#ONLY AS HUMANS THOUGH

[jaydenundercover11]

theyre hot ok??

has anyone here read or seen thea stilton? maybe read them in their childhood? well, i got a book today for an event thingy and ngl the main girls are HOT. Like as humans..

I mean.. do u not see it??

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[caffess]

Rip to the only reasonable Targaryen and her poor dragon

[azuronel]

my predictions for the end of book 7

EDIT: part two here

[cosmikazie]

every science fiction show that deals with aliens should have at least a few furries in the writers room and design department bc my suspension of disbelief is slowly but surely burning out over people making aliens look like this

[lonicera-caprifolium]

AU meet-cute in which they're both nude models for a local art class

[moeblob]

I love them! So much!

[ruporas]

feast (ID in alt)

[grrbrainsorwhatever]

Hey guys am I crazy or would it be really cool if Mabel actually had six fingers when she was born but got them removed by her parents but she still has scars sorry Mabel is definitely my favorite twin and I just want that to be known and also I don’t want to hear a negative Nancy say anything about my goth teen Mabel design she had a goth slash new wave phase in my HEART

[lucabyte]

Comfortable in New Skin

[firestorm09890]

Y'ALL. Y'ALL so for a long time I've believed that "the sun" in Meursault's story is Carmen, and I went to check Hell's Chicken's dialogue to see exactly how he said that he'd dealt with distortions before, and... you know what else he said?

To my knowledge, it is a phenomenon where an individual morphs into a form often unfit to be considered “human”. It has no known causes, and the appearances were all different.

Unfit to be considered human.

Meursault, who, in his book, was judged by the court to be soulless.

Meursault, who has EGO for Cyborgs who have been so mutilated they barely act like people anymore; a murderer who was experimented on until ceasing to be human; a sheep named after Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, a novel about the humanity of androids and the inhumanity of humans; and now a rose that can't help its bloodsucking nature, based on Carmilla, a vampire whose story emphasized the duality between her vampiric traits and her human ones.

Meursault, who answered Heathcliff's ironic question of if he had metal for brains like this:

I'm placing my bets now, that line from Hell's Chicken is foreshadowing for Meursault's canto even more than "I have witnessed a number of [distortion] cases in the past" was

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[twigsyy]

[a-most-beloved-fool]

there are many neat reptilian characteristics that one can give Cardassians. I've seen shedding scales, tails and claws, scent marking, and people making them ectothermic.

but consider:

Color changing ridges. Just for funsies. We already tend to headcanon that the ridges and spoons (chula, if you prefer) turn blue when aroused, mimicking the make up they wear in canon, but it would be a bit interesting if the ridges were Fully color changing, a la chameleons. Especially if they changed color based on emotions.

Because their culture is very focused on the Good of the State, it would probably be taboo to have your emotions plainly visible (too much risk of your colors giving away the fact that you aren't 100% content blindly serving the state). I think it would be typical to wear make up to cover up the color changing scales, or to wear paint in 'positive' colors.

Soldiers and the Obsidian Order might even find a way to chemically neutralize the color changing, either temporarily or permanently - it could be far too much of a liability, if someone got captured and interrogated.

Most non-Cardassians would be entirely unaware that this was a normal part of Cardassian physiology. Novels might have oblique references to the colors when describing emotions, but any book that spoke too clearly of them would be almost sure to get banned. Bashir would be slowly taking notes about which colors in novels seemed to correspond to which emotions, but he'd have no idea that it was because Cardassians could Literally Turn Those Colors. He'd just assume their color theory was different, and that they were Really into color metaphors for some reason.

Could be interesting to explore the cultural implications and see what kinds of new mischief happens on the station due to it.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 2

cw: the ocean, talk of being drowned, loss of a sibling, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 4k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You weren’t sure how long you sat there, drying off under the morning sun. It was easier than getting up and doing what you came here to do. But eventually, the rocks under you began to dig into your skin through your clothes and the warmth of the sun and your drying clothes stiffening from the salt in the water made you restless. You had to get up, to go somewhere. 

The dock was the last place you wanted to be. It held a horrible ending and an even worse beginning. 

