#honestly I'm not sure what to tag this

[demigod-of-the-agni]

The pishacha are manifestations of evil itself, locked within a cursed amulet. The wearer of the amulet is at the mercy of the demon, known for possessing humans and feeding off their host's chakra energy. However, if symbiosis is achieved, the pishacha can grant its host a myriad of powerful abilities.

I just needed to draw something cool okay. I needed to draw some cool goop and some cool looks okay. okay. if I didn't post this I would have exploded okay

[wistfulwatcher]

2.05 The Aftermath | 5.01 Nameless, Faceless

[phantom-0-writer]

scene 5: to win a war, fight the battles

continuation of tim's arch nemesis

Tim had done his research. He was a Bat after all. Mr. Nolan was infamous for handing out the most difficult assignment right after midterm, weighing a heaping 40% of their final grade. Physics class had never been of much interest to Tim, he found it straightforward and elementary compared to the many projects he’s committed himself to as a Bat, and member of the Young Justice League. And it just so happened to be the only classes Tim shared with one Daniel James Fenton for the semester. 

While Tim’s fellow classmates groaned at the announcement Mr. Nolan made, Tim’s knew his fate for the next three weeks was decided. He’d stayed up extra late completing his last case, and had even let his finger break so he could be off patrol without suspicion. Only his pinky of course, but enough for it to count. Despite all of Tim’s meticulous preparation for the assignment, he could only find the requirements with the rest of his class. 

Tim had considered hacking into the system and finding all of Mr.Nolan’s notes for this assignment. The reason he hadn’t done it wasn’t because he couldn’t - the school’s firewalls were a joke - but because that would mean he was admitting that the only way he could beat Daniel James Fenton was to use underhanded tactics. And that was not a defeat Tim would take. 

Tim listened closely as Mr.Nolan explained how this semester’s project would consist of him and an assigned partner creating a model using any of the physics topics they had covered throughout the semester and present it on the due date. They had till the next class to submit a formal proposal of their topic. Simple enough. 

There was just one liability in Tim’s way now: the assigned partner. Normally Tim wouldn’t have been so worried, after all this class was for the advanced students in an already competitive school. But this time was different. This time Tim had a goal. He needed to annihilate Daniel. 

“The partners for this project will be on the screen, I suggest you all get comfortable because you’ll be seeing each other a lot for the remainder of the semester.” As the projector flickered to life it dawned the document that would make or break Tim’s future. 

There were 36 students in their class, a perfect even number. Discluding Tim there were 35 other students. Daniel was simply one- one- of the 35. There was a measly 3% chance they would be paired. 

And yet. 

And yet, there it was. Printed clearly in front of Tim’s eyes. 

Timothy Drake - Daniel Fenton

In a moment of insurgence, Tim raised his hand, “Sir, I would like to change partners.” There wasn’t anyone in particular Tim would rather be paired with, but he could not have his plans mutilated by such a catastrophe. 

Mr. Nolan raised a brow at Tim, “Is there a reason in particular, Mr. Drake?” 

Tim hesitated. He had no qualms with telling Mr.Nolan the reason, but if he were to say it in front of the whole class with Daniel present he would lose the element of surprise. “No, sir.” 

Mr. Nolan leaned back onto the podium, “Is there someone else you would prefer to work with then, Mr. Drake?”

In pure humiliation, “No, sir.” 

“Well I’m glad to see I’ve made a suitable match.” Mr.Nolan concluded with finality, “Any other questions, Mr. Drake?” 

“Are we graded individually or together?” Tim clung to his last tether of hope like a lifeline. 

Unequivocally and mercilessly Mr. Nolan crushed Tim’s very being. “Together.” Tim sunk into his seat. He had become his own worst enemy. Tim ignored the confused look Daniel sent him from the other side of the classroom, saving himself the disgrace. “Any other question?” Mr.Nolan asked the class. 

There was still a way for him to crush Daniel under his steel toed Red Robin boots. Tim would simply overpower Daniel with his superior skills and intellect, and make it unquestionably clear that it was Tim who had gotten them the perfect score. A year - 5 - 10 years from now this would be the memory that woke Daniel up in cold sweat in the middle of the night. 

Psychological warfare. Tim’s specialty.

