#he needs Mayor and cannot have them

[ocdsaraberry]

This was supposed to be about what the choir would dress up as for Halloween but it's 2am and I got sidetracked. What media does Constance like

#sara.txt #rtc #Also my thoughts for Mischa as Carlos were basically something along the lines of. both autistic. gamer and gangster aren't that far apart. #Ricky as Silas was Obviously for catboy reasons but I take that one back actually #I don't think he would like Silas very much #At least not at first #She'd love Khoshekh because ahehe kitty and then would hate that he ends up being a misogynistic human man #But maybe he would grow on her. eventually #......god. do I have to tag this as #wtnv spoilers #Is Silas still a spoiler? idk #Penny as Mayor Pamela was like no question for me I can't even explain it she just would be #I need to draw the choir as these characters sometime #Penny and Ricky can be Lauren and Charles because I just can't bear to leave them out #I still don't think Mischa quite fits as Carlos but I don't know who else to put him as #Ryan Nichols /hj #See the thing is to fit Mischa's personality it cannot fit his aesthetic #Because to me Mischa is just so Don't Judge A Book By It's Cover y'know #you can't reconcile the two cleanly #that. isn't the right word bear with me #Sorry for posting about wtnv on the theatre sideblog do you still think I'm cool /j /ref #This is just a snapshot of what it's like to be friends with me on discord basically

[artemismoorea03]

DP x DC Prompt: The New Teacher

(So, I've seen a lot of prompts that have Danny go to Gotham and be a teacher but I don't remember seeing any with it in this direction, so on the chance that this is an original idea here we go!)

Jason was given a choice, or multiple choices. Babysit the Replacement on a mission that could last a week, go to Bludhaven and have some 'brother bonding time' with Dick who needed backup on a big case, or take a temp solo-gig in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere called Amity Park.

Well, considering he was still a bit hurt about the fact that B replaced him all those years ago and the pit loved to grab hold of that bit of frustrations towards his younger brother, that didn't seem like a smart idea. Dick wasn't an option either because he knew that would lead to 'talking about feelings' and other shit that he didn't want to do.

So he took the solo-gig.

It was supposed to be easy, at least that's what had been implied by the others he'd spoken to about the case. It seemed like most of the Justice League thought this situation was being 'exaggerated' because most of the time when somebody checked out what was going on there was nothing happening. No big take over, or kidnapping, or 'end of the world' situation, but there had been too many calls to put Bruce's mind at ease. The frequent calls mixed with the fact that the Government apparently had the area under a 'black out' made Bruce even more nervous.

Hell, if it hadn't been for the fact that Bruce was famous and that Scarecrow, Penguin and Riddler had all escaped from Arkham he would have been doing the case himself.

Which is how Jason ended up in a restraunt named 'Nasty Burger' looking at the news papers he had managed to get from a stand down the street while taking notes of things he had already seen. It wasn't just that the Government had cut them off, all of the tech in the city was easily 20 years outdated compared to the rest of the world.

Nokia phones, chunky computers, hell he'd even seen a kid with a PDA of all things. Thankfully, it looked like his tech still worked other than running slower than it should have, but thanks to modifications made by Barbara and Tim things were running better than he expected. But, they did struggle to have access to anything, specifically the news.

Hence the paper.

Ghost Boy: Friend or Fiend. A new vote cast by the city has found that the Ghost Boy - Danny Phantom - has had an astounding rise in support after the events over the Christmas Holiday. The new polls suggest that 43% of Citizens support Danny Phantom, with the majority of his support coming from the students at Casper High who insist that Phantom is a hero who has saved them countless times over the past few months. 49% of people still agree, however, that Phantom appears to be at the center of the majority of the attacks with many still claiming that he is the sole cause of the attacks. However, 8% of the population remain undecided, including many teachers, police and hospital staff. Upon seeing the new results of the pole Mayor Montez had this to say; "While I will admit that Phantom appears to favor the younger generation and frequently seems to come to their aid, we cannot forget what it has done in the past. Taken hostages, injured innocents, and caused millions in property damage. Phantom may not be a 'villain' in the typical sense of the word, but we shouldn't blindly trust him just because of a few good deeds."

So there was a... hero? Half hero - potentially villain - in Amity Park? That might have explained some of the calls they'd gotten from Amity park over the past few months. Still, he was concerned by some parts of the report.

Students at a high school were frequently coming under attack? So much that this potential-villain kept saving them? Just what was the cause? What could cause so many issues?

Jason looked up as he saw that same PDA kid talking with a girl with short black hair in a half-ponytail who was wearing a black crop-top. The girl seemed annoyed while the boy seemed worried about something.

"But it's Vlad, Sam... what if he does something?" He heard the boy whisper, "We should go back him up..."

"He doesn't need our help, besides Jazz ran away from home, remember? She got herself into this mess it's her problem to get out of it. Something that Danny should have learned a long time ago."

Jason frowned, pretending not to hear them as he hesitated then got up and walked over to the two younger teens. "Hey, excuse me."

The girl looked annoyed and suspicious while the boy looked confused.

"Uh, yeah?" Tucker asked.

"Hey, sorry to bug you both. But could you guys tell me about this... 'Danny Phantom' person?" He asked, holding the newspaper out.

The girl looked even more suspicious, "And... who are you?"

"And how haven't you heard of Phantom?" Asked the boy.

"I just moved to town." Jason admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, I'm just trying to catch up on all the town drama."

"You moved to Amity Park... willingly? Psh, what do you have, a deathwish?" The girl grumbled.

"Come on, I just moved from Gotham, which is worse?"

The girl blinked as the boy laughed.

"Furries vs Ghosts, who will win~" He said as the girl elbowed him. "Ow! What?!"

"Danny Phantom is a hero." The girl explained, "He showed up in April and has been protecting the town since."

"A hero, huh? Could always use more of those in the world, but the mayor seems to have it out for him."

Tucker sighed, "No kidding, man. Somebody framed Phantom for something really bad and no matter what he does to try to fix it the city just see's that incident as the only thing he's ever done. It was the first big 'public thing' outside of the high school so it was huge but it wasn't his fault."

The girl reached for her phone suddenly, looking at it before she answered. "Hey, Danny. What's up?" She was quiet for a moment, "Yeah, we're at Nasty Burger, wanna join us? Lunch on me?"

A quiet mumble came through the speaker before she smirked.

"I'll order for you then. Double or triple?"

More mumbles.

"Triple it is. See you soon." She said, then hung up. "Come on, Tuck, Danny is on his way for lunch."

"Hell yeah, see you later, dude." The boy said, then jogged off with the girl.

"A teacher? Yeah, it looks like there's some openings but why would you want to have your cover as a teacher?" Oracle asked as Jason sat in his hotel room, looking through the paper again.

"Most of the incidents seem to surround the High School, I want to see what's going on."

Oracle hummed, typing for a moment. "Alright, well as luck will have it, it looks like teachers are sparse at Amity High, at least from what I'm able to get using your connection... which is infuriatingly slow, by the way, are you sure you did it right?"

"I've done it a million times, of course I did it right."

Oracle grumbled, "Stupid Amity black-out. Okay, so you have options. Most of the teachers have fucked off so all of the teachers in Freshmen year switch around to cover lessons or do mixed lessons. For example the English teacher also teaches Math and the normal Math teacher also teaches Science. So it looks like you could have any position you want and the school would just shuffle around the teachers."

"You said English is taken, right?"

"Yep, the teacher is named William Lancer and he- oh... wait, he's on a leave of absence due to injuries he suffered over Christmas Break. Concussion, broken arm, and bruised ribs, he'll be out for a few weeks."

Jason smirked, "Perfect. Sign me up."

". . . Jason, the English and Math teacher... never thought I'd see the day. Alright, I'll type up your application, send it in and casually push it to the front of the line. You'll be official by the time Winter Break ends in a few days. So get studying."

"Sounds like a plan, but I'll be fine, I mean our family is crazy and i deal with criminals on a nightly basis. How hard could this assignment really be?"

He would regret asking that question by the end of his first day as an Amity High School teacher.

#dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #my prompts #might continue this #maybe not #we'll see

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time. 

It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them. 

Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how. 

Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living. 

I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.

I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor. 

Mom and Dad don’t mean it. 

The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew. 

Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever. 

It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers. 

...

Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more. 

Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him. 

Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins. 

Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost. 

“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?” 

“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?” 

Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.

They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #this could work with a number of other soulmates in the JL #It would be interesting with Jason or Damian also since they've died and come back #that got more complicated than i wanted to write tho lmao #soulmate au

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, dottore is an asshole.

notes: monch i had fun w this one, this was not supposed to be the chapter but i had a spur of the moment idea that i had to run with.

AN INEXORABLE DEATH

“And what of the boy? The Eleventh seat has been empty long enough. It’s about time that Scapino has been replaced.”

Dottore pressed his lips together as Pulcinella pushed the subject for the fourth time, extending the meeting much longer than it needed to last. They had been there for hours already going back and forth about funding matters, upcoming missions, and the long term plan of when they would finally start going after the gnoses. Dottore was irritated--he had been irritated since early morning when he returned to his lab only to find that his experiment had failed--but now he was even more irritated because he should have just sent one of his damned segments to deal with this.

“We are not putting a child in the Eleventh seat,” Signora sighed, shaking her head as she looked back at Pierro. “Are we done here? I have business to attend to.”

“A child who survived the Abyss,” Pulcinella retorted sharply. “Can you say the same, Fair Lady? If I recall correctly, the abyssal energy was too intense for you to handle.”

Signora’s gaze darkened, lips twisting downward. Across from him, Dottore noticed how Pantalone's expression lightened, a smile gracing his lips as he watched the fight that was about to break out between the Fifth and Eighth.

Dottore thought this was all inconsequential. He had an important matter to bring up to Pantalone before he returned to his labs. It was nearly midday already--he had an entire research summary to get through before Lambda arrived early morning tomorrow and he wanted to get restarted on what he was doing last night to try to figure out where it had gone wrong. He didn’t care about the Eleventh seat or who would be…

Dottore’s thoughts trailed off as Pulcinella’s words echoed through his head, a child who survived the Abyss. Not many mortals could withstand the volatile energy in the Abyss… much less a child. Dottore’s interest was piqued, eyeing Pulcinella as he wondered where exactly he found the boy and what made him so different.

His mind raced with possibilities… Maybe he would be able to find out if he was brought into the higher ranks.

“Perhaps it would be worthwhile then,” Dottore spoke up, nearly rolling his eyes when he noticed how surprised Signora and Pulcinella looked at his interruption--he usually never spoke up in these meetings unless directly addressed. “The boy could be of use, I’d like to study why he was able to survive the Abyss.”

“You will not involve him in your twisted experiments, Dottore,” Pulcinella said. Dottore turned his attention to the other Harbinger, noting the defensiveness lacing his tone.

“I can involve any one of you in my twisted experiments, mayor, he is not exempt. Her Majesty has given me complete autonomy in my research should I think the results could give us the edge in the coming war. You would do well to remember that,” Dottore said coldly.

Pierro leveled a steady look onto each of them before shifting his gaze back across the long table to Capitano, “Enough. The Captain will observe the boy from afar, he will decide whether or not he is worthy of the Eleventh seat.”

Capitano nodded his head in response, “You will show me where the boy trains after the meeting, Pulcinella. I will have an answer by the end of the day so we can put this matter to rest.”

“If unruly behavior proves to be an issue after his appointment, I can always… adjust it,” Arlecchino said cryptically, the red x’s in her eyes burning as she looked over at Pierro, the corners of her lips turning upward. 

“Keep your tricks to yourself, Arlecchino,” Pulcinella said. “I will keep the boy in line.”

“If you say so,” Arlecchino murmured as she leaned back in her seat. Next to her, Columbina let out an airy laugh as if she were amused by the whole situation.

“So be it,” Pierro finally said, waving his hand. “This meeting is adjourned.”

