#::malfunction::musings

[aeolianblues]

was kinda thinking about this when I saw Renee Rapp live recently-- I didn't know her visual vibe, I'd heard a few songs here and there but I hadn't really *seen* her, and her attire at Osheaga was really casual, a jersey (baseball/basketball?) and slacks. And that was so amazing! I couldn't help thinking, the work Billie Eilish has done for how women in pop music are allowed to dress is incredible. Seeing her up there all comfortable you just know that Billie walked in her oversized tops so that Renee in her slacks could run; Billie walked through all the critcisms about how she dressed slobbily and having to assert that she didn't owe anyone a display of skin, so that Renee could be comfortable and unquestioned running up and down the catwalk in front of 10,000 people. How iconic.

And I don't think we even realised at the time how much something as simple as letting Billie dress the way she as a (then-) 17-year-old teenager dressed, could end up meaning for a future generation of women in music.

Obviously there is still way to go, there were weirdos complaining about how 'plain' Dua Lipa's Glastonbury outfit was this year (in 2024!!), l have to ask, are you at Paris Fashion Week?? She is the musical HEADLINER of an entire day of music at one of the biggest music festivals in the world, and you can't grant her the space to exist as an artist, you have to moan about her dress not being excitingly revealing enough. There's work to do, it's still dismal out there. But the space Billie Eilish has created for a most ordinarily-dressed woman popstar is still heartening.

[coolbattlegirl]

When you write 482 words but most of it is just your failed attempts at trying to start the story in different ways 🫠

[eclipsecrowned]

stares into glass of choccy milk

forcing personal relatability onto a muse in lieu of dynamic characterization or development will inevitably enshitten every character you write.

[ase-trollplays]

>> The air feels more hostile and the sky much darker than usual. It's been like this for weeks now, and the people of The Villa are feeling the effects. They're more paranoid, more on edge, more anxious.

>> As you walk down the street to the convenience store, your antenna twitch and bristle restlessly. You didn't dare use your psionics since this all started -- Anxiety feels like being covered in ants -- not that you need to. The unease is palpable and suffocating.

Th3 fuck i2 going on lat3ly? It 2uck2.

[starlitwishes]

@starscrxssed

"... I didn't know she was one of his test subjects too."

Wrenn had been staying with Tighnari in Gandharva Ville for some time now. He had gotten to know Collei a fair bit, and while his time there was meant to be 'punishment' for the injury he inflicted upon Tighnari, he knew he wasn't in bad company. In fact, he secretly enjoyed his stay there, much to his own dismay.

At least, until something happened--something he didn't expect.

Wrenn hadn't meant to startle her so badly, when he went to grab her. He hadn't meant anything by it--she had just been turning away from him and he wanted to stop her from leaving, to tell her something he felt was important. But she violently pulled her wrist away and screamed, cowering away from him before running off. Such a reaction to being touched by him startled him, and his own self hatred had started to bubble over--was he so repulsive or other to them that his touch was so offensive?

So he had been in a foul mood all day, avoiding everyone--until Tighnari had found him, and revealed the truth of the matter. That Collei had been one of Dottore's prior experiments.

A segment of his, probably--but still, nevertheless, a victim.

"That explains why she freaked out so much," Wrenn huffed. Though a part of him felt guilty for how quickly he jumped to the conclusion that it was a problem with him specifically, and not something outside of himself. "I'm... surprised she survived through it. Humans are far more fragile than I am. Normally, they die after one experiment... guess he wanted to keep her alive for some reason. That's the only reason she's alive. He doesn't care if his test subjects live or die unless he has something to gain from you being alive. If he's interested enough, then you're not allowed to die. Not on his watch."

Wrenn's words were harsher than he meant, but they were a matter of fact--as his own chest tightened at the thought, he knew better than anyone that if Dottore was interested in you, it was the only thing that saved you from death.

If one could call it saving.

"I'll take care not to suddenly grab or touch her from now on," he promised with a nod. "The last thing I want is to put myself in more debt to you. I'll take on some of her work to make up for it... and, feel free to tell her that I meant no harm by it."

[relicsongmel]

ABYSSAL RUINS MENTIONED???????