Once Mr.Nolan gave them the signal to disperse into their groups Tim met Daniel halfway between the two ends of the room where they sat. 

“Uh, Tim, right?” Daniel asked with an awkward wanna-be polite smile. 

“Yes, nice to meet you.” Tim flashed a smile he had perfected at the years of gala’s and business meetings he’d attended. Disarming, and charming. The perfect set up to sweep the enemy from under their feet. “Daniel, I believe.” A casual show of power, usually brushed off as unintentional. It was fully intentional. 

“Danny’s fine.” He corrected with what must have been an attempt at an unassuming smile. Tim knew better, Danny would be ruthless in his attempt to permanently upsurge Tim from beautifully satiating first place. “So any ideas on what we should do our assignment on?”

Danny’s coup would not be successful for Tim had come prepared. “We could reconfigure an airplane for better aerodynamics.” Tim had gone through great lengths to research and develop that about a month ago for the Bat Plane, and if he dumbed it down slightly it should pass for a civilian. 

Danny considered the idea for a moment, with the barest head nod. Victory was in Tim’s grasp now. “We could change the wingspan and nose shape of it and then widen the back fins for a more acute directional accuracy.” He offered easily. Tim blinked, that was supposed to be his line, where he would prove his superiority with the knowledge he’d already acquired. Victory, it turned out, was like a handful of sand that would, despite all efforts, spill through his fingers. “It seems easy enough.” 

“Did you have any ideas?” Tim asked testingly, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Not really, but I thought it would be cool to try one of Tesla’s ideas. Nikola Tesla’s, I mean. The one off the top of my head is the thought camera.” Danny rambled with his hands. 

Tim may have admitted that he felt a bit inspired at the idea of mimicking and improving on one of Tesla’s ideas, if it hadn’t been proposed by Danny. “The thought camera?” Tim echoed incredulously, formulating the perfect eyebrow raise to show his distaste. 

Danny seemed undeterred, and was instead studying the rubric Mr.Nolan had left open on the board. “Yeah, I’m not a huge fan of that one either,” He said offhandedly, “I was just spitballing.” 

This would’ve been the perfect opening for Tim to intercede with the perfect idea. As a Bat, Tim of all people should know the importance of always being ready and well informed of any situation that may arise. Yet here he was, unprepared. Resiliently, Tim pulled out his phone and searched up potential suggestions. Danny peaked over to look as well. 

“The wireless energy transmitter seems like a good idea. If we proportionally scale it down we could have a fully functioning model.” Tim declared victoriously to his partner, who couldn't help but be on board with his amazing idea. 

Tim had already won the first battle, and the war would soon be over with Tim’s overwhelming conqueror of the first place position. 

Bouncing off of Tim’s original idea, the team had already procured a rough sketch of their model, and had designated a day to gather their supplies. 

--

Howard watched as his student’s chattering meshed into one indistinguishable sound. Howard through his past researching with other professionals in varying stages of their career, and teaching college students of various majors and life goals had become astute as discerning a person’s potential. He was aware his current students, now only between the ages of fifteen and nineteen, would not appreciate his sentiment on grading them on a scale of what he believed their personal best to be. Leading to his infamous profile through the halls of Gotham Academy.

Over his cumulative professional careers there was perhaps only a handful that Howard predicted to hold greatness. His visions always came to fruition as the sapling students of science and research once under his care, blossomed into leaders in their fields with headlining research papers under their name. And when Howard did find himself in the possessions of those saplings he made sure to nurture their growth as much as he could.

It just so happened this year Howard found himself with two. 

There was one who Howard had heard whispers of in the teacher’s lounge. Tim Drake always sat in class with a bored castover look, ready with the perfect answer when tested as if he were the one with the PhD. Tim completed all his assignments with a stern perfection, always unchallenged with the material no matter how difficult his peers seemed to find it. 

It only was Danny Fenton’s second year attending the Academy, and there were only a few that knew him as a student, but they were not stingy with their praises. In the first week of class Howard had found him unassuming, scribbling what Howard had assumed to be notes like his peers throughout class. He was swiftly corrected when Danny came to him, after class one day, frazzled over something in his book. Howard, always ready to help a student, welcomed him graciously. In the book Howard did not find scribbled notes of inertia and energy, but a diagram- more accurately a blueprint- of an archimedes engine applied for a re-designed drag car. 

