#im so glad you asked actually

[chamoemileclown]

So what other Parkcour World Building have you thought of?

So much information/ resources just doesn’t make it to the bottom layer right? It all has to trickle down.

Sort of how canopy forests work where the plants that grow tallest get the most sunlight while everyone else has to fight for what little they can. Plants that are closest to the bottom have to cope, some climb, others adapt, most only do so to live not thrive.

It’s probably a huge shock to be properly treated at the pro level, making it to the masters level would grow some sort of resentment for your previous life.

Even having the skills to be parkour champion it must come as a big culture shock to make it all the way up to the top and to find out your whole life you’ve been deprived of many different basic things. You’ve never seen the rain, you probably don’t have a great education, all the clothes you’ve ever worn were hand me downs- whatever sunlight that has trickled down through the metaphorical canopy. What is it like to feel unfiltered sun on your face? Would it scorch you?

[keferon]

The tac net crash chapter is one of my favorites so far~

Ah and. Guess what. I just discovered that including this post, I made 50 pieces of fanart for Mistakes on mistakes until.. I’m so sane and normal about this story can you tell👍

[chloesimaginationthings]

The baseball reference on vanessas screen was genius because theres a baseball player named mike schmidt!

IM GLAD someone noticed this detail!!

[deoidesign]

"what do hands mean about a character?"

Their hands mean they love eachother

(webcomic)

[aroaceleovaldez]

they cast a 28 year old for Tyson 💀

[relevant rants: here and here]

yeah, i saw - i wasn't holding onto hope of them casting a disabled actor for Tyson (still disappointed, just not surprised) but casting a 28 year old for a middle schooler is really out of left field. It's just an odd choice? Particularly given how much they've been emphasizing age-accurate casting so far.

It makes me really wonder what major rewrites they have planned for Tyson's character. Because as things stand currently there's no way to make Tyson's existing character work with this casting. Tyson is supposed to be in Percy's grade, but Daniel Diemer sticks out like a sore thumb against the child actors. Tyson being in Percy's grade is pretty important for the entire arc of Sea of Monsters with the main character arc being Percy combating internalized ableism and establishing him as a character who stands up for other marginalized kids. If they remove that, what's Percy's arc going to be for that entire season? At what point are they going to establish that about his character? Or are they just going to exposition it at us like usual with nothing backing it up and no actual character progression? And in later seasons the age gap is only going to be more prominent - like how is Tyson going to work in BoTL or TLO? Are they planning on removing his character entirely for those scenes? Are they going to remove him as a recurring character in general? It'd be really weird if they killed him off or something.

I'm also afraid for if they do try to keep Tyson's disability coding in some form - cause there's kind of no good way it can go at this point. Either they completely erase Tyson's coding because they cast an abled actor for him and that messes up the entire arc of the book and his character particularly in relation to Percy, or they have an abled actor attempt to portray a character heavily coded as having down syndrome (and i believe they're already doing similar with iirc Chiron's actor is abled but they're doubling-down in the show on Chiron being disabled) and given how they've written the neurodivergence themes (or absence there of) in the show so far there's just no way that'd end well. Like, Tyson's characterization is a little questionable to begin with in the books, but given the show's writing so far it just feels like we're very rapidly ramping up for an extremely ableist characterization of Tyson. Like i'm sure Daniel Diemer is a great actor, but... i'm just getting real tired of the show erasing the entire premise of the series :T

anyways as per my initial post about pjo tv tyson casting theories i guess it's time for me to start tearing stuff apart with my teeth ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[eurydicees]

Where’s the trans!Kyotani and trans!Iwaizumi fic (those were the characters right?)

HELLO YES SO GLAD YOU'RE HERE, THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!!

solidarity, or some friendship of the like

summary: kyoutani gets his period, and it fucking sucks. iwaizumi is also there, and that sucks a little less. prompt: none pairings: kentarou kyoutani & hajime iwaizumi (platonic) words: 2829  warnings: discussion of periods, implied insecurities about being trans

Kyoutani is hiding. Practice starts in five minutes. He knows that practice starts in five minutes. He can hear the club room clock ticking, loud as a bomb’s countdown, even from the bathroom stall. He’s going to be late, or he’s going to miss practice entirely. 

For once, he doesn’t actually want to skip. Or, he does want to skip because fuck knows he can’t show up like this, but he didn’t intend to skip today. He actually wants to be on this stupid team, for some fucking reason. 

He was given a second chance and he’s going to take it, despite something in him screaming out that he’s not really a part of what the rest of the team has. After a few weeks of practicing with them again before their next tournament, he’s well aware that he still doesn’t have their trust, not really, but still—he’s kind of finding himself wanting to earn it. 

