#unicorn presentation term

[mr-weirdo-mcgee]

Unicorn:

A presentation term for queer people wearing pastels and/or white with some rainbow pastels OR a queer person with labels like xenogenders or complex identifies that other queer people make fun of, MAYBE specifically mocking it like "uwu I'm a (blank complex identity) and I'm so valid, uwu x 100" (yes that is a way people make that)

Maybe both, with people with complex identities wearing pastels.

Day 16 of cointober

[maggore]

[ID: A rectangular flag with 5 even horizontal stripes, colored from top to bottom; dark candy red, orange, dull bluish green, dark sky blue, and royal purple. On the left is a half royal purple and half dark candy red makizushi shapes, colored dull bluish green, with golden yellow outlines. end ID]

Unicorn Makizushi

Anyone who presents their gender through rainbow.

Coined on 2/2/2025 | Colors based on the definition | Symbol source (link)

(Taglist) @radiomogai @obscurian & @presentation-labels

[flutteringwings-coining]

Sunny Unicorn

A presentation term for those who present femininely in a unicorn-like way! Whatever this means in context is up to the user.

Tagging @radiomogai @presentationflag-archive

[emacrow]

Thank you for accepting the courtship.

Raven was using an ancient forbidden ritual to Pariah King of the infinite realm to stop Trigon and Darkseid to stop them from taking over this universe. The proper gift in term in the book for the ritual to be accepted said to be her firstborn whenever she were to have one, and it seemed the ritual was accepted.

She expected some old man in dark ancient armor to come out of the summoning ritual portal, except it wasn't Pariah King who came out.

A aurora crown floated upwars, then a white blob emerged only to be white long hair that kept going upward, growing longer and longer tall silhouette nearly 12-14 feet tall.

Hundreds of thousands of tiny stars in the white hair swirling toward the face with pointed ears, forming into three glowing yet dull green eyes with darken specks of stars underneath the eyelids and cheeks, a blackish blue like breaking open like a tear to reveal sharp gleaming white teeths, a dark blue tongue.

The clothes that this entity form beneath that resemble 1980s hazmat clothes that flickered from and to a royal clothes with jewels of tiny planet yet unnerving as if it haven't decided which to be and out of place that nearly made Raven's eyes wanted to avoid looking at it.

She didn't falter nor didn't flinch as this being glanced at the ritual symbols, tilting his head as if interested before before the three eyes looked back at her that made her heart wanted to stop as the used to be dulled eyes sparkled a bit.

Then, the being grew smile that would've made the Joker cry, Much to Raven's inner horror and nearly every empticlones in nevermore screaming at her to run and hide.

"I, Phantom, Prince and Savior of the infinite realms from the Mad King, Defender of Pandora's box, Balancer of Time, accept your gift." The voice was barely a whisper that almost sounded rich smooth as velvet, yet loud enough to hear clearly to raven.

With a simple wave of his long, arachnodactyly fingers as if waving off an annoying fly before shrinking slowly with a gleam of white light evenly enveloping to reveal a 9'4 foot tall lanky bat adoption bat guy.

Black long-haired, put in a clumsy doubled braided with blue and red flowers, held polka dotted scrunchies, girly hair clips with unicorn themes, soft blue eyes that were redish in the corner and a soft delicate face that Raven definitely wasn't ogling in her nevermore mindscape.

"Thank you for accepting the courtship."

"Your welcome."

....

....

Raven's mind blanch a bit realizing what he just said.

"Wait, What?"

...

...

Danny was doing just fine, just fine indeed as he was sitting in Jazz’s house, his niece rebraiding his hair as he shoved another giant handful of Fudge brownies into his mouth.

Ellie was moving into her boyfriend six month ago, and there was nothing Danny could do seeing his little girl move on without him.

Empty nest syndrome Jazz and his parents told him. Sam suggested another online dating, but being a famous, well-known Savior of Earth after Disasteroid came a lot of girls and even boys who see danny as a hero or for his fame and fortune instead of Danny.

Not to mention the ghosts, the stupid eyeballs trying to present another candidate for him to Wed which he refused.

He has used raising ellie as the common excuse that turned into actually doting parenting, but now..

He couldn't go back to his haunt castle after she moved out without burying himself in her childhood room, holding her old worned out red beanie hat that she didn't wear anymore.

Kids grow up and move on from their parents, but they always come back when in need.

He did something out of impulse due to his empty nest syndrome, which was going a bit haywire by the day and Sam, Val and Tucker won't let him bring them over to hang out especially when they are busy.

He made a ritual with clockwork help that randomly appeared in any other dimensions, then his own to pick the right person to court at the right time.

Now all he has to do is wait.

(I got inspired by this post here <- )

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

ErROr

[2.]

Love and Deepspace Various! / Reader

《File welcomes you! Enter! ... Good Luck.》

-

-

Huming to the soft music playing in the cafe, you gently stir the brew. The smell of fresh bread and sweet syrups always lingering in the air.

You were glad for the calm evening, the morning rush had gone by rather quickly. Each order different than the last, yet you and youe colleuges made it through the first shift.

"Excuse me?" A polite voice pipes up. Giving the costumer your attention, your eyes widen at the familiar heroine hunter.

"Hello again! What can I get you Miss MC?"

You playfully smile, as the brunette beauty grins back at you.

