#It was really awesome experience while working on the project.

[hephaestusent]

[ohitslen]

My dad told me to watch Gungrave with him (we have just watched one episode atm) and I was like wait the vibes, this feels so awfully familiar, where have I seen this, the characters hmm no but I’m so sure I’ve never seen this anime before

And I was right I have never seen it before…BUT… as I google for some facts I immediately found out that Nightow was the character designer along with good sir Kōsuke Fujishima of the og game, and the anime is under Nightow’s name as it seems and I was like—

OF COURSE. NIGHTOW.

[melodyofthevoid]

the way y'all are handling ocean idiots is actually kind of inspiring me, because i have Ideas but i feel pressured to turn it into a whole blown Thing when all i want to do is just have fun with it, because every artist/writer/etc ive seen does it that way.

yall are the first people ive seen who are just trying to Vibe with your blorbos and it makes doing the same thing feel more achievable to me. god bless

PS larus is my favorite. love the little skrunkly bird man. also can i steal yalls powerpoint idea 🥺?

PSS i assume everyone else working on ocean idiots will see this bc yall are mutuals, but in the event that they dont, could you please forward this to them? because i want them to know that theyre indirectly inspiring a random person with their Just-For-Fun-Creation as well >< many thanks

Aw, anon this is incredibly sweet. I sent your message along to the others before I got around to this answer both because I wanted to make sure they saw it, and because I wanted to respond to this in a way that really reflects my gratitude.

It's honestly so tempting to start making ideas "a thing". I didn't really understand that until the last couple of years and let me tell you, there is a lot of pressure to do that. People like projects! They like updates! They love seeing the progression of a story and getting invested in that. I absolutely understand why people leave comments like "this should be a webtoon" or "you guys should make an animated series". In a perfect world, that'd be a dream! The temptation to do that and establish a base is also attractive because it can really form a base that gives numbers and comments, which artists of all stripes thrive on (myself very much included).

But what most people never really see is the downsides of that. From their perspective, a one episode animatic, a chapter or two of fic or few panels of a comic, isn't a lot. It's kinda disappointing, and I get that. For the creator though, there's any number of reasons that things fall apart. Personal differences with friends amplified by the stress of expectations. Creative burnout. Shutting down due to the sheer scope of the undertaking. These are all real, and it sucks to deal with.

For me personally, I know I do want to tackle trying to write more of ocean idiots, maybe even try to nanowrimo this shit (not in an actual month but you get the gist). But that's just me. If it bums me out or I put it to the side, then that's just my personal project to pick up later. If we tried to make it a series, then we'd deal with the stress of trying to keep up a schedule on top of lives (college, jobs, personal lives, etc). It'd take the joy out of these characters we love.

Some of the most fun I've had in the past few years I've been writing and creating has just been fucking around with my friends. Throwing silly au ideas back and forth and exchanging art and fics for no one but ourselves. There's a genuine satisfaction that comes from it.

Not everything has to be a big production. Artists don't make their magnum opus every time. They draw shitposts and write crackfic and make funny edits. It's healing to have something silly, something fun just for you, and to share it if you want. That can connect with people, great! But it can also just be for you. I could go on a whole tangent about social media and the commodification of attention/art but that's not really what we're here for.

I hope that whatever you create, anon, that it makes you happy. That it brings a little joy to your day. That you can have that thing you share with maybe just your closest friends to play with. Lord knows I need to remind myself of that too.

[hellenhighwater]

So, every animal shelter around me is heinously overloaded/understaffed and begging for fosters. I am considering applying to be one for a momma cat with kittens, but I don't know if I have enough space/time/energy to do so and don't know anyone I can ask IRL about the experience. Are you willing to go into detail about what exactly foster duty entails? Also, do the fosters coexist peacefully with Malice and Vice or do you need to keep them separated?

Fostering can be a relatively small time investment, or it can be a big one. Nearly every shelter hits capacity in the warm months, due to the overwhelming quantity of kittens.

I talked to my local shelter and explained that I don't have a ton of time to work with--I can't take neonatal kittens, or ones that need regular hand feeding, or basically anyone medically fragile. But I can take litters that are doing well, who just need time and space to grow big enough to hit the minimum weight to be spayed/neutered and adopted. On a daily basis, I swap out water, food, and clean litter, plus general tidying-up as needed. That takes maaaybe half an hour to an hour--most days I do it before work. Because most of my litters have moms, the moms do a lot of the work of feeding and cleaning the babies! They may need bathing sometimes, depending on how much of a mess they make. Beyond that, I try to spend time with them as much as I can--I'll go in and eat my meals with them, sit and do digital work, or watch movies while I do projects with them around. The goal is to socialize and handle them as much as you can.

Kittens generally litter train themselves, but accidents happen when they're little, so a space with easily cleaned floors is ideal. I start my fosters out in a jumbo sized dog crate, allowing for supervised time outside of that, and then eventually give them my whole den to run around in when they're old enough to be more independently mobile (basically when they're old enough to realize that losing sight of their mom does not mean they're lost forever, and can navigate the space on their own.) I do keep Mal and Vice out of the den when I have fosters, but there's a glass door so theycan see each other.

Most shelters with foster programs will supply everything you need for them in terms of food, meds, and litter--you just give them space and time. I got my own jumbo dog crate to use, and I pick up secondhand towels for cheap--that gives me something easy to wash for them to sleep on. If you're just getting started, a shelter can probably find you an "easy" litter to begin with. Not that there's ever a 100% guarantee, because kittens are fragile, but usually they can set up a litter that seems strong. At least for me, there's an urge to play the hero and take on too much--I have to be careful, and accept that I only have so much time to work with; I have to say no to some of the more tiny, delicate kittens, and leave them to be fostered by those who can handle them. Those people are awesome and I'm not one of them.

If you're setting up space for fosters, I'd choose a place that's easy to clean, that's not going to leave them vulnerable to being bothered by other animals or kids all the time (they sleep a lot), and which allows for you to spend time with them. You can keep your fosters in a large dog crate or other kennel--honestly, it's comparable to how the shelter would house them--or in a room you have set up to handle them, but I'd hesitate to give them complete free run of your place unless you live somewhere quite small. Kittens are fast, and you really don't want to lose one. I remove rugs and less durable furniture from their space as well, and sometimes will cover the couch in a thick blanket to reduce claw marks.

Overall, I think it's totally worth it. It's fun to get to have them through the baby days, and they have more individualized attention in a home than they would get at the shelter. It's worth trying! If it doesn't pan out--or if they start needing more attention than you can give--you can give them back, but in the meanwhile they have a more enjoyable home than a shelter.

[slowd1ving]

KILLER ・゜゜MOZE NSFW

"All you are to me is a bleak obsession I am the mark intent on burning the street How many times can I ask you? How many days can I go without you?" Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs, even if the pair in question is a homicidal crow and a brokenhearted cryptologist. art by @ ma_mori74 on x!!! moze can we honestly e date? you’re so beautiful. You always make me laugh, you always make me smile. You literally make me want to become a better person I really enjoy every moment we spend together. My time has no value unless its spent with you. I tell everyone of my irls how awesome you are. Thank you for being you. (joke) (not really) this was kinda rushed so :3 errr consider this like part 3 of tales of a disgruntled corvid pairing: moze + male reader warnings: nsfw, male reader, mentions of blood/death/violence, alcohol consumption, jealousy wc: 4.5k  

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs. 

Fortune. It is a humorous concept for Moze: tasting of a fleeting childhood dream and the dregs of hope. Fortune, as some know it, comes in all forms. From gilt wealth and corruption, to finding a strale dropped on the street and getting to bed on time—everyone, it seems, tastes good fortune somewhere along their paltry lives. 

Moze’s good luck surmounts to meagre things: not getting blood beneath his nails after a mission; evading the prying eyes of the Yaoqing as he slinks into the shadows; working by himself; and most of all, not running into you. Good luck equals a tidy house and leftovers in his fridge. Good luck equals not needing to stock up on the tools of his trade and knives that don’t need sharpening. Good luck equals a fresh steamed bun and a slow day perched on the roof of a building. 

The point must be made. Moze does not experience auspicious encounters often. 

Conversely, those afflicted by confirmation bias might say misfortune comes in threes. Misfortune, for Moze, is significantly easier to quantify—but to stratify it into threes grossly underestimates the cesspit of chance he’s been allotted. 

One: being outside currently at Jiaoqiu’s food stall while rain drizzles down on him. It could be argued it’s only by his own volition that he’s slurping on steaming chilli-infused noodles as petrichor stains the air, yet that stupid fox decided this was the way to go in terms of conveying intelligence from Feixiao. This was the hell crafted by Jiaoqiu’s hands seeped green with pungent herbs. 

Two: getting his apartment lease renewal rejected a week ago over a development project at his block. Though he had been planning on starting afresh—never one to stay in the same area for too long, just like the rest of the Shadow Guards—he quite liked the nondescript studio. It’s a tidy place: plain and unassuming. What a pity. He’s read the message from his landlord over and over: growing a tad bit more incensed each time. 

Three: the sudden absence of suitable apartments in the districts that he sticks to. None of the flats he browsed were innocuous enough, and the ones that were perfect for his schedule and profession were in dismal condition. 

Four: you purchasing a flat a month ago which perfectly fulfilled his conditions. Two-bedroom, in the lower districts of the Yaoqing, with reclusive neighbours and a walking distance of the Seat of Divine Foresight. Had he gotten the notice for his lease rejection earlier, it might’ve been him there. 

Five: upon asking about his dilemma, Feixiao’s eyes gleaming bright. This was the indicator for certain disaster—an omen as ill as he ever saw. And unfortunately, her gaze next fell on the scripts you were working on, before flickering back up to you. Shit. That was the only thought running through his mind, before she pitched her idea to have him simply move in with you. Say no, he pleaded mentally, but alas—

“Sure,” you mutter, red ink spilling from your pen onto the parchment. Bold characters sign the form off and the letter is folded neatly onto a cycrane absent-mindedly; before you finally look up at the assassin who flinches as your eyes land on his. “S’long as he pays rent.”

Six: you agreeing to this stupid deal. Why? Why? It can’t possibly be the deep veneration for the Arbiter General. Surely your adoration of her cannot be deep enough to let this guy room in your house—an assassin, at that. You aren’t a follower of Qlipoth, but where the hell is your sense of preservation?

Seven: him not actually finding any fault in the building. Not in the surroundings, nor the modest room across from yours, nor the lazy grin on your face as you showed him around the apartment—still expecting him to vehemently shake his head. 

He signed the damned contract, and that was that.

“What’s got you sighing?” Jiaoqiu eyes him from where he’s pulling noodles: sleeves rolled back to avoid dusting the salmon hues with flour. Fragrant red wafts from the pot on the stove, and he’s suddenly reminded of the crimson shirt you wore just this morning—rippling around the taut lines of sinew and muscle as you worked diligently on decrypting ancient alchemical texts. “I thought you found yourself a place to stay, so why the long face?”