He wants Yahaba to give him the time of day, at least once. He wants Iwaizumi to look at him as more than something he can guide into being next year’s ace. He wants Oikawa—actually, he doesn’t really care about Oikawa’s opinion, but he’s besides the point. 

Some days, he sinks into the feeling of being part of the team and wonders if, one day, he could genuinely be a part of the dynamic that everyone else has found over the time he hasn’t been playing with them. Some days, he thinks he might get there. 

This is not one of those days. This moment is ruining everything he has worked to convince himself of for weeks now. This is not a day in which he believes he can reach them. If anything, this is only further convincing himself that he can never truly be one of them, be like them. He just doesn’t—doesn’t fucking belong. 

He can want to play on the boys’ volleyball team as much as he wants to. He can make it past tryouts and onto the team, he can be physically strong and he can beat almost everyone—everyone but Iwaizumi—in Seijoh’s arm wrestling tournaments, he can make himself look as masculine as possible. He can do all that. 

And he still will never actually fit in. He won’t ever fit in, not while he’s sitting on the toilet with bloodied underwear and pants both pulled down to his knees. He rubs his palms against his eyes, because he will not cry, he won’t, because boys don’t cry and he’s a boy, he is.

He can’t cry about this. He won’t. He just has to wait until the club room clears as practice starts, and then he can escape. Only, fuck, he doesn’t have a pad or tampon or anything, and he doesn’t even have clothes—

“Kyoutani?” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

“You in here?” 

Fuck. 

The thing about Yahaba is that he is persistent. He is persistent and he is frustrating and he is not going to give up once he has his mind set on something. While they’re playing volleyball together, this is something Kyoutani appreciates. While he is hiding from everyone in the bathroom because his body has decided to riot against him, this is not something he appreciates. 

“Oikawa sent me to find you,” Yahaba calls out, and Kyoutani can see his feet step into the bathroom. “We’re starting practice and he wants you there for some reason.” 

And, okay, normally that wouldn’t hurt because normally Kyoutani would have something to say back, but right now he feels fragile in a way he tries to never be. Right now he feels like he’s going to snap in half and he’s not going to be able to put the pieces back together. He’s going to have to quit the team, go back to the rec center, where no one knows about this, and—and all of that hurts. 

His body is aching and probably he should have seen the signs before he found the drying blood and discharge in his underwear, but he doesn’t really track his period because he hates even acknowledging that it happens. And now he’s suffering the consequences of that. Now, Yahaba’s comments are actually sending something stupid painful down his chest and, on a physical level, his chest already feels too tender to touch.

Yahaba’s feet pause outside of the stall door. “Are you good? You coming or what?” 

“I’m fucking fine, leave me alone—” 

“Are you sick or something?” 

“I said, I’m fine!” It’s a growl and a defensive anger more than anything else. Kyoutani can hear the angry anxiety in his voice, and he wonders if Yahaba hears it too. 

Yahaba doesn’t say anything—for a moment, Kyoutani wonders if he’s managed to hurt him back, and then decides he doesn’t care at the moment. He needs Yahaba to leave. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like this, doesn’t want to be caught—

“Should I grab Coach or someone?” Yahaba asks, and oh, he’s definitely picked up on Kyoutani’s anxiety, because his voice is just that much softer. “Do you need…something?” 

“No,” Kyoutani snaps. What he needs is to just not be here. “Don’t Coach. Please don’t get Coach.” 

And he’s begging Yahaba for things now, which is a new fucking low in his life, but he can’t face either Mizoguchi or Irihata right now. They know he’s trans—they had to know, it was information he was required to divulge to all his teachers and coaches, however much he resisted the idea—and while they’ve found it in them to be accepting enough that he’s allowed on the team, Kyoutani refuses to push it so far as to asking for help. Not with this. 

“Okay, fuck,” Yahaba says. “I won’t get them. Seriously, are you good?” 

“Just leave it,” Kyoutani mutters. “Tell them I’m not coming to practice today.” 

Yahaba doesn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “Oikawa’s not gonna take that excuse.” 

“I’m not quitting, I’m skipping one afternoon,” Kyoutani growls. “It’s fucking fine. You’ve all done it before.” 

Except even as he says that, he knows it’s not true. Nothing short of a career ending injury or terminal illness would stop someone on Seijoh’s volleyball team from coming to practice. Even then, they’d probably sit on the sidelines with casts on both legs and yell instructions from the bench. 

But Kyoutani will suffer being the first to do it because he’s not leaving this stall while there are people around. He can’t face that. 

“Your funeral,” Yahaba mutters. Louder, “I’ll tell them you’re skipping, but I’m not making excuses for you.” 

“Not asking you to,” Kyoutani snaps. “I’m not coming either way.” 

