I had two other images to go with this but apparently tumblr censors guns from video games

DETANGLED

pairing - sakusa kiyoomi x fem. reader (with any hair type that isn't pin straight)

summarization - you are frustrated when you meet with your best friend and he's tired of you speaking badly about yourself

includes - mutual pining, dogs shipping their owners, rich boy kiyoomi, sexual tension (+ anything i might've missed)

a/n - please accept my sincerest apologies bc this is incredibly self indulgent 😭😭. i wrote this on a bad hair day and i just kept thinking about kiyoomi and his pretty hair. also both he and reader have dogs. kinda short, not my best work. again apologies

A cold wind blows through the streets, sending a part of Sakusa's coat flying behind him. The man inevitably shivers as he buries his nose deeper into the knitted scarf and balls his gloved hands into fists.

Above his head, the sky is a very soft shade of gray, with the clouds so thickly condensed into a barrier for the sunlight. Across the dog playground a loud bark can be heard, the sound feeling all too familiar to the man.

He smiles softly beneath his mask when he sees the energetic doberman, happily approaching his friend. And soon enough, the owner joins Sakusa's side as well.

'Hi!' You greet him with a smile when you take your place on the man's right, with your back leaning against the metal fence.

'About time.' Sakusa's remark earns him an eye roll and he can't help gloating a little on the inside.

'Listen I almost had a mental breakdown over my hair you should be lucky I even got here.'

With a huff you cross your arms over your chest, blowing away a stray hair that disrupted your view. To your surprise however, Sakusa turns to face you, eyes roaming over the strands formed into a very messy updo.

'I told you before, your hair looks fine. You're stressing over nothing. Again.'

'It's not nothing!' You protested. 'I just wish I could make it look prettier. Like get the curls to be defined or something so it's not just a blob.' Your reasoning was followed by another eyeroll, this time accompanied by a small pout.

Sakusa looked in the direction of the two black dogs again and stood quiet for a couple of seconds before he called his pet over. The black shepard rushed over happily, with your doberman trailing behind him.

Once they were seated before the two of you, the man crouched down and secured the leash before turning towards you.

'Let's go.'

'Where?' You questioned while mirroring Sakusa's previous actions and following him through the gate of the playground.

'Just follow me.’ Was the only thing he let be revealed before switching the topic of the conversation. 'How was your day?'

-

Sakusa navigates the busy streets expertly while he keeps up the conversation with you, before his steps come to a halt in front of a store. It's a pet friendly one, of course it is, because even though you're not aware of it, he plans on spending at least forty-five minutes inside.

Brows slightly raised in curiosity, you trail behind him, only to nearly head face first into his broad back when he stops.

'Gah! Warn a woman next time?'

He promptly ignores you and instead reaches out to touch the front strands that fell out of your bun.

'Hm.'

Feeling slightly exposed by his soft touch and the proximity, you do your best at avoiding direct eye contact, which he fortunately doesn't seem notice.

'I think these would work best for your hair type.'

His arm stretches out and places two bottles in the basket he picked up on the way in, before continuing.

'You use the shampoo twice, only on the roots, and the conditioner once, just the ends.'

You can only manage a small nod, feeling kind of clueless with him leading you through the store like this.

'I should've made a list...oh well...these will do.'

He shoves another load of products in the basket and at this point you've given up on trying to be of use, giving him free reign instead.

-

Once the two of you are in line, you instinctively reach for your wallet, assesing the items in the man's hands.

'What do you think you're doing?'

His voice is as smooth and gentle as ever, and his dark eyes fix on yours so intensely that you want to slap yourself for all the inappropriate thoughts that run through your mind.

'You're not seriously thinking of paying for all of this!'

'I brought you here, it's only fair.'

'Kiyo-'

'End of discussion.'

Not Yet, final part

Yan!Vincent Phantomhive x Sick!Mom!reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Warning(s): Bit of a panic attack, slight SLIGHT mention of past abuse, reader having a bit of that stockholm syndrom, unhealty relationship, yandere themes

A/N: A much requested part two is finally here

Cold. That was the first thing you felt. The freezing air biting at your skin, it was as if a hundred little knives penetrated through your very being. You were uncomfortable to say the least. The big black blob you found yourself in swallowing all of your senses, only the frigid temperature breaking through. You weren’t sure if your eyes were open or closed due to the lack of light. You moved your head around trying to figure out where you were and how you got here, but even trying to activate the muscle in your head was an impossible task. The thing that swallowed you messed with your mind and body.

It was hard to move. The cold trapping your limbs. You focused on moving your fingers and slowly but surely you could feel your nerves picking up textures. Your hand glided along the material you laid on; it was soft and snug. You sighed in content. It was then when you realized your ears had picked up you breathing, the deafening silence slowly receding into the sound of your own heartbeat thumping inside your body. The steady come back of your senses made your head spin. You still couldn’t see a thing. Your heartbeat was soon enough not the only thing you could hear. The sound of chirping entered your ears, it was pleasant. You could feel a light, almost unnoticeable, weight on your body.

Then it happened; your pupils picked up a sliver of light. It was already blinding for you, but you didn’t want to loose the progress you were making so you focused on that tiny bit of white and it leisurely became bigger. The brightness burning your eyes, but not enough to give up. The light had chased away all the black, you could feel the warmth melting away the pricking wounds the cold had left. A wave of colors blurred into the white, you swore that your brain was seconds away from bursting out of your head with the sudden rush of stimulation it got. The colors took on shapes and it didn’t take long before you could see clearly where you were.

A room. A bedroom to be exact.