PULL OUT THE CONSPIRACY BOARD MEL'S ABOUT TO GO FUCKING HAYWIRE

[2c75ff]

tag dump;

General:

— ic ▸ what's so foolish about wanting to have a little fun? — ooc ▸ we're gonna hit you with the aftermath — inbox ▸ and what do you want now? — memes ▸ nobody is as strong as i am — headcanons ▸ a part of the game — drabbles ▸ you're hitting your limit while i'm just getting in it — countenance ▸ am i giving you a hot flash? — my art ▸ you ain't seen the best of me yet — crack ▸ your sensors must be malfunctioning — saved ▸ too much is not enough

Supplementary:

— musings ▸ my whole life all i wanted was a change of pace — aesthetics ▸ break out the gate with a rock in your walk — fashion ▸ talking the talk; put up or shut up — interests ▸ you know it ain't easy running out of thrills — audio ▸ we make it loud

Verses:

— main; post cell ▸ i still don't fuck with the in crowd

[boughkeeping]

Hey babe can you name a woman?

Doing the tiktok 'hey babe name one woman' trend on the bllk boys.

"Um....you? [Name]?"

Confused why you'd ask him that but the immediate answer to your name rewarded him with a peck in his forehead followed with a "Of course it's me" so he didn't pry further.

ISAGI, Karasu, Chigiri, Reo, Kunigami, Barou, Ness.

"Rosa Parks"

Of course he'd fucking say that, maybe he said that on purpose to even to see how you'd react "One of us will be sleeping on the couch tonight" "I'm sorry babe I meant none of that it's you of course the almighty [f/n] [l/n]

SHIDOU, Bachira, Otoya, Kurona, Charles.

"......" "is this for a tiktok trend again?"

You just lied with a "no" without any hesitation but damn he's quick. Either he knows you too well to guess you'd pull something like that for tiktok or that he's chronically online too.

Rin, Sae, Nagi, ISAGI, reo, Hiori, NIKKO.

"............."

ACTUALLY MALFUNCTIONS he snaps out of it once you say "Um? I'm literally here?" As you break into laughter.

Nagi, RIN, Kunigami, Aiku (he stutters cuz bro almost named his ex 😬)

"My heartbeat, my muse and the love of my life [name]"

He's either genuine about it or is buttering you up :) a 100% chance it's the latter but one can be delusional you suppose.

AIKU, Otoya, Kaiser, ARYU, sendou.

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[nariism]

Could you write Neuvillette blushes so bad when reader called him an otter.

a/n: hi anon! this is cute... yeah guys this is the obligatory neuvillette otter fic on my blog now, enjoy it ●ᴥ●

He shouldn't be feeling jealous. He knows how ridiculous it is to be envious of such a tiny critter, especially one that's been seeking equal amounts of attention from both you and him.

But he can't help it.

"Look!" You hold the otter up into the air, dangling it around in front of his face. The otter trills, curling up into a ball and giving Neuvillette what he can only imagine is the equivalent of puppy-dog eyes.

"Are you sure it is safe to pick it up like that?" Neuvillette murmurs, watching as you peer around the creature with a wide smile.

You're completely ignoring his concerns about scooping up a wild animal, unable to contain your excitement from finally having a chance to grab one of them. "It looks just like you. How cute!"

And he also knows that such a passing comment meant to tease him shouldn't make heat crawl up his neck, but it does anyways.

"How in the world does it look like me?"

Your fingers scratch at the top of the otter's head and it's horrible that all he can imagine is your hands doing the same to him.

You turn the critter around in the air like you're showing off your child, to which the man can only stare in confusion. "White fur, cute face. Even has blue streaks, like your horns!"

"I don't see it." (Correction, he refuses to see it.)

The otter makes another noise and licks his nose, clearly content with being the center of attention. He only scowls, cheeks flushing when he realizes how much you adore the damned thing.

"So adorable," you grin, cradling it in your arms. "Just- just...! So cute!"

He's pretty sure you're malfunctioning with the overload of cuteness. He fares no better, brain melting with every hard-struck realization that you might be calling him cute by extension since you're so insistent about the similarities.

"It..." he clears his throat, losing composure with the second-hand praises. "I suppose."

"You suppose?" You laugh, finally turning your eyes back to him. He almost melts into a puddle right then and there. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he immediately refutes, rosy all the way to the tips of his ears.

"Jealous," you insist with a smile, setting the otter back down into the water. It leaves a shell as a parting gift and disappears into the sea.