He doesn’t really care what Yahaba thinks about him not going. He doesn’t care what anyone thinks. Let them believe he’s ditching the team again, let them believe he doesn’t care about the sport, let them believe anything but the fact that he wasn’t born a man. 

He watches as Yahaba’s feet round the corner and he disappears, presumably to tell Oikawa that Kyoutani isn’t coming. At the moment, Kyoutani can’t bring himself to care what Oikawa is going to say. Putting his head in his hands, his back hunched, still sitting on the stupid toilet, he lets out a long scream into his palms. 

He hates this. He hates this so much. He had probably stained the desk chair during his last class of the day, he doesn’t know how long he’s walked around like this, he doesn’t know how he’s going to get home without exposing everything, and he hates this. 

He squeezes his eyes shut for a long moment, trying to imagine himself out of this situation. Maybe when he opens his eyes again, he won’t be in this bathroom stall and none of his clothes will be stained and he won’t have this awful cramping in his lower stomach and he can go to the gym and play volleyball with the rest of the team like his body doesn’t hate him. 

“Mad Dog?” 

“Don’t call me that.” The response is immediate, instinctual. Then the panic sets in as he realizes Oikawa is the one now standing outside of the stall door. “Get out of here.” 

Oikawa has no hesitation when he says, “No. Tell me what’s going on. Why can’t you—” 

“I started my fucking period!” 

Maybe he says it because he needs to get it out of his chest and into air where someone else can deal with it. Maybe he says it because he’s just so fucking tired. Maybe he doesn’t want to be the only one who knows anymore. Maybe he just says it because he doesn’t give a shit about Oikawa’s opinion of him. 

Oikawa is silent. Kyoutani bites down hard on his lip because he wants to either cry or scream and neither of those are options, not over this and not in front of motherfucking Tooru Oikawa. He’s stronger than that. He has to make himself stronger than that. So his heart just hesitates in his throat for a long moment, a moment of tense, glass-fragile silence. 

The Oikawa exhales, long and slow. He sounds calm, somehow. “Do you have what you need? Pad, tampon?” 

“No.” Kyoutani’s words, again, are the growl of a cornered animal and he wants to sink his teeth into something. “Just—fucking leave it, Oikawa. I’ll deal with it.” 

Oikawa exhales again, that same long breath that’s setting Kyoutani so on edge. He wants to scream, wants to punch something. Oikawa, maybe. The wall, maybe. The stall door. 

Then Oikawa does the last thing Kyoutani expected him to. He had expected a laugh or a jeer or an insult or a joke. But instead, Oikawa turns around, and he leaves. He doesn’t protest, doesn’t start an argument, he just…leaves. It was what Kyoutani had wanted to happen, kind of, but somehow the resulting silence is just as humid and oppressive as Oikawa’s presence had been. 

Okay. Oikawa is gone. Kyoutani can deal with this shit. He got his period for the first time when he was fourteen, and pretty consistently for every month after that, so he’s dealt with this—he can’t actually do that math right now, but he’s done this enough times to be able to deal. Probably he just needed to be dramatic first. 

He has his gym shorts in his locker. He can change into those, even if he’ll be cold on the long walk home. It’s better than wearing this. It’ll be fine. With that figured out, he pulls out a wad of toilet paper and folds it up in his hand, then carefully places it in the stained underwear, wincing at the feeling of the dried blood accidentally brushing against his knuckles. 

“Kyoutani?” 

Fuck. Why are his teammates rotating through this fucking bathroom like he’s a fucking zoo exhibit—

“It’s Iwaizumi,” he says, as if Kyoutani wouldn’t recognize that voice anywhere. 

Kyoutani did not, before this, have a ranking of which of his teammates he would least like to catch him in the bathroom when he’s on his period. Now, though, he thinks he has a working list and the list is the exact people who have come to find him today. Yahaba, who has never backed down from making fun of him. Oikawa, who always knows exactly what to say to antagonize and provoke him. Iwaizumi, who he respects so stupid much. 

The thing is that Iwaizumi is everything that Kyoutani wants to be. Iwaizumi is strong and bold and brave and an ace through and through. He’s also kind and he’s patient with everyone except for Oikawa. He helps his underclassmen with their form no matter how bad it is to start with. He never makes fun of anyone who doesn’t deserve it or can’t take it. He’s masculine and built strong and good and he’s—

Kyoutani is afraid of admitting to so many things, but one thing he’s not afraid to admit is that, honestly, he just wants to be like that. He doesn’t want to be an outsider like he is right now, he doesn’t want to be this in-between body that craves Iwaizumi’s masculinity but, ultimately, still menstruates. 