Moze keeps his silence. Well, tries to—but it’s not like a singular word will make him any less laconic. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the blue-toned porcelain, he evades the question and focuses right on the middle of Jiaoqiu’s sentence. “Somehow.” 

“Right! Your dearest partner—” Jiaoqiu drags the word out, characters stretched tight until they wind right against Moze’s eardrums. He glares: visibly annoyed, yet this only makes the man in his peripherals close his own eyes in satisfaction. “—took pity on you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” The assassin slams down the rest of the piquant broth: lips dripping with sanguine. His response is a question in itself—because why the hell did you agree to Feixiao’s request?

“Curious?” Of course he’s curious. 

“It’s not much of a surprise, really,” the foxian sighs, twisting the strands into a neat circle and letting it drop into the boiling water. “Poor thing’s probably still in shock from his breakup. I think he would’ve agreed to pretty much anything coming out of Feixiao’s mouth at that point.”

The man can only stare incredulously. Every part of that sentence is laden with a bombshell. 

“Wow, I thought you would’ve known. Guess what’s said at Qiu’er’s stays there too.” Jiaoqiu’s golden eyes gleam slightly at the mention of the downtown bar. No, Moze didn’t know. No, Moze isn’t currently outright staring at the man no longer in his peripherals. No, Moze cannot hear his chopsticks creaking beneath his grasp. “Woah, don’t break those.”

The fox eyes the crow warily. “Seriously. Cool it.”

Eight: you’re still not over your boyfriend cheating on you. In the drizzle beneath the canopy, this is how your new roommate diligently listens to how his work partner and resident cryptologist really can’t catch a break from bad men. 

“That includes you, you know,” Jiaoqiu squints at an unusually contemplative Moze. Flickering amber lights and the buzz of cicadas makes the assassin seem even more shady than usual. “You don’t have a chance, so don’t even try.”

“The hell are you talking about?” For someone like Moze, his piece of good fortune is that his voice remains steady in almost any sort of situation. This means that anyone hearing this man speak right now would naturally presume he’s affronted at Jiaoqiu’s response out of its complete implausibility. But on the flip side, those who’ve known Moze longer have learnt to watch for other irritated tells of his rather than a wavering voice. The subconscious flex of long fingers. Minute shifts in the elbows propped up on the bar. Biting the inside of his lip, just enough that it’s unnoticeable. But these aren’t things the assassin really takes stock of. 

For a brief moment, Jiaoqiu’s friendly smile drops and he peers at the man askance. Is he brain dead? “...Okay.”

And that is how the tall man—hunched over in the downpour to not let his noodles get too cold—first learns of matters of a more personal note of yours. In the rare grey skies that cast over the Yaoqing, it’s a chance to digest this information he’s learnt. 

But he doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t. 

・゜゜

A painful month passes for Moze. 

There’s nothing else to describe it—psychological torment is the only fitting description of your behaviour. Outwardly, nothing changes. He still hates you, and you still hate him—two arguing peas in a pod with a mutual dislike being the only thing in common between the two of you. Outwardly, behaviour-wise, nothing changes. Outwardly, appearance-wise, something does. 

He first notices it about three weeks after that waterlogged conversation with Jiaoqiu. There’s a faint aroma of sweet-smelling smoke on you—a long cigarette holder between your fingers as you read a thick book on the couch. He’s never seen the thing before in all your months together. Sure, the Yaoqing tobacco scent fades quickly away to not linger  in the case of a borisin’s especially sharp senses—but he’s never seen that sort of heavy-lidded expression on you before. When you glance at him, it’s usually irritatedly—not like this, where your glance is hazy and your lips are parted to blow plumes from your mouth. 

Shit. He doesn’t quite know why his heart speeds up. 

The second thing he notices is that every week or so, there’s a clinging perfume to your body: never your usual clean scent, one that clearly belongs to a different person. This is the same time he starts noticing you slipping on shirts with longer necks on missions—a darker imprint just about peeking above the material. 

He’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. 

The third instance of misfortune is your habit of wandering around after a shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around your waist conservatively. Sure, the area from your hips to your knees is covered—but what about the rest? He finds himself growing more irritable during work hours. Marks not caused by injuries still bruise your skin; as you turn your back in the kitchen to make yourself a mug of tea, his eyes rove the dips and valleys of your back. Categorising each wound. Systematically detailing each little infringement on your skin. 

He doesn’t particularly know why. Maybe his obsession with tidiness crosses over to people too. 

・゜゜

It happens like this. Occasionally, a man as ill-fortuned as Moze receives gets a break. 

There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the low coffee table in the living room. Polished chestnut—if you had to describe it—with the light shining through the amber liquid just so, until it reflects onto the varnished surface. A cube of ice sits dainty in the middle, clinking as you tip the glass this way and that. 

“Don’t spill it,” the assassin murmurs. From behind the couch, breath ghosting just past your ear. You don’t shriek (perhaps he hoped you would)—you don’t even glance his way. 

“I feel like that was a redundant warning,” you remark brusquely, taking a swill of the liquor. It’s sweeter than it would’ve been normally: courtesy of the saccharine pipe nestled betwixt your fingers and the smoke still lingering in your mouth. “Were you hoping I’d jump?”

“Yes.” Short. To the point. Laconic. That’s how those outside this home would describe the man currently leaning down, hands splayed on the backrest of the couch. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you still haven’t done the dishes.”

“It’s your turn,” he adds, because he likes seeing how this man’s expression wrinkles in exasperation, likes that stupid cant of your head—for it means Moze has won this little encounter. It’s all because he strongly dislikes his roommate, no other reason. 

“You suck.” Syrupy plumes ghost his face as you exhale into his face above—he doesn’t move back, even as the traces of burnt caramel become far more prominent, even as it feels like you’re blowing him a kiss more than anything.

“And you need to clean and go to sleep before you’re late,” he grits out, more annoyed than he was a moment ago. He’d say it was due to your lack of responsibility, but this angle allows the loose robe to expose your bitten collarbone—like some stupid fucking trophy. “Like you always are.”

“I’m never late, A-ze,” you enunciate each word in such a way that makes it clear you’re not drunk—so clearly the nickname is just to piss him off. A last-ditch middle finger; a threat that hasn’t worked for some time, one that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably but not enough to admit defeat. “You’re just up stupid early.”

He goes silent, in the way he does when you’re right. Instead of saying anything, he instead plucks the glass from your hand: downing the smooth alcohol from where you drank it, enjoying how for once your mouth closes just like his. The pipe in your hand tilts this way and that as you take a drag thoughtfully—recovering far too quickly for his liking. 

“A-ze.” Like this, with wisps exiting your mouth and silk draped over you, you look good enough to eat. He freezes at the implication of his thoughts, freezes at the sound of the name blanketed in some gruesome replica of affection. He hates it; hates how his heart squeezes and a faint flush of red dusts his cheekbones. Aeons. 

It is common knowledge to not toss a starving dog a bone before it hungers for more. 

“What, you don’t hate it anymore? Here I was, hoping you’d turn tail and leave,” you sigh, theatrically despondent—much like you normally are. Too damn dramatic for your own good. 

So desperate, drinking your sorrows away as if that’ll possibly work. He scoffs, striding the short distance over so he can tower over from the front. 

“Maybe you just like calling me that,” he breathes. There’s a smile playing on his lips: the rare one he gets when he knows he’s got a point, knows when he’s right. It’s unconscious—he’s far too oblivious to notice it only occurs around you. 

“I do,” you murmur. “Bet it warms your heart though. No one likes you enough to call you that.”

“So you like me?” There’s an odd buzz in his veins tonight. As the orange lights from the street blink into existence, and the room is no longer illuminated by ‘day’, he’s glad for the darkness that conceals the heat in his face. Your clothing rustles as you stand—practically nose to nose with the man in front of you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze,” you mutter, and the heated breath from your lips fans over his sensitive skin—mingling with the tobacco wisps and alcohol vapour. He swallows. “It’s pity.”

“Pity?” he sneers. “Like how you sleep around to get over your boyfriend? That’s not pitiful?”

“Like I said—” your tone becomes frigid as you shift closer: until his chest brushes up against yours, until he can count every lash that glows amber in the incandescent street lamps, until he can practically taste the rolling fury off your tongue. Warm. Scalding heat ebbs from your body and flows right into his own. “—don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze.”

His breath comes in ragged waves. So close. When he stands so near to a human, it typically means he’s feeling life flow from them. Not like this; but he cannot bring himself to get away. 

He’s never been more thankful for his unwavering voice. 

“Don’t give bones to starving dogs,” he murmurs, mellifluous rather than jarringly annoying. “They’ll bite.”

Smoke wafts into his face as you survey his expression: flushed, brows knitted taut, lips still slick with liquor. 

“So you’re a dog, now?” Your fingers graze his chin, canting his head this way and that as he makes no moves to evade your grasp: heart beating miserably in his chest. There’s a strange sort of hunger in your gaze. 

He’s never seen it before. 

“No, it was proverbial—” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “—you know?”

“Just as desperate as one,” you mutter. Trailing your finger down until they graze his collarbones, it’s no wonder he flinches—and you stare at him, unimpressed. “If I tell people about this, your reputation would immediately disintegrate. How many years have you cultivated that stupid mysterious image?”

“Hah—who would believe you?” It’s true, not many people would—but alas, the important ones have already witnessed this man looking at you. 

“Jiaoqiu, but I guess he already knows what a loser you are.” And you miss how when he lowers his head, he looks like a completely different person—flushed visage mired in shadow, like the assassin he truly is. He’s staring right at you, unblinking as he watches the cruel movement of your lips. 

“Don’t talk about him right now.”

And so, you don’t. 

・゜゜

This is the prelude leading up to this particularly humiliating scene. 

Humiliating, because propping himself up on his elbows on your bed isn’t a position he thought he’d ever find himself in. Humiliating, because he never gets drunk, so why the hell is his head spinning? Humiliating, because for once the mellow deep of his voice is pitched a note higher—larynx taut with suppressed groans. Unsteady, in a way his voice has never been. 

You taste like the pipe still tipping in your fingers: candy-sweet and saccharic. But there’s also the heavy aroma of liquor on your breath, mingling bittersweet with the plumes of smoke wafting from your fingers. Beneath that, blood from a scrape on your lip—acrid and metallic. That is what he knows, so your lips moving gently against his feels so utterly foreign: and not just in the way they taste. 

When you pull back for air, his eyes are blown wide in surprise; his mouth has only ever been used to bite, after all. You seem to instinctively know this as you take a long drag from the stick, blowing the curls of vapour into his mouth when you pull back in: to induce a slight tingle into him presumably (but Lan knows he doesn’t need aid to feel that buzz). 

Languorous. That’s how he’d describe it—for it seems you only ever work lazily. There’s no hurry as you lick past the seam of his lips. There’s no hurry as both your scalding mouth and your arid fingertips trail downwards, past the vales of his tense abdomen. There’s no hurry—but Aeons he wishes there was, for your hand slipping under his shirt and against his stiffened nipples are much too damn slow. 

“Do you—do you even know what you’re doing?” he mocks, like he isn’t currently jolting as you roll the pink flesh between searing fingers. You raise a brow: lucid against the otherwise irritated thoughts. 

