#from feb 2023

[anonabelle]

attempt to capture the original mask tails' energy

[me-sploh-rada-imas]

designated driver nace (and passenger princess jan)

[pheyphem]

ignoring the obvious. is anyone else really fucking intrigued/confused by this room

it is so STARKLY different from the rest of the phouse like it has fuzzy padded brown walls?? like they have a reason for every design choice in the phouse so why did they go with fuzzy brown walls in here and here only (it seems)??/?

drop your ideas below

[magnolia-sunrise]

...which could mean nothing

the first panel's posing is referencing a scene from The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo (2011).

[i-may-be-an-emu]

no thoughts just Tom saying “pope land” instead of vatican city

[llondonfog]

in the twst handbook, it states that Sebek apparently laughs a lot. since he spends so much time with Silver, i like to headcanon that Silver is a lot more Silly™️ than he lets on to strangers (i mean, come on- both Aurora and Philip were fairly silly and lighthearted people, i dont see why Silver can’t at least have that part of their personalities)

so perhaps, if the three sentence fic meme is still open, maybe have Silver being joking and sarcastic in front of his classmates who are just. stunned because he never acted this way before HGDJAHSJ

sorry if this is oddly specific but i thought it was a cute prompt :D

In a different story, the prince dies before his time can even begin, a bloodstained cradle his only mark in a world that will never know his name.

In a different story, a boy grows up fanatic and flush on the heady poison of self-loathing, desperate for his place in a world unkind to the unusual.

Both such stories, tragedies as they are, exist; but in this story, the prince and the boy defy the curses and faults of their heritage, defy time and all of her cruelties, and defy the expectations of their wide-eyed audience as their heads bob together with the gaiety of blossoms in spring, a lop-sided smirk unfurling on the fair face of one as an undignified snort echoes from the other.

("It isn't decent," Sebek mutters and stoutly refuses to look in Silver's direction and acknowledge the other boy's quiet satisfaction, lips twitching helplessly. "There should be no possibility that Lilia's bawdy jokes sound even worse coming from you.")

[temeyes]

ghost and his new buddy, sommie!ghost (quick dood under the cut!)

yes sommie poops blue sparkles out of his butt <3

[fairysylveon]

JACKED UP

[lucky38-2077]

For this moment 💕

[anonabelle]

Mikey hair contemplations

[raayllum]

this one broke me today like. i've seen this parallel / these screencaps a hundred times but. *head in my hands* it really is aaravos' heart. it's his heart. IT'S HIS HEART—

[andyet-i-fish]

edna’s epiphany

freya and edna mini comic from MONTHS ago sorry i actually hate posting xd. Anyway this is their idealized teenage years, everything’s fine, asylum hah what’s that?

(tut mir leid wenn mein Deutsch schlecht ist, es war zum Spaß und zum Üben)

[crimson-catalyst]

flower language in the witch doctor's workshop <3

[moonshynecybin]

ok question on marc & forgiveness/reconciliation (kind of related to your ask on how easily marc would forgive vale) curious about your thoughts. do you think he believes it when he says he’s over it? this is hard to phrase but like. how aware is he that he’s probably lying about how over it he actually is. idk was thinking about possible/fictional futures with post-reconciliation marc being like of course :) we are good :) no issues anymore :) and like truly believing it until something makes him face that there are in fact still issues

no i think he’s lying lol

[boundaryfailure]

[the better reality | nms apollo & traveller]

At the center of the galaxy, you are left holding the cinderblock-heavy truth of the world you live in. The enormity of it all sits almost demurely in its place on your exosuit, that little red starseed and its cosmic significance.

Sixteen minutes. Always, sixteen.

Of course, Nada only hushes you when you try to speak about what you’ve seen. They stretch their palm outwards as you rush to inform them, sweeping away your words before they come. They are afraid — you know they’re afraid — to lose their haven to realization. Of course, despite everything, even though they have severed themselves from their people, they are still Korvax: they still fear the Atlas they reject so fiercely. You can’t bring yourself to shatter anxious Nada’s naivety.

You still find it in yourself to feel stung.

Still, though, they can see the anguish in the lines of your posture (Why won’t you listen? Why won’t you hear me? How could you leave me alone with this?), and they have never lost their kindness. Nada’s fingertips light gently on your shoulders, and when they draw you into an embrace, you return it twice as fiercely.

Polo squeezes your hand as you pass them.

“Nada fears, Traveller-Friend. Some things are best left unexplored.”

(TRAVELLER, the Atlas had said — had pleaded.)

You miss Apollo so terribly.

Sometimes you dream of a better reality: one where the world had yawned wide as you came out of the portal, and your friend was there to greet you.

Getting the details right can be tricky. You know what Apollo sounds like, sharp, sometimes guttural, mechanical and harsh at first blush. You know that standing beside them would suffuse you in subtle golden light, that it would play off the starsilk strands and fine leather of your suit. The details get sketchier and ruin the picture if you dwell too much, and so you try not to linger too much on any one point. Broad strokes.

They are bigger than you are, you remember from the tower transmissions; they are built sturdily, like industrial equipment, like a blunt force weapon. They get testy when you poke fun at it — “I don’t make fun of you for being soft, do I?” — and you know that this body is not necessarily theirs by choice. There had been grudges involved, and vengeance quests, and altogether you can understand why they choose to walk as a lone iteration entirely, free of the wistful togetherness of the Space Anomaly’s menagerie. Such tenderness doesn't suit them.

But Apollo could bludgeon you into an entirely new iteration, and Apollo chooses not to. That is how things go, in the reality where you break through to one another. The two of you cut a wonderful contrast walking worlds together. The gear you have chosen means that beside their simplicity, you are all tritium-hydraulic agility and solar-vitrified stealth, and they snipe at you over comms because they are made for steady distance and could never keep up with your gimmicks.

“Somehow Artemis was never half as much trouble as you are,” they tell you, with their strange blend of indifference and annoyance over-top a curious attachment.

“With Artemis, we really would have been unstoppable.” The thought slips out unbidden, and you pick at the enameling adorning your right pauldron as if to distract, or to mollify.

“… Yes,” Apollo says, a reply you don’t expect. Their tone is thoughtful, but not closed off, and you realize you’ve earned the rare right to their emotional input, such as it is. “We would have.”

In this reality, the pressing loneliness of all the world before you abates with your friend at your shoulder. Apollo is not necessarily talkative — in fact, without you there to prompt them, you think they might go days without a single flare of vocal activity — but their heavy tread at your heels and their ruthless haggling at trade stations compress the frightening vastness of it all into something uniquely enticing.

(The weight of the last sixteen minutes rests lighter on your shoulders, knowing that they, too, understand. They take the news of the galaxy’s infinite end steadily, a steel-stubborn levee refusing to succumb to the waves of despair that had submerged you before.)

(“Well, we all have to die sometime,” they had told you, rolling prism-studded shoulders. “And what time will be more interesting than this?”)

(They hear you, they listen, and they are not afraid.)

(In this other reality, they choose to do what no one else does: to accompany you. To understand.)

(And you know fully by now that those other iterations are just as real as you.)

(So just knowing that, you think, alone in your ship with your face to the stars — just knowing soothes the sting.)

Sometimes you dream of a better reality.

In it, all the world lies before you, and Apollo is at your back, and beneath the tint of your helmet, your eyes are wide and wonderstruck.

[kachow-i-love-being-me]

Going insane and crazy about Patrick Stump saying he wanted to study linguistics at one point. He’s literally me