"My usual, please."

"Alright, unicorn hair and a dish rag, comin' up!" You state innocently as her eyes widen. Her laughter lighting on the cafè as you turn away to the coffee cups.

Not seeing her lean her palm against her chin, eyeing the curve of your shoulder blades as stretch a arm up to the higher shelves.

'I wish I was that cup~!' She screamed iternally. This little haven of her's being the few solaces in her stressful life. Bringing out her phone, texting her friend, using every bit of sensabilty to not take photos of you.

-

You swoon openly, heart-eyed and face warm as you recount your feelings. Though, you knew telling the male of who your affections were for wouldn't make him bat an eye, (since he loved MC), it weirded you out at his strange behavior. Eyes slightly cold as his frown deepens into a pout.

You ignore it, knowing you had no chance with the love intrest. (At least you could swoon about the other male leads since they didn't know it was them you were talking about.)

"Hm? You okay?" You pause your rant, eyeing the blonde.

"...No."

"O-oh.." You head slightly lowered, toying with the holding trey. "A-ahm.. I'll just, get your order, Xavier." The friendly tone dying in your throat as you walk away. Frowning, know you shouldn't be pushing your luck. You'd at least hoped to be on friendly terms! You knew he wasn't as cold as he presented himself! But.. That was reserved for the MC only.

While wandering back to the kitchen, the blonde runs his fingers through his locks. Upset for being the cause of loosing your enthusiasm.

Jelousy spiking up quietly in his heart when recalling MC proudly showing off your number in her phone. Or hearing your sweet words of praise directed to someone else.

He'd have to find away to get it.

-

Sitting on the bar-stool, you eye the giant glass shard stuck in your leg. Trying to fake the pain, you were honestly nonchalant at the at the injury.

It couldn't really do damage.

Sweating slightly, you smiled nervously at the doctor.

Zayne carefully lifts your leg close to him, tenderly gripping your skin as he eyes injury.

"Okay... One, two... THREE." He stated, pulling out the glass stuck in your thigh. You blink, nothing, no scream, no blood... Nothing.

"...." The doctor blinks at you in disbelief. Shakily placing the shard down on the bar-counter.

"...Y.. Your body still must be in shock." The male rationalized, fingers digging into the flesh of your leg.

"O-oh... Y-yeah..." You hear the jingle of the cafè's door opening. Alerting the two of you as Zayne's body cages around you.

-

The painter eagerly pushes you down on one of the dressing room chairs. Smirking as MC walks into one the dressing rooms.

"You know... I think this color would look wonderfully on you." He spoke casually, sliding up closer to you. Holding up a shimmering blue dress with bits of jewels threaded into the seam.

You thought it looked really familiar to certain outfit of his-

"Huh.. I don't think it's my size though." You shrug, "the last outfit you handed me was a bit tight. I couldn't even pull the ziper up for the back."

You recall a few moments earlier, when MC eagerly wanted to take a selfie with you in that piece. Rafeyal immediately forwning and trying to push between you. To the point his hands pushing at your back away from the female Hunter.

Not seeing the grin he shot her when he carresed your naked lower spine.

"Though, I really wish you'd acompany me and Miss Bodygaurd to the exhibit."

"Oh? That's really nice of you to offer, but I-... Well.." You let a silly smile overtake your face. Dreamily sighing as you glace away, your heart couldn't take his pout.

"I.. uhm.. Got a date?"

-

Seeing that familiar smirk, you got another case of butterflies. Swallowing down your swooning, you notice a customer calling you over.

Passing by the male, you use all of your will power to ignore him. Eyes shinning with utter affection, you direct those feelings away. Greeting the costumer that called you eagerly.

Feelings still rampanging over your heart, you do your best to pay attention to the order.

Heading back to the counter, your co-worker writes down Sylus order as you start perparing the coffee.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to add on to my order. But may I have two smaller drinks with the order."

"Of course!" You pipe up, not daring to meet his gaze as you shake the syrup canister.

"Thank you, (Y/N)..."

He sounded out the name cheekily, with you heart fluttering about. You don't see that your name-tag was no longer on your shirt.

Instead, hidden within his coats pockets for safe-keeping.

-

[Hiya! I wrote this as a idea I had awhile ago! It was originally in the concept as a full fledege idea. But I scrapped it, sorry! Enjoy! Thanks for reading, if you wanna know more. Send in a ask!]

[paci-papa]

You were so excited to go over to Papa's house. He was hosting a baby shower for a friend, and he wanted you to be there.

You had been dating and playing with Papa for a few months now, but it hadn't been serious. Just a few trips out to pizza or the zoo, followed by evenings of incredible little time in his nursery.

Despite a long term interest in AB/DL, you'd never been in a relationship like this before, and, so far, it was better than you had ever imagined it would be.

And today? Today was wonderful because your relationship with Papa was taking the next step. He wasn't just hanging out with you on a date or in the nursery. He was introducing you to his friends.

The party started out great. You were wearing your cutest outfit, and Papa's friends were all incredibly nice. They brought you drinks, complimented you on how cute you were, and talked about how lucky Papa was to have you in his life.

The only concerning thing was that none of Papa's friends appeared to be pregnant. Not wanting to be rude, you never questioned the issue, assuming that the parents-to-be must be adopting.