"I am not jealous." Neuvillette bends down to pick up the shell, unceremoniously shoving it into your hands. You know you've got him then, with his sudden lack of manners.

The Iudex can't be jealous. Especially not over something so silly. But his face is a mortifying shade of pink, both at your passive comments about his similarities to such an adorable creature and your accusations of envy.

Your free hand suddenly lurches forward and grabs him by the face, effectively holding him in place while he falls apart. There's a pretty softness in your expression as you look at him.

"Cute," you tease, and he's melting all over again.

(Neuvillette flops down on the couch that night, face down in your lap. You raise a brow, setting your book down to peer at him curiously.

He's unmoving for a pause, completely still to the point where you wonder if he just instantly fell asleep. But then he shuffles, turning onto his back to look up at you.

Ah, there it is. Something akin to puppy-dog eyes underneath his stone cold expression.

Your fingers scratch gently at his scalp as you continue to read, combing through his long hair. "Knew it," you muse with a smug expression.

He grumbles with red cheeks.)

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[polygonpiscine]

🐢📖 Raph sat cross-legged on the couch, a worn and dog-eared issue of “Jupiter Jim” in his hands. Leo and Donnie entered the room, their usual banter already in full swing.

Raph looked up from the comic, catching the tail end of Leo and Donnie’s debate. He grinned, always entertained by his brothers’ banter. “Ah, the age-old argument: science versus fiction. “Can’t we just enjoy the story for what it is?”

Leo shot a teasing grin at Donnie. “Exactly! Raph gets it. Besides, Jupiter Jim is a classic. You can’t beat the nostalgia.”

Donnie shook his head, unconvinced. “Nostalgia doesn’t make up for scientific inaccuracies, there are way more scientifically accurate space adventures out there grounded in reality, Jupiter Jim is overrated.”

Leo jumped to the comic’s defense. “Whoa, hold up! Jupiter Jim is totally old-school, the OG of space heroes. He’s, like, a classic legend. And his laser blaster? Way cooler than any gadget you’ve whipped up, Donnie.”

“please. Jupiter Jim's laser blasters happen to have a fancy design, that's all. They're not any better than my meticulously crafted gadgets because, let's face it, they wouldn't work!"

Leo grinned mischievously. “And yours aren’t any better, Donnie. They malfunction every time we’re in a tight spot.”

Donnie huffed. “Hey, those were isolated incidents! And I fixed them, didn’t I?”

Raph chimed in with a laugh. “lighten up! It’s just a comic. No need to overanalyze it.”

Donnie huffed, crossing his arms. “Fine, fine. But don’t come crying to me when you need a gadget to save your shell.”

Mikey popped his head in, curious. “What’s all the fuss about? Are we reading comics now?”

Raph gestured to the comic in his hands. “Yep, we’re diving into the wild adventures of Jupiter Jim. You in?”

Mikey's eyes lit up with excitement as he bounded over to the couch. "Absolutely! Nothing beats a good old-fashioned space adventure."

Without hesitation, Mikey plopped himself down right in Raph's lap, earning a grunt of surprise from his brother.

Raph chuckled, giving Mikey a playful shove. "Hey, watch it, Mikey! You're gonna crease the pages."

Mikey laughed, unbothered by Raph’s protest. “Relax, big bro! I’ll be gentle.”

Raph mock-glared at him before wrapping an arm around Mikey’s shoulder, pulling him closer. “Alright, but if Jupiter Jim gets crumpled, you’re buying me a new copy.”

“Always” Mikey beamed

"Alright, you knuckleheads. Chapter one: 'The Galactic Crusade,'" Raph announced in his rough voice, setting the scene. As he delved into the thrilling tale of Jupiter Jim's quest to save the galaxy, his brothers were captivated.

Leo's eyes sparkled with excitement as he imagined himself as the heroic Jupiter Jim, leading his team to victory. Donnie nodded along, though he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at some of the scientific inaccuracies woven into the story.

"Impressive storytelling," Donnie mused, "but I think Jupiter Jim’s laser blaster would need a lot more power to take down a black hole."

His comment hung in the air, earning him a glare from Leo. "Donnie, can't you just enjoy the story for once without dissecting every detail?"

