#My big problem with this idea

[morganmnemonic]

Okay so this is an off the wall theory with very little evidence, and I'm not really all that attached to it

but

We've established that the dark world can revive the dead. And that seems like a rather significant thing. Something that is going to come back to bite later.

And there's a few ways it could do that. There's local missing person December Holiday. There could be an arc an important character dies, only to live out the rest of their life in the darkworld.

But the thought arises, what if ralsei is a dead person? The second son of the dreemurr family, dead and gone before kris was ever adopted. A stillbirth, or a tragic car accident. Asgore and Toriel, in their grief, decide to raise a human child that somehow fell into their care.

They aren't good with names. They named their first kid via portmanteau, who's to say that they wouldn't name the second via anagram.

Kris makes a point that Ralsei doesn't actually look all that much like Asriel.

But it's undeniable that he looks like a Dreemurr.

[elodieunderglass]

Bill, Bren, & Blaw - I'm surprised they're not collectively known as "The B-sides"

(in reference to original character Killie's father, uncle and aunt.)

That's a great idea, I bet they could've been in their wild youth. They were definitely inseparable.

there's no bond on earth like siblings who murder a guy and cover it up together.

[redstarfish-art]

Me: *ships Percico 90% of the time* Also me: So I wrote another fic where Jason falls in love with Nico.

[sharknark]

+ bonus shangmei iteration wow

[wandixx]

I have an idea that includes two person love square because identity shenanigans are always fun, but I have no idea what they should do, despite having fun dynamics between them, like:

"Of course they're dating" said Public Opinion about Miss Martian and Phantom, right after she broke his heart a bit by telling him she was in love with someone else (Megan's long distance best friend, Danny). Before this happened, Phantom was overly flirtatious to both Miss Martian and Megan, so she asked Danny what to do about "This one guy in my sports team" and his advice is to tell him to "Fuck off". She does exactly that, without quite understanding the weight of the word and Phantom is stunned into obedience (and he understands that no means no)

Anyway, I need help with actual... plot. Situations I put them through, because I'm determined to write it. They would be cute together imo.

[stbot]

Read five words about Boardgames Kate and now I need her like my life depends on it 😭😭😭

Cont. from this

The leaning tower of pizzas (and assorted other takeout staples) pivots, revealing just a flash of ear, a thick ponytail, and baby hairs gently curling against the back of a neck before the whole thing is wandering away just as suddenly as it appeared.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just got a bit of everything. Pizza, vindaloo, lo mein, knishwiches. Thought I'd just cover all the bases, you know?"

It is… an unusual start to the evening, to be certain, but Yelena is a professional and quickly finds her footing. It carries her in the wake of what is apparently going to be her dinner, with the client who is apparently going to be her company, directly into a sitting room that apparently has a full view of several very famous Midtown landmarks.

Grand Central Terminal is truly quite the sight at night.

"Whatever you prefer is fine," Yelena says. "I really don't mind. I have a generous palate."

The client snorts, "Yeah, that's what the agency said when I asked, which is a way nicer way of putting it than my mom calling me a human garbage disposal," and sets the stack down on the coffee table. She lifts the small box on top and asks, "So, eat first? Or…?"

Yelena shrugs, not that her client can see it, all hunched over the takeout like that. "Sure, if that's what you'd like."

With an ease to the motions, as if she regularly and routinely orders enough food to feed all of Manhattan and half the outer boroughs, the client begins spreading everything out buffet-style.

Yelena takes the opportunity to move further in and observe more of the room — elegant furniture and tasteful decorations, no doubt picked out by a designer who charged an obscene amount of money. When something catches her eye, she moves to the fireplace to examine the framed painting hanging above it.

"Well, they said that after they told me you didn't have any food allergies," the client picks up her own dropped thread of conversation. "Which was after they asked some pretty pointed questions about why I was asking questions about any potential food allergies."

Admittedly, it's a very high quality recreation. The details in the image are impeccable. They've managed to replicate the brushstrokes and canvas texture of the original. Even the line weights and coloring is…

"I think maybe they were worried I was going to try to poison you?" The client muses, sounding uncertain. "Which is crazy because the entire reason why I was asking about food allergies was to make sure I didn't accidentally poison you. I mean, it'd be a terrible way to murder someone. Just announcing how you planned to do it like that."