Dottore rose to his feet, getting Pantalone’s attention and nodding his chin toward the door before he turned on his heel to leave the room. 

As soon as he was in the halls, he could breathe again. Dottore could see a winter storm brewing in the distance, the clouds gray and swirling dangerously over the peaks of the northern mountain range. The wind was already beginning to pick up, he could see the banners whipping around in the palace’s courtyard and new recruits struggling to push against the wind to get back into the palace from where they were training. 

“I assume that nod meant you have something to say to me,” Pantalone’s voice was amused as he finally strolled out of the meeting, a thin smile gracing his lips as he eyed Dottore. “If this is about the decrease in your funding, there’s nothing I can do about that until we’ve dealt with the situation in Morepesok. The Triglav have somehow managed to rope the port masters into making trade with Port Ormos and Dornman Port more difficult for us. I’m leaving in a few days to handle it myself if Arlecchino’s spiders prove useless.”

Dottore frowned, he hadn’t gotten to all of the letters left for him at his desk, he had been too busy finalizing a report. “My funding has decreased?” he asked, incensed.

Pantalone’s smile tightened, the corners of his eyes crinkling in annoyance as he realized that Dottore hadn’t yet known about the funding issue. “Yes.”

“Why is the Triglav still a variable? I vouched for you so that they could no longer get in the way of my research,” Dottore demanded, voice cold and sharp. “You were supposed to take care of this issue years ago.”

Pantalone’s eye twitched. “I wish that ridding an organization of influence was as easy as you make it seem, much less one that has been embedded in Snezhnayan politics and society for several centuries,” he said dryly. “What is it that you wanted then, if it wasn’t about the funding?”

Dottore was not amused.

Pantalone exhaled, eyes glancing out to the courtyard for a second before motioning for Dottore to follow him. Dottore frowned, glancing once more at the brutal winds that were nearly tearing the banners off of their hooks as he followed after him.

As soon as he stepped outside, Dottore frowned. The coldness didn’t bother him too much but he didn’t like the way the wind and rain felt against his skin, stinging his cheeks over and over again. Pantalone did not seem affected by the weather, instead making his way down a path toward the overhang on the opposite side of the courtyard. 

“Is it about them?” Pantalone asked as they walked. Dottore could barely hear him over the howling wind and he realized that was exactly why Pantalone had led them out there--to prevent unwanted ears from overhearing. His gaze drew back to where they had been standing, where Arlecchino and Brighella were finally stepping out of the meeting room. “Hm? Do you finally want me to look for them?” 

Pantalone looked pointedly at Dottore’s thumb and Dottore caught onto what he was saying. His lips flattened in annoyance. 

“No,” he said firmly. Pantalone’s eyes gleamed at the sharp, quick answer, Dottore nearly rolled his eyes as he waited for the incoming dig.

“You didn’t even pause to think… it’s been a few years, I’m sure the fourth phase has started by now… does she not reach out to you?” Pantalone smiled thinly, he was mocking Dottore. “Is that why it's such a sensitive subject?”

“She does,” Dottore said--he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to indulge Pantalone’s bait. 

Every morning, every night, and usually during the day too, he wanted to add. The fourth phase had begun a few months back and she had immediately taken advantage of it, asking him all sorts of questions, telling him good morning and good night and asking how his day went. She was relentless, he would’ve respected the persistence had it not been driving him into a wall.

Dottore never responded. 

Sometimes he was tempted when he found himself leaving the labs early and his arm was stinging lightly, indicating that she was reaching out again and an odd feeling began stirring in his chest, something akin to longing that he couldn’t afford to give in to. He had already let her affect too much and he couldn’t risk it getting worse. 

He had been able to separate himself from her almost completely after receiving that word from her two years ago but his resistance was faltering now that the fourth phase had begun. No one had ever shown any sort of interest in him like this before and it was making him uncomfortable--he was used to being alone, only having his segments for company and even then, he sent them away most of the time. He didn’t like that someone else was trying to attach themself to him.

He needed to cut it off but he just couldn’t bring himself to. He caught himself toying with the words late at night: stop asking me questions, you are bothering me, I have no interest in a soulmate, I don’t need a soulmate, what is it going to take for you to finally understand that I don’t care for you? That I don’t want you? But every time he was going to bring himself to transfer the words to her, he preoccupied himself with something else--a project, a report, a random letter he remembered he never responded to. He knew deep down that he was just distracting himself so that he didn’t have to admit that he couldn’t send those words to her but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Fix this,” Dottore said, his voice harsh and cruel. His temper was waning and being pressed about his soulmate was forcing him to face an unpleasant reality--his own weakness. Pantalone looked taken aback at his words, Dottore continued, turning the topic back to the previous subject. “You understand who we are and you understand what you’re here to do. The only reason you were given the Ninth seat was to make the political scene on the homefront more manageable so we can finally make plays for the gnoses in other nations. Use the resources we’ve given you to do so or we will find someone that will.”

Pantalone stared at him, expressionless. The faux smile that usually graced his lips was gone, replaced by a cold, empty look, “I said I was handling it, did I not?”

Dottore only let out a quiet noise, one of dismissal, not bothering to spare him another look as he turned on his heel to walk back into the palace. What he had wanted from Pantalone could be handled another day--now, he just wanted to get back to his lab and finish his work before Lambda’s arrival because he knew that would be a headache in itself. 

Walking down the hall, Dottore withheld the urge to slip off his mask and press his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He felt like a broken record, he was stuck in a cycle that he couldn’t tear free of and as much as he wanted to point the blame at her and the gods, he knew fault laid partly on himself as well.

Because he was weak. Dottore was a proud man, an arrogant one. He knew who he was and what he was capable of, he believed himself to be above mortal and yet he still laid chained to human emotion. It was hubris that blinded him into believing that he would not be affected by the unwelcome development of the thread years ago and it was hubris still that led him to be incapable of admitting that acceptance of the bond might logically be the best route to take.

He could not admit to himself that there was no way to sever the thread because that meant years of research were for naught. He could not admit to himself that he was better off accepting the bond because that meant that over a decade of denial and centuries of learning how to view his lack of a soulmate as a strength rather than a weakness were a waste. 

He just couldn’t.

But that was the way of science, a part of him argued, a failed hypothesis must be adjusted into a new one. You adapt and continue.

“Doctor, there you are,” a familiar, whimsical voice hummed from behind him. “I was looking for you.”

Dottore glanced over his shoulder, suspicion pricking at each and every one of his cells as his eyes fell upon his fellow Harbinger. 

Nothing ever good came from being sought out by the Damslette. 

“What do you need?”

“Nothing,” Columbina said softly, “I just wanted to see it up close, that’s all.”

Dottore’s brows furrowed beneath his mask, trying to figure out what she meant, but he felt cold as Columbina reached out, gloved fingers brushing against the red thread that only he and his soulmate were supposed to be able to see. 

“It’s so bright,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen one this bright before, your bond must be strong.”

Dottore’s lips parted as if to speak but no words left them. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say--did he want to demand to know how she could see the thread? Or deny that the bond was strong? He hadn’t even spoken a word to the girl, how could the bond be strong?

“You see it?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him as always. In all of his research, he had never heard of someone being able to see other peoples’ threads before. 

Columbina only smiled, face turning up toward him but her eyes were still slid shut peacefully. “I see everything,” she replied, voice airy and cryptic. “The stars and the sky, all of the ties that bind, I can see it all.”

Dottore felt unsettled. He wasn’t sure he had ever felt unsettled before but Columbina wasn’t even looking at him, not really at least, but somehow he felt as if she could see right through the mask he wore, peering deep into the soul that he denied to see him wholly and he felt stripped and bare of all of his armor. He had known that the Damslette caused a lot of unnerving feelings throughout their ranks, her presence tended to make their subordinates and even some of the lower-ranked Harbingers uncomfortable, but he had never experienced it for himself, not like this.

“I would like to meet her when she comes here,” Columbina finally said before continuing down the hall. “Have a good day, doctor.”

Dottore stared after her and then down at where the thread was tied around his thumb, too bewildered to even realize that she had said when and not if.

You figured that he was just busy--the same thing you told yourself whenever he ignored your goodnight tugs and good morning tugs. He was simply too busy to respond to you whenever you asked how his day was, when you told him good morning and good night, when you wished him luck with whatever he was working on. 

You tried not to let it deter you. 

He was just busy, that was all.

You let out a sigh as you sat down at your father’s old desk. The wood was dusted over and the papers were scattered around just as he left it. No one had dared enter the room since his death three years ago--not a maid, not your mother, not even yourself. This was your first time setting foot in his office since the last time he had called you in there himself. 

It was a bit messier than he usually kept it, you noticed that his coat stand was knocked over sideways in the furthest corner of the room and there were a few coins strewn against the floor next to it. His coat was still dangling off it--if only barely--and your throat felt tight as you rose to your feet, making your way over to the coat.

You took in a shaky breath as you reached out to grab it. 

As soon as your fingers brushed the wool, you drew back. 

Maybe you should just leave, you thought to yourself, glancing back to the door, considering just trying again another day. You thought you had been ready--it had been three years since his death, you thought you had been ready to start clearing things out of his office. The court officials had been gracious as to not rush you into it, giving you all of the time you needed to mourn and process his death, but you knew that the clock was ticking. Your father was dead and there had been many promotions in the past few years to keep the growing dissent in the city at bay, more space was needed, your father’s office was needed. 

You exhaled again slowly, grabbing the coat so you could fold it and place it in a pile at the door for you to bring back to your room, but as soon as you got hold of the coat, you smelt him. Even after all of the years, it still smelt like him. Your throat felt swollen and your vision blurred as you clutched your father’s jacket close to your chest. If you closed your eyes, you could almost imagine him there in the room with you, patting your back as he told you to sit down and help him with his paperwork.

You used to hate it, rolling your eyes and grumbling whenever he passed you some of the documents to read over and summarize for him to lighten his workload. He claimed that it was good practice for when you took over from him eventually and maybe he was right, but you only ever cared about your words and learning more about them because you wanted to get to know your soulmate better. 

You regretted it. Now your father was gone and you were left with a soulmate who didn’t seem to give a shit about your existence. And it had all been so sudden, the same day you had turned down his request for you to come to his office so you could go to the gardens and read. You had noticed he looked a bit under the weather but you figured he was just exhausted from the long day at court he had the day before. 

And then he was dead, just like that. 

One of the officers of the city police found him collapsed on his floor. The city’s head coroner claimed it was a heart attack. They said that nothing could’ve been done to prevent it. You weren’t so sure, all you could think about were the what-ifs and the could’ve beens. 

What if you had gone with him when he asked? What could’ve happened if you had been there? Would you’ve been able to get him help? Or would you just have had to witness it happening first hand?

It was all you could think about, all the time. You rarely left your room, you couldn’t even bring yourself to sit in the library because it just made you sad, reminding you of all of the hours you spent there after blowing off your father to figure out what some stupid word on your forearm meant.

You were lonely. You were so goddamn lonely that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself besides mull over all of the possibilities. You felt like there was a hole ripping through your chest, an ache that never went away. You didn’t know if it ever would go away. 

You took in a ragged breath, biting back a sob as you tried to calm yourself down. You failed.

You thought you might hate your soulmate. Or maybe not hate, resent was a better word for it. So much of your life had been centered around him, influenced by him--your whole upbringing and being taught to hide such an integral part of yourself was because he was in Snezhnaya; your lack of friends growing up was because you were forced to hide the fact that you had a soulmate and obviously, there must be something wrong with you if Celestia didn’t bless you; you spent hours on hours, days on days in the library trying to understand him for when the two of you finally met; and even now, you tried to distract yourself from the damning reality of your family and the mess it had become by trying to talk to him and he ignored you.

He ignored you. 