“Do I?” you copy his broken whine, gripping the fat of his tits coarsely while the rise and fall of his chest becomes ever so slightly more shallow. If only he could see himself right now: jarred at every turn, pupils blown out, and the residual sheen on his lips. Every damn hue of purple littering his neck and collarbone. And if only you could see better in this darkness—spot that obsessive fervour in his gaze, one neither of you are quite aware of. 

“Do you have any experiences to compare it to?” you counter, twisting your hand while he glares at you heatedly. Nothing. Quiet as a corpse when you make an irrefutable point. 

No, that’s right, you grin sardonically as you slip the long cigarette back into its place on your nightstand. Syrup drips from your mouth as you twine your free hand in his hair, tugging until he groans into your lips with his own in that mellifluous cadence. 

You’re harsh as winter. 

No, cruel.

Cruel, as you trail your hand from his chest to his waistband—palming him roughly through his pants. Cruel, as you pinion his hips against your bed to prevent them from bucking into your hand—fingers digging desperately against your sheets as you grind against him. Cruel, as you swallow each whine with your warm mouth: so sweet, so gentle even as you wrench your hand into sinew, flesh and everything beyond. He can taste the arid heartbeat through your mouth, and he’s sure you can feel his own—pulsing hotly as he yields his worries to you, just for a moment. 

Or two. 

He’s inexperienced, but even he knows what the tension in his abdomen signifies. The distinct tremors in his legs, the pain as he digs his nails into your thigh, the tightness coiling his body into rigidity. Puppet-like beneath your machinations: manipulated this way and that way with strings unseen. 

Fucking his hand has never felt like this. 

As he writhes, he greedily swallows you whole. Taking everything, including your bloodied lips, including the faint caramel tracing your tongue, including the strangled gasp as he grasps your nape with burning urgency. Aeons. He’s breathless; judged human lust far too soon. Against your brutal palm, the fabric of his trousers is slick with his release—wet patch a testament to his sin. 

Yet still you rock against him as he rides out the mind-numbing pleasure: limbs infinitely heavier from the tension suddenly all releasing. 

But he forgets how cruel you are. 

One final sweet kiss later—nails raking past his scalp and the other hand warmly pressed against his cheek—and you pull away with a lazy smile. 

“Go to sleep.” The directive jolts him awake, like a bucket of ice-cold water breaking apart a dream. Dissolved like candy, like the damn fluid in Penacony connecting the conscious and unconscious. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, remember?”

Like the cat that got the cream, you smile Cheshire-bright. A fucking riddle on your lips. “And I still have to do the dishes, remember?”

He’s left stupefied: numb lips, a reeling head, and an impercipient body. Once more, the shower he douses himself in is frigid—but nothing could be as cold as what just occurred. 

What the hell? 

He presses his palm to the lower half of his face in shock. 

What the hell?

Seriously, there’s something wrong with you. And as he glances down, he realises with utmost horror that his problem has not yet died down yet. 

What the hell?

Important things must be said thrice. Duplicitous in nature, Moze’s fate both turns for the worse and better simultaneously. 

The bone has been tossed. What will the starving dog do?

・゜゜

All actions have consequences. 

That is a proverb universally recognised by all walks of life: trodden on by kings, revered by alchemists, and vowed by the weak. You reap what you sow. What goes around comes around. Equivalent exchange. 

The natural outcome from that night is mutual silence. You don’t speak of that evening, and neither does he—face flush with implication, yet unwilling to actually divulge his thoughts on the matter. Sure, he finds himself with his hand attempting to recreate your rough friction (teeth clenched around his shirt as he paws at his lean chest)—but it never quite works, and all of his colleagues are privy to his especially curt mood. 

Joint missions with you are now a thing painful. Tense. 

The strings that bind him to you are taut with the feeling. Constricting, tightening, until he can sense their imminent breakage. 

This leads this unusual pair to this scenario. You, fresh out a shower and post the nth mission of this month. It’s only been three weeks since that night, and watching you meander about the kitchen with only a towel slung low on your hips is giving him heart palpitations. Steam curls from your body; each time you shift, he’s excruciatingly aware of how it appears just like that smoke from that night. 

“A-ze. What do you want?” 

That’s the golden question—what snaps him out of the trance—and makes him realise he’s practically pressed up against you from the back. No, scratch practically. His arms are on either side of the counter, pinning you in position as you continue stirring the fragrant drink. Feeling that damned sear of your skin is driving him into the throes of madness. 

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and not heeding the rivulets that seep into his clothes. So warm, he wants to murmur—but talking is for those who want to speak, and he does not want to. Not in this moment, where he’s appreciating the soap you used, the lotion spread onto damp skin, the inherent smell of you. 

His teeth graze the vulnerable juncture. You turn, and he can see your eyes waver, feel the rapid thrum of your pulse as you become aware of just how desperate he is. “A-ze.” And your hands roam his waist, tracing the taut muscles betraying his anticipation. 

His lips are heated as he leans into you: a snarling mess. Trembling fingers trace the expanse of your soft body, like you’ll ghost away just like the wisps you smoke. 

“Need you.” It’s not a plea—the rough deep of his voice makes him sound demanding, as arrogant as ever. “Haven’t I behaved?”

He’s so damn desperate as he grasps your body: bruising and fatal. He’s desperate as he kisses you heatedly, desperate while your hands brush past the feverish skin of his stomach, desperate as you push him against the couch—too hasty for the bedroom. Now, he chokes out. Now, now, now. Please. 

Pliant beneath your hands, it’s not exactly the longest time until he’s gasping beneath you. So tight, you may have commented: drunk on the sensation of him fluttering around your probing fingers. Aeons. 

He’s so malleable: arching into you as soon as you line yourself up. It almost makes you feel bad for him: feeling him flinch whenever you brushed past him, watching his face bloom scarlet as he saw the marks on his neck in the hallway mirror. Almost.

It’s because he’s so cute like this: drooling amidst all the broken noises as you slam into him. You’ve never quite seen him this dishevelled, not even during that night. Hungrily, he’s sucking you right in—paying no heed to suppressing the almost-pained moans dribbling past his open lips. 

What a mess. 

Physically, it can only be described as such. White globs decorate his flushed skin messily: pearlescent in the dim lights of the living room. He can’t even begin to count how many times his weeping tip has stiffened, not when you’re so damn insistent that he forgets how to speak properly. It’s not like you’re any better; each time you look down there’s that frothy ring that strings you two together. 

Emotionally, it’s also quite the mayhem. You don’t particularly know where to look when his eyes have that gleam in them—a sort of fervour that one rarely ever sees. Even now—pupils hazed with lust and eyelids lowered heavily—he’s staring right up at you, content as can be whilst you drill mercilessly into him. 

Fuck. 

“Come on, you—ah—can do better than that,” he taunts. As though he doesn’t look completely fucked-out, as though there aren’t tears leaking from his foggy eyes. You’re not sure where he gets his audaciousness from. 

He’s beautiful. 

“This is why no one likes you,” you hiss, sharply tugging his hair back to hear his surprised whines. Supplicantly, he does exactly what you expect. Loser. Aeons, he sucks. 

“Yeah?” he grins. “What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a no one from the Intelligenstia Guild,” you answer against his neck, feeling his throat constrict as he swallows. Though it’s only minutely, his nails dig somewhat deeper into the flesh of your back—marking you up just as much as you’ve marked him. An acknowledgement of your words. 

Well. 

You suppose you’ve always been drawn to the pathetic ones. 

・゜゜

[ghostchems]

infernal - terzo x f!reader - part five

art by the incredibly talented @piaart!

author’s note: finally have this finished but man is it hard to be satisfied. i keep wanting to work on it and work on it but i also really wanted to get this out! also don't even know if this is good teehee. lots of awkward here. 4.9k words. part one/two/three/four. ao3 linky.

The date is going surprisingly well. You chose an Italian spot (ha!) and have had your fill of lobster ravioli and Cabernet Sauvignon all while you learned more about Dylan since he graduated high school. Went to a state school in the middle of bumblefuck, drank and drank some more, got overly into the college culture (emphasis on cult) and tipped a few cows in his time. It aligns perfectly with the slivers of information Catherine gave you through the years, though he’s mentioned nothing of the steady college girlfriend he supposedly had. Interesting. You laugh at his dumb jokes. You’re smiley. But it does feel like an act that’s partially fueled by alcohol and having someone’s attention on you.

He’s still talking but you’re admiring his small, button nose, how his brunette locks shape his face and his bright smile. You can’t help but think his face is a little too smooth, though. Has this boy been through anything meaningful? Has he suffered at all in his shiny little life? Your mind drifts back to Terzo’s rough hands and how they felt on you earlier that day. He forced you to your knees and it was clear that it wasn’t the first time he’s done so. You can still taste him on your tongue.

“You haven’t told me about your job! Aren’t you like an assistant?” Dylan snaps you out of it and you offer a shy smile.

“Yeah! I had to get out of that call center, man. It was like draining my life force. Not that this isn’t difficult but it’s nice to not be yelled at by some rando on the phone for hours a day.” You toy with your glass of wine.

“So, like what do you assist in? Is it just you?”

Huh. You’ve never really explained exactly what you do to anyone. Not even Catherine or Erica — you only really focused on Him. That won’t go over too well in this situation, will it?

“It’s just me and it’s mainly house maintenance right now. My boss’ place was a disaster when I started.” Perhaps the most watered down description of your job.

“So you’re like… you’ve cleaned it up?” There’s judgment in his voice that’s immediately sobering. He stares at you blankly.

“I guess I meant more like projects. The last big one was fixing up his yard. I had to manage the budget and scheduling of the landscapers and stuff.” Your voice is flat.

“Oh, okay gotcha.” Dylan nods and he is back to smiling. You’re seething on the inside. Was your answer acceptable to him? “What’s your boss like? Is he a guy?”

What the.

“Yeah, he’s a guy. He’s a little weird. Definitely eccentric. I’ve tried not to pry too much into his personal life, you know. Boundaries and all that, but when I first started he had me sort out some of his things and it looked like he used to be the lead singer in a band.” Another oddly phrased question. At least now you’ve been prompted to bring up the man you haven’t been able to stop thinking about.

“Oh, shit! That sounds awesome! What band?”

Oh, do you hesitate. A long silence stretches between you two.

“I’m… I’m not sure I should say. I don’t want to blow up his spot or anything.” You’re sheepish suddenly and Dylan notices.

“Aw, come on. Who am I gonna tell?” A good question. You drum your fingers on the table, thinking about how you’ve never really told anyone who your boss actually is.

“Catherine will tell me if she finds out.” A warning, last one until the big reveal. Dylan nods enthusiastically, some of his hairs falling into his forehead. For a split second you think that maybe if you were younger with much less life experience perhaps he would be perfect for you. But you know too much and you know that he wouldn’t be able to give you what you want. “It was Ghost.”

“Oh.” He makes a face and leans back in his chair.

“Oh? Sorry, is that not impressive enough?”

