphoria but also very vaguely ED related. Lots of dark sex stuff. Borderline noncon, but kinda cnc. Forced heats kinda, monster fucking, anal, masturbation, choking, incubus, dragon dick, size kink, bdsm, overstim, denial, edging, toys, public sex, impact play, probably more, I dno yet. But lots of dark sex so

Chapter 2 - Ellory

Ellory grinned at himself as they shut the door on the stunned mountain of a man inside. He knew he shouldn’t be messing with a client like that. Cernis had even called Ellory out on their flirting. But something about the Dragonborn made Ellory’s skin tingle. They had to almost force himself to walk away from the glass door. He could feel Cernis’ eyes on their back as they walked.

He shook his head and went back into professional mode.

The day passed quickly. Ellory loved what they did. He lived for order and perfection. Maybe a little too much. His entire life was organized. Not just their home, or his business, but their personal life, his likes, dislikes, all of it was planned.

Ellory mulled over this fact while they took the short walk from his office to their home. They lived and worked downtown, in the cities hub. It was loud and chaotic. Ellory hated it. But it was a necessary evil. He hated driving a lot more. Too unpredictable. So they had bought a nice little condo in a skyscraper a few blocks from their office.

Ellory mentally prepared his dinner in his head. They walked through each step, what it would look like, what it would feel like. He counted each footstep he took in a pattern of four. One two three four, one two three four, one two three four.

Another pedestrian knocked into Ellory, making him step off the sidewalk and onto a small grass patch. The woman apologized and hurried on. Ellory was frozen. Three three three pounded in his head. They hated it when this happened. The word three got louder and louder in their head as another voice, their own thoughts, shouted back to just MOVE.

Finally he managed to take step four and continue on home. His shoulders ached from how tense they had been even for such a short period.

Inside his home, he walked through, checking the oven, the taps, the windows and the fire alarms. Once his list was complete, they started on dinner.

The night was uneventful. Ellory spent their time putzing around. Doing some work, reading the paper, cleaning up after dinner. For some reason though, Ellory could not stop thinking about Cernis. The Dragonborn’s huge arms. He towered over Ellory when he stood. But then the innocent little daydreams started turning dirtier. Ellory imagined Cernis throwing them down in the office, glass walls allowing everyone to see as Cernis claimed Ellory as his own.

They shook their head and tried to focus on what they were doing. However it wasn’t long before Ellory was dreaming about Cernis chasing them, hunting them down in the woods, and taking them ruthlessly when he caught them. Ellory chastised himself inwardly. Why couldn’t they focus?

The third time they caught themselves thinking about Cernis forcing Ellory to take his huge dragon cock, they decided he clearly needed to do something about this.

Ellory, annoyed with himself, marched to their bedroom. They were busy. He didn’t have time for this infuriating lust that they were experiencing. He grabbed his favourite vibrator and stripped before climbing into his large, pillowy bed. Ellory always felt like a god in this bed. It was huge, custom order, with fairy spin silk sheets and a comforter that was the perfect balance of hot and cold. But this time, Ellory wasn’t there to admire the bed. They were there to get this stupid crush out of their mind.

He turned the vidrator to high and started working it into his front. Ellory bit their lip softly as the vibrator slipped in much too easily. He was almost embarrassed but how wet thinking about the grumpy Dragonborn had made him. Almost.

They reached down and touched their throbbing tdick. He had been on testosterone for about 2 years now, and his growth was impressive. Ellory was very proud of his tcock. They imagined the Dragonborn’s long tongue licking up and down their length.

Stop it they thought. The whole point of this was to get that man out of your head. He doesn’t even like you, and here you are, a dripping slut for him.

Ellory felt his front clench around the vibrator when they thought about being a toy for the huge man. They stroked their tcock while thrusting the vibrator inside themselves. He tried picturing someone else. Or a different scenario. Anything. But each time they found their mind wandering back to Cernis. The way he had squinted when he said “stop flirting with me”. Ellory groaned in frustration.