There were only so many times you could convince yourself that he was just busy. How busy could he be if he couldn’t even say hello, if he couldn’t tell you good morning, if he couldn’t tell you goodnight or tell you how his day was when you asked. You thought maybe that he wasn’t receiving his words but you had done so much research trying to figure out if that was a possibility and there had been no known instances of it.

He was ignoring you--it was the logical, rational answer but you just couldn’t wrap your head around it, you couldn’t face the truth because then it really did mean you wasted your life focusing on someone that probably didn’t even care about you.

Calm down, you told yourself. Calm down. 

But it was hard. 

You felt so alone all the time. You had no friends. Your mother was constantly busy with court affairs. Your stepfather kept Sylvie and Elliot busy, you barely even saw them in passing anymore. The only one to really reach out to you to see how you were doing was your grandfather but even he was run to the ground with his duty as warden of the Black Cells. 

You tried to distract yourself by trying to make conversation with him, your soulmate, but it was futile. He never responded. No matter how hard you tried.

Your hands were shaky as you finally let your father’s coat drop from your chest, fingers trembling as you folded the coat to place it in the box you had set up near the door. You had to figure out what all you were going to bring back to your room--you figured you needed to get all of the papers out of here. You didn’t know if any of them had sensitive information and you didn’t want to risk anything falling into the wrong hands.

You tried to focus as you dropped down to your hands and knees but your mind felt muddled. As you started stacking them in a neat pile, you caught sight of your father’s bookshelf from the corner of your eye. Right in the middle was a familiar set of books with a silver and gold binding, one that you hadn’t seen since you were a child.

Longing, sadness, guilt--you couldn’t tell what the feeling stirring up your chest was as you rose back to your feet to make your way over to the bookcase, body moving on autopilot. A small smile tugged at your lips as you stared at the six volumes lined up of Princess Mina and the Fallen Nation, the old book collection that your father used to read to you before bed before your stepfather had arrived in Fontaine and your father moved back to the city. 

Even years later, he always laughed with your grandfather over how you used to force him to read the fifth volume about the argument between the Princess Mina and the samurai over and over and over again, to the point that he knew how to recite it word for word. Your mother scolded him every time--said the series was by no means acceptable for a child--but he only ever winked at you and promised that this would be the last time. A lie, of course, and your mother knew it, if the way she rolled her eyes had anything to say about it.

You wondered if he kept the set lined up to remind him of the good days--the days before your stepfather.

You reached for the fifth volume, your smile fading a bit when you noticed that it was lighter than you expected. Your brows furrowed as you opened the book, realizing that the majority of the pages had been cut out in the shape of a square--a hidden pocket to hide treasures, just like how the Princess had done in the sixth volume to hide her plans from the samurai. 

Your chest felt heavy as you reached for what was laying inside: a letter in your father’s handwriting, stained with faded droplets of blood, and a Fatui insignia.

“This is getting out of hand.”

Dottore looked up as a familiar voice rang loud and icy throughout the lab. His eyes drew up to a familiar form, one identical to his own--the Lambda segment had finally arrived. Dottore placed his pen down on the lab table, raising his eyebrows as he waited for him to continue.

“The other segments are out of control, not that you would know considering you sent them away for me to deal with,” Lambda told him, placing down the bag he was carrying on the lab table as he stood across from Dottore. “The younger segments are haywire over the thread, they haven’t calmed down once since it first appeared and now even some of the older segments are starting to become more aggravated--Delta and Rho are pushing on behalf of Iota and Gamma. Epsilon has made his opinion well known since he got word of it. Even Theta has started to ask more questions. I will not deal with it anymore.”

“You will do whatever I order you to do, Lambda. Don’t forget what you are,” Dottore warned. “Sit down, I called you here to report on your research not to hear your opinion.”

“Is that not why I was created?” Lambda did not back down, not a hint of emotion seeped through the vacant expression painted on his face. Red eyes void of any sort of feeling or weakness, any sort of hesitation. “An objective perspective, untainted by human vices and folly to prevent us from falling victim to them so it does not affect our goals. I am telling you that this needs to be handled. Now. It is already impeding our research. We’ve lost over ten years of progress because of this distraction.”

Most of the segments had learned to repress human emotions over time--some were never able to, like the younger segments and Theta, while others like Delta, Rho and Zeta, had decent control over their emotions but still often fell victim to outbursts of rage and irritation. 

Lambda did not have to learn as he had none.

Dottore valued all perspectives when it came to his research. He created versions himself frozen in time at some of the most formative moments of his life: being chased from his village, being accepted into the Akademiya as a scholar, being outcast from the Akademiya, brought into the Fatui as a recruit and then his promotion to Harbinger. A version of himself too young to fully understand the cruelty of the world and a version of himself whose mind developed and adapted over time. A version of himself with too much humanity and a version of himself without any.

It had been difficult influencing the essence of the Irminsul branches to create the Epsilon and Lambda segments as he was not simply freezing a previous mindset of himself in time and placing it into a vessel. He had to engineer the fundamental aspects of each of the cores that housed the consciousness of the segments to manipulate the way that they did--or did not--process emotions and he had to be careful enough so that it was still inherently him but different, allowing him a new perspective in his research that was more than just him frozen in time at a younger point of his life.

It had taken several attempts and many failures but three centuries ago he had finally been able to create Lambda, a segment who cared for nothing but the expansion and success of his experiments, his very existence laid upon his ability to bring their research to new ends without the shackles of humanity binding him because so much as Dottore liked to believe he was able to extinguish any and all emotion he might feel, he knew logically it was impossible and he had to factor that in when it came to results. The Lambda segment had an objectivity in his perspective that none of the other segments, or Dottore himself, were able to obtain--influenced by the past and repressed emotions, even if it was subtly enough that it could not be seen on the surface.

Epsilon had been created later--the antithesis of the Lambda segment, a segment that could process humanity on a level beyond what Dottore or any of the other segments were capable of. Dottore hadn’t seen the benefit in creating a segment like that but the Zeta segment had pushed for it, saying that it was unwise to create one extreme without another to balance it out, it led to biased results. Dottore had a feeling that the Zeta segment was simply sick of having to take care of the Kappa segment but there was no fault in his logic. 

Thus, half a century after the creation of the Lambda segment, the Epsilon segment came into existence. 

“I am handling it,” Dottore said sharply. “Sit down and report.”

“This is my report,” Lambda, unlike the other segments, did not back down when Dottore made demands of him that he did not agree with. It was Dottore’s own fault, he had given Lambda authority over the other segments because of his impartiality and it made him arrogant. “My research has been disrupted and I will not be able to continue it until this situation is properly handled. Thus, I’m requesting all of the information you have on the distraction so I can handle it myself.”

Dottore’s lips thinned, gaze steadying on Lambda. “No.”

Lambda raised his eyebrows, “No?”

“You are a segment, not a mimic,” Dottore said, poison lacing his tone. “I said no. Return to Sumeru and continue your research. No harm is to come to the girl, we don’t know how it will affect us.”

Lambda stared at him and Dottore knew exactly what the segment was thinking.

It won’t affect me.

“It should not affect you at all unless you’ve become attached to the mere idea of her, that’s the only way the loss of the bond can affect someone who has not met their ‘soulmate’,” his voice gave way to no emotion but Dottore knew it was an accusation, that him throwing out the word soulmate was meant to be a mockery, a dig at the other segments, a dig at him.

“You created me to make sure we continue to do what is best for our research,” Lambda continued coldly. “I will do just that. Handle it or I will. You are doing exactly what you said you wouldn’t do and it is impeding our progress.”

Dottore inhaled sharply, his temper spiking--he was barely able to control himself, tone venomous as he spoke, “And what exactly is that? What am I doing, Lambda?”

“Getting attached,” Lambda said. “You’re allowing yourself to be weak and that in turn is making all of us weak. The weakness is inhibiting our ability to make headway on our research and if you can’t even see that then…”

Lambda trailed off, he didn’t have to finish what he was going to say, Dottore already knew. If you can’t even see that then maybe you’re too far gone already.

“Get out,” Dottore said, restraining the blizzard of emotions that were whirling inside him. Fury, not only at Lambda and the blatant disrespect but also at himself because he remembered the nights he prepared to tell her that enough was enough and he had no desire to have a soulmate and he remembered all of the times that instead of transferring the words to her, he instead chose to preoccupy himself with a new project. “The only one impeding my research right now is you. If you weren’t going to bring anything worthwhile, you should have remained in Sumeru.”

Lambda was right, Dottore had allowed himself to get attached to the faceless figure on the other side of his thread even after all of the insurances he had put in place to prevent this from happening. He didn’t even know how it happened, he had been certain that after he had received that word from her, he was done with it all. It had to have been subtly over the course of the past decade and a half, slow enough for it to creep in, in a way that he couldn’t notice on his own, in a way that he could still keep himself convinced that he had no attachment to her--like a slow, inevitable death.

Distantly, he realized that he wouldn’t have even cared about the word cursed showing up on his forearm to begin with unless he had gotten attached to her. It should have had no effect on him.

“Once she learns what you are, what we are, she will leave anyway. You know that. No one wants to be bonded with a monster.” 

Lambda didn’t say anything else as he left the lab and as soon as the door shut behind him, Dottore’s shoulders slumped and he pressed his head against his hands, elbows resting on the table as he massaged his face, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do. 

Severing the thread was not possible.

Are you sure? A part of him questioned, or had you just not been looking into it hard enough because deep down you didn’t want it severed?

Dottore’s lips twisted. That was not the case. He had tried. He had spent years researching it, trying to figure out what could be done. Not only for his own sake but for hers too.

If you can’t sever through science then…

His arm stung, a familiar feeling that he had grown used to over the past few months. He didn’t even want to look down and see what she was asking him. It was late--if he had to guess, it was probably either the daily goodnight or she had felt his volatile emotions and wanted to know if he was okay. 

How was your day?

Dottore shut his eyes, finally making a decision. 

If you can’t sever through science then it must be done emotionally.

The city was cold--there was a winter storm blowing south from the northern lands that had the windows creaking and rattling. The fireplace burned hot on the other side of the room but somehow you still felt cold, staring down at your food as you waited for your grandfather to finish reading the letter that your father had left for you and the insignia that he had stashed with it. 

You didn’t know what to do. You had sat on the letter for days now, reading it over and over and over again until the words were branded on your brain and you could recite them without even having the letter in front of you. 

Your father spoke of blasphemy, sacrilege--a crime that would have your stepfather thrown beneath the city into the black cells for the rest of his life, a crime that could have your siblings cast out from the highest tiers of the Fontaine court, shunned and outcast for their father’s transgressions against the court and the gods. 

Faking a bond. Being a Snezhnayan infiltrator. 

You had heard rumors of the first before--long forgotten techniques of ancient Snezhnayan strigoi who masked as mortals and toyed with mens’ minds to lure in their prey. You thought that they were just old wives’ tales to scare young girls and boys but your father seemed certain in his letter that your stepfather was somehow faking the bond with your mother and you weren’t sure if you wanted to believe it was true or not… because then that meant you life was ruined not because your mother had finally found happiness in her soulmate, even if you did not like him, but instead it meant that he was manipulating her mind. 

“There is not enough proof,” your grandfather finally said, knuckles tight and tense around the parchment as he read what you believed was your father’s last words before his death. “If we present this to Her Excellency, it will be a challenge of our word against his. He will have your mother’s support and her family’s, the President of the Research Institute will back them and he’s gained a lot of influence throughout the city with the recent energy developments.”

Energy developments, you thought bitterly, they were only a temporary solution to the apparatus crisis happening throughout the city but even if the solution was only temporary, it eased the stress on the civilians and elite alike, and it made them view him in a better light. As if the whole crisis wasn’t his fault to begin with. 

Your lips twisted, grip on the hem of your shirt tightening, “The Commissioner will side with us,” you said. “Wrio is going to take over soon. I can talk to him.”