You seemed to be the only presence in the grand chamber. You tilted your head to the side; a large window greeting you with a view of a green landscape. It made you feel at ease. You moved your head further to inspect your surroundings. You were laying in a comfortable bed with the sheet covering the whole that is your body. You could faintly smell a hint of earl gray tea in the air. The need to sit up grew stronger every passing second, but you couldn’t even move your arms from under the linen. You were stubborn enough to still try. You thought you would black out again as soon as you leaned onto your elbows, but to your surprise everything went well. It took a few big pushes and allot of going in your lungs to finally sit up straight on the mattress. As you rested your weight onto the bedframe you looked at your now bare arms. They were quite pale. Your bony fingers scaring you a little. You looked around the room, in search for a mirror, but to no avail. You thought about trying to walk, but even the thinking about it made your lungs collapse from exhaustion. Instead you questioned how you got here. You didn’t remember a thing before you woke up in the shadow world. You wrecked your brain for any glimpse of a memory, but nothing seemed to come up. You gazed around the room, trying to see if an object would trigger a remembrance. Your eyes landed on the wooden door on your right, the last thing you could inspect. It was a gorgeous polished wooden door with extravagant carvings covering the frames. You smiled as you saw little gashes in one of the frames, probably to show how much someone had grown. You noticed that a spot on the lower part of the door darker was then the others. Like someone had spilled something and it splashed all over the wood. You grimaced at the thought, that blotch would never come out again. You were about to let your thoughts drift when a flash of images got ahold of your mind. You could see a silver tray clatter against the door, soup spilling everywhere. You shook your head a bit as the images turned into a movie. The sounds that came with aiding you into figuring out what this memory was. The camera you were looking through fell onto the ground, the door swinging open. A face came into vision, it was blurred out. You forced your brain into focusing on the face. Your eyes were closed as the figure came closer to the camera. Your eyes snapped open as you remembered what the face looked like and who it was that came bursting through the door. Your breath became shaky as everything fell into place. You were sick, dying even, but he somehow found a way to save you. You could feel your heart starting to beat faster, adrenaline pumping through your veins as the urge to run engulfed your every sense. You knew you couldn’t even set a foot on the floor before toppling over. You needed to calm yourself and focus on the situation you were currently in. You turned your head to the left, the bedside table still being there; the only thing different from what you remember is that there were some mysterious bottles on it. You tried leaning over and open the drawer, but you immediately lost your balance, if you hadn’t grabbed the bed post you would be sprawled out over the floor now. A frustrated sigh left your lips as you were trapped inside your own body. A feeling of defeat washed over you. If only your body was a little stronger. The turn of the doorknob made you jump out of your skin, there was no time for you to get back in your sleeping position. It was as if time slowed when the door opened a tall figure looming in the doorway. Your eyes widened. You laid your hand on your heart and squeezed the fabric covering you. Undertaker’s death eyes boring holes into you. He stood there, doing nothing. You did the same. You never dared to be in Undertaker’s presence, finding him frighting even with his goofy persona. Now you were forced into a battle of not looking away from each other’s eyes. Sweat started covering your head, your hands feeling clammy. You swore you had a heart attack when he suddenly burst into a fit of laughter. Your fear only grew with him in hysterics. Undertaker was a terrifying man. He started closing the small distance between the two of you, your body refused backing away as he leaned over you. “You are awake.” Was all he said with his voice worse than cat nails being dragged over chalk. He continued laughing in your face as you couldn’t do anything but pray for him to not hurt you. “Undertaker what are you doing—” You didn’t think it was possible for you to freeze up even more, but the voice of one of your sons’ made it possible. Undertaker backed down as he pointed at you with his long claw like hand. “She is awake.” He stated. You still didn’t say or do anything as you could see your son coming closer in your peripheral vision. You could feel the bed dip as he sat on it. “Mom…?” His voice wavered. He brought his hand up to caress your cheek, but the movement made you flinch and turn your head to him. He stopped his action mid-air as he saw your fearful eyes. You couldn’t bring yourself to break the eye contact. “Undertaker, get father this instant.” He didn’t look away from you, commanding Undertaker with a wave of his hand. Undertaker didn’t say a thing as he left the room. His heavy presence lifting from your shoulders. “Mama it’s me, [Redacted], remember me?” You didn’t respond to him. You could see the hurt flash over his face. His shoulders slumped and his eyebrows knitted together. You did feel a twang of guilt in you stomach seeing your son so upset, but you stayed put. Rapid footsteps pulled you out of frozen state as your husband ran to the door. His hands were gripping the frame as his chest heaved up and down. He ran here as soon as he heard your name leave Undertakers mouth. You looked at him, examined him. His hair was disheveled, he wasn’t wearing his coat, only a blouse. Dark circles weighed under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken in. You could almost smile at the sight, knowing he was in grave pain during time you were on the brink of dying. “[Y/N].” Was all he could mutter. You tilted your head at him, refusing yourself to show any emotion. “Oh my [Y/N].” He ran to the bed, your younger son moving out of the way. Vincent flung his arms around you, moving his body to yours as close as he could. You stayed still, almost as if you were a statue, but feeling the warmth of your husband’s body after being left in the agonizing cold for so long made you ache for more of him. “My love, my [Y/N].” Was all he could whisper in you ear as he held you against him. The moment you felt his tears trickling in your neck you broke. You craved for touch, not caring who’s. You embraced him, burying your face in his neck. A sob broke free from your throat, salty tears streaming across your pale cheeks and into your thirsty mouth. For a few seconds you were floating between heaven and earth, your body finally getting the attention it desperately needed. Even if your mind screamed at you to let him go, you didn’t, you needed this. “Now, now Vincent, give her the time to collect herself.” Undertaker had made himself known once again. Vincent gave you a tiny squeeze as he slowly untangled himself from you. He stared into your red and blotchy eyes as you stared into his. “You’re right Undertaker. Forgive me for overwhelming you, my love.” His voice was as soft as a summer breeze, it made you nod at him, giving him acknowledgement you so desperately tried to not give him. “Here.” A clothed hand touched your shoulder, you looked up to see your son, [Redacted]. He held a glass of water in his hand. You instinctively tried to grab the glass, but you couldn’t lift your arm any further then your middle. “Hey, calm down, don’t overwork yourself.” Vincent spoke from beside you as he held your hand in his. Your son brought the glass to your greedy lips. If it wasn’t for him controlling the pace at how fast you could drink all the water, you would’ve had it slide down your throat in less than a second. Vincent couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. A smile tucking at the corner of his lips as he saw you awake and moving. “Darling, can you speak for me. Does your voice work?” Vincent asked you as you finished the refreshing beverage. You looked at him with uncertainty, you were honestly scared to produce any kind of sound. You opened your mouth. “Yes—” You croaked out, a coughing fit immediately following your short answer. It felt foreign to speak, you hated it. Vincent gently patted your back, you could feel his hand shaking. You put your hand on his arm, gently pushing him away, waving at him to show him you were okay. “Stubborn as ever.” He sighed as you regained your posture. You weren’t going to let that fit stop you from getting your voice back. “How—” You stopped, feeling your throat itch. “—how long was I asleep?” It took a while, but you got the question out. “Two months.” Vincent was swift with his answer, you knew for a fact he had an entree for every day you didn’t wake up in his journal. You gave him a nod, you looked over to your younger son, gesturing for him to move closer. He hesitantly knelt down by the bed. You moved your hands to his face, moving the hair out of his eyes and to the side. “Can’t even comb your hair right without me?” You questioned him as you gave a haors giggle. He smiled at you. “My apologies mama.” You patted his head. You looked beside him, something was missing. He noticed your adverting gaze. “He doesn’t dare to see you, after what happened before you…” He trailed off. You raised your hand to your cheek, you could still feel the aftermath lingering. Normally you would be delighted to not have any of the twins around, but now you only wanted to ruffle your two son’s hair. Call it parental instinct that made you long for you children or call it insanity that was slowly taking over you that had you wanting for the love of your family. “I want to see him.” You said, your hands retracting from [Redacted]’s head. Vincent put his hand on the small of your back. “Are you sure?”  You looked over to him, you could swear you saw a hint of anger flashing in his eyes after mentioning the older twin. It made you question what had happened when you were in the other world. “Yes.” Vincent nodded and waved at your younger son, indicating to go and find his twin. Undertaker had moved form his spot in the corner to your bedside table, packing the bottles that you were eyeing earlier. Your husband could smell your curiosity as you watched Undertaker with the eyes of a hawk. “Medicine.” Vincent explained. “Undertaker helped you get better.” Your gaze switched from Undertaker to Vincent, to Undertaker again. “Thank you.” You whispered. There wasn’t much appreciation to the thank you, but Undertaker tipped his hat to you nonetheless. “A beloved of Vincent is a beloved of mine.” Your husband laughed at the statement, thinking Undertaker was half joking, but you had known Undertaker long enough to know that he always had a lilt in his voice when he was joking. You didn’t hear one now. You didn’t have the time to look into it any further or your son had returned. He returned to his previous spot beside the bed, his shadow staying rooted in the doorframe. His eyes were cast down, he was playing with his fingers. “Ciel.” Your voice pealed through the room. He froze. You called him again. “Ciel, come here.” He didn’t move, it seemed like he was contemplating on what to do. When you called him a third time he slowly walked over to you; taking place next to his brother. He still didn’t gaze up to you, refusing to meet your eyes. Your mother heart cried with pain at the sight of your own son deny himself to look at you. “Ciel, look at me, look at your mother.” Your voice quivered, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes. He didn’t move. You bit your lip. “It forgive you, even though what happened wasn’t your fault.” You finally said. Those words, although seeming light coming out of your mouth carried a heavy baggage for Ciel. He couldn’t compose himself anymore and burst out in tears. He finally picked up the courage to look at you. “Mama, I am so terribly sorry.” Seeing your son in such distress, speaking to you with a broken voice made your heart and the love you had deep down for him hurt. You didn’t hesitate to grab his arm and weakly pull him into your embrace. There he cried, in your arms. Just like he did when he was little and had hurt himself. You consoled him. “It’s okay.” You lulled into his ears. He kept apologizing. After a few moments he broke free from your arms. You stared at him, your face one of worry. “I don’t want to strain you.” He muttered, you shook your head. “If anything, this is the healthiest thing for me right now.” You smiled. It was as if all the horrible experiences melted away from your memory. All that you could care for was the moment you were in now. Vincent turned your head around with his hand. His soft grip on your chin making you melt into him. He guided your lips to his. You could feel how eager he was, but held his composure in front of his sons’. You were the first to pull away, much to Vincent’s annoyance. You pulled the twins against your side, Vincent automatically joining the hug. It would only be a matter of weeks before your boys’ would fall back into their old habits and force you into a role you didn’t want to play, but for no you couldn’t care for that. You were content with the illusion you had created for yourself in this moment.

🌺 In what situation would your OC be pushed to commit an act of violence? Would they go as far to kill someone if they had to? How would this affect them and their relationships with others?

🌼 Describe one of your OC’s worst nightmares.

🍃 Describe a regular day for your OC. What is their schedule (if they have one).

ive been hyperfixating on katherine lately so all three answers will be about her :3

🌺it would take a lot for katherine to hurt someone. shes non confrontational and a pacifist at heart. later on in two she is eventually forced 2 use violence against others just for self defense, and she promises herself that the only time she will use violence is when shes defending herself for survival. she also takes up a vow not to kill anyone, although this will prove to be. quite difficult. moreso than she thinks it should be. her friends and family would understand, maybe they'd even think it was justified, but it would still be something she could never live with. something that would eat her from the inside out.

🌼for this one i wrote a little scenario that ive been thinking about for the past 2ish years? i put the rest of this under the cut since its kind of long. please be gentle with me when it comes to reading the next portion of my writing! i havent written in quite some time

katherine found herself standing in the very center of an almost pitch black room. as her eyes adjusted, she soon came to realize the room was that of her parents. she warily casted a glance around the room, feeling unnervingly uneasy in a space where she normally felt safe and at home. a quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that her parents should have arrived home hours ago, and yet they were nowhere to be seen. perhaps if she wandered the house she would find her mother and father cooking dinner and talking loudly about how the day was at the cafe, who came in, and what customers managed to infuriate them for the day. she hoped that's what she would find, the silence around her almost felt deafening. with no clanks of pots and pans or chatter coming from behind her, she had the sinking feeling she was very much all alone. as much as her brain willed her to leave the dark room her body did not seem to want to obey. instead, she came to realize that she had moved from her previous position in the center of the room, to being directly in front of her parent's mirror slated on their bedroom wall. she looked down to notice crimson light spilling through a crack under the mirror and felt her heart skip a beat. all of the sudden everything felt so wrong, so extremely dangerous, she was so certain she was not supposed to be here, and yet her body didnt move. she attempted to cry out to her parents, but found herself unable to speak, choking on her own words. it was then that the mirror began to slowly slide open, spilling more of the red light out into the open room. panic ravaged her insides. she willed her hands, her legs, her fingers any part of her to just move, move, move! the door seemed to open too fast and too slow at the same time, almost mocking her panicked state. outside of her own volition,as the door opened, she found herself staring directly into the bright light. it burned her eyes, causing a waterfall of tears to cascade down her cheeks. she blinked them back with ferocity, and eventually was able to catch a glimpse of what lay inside. encompassed in the light, almost blocked out by it entirely, she could make it out, almost, if only there weren't so many tears in her eyes! it was so close and so recognizable, she just needed to stop freaking crying so she could fully make it out! she continued to squint into sea of red light, trying in vain to make sense of the various blobs that were casting shadows within the room. in an instant, a switch flipped in her brain and she knew all too well what she was looking at. horror flashed across her features, and her breath caught in her throat.

katherine startled from her nightmare a very sweaty mess tangled up in her own sheets. blood pounded in her ears and her breath hitched with every intake of fresh air. she gulped in breath after breath, taking it in as if she had just come up from almost drowning. she took a moment to lay in bed and calm her breath and mile a minute heart rate. after she no longer felt like she was hyperventilating, she attempted to get her bearings. she was in her room, it was a school night, and she should probably at least try and get some rest before the next day arrived, nightmares be darned. she turned over to her side and adjusted her sheets, nestling into her bed once more. her thoughts drifted to the nightmare she had apparently had, and her stomach twisted with anxiety. she tried to recall what exactly had happened, but came up empty. her brain had just chosen to forget it she guessed. not that she was complaining, she didnt want to remember what had gotten her so worked up in the first place.

🍃a relatively chill day for katherine quin in part 1? you betcha! katherine usually wakes up, goes ta classes and then does some sort of history club meeting (of which she is the president). afterwards she goes home and does homework, hangs out w/her friends and parents, and then starts the day all over again :D

one thing katherine quin needs is a routine!

POV History Lesson

aka Ectoberhaunt Day 24- Past

WC: 3796

Ao3

FFnet

Summary:

Danny didn’t really understand what Clockwork wanted from him, this time. Usually when Clockwork gave him a ‘quest,’ it was to retrieve something or otherwise set the timeline back to rights. This time, Clockwork simply told him to have fun and chucked him through a portal. The other side released Danny into the open Ghost Zone. With absolutely no clue what he was meant to do, Danny simply chose a direction and flew.

Danny didn’t really understand what Clockwork wanted from him, this time. Usually when Clockwork gave him a ‘quest,’ it was to retrieve something or otherwise set the timeline back to rights. This time, Clockwork simply told him to have fun and chucked him through a portal.

Needless to say, Danny wasn’t having all that much fun.

The other side of the portal he was rudely shoved into released Danny into the open Ghost Zone. Clocky hadn’t even mentioned what time they were sending him to. It could be dinosaurs or space travel, he had no way of knowing.

With absolutely no clue what he was meant to do, Danny simply chose a direction and flew.

This area of the Zone was pretty well pieced together, with a cohesive landmass spreading beneath Danny. He couldn’t even see the ends. It just kept on going and going. It was like nothing he’d seen before.

Danny felt incredibly alone. It was only his fingers wrapped in the ribbon of Clockwork’s medallion that kept him grounded. (Not literally, of course. The thick forest beneath him was not inviting for a stroll.) He wasn’t sure how long he wandered. It was hard to tell the time when the sky never changed.

