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That post about death note being "everyone's first anime" (untrue statement) made me curious and now I want to gather data for science

Can you reblog this and tell me where are you from and what was your starter anime?

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CAN Nyoka "unhinge" his jaw?? Does he have the same unique jaw structure with the flexible joint and elastic ligaments connecting his lower jawbones? How far can he open his mouth? The people (me) need answers

No, he cannot. He just has a people jaw like everybody else. He does have little venomous fangs, so that’s quirky. Don’t expect to really see them nor experience much mouth opening unless he’s talking (and even then, not wide 😔 fang bearing is not polite, serious cobras don’t just whip ‘em out all willy nilly).

…creecher

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hi

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my dream as a fanfic writer is for one day, one of my fics to be someones comfort fic. like the fic that they reread when they don't feel good and want to be happy. i want my words to comfort someone one day

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it may take me a year to put out a chapter but at least I’m not using AI to write it!!

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

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the reason healthcare is free in the Pokemon world is because every time some corporation starts hoarding all the wealth some 13 year old comes in with a team of literal gods to stop them

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Ash groaned and wiped the sweat from his brow, leaving a streak of dirt across his forehead.

“Why doesn’t she have to help?” he grumbled, jerking his head in the direction of patio where Misty sat comfortably along with Pikachu in a lawn chair sipping on a tall glass of lemonade.

“Because she is a guest,” his mom answered matter-of-factly, handing him a trowel to help him continue weeding the garden.

Misty beamed down at him, her eyes twinkling behind her sunglasses as she took a loud sip through her straw.

Ash scoffed. “She’s not a guest, she’s Misty.”

“Excuse me?” Misty gasped back, sitting up straight. “Of course I’m a guest! Do I live here?”

“Pretty much,” Ash mumbled under his breath, wincing when his mom tossed a rooted dandelion at him with a scold to be nice.

He wasn’t wrong though, was the thing. For as much as Misty was always bitching about her job, in the week and a half that Ash had been home to visit, Misty had been there for almost all of it, and decidedly not at the gym. He’d tried to bring it up a few times, even just to check and see how much longer she was able to stick around, but she and his mom seemed to be working together to dodge the question, and Ash was officially left stumped.

Not that he minded having Misty around; she was one of his favorite people, but even he had to admit it was weird to see her for so long without a sister calling every few hours asking when she’d be home.

Something was rotten in the town of Pallet, and Ash was going to get to the bottom of it.

Thankfully, even though he knew his mom and Misty were in cahoots with each other and wouldn’t be spilling any beans anytime soon, Ash did have one advantage they hadn’t considered.

Pallet was as small a town as they came, and in small towns, information had a way of traveling fast. He just needed someone with an equally small enough moral compass that would be willing to let him in on the local gossip...

“Hey, Gary! You busy?”

“What does it look like?” Gary grumbled, obviously annoyed and refusing to even look his direction from where he was trying to wrap a bandage around one of Ash’s extremely uncooperative tauros’s legs.

Ash, choosing to ignore the situation, glided over to the pair and smiled brightly as Gary, rumpled and frazzled and fighting for his life, managed to tie off the bandage and let the tauros run back off to join the herd, it stopping for a moment to nuzzle Ash affectionately, of course, on its way over.

Gary huffed out a breath and turned to Ash, crossing his arms. “Okay, what?”

“Do you know why Misty is at my house?”

Gary furrowed his eyebrows. “Do you… not know why Misty is at your house?”

Ash frowned, his cheeks pinking slightly in embarrassment at being called out. “No. Well, I mean…Okay, she says she’s there to visit with me, but she doesn’t normally stay this long, you know? And especially not without her sisters bugging her to go back.”

Gary’s expression remained carefully neutral. “And what makes you think I would know anything? Ask your mom, if you’re so curious.”

“I tried!” Ash exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “She won’t tell me anything either! And come on, Gary, do you actually expect me to believe you and Professor Oak don’t know every single thing that’s going on in this town at any given time? Doubtful.”

Something like a self-satisfied grin flashed across Gary’s face for only a moment, but thankfully Ash had known Gary long enough to spot it. Jackpot.

“Well, if you have to know,” he started, then gestured to Ash to come closer, like he was sharing some top secret information he had been sworn not to share. “Gramps heard from Mrs. Nesbit at the general store that she overheard your mom and Misty talking about some guy in Cerulean that was really giving her a hard time and not leaving her alone, like to a concerning degree. Her sisters are watching over the place while she’s hiding out. Apparently your visit was a convenient coincidence.” He leaned back and raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised they didn’t tell you.”