Wriothesley. He was the one you were meant to marry in the coming years. You didn’t talk to him often, both of you were always busy with your own duties, but you had always gotten along well enough when you were together. He was born with a black mark--a dead soulmate. You thought he was a good man but he was always sad. People thought it was a miracle that he could even function being born with a dead soulmate but you didn’t think it was so surprising. He never got to have a soulmate, he never knew what he lost and that was what usually killed: knowing that you could’ve had it all, or even having it all, but then it being ripped away from you.

“People are not happy with the city police,” your grandfather said. “Elites and civilians.. I don’t know how much help the Commissioner’s support would be.”

Your head hurt. You shut your eyes briefly. There were five positions of influence in Fontaine, each of them passed down through the nation’s five most elite families--the Chief Justice, the Warden of the Black Cells, Commissioner of the City Police, Chief of the Gendarmerie, and the President of the Research Institute, who also handled the cities infrastructure. Your grandfather was the current Warden and his closest friend was the Commissioner… but the influence of the positions was not uniform, especially over the past ten years. 

The Chief Justice was always the most popular of the five positions--Neuvillette was the current one and you knew he would remain neutral should things escalate. He was the one that controlled everything--the Hydro Archon’s voice, her eyes and ears whenever she didn’t join him in court. Everyone wanted to be close to him because they thought that him viewing them in a more positive light would be the difference between freedom and the rest of their life spent in the Black Cells. They were wrong, of course, Neuvillette wouldn’t let personal relationships cloud his judgment but you couldn’t really blame them for trying. 

The Warden was always an unpopular but powerful position, many of the elite and especially the civilians feared him, knowing that should they slip up once, their lives would be in his hands. The Commissioner of the City Police’s popularity has been on a steadily downward trend since rebellion began stirring in the city. The civilians thought that the police were too harsh on them but the elites thought that they’re not being harsh enough, which is why the epidemic of dissent kept spreading. They were resented on all sides. 

On the other hand, the Chief of the Gendarmerie was only becoming more popular, your uncle held the position, but you thought it was stupid because the only reason why he was so popular was because he had nothing to do in the city. There was no reason for the civilians and the elite to hate him because he dealt with policing the countryside--which usually only consisted of dealing with rogue hillichurls and the occasional band of treasure hoarders. If the Gendarmerie had to handle Fontaine’s population like the city police did, they would be just as unpopular. 

And the President of the Institute had been unpopular for nearly a decade--he was blamed for the energy crisis, rightfully, but he and his officers found that temporary solution so his popularity skyrocketed because the people no longer had to deal with unstable heating during the winter and the city’s power going in and out once every few hours. You figured the popularity spike would disappear once the apparati failed again but that didn’t help you now.

Your throat spasmed as you swallowed. “I don’t understand,” you said. “Are we just supposed to let this go? He’s Fatui, he’s lying to my mother, and he killed father because father started asking questions. Am I supposed to just share a dinner table with him and act like everything is fine?”

“We have no proof,” you went quiet as your grandfather leveled a steady gaze onto you. “We can accuse him as much as we want. We can show Chief Justice Neuvillette and the Hydro Archon your father’s letter and the insignia but when it comes down to it it will be a battle of words, and we will lose. The only witness that might’ve been able to convince the Hydro Archon is dead.”

You thought you might cry. You could feel the tears of frustration stinging your eyes. You thought that by bringing this to your grandfather would be the answer to all of your questions, that he would know what to do and they would be able to throw that weasel  of a man beneath the city, let him rot in the Black Cells. 

“If we accuse him of being Fatui, the Hydro Archon will act,” you hissed. “I’m not stupid, I know that this all has escalated because the north is planning a rebellion against the gods-”

“Quiet.”

“She will do something,” you finally said, catching the anger in your grandfather’s eyes as you spoke of the taboo subject. “She hunts down anyone affiliated with Snezhnaya, if he is accused of being a Fatui spy, she’ll act.”

“Neuvillette will intervene,” your grandfather shook his head. “He knows that if the Hydro Archon tries to imprison him without a proper trial, it will turn the elite against her. They are already nervous, if they see her targeting one of their own, it will rip their security blanket off. He will make sure that this is taken to trial and if it is taken to trial then we will lose. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” you said but your voice was thick and you weren’t sure if you were angry or upset. You rose to your feet, food untouched. “Excuse me for a second.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond before you were walking out of the dining room toward the bathroom. As soon as you shut the door behind you, you let yourself crumble--sitting on the ground with your knees tucked to your chest and your body trembling. You thought it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that your father was gone and it wasn’t fair that your stepfather had done it and he was just going to get away with it. Fontaine was supposed to be the city of justice but corruption ran rampant throughout the streets. You were sick of it.

You exhaled shakily, trying to calm yourself down, instead focusing on your forearm. You hated that even though he clearly wanted nothing to do with you, you still turned to him whenever you were breaking down. You hated even more that it worked every time.

How was your day?

You knew you wouldn’t get a response. You never did. Sometimes you liked to imagine what he might be doing--buried in research and experiments, facing the frustrations of failure left and right. Realistically, he was just ignoring you. You had come to terms with that. But still, you enjoyed indulging yourself in the delusions sometimes. 

But this time was different, there was a spike of emotion from him--anger--and you rarely ever felt anything from him, much less something this strong seemingly in response to your question. Maybe he had a bad day, you thought to yourself, swallowing thickly, but then your arm stung. It was subtle, something you barely even noticed but you knew what it was. 

Your gaze turned down to your forearm and as your eyes fell to the words branded on your skin, your heart sunk. 

Enough. I have no interest in having a soulmate. 

You stared, numb, at the words, waiting for them to change, wondering if you were reading them wrong. You knew you weren’t and you thought that you shouldn’t be as upset as you were but your whole chest felt as if it was caving in on itself, you felt like no matter how fast or deep you breathed in, none of the air was getting to your lungs.

You knew this, you told yourself, trying to calm yourself down again. You had known this deep down. It was inevitable. He had been ignoring you for months--longer than that, really, ever since you were a child and you would tug your thread before bed, waiting for him to tug it back. But you supposed it didn’t matter how much you might’ve known that it was true because you never expected him to be so… blunt about it, and you couldn’t help but hold out hope that maybe those delusions you fancied so much might prove to be true

You thought, maybe, that a part of you might have died right there.

Rejection. In everything you had read about soulmates, you didn’t think you had ever heard of someone being rejected by theirs. You stared at your thread, you wondered if it would sever at his words, if it would crumble to dust or blacken. You waited but it never happened, it still was tied around your finger, bright and leading to the north.

To the north.

You inhaled sharply, eyes widening as realization struck. Your body moved on auto pilot as you rose to your feet to leave the bathroom but your hands still shook, teeth clenched together as you tried to fight through the pain of being rejected by the one person in the world meant to accept you. Your grandfather turned his head when he heard the bathroom door slam hard behind you but before he could voice his disapproval, you were speaking.

“If proof is the issue, I’ll get it myself,” you said, voice stronger than you expected it to be as you told your grandfather your plan. “I’ll go north and I’ll get the evidence, and then we can throw that murderer in the cells beneath the city and bring justice to father.”

RBS APPRECIATED!

#dottore x reader #genshin x reader #dottore smut #genshin smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut

[erwinsvow]

was watching the latest hunger games and i don’t know if you’ve seen it but there’s a scene with snow and lucy gray that is so reader and rafe core. like the scene where he kills the mayor’s daughter and lucy gray is in hysterics and he just grabs her, warns her to pull herself together and go back outside and pretend like he’s not just killed someone and i’m like this is so rafe and his casual dominance with reader. 😍😍

babe STOP you are SOOO onto something here.. + that scene in the movie had me FERAL!!!!! picturing season two after limbrey kills that guy (im so sorry i cannot recall any names.. was too busy staring at rafe's arms)

"oh my god!" you squeal, eyes wide like coins, tears filling up and almost spilling over in a matter of seconds. "oh my god, oh my god-"

rafe fucked up. he shouldn't have gotten you anywhere near this situation, it's his own fault. your insistence on not being too far from him and his own ego that found pleasure in that fact had won him over. rafe liked that you liked him, that you needed him around.

but right now he can tell what you're thinking—probably something along the lines of the fact that he was insane, that his dead body had appeared and he was going to take care of it because he wasn't reacting at all like you were, how any normal person would.

limbrey was staring at you, and a sudden fear ran through his mind that she might try and hurt you too.

"go inside-" he barks at the older lady, who doesn't move, gun in her hand. "go inside! m'gonna have to take care of this, leave-" she stalks off, while you watch with your big wet eyes, shoulders shaking, voice run dry from your screaming.

your reaction is normal, expected. he can't find it himself to even be remotely angry. he leaves the dead body where it is, hands finding your shoulders and dragging you away, like that might help you.

"hey, listen to me. listen to me." he says sternly, and you listen obediently, if not due to fear. "don't scream. don't worry. m'gonna take care of this-this mess, okay? we're gonna be fine."

"r-rafe, she k-killed someone. we, we have to call the police-"

"we're not calling anyone. m'gonna handle it. he was a bad guy, okay, no one's gonna miss him."

"a-and that makes it okay? rafe, you-"

"hey," he barks and you freeze up, listening. "listen, kid, have i ever gotten you hurt? haven't i kept you safe? hm?" he wants an answer, so you nod, still shell shocked. "s'gonna be fine. keep it together. i can't have you like this. we're gonna be fine."

"o-okay." you look down at your white shirt, observing tiny little dots of blood. "what, what do i-"

"go inside. throw this shirt in the fireplace. and then go upstairs to my room and take a shower. okay? i gotta take care of this first. then i'll come join you, got it? alright?"

"okay," you repeat, nodding, frozen. you look up at your boyfriend one last time, trusting him like you always do, even when a little part of you is screaming to run and take off in the other direction. "what're you gonna d-do, with him, uh-"

"i don't know, kid. i need to get you away from it first. just go upstairs, please-" your shoulders relax as soon as the sentence leaves his lips. your mind goes fuzzy, like it always does around rafe, but hearing that even in this insane, unfathomable situation, that his first priority is you, makes your head spin.

you lean in, pressing a kiss to rafe's lips, not pulling away until a minute has passed, your shaking hands tight on his arms.

like always, you follow the instructions he's given you, walking away and heading inside, shedding your clothes and burning them, cleaning yourself in the scalding water until you can smell nothing but the vanilla of your soap and the pine of rafe's shampoo. once out, you put on one of his shirts and some of his long white socks, everything feeling cold still.

you wait patiently on his bed, not able to focus on anything on your phone. when rafe walks in, you don't move, letting him come sit beside you.

"what did you-" you start, before being interrupted.

"don't ask, kid." rafe doesn't sound mad, rather protective. "if i tell you, you're in this shit now. can't have that."

you wrap your arms around his neck, crawling into rafe's lap and into a tight hug. his hands tense around your waist, and you close your eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin. he doesn't smell like blood, at the very least, so you think he hasn't done anything crazy yet.

or crazier, you correct yourself.

"the swamp. in the woods. there's gators, and foxes, and who knows what else." it comes out as a whisper, like you're scared that the walls might overhear. "if you bring him there, no one will find him. if no one finds him you can't get in trouble."

rafe pulls out of the hug to look at you, all shaky limbs and wet eyes. he presses a kiss to your forehead.

#baby.. you know me SOOO well. #you are amazing for sending this my way #i can only hope everyone likes this as much as i do #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

[chizoies]

STRAWHATS FAMILY AU

The Lore Drop:

Alright,in this alternative universe the whole gang is a family. Robin and Franky are married and they are the parents. Brook is Franky’s adoptive father. Jinbei is Robin’s biological father. Brook is African (Nigerian (Bantoid))American and he was never married. Franky is caucasian, his roots comes from Turkiye. Jinbei is Indian, he married Olvia, she is Brazilian. So Robin is half Indian half Brazilian.

Only Luffy and Chopper are Frobin’s biological children.