But then it did?

It was so gradual, Danny didn’t even notice until the clammy glow of his skin began to glimmer.

Somehow, the sky had darkened. Clouds of ectoplasm still swirled above, but the green was tinged with blue. Small blobs dotted the sky, looking almost like stars.

The sky continued to leak further into darkness, and Danny’s confusion grew.

He had never seen a phenomenon like this before. The GZ sky had always been an eye-burning green, no matter what. It had never given itself to inky black as it appeared now.

The first theory that popped into his head was that maybe this place was simply more connected to the Real World, and was mirroring Earth’s skies. Ectoplasm was easily influenced by ideas. But that couldn’t be possible. Amity Park was about as closely linked to the Infinite Realms as is possible for a mortal town. But the sky never faltered.

Where was he?

Danny was starting to lose hope. His fingers were wrapped around the medallion, ready to rip it off. But Clockwork wouldn’t have sent him here without a reason. ‘Everything is as it should be’ and all that. He just needed to tough it out.

Danny was growing weary, and his eyelids were drooping. More than once, he found himself half asleep and falling from the sky. He would jerk awake immediately and struggle to regain altitude.

Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. With a final burst of energy, Danny inspected the ground beneath him. There he found a small cliff overhang, only barely big enough to shelter a body. The entrance was partially hidden by a big bush. But it was perfect. Anything larger and he would run the risk of trespassing into some creature’s home.

Now that he had shelter, Danny finally passed out. He’d been flying for hours and certainly deserved the rest. He passed out almost immediately, and sank into a deep sleep.

Too bad it wasn’t very restful.

What woke Danny first was the crunching of leaves. But he was reluctant to wake. His eyes felt gritty and he was surprisingly toasty, especially for being in his ghost form. Then Danny’s world tilted.

Gravity shifted and Danny was shoved face-first into consciousness. It was so dark that for a moment he thought he still had his eyes closed. Danny tried to stand but his feet slipped. He fell to his knees and was surprised to feel the ground curved beneath him.

Hands probed in the dark and Danny was struck with the realization that he was stuck in a bubble. An opaque bubble. And now that he stilled, he could feel it moving slightly. He was being moved. By who or what? He had absolutely no clue.

Danny tried not to panic, even as his breath picked up.

He was stuck inside a bubble. This was fine. It wasn’t at all claustrophobia inducing. Not in the slightest.

A touch of intangibility produced no results.

Power bubbled up from Danny's core as he made an ectoblast. He didn't discharge it right away, and let the green light cast shadows across his containment. Just as he thought. A bubble. It was small, not even enough room to stand even if he could manage to get to his feet. The surface of the bubble was slick. There was no sort of seam or opening as far as Danny could see.

The blast did nothing against the bubble, just fizzled out when it hit the surface. Damn.

"Hello?" Danny finally called out. The bubble wavered, sending him sliding. Danny tumbled and his funny bone slammed into the ground. He winced and cradled his elbow.

But the bubble didn't disappear, and just continued on after a minute. OK, so he could be heard by… whoever was controlling this thing. Who?

The time, he braced himself before opening his mouth.

"Please, I don't mean any harm!" There was no wavering. He went ignored.

Danny huffed and slid onto his back. He'd find out where they were going, eventually.

It took over 15 minutes for that 'eventually' to come.

His first clue was voices. There was laughter, and crying, and hushed whispers. But the bubble must have muffled them, because Danny couldn't make out anything specific. It was all jumbled.

His second clue came when the bubble popped out of existence.

Danny was jarred, and landed unceremoniously flat on his butt. He didn't even have time to look up before there were four weapons shoved in his face. Each spear's tip glowed menacingly with energy.

Danny gulped. He put his hands up in a placating gesture.

"I'm not a threat, I swear!"

He got a glimpse at his captors' faces and was surprised by what he saw.

Glowing white hair, eyes of every shade, and a distinct human skin tone. Even if they were glowing.

Just like him.

Someone was speaking and oh look at that, Danny couldn't parse out a single word. Major downside of time travel. English was a pretty new language in the grand scale. Or so Danny thought?

The speaker repeated themself, and this time the words somehow slotted into Danny's brain.

"Quis te misit?" Who sent you?

Ignoring the freaky-factor, that was pretty neat. Something clicked, and the next time Danny spoke the words came out weird. His brain talked to his mouth but his mouth had other ideas.

"No one sent me, I'm lost." The words were jumbled in Danny's ears but it seemed the message had gotten across.

It wouldn't do well to mention technically he had been sent here, by Clockwork. Clockwork's name could be a blessing or a curse depending on who heard it. Best not to chance it.

This wasn't Danny's first rodeo.

Weapons did not lower, and if anything their wielders became even more tense. Then they began to speak between themselves, again in that first language that Danny couldn't comprehend. Damn.

As they spoke over his head, Danny took the chance to look around.

They were still in the forest, but a clearing within it. It was still nighttime. They appeared to be in a camp. There were temporary tents interspersed throughout the clearing, and people constantly ducked in and out of them.

People?

There were heads of white and black hair all around him. Some glowed with ghostly light but others' skin was dull. Danny truly doubted himself until he saw a glance of a child transforming. Black hair to white, brown eyes to yellow.

This is a camp of halfas.

There were so many of them! Was this what Clockwork had sent him to witness? That there were others like him? This must be the past. The ghostly halfas were dressed in complex outfits, and decked out in natural mosses and fibers and colorful flowers. 

Those who were in human form dressed much more simply, and also had much more of their skin covered. They wore shoes, unlike their ghostly counterparts. Probably because human forms were more fragile. Which, of course, Danny had first-hand experience in.

Ghostly children flew around chasing after each other. One child zapped anyone he got close to with a small ectoblast. A game of tag, maybe? Huh.

Of course, there weren't just children. Some adults watched the children, others stood over fires (some of which burned green, but also pink, blue, and orange). Others still had their gazes locked on Danny himself. Some of them took notice he was there and called for their children, then disappeared into their tents. Danny shifted awkwardly, uneasy at being watched and stirring up trouble.

Danny was apparently at the edge of the camp. Behind him was an expanse of forest.

The ring of people around him seemed to make up their minds.

Something sharp poked Danny in the back and he held back a scream as all-too-familiar tingles ran down his back. The spear glowed a greenish-yellow. Damn electricity.

"Stand." They ordered. Danny did as he was told, and fought past the numbness the shock had sent down his limbs to get to his feet.

Three of the halfas continued to hold their charged spears way too close to his skin to be comfortable. The fourth turned away and started walking.

"Follow." And that he did.

They didn't go very far, and Danny parsed out what was happening pretty quick.

They approached a tent that was much more glamorous than the rest. Their leader? Someone tugged on the front tent flap and the occupant phased out. Human, graying black hair and green eyes. She must have been at least 90, with sunken eyes and skin hanging off her bones. An Elder, it would seem.

She began to speak, first to his entourage and then to Danny himself. He stared blankly at her, and one of the guards stepped forward to explain. When she spoke next, the words clicked.

"Who are you, boy?" She asked gruffly. She leaned heavily on a stick cane.

Danny's mouth was dry as he spoke.

"My name is Danny." He said.

"Why were you on our land?" She questioned. Danny fidgeted with his hands.

"I'm lost. I was tired and stopped to sleep." There was no reason for her not to believe him, but Danny couldn't help but feel nervous. Should he transform, maybe? Could they gain their trust?

What did Danny even want out of this interaction? Did he want them to just let him go, or should he try to weasel his way into their group? He was curious about how they lived. And the fact there were more halfas! How could he forget that little detail?!

Somehow, the Ghost Zone used to have a tribe of halfas. And guessing by the presence of children, either they readily had access to a ghost portal or they were naturally born. His bet was on the second one.

The Elder looked at him suspiciously.

"What is that?" She lifted her cane and poked him in the chest. A strike of fear flashed over him but the medallion stayed put. Danny cradled it in his hand.

"A necklace?" Danny tried his best to sound convincing while speaking a language he wasn't even aware he knew. She didn't look convinced. But she also didn't press.

"Where are you going?" Ah, that one was gonna be a bit harder. Danny wracked his brain for an answer. Careful not to take too long. Even if he probably hesitated more than he should have anyways 

"I don't have anywhere to go." Danny bit his lip. The Elder turned away from him and yet again started talking to the guards.

"I'm a halfa, too." He added in a bid of peace. Again the words that came out of his mouth had changed, except 'halfa.' Was it the same in this spooky language?

The Elder did a double take.

"Change!" She demanded and slammed her stick into the ground. The guards all took a step back.

Feeling like a circus act, Danny reverted to human form. White to black and green to blue, just like the halfas he'd seen here. How come they all had black hair? He'd yet to see any blonde or brown.

As the rings dissipated, whispers began to spread. And then become louder and louder. Until a crowd had formed with Danny at its center. He had to cover his ears as the people got louder and louder.

Then it was silent. The Elder banged her stick against the ground and everyone shut up. She looked angry, but her face softened when she looked back at him.

“How old are you?” She asked.

“Sixteen.” Danny replied. Shock spread across the Elder’s face. She walked closer and reached out to him. She cupped Danny’s cheek in her palm. He was kind of taken aback by how quickly her tune changed and he desperately wanted to avoid her hand, but forced himself to stay still. Danny didn’t think he was that young.

“Little one,” She began.

“Where are your family? Why are you alone?” She removed her hand but didn’t step back. Oh no. What could he say to that? They probably thought he was a born halfa too…

“I was raised by humans on Earth. A portal brought me here.” It wasn’t really lying, technically. Just… omission.

The Elder clicked her tongue and whipped around. Her voice was booming as she addressed their crowd.

“This child is ours! Who shall step forward for him?” Wait what? It was that easy? But he wasn’t entirely sure what she meant. Was he about to get halfa adopted?

She repeated it again in that other language. People muttered until finally two stepped forward. Both women were in their ghost forms, white hair and both had green eyes.

“We volunteer!” Shouted the taller of the two. She had long hair that was looped around her waist like a belt.

The Elder nodded. With another word the crowd was dismissed, and the two who had stepped forward came to meet him.

“My name is Grasha.” Said the tall one.

“And I’m Kytrin.” She had short hair and her face was dotted with glowing freckles.

They both had huge smiles on their faces. Danny felt uneasy. He wasn’t really planning on staying long. This was too much.

“I never introduced myself, I apologize. I am Lele.” Said the Elder- Lele.

“Kytrin and Grasha have graciously volunteered to take you in until you are of age.” Then Lele dismissed herself by stepping back into her tent. Leaving Danny standing there awkwardly with Kytrin and Grasha.

“Danny is your name?” Grasha stepped forward and cupped his cheek. Was that a thing with these people?

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, but I can't really stick around for very long.” Danny tried to explain. Kytrin just shook her head.

“You are much too young to be alone. We will care for you. You have no reason to leave.” She smiled through it all.

