#I Choose Dare

[stars-and-darkness]

many thanks to @garglyswoof & @morningstargirl666 for tagging me in this game. the rules are to repost an older fic, so i’m gonna share the funniest thing i ever wrote in my life:

I Choose Dare

An ode to how Aang, under the power of a mighty temptress, was forced to grow a beard.

Oh, and the birth of his first child, too, he supposes.

tagging anyone who wants in <3

What international peace summits include for most of people is a lot of arguing, too much pomp, enough politics to make one's head ache, a needless amount of balls and banquets ... the list is both endless and ever-expanding.

What international peace summits include for the six of them is finally reconvening after far too long separated, tearful hugs, and doing activities very few outsiders could imagine the people of their status and influence doing; pranking dignitaries, playing board games, sparring, or, as they were doing now--playing Truth or Dare.

It was Sokka's idea. Well, the alcohol was Toph's, after she reminded them that the reason they haven't played the game in so long was because dares like kiss x person and truths like who do you have a crush on? lost their charm when they all started dating and/or marrying each other. She thought booze might spice things up, so what, sue her!

The kids were all asleep, it was the last day of the summit, all important decisions were made. People being hungover tomorrow morning wouldn't change anything!

Her friends, being her friends, had to ruin it of course.

Fangirl failed her first. She didn't say anything, but as the night progressed, she made it perfectly clear she wasn't getting drunk.

Sweetness only had a small shot glass. She said it was because someone needed to stay sober and responsible. Boooo sobriety and responsibility!

Sparky outright refused to drink. As a reason for this travesty, he named his young twins, which was just a hit below the belt, but Toph saw right through him. He just didn't want to draw attention to the fact that he was a first class lightweight.

Only Sokka and Aang stayed in her corner.

A few rounds of the game passed with relative ease, until the bottle (a fine firewhiskey Sparky gifted her for her twenty-sixth birthday, now empty through the united efforts of Fan Girl, Sweetness, Snoozles, Twinkles and herself) landed on her ... and Aang.

Twinkles's heartbeat spiked. Toph felt great satisfaction at the fact that, in the fourteen years since they'd met, she'd trained her boyfriend well enough to have him anticipate he was about to be wrecked.

"Twinkles, my love," she said, in an unbearably sweet voice, "truth or dare?"

She felt him swallow. "Dare."

The grin that spread her lips truly was terrifying. "So you chose dare."

"I did."

.

"I dare you," her smile widened, "to grow a beard."

"Toph ..."

"A beard," she continued. No one else dared breathe.

Aang gulped again. "When ... when can I shave it?"

She grinned again. "Who said anything about ever?"

"Toph, please," he whispered, weak. "Please."

"All right." She wrecked her brain for an idea. Long ago, when she was a kid, her governess would read fairy tales to her every night before bed.

Inspiration struck.

When she spoke again, it was in a throaty, mystic voice. "You may free yourself of this curse with the birth of your first child," she announced. "Should you attempt to rid yourself of the beard sooner, you will have wrought upon yourself the fury of the Greatest Eartbender in the World."

No pleas would rescind her judgement. No amount of begging, groveling, scraping.

Toph Beifong was unmoved.

.

"Avatar Aang!" said King Chinou, the squinty-eyed monarch of a minor Earth Kingom city-state. "Your appearance is ... unexpected."

Aang wished he could say the king meant his arrival was unexpected; that would let him pretend for just a while longer. But Chinou had invited the Avatar himself, and therefore there was no confusion about what he meant.

It was Aang's physical appearance that was so off-putting. The abomination on his face has been there for months now, and everywhere he went, the reaction was the same. People stared. People laughed, and then pretended they weren't laughing, because who would dare to make fun of the Avatar, right?

Toph-monkey-feathering-Beifong, that's who!

(Spirits above, he loved her.)

He resisted the urge to scratch at his chin. The terrible thing was awful and hot and itchy. No one in their right mind would ever voluntarily have one.

He gave King Chinou a neutral look. "What is the reason you've summoned me, Majesty?"