After a number of silly games, like seeing how fast people could drain a baby bottle (you one of course) and making a diaper out of toilet paper (somehow you were the model), it was time for presents.

One of Papa's prettier friends sat near the presents and patted the seat next to her.

"Sweetheart, would you mind sitting here and helping me open these presents?"

You smiled broadly at being given the honor and practically skipped to the seat.

You helped the woman--you never caught her name--open present after present. A parade of toys, bottles, and burp clothes passed through your hands as you dutifully showed them off for the interested crowd.

Then, the presents switched to clothes, and you started to become concerned. The woman had you display each onesie, jumper and set of shortalls for the crowd. But, despite each item of clothing being clearly designed for an infant, they all seemed perfectly sized to fit you.

Finally, only one box was left. It was small, but a nervous pit had formed in your stomach. What was going on? Why was everyone so focused on you? The look of confusion and concern on your face was adorable.

You watched as Papa picked up the last, small present himself, and got on one knee in front of you. For no reason you understood, a blush bloomed on your face.

"Baby, could you open this last present?" Papa asked softly.

Delicately, you reached for the box in his hand. A clamshell container, much like a jewelry box, but decorated in rainbows and unicorns. You opened up the box and looked inside. On a velvet padded cushion sat a beautiful adult-sized pacifier, in your favorite brand and style.

You looked up at Papa, confused.

"Little one," he began as you looked at him, "would you do me the greatest honor in the world and agree to be my full-time baby?"

The blush that covered your face and neck was overcome with tears of joy as you fell into Papa's arms.

"Yes, Papa, I will!" You answered as you clung to him.

Papa's friends broke into applause as Papa picked you up and carried you back into the nursery.

After a quick outfit change, the party continued. As you were passed around from one of Papa's friends to another in your diaper and toddler party dress, you smiled and giggled fully enjoying the party.

No, not just a party: A baby shower. Your baby shower.

You had never been happier.

[loveanddeephistory]

LaDs x Archaeologist! Reader

While Rafayel absolutely would have an interesting dynamic, what about the other lads? This is gonna be a loose version of canon, reader remains childhood friends/having grown up with Caleb and Zayne. Bulleted headcanons

WC: 2.7k

✨Xavier✨

✨ This man is OLD. He has SEEN SOME SHIT. He’s been on this planet for over two hundred years, depending on where he lived and bounced around across the world he’d absolutely have bared witness to the development of anthropology and archaeology. Whether or not he paid much attention to it is another question.

✨Since you’re not a hunter, the next most likely place to meet Xavier as an archaeologist would be the library or a local museum. He’s been going through some old items, and realized he had some old momentos he didn’t feel the need to keep anymore. Rather than throw them away, he asked if the museum may be interested. You’re working as a consultant when he walks in.

✨While curation and collections work are not on your resume, you help the director anyway, sorting through the relics of a forgotten age. The handsome young (looking) man is quiet, but would answer questions as asked. ✨ You find out he’s a Deepspace Hunter. And a UNICORNS member at that. You try to thank him and ask about his job, but he shoots you down and instead asks about yours.

✨What was supposed to be an hour to assess what items the museum might take turned into multiple hours. Xavier didn’t seem keen on discussing his connections to the items in front of him, brushing them off as old trinkets great aunts, uncles, and other relatives passed down. But when you began to discuss the history and context behind them? Those big blue eyes started to sparkle like the stars in the night sky.

“I… didn’t think people still cared about those kinds of things.” He murmured, sliding his thumb across an object, wiping away a small layer of dust. You flash him a grin, snapping on the archival gloves to handle some of the more sensitive matters.

“I do. It’s my job to. I work more in the field, but I pitch in at museums where I can. Finding the stuff is good and all, but giving it a proper home where it will be cared for and preserved for future generations is just as important.”

✨ Consider his interest piqued. ✨Long, constant missions don’t leave him much time to hang around. But it isn’t the last time you see him. He seems to pick up odd jobs everywhere, when he wasn’t on a mission or fast asleep somewhere. One time he was handing out fliers, another he was running a second hand book store. But every time you saw him, he’d stop you to ask about the collection he left. About any excavations you’d been on, or research you’d done.

✨ He might not talk much about himself, potentially making you self conscious that you’re talking about yourself too often, but he’s just enthralled. He’d spent 214 years on this planet, and oh how times had changed in those two centuries. But your passion for the past, the one he knew and the one long before him? It frees him in.

✨ Expect him to “just so happen” to drop by the first time you’re on a long term excavation far from Linkon. He brushes off any questions of ‘how did you know I was here’ or ‘how did you get clearance for this’ with just flashing his UNICORNS identification. Wanderers, metaflux, you know the drill

✨Oh but the one time there was a Wanderer that showed up during an excavation? He was there in a heartbeat. ✨ Your passion for the past and the beauty of its preservation for the present and future caught his eye. While you might not have mummies or sorcerers chasing you down, there were real threats that did exist. But your fellow history fan had your back, from that point on.

🐠 Rafayel 🐠

🐠For a more in depth exploration, check out Trowels and Scales

🐠You two meet while you’re doing research on Lemuria, preparing for an underwater excavation. He’s polite but none too pleased.

🐠I mean, puh-lease, you think he’s gonna let this stinky human anywhere near his homeland? An archaeologist no less? Absolutely not

🐠He’s well read. He knows his history. He was present for it, anyway. He knows archaeology. He knows archaeologists. Just a fancy human way to say “thieving culture vultures with a dash of supremacy”. Absolutely not.

🐠That being said? He keeps an eye on you. Watches you from afar. You get spooked when the first phase of the Lemurian excavation goes south, so he takes that as a good sign.

🐠But still. He needs to keep an eye on you. But the more he does, and the more he “accidentally” runs into you, the more he finds his thoughts being challenged.

🐠You insisted on working alongside the community. You insisted on working with them, not against them, on being respectful.

🐠He doesn’t know what to think of you. You’re earnest. But you’re human! You’re an archaeologist! But the more he learns, the more he sees, the more he finds… he realizes you’re serious.

🐠He doesn’t open up fast. Far from it. It’s little tests here and there, seeing if you’re serious. His trust is hard to come by. But damn, you manage to get it. 🐠Maybe you’re useful in the long run. Having an archaeologist helping him? Good. It’s been a long time coming.

🐠But you’re cute. Really cute. That passion, your fervor for doing the right thing, for history and art…

🐠 Maybe there’s something here. Maybe. Now to get rid of that fake pearl around your neck…

❄️Zayne❄️

❄️ He was always quick to defend you growing up if other kids on the block made fun of you for your nerdy interests. An icy stare usually made them shut up.

❄️He had to admit, he liked the thought of you both being ‘doctors’ some day together. Him, cardiac surgery. You, archaeology. A social science is still a science, though you didn’t need to go to med school.

❄️You two lost touch when he moved away, only to meet again at a conference you both had been invited to. He was thoroughly surprised to see you.

❄️You could see the scars peeking out from under the sleeves of his collared shirt. He caught you staring, and at first cleared his throat while looking away. You merely rolled up your own sleeves, showing off the multitude of scars on your own forearms.

❄️”We match.” It was a surprise. While he knew your discipline meant the hazard of injury while in the field, he certainly hadn’t expected this. Your arms and hands were littered with small and big scars. As his eyes trailed over each one you smiled and pointed out what each one was from.

❄️Machete mishaps, things falling, accidents with students, a sharp tape measure retracted a little too close to skin (yes this has happened to me 🫠)

❄️Zayne didn’t know if he should scold you for being reckless, scold the people around you for being reckless, or both.

❄️He did both.

❄️The organizers noticed your chemistry and found out about your history together, and asked if you’d be interested in running a joint panel about the evolution of medical history, starting with what’s been found in ancient archaeological digs vs modern medicine. You agreed to make it a joint project for the conference the following year.

❄️Which meant meeting up on your days off (which were few and far between for the both of you), getting some drinks and macarons at his favorite bakery.

❄️Once the time came, it was one of the most anticipated cross-disciplinary panels to be hosted. Attended by medical students, anthropologists, archaeologists, and people just generally interested.

❄️You brought in some physical anthropologists to balance the history with the anatomy, while Zayne brought some of his colleagues with knowledge of old medical pathways.

❄️The whole event was a smashing success, praised across discipline for its thoroughness and its importance. Medical students understood the significance of the history of medicine, while anthropologists learned something new about the modern medical system.

❄️While schedules remained tight, your meetings with Dr. Zayne remained constant. Meeting up for drinks, macarons, and to review each others academic papers.

❄️Oh, and if you do pursue your doctorate? Know for a fact he’ll be there for your dissertation, front row, already wanting to rehost that panel once you’re a Dr. too

🐦‍⬛ Sylus 🐦‍⬛

🐦‍⬛I need to find and tag that person who said we should let Sylus loose on the British Museum, please let me know if you know who that person is because they’re RIGHT

🐦‍⬛Let’s say you two meet under… unsavory circumstances.

🐦‍⬛You were working on a high prestige excavation, only to find some of the precious jewels uncovered to have been stolen. Now this was a very important heritage site to the local community so on top of being frustrated and angry, you’re downright heartbroken.

🐦‍⬛You hear through the grapevine the thieves have an auction set up at the nest in Linkon. It’s ballsy, but you’re pissed enough as is, so you get yourself an invitation and show up.

🐦‍⬛No one recognized you (easy to get away with since you weren’t covered in the muck and grime of an excavation) so you watched and bide your time.

🐦‍⬛The auction starts, and already the price is high. People are bidding all over the place, and you just have to grind your teeth as you take mental notes to report this to the authorities. But you knew if it crossed the line into the N109 zone, it would likely never be seen again.

🐦‍⬛Finally, the highest bidder won. 5 million. Five. Million. Everyone else was bidding in the thousands, disappointing the thieves greatly, until a single low voice called out his number. The thieves not so subtly rejoiced.

🐦‍⬛You watch as a huge man slowly sidled up to where the jewel rested. His white hair and red eyes glowed in the low light of the club, and you nearly broke your martini glass. Typical rich assholes thinking they could just buy and sell precious relics with no regard to who they really belonged to.

🐦‍⬛You’d seen enough. You paid your tab and made your way out, ready to report this to the authorities when a black mist covered your mouth and pulled you backwards. You couldn’t scream. You couldn’t run. 🐦‍⬛”Don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing these new jewels, sweetie.” That same low, baritone voice from the auction caught your attention. The black mist around your mouth vanished as the man cockily walked towards you, the jeweled draped over his hand. “I haven’t seen you here before. What are you?”

🐦‍⬛You knew better. You really did. You knew to keep your mouth shut. But you didn’t. You scoffed. “Just the person who found those jewels.”

“This isn’t finders, keepers, sweetie. I paid for these fair and square.”

“And those thieves that pawned them off to you stole them from an archaeological site! Those belong to their proper community.” You spat back. “I don’t want them. I want them to go back to where they do belong.”

🐦‍⬛There was a beat. A pause. In the shadows of the alley you couldn’t quite see his eyes. But the mist holding your wrists together dissipated as well. You didn’t make any stupid moves, gently rubbing your wrists as he simply hummed.

🐦‍⬛”I didn’t realize your kind were so… altruistic nowadays.” You scoffed.

🐦‍⬛”Times have changed. That doesn’t belong to you, or me, or those thieves. You’re right, this isn’t finders keepers. We’re not children.”

🐦‍⬛He walks off without another word, going back inside. You take the opportunity to get the hell out of dodge, before filing a police report.

🐦‍⬛You were thoroughly surprised the very next day to have your phone blown up by your contacts from that community, thrilled that some Good Samaritan returned the jewels in the night. The thieves had been apprehended and revealed to be smugglers who did this at multiple sites. You refused to take credit, that wasn’t you. But, who was it? It couldn’t have been that big man from the nest.

🐦‍⬛You started feeling watched from that point on. You’d catch glimpses of a crow tailing you. Hanging out outside your home.

🐦‍⬛Next excavation you were on confirmed your suspicions that the odd man with the white hair was your newfound hero. Another attempted robbery happened- only for the artifacts to be returned, the thieves dropped off with the police, and a note.

🐦‍⬛”Keep your sparkly things under lock and key, I could suggest a few supplies. -S”

🐦‍⬛ Whoever this ‘S’ man was, he seemed to have a vested interest in the proper homes for artifacts. So even with that crow following you around, it became a new sense of peace.

🐦‍⬛Sylus found you interesting. Very interesting. He returned that necklace and got his money back from those vagrants. Thievery wasn’t something that inherently bothered him. But preying on a community and stealing their artifacts? Absolutely not. He’s killed for less.

🐦‍⬛It takes him back to his space pirate days for a minute. This was a lot less showy than the last time he dealt with repatriating goods, but it got the job done. Now that you’d caught his eye, he had something much more valuable than any needless trinket.

🍎 Caleb 🍎

🍎Do you really think he doesn’t remember how you’ve wanted to do this since you were a child??? Come on. This is Caleb we’re talking about, here!

🍎Every history project, every mathematical equation, your college application, your grad school application. It got harder as you both got older, with him in the DAA. But he did his best to be as present as he could, to be a call away for any help you might need.

🍎But, secretly? He wouldn’t mind if you faltered somewhere along the way. Not that he didn’t want you to succeed! Not in the slightest.

🍎But the job was hard. Long, unforgiving. Publish or perish. You were stressed enough, and the weight of your pasts weighed heavily on his shoulders. A small part of him felt bitter. Why would you return to the world of science, when it had done you two so much harm? Not that you remembered.

🍎Then again… that passion. That commitment. The way your eyes lit up when you passionately told him one day you’d be off exploring the world, making new finds… how could he ever deny you? He couldn’t.

🍎So he helped look over your applications to suggest word changes. He helped coach you through it. While dendrochronology and radiocarbon dating might make his head spin, he listened to every word, more than happy to just be your duck so you could figure out the problem on your own.

🍎He cleared his schedule to come and watch you defend your thesis after grad school. He had a bouquet of flowers at the ready, already knowing you’d pass with flying colors.

🍎He’d be the first to know of every find. Every new gig. Your first excavation out of school, your squeals of excitement just made his life light up.

“Y’know, pipsqueak, one of the benefits of havin’ your own personal pilot is bein’ able to get to these gigs faster, and with better company!”

“Caleb!” You laugh, still thrilled and giggly over the newest job. The thrill of the work hadn’t yet faded. He hoped it never did, if it meant hearing you laugh like that. “You can’t ditch work every time I get a new job!”

“Yeahhhh? Wanna bet?” The playful lilt in his voice just made you grin harder, your cheeks hurting.

🍎Of course, he still ran background checks on every one of your coworkers. Every time you complained about a chauvinistic man in your crew he’d handle it himself.

🍎He’d watch closely, making sure he’d be the first to know if your signal got too faint while in a remote part of the site. And if there was ever an emergency, he’d often know before the supervisor of the site did. He’d be calling nonstop, asking if he needs to fly down there, sometimes not bothering to wait to ask.

🍎He’d let you do your job. You were so proud of yourself, so fiercely independent. But you were still that little pipsqueak he knew and loved. And no matter what, no matter where you were in the world, he’d come to you. Access and permissions be damned.

[heilos]

Living Harmony AU relevant character sheets/info: Harmony aka the "Tree of Harmony" Shadow Lock Somnambula Starswirl the Bearded Stygian might be my favorite of the Pillars of Equestria and it's always made me sad that he wasn't used more in the show. So I decided to team up with my new friend Orin who's taken the time to make a bunch of amazing Pillar redesigns (same person I made this Starswirl animation rig for as a gift) that i'll be incorporating into my future animation project. The Pillars are very important characters to Harmony's story so I wanna do them justice. Listed below is some context for these sketches provided by my friend Orin and some written bits from myself. This is a Stygian who's been separated from the Pony of Shadows for some time, but is now dealing with the consequences of dark magic. I've had so much fun throwing ideas back and forth for this AU and I can't wait to share more in the near future.