“I’m not really that young.” Danny replied. Kytrin clicked her tongue.

“Of age is 35. You still have a long way to go, boy.”

Danny gaped. What?!

“Do… halfas live longer than humans?” He asked. 

Grasha nodded.

“Quite. Lele is nearing 500 years now. I’m 197, and Kytrin is 203.”

”It is such a shame that you had to bear humans for so long of your childhood. You never have to go back to them. You have a place here.” She said kindly. She finally withdrew her hand from his cheek and instead held it out in Danny’s direction. Did she… want him to hold her hand?

This was all so much to take in. He might live to be 500? That. Danny couldn’t even imagine.

When Danny remained frozen to his spot blue-screening for more than 10 seconds, both Grasha and Kytrin took each of his hands. Danny let them drag him along to… wherever they were going.

So by halfa standards he was only like, what, 8? Wow. Yeah, Danny probably wouldn’t want to send an 8 year old off into the forest by themself.

“Your clothing is strange.” Grasha commented. Danny looked down to see his pajamas. Ah, right. Clockwork had called him up in the middle of the night for this quest. Bastard.

They weren’t his strangest pair. It was a good thing he hadn’t worn the button ups that had little ghosts all over them. He had a navy blue t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants that had been cut into shorts. He wasn’t even wearing socks.

Then again, she could be talking about his ghost form. And he really had no excuses there.

People stared at Danny as they walked past various campsites. But instead of fear, most of what he saw just looked like pity. And a bit of apprehension. But nobody hid their kids from him this time, so that was a win.

“Here.” Said Kytrin. Before them was a tent, like any other.

“Dear?” She asked. Grasha nodded and stepped forward, releasing Danny’s arm. He was confused at what she was doing, until her aura intensified.

The air around them turned green. Foliage and sticks picked themselves off of the forest floor and came to form around Grasha. The tent as it was dissolved, then everything Grasha had gathered wove itself back together.

Danny couldn’t help but gape at the display of power. He could barely pick up a dry erase marker without touching it, let alone use it to write something. He just didn’t have that level of control, nowhere near Grasha’s.

The glow died down as the materials settled into their final form. The radius of the teepee-like tent had been made slightly larger.

Grasha turned around with a proud smile on her face. Kytrin released Danny’s arm to press her forehead to Grasha’s. Danny suddenly felt like he was catching them in what should be an intimate moment. He looked away and shifted on his feet awkwardly.

“I am a Former,” Grasha explained.

“I can manipulate ectoplasm on a somewhat small scale. I couldn’t stop a river but I could bend a tree.” She explained. Huh, that was cool! Sounded like a player class in a video game. Danny wondered if he could learn the same skill.

“And I’m a Healer.” Kytrin held up a hand, and from her fingertips came a dusting of snowflakes.

“I spent many years studying under the people of the Frozen North.” That sounded suspiciously like the Far Frozen. The name, and the part about healing.

“I have ice too,” Danny grinned and decided to show off a little. He held up a hand and put a bit of focus into forming a sculpture of ice. He made a frosty version of their tent.

Kytrin’s jaw dropped. She plucked the sculpture right up out of his hands. She did a double take between it and the tent.

“Your mastery at your age is amazing! Who taught you?” She asked with stars in her eyes. Grasha looked impressed as well.

“I’m mostly self-taught.” Danny said sheepishly. Yes, Frostbite had taught him the basics of his ice powers. But most of the refinement had come from his own trial and error.

Kytrin’s jaw dropped even further, if possible. She fluttered about the palm-sized sculpture and continued to marvel over it. She held it up to the light of a nearby campfire and marveled at how clear it was.

Grasha clicked her tongue.

“I believe it is time for sleep. We must move camp early in the morning.” Grasha explained. Kytrin returned and handed the sculpture back to Danny. He stuck it in the pocket of his pajamas.

Grasha and Kytrin headed for the tent flap, and Danny wracked his brain for any more burning questions.

“Are the halfas here born that way?” He asked suddenly. His adopters took a step back.

“Of course. How else?” Kytrin puzzled.

“I can see you are full of questions, but you can ask them once we have all sat down.” Grasha gestured for them to enter the tent. Ok, sure. That was fine.

The structure looked rather small from the outside, but was spacious enough inside. Within it was absolutely stuffed with pillow-like lumps. Obviously also made of natural supplies. But when Danny plopped down, he found they were actually quite soft. He sunk into them. Kytrin and Grasha settled likewise opposite him. They were close enough to touch, but could probably tell Danny wasn’t that comfortable with them.

Grasha and Kytrin dropped their ghost forms, and Danny wasn’t surprised to see black hair and blue eyes. It almost looked like Danny could be related to them. Especially with the freckles. Maybe he was? This was the past, after all. But he hadn’t been born a halfa.

“What do you ask?” Kytrin invited.

“Do you guys just move around all the time?”

“We have a few permanent camps, and travel between them.” Answered Grasha.

“Are there other groups of halfas?”

“Some.” Said Kytrin.

“But ours is by far the largest. We own a big territory.”

“What… species are the Frozen North people?”

“They have been suited for the cold over time, with large limbs and thick white hair all over their bodies. I do not know the specific name they use.” Kytrin looked kinda disappointed in herself.

“It is our turn.” Grasha chimed in.

“You are from the Human Realm, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Were your parents halfas?” She said. Danny wasn’t expecting that question. There was concern in Grasha’s eyes.

Danny searched his brain to decide what would be the best answer, but was fortunately saved by the yawn.

“Nevermind. There will be time for questions in the morning.” Grasha conceded. She stretched and then laid beside Kytrin, who was already half out of it.

Lights that Danny hadn’t even realized were up near the top of the tent were extinguished.

“Sleep well,” Grasha wished. Kytrin echoed her a moment later.

Danny couldn’t help but feel a touch of compassion. They had taken him, a really weird kid, in without a second thought. They were so kind. But he would have to leave, eventually. He couldn’t imagine it would be much longer before Clockwork would come for him.

But for now, Danny set that aside. He cozied into the pillow mound and fell asleep quite quickly. There was so much buzzing around in his skull that he was tired of thinking. He conked out and slept hard. 

When Danny’s eyes finally snapped open, child form Clockwork stood over him with that gap-toothed smile.

“Did you have fun?”

A New Home Ch. 2

Splatoon Manga x Strong! Isekai'd! Reader

Wc: 1.2k

Previous Part Next part

You head over to Shrimp Kicks first, needing to get yourself some more comfortable footwear. These cream basics obviously weren’t meant to be worn for long periods of time, and they definitely aren’t built for a wide variety of people. Looking around, you notice that the store isn’t quite like in the game, as in, it has all shoes available. It’s not just random daily. What a relief! You make your way to the counter to buy your ideal pair of footgear, sliding them on right after buying them, feeling a sort of comfort. It looks like the soles have some memory foam, so they’ll mold to your feet perfectly after a bit of use. Tapping the tip of the shoe on the ground to adjust it, you ready yourself for the next store. You find your favorite top and go to the changing room to swap it with the basic tee, relishing in the comfort of a new top. You were able to get it in your ideal size too, which makes it even more comfortable! Last stop is Cooler Heads, where you find your headgear closer to the back of the store. You put it on and adjust it, making it fit just right. You look at yourself in the full-length mirror before you.. Yeah, this is you now. This feels right.

And now you’re ready to face the battlefield.

You walk out of Booyah Base, adjusting your backpack and shifting your weapon from one hand to the other, (Sheldon was nice enough to give you an adjustable strap for it. You use the velcro on it to wrap around the weapon securing it, making it possible to wear it like a bag on your back or sling it over your shoulder for easy carrying. Or just giving you a more comfortable handle to hold it by, like you’re doing now. )

'There sure are a lot of inklings out at this time of day, huh? I guess right now is ideal game time?' Your gaze shifts toward the stage, and you see some movement. 'Or maybe there was an announcement that I missed? Ah, whatever.' But then you notice an inkling walking into Inkopolis Tower. All you caught was a blob of a black jacket and yellow-green ink, but something in the back of your mind made you want to go watch the battle about to go down. You told yourself it was just a good idea to see what other inklings may play like, or go check out unfamiliar stages, but you know that what you really wanted was to see a certain someone.

Rider.

Now, you’re not sure if you’ve been transported into the Splatoon game or the manga, so you’re gonna have to find out for yourself. You squeeze your way through the crowd, and the people around you seem to not care about personal space. Rude. 

You quickly make your way to Arowana Mall's viewing area, pushing your way through the crowd and somehow managing to get a good seat. You waited eagerly on the sidelines, noticing your heartbeat rise. 

‘Hey, calm down. It might not even be them.’  You took a breath in, trying to calm yourself. Which proved futile when you saw what color the ink was. Before you stood the idiotic members of team blue, and the stoic members of team Yellow-Green. 

"Oh my cod, it's really him." 

So, you are in the Splatoon manga. 

Well, since you're here, you should probably admire Rider’s skill.

'He sure is strong up close. How heavy is that dynamo anyways?' You attempted to pick up a couple of weapons back at Ammo Knights earlier, feeling how comfortable the weight was and whatnot. The dynamo was one of the weapons you attempted to pick up and it was significantly heavier than you expected it to be.

“Focus!” You gently smack your cheeks, of course, you already know exactly how this battle goes, but you can focus on the parts that aren’t shown in the manga. You begin to analyze the Yellow-Green team since you see less of them compared to the Blue team.

‘Looks like the yellow-green team isn’t very good at getting every nook and cranny of turf, since they just focus on rushing in and filling their special gauges. Their spawn looks pretty miserable, to be honest. But with a strong player like Rider, that usually wouldn’t matter, if he can manage to keep his opponents in check.’ 

Realistically, the Yellow-Green team is more of a threat than the Blue team if you were to ever come into contact with them. The manga doesn’t go as in-depth on the other members and their play styles. Not to mention, they are still of higher rank than Team Blue.

“The Yellow-Green team has painted over 80% of the stage! Blue team is in trouble!” You hear Callie and Marie over the speakers, knowing that the tables are about to turn any second now. Ah, here comes Rider’s iconic line. It’s pretty cool hearing it firsthand, but it wasn’t as nice hearing the loud squealing of Rider’s fans beside you. Oh, time to shield your eyes. And yet the squeals get louder. You can only wonder why. You’re a little disappointed at Bamboo-chan when she asks Stealth-Kun if they’re allowed to move, hoping that they go through some eventual character development and begin to think for themselves. Rider must have drilled them with information beforehand.

You stand up out of your seat and give it to someone else, knowing exactly how the battle will end. You’d love to go say hi to Rider, but that’d be pretty weird. Or would it be? 

‘He already has a lot of fans, so it shouldn’t be a big deal? Nah, I don’t wanna mess with the storyline.’ 