Iwaizumi’s shadow passes in front of the stall door. “Oikawa came and got me. Told me what you said.” 

“He shouldn’t have.” Kyoutani’s voice is a hollow rasp. “I shouldn’t have told him and it’s none of his business.” 

Iwaizumi snorts. His feet come into view underneath the stall door. “Been telling him to keep out of other people’s shit for years. It has yet to work.” 

“It’s none of your business either.” 

“Maybe not,” Iwaizumi admits. “I brought you some things anyway. I’m gonna slide them under the door, okay?” 

Kyoutani doesn’t answer even as Iwaizumi does as he said. He passes over a small black bag, something like the makeup bag his sister uses to keep her lipstick and blush in. Hesitantly, Kyoutani picks it up and unzips it. Inside: pads and tampons. Nondescript, simple white packaging; both nighttime and daytime pads and both heavy and light flow tampons. Whoever prepared this bag clearly wanted to be ready for anything. 

He swallows, staring at the contents. He needs them and he hates it and he’s grateful and he has so many questions. “How did you…” 

Iwaizumi is quiet for a moment, shifting his weight between his feet. It’s after a long moment of tense and near-audible heartbeats before he speaks again. “Mine are a little irregular. I got caught off guard at some point my first year and had to leave practice early. It was…humiliating, I guess, is the light word for it. Exposing, maybe? I dunno. But I’ve tried to be better prepared since then.” 

Kyoutani goes still, his grip on the bag tightening. He pulls out a pad, turning it over in one hand. Then he sets the bag down and pushes it back under the door with his toe. “You…” 

The question goes unasked, but Iwaizumi hums a yes anyway. 

“Oh.” 

“Is it really that much of a surprise?” 

“Yes,” Kyoutani says immediately. 

And it is, it is a surprise, because this is Iwaizumi, who is practically the epitome of masculinity to Kyoutani. This is Iwaizumi, undefeated in three years of arm wrestling. Iwaizumi, who has the fastest mile across any of the sports teams at Aoba Johsai. Iwaizumi, who has the highest lift weight of any of them. Iwaizumi, who has never shown any sign of being anything other than man. 

Iwaizumi hums again. “I guess you don’t really see me a lot outside of school and practice.” 

Kyoutani takes a shaky breath, unwrapping the pad with a crinkle that makes him wince. Iwaizumi doesn’t react to it—something that Kyoutani is entirely grateful for—and keeps talking. 

“I like to think we’re friends,” Iwaizumi continues, steadily, as if he isn’t altering Kyoutani’s entire worldview. “I like to think I’m friends with everyone on the team. But it’s…I mean, it would be hard for them not to have a guess by now. But no one ever really talks about it in the clubroom or at practice. So it makes sense you didn’t know, I guess. Sometimes it feels a little like no one knows. Except Oikawa, since he doesn’t know when to shut up sometimes.” 

Kyoutani snorts. That feels true. 

“I love him, but he can be an idiot,” Iwaizumi says. There’s a fondness in his voice that Kyoutani is pretty sure he will never understand. “Anyways, I get it, is the point. I’ve spent my fair share of time in this bathroom panicking.” 

They both fall silent for a long moment, the two of them just taking soft, even breaths. For a moment, Kyoutani actually feels comfortable in the silence with him. 

Iwaizumi inhales, and then exhales, long and slow. He shifts his stance again. “You don’t have to come back to practice if you just want to go home now. But we want you there.” 

Kyoutani swallows around some kind of lump in his throat, overwhelmed by the kindness Iwaizumi is somehow, for some reason, showing him. It feels like some kind of solidarity, or—something like friendship, maybe. 

“Up to you,” Iwaizumi says. “But know that if anyone gives you shit, on the team or off it, they’ll be answering to me. And probably the rest of the team, though honestly it’s not like any of them could really finish a fight. But—yeah. You get the point.” 

Iwaizumi laughs a little before continuing. “I’m gonna go up now, but feel free to let me know if you ever need anything else.”

Somewhere in him, Kyoutani finds the strength to nod, even if Iwaizumi can’t see it. “I’ll, uh. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” 

“Sounds good, Kyoutani.” With that, Iwaizumi is turning around and walking away. 

I like to think we’re friends, Iwaizumi had said. And, in all his great and unsure honesty, Kyoutani would like to think so too. 

[mettywiththenotes]

LEAK SPOILER BUT BUT UHHHH HORIKOSHI DID IT MERA APPEARS ALARM ALARM MERA APEARERED !!!!!!!VSDHFHJAEHWRGETHJ our prayers have been answered !!!!!!!