"Yes, terrible." If Yelena was the kind to be affected by displays of hideous wealth, she might be in some trouble here, in the penthouse home of someone who owns a real Cézanne that last sold at auction for a quarter of a billion dollars.

"Not," the client blurts out in a panic, "that I'm planning on murdering you that way. Or any way! At all! No murder. Promise."

A chatterbox who owns a real Cézanne that last sold at auction for a quarter of a billion dollars.

"No murder," Yelena confirms, tossing a playful smile over her shoulder, "deal."

And it's the first real look she gets at the client. Big, nervous eyes. Handsome features. Her fingers fidget with the lowest button on her shirt, right above where it tucks into perfectly nondescript trousers that Yelena knows from the distinctive seam pattern have a comma in the price tag.

A bit of a mess at first impressions, perhaps, but this client is no different from any of the others.

Yelena turns to face her fully, noting how the client's gaze very obviously begins to trail down her dress, taking in the florals splashed across light blue satin, before darting back towards the spread on the coffee table, almost ashamed to have been looking. As if it were rude. As if they don't both know why Yelena is here in the first place.

"So," Yelena steps closer, slipping her small purse off her shoulder and setting it on the rosewood end table next to the couch, "perhaps instead of talking about all the ways you definitely do not plan to kill me this evening," which gets a flinch and an embarrassed sort of grimace, "we start with names, hmm?"

"Oh, my God." The client rushes forward, hand extended. "I'm Kate. Sorry. That was so rude of me. Hi," she smiles, a bright and earnest thing, "I'm Kate."

And Yelena already knew that, of course — the agency would not send her in completely blind without first thoroughly vetting the client — but it does the trick. Kate's shoulders visibly relax, looking less like they are trying to squeeze together so hard they pop her head right off her neck.

"I'm Svetlana. Lana, if you'd prefer." Yelena shakes her hand. "And it is a pleasure to meet you, Kate."

"The pleasure's all mine."

"We'll see about that," Yelena replies, letting her grasp linger just a moment longer before releasing Kate's hand. "I believe you mentioned something about board games, and I can be quite competitive. May not be very pleasurable for you."

And Kate, to her credit — and to Yelena's slight surprise — just laughs. "Oh, that's just cause you've never seen me play Clue. Yeah, I'm basically the world's greatest detective. Undefeated, not to brag."

"Well, perhaps you can detect us some cutlery?" Yelena takes a seat on the edge of the sofa — leather, plush, very well made — and smiles politely up at Kate with a genuinely curious, "Or would you prefer I eat with my hands?"

"No, no hands," Kate quickly responds, turning away even quicker to leave. "Plates and napkins and cutlery. Coming right up." She hurries out of the room, muttering to herself, "Right, there's actually like, forks here."

…such an unusual start to the evening.

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

wanted to try my hand at a fake screenshot thing with a scene from one of the bttf fics of all time, Time Is a Flat Circle by @fourth-dimensional-thinker! i set in to draw only the "little canary" line but. as you can tell. my hand slipped and fell down a 6 story building

if you haven't read it already please check it out PLEASEEE it's very good. i read the whole thing in basically one sitting. the vibes are perfect for the spooky season too!

versions without the filter/subtitles under the cut:

[therainbowtea]

Big fan of time travel AU's, but I rise you a better one then just a fix it. Jon's sent back alone after MAG 200 without Martin and has to fix everything himself. No Martin to make sure he doesn't do something stupid, only Jon and his bad choices.

Now, what do you think Jon would do with S1 Jon? Kill him of course! He's getting in the way of his plans to save everyone and we all know that Jon hates himself, so why not kill him? While he's at it, why not kill Elias Jonah and take control of the institute to ensure his friends are safe?

Bonus idea; S5 Jon uses S1 Martin to get him to do things for him and help cope with the fact that his Martin is gone. God I love unhealthy coping mechanisms!

[blluespirit]

ch: zuko and katara setting: post-southern raiders note: very ramble-y and not my best work - mostly vibes but oh well. enjoy! (or don't! im not the boss of u)

Katara realises later that Zuko thought she would kill Yon Rah. He was ready for it, he was waiting for it. She didn't think about the expression on his face once she turned away from first the Southern Raiders commander, and then Yon Rah, but she thinks about it now. Still, he never said anything to her, even when he hung back after she walked away from Yon Rah, trying to resist a temptation to do something, say something - he still didn't say anything.