You find a table and bench off to the side and make yourself comfortable, making your own off-brand version of Army’s manual for fun. You make a little drawing of Rider and write some bullet points on the Yellow-green team that were missed in the manga. May as well get information while you can. You get bored and end up spending your time drawing other characters from memory. Once you’re done with some bust shots of the S4, you stretch your arms above your head and realize how late it’s gotten. You’re not quite tired yet, so you do a bit more Turf War. It’s a little frustrating that you’re stuck with a bunch of newbies, but hey, easy wins. The stages look quite different at night, and you can see the light pollution from Inkopolis Plaza no matter what stage you’re sent to. Pretty. 

Now that your mind and body are exhausted, it’s time to go to- wait. You have nowhere to sleep. Carp. You look around, trying to find your best option. Looks like that bench from earlier might be your best bet. You heard that it’s pretty common for people to fall asleep on benches and stuff when trains stop transporting people for the night in Japan, so you figure this can’t be too bad. With your arms cradling your head for max comfort, which isn’t very much, you start to think before drifting off.

'Does this mean that this is the end of my dream? If I go to sleep here, will I wake back up in the real world? That sounds like such a drag. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.'

Apr.5.23

Next part

YOUR ART IS SO PRETTY! :) also as a fellow dsmp/batfam lover I was wondering who would be who if you made an au of the other? (From batfam to dsmp or dsmp to batfam, you can choose!) me personally Tommy gives a bit of Damian,,

Hello hello! Thank you very much ✨✨✨ I’m glad you like my art!

About the DSMP x Batfam AU…. I really had to think this one through. I love both of them, but they have such different character dynamics and ideologies. Even the very worlds they are set in are like complete opposites. However, I have also read like so many (so many) superhero AU fics for the DSMP (before the fandom tag got overwhelmingly oversaturated), so I have some thoughts on…

DSMP Characters as The Batfam

You’re right. c!Tommy does feel like he’d be a good match for Damian. Loves animals? Feral? Stabby? Genuinely good? Artistically-inclined? The youngest? If we’re going by characters traits, Tommy would absolutely be Damian… But if I did that, I’d spend way too much time comparing characters who can’t be compared… So my list is going to be based on vibes. Same vibes are also why I’m choosing to make L’Manberg the main members. I’m completely disregarding age, motivations, personality, etc. This is all (mostly) vibes. There is some justification for them.

I wasn’t able to think of a match for everyone, but I got a decent chunk.

Wilbur as Batman

Fundy as Nightwing

Quackity as Oracle

Tommy as Red Hood

Tubbo as Red Robin

Jack as Spoiler

Niki as Batwoman

Ranboo as Black Bat

Slime as Batgirl 2 (also Cass but specifically Batgirl-era)

Eret as Talia

Philza as Ghostmaker

Kristen as Martha and Thomas

Technoblade as Azrael

Karl and Sapnap as Harley and Ivy (who’s who? Idk)

Dream as the entire Rogue Gallery — every single rogue just compressed into one blob of a man

I felt compelled to draw Tommy as a Robin and Red Hood.

Notes under the cut. They’re explanations for what little of my thought process can be converted into comprehensible words. It’s long. I ramble A LOT. Read at your own peril.

I’m pretty sure the obvious explanations are Wilbur, Tubbo, Techno, Karl&Sapnap, and Dream.

c!Wilbur is so much like Bruce Wayne — it’s kind of not funny. There’s the obvious “led children to fight a war” thing, the “compulsively acquiring children because they won’t leave him alone” thing, the “becomes evil immediately after crossing the no kill thing” thing, and the “sad little meow meow wet rag of a man but still extremely charismatic” thing…

c!Tubbo and Tim Drake are the closest 1:1 of this entire list.

Okay, okay. c!Techno as Jean-Paul. The vibes are wrong if we’re talking about canon Azrael, but I’m specifically thinking of fanfiction/“goes to family dinners WFA-style” Azrael.

c!Karl and c!Sapnap have such “married anti-villains befriending the heroes” vibes. I love them so much in superpower AUs even when they’re not with c!Quackity. As I’m writing this, I’m remembering that Schlatt and Quackity are also very often written in a Joker x Harley Quinn situation, but we’re talking about Batfam!

Dream is like the caricature of a Gotham Rogue(TM). He’s got the sympathetic motivation sticky noted onto a decades’ worth of terrorism with only the vaguest hope of redemption that he’ll probably never actually get because he’s too popular as a villain. I could make a point for any character interpretation (both fanpn and canon) of c!Dream as Ivy, Penguin, Riddler, Scarecrow, Black Mask, Joker, etc. (also, not a Rogue, but Ra’s too)

The thing about the DSMP is that it almost feels like a reversal of DC. It’s like a mirror, the same solution from a reversed conclusion. That also means DSMP characters appear un-traumatized and naive then get completely fucked over by the sheer horror that is the SMP, meanwhile DC characters appear fresh from traumatized and find themselves in a position to believe in goodness. The late-stage DSMP was filled with isolation while DC heroes always end up in found families.

It’s why I couldn’t think of a proper match for Damian.

What I loved about late-stage c!Tommy is that he keeps (disguises) that hope and love for people despite everything. Meanwhile, Damian’s character development is learning all that from the ground up. The vibes are similar but not the same. Honestly, for a hot second, I considered Purpled as Damian but alas, not enough Purpled content. If I were to project my own timeline of events upon the DSMP, Purpled would make a great Damian-esque match.

But that does not change the fact that Tommy as Red Hood has the best vibes.

No one else is quite as “doomed by the narrative and irreversibly changed yet somehow still painfully compassionate” in the same way Tommy and Jason are (also the “rejecting their father/brother but still loving them unconditionally). Their vibes are truly something.

I’m also very stern in my belief that c!Tommy should never kill because it would negatively impact his character development, but he very very easily could have gone the Red Hood route. By technicality, it’s more like Tommy as Robin 2, but I so dearly love the potential of villain! and anti-villain!Tommy. It’s such an underutilized concept. (Also I wrote a protege AU like way back and it makes me think of Red Hood now lol)

But originally, I flip-flopped between Fundy as Red Hood and Tommy as Nightwing, but I dunno. The logic was there but the vibes weren’t.

If we were considering a timeline of events, Tommy would make a great Robin 1 with Fundy as Robin 2 . Dick Grayson was the OG child hero, much like Tommy. He was angry and craved justice but he was also full of Light. Meanwhile, c!Fundy grew up in Tommy’s shadow.

However, Fundy also has that “if I can’t make them smile, I’ll make them cry” thing that Villain Dick Graysons also tend to have. Dick is always like four steps away from flipping a switch and becoming a supervillain. He tries so fucking hard to do good, but if he ever determines that “being good” isn’t enough to “do good,” he takes over the world. But Dick would also like step away from toxic energy by holing himself up in his apartment filled with depression, which is exactly what Fundy did.

Fundy and Dick are more “blood-soaked wet cats with strained smiles and bowling alley carpet polos” and Tommy and Jason are more “dramatic Greek tragedies.”

The Batgirls and adjacent female Bat vigilantes came to me immediately, but it’s not as long as the above.

Quackity as Barbara Gordon. He followed Wilbur filled with Hope and Justice. Quackity makes an excellent Batgirl 1. His Las Nevadas arc would then be Oracle but Lawful Evil and also completely isolated from any friends, family, or rational support. Quackity isn’t inherently bad. He still has good intentions, and he’s still good at heart, irregardless of how he portrays himself. He’s the classic femme fatale, including the whole sexist Hollywood “he needs a strong male love interest to take care of him” thing because he is absolutely spiraling on his own. Anyway, I am a fiancés shipper, so this would lead to a Birds of Prey-esque team up of LN and Kinoko.

Jack Manifold has Stephanie Brown’s “glitter bomb in the face” and “functions entirely on spite but also is just really tired of being hurt” energy. Jack isn’t quite Stephanie, but his dynamic with Tubbo made me consider him as Spoiler. Also consider: Jack and The Nuke being Steph’s Robin 4 arc.

Slime is so much like Batgirl-era Cassandra. There’s a lot of “innocent vs naive, manipulated by those with intentions, both evil and morally just” going on. Batgirl!Slime and RH!Tommy would have such a dynamic. I think about Fort Big a lot.

It is literally a crime that c!Jack Manifold and c!Slime never interacted in the DSMP.

Ranboo as Black Bat. I don’t know how to explain it, but Tim Drake and Cassandra have such a great dynamic (albeit one that I’m only familiar with in fanfics). I was originally going to say Ranboo as Orphan, but I don’t think he’s quite there. Maybe GhostBoo as Orphan.

Speaking of ghosts, GhostBur as Carrie Kelley’s Robin. He’s in the wrong places at the wrong times and (unknowingly) shoves himself in situations, and he’s got that unfair “why” going on during Doomsday. Unfortunately, GhostBur suffers from memory loss and is often willfully ignorant. I think in an AU space where’s he’s an actual character and not the echo of an idea, he’d make a great elseworld-type Robin.

c!Niki is a WLW revolutionary war veteran with a very close relationship with Wilbur. There’s more, but again, Vibes.

Now here’s where my hot takes truly lie: Philza as Ghostmaker and Eret as Talia.

We all like Dadza but c!Phil? Absolutely not a Dad. If you actually look at c!Phil without the rose-tinted lens of his content creator’s dad energy, c!Phil and Ghostmaker aere weirdly similar? I really don’t know how to explain it exactly, but I think that Phil would have brought Wilbur up as like this weird amalgamation of BTK-era Bruce, Phantom One, and Clownhunter, leading to Wilbur eventually being… not abandoned because Phil wanted Wilbur to have more independence… but struggling to make it on his own. Eventually, Wilbur would follow his parents’ (Mumza would be Martha AND Thomas) footsteps and become something that’s essentially the same but different. Like how Ghostmaker is basically Tynion’s Batman OC but somehow more edgy except Wilbur is in the opposite direction. Like how Martha and Thomas saved people through philanthropy and surgery and Bruce wanted to save people in his own way too. Phil and Kristen influenced Wilbur towards fighting crime… Also I could totally see c!Phil becoming a crime fighter as a fun and challenging art form rather than any genuine interest in being a good person. c!Phil’s got that immortal dilemma where he’s basically a sociopath running purely on an ingrained and steadily eroding moral code.

Now… Eret as Talia. Where do I begin? I love Talia. She’s such a badass but also she’s a kind person who believes in Bruce’s cause but she’s also extremely loyal to her father’s cause but she loves her family so much but she’s also a assassin princess but the world is against her and everything she is will only continue going downhill until she either becomes straight up evil or stands her ground. I love the characterization of Talia who chose to side with “the greater good” against the person she loves and more has to live with the burden of this decision for the rest of her life and continue to do what needs to be done even, for better or worse… Did I say Talia? I meant Eret. Wait, no, it’s both. That applies to both. Talia’s choice is betraying Bruce to aid her in running a global assassin cult and killing people. Eret’s choice is betraying his revolution to run a monarchy and enforcing taxes. Yes, the vibes are the same.