Howard watched the first spark of intrigue be kindled between the two with deep satisfaction.

[saturnaous]

Accidently cooked up a silly little au the other day that I am very much enjoying gonna. talk about it under the cut because4 the FUCKING WORMS

OKAY so basically. literally everythign is the same except for the fact that. Ed got entirely yoinked instead of Alphonse. I dunno why that happens but. It does because I say so. Anyways. So this basically mean that Ed gets bonded to an armor instead of Al, and because I desperately wanted the secondary set of Armor to see some light I thought it would be funny to bond Ed to that instead. I haven't fleshed everything out, but as I'm working on that I wanna add a few of the different things in here just because. And I still might tweak things if I think it doesn't make sense. - Al lost his arm first, then traded his tongue and his eye to bond Ed to the armor, making him effectively mute. He's learned ASL and Ed has to translate for him a lot. Although in my hcs Al is a foodie so like. major bummer for taste buds. He likes fun textures and stuff though. I gotta figure out what problems this poses though so we'll figure that out. - Al most likely is going to go into being a state alchemist just for the fact of staying somewhat close to the storyline and stuff. and I don't know, insert random reasoning in here. Yeah - just a little design note. uhmmmmm I thought the cross thing on Ed's head/helm was cool and I had the bright idea of like "hey what if I put the emblem like. through the cross yk" and I might not do that. But at the moment it looks cool to me. so yeah. I'M STILL TOYING WITH THINGS. . . I have to figure out what happens and designs and stuff. but yeah. I think that covers. what I have for now. p sick. scuttles away

[wilwheaton]

hey I just noticed in the past few months you have a lot of tags where you used to not tag much at all, I thought I'd mention since I'm not sure if you were doing it on purpose :P

I changed a setting somewhere, so previous tags would be preserved in reblogs. Maybe that's it? I think my tumblr thingy is like 98% reblogs.

[mobius-m-mobius]

Julia Ormond and Tim Roth in Captives (1994)

[sysig]

They’re both so cute, what’s up with that (Patreon)

[sparky-is-spiders]

Jonelias Week Day 1 (Which is definitely today I swear), for the prompt "No Powers AU"

This one... maybe got away from me. This is actually only the first half of what I've written so far, and probably the first third overall! I do plan to post this to Ao3 at some point (although I suspect I'll need to do a lengthy round of editing first lmao). It's some very self-indulgent nonsense, which is a lot of what I write, but now it's getting put in the main tags of a ship during said ship's event week. So. It may also be a little bit "aromantic dude tries to figure out what having a crush is supposed to be like." Also a lot of "dude who took Principals of Accounting once pretending it knows what office work is like." Anyway, quick warning before we begin, and the rest will be under the read-more:

Stalking (played for laughs) for most of the fic.

Just. A weird amount of obsession.

Ok that should be it I think. Fic under the cut.

Jon's new boss was, quite possibly, the most boring man in the world. He wore the same outfit every day (pale dress shirt with dark unpatterned tie and gray slacks and matching suit jacket). The only personal effect in his entire office was a potted plant on the windowsill (some sort of succulent, and definitely fake). He always arrived to work exactly half an hour early and left exactly half an hour late. The only hobby he appeared to show any interest in was scheduling, which he seemed to find both deeply engaging and remarkably irritating. In fact, he was apparently so opposed to the idea of mixing his work with his personal life that he might as well not have existed beyond the walls of their office. Jon had never been more fascinated by anyone else in his entire life.