But everywhere else in this new, unforgiving place seemed worse. At least you knew what was waiting for you on that dock. However horrible it was, it held something you understood. 

And so you got up on stiff legs and stretched, fighting against pins and needles to walk towards the moment you’d fought to get to, the moment you’d been dreading more than anything. 

The ground beneath you shifted from unstable stones to steady, aging wood, vibrating with the steps of dozens of people rushing around you. 

It was just as hectic as the dock you had left from. There it had been a boon, the exact thing you had used to sneak onto that accursed ship. 

You appreciated it here too. With dozens of people that had a thousand things to do, you felt invisible. No one had time to gawk at you, to ask if you belonged there. They didn’t have time to care. 

You watched them as they passed and couldn’t help but wonder how many of them knew Isobel. How many of them greeted her with a smile every morning? How many people looked forward to seeing her every day?

You imagined it was many of them. She’d always had that effect on people. 

But she wouldn’t any longer. And you were left to struggle to fill the hole she’d left behind.

That was why you were here. The pretense was that it was for her funeral arrangements, contacting the only family she’d ever told anyone about while she was still here. But really, you were here to take her place, replace her in the job she’d carved out for herself. They’d said as much in the letter, that they’d found her a shocking loss and you were welcome to pick up where she’d left off. 

It was said more tactfully, of course, with much more focus on her coming to arrange the funeral for her dearly missed sister. However, they all knew it would hardly be a lavish affair, just whatever would be paid for by the church. She could mourn her sister just as easily back home as she could here. But a job, that was enough to have her hiding on a cargo ship. 

Isobel has been an inventory taker, keeping the sailors honest, a job that probably would have been aided by you not being caught as a stowaway, but you weren’t particularly worried. They’d barely gotten a good look at you in the dark and even if they did, it had been for just a moment. With any luck, they wouldn’t dock here again, had left while she was sleeping on a quiet little island with a typically deadly monster.

The more you thought back on the last day, the less it made sense to you. It all felt fast and addled. Everything in you wanted to think you’d hallucinated it. If it weren’t for the fact that you were still standing here, alive, you’d be convinced you’d had. 

And then you saw the last thing you wanted to see. You saw a ship that was sickeningly familiar. You didn’t recognize any of the men’s faces. You hadn’t had any real chances to see them, other than through holes in your hiding place and in your panic in the endless rain. 

They looked like normal men. If they weren’t standing on that awful ship, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart from anyone else. 

It felt wrong. 

Something in you didn’t expect them to look like average men. In your head, they were monsters, the evil visible on their faces. 

Your eyes darted over them, your mind trying to catalog as many of their faces as possible. The idea of seeing one of them someday and not recognizing them, of just seeing them the same way you’d see anyone else, sent a bolt of panic through you. You needed to know them, you couldn’t let yourself be caught off guard. 

And then one of them locked eyes with you and you froze, unable to move, to run, to do anything without outing yourself. You knew that there was no way he knew who you were and yet somehow you were convinced that he knew, that exactly who you were was written all over your face. 

He started walking towards you while you stood frozen. You willed your feet to move, tried to tell yourself there was nothing strange about just walking away, but some instinct deep inside of you screamed that if you moved he would know, that it would be just as obvious as turning around and running. 

He greeted you with a smile and you felt a bile rise in your throat, fighting to keep the terror off of your face. 

“You’re Isobel’s sister, aren’t you?” he asked, oblivious to the disgust and fear settling inside you. “You look just like her. Maybe a bit more nervous, but I never met her on her first day.” He chuckled as he spoke and you wanted to hit him, to run, to do anything. How could he just stand here and talk to you? How could he not know, not sense it somehow? “You’ll do just fine. I’m sure it all runs in the family, you’ll pick it up in no time. It is a shame what happened to the lass.”

“It was,” you said, your voice sounding stunted to your ears. 

“Aye. Well, just take the run of our ship for me, let’s get everything sorted as soon as possible.”

You tried to shuffle off, refusing to meet his eye. “I haven’t even started working here yet.”

“It doesn’t really matter, you just need to make it official. Don’t worry, I’ll see to it you get paid. We’re all rooting for you, you know. God knows we’ve heard enough about you, Isobel’s brave, clever little sister.”