This has been my TED talk. Thank you for reading this far.

Hi I was wondering if you could help me? I'm trying to get more into scrying but I feel like I'm not getting anywhere. I made a mirror and tried to use it but nothing ever seems conclusive. Do you have any tips for how to get better at it?

Hey. Thanks for writing to me. Sorry for the very late reply. It’s been almost three weeks? I had taken a hiatus from this blog (and most social media, for that matter).

I’m back (I think), and I hope you’re still around to read this. Sorry if it’s a little wordy. This is the best advice (from my own perspective) that I can offer, but it's just my perspective, and I don't know how helpful it'll be!

Scrying Tips and Troubleshooting

Switch up your medium.

If you’re not seeing anything at all, I would suggest switching up your medium of scrying. You mentioned making a scrying mirror. That's my current, personal favorite method, but there's others.

I do think mirror scrying is a great way for most people to start, but it’s not for everyone. Some people might have better results with a bowl of water, a candle flame, the open sky, or other options.

I’d try either a candle flame or a bowl of water (or dark liquid, I’ve used coffee). It can help to use plain water, but put a few drops of black ink or another substance into it and swirl.

In both of those cases (candle flame, black ink in water), the scrying medium itself isn’t a blank field. It has shapes and colors in it.

For some scryers, this might be distracting. If you’re having trouble beginning, though, it can actually be helpful.

Interpreting ink spilled in water or the sparks of a candle itself isn’t in itself scrying. It would be considered a different sort of divination. But it can be a good jumping-off place for scrying. It can help you sink into a state of mind where you’re receptive to communicating in symbols.

You’ll start to notice shapes in the ink or the flame. A blob of ink floats one way, another swirls outwards, etc. The flame arcs and sparks. Smoke trails might resemble things. An amorphous trail of ink (or smoke) might become a forest path at the start of a vision. Then, your mind can use what you’re seeing in the physical world as a jumping-off point for a vision.

Examine your expectations

A lot of what you see while scrying will operate based on dream logic. Meanings get transmitted through symbols rather than literal imagery. You usually won't see a direct representation of physical events. If a vision tells you you're going to get into grad school, you're unlikely to see the school itself.

Instead, you might see yourself having climbed a mountain or crossed a finish line. In short, it's almost always metaphor. If by “no conclusive results,” you mean nothing literal and plain, it’s normal not to experience that.

Sometimes, if you go in with that kind of expectation, it can interfere with getting any results at all. You'll get better results if you go into the sessions prepared to receive symbols. Expecting the literal can block things, in my experience.

Consider your symbol set.

What you’ll see will have meaning to you as an individual. Visions may be incomprehensible when you tell other people. They might be incomprehensible to you at first, too. This is why it’s important to incubate these things after the session.

You've got to sort out what associations you have for the different symbols you see. Some of these correspondences will be personal. Others might be societal or cultural. The meanings won’t always be intuitive, and it’s the kind of thing that requires a lot of pondering afterwards.

Lets say you see a black horse galloping across a bridge over a ravine. You’ll need to ask yourself what horses symbolize to you, as well as other parts of the scene. This won’t always be some arcane idea from a book (Epona, horse legends, etc). It might relate to your personal experience with horses instead.

It could also draw books or movies you've seen involving horses. Diving deeper, the color, gait, etc of the horse might be significant, too. Of course, the bridge/ravine itself where it takes place would also have a meaning.

Clean up beforehand.

When you say “non-conclusive,” do you mean that it doesn’t make sense, regardless?

In that case, your mind might be wandering? When this happens with me, I don't always notice until afterwards. I try to clear my mind as much as possible before scrying. Things get complicated from there, though.

"Clearing your mind” takes a different form for each person, so it’s hard to give more concrete advice for that. You can find a lot of different exercises in print and online. You might want to make sure you’ve got one that works well for you before you attempt scrying at all.

This requires experimentation, of course, and observing how your mind reacts. It doesn’t have to be a deeply-ritualized way of “clearing the mind,” either - for some people, a hot shower can be enough.

Consider your goals.

Do you know what you’re scrying for? You can scry to “see what comes up,” a bit like a general Tarot reading. Sometimes it can be easier and yield stronger results if you have a target in mind, though. It can help to know what information you’d like to receive or even who you’d like to communicate with in the spirit world.

I’m going to be honest. For the past few months, I usually scry to “see what comes up,” with the help of my spirit companions. Some friends (and frenemies) of mine say this isn’t effective. They say that you need to seek something specific each time you scry.

I've done it both ways in the past. I think both methods can work in some situations depending on the person.

If you’re not having luck with freeform scrying, try something more targeted, or call on an entity as a guide. If you’re struggling with more structured, guided scrying, try something freeform.

Switch things up a bit until you find something that works.

Keep some kind of record if at all possible.

Cliche advice for any kind of occult undertaking, I know. But don't knock it. This whole process gets a thousand times easier when you're able to look back on things after the fact.

Some witches, wizards, mages (etc) keep elaborate daily diaries, but that isn't necessary. For this, you only need to record impressions right after each scrying session. You can be as elaborate or as simple as you want, but something is objectively better than nothing here.

Some people write in a scrying journal while scrying. This usually involves pausing every few minutes to jot things down, and it's kind of stressful. I've done it before and I don't like it. Might work for you, though, so I mention it.

I know a lot of people don't like writing by hand. There's nothing wrong with typing your notes. I've never typed notes during a session, so I don't know how well that would go, though.

You could also consider audio recording during scrying. If you've got privacy, start recording and narrate what you're seeing out loud. Then, at the end of it, you'll have a complete audio record of the session.

I've done that once or twice, but I prefer my notebook. As with most of this, you've got to try different methods until you find one that works well for you.

Try automatic writing.

It's not the kind of tip most people want, but consider it! I knew people who weren't getting results with Enochian scrying in particular. A couple picked up automatic writing as an alternative and had great success. I haven't written much on automatic writing, so you'll need to look elsewhere for that.

There are guides floating around online, and plenty of traditionally-published material as well. I don't exactly know why automatic writing in particular works so well as a surrogate to scrying. I just noticed that it often works for people who don't get good scrying results.

If anyone has any theories as to why, let me know.

These are the best tips I can offer. I hope they were helpful. My scrying practice is very ad hoc, casual, and nontraditional. Lately, I rely a lot on spirits helping when I'm scrying, but that wasn't always the case. Everything above is my own perspective, which is all I can offer. In any case, thanks for this ask, and I hope you find a way that works for you!

Sorry this is kind of a broad question, feel free to break it into more specific subgenres or mediums, but what are some of ur favorite scifi horror works? Are there any themes or setpieces in particular that ur always excited to see even if the rest of the work is underwhelming? Did u ever watch battlestar galactica?

Don't ever apologize, and thanks so much for sending this!!! Gosh, there are just too many sci-fi horror works to count, so I'll call this a highlights reel that will invariably forget some gems. Cronenberg's entire body (heh) of work, special mention to The Fly (favourite!!!) and Videodrome. The Alien movies are absolutely wonderful, and I'll include classic Frankenstein (and Bride, of course!) for the hell of it. Ex Machina was a delightfully straightforward sci-fi Bluebeard so I think it counts, while the first Terminator really has some great slasher beats. I also adore the Reanimator movies (though I acknowledge the very major misogynistic flaws). Starship Troopers is also in the 'flawed but fun' category. I remember really liking The Blob and The Invisible Man as a weird kiddo, and of course, Metropolis I think? has enough elements? to qualify? Either way, counting it. Godzilla movies, even when they get sillier, are also just the apex of the genre in terms of what it represents and reflects on, taking the 'fi' out of 'sci-fi', but in turn, emphasizing the horror in the sci. And to nod to King, Maximum Overdrive is delightfully bonkers. And while the aliens themselves were a letdown, the tripods in Spielberg's War of the Worlds and the updating of the story as a response to 9/11 were not only genius, but very vividly stick out in my memory as one of the first movies that truly scared the absolute shit out of me. And I do remember liking some earlier episodes of Black Mirror that focused on being scary rather than...whatever they're up to now. And as for sci-fi horror musicals -- Rocky Horror Show, Little Shop of Horrors, and Be More Chill all have a very special place in my heart.

It's hard to pick setpieces and themes too!! I suppose it's easier to just say anything that presents and explores the anxieties and fears present in a particular concept or possibility (the more concrete the possibility in our reality, the better) executes the purpose of the subgenre. Which is a very generic statement reading it over, so I'll also say that beyond the horrors of our possibilities, the horrors of what is within our understanding and how this understanding may be warped or put to terrible use is always a delicious prospect. Or perhaps the natural scientific processes themselves are the horrors; again, abjection of the body fascinates me, similar to the werewolves, but perhaps more intellectualized here. I can't think of any recurring setpieces that keep me watching even if the rest of the work is underwhelming, so I must unfortunately give another very generic answer -- an excellent practical effect, set, and/or soundtrack will keep me hooked. I tried to watch Battlestar Galactica when I was consuming sci-fi for breakfast, lunch and dinner back in high school, but I never got very deep into it! I'm afraid it didn't jive with my attention span. Is there something horrific in it you'd recommend? Thanks so much for this, and I hope you have a lovely weekend. <3333

If I could flip a switch on my life and be ace, I totally would. Being alive is hard enough. My mind and body are programmed to make me want to have sex and find a partner...but I've come to the realization that "happy in love" will never happen for me and I'd rather the rest of my days be unburdened with these useless human desires. If I could, I'd shed my skin like a chrysalis and be an amorphous blob in the 9th dimension or something. I hate it here. I didn't ask to be black, gay, or alive...I know how selfish and first world, and fucking cringe this is. But it's how I feel. I'm proud I've never attempted unaliving myself or anything. I just really hate having these useless human urges plaguing me everytime I look in a mirror or look at someone I'm attracted to. The crazy thing is I'm not an incel... I've had way too much sex honestly. I've had enough sex for 5 lifetimes and 99% of it is pointless because it's all temporary. Gay men are pretty easy to get in bed, but absolute shit at empathy or human decency (and that goes for me too). I learned early in my love journey I'm not the prize, and my community sees me as a fun peice of "BBC" before they actually commit to someone else. I know being ace or being alive in general is never easy. The grass is always greener on the other side...but I hate it. I hate that I still desire the very same people who view me as worthless. I hate the power they have over me. I feel like an animal sometimes, like I'm just a slave to these natural urges. And this has nothing to do with shame. I've unpacked the truly toxic parts of all that few years ago. This is me assessing my current situation with a mature realistic view of my foreseeable future. Most of the people who look like me die alone in my community. My last few attempts at a stable relationship were sad and really solidified my worst fears. Statistically speaking, I'm next. I don't have any family (literally all of them died) or friends (all of them fucked me and then fucked off, or just the latter lol). These are the true memoirs of a gay slut. I hate it here. I only have all this sex because I know that's literally all I'm ever gonna get, and pretty soon I probably won't even be able to do that cause like all things, atrophy is inevitable and I'm aging. I just can't help but think, dying alone would be easier if I didn't desire company.... maybe I'll just try and work on doing that.