Unicorn from a small sea side village in ancient times

Dedicated scholar and battle strategist

Special talent is writing. An incredible wordsmith in his own right

Wrote a very popular autobiography about his time possessed by the Pony of Shadows called “Me and My Shadow” (his third novel)

Name means "dark and gloomy" and also relates to the river and deity "Styx" of Greek mythology

Brought the Pillars of Equestria together in a bid to save his home town from the Sirens (the Dazzlings)

Wanted to become a hero in his own right even though he tried to convince himself otherwise

Lacks the physical strength and magical prowess of his fellow Pillars. Compared to any other run of the mill unicorn, however, Stygian is actually decently above average in terms of magical ability, though he downplays himself significantly

Ousted from the group after a misunderstanding involving him taking the other pillar’s relics to make copies of them so he too could be a hero and join them as an equal. His friends thought he was out to steal their power instead

Becomes bitter and seeks revenge afterwards when discovering the Well of Shade, which leads to the Pony of Shadows claiming him as its vessel

Banished along with the pillars to “limbo” for 1000 years through a powerful spell conceived by Starswirl and planned out by the rest of the pillars

Is freed from the Pony of Shadows' influence in modern Equestria thanks to the Mane 6 and the pillars with Twilight and Starlight being the main catalyst in helping Stygian where Starswirl had failed before

While no longer claimed by the Pony of Shadows, the consequences of using such powerful dark magic as well as being possessed by a being of pure shadow left its mark on him

Has dark magic scarring visible on his body. His eyes, inner mouth, teeth and magic color are permanently altered in appearance. It gives him a rather unsettling aura, much to his displeasure

The Pony of Shadows mark is not so easily purged, even with the combined strength of the past and present Elements of Harmony. A fragment of the shadow lives on in Stygian, inextricably bound to him, but small enough that it can no longer influence him.

Has abilities superficially similar to King Sombra's, albeit on a much smaller scale, and needs extensive practice before he can comfortably wield this new strength.

Luna becomes Stygian's second mentor, after Starswirl, to help him gain control over his new abilities. Her direct experience using dark magic to become Nightmare Moon makes her an effective teacher

As Stygian exerts better control over the shadow fragment, he eventually gains the ability to "Shadow Walk" or travel between shadows. This temporary form makes him look eerily similar to the Pony of Shadows. Pretty spooky

Can tell when the Pony of Shadows is close in proximity due to the shadow fragment, like a magic tracker

Stygian is a lucid dreamer. He appreciates dreams a lot more now that he’s sleeping on a proper schedule. Once in a while he’ll meet up with Princess Luna in the dream realm when they can’t find spare time in the waking world, outside of mentoring sessions, to enjoy each other's company as friends

Stygian redesign by Orin331

[chronicallyqueercoining2]

Chronicallyqueercoining2's 1.2k coining event!

[Pt: Chronicallyqueercoining2 's 1.2k coining event! End pt]

This will officially start on February 5th, but anypony is welcome to start sooner or later<3

Day 1 : a term related in some way to your favorite character

Day 2 : a term related to nature / space in some way

Day 3 : a gastrogender (gender related to food / drinks)

Day 4 : a specific color / color palette / shade

Day 5 : "fantasy" / "mythical creature(s) (for example vampires or werewolves or unicorns etc)

Day 6 : "creature" (im envisioning animals, but interpret as you'd like!)

Day 7 : something related to presentation (ex: bear, twink, femme, etc)

By term, we mean : gender, presentation, identity, sexuality, alterhumanity, etc! Whatever that may mean for you, it doesn't have to be a gender<3

[Pt: Day 1 : a term related in some way to your favorite character

Day 2 : a term related to nature / space in some way

Day 3 : a gastrogender (gender related to food / drinks)

Day 4 : a specific color / color palette / shade

Day 5 : "fantasy" / "mythical creature(s) (for example vampires or werewolves or unicorns etc)

Day 6 : "creature" (im envisioning animals, but interpret as you'd like!)

Day 7 : something related to presentation (ex: bear, twink, femme, etc)

By term, we mean : gender, presentation, identity, sexuality, alterhumanity, etc! Whatever that may mean for you, it doesn't have to be a gender (heart emoticon)

end pt]

TAGS BELOW CUT FOR PROMO! ASK TO BE REMOVED

@boingogender @buntress @catastrophe-coining @cocajimmycola @daybreakthing @deathofamistress @dragonpride17 @ectotrickster @en8y @fangpunk @floraeth

@flutteringwings-coining

@gender-darling @gender-mailman

@gloomybear-vexillologist @honey-makes-mogai @illusionfrilled @jiiamp @justanimp @kiruliom @local-maneater @losergendered @mantra-repeated @mogaipupster @mogai-sunflowers @mousesquared @neopronouns @noxwithoutstars @nqvo

@p-rtyboy @page-of-void-mogai @pupcoins @queergutz @rabidbatboy @radiomogai @revenant-coining @rwuffles @scr-ppup @smilepilled

@theflaggerrrr @thethreadsarefrayed @ubelaces @whimes @woodbyne @w1ll14m-4ft0n

[ckret2]

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing." 

