#more complicated ToT

[undistortedworld]

being very delusional about the large scale projects i keep convincing myself i can do

[evelynpr]

Hoyoverse's children in a nutshell

Fly me 2 the moon: First and oldest child, long gone RIP. Their legacy is having the first ever Kiana Kaslana

Zombiegal Kawaii: basically dead, hardly anyone even knew about her

Houkai Gakuen 2 (aka Gun Girls Z; GGZ): Next child, oldest, small and niche but dedicated fanbase, still going in CN server. Very gay and depressing, incredibly convoluted lore.

Honkai Impact 3rd: Took after GGZ a lot then became the favorite child. Still gay and depressing but more hopeful. Definitely a lesbian. They also really like flashy combat, philosophy, and science fiction.

Genshin Impact: The popular kid, and spoiled brat. They're very bisexual and very into religious themes and every culture and myth imaginable.

Tears of Themis: Probably the only cishet male child. Their fans are fewer but well fed and satisfied. (I dont know nearly enough about their story and themes to know its personality tho)

Honkai Star Rail: Takes a lot from big sis hi3rd (depressed but hopeful gays), and probably genderfluid. Ppl love it, theyre popular but it doesnt get into their head as much compared to Genshin. They're also really into exposed shoulders and internet memes.

Zenless Zone Zero: New kid on the block with furries and cyborgs. They are the youngest, most punk, and definitely into western action rpgs more than their older siblings.

[kallypsos]

ok, little bit of a rant.

the hate im starting to feel for AIs and especially the way we're choosing to use this technology. so many other ways we could use these tools that could actually make life easier (and im aware we do, in some areas) -- but this whole trend lately of using it for writing & painting...to a level where one cannot distinguish real art from ai-made art is baffling to me. i like art bc it says something to me & it's beautiful, yes, but also because another human has made it -- if i read a good poem, on a certain level, it makes me feel closer to humanity in general, because i know a real person has felt those specific emotions. and i appreciate the effort & time & energy it took to create this thing i am enjoying!

like i've seen tiktoks of people asking chatgpt to write fanfics for them and well. call me old school but that's just.... a no for me(& yes, i know fanfics are not important in the grand scale of things, but i'm wondering, maybe one day soon people are gonna ask AIs to write whole books yk. also as a fanfic writer it makes me wanna throw away the whole writing thing, but that's a personal thing) also i am so freaked out by those songs by AIs that sound exactly like the specific singers? insane

[simroppi]

Aaaand Sunny's aged up! Which is wonderful, since he had a glitch as a baby where he never cried and I thought he was going to end up getting taken away (╥﹏╥)

Traits: Quick Learner and Independent

Challenge Progress: 1/100

[teddy06writes]

Quiet Days

Eddie Brock/Venom x gn!reader

Trigger Warnings: Depictions of a depressive episode (based on my personal experiences)

Summary: When you find yourself battling another depressive episode, Venom is concerned but doesn't quite get it. Eddie does his best to help you both.

{Bold = Venom speaking}

{Why yes, I did in fact get a new hyperfixation in the midst of distracting myself from the election news, how did you know?}

"I don't understand," Venom's goopy head tilted to the side, "They are.... sad?"

"It's... it's a little more complicated than that Buddy." Eddie said, glancing over to where the symbiote hovered over his shoulder, "It's a human brain thing- sometimes (y/n)'s brain just get's- stuck."

"Stuck?"

Eddie sighed, running a hand over his face and turning to lean against the kitchen counter, searching for the right words, "Stuck in a negative cycle? It gets harder for them to see the brighter side of things, I think. I don't really know how to explain it, maybe you should ask them when they're feeling better."

Venom hummed, almost considering it for a moment, "And this will make it better?"

"Um," Eddie sighed, looking down at the plates of snacks he had assembled for you, "It might help, V, it might not. It's more of a waiting game, than anything."

"So we cannot make it better?" They sounded disappointed, almost distressed.

"No, not just like that. But we can support them, alright?"

Picking up the plate, he headed over to the couch, Venom's tendrils reaching out to bring two glasses of water over and place them gently on the coffee table. Eddie queued up one of your favorite shows before heading toward the bedroom, where you'd been sitting, doomscrolling.

"Sweetheart? You need anything from us?"

You looked up, trying to muster up something other than a grimace, "I- I dunno."

"That's alright," Eddie came to sit beside you on the bed, "We're here, if you need us."

Venom's tendrils reached out, wrapping around your arm in a comforting squeeze, "We will- wait it out with you, little morsel."

That earned a tiny, amused breath from you, and Venom's head bobbed happily, turning back to Eddie, "See I can do what you cannot! I made it better!"

"Not exactly how it works," You sat up enough to lean over against Eddie's side, "You both make it better."

Eddie smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, "I'm glad. We made some food, if you're interested?"

"Girl dinner!" Venom added helpfully when you looked up questioningly.

That earned another pained smile, and you trailed after the pair, back to the couch. It was easy enough to tuck yourself under Eddie's arm, accepting the glass of water that Venom's tendrils pulled into your reach.

"Thanks."

You stayed like that for a while, munching on tater tots and half paying attention to the show flickering across the TV screen. When you started to nod off, tucked comfortably against Eddie's side, safe within his hold, Venom was quick to tuck a blanket around the both of you.

[mythicalninjas]

Hi! Idk if you’re requests are still open but!

Could you do a Donnie getting mad/having a bad day and he kinda explodes (with no reason/gratuitamente) with reader (she)? And they stay away from the lair for a while, and happy ending! (Just want heart-crushing angst with happy ending hsuahs)

(Tbh the prompt I actually thought was “Donnie was stressed and tired of being different, reader who’s autistic says they relate, so he explodes saying they don’t, how could they?” But idk if you’re ok with writing that, so I simplified it! ~I’m autistic, that’s why I thought of that~)

If my ask is to complicated or didn’t inspire you that’s tots ok! I understand! (Sorry this ask was so big too!)

Have a good day/ night! ☺️

It's okay, your prompt is amazing ☺️ Sorry for keeping you waiting for too long... I had to deal with college in the past several months.

I hope I did write the way you asked. Enjoy 💜

It was a quiet night in the lair, but that didn't reflect Donatello's internal state. The laboratory was plunged into darkness, save for the dim light of the monitors that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The frantic sound of the keyboard echoed, the only sound apart from the hum of the machines at work. Donnie was exhausted, physically and emotionally. His brain was burning with data overload, with formulas and calculations that didn't fit together as they should. It had been days of incessant research, of failed experiments, of trying to find solutions to problems that seemed to multiply.

Every mistake, every failure, was a nagging reminder that he needed to be better. He had to be better. There was no room for weakness. His brothers depended on him, the world depended on him. And the constant pressure to deliver results was starting to implode inside. Exhaustion weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he kept pushing, ignoring the body that was crying out for rest, ignoring the accumulated stress.

She entered the laboratory, as she had done so many times before. Her steps were soft, as if she were trying not to interrupt, but her presence always brought a sense of comfort that Donnie appreciated, even if he never admitted it out loud. He was so focused that he barely noticed her coming until he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his shoulder.

"Hey, Donnie..." Her voice was soft, a gentle touch to his swirling mind. "Are you all right?"

Donatello barely lifted his eyes from the monitors, trying to recalculate a complicated sequence. "I'm busy now," he muttered, his fingers still running across the keyboard.

She waited for a moment, watching the tiredness on his face. She knew that he threw himself into his work when he was frustrated or anxious, and she had learned to give him space when necessary. But now, there was something different in the air. He seemed more tense than usual, more closed off.

She let out a little sigh, hesitating before speaking again. "I know you're busy, but... maybe it's time to take a break? You've been at it for hours..."

Her touch should have been a comfort, but at that moment, something in Donnie snapped. The pressure, the frustration, the accumulated tiredness - it all blended together in an explosion of emotions that he could no longer control.

“I said I'm busy!” His voice echoed louder than he had intended. He stood up abruptly from his chair, his eyes blazing with anger, anger that wasn't hers, but which ended up being directed at her. “Don't you understand? I can't stop! If I stop, I'll fail. If I fail, everything falls apart! And you here, distracting me with… with your unimportant things!

She took a step back, shocked. The impact of his words had hit her like a punch in the gut. Never, in all the time she had known him, had he spoken to her like that. Always so calm, so controlled… but now, he seemed on the verge of collapse. Her eyes filled with tears before she could control herself, but she refused to let them fall. She didn't want to show how much it had hurt her.

“I'm sorry for… bothering you.” Her voice was low, broken, almost inaudible.

She turned quickly and left the lab before he could say anything else, before the tears flowed. Donnie stood there, his heart racing, the echo of his words still hanging in the air. For a few seconds, he remained motionless, trying to process what had just happened. Then the guilt began to set in, slow and corrosive.

He had hurt someone who had never been anything but kind to him. He had hurt her.

She walked aimlessly through the streets of New York, the cold of the night beginning to bother her, but nothing compared to the tightness in her chest. The emotional pain was much stronger than any physical discomfort. She couldn't stop thinking about his words, the tone of his voice. It was as if the Donnie she knew, the one who always cared, who listened and understood, had disappeared, replaced by someone she barely recognized.

She walked for hours, wandering around the city, trying to find some clarity amidst the confusion of feelings. Part of her wanted to understand why he had exploded like that. He was overwhelmed, that was obvious. But did that justify what he'd said? The sharp words still echoed in her mind, and she wondered if he really thought that.

While she was lost in thought, Donnie was back in the lab, but his focus had completely disappeared. The screens flashed in front of him, but he could barely see what was written. Guilt was consuming him from the inside out. He knew he had made a mistake, that he had said horrible things. The frustration he felt wasn't her fault, and yet he had taken it out on the person who least deserved it.

Finally, he got up from his chair and left the lair. He needed to find her, he needed to correct the mistake he had made. He didn't know exactly what he would say, but he knew he had to apologize, he had to make amends.

After some time, he found her. She was sitting on top of a building, her gaze lost in the horizon. The evening breeze swayed her hair, and Donnie felt his heart squeeze at seeing her so far away, so hurt. He hesitated for a moment before approaching. Each step seemed heavy, weighed down by guilt and regret.

“Hey,” he called, his voice softer than before, almost fearful.

She didn't turn around immediately, but he knew she had heard. Donnie sat down next to her, keeping a respectful distance. The silence between them was thick, full of unspoken words, but he knew he needed to speak, needed to break through that wall he himself had erected.

“I'm sorry,” he began, his voice low, sincere. “I… I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. You didn't deserve that. None of it was your fault.”

She remained silent for a few moments, and he almost thought she wouldn't answer. But then she sighed, her eyes still fixed on the city.

“Why did you do it, Donnie?” her voice was broken, and he realized how much his words had really hurt her. “I just… I just wanted to help you. And you pushed me away.”

Donnie closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his own failings. “I know. I know you were only trying to help. And I… I was an idiot. I was frustrated, tired, and lost control. But that's no excuse for what I did.”

She finally turned her face to look at him. Her eyes were watery, but the anger had given way to a deep sadness. “You didn't have to hurt me like that, Donnie. I'm always here for you, you know that. And yet… you blew up at me, as if I was part of the problem.”

Her words dug deep into Donnie's heart. He had been the cause of her pain, and now he could clearly see the impact his actions had had. It wasn't just the momentary explosion, but what came after - the insecurity, the doubt. He needed to fix that.

Donnie swallowed, feeling small in the face of what he had caused. “I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice full of regret. “You're… the last person in the world I wanted to be cruel to. I was just so overwhelmed, with all the pressure of being the brains, of having to sort everything out for my brothers… And I ended up taking it out on you.”

She sighed, looking at the horizon again. “I understand that you have this responsibility, Donnie. I know how much you carry. But I was also there, trying to share that weight with you. And you pushed me away, as if I wasn't important.”

Her words pierced his heart harder than any physical attack could. She was right. He had spent so long concentrating on his own burden that he didn't realize how much she was trying to help, how much she wanted to be there for him.

“I was wrong,” he said, with more conviction this time. “I was wrong about everything. I know I can be controlling and stubborn, but I need you. I… want you by my side. You're important to me. More than I can express.”

She remained silent, absorbing his words. He moved a little closer, reaching out hesitantly and placing his hand gently on hers.

“I promise,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I promise I'll try to be better. I'll work on myself, on how I handle things, so that this doesn't happen again.”

She looked at him, her eyes finally meeting his, assessing the sincerity she saw there. And she realized that, although he had made a mistake, he was willing to do whatever it took to make it right. It was a long road, but she knew Donnie was committed to walking it.

“I want to believe that, Donnie,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with a slight pain. “I just… need some time.”

He nodded, understanding. “I understand. And I'll give you as much time as you need.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, side by side, watching the city lights. The noise of life below continued, indifferent to the emotions that filled the top of that building. But there, between them, time seemed to have slowed down, making room for reconciliation, for forgiveness.

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder, a small concession. He felt relief run down his spine, as if that simple gesture was proof that things would eventually be all right. He knew he was lucky - lucky that she was still there, by his side, even after everything.

Donnie wrapped his arm around her, gently pulling her closer, as if he were trying to protect her not only from the outside world, but also from himself. His heart was pounding, but this time, not out of guilt or anger, but out of gratitude. He knew he had a second chance, and he would do his best not to waste it.

They stayed there for a while longer, the silence now less heavy, more comforting. The cold night wind blew lightly, but Donnie felt the warmth of having her close again. She was still hurting, and he knew it would take time for everything to heal completely. But he was willing to wait, willing to do whatever it took to win back her trust.

Finally, she stood up slowly, and Donnie followed her. She gave him a small smile, still shy, but which warmed his heart. “Let's go home,” she said, and those words were all he needed to hear.

Together, they descended from the building and headed back to the lair. The walk back was silent, but the tension between them had eased. She didn't hold his hand, but she didn't push him away either. For Donnie, that was a start.

And he knew that, in time, they would find a way to heal - together.

*****

Reblog to support and let more people read my content 🫶

[aealzx]

“You know, I think if we had a competition for the most gnarly injury you’d win it every time,” Leo commented while he focused on properly cleaning the four definitely infected slashes across Donnie’s back. It had been tense at first, considering it had been way longer than Leo would have liked before the wounds were properly addressed. The others had tried to take care of them without him since he'd been with Splinter at Big Mama's place, but they just didn’t have his eye for the important things. And Shredder really did some damage this time. At least Donnie's battle shell had managed to take the brunt of the blow. “Raph would win on the sheer number of injuries, of course. He goes through band aids like personal sized pizza. But you definitely, somehow, always end up with the most complicated ones.”

Leo was making jokes. And while it was exasperating to listen to, it was also reassuring for Donnie to hear. It meant that while he still felt awful and kept a fistful of Splinter’s robe, Leo was confident he would be just fine. “...I think this is a competition I’d rather lose,” Donnie responded, voice muffled by the pillow his face was mostly smothered in. Leo was being as gentle as possible, but the sterile saline still caused his tissue to sting, earning hisses and flinches from him.

Leo could only chuckle in response, tenderly pressing Donnie’s shell so he could see inside the gash better. “Don’t worry pops. He’ll be just fine. I can already see improvement because of the antibiotics,” he assured when he noticed Splinter giving him a mildly frustrated look. “This isn’t even as bad as the one he got when he was a tot - oh, another piece of metal. Hang on.” His assurance broke off as he was able to confirm that there was a foreign material that needed to be removed from the wound, setting one of the many bottles of saline down in exchange for needle pointed tweezers. Donnie already knew the drill by now, and responded by sucking in a stiff breath and tightening his grip on his dad, Splinter returning the motion by holding him a little more firmly. He wasn’t looking forward to the stitches, but he was looking for the long nap he was going to take once Leo was finally done.

And at least Leo’s hands had gotten a lot more steady over the years.

____________________

Here, have a little side turtle thing unrelated to any of my existing projects |D Or well, mostly unrelated. I started drawing this like 2 weeks ago and then forgot why I wanted to draw it other than Mikey mentioning it in CDK. And sometimes I like to draw angst, but then I ran out of the super angst desire for this one and ended up making it a little lighter in the text?

I just really wanted to get something up after this long |D Even if I am more in a state of "why did I draw this again? e,e" atm X'D

[mikeyisbrooklyn]

We’ve got progress, fairies and frogs, and I’m itching to share. (There’s a part 2 here! And a part 3 here!)

Tags: @on-a-lucky-tide @etanesnil @jgvfhl @roachs-pet-roach

Before reading, some notes…

- This is a WIP, so not finished and subject to change, kinda a part one of sorts

- Has only been partially beta-read

- Author is not: British, Russian, a medical professional, or sane; so beware of inaccuracies abound.

- Not quite NSFW (brief reference to sex and blink and you’ll miss it gross-out moment; safe for teens, not for tots)

All that said, enjoy what’s under the cut (or don’t, I’m not your dad).

Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

(working title)

Price groaned gently as he slowly rejoined the land of the living, croaking like a dehydrated frog was caught in his throat. His groan only got deeper as his eyelids creaked open enough to let in the bright overhead lights. A professional even at his lowest, he took no time to run a checklist of his senses in his head.

Sight? Bleary, but he could see the unnecessarily luminous white beams above him.

Touch? Sore, as all hell, even. There wasn’t a single part of his body that didn’t feel a steady throb of ache, but he could tell his head and right leg seemed to have the worst of it.

Smell? An odorous cloud of antiseptic and disinfectant seemed to be ever-present.

With that information alone, even the most daft man could figure out where he was, but the taste of iron lingering under his tongue and the sound of steady beeping sealed the deal. He was in a hospital.

Price cursed to himself internally. He meant to verbalize it but the words he attempted to form came out as further groans.

An almost imperceptible gasp came from Price’s right and he groaned again as he tried and failed to turn. Then, he felt a warm hand grace his cheek—as his brain started twisting back in gear, he could tell there was a considerable amount of bandages covering his face—and saw a figure take up his entire line of sight, forcing his vision to readjust again so soon after barely adjusting to the lights.

As his eyes settled, Price could finally see who was in front of him, as if the hand on his cheek didn’t already tell him all he needed to know. Nik stood over him, whispering sweet assurances in both Russian and English—some amalgamation of “No, don’t move”s and “You’re alright”s and pet names, it all blended together for Price. Price could see a small grin on the Russian’s face with lines across his mug that reflected an endearing relief, but the first thing Price could see in clear, complete detail since opening his eyes was that dogged glimmer of worry.

It made him sick. Literally.

Poor Nikolai, having already pressed the call button for the doctors upon Price’s stirring, now shouted for aid in shock and distress as Price sat up as much as his broken body would allow and spit up bile that couldn’t have more than stomach acid, saliva, and blood in it.

The door of the room opened and quickly nurses and a doctor were upon Price. A half dozen hands checking bandages, assessing vitals, and touching places that made Price groan in what he meant as frustration which only came out as pain. Nik was gently pulled away in the heat of the moment and despite the pilot’s clear desire to cling onto the injured captain like his life depended on it, he allowed himself to be moved to allow the professionals to do their jobs—if only because he knew it was the only way for Price to get better.

After a few minutes—the hectic storm waning as it became clear that Price was not experiencing a life threatening complication—the nurses left, leaving only the two men with the doctor: a short and plump woman with dark skin and curly black hair tied into a bun, with grays streaking from various places.

“Well, it’s good to see you awake, Captain,” she began, looking down at Price, ”I’m Dr. Omar. It’s a pleasure to meet you, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”

Price grunted, and Dr. Omar smiled warmly but with a bit of mirth. “Your injuries shouldn’t affect your speech ability. I suppose you’re just not in a speaking mood.”

“The captain can be man of few words.” Nik chimed in. “Forgive him.”

“No forgiveness necessary, I’m only teasing, Mr. Nikolai.” Her smile had widened.

Nik shook his head returning a smile of his own. “I have already said, Nik is fine, good doctor.”

“I’m flattered to be considered enough of a ‘friend’ to call you that, but I hope you forgive me for maintaining some professionalism, at least for now.”

Price grunted again, this time with more vitriol than before, feeling ignored despite being the one banged up in bed. At the thought, he looked down and couldn’t properly see the damage—being wrapped comfortably tight in blankets—but from what he could see and feel, there were bandages, splints, and gauze littering his body.

Dr. Omar cleared her throat. “Right, well,” she lifted her clipboard to partially cover her face, “you’ve more than a few cuts and bruises, but the worst of it is a concussion and about a half dozen fractures in your right leg.”

“Should see the other guy.” Price groaned, his voice still thick with disuse. Despite his attempt at humor, Price internally kicked himself as he remembered what really happened.

In truth, it was out of Price’s hands when the informant stabbed them in the back to the kingpin they were hunting, but he still blames himself for the op going tits up. Mostly because what was in his hands was his call to try and finish the mission anyway—an effort at salvaging the unsalvageable. It was only after Gaz took lead to the shoulder that Price realized his stubborn tenacity might get his team killed. But in the retreat, he must’ve stepped right into the bastard’s trap without noticing. If it weren’t for Soap calling out the ticking explosive—thanks to the sergeant’s keen awareness of all things demolition—he likely would’ve been blown to smithereens rather than crushed in rubble. A holy man would remark their survival a miracle, but Price was no holy man; all he figured was that his team kept themselves and him alive, despite his frustrating sudden ineptitude.

Nik’s bark of laughter took Price from his thoughts. “Da! The captain is hard to kill.”

“I’m happy to hear that you've got the mind to joke. Based on what your lieutenant told me, it was quite the close call.” Dr. Omar locked eyes with Price. “But I imagine you’re gonna want the prognosis unless you have any more jokes?”

“As much as I’d love to try out my stand up routine, doc, what I want more is to know when I can get out of this bed.”

“Well, this bed? If you’re insistent on spending most of your recovery at home, just a bit of observation and you can be out of here by tomorrow.”

Price’s lips twitched into a near-frown at “recovery” and lifted a single eyebrow.

Dr. Omar sighed and gave a smile full of more pity than warmth. This look also made Price sick, though he kept down the threatening bile. “You’re primarily on bed rest for a week or two, with crutches or a wheelchair to help you get around if you must. After that 4-8 weeks of physical therapy and continued rest. In short,” she sighed again, knowing the weight of her words, “I’ll be recommending you be put on medical leave for at minimum two months.”

“At minimum?” Price winced as he felt a headache coming on, compounding his concussion. Nik, who had moved closer to the bedridden man, quietly snuck his hand into Price’s grasp and gripped firm but carefully. At his touch, Price huffed from his nose—like a bull.

“It could be longer if you don’t rest and rest well, Captain.” Dr. Omar kept her attitude polite but her tone was assertive. “If you’ve been doing this long enough to earn your rank, then I think it’s safe to assume you’re smart enough to know I’m not wrong.”

Price groaned and looked away, wanting nothing more than to argue but begrudgingly agreeing with her assessment. If it were Simon, Kyle, or Soap he’d have leveled them with a single gaze and made sure they stayed on their ass as long as the docs demanded. Fucking hypocrite he was.

Dr. Omar’s lips tightened like she was about to press him further. Nik spoke up instead. “Da, your expertise is welcome and cherished, good doctor. Instead of tomorrow, could I bring Captain Price home by tonight? He will get better rest in a familiar bed.”

Price looked up at Nik who spared him a brief glance with a wink before returning his gaze back to the doctor. Dr. Omar herself looked between the both of them twice and then three times before sighing heavily but with a more amiable smile.

“I suppose I can see what I can do but no promises, Mr. Nikolai! We need to make sure there won’t be any surprises or complications while we still have him.” She pointed at the Russian accusatorially.

“Da! Da! I understand.”

Dr. Omar smiled as she lowered her hand. “Alright, well, I’ll leave you alone if you don’t have any other questions.”

Price looked back at the doctor finally with a blank expression though with a nod of gratitude.

“Thank you, good doctor, we will call again if needed.”

“Please do.” She patted the end of Price’s bed, eliciting a grunt from the man and then she left the room.

Nik dragged a chair back to the side of Price’s bed and tightened his grip on the hand he was still holding. “You are terrible patient, Jonathan.” He chided with a shit-eating grin.

“Bugger off.” Price shifted his face away from Nik, not being able to move much.

Nik chuckled and kissed the man on the cheek, enjoying the way Price’s face turned bright red. “I hope you are better to me.”

It took a moment for that to sit with Price before he turned slowly back towards Nik. “You wot?”

“Oh, you did not think I meant I would take you back to your own bed, did you, Captain? When mine is much better?”

“Oh, bloody—are ya gonna try and fuck me while I’m crippled? Filthy bastard.”

Nik’s grin turned wolfish. “If you would like. Though, I only meant that I would not let you out of my sight while you heal.”

Price’s face got hot again but worse, his gut churned with a wave of nausea that he barely held down. “I’m not a boy needing supervision, muppet.” He grumbled the last bit.

“Nyet, you are very much no boy.” Nik damn near purred. “But can I not take care of you, even after such an injury?”

Price grunted and turned away but made no effort to move and even returned the briefly tightened grip on his hand Nik still had—an implicit surrender, at least for now. Price knew he was in no state to turn Nik down, especially as his options were the Russian or the hospital. At least with Nik he’d stay somewhere with some damn eye candy and that didn’t reek of sick and despair.

Maybe, just maybe, he could trick himself into have a nice leave. Price laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

[crippling-pages]

Life Of An Aro/ace With An Empty Head

My friend: ughhh im probably gonna die alone! ToT

Me, an aro/ace: oh really...?

---

Me, listening to my friends complicated love life*

Me: LOL can't imagine that ever happening to me

My friend:

---

Me: Okay so *points at friend* you're straight, so your line is, yk, straight

Me: YOU'RE gay *points at other friend* so your line is in a circle shape

Me: so that means me, and aroace, that my line would be nonexistent!!!

My friends:

One of the crackheads: LMAOO FRRRR

---

Me watching people with crazy love lives: i've never felt more single and depressed but also happy and grateful in my entire life

---

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

HIMB!!!!!

Finally finished this guy!!

I'm really pleased with how he came out, he's the most complicated needle felting project I've ever done by FAR. Though that it's an immensely huge record to break, given he's my 4th started 5th finished piece and all but one of those were over 8 years ago.

I'm not sure I'll be doing much more needle felting though. I want to make bigger, more huggable stuffies and needle felting just isn't the optimal medium for that. So my next project (unless I get distracted again) will be to learn to sew. But! At least now I have an IRL DJMM to accompany me on that journey. :3

I should also learn to take better pics at some point...the downside of physical art is that you need a secondary photography skill to show it off. ToT

[vynegar]

vyn 5th birthday ssr, part four

how well do you remember vyn's previous cards?

same disclaimers from part one (note the extra one from usual, regarding story content)

youtube link to ShiroNaya’s video of the card story

links to previous parts: one two three

more tot stuff here

do not repost

[PART FOUR]

[36:58] Home

Vyn: Never could I have imagined that twice would I interact with him, and twice would I be injured by him.

I peered at Vyn’s profile. Although I couldn’t see any traces of what happened back then, his narration still made me shiver.

Vyn: …

Just as Vyn said, there was nothing to criticize about his actions. Then why was Zheng Yan so adamantly convinced that he was innocent, and why did he hold such profound hatred toward Vyn? Each side of the story was weighed on opposite ends of a scale, one consisting of years of suffering and anguish, the other of professional conduct and integrity of character.

Vyn: Regardless of how you see it, it would be absurd for Zheng Yan to decide to kill himself because of baseless slander. You have experience with criminal suspects, and I have also been in this field for years… yet neither of us has seen any indication that he is lying. If he truly has such mental fortitude, then I would not have seen through his mental state so easily back then.

Vyn seemed to be hinting toward a more complicated explanation.

MC: So what are you saying?

Vyn: What if there is another possibility? That he is not lying at all…

MC: I don’t understand. There’s only ever one “truth” to a matter. Even if you look at it from a different perspective, it can’t become something entirely opposite.

Vyn: That is correct. However, what if he also believes that his memories are true? From a psychological perspective, memories are not fixed. They are merely illusions fabricated by the brain.

Vyn lightly tapped his knuckles against the table, the absentminded repetition indicating he was deep in thought. The fact that I was able to read his emotions through such a subtle gesture was probably a “superpower” I had gained after being with Vyn for so long.

Vyn: Memory formation involves the strength and type of synaptic connection between neurons, which can be altered through learning and experience. Theoretically, interfering with these synaptic connections would affect the re-encoding and stability of memories, enabling someone to modify or even implant them. There are experiments proving its feasibility, especially since Zheng Yan is extremely psychologically unstable and likely has PTSD. The brain seeks to avoid suffering, so when it encounters a potential trigger for a painful memory, it becomes easier to manipulate.

MC: That’s so scary. We can’t even trust our own memories…

Vyn: Exactly. If these techniques are applied to humans, it would bring up ethical and social concerns, which is why most of this is still in the experimental stage.

MC: Then if that’s the case…

The night was dead silent. A chill ran up my spine, sharply tingling my every nerve.

MC: There was no way Zheng Yan could have tampered with his own memories.

Vyn: Right. There must be a third party involved, who is highly likely to be the true mastermind behind this.

MC: Who could it be?

I pressed on with my questioning, but Vyn shook his head with a bitter smile.

Vyn: I am only guessing here, I have no concrete evidence. This is an imaginary third party of unknown origin.

Vyn sighed. Ever since this incident had happened, he had been sighing an awful lot, though never for himself.

Vyn: I hope I am just overthinking things… Perhaps Zheng Yan really is a fool, intent on destroying himself like a moth to a flame.

He turned subtly toward the distance, where several insects were flying recklessly near the lamp on the windowsill. They seemed tireless in the night, but come morning they would all be dust on the lamp’s filament, gone at the slightest gust of wind.

Vyn: At least that way, he would be punished by the law instead of becoming a weapon in someone else’s scheme.

[...]

[40:18]

MC: Ugh… Is it… raining?

The night deepened. Perhaps because I had too much weighing on my mind, I ended up dozing off on the couch.

Hearing the pitter-patter of water made me realize that the window was still open, and I bolted upright.

MC: (Sounds like it’s coming from the bathroom.)

Vyn wasn’t here. Just as I was about to go investigate the noise, he walked over to me from the darkness.

Vyn: Why are you awake?

His hair was still dripping, soaking the collar of his shirt. Water droplets rolled steadily down the sides of his face, making it look like he had been out in the rain.

MC: You weren’t there, so I couldn’t stay sleep.

Vyn: I was just washing my face to refresh myself.

It was already past midnight, far past Vyn’s usual bedtime, which likely aggravated his already-unpleasant mood. His wet bangs drooped down on his forehead, making his unspoken emotions even more inscrutable.

MC: Trouble sleeping?

Vyn: Yes. I know this is my overthinking, but every time I close my eyes, I see Zheng Yan’s expression when he was holding the knife. He is in so much pain and despair, all because of me.

MC: That’s not true…

It was obvious that Vyn blamed himself. I protested almost reflexively, fearing he truly believed it.

Vyn: I understand your reasoning, but one’s position determines what they can see. What if I really had made an error when using psychology to interrogate him? That was the first time I had put it into practice. What if I had actually made some mistake, which caused a misunderstanding and led to his obsession?

MC: Vyn… that’s not possible.

Vyn: You were not there. How can you be so sure?

I found a towel and started to carefully dry his hair. Earlier he said that he would quietly wait for my judgment, but how could I just sit by and watch him doubt himself?

MC: Because countless times I’ve seen you use your professional knowledge to crack cases that no one else can... And on top of that, you always prioritize your patients’ health and safety over your own.

One or two times could be faked, but for this many years…

Vyn: MC…

Vyn’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, murmuring my name without forming full words.

MC: And if you really were the kind of person he said you are, if there was a chance that you really did make a mistake that caused this misunderstanding… then you wouldn’t have become the Dr. Richter, Professor Richter, and Vyn that you are today, and that I love dearly. It’s exactly because you’re such a good person that Zheng Yan would think of this plan. You’re always trying to prioritize others over yourself, but without evidence, how could Zheng Yan have been convicted? I believe in the fairness of the law, and I believe in you.

Whether I was considering the current situation or my understanding of him from these past years, Vyn was deserving of my trust. I was all-in, and wholeheartedly placed all of my weights on his end of the scale.

Vyn: …

Vyn gripped my hand. His palm was burning, the roiling emotions seeming like they might drown us both.

MC: Don’t doubt yourself, okay?

There were so many suspicious things about Zheng Yan, but Vyn was accustomed to looking to himself as the potential cause of an issue. That same exact Vyn was currently being condemned by the public online. Fate was so unfair; it always tormented the kindhearted.

I wanted to continue, but was interrupted by my phone vibrating.

Vyn: …

MC: Eirik?

The incoming call notification shocked me, but I quickly came to my senses. Vyn had his phone on mute, so when Eirik couldn’t reach him, he may have thought Vyn was refusing to answer his calls. If he was insistent on contacting Vyn despite that, then it had to be important.

MC: Should I pick up?

Although the phone was vibrating at a constant frequency, I felt like it was increasing in volume, urging us to decide immediately. Vyn’s eyes darkened as he looked at the name on the screen. He fell into thought again, for a while not responding to me. The caller, meanwhile, was persistent, waiting patiently for us.

Vyn: MC, do you remember when I said I had no evidence?

Vyn resolutely hung up the call, then looked up at me.

Vyn: We do now.

There was a seven hour time difference between Stellis and Svart; Eirik must have tried to contact Vyn shortly after waking up. I thought about his persistence despite him knowing how Vyn hated it when he contacted me, combined with the timing – because even from such a distance, Eirik had the means to be updated on everything happening in Stellis. This was too perfect to be a coincidence, therefore he must have called because of Zheng Yan.

MC: Are you saying this situation with Zheng Yan has something to do with Svart?

Vyn: To be precise, it has to do with my father. Of course, anything involving Svart also involves him…

Despite his derision, Vyn’s expression relaxed considerably.

Vyn: He must be calling to tell me who is manipulating Zheng Yan into doing all of this.

I nodded. That did seem to be the most likely answer.

MC: So do you already know who it is…?

Vyn: It is a political opponent of my father.

Despite not picking up Eirik’s call, Vyn’s tone was certain. He must have had some other basis for his conclusion, but he didn’t explain and I didn’t ask.

MC: So does this mean Zheng Yan was sent by that person to ruin you? But why? You’ve been in Stellis for so long, so why would they think to do something now…?

Vyn: It was because of last year’s Appointment Ceremony. Originally, I was staying in Stellis all these years, having less and less contact with Svart over time. They no longer saw me as a threat. The Appointment Ceremony my father held for me, however, put me back on their radar. Attacking the heir of the Haspran family is no different from attacking the head of the Haspran family himself.

I had experienced the cruelty of Svart numerous times before, but each time I became implicated, that feeling of powerlessness would return even stronger than before.

Vyn: After all, when it comes to politics, a ruined reputation is what constitutes true elimination.

MC: So that’s why they prepared Zheng Yan – they wanted to completely destroy your image and reputation. But how did they do it?

Vyn: Do you remember Kirstie Gonzalez? (1)

I hadn’t heard that name in a long time, so the sudden mention of it threw me off for a moment.

MC: Yeah, she was your patient. When I first met you, we both… !!!

The same person, displaying two completely different personalities. That alone was enough to make me think of Kirstie Gonzalez from before.

MC: She had different personalities. Do you think that…?!

Vyn: I believe that Zheng Yan also has dissociative identity disorder, although he has two personalities. Going by when the personalities were created, the main personality is James, whom I met in Svart, and Zheng Yan is an alter who awoke later. The two personalities do not share a memory, and may not even know of the other’s existence. It is rare, but not impossible.

He was convinced of his own innocence, his memories were completely different from Vyn’s, and he was a completely different person from the one Vyn remembered. It sounded nonsensical, but this explained everything that was suspicious about Zheng Yan. Everything – including how he didn’t immediately recognize Vyn and didn’t know that James was his previous name – could be explained.

Vyn: When I met James, he showed no signs whatsoever of having two personalities. His current claims that I psychologically induced his confession may be because it actually happened, only with someone else. Based on Zheng Yan’s behavior, he does not share James’s memories and may not even realize the fact that he is an alter. The interrogation that he described is very likely a memory that someone implanted when using hypnosis to cause his personality to fracture.

MC: That’s not something that can be done easily. The perpetrator must have had it planned for a long time… In that case, they must have some kind of follow-up in mind, otherwise they would have finished things off in one fell swoop.

Vyn: Are you scared?

Unlike his earlier hesitation in the car, Vyn finally asked me up-front what I was thinking.

MC: No, I’m a lawyer – I can protect myself. Besides, you want to face this head-on, and I told you I would be by your side. There’s no way I would back down.

I was certain that Eirik’s call was not only to tell Vyn the truth, but also to offer remediating measures for implicating Vyn in this. Vyn must have also thought of that, yet he still chose to hang up.

Vyn: If I accept my father’s help with all of this, then I will still be entangled in the Svart that I hate. Both in the past and present, that place is like a vortex, always trying to drag me down. By renouncing my inheritance and leaving Svart, I thought I could break free from it all. Instead, it led those people to a misunderstanding –

Vyn smiled, but the expression was frigid like the blade of a sword.

Vyn: They are relentless. Undaunted by my father’s power, they are even willing to extend their reach to Stellis… In the end, they are just subconsciously looking down on me, seeing me as a coward who can do nothing but run away. If that is the case, then I have to show them what kind of person I truly am.

He lowered his voice to his usual relaxed tone, but I could hear the subtle of anticipation in it as well.

Vyn: Moreover, how could I lose when I have you with me?

[END PART FOUR]

(1) Kirstie Gonzalez is the NPC from Vyn’s Near and Far SSR who had dissociative identity disorder.

Worldbuilding note: Based on this story, Svart should be 7 hours ahead of Stellis (when it’s shortly past midnight in Stellis, it’s roughly the time that someone in Svart would be waking up). This would be “opposite” of the real world, where China is ahead of Europe by roughly the same number of hours (depending on the country). Alternatively, Stellis is ahead of Svart, Eirik wakes up at around 5pm, and getting up late is a trait Vyn inherited from him.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Okay, random question, but I think you're the person to ask.

Why does the Doctor remember the Valeyard at all? In multi-Doctor stories to "save the timeline" the younger incarnations come away not remembering most of anything about the adventures they had with their older selves. Since the Valeyard is technically an incarnation of the Doctor, why do they (after Six) remember him? Is that ever explained?

Hello! Hi, yes, I can do my best to answer this. 😁

There is no one reaction that a Time Lord crossing their own time stream can have. Sure, sometimes they lose their memories of the event to preserve the timeline, but ultimately these multi-Doctor events have varying effects on the Doctor's memory. They don't always forget.

Sometimes, yes, their memories and foreknowledge are lost, but not always. A good instance of this "not always" is The Five Doctors...And then in Time Crash, the Tenth Doctor was able to use the Fifth's memories of the event to find the solution. Similar things are often seen in the audios and novels, with multiple versions of the same Time Lord meeting each other and not having any memory-related effects. For example, in the audio The Gates of Hell, the Fifth and the Tenth met again and remembered each other! In Out of Time 1, the Tenth was similarly able to track the movements of the Fourth, but in this case, he only remembered what the Fourth was doing after he did them. In Cold Fusion, the Fifth and the Seventh remembered these multi-Doctor stories. There's a lot of instances of this, far too many to list, but you get the jist.

As for the Valeyard, his origins are a bit complicated and obscure, largely because of conflict in the writing room back in the day. There are some stories where he is said to be a future incarnation and others where he is depicted more as a projection of the Doctor's darkness. Sure, he's an amalgamation of the darker sides of the Doctor's nature according to the Master, but there is a lot of disagreement within the audience and within the in-universe characters. Sometimes, he's also considered a temporal anomaly and even hypothesized to be a rogue Watcher by some.

Further complicating things is the fact we learned some of these putative origin stories from the Valeyard himself - and thus the veracity of these stories are difficult to confirm. There was an audio called The Brink of Death where a character called Genesta said the Valeyard was created by the Time Lords, but she later revealed herself to be a disguise...it was actually the Valeyard, and we don't know whether "Genesta" ever existed.

Another of the Valeyard's tales comes from the story Trial of the Valeyard. In this story, the Valeyard claimed he was created as a Time Tot when the thirteenth incarnation of the Doctor was experimenting with ways to break the regeneration limit. He was found when he was 20 and sent off to Gallifrey, where they found that his biodata matched the Doctor's and that he was a temporal aberration. They sent him to the Shadow House.

Personally, I prefer to consider the Valeyard as a future incarnation. He's been described in this way as a future that can be postponed but not completely averted, but I thought it would be best to give more information. There are a few more origins, but again, I believe the picture has been painted well.

In essence, the Doctor remembers the Valeyard because they don't always forget the events that occur when they cross their own time streams, and there is debate on the Valeyard's true nature. I hope that helps!

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Do you know of any fics that are being regularly updated? Like current fics where the next chapter is being upload every tot days? I miss having a new chapter of a fic to look forward to reading 🥲🥲 please and thanks ���♡

One way to check is to go on A03 and in work search, select the relationship you want - "Blaine anderson/Kurt Hummel" and you can select Works in Progress. Currently here are a handful updating regularly, if i don't mention your fic, please feel free to let me know. ~Jen

Undiscovered By @heartsmadeofbooks chap 1/?

All Blaine Anderson needs is a little help to put himself through school. That’s all. But he’s going to get so much more than he hoped for when he meets Kurt Hummel, the successful, sexy workaholic who in turn needs someone to make the loneliness disappear.

~~~~~

Klueless by @kurtsascot chap 4/22

It’s 1995. Kurt’s a senior at McKinley High, and he’s looking to lose his virginity and get his love life in order before he goes off to college.

Unfortunately, Blaine, the pretentious son of Burt’s ex-wife, is in Lima to intern for Burt’s congressional reelection campaign, and Kurt is stuck dealing with him until the election is over.

~~~~~

14 Stones of A curse by Anna_Timberlake @shame-is-a-wasted-emotion chap 5/15

“It's the only way to break the curse, Kurt. Believe me.”

These were the words that had driven 29-year-old Kurt Hummel to take a long break from his prestigious job at Vogue.com and travel approximately 3300 miles. He didn't know if it was true. But if it was, will he be able to break the long impending curse of his soulmate? Welcome to the journey of Kurt Hummel discoverying his past self and his soulmate.

Soulmates and fantasy- AU and reincarnation.

~~~~~

Falling for you By @bitbybitwrites chap 4/5

Doctor!blaine, florist!Kurt, Dadfic, Christmas

~~~~~

And longer fic, updating weekly/monthly:

Sonder by @gleefulpoppet chap 77/?

 Kurt is one of the most respected and talked about men in the fashion industry and business world. His app Style•Revolution is the fastest-growing app in history, still rising after three years. Recently, he moved the company to Seattle to be at the heart of the newest technology epicenter in the United States. Yet, with all his success, experience keeps teaching him to be wary of people’s motives who want to be close to him, and he wonders if he’ll be alone forever. Or maybe this city has plans for him that he can’t imagine when his gaze locks with a mysterious, honey-hazel-eyed busker.

~~~~~

Out of Eden By @wowbright chap 64/75 est

As a gay Mormon, Kurt Hummel has decided to go the rest of his life without falling in love. But toward the end of his two years as a missionary in Germany, Elder Anderson moves into his apartment—and Kurt's best-laid plans fall apart.

~~~~~

Head over Feet By @spaceorphan18 chap 8/15

After Kurt and Blaine broke up the second time, they went their separate ways, living their separate lives in New York City. Fifteen years later, a retirement party brings them back together into each other's orbit, with surprising, for both of them, consequences. Are they able to fit each other into their already complicated and messy lives? And are these newfound feelings real? Or just echoes of a past relationship?

~~~~~

The Queen's Passageway By @coffeegleek Part 4 of one shots of Everybody's Naked & There's a Country to Run verse

This is an expansion upon the one-shot, Passage Ways, chapter 12 of One-Shots in the Everybody’s Naked & There’s a Country To Run verse. You don't have to know the verse to read it.

[swatchlings-art]

hey so pharmister.. do you have any more content for that au? any headcanons? how the fuck does pharma end up with them bc? who's bright idea was it to throw him onto the idiot ship? ToT

and also how do they get together? do they get together?? the spinister rizz(tm) is too strong not to work /hj

OHOHOH I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED!

So, for me pharmister is a ship that exists exclusively for my Pharma's redemption tour AU (which is my own take on a "Pharma lives after the Lost Light finale and now has to deal with the consequences of Everything")

AND MAN DO I HAVE CONTENT FOR THIS AU!!! I have... 72 pages of planning for it, and only 2 chapters fully written (out of 25 so far!) unfortunately most of it is all a WIP haha...

BUT get ready for me to babble AT LENGTH about it here lol

>how the fuck does Pharma end with the scavengers?

In my AU, Pharma wakes up from being braindead a few years after the finale and then gets a proper trial for his crimes, but instead of being sent to death row he's given the opportunity to Reintegrate Into Society after doing what's basically community service. He loses his medical license for obvious reasons, so he gets sent to do his service with The Peace Corps (which... are the Scavengers after being given a purpose in this New Cybertron).

>Who's bright idea was to throw him onto the idiot ship?

this is actually one of my favorite details for my au lol SO the only reason Pharma gets this second chance at life is because Minimus, in honor of Megatron, has formed a Restorative Justice Program for war criminals on both sides of the war. And part of that program is doing this type of Community Service instead of getting the death penalty or infinite prison time. His program is controversial among the populace and very new and experimental, but he's trying his best to make it work. He selected the Peace Corps for Pharma because the Scavengers are actually a glowing example that his program works so far and he thought putting him under their care would help Pharma have an easier time adapting to his new life (wildly unaware that it'd be psychological torture to surround Pharma with decepticons he loathes).

AS FOR HOW PHARMISTER WORKS HERE!!!

>Any headcanons? how do they get together? DO they get together?

yes I have SO many headcanons. The most important of them all is that Spinister saw Pharma for the first time and went "Wow, he's hot!" and only continued to be down bad for him from there (at first having an extremely shallow crush on the former medic, until [Plot Point] happens and he forms Genuine Tender Feelings for him).

Pharma as he exists in my AU is going through a full blown depression, and is having a really hard time accepting that he'll never be a medic ever again, and also he's paranoid as HELL thinking everyone and anything is out to get him. Ah, the wonders of trauma!

And it takes a bit of development for him to start trusting any of the scavengers at all, but the one that is easier to trust is Spinister. Mostly because he's completely honest about everything he has an opinion on. He's extremely blunt! The type of guy that blurts the first thought that forms in his processor without thinking about it first! He's too dumb to make a convincing lie or keep up a charade!

And also, Spinister's very obvious crush on Pharma is oddly reassuring and annoying for him at the same time. He has complicated feelings about being loved as he is! He hates it! But Spinister is just happy to be around Pharma because he likes him without judgements. Spinister has decepticon standards when it comes to love! Whatever fucked up things Pharma has done are Tame for him, hell, he also harvested organs at some point (It's like they're meant to be ♡ <- this comment would get him slapped).

I feel like fully revealing my hand as to if and how they get together would be spoiling that part of my AU. but what the hell!!! I don't get many opportunities to talk about it.

Anyway YES they get together but at first Pharma uses him to try and fill the void inside him (Spinister is more than happy to go along with it), and only later on does Pharma start to appreciate and become deeply fond of Spinister (because if anything, he CAN trust him to be on his side and he even starts to admire that Spinister is just... very at peace with himself despite his perceived flaws. That's enviable somehow).

ANYWAY!

Hope that was a satisfying answer to your question!!! I cannot fully express how grateful I am that someone else wants to know more about my AU and my beloved crackship I accidentally created ♡♡♡ so thanks for asking!

[actualbird]

playing Lucky Draw with luke in the anniv1 rerun minigames (which, thANKFULLY I FINALLY CLEARED STAGE 4, I NEVER HAVE TO GO THRU THAT EVER AGAIN AJFHVAKSJHFVAJ) reminded me of one of my favorite Luke Only Gameplay Quirks

when u play Old Maid against him in Visit

i cant remember if ive posted abt this before but it's rlly just so funny to me cuz the boys gain a different set amount of affection under different circumstances in Old Maid. from the tot wiki, heres how it goes for artem, vyn, and marius

artem and vyn: straightforward, they like it when mc wins!!

marius: uh......more complicated for SOME REASON?? he likes it an equal amount whether or not you win but what are thoSE SPECIAL CIRCUMSTANCES?? my character-interpretation of this is:

that first circumstance: he enjoys drawing out teasing mc

that second circumstance: he also enjoys it when mc beats his ass, hes multifaceted like that

third instance: ......i honestly have no clue

luke, thankfully, is much more straightforward and in the funniest way possible

HES JUST A SORE LOSER!!!!!! HE LIKES WINNING SO MUCH AJHVFJAHSVFJAHVFJAHSFVAJSHF

if ever the nxx team have a board game night together, luke is gonna be way too competetive and take it comically Personally if he doesnt win

[kerubimcrepin]

Wakfu Manga - Tome 1, Part 2

Until this point in the manga, Joris did not have his stupid log. I am assuming that this means that he can summon it, OR, which is more likely, that he pulled it out of the previously shown haven bag.

"FUCKING CALM DOWN!!!" He says, aiming a brick at her head.

I am. Insane. YES rub his height that he's sensitive about and his morals and his mortality into him. Kill him. Kill him.

(I don't like Jiva as a person, or as a character in this manga, at all. But I LOVE it when Joris's feelings are hurt.)

He immediately tries to pull the rank card and Polite Speech, and it's so not working lmaooooo. And Jiva sees right through him — to her, he is just an insolent mortal, hiding his fear, and his hurt feelings, and disappointment in her, and care for other people, behind some stupid speeches.

These aren't "Yugo's and his friends". These are Joris's precious new fwiends <3. and she is going to hurt them all violently. And she doesn't give a shit if it's deserved or not. They're all mortal insects, just like Joris.

As I have said, Jiva is one of the founders of Bonta. Obviously, they had worked together in the past, considