#a considerable chunk of answers

[lupucs]

I have a few questions! Mind answering? 1. What/who is your persona and what is their name? 2. What animating software do you use? 3. What software do you use to edit? 4. How long Have you been doing this 5. Are you open for 3d commissions ?? 6. whats your most famous video 7. Whats the least famous video? 8. Favortie video you have made? 9. Favortie model you have made? 10. Least favortie model + video you have made?

My youtube avatar? They're just a scruffy little goblin, their name is Lu (short version of "Lupucs"). They are supposed to be a loose representation of myself for stuff like 3D timelapses. As for my profile pic, that's just an oc. Her name is Ruby and she's a scarecrow who can wield magic and turn into a giant crow

Blender

Blender for animation editing, adobe premiere for timelapse editing

I've been doing 3D for about 6 years on and off, though ive only started doing it more regularly roughly 4 yrs ago

sadly not since i have a full-time job, but I really appreciate the interest!! It wouldnt feel right accepting commissions without the reassurance of being able to set aside enough time to commit myself to them, not to mention balancing my hobby of making animations and 3D models. i'll definitely post an announcement on here if I reopen them again!! it's definitely not out of the question.

it's the susie noelle lunch break one!! back then i didnt even wanna upload this to youtube but my friend convinced me to do it anyway and... it sorta exploded. never expected so many people to love these two goobers so much. I'm still both shooketh and a little scared but also extremely grateful!!

probably those few old oc animations i made years ago. like this one, it's my icon but it's animated! :P this is so old lol

ooh that's tricky! there are a few that come to mind, but i think Hometown Fall studies is my favorite. I like how the cozy vibe turned out and it was so much fun animating these characters playing off of each other in a mundane scenario like that. Im also really happy with how my Alphys and Undyne anim turned out. It took about 5 months (on and off) to make

i'd say susie and papyrus. oh and alphys too!! none ut/dr models would be king from TOH, and this fanart of my friend sphinxmothra's ocs

I guess that would be my Little My Moomins model from a while ago... i kinda wanna remake it one day as i really dont like how the shaded gradients look. Oh and this old oc. As for least favorite video, it's this animation. It's so floaty lol!!!

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

[x]

Go get their greedy a$$es, CN girlies 👑💯 From my understanding the CN boycott is beginning to move beyond just kittens, slowly spreading out to the rest of the fanbase. Which is great! The more people join, the bigger chance of success.

The fact that the hairstyles and outfits are pulled separately for this banner is asinine. If you look up money hungry in the dictionary, you'll find a group photo of Paperfold's higher-ups.

I am fully onboard with the CN girlies demand for more rewards during grinding. The droprates are extremely low rn and it's unjustifiable.

I think it's fitting to also include this post here showing the struggle players face in endgame

[x]

Like I mentioned in a post of my own, grinding for Dias in endgame is infuriatingly difficult even for whales or dolphins (ie the people that can afford to invest in all 5 LIs). In the long run this will be unsustainable. A change by Paperfold is necessary atp. Remember, they are a multimillion corporation. They can absolutely afford to be more generous. So why aren't they? Answer: they're greedy and, as long as players let them, they will push this behavior as far as they can. To the detriment of their game. They are showing a blatant lack of regard or respect for their playerbase with this stingy behavior.

I personally feel like the upcoming banner — and the separate hair + outfits — is a cash grab by Paperfold. LADS flopped hard in January and now the company are scrambling to recover. So I feel like the course they'll ultimately take in the future hinges a lot on the success — or lack thereof — of this new banner. If it succeeds, well, then they know that all they need to do is throw sexy banners at us and they're off the hook. No need to implement changes. If it tanks however, then they'll have to face the music and listen to their consumers. Rein in their greed. Make things right. Communicate. Treat the LIs equally (this is my hope anyway as a Sylus girly b/c let me tell you it's rough out here). At least this is my assumption. It'd be idiotic of them if they still refuse to heed their customers and ignore the boycott. Especially considering how much their Scrooge McDuck a$$es obviously love money.

Let's hope for the best and, if you can and want to, please do join in on the boycott. The most effective way of doing so is not to spend money during the banner and to refrain from pulling even using red dias or tickets for the first 3 days of the banner period. And also to limit your time on the app during the same timeframe (that is, 3 days). Spread the word. Send a message with your wallet. Don't encourage blatant greed and mistreatment. We as consumers hold more sway than we think. Remember, we are boycotting out of love for this game and a desire to see it thrive for years to come as well as to prevent it from becoming entirely P2P. Because if Paperfold gets away with their current behavior, then more and more players will eventually get turned off by a game that essentially forces you to spend considerable chunks of your hard earned money for the bare minimum. Again, and I'm not saying this lightly, it'll be unsustainable.

[wetpussyju1ce]

how bear!John fell in love w the local scrawny werewolf girl (reader is skinny, hairy and could be read as a poc)

John is huge. absolutely massive. especially w being a bear shifter, it makes everything abt him even bigger. and he runs warm all year long. always hot as a furnace. he's heavy and his shoulders are massive. his muscles are covered in a heavy layer of fat. he may not be the fastest out of all the shifters. but he's sure as hell has lots of stamina. he's heavy and he's so strong.

so it comes as a surprise when the local scrawny werewolf catches his attention. he scents her in the air and she completely captures his attention from day 1.

the said werewolf was a naughty troublemaker according to the other shifters and villagers. unmated and seemingly free as the wind. she was tiny compared to other wolves her age, puberty wasn't as generous w her as others. in both human and wolf form she was skinnier and smaller. in human form she had big bouncy curly hair that just about reached her shoulders. was a little hairy all over, from her legs, to her back, to her armpits and between her legs. and it was a given, considering she was a furry animal shifter.

she was fast, faster than most but still considerably weaker given her stature. but she did have a vicious bite and the sharpest teeth John has seen on a werewolf. and most importantly of all, she scented good, really good, which meant that she was constantly being courted by shifters, or at least the ones that have yet to see her teeth in action.

John has seen her being dragged through the village by her mother by the scruff of the neck, mouth and neck sticky with blood while a shifter howled in pain at a big chunk of his neck missing. The tiny wolf looked proud of herself, smiling with blood stained sharp teeth.

She had a tendency to answer any insults or disrespect thrown at her with immediate violence and wrath. And he could see why, she was raised with lots of werewolves and can see how being the smallest in the litter made her easy target of being picked on, even if she was one of the older pups.

So John watched and waited for the right time to introduce himself. And he didn't have to wait long because on one sunny day, when John was on his boat, fishing in the river, sounds of splashes in the water caught his attention. He looked back and saw a wolf paddling towards his boat, he frowned in confusion at how far the wolf must've swam to get where John's boat was, there was no reason for them to be this far off land.

So he dipped his hand in the water, grabbed the wolf by the neck and lifted it onto his boat. John sat back down, watching the animal shake its fur in an effort to dry, and shifted to human form. John's breath caught in his throat when he realised he was face to face with the werewolf with the prettiest eyes and sharpest teeth.

She didn't say anything, blinking her thick and wet eyelashes at him behind her wet curls. She was naked, sitting casually in his boat, hands on the bench by her sides, staring at John openly, making no effort of hiding her private parts.

John tried not to look, he really did as he dug in his bags and retrieved a fleece blanket, he handed it to her, which she slowly accepted after sniffing the fabric once. John looked away as she stood up and wrapped the thing around her shoulders, finally covering her body.

"It's nice here...quiet." She said, looking at his fishing gear.

John stared at her with his mouth open, feeling a little dumb, then snapped out of it, "Why are you so far away from land?"

She shrugged, wiped her nose with the blanket, "Wolves were bothering me so I ran away."

"Which wolves?" He asked, leaning forward, and she leaned back, staring at him through her eyelashes and hair.

"Uhm, Graves and his friends, do you know them?" She said and John wanted to flip the boat because of course he knows who Graves is, that fucker used to steal John's catch with his minions.

"Guess you do know him," She said and John realised he was growling, feeling his clothes getting tighter and tighter on his skin. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down so he wouldn't rip his clothes to pieces shifting.

"What did he do to you?" John asked the wolf.

She bit her lower lip and squirmed in her seat, "I don't want to talk about it, but he didn't do anything because I ran away."

John started thinking of ways to end Graves pathetic life until she spoke again, "Can I fish with you?"

John stared at her, speechless.

Her shoulders slumped and she squeezed the blanket tighter around herself, burying her nose in the fabric, "Please?"

And how could John say no to that face?

[leighsartworks216]

Broken Glass

Zayne x gn!Reader

Inspired by real life events I would have *loved* to have a Zayne here for

Warning: blood, injury, feet, guilt, self-deprecation, insecurity, swearing, kissing, established relationship

Word Count: 1,252

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

A loud crash has Zayne on his feet in a heartbeat. He runs to the kitchen, standing in the doorway to assess what happened. Glass fragments - big, small, and smaller - litter the floor in a staggering display to your mistake. You’re at the center of the mess, crouched down to carefully pick up the larger shards. Barefoot.

“Be careful. Stay right there.” He disappears from the door to grab his shoes.

God, you feel awful. There’s something so entirely horrendous about breaking a glass object like this. It’s not easy to clean up, for one. You’d have to check under the cabinets and counters to make sure you got all the big pieces, and then sweep the smaller pieces up with a broom, and then vacuum thoroughly to make sure you got it all. And secondly, you never get all the pieces, no matter how thorough you are. Which means the hazard lingers for a while after. It’s a small mistake that has lasting consequences that all add up to make you feel like shit right now.

Sharp, shimmering edges of glass rest against your skin, threatening to dig in if you’re the slightest bit too careless. It glistens across the floor like a stunning array of gems on white tile, catching the glow of the overhead light and refracting it back to you. Zayne’s work shoes crunch over the fragments like thin ice as he carefully makes his way to you. His hands support you by your elbows as you stand. He transfers your small collection to his hands and goes to throw them away. Next to the trash can is a broom and dustpan.