It stared with the transfer to the accounting department. Elias had met with him personally to get him acclimated to his new role. He had been blandly polite, and blandly handsome, and Jon had stopped listening to him about five minutes into their conversation. It was probably bad form, really. The software Elias was droning on and on about sounded like it was about to become a central feature of his days. He really should've been paying attention to it. Instead, he pretended to make eye contact while zeroing in on the top of Bouchard's forehead (a very useful trick, really) and became inordinately focused on the small lock of hair that had fallen across it. It was terribly distracting, and Jon had wondered how he hadn't noticed it. And then he wondered how it had come to be there. And then he had built up an entire story involving a murder, an illicit affair with the assistant director of marketing, and the potted succulent. And then he had noticed Bouchard eying him with what could've been suspicion or amusement or irritation or nothing whatsoever, and had been forced to rapidly pretend to care about their company's bad debt expense policy. Bouchard had indulged him, and had spoken with the calm authority of someone who knew what they were talking about, and had even managed to avoid being overtly condescending (a feat forever out of Jon's reach). At the end he had shaken Jon's hand (with a nice, firm grip), and had told him "I'm looking forward to working with you, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful member of our team." Jon had left that meeting with a mind shrouded in a fog of boredom and a faint sensation of warmth which he decided was best attributed to curiosity and left otherwise unexamined. Over the next few weeks, Jon had tried to subtly inquire into Bouchard's life. At the time, he had been naively under the impression that surely he must have let slip something about his life; some odd quirk or funny story or harmless bit of information which could justify Jon's blooming curiosity. Unfortunately; "He lives in Chelsea, I'm pretty sure?" (Sasha) "He's currently in a meeting. Honestly Jon, you'll be better off just sending an email. Now can I please get back to work?" (Rosie, probably lying about the meeting) "He actually lives here in the office. Set up a cozy little home away from home in one of the storage closets and sneaks out at night to raid the canteen. And he's having an affair with the assistant director of marketing." (Tim, definitely lying (but maybe a mind reader? Also, full of brilliant ideas for places Jon could maybe set up a cot whenever he needs to stay overnight)) Clearly, Jon would have to take matters into his own hands if he wanted answers. That was fine. It could be his own private little research project.

Jon liked to think that the entire thing had actually been quite reasonable, and that he had acted within the bounds of their pre-established relationship as employee and supervisor. Surely any rational person had to realize that nobody could possibly be that uninteresting. Anyone would be curious as to what dark secrets Bouchard his behind his well-tailored suits and polite, professional demeanor. … perhaps most rational persons would not meticulously record the movements, behavior, and daily appearance of their colleague in a discreet notebook (with annotations, color-coding, and graphs where appropriate), but Jon had always prided himself on his dedication to research and understanding. So far Jon had collected frustratingly little data. If Bouchard was hiding anything, it wasn't apparent from his schedule (see pages 8-13, figure 2.b), his eating habits (see page 22), or his lone plant (see page five, figure 1.c). His breaks did seem specially timed to avoid other people (and he appeared not to engage in many social behaviors generally), but he never acted irritated or otherwise unhappy to encounter one of his subordinates, so Jon wasn't entirely sure if it was deliberate avoidance or simple coincidence. Really, the only truly odd thing about him was his inexplicable interest in Jon. That very morning, for example, Bouchard had stopped by his cubicle for a fifteen minute discussion on the upcoming Annual Team Luncheon, an event Jon had never attended before (due to an annual migraine which coincidentally always happened to occur on the exact date of the luncheon), which Jon did not plan to attend, and which honestly sounded like some sort of violation of the Geneva Convention. The topic itself was not especially odd (small talk was an archaic tradition which had stubbornly clung on in every workplace Jon had ever set foot in), but Bouchard's low propensity for inter-office socialization combined with the fact that he had both chosen Jon specifically as his conversational partner was… highly suspicious. Most people who encountered Jon inevitably concluded that he was more effort than he was worth (an attitude Jon mostly appreciated).