“No, no. It’s still cool. They’re just… I don’t know.”

Do you continue this conversation? Do you care what he thinks? You don’t…but your curiosity gets the better of you.

“What is it, Dylan? Are they lame? I’ve tried to… you know, not dig too deep into it because I feel like that would affect my professionalism.” That and you didn’t want to completely pry into the man’s life.

“Oh, I get that. Uhhh, I mean they’re not REALLY metal. They say they’re metal but they’re not so it’s just a little weird.” He shrugs and crosses his arms. You knit your brows together because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“Right. Okay.”

“Yeah, I mean, they are basically like pop. Not metal, not at all.” He sounds so impassioned and you nod along but it feels inappropriate. Why is he so pressed? It turns you off even more and you do everything in your power to get this date wrapped up. You are done drinking and you’re too full for dessert. Responses shorten and eventually you’re out front on the sidewalk waiting for an Uber. Dylan has insisted on waiting with you and hovers just a bit too closely by your side. He seems a little oblivious to how this date has gone, bless his heart.

“Well, this is me.” Awkward, so awkward. You move to get into the car but Dylan stops you by your arm and leans in for a kiss. It’s truly over before it starts, a quick peck before he pulls away with a smirk. You are dying on the inside.

“We’ll hang out again soon, yeah?”

“Sure. Yes.” You lie and hurry into the Uber, wanting nothing more than this wretched day to finally end.

Terzo blinks awake. The cool air of the night pricks his cheeks. Leaves crunch beneath his soggy socks. He coughs, blood spilling from his mouth and splattering on his thick chest hair. A robe hangs loosely from his shoulders. Terzo’s eyes drift down to his hand to see he’s wearing his black gloves with sharp, golden nails. He squints and there’s something black stuck to one of the points. Gaze drifts to where he is. His driveway. A breeze rolls by that sends shivers down his spine as his eyes focus on your car.

He’s slashed one of your tires.

Terzo cackles wildly upon this realization. This is new even for him and his weird, otherworldly tendencies. Could be straight up mental illness. He takes a few lumbering steps forward before crouching to eye the tire, surveying the damage. Completely shredded with the rim touching the ground. There’s a familiar buzzing in his skull, a buzz that he used to get while performing. How far he had fallen. Still, he’s delighted with himself. A fitting punishment for the way you crushed him earlier. What hubris you had for leaving your car on his property. Rage shoots through him for a quick moment, the thought of you spending the night with your date crossing his mind. Would this boy drop you off in the morning? He could plan for that.

In his fits of unsatisfying sleep, ideas for being cruel sprang to his mind. He’s settled on ignoring you for most of tomorrow, to have you toil away waiting for any kind of attention but to no avail. Terzo would be watching you the whole day, of course, hidden away in dark corners and peering down from atop the grand staircase. He has always been the best at sneaking around undetected out of all of his brothers, having avoided so many moments where his father could have reamed him out due to this expertise. Primo and Secondo weren’t so lucky.

Sharp pang in his chest from thinking about them.

No, no. He must focus on you. He pushes the thoughts back to the void. You’ll be trapped here at the end of your workday because of this, wouldn’t you? That’s when he’ll reveal himself. He’ll torture you. Tease the information of your date out of you.

How well could it have gone when you are so devoted to him?

The house is cold without him, a shiver running down your spine every time you found yourself in a dark corridor. You try to keep your thoughts to a minimum and are somewhat thankful that the contractor was able to come today. He’s a quiet man but seems to enjoy your cheerfulness which breathes life into an otherwise miserable day. Between directions and answering questions, you would wander the first floor and hover by the stairs, listening for any signs of life only to hear silence. The last time you saw him flits through your mind — the pressure of the hand on your neck that forced you to the ground seconds after he angrily spat in your face seconds after he kissed you. What the hell. You should be furious at him for treating you that way, for leaping over the carefully placed boundaries the two of you have been dancing around for weeks.

But instead you sigh dreamily. You burn for him. Cheeks grow hot just from thinking about his rough hands on you. You hope he’s okay. And you’re sure he is, he’s a big boy.

The fact that you’re more worried about his feelings than you are about potentially losing your job over this is not lost on you. You’ve lived in constant fear of getting fired over the smallest mistakes since the start of this job but you are oddly calm about this situation. This feels like a natural progression. There was going to be a time where you had to confront this strange connection and you would rather it happen sooner rather than later with the way things have been going. As painful as it would be (emotionally AND financially) to say goodbye to him maybe it would be best for it be sooner rather than later.

The day goes by at a painfully slow pace with no sign of him. Anxiety builds and builds as you watch your clock tick down on your phone. You’ve taken to painstakingly wiping down every single mirror on the first floor (there is an absurd amount of them) because it takes up time and gives you something to focus one. After a while interacting with the contractor becomes painful for you, too heightened to be able to function in a normal social setting. You send him home early with a smile, being Friday and all, and you continue carrying out your mirror mission. This takes you to around 4:30 at which point you say “fuck it” and decide it’s time for bed! What is the point of even being here anymore when you could be under your comforter with a pint of chocolate chip ice cream as you ponder your existence?

It was an easy decision.

You meander out the front door, making sure not to slam it shut but have it at least be somewhat loud to announce your exit. Yes, you are stooping that low. A quick wave of relief washes over you because you made it. The day is over and while the issue looms you are at least out of his domain. Car keys jingle in your pocket. You make quick work of the walk from the porch to your car until the state of your tire stops you in your tracks.

“Oh my god!” You’re in disbelief. It’s like an animal chewed through the rubber. Your rim is on the ground. Tears start to well up in your eyes. This is it. This is the thing that’s pushed you over the edge today. A frustrated screech bubbles up your chest.

“Come back inside.”

You freeze as soon as you hear his voice. Spinning on heel, you turn to face him. He’s standing with his arms crossed, leaning against a column on the porch. His dress shirt is the darkest black you’ve ever seen, partially unbuttoned to show off thick chest hair and cut slacks show off his strong thighs. Did he get dressed up for you? His paint is crisp and hair is slicked back neatly. Fuck, he looks good*.*

“I can get an Uber?” A question as if you’re asking him permission, taking a few tentative steps towards him.

“Hmmm. No. I’ll call you a driver.” A rough response but you can’t help but feel warmth blossom in the pit of your stomach. “Get back inside.” Terzo growls, his gaze stern and pointed. He leaves you alone in his front yard. You feel silly by how hard your heart hammers in your chest but this is what you’ve been wanting all day. A moment passes by and you work up your courage to go inside and take your punishment. Thoughts of your shredded tire fade.

You walk inside the foyer and follow the sound of clinking glasses, finding him at the bar in the den. Terzo’s gaze falls to you then he directs you to the couch with his eyes. You silently follow the order and sit on one of the couch cushions furthest away from him. There’s a lump in your throat, fidgeting with your hands as you wait for him to join you. Eventually he turns around to face you with two drinks in his hand, one a red martini with a lime green umbrella and the other a pint full of something gross looking - not beer but still brown? His face is blank and you try to match his energy but it’s hard to keep your blush at bay. You reach out to take the martini from him but he pulls it back out of your grasp and instead presses the pint into your hand. The smell fills your nostrils: whiskey. Yuck. He runs a hand through his hair as he takes a seat on the other side of the couch, allowing for plenty of space between you two.

“You’ve called the driver already, right?”

“Yes.” He rolls his eyes but you’re still not sure you believe him.

Terzo’s arm stretches across the back of the couch, gloves just brushing your shoulder. Your grip on your whiskey tightens. This isn’t his usual charming aloofness, there’s something cold and cruel bubbling beneath the surface. Still, you want nothing more than to speak to him, even if he’s obviously pissed at you. He lifts his other hand up to his face, admiring the sharp golden nails adorned to his leather gloves. Eyes slowly drag from them to settle on you, gaze so piercing and yet uninterested in you.

“So, you had him pick you up here, si?”

“Yeah, but—“

“Drink.” He points at your glass and narrows his eyes. Not playing around. You do as he says and take a sip. “Keep drinking.” Lip twitches in a faint show of satisfaction as you bring the glass up back to your lips and take a deep gulp. There’s delight in his eyes and you’re more than happy to play the game just to see more of it. Your eyes twitch and you cough once you set the glass, the whiskey burns your throat.

“It was convenient for him.” Words are rough from the sting of alcohol.

“Ohh, was it now?” Terzo growls and digs his nails into the couch, tearing into the fabric. The sound gives you goosebumps. You open your mouth but he’s too quick. “Finish your drink.” He snaps, daggers for eyes that sends a chill down your spine. You swallow thickly and toy with your glass with the tips of your fingers before bringing it back up to your lips. Head tips back, the room swirls and you swallow down the rest of the liquid.

“Gross. Ugh.” Grimacing as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “It’s less of a drive for him and I’m a pushover, okay?” You sigh, only partially joking. His eyes noticeably soften. You sink deeper into the cushion. “I said yes to this date because it was with my best friend’s older brother who I’ve known forever and I’ve always had a crush on him.” Terzo’s fingers shift from the couch to your shoulder, his nails just short of tearing through your shirt, his anger coming back up to a simmer just below the surface, but you continue on unafraid.

“I had to see what would happen. You have to understand… you build the thing up in your head as something perfect and special but then when you actually actually experience it…” You deflate and you eyes wander away from him, wanting to look anywhere else. “It’s never as good as you imagined it. Plus, he was a garbage kisser.” You immediately regret the words as soon as you say them. They hang heavy in the air and the air catches in your lungs. You feel him shift on the couch but you can’t bring yourself to look until his his hand curls around by back of your neck and forces you to look at him. Eyes sharp like knives.

“You let him kiss you.” A statement, not a question. Terzo makes you watch as he slinks closer to you. There’s like a current coming off of him right now that has you paralyzed even though you so badly want to protest. You whimper, words getting caught in your throat as he reaches for you. He grabs you by your waist with the tips of his claws poking against your skin, that delicious danger teasing you as always. “How did it compare?” Terzo trills, a charming smile with vicious edge. Hoo boy. Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“It didn’t compare at all.” You whisper as you try to sink as far into the couch as possible. Not because you don’t want to be close to him but you’re confused. Everything about this feels like a trap, like one wrong answer could set him alight but you’re not exactly fighting it. Instincts are telling you to run but you stay exactly where you are. Terzo’s hand drift up your sides, suggestively squeezing you in all the right places until he’s holding you by your shoulders. He’s smiling wider than before and there’s glee in his eyes — he’s pleased with you. A torrent of heat shoots through your core. He doesn’t say anything, merely taking in your reactions to his touches. His finger tips glide across your top, nearly clipping right through it until his hands settle around your throat. He squeezes just enough to make you gasp for air, then leans in to you, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel his hot breath on your lips.

Tease.

“I could hurt you.” Terzo muses against your lips, lashes fluttering and eyes wide. There’s a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. Silence passes comfortably between the both of you as you take in each other’s breaths and warmth.

“I know. I’m… afraid of that. But it’s why I’m here.” You feel drunk, the words just tumbling out of you but you don’t care anymore. He is so close to kissing you that you can nearly taste him but instead he pulls away with a wry smile.

