The Star Multimuse is real

“We all carry within us different versions of ourselves. Our true, greatest, most honest versions of ourselves can either be developed and nourished, or it can remain dead from neglect. Most people opt for the easiest version rather than the best. But in the end which version lives, which version thrives and which version dies, depends on the choices we make and the people in our lives.” 

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CW: Bright neon colors

Psychic kiddos

Ok, time to explain the Earthbound AU. Basically I looked at the plot of Earthbound and went “Ok but what if the journalists were the chosen four?” and WHOOPS I’ve been obsessed with it ever since.

Here’s the psychics of the group displaying their abilities.

[ Hello, everyone! I hope your summer has been fun and restful so far.

I've mentioned off and on this past year about getting married/planning a wedding, and that is finally happening in the next several weeks. My future husband and I are going to move in together, get married, go on our honeymoon, etc., and I want to make sure that I am putting in the time to all of that without worrying about tumblr.

So, starting at least by June 5, I will be on an extended hiatus.

An annoyed sighed escaped Edgeworth's lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose hearing the news. "Honestly... I've had shoes that have lasted longer than his relationships with women..."

"I guess we could take him somewhere we couldn't get a drink. If anything, maybe we just give him grape juice out of a glass bottle and tell him it's wine.

...Or do the lawyer thing and not necessarily lie, but let him make his own guess that it's wine. And voila. Sober Larry."

could you do a yellow themed jimmy valmer stim board :) just do whatever u think looks good :D

OK to tag as kin/me/id!

" NNN … NICE DOGGY, PLEASE … VE … VERY NICE DOGGY, " 

Ari spoke gently as she extended a little hand, reaching for the dog's head. Her movements were both SLOW and CAREFUL, as to not startle the soon - to - be furry friend. 

Snoopy has been spending the majority of his morning crawling around the meadow, wearing his goggles and scarf, pretending to have braved No Man's Land. However, the sight and scent of the little girl approaching him causes him to look up.

Aha! Une petite fille, a small girl raised in a quaint French village, picking flowers to sell, looking for some semblance of comfort from a pilot of the Allies!

“I assure you, age does not dictate everything.” (Intelligent children are only cute until a certain age. Once past that, they’re nothing more than a nuisance.)

Naoto flips to the next page, one that contains a hypothesis about the role Mrs. Emdy had to play in that distant case.

“The reason I’ve come into your house to talk about your deceased husband is different from that line of reasoning. You are not the culprit behind that case, however, what about it caused you to shut yourself away in this dusty clinic?”

Well, other than her husband’s death turning her into a shut-in. 

“You seem to be the observant type. You might have thought that the circumstances behind his death matched up with the rumor of a radio channel that only appeared on a rainy midnight. Perhaps you told the police about your thoughts, perhaps other townspeople. However, if you did, nobody believed you, for it was too fantastical to even comprehend." 

Seems like age might be a pressure point. Alice'll take that into consideration.

Her own train of thought is derailed when the idea that, years ago, she had brought up an idea to fantastical and ridiculous that no one would believe her, and, in a similar tell, her knuckles turn white as she tightens her grip on the neck of the green glass bottle.

Her teeth are grit together, and her sharp gray eyes meet the detective's, pointed anger obvious even with her inebriated state, before averting her gaze and staring at the floor.

"I know damn well what I heard." She mutters bitterly. "That bastard must have done something to Elliot. Kidnapped him and took 'im to the studio. Hijacked the station. Something. It was him, and I don't care what anyone else says."

“Can you believe he called me boring? First of all, I am not boring. Second of all, my encyclopedic knowledge of vocabulary is endearing.” Klaus’ cheeks are puffed out in fury as he recounts the story of a conversation he had earlier as a friend. His arms are crossed and his brows are knit in a terrible scowl.

The eldest Baudelaire youngster had spent her evening off from her tiring work at the Lucky Smells Lumbermill picking bits of bark and splintered wood from her long black hair, too exhausted to even start up the inventing gears in her head. She does, however, stop what she's doing and turn her attention towards her brother.