The king snapped out of his trance soon enough, and the work began.

Three days later, after an oddly tense dispute between two rival merchants of cabbage was settled, Aang all but collapsed into bed.

He and Toph didn't exactly have a permanent address. He was a nomad, after all, and Toph wasn't particularly attached to any single space. They lived everywhere: the Air Temples, her metalbending academy, random inns all over the world, the Fire Palace, Sokka and Suki's house ... wherever they found themselves. This particular lodging was an outpost of the Beifong family.

Yeah, Aang thought, fingering the satin sheets under him, it shows.

"How was the lovely King Chinou?" Toph asked. He could hear the grin in her voice.

Chinou may or may not have banished her from his territory after she called him a spineless fuck-faced beetle-tapeworm.

The context, she'd impassionately tell him every time he tried to pull the story out of her, didn't matter.

Aang let out a long groan. Toph chuckled.

"He had me settle a dispute between two cabbage merchants. And one of then just kept giving me a side-eye, like I'd killed his mother or something!"

"Well, I have some good news for you then," she said, turning onto her side and promting him to face her.

"Oh?"

"Oh, yeah," she said. "You'll finally be allowed to shave that abomination off your chin."

"Urk?" He didn't recognize the sound he made. "So ... you changed your mind?"

"Well ... not quite yet. In nine months."

Aang frowned. "You'll ... change your mind in nine months?"

Toph rolled her eyes. Sokka taught her to do that a few years ago, and she hasn't stopped since.

"No, Twinkles, I'm fucking pregnant."

Aang sat up. "Are you messing with me, T? Because I honestly can't tell."

Toph rolled her eyes again. Her hair, silky and inky black, was unbound, spilling down the pillow. Her sleep clothes were his own clothes, so loose on her small form it seemed she would slip out of them at any moment.

She reached up and took a hold of his hand, pressing it to her abdomen.

Aang didn't hesitate to call some water to himself from the vase on his nightstand. He never had Katara's talent at healing (or any other part of waterbending, really), but as the water beneath his palm glowed and he could feel a small, impossibly small, heartbeat.

There was a baby in there.

.

His baby, their baby, their own baby, to cherish and love and protect.

His throat was closed up. He couldn't say a word. But then Toph's small hand squeezed his, and he knew no words were necessary.

After several hours and many death threats, most of which had been directed at Aang himself, the tiny little Gyatso Beifong came into the world.

He really was minuscule, with his Dad's steel-grey eyes and a tuft of his Mum's inky-black hair atop his otherwise bald head. He had two eyes, two ears, one nose, ten fingers and ten toes. Aang should know. He'd counted them all, over and over again.

He'd seen babies before--there was Hope, back in the Serpent's pass, a multitude of newborns and toddlers whose parents sought the Avatar's blessing, and, in the recent years, his friends' own children.

But, watching the sleeping bundle in his arms, a bundle that had been screaming relentlessly up until half an hour ago, and Aang took him into his arms and out onto the balcony, he decided he'd never really seen a baby before, because surely this absolutely flawless, perfect, tiny human being was the standard to which all other babies aspired.

Toph was asleep in the bedroom just beyond the balcony doors. All those death threats were exhausting business, after all. Oh, and childbirth too, he supposed.

"Hello, Gyatso," he whispered, tickling his finger over the baby's stomach. The giggle that burst out of his mouth melted Aang's heart. "Who's the cutest boy ever? You are!"

Gyatso didn't answer verbally; he was, after all, just a newborn.

"And I am so, so glad to finally meet you! Yes I am! Yes I am!" Truly, Gyatso's laugh must've been the purest, most perfect sound in the world. "And not only because I can now finally shave this monstrosity off."

[pretty-weird-ideas]

Episode Seven and White Tears

The trial's allegory is not just a lynching, it is a lynching for a Black person entering a relationship with a respected White man, and proceeding to leave him. It's not a murder case, as seen through the show, there's actually very little emphasis on the murder in the episode in regards to Louis. The emphasis is on his "seduction", his "ungiving nature", and "refusing to give his body". It is a public humiliation and lynching for turning a respected white man down. The crime isn't hurting Lestat, it's hurting his feelings.

Lestat doesn't speak to the audience about the pain of his throat being slit. He speaks of loneliness, the audience chants and jeers about how cheating was justified if Louis isn't putting out. Santiago isn't talking about the murder, he's talking about how much of a sexual deviant Louis is the second he is introduced. The show is telling us what's important to the case, and what language hurt and stuck out to Louis the most. The deciding factor in the eyes of the audience, the story that Sam and Santiago are trying to tell, is that the crime is heinous because Louis turned down Lestat.

The audience isn't mad about the murder, they're mad about Lestat's emotions, they're mad about the betrayal, and they are mad that Louis and Claudia didn't put up with things. The case built against the two of them isn't based on violence, it's based on white tears. Louis isn't called a monster for slitting Lestat's throat, the audience member calls him a monster for turning down Lestat's advances.

The show is clear that the trial isn't really about the murder, it is about Louis not "giving enough" for Lestat. It's about Louis asking Lestat to turn Claudia and literally bargaining his happiness where he literally gets on his knees and says "I'll be happy for you, I will never leave you if you do this for me". It's never been about the murder, it's quite literally just shaming Louis for not "loving a good man who might be abusive".

At the end of the day, the trial as framed and written by Sam is building a case off of Lestat's tears, not actual physical harm.

Like my skin is crawling but also the show is so chilling with how it portrayed the "He's a good man so hold your tongue and endure! Lest you read as ungrateful".

Anyways someone take the laptop from me before this becomes my life.

[reunitedinterlude]

summer phantasy: the album

tracks 5-8 (x)

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

In English, we say, "Toxicity."

In TES, we say, "Do the right thing. Paarthurnax deserves to die."

[clairedaring]

Last time, the heaven decided your fate. So that's why you're facing all of this again. But today, you can choose it yourself. If you want to suffer and remain in this cycle, just return to the body. But if you wanna get out of this cycle, you can walk out that door.

MY STAND-IN (2024) | 1.09 // 1.11

[stealingyourbones]

Not sure if this has been suggested before but what do you think about a DP x DC Cross where the JL discover Amity because the "It's Not Gay if he's Dead" joke escapes containment into mainstream? Also I love your blog! You're awesome.

aaaaa thank you sm hun! I really appreciate that :D I'm glad you enjoy my funky lil blog!

And now, I threw this idea at a fellow who is simply me with prompts but even more unhinged and they wrote a thing. I present to you, This:

------

Escaping containment implies that the content got leaked somehow. 

Maybe after so long with dealing with ghosts on their own, especially with ghosts that can control and use tech the people of Amity Park decide to self isolate. Phantom and Red Huntress are considered the only main heroes allowed in Amity, one out of pride and two out of concern of a ghost possessing an foreign hero. 

There was a fight and the tech isolation software glitched or a satellite picks up something on accident, letting a small leak occur. Nothing major, just a small joke. 

A blurry photo of a white haired teenager with a fancam like edit around him and the words "It's Not Gay if he's Dead." 

Which on its own wouldn't have taken off very much on the internet, but someone pointed out that the teenager was wearing what was very obviously a hero outfit. Leading to people wondering just who exactly this hero is or was. 

So they dig, and it turns out the “one” leak wasn't the only one to happen. 

The internet finds out there's not just one meme. There's hundreds of them. All originating from a single midwestern city and mostly focused around one person, the white haired teenager that is referred to as Phantom in most memes. 

Theres edits of a female musician with bright blue hair with text saying “that moment when a dead girl is your bisexual awakening” and “Its not a crush on a villian if shes not alive.” 

There's even photos of these slime-like creatures. With dozens of different memes referring to them. Varying from calling them green pigeons, to talking about tossing them like a sports ball.  

Theres even a photo of Dash and most of the football team are wearing group shirts that all say “It's Not Gay if he's Dead” with Phantoms logo on it, half as a joke and half because some of them would definitely date Phantom if they could. 

