roachpatrol:

prokopetz:

I’m usually pretty particular about the sorts of traits that get assigned as humanity’s “special thing” in sci-fi settings, but I have to admit that I have a weakness for settings where the thing humanity is known for is something tiny and seemingly inconsequential that it wouldn’t normally occur to you to think of as a distinctive trait.

Like, maybe we have a reputation as a bunch of freaky nihilists because we’re the only species that naturally has the capacity to be amused by our own misfortune.

Alien: Why are you happy? You’ve been seriously injured!

Human: *struggling to control laughter* Yeah, but I can imagine what that must have looked like from the outside, and it’s pretty hilarious.

Alien:

Captain XXlr’y: First Officer Jane The Human, your olifactory protuberance is severely damaged! Why is this a matter for mirthful celebration???

First Officer Jane The Human: A SPARKLY LITTLE POMERANIAN THING WITH A GODDAMN UNICORN HORN CHASED ME STRAIGHT INTO A WALL! OH MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT? I RAN STRAIGHT INTO THE WALL. 

Captain XXlr’y: Yes I just observed this sequence of events! It was terrible!

 First Officer Jane The Human: OKAY WHO GOT THAT ON CAMERA, I WANNA SEE. 

Captain XXlr’y: So you more fully understand that this is a situation you should never get into again?

First Officer Jane The Human: SO I CAN SEND THE VIDEO TO MY MOM!

Captain XXlr’y: For… for the solicitation of maternal concern…?

First Officer Jane The Human: NO, BECAUSE SHE’LL THINK IT’S HILARIOUS TOO. 

geekhyena:

aiglet12:

knitmeapony:

slothlorien:

knitmeapony:

ashioxander-hamilton:

beka-tiddalik:

brosequartz:

fireandwonder:

shenko:

beka-tiddalik:

katyakora:

robininthelabyrinth:

oneiriad:

I wonder if, in superhero universes, the villains ever get contacted by those “Make a Wish Foundation” and similar people.

I mean, the heroes do, of course they do, kids who want to meet Spiderman or Superman or get to be carried by the Flash as he runs through Central City for just thirty seconds.

But surely there are also the kids, who – because they are kids and sometimes kids are just weird – decide that what they really, really want is to meet a supervillain. Because he’s scary or she’s awesome or that freeze ray is just really, really cool, you know?

Oh, man, that would absolutely be a thing. The heroes would be so weirded out by it. The villains with codes of ethics would totally band together to force the villains without one (should they be the one requested) to do their part for the cause.

But imagine the person who has to track down the villains and organise everything?

Like, the first time it happens, no one actually thinks it’s possible, but one of the newbies volunteers to at least try. They get lucky, the kid wants to meet one of the villains who is well known to have a personal code of ethics (eg one of the rogues), and it takes them weeks to track the villain down to this one bar they’ve been seen at a few times, plus a week of staking out said bar, but they finally find them.

So they approach the villain, very politely introduce themselves and explain the situation, finishing with an assurance that, should the villain agree, no law enforcement or heroes will be informed of the meeting.

The villain, assuming it’s a joke, laughs in their face.

At this point, the poor volunteer, who has giving up weeks of their time and no small amount of effort to track down this villain, all so a sweet little girl can meet the person who somehow inspired them, well, at this point the employee sees red.

They explode, yelling at this villain about the little girl who, for some unknown reason, absolutely loved them, had a hand-made stuffed toy of them and was inspired by their struggle to keeping fighting her own and wasn’t the villain supposed to have ethics? The entire bar is witness to this big bad villain getting scolded by some bookish nobody a foot shorter than them.

When the volunteer is done, the villain calmly knocks back their drink, grips the volunteers shoulder and drags them outside. The bar’s patrons assume that person will never be seen again, the volunteer included. But once they’re outside, the villain apologises for their assumption, asks for the kid’s details so they can drop by in the near future, not saying when for obvious reasons. They also give the very relieved volunteer a phone number to call if someone asks for them again.

A week later, the little girl’s room is covered in villain merchandise, several expensive and clearly stolen gifts and she is happily clutching a stack of signed polaroids of her and the villain.

The next time a kid asks to meet a villain, guess who gets that assignment?