!!!! HORI HAD TO DELIVER FOR THE MERA STANS

AFTER 3 AND A HALF YEARS OF NOTHING BUT HINTS, FINALLY, HE RETURNS

I NEVER THOUGHT I'D SEE HIM AGAIN 😭😭 HE'S THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME GOING THROUGH THESE EPILOGUE LEAKS

Btw this is 8 years into the future, Mera was 39 pre-timeskip so now he's 47.. get that man a vacation look at him HE PROBABLY HASN'T HAD TIME OFF IN 10 YEARS

[senkamikakushi]

I’m curious if you’ve come across this pic of chihiro and lin before!! A couple months ago I found it on Pinterest and was so confused and excited cus i had never seen it before. Came to find out it was part of a ghibli merch calendar someone was selling. But it looks straight out of the movie! I wonder if it was from a deleted scene. (The movie was supposed to be around like three hours I think)

I saw that image on Pinterest too! I was so excited because I thought it was a deleted scene or extra official art.

So it's from a merch calendar! That's really cool, actually. I know the Ghibli team had to cut out a lot of extra scenes just to keep the movie short enough (and even then it's really quite long), which always made me really curious about the scenes we never got to see. This would fit perfectly as one of them! It's honestly so warm and endearing.... Maybe we could've seen more interaction between Lin and the other worker girls, or even some development between them and Chihiro. Especially since the girls in this image look suprisingly young! Anyway, it's nice to see Lin and Chihiro making up for the food that was spoiled by the river spirit.

This seems quite random, but while we're on the topic of "Spirited Away images that seem official but are suprisingly not as well known as they feel like they should be",

Would anyone happen to know about the origin of these two images?

I've heard they're from the Japanese Studio Ghibli Twitter, but whenever I follow the source links, nothing comes up. Did they delete the posts or the whole account? It's honestly a bummer because these are such sweet and adorable images and I was really excited to read through all the reactions to it. If anyone knows what happened to these posts or the original source of the images, I'd be really grateful to hear about it!

[intheholler]

not a native appalachian, but a girl scout who would like to thank the people of appalachia and the people of southern west virginia

i took a "big trip" with my girl scout troop from central ohio and i owe it to the people that i met and the mountains that i walked through for my rekindled sense of joy and hope for the future

thank you for your kindness and willingness to listen, and your willingness to welcome a trans kid who got way too excited about the ecology of the forest

thank you for showing me that all hope for the planet is not lost, and that there are beautiful wild spaces that are being so fiercely protected

thank you for showing me that ordinary people can make a difference

i am going to be studying environmental science and hopefully someday returning to the people who inspired me to see what they need from this planet and how i can advocate for these ancient mountains and the people who call them home

.

[good-beanswrites]

john x fuuta ?👉👈 or 090309

I love the dynamic between them all, thank you for the request! I went with an earlier meeting for them (well, one of the first times Fuuta's aware of speaking with John, at least). As much as I joke about Fuuta being starstruck by his strength in the attack, I tried to take a more serious route for the "something to rely on" vibe.

John’s eyes flicked over Fuuta, sprawled out on his bedding and looking up expectantly.

“Man, you look like shit.”

Fuuta scowled deeper. “I asked for the reason you’re here in the middle of the fucking night, not your opinion.”

“That is the reason I came.”

Somehow, amid all the other things he had to worry about given the horror of the past few days and exile that followed, Mikoto had still found the time to lose sleep over Fuuta’s condition. John had always liked the guy, but he wasn’t in the business of watching over people he didn’t truly care about. He didn’t know what Mikoto saw in him to cause such an overreaction.

Though, with the futon dragged to the bars of the cell, and bathing him in the dim light of the guard’s tower, it was becoming clear that Mikoto’s concern was indeed warranted. Fuuta appeared deathly. The fresh injuries had been bandaged, but there were stains where blood was beginning to seep through. His eye – the one that had survived the ordeal – was bloodshot and rimmed with dark bags. His hair was as tangled as the rumpled hoodie it poked out of.

Fuuta was still staring in anticipation. It took John a moment to understand why. 

“You recognize me.”

“No shit. Mikoto came in here like a fumbling idiot earlier today. He wanted to make sure I was okay or whatever. Like I’d be okay after what happened!” He paused, a clanging from someone else’s cell briefly distracting him. “But you… the way you carry yourself… it’s different.”

“Not that different. I’m here for the same reason.”

The plan was simple. Once Fuuta slept, Mikoto would relax, and everyone would be happy. If it turned out to be his injuries keeping him awake, John didn’t mind crushing Fuuta’s pride and explaining his weakness to the doctor to get more painkillers. If it was noisy neighbors, he’d teach one of those girls a lesson the following day. If the problem was just plain insomnia, well, John’s swinging arm was still completely functional...

“I just want to make sure you’re sleeping.”