Ash was surprised too, to be honest, but he was having a hard time devoting a suitable amount energy into that thought while simultaneously trying not to boil over with anger.

Some guy in Cerulean was giving Misty a hard time? Harassing her? To the point where she had to leave? Misty, the toughest, most stubborn girl he had ever known? He balled his hands into fists.

“Ash?” Gary asked, sounding legitimately concerned. “You good?”

“Mmhm,” he hummed curtly. “Hey, I hate to run, but I have some stuff I need to take care of, so I’m gonna take off. Thanks for letting me know.”

“What? Hey!”

Gary probably said something else, but Ash’s hand was already on Pidgeot’s pokeball, calling it out to join him.

“Hey buddy,” he said, stroking its back feathers. “I need a ride to Cerulean City.”

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Have you ever had a "viral" post on Tumblr? (200 notes or more)

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Mutuals I wished some of you lived closer. So I could pick you up to go on walks together. I think we all need a nice walk in the woods or park with a friend.

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how it feels to have no social media presence as an artist

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Couldn’t think of anything new, so I’m just recycling previous work now.

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till deactivation do us part

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what’s goin on

I’m barely on here anymore I forget about this app lately

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"i don't comment on ao3 because i don't wanna be annoying or weird" skill issue + you greatly underestimate the power dynamic here, writing multi paragraph comments is like feeding a bunch of deeply insane and possibly starved ducks at the park and watch them go completely mad over having received a piece of bread

[dbzebra]

prompt: ten warnings: n/a pokeshipping.

Ash jumps, startled, when Gary clamps a hand on his shoulder. He tears his eyes away from the dance floor, his breath still caught somwhere in his throat.

Before he can ask why the man beside him is staring at him like he’s just won a battle, Gary smirks, “That’s the sixth time,” he says, sipping from his drink casually.  

Ash just arches a brow and, reluctantly, takes the bait. “Sixth time?”

Gary scoffs. “I should get you some binoculars to make it less obvious.”

Ash quickly turns back to his own drink, his face warming with embarrassment before he can stop it. He’s been gripping his glass so tightly for the last five minutes that his hand is starting to cramp into a claw, but he busies himself with it regardless, hoping it will hide the way his cheeks are probably turning pink.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters.

“Turns out another year away didn’t change too much, then,” Gary says, his voice laced with amusement.

Ash knows it’s an empty insult. Whatever petty back-and-forth he and Gary used to thrive on years ago is mostly behind them, but he still sputters out a lame “Shut up” mid-sip of his cocktail, more out of instinct than anything. He wipes his mouth on the sleeve of the dress shirt Dawn had forced him into earlier. It’s far too tight around the neck, but Dawn had shot him a look over a steaming iron and warned that if he showed up to his own party in a hoodie and cargo shorts, she’d disown him for committing a crime against fashion.

Ash could admit she might have had a point; everyone else was dressed up too. Guests had arrived head to toe in a dress code Ash hadn’t even been aware of. His mom had gone all out again for the party, with gold and green colour-coordinated decorations and tropical floral centrepieces to celebrate his Manalo Conference win. The whole garden was full of familiar faces, soft dresses and sharp suits, all gathered around tables beneath lanterns as the summer skies starts to darken.

Amongst the crowd, he watches for a moment as Brock spins Bonnie in a ridiculous circle that she keeps demanding to go faster under. Professor Oak is leading his mother in a dance that doesn’t match the upbeat tempo of the music playing, and Pikachu is darting between feet with Piplup and Psyduck in tow.

And his frown melts.

For a moment, Ash forgets all of Gary’s meaningless comments, focusing instead on the fact that his oldest friend and oldest rival had even bothered to show up. Walking into the garden earlier to the sound of his companions and friends celebrating had made his chest squeeze just as tightly as it did now.

He couldn’t have asked for a better welcome home.

But…

He catches the way Misty’s hair shimmers again under the lantern light as she spins, red strands catching the glow and dancing with her, and he becomes aware of the eyes on him as much as his own on her.

“That’s seven,” Gary states. “You’re staring.”

Ash turns away. “I'm not,” he lies.

Then, less than a second later, he’s looking back, blaming it on the fact that Misty shrieks with laughter. The swift scowl he’d been directing at Gary fades as she grins, her head tilting, eyes crinkling in delight when May grabs both her hands and pulls her into another twirl.

Gary sucks on his teeth. “Eight times in the last ten minutes.”

Ash just groans. “Do you count everything?”

“Only when it’s this entertaining. Did they not teach you how to ask someone to dance in Alola?”