As he spoke, he laid a hand on your shoulder, one that you were sure was meant to be reassuring. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was one of the people who threw you overboard, if those hands were one of the ones squeezing your wrists so tight you had just begun to see the bruises. 

You agreed quickly, more in a rush to get away from him than anything. You knew you weren’t in any real danger but still, being anywhere near that cursed ship made you feel queasy. 

You boarded the ship, knees feeling weak as soon as your feet hit the deck. 

You hurried below deck as fast as you could, knowing you were doing a very poor job of looking unaffected by the whole ordeal. You quickly found yourself in the same room you’d hidden in. You saw your shawl stuck behind the heavy boxes, sitting, abandoned and smashed, against the wall.  

You weren’t taking inventory of anything while you were down there, with no means with which to do so or any idea of what you were looking for. You didn’t really know what you were doing. It was a difficult job to do without guidance but you knew they didn’t really want you to do it. All they wanted was the stamp of approval that they were sure meant little, the one that you did not have the authority to give. 

If you’d had the ability, you just might have given it, although not for the reason he’d imagined. You just wanted them gone, considering risking a job you needed badly just to get them away from you. 

Maybe you’d feel different when you left the ship, when you were no longer being faced with reminders of what had happened.

It seemed too calm like this. Like surely some signs of your struggle and terror should be strewn around the room. The only thing that even marked your existence was that abandoned shawl, barely visible behind crates that were stacked high. 

You stood down there, listening to the sound of boots on the deck above in the familiar room until they got more and more distant. Finally, with no idea how long you’d been standing down there, the echoing footfalls largely dissipated and you peeked your head out the door, set on slipping away. 

As you did, slinking off the skip back onto the dock, working to get lost in the crowd before any of the other sailors could spot you as you fled, you heard the sounds of shouting surrounding you. 

You turned to see severed fishing nets held in the hands of deeply upset sailors. 

It was hard to make out exactly what they were saying but you caught wind of cursing at sea monsters amidst accusations that some ravenous creature has chewed through their nets for the easy prey. 

Despite the frustrated cursing at sharks and monsters, you thought that, at least to your untrained eye, they didn’t look like they’d been chewed through. The cuts were too neat for that. Instead, they looked like they’d been cut, cleanly and meticulously. 

“You know what I think,” someone said, and it took a moment for you to realize that the voice was speaking to you. You turned to see a man, one of the younger ones here, leaning conspiratorially into your side. “I think they’re getting cut on the rocks.”

You hummed noncommittally.

The man didn’t seem to mind your lack of response. “A group of piss-poor sailors, can’t even miss something that doesn’t move.”

That managed to earn a quiet chuckle from you. 

He turned, really taking you in for the first time. “Hold on, you’re new, aren’t you?”

You nodded, sparing him a glance before your eyes darted back to the upset men and their shredded net. 

He was a rather ordinary boy, a medium brown hair, lightened from long hours of working in the sun, dark eyes, and freckles creeping up his cheeks. He seemed altogether more interested in you than you were in him but then again, you were the newcomer here. 

You should probably be friendlier, make nice with him. He looked like he worked here so you imagined you’d be seeing a lot of him.  

He stuck his hand out, having to back away from you a little to create enough space between you for a handshake. 

You took his hand and he gave it a quick shake, his hand warm and rough. 

“I’m Finn. Are you taking Izzy’s job? I should’ve guessed, you look just like her.”

You shrunk a bit at the comment. You didn’t think it was true, not in the ways that counted. You saw so little of yourself in her. 

But this man couldn’t know that, couldn’t know anything about you really. You hadn’t so much as spoken a word to him. 

“I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, your voice coming out quieter than you’d meant it, a breathiness sneaking its way into your tone. 

He gave you a big, bright smile. “The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Has anyone helped you or have you just been milling about? Your first day here and we’ve already failed you. What would poor Izzy think?”

You gave him a halfhearted smile as he spoke, in no mood to hypothesize about what your dead sister would think of you now. 

Finn didn’t mind, taking your hand in his once more and leading you through the crowd of people towards a building to the side of the dock, just barely on dry land. 