When Robin and Franky got married, they had realised that they are rich enough to set on a quest to help the children of need so they went to see the world. HEAR ME OUT it makes sense because um Jinbei is a very respected doctor and Brook is a renowned musician; Franky own a ship/boat/cruise fix company and Robin is a doctor in the archeology field 😁 they are rich rich

First, Luffy was born. And their first destination was Japan. That is where they adopted Zoro. He was in Juvenile. They sorted out things and adopted this child to save him. Cause he was innocent. Luffy was 6 and Zoro was 10 when this happened. (I know the punishment age range is after 14 in Japan but the crime they were accusing him of was so severe or something that they had to, like you should know I’m just making shit up leave me alone)

After a few months they go to Finland. That is where they adopt Nami. A Swedish girl who was in the hands of a gun mafia that killed her sister and mother. She was 9. So they fight fight and get her.

The new year comes, and they decide to go to Mozambique. That is where they meet Usopp! When Franky and Zoro was walking through streets with full of shops and all, they run into Usopp (same age as Luffy) who was selling things he built. Usopp’s father Yasopp left their home when he was born, and her mother dies of sickness. The social workers does not give shşt about the poor. Franky sees this spark in him. He and Zoro buys things from him. And at the end of the day Franky asks if he wants a family they can be one to him. Usopp refuses because of his sick friend Kaya. Saying that he cannot leave her. Later in the week, yk the drill they show everyone that Kuro is bad person blah blah, they both save Kaya and Usopp. Usopp accepts to be part of their family.

They make BIG AHH turn and go to France. They drop at some seaside town. Such a nice touristic place. But so many shop owners with rent complaints. The mayor of this town goes againts its country’s law and increases the rents per SECOND. They dig down this mystery by accident and find out that the mayor is a evil motherfrucker scientist. He also has a son , Sanji (10 yo), whose very much so sweet. They want to fight the scientist but the country is actually supporting him. Since his products and the stuff he does supports the economy or something. So they technically kidnap Sanji. But Sanji needs it. With Franky’s relations they get him a fake id and all that. But they promise that ona day they will have enough power to defeat him. Sanji is happy.

The next destination is Canada. That is exactly where Franky and Robin decides to make another child 😁

After that they go to Egypt. They come across an organisation that Robin did her internship, the one that ran by Sir Crocodile. They find a lost child named Vivi. Vivi is an 8 year old who is getting used by Crocodile. They save her, save the country, yay! Allthough Vivi was a part of their family for a quite time after they learned that Vivi was a princess, they help her to meet her father. The Strawhats leave Egypt and promise eachother that they will meet again.

After 9 months Chopper is born. And the family is complete for now. But they are still in a quest to help children. Or to collect them lol. After a while the grandpas also join their quest. And yeah thats it. I would binge read it if someone makes a fanfic about it.

#one piece #one piece fanart #op au #one piece au #frobin #one piece modern au #op modern au #luffy #roronoa zoro #op nami #op usopp #sanji #drawing #tony tony chopper #nico robin #op franky

[feminist-space]

"Long COVID has destroyed my life

I would love nothing more than to “finally ignore COVID,” as the headline to Dr. Ashish Jha’s July 31 op-ed reads (“With a few basic steps, most of us can finally ignore COVID”). As a healthy, vaccinated, and recently boosted 35-year-old, I did what he said: I ignored COVID-19 on a weekend trip with friends in September 2022. But the infection I got as a result has all but destroyed my life.

A week after my infection, I began to experience intense fatigue, overwhelming headaches, and cognitive challenges that continue to this day. These symptoms are debilitating: I can no longer work, socialize, or travel. My finances are dire. And if I am unable to avoid another infection, my condition may deteriorate even further.

Jha wrote of long COVID “treatments” being promising. Perhaps he could clarify what treatments he is referring to, because my doctors say that there are no approved treatments for long COVID.

A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later, even with vaccination. By downplaying the prevalence and debilitating outcomes of even moderate long COVID, Jha is signing thousands of people up to the misery and despair with which I live every day.

Ezra J. Spier

Oakland, Calif.

Another view from infectious disease doctors

As infectious disease doctors, we disagree with Dr. Jha’s contention that it is time to ignore COVID-19.

Yes, being vaccinated and taking Paxlovid thankfully decrease the risk of severe disease. But only 43 percent of people age 65 and over and only 17 percent of all Americans had received an updated COVID vaccination by May 2023, and access to Paxlovid treatment is inequitable by race and insurance status.

Long-term complications of COVID can be devastating, including after second infections.

More than half a million Americans have died since the summer of 2021, when sufficient vaccine doses were available: COVID death rates in the United States continue to be double those of Canada. Termination of free tests and “commercialization” of medications as implemented by the federal government will only widen our country’s grisly COVID-related health disparities.

Inevitably, ignoring COVID leads to ignoring the slow-motion epidemic of long COVID. Standing up against such neglect, leaders like Boston Mayor Michelle Wu and Governor Maura Healey can promote meaningful measures to protect our communities: air purification in all schools and public spaces; free COVID-preventive masks (KN95 or N95, not surgical masks); tests, vaccines, and Paxlovid for all who cannot afford to buy them; and concern for and support of long COVID victims.

Dr. Julia Koehler

Boston

Dr. Regina LaRocque

Wellesley

We remain vulnerable to long COVID

Ashish Jha’s position as former White House COVID-19 Response Coordinator is a conflict of interest masquerading as a qualification for his op-ed. Researchers who study long COVID stated in a recent paper in Nature Reviews Immunology that “the oncoming burden of long COVID faced by patients, health-care providers, governments and economies is so large as to be unfathomable.” Rapid tests, which are less accurate with recent strains while PCR tests are less available, and low death rates give a false sense of security.

I agree that despite progress, more buildings need the air filtration and ventilation that would make public life safer. But Jha omits our vulnerability to long COVID after even mild infections, its devastating effects, and higher death rates for hospital-acquired COVID-19, combined with a lack of collective protection in health care settings with unmasked, untested people who prefer to ignore COVID-19.

Aside from advocating vaccines, he describes an everyone-for-themselves approach, not mentioning responsibility to protect others or access to essentials.

Jha dines in a restaurant with his friends while patients even in leading cancer hospitals are forced into Russian roulette, thanks to this approach.

Kathryn Nichols

Cambridge

Vigilance is necessary to prevent long COVID

While I understand the desire to promote optimism amid the ongoing pandemic, I am deeply concerned about the potential consequences of downplaying the importance of COVID precautions and the significant risk of long COVID. As a person living with long COVID for the last 16 months despite being vaccinated and boosted, I have experienced post-exertional malaise, fatigue, headaches, joint and muscle pain, cognitive dysfunction, and more symptoms that have continued to today. I have tried numerous medicines, supplements, and even participated in a clinical trial, only to find limited relief from the persistent effects of this virus.

Such a stance overlooks the reality that millions more people could end up with long COVID if we fail to remain vigilant in our efforts to combat the virus. Long COVID is a devastating consequence of this virus, and we cannot rely solely on vaccinations to end the pandemic. Even with widespread vaccination, the risk of contracting long COVID remains high. A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later. Minimizing the significance of long COVID not only neglects the suffering of long-haulers but also risks undermining public health efforts to control the spread of the virus.

By raising awareness about the risk of long COVID, media outlets can play a pivotal role in educating the public and promoting continued vigilance. Responsible reporting on the enduring impact of long COVID can serve as a reminder that the pandemic is far from over and that we must remain committed to taking necessary precautions to protect ourselves and others. Highlighting the struggles of long COVID survivors and the lack of proven treatments can spur further research and medical advancements in addressing this condition. Empathy and support for those living with long COVID are essential in paving the way for better understanding, compassionate care, and better health outcomes for everyone as COVID rates increase again this summer.

Travis Hardy

Norwalk, Conn.

Link https://www.bostonglobe.com/2023/08/05/opinion/cant-ignore-long-covid-jha/

#covid #long covid #wear a mask #please wear a mask #the pandemic isn't over

[babacontainsmultitudes]

I'm not the first person to bring this up but, I do feel that the general response to the gun range scene has mostly failed to acknowledge the context that would call for such extreme levels of self-defense training in the first place. We know from episode 23 that even just a few years after the release of the doodler (when Lark and Sparrow themselves are still just teens) things are already pretty bad (to the extent that in Lark's case the stress of it all has already begun to take a physical toll on him- don't forget that he and Sparrow too were once kids who had the world placed on their shoulders), and one need only look at how quickly the situation with the mayor has degraded to imagine how bad things would have gotten by the time Hero was 12. Training your six-year-old to use a gun in a normal or at least mostly normal world? Batshit crazy. Training your six-year-old to use a gun in a world overrun by an eldritch horror where danger, death, and the possibility of corruption from said eldritch horror are around every corner? Still intense but, much easier to understand the reasoning behind.

oh oops it's a long post woops woops woops

In Sparrow's case in particular, we know that he behaves quite differently under alternative circumstances, and that Normal (Hero too for that matter) lives a pretty different life in a post code purple world:

Not that it hasn't been Sparrow's intent and priority to mitigate the extent to which Normal was caught up in everything from the get-go, as evidenced by his namesake. Recall what he had to say on the matter:

In some ways this extreme self-defense training is a "two sides of the same coin" sort of deal vis-a-vis Grant's extreme isolation of Lincoln for his protection, a major difference being that Lincoln still deals with this in a post code purple world (to the extent that he literally had to pretend to starve himself to get his dad to let him go to public school), whereas Normal and Hero get the chance to live mostly normal lives and do as they please (the disapproving words of a drunken and partially-doodlerized Sparrow aside), now removed from the immediate threat of the doodler.

Hero's case is, at least from what we currently know about the prophecy, more complicated than Norm's. It is easy to reprimand Lark and Sparrow as being the worst parents (and/or uncles) whilst forgetting that their circumstances are fundamentally different from the other kiddads. The first half of this lying in their shared responsibility (and guilt) in releasing the doodler. Grant and Nicky can retreat to their respective homes on the basis that this is the best they can do, resolving to put their energy into protecting their closest ones first and foremost. At the end of the day, they aren't really any more responsible for dealing with the doodler than any other bystander. The same cannot be said of Lark and Sparrow, who can't exactly look away from the fact that they were the ones who brought the doodler into the world. At least from their perspectives- of course Lark (and Sparrow by extension) in reality was a child that was manipulated into doing what he did, which as some people have pointed out is not dissimilar to what happened to Normal at the end of this episode (and if Sparrow felt the need to rid Normal of his memories of this event in particular, perhaps it was to spare his child from feeling guilty about it for the rest of his life).

The second half of what differentiates them is, of course, the prophecy (right- now we can actually get to Hero lol). We must remember that, as far as the twins knew, the only way to actually "defeat" the doodler permanently was through the chosen one, i.e. Hero (probably- after last episode I'm starting to think that Norm may be more directly involved in the prophecy than previously thought, but that's a tangent). "Continue to let the being you released into the world kill and torture millions (very likely billions) of people, which could wind up including both of your children, or put your ill-fated child through very intense and ultimately traumatizing training to put an end to it, potentially losing her in the process", is essentially the choice the twins were given. Hero isn't made to kill a deer with her bare hands for the hell of it, she goes through what she does because Lark (who likely did not see the same thing that Normal did on the throne- or at the very least interpreted things very differently) and Sparrow had no reason to believe that there was any other possibility. This certainly does not negate or undermine the extent to which Hero was deeply traumatized by it all, but it's not exactly a detail that you can choose to ignore when discussing the ethics of Lark and Sparrow's decision-making.

And yet, despite it all, Sparrow and Lark do ultimately chose saving their children over saving the world. Not before significant damage has already been done (to Hero that is), but they do decide to go through with the one plan that allows both of their children to (hopefully) live a doodler-free life: code purple. Code purple, which ultimately reduces to a trolley problem with a presumably near-equal number of people on both tracks, with the important difference of sparing their own children in one case, and likely not the other. And if we want to talk about Henry's ethical stance in the matter and how it compares to the twins, we need to consider what it says about him if he was *not* in favor of code purple, with all of this in mind. Not to come to any hasty conclusions about Henry either- I think there remains too many unknowns on that front to assume much and... Ultimately it's a complicated matter! But that's kind of my point.