Donnie shrugged, unfazed by Leo's glare. "Hey, I'm just saying. A black hole is no joke. It’s scientifically impossible for a laser blaster to close a black hole. The amount of energy required would be astronomical, far beyond the capabilities of any handheld weapon, no matter how 'fancy' its design."

Leo sighed, shaking his head. "Sometimes, Donnie, you just gotta let your imagination take over. It’s not always about the science."

As the story ended, Raph chuckled, closing the comic with a satisfied smile. “Taking it one chapter at a time, guys. But I’m glad you’re all enjoying it.”

Leo grinned at his brothers. "Thanks for indulging me, guys. 'Jupiter Jim' may not be scientifically accurate, but it's always an adventure."

Donnie smirked. "Ah, so you admit it's not accurate."

Leo winked. "Well, Donnie, I guess sometimes we just have to let our imaginations defy gravity, right?"

[fishymom-art]

you guys need to STOP ME

so uuuhhhhh um so SO SO APOSTLE BILL AU AIEUGHLIAEUHG

basically it's role switch for Bill and Ford. Ford appeared in the 2nd dimension and introduced himself as a muse and told Bill that he will change the world by showing Euclydia the 3rd dimension. It ends with Bill destroying Euclydia by accident. In reality, Ford uses other people to destroy dimensions one after another.

He got stuck in the Nightmare Realm after a malfunction in the Portal he used to travel between the worlds from the Earth. Meanwhile Bill actually "moved" to Earth after Euclydia was destroyed and protects that dimension from Ford. Every other version of the Earth (timelines and stuff) was already destroyed and this is the only one that remained.

I want to change Bill's color to something else but I didn't decide what yet- I'll see hghghg

[thepromptfoundry]

Hope you're ready for some out-of-this-world creativity, because we're having ourselves a Sci-Fi September at the Prompt Foundry!

If you use this list, please tag me here @thepromptfoundry, I’d love to see your writing and art!

Feel free to combine different days' prompts with each other, or combine them with other events! Use your OCs, your favorite characters from media, your own experiences, whatever tickles your fancy.

Respond to as many prompts as you want or as interest you, don’t worry about missing or skipping any. Remember, this is supposed to be fun!

If you have any questions or musings, check our FAQ, and if you don't find your answer, shoot me an ask.

Plain text list below the cut:

1 Five Minutes Into The Future 2 Flying Cars 3 Starships 4 Virtual Worlds 5 Blending Nature And Tech 6 Androids 7 Space Pirates 8 Laser Swords 9 Aliens Among Us 10 Total Automation 11 Ghosts In The Machine 12 Post-Apocalypse 13 Guardian Robots 14 First Contact 15 Government Secrets 16 Time Travel 17 Mutation 18 Universal Translator 19 Cyborgs 20 Raygun Gothic 21 Medical Experimentation 22 Genetic Recombination 23 Precognition 24 Technobabble 25 City In A Dome 26 Robot Rights 27 Transporter Malfunction 28 Clones 29 Suspended Animation 30 Ancient Super Technology

[gallusrostromegalus]

So could it be said that Seiretei is Yamamoto sneaking his unionizing underneath the nobles' noses, if I understand correctly what he pulled, by getting all the psychics signed up to have food and wages and some sort of job security?

That is *EXACTLY* what he's doing.

Well, its the extremely sexy and cunning plan his Wife Tsubaki came up with but fortunately for him she thinks it's equally hot shit when he's a huge fucking problem for the Bourgeoisie on her behalf.

After she leaves him, his plans aren't quite as... subtle, but the willingness to be a huge asshole for the benefit of future generations remains, and what he can't get my subtle manipulation or cunning tactics he's more than willing to achieve with strategic use of extreme violence.

His first few years trying to manage Zaraki are... Difficult. Yamamoto often muses on the old curse of teachers that one should suffer a student just like yourself, as he struggles with another catastrophic asshole who unfortunately has the physical chops and social skills to back his bullshit up. The Giant Bastard's monstrous Reiatsu is it's own problem but unfortunately Zaraki is also in possession of a startlingly cunning mind, a long memory and a fiendish sense of humor. Tsubaki's influence on the lad became clear in the first captain's meeting when Zaraki dog-walked him through naming specific statutes until he had to admit defeat and let him restock the 11th with every freak and monster in the Rukongai.