And of course, there had also been their interaction two days ago, when Elias had paused briefly to inquire as to whether Jon would be staying late, and what he was working on, and if he might perhaps consider heading home soon because there was only so much overtime they could pay him. Or on Friday, when he had managed to hold two separate conversations with Jon where very little was said. Honestly, Jon somewhat suspected that Elias had spoken to him more in the past few weeks than he had spoken to any of their colleagues for the entire time Jon had been there to observe him. Most of Jon's notes were now dedicated to their interactions. From his cot in the unused storage room (which was indeed a good place to stay overnight, thank you Tim), he could jot down everything he recalled about their interaction; it had begun at 8:32 and had concluded at 8:47; the weather was warm and slightly humid, although the office interior remained at a comfortable 21 °C. Bouchard's shirt had been a nice, cool gray, which complemented the silver of his eyes. Jon (who had been busy digging for his favorite pen (the ink was a lovely deep green color, and it was usually kept on the left side of the top desk drawer, and Jon had no idea where else it could have possibly gone)) had settled on "irritation" as his tone, which Bouchard either had not noticed or had not cared enough to acknowledge. He had easily dominated the conversation, and Jon could admit in the sanctity of his research journal that his voice had been soothing enough to cool away some of Jon's annoyance. He wrote his conclusion: Subject behaved near-identically in tone, posture, body language, and apparent mood as he has in all previous communications. Subject displayed no strong thoughts or opinions on subject of discussion nor conversational partner. Interaction was pleasant but slightly dull, no new information discovered. It was almost exactly the same as every previous conclusion. Jon had to admit, so many months with so little progress was… discouraging. He shifted on the narrow mattress and winced when his movements aggravated his backache (which was surely unrelated to his frequent occupancy of the cot). It was becoming more and more apparent that the only possible solution was to do some actual, direct investigation. His first idea (break into Bouchard's office) seemed a tad far (also, he didn't know how to pick locks). His second idea (follow him home) seemed a stretch further than the previous one, and was perhaps best saved as a last resort. His third idea (something something computers? (perhaps "idea" was a bit generous)) would almost certainly require Sasha, who would have questions Jon couldn't answer. He flipped idly through his notes, half-skimming, half-thinking. It was only when his gaze landed on figure 2.b, Weekly Schedule of E. Bouchard, that he actually came up with something reasonable. Something actionable.

[mocc-tok-flip-flop]

The submas brainworm is only getting stronger, so I have drafted a whole-ass comic for a new AU idea! One where Chandelure gets to take center stage and become the main character she was always meant to be~

The gist of the AU is that Chandelure has a ghostly soul-bond with Ingo, which essentially means that his soul is under her protection and he sorta registers as a ghost to other pokemon. Basically protects him from other ghosts trying to put their sticky paws on her trainer and also gives the two of them a bit of an empathetic connection. Not quite telepathy, but able to transmit complex feelings and lets them check how badly they're hurt.

Naturally, this means that when Giratina (who was honestly just trying to play around. They were given the tedious task of just opening rifts and looking through all those peep holes made them curious. So when they saw a soul that had a beautiful ghost bond, they became fascinated) snags Ingo and drags him through, Chandelure immediately feels when Giratina's power accidentally tries to overwhelm Ingo's soul and she absolutely loses her shit. Through psychically screaming and using her protective aura to try and bash Giratina, the distortion god acts like a dog that's done something they shouldn't and tries to hide the evidence of their messing around (Ingo getting fucked up via soul and getting not too gently dropped off a mountain).

I have more ideas, especially relating to how Emmet is taking his brother's ace losing her mind and how her actions affect the investigation, but if I keep going down these tracks I'm going to end up with another 90k WIP fic like i did with Naruto. (Though if people wanna see the AU written out...👀... I could absolutely be convinced. I'm very weak...)

[dnalt-d2]

(TW for racism/xenophobia, as well as what's going on with Cellbit right now. For anyone who wants to know about that, I put the documents he put out in the replies for the post, as well as TWs for what it contains)

You know, I gotta say I'm really glad I'm hardly on twitter and BARELY know how to navigate it. Because I never actually SEE any of the drama going on over there, I just hear it from tumblr people coming here from over there, and that's definitely the case here as well as well

And I know I haven't really talked much about QSMP Drama before, but what's going on right now is hitting me a little harder than I would've thought, so I do wanna give my two cents on it

For starters, I read through the entire document that Cellbit put out and I feel absolutely horrible for what he's going through right now, and for what he went through in the past. Especially since I've been through something similar to one of the things he mentioned. Not to mention the fact that I'm also most likely asexual as well. (This is kinda why I wanted to talk about it at all, if I'm being honest) I really hope things get better for him, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart

And as for the apparently rampant xenophobia that's been targeted towards the Brazilian community, I honestly feel absolutely terrible that this has been happening. And I really hope that people can come here and find a better part of the community to interact with, if they choose to stay at all. Which I can certainly understand anyone choosing to leave, however unfortunate that is. Either way, I'm really sorry this has been happening to you guys, and it never should have happened in the first place (And anyone else who's experienced this, you have my sympathy as well, even if I know it isn't really gonna help much)