(frienderbender) for the ask meme: maybe charles and ceelie? with prompt 7? i’m very interested in their dynamic >:^]

7. I love you as a thank you

You got it, love! This is one of the scenes I've always imagined with the two of them, taking place just after the events of Church of the Black Klok. @frienderbender 🖤

.

Charles was a mess. The funeral had been a disaster, he was covered in Roy Cornickleson's blood, and Toki and Abigail were gone. They might be dead, even, but he wasn't ready to address that possibility. Ishnifus seemed far more hopeful than he was.

The Dethsub was thousands of feet below the surface of the ocean, but there was a much smaller submarine approaching on the radar. He had sent for it not long after they had gone under. He gave the order to connect with it, and a few moments later, their guests stepped into the control room.

While Edgar looked nonplussed by the whole situation, rolling himself to watch the wall of monitors with Ishnifus, St. Cecilia gasped and rushed into Charles's arms. She whispered, "Holy shit, Charlie!"

"It's not my blood," he said, wincing when she brushed her fingertips against his left cheekbone, just beneath his blackened eye. Most of it wasn't his, at least.

She didn't seem comforted, and she turned to the klokateer who had come in with her. She said, "I need warm water, rags and antiseptic, gauze and medical tape." The klokateer nodded and vanished into the hall. To Charles, she said, "Sit," and he did, gingerly lowering himself into his seat. Her attention shifted to Edgar, who she asked, "Can you handle that for a few minutes?"

He said, "Of course." He lowered his voice to speak to Ishnifus.

St. Cecilia gave them a nod and knelt before Charles on the metal floor. She said, "You should have had the medical crew take a look at you." Her tone was firm, but her golden eyes were wide and worried.

Charles said, "Toki and Abigail--"

"Fuck Toki and Abigail!" St. Cecilia looked surprised at herself, but she sighed, and the shock was gone from her face, replaced with concern again. "We'll find them. Right now, it's you I'm worried about. Have you not even looked at yourself?"

He hadn't. Even if it had occured to him to do so, his glasses were badly damaged and he doubted he'd see much in the mirror but a blob of red. She was little more than an angelic wisp of white.

"You're a mess," she was saying, and the klokateer she had spoken to before knelt beside her, laying out the medical supplies she'd asked for. She thanked him, dismissed him to fetch an ice pack next, and wet a cloth, wringing it out before she rose onto her knees, swiping the fabric along the curve of Charles's jaw. It hurt more than he had expected. "You need to take care of yourself before you worry about them," she said, her voice soft. "Just this once, put yourself first, yeah?"

He agreed, his eyes slipping closed, "Just this once." She wasn't wrong. Selflessness was a virtue, his mother had often told him, but it was also his fatal flaw. He'd met his death defending his boys once before, and he had come very close to doing it again. His skin blazed with the realization, and he could feel every stroke of the cloth against his face, trying his best not to cringe when it stung. His hands were balled into fists where they rested on his thighs, and when St. Cecilia finished cleaning him up, she touched the left one. Her hands were soft, save the fretting callouses. He knew the feeling of them well.

"That's that," she said, her voice strangely choked. "You almost look alive again."

He opened his eyes to watch her rifle through the medical supplies, though she didn't seem to be doing much but occupying her hands.

"I don't think you'll be needing any of that," he said.

When she glanced up at him, there were tears in her eyes. She said, softly, "You could have died."

"It's nothing that serious," he told her. Toki and Abigail had gotten worse than he had, after all. All he had to worry about was a black eye and a sore jaw. That, and the ache in his chest he got when St. Cecilia looked at him. He'd been trying to ignore it for months. It had vanished for years after Snakes N' Barrels had broken up and he'd been relieved of his job as their manager, but having her at Mordhaus translating the prophet's journal had torn the old wound open again. He said, "I'll be fine." The words were meant for himself as they were for her. "I always am."

"You've died before," she said, standing when one of the klokateers approached to gather the medical supplies she hadn't needed. "You aren't invincible." Charles moved to stand, too, but she touched his shoulder and said, "Stay down."

Moving slowly and stiffly, his muscles aching, he took her hand from his shoulder, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. It was as close to a proper I love you as he could allow himself to get.

Day 1 of Looking at Art for An Hour a Day

Today I looked at The Peacock Skirt by Aubrey Beardsley. Below is a very rough collection of notes/my thoughts-I may organize it into a better post eventually. I think this work is super duper cool, and would love to talk to anyone who has opinions!

The Peacock Skirt, Aubrey Beardsley

Work is all about the interplay between the two figures. Focal point is right between them, one on the left is curling around, looking down in controlling way. Has strands curling around the entire image, giving a sense of control and power. Interestingly, really only the skirt and the face of this figure are pictured, the skirt isn’t even particularly realistic. The actual body consists of essentially just two lines, very little detail. Beardsley does a really great job of conveying what is important, and letting the rest go, with the lack of detail in some areas just serving to heighten your attention on the important parts, not to distract you. Relatively blank torso is made up for in some sense by the peacock on the figures shoulder. Peacock has large skirt disguising the small size of the actual bird itself. I believe the bird is meant to be a representation of the figure on which it is perched. Twisting form of the bird mirrors that of the figure, with the feathers serving to hide the small form of the actual bird itself in the same way the skirt hides the figure. Peacock also has fan made primarily of dots-this is interesting as almost the entire rest of the image is done in either lines or large blocks of black and white. I believe this gives it a sort of surreal quality, removing it from the main focus on the two characters and letting us see it as more secondary. The actual head of the figure is essentially just emerging from the blob, with a looking down gaze. While the heads of the two figures are just about level, the one on the left is still looking down, heightening the sense of control. The blank eyes, the odd posture, the gaze not into the eyes of the other, and the plant like, dramatic hair of the figure on the left all give it a supernatural feeling. Whatever it is does not appear fully human, and is somehow messing with the figure on the right. I think that while the figure on the right is less detailed, its still super interesting. If you look at just the top half it looks…defiant? Like it knows it should be scared of the other thing and is trying its best not too. However, I think the bottom is really fascinating in contrast to this. The figures left arm bends inwards at a dramatic, unrealistic angle, allowing their hand to be in their dress. I believe this lets the shoulder be posed in the defiant way Beardsley wants, while still keeping the figure from interacting with the leftmost figure, and portraying a sense of smallness. Additionally, the knees of this figure are a sharp contrast to the rest of her, extremely detailed, knobby, and just generally in a rough shape. This, combined with the odd angle of the arm, and the tears in the bottom of the skirt all give a sense of weakness or defeat. The figure on the right is clearly not in a good state. Finally, I find the figure on the right’s right hand to be interesting. The pose is delicate, her fingers softly curled. This seems to not reflect the fear and unease of the situation. However, something is directly above it, maybe fire? It seems as if whatever this is is emanating from her hand, potentially conveying that the figure on the left is not the only supernatural one. This lends to the dramatic contrast between the top and bottom of the figure on the right, with the mix of confidence and shakeness potentially showing the uncertainty of how this situation will end up.

In general, I think the way Beardsley uses color is absolutely brilliant–different parts of this work have dots, white, or black as the primary focus, and we move between these areas effortlessly (ie the hair of the figure on the left vs the dress of the figure on the right). The lack of care for the specific details of human form, combined with this inconsistent aesthetic, and general sense of unease in the scene itself creates a really incredible way of conveying the wrongness of the situation, without any explicit story itself. Just looking at it, the work feels like a reflection of manipulation and abuse of power, and is able to communicate the terror associated with those situations, with only one scene, which is very cool.

Today's film was a very buggy (due to my computer having little ram) low res version of Black Mirror s06e04 Mazey Day. I have chosen to not watch any Black Mirror so far. I don't like bummer endings, don't like dystopias,

Charlie Brooker aka mr Huq has fantastic taste in women but a bleak view of humanity. I can handle it in his real life commentary on the real life media which needs exposing as vultures but getting attached then having characters live in your mind is something else.

Anyway someone said "this is very different to black mirror, it's not even about tech". And the name Mazey Day is a reference to an old english (read pagan) celebration. It was dark and a bummer. But I did enjoy the story which will haunt me for a long while. It's set in an era where I had gone off the grid for entertainment news including all talk radio or variety shows: the things late night hosts asked of women celebs were just awful (seriously go look at early aughts interviews), not to mention the gossip rags. Horrible time to be even white skinny toned beautiful and talented, it was never enough and literal bombshells were riddled with "imperfections"...

I found out about Britney via mainstream news and thought her shaving her head was a badass reclaiming of personhood in front of all those news crews. Then instead of giving her space, they got her sectioned.

Anyway well acted, horribly lit, good build of dread, you think you know this story but it's a morality play.

Then I read Beyond Uhura as the computer was starting to really struggle and I'd been meaning to try it for a while.

You see it's printed really big (very heavy for a 300 page book) so once I managed to get myself in a position where my neck was safe and arms weren't carrying the book (lots of pillow and duvet finagling and a winter shawl for the neck), I was actually able to read it in one go.

Even without the neck problems, with smaller print I get about 100 pages before it's just grey blobs or I get dizzy-nauseated from eye strain. That's on the days when reading isn't repeating the same sentence, parsing a paragraph as illegible, reading the words but when it arrives at the brain it seems to make no sense, missing a vital ' not' or 'never' and then not understanding the next sentences...

Guess the answer is stick to old people prints and short books 😜

I really enjoyed getting to know the actress and consumate performer better. Really touched about her mum finally opening up and them becoming mother and daughter on an emotional level not just practical care for eachother. It was a missing piece in her life she'd learned to live without but still craved and she finally got that. Just beautiful.

I feel like she managed to carefully compartmentalise her conflicted feelings about Gene Roddenberry, maybe a little too much. Just because she managed to reinvent herself with her other talents doesn't make his choice to deny her a rare chance at job security incredibly cruel.

She certainly managed to present her constant disappointment at being undermined and undervalued as amorphous 'bad suits' when I'm pretty sure women with her savvy have receipts and remember names - I guess that's why her lawyer gets a shoutout in the beginning.

It is a kind book which takes time to say what Bill Shatner could be like at his best or when in his element then she presents the change as him getting lost and not realising he had a team/family who would have his back. Very kind. Graceful. Classy.

Her book is from 95 and her comments about NASA not being sold off to contractors and not keeping the experts in control are prescient. It's also painful to know she would lose a brother two years later to a cult.

I'm torn with what we've been told about her final years, she adored her son, she was also fiercely independent and loved passionately. I can only hope she felt loved and safe no matter her sanity. What a driven, bold, tenacious woman she was.

What I watched in January!!