...a week after The Calamity In Hiroshima though, Yamamoto realizes that A Giant Bastard is *exactly* what he needs.

It's midnight when he arrives at the 11th Division to 'have a little walk' with Zaraki.

It's 1:04 AM when he gets over to the 4th Division where the man actually is.

As the Giant Bastard is redressing (and Unohana is indicating via Very Pointed Eye Contact that there will be Consequences (TM) for this interruption) Yamamoto explains he needs Zaraki to come with him on a trip to "A Place several people who legally I do not know the names of- much less their professions! are gathering in secret. They have tremendous sway in the governing of Soul Society, and somehow they have gotten ahold of a Schematic for The Device. I think it only appropriate that they be reassured that the construction of such a device should not even be considered, as there is More Than Enough Destructive Power between the two of us, isn't there?"

Zaraki peered down at him with the one functioning eyeball (and the malfunctioning one too, if the prickling in Yamamoto's thumbs was anything to go by) for a minute and he worried he might have to try again with smaller words when Zaraki grinned in comprehension.

"I get it now!" He laughed, patting Yamamoto's shoulder and the old man sighed with relief.

"-Gotta say, it was kinda buggin' me, but now I see what Madame Tsubaki saw in ya!" he laughed, and Yamamoto realized several decades too late that Zaraki's former Employer and his own Ex-wife were one in the same.

"C'mon Grandpa, show me whose head needs knocking into the outer districts."

[starlitwishes]

When Dottore grabbed onto his jaw, Scaramouche tensed.

While Dottore had just meant to turn his head to examine the wound on his head, Scaramouche found himself initially resisting for a moment. Damn this malfunction, making him act like a scared little kid when he hadn't ever been a child to begin with. He eventually forced himself to allow Dottore to do whatever he wanted with his head, even if the thought brought about a choked sob.

Dottore traced his fingers on the back of his head, and pain shot through the entirety of it. He yelped, every part of his body shaking as new tears formed and streamed down his face.

Then Dottore started musing out loud, talking about how humans who sustain heavy damage to their heads often have a similar 'malfunction' he was having. Something about that sounded off when Scaramouche applied that to normal humans, but at the very least, Dottore seemed to believe him that his attempt to kill him was a malfunction.

Scaramouche didn't know what he was going to do if Dottore didn't believe him.

But why would he not believe him--it wasn't really a lie, after all.

Yet those typically soothing words brought about no comfort to him. More proof that something was wrong, that he truly was having a malfunction--such words would normally soothe him after Dottore's experiments were over. While the aim was to make him stop crying, Scaramouche only cried more. His whole body was trembling so fiercely that he wondered if he was about to lose control of himself again.

Malfunction. Malfunction. Malfunction.

He was breaking. He was malfunctioning.

While when he threw himself off of the cliff on his own accord, Scaramouche convinced himself that even his disgusting desires to die were probably a result of the malfunction. Logically, it didn't make a whole lot of sense--but he told himself over and over that it was the only solution.

So again, he begged in a soft whimper;

"Please fix me. Please."

He'd expected silence at best, not apologies and pleas to be fixed. Despite the anger still simmering within him, Dottore recognized opportunity, and he would take it, to tighten his control over future incidents such as this one.

From what he'd observed, the emotions imitated by the puppet were equivalent to that of most humans. The body experienced pain much the same way, too, even if the damage was never so permanent. Its reaction hadn't been that unusual among test subjects, reaching the very end of their sanity after surviving so long, though Dottore couldn't understand the dramatics of the weak.

It must have stemmed from far before Scaramouche threw himself from a cliff. Yet if Scaramouche came to the conclusion that him at his most panicked was a result of malfunction, then Dottore wouldn't contradict him.

Instead he would fix him.

Dottore grabbed Scaramouche's jaw to turn his head, to check the back of it, the stitch work that had been reopened by slamming his head against the table. He hummed thoughtfully, running his finger down along the lines by which he had previously pried the puppet's skill open with.

It wasn't a necessary action; he wanted to make the puppet hurt. Scaramouche had stabbed him, after all, and Dottore still didn't feel satisfied with what he'd done thus far.

"If that's the case... well, I do specialize in this sort of thing, as you know," he said, his own emotions at last returning to center. He felt back in control, and since Scaramouche was inviting him to play to help, he had no reason to complain.