“Don’t tell me you’re as disgustingly sentimental as him.”

John’s expression twitched. He didn’t appreciate the condescension. That was Mikoto’s most admirable trait, after all – offering help to others even when he was falling apart himself. He was so selfless, so self-sacrificial. It was no wonder John felt compelled to do the same for him. But Fuuta…

“Ugh, he’s always trying to be buddy-buddy with everyone around here, it makes me sick. Nice words don’t do shit. Look where his friendship with Kotoko got him, eh? That’s what these fools still don’t understand – you need to face these things head-on.”

“Oi, don’t be hard on me just for caring.” He didn’t say it as any sort of gentle encouragement; it was a command, and Fuuta understood. He snapped his attention away from where he’d been peering around the bars. “The world needs more people with that kindness. That optimistic view of life, of others, no matter what – it’s why I’ll do everything I can to save me.”

Silence stretched after the intense comment. Fuuta was looking away again, and John couldn’t read him. When he did speak, his voice came out more defeated than expected.

“Tch. Well. Not all of us have that luxury.”

“Of what?”

“Of you.”

His eyebrows raised.

Cheeks reddening, Fuuta hurried to add, “I mean someone to have your back like that. I wish I could be half as relaxed as that, but I can’t afford to let my guard down. I need to be strong myself, I don’t have anyone else to take care of my problems for me.”

It hit him suddenly, that everything came down to that. Relief washed over him, now that a clear, easy, (and nonviolent) solution had presented itself.

“What if you did? I could take over your little sentry duty for the night.”

“W-what do you –?”

He gestured to where Fuuta was laying. “No need to play dumb. You’ve been keeping an eye on everything, even the other side of the guard’s tower. The sounds from around cell eight have caught your attention. You’re positioned so you can see cell six, but haven’t moved all the way over, because cell ten has easiest access from the right.”

“The others would say it’s pointless, or that they’re handling it. I’m not buying it, though. I don’t care if they say it’s crazy of me to do.”

“I think…” John’s posture softened. “I think it’s very selfless of you.”

He was constantly amazed at Fuuta’s tendency to react to everything as if it were some world-shattering statement just told to him.

“So?” He prodded before Fuuta’s expression could grow any more wide-eyed. “How about it?”

 “I mean… they told me about the attacks… what you did…”

John set his jaw. No matter how many times it had happened in the past few days, it still stung to see how quickly people turned against him because of the fight. He thought they all had come to terms with each other’s capabilities for violence, but as usual, the moment he showed his true face, the world turned against him.

Of course Fuuta could never relax knowing such a violent and unpredictable person was sitting right beside him through the night. It was a miracle he hadn’t panicked immediately at the sight of yet another cold, towering figure appearing at his door in the middle of the night.

John stretched his right arm across his chest. It looked like his original solution still stood. Fuuta said problems should be faced head-on. Surely he’d understand this was for his own good.

“…Yeah, okay.” Fuuta gave a decisive nod. He beckoned with a jerk of his head. “I trust you.”

“I –” John blinked. “What?”

“You understand me. You understand what it takes to be in a place like this.” His gaze flit away momentarily. “You’re incredibly strong. You’re prepared, and have good instincts, and your confidence is –" Noticing how intently John was listening, he interrupted himself to bark, “but don’t think I couldn’t handle this on my own! It’s only because you offered, and it’s a smart move. I’ll just sleep for a bit, we can take shifts. Wake me in three hours, okay?”

“Fine by me.” A little lying was definitely better than what else he’d had in mind.

Fuuta moved his futon over a few feet so John could settle into his carefully chosen spot on the ground. Everything was all set to begin keeping watch, until a new sound rose up to drown out the other noises in the panopticon – soft snoring from beside him.

He glanced over in disbelief at the instantaneous security Fuuta had sunk into. All the tension had melted away from his face and shoulders. He lay completely at peace.

John had achieved his goal. He should be celebrating. Instead, he couldn’t help heaving a heavy sigh.

How did he end up with two self-destructive idiots to watch over?

[wiltkingart]

Finished MtMtMt the other day, I'd like to thank you for that journey you took us on. Your ability to subtly reveal aspects of this unknown world you've taken us to is refreshing, making it a rewarding read in many many ways. I walked away from it feeling deeply inspired! And truly shaken! And in awe! I wish i could get the chance to read it for the first time again 💙 anyway all that just to say i love my transgender body and am happy to see it truly presented in a way that both honors the reader and makes his gut churn. Thanks wiltking!