She wants to ask him what he thinks.

That realisation alone is a strange one. She never thought she'd want to seek out Zuko's genuine opinion on anything, let alone something as personal as this. Still, she knows what Aang would say - that violence was and is never an option - but she doesn't fully accept that. Ozai doesn't deserve to rot in some cell somewhere for the threat of escape to linger over everyone's heads. He deserves nothing. Only the darkness of whatever lies beyond.

Maybe Aang isn't entirely wrong, but sparing Yon Rah also didn't feel good, or right, but the thing is, she's not sure killing him would have felt any better. The more she contemplates it, the more she runs in circles around herself.

Maybe there isn't a right answer. Maybe she needed to do it just to do it at all. To see him cower in front of her and beg for his life. To remove the fear of the monster that killed her mother that settled in the back of her mind and settled there like a stone. He is not scary to her anymore. He is nothing at all.

Katara thinks about Zuko and Aang. What does it say about them that one would do almost anything to stop her, and the other would do almost anything to give her what she needed - even if that meant cold-blooded murder? Zuko let her decide on her own terms - even if he thought she'd go a different path. He still accepted that.

She can't discount that he would've helped her do it if she'd asked. He nearly broke the commander's neck on the ship getting answers from him - all for her.

It leaves her breathless in a way she can't describe; more so that he also seems content to leave this wherever Katara wants to leave it. She's sure he'd never mention it again if she wanted it to be that way.

She eventually finds him skulking out the halls of his old holiday house. There's a gaunt, haunted expression on his face that Katara wants to probe, but she backs out at the last second. His eyes soften when they see her - grateful for the distraction.

The light struggles against the drapes, leaving only tendrils of light to soften an old carpet and harden Zuko's expression. She doesn't give pleasantries.

"Do you think I was wrong?"

She expects him to answer quickly, but he hesitates.

"I think he would have deserved it."

Katara bristles. "So you do think I was wrong."

He frowns, takes his time again.

"I think you did the right thing for you. If you'd killed him, it would just be another thing to haunt you."

The fight dies out of her as quickly as it rose. She stares at him and he returns it.

"If I asked you to help me do it, would you have?"

"I - yes." He looks down at his feet, shuffling. "I've never directly killed someone. But I would have helped you."

She doesn't know how to thank him, or if she even should for such a declaration.

It's a shock to her system - as if being plunged into arctic water - that someone would stand by her in such a way. Not judging, simply carving the path. What Katara decided to do at her destination is her decision alone.

"He -" Katara starts, unable to say his name and Zuko's gaze turns sharp, as if he knows what she will say next. "- may have deserved to die, or deserved to live and suffer. The world does not suffer consequences for my action or inaction."

Zuko breathes deeply. She can feel the heat of fire brewing in his exhalation.

"If Aang can't kill Ozai..." her words soften, but the persistence darkness around them weighs them down anyway.

Zuko leans back slightly, just enough so a strand of light burns his face, igniting old scar tissue in a brilliant orange. His eyes turn to the window.

"He's the Avatar," he says. There's a pain in his voice Katara can't help but notice. "He doesn't have the luxury of choice."

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

random omegaverse thought:

There must be people who experience specific instinct things with indifference or boredom.

Procreative cycle coming up? "Crap, I've got plans this weekend...stupid skip weeks."

Caught an intriguing scent while walking? "But I need to get to work! Shut up brain."

Had a snap response to a distressed sound? "Who was it?! ...right, it's my day off, I can go back to sleep."

Somebody growled at them? "Kid, I'm not a rival, that's my sibling."

Super cozy cuddle session happening nearby? "I'm gonna pass tonight guys, no social battery left, maybe next time."

Group of friends heading out to flirt and check out other singles? "I'm coming with you but only to make sure you all get home safe."

Setting where fated mates or soul bonds or permanent marks are a thing? "Meh. I don't really want one or care if I ever get one."

People in the actual omegaverse would get as bored of their stuff, as we do of ours, you know? It could be interesting to see that kind of vibe in fics. Biological demands faced with all the excitement of paying bills or doing laundry or tying your shoes.