"In humans, a blow to the head can cause changes in mood, disorientation, personality changes... among other things. Perhaps your own construction can sustain these defects as well, and your fall caused such damage," Dottore mused aloud. "I was focused on reviving you when I took a look at the inside of your head, so there may be minor damage of something more delicate, or a misalignment I hadn't noticed..."

No, Scaramouche's emotions were more than likely normal, if unnecessary. That was just one more irrelevant detail, however.

"There, there, now." It was a statement that should be soothing, if said by anyone else. "No need for more of these tears. If there's something in you that needs to be repaired, I'm more than capable of fixing it."

[all-0f-the-above]

if Bill had thought ONE step ahead he could've made a deal with Fidds. then he could've gotten Ford to do whatever he wanted

get Fidds to feel insecure about his intellect or charm or something and have Bill possess him when he's nervous about fucking up his relationship with Ford

can you IMAGINE? there's the muse like usual and then there's Fiddleford, who seems to be supportive about this whole project, even if he does have some weird memory lapses. oddly enough, when they are intimate or loving, Fidds gets really nervous then totally confident. Ford waves it off because the other personality is alluring in its own way

then the memory gun would have been invented by Ford to destroy Bill and, in the process, erased Fidds' memories

the PAIN from Ford. he has to, effectively, kill the one he loves to save the universe. to lure him in by making Fidds nervous and triggering Bill taking over for him. kissing Bill/Fiddleford (FiddBill?) and cradling his head only to pull the trigger on the memory gun. whispering "I'm sorry" right after he blasts him

knowing Ford, he'd drop Fidds off at Emma and Tate's, explaining extreme amnesia, and wallow in his sadness back at home. he publishes the breakthrough paper and patents some of his technology, all under Fidds' name. it was his work, anyway. and the Mcgucket family doesn't deserve to lose their income just because of Ford's decision.

Fiddleford doesn't remember Ford because he's not there to trigger his memory and Ford never checks in on him directly. he surveils his house, sure, and watches him from afar, but never gets into direct contact with him.

Ford could have even ended up in the multiverse this way. he calls Stanley, asking for his help to disperse the journals like before, but, like before, his dimensional portal malfunctions when Stan confronts him in the lab.

when Stanley meets Fiddleford, his introduces himself as Stanford Pines, but the only familiar thing about him is the cut of his jaw and his build. Fidds could've sworn they'd met before, but so many things about this guy seem unfamiliar, he brushes it off as weird deja vu.

he's been getting that ever since the accident. he used to work for Stanford, but somehow everything he remembers is wrong. this one doesn't wear glasses, nor does he have special hands. his voice is hoarser and he isn't interested in taking walks around Gravity Falls' forests. Fidds read about it somewhere, that your brain makes up memories where there are none. figures his has done that with everything he's forgotten.

when Ford comes back, it feels like he's got a word on the tip of his tongue. he knows something, it's just not coming forward. the new fella ignores him a lot. that's alright- not everyone has to be friendly. but when he hears this guy is the real Stanford, the one he worked for, Fiddleford gets curious and asks him about the accident. he figures he has a right to know, and if he has to guilt the guy a little, well you gotta do what you gotta do.

"please, call me Ford" makes him remember their college dorm room.

"that's plausible" and he can recall their first meeting.

when memories rush back of their college years, Fiddleford gets severe vertigo trying to stand. Ford's hands holding him steady reminds them of their first embrace.

the blush right underneath Ford's glasses and fidgety nervousness send Fiddleford back to the first time they kissed, intoxicated one minute, sober the next.

he falls to the floor, getting a headache from all of the remembering. Ford offers to lift him up and bring him to the car. a split second after being pulled up by the armpits, he recalls the first time they made out on purpose. it was after a fight on something trivial. both of them were just being hardheaded, and Ford pushed him to the ground. after profusely apologizing, Ford kneeled down. face to face like that, the air disappeared between them. neither were looking at the others' eyes. by the time they glanced back up, the fight was over.

a few chaste kisses on the floor turned into Ford heaving him up to stand. what happened after replayed into present day Fiddleford's mind as he was held steady by an older Ford asking, "are you alright? oh god I knew it was too early. I shouldn't have met with you I knew-"

he stops talking when Fidds puts a hand on his cheek, "we were close once."

Ford didn't dare breathe, "yes, once."