thank you so much for taking a chance on my strange book! many things i loved about the process of writing MtMtM but weaving the world together was definitely one of the most fun parts (and unexpected, as i wasn't initially planning on it!) so happy to hear you enjoyed that. overall it means a lot that you welcomed it with open arms. MtMtM is a porn book, yes, but that is not a limitation by any means, nor should it be. and i have a lot of feelings about horror, especially perceived monsters, overlapping with trans experiences and sexuality and how so many of us can feel comfort and/or arousal from the most horrifying media about 'freakish/unlovable creatures'. so it felt right and natural to write with that in mind. i am so so happy with the outcome, and that you could walk away from it feeling like this <3

[zeivira]

no rest for the wicked...

pls more

this shit is hilarious

like what are the others thoughts on this "illness" like garfiel, we've seen a bit of otto but i want more of him cuz he's best boi.

i imagine him going on full mama/big bro mood lmao

also that ficrec abt the crack fic by scissors? LMAO thx my parents knew im awake at 3am

point is

i like you now

so im gonna stalk- ahem- stick to you like a leach 🥺🌹

feed me more

The Cap’n's rule about everyone being strictly forbidden from watching him sleep—something about Garfiel being exactly like Rem but without pretty girl privilege—never actually stops the members of the camp from keeping an eye on him while the Cap’n's rests. 

The camp is nothing if not resourceful, and it’s not like they need to be inside the room when he’s sleeping to make sure he stays safe. Waiting a few feet away from the only entrance is just as effective. 

That's why when Garfiel smells a person approaching the Cap’n's room, during a time he knows he is asleep—they spent the last few days traveling to Pristella, like Hoshin traveled the desert to Banan after all—he rushes into the hallway and grabs the visitor's wrist right before it gets to knock at the Cap’n's door. 

"—the hell do ya think yer doin’?" Only after he finishes talking, under the dim hallway light of the mansion-like inn, he takes notice of the visitor's red, flame-like hair. A sharp horror, the one he had felt hours flooded through his entire body, as he realized whose wrist he grabbed. 

For a second, all is still. 

"Hello again, Sir Garfiel," the Sword Saint greets him, smiling as if they were pals and he hadn't evaded Garfiel’s senses and stopped his punch with a casual block a couple hours before. As if he weren’t the main obstacle between Garfiel and the title of Strongest. "I apologize if my presence alerted you, but all I wish to do is talk to Subaru." 

"W-well isn’ that convenient.  Anythin’ ya might need ta tell the Cap’n, ya can tell my amazin’ self instead." Big fat lie. There is a reason why the Cap’n is the Cap’n despite being borderline comatose and apparently not that much older than him. But Garfiel can’t trust anyone stronger than him, and as much as he hates himself for it…

The difference between him and Reinhard van Astrea is like a newborn Earth dragon and the Divine Dragon themself. 

His mere presence makes Garfiel's rawest instincts scream—tell him to either fight-or-flight. Garfiel doesn't want to be anywhere close to Reinhard, but much less he wants Reinhard anywhere close to the Cap’n when he sleeps. At least not until Garfiel proves himself a stronger shield than Reinhard. 

Even if the Cap’n is not defenseless—at least, not usually— he is useless while he isn't awake. And that means Galfield has to fight for both of them.

"I see," Reinhard's lips tilt downwards. "I do not mean disrespect, but what I would like to discuss would be related to something personal, unrelated to our respective camps..." 

Right. Garfield's eyebrow twitches. Right. The Cap’n said they were friends. 

"...the Cap’n's asleep," his voice sounds hoarse even to his ears. Maybe if he makes his tone drier than the Augura Sand Dunes, he can get Reinhard to give up and leave?

Reinhard's eyes widen. "Is that so. From what I gathered he mostly slept during the night." 

Garfield scowls. Of course the Sword Saint knew that much. "The Cap’n does, but he couldn' sleep during the trip, as we moved without pause, just like the Emperor of the Briar who never knew rest," Garfield crosses his arms. "So he is sleeping now and won't wake up in a while." 

"I see..." Reinhard says, and an uncomfortable silence falls between them. His gaze felt so heavy that if Garfiel moved carelessly, he wouldn’t know what his fate would b— "I wanted to ask about my father, actually—” Reinhard spoke up, breaking the silence. “I heard there were some issues close to Lady Priscilla's domain that involved Subaru and him." 

It takes Garfield a second to realize what he is talking about. His joy over learning the one and only Sword Saint's father was joining Emilia's camp to help Subaru stop the Argyle healer evaporated the moment his eyes actually lied on the man. After a couple days he just became Old Man, a skilled drunkard with a sob story, rather than a member of the family his mother used to read him stories about. 

"Issues,” Garfield snorts at Reinhard’s choice of word. “Tha's one way of sayin’ it." He makes a face. "Yeah, I was there too. The Old Man made us go lookin’ for a stupid chalice with the power to cure all sickness, but in the end it's only power w’s turning water into booze. Big ass let down." 