January was a very positive month for movies that I watched mostly on tubi but I found a few dvds in my grandparents house that i had not watched yet. gonna be honest been battling being sick and cough medicine puts me to sleep very easily so i watched most of these while half asleep and most of them deserve a rewatch

The Blob (1988) 7/10

I know i am not alone in this opinion but the 90s version of The Blob is my favorite version.

Brain Damage 4/10

The parasite puppet monster is low budget but a very fun character and the way it attaches and injects it's victims is actually a really nice practical effect. now as for the plot it is the most unsubtle and dumb drugs bad police violence good plot but with an accidental pro suicide message. also has a weird amount of lore and backstory.

Pulse (2006) 6/10

western remake of an asian movie but the vibe kind of check out on this one. plus the original was not available.

The Barn 5/10

i am a chaotic person by nature but when it comes to horror movies and Halloween lore i enjoy the internal rules. the aesthetic and plot of this one don't cut it for me tho.

Wizards of The Lost Kingdom 3/10

don't let my low rating fool you this very well may be a must watch for the sword and sorcery genre.

this movie is a mish mash of extremely low budget childrens fantasy film, sfw clips from much more violent and sexual fantasy films, and one weirdly expensive looking insect woman monster that appears for 2 minutes for no reason

Bad Moon 6/10

bad moon is a very good werewolf movie I get how it might not have stuck the landing for a lot of people but it deserves a place on more top 10 werwolf movie lists

Witchery 5/10

like David Hasselhoff? Like foreign films? neutral on both how about a bunch of old crone style witches killing and torturing people in very thematic ways?

Black Roses 4/10

not going to lie when I start a horror movie and the Troma logo pops up it makes my fight or flight instinct kick in now.

the Void 8/10

Mirror Mirror 5/10

Reign of Fire 6/10

my silly child self avoided this film for some dumb reasons. anyway it is a pretty good movie my only criticism is the dragons needed way more screen time. but i understand the limitations and they probably would not have looked good if they stayed on screen much longer.

the Axiom 6/10

Tales of Terror 7/10

one of the best Edgar Allen Poe horror anthology films. Vincent Price and Peter Lorre always go well in Poe stories.

Nightbeast 5/10

as a child i remember watching a movie about an extremely violent and murderous creature with big teeth and maybe horns that i though was bigfoot or some other ape. i thought maybe it was this film but i am still unsure

Centipede! 5/10

I think one big centipede instead of many less big centipedes was an odd choice.

Attack the Block (2011) 7/10

this might be one of my favorite alien invasion movies. Like Gordon Ramsay and Julian Sands ( hope they find him safe btw) this movie is immune to being criticized for it's British nature

Memories (1995) 7/10

another step down the rabbit hole of beautifully animated anime anthology films that i think are by the same people that did Akira.

the stories were not as memorable as Robot Carnival but some of them were very good. can't wait to find more like this.

Jack Brooks Monster Slayer 6/10

this is a fun movie about not holding in your emotions until you explode and using your rage constructively. title could be misleading as it is in theory mostly backstory as he does not channel his rage into slaying monsters until the last 10 minutes or so.

Shakma 5/10

I almost always feel bad when an animal is hurt in a movie but I do actually really enjoy " man vs nature" genre of horror films. there is also a very strange and kind of roleplaying game going on for part of the movie.

the Client 6/10

2 young boys witness a suicide and some mafia secrets and one of them seeks out the protection of a lawyer, the lawyer is a woman with her own tragic backstory so they spend a lot of the movie shifting back and forth from bonding to fighting with each other while the mob and the crooked cops are after them.

not my usual type of movie but it was very compelling.

Ghost Ship 6/10

Necropolis 5/10

Nightwish 4/10

the Giant Claw 5/10

I just really enjoy the design of monster in this movie, i won't lie and say i was at all engaged by the plot but the dark matter force field around the monster was also a fun idea.

1408 5/10

the Phantom Empire 4/10

do you like dominant women in leather outfits? cave women? cave dwelling cannibals that look kind of like Morlocks from the time machine movies? great watch this movie.

now i will say this one is kind of boring and is mostly just walking and running around in a big cavern.

20 Million Miles to Earth 6/10

One of the few Ray Harryhausen movies I had not watched yet and I am very glad to be closer to watching them all

Beyond The Black Rainbow 5/10

the Monster 6/10

how dare this movie reflect some of my own unresolved emotional trauma. monster could have used a little more screen time subtlety is great but I like visuals.

Splinter 6/10

these parasite infected zombies have spikes and other nasty tricks a fun horror movie all around.

i have 2 weddings coming up next month and i gotta fucking rant

i hate. i just hate. so much. like ive been to like two weddings in my entire life and they all happened before i was 10 so i have no fucking idea what’s appropriate in general and what people wear nowadays and i also always always always have trouble buying clothes and its just

there’s of course clothes and shoes that i like that are more on the... formal side i guess but 99.9% of them are black because that’s just what looks good to my eyes and also i wouldn’t wear any of them. partly because they wouldn’t look good on me (both bc im ugly and bc my proportions are so that its very hard for /anything/ to look good on me) and partly bc. well. im expected to dress in a feminine way. which is something im very uncomfortable with.

i wouldn’t feel comfortable in “”””””””manly”””””””” clothes either but i’ve realized that lately, like in the last few years, i’ve just had such a negative kind of mindset towards stereotypically feminine stuff. i don’t mean like media or hobbies or anything but specifically clothes and makeup. i mean i’ve never liked wearing dresses or skirts or even very colouful clothing but i used to be comfortable wearing certain types of heels and more revealing clothing. nowadays i just don’t even want to think about wearing anything like that.

i wonder why that is. might be that my self-esteem issues have somehow gotten even worse than they were, even though they were pretty bad back then? altho that’s something i’ve been trying to work on for years, and sometimes i can stand looking at my face in the mirror, which is p r o g r e s s.

you know the thing with the clothes doesn’t bother me that much like i’ve never cared about fashion and i’d rather be a shapeless blob cloaked than have people perceive me physically but with makeup i feel like it’s a bit more complicated.

since there was a time when i enjoyed using some makeup and i even took selfies whenever i did, it was fun and i did like the products that i had. we threw them away recently cause they were really old but i had this lipstick that was the only lipstick ive ever liked, it was my favourite colour i loved it so much.

but now when i look back on it i feel very negatively about it bc like. damn i sure liked myself when i didn’t look like myself. when i couldn’t see all my acne and my face looked thinner and my eyes didn’t look so damn small. you know. stuff like that. 

and last night my mom sat me down and tried some makeup products just to see what looks good on me. and the entire time i wanted to crawl out of my skin and i had these super negative thoughts like ‘holy fuck sure is nice that i can’t go there looking like myself. sure is great that i gotta fucking hide my “”””””imperfections”””””””” so people that i don’t even know don’t laugh at me’ you know things like that.

i guess there’s many reasons i feel like this. i don’t know if it’s okay to feel like this. or if it’s too negative and something i should try to fix. i don’t know how i (or anyone else) could have a healthy relationship with makeup and gender expectations and femininity and all that in this society. especially when i don’t see how it would help me to have a healthy relationship with that or masculinity and anything pertaining to /it/ since i don’t.... feel close.... to either.....

i don’t know its just. can i just sleep through the entirety of september pls. 

Today, I set up a trail cam in the woods behind my parents house.

I've been staying with them for the last few months while I recover which I'm honestly very grateful for. However, my mom has been complaining about a strange rustling behind the house at night. Living out in the rural part of the state, I thought it might've been a coyote or a gopher. Hell, maybe even a stray cat someone let outside. So, I went out to the nearest home improvement store and bought a decent trail camera for just under $200. I came back home and charged it up for a few hours before going about an acre down the backyard into the thickets of the woods. I remember when I was a kid, my sister and I would play make-believe in the woods for hours on end. My dad helped build a treehouse which was still intact, but a little worse for wear. The wood had rotted a little, but I could still see some of our crayon drawings inside. I decided to set the camera up on one of the lower rungs of the ladder on the tree going up to the tree house and left for home.

October has to be my favorite time of year and getting to spend it with my parents makes me feel so young again. I'm only 27, but it feels like yesterday that I was getting on the school bus early in the morning. The crisp, cool air wafting into my nostrils and down my chest, the dampness of the soil and the grass, the crunch of the leaves...I missed my mother's cooking most of all. The scent of fresh banana bread rushed out of the oven as I helped my mom clean up the kitchen. "You're still such a good helper! Thank you so much," she doted as she set the hot metal pan onto the top of the stove and took off her oven mitts. I simply smiled at her, nodded, and continued to wash a glass plate and some silverware. I could feel a slight frown on her face as I scrubbed away at caked-on broccoli. Dad got home a little after I was done with the dishes and took off the coat and vest of his black business suit before loosening his velvet tie and going for a small glass of bourbon. I wasn't sure how my dad's coworkers could stand the smell of cigarettes on him, but I suppose that was for them to know and for me to wonder. "Hey kiddo, did you get that trail cam for your mom?" he questioned in a curt manner. I nodded and pointed out the window towards the old treehouse. "Good," was all he said as he said down at the dining room table. I had helped my mom make meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans which was nearly prepared on the table. I placed silverware down on the table as my dad leaned on to kiss my mother. Once everyone was seated, we said grace and dug in.

Later that night, I set up the app on my phone to check the trail cam outside while my parents got ready for bed. My mom kissed me on the head and said goodnight while I brushed my teeth before turning the lights off in the house and retiring to bed with my dad. I rinsed my mouth and washed my face, making sure to avoid looking at the mirror. When I got back into the guest bedroom, I checked the trail cam to see if anything was going on. There was a small cotton-tailed rabbit foraging through the leaves, but not making as much noise as my mom said she had heard. I decided to keep the app open as it charged that night. I turned off the light and went to sleep within 10 or so minutes.

3:47am I awoke to the loud sound of leaves rustling coming from the phone. Groggy, I squinted as I pulled my phone to my face. The video quality was terrible, but in the corner of the feed, I could see something disturbing the leaves on the ground.

Then, it popped into frame.

An amorphous, gelatinous blob seemed to scurry into the frame of the video although, amorphous wasn't the right way to describe it. Whatever it was, its shape was constantly changing. For a few seconds, it resembled an uncooked chicken running around. Then, an anteater of some kind. The sound it was making sounded like a group of hushed whispers from many people mixed with wet, squelchy plops as it's...appendages violently jerked. The voices were beginning to grow louder in volume as it almost seemed to be searching frantically in the woods alone. I was about to record it on my phone when it suddenly stopped moving as it stood perfectly in front of the trail cam. It had no eyes, but I could tell it was looking right at me. I felt locked in place with fear as I gazed upon this ever morphing being, my limbs refusing to give way.

Suddenly, it simply vanished into thin air.

I don't remember what happened very well after that and I'm not sure I want to. The only name I can hear in my head repeating is that of god.