It's not even the Justice League that finds the jokes first, it's the younger generation of heroes. 

(It's how Tim asks Kon for a date. He sends a meme with Danny getting flunged in the worlds most tumbling superhero pose with the below text "It's not gay if he's dead." Tim immediately sends another text "But it is gay if he's an alien, 10pm picnic date?")

The different memes get passed around, none of them taking them that seriously, until it gets to Batman. One of the memes is sent in the bat group chat by one of the Bat kids to ask Jason about getting group Batburger later. “If your hero’s dead its not gay, it’s just hero worship, even if you want to meet him behind the Nasty Burger.” 

It's the hyper specific wording that gets Batman to look into it. He only finds the memes, nothing else. No town called Amity Park, no hero called Phantom, no trace outside of a reference to a defunct and wiped completely clean government branch and references to a nonexist law. 

This leads him to contact the Justice League, including the JL Dark, for a meeting. 

Surprisingly quite a few members recognize the teen outside of the memes. Flash, Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, Aquaman, and some of the JLD. The Flash refuses to say anything due to timeline continuum dangers. Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Martian Manhunter mention someone like him appearing in ancient texts, but nothing beyond that. The JLD that know are physically and contractually unable to say much beyond Phantom being a hero and very important. 

It’s Captain Marvel that genuinely knows anything about him. “That's Danny, he's pretty cool. He's even helped me out a few times!”

The rest of the JL are surprised, Marvel gets more questions and answers some of them. He doesn't share the knowledge that he's helped Billy at handling the whole secret child hero thing, and that he's welcome in Amity. Just enough information to make the League stop looking into Phantom, Ember, Cujo, all of Amity. 

It works, mostly. 

Batman has never been one to let sleeping dogs lie…

-From Bones’ GhostWriter, S.

[sophsun1]

Queer as Folk – 2.11: The Wedding

[slay-the-heroine]

"Do you not know if you're "important enough"? Do you know who you are?"

The Narrator:

She tilts her head and grins at you.

"I'm a hero!"

"But assassination is when an important political figure gets killed or something, right? I don't know if I'm important enough to call my murder "assassination.""

"Uh, anyway."

The Narrator:

To be fair, she is important. In a bad way.

Voice of the Prince:

Would this be an assassination, then?

The Narrator:

I'm going to ask you this, and I want you to answer honestly: Why in the world would that matter?

"Other than that, I... Don't really know. I've been here for a while."

"Nobody deserves this. I'm getting you out, if you'll let me."

The Narrator:

What? No!

"Wait, really? Oh, thank the heavens- you really know how to keep a girl on the edge of her seat..."

The Narrator:

You're making a huge mistake.

Voice of the Prince:

This is the right thing to do.

The Narrator:

You walk up to the chains binding the Heroine to the wall and give them a tug.

The Narrator:

They're large and heavy, far too solid for you to even imagine trying to break them apart.

"Wait, you don't have the key? Sorry I assumed you were my warden."

Voice of the Prince:

I'd hate to have to do to something painful for the sake of freedom.

The Narrator:

This entire concept will be painful if you do anything to aide in her escape. She isn't supposed to leave. There is no key, and no way to free her.

"Did you see a key when you came in? Or anything?"

Voice of the Prince:

There wasn't a key, but we could use the blade as a last resort to get her out.

- - -

The Narrator:

You attempt to make your way out of the basement, but the door at the top of the stairs slams shut. You hear the click of a lock sliding into place.

Voice of the Prince:

What? Someone locked us down here too?

The Narrator:

You pull on the door, and beg whatever is on the other side, but get no response.

The Narrator:

You're here to slay the Heroine, and you won't leave until the task is done.

- - -

The Narrator:

You make your way to the bottom of the stairs. This would have been so much easier if you had just taken the blade like you were supposed to.

Voice of the Prince:

We tried to get it back.

The Narrator:

You should've gotten it in the first place. Now look at the mess you're in.