“Your glass is empty.” Terzo snickers and then jumps up in a way that can only be described as cat-like, snatching the glass from your hands. You’re left hot and bothered as he turns his back to you to saunter over to the bar. Alone with your thoughts while you watch him pour you another generous whiskey. Oh no. Oh no. You can still taste it on your tongue and it is not for you. But when he turns around with the warmth and charm you’ve been wanting all doubts are gone. You’re going to be messy tonight and that’s just that. When he turns back to face you he’s at least given you half of what he did the first time, walking slowly over to where you’re sitting on the couch.

He looms over you as your eyes drift up to meet his gaze and he audibly growls. You suck in a sharp breath, your nails digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. Terzo lifts a hand up and brushes his thumb along your jaw before tilting your chin up. He brings the glass to your lips and tips it back. You part your lips, the whiskey burning as it spills down your throat. He continues to pour until you can’t keep up with it and it leaks out of your mouth and down your cheeks. You gasp and he flings the glass down onto the side table as he crushes his mouth against yours, unable to keep away from you any longer.

And you certainly don’t care that he all but purrs into your mouth, soft lips moving against yours. He cups your face with his gloved hands, leather thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he slips onto the couch beside you without breaking the kiss. Fingers curl around his wrist and you press in close to him, losing yourself in how he tastes. His velvety tongue probes your mouth as the kiss grows in intensity. Deep pants try to keep your feet on the ground but you’re off in space, exhaustion and comfort mixing in a way that has you floating. Terzo pulls away from the kiss and you can hardly open your eyes. He gently guides your head to his chest, stroking his fingers through your hair.

“You never called me a driver did you?”

“Oh no. Never considered it.” Terzo squeezes you in his arms.

Oh, he’s so warm. A rumbling groan falls from your lips as his wraps his arms around you, just holding you there. Your limbs relax and you sink deeper into his chest as he starts to rubs up and down your back. In that moment you know you’re a goner. A deep, sleepy sigh falls from your lips and in a matter of minutes you are out cold.

Terzo almost feels guilty for being such an ass. Almost. He feels for you, he can relate to realizing that something isn’t all it was cracked out to be. At least for you it was a childhood crush and not being raised for one person. But still, he was a tad mean wasn’t he? It was necessary and the tension… the tension had been so delicious. Watching you squirm under his intense stare. And you just did what he said, unquestioningly, even when had you drink and drink and drink. Adrenaline is pumping through him and he struggles to contain himself— he must not go any further, despite how tempted he is. He could get away with it. You’re so soft, so pliable and so wanting. Terzo can feel the heat radiating off of you, no doubt from the alcohol and your closeness. He could slip his hand between your thighs and give you exactly what you want.

But it wouldn’t be fair to you. Terzo wants you coherent and focused when he takes you. Plus you’re adorably snuggled against him right now, your soft breaths against his chest. He’s longed for this and you did not disappoint. Wait a minute. Are you sleeping? He is about to fall apart, his arms wrapping so much tighter around you. The urge to keep you safe, to keep you here and never let you leave overcomes him*.* He squeezes your hand that is clutched to his chest and then gingerly picks it up and places it back in your lap.

“Sleepy?”

You lift your heavy head to look at him and good god do you want to be asleep right now. A tender smiles breaks out across his face as he swipes some of your hair from your eyes. A stark contrast from how close he had just been to strangling you.

“Take the guest room tonight, puffetta. I will bring you some clothes.” Terzo pulls himself to his feet. “Meet you up there.” He’s so soft, so different than how torturous he was of you earlier. You’re sure he’s heard what he’s wanted to hear from you but he’s unpredictable. Something you liked about him. There’s an unknown darkness that lies beneath his charm and good looks and it calls out to you. You’ve never felt this way about anyone. How could you ever get away now?

You blink and realize that you’re alone. You’ve been alone. Oh shit. Scrambling off of the couch, you trip over your own feet with the effects of the whiskey hitting you hard.

Ah, the guest room. A cramped space with antique furniture that could use some time and attention. The overall theme of the room is… dust. You’ve brought up having the dresser refinished or even repainted and replacing the peeling wallpaper but it’s low on the list of priorities. You push the door shut and give a soft sigh of relief. Shoes come off. A lamp on the bedside table barely illuminates the room and a folded pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt are waiting for you on the bed. Eyes scan over the remainder of the comforter and pillows, wondering if anyone had ever slept here. You can’t help the feeling that you’re being watched but maybe the fact that you’re about to wear your boss’ clothes isn’t meshing well with the practically decaying room.

“Whatever.” You huff to yourself and undress with the grace of a toddler, kicking your pants off and throwing your removed clothes into a pile on the ground. Sitting down on the bed, you pull up the sweatpants and they are loose as they settle around your waist. The shirt slips over your head and swallows up your upper body. Did he purposely give you his largest clothing to make you feel small? It is so cozy, though. You wrap your arms around your body and flop back onto the bed, sinking into the softness of the blankets. Comfortable heat spreads across your skin from buzz of the alcohol. Limbs go limp and your eyelids grow heavy, a deep sigh falling from your lips. Fading fast.

The piercing ring of the rotary phone cracks through the air and you jolt upright and wide awake. What the? You don’t remember seeing it when you came in and it’s not like it blends in — it’s bright red with intricate black etchings along the base and the handle of the receiver. Not a speck of dust on it. The phone rings again, somehow louder and more harmful to your ears than before. You blink and suddenly you’re standing directly in front of the dresser with one hand curled around the receiver. Heart is pounding in your chest and ears. Something is calling out to you. Answer it. Answer it. Answerit. answeritansweritansweritanswerit.

You pick up the phone to silence. Then chittering. The receiver is hot on your cheek. Something pricks your ear but you can’t pull away. There’s a squelch. A screech. More screaming. It only gets louder and louder, needles in your ears, pain shooting through your brain. You can’t breathe. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers and shuffle your bare feet against the cold floor, the only thing you’re able to get your body to do other than press the phone so hard against your head. The closer you listen to the screams the more familiar they get, growing in intensity, pain and volume. Burning, the receiver is burning now and yet you can’t move, you can’t get any relief. The phone cord is nearly completely tangled around your wrist and you’re sweating, gasping for breath, and crying without even realizing it. The screams finally subside, replaced by a cold, dead silence.

You hang up the phone.

Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion washes over you and you collapse onto the bed. The world spins as you sink into the soft mattress, the dial tone still echoing in your ears.

[wildemaven]

first anniversary | dieter x poppy

A Sweet Creature

Ava Greene sits down with actor and friend, Dieter Bravo. Hollywood’s new leading man gets candid about life in front of and behind the camera. He talks about his latest movie, his commitment to his sobriety and his newest role— husband?!

Ava Greene: You're approaching three years sober now, how are you feeling?

Dieter Bravo: Probably the best I’ve felt in a long time. Sobriety is a day to day progression that I take very seriously, and I try to not lose sight of that even when I’m having bad days. Though, I’m grateful bad days have been few and far between at this point in my sobriety. I can attribute that to the support system I have built for myself through friends, family, my sponsor that I still work with and most importantly my wife who keeps me grounded daily. They all continue to keep me in check and remind me how awesome my life is, especially right now. Staying clean is a full time commitment, and it’s really a beautiful thing.

AG: You followed in your famous parents footsteps by going into acting and your career and struggles with sobriety have been well documented but your parents have rarely commented publicly, are they supportive of your work and your journey?

DB: For me, I don’t need them to make a show of it by commenting or sharing their thoughts publicly to know they support me. There was a point in time where they did all they could do for me, but ultimately it had to be my choice to make the decision to get clean. Thankfully, we’ve been rebuilding our relationship over the last few years. And being in the public eye for most of our lives, the last thing we want is for outsiders thinking they have a say in our lives. In short, yes I have very supportive parents in all aspects of my life and I’m so happy for that.

AG: This is your second project since rehab, are you viewing this as a comeback or a fresh start?

DB: Comeback? I didn’t know I left… Kidding! Sure, some might say it’s a comeback. A fresh start. Whatever analogy best fits the narrative is fine by me— and I don’t mean that negatively in any sense. I mean, you’ve known me long enough to know I just try not to focus on any of that stuff, messes with my fucking brain waves. I just see it as me doing what I love with a new perspective and a different approach to choosing what projects I’m going to give my time to than I have in the past.

AG: What can you tell us about this project and the character you're playing?

DB: I had the best f*ckin’ time while shooting this film— sorry, but the emphasis was needed. I was really drawn to the vibrancy that this script evoked, even with the serious nature of the storyline and characters. I couldn’t stop thinking or talking about for weeks afterwards. I’d sit with my wife at breakfast and we’d discuss the script and my character for what felt like hours. I knew after I heard her feedback that I needed to be apart of this film— she might have said I’d be stupid to say no to it, in her own loving way.

The film is really about the process of rediscovering yourself. Navigating the challenges that come along with being at your lowest point and leaning on the ones who have been there for you. It’s about finding love in its purest form when you never thought you were deserving of it.

I found bits of myself in this character as we were filming, it was very much a cathartic experience for me. I guess you could say it was art imitating life in a weird way.

AG: There's already been some buzz about this year's award season, do you think this is finally your year?

DB: Ooooh! Is it too presumptuous for me to say yes?! I’ve started dusting the spot where I plan for it to go. I sound like some sort of pompous idiot! Now no one is going to go see it!*

I take it back!

In all seriousness, ‘cause I’m sure Poppy and my agent will be rolling their eyes when they read this. If all I get is a couple nominations, that alone feels like winning. A shiny statue would be nice though— just saying.

AG: You've talked often about your love of art and you recently purchased a gallery. Are you planning to publicly pursue other creative endeavors?

DB: I won’t be joining American Idol anytime soon if that’s what you’re asking. Oh, you weren’t referring to my ability to hold a note during our many karaoke nights— noted!

How did you put it? Other creative endeavors? I’ve got a few art pieces in the works right now that I’m itching to dive back into when I get home. I’ve got a major gallery in LA lined up later in the year for an artist spotlight exhibit, they’ll be housing some of my work through the next year. Shoutout to my wife for getting that all lined up while I was away shooting this film.

AG: What's next for Dieter Bravo? Any other projects lined up you can tell us about?

DB: I’m looking forward to some downtime I have coming up. Poppy has the summer off, so we’ll get to finally live that newlywed life. Settle into the role of doting husband while she does her thing at the gallery.

AG: Off the record, if you got married and didn't tell anyone I will kick yours and Poppy’s ass!

DB: We’re celebrating our one year this month actually. We eloped quietly last year right after we got engaged— wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little while. Which reminds me, you and Bryony should hop on a call with Poppy after this. Seeing as I let the cat out of the bag and this is our announcement— surprise!

Huge shoutout out to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for allowing me to borrow her Ava from Conversations with a Movie Star for this. Ava was so gracious and even wrote the questions herself. I’m so grateful for Lellen and all her support and advice she had given me throughout the writing process of Sweet Creature!

Sweet Creature Celebration

[xanwyn]

animation for THE NEON VOIDD BABYYYY

this post is for @sugarpasteltmnt

‼️‼️MEGA YAPPING AHEAD PLEASE BEWARE‼️‼️

this might end up being really long and rambly and sappy but maybe not who knows.( it was) (and also featuring numerous spelling errors i am way too tired to fix and i am not re reading what i just wrote) SO. yknow how when chap idek..25(?) came out and i was all like “yeah so i made this animation for TNV and ill drop it when the fic ends” in your ask box? so. I FINISHED IT RAHHH. technically it has been finished since i sent that ask but ohhh my goodness did it need polishing. i haven’t animated in 4 years before that and omg it felt so good getting back into it but IDFK SOMETHING IS STILL NOT UP TO MY STANDARDS. i feel like i could have done so much more with it and i deffo wanted to but as soon as i told myself “oh yeah this is basically done” art block literally sucker punched me in the gut out of NOWHERE. I COULD NOT PICK UP MY I PAD. I COULD NOT DRAW. I WOULD STARE AT THE WIP ANIMATION AND BE UPSET BC I DDINT WANNA WORK ON IT AHH. that goes with saying. i kept having this thought in the back of my head “you need to finish it. you have a wip sitting. finish it. go do it. what are you doing are you STARTING ANOTHER PROJECT??? anddd yeah i got super distracted with other stuff and other projects and then i started spending my free time rewatching 2012 turtles and omg this summer has been a mess. i have all the free time in the world and i choose to be the least productive as possible with it even though i have a job that lets me literally sit on my phone and do whatever i want if no one is there. (i’ve brought my switch to work numerous times ☠️) what i was trying to get at is the fact that TNV has inspired a lot of the old me to come back and i lowk missed her. i really missed the point in all those words up there but im here now so whatever. BUT. TNV made me make a tumblr account, i got back in to animation AND digital art in general, got back into longfics that are ongoing, AND it also helped kickstart ideas for writing. i’ve got so many stories now!! you are such an inspirational person pastels i just- every time i read a new chapter of yours it made me wanna go get up and do something. i wanted to create something. because at the end of each chapter, i would think- “woah. a person out there just wrote this. they just sat down one day and committed. i wanna do that” so i did that. just huge thank you and shoutout to you pastel. like damn. idk no words from me here. just a bunch of platonic hugs and kisses and thankyouthankyouthsnkuou for this lovely heart wrenching but also sweet story. i love this fandom (tmnt) so SO much and i think it’s so awesome how interactive you are with your own personal NV fans. crazy how we’re all here because of a bunch of turtles. 

STUFF ABOUT THE ANIMATION:

okay i really like to talk and if you let me, i will run my mouth. this is the internet so im gonna do just that. so more words for you to read 😁. AHEM. so like i stated before in the genuinely scary mess of words up there, i haven’t touched animation in a while, like, 4 years a while. yes i’ve done digital art here and there along the years, i haven’t been doing it nearly as much as i need to to use some programs to their full potential. layers are still confusing, and don’t even get me started on multiply and all that jazz. shading never comes out right on digital for me, i gotta work that one out. so, for this animation, i decided to go with a very rough style. nothing needed to be perfect, i just wanted to live my little life of trying to experiment with a bunch of different things all at once in one short animatic. I wanted to do that little ball bounce thing all animation artists start with (i kinda included that with the key). i also wanted to have a go at lip sync (no hate it was my first time) and also timing the animation with the music. i wanted to see how smoothly i could move a figure in and out of and out of the screen as well, which honestly, i think that part might be my favorite. i think i did a good job, and thats what matters. the animation itself lost a bunch of quality on importing it- no clue how it happened but now the ending is grainy af. ignore that pls lol- but it was sitting in my flipaclip for god, i dont even know, 3 months now? i kept going back and forth on if i wanted to share it or not, so im throwing it to the wolves and i guess whatrver happrns happens and im good with that. yay. im actually rrwlly tired now sooo *leaves this absolute pile of words with a video attached at your feet and stumbles away quickly*

also i’ve genuinely never posted anything so i’m learning how to use tumblr too ☠️

[salt216000]

I saw a post today that made me quite upset. Normally I'd just ignore, but I read some of the tags and they upset me quite a bit too.

Username is cropped out because I don't want to make it seem like I'm putting 'em on blast, I just want to give my opinion on this.

Transfem headcanons of Gabriel are absolutely fine. Awesome, even. But not while putting down transmasc headcanons at the same time.

The post makes a really interesting and good point! Transfem Gabriel does work well with his narrative of growth and discovery of his own identity, especially as someone cast out of Heaven for not achieving the ridiculous standards they set. That is a really good notion that, yes, being entirely honest, I don't see as frequently from that angle.

But you do NOT have to say it is a 'failure of the fandom' and pin the blame on more people headcanoning him as transmasc. If you want transfem Gabriel content then you can make it: art, writing, musings, anything, but you don't have to put down other creators for projecting their own ideas and potentially their own experiences onto a character they like and relate to.

I'm going to preface this next part with: I am NOT disparaging against transfem Gabriel headcanons, or giving reasons as to why they shouldn't exist. All I am doing here is clarifying why people tend to headcanon him as transmasc. Francis Xie was hired by Hakita to draw concept art, and he is known for drawing a lot of artwork of Gabriel (some NSFW in nature, as a warning in case you decide to look for yourself), and in said artwork he depicts his headcanon of Gabriel being transmasc. Of course, this is not gospel, it is not officially canon and even if it was people are allowed to headcanon him as whatever they want, I only bring this up to help explain why the headcanon may be so popular.

More personally, I find it really gender affirming to have a character in the ballpark of masculine in frame and voice, but to see him wear more feminine clothing in official artwork without it being degrading. It's very nice to see a depiction of this to help push back against the reinforcement that masculine presenting people must conform to certain standards, and that's why I personally enjoy the headcanon too.

There are also a decent few characters that DO get more transfem rep: Mirage, the mindflayers, mannequins, V2, so I don't understand why it's a problem that it is the minority with Gabriel. I wasn't originally going to post this publically, but these tags pushed me to do so:

Username once again cropped out for the same reason as above. To be clear, these are NOT OP's tags.

I don't care what the original tone OP meant was, if it was joking or playful or whatever else, because the sentiment that that post gathered is absolutely wretched. I don't have much else to say about it without getting deeper into gender stuff that I don't want to extend this post with, but I'll reiterate my main point.

You can be upset that there aren't headcanons that represent a certain idea you prefer, but DO NOT put down others who have contrasting ideas in the same breath. If you want to make a post about Gabriel being transfem being a great narrative, go for it, no one will stop you, but do not fucking wrap in a 'transmasc headcanons are wrong and don't get it, and my headcanon is more correct', and at those tags in particular, do NOT treat transmasc headcanons like this, 'transmasc pandemic' is such an awful way to put it and makes me feel as though a line in the sand is being further drawn between transmascs and others who are not.

[superectojazzmage]

Watched the Nimona movie last night. Review I guess. It was pretty damn good. Definitely would’ve probably been regarded as Blue Sky’s magnum opus if they’d gotten to release it instead of being fucked over by Disney. Very cute, very funny, very powerful in the right moments. A thing that stuck out to me is that it’s really only an adaptation in the loosest sense of the word. It takes the core premise and beats of the comic but is functionally an entirely different kind of story that does its own thing. And given that ND Stevenson was heavily involved in production, I suspect that was intentional.

The comic was much darker and more downbeat in a lot of ways, plus it was significantly longer and thus could afford to be slower paced. But more than that, it was a lot more meaty in terms of themes and scope. The whole “LGBT allegory” element was there, but it wasn’t the sole focus, the comic was a story about a lot of different things; not just an LGBT experience, but also discussion of fantasy genre tropes and clichés, criticism of other fantasy deconstructions, character study, exploring what it means to be a hero or villain, critique of the glorification of crime and cruelty in underprivileged communities, corruption in governments, peer pressure, the senseless and self-perpetuating nature of violence, the worthlessness of revenge, etc.. And above all that, it was a story about trauma and people’s responses to it, with Ballister representing people who actually deal with their problems and move on while Nimona represented people who let their mistakes and suffering and grief consume their identity, or worse, use it as an excuse to indulge their worst qualities and take out their feelings on everyone around them.

The movie, by contrast, has a much more narrow focus. The LGBT allegory is front and center and basically the entire focal point of the movie, aside from a spattering of themes about the danger of zealotry and rigid fundamentalist thinking. This gives the movie a much tighter narrative and pacing that suits its inherently shorter runtime, but also leads to a ton of changes to the story either to convey a different kind of message or just work better in a different medium. Most obviously in how Nimona is vastly more sympathetic in the movie and essentially really is the silly gremlin the comic fakes you out into thinking she is, scrapping the comic’s twist that she was a genuinely bad person who was completely serious about wanting to be a villain, caring nothing for the lives she destroyed with her behavior and idolizing Ballister because she thought he was the same as her and would thus tell her what she wanted to hear (i.e., that she was justified in killing and destroying everything around her in the name of getting even). And in the changes to the Institution’s history and nature. And all sorts of other things.

All in all, I feel if you go in comparing and contrasting the movie and the comic, arguing which changes are for the better or worse, you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment in either direction because they’re two different beasts and it’s like comparing apples and oranges. So keep that in mind if you’re a fan of the comic watching the movie or a fan of the movie wanting to look into the comic. I think ultimately I still like the comic better, but that’s purely my personal opinion and there’s plenty that I think the movie did better.

Some other observations:

Riz Ahmed my beloved, thank you Mr. Stevenson for this perfect casting. Literally perfect for Ballister.

Acting in general was very good. You can tell this was a passion project for a lot of people, not just Stevenson.

Only two changes that are objectively bad are Ambrosius losing his awesome Van Halen hairdo and changing Ballister’s last name — Blackheart is a way cooler name than Boldheart and it’s a pointless change, one that I’d argue even hurts the narrative since it makes it too obvious that Ballister isn’t actually a bad guy.

The animation is really great with fantastic expressions, stylish movement, and wonderful aesthetics that perfectly suit the story, but there’s times where it feels a little off. But there are parts where it looks less “movie” and more “cheap mid-2000s CGI-and-Flash cartoon show from France”.

The humor can be a hit and miss, in a “going through the motions of a Hollywood animated comedy for kids” way. The movie excels when it’s either imitating the comic’s Old Internet sense of humor or going hard on the drama, but there’s bits where it seemingly slams on the brakes to do Illumination-esque Twitter humor and those bits definitely throw off the vibe.

Having an actual straight up attempted suicide in the climax was shockingly ballsy. I genuinely can’t believe they went there, but I’m glad they did because the film wouldn’t have felt nearly as raw without it.

I don’t know how they managed to make the Director even more of an asshole than in the comics, but they did.

[hephaestusent]

[heartfullofleeches]

Alright awesome, uh aHEM-

Y/N trying to comfort Theodore: “Listen man I’m really sorry about the divorce, you two really loved each other so it must’ve been really rough.. If you need any help or just want someone next to you then know I’ll be right here for you okay? And hey on the bright side, there are plenty of fish in the sea! I’m sure you’ll find your one and only eventually”

Meanwhile Theodore is internally flipping out cause: Oh my god the divorce was actually a blessing in disguise she’s finally gone and fuck I think I really love Y/N and they’re sitting here comforting me and touching me I want them so bad what do I do fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

Theodore never liked coffee. The bitterness clung to the roof of his mouth and caffeine gave him jitters til next week if he drank too much. With the kids and all his school work pilling up, he needed something to keep him awake and everything else he tried had no effect. He experimented with different creamers and sugars, and created the perfect mix to help it all go down. He figured it wouldn't be too much of a crime to ask his then girlfriend to pick up his drink of choice whenever she bought drinks for herself - only to be handed a black coffee everytime.

"Ta-da! One iced latte. They didn't have that toffee creamer you like so I raided your fridge. Once you're feeling better, we really need to get you out of this house, mister."

His blanket falls from his shoulders as he reaches out. "... thanks."

His voice was hoarse and scratchy; startling even him as it crawled from his throat. It sounded foreign to him, but that's exactly what that woman did. Somedays he couldn't look in the mirror without seeing a glimpse of the shy, awkward teen he used to be - and the stranger that person had because. He was a wreck. He hadn't slept. He only showered when he had to pick up the kids from their grandparents. He hadn't eaten anything in days... until you brought him food. Back in your highschool days you'd pay him with his favorite foods in favor of completing some project you forgotten about. While his tastes had changed a lot over the years, he gorged himself on everything you brought until he felt ill.

Theodore tears the lid of the cup and swallows the concoction, not stopping for a breath. Your hand flies to his back as he chokes. "Take it easy, Theo. Give me that."

You pry the cup from his hands as you sit beside him, weighting his palms against his lap until his shakes quiet. "It's going to be okay. You'll find someone when you're ready to look again and I'll always be here to support you."

You always have been. Years went when he forgot about his own birthday and it seemed like the entire world had to - and there you were, cake and a new book in hand. You were his rock through thick and thin; a vow he made with his ex. The guilty euphoria when people mistook you as his spouse instead of her. Beside what he did with his kids, Theodore had forgotten what it was like to enjoy another's company - reminded each time you came around. He couldn't make this about himself. He couldn't.

"The kids.... Erin's still so young. How am I going to tell them."

"Sometimes, a separated home is better than a dysfunction one. It won't be easy and they'll always come before anything, but right now you need to focus on yourself and what you want in life."

Your hands tighten around his. What does he want? He wants to go back to the night he took that cigarette from her. He wants to scream and hit his younger self for following her at that party. He wants to go back and stop the arrangement that kept his mind off the study partner that always came up with an excuse when it was time to hit the books, but there when he needed them most. He wants to tell them how they made him feel. He still does. He wants to love you - and now he finally.... finally can.

"Hold me.... Please, I just want...you to hold me."

His glasses fog up. You wipe the tears from behind his lenses as your arms envelope him. Eyes misty, all he feels is the pull of your warm embrace and he breaks. Theodore wraps the blanket around you and centers his hearing on the steady beat in your chest. It's the most beautiful thing in the world. If he has that to listen to every night, he won't need caffeine - or anything else for that matter. All he needed was you. All he ever needed was you.

[solar-sunnyside-up]

Hi there... I really love the idea of solarpunk but like. The "punk" part of it makes me so anxious. I think it's a vital part of the movement, but I can never imagine doing something like that myself.

If you have any small (tiny) tips or ideas on things I can do on a more personal level I would appreciate them. Everything seems so overwhelming and completely out of my wheelhouse and skill base

Hey ya 🌱 Sprout!! It can be hard to recognize, particularly in solarpunk, but your already punk and already doing praxis. I'm sure of it.

If you've ever pirated media, DIYed or mended clothes, have a rain barrel, spoke out against poor labor conditions, provided a safe space for anyone in an uncaring world even for a brief interaction- Your already punk!! Anyone who fights and gatekeeps that title from you bc of age, aesthics, or experience is a poser and a FED!!

That being said tho--

If you want to do more outrageous projects there's a few things I can recommend depending on how much you wanna do!!

Battlejacket- TBH the purpose of a battle jacket is to soothe this exact anxiety while also being a fun project and being a single to others!! There's many examples in both my Battlejacket tag and patch idea tag to get you started. You can get iron on patches/print paper that transfers pretty well if your not used to DIYing stuff. If this feels like to big if a step and is too much tho keep in mind you can make a battlejacket and not wear it outside right away. It's a second skin to make you feel and others feel safe, but it's also a big neon target on yourself depending on your environment and where you are. So it's ok to just make one and not wear it out until your ready!! (If you do this-- my only demand is you show me when you do it!! I want to see all of those kinda projects bc I'm obsessed with them)

Getting out there- If starting a guerilla gardening project or joining a community garden, or community association isn't an option for you- be that bc of accessibility/time/energy- I'd recommend starting to archive and getting out there! Inaturalist or falling fruit are awesome programs where you identify plants/animals/stuff outside in general. It gets you outside, your adding to a community which gets the feeling of a ball rolling building confidence and your praxis muscles!!

Root yourself in your community- This is a hard one if your busy/have low spoons/are introverted but I promise its worth doing even if you arent super active in those spaces! Even just researching the history of your town/city/neighborhood and seeing what programs are running can really connect you to the area. A lot of us due to the renting crisis never truly attach to our neighborhoods or are too busy to look into local artists. (Not your fault babes, its built to do that to feed monopolies) Pick even just 1 thing you care about (local artists, teashop, bands, libraries, community fridges, etc..) and find the closest thing to you and get obsessed. Being a regular in any space is an awesome feeling, its where you'll find friends, and you'll directly see any change you provide there.

Media archiving- There's a lot of ways of doing this one but just pirate the fuck out of everything!!!! Burn it to a physical copy, share it with your friends/family! Make mix dvds, burn movies/tv shows! Directly download youtube videos! Print off your fave fanfiction and bind them into books! Particularly with streaming services directly deleting content and getting rid of them entirely this is important work but its also just very fun!! Seeing my wall filled with dvds and books and objects makes my brain happy but also again, the physical exchange of handing the media you love to another person is so unique! Theres lots of guides and methods of doing this depending on the method and medium your using.

Utilizing public spaces- Loitering is a good one as well to push yourself and to interact with things IRL! Use your public libraries and parks excessively! Spend a weird amount of time at the mall not buying stuff! This might seem like a weird one, but its a long term thing. It shows that ppl are supposed to be out and about without spending money, but also many of these places (except the mall obvi) get funding based on usage so the more you use something the more likely they are to make it accessible to more ppl! It also makes it more normal for ppl who need to loiter to be in these spaces which again adds more accessibility. This is also one that might get you unwanted attention so decide your comfort and safety level. Pushing boundaries is good but do it at your own pace.

Vandalize! - Again we're ramping up a bit on risk levels but I recommend it, particularly bus stops or putting up posters. Bus stops is bc at least in my city they only maintenance them once they've been 'ruined' so its actually a cosmic positive to do it in these spaces. Posters are also good! Ive seen quite a few for tenant unions but also a handful of them that are food resources or call outs for police. This is mostly to have passive way to show solidarity or get a message across. But also like your doing art! Great stuff! Again tho this comes with risk if caught or if you dont know what your doing so start with baby steps (like using sharpie on an Ad you fucking hate or putting up a poster in a neutral space to get used to it)

Hopefully these tips get you started!

[the-ninjago-historian]

Ninjago: Into The Deep (Master Post, Summary, and Q and A!)

Hello everyone! Thanks for stopping by! If you've been on my blog, you probably know about this upcoming project. But for those of you who don't, what is Ninjago: Into The Deep? I'll tell you! Ninjago: Into The Deep is a fully fleshed out Ninjago fan season inspired by legendary fantasy works such as Narnia, Lord of The Rings, and even classic Disney films and more modern adventure stories like Avatar: The Last Air Bender. Here's the summary!

Things are looking up for the Ninja since their battle with the Crystal King! Jay and Nya have gotten married, Lloyd is now training to become a sensei, and Ninjago City hasn't had a major disaster in over a month! (A new record!) Everything seems to be going well, until the team receives a mysterious letter from Queen Vania, requesting their presence.

Once they arrive, they discover an evil plot, orchestrated by former king Vangelis, to overthrow Vania and take the throne again! And having a taste of conquest while on the Crystal Council, the disgraced monarch has his sights set on the rest of Ninjago as well! Powered by a new energy source, Vangelis is now far too powerful for the Ninja to defeat with their current abilities. They must find a new way to defeat him!

This takes the Ninja on a quest to a new world! The magical and beautiful subterranean kingdom of The Deep Lands! There, they must find the Elemental Beasts. Seven creatures created by the FSM and imbued with elemental powers, to teach the first Elemental Masters how to use their abilities. And who control the very balance of nature itself! From these magical beings, the Ninja will learn new powers and skills that are beyond their wildest dreams, and take down Vangelis once and for all! So join us, as we meet new friends, experience new powers, and journey Into The Deep.🍃🌊🔥🪨❄️🐲⚡

So that's it! I also have some cool concept art that should be finished soon!

Now here's some Q and A to answer all your questions! Some are from one of followers, and others I added in just to give general information. 😁 If you don't see a question being answered that you would like to see answered, please feel free to send it in!

(Under the cut because this is LOOOOOONG.)

First some general info.

Q: How will the episodes be released?

A: Each episode is three chapters long. Therefore, split into three parts. (Kinda like how you would have two commercial breaks in a real episode of Ninjago!) One episode will be released every week! Via a released chapter every Sunday, Wednesday, and Saturday.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Q: How many episodes will there be?

A: 16-20. About as many a regular season of Ninjago would have!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Q: What is this series rating?

A: G - PG! I don't do adult humor or gore. So it will be about as kid friendly as a usual Ninjago Season!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Q: Will there be exclusive characters?

A: Yes! Several! Some including the Elemental Beasts, and even Cole's Grandfather Rocky! More will be released as the series goes on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Q: Will the season ever be animated?

A: If I aquire the time, resources, and skills, absolutely!

Now, let's answer some questions from one of my followers and awesome friend @dexter-the-dog!

A: Probably the only thing that makes it an Alternate Universe is that Dragons Rising isn't canon to this story. Other than that, it should fit nicely with the canon.

A: YES! The Elemental Beasts! They are so cool! I can't even put it into words! Currently, there are six Elemental Beasts. One for Fire, Water, Earth, Ice, Lightning, and Air. The Air Beast will have a very important role to play in this story! I'm also partial to Cole's Grandfather Rocky, who will also be making an appearance! He's a very interesting guy. And super powerful too! After all, he fought the Serpentine and the Time Twins! So he has quite a few tricks up his sleeve!

A: As Doc would say, #NoSpoilers! Lol! But there is a really cool scene were Nya uses her powers in a new way! It should be EPIC. So cool in fact, I just might animate it!