Even post code purple, Lark and Sparrow (and the rest of the kiddads) try to pursue that which they believe (or at least hope) will both put an end to the doodler without involving their children and without the enactment of the prophecy. Is blowing up an entire world with the sun to save all the others a plan I'm gonna sit here and defend? I don't think so lol, but you can't exactly look at it and pretend that Lark and Sparrow don't care about protecting their fucking kids.

My point isn't that Lark and Sparrow haven't made a lot of mistakes and questionable decisions, my point is that their circumstances are so much less black and white than the majority of the takes I see on them make them out to be, and a lot of the conclusions I see people jump to when it comes to the twins' feelings and intentions strike me as... Pretty odd? Tangentially-related: if you don't think Sparrow is someone who is affectionate with and deeply loves his kids despite his flaws, I don't really think we're listening to the same podcast. But even in Lark's case, yes he's more subtle about it and yes, Lark can be quick to anger (not that I personally read him yelling in the last episode as anger so much as panic but all the same), but affection can be sewing bulletproof material into your nephew's mascot costume, or secretly taking him out for pizza, or pretending to be his dad so that you can tell him you're proud of him, or putting your gun down when he asks you to. The twins are anything but perfect but, fuck if they aren't trying (and changing, and improving). And yes, they deserve some damn nuance.

Also, okay, I couldn't really find a neat way to bring this up in the above but, speaking of no-nuance and bad faith takes, can we talk about the locks? Or lack thereof, rather. "How could they be so stupid as to leave the door unlocked?" you're right, that does seem odd, and Anthony made a point to explain that every other door was very thoroughly locked, and Normal seemed to have practically been moved into opening the door against his own will so... Hear me out, maybe, just maybe, the door usually *is* locked??? And something fishy or unusual is afoot? I also wouldn't take their immediate, knee-jerk reactions to a dangerous flesh monster being released to come to any conclusions on whether or not Lark and Sparrow "blame" six-year-old Normal for it. In Sparrow's case, I struggle to even imagine it. In Lark's case, though I wouldn't put him above getting angry over it, my doubts on his deeper feelings are still high. Conversely, if he actually did place some of the blame on Normal, at the very least there is an interesting discussion to be had on how this relates to Lark's own guilt over what Willy manipulated him into doing, and subsequently being denied the catharsis of punishment. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Like I said, a lot of important things are yet unknown.

*breathes* okay end of overdue ramble [insert proper conclusion paragraph here lol], thank you.

#dndads #dungeons and daddies #boy. yeah always an ordeal discussing matters related to Hero. Easy to attract misunderstanding- I think. Again it is. A Complicated Affair #but well- had to share my two cents otherwise it surely woulda bugged me lots #hopefully this all makes sense enough I know I kinda went a bunch of different places as usual :0 #sparrow oak #lark oak #hero oak swallows garcia #normal oak swallows garcia #normal oak #lark oak garcia #sparrow oak garcia #dndads s2 ep 47 #baba babbles

[wordsvomit101]

High heels lover

Original video: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/34kjb7xMfsU

Author notes: short interaction inspired by that video above and one of Mammon's chats.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(At Mammon's Imperial Palace)

Mammon: Master, why do you choose to walk in those shoes?

MC: What? *look over from their waiting spot in their high heels boots*

Mammon: We will have to do a lot of walking during our trip to the countryside. I'm worried that your feet won't be able to handle it.

MC: It's fine! I can walk on my own like this. I'm already used to it.

Mammon: Could I fancy you to a new two-wheel automatic scooter then? It is one of Tartaros Corps' latest editions.

MC: I like walking in these *demonstrate by walking around* I will be fine.

Mammon: ... I will tell you one thing my dear Master but I wouldn't be able to give you my shoes if the time needed for it. *points down at his gold-covered feet*

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(Radiant Highland - After the tea ceremony at the town mayor's house)

Mammon: Doesn't it feel better to get out of those shoes for a minute, Master? *genuinely smiling*

MC: I don't know what you're talking about.

Mammon: If it is nothing why are you looking away from me, Master? *not a single mischief behind those eyes*

Mammon: I like that you're passionate about this topic, but Master, this trip has lasted more than 8 hours. Your feet are certainly throbbing now, my dear.

MC: I am not in pain! I just didn't want my favorite walking shoes to get wet with angel's blood on our way here.

MC: I'm completely fine! You should try to keep up with me! *wobbly speed walk away*

Mammon: ... Oh dear. *lovingly stare at MC as he dial-up Eligos*

(15 minutes later)

Mammon: Master, can you sit down for a second? *walk over with a bag*

MC: Again, I'm not in pain Mammon... *sit down on a nearby stone bench*

Mammon: I'm sorry my dear, but please, you might not be in pain but I'm in pain just by thinking that you're in pain, Master. *knelt down and pulled out an extremely expensive, cartoonishly fluffy, and comfortable short heels shoes*

Mammon: So humor my request for one minute.

MC: What are those?

Mammon: Apology Master, but I have Eligos pick out the best option as quickly as possible at one of the boutiques in the nearby city and have them transferred here. *gently put the shoes on for MC*

MC: That's sweet of you but I cannot walk around in public with this thing. *standing up*

MC: They're so jello and funny looking *stepping around a bit* and they're so soft... *stepping around a bit more*

Mammon: *giving MC the stare that could make a married couple question their relationship*

MC: And so comfortable, and- And- *about to cry* Mammon what is this?

Mammon: I take it that you like it, Master.

MC: *hugging Mammon around the waist* Thank you for doing this for me, thank you for worrying about my feet.

Mammon: Anything for you Master. *smiling as he leans down to kiss MC*

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb mc #whb mammon #the greenest flag devil I ever seen #I wanna see this happened in canon so bad #mammon is so rich loving husband coded

[mokulule]

The Number You Have Called Cannot Be Reached 6

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4|Part 5

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence

Bruce sighed, absently feeling the air on his hands folded in front of his face. He stared unseeingly ahead. His frowned deeply, at a loss of what to do. Worry picked at his self control.

Something was up with Jason. Ever since the other night, something had happened between the thief and Jason. It had left him unsettled and off balance, that much was obvious. They’d all been able to see it.

Now, today, Jason had lost control. He’d been agitated of course, but Bruce hadn’t expected the outburst. Jason was usually good at managing his anger these days, at least in the family. He didn’t get physical with them anymore in anger. Except today Jason had suddenly pulled him up by the shirt, and Bruce had honestly expected him to punch him. Jason had shaken it off, but then he’d fled.

The urge to move, to do something, itched at him. He wanted to get answers, but confronting Jason was out of the question. Their truce was fragile, and it seemed every time he spoke to Jason he said the wrong thing. He didn’t know what to do except control the urge to go after his son. He couldn’t fight his demons for him. He could only try not to make it worse.

And so he sat there, staring, unseeing.

Dick’s footsteps, came down the stairs, easily recognizable: light and almost dancing to a rhythm only he could hear, skipping a step every now and then.

“Hey B, thought you were going golfing with the mayor, keeping up the old appearances and all that” he greeted brightly, as ever immune to Bruce’s mood. Or maybe Alfred sent him down to deal with him, that was also an option.

“Oh I love these,” Dick reached forward over Bruce’s shoulder to grab a protein bar from the backpack. He opened it and started to eat it without hesitation.

“Dick,” Bruce sighed, “this is evidence.”

Dick snorted and leaned on the console so he could look at Bruce. “You’re serious.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Dick snorted again, of course Bruce was serious, then he pulled the backpack over and started rooting through it. Much to Bruce’s exasperation he opened another protein bar.

“Dick, they could be drugged.”

“As if you’d have let me take the first one if that was the case,” Dick mumbled around the mouthful of granola. Bruce mentally conceded the point.

“Anyways,” Dick swallowed and continued, reading the name tag on the inside of the backpack, “Danny Fenton, who’s that?”

Bruce sighed.

“The thief.”

“The Ghost!?” Dick looked up in excitement, “so we have a name now?”

“Presumably, it may not originally have been his backpack.”

“True, doesn’t help much either does it? Danny is very common and Fenton may not be Johnson, but it’s not exactly unique.”

“I haven’t looked it up yet.”

Dick narrowed his eyes.

“This has anything to do with why you’re brooding?”

Silence stretched between them, but Dick could be surprisingly patient when he wanted to. There was no point in dragging things out, it wasn’t a secret, Dick could easily find out through the surveillance if he wanted, Bruce would rather he didn’t.

“Jason was the one who delivered the backpack.”

“Ah.” There was the worried frown Bruce would have liked to avoid. He leaned down a bit to better face Bruce.

“You had a fight?” The question was posed carefully, softly, not betraying any inkling what he thought of that, in a way to gently pry the answer from Bruce, but Bruce knew his eldest son well enough to know he was already mentally running damage control options. That was Dick, always trying to keep their family together tooth and nail. There was a soft pang of appreciation in his chest he couldn’t articulate, instead he focused on the problem at hand.

“He’s convinced the thief needs help, I don’t actually disagree.”

Dick sat back in realization, his eyes flickered to the backpack and its sorry spoils.

“But he could still be working for someone,” Dick recited with a sigh, it was an old lesson. One he knew Jason wouldn’t have appreciated, not if he felt Bruce was dismissing his concerns. “B.”

“I know.”

Do you? Dick’s eyebrows asked, but he had the grace not to actually say it. He clapped Bruce on the shoulder instead, squeezing slightly.

“He’ll warm back up.”

“You think so?” He asked unable to look up at Dick.

“Hey,” Dick said brightly in a way that naturally drew attention to him, “we’ve come back from worse.” And there was that bright smile and that pang of appreciation was back, along with another warm feeling in his chest: hope.

“Well, I gotta get going, I’ve got work tomorrow. Just gotta grab a few more of these.”

And the feeling was gone.

“Dick.”

“We shouldn’t waste perfectly good food, B, also they’re W-Mark exclusives, they don’t have them in Blüdhaven.” He grinned, pockets stuffed with contraband. Invariably reminding Bruce of a younger version with pockets full of candy he’d been denied. Brat already knew he had won. Bruce waved him off with a sigh.

Dick practically skipped towards the stairs. Then he paused.

“Oh and B, if I was you, I’d check the phone at the bottom of the bag. It’s not a brand I recognize.”

With that he was off.

Bruce stared after him. Pride warred with annoyance. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts he hadn’t even noticed Dick checking out the bag more thoroughly than the cursory look he himself had done when Jason had handed it to him.

He grabbed the bag and rooted around a bit, and just as Dick had said, there was a phone.

He pulled it out, and turned it over in his hands. It was made from dark blue plastic. The logo on the back, a stylized V in front of a globe, wasn’t one he recognized. It looked old and scuffed, had actual buttons and a jarringly small screen when you were used to modern smartphones.

It was also out of power.

With how old it looked, it was unlikely cordless charging was an option. He looked at the bottom edge where there was an actual mini headphone jack, along with what he assumed was the charging port - it wasn’t a type he recognized.

He frowned and got up. He wouldn’t be too late for his meeting with the mayor if he left now, not something he couldn’t brush off as eccentric forgetfulness at least.

He could drop the phone off at Tim’s on the way. Tim would get the phone working one way or another.

Oo o oO

Danny stayed underneath the pavement long after the not-ghost had left. The feeling of almost giving in was a crawling like ants underneath his skin. The threat of almost capture was like a noose around his neck - if they captured him, if they managed to contain him, he would never get home.

Eventually the bone deep tiredness of using his powers too much hit him, and he dragged himself back to his haunt, invisibly and intangibly, because he’d had much too much excitement today. He was raw and empty inside when he dropped onto his blanket pile and rolled up. He would get food some other day. Never mind that he was completely out. It wouldn’t end his existence, just weaken him. Ghosts at the core ran on willpower, and Danny wanted to go home.