He turned to you, another brilliant smile plastered across his face. “Here you are, ma’am, they’ll be able to take care of you in here. I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early. If no one else offers to show you the ropes, come find me, alright?”

You offered him a smile that you hoped was even half as big and genuine as his seemed to be. “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

With a stilted little bow in parting, he walked away, leaving you with nothing to do but enter the building. 

It was a small building, with not much room for anything inside. Most of the space was taken up by boxes and papers, with one lone desk against the back wall. An older man was sitting at it, hair looking overgrown and unkempt, streaks of gray working their way through it. He had a rather severe look about him, eyes sharp and pointed. He was reading something carefully as you entered. 

His head jerked up to see you and it hit you suddenly that you should have knocked. 

“I’m Isobel’s sister,” you blurted out. “You sent word to my family that she passed, you said if I hurried here I could take her place?”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and he settled back in his chair, eyes darting up and down to fully take you in. “Ah yes. Shame, that. She was a hard worker. Begged me for the job for days, swore she’d do anything to keep this dock running, that we’d never find a better worker. Smile on her face the whole time.” There was something unspoken in his gaze as he looked at you, a quiet challenge asking if you’d do the same. “And they sent you?”

You decided not to mention that really, there was no they. Your family was an independent people.  Frankly, you hadn’t even known whether Isobel was alive or dead between the letters you got maybe once a year, if you were lucky. That’s what you’d thought that awful letter was, written on the same stationary she used. You imagine she borrowed it from whoever had written of her death. Or stolen it. You liked to imagine she’d stolen it, the little bit of extra danger she would have gone through to write to you leaving a warm feeling in your chest. 

“They did,” you said, with the sweetest smile you could muster. 

“Good. And you can read, we know that. How’s your attention to detail?”

“Immaculate, sir,” you said, straightening your back as you spoke. “I will be just as good as she was, I swear it.”

It was a lie, but it was one you could stomach. 

“Good. I’m taking a chance on you, you know. But then again, I was taking a chance on her and anyone who works on this dock will tell you she was the finest worker we ever had.”

You smiled, and this time you meant it. “I’m sure she was.”

“Now, down to business,” he said as he shuffled some of the many papers on his desk around. “We’ve had some issues before, people fudging numbers, sneaking off with pieces of shipments. We have a reputation to uphold. If anything happens with any of them, it's on your head. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now what was special about your sister is she took the inventories in the ships without being largely despised like some of the others before her were. My advice? Play nice. Those men out there can make your life real easy or real hard. They’ll be nice to you, you’re pretty like she was. Try to keep it that way. Just don’t let anything they say go to your head. You report to me every morning and every night. Any questions?”

You shook your head. “No sir.”

He gave you a firm nod and then you were onto paperwork, setting up matters of payments and of reporting in. You took careful note of everything that he said, intent on getting this right. You had no other choice. 

By the time you managed to get out of there, everything signed and squared away, the sun had begun to fall below the horizon. The docks were quieting, although they were far from empty. People bustled around in the orange light of the dusk. 

The glowing sky reflected in the waves, shining back up at you from below. And amidst the reflections of auburn light and a dusting of clouds was a face, shaggy blonde hair framing cheeks with white scales reflecting the fading sun. 

Just the top of his head was peeking above the surface, everything below his nose still under the water. His eyes were staring right up at you, watching you patiently. 

You frantically looked around, making sure no one on the almost empty dock had noticed him. 

“Shoo. Go away,” you hissed down at him when you ensured the coast was clear. 

He splashed water up at you, wetting the bottom of your skirts. 

Your eyes widened and you did your best not to yell. “You cannot be here, you need to leave.”

He stayed put exactly where he was, staring incessantly up at you. 

His message was clear. He wasn’t going anywhere.

You paced off the dock, running over to the shore to try and pull him away from the lights and the people on the dock. The shore was largely abandoned, at least at this time of night. 

His tail snaked across the surface of the water as he swam away, following after you and disappearing faster under shallow water than you were comfortable with, ideas of what else could be lurking under the surface flicking through your mind.

You weren’t sure when a siren following you had managed to land firmly in the non-threatening part of your mind but it had, his alien appearance nothing other than vaguely alarming in the presence of sailors who did not feel as nonchalantly towards him as you did.