For anyone that stays, I'm really sorry things have been so shitty. Obviously there's not gonna be any place that's completely safe and tolerant, but I certainly hope things over here are better than on twitter

QSMP has been an amazing experience for me, and the fact that I've learned so much about so many different cultures has been absolutely incredible. I'm not the kind of person who can just learn this kind of stuff by reading up on it, so this has really been a great way to learn about things that I either never thought to look into, or just wasn't able to understand for whatever reason

Anyone that sees this sort of project, which has been connecting so many different communities and cultures, and decides to still be so intolerant and hateful, are just a special kind of awful. And frankly, they're the ones losing out on something incredible

(Btw I'm not sure what all to tag this as, since again, I don't really talk about drama stuff all that often, so if anyone wants me to tag a specific trigger or anything else, please let me know)

[04tenno]

So, uh...

Mine lived(?)

How Are We Doing.

[punkstylerecovery]

One of my major (minor) brain issues is that my brain lies to me. Sometimes its easy to ignore, especially since it's generally obvious, but when I don't have something else to concentrate on or I'm really anxious, its like trying to ignore a fire alarm going off when you're sitting right beside it. Impossible, at least for me.

See, its one thing to ignore my brain saying "you're an evil person" when I'm in the middle of a book. Its another to ignore my brain claiming I didn't lock the bathroom door (and someone Will come in) when I'm in the shower. But its quite another thing to ignore my brain screaming someone is in my bedroom and they're going to kill me when its the dead of night and I'm trying to sleep.

You might think the logical solution would be to look around my bedroom, put the fears to rest, and go to sleep. But no. You see, my brain wants me to look. But it also never believes I've looked properly.

I can look around and five seconds later, my brain will ask, 'but are you sure you looked right? Look again. If you missed something, you're going to die!" Sometimes I can't remember if I looked or not. Perhaps I did miss something. It doesn't matter. My brain wouldn't be satisfied if I slept with my eyes open (which is what it tries to convince me I will do if I want to stay alive).

Its always something I've struggled with, some times more than others. Its not always as extreme as "you're going to die", but its always extreme in some way, whether its the panic or the amount of times I check something to shut my brain up. And its ridiculous, because its not like I don't know my brain is a liar. Its not like I don't know it likes to fuck with me.

But I also don't really know what else to do. Its not like people go around offering advice for things like that; its not a common dinner conversation. Its not even a common experience, apparently. Some people's brains don't lie to them all the time and they don't have a million panic attacks trying to go to sleep because their brain isn't telling them they're about to die.

I don't know what the fuck I'd advise people like that. Sleep tight, maybe. But I wish there was some kind of guidebook for people with brains like mine. I'm getting kinda tired of winging it.

[lamardeuse]

me: are some fans actually so fucking entitled that they can't bother to read all of the very informative tags or the two-sentence summary that makes it clear where a story ends up, and then get so incandescently angry their precious ship was even tagged and their poor widdle eyes had to learn of the existence of this story that they then wish death upon the author?

twitter: yes, yes they are

Considering I got slagged off by one group of fans because I didn't include every fucking relationship tag under the sun (including one that did not happen in the timeline of the story) and now this person is getting harm wished upon them because they included too many relationship tags, I don't see how authors can avoid getting attacked by assholes. Not enough tags? Die, motherfucker! Too many tags for them to read? Die, motherfucker!

I beg some of you on BOTH sides of this ridiculous ship war to get some fucking perspective. You are not being harmed here; you are a bully who is causing harm. You need to log off and go outside, get professional help, or quite simply fuck all the way off out of the fandom.

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

guy who got his 99 brothers murdered vs guy who cut out middleman and murdered all 99 of his brothers himself fight

[itsamenickname]

So I have a thought.

I'm sure you all have seen at least one idea/AU where Luigi marries Bowser and becomes king or king consort of Bowser's Kingdom.

But what about vice versa? Do you think that Bowser would ever consider the thought of handing the crown over to Kamek, Kammy, or Bowser Jr. (assuming that he's old enough to rule over the kingdom) so that he could have a normal-ish life with Luigi?

[sysig]

Wake up somewhere better, maybe (Patreon)