"I... heard the door slam. Is someone else here?"

The Narrator:

Her eyebrows furrow, and her voice rises with panicked confusion.

"If it weren't for these chains, I'm sure some old door wouldn't be a problem."

The Narrator:

She lifts her shackled hand, and dons a determined look on her face, before she starts to bite at the base of her thumb.

The Narrator:

Her face expresses pain as she only barely breaks the skin. From behind you, a sound startles you. The clang of bouncing metal.

The Narrator:

It's the blade from upstairs. You're not sure how it made its way down here, but if there's a time to strike, it's now.

Voice of the Prince:

She didn't hesitate to hurt herself to be free. It'd be better to use it as that last resort I was talking about.

The Narrator:

You won't like what happens if you do that.

>>>

[mind-less-boy]

Watching a clip of splinter saying Leo was the new leader, obviously everyone was surprised

But donnie just looked lowkey offended

[vigilskeep]

one thing abt visibly chasind morrigan that’s super interesting is that it makes your ability to ask if flemeth is really her mother actually makes sense when it’s startling how fereldan flemeth looks and dresses when you’re brought there

[wild-at-mind]

I would honestly call the left's inability to accomodate people with morality-based OCD compulsions an accessibility issue at this point.

[strangeasf]

I really truly don't get this whole bucktommy and buddie rivalry.. I mean I love buddie and I really like bucktommy and don't understand the problem of liking and rooting for both. yeah, at the same time. what happened, everyone forgot about multishipping? why can't two ships coexist in peace??

[vulpinesaint]

the hogwarts legacy conversation really highlights something that i think usually stays hidden under the polite facade of liberalism. in the past days, weeks, months, it has become increasingly more apparent that there are SHOCKINGLY few trans allies in spaces which pride themselves on inclusivity and acceptance. as liberal people whose allyship so far has been limited to offering pronouns in their bio and maybe putting an infographic on their insta story once in a while are pressed to make choices to actively support trans people, it becomes increasingly clear that what they offered was never allyship at all. it becomes increasingly clear that their 'allyship' was contingent on all trans people being nice and unobtrusive and separate from other issues. people are dropping their illusions of supporting trans people shockingly quickly when confronted with the choice to actively harm people or not play a video game. as pat loller described it, they are presented with a trolley problem with trans people on one side and jk rowling/the (already paid) game devs on the other. one side will not be damaged. the train will take them on to their next destination, in fact, with very little fanfare. the train will crush the trans people. you have to actively pull the lever to crush the trans people. so-called allies are actively pulling the lever and then getting upset when trans people get upset about being DIRECTLY HARMED. how dare we speak up about the issues we face. how dare we be upset about the direct disregard and harm that people who claimed to support us are now foisting upon us. how dare we be messy about that. we are being actively legislated out of existence, and people who said they were our allies are abandoning us in droves for their much larger problem of... not being able to play a game. it's honestly fucking comedic. your allyship means nothing if it comes with conditions. your allyship means nothing if you are not willing to take action for the sake of your allies. your allyship means nothing if you are not willing to LITERALLY SIT STILL AND NOT DO A SINGLE ACTION for the sake of your allies. the trans community asks people NOT TO PLAY THE GAME. and people look us in the eyes and tell us that a few hours of antisemitic gameplay is worth more than our lives. fine. whatever. we see how it is. glad that they're finally being honest, at least. if you play hogwarts legacy or engage with harry potter i hope you die.