“What are you doing here?” you hissed when you both managed to make it to the shore and you stared down at him, disapprovingly. 

He was clearly built for deep water, shifting uncomfortably in the shallows, and yet here he was. 

He shrugged, staring at you from the water, eyes only leaving yours to flick down to your wet skirts. If you hadn’t been so set on getting him away from here, you would’ve scolded him. 

“Do you want something from me?” you asked, trying to get some sort of answer out of him, like you just had to ask the right question to be able to send him away. “Look, there’s safer ways to call in a favor. It’s not that I don’t want to help, I just don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Don’t want anything,” he said with a huff. “Not now anyways.”

“Then why are you here?” you asked, a sense of desperation bleeding into your voice. He’d saved you, if you got him killed now you’d never be able to live with yourself. It was out of the question. You needed to get him to leave. 

He did not want to see reason. “None of your business.”

You sat on the shore, rubbing your temples as you lowered yourself closer to his level. “Okay. Sure, that’s fine. You know what? As long as you’re here I might as well ask. What’s your name?”

He paused, looking to the side for a moment before responding. “Simon”

“Is that true?”

He shrugged. “It’s a name.”

You stared incredulously at him for a moment before he decided it was time to try again. "Peter.”

This did not aid in your confusion. “What?”

“You didn’t seem to like the last one.”

“Do you not have a name?”

“Not your kind,” he said, his nose scrunching a little as he did. 

“What kind then?” you prompted. 

He shrugged. “Our kind.”

You sighed, frustration bubbling up inside of you. “Okay, well where’d you get Simon from?”

“Heard it.”

“Where?” 

“From people.”

“What people?” you asked, feeling a little like a child who’d just learned the word why. It wasn’t really your fault though. If he’d simply answer a question properly he’d be freed from this endless barrage of questions. 

“The ones on the ships.”

“Why were you…” The realities of sirens and ships flashed through your mind and you decided that you should probably end that line of questioning. You shook your head, set on getting back on task. “You’ve got to at least talk to me. Are you here for a reason?”

He shrugged again, nose drifting back below the water as he sunk down into the shallows.

“Look, they won’t take kindly to you if they see you. We can set something up, somewhere where you can contact me so you don’t have to put yourself in danger to see me. We can find a nice abandoned section of the shore, I’ll visit every day so if you need to talk to me, you can.”

He shook his head. “I can find you.”

“I know you can, but you really shouldn’t.”

“We will meet here at dusk,” he said, gesturing to the little slice of shore you were on now, the same one he’d left you at the night before. “And also when I want to, I will find you. 

“Look… Simon? Is that what you want to go with?”

He shrugged noncommittally, eyes flitting towards the dock.

You sighed. “I’m not going to convince you, am I?”

He shook his head, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

You groaned. “Fine. That’s fine. Get yourself killed if you want to, I don’t care.”

That knocked the smug look off his face, and he said hesitantly, with a bit of a pout in his voice, “You do care.”

“Not if you don’t want to listen. Why would I care if you won’t listen?”

He studied your face for a moment before a determined look set itself onto his face, saying with more certainty this time, “You do care.”

He turned and disappeared under the water before you could respond. 

And then you were alone on the cold shore. 

You sighed as you settled against the rocks, where you’d be spending the night you supposed. It was no worse than anywhere else you could think of in this city you knew so little about. 

You had nowhere to stay, no money to get yourself a room. If you’d had it, you would’ve spent it on fare for a ship to get yourself here. 

Or maybe you wouldn’t have. Maybe you would have been set in your ways, convinced you could just sneak on and save your money for where it would really count. Maybe things would have turned out exactly as they did. 

As you leaned back onto the rocky shore where you’d be spending the rest of your night, you tried to put the spiraling thoughts of what might have been out of your head. 

You stared up at the stars, already forgoing any thought of sleep. It wouldn’t be safe to sleep here anyway. Hopefully you could figure some sleeping arrangements out in the coming days. Keeping on like this might drive you mad. 

But for now, there was nothing to be done, no use worrying over it. All that was left was to wait til morning. 

[cracklewink]

some sketches of my guy