A small squeak and rustle, had him opening his eyes a crack and turning his head to look to the far side of the room. There the rat was going his trash, the packaging probably still smelled like food.

He huffed and closed his eyes again. If he got truly desperate he could always eat the rat - It wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d eaten.

next

Masterpost for subscription

Sorry, it's not the longest part this time, but we got to appreciate a few other characters, yay! Hope you enjoyed, cause Danny sure isn't enjoying himself.

#Sorry Danny this is what you get for being my favorite character #all misery #Jason doesn't appear in this part #He'll be there next time angsting over how Danny keeps running away from him #Jason is catnip to Danny #Danny however doesn't do recreational drugs #sorry Jay #your ghost is on another rooftop #what is this #spoilers for the next part in the tags #Moku how dare you #dp x dc #dead on main #Missed Connections #angst #cw depression #Dick Grayson is a good detective #can we please appreciate him #let's try to ignore that he was eating Danny's stolen food #in Dick's defense the stolen food was already stolen #don't waste food #Bruce is trying to be a good dad

[sgiandubh]

OMG! I can practically see her pulling at her pearls in indignation and fury! I wonder how many wet dreams he rejected her to result in this anger 🙃🙄😜 https://www.tumblr.com/maximumwobblerbanditdonut/747779411400671232/public-intoxication-sh-was-invited-to-the-landcon?source=share

Dear Pearl Clutching Anon,

This woman is the worst mythomaniac and the most pathetic know-it-all of the entire fandom. Mark me: probably a sock account of one of the Mordor sopranos, who'd like to play it cool otherwise. She is an impostor, pretending to be a Scot. But her grammar and spelling recurrent mistakes point to anything else but an English native speaker.

Prized and praised as she is by the dim-witted, she is living proof of the fact that you cannot reasonably and endlessly pretend to be an expert in hair implants, cocktails/bartending, audiovisual production, copyright, alcohol sales and pretty much everything in between. To me, she is at her most pathetic when she pretends to analyze the legal intricacies of the French regulations applicable to public alcohol tasting events.

What happened, in fact, at the Landcon 6 whisky tasting?

Ok. So, this was announced by the French organizers on March 5th and presented as a limited audience event, priced at 350 euros.

This idiot's comment is absolutely priceless:

She would be surprised to find out that, unlike the US, there has never been any Prohibition decreed in France (Hell would have frozen). Even more interestingly, the only venues where French law specifically prohibits alcohol tastings and sales are enumerated very clearly in regulations far above her intellectual abilities:

The main idea is that you cannot sell/organize alcohol tastings in public health venues (hospitals, clinics, etc), rehabilitation clinics (d'oh!) - both for alcohol and drug addictions -, schools, youth summer camps, sports arenas, swimming pools or any other public or private sports venues.

(Source: French Public Health Code, https://www.dalloz.fr/documentation/Document?id=CODE_CSPU_ARTI_D3335-1&scrll=CSPU022225&FromId=CODES_SECS_CSPU_TALPHA)

To these limitations, the French national professional organizations add, as best practice, the following: churches, cemeteries, prisons, military barracks, railway/public transport facilities (including depots).

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la dégustation/Tasting Legal Guide - https://www.syndicat-cotesdurhone.com/upload/article/file/202103guidejuridiquedeladegustation-60658bb9468b4.pdf)

To my knowledge, Landcon's venue was neither a cemetery, nor a church (the latter could be, however discussed: wee & lame joke, btw). And for that poor woman's information, you would not need an exemption, but a permit, or licence. In current French law, there are four such sale permits, ranked from I (soft drinks, such as Orangina) to IV (all drinks, including spirits). The fabled Licence IV (also the name of a beloved 90s French kitschy music group, LOL) is now impossible to obtain and if you want to have one, you have to buy the venue (cafe, nightclub, bar, bistro, restaurant or buvette) that had it issued first, many moons ago.

That problem solved, we would have to further analyze the type of event hosted by the Landcon. Was it a tasting or a sale, according to French regulations?

If it was a tasting, no licence is needed. If it was a sale, you might need a temporary licence, granted by the Mayor, provided you have notified them at least 3 months before the event. These are also famously hard to get and very sparingly granted, too.

Because tastings are an exception, they are strictly defined by French regulations as 'free alcohol consumption' and their regulations are excruciatingly detailed. Procedures and limitations vary according to the type of event: sports, tourism promotion, markets and fairs, public gatherings or cultural events (which is the one that seemed the closest to our situation). But a cultural event-cum-tasting would have to be completely free of charge (no paying access tickets), in order to be exempt from any legal obligation. This was not the case, as we know there was a rather steep, 350 euros fee, to be able to attend it:

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la dégustation/Tasting Legal Guide - https://www.syndicat-cotesdurhone.com/upload/article/file/202103guidejuridiquedeladegustation-60658bb9468b4.pdf)

That new activity was certainly not a tasting, as defined by French law. An amateur could then conclude, that S's event was, in fact, a disguised sale and that he is either a sinister fool or a filthy conman.

The trouble is, French legislation tolerates one single, overruling exception to everything I wrote above: sale by the producer of said alcohol. It is to be found (or rather interpreted - and it has been so by myself AND the French professional organizations), in the Code Général des Impôts/ French Tax Code:

To avoid a tedious legal translation, the idea is that if you do not sell your own produced booze, you are automatically considered as a stockist/trader and as such, subject to alcohol sales' regulations. If the Landcon organizers would have sold/promoted Laphroaig, for example, they would have needed the permit. But hosting a paying tasting event organized by SRH, promoting SRH's whisky and which profits entirely belonged to SRH is a sale by the producer, as defined by French law, not needing a permit:

(Source: Vin & Société's Guide juridique de la vente/Sales Legal Guide - https://fgvb.fr/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/Vin-et-Societe-Guide-juridique-de-la-vente-19042021.pdf)

So: even if the tasting event was, in fact, a sale, French law allows a producer to sell his own alcohol, for promotion purposes as a side event, with no further need to obtain a permit. And this is exactly what their legal team rightfully advised them to do and completely what I would advised them to do, too.

That woman is so often and in so many ways completely wrong, that she is absolutely ridiculous. She (and also her other Big Friend) should perhaps stop pretending to be whatever they are not. Infantilizing, bullying and snarling at people does not help with their credibility.

Such women are genuine Frauds and absolutely despicable. People spend years fucking their eyesight in law school and we do not joke about interpreting and reading legalese. Ever. But to see idiots pretending to know just because they fucking used Google for ten minutes is just infuriating: it took me two hours to find the exception and another two to write this comment.

I hope this long, tedious answer was helpful, Anon.

#anon #fandom #shitshow

[soulrph]

"𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓" 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

i mentioned these in the tags of a post and sb saw it and asked for the list!! which was so abundantly lovely of them tbh bc like. i was gonna let these go. so thank you to the sweetheart of an angel who encouraged me to finish the list and post them!! these prompts are dialogue based and inspired by the humble yet endearingly cozy qualities of the blanket fort! i hope y'all enjoy them! and i hope everyone's staying hydrated and not clenching their jaws on this lovely day, too!

" what do you mean, you've never built a blanket fort before?! "

" sorry, you can't get in here without the right password. "

" where are all my blankets and pillows? "

" yeah, you can't wear that in this fort. no suits, jeans or shoes. only soft fluffy socks and pajamas. "

" wanna built a blanket fort with me? "

" if we got the fluffy bath towels out, we could probably expand the fort towards the bathroom. "

" if you collapse this blanket fort, i cannot legally be held responsible for my actions. "

" bring over those fairy lights, we can hang them on the inside of the blankets and make it way cozier! "

" i just think the world would be an infinitely happier, better place if we all lived in a blanket fort. "

" it's not every day you get to sleep in a house made of blankets, pillows and cushions, right? "

" hey, let's hook the blanket across the TV, that way we can have a movie marathon without leaving the fort! "

" see? it's a blanket fort fit for royalty! hence my pillow throne. bow down before me, peasant! "

" fine! you can come over; but bring every blanket, pillow and fluffy item you own. "

" oh my god, i used to make blanket forts ALL the time when i was a little kid! "

" i brought some snacks. figured it'd be a pretty sucky blanket fort without any! "

" i wonder how much you'd get if you rented out a blanket fort like this one? "

" wow... this must be exactly how michelangelo felt when he built his first blanket fort, too! "

" ingenious use of the sleeping bag, by the way! every good blanket fort needs a rug! "

" i'm having the week from hell. could we just crawl into the blanket fort for the night? "

" it's too stormy to do anything else today. i propose a movie marathon in our pajamas in the blanket fort! "

" i'm gonna go out and ask our neighbours if they have any spare blankets we could use. this blanket fort demands an extension! "

" if we insured this blanket fort, we could make a TON of cash the next time it collapses! "

" no, listen, if people can go live in vans and school buses, i can damn sure live the rest of my life in a blanket fort! "

" i made some hot cocoa. felt like a suitably fort friendly drink! "

" technically, demolishing the fort should be done via pillow fight. right? "

" aren't we a little old to be making blanket forts? "

" actually, much like lego, i think you'll find that blanket forts are ageless! "

" i thought i might find you in here. room for one more? "

" tragically, you never built a blanket kitchen. so i guess we're just gonna have to order in some take-out, right? "

" i'm not an unreasonable blanket fort mayor. i am not above bribery. entrance fee can be one kiss. "

" excuse you, we have a dress code. pajamas are in my closet, bottom drawer; fluffy socks are in the second one from the top. "

" judge me all you want, but this blanket fort has brought me more peace than anything else in my entire life. "

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #dialogue prompts #ask meme #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #ask prompts #meme request. #roleplay prompt #rp prompt

[sirfrogsworth]

I don't think I've ever been this mad watching a YouTube video.

We keep joking about how everything is going to turn into The Handmaid's Tale but we are pretty much fucking there in Texas.

We need to stop arguing about a presidential race we don't actually have a way of changing. We are wasting so much energy right now.

Biden sucks.

Vote for Biden.

Now that we settled that...

We need to focus our energy on local politics. These are elections we can actually influence and win. All of the horrific anti-trans laws are local. All of the horrific anti-abortion laws are local. We need state reps and mayors and governors. We need to grassroots the shit out of local elections and fundraise for progressive candidates.

If we had local congresses filled with progressive majorities, we'd have to worry much less about a Trump presidency. Yes, he can still do a lot of damage, but almost all of the draconian shit is on a state level right now.

People were giving Biden shit about mask laws. But all of the mask mandates were done at a state level. It's the governors who did that shit.

Focusing solely one one political position is screwing so many marginalized people. If we can elect local reps and school board members and get them some political experience, they can then move on to higher positions. They can build their political cache and go from state to federal. And eventually maybe one of them can even run for and win the presidency.

We are attacking this from the wrong vector. People want instant results and I get that. But the long game is the better strategy. Not to mention the long game allows for long term results. If we build a progressive infrastructure from the ground up, it cannot be toppled by one crazy dipshit.

So, let's think local and get this done, eh?

[lotus02lavish]

some angst of breakup Headcanons with SWK, MK and Mayor from LMK? GN Reader btw. i just need some angst.

[Pain shall be fed into the beating heart] 💥

【If we ever broke up, I'd be sad. 💔】

{Sun Wukong, Mk, and Mayor breakup with GN! Reader}

➳ Lego Monkie kid (LMK) // Headcanons // Seperated // Angst! ✍🏻

──･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

"You can love them, forgive them, want good things for them ... but still move on without them." - Mandy Hale.

Sun Wukong

The realization about a mortal human being and the immortal monkey king put into a loving relationship would not work.

Sun Wukong could give you his peaches of immortality to accompany him until the end of time. Except the horror that if you live forever, everyone and everything around you will move on. Somethings will die and forgotten without you. No peaches for you, hun.