Turns out, the first villain was quite touched by the experience of meeting their little fan, and word has gotten around. The second villain happily agrees when they realise it’s the same volunteer who asked the other guy. Unfortunately, one of the heroes sees the villain entering the kid’s hospital and obviously assumes the worst. They rush in, ready to drag the villain out, but the volunteer stands in their way. The hero spends five minutes getting scolded for trying to stop the villain from actually doing a good thing and almost ruining the kid’s wish. The volunteer gets a reputation among villains as someone who can not only be trusted with personal contact numbers but who will do everything they can to keep law enforcement away during their visits.

The volunteer has a phonebook written in cypher of all the villain’s phone numbers, with asterixes next to the ones to call if any other villains give them trouble.

Around the office, they gain the unofficial job title of The Villain Wrangler.

The heroes are genuinely flabbergasted by The Villain Wrangler. At first, some of the heroes try to reason with them.

Heroes: “Can’t you, just, give us their contact details? They’ll never even have to know it was you.”

The Villain Wrangler: “Yeah sure, <rollseyes> because all these evil geniuses could never possibly figure out that it’s me who happens to be the common thread in the sudden mass arrests. Look man, even if it wouldn’t get me killed, it would disappoint the kids. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the kids would you?”

Heroes: “… no~ but…”

The Villain Wrangler: “Exactly.”

Eventually, one of the anti-hero types gets frustrated, and decides to take a stand. They kidnap the Villain Wrangler and demand that they give up the contents of the little black book of Villains, or suffer the consequences. It’s For the Greater Good, the anti-hero insists as they tie the Villain Wrangler to a pillar.

The Villain Wrangler: “You complete idiot, put me back before someone figures out that I’m missing.”

Anti-hero: “…excuse me?”

The Villain Wrangler: “Ugh, do I have to spell this out for you? Do you actually want your secret base to be wiped off the map? With us in it? Sugarsticks, how long has it been? If they get suspicious, they check in, and then if I miss a check-in, they tend to come barging into wherever I am just to prove that they can, even if they figure out that they’re not being threatened by proxy. Suffice to say, Auntie Muriel really regretted throwing my phone into the pool when she strenuously objected to me answering it during family time. If they think for even one moment that I’ve given them up, they won’t hesitate to obliterate both of us from their potential misery. You do know some of the people in my book have like missiles and djinni and elemental forces at their disposal, right?”

Anti-hero: “Wait, what? I thought they trusted you?!”

The Villain Wrangler: “Trust is such a strong word!”

Villain: “Indeed.”

Anti-hero: “Wait, wha-” <slumps over, dart sticking out of neck>

The Villain Wrangler: “Thanks. I thought they were going to hurt me.”

Villain: “You did well. You kept them distracted, and gave us time to follow your signal.” <cuts Villain Wrangler free>

The Villain Wrangler: <rubbing circulation back into limbs> “Yeah well, you know me, I do whatever I have to. So I’ll see you Wednesday at four at St Martha’s? I’ve got an 8yo burns unit patient recovering from her latest batch of skin grafts who could really use a pep talk.”

Villain: “… of course. Yes… I… yes.”

The Villain Wrangler: “I just think you could really reach her, you know?”

Villain: <unconsciously runs fingers over mask> “I… yes, but, what should I say?”

The Villain Wrangler: “Whatever advice you think you could have used the most just after.”

Villain: <hoists Anti-hero over shoulder almost absently> “….yes.”

The Villain Wrangler wasn’t lying to the Anti-hero. They know that the more ruthless villains would not hesitate if they thought for one second that the Anti-hero would betray them.

But this is not the first time the Villain Wrangler has gone to extreme lengths to protect their identities.

Trust is a strong word. The Villain Wrangler earned it, and is terrified by what it could mean.

My first official deadpool headcanon is this. This this this.

Okay but this whole concept actually makes a lot of sense, because villains are a lot more likely to be disfigured/disabled/use adaptive devices (bc ableist tropes), so of course, say, a child amputee is going to be more interested in the villain with a robot arm who almost destroyed New York than the heroes that took him down.

Also, imagine one of the kids gets better, and a few years down the line becomes a villain themself, except their crimes are things like smuggling chemo drugs across the border for families that can’t afford treatment, or stealing from corrupt businessmen to make donations to underfunded hospitals (idk this turned into a Leverage AU or something) and every time the heroes encounter her, they’re like “oh no. she’s getting away. curses. welp, nothing we can do.” Though it isn’t that she can’t take them on; bc of course once the villain from way back when found out what she was up to, he started helping/training her. 

“I thought they just hired someone to dress up and pretend to be you,” she says, amazed, when he reveals himself. “I didn’t think they actually got the real you!”

Every year the Villain Wrangler gets a very expensive gift basket from the pair.

and for the kids who don’t get better the villains are there too, they show up to every funeral, they bear too small coffins on their shoulders and the heroes stand aside

they are fierce with grieving families assuring them that their child will not be forgotten, and they don’t balk at negative emotions, they don’t tell people to be strong or “celebrate their child’s life,” because these parents have every right to their grief and anger

and the lost children are never forgotten. flowers appear on graves during birthdays and anniversaries, heroes find pictures of those kids and they carefully take them down and ensure they’re delivered to the villain’s cell, and a few villains can be seen with friendship bracelets wrapped around their wrists the cops have learned not to try and take them off

And then one day, one of the evil geniuses who happens to specialise in inducing bizarre genetic mutations meets a young fan who was born with a rare genetic disorder that is slowly killing them, and realises that they can help.

Another, who created their own exosuit, talks to a young fan and suddenly understands how much the technology that they have built for themselves could revolutionise quality of life for people with muscular dystrophy, or paraplegia, or other disorders that confine people to wheelchairs with little mobility.

A third thinks of a way that their nanobots could be used to detect and remove cancer cells when their fan, who had been in remission, writes to say that the doctors have found a new metastasizing tumour.

Then shortly after, an evil genius specialising in cloning is contacted by an old colleague asking if a suitable heart couldn’t be grown for their young fan with a congenital heart condition who needs a donor.

Suddenly, a pattern of villains offering (and marketing) their insights and resources to improve medical science starts to arise. Many who had previously been operating on society’s fringes are shocked to receive public accolades, research grants and job offers from major companies because of their work.

A grassroots movement arises advocating for imprisoned villains with appropriate qualifications and/or experience to have access to resources to conduct research for the public good. The Second Chance Rehabilitation Project launches.

(It is an open secret that only people who have been vetted by the Villain Wrangler are allowed to join, because the Villain Wrangler has by now a meticulously set up method and intelligence network to run background checks and character references through ensure that none of the children wishing to meet their role models get hurt.)

Being able to say that one is involved with the Project begins to look really good in parole hearings. The Villains involved perform their own quality checks on one another, because if one of their kids got hurt, then all of their kids could potentially lose out, and the ones that are serious about the Project are not having that. (Also, the ability to collaborate with other geniuses is the most interesting thing to happen to most of them since losing to various heroes, and most consider the intellectual stimulation to be worth putting up with the ridiculous egoes and inevitable personality clashes that arise.)

Reformed Villains come out of the woodwork to advocate about better mental healthcare, and support systems. Savvy universities and private labs quietly take their advice, setting up better mental health supports and laboratory safety standards to prevent the Brain Drain caused by losing their less stable scientists to the Costumes.

The Villain Wrangler watches all of this develop with a smile.

Their plan succeeded beyond their wildest dreams.

@lanibgoode @knitmeapony

everytime this post comes around it gets better.

      Treasure watched as Dr. Inferno began to unpack the small basket she had been carrying. She had assumed it would be bioweapons and technology but instead it contained bread, fruit, cheese, jam, and all the ingredients of a pretty nice picnic. “Um…” she said, looking around the vault “Is this really the best place for this?”
       Inferno shrugged. “Kid, I said I would do this. I did not say I would let it slow down my work. Do you know how to work a matter destabilizer?”
       “Um… no?”
       “Well, time to learn.” She passed Treasure a small rectangular object, with a hole on one side. “Do you see box 43?”
        “Yes…”
        “That’s the one with the microchip I need. Put the destabilizer against it. Plasma end towards it.”
        Cautiously, Treasure placed the object against the box. She couldn’t help feeling a slight surge of pride as Dr. Inferno nodded at her. “Now twist it,” she continued. Treasure did so, and there was a sudden flash of light and a smell of electricity. And, as she pulled the device away from the vault, she saw there was now a neat hole in it.
        “Wow…” she said, setting it down. “You built that?”
         “Oh, definitely,” said the doctor, reaching in and removing a small, black box. “Totally untested, though. I figured you wouldn’t mind seeing as you’re…” She caught the child’s expression. “But it was theoretically safe. Uh, want some food?”
        Treasure nodded, sadly, and sat down. Resignedly, she tore off some bread and started to spread jam on it.
         “So, kid,” Inferno said, sitting down opposite her, “can I ask…. why you picked me?”
         Treasure shrugged.
          Inferno continued. “It’s just…. No one’s ever really chosen me. That’s uh… I mean that’s kinda the point. When I first started my work, everyone thought I was… yeah, anyway, that was the start of this whole thing. So… what’s your angle?”
          “No one thought you were gonna make it, but then you did,” Treasure said, swallowing.
          “Huh. Thanks, but what does that have to do with-”
           “No one thinks I’m gonna make it either.”
           Inferno bit her lip. All of a sudden, she got it. “Frickin’ doctors, huh?”
           “Frickin’ doctors.”
           “Hey, kid. Say it with me. The fools.”
            “The blind fools…”
             “I’ll show them!”
            “I’ll show them all!”
             Dr. Inferno patted her on the back. “That’s right. You will. The two of us together, kid. We’ll show them.”

I AM NOT CRYING YOU ARE

I totally am.

IT KEEPS GETTING BETTER

FanFic Writers’ Appreciation Day

luninosity:

brendaonao3:

Hey you –

Yeah, you, the one with the full-time job and the spouse and kids and hectic schedule and too-full days and no time alone, with the fic updates that take weeks or sometimes months because it’s hard to fit writing into the whirlwind that is your life

Yeah, you, with the full school workload and the billion and one pressures and the fears about what the hell are you going to do with the rest of your life and what the hell kind of world am I inheriting, who writes in crazy, rushed chunks as a way to blow off steam from all of that pressure and all of that weight

Yeah, you, struggling with just making it from day to day, paycheck to paycheck, who’s constantly stressed and frazzled and just trying to stay above water, who writes epic and fantastical stories because, fuck, the world’s depressing and shitty enough already

Yeah, you, who are all of these people or none of them – who write for fun or for escape or to hone your craft or to be part of a community or because you love the meta aspects – I love all of you guys. In every fandom, writing every pairing. You’re all rockstars.  The stories you give us, the joy and care and emotion and catharsis you bring with every word and every story, are a blessing and a gift, and I thank every single one of you for all the time and effort and love that goes into your work.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. <3333

All of this: yes. <333

feynites:

forthegothicheroine:

The “horror nerd has valuable skills” trope is quite a respected tradition in film by now.  Often, this is subverted by the fact that the nerd is still useless (Scream), sometimes it’s played straight (Monster Squad), and sometimes it’s somewhere in the middle (Lost Boys.)  But you know what I haven’t seen?

The same trope applied to readers of paranormal romance.

I want a gory teenage horror movie where one of the survivors is a girl who’s the Catherine Morland of Junior High.  She’s read Twilight, she’s read all the Twilight knockoffs, she’s got a shelf full of Harlequin supernatural romances, and when she’s at a thrift store she scours romance book racks for anything with a vampire, werewolf, or fairy on the cover.

So when the supernatural bad guys attack, she feels she’s prepared and knows all about them.  And the worst part, that will be most grating to our heroes?  She’s absolutely right.

“Alright, Lillith, you need to go and talk to the vampire,” Olympia says, expression sombre as they gather outside of the night club where the rest of their friends have been taken.

“What?” Lillith asks. “Why do I have to go and talk to the vampire?!”

“Because! First of all, your name is ‘Lillith’. Second of all, you are a skinny white brunette who – for some unfathomable reason – has zero self-esteem about your appearance, despite looking almost entirely like a supermodel, a delicate constitution, and let’s be real here, out of everyone you are by far the likeliest to be the reincarnation of some Victorian lady who died tragically of illness before her vampire lover could whisk her off to the shores of immortality.”

Lillith hesitates.

“Oh no,” she says.

“Let me guess. You’ve been having dreams?” Olympia surmises.

“But he’s creepy!” Lillith protests.

“Look, after what happened with Peter and the werewolf, are you really gonna back down now?” Olympia demands. “You don’t have to marry the creep, he’s probably been longing for death of centuries and will be content enough to go if he can explode into dust motes in the sunlight after looking at your face ‘one last time’, okay? So just make with the fated re-introduction so we can get into the club and rescue everyone from the succubi.”

The two young women stare one another down.

Olympia lets out a breath of relief as resolve fills Lillith’s gaze, and she turns and heads towards the conspicuously pale figure making his way towards the club’s entrance.

Things might actually being go well, for a change. But then she hears it. Approaching the club, faintly at first, but then loud enough to almost sound like a car pulling up the street.

The jangling bells of the Fairy King’s coach. 

Oh, shit, Olympia thinks, because she knows. This one…

This one is hers.