it’s him
being made by vitro fertilisation (IVF) is so funny. my parent didn't have sex, my parents conducted an experiment with a scientist. my humble beginnings can be traced to a petri dish. some person i dont know clocked in to work and then just made me. i was made in a lab and i didn't even get any cool powers or anything. im just a girl that has to work 9 to 5
a tag mentioned how likely it is for ivf to produce twins and it reminded me of the fact that i ate my twin in the womb. so maybe my secret power is eating people
He wasn't meant to be a villain in a battle shounen, he was meant to be the bad boy with a heart of gold in a romance anime instead.
Agreed
‘I realized my husband jumped from his relationship to his babymama to his relationship with me just so he’d have someone to do childcare-’ yes, this is common, this is why a lot of people try to warn young childless women away from dating older men with kids. ‘so I’m going to move us away from his children and try to get him out of paying child support so we can have a happy relationship together.’ damn, I was wrong, maybe you deserve each other after all.
please explain iago. please.
growing up, I always wanted to be a little bratty bird getting homoerotically abused by a sorcerer. but if you ever read Sir Cameron, please forget I said this. I definitely did not include that vulture scenes because I sexually imprinted on Iago from Aladdin. that would be insane
before you burn me at the stake! you have to admit there was something going on here
my mom said that she doesn’t look at my tumblr anymore because my posts “worry her”, so I’m free to say this btw
anyway, Apparently Sir Cameron Needs to Die is out in two weeks if anyone want to read about my psychosexual issues
“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”
The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and the kind of question she tried to avoid.
Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.
“You a cop?”
The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”
A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.
Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”
A nod.
“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”
A nod.
“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”
A tiny, miserable nod.
“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’
“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”
Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.
The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.
“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”
The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.
“I can work with that,” said the witch.
no one messes with kanzaburo