Sun Wukong does not allowed to let anyone notice you as his lover, he just want to protect you from anyone that cause harm. Which makes you believe he is embarrassed to have you.

Sun Wukong is lacking the ability to explain of how he truly feeling towards you. From time to time again to have communication problems and abuse that cannot be solved.

In Sun Wukong's opinion, love is just another useless emotion to express that lead to heartbreak and disappointment. He is not ready to handle any of those qualities.

In conclusion, Sun Wukong is unexpectedly certain to break up with you, just to save you from himself. He is arrogant and a trickster is known to everyone who has heard of or had the chance to meet the legendary Monkey King.

"Eternal life can bring eternal suffering, I don't want you to feel the same way as me."

The fact that Sun Wukong has said his goodbyes to you and gone from your sight, the good thing is glad to know that you have great life and bright future ahead from destiny than his. The bad thing is, he will miss you deeply more than you ever know.

────･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

"Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together." - Marilyn Monroe.

MK

At first, Mk does not understand why you would choose someone like him to be your boyfriend, and he felt that not asking about it was better. He always thinking that he does not deserve your love.

Mk ponders about you cherish them because they are a powerful hero, and everything else within them has no importance. That is why the noodle boy worried that one day they would accidentally use their unnatural monkey magic skills to hurting you, and afraid they might fail to save you from danger.

Mk is often excusing himself with his training, delivering noodles, saving the world/universe, and joining his friends to avoid you.

Mk repeatedly forgets the important events, such as your birthday, the dating anniversary day, the national holidays, and meeting with your friends or family. Heis busy to handle with the fate of being heroic rest on his shoulders, and gaining more trauma through the rest of his journey.

One time, Mk send one of their clone to accompany you in the entire day. Later, the copy of them bluntly told you that they (Original self) actually felt forced in love and does not feel the same way as you anymore.

You have grown tired of him and finally choose to breakup for the best, which Mk had expected and planned this all along.

"I'm very sorry! You deserve someone else better than me."

Though still feeling awkward, you and Mk agree to became friends once again. Furthermore, both of you always ignoring the questions of "That's your ex?"

──･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

"Sometimes the only way to let go is to love someone enough to want the best for him or her, even if that means not being together." - Anonymous

The Mayor

After years of dating, there is nothing special happening between the two of you. No happiness and no pleasure, just empty.

Oh, how unfortunate you do not know so much about him, even his real name is remain unknown. The Mayor is most likely to kept horrifying secrets and plans to himself from you.

Sadly, whenever the Mayor is near you, he did not have a smile on his face. Only emotionless can be seen in your eyes. Revealing his true colors.

The Mayor would rather focus on granting his Lady's requests than to spend all of his time with you.

It is a ridiculous suspicion that the Mayor is cheating on you simply because he worships The Lady Bone Demon as his only goddess until the bitter end.

At long last, you decided to breakup with the cold-hearted and odd man, his response is none other than a giggle and does not mind.

"You see, dear?" Mayor spoke up as he turn around, "letting someone go is actually easier than we thought."

At that exact moment, the Mayor show his silly toothy smile to you for one last time before he disappeared. Leaving you heartbroken and wish him for the best to accomplish his duty.

──･ ｡ﾟ☆*. .* ☆ﾟ.──･☆ﾟ.──･｡ﾟ☆ *. .* ──

True Colors - SLAVES

"Wait, did you ever take a moment just to think

About anyone, anyone other than yourself?!

Give me back the love I wasted now

Cold, one day it's gonna hit you, you're alone

I won't be there, won't be there

It's cruel to turn around

Give me back the love I wasted now."

#lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid #sun wukong x reader #swk x reader #lmk x reader #wukong lmk x reader #sun wukong lmk x reader #mk x reader #mayor x reader #mk lmk x reader #mayor lmk x reader #monkie king x reader #monkie kid x reader #lmk mayor x reader #lmk mk x reader

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug’s Paris Headcanons

Paris is not the “City of Love”, it is the “City of Progress”.

Many of those old fashioned buildings from a bygone era have been torn down and replaced with buildings that are more practical than aesthetic or factories.

Plastic is fantastic, the Seine is super polluted (and there is a rumored crocodile living there so citizens are advised to stand clear) but after getting rid of some useless parks, Project Oxygen has already started to improve Parisian Air Quality.

There is no ice-rink.

Admission to the Louvre is ridiculously expensive, and several pieces of art and historical artifacts have been locked up in the archives because it was determined that they were detrimental to public welfare and could incite anarchy. (In reality, the Supreme has locked away anything that is related to previous holders of the Miraculous).

There is a strict curfew and Martial law upheld by the Enforcers under the decree of the Supreme.

As such, there is no need for elections or mayors.

Socialism is prohibited.

This means that Libraries are not free; you need to fill out paperwork and pay a membership fee to gain entrance, and pay a separate rental fee for each book you rent, and the late fees are horrific. The selection of books available is limited as any material deemed to promote dangerous ideas has been strictly banned under penalty of law.

Fire and rescue services are not paid by tax payers, they are paid for by the people who need saving, as such, nobody is willing to go into financial debt over a cat stuck in a tree.

But thanks to the Supreme, there are no more wars, no debates over politics or religion. The world can focus on technological progress. Banning dangerous items has greatly reduced all crime, and Enforcers carry out punishment swiftly and efficiently.

Disobedience is not tolerated, because disobedience leads to civil violence and disruption, which leads to anarchy.

But if you are obedient and work hard, it is possible to move up in the world.

Freedom is a small price to pay for World Peace.

No one knows where the Supreme’s headquarters are located expect for a few elite, and no one knows if the Supreme is one person or a group of people.

But the Supreme guides the world and has lead everyone to prosperity. The Supreme cannot be questioned.

The Supreme defeated the Nazis, the Japanese, and even the Soviets.

Any radical or terrorist groups are swiftly eliminated by the Supreme.

There is no such thing as miracles. Keep your head down, mind your own business, fall in line, and strive for your own success, do not be weighed down by others or allow yourself to fall victim to misleading liberal and socialist ideals and propaganda that will lead to civil unrest. The obedient are always rewarded for their efforts. The impoverished exist due to laziness or criminal intent and are to be avoided. Those who ask for help expect free handouts and wish to leech off the hard work of upstanding citizens; they must be shunned.

Nobody does anything without adequate compensation. Never trust a “free lunch”, it may be poisoned.

Pigeons are disease spreading vermin and every effort is being made to exterminate them.

The Supreme began to suspect that whomever stole from him is hiding out in Paris after certain impossible “miracles” begin to happen in the city.

But the Supreme can’t show weakness and allow those who have sworn loyalty to know that he was robbed. Can’t risk them getting greedy and trying to steal from him as well.

He needs someone naive and inexperienced, someone who can be easily tempted and manipulated into retrieving the stolen Miraculous and keeping their mouth shut about it.

Who better than emotionally unstable teens, angry at the world, and bitterly determined to keep their business secret from adults who could never understand their pain? Teens who have no wealth or power of their own to change their lives and achieve their desires. Teens who would be too prideful or too afraid to admit their mistakes when things go wrong? Teens too oblivious to how the world really works, and could not care less for the consequences of their actions, even if it means slowly destroying the city in order to lure out a man who is determined to play “Hero”.

And, should they prove useless, it would be easy to take their miraculous back and let their bodies deteriorate, along with any and all secrets of magic jewels.

After all, it is hardly newsworthy if some Baker’s daughter suddenly “dies from an incurable illness”, and the Tragedy of a teen model “disappearing”, either as a means to escape the pressures of fame or a desire to join their mother in the afterlife is both entertaining and distracting, the Media will eat it up like candy.

This is the World that Betterfly/Hesperia wishes to change.

#miraculous paris #miraculous world #miraculous fandom #shadybug #miraculous ladybug #toxinelle #griffe noire #claw noir #The Supreme #Kwamis #Gabriel Agreste #Adrien Agreste #marinette dupain cheng #Hesperia #Betterfly #mlb s5 #miraculous #miraculous paris special #miraculous world paris

[dustteller]

Ok more Spiderverse posting because this masterpuece has melted my brain. I need to talk about this movie's thesis of being spiderman

Of course, warning for spoilers below.

In Across the spiderverse, we of course meet this myriad of new and interesting spider people along the way, and it shows us what being Spiderman means without ever explicitly telling us. On one side, we have Miguel, who is what I like to call the mathematically perfect spiderman. He hates messes, and he hates being the one to clean them up more. He will make all the sacrifices he has to to help the mayority of people, because to him, being spiderman means enduring. He sees his world as a web of identical tragedies that they're all doomed to endure. That's why he began and still leads this group of spiderpeople that join together to help keep the web of the multiverse intact. He is respected and capable, and he is always right because he will never again allow himself to be wrong.

And then, there's Miles. He is, to put it simply, a disaster. The whole movie is about how everywhere he goes, he cannot fix a problem without creating a mess to go alongside it. We see this illustrates at the very start of the movie when he tries to aprehend The Spot (who himself is a mess of Miles' accidental creation mind you), and ends up knocking over the shelves of the bodega. He is everything Miguel isn't, and he is everything Miguel hates, because he is not perfect, he is not mathematically correct, and above all, he's a mess.

And yet, it is in their confrontation that we begin to see what the movie is telling us that being spiderman is, and let me tell you something, spiderman is not Miguel O'Hara. Miles himself implies this when he remarks on Miguel's claws, and asks whether that's even something a spiderman can do.

Miguel yells at Miles for being an anomaly, and he treats him so harshly, and yet we as the audience can sense a discomfort in his words. Miguel make sus uncomfortable because it's blatantly clear that he is projecting his own trauma unto Miles. It's why the first time we see him expressing more emotions than annoyance and detached coolness is when he's first explaining the multiverse to Miles. Miles is this kid standing in front of him being told that he is about to lose his dad, and Miguel is a father that has lost the daughter that was never his to begin with. Miguel already tried to ensure a kid wouldn't lose their dad once before, and it cost him that child's life, his daughter's life. All throughout the scene where he explain the multiverse, Miguel has so much sympathy for this kid that is being told to do what he himself could not. And when Miles decides that he will do it anyways, that he will save his father, Miguel is furious because he still sees himself in Miles. All the anger he feels towards Miles is anger that he feels towards himself for his mistakes, and to see Miles be so willing to repeat them infuriates him. Miguel is clean and tidy and precise. He cannot aford to be messy and emotional and hopeful, and he cannot stand the thought that Miles still is.

And this is why Miguel O'Hara cannot be spiderman. He has abandoned all hope and optimism and the defiance of being a small-town superhero in exchange for the machines that help him navigate a world where he is not allowed to make mistakes. Miguel cannot be spiderman because he has ensured that he will never misstep ever again, and in doing so, he has robbed himself of the ability to do both.

Let's go back to that scene at the bodega, because I think that scene had a very important detail in it. Did you notice something unusual? Something that no one ever does in a superhero movie? Miles just tore up this poor man's shop AND failed to catch the guy that was trying to steal his ATM machine. By all means and comic book logic, he should have been furious, but instead simply says he'll charge Miles for the beef patty he ate, since he was only going to comp it if he caught The Spot. This man is never once angry at Miles, because he understands that he's doing his best to help. He still remains very amicable because he knows it's not Miles' intention to fuck up his store. His spiderman is just a bit messy is all, but he's good and he's trhing and that's all that matters.

The prime difference between Miles and Miguel is that Miles making mistakes is never the be all end all of his story. He knows he's messy, and he knows he fucks up sometimes, of course he does. But if he was as terrified to mess up as Miguel was, then he would never allow himself to try and save everyone. He said it himself, he can save both, he will try to save both, and he will be damned if the risk will make him give up and leave somebody for dead when he can still do something about it. Spiderman can save both, but Miguel O'Hara cannot.

#spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miles morales #miguel o'hara #my thoughts