Reinhard’s shoulders sag. "So that’s what happened…” Reinhard’s eyes finally looked past Garfiel and looked at the still closed door, an unreadable thought reflected in them. “...I am glad father was with Subaru and you nonetheless. I can't imagine him taking another disappointment well..." 

How could any member of the group that went after the dumb cup not be disappointed? The chalice would have been able to cure not only the Old Man’s wife, but the Cap’n too. As the camp’s shield it’s his duty to protect everyone from everything—including hereditary diseases. When the Old Man mentioned the rumors, he was the first to tell Emilia they absolutely needed to go.

Still— the entire conversation leaves a bad taste in his mouth. The Cap’n was already carrying enough on his shoulder, with being the Hero that defeated the Archbishop of Sloth, the White Whale and the Great Rabbit— did he really need to trouble himself with family drama when the man ain’t even dead? “Why?” 

Reinhard blinks. “Well, it has been many years—” 

“—no, not that.” Garfiel’s scowl grows. “Why do ya need to imagine it? Yar dad’s alive, you could ask him.”

Reinhard just stares, before a bitter smile covers his lips. “Although true, my father doesn’t enjoy my company, so I wouldn’t like to impose myself when unnecessary.” 

But he is alive, is what he wants to say. “My mom’s dead,” is what he says instead. Because damn— he saw the Old Man, the even Older Man and him talk during dinner and how Ottobro almost lost his head trying to stop Old and Older from killing each other, right before Priscilla arrived saying this was the most amusing shitshow she had seen in weeks. The Old Man genuinely didn’t want to be with Reinhard and his dad.

But he is alive. All three of them are. They can talk. While Garfiel's mom is dead and gone and he can't tell her how much he loves her. "Just because your father is with us, and the Cap’n is strong enough to carry the weight of yar family drama, doesn't mean he should."

Reinhard's eyes widen again. "I—" 

"The Cap’n sleeps longer when he overworks himself," Garfield cuts, his words stronger than any punch he ever did. 

And Reinhard's mouth shuts with an audible click, expression shifting into one of horror— as it should. 

"He carries everyone's problems on his back— no matter how tired he is...!" He clenches his fists. "The Cap’n is so cool, cooler than the Sage and Reid! But precisely because he is like that is that we need to push ourselves harder. Be the people the Cap’n wants us to be, even if he is too shy to tell us. Because— because...!" 

“—will you two please SHUT UP?!" The Cap’n's door parts open with a bang, and the Cap’n appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes while scowling. “Some of us are actually trying to sleep around here!”

Garfiel rushes back to his room only minutes later, but also doesn't miss Reinhard walking in direction to the Old Man's room rather than the hallway he originally came from.

beta read by @daemonerik

[chloesimaginationthings]

Hey did you know you got mention in RyeToast's Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Podcast?

The one about the timeline, in the michael section

JAWDROP… I’m so flattered actually

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Hi pookie your art is holding me together through my divorce (so cherik coded) how are you on this fine day?<3

My night has gotten infinitely better because of this ask thank you so much i wish you luck on. The divorce

[tangledinink]

your art and design(s) of donnie has inspired me to give my donnie a long fluffy tail.

and like i headcanon donnie as trans, and i know that female turtles have little short tails but my excuse is that something just went a little weird with his mutation so he has a long tail. that also goes for the fluffy part of the tail, since turtles don't have fur whatsoever

sorry this was random I just wanted to say- also i LOVE YOUR ART!!! ITS SO PRETTY

hell yeah! long tail donnie supremacy!!! go off!!! chase your bliss!!! give him a long fluffy tail! my favorite way to 'justify' donnie's long tail (not that you need a justification) is a headcanon that I 1000% stole from @spectralsleuth that the mad dogz got more than just turtle/human DNA in there...

i mean, they're baron draxum's masterwork! unstoppable super soldiers! the answer to the prophecy! if you wanna make an incredible dish, you don't just use two ingredients, right? so i like to imagine it being, like, mostly turtle and lou jitsu dna, sure, but with, like... a dash of dna from a dozen or so other animals, too. just for good measure. you gotta season the dish, right?

it's fun because it just opens so many doors in my mind. oh, donnie's long tail? yeah, that's the water monitor dna. the way the gemini wag their tails? oh, there's some doberman in there. the sharp teeth? python genes making an appearance! they purr because of the trace amounts of wildcat heritage they have--

[turnipoddity]

Your art made me realize that even though im still ace, im not aromantic because I want a love like the one you draw for Adam and Lawrence. Thank you and keep up the amazing work 💛

huh…oh my god I’m actually speechless 😭 this is probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever received on tumblr… tearing up rn