The insinuation leaves Ash making a noise that isn’t quite a word, somewhere between a scoff and a cough. He turns to the buffet behind them and starts loading his plate, shoving food into his cheeks like a Patrat storing berries. “I’m not asking anyone to dance.”

Somehow, even the fancy cheese and cured meats taste different than they had minutes earlier. He forces himself to chew, to swallow a painful mouthful, and to stare at his shoes instead.

If he hadn’t already thought it before, he did now: Gary had no idea what he was talking about. Ash had been darting around guests since he'd arrived, and he'd danced plenty, with or without Misty. He'd only spoken to her twice all evening, both brief, both pleasant enough, but that didn’t mean he wanted to dance with her. Maybe he just wanted to talk. And that, he knew, could come later.

Party or not, being home always meant seeing Misty.

But even he was aware that this wasn’t like the usual times he’d returned home to find her flopped across his bed before scrambling to the garden for a battle with him. No, Misty had arrived at his party looking like she’d stepped off a Contest stage, with something sparkly in her hair that matched the way her dress looked like glitter when she shifted.

And, Ash thinks hurriedly, it’s not like he wasn’t allowed to look. To notice that her hair was longer than it had been on her trip to Alola.

“Thats nine. Still staring,” Gary says lazily, not even bothering to sound smug this time.

“I am not,” Ash hisses under his breath.

Gary just shrugs and pops a piece of pineapple into his mouth from Ash's plate. “Sure. Just don’t wait another eight years to ask her for that dance.”

He’s about to ask Gary what exactly is in his drink that has him acting insane, but there’s a weight to the comment that forces Ash to pause.

Eight years. They have passed quicker than he'd like to admit, celebrating a victory he'd been chasing all that time, standing there in the same garden of a house he left all that time ago.

When he left. When he met Pikachu, and met—

And once more, he finds red hair in a crowd of green and gold. This time, Misty glances up, catching his eye from across the garden and offering him a big, familiar smile.

His mouth goes so dry that he has to throw back the remainder of his drink just to force down the lump in his throat. His stomach flips, bubbles, at the mere thought of approaching her. He can feel, suddenly, the space that time has carved out without his permission.

Ash decides he doesn’t want to get used to whatever that feeling is.

Without another word, he shoves his empty glass into Gary’s hand. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, loosening the top button. Determination sets on his face, and he takes a step forward. It's more of a stomp than a stride towards the dance floor, which Gary is probably glad to have a front-row seat to after Ash has spent the last five minutes denying having any interest in.

But that seems to matter less and less with each step, because by the time he reaches her, Misty’s face lights up so brightly that it’s the only thing he can focus on.

Gary's laughter, however, still manages to filter through the crowds as he calls after him:

“I think that counts as an even ten, Champ!”

[dbzebra]

Syk’s Snippets #1

So on the days where I either have writer’s block or I have nothing else to work on (usually the former), I’ll take a prompt from somewhere and write a little snippet. Syk’s Snippets, if you will. They’ll probably be Pokeshipping, but if I can’t make the prompt fit for them, I’ll resort to original characters off the top of my head. No proofreading, almost no editing, just typing into the Tumblr post and stopping where I stop. Anyways.

He’d promised he would stay for a week, but seven days suddenly felt a lot like a handful of minutes.

His backpack was filled, his path charted (even though he was bound to get lost anyway), and his morning sighs had been contagious. Punctuality used to be an afterthought for him, so it was annoying how prepared he was all of a sudden to leave. Sitting at the foot of the entryway, he pulled at his shoelaces in the same way their parting was pulling at her heartstrings. He rose to his feet and turned to her, a much-appreciated hesitance mixed into his smile.

“I’m really glad we got to see each other for a week. I didn’t realize how much I missed hanging out with you.”

Keep reading

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why you should keep writing your story

because it’s a puzzle no one else will ever arrange the same way as you.

because there are ideas that simply won’t come to you until you write down the wrong words.

because all the bad scenes are the bones of the wonderful scenes.

because someone will love it: someone will read it once, and twice, and thrice; someone will ramble to you about the complexity of it; someone will doodle your characters out of love; someone will find it in exactly what they were looking for with or without knowing it.

because they have things to say, your characters. they’ve told you all those secrets and they have more to tell you, if you will listen.

because you love it even when you don’t; even when it drives you mad or when it accidentally turns into apathy; even when you think you’re doing it all wrong; you love it, and it loves you back.

because you can get a treasure even from things that go wrong; because if a story crumbles down you can build a shinier one on the same spot; because you won’t know where it will take you until it takes you there.