They tried doubling down on their efforts, going longer and harder and deeper. They grabbed another bullet vibe from their beside table and pressed it against the head of their tdick. It felt good, of course it felt good, but it wasn’t getting him anywhere like it normally did. Ellory changed positions, they changed to anal, they tried a variety of toys in different combinations, but nothing worked.

Finally, after nearly an hour of desperately trying to cum, Ellory threw back the covers, frustrated and on edge. He stormed into his bathroom to take a long, and very cold shower.

Part 3!! vvvvv

[shychick-52]

Here are some Gyro (2017) headcanons I have (longish list, be warned):

After the original Tokyolk incident, young Gyro's reputation was pretty much ruined within the international scientific community, until he got hired by Scrooge (the only one to ever really give him a chance for ten years- Frank confirmed that Gyro worked for Scrooge for a decade or something, and it was stated in 'Astro B.O.Y.D.' the Tokyolk incident happened 20 years ago- so I'm not sure what he did for the first decade until Scrooge hired him, tho).

Because he's Scrooge McDuck, I definitely think Scrooge knew about the Tokyolk incident (how could he not?? Not only was it surely huge international news, but the guy's a globe-trotter extraordinaire), but was willing to give Gyro a chance because: (1) he saw amazing potential in him and his genius, and (2) he's usually on the side of the underdog and the misfit.

Scrooge promised Gyro to never tell another soul about what happened, because that was strictly his business- including Donald and Della, and the Board ofc.

Gyro always had great respect, trust, and gratitude for Scrooge for both giving him a chance and for keeping his secret.

Gyro's inventions officially started turning evil and backfiring nearly ever since the Tokyolk incident (which he always thought was the first instance of an invention of his turning evil).

After some time passed after Gyro got hired by Scrooge, Scrooge began approving of his inventions less and less, especially once Bradford and the Buzzards weaseled their way on as his Board and gained Scrooge's trust to "make good financial decisions" for his company, as stated in Gyro's debut episode 'The Great Dime Chase' (Scrooge mostly trusted the Board, but definitely argued with them about a lot of things, such as firing certain staff and cutting funding for certain other things he deemed necessary).

Eventually, Gyro strongly suspected the only reason Scrooge never fired him- since, from his perspective, he seemed to have lost faith in him for a long time (disapproving of his inventions, telling him they're crazy and dangerous like everyone else thinks, agreeing with the Board when they deny him funding)- is because he enjoys both seeing him fail and laughing at him like everyone else does; this likely deeply hurt him, because he'd thought at least Scrooge understood him, but at the same time he still couldn't help but always look to Scrooge with respect and gratitude for hiring him in the first place.

At some point, especially the more Gyro's inventions turned evil and the more his reputation continued to sink until it seemed it couldn't get any worse, Gyro just accepted and even ironically embraced his label as a mad scientist; as much as he truly resented it and it hurt, he thought if all anyone ever saw in him was a dangerous crackpot and a mad scientist, that's what they would get.

He always believed- or at least deeply feared- that his inventions turning evil meant, deep down, he was evil too; and whenever he told others his inventions weren't "all evil, just wildly misunderstood", he was referring to himself just as much, trying to convince himself of this too.

Gyro's arrogance and emotionally distancing himself from others was mostly a cover for the deep insecurities that plagued him ever since Tokyolk, a mask to convince both others and himself he's anything but a weak loser and a useless failure (I think Frank even confirmed this one on here, at least more or less).

Gyro deliberately made a point of not remembering the names of most of the people in his life (except for Scrooge, obviously, and Manny- who Frank said Gyro gave the name 'Manny', which explains why he remembers it) because he was scared of getting too close to them, or them getting too close to him- to quote Donald, "somebody always gets hurt", whether it's Gyro or the ones in his life (take the Spear of Selene incident, for example)- and also because he was terrified that if he risked letting people in, they'd see him for the failure and the monster he was even more than they likely already did.

Akita very likely always treated Gyro like a worthless failure (and it always tore at his self-esteem), so when the Tokyolk incident happened with '2-BO' and shattered the majority of the rest of his self-image, Gyro always thought his mentor was right about him after all.

@thatduckisgay