[triglycercule]

i need the murder time trio to drink eachother's blood after causing an injury. that's so romantic in both my eyes and theirs. i need them to bite eachother and claw at eachother and injure eachother and hurt. and then when they try to patch eachother up make the injury hurt more before finally wrapping it up with a bandaid and a kiss or a lingering glance or DARE I SAY a hug (because imo a hug is much more vulnerable than a kiss). peak of romantism i dare say

i need them to use violence against eachother as a way to keep them grounded or to just let out anger towards eachother i need dust to gouge out horror's eye and then give horror his own to replace it. i need horror to squeeze killer's soul until he can feel the pain but in exchange killer gets to use a knife inside his head i want killer and dust to fight everyday and soon their bones will be littered with scars of the other's attacks I NEED THEM TO HURT EACHOTHER!!!!!!

they share pain and release anger and frustration and all that stuff onto eachother but dw dw this is how they love. but they do genuinely dislike eachother (because no matter how much they love one another they STILL can never manage to get over their differences and that's what makes them PEAK) but they also care for the other two and in their fucked up minds this is a good relationship. not because its not toxic because it definitely fucking is but because everyone is satisfied

i love murder time trio poly

[pfhwrittes]

for ✨♥️🗡 anon.

a little drabble for the retail hell au. all fluff, no TWs needed i think. female!reader. "love" used as a pet name and john calls the reader a "good girl".

pairing(s): john price x female reader, simon riley x female reader (or even john price x female reader x simon riley if you squint)

600ish words; barely edited again.

-- it’s been a slow start to your shift on the checkouts. your manager for some reason has overscheduled the team, so you’re drifting between the customer service desk which is already covered and the checkouts which is fully staffed. truth be told, you're a little bit confused. you’ve never seen this many people working on front end. you make another slow circuit from the checkouts, offering to take carol off for a break if she wants to, and up to the customer service desk where you chat with megan for a few minutes before a customer wanders over with a bit of receipt paper. 

you’re on your way back to the checkouts when john gestures you over to join him and simon where they’ve been watching the checkouts discreetly from the end of one of the aisles. 

“y’look bored as fuck” simon states matter-of-factly when you join them. john rolls his eyes and sighs at simon’s bluntness before shooting you a small smile.

“what he means to ask love, is if you’d like to do a job for us?” john’s still smiling at you and you’re very briefly distracted by the way the skin around his eyes crinkles. you wonder if he knows you’ll say yes to anything he asks if he shoots you a smile. probably not. he’s got most of the store a-flutter for his blue eyes and old-fashioned charms as it is. 

you twist the bottom edge of your gaudy orange apron between your fingers as you fight against your initial reaction of yes sir, anything you want! and the more sensible approach. 

“what’s the job?” you ask, flicking your eyes over to simon who as always looks like he’d rather pull out his own teeth than be standing on the shopfloor. despite his gruff manner, you quite like simon. he’s funny underneath the front he puts on in front of customers and members of management he doesn’t respect. 

“babysittin’” simon fires off with a completely straight face, folding his massive arms across his chest. you get the impression that he’s trying to look more imposing that he already does. all it does is pull the slightly dusty black polo top he’s wearing tighter over his massive chest.

“babysitting?” you repeat dumbly. you fidget with your apron again and turn your attention back to john hoping that you don’t look as flushed as you feel. 

“i was hoping you wouldn’t mind givin’ simon a hand in the warehouse today, love.” john explains. 

“‘specially considerin’ your prick of a manager’s fucked up the schedule.” simon adds with a scoff. “man couldn’t fill out a rota even if the only thing he’s gotta do is sign his fuckin’ name on the top.”

you press your lips together to stop yourself from smiling at simon. he’s right, after all this isn’t the first time your manager has mucked up the schedules, but you won’t give him the satisfaction. he spots the way you tamp down on your smile and his lips tick up in a brief smirk in response. 

john reaches up to scrub his hand over his beard and your attention is caught by the way he purses his lips. you miss the glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he clears his throat and you look away hastily to look over at the checkouts. 

“so what d’ya think then? gonna give us a hand? hm?”

you nod quickly, aware that carol is glancing over and shooting you a dirty smirk that you hope john and simon haven’t seen yet. 

“good girl. follow us then.”

and well, who are you to disagree when john places the flat of his hand on your lower back just above the apron strings and simon becomes a long line of warmth at your side as they walk you towards the warehouse.

[aeonophagic]

me, the jester, asked the court if yaoi could bloom even on a battlefield. the court was so kind as to even help me care for the fields for it to sprout and then bloom — is it my fault?

bonus