Even if that kind of energy might not drive a plot, it could be interesting to have as a contrast to the people who do have big feelings about them - good or bad.

There's the friends who can't wait til they have a pack of their own, and the one friend who isn't against it but couldn't care less. There's the group in the office who are all about scent compatibility tests and figuring out one's best match and what sprays most highlight it, and the coworker who has no intentions on putting that much effort in. There are parents who hover and protect their offspring by scenting them multiple times a day, and others who don't see what the fuss is as long as it's done in the morning.

...also: packs with introverts who show care by giving each other space. So often, closeness is depicted through physical touch and tactile affection, but comfortable silence is meaningful too. Knowing people are near, but not having to interact until you're ready. Sitting in the same room doing different things, knowing that all it takes is a "hey, look at this" to share what you're up to. People understanding and accepting each other's differing or fluctuating needs for how and when to recharge. Seeing somebody reaching out or sharing space, beyond what's their norm, as a signal of the fact that they care.

[eternitycongregation]

YOU. YOU'RE THE TRANSFEM INTERSEX RATIO PERSON. I LOVE YOU.

:o!! It's me indeed, hello!!!

I'm glad you like the headcanon, she's everything to me tbh. You can safely assume any time I talk about Ratio that this conception of her is in my mind.

ramblings under the cut (CW: vague mentions of intersexism and transmisogyny)

About her being intersex, I usually have two sets of headcanons: one where she has nCAH and the other hyperandrogenic PCOS. Part of why I have this headcanon is projection ofc; but it's also because I like the idea of Ratio in her goal to cure the disease of ignorance, she desires to destroy the false concept of the sex binary. It makes the goal very personal to her, being affected by intersexism, in addition to the altruism.

I think Ratio struggled a lot in her transition journey, because she felt like she had to give up a lot of the things she liked about her body and herself and had to conform to beauty standards she didn't like in her attempts to achieve the Ideal Woman status. I think she used to do extensive voice training, wear full beat makeup, and tried to avoid putting on muscle to give the thin and dainty vibe. Even though she likes her deep voice, a full face is a sensory nightmare for her, and trying to keep her body mass down was unhealthy for her...that's what she thought she needed to do. Her oddly British accent (odd for a character Greek and Roman inspired) is from imitating women she thought of as elegant and refined. She used to wear pumps in her classroom and offices even though she hated how they hurt her feet, because that's what other women wear to work.

And I imagine the Ratio we have in the present is one who is secure in her gender identity that she does not feel the need to overperform femininity. She knows that she does need to be accepted by others to know her own worth. Her body is toned and built, she speaks with a deep voice, wears clothes that are comfortable for her (cutouts for ventilation and a nice pair of sandals), puts on red eyeliner and calls it a look. And you can tell she loves it because of all those statues lmao.

[callmesel]

Gonna publish this late at night so I don't regret it like 5 mins after posting

Compilation of two random Percy au

The more suggestive/indecent under the cut

not much but kind of

His neck is weird

[mirrorworldangel]

Some artworks that I did during the weekend, and I wanna show some of them to you with their explanations below:

1. An alternate outfit of Mama that Anne Nieve sees in contrast to her ballerina outfit.

2. A chiikawa sona for @iluminated-goat that I randomly sketch based on their profile picture. I may have coloured their fur a bit too dark to my liking, but I hope that they don't mind about it. I was supposed

3. I wanna try to start my perryshmirtz obsession by trying Heinz cross-dressing in a beautiful satin gown that I saw in Tiktok (with some changes, of course) and I based on Heinz's appearance based on @chio-chan2artbox and @pnfc . I hope they don't mind about this cause I got two more designs to make Heinz try out!

4. I got this sudden random idea of what if the kids have long hair and I went giggling mad! So I gotta experiment it out using @muchmallows 's kid Darlan, @iluminated-goat 's kid McClinton and my baby boy Aster. And goddammit why do they look like manhwa romance characters lolll!!?

Well, that's all I can share for this week, I will continue my project until the next weekend! As always hope yall like it as much as I drew them!