You’re not really sure when it happened. Somehow, between the few seconds it took for Zayne to cross the kitchen and throw the chunks away, and him returning with the broom in hand, you cut yourself. You don’t feel the sting, but you do see the blood on the floor. Zayne quickly props the broom against the counter and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you all the way to the bathroom. He sets you on the countertop and sits on the lid of the toilet to check your feet, which, sure enough, are bleeding.

“Did you step in the glass?” His voice is sharp, straight to the point. He gently dabs a wad of tissue over the cut on your big toe that just seems to keep welling up with more blood, growing into a dark red bead that gets soaked up just before it gets the chance to succumb to gravity. You hiss when something sharp pokes into you at the site. “You have a piece of glass in your foot. Be still.”

“I must have, but I don’t know when…” you answer the mostly-redundant question. Your stomach sinks deeper and deeper with every second. If you didn’t feel like shit before, you definitely do now. You hiss again as he uses his thumb, wrapped in tissue, to pry out the small piece of glass. He wraps it in the spent tissue and grabs a fresh wad to hold tightly to the cut.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

He keeps a hold on your one foot while lifting your other one by the ankle to see the bottom. There’s a trail of blood sliding down to your heel from the middle of your foot. He sighs softly, taking in the damage.

“I’m sorry,” you meekly apologize.

He lifts the tissue away to check the bleeding. It’s slowed considerably, allowing him to focus on the other injury you’ve sustained.

You love Zayne, with every ounce your afflicted heart can give, but when he’s this quiet, snapping into his doctor mode, you can’t help but feel like you’ve royally fucked up. “I can put on some shoes and help you pick up the pieces,” you offer.

He shakes his head slightly, gently feeling for any embedded glass in your skin. He, thankfully, doesn’t find any. “I can take care of it,” he dismisses.

And your stomach hits rock bottom with a quiet fwump, weighed down by the guilt of your stupid accident.

Needing to find something to do to distract yourself, you turn your upper body to open th medicine cabinet and retrieve the box of bandaids on the bottom shelf. They’re covered in fun designs and colors, but they don’t bring the same joy right now as they normally would when you use one to cover up a paper cut. You pick out a few of the bigger ones, unsure what shapes he’d need.

He takes a long, fat one and removes the paper tabs, wrapping it securely around your toe. He rests that foot on his thigh as he turns to the other one. He takes a square bandage this time, and sticks it to the bottom of your foot.

“I’m sorry,” you say again.

His hands rest on the back of your ankles, keeping your feet on his thighs as he looks up at you. “You’ve already apologized.”

“I know, I just… Are you mad at me?”

“For breaking a glass?”

“For getting hurt.”

His thumbs rub mindlessly over the lateral malleolus of your ankles. “No, I’m not angry,” he says softly. “I was worried. If the glass went deeper into your skin, you’d need to go to the hospital to have it removed. There wouldn’t be anything I could do for it here.”

You stare at the box of bandaids in your lap, putting away the ones he didn’t end up using. One of his hands slides up your calf to rest just under the crook of your knee. Soft lips press against your knee.

“Look at me, my love.”

You hesitantly meet his eyes.

He offers you a soft smile. Dr. Zayne has been replaced once more by boyfriend Zayne. “I forgive you for breaking the glass, and for getting hurt. I only ask that you be more careful next time you break something.” He squeezes the meat of your calf affectionately, massaging the strong muscles underneath as he presses another sweet kiss to your leg. His other hand massages your ankle, tracing shapes up and down your Achilles tendon.

You set the box aside. The tension in your chest eases up as you run a hand through his hair. Getting so upset over this is so stupid, you know that. There’s just something so demeaning about breaking not just a drinking glass, but something of his. He looks up at you with something that kills the apology bubbling up your throat. You brush his bangs out of his eyes and say instead, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“I know you will.”

He presses a final kiss to your other knee before slipping your feet from his lap. He stands and throws away the bloody tissues in the small trash can. You wrap your arms around his neck as he picks you up, holding on as he carries you to the living room couch. “Stay here. I’ll clean up.”

You grab his sleeve, stopping him before he can get far. You pull him until he’s leaning over you, with one hand supporting himself against the back of the couch and a raised eyebrow that silently asks what you’re doing. You lean up to kiss him softly, trying to pour all your gratitude and love for him into the kiss. “Thank you,” you murmur when you pull away. “I love you.”

He smiles and kisses your forehead. “I love you, too.”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44

[heretyc]

Charcuterie Chips [Modern! Barbi x Reader]

I'm in the clear for cancer! 🙏 I had my appointment yesterday and my doctor said I'm 100% in the clear and cancer at my age is quite rare. Plus the type of cancer I was worried about doesn't quite run in my family, so I'm good! The symptoms I had were normal, thank god. To celebrate, I had a long ass nap and made myself a recipe I saw online and thought I'd write a fic about it to celebrate with you 🤗💕

The charcuterie board was invented in France, but seeing as Italy is just as romantic and I'd like to [humourously] think Franco would dislike Frenchies [like myself :O]...well, just enjoy the unhinged-ness that is Bambino.

Daily reminder to give yourself a breast exam :) Check under the armpits!!!

"I'm tellin' ya, this is the fuckin' dream."

The calm air - consisting of frogs, heat bugs and birds - was broken by the "crack!" of a cold beer can, Barbi sitting down in a lawn chair with a pleased sigh as his phone was stuck between his ear and his shoulder. "Murkoff's fucked, I got my lover here, the weather is fuckin' fantastic...I'm just sayin', don't be too shocked if I don't answer the fuckin' phone for the next few days, yeah??" He laughed into the phone, nodding every so often; you were busy putting things onto a sheetpan to really pay attention.

As of late, you've become quite fond of learning how to DIY food items with your special little twist on them. Despite Barbi's growing wealth and his adoration when it came to spoiling you, you still wanted to make your own food items from home. Why spend a fuckton of money on a half-pound Reeses when you can make it yourself, with some crushed up chips in the middle?

After a few moments, you left through the sliding door to outside, carrying a tray; Barbi finished up his phonecall, his flip-flop coated feet crossed at the ankles, his body slack in relaxation as he sipped at his beer. His phone laid dormant on the little table between his chair and the one beside him, clearly put on silent.

As soon as he heard you, he pushed his sunglasses down with a smirk, "Heya, gorgeous. You busy makin' your little...snack?"

He was more than aware of your little hobby; he was supportive, of course...but that didn't mean he wanted to try chocolate coated grasshoppers, y'know?

"Indeed I am," You placed the tray down onto the table, settling down in your own seat. "I learned a new charcuterie board recipe online, I wanted to try and make it."

"...You learned how to make a charcuterie board online?" He raised a brow, his expression one of slight pity. "...Babydoll, you didn't need the fuckin' internet to-"

He cut himself off as he finally had a look at the charcuterie board, a scoff escaping his lips. "...This ain't no charcuterie board."

You were known for your odd concoctions. Sure, he tried your attempt at recreating garlic bread and your recreation of mozzarella cheese, but this? This was too much.

"Yes it is!" You defended; upon the tray were chips with some melted cheese, smoked prosciutto and some dollops of apricot jam. "It's, technically, all of the ingredients put together."

Barbi removed his sunglasses to narrow his eyes at you. "I ain't no damn Frenchie, but I'm damn well offended on those fuckin' frogs' behalf. Baby, what even is this??"

"I told you! A charcuterie board."

"Yeah, a charcuterie board's unloved fuckin' second cousin, maybe," he wrinkled his nose, "This is like if you put nachoes and jam in a damn blender."

"Just try it, Barbi," you rolled your eyes, taking a chunk and placing it into your mouth with a hum. "Smokey, sweet, savoury. Yummy."

Barbi made a face of disgust before taking your expression into consideration. After a moment he sighed, taking a chunk. "Alright, alright. If you insist."

He placed the cluster of chips, cheese, meat and jam into his mouth, waiting for it to taint his tastebuds; instead came a pleasant array of sensations and flavours, his eyes shooting open in shock.

Even with his mouth full of delicacy, he was quick to say, "Holy shit, this is actually fuckin' good!"

He didn't wait before shoveling some more into his mouth, finally chewing and letting himself swallow before he shot you a grin, "What are those, sour cream and onion??"

"Mhhmmm," you smirked, "it adds flavour."

"Fuck yeah it does!"

And before you knew it, the tray was done; he licked his fingers free of salt and leftover jam, "You are a genius, doll. You learned this from the internet, ya said?"

"Yeah," you spread sunscreen all over yourself as you responded, the Louisiana sun packing a punch. You had no doubt the cheese would melt some more underneath this heat. "I also learned how to make homemade Reeses peanut butter cups with banana."

Barbi was silent for a moment as he watched you, until he muttered, "and you're still sitting there, not making 'em?"

Maybe, just maybe, he was coming around to your prowess in the kitchen.

[shanblackrx]

Ok, first of all, I have just rewatched the special episode and although I already knew how it'd end, the moment the credits went up I literally buried my face in my hands and SOBBED. It's not that hard to make me cry with media, but I usually just tear up and nothing more. The last time I remember sobbing like this was with the end of Chimera Ants arc of Hunter x Hunter manga, which is a completely different type of story and media whatsoever, back in 2012. And I didn't know the end. Spectacular manga btw go read it

That said, I'm freshly out of it so here's a few of my considerations, personal opinions and also my theory. I'm not diving into the analysis of the episode itself for now, as I like to make these for more specific things I find in the work so they deserve a separate post for each, though I will be analyzing the post-credits scene because we don't have answers so we need to speculate.

Looooong text with almost no pictures ahead, just my yapping:

I expected the special episode to be really just Jack and Joke's cute little established relationship, which we did get to see (they're so disgustingly sappy, oh my god. I love them) for a good chunk of the episode. But we all also expected the wedding which, technically, did happen, just not how we wanted.

I think a lot of us just wanted only the happy part of it, maybe just a small conflict that would resolve within the story, which is what special episodes usually offer, especially because the original series wraps up perfectly and doesn't really give that much room for a continuation. And I think that because a lot of people expected this, they were utterly disappointed with it, even mad (that and also killing off one of the leads, like. Yeah I get it lol).

And I understand. Jack & Joker is perfectly balanced, with a nice and perfect ending. If I could choose, I wouldn't want a continuation either - you know, the chances of ruining a perfectly good show increases if you extend it for more than it should, and J&J is already perfect the way it is.

But I was offered the special episode, and now I have to work with it.

The first time I watched it I thought it was a bit rushed and confusing, albeit very intense (in a positive way). In my much calmer (as one can be), much less stressed out and anxious mood of my rewatch, I could feel it better. And I think it's way more seamless than I thought at first. Curiously, I also had the same feeling with the og series; it got so, so much better once I've rewatched it, and it kept getting better with all the small details I caught in every new watch.

It still has all the essence of J&J. The absurd comedy, the action, the romance, the heavy angst, the visuals, the lack of canon tattooaran even if it's heavily hinted. So all in all it was still a complete J&J experience.

I really do like the fact Save is not a perfect boss - he's basically just a math kid. He's not prepared to take care of a whole neighborhood like he did with bank accounts. Variables - people - were not in the system of his little bank computer. Taking care of a whole community is no easy task, especially since he is no mafia, he doesn't have the kind of experience and intimidation to keep bad apples in check. And even so, he still worked his hardest; and even so, it's still not enough.

So having criminals that were under Alice's thumb but now scattered like cockroaches searching for another ditch make having control over these fires they set even harder. I think it's a nice and coherent touch, and stuff happening because of it makes sense.

Also, although the uwu language JackJoke used throughout the moments they were out and about making everyone unwilling witnesses of their disgusting love was extremely funny and cute, it was really nice to see their heartfelt conversation when they were alone in Jack's room. It felt much more like they were baring their hearts for the other to hold, a genuine moment of intimacy, especially since they were making their wedding invites individually and by hand. It bore such a huge significance to their relationship I really can't begin to tell you how much I loved this scene. (they're also wearing shirts of complementary colors 😭💚)

I wasn't really expecting Carbon to make a comeback. But his explanation on why makes sense, and once again it hints that money and power walk together. It also gives him a more definite end (dying, finally. bitch) to take him out the picture for good since he could just eventually walk out the prison and go after them once again.

The casino mission was SUCH a delightful surprise to me! It's such a heavy wave to the pilot episode and it was really thrilling. Joke playing and cheating on poker was one of the sexiest things he could've ever done in his life lmao also even when he's cheating he manages to be gay af with his little ace and jack cards.

Admittedly, I was a bit underwhelmed with the fighting scenes. A lot of them were subpar compared to the ones in the og show, it not only lacked intensity but it was also awkward to see people in the background waiting to join the fight instead of throwing themselves into it, much like Jack's rampaging into Boss' office, which is one of my absolute favorite scenes in the og show, that's what I was expecting of them. However it was super nice to see the other piggies fighting with what they had, showing they were better prepared. Aran here takes the cake for me.

After that it was downhill. Joke not letting other people decide his destiny is one of the most Joke things in the entire show. With all that was happening it was rather predictable, but then again J&J does its thing and takes the predictability for a twist. "กูรักมึงที่รัก" ???? Using tirak in this situation when every other situation it was used was extremely, sickeningly sweet? Devastating. These words in that tone will be branded on my brain forever.

The whole thing with Jack going through the stages of grief and the ghost wedding destroyed me, even more so in my rewatch. Once again I'm here EATING UP Yin's crying scenes (one of my most favorite scenes in any BL ever is Vee crying under the rain at the bridge). I know everyone talks about War's acting when it comes to crying and obviously he always nails it, but I still think Yin should have more recognition in these kind of scenes too, because he always manage to make it so heartbreaking, and it wasn't different here.

The swings scene with him hallucinating Joke to be able to accept his presumed death was one of the most beautiful, most heartbreaking 'endings' I've seen in a Thai BL.

HOWEVER. I absolutely refused to believe they'd actually end in that note. It could be as devastatingly beautiful as it gets but I genuinely thought if they ended it like that it'd be SUCH a huge stab in the back of fans. Jack and Joke barely managed to live a happy life to then be yanked from it. It really didn't feel fair, that they gave us such a perfect little ending in the og show to then just say 'how about no?'. I was honestly in shock and denial. I was really thinking like 'I really, genuinely don't think they'd do this. I will only believe it ends like this when the episode reaches the end and stops playing by itself.'

And I'm glad I thought like that because they really didn't let me down. Some Marvel level of post-credits scene this is. The relief to see Joke isn't actually dead. The enormous cliffhanger.

I still am of the opinion that J&J didn't need a continuation, but now that it's out there, I just hope it's as good as the og show. And that maybe we don't have to wait for another 2 years, although I will gladly do so if that means they will deliver another sublime experience.

But I also hope it ends with that and they manage to move on to other, new things, because they've already proven they can do anything they want and it will be good. I really, really want them to take over the Thai BL world as a power couple with their independent productions, because they showed everyone they can.

Now, to the post-credits scene. Here goes my theory:

Reading all theories and also frying my brain to come up with what will they do with that cliffhanger, I thought of something that might make sense. This, however, would only work (well) in a full 10-12 eps season rather than another special episode or movie.

First of all, I think it's a new character (and that's why I think this will only work with a full season, because introducing a new character just for a short episode will give no substance to it). It's no one we know and I tell you why I think that: Joke had someone specific in mind. I don't think he's talking about Carbon here. Especially because everyone in the conversation knows Carbon very personally, he could just say his name.

So having this in mind, he might've been referring to this new character. So the fact this person is the one... 'housing' Joke, and who tended to his wounds, and also for his shock, this person might be either an old cellmate or someone else that's been incarcerated and Joke knows about or personally. Maybe a rival thief. So he's talking about this person here.

Also, VERY important missing information in the subs: Joke says "someone like me" in the sense of 'has the same abilities/did/does the same things'. This is crucial information that is in several other subs but not in the English one. Because the English subs on this ep are dogshit, lbr.

So I think one option that could happen:

This person wants Joke to either work for or with them. After all, you can't just wipe an alias like "legendary thief" in a year. Whatever it is that they want him for, it might be convenient for them that Joke's deemed dead, or they actually needed Joke to "die" for it to work. They might be in cahoots with someone we already know, or they might be acting alone.

This can be a double-edged sword because the person can be good, neutral or evil and we might not know until the very last minute.

Now one thing that caught my attention: The black shirt in the background.

Absolutely nothing when it's about clothes is Just There in J&J. There's always a lot of subtle storytelling in their clothes, especially when it comes to black and white. And specifically a black shirt hanging in so openly there and no other piece of clothing while Joke is wearing white? This is deliberate.

Do you remember Jack's red ticket? When the joker turns black to white, etc? This might be the opposite of that. This might mean starting from square one, undoing everything up to that point, or it might also mean Joke's darkening arc. Joke's wearing white, so washing this away to taint it black. It might also mean someone who's opposite of him if the shirt is referring to this new character, but I'm not too sold on this idea since black is mainly Jack's motif, especially in relation to Joke. Also, maybe this is the 'enemies' Nang was talking about.

And maybe because Joke has no choice but to do what he's told, whether if it's under threat or because maybe Jack would be in danger if he doesn't because that's their thing, or both, probably both, he can't show up to Jack or any of the piggies, and that is the main conflict of the season.

This can tie with the whole 'moving on' thing about Jack that everyone is terrified of. I don't think that even if it might seem so to add to the tension, Jack will ever actually move on; not FROM Joke at least. He can move on from the pain, make peace with the idea he's not coming back, but not from what he feels for Joke. If Joke appeared in front of him be it tomorrow or in 10 years, he'd probably just resume their lives together (after coming back from the shock of seeing him alive which can take some time). He himself said Joke is the one he loves the most. And some people change you so viscerally and completely that they'll always mean the same to you, forever, which is definitely the case for both.

Maybe if we're going through this route because J&J's classic angst and pain, Joke's gonna watch him from afar going on with his life, then that lack of self-worth he has that I'm pretty sure doesn't just vanish in such a short time even if he's found love and some healing, might keep him from approaching Jack even if he wants to and can do so; he wouldn't want to ruin whatever Jack has built without him so far.

If that's the case, if this really happened, I'd want Jack to find out and tackle Joke on the ground when he's being watched just like their first encounter after the 5 years. It'd be one of the most poetic cinema cycle closing one could pull off with this possible new season. But that's just my wishful thinking.

It can also be something completely different and I'm all for it as long as it retains J&J vibe, quality and unpredictable turns.

And also many more YinWar kissies, there's never enough of those.

[noisyghost]

I found your art randomly and I have fallen into Ark obsession (and just your style in general, it’s so good 👏)

I was curious how Ark’s first transformation went? Was he prepared? I think you said in one of your posts that most people don’t survive the first transformation so was recovery from it like super brutal or did the werewolf healing kick in 🤔

Thank you for putting your work out into the world!!

thank you for the ask! he is very special 2 me so i am glad you enjoy him :)

the funny thing is that i am actually in the process of writing/illustrating a thing detailing this very incident! it's gotten way longer than it has any right to be so ive still got some work to do, but i'll answer your question and then put a little preview under the read more lol

Ark's first full moon transformation lasted about 12 hours and he thought he was dying for like 90% of it! Werewolf healing certainly helped him recover faster than human, but it still took over a month to get better, and then ofc the next full moon undid a good chunk of that healing again, so all in all it was likeeee 6-ish months before he really got to heal all the way.

And he was prepared. He knew what was going to happen and had a super powered babysitter (aka Mira, who was with him for the whole thing) and it was still one of the most traumatic nights of his life; he was not "normal" for a loooooong time after it.

To his (unfortunate) credit, his first full moon was somewhat more brutal than normal bc his werewolf form is so fuck off huge. Like. It would have sucked regardless, but turning into something that big definitely did not help!

So, yeah -- the transformation itself sucked and then the recovery sucked just as bad. And when i say "it sucked" i mean he broke bones, cracked ribs, tore muscle, etc etc, so he didn't really leave his house for months. He already had a general aversion to people touching him, but for years after this he still flinches at even the smallest thing :)

(CW for general gore/injury under the cut! this is like. somehow the least-gross section i could pull some paragraphs from lol)

She could not tell you when she passed out. With her last bit of consciousness she remembers picking up his limp body and carrying it back into the other room, completely ignoring the blood and grime covering the entirety of him as she put him back in bed.  Her sheets don’t matter. Hell, the whole damn bed doesn’t matter at this point. His skin was blanketed in a layer of cold sweat and his body lay in her arms like rubber, but the second she’d put him down, he shook beneath her like he was freezing, numbly pawing at the sheets for salvation.  He’d shrunk in size considerably and the sweltering coat of fur that’d been keeping him uncomfortably warm had all but receded back into his flesh, exposing the litany of cuts and scrapes and tears that’d cratered his skin over the course of the night. Beside each wound is a complimentary bruise, an impressionist landscape of purple and yellow and red painted across his naked body.  She’d been attentively listening to his heartbeat and breathing the entire night. At least, she’d tried to. But when the chatter of his teeth and the depths of his breathing became rhythmic over the course of an hour, she quietly lost the battle against exhaustion, passing out on the bed beside him.  There’s nothing more she could have done for him anyway. It’s a fight he knows he would have lost if the roles were reversed, so even if he was composed enough to know where he was, he wouldn’t have faulted her anyway.  The pain had become passive, a passenger to the general fatigue and malaise of illness. His head is full of cotton, sopping up every loose incoherent thought his brain tries to put together and turning it to mush. He can’t see or hear or think, and—at this point—he can barely feel, an almost gentle haze falling over him like the fog of anesthesia. So severe was the agony that it’s wrapped all the way back around to numbness; he couldn’t move a single limb if his life depended on it, his chest barely rising and falling to allow air into his tired, barely intact lungs.  If he could think in anything more than colors and shapes, he’d be reciting the mantra ‘it’s almost over, it’s almost over’. But right now, the world is little more than a soft, orange glow emanating from the dim lights scattered around her room.  For nearly twelve hours, his brain had been too wired to shut off, too manic to do anything other than gawk at the monstrosity of contorted limbs his body had become. If life was fair, he would have simply passed out and awoke when it was over. But it isn’t fair. So he had to experience the whole thing, fully conscious. Though, perhaps, not fully cognizant. And that would be for the best. 

[chiara-fiore]

02 June 2025 — Paris, France

It had been a little over two months since Chiara had taken some necessary time off of work. The stress of dealing with the inevitable demise of her marriage was only made worse by the reality of having to chase her husband to sign the divorce papers. Yet, for someone who had always complained that she was hardly ever home and therefore had been neglecting their relationship, the bastard had decided to make it his business to be as elusive as ever, much to Chiara's grave displeasure.

In the time that she had had her break, however, she had spent most of it in Positano where she had bought a summer home for herself. Staying in Milan would've just lured her back in to work, and staying in Laglio would've meant answering questions from her family that she had no energy to entertain.

Positano was beautiful. Always had been, always will be. And for the past two and a half months, it has become her own little piece of heaven. However, Chiara could only go for so long without doing what she loved most — her work. By end of May, she had decided it was time to go back to take what was hers, and and finally, put an end to this loveless marriage once and for all.

On the morning of the 2nd of June, Chiara had woken up feeling like she hadn't slept a wink. The entire night, she had found herself tossing and turning, dreading having to go to work. This did not improve her mood. For as long as she could remember, she had always loved what she did. And rightfully so, having made a little empire out of her hard work and creativity, and a stellar reputation to go with it.

But now, for once in her life, she'd rather hide in bed for as long as she could than head into that office. Doing so would mean she'd have to face the facts that if she didn't get a handle on matters quick, she may lose her office in Paris altogether, and with it, a considerable chunk of that very same empire she'd poured her blood, sweat and tears to.

How Chiara managed to get out of bed and into her office building was nothing short of a miracle. It had been a blur — making her coffee, deciding to forego breakfast on account of her anxiety, taking a shower, getting dressed, driving downtown and finally pushing those double glass doors open.

"Chiara! You're back!*"

To say that Anais' welcome was the most pleasant of surprises would be a gross understatement. Seeing not just one friendly face, but her most trusted assistant's, of all people, was something Chiara didn't know she needed until she saw her there, beaming from her desk.

"Oh, I've missed you!" Anais stood up at once and walked over to Chiara, giving her a hug and planting a light peck on either cheek as per the French greeting custom.

"I've missed you, too," Chiara reciprocated in earnest, glad to be amongst good company again 'home'. "How are you? How's everything? Has it all been... alright?"

This was where Anais stopped, her grin faltering. The sight alone had restarted Chiara's anxiety, and the elongated pause did not help.

"Anais?"

"Erm..." The brunette swallowed, glancing nervously at the door that led to Chiara's main office.

"Is something wrong?" She asked of her employee.

"Well..."

It was clear that Anais was struggling to put the news into words. Not wanting to burden her further, Chiara placed a gentle hand on her assistant's forearm and mustered her most reassuring smile before going to see what was causing the girl her own brand of anxiety.

"Well, well, well... If it isn't my darling wife!"

This was what greeted Chiara the moment she stepped into her office. Right there, on her very own white leather seat, was none other than her husband, Sebastien himself, looking strangely triumphant.

"Who else would it be?" Chiara tried to keep her demeanour cool, calm, and collected. There was no way she was going to show him the anger she'd been harbouring for him for months now. He'd only use it against her. "You are in my office, after all," she reminded him coolly.

"Technically, it's half my office, too," Sebastien had the audacity to correct her. The man had not contributed once — financially or creatively — to her business for him to think that he had a right to half of it.

"Excuse me?"

Sebastien tapped at his wedding ring to remind Chiara exactly what he meant. Then, that strange grin lurked at the corner of his lips yet again.

"Ah yes," Chiara replied through gritted teeth. "Enjoy it while it lasts because you're not going to get another penny out of me," she hissed, crossing the floor to get to one of her drawers.

Yanking it open, Chiara didn't care if she hit Sebastien on the knee with it, as she pulled out her copy of their divorce papers. Swiping a pen nearby, she slammed it onto the stack of papers and looked Sebastien dead in the eye. "Now, sign."

Chiara had him cornered now, she thought. Finally, it was her turn to look triumphant, and for Sebastien to look horrified.

But that wasn't the case at all.

Sebastien merely smirked at Chiara. Taking his sweet ass time, he retrieved his phone from out of his pocket and unlocked it. And instead of conceding to her by finally signing the divorce papers she so desperately needed, Sebastien opened his phone gallery and placed it right beside her pen. Right there, plain as day on his screen, was a photo of Chiara, in Positano, in the arms of another man.

Chiara froze. Now she understood why he looked like he'd already won the war.

What had been a wonderful memory for Chiara has now become Sebastien's weapon, which, by the gleam in his eye, he'd only be too happy to use — to sue his wife for infidelity and swipe every last cent that he hadn't already stolen right from under her, and this time, she wouldn't have any choice but to hand it all over.

* All conversations are in French.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 69)

It seemed like the moment Tera got her fangs she became obsessed with using them.

It had been multiple weeks of wrangling her to let things go, to not utterly destroy every blanket, pillow, toy, or random chunks of metal she found. She was like a puppy, using her fangs as an extra hand to feel out the world with her mouth.

Both Uzi's and N's hands were covered in tiny bite marks, Tera would never truly try to bite either of them, but that didn't mean she didn't nibble and knaw at their hands whenever she got the chance, like love bites, only slightly more painful.

It didn't help that Uzi's mood was already on an extremely short emotional fuse. She was constantly tired, her back ached and she was utterly sick of getting sick. More was coming out of her then she was putting in, and yet she was still gaining weight.

Month two of her pregnancy was looking to be a worse rehash of month one, where she was decidedly less worried and emotionally vulnerable and much more pissed beyond measure.

V was also sticking around more.

It was weird.

They lived side by side, so they'd always seen quite a bit of her, even if it was only passing conversation as they went to and from wherever they were going. But now V was inviting herself over. Offering to help with Tera, or asking if she needed oil, or something to eat, or just… being considerate.

Uzi wasn't sure what exactly was going on with her. But V also refused to take no for an answer. So… she was just hanging around, mostly dozing off on the couch or lazily playing with Tera, who's favorite game was now ‘tug of war’.

“Are you gonna tell me why you suddenly want to be here? Or are you just going to keep me guessing?” Uzi finally asked after the third day that week V had miraculously gotten into the apartment without her knowledge.

“Nope.” V hummed back, the ‘p’ popping as she went back to playing with the newly energized solver kit, tugging on a rope toy made for dogs.

Despite V's normal antagonistic behavior, her presence was actually incredibly… welcome.

Taking care of Tera, doing the household chores. And trying to decipher what the hell was up with Doll, before had been no problem. Was starting to get a little difficult, in part because of Tera's new penchant for destruction, but her core felt heavy and sluggish, stuttering as it used quite a bit of power to combine her and N's code together. Her core was even lighter now, becoming a light shade of lavender instead of a deep violet.

And having someone around to help, even if Uzi couldn't decipher the reason why, was not something she was going to complain about.

At this very moment though, she was washing bottles in preparation to refill them, while also replacing the rubber caps, as now they were full of bite marks and rips.

“Sooo where do you get the oil?” V asked, for the first time genuine curiosity in her voice. And Uzi didn't even turn around to answer as she scrubbed the inside of another bottle.

“Uh… the nursery?”

“No. Not the oil you drink, the oil she drinks. N was saying something about her oil needing to be filtered or, whatever.”

“Me?”

“… Do you like… prick yourself?”

“What? No. I have a side pannel that opens… did you not know?” Now Uzi turned to look at her, finding her holding Tera up in the air with one hand, away from the rope toy.

“No. Why should I know? I didn't pay too much attention to who I was killing.” V always had the tone like she didn't care or wasn't interested, but it really wasn't fooling Uzi anymore, if V truly wasn't interested, she wouldn't have asked.

“Yup. Every worker drone has a side panel, has a oil port, a charge port, everything we need to take care of kids. N doesn't have one, we checked. So you probably don't either.” She explained, thankful that it's the last time she'd have to explain this.

“Huh.”

Then there was silence again, Uzi trying to get a particularly stubborn stain off a bottle and going to town at it, growling slightly as if that would help scare it away.

When her head suddenly felt like lead.

She leaned over the sink as the feeling of extreme dizziness washed over her, her core skipping beats as her vison went blurry and her hearing faded into muffled sounds.

She dropped the bottle and it clattered against the floor, bouncing away on the tile. And gripped the side of the sink, feeling herself becoming unsteady as her legs wobbled and her stomach turned exactly once.

Then she began to fall to the side, unable to keep her balance, vison blinking out, bracing to hit the hard floor with what little withering control she had over her body.

Only she never did, something had caught her halfway down, cradling her gently and purring softly, she almost thought it was N, with how gentle they were, but he wouldn't be home for a couple more hours.

When her head stopped spinning and her core went back to its normal tempo, the first thing she felt was the plush texture of the couch, not the cold tile of the floor. And the feeling of a warm hand on her forehead.

And when her eyelights opened, she realized it was V. Holding her head to check her temperature.

What. The Fuck.

“V?”

“Oh good, you're fine.” She immediately removed her hand, but still hovering over her as V looked down at her, looking as blasé as ever.

“Why are you being so nice?”

“Why are you complaining?” V quipped back, putting a hand in her hip as Uzi sat up, and shook the lead from her head.

Uzi sighed, grumbling as she truly, honestly, did not have the energy to argue with V over her weirdness, but she guessed she shouldn't complain, as he had just been saved from hitting the floor.

“Oh whatever, thanks for catching me… I guess.” Uzi went to get back up, but V pushed her back into the couch with a decent amount of force, dropping Tera into Uzi's lap before walking over to the sink herself.

“Mmmhm.” Was all V said, before beginning to finish cleaning out the bottles herself.

With another long-suffering, confused sigh, Uzi took V's previous position of playing tug of war with Tera, letting V do whatever the hell she wanted.

Next->

[askagamedev]

How are RPGs like Bg3, Red Dead Redemption 2, Elder Scrolls, etc that have so many story branches presented to the developers? Is one person in charge of one whole story branch or is it divided into chunks in a way? Does the writers room look an awful lot like Charlie from always sunny?

Narrative in such games are usually a lot more modular and systemic than you think. When you're putting together a narrative for a quest, for example, it's usually [set up in the form of a flowchart] - what happens in what order, where things branch, where they converge, where decisions can be made, and so on. If narrative is a big part of our game, the team usually has some a narrative design tool to help organize all of these things so that individual contributors can all work on different parts of the same narrative at the same time, all while keeping the project stable and functional.

What we're basically thinking about is a system of beats, where the overall narrative is defined as a logical flowchart of individual beats. Each beat thus has its own pre-requisites, internal logic to track player progress and handle item and reward management, and outward-facing variables for other beats to take into consideration (e.g. any decisions made during this beat that might need to be referenced later). Each beat can be worked on separately, which allows different narrative designers to work on different parts of the narrative flow concurrently.

Within a specific beat, we apply logic to determine what happens. If condition X is met, we play this conversation. If condition X is not met, we skip the conversation or maybe play an alternative conversation. These conditions can often be internal or external (e.g. from a previously-completed quest or beat), and are usually as complicated as we have the breadth to make them. After a particular quest or subquest is ready for testing, the narrative designer writes up a test plan for QA to validate the quest - how to start it, how to proceed through it, the different variations on prerequisites, and the expected results given the different player choices and variables going into the quest.

If we didn't have the kind of technical tooling needed to keep things organized, it would probably look a lot like those conspiracy boards. As such, most of this looks a lot more like a flowchart with a lot of clickable fields that allow us to set up conditions, results, dialogues, variables, and so on.

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[229zmi]

ACADEMIC WEAPON

PAIRING: Bokuto Kōtarō/Reader

CONTENT: 4+1 things (4 times bokuto failed a quiz + the 1 time he passed), reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, reader tutors bokuto, bokuto requests the reader to shut the window on his head at one point, overuse of silly metaphors and similes #Sorry

WORD COUNT: 5.0k

(I.)

Bokuto was many things, but an academic weapon was certainly not one of them. Perhaps, he thought, an academic victim would be more fitting.

After all, marked by a large 7/100 circled in red pen for his surrounding deskmates to see (Thanks a lot, Mrs. Ishida!, he sulked), things were looking bleak for him. It was only a few days into the new term, yet he had already failed his first quiz; and honestly, he wasn’t sure if Akaashi’s biweekly tutoring sessions would be enough to pull him through the rest of the school year with a passing grade, especially with the volleyball summer camp coming up — it was all he could think about as of lately.

He needed a plan. Desperately.

“Desperately?”

Bokuto jolted in his seat. Ah, he must’ve let his internal monologue slip out again. That tended to happen a lot whenever he got too carried away in his pondering— got too in his head about something. Pouting for no particular reason, he hastened to answer Akaashi’s question with a nod before an idea suddenly materialised in his brain.

“Change your tutoring sessions to be weekly! Pretty please?” he added somewhat sheepishly, twiddling his fingers for the effect of what was supposed to be humbleness.

“Weekly?” Akaashi stared at him with a slow blink, taking a bite of his apple. He seemed to be thinking about it, which kindled a small flame of hope within Bokuto.

“Yeah! Or— or how about twice a week? Three times a week? Four—“

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for that,” he cut in with a dead expression, but at least his tone sounded sort of apologetic. But it was true: he was in the volleyball club and the literature club at school, and being a part of two clubs did take a considerable chunk of what would’ve been free time after school, hence why his tutoring sessions were scheduled so sparsely.

His eyes lingered on Bokuto’s hair, which was beginning to look deflated, and he was sure his best friend was about to enter one of his moods if he didn’t find some way to cheer him up.

“Bokuto-san,” he started, pausing for a moment to think again, “I know someone from literature club who might be willing to tutor you.”

Bokuto lifted the side of his head from off the table. A newfound hope miraculously found him and bled through his expression as he smiled and propelled himself closer to the black-haired boy as if he was listening in on some juicy yet confidential gossip, hitting the palms of his hands against the table with an embarrassingly loud slap that rang throughout the classroom.

“Really?!”

Akaashi nodded. “[L/n] [Y/n] from class 3-6 is one of the smartest people I know, and I heard they’ve been looking to make some money so—“

“I gotta go,” Bokuto quickly said. Watching him rush out the classroom, Akaashi had a feeling it wasn’t to the bathroom.

(i.)

Bokuto was many things. Shameless was one of them.

“I am looking for [Y/n]!”

Heads turned toward him, including yours, although your reaction was paired with creased eyebrows and a warmth in your face that felt a lot like embarrassment. You weren’t sure who he was to be shouting out your name like that in front of everyone, but whoever he was, you were livid. Even more so after hearing your classmates whisper among themselves, questioning if that strong-looking, handsome guy was your boyfriend and adding on that you didn’t seem like type to date.

“Is there a [Y/n] in this class?” No one spoke up, so he stepped back outside the classroom for a moment, checking the sign above the door to make sure this was the right class. Class 3-6, it read. He frowned. Maybe you had decided to spend your lunch period elsewhere.

Before he started to walk back to his classroom so he could complain to Akaashi about this unfortunate outcome, however, he felt a sharp yank against the collar of his shirt, pulling him backward and then up against the wall. He blinked, and a humourless face came into vision. Unsure of where to look, he settled for staring hard at the space in between the face’s furrowed eyebrows, wondering if this stranger was about to ask for his lunchbox or something like the bullies in stereotypical American high school movies.

“Name,” you demanded. Stunned by how you were acting like some kind of military drill sergeant, Bokuto could only keep staring. Eventually, he noticed the name tag on your blazer— [L/n] [Y/n], class 3-6!

He smiled. Just the person he was looking for.

You were growing impatient. Why was he smiling? Did he find your embarrassment funny? Tensely, you repeated, “What’s your name? Hellooo?”

“Bokuto Kōtarō, a friend of Akaashi Keiji!” he blurted out. “You know him, right? Black hair, blue eyes—“

“I know who that is.”

“Great! I have a favour to ask you.”

Awkwardly, he gestured for you to back up. You did so, albeit eyeing him sceptically as he proceeded to bow down, low enough to the point where the tips of his hair met the tiled floor. It was just your luck that a few of your classmates decided to leave the classroom at this moment, stopping when they noticed the scene before shuffling away. You heard them giggling to themselves yet again, probably ecstatic at having found another topic to gossip about.

“Get up, what the hell are you doing.” Gripping onto his broad shoulders, you frantically tried pulling him up to a normal standing position before any other witnesses could walk in on you and add on to your humiliation, but he didn’t budge.

“Hold on— please tutor me!”

“That wasn’t asking me a favour. Now, stand. Up.”

“I’m failing most of my classes, and the ones that I’m not, I’m barely passing by like a couple points! I’ll pay you and everything, just please— I really need someone to tutor me, and Akaashi said you were super duper smart and nice and cool and everything!”

“Get up. Please.” You couldn’t help sounding desperate by this point. “People are staring.”

Much to your annoyance, your words went through one of Bokuto’s ears and out the other, as if there was nothing in between.

“Can you tutor me? Please?”

“Alright, fine. But only if you stop bowing down to me.” You sighed and then stuck your hand out, holding your phone. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the dates and times I’ll be available.”

He shot right up and visibly brightened, his hair sticking up even more than before, like he’d just stuck a fork into an electrical outlet. You weren’t sure how that was logically possible, but whatever. “Of course! Here.”

After letting him type in his number, you added it as a contact.

“What’s your name again?” you asked.

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”

“Spell it for me.”

“Okay! B as in Bokuto. O as in Okuto. K as in Kuto…“

You shut your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose.

(II.)

bok:

hey……………..

ahaha

[image]

The image showed Bokuto’s most recent calculus quiz, tear-stained and appearing as if it was crumpled up but then flattened back out out of guilt. A red 7/100 was marked at the top.

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

ok

i am available after school tomorrow

we can meet up at the library if that’s ok

bok:

YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!! thanks [y/n] :p

(ii.)

Bokuto was certain now as he stared aimlessly out the window that the universe was against him in some way and that time had purposely slowed down just to spite him. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for your help — he couldn’t be more appreciative of the fact that you were taking the time out of your day to tutor him despite the two of you being strangers until recently — but after just an hour and a half of going over notes and countless practice worksheets, he was ready to stop, drop, and roll into bed.

Even Akaashi, as monotonous as he was, wasn’t this bad during tutoring. Plus, his sessions were biweekly, whereas and Bokuto had agreed on twice a week: Wednesdays and Fridays. This was only the third tutoring session with you.

“Hey,” your voice cut through his thoughts, and with a start, he realised you’d finally returned from your brief excursion to the restroom, “did you finish the homework?”

Like a giraffe or a particularly nosy next-door neighbour, you craned your neck over the table that separated you and the boy with the two-toned hair. With the backs of his ears stained vermillion, Bokuto immediately slammed his folded arms onto the table, shielding the contents of the paper from your line of sight.

“Yes,” he said stiffly. “I am— I did finish. The homework.”

Bokuto was many things. A good liar was not one of them.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “The fuck was that for?”

He roleplayed confusion by inclining his head to the side. His words came out light and airy, sounding as though he’d just sucked in helium. “What ever do you mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Perchance.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, no I don’t! I’ve got no clue what you’re saying.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as your eyes flitted between his mock-innocent expression and the worksheet peeking out from underneath his toned forearms, before lunging forward and grabbing onto the piece of paper when he least expected it.

However, Bokuto was a little quicker. With fast reflexes, he pressed down on the paper even more, now using more of his body weight to keep you from taking it away from him. You were suddenly reminded that the guy in front of you was not just some clown who was very bad at both integrals and remembering to bring a pencil, but a better-than-average athlete at the very least.

“The element of surprise,” he stated through a tight-lipped smile, “you’re good at that.”

“Let go,” you commanded, still trying to pry it from his arms.

“Why?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I need to see it so I can check your answers and see how much progress you’ve made.” You paused for a moment. “And also ‘cause I don’t believe you. You were only on question two when I left, there’s no way you’re done.”

Bokuto gasped with a dramatic drop of his jaw. “After all we’ve been through?!”

He may as well have sounded an airhorn into a microphone, then proceeded to throw the microphone out a window. You rushed to shush him, placing an index finger on your lips with a look of disapproval across your features. “Quiet down. This is a library.”

He stuck his tongue out. “Bossy-pants.”

Your face soured like a pair of wet socks. What kind of playground insult was that?

“I am not,” you told him. “That was a perfectly reasonable request, not just for me but also for the other people around you, who would probably appreciate some peace and quiet around here.”

He laughed in your face. You swore you were going to pop a blood vessel at this rate.

“Wow, you would make a great librarian. Ever thought about working here?” Teasingly, he kicked your foot from under the table.

“Don’t do that.” You physically recoiled at the smug grin that settled on his face. Not knowing how else to retaliate, you settled for a simple, “Shut up,” which really wasn’t any better, but once more, you’d realised that too late after the words fully left your mouth.

“I didn’t say anything!” Bokuto protested.

“I don’t care. Now, let go of the paper.”

“Only if you say pretty please.” He tilted his chin up defiantly in a way that, although perhaps unintentional for the most part, effectively grated on your nerves. You glowered at him, but before you could say anything else, you first heard a faint rip, and after one more particularly harsh tug, you found yourself flung backwards into your chair all of a sudden, which then tipped over and toppled onto the ground along with you.

You winced, feeling the immediate stinging pain subside to a dull ache in your back.

“Oh,” Bokuto said, before tentatively creeping over to you. All humour in his voice and face vanished without a trace. “You okay?”

Your face felt hot, though you weren’t sure if it was from frustration or embarrassment or a secret third thing as you stared up at his hand that was outstretched to you. Ignoring it, you pushed yourself up and then stared down at the paper in your hand— or rather, the half that was still there. The other half laid on the table. Crumpled up.

You sucked in a huge breath of air. Of course, only two out of ten problems on the homework assignment was done, and the rest were left blank. You’d be less upset if he had at least tried. Was he even taking this seriously?

“I think we are done for today.”

(III.)

“Oh, he hates me for sure. I just know it.”

Akaashi couldn’t see the point of this conversation.

“You’re telling me this because…?”

With restrained effort, you whacked the back of his head with a rolled up notebook, yet he barely even appeared fazed, like this was a normal occurrence in your friendship. (It was.)

“‘Cause you’re, like, his best friend in the whole wide world, and I need your advice, dingus,” you complained. “He even introduced himself as Bokuto, a friend of Akaashi Keiji.”

“Of course he did,” Akaashi muttered, somewhat amused by your poorly done impression of his best friend’s voice. He placed a hand on his chin to contemplate. “If you really want to know what I think about you and him, I don’t believe last Friday was as horrible as you think it was. He called me and told me all about it on his way home.”

Suddenly, you grabbed him by the shoulders. Taken aback, he stared up at you with the typical unsettling, blue-eyed gaze, just a little more wide-eyed than usual.

“What did he say?” This was serious business — you had to know.

“Nothing too bad,” he quickly answered, patting your arm as if you were some wild animal to be tamed. “Said you were kind of boring and went through some of the topics too fast, but he appreciated your efforts. He also felt bad for lying to you and for calling you bossy, even though you were— his words, not mine.”

“I am not bossy,” you said haughtily.

Akaashi rolled his eyes, then smiled. “That’s some defense you got there.”

“No, really. He’s totally being dramatic!”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that. Or, even better, you talk to him yourself.”

“No way!” You buried your face into your hands.

“I already told you, Bokuto doesn’t hate you at all. Just… try being a little more understanding next time you see him.” He motioned his hands vaguely, trying to further explain his point. “Nicer, you know? But” — you sensed that what came next would be a big but — “still be yourself. Don’t want you frying your brain over trying to act like someone else. Okay?”

You dismissed his advice with a wave of your hand. Now he sounded too much like a school counsellor for your liking. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

Just as the teacher walked in and Akaashi left to return to his classroom, your phone pinged. You glanced down to see what it was.

No surprise it was a text from Bokuto.

bok:

[image]

failed my calc quiz :(( again :(((

There was a circled 3/100 in red ink in the upper right corner of the paper.

Unable to contain a scoff of disbelief, you weren’t even sure how it was possible. Nonetheless, you began to type out a response, something along the lines of a dry ‘ok’ followed by a specific time for you to meet up, but then Akaashi’s wise words of wisdom rang through your mind.

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

does 5pm this wednesday work for u?! ^-^

Typing that almost physically hurt you, but you persisted regardless like the brave soldier you were.

bok:

??? YEAHHH

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

alright!!!! see u then!!!! :))))

[bok liked your message.]

(iii.)

There was something off about you. Bokuto could tell, though he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

He thought maybe it was the stress of the upcoming volleyball summer camp that was making him see things he wasn’t actually seeing. Or maybe you had changed up your appearance a bit today. But as he observed you while you were explaining a homework problem he was particularly stuck on, you looked the same. Still you, except… brighter? You looked like you were in a better mood today and, actually, this past week now that he thought about it, recalling your texts.

You were nicer, that’s what it was. Or it was more that you seemed more engaged in today’s tutoring session than you had in all three of the previous ones. From the start, you’d sat down next to him, instead of across from him on the opposite side of the table. You went through each topic much more thoroughly, refusing to move on until he fully understood the material, which you made sure of by asking him questions every now and then. And, he swore, you were even smiling a little whenever he got an answer correct on his own.

It was almost uncanny, he mused to himself.

“What is?”

He snapped back to reality. “Huh?”

“You said something was ‘almost uncanny,’” you told him, eyeing him strangely.

Shit, he had spoken his internal monologue out loud yet again. And he’d been staring at you like a mindless animal for an exceedingly long time now without realising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I wasn’t talking about you.”

“Okay.”

Shaking his head at himself, he slouched over the table in an attempt to focus on his homework. After a beat, he scribbled something down, then pursed his lips as he slid his paper over to you, indicating to you that there was one thing he was either stuck on or unsure about. “Is this right?”

Wordlessly, you glanced down at his answer, and after scanning through his work to make sure it wasn’t a thing of luck, you nodded. Bokuto fist-pumped the air, although his ecstasy wasn’t just because he had gotten the answer right yet again (he was currently on a streak of six-in-a-row— the highest yet!). Rather, he found himself looking to you in the corner of his eye with hopes to catch your reaction, and there it was again: both outer edges of your mouth curled to form what he could confidently say was a smile. A small one, but it was there nevertheless.

Then, you did something else, another thing he wasn’t expecting at all: you began to grovel to him for forgiveness.

“I’m sorry for being kind of mean to you,” you mumbled.

Okay. Maybe, that was an exaggeration (a really, really extreme one). But the effect it had on him was still as explosive as if you actually were grovelling at his feet for forgiveness.

“WHAAAAT?”

A scowl made its way to your face for the first time today. “Can you not act so surprised?”

“It’s not acting if I really am surprised,” he said with a defensive tone, placing a hand on his chest. “Plus, I’d never lie to you like that… except maybe that one time. Sorry.”

“I don’t think you need to apologise for that. You weren’t very convincing anyway.”

“What do you mean? I totally had you fooled!”

“You did not.”

“I did!” Somewhere else in the library, the librarian shushed the both of you, sending weak glares in your direction. Mindful of their warning, Bokuto quieted to a stage-whisper. “If that paper hadn’t ripped, you would’ve never found out the truth.”

“Ha! In your dreams, yeah.” You rolled your eyes before begrudgingly admitting, “But while we’re still on the topic of apologies, I guess I am also sorry for being kind of overbearing. I will work on that bad habit in the future.”

“Kind of?” he echoed. There was a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure?”

“Yes.” You shot him a glare, and he put his hands up in mock-defense.

“Hey, hey, hey, I was just asking. I forgive you and all. But for the record,” Bokuto grinned, sharp canines poking out a bit, “I like that about you anyways.”

(IV.)

bokuto:

FAILED AGAIN

BUT!!!!!!

[image]

46!!!!!! DOUBLE DIGITS!!!!!!

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

revolutionary

see u tomorrow

bokuto:

CAN’T WAIT :D

(iv.)

Bokuto was dreading this next exam. It was a big one, for sure, as it was the last opportunity he had to raise his currently failing grade up to passing standard before summer break, which was slowly yet surely inching its way toward the present. With the volleyball summer camp just a week and a half away, his odds weren’t looking very high, and he wasn’t sure if even yours and Akaashi’s combined tutoring efforts would be able to save him.

“I can’t do this.” He dropped his pencil on the table and groaned in frustration, leaning back in his chair with a dejected expression directed toward the ceiling. Nothing was making sense anymore. “Can you please open the window?”

Puzzled, you furrowed your eyebrows. “Why? Do you need some fresh air?”

“No, I’m gonna stick my big, stupid head out the window, and then you can do me a favour and close it.”

“Oh! Okay.”

Logically, you decided not to do that. Instead, you grabbed one of the soft-cover workbooks laid across the table, rolled it up as Bokuto watched you curiously, and—

Thwack!

Rubbing the back of his head, Bokuto sat up straight. If you placed his back and a ruler next to each other, you wouldn’t know the difference. “What’d you do that for?”

“Did that hurt?”

“Not really.” His gaze averted between you and the book and then you again and the book again, bewildered. “But what’d you do that for? Fun?”

“No, it was because you sound totally lame right now and it’s pissing me off. Get a fucking grip on yourself. You’re not stupid, so don’t say that you are. You’re gonna ace this test and you’re gonna ace whatever sports thing you got coming up.”

“Volleyball summer camp,” he said wistfully. There were stars sparkling in his eyes now, a stark contrast to his lifeless look seconds prior, leading you to believe that you’ll have a chance at becoming a motivational speaker or something of the like in the near future.

“Yeah, that. You— you can do this. You got this. Go you or whatever.” Yeah, scratch that option. Suddenly feeling awkward, you grimaced. Maybe it was time you just stop talking. “Never mind. Keep studying.”

“Okay.” He picked up the pencil but not before sparing you one last glance and blinking rapidly for a few seconds, wondering if he was seeing things when pink hearts started to hover around your face with a dream-like, white vignette and a romantic tune began flooding his ears. “Yeah, I think I am gonna ace this test.”

(V.)

“They whacked me with a book, Akaashi.”

Akaashi couldn’t see the point of this conversation. He tended to feel that way a lot, actually, but it was a phenomenon occurring more than usual as of lately, and he had a feeling it had something to do with two of his friends spending more time with each other over these past couple of weeks. Huh, he wondered why.

“Yeah, they do that,” he said, turning the page as his eyes glided over the words. This was like a kindergartener tattling to their teacher about something a classmate did to offend them, at least in the eyes of Akaashi. Certainly, he felt like an under-compensated, stressed-out adult at the moment.

“So how do you not fall in love every time?”

Akaashi froze. Was he hearing things right?

Before he could process his upperclassman’s words, however, a sense of déjà vu washed over him as Bokuto grabbed him by the shoulders all of a sudden, donning a serious look now.

“I’m going to ask you one thing. A favour as one of my best friends in the whole wide world.”

He shut the book he was reading and set it to the side, seeing how important this seemed to Bokuto. “Okay. What is it?”

“Don’t tell [Y/n] I passed my exam. They have to think that I failed.”

With an arch in one of his eyebrows, Akaashi attempted to not sound so shocked. “You passed your test?”

“I did. 72 out of 100!” A wide grin spread across Bokuto’s face.

“That’s great news,” Akaashi replied. “Why wouldn’t you want [Y/n] to know about that? Surely, they’d be happy for you.”

“Because. If they find out I did well on my test, then that means I won’t need their help anymore and I won’t get to spend time with them anymore. And I don’t want that to happen ‘cause I like spending time with them.”

Oh, jeez. “That’s not that how that works.”

“Okay, Mr. Smart Guy, tell me how it works then.”

“No.” Akaashi reopened his book as if to seem disinterested in the topic at hand, even though he actually was and he wasn’t really reading at all by this point. “Just ask them to hang out instead asking me to lie to their face on your behalf.”

“I’m not asking you to lie, I’m just. Well. I don’t know,” Bokuto finally admitted sheepishly, fiddling with the end of his sleeve as he pouted. After several moments of well-needed silence, he pondered out loud, “Should I text them?”

“Yes.”

Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Bokuto smiled. “You’re a great friend, Akaashi. Thanks for the advice!”

bokuto:

hey! let’s hang out this weekend!!!!

i meannnnnn at the library

at our usual time not the weekend ahahah

sorry

typo

that first text was a typo

[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor:

you failed your test?

bokuto:

yYeahhhhhh

[[y/n] the super nice super cool tutor reacted ‘?’ to your message.]

(v.)

“You seem.” You observed his face suspiciously as you pulled out a notebook from your backpack. “Happy.”

“Aren’t I always happy?” For proof, he gave you the largest smile you’d ever seen in your life and leaned in close until your noses were touching. “See? This is my resting face like all the time.”

With how close he was, you settled on staring at a faint freckle above his left eyebrow, hoping that didn’t make you look cross-eyed. “Yeah, you’re just a bundle of joy. But I assumed you would be a little down considering you recently failed not just a quiz but a big exam. You won’t be able to go to that summer camp. Wasn’t that the whole point of me tutoring you?”

He shrugged, pulling himself away. “Life happens. Things happen. But I am a changed man, and I will no longer let such minister things disappoint me.”

“Minuscule things.”

“I said that. Mini-stool.”

You shook your head. Some things, you’d learned, were better to just leave as is.

But then there was a certain point where you couldn’t just not pester him about it. That point came after noticing he was answering all your questions right and breezing through the review sheets with ease. You couldn’t understand how he had failed his last exam when he was doing so well right now, same topics and everything.

A frown seeped into your expression as you stared at his work. “You… you already know everything. What if your teacher graded your test wrong? Or misplaced it with someone else’s. Because there’s no way you—”

“No, I don’t think so,” he interrupted you with a nervous laugh, sounding strained while looking everywhere but you. You side-eyed him upon being interrupted but continuing doing so as he wasn’t really acting like his usual self, as much as he wanted to insist otherwise. Weird. “I bombed that test. Trust me. Maybe you’re just my lucky charm or something.”

“What.”

He ignored your skepticism, seemingly too caught up in his head. “Maybe you should spend time with me more often so then maybe your luck can rub off on me. Maybe you should start coming to my volleyball practices. Maybe we should start hanging out over the weekends. Summer break is almost here, maybe we—“

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”

He glanced over at you — crossing your arms over your chest and clearly not believing him — and immediately threw his hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, I lied. I passed with a 72%.”

“I figured.”

“You knew all along?!”

“No. But I could tell you weren’t telling the truth ‘cause you’re a horrible liar,” you explained as he pouted. “It gives me second-hand embarrassment seeing you look all constipated like that whenever you try to lie. Please never do that again.”

“I’m sorry. I just thought you wouldn’t wanna tutor me anymore if I told you,” he admitted. “I like hanging out with you, even if it’s just to do schoolwork. I don’t want that to end since we never really talk outside of these tutoring sessions.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you said definitively.

“So cruel of you to say only that after I poured my heart out to you!”

Despite you hovering a hand over your mouth to conceal it, your laughter still saturated the air; Bokuto took in every ounce.

“I wouldn’t toss you to the curb like that,” you reassured him. “These tutoring sessions can continue until we graduate for all I care. And if you want, over summer break whenever you’re free, we can go to the movies or a café or wherever, really.”

He perked up at this. “Really?”

“Really.” You picked at the dead skin around your fingernails offhandedly. “And honestly? I like spending time with you, too, so it doesn’t matter what it is that we do. You are paying, though, if we go to a place that wants our money, since you promised to pay me back when you first asked me to tutor you.”

Bokuto was okay with that. Your presence alone was enough to make him feel over the moon like a billionaire anyway.

[theguyinthemathexamples]

Celestial Control

cw// quest spoilers, pretty short, big boy words 💪

Iridescent, yet frail and nigh invisible strings caressed the Iudex's gloved wrist, the Hydro sigil he'd made dissipating at the same rate that the final hilichurl disintegrated. This had already been a common routine for the Chief Justice: being pulled away from his duties and joining the Traveler's 'party' with three other individuals.

It had become a regular occurance for Neuvilette as of late. It's been around, what, a few years since he's been invited to do so? Nonetheless, he's learnt considerably more in the intervening period than he ever would have by being cooped up in his office all day.

From the forgotten island in Mondstadt, to the fact that the Dendro Dragon Sovereign was still alive, even learning that the Geo Archon faked his death, and more.

But the most significant aspect of his entire Hydro-Dragon-Sovereign-reincarnated-as-a-human life was his growing knowledge of the Creator of Teyvat — his previous incarnation's creator, too, to be exact.

At first, like any other chosen acolyte, he couldn't understand whatever they were saying. Even the simplest words of their divine lexicon he couldn't make sense of, and anything he'd ever manage to hear were like choruses of voices — to the softest female voice akin to a child, to something he could only describe as nothing at all, from the most agonizing scream he'd ever heard, to the soft whispers of sweet nothings caressing his ear ever so gently.

It got to the point where needed the assistance of his other 'teammates' to translate a single letter; the retired geo archon would only tell him that they were quite overjoyed after he answered their call.

And with each ascension, he regained power comparable to that of a fully fledged dragon — his humble origins. Who knew that a good amount of colorful starfishes, transoceanic pearls, chunks, and crystals, multiples of the horn of a thought-to-be-extinct fontemer seahorse and gorgeous varunada lazurite gemstones in various forms, sizes, and hues could endow him with such power? And so simply, too?

Though he does not express it outwardly, his form is filled with pride whenever he summons the sigil to put forth a flood of hydro against the many, many forces of Teyvat that wished to harm him and the other acolytes.

.

.

.

Perhaps Foçalors was right about him going out every once in a while.

[tvstvnvkke]

White sage

Contrary to popular belief, white sage, or even sage in general, was not used by every tribe. White sage has developed into the go-to "smoke cleansing" plant. However, this has led to a number of problems.

For the Muscogee tribe Sage as a plant was not commonly used. Cedar, Tobacco, and Ginseng were more commonly smoke cleansing plants. The word for Sage that I was told was "Vpvketv" which also means to add something. White sage would be "Vpvketv hvtke".

Today, white sage is commonly used to smudge. Packages can be purchased with a shell, feather, and a sage bundle to burn. Smudging, in the sense of using a shell to burn in and a feather to guide the smoke, was mostly a Dakota and Ho-chunk practice from what I know. With white sage specifically being native to lower modern-day California. The Cahuilla and Kumeyaay tribes are two who often use this plant. Smudging and white sage have both been taken up as practices among modern witches, pagan, Wiccan, and other spiritual groups. However, to anyone doing the practice, I highly recommend caution in continuing.

The modern practices of white sage harvesting are often harmful. The practices often leave the local environment poorly cared for. The plant is overly harvested by people generally paid very little and often with no consideration to the local communities that normally use the plant. The over harvesting has led to fears that the plant may go extinct if proper growing and harvesting techniques are not taken into consideration.

Another important aspect to consider is the spiritual aspect as well. If you are using white sage to purify the air, I would assume the hope is to clear away negative spirits or energies. I can not speak for all communities that smoke cleanse, but when smoke cleansing, you should use plants you were gifted or gather yourself. The intention when the plant is harvested affects whether or not it will clear away bad things. If you harvest it yourself thinking of how grateful you are for the plant, it will clean. If your friend harvests it thinking of how this will hopefully help someone, it will clean. If the person harvesting your plant is mistreated, in bad conditions, over harvesting a plant just to be underpaid. I feel like that may do the opposite of cleanse.

All around, it's just not a good idea. Be very mindful of who your practices come from and who your items come from. Look for answers online as to whether those communities welcome outside practicer or if your version of their practice is actually harming their ability to continue it.

I've heard debate on whether it's okay to purchase white sage from indigenous farmers. I would say if you're going to purchase it, that would be the best. I'm sure there are many indigenous people who sell it.

Be mindful of your practices. They could be harming you and other people.

[bestanimal]

Yooooooooo, I’ve finally finished queuing up Round 2… well, kind of.

It’s taken me all month to queue up Arthropoda and Chordata. Mollusca and Round 2.5 (the redemption round for Cnidaria, Platyhelminthes, Tardigrada, and Ctenophora) have yet to receive their captions, which takes a lot more time than you’d think.

So, on November 1st, we will start with Arthropoda, and instead of having polls every 12 hours, they will be every 24 hours. Probably at 8am USA Eastern Standard Time. This should give me enough time to get the captions for Mollusca and the rest finished, though I will likely need a short break in between. After which, I may go back to having polls every 12 hours. We’ll see how things go. 🙃

As a side note and shameless self-promo, I’m also gearing up for this year’s Archovember. That is also taking up a considerable chunk of my free time. Archovember is an annual paleoart drawing challenge that I’ve been hosting every November since 2019. It focuses on dinosaurs, pterosaurs, pseudosuchians, and other archosauromorphs, giving less popular or lesser known species a chance to shine and get drawn. Paleoartists from beginners to professionals have joined in the past, and even if you don’t draw along it’s also fun to just learn about a new prehistoric reptile every day! It’s usually not that big on Tumblr tbh (oddly enough) but gets a lot of traction on Instagram. You can check it out on my paleo account here on Tumblr @saritapaleo, or on Instagram under the same username (you’re also likely to see a lot more people participating on Instagram.)

Anyway, shameless self promo aside, this is also a heads up that my attention will be divided between these two events in November, and I’m likely to prioritize Archovember. 🫠 I’ll still be here to answer asks and share propaganda, but everything will be a little more automated and I might not be as quick to respond!

Oh and on that note, I’m very sorry if you’ve sent an ask and I haven’t answered it. I wanted to save asks and spread them out over time but apparently Tumblr is eating them. At this moment it is telling me I have 6 asks in my inbox, but when I click on it it says “no message found.” ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

All that aside, I am looking forward to seeing how Round 2 goes, even if it will happen a bit slower. Stick around as we further narrow in on Tumblr’s favorite animal!

[sunriseabram]

andreil + nightmares? been thinkng about them a lottt lately

We're Okay (It Wasn't Real) | 08/07 (Read on AO3)

CW / Nightmares, referenced CSA & Rape, Drake Mention

Andrew Minyard was afraid of the dark.

He’d never told anyone—lest they use the information against him—but it was true. The dark was where monsters came out to play, lurking in corners and under bed sheets. The dark hid the horrors of life under its cloak. Nobody could stop what they couldn’t see.

For that reason, sleep had always been difficult. Sometimes, Andrew would stare at the ceiling for hours, hoping unconsciousness would take him. He would lay awake until the sun began to stream through the curtains and then get up just to do it all over again.

Neil had changed things. Against all odds, having Neil in his bed was a positive thing. He felt settled with him close. Even on dark days, Neil being within reach was a cure, rather than a cause. After all, the dark was not so scary when someone he trusted was there to protect him from the monsters.

Today had been a bad day. He felt like bugs were crawling under his skin, every touch akin to putting his hand on a hot stovetop. He knew the night would be difficult. He hadn’t intended to sleep at all, but Neil’s soft voice reading a novel had lulled him to a gentle rest.

It didn’t take long for the nightmares to hit. 

There were hands on him. Strong, muscular, disembodied hands holding him down against the bed. No matter how many times he peeled them off or pushed them away, more would come. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t run. He couldn’t find it in himself to scream.

He knew it was a nightmare, yet it felt so real. He was seven, so small and weak, so naive to the horrors that the dark could bring. His cries for help were left unanswered, no matter how many times he begged or pleaded for them to just stop.

He willed himself to wake, but he couldn’t. He was paralysed, stuck in a never-ending cycle of unwanted touch. He could feel the hands pulling at his skin, tearing chunks of him away until the bone was exposed. Until he was exposed. Exposed and open for all to see like an exhibit.

If he closed his eyes, he could pretend it wasn’t real. He could pretend that he was numb to it all, that it didn’t affect him, that it didn’t leave scars on his already marked skin. If he zoned out, maybe they would lose interest. Maybe, he could forget—not that he ever had been able to.

And then he heard Neil cry.

Andrew’s eyes shot open, searching. It didn’t take more than a second to find him, and Andrew felt his stomach lurch in response.

Neil was pinned down to the bed by Drake, his head bloody and expression dazed. His face was pressed into the pillow, hands gripping the headboard with a white knuckle grip. No matter how much Andrew screamed and begged, nothing changed. Nothing ever would.

He was a failure. He had failed to protect Neil again. He had let his past hurt the one thing he loved more than anything else, and it wasn’t fair. 

“'Drew,” Neil said. 

His voice felt a thousand miles away.

“Andrew,” Neil said again.

Andrew woke with a start, sweat dripping down his forehead, and promptly threw up over the side of the bed into the trash can. His whole body was trembling, the sheets sticky against his skin. He threw them off and stumbled into the bathroom, needing to be out of bed.

He splashed cold water on his face with a gasp, before aggressively brushing his teeth.

“Hey,” Neil whispered from the doorway as if trying not to startle a wild animal.

Considerate as usual, Neil didn’t approach. He didn’t ask questions nor push Andrew for answers. He stood and waited for Andrew to finish brushing his teeth, before stepping aside to let him through.

Although he knew it had been a nightmare, Andrew still had to check. He had to check. He lifted his hand towards Neil’s head, waiting for consent before checking him over for injuries. His head wasn’t cracked open, and there was no blood on his pyjamas.

He was safe.

“We’re okay,” Neil said.

Andrew believed it.

[badaziraphaletakes]

Aziraphale is NOT "stubborn" about "getting over it". He voluntarily rebelled against heaven as far back as in Eden, then again in Uz and in 2019.

Also, who says he's never asked Crowley about his experiences? Maybe he did and Crowley told him. Or maybe Crowley told him never to ask. Or maybe he has the sense that Crowley doesn't *want* him to ask, and is being considerate. Or maybe he fears it would be dangerous for Crowley if hell overheard his answer. We just don't know.

And who says he wasn't learning the gavotte and doing deep thinking during that period of time? You can do both. Leaping to the conclusion that he spent all of the late 1800s doing nothing but prancing around the room is absolutely nasty. I guarantee he spent a good chunk of that time being devastated for Crowley and what he was suffering. (Learning to dance was almost certainly to take his mind off that.)

Don't come after my Autistic-coded angel's special interests - I will smite you with a flaming sword. Our boy is allowed to have some fun. His existence sucks to an unimaginable degree. He needs a diversion every once in a while. If doing a silly little dance gets him through, then let him have his blessed gavotte, for the love of Frances McDormand!

"Might have come to some conclusions that would have changed things" - the wording of this is incredibly vague, which isn't surprising, because if you were any more specific, this argument would fall apart. Because what could he change? Nothing. People love to talk about how Aziraphale should supposedly think different things, but are conspicuously silent on how, exactly, him having different beliefs would lead to an improvement in his or Crowley's circumstances. (Not to mention we don't *know* what Aziraphale actually believes about a lot of things because he isn't free to talk about it.)

THE PROBLEM IS NOT HIS BELIEFS - IT'S THEIR CIRCUMSTANCES.

(Side note: PLEASE stop with the "Aziraphale is really smart in *some ways*, but in other ways he's an idiot" takes. It's giving autiphobia and I really don't like it.)

"Can't see the forest for the trees" - what, precisely, can he not see? He is very much aware of the terrifying, violent angels ready to smite him if he puts one toe out of line and the terrifying, violent demons ready to torture Crowley or possibly just wipe him out of existence if Aziraphale takes any risks. He knows his situation sucks.

"Stuck in his identity" - the problem, again, is not Aziraphale's identity/angelhood or what he believes about it.

"Hit him over the head with one of his books" - why TF are people so bent on violence to Aziraphale? It's beginning to feel genuinely disturbing.

Also this is irrelevant, but I literally have no idea what the word "syllogism" is supposed to mean in that second sentence. It makes no sense there lol.