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut. 

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted  from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking." 

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

[the-owl-tree]

Hey there! I found your post saying unicorns would be high class whilst earth ponies would be working class. Where would that put pegasi? Middle? They work and have a somewhat uppity attitude (seen with certain pegasi about Fluttershy and iirc, Rarity when she had those magic wings). They are also pretty open and normally don't have earth ponies or unicorns up in Cloudsdale since they are the only ones who can walk on clouds without magical needs.

What's interesting to me about the pegasi is despite being presented as the military faction of the universe and pony group, the most high ranking military leader is...a unicorn, Shining Armor. So even with their background in military, a unicorn is still at the head of operations. Cloudsdale itself is isolated and inaccessible from the other ponies as well, inadvertently creating like...unintentionally segregated cities and lands?? However, it's shown that unicorns, *albeit powerful ones, can still access these cities. Earth ponies are the only ones that are completely unable to access them.

*even then, we learn quickly that even average unicorns can learn impressive spells rather quickly. trixie was able to learn a teleportation spell within a day and celestia has an entire school dedicated to teaching unicorns magic. while both twilight and starlight are the only ones we see casting the spell, i don't think it's out of the question that other unicorns would be able to wield it as well.

So I guess using middle more as a placeholder term than an actual definitive answer, yes? Pegasi hold their land centric cities and land (er, sky?), lands that are only easily accessible to pegasi, meaning they don't have to worry about economic competition in the same way that earth ponies do. However, they're still barred from holding high ranks in Equestrian government and in terms of magic, unicorns could and plausibly be trained to do exactly what pegasi can do and more.

[crazygnomenclature]

Really curious, what comics have influenced your work the most?

I love answering this question, so pardon me if I go hog-wild. Tons of newspaper comics have been a huge influence on me.

As a kid I read through lots of comic strip collections Peanuts, Pearls Before Swine, Foxtrot, Far Side, Calvin & Hobbes, Dilbert, etc.

Tiff & Eve I would say is most influenced Foxtrot in terms of art and format, Luann in plot structure, and Phoebe and Her Unicorn in character dynamics. All 3 of those strips do a really good job of having longer, overarching narratives. Lots of things will have an effect or comeback later, which is something that isn't present in a lot of newspaper comicstrips.

My other series, The Spandau Chalet, was heavily influenced by Pearls Before Swine, Mutt & Jeff, and partially the manga Sumire 16 Sai (fabulous read btw). The first two are great examples of cruel humor directed at characters, which is something I wanted to bring to the strip as almost all the characters in that comic deserve what's coming to them.

Thank you for asking:)

[flutteringwings-coining]

Fog Unicorn

A presentation term for those who present masculinely in a unicorn-like way! Whatever this means in context is up to the user.

Tagging @radiomogai @presentationflag-archive

[cripplecharacters]

Hi! Ok so at one point I remember when answering an ask you said that when making animal based characters to just stay away from making any rat ones because of negative connotations (which I totally get)

So my question is would it be ok to have a whole humanoid race that is mildly based on mice? They look like humans but their ears vaguely look mouse-ish, they have tails, and their feet are sort of like paws. I am considering two different options with the tails in case I should stay away from the mouse thing, one looks like a mouse tail (kind of the main thing making them mice themed) and the other is a similar shape but fluffy especially at the end (A little like some versions of unicorn tails I've seen)

I would like to include disabled characters so if the mouse thing still isn't recommended I'll redesign them

Hello!

Most of the time when we advise that people avoid a certain trope/concept, it isn't a complete ban on it. It's generally more of a "be careful with how you approach this" type thing.

For example, we often advise against making a disabled character that's a villain because of their disability. If your only disabled character is a villain with chronic pain that kills people because their disability stops them from their dream job, that's not great. BUT if you have this same character and you also have a wheelchair user who runs the tech stuff for the hero side (Oracle-style, for my DC folks) and a Deafblind hero who leads the charge against the villains and an autistic sidekick and an amputee henchman for the villain and several able bodied villains and so on, then its less of a problem. It might not be gold medal representation but because you're no longer equating disability with tradegy and hatred and instead showing that villain as part of a cast with diverse stories and, more importantly, as a person with their own unique experiences, it's much better.

This is all a very long way of saying that most tropes that are generally best avoided can still be okay in some contexts.

In this case, having this whole species is completely fine and it's great that you want to include disabled characters! I see nothing wrong with this.

If you had a world where the characters were all anthropomorphic animals and the only rat character was also your own disabled character, that'd be a bit of a problem because it's singling out your disabled character -- presumably to poke at their disability.

In the concept you've presented, though, being part of this species is a trait all (Or most) of your characters share. Which is fine!

As a few final notes of caution:

If you're worried about certain unintended connotations or messaging coming across, it's generally best to spread your cast out as much as possible. By this, I mean that if you have other species in this world, don't have all your disabled characters be part of this one species. Likewise, don't have every member of this species be disabled. Instead, consider having your disabled characters be from different species. For example, have an amputee character be from this species but have a blind character be from another species.

Certain specific disabilities do have individual associations to watch out for. Be careful making associations between a character with a cleft lip and hares/rabbits (Because of the derogatory term "harelip" that has been used). Likewise but to a lesser extent, be careful with associations of blind people and moles, mice, and bats. This is because of the naked mole rat, the Three Blind Mice, and "blind as a bat" respectively. There are a few of these out there.

This is less of a warning and more just something to consider but keep in mind how their animal traits can be impacted by their disability. Would a character that's paralyzed have use of their tail? Would a blind character trip over their tail or would their same "sense of self" extend to the tail like it would an arm or leg? How would a character in a wheelchair adapt their chair to their tail? Etc.

Hopefully some of this is helpful!

Cheers,

~ Mod Icarus

[the-life-of-a-herm]

is it okay for perisex people to use the terms afab transfem and amab transmasc? is there alternative terms that should be used, or none at all? i would love to know lots about this, and i sincerely apologize if the terminology i'm using is incorrect to begin with, i fully welcome corrections.

thank you for your time!

hey! tysm for the Question!

I have been working on this ask since I got it.

I absolutely thing you can be transfem and afab and perisex, or amab and transfem and perisex. Let's get into why.

First off, of course, let's get into the language of it.

AFAB transfem is not an identity label you should use, because AGAB isn't an identity and it's actually counterproductive to centre it in who you are.

The reason why the term exists and is used is for a few different reasons..

A.) Some people don't have the language to describe how they are. I remember when I was a kid people would ask "can I be an AFAB demigirl?" because they didn't know and they didn't have the language.

B.) It's just what people use. It's a way to discuss "a transfem who is afab" shorter, the discoursers use it and it's simply a way to get what your saying across and seen better

C.) A lot of harassment happens in this community because of queercourse and a lot of people feel pressured into disclosing their AGAB otherwise they're "faking" or "infultrating" the community.

Secondly, transfemininity should never have even been defined by transition, your body, etc.

Transfemininity means a trans person who has a feminine gender, uncommonly mistaken for a trans person who presents femininely. (and also doesn't mean 'another term for trans women'.)

That description right there has been for a while the definition and I understand some people have astrix in their head for that but that's not anybodies problem but their own.

Multigendered people, nonbinary people, etc can all fit into this category and be perfectly perisex.

.

I think the idea people need something that seperates them "enough" from their trans identity to fully identify that way is harmful. Being trans does not need strict labels. You cannot box in the queer experience into specific categories. Being trans is about your experience and I think some people need to come to terms with the fact that it may not look the same for everyone.

Some people define their transness by transition. For them, transitioning to something is a part of their identity. These labels are tools to describe a lifetime of experiences.

For others, it's about their SIG never matching up with who they are.

-

I have switched in and out several time while writing so let me put it this way as to maintain some facade of an eloquent manner of speaking, I view being trans as something that is more defined by the person who is choosing to use the label rather than a strict definition. Anything other than that won't quite fit right.

This community was not built as a dictionary, everyone will have their own specific life experiences and reasons for identifying as trans and I don't feel like any way you describe it by one specific thing works at all.

(Heres how we would describe transness btw, but it probably needs a bigger post.)

Secondly, I have issues with it being seen as intersex only.

I think defining it as intersex only is kind of othering. Don't get me wrong, the intersex trans experience will hardly ever line up perfectly with perisex trans experiences.

However, I feel like stating intersex as an exception overall feels off to me.. We are not the only people in the community that break the FTM/MTF binary, and I really don't like how othering it is.

-

-

-

Anyways, switched far too much because of stress while writing this let me put it straight:

• Don't ID as 'afab transfem', though there are reasons you may want to use the wording for tags and such. Just call yourself whatever. Transfem, trans women, who cares.

• Being a trans woman or transfem is not some unicorn gender, you don't need a special bit of parts to ID as either of those things. It's somebody who is trans and uses either of those labels.

People may hate to see it, but it's the truth. Transness is not some binary experience. Being trans is personal to everyon and the reason why one person will ID as transfem compared to another and the experiences with that can be entirely different. That's okay. We don't have to be a monolith.

Do whatever you want anon, if you feel like you fit in some way why not? It's like saying 'therians are only spiritual' to me. Why box in a community that doesn't need to be? Why create definitions that do nothing but exclude? Being trans is an experience, but that doesn't mean all of ours have to be the same.

[lynxgriffin]

What are your top 5 MLP villains and why?

1) Queen Chrysalis - She had a great design, was genuinely scary, had a great introduction, and I liked how she stayed a villain the whole series through. Just top notch in terms of presentation and execution.

2) Tempest - I really liked her sense of presence and how intimidating she was, even though she was basically a unicorn with no magic. Awesome villain song that I kinda wish I got to work on. Also glad that her redemption was not hinged on "fixing" her disability, that she basically chose to start doing good and she was accepted as a whole person, disability included.

3) Cozy Glow - She was basically pony Darla Dimple, and that made her seriously fun to draw and act with. Some may disagree, but I thought her twist worked well. Love that basically the cutesy child villain gets sent to pony hell.

4) Discord - So he's not really a villain through most of the series, but just the first two eps where he is leave such a strong impression. Also, another character that's super fun to draw and act. Even reformed, acting him is basically like "what if the the Genie from Aladdin was a jerk" and it's great.

5) King Sombra - While he doesn't do all that much on screen, he's got a great design. Very classic villain sort of deal.