[smile-files]

i cannot convey in words how frustrating it is to have so many ideas for stories i want to write. i can't count on my adhd brain to fixate on an idea long enough to bring it to completion; working on an idea is tiring and i often don't have the energy or motivation to do it at any given moment, potentially wasting a precious opportunity of fixation on it; and, of course, there are always other things to do and other things to worry about, so even if every box is checked off i'm often blocked off from working with the idea. this wouldn't be such an issue if i came up with a good story idea every once in a while: but no, i have so many ideas i find compelling, and i come up with more constantly, to the point that having them continue to be ideas stuck in my brain and not finished products is genuinely overwhelming for me

[just-a-little-unionoid]

I don't really understand why some people seems to think that Ivo's dead ?

he's so alive, like, I know there is still a small probability that Jim Carrey decides not to return for whatever reason and that's why they keep killing him just in case but also, god damn it he was supposedly killed by a black hole and if I know one thing about wacky sci-fi is that more often than not black holes are space-time portals

like no I don't think Shadow specifically tried to save him like it's good enough he was able to save himself, he had something else to think about, but uuuuuuh big ring of Chaos energy spinning very fast? like? idk all the portals we saw so far in this franchise are rings spinning really fast so like what I'm saying if if the next movie tells me "Chaos energy spinning fast makes a portal" I won't be mad about it, like, yeah why not

plus like, again, black hole

and I know for sure it's a black hole because 1) it literally makes a quasar (or well something that looks like it, quasars are much, much bigger but it's an artistic intention come on the objective isn't to be realistic but to convey the idea that this is a black hole) 2) they introduced a mini black hole device in the first part of the movie which is so over the top and it would make no sense narratively to introduce such a random thing if not to use it later

point 2. leads me to ask you to remember how Team Sonic escaped this first mini black hole btw

and I mean, they introduced Metal like he was a terminator and Sonic CD and all so there might be space-time travels y'know like they're kinda hinting at it a lot so I think all that could connect

I mean I've been wrong before when I tried to analyse/predict fiction but y'know it just seems probable to me

[thegreatyin]

And thus, with the passing of 24 hours, Caeru's ambition truly comes to an end. Major Nemesis spoilers below the cut- we're talking endgame ambition business here. Mostly on a character RP front.

The Doomed Scientist made quite a few... choice decisions, in the end. Killing Cups once and for all, recording his story as one of grief-

And sparing what little remained of Mr Mirrors, leaving it free to roam Parabola as it sees fit.

Some of them, he can explain. Others, he's still left to feel... discontent.

Cups needed to die. That much was certain from the start. It was a tyrant, as all Masters are, and complicit in the bargaining and eventual destruction of four (potentially five) cities, as all Masters are. It was an obstacle. A murderer. A petty monster that felt no remorse even on its deathbed, and it went out of its way to ruin multiple lives just because it felt owed its own sick and twisted idea of revenge.

It killed his first love. It looked him in the eyes and he knew what it had done and he knew from the start it was going to die.

Perhaps, in the end, it knew too. And yet it still pleaded, and wanted to live, and-

It made a bargain.

A bargain Caeru didn't take.

Not because he didn't want to. Gods, he wanted to. He wanted it. He wanted it more than anything else in the world. To have Greylu back, to give him the gift of life, of love, to show him the wonders of the Neath and the beauty of the correspondence and all of the people Caeru has met and loved and found home with along the way-

But. He couldn't.

Because Cups was a monster. And no matter what, it deserved to die. And he could not, in good conscience, allow it to live.

Even if sparing it meant everything he's ever wanted.

So he's left here, now. With a bloodied traveling coat, and a bloodsoaked knife, and a favor finally fulfilled.

And nothing to live for. No resurrected lover, no charming visits to Helicon, no slow dances in the living room, no memories to rebuild and lives to live and he won't live again-

Nothing. All he has is a coat born of obligation, not to his love, but to people he's never even met. To lives he's never even touched. To a paramour, still alive, with hair of rose-pink, who doesn't even remember her own brother's existence.

Cups didn't die for Caeru's sake. Cups died for the sake of all who wanted it dead. For the revenger's court, and the ghost screaming in his ear, and the reckoning that will not be postponed indefinitely.

And Caeru, who acted as a tool to carry out their wills? Who all but betrayed his own lover, just to satisfy a cause he never knew existed?

All Caeru is left with, is regret. Regret-

-And grief.