A: Ah! I can answer both of these! Since Into The Deep is a fan season, it will try to fit into the canon as closely as possible. That being said, the characters are exactly as you would see them in the canon show. No backgrounds or roles changed. But whether they will gain new abilities or new roles? Well that I can't say without spoiling things.

A: It's definitely the Cole x Vania story I have planned. Lol. Yeah, I ship them. I think they're cute. And they'll have plenty of cute moments in this story!

A: Into The Deep happens about a month or two after Crystalized. :)

A: I've been waiting to answer this one! The Elemental Beasts take on a mentor role for each of their appointed ninja. They will help them learn new abilities and fight their inner demons to truly become their most powerful selves. They're also are basically Nature Spirits. Each one controls a certain element in nature from their base kingdoms in the Deep Lands. Because of this, they can never leave to go up to the surface, or the balance would be offset. This factor is important, so make sure you remember it while reading.

And that's all the questions I got! That was fun!

Before I end this post, I'm gonna tag a few people I remember being interested in this thing! (@rinkunokoisuru @shatteredhope123 @miraculous-stud @nocturnal-nexu @dexter-the-dog) Hope you guys enjoy all this info! And thank you for all your love and support. It's really kept me going.😁🫶

Well, that's all for now! Keep an eye out for updates! And I'll see you around! Bye! - ✒️🐉

[eisforeidolon]

Question: So Jared you've been in so many amazing things, I loved you in, obviously, Supernatural, but Gilmore Girls -

[Jensen frantically claps with the audience while Jared tries to stop him, then Jensen makes an exaggerated face of excitement and heart hands]

Question: Jensen, you've been amazing in everything as well, The Boys, I cannot wait for the next season -

[Jared makes a face of exaggerated excitement and also does heart hands]

Question: I've been wanting to let you know that, because I've never been called up before. So I wanted to ask in all of your different roles and all your different experiences, how do you pick your next project? Like is there a specific line or a new challenge you want, like how do you say yes or no I'm not doing this. What sparks your interest in that next project?

Jared: That's a great question. I'll start. Usually it starts with an email from my accountant. [laughs]

Jensen: I was gonna say, we get an email from our agent that says, uh, they have a budget and they wanna hire you. Alright, where do I start?

Jared: It's like what did we spend on the credit cards last month? Okay, I'm taking jobs. Just kidding. That's a great question and I think - I'll say this flat out, just having been on Supernatural - or Gilmore, then Super, then Walker? And not having really signed on to anything officially until Fire Country? That was - and I spoke for many years, and I think people thought I was kidding? But I think the way I would love the [finger quotes] structure of my career if I can - you know, man plans, god laughs? But like working with people I enjoy? Max has been a buddy, Max Thieriot, has been a buddy of ours for damn near a decade, he's awesome. Great [?] guy, great actor. And he was down in Austin, he and his family were down in Austin for the Country Music Awards and they were gonna leave the night of and they were like, wait, you're in town? And I was like yeah, so they stayed an extra day to come hang out. And we talked about, like, working together. At the time, Walker had not yet not been picked up? So it was still kinda like, uh, I mean we've had those conversations with Max for years? Like dude, it would be fun to work together! It would be fun to work together! And so when Walker did not get picked up, Max reached out, he was like, dude I'm so sorry, you wanna come play in Vancouver? And I was like, hell yes, I'd love to come play in Vancouver. Or like Kripke with me and the - with Ackles, obviously, Soldier Boy is a giant role. Yeah, bravo. For me, I'm not gonna play a Soldier Boy style character where I have that much to do, but Kripke was like, hey dude, sorry about Walker, like you wanna come play in Toronto? Like I'd love to get you and Ackles and Jeffrey Dean together on screen again. And I was like - so [crosses his fingers] I don't know what he's writing yet, or if it's gonna work out, but I was like -

Jensen: [makes face of exaggerated apprehension]

Jared: [laughs]

Jensen: Careful what you wish for!

Jared: Yeah, he goes, you know that scene with, uh, Rob? I was like ... yes? He's like, okay, I'll go write. And I was like, don't write that, don't write that! Yeah, so I think right now I'm currently in a place where I'd love to work with - I think through to Monk's point, who we met earlier, well, who y'all met earlier? For the last twenty years of my life, I've worked with people that I enjoy and love. That I would gladly hang out with in the mornings or in the nights or during the day at work or at play and I think it'd be a really tough pill to swallow to just go be on some show with somebody that's not the best person or the happiest person on set or off and so I hope I get to work with people that I really enjoy telling fun and new stories. Yeah.

Jensen: Yeah, not entirely dissimilar from what Jared said, that we've been very fortunate enough in our careers to get to a point now where we do kind of get to - not pick and choose, and certainly not dictate - but just have a little bit more kind of say in maybe what comes next. And we are fortunately enough getting options to do, you know, maybe a couple of things or - so, you know for me now it is really about finding projects that sound like they can be successful? You know, like you don't wanna put a whole bunch of energy and time and away from your family into something that just is gonna go [makes dismissive noise and thumbs down gesture]. And so that's kind of the first thing is just making sure that the story and the writing of the characters and stuff all like really line up to be, to have a shot at doing something great? And then, the people. It really for me, it is so much about the people and the personalities and the tone on a set? Because I've been on toxic sets and it's - I don't wanna go to work. I don't wanna do that. And I feel like I've gotten to a point now in my career where I don't have to do that. And now I get to find these projects or go work on projects with people that I know and I trust and I have a really good rapport with or a great relationship with or [gestures at Jared] a great friendship with? And that's even more satisfying than just going and doing a job. And so very, very blessed to be in that position, he and I both are, and I think that it is now kinda starting to come to fruition, what all of that work has been for, and getting us to that point. Because now we're getting to work with people like getting to go up and work with our friends. I just got back from doing an episode of Tracker with my buddy Justin Hartley. You know that came about by me just texting him during the Superbowl and saying hey, get your ugly face off the tv, I'm tryin to watch the show, or I'm trying to watch the game. And he was like, hey, you wanna come up and play my brother? And I was like, let's go! Let's do it, that sounds awesome! And it was. And I happened to know the showrunner of the show, because he was the showrunner on Big Sky. Which was another reason why I went and did Big Sky, that was one of the reasons I did Big Sky. Because I met with Elwood and he and I just hit it off immediately and he was a fan of my work and I quickly became a fan of his, and he pitched me his ideas and I was like, yes. And it just sounded like a really fun environment to be a part of and so I went and did that, had a great experience, Elwood is now running Tracker. He was like, come on up. I was like, you know, when and where, pal? This new show Countdown? I got to spend some time and we've had a lot of phone calls, a lot of interactions back and forth with Derek who is running the show, created the show, Derek Haas. And a fantastic guy, a Dallas native, another Texas boy up there, so a lot of connections and just is just a really good person. He's a father, and he's - he just - we vibed really, really quickly and so again, like, had that not happened and had those relationships not been built and had, I think, the reputation of us not have been established over the period of time that it has? We might be in a different position. But I'm proud of where we are, I'm proud of what we get to do, and I'm proud of the opportunities that are coming our way now because of it.

[nadianova]

How much time do you spend planning some of your visual novels? At least going by some of them being jam submissions, it feels like you go from pre-production to a finished build very quickly, and it's amazing how you can manage that while still having an awesome story and so many assets.

Also, what is like, the process of planning a story out for you, if there's any vague or concrete similarities that you've noticed?

i think the important context here is that if i get bored/have nothing to do i jhust immediately get really suicidal its like ridiculous how bad it gets(ITS FINE DONT WORRY ABOUT IT IVE HAD 5 YEARS OF THERAPY). so i hate being bored and want to occupy my time wit something fun whatever that is. if i have a project to focus on but especially if I'm working for a game jam i have a deadline and i just decide to myself okay i will release a game now.

because ive made a decent amount of games i roughly have an idea on my capabilities, i can estimate how long it takes for me to write a story so and so long and how long it takes for me to draw stuff i need and how long it takes for me to throw stuff in renpy. these are estimates like as in I'm not accurate with it but still enough that i generally know where to start cutting ideas since the most important part is just having something to submit. i also know to plan around my brain wanting to slam my head into a wall an my hands suddenly giving up on being able to draw.

i think thats the beauty of game jams it forces you to just go for it and release something. releasing a 'bad' game is better than no game at all. experience only comes over time and i think just going for it is the best approach there is. like its literally 2 weeks 1 month whatever of your life. if you have the time and motivation go for it. make it work or fuck it up it wont matter in the grand scheme of things

im not sure what is the motivation behind the question but i do want to point out that this is just my method (if you can even call it a method) and the only way to figure out what works for you is to just try until you find something that actually works for you

idk not everyone will find it doable/fun to plan around spending two weeks gamedev 10 hours a day just cause i wanted to fit in 100 cgs for a jam game but apparently i can do that when i cheat my stupid adhd brain into hyperfocus with adhd meds

READMORE BECAUSE I CANT STOP RAMBLING

as for planning tho i think ideas on their own are worthless and its always about execution in the end. a great idea or a meh idea are the same for me but i do still enjoy the planning process so i keep notes

like i see a great tumblr post or i see some art or visual novel has some scene that inspires me: i save that shit for myself

having a big collection of random floating ideas like that helps me easily pick from especially during a jam type duration. right now i have like 4-5 half-baked project skeletons, some are literally like 3 pictures and some like naomida are a hundred hours worth of me writing world building about how the toilets work in a city with no plumbing cause its -30celcius(i love bringing this up)=

i dont normally plan that much, i tend to just wing it. like for malmaid i seriously just had some rough ideas and just went along as i wrote

same thing for dddeviance i had a handful of scenes that i really wanted to make and knew what kind of start and end it was meant to have and just figured out how to fill the in between. a lot of plot points changed vastly like halfway through i realised my devil + angel combination was stupid and i should just go for fallen angel + angel.

i think there really is no simple answer tho (as evident from the long as hell post) i don't really have a 'process' because every single game has been worked on has come with different type of planning since I'm always trying new stuff to try and distract me from boredom. like I've been using obsidian for naomida while previously I've just used a empty discord serve as my notes app for malmaid and dddeviance

and tbh with naomida I'm running to a new problem where I'm definitely planning too much. like I'm spending too much time fidgeting with details in chapter 4 even when i haven't finished writing chapter 1 just cause its so easy to get in the loop of "oh ill just change this one line" and boom 20 mins spent playing with my notes that didn't really progress my game since by the time i reach this point the whole scene might have shifted to something else

.

but if i had to squeeze an answer itd be something like everything related to my art or writing or games is just like "oooooo that seems fun i should remember this for later" and then i just string 10-100 of those into a story

i tend to write my stories in a format of

character A does this and that

this happens here

puppy play ryona piss orgasm

new day and then this happens here

sad thing happens

more piss orgasm

the end

and just like start filling in more details and working on my story in a nonlinear fashion until i feel like i have a strong enough skeleton that i can start writing my scenes. i hop around a lot, often preferring to write the fun scenes first like ero stuff or the ones I'm the most interested in and then the rest is just filling the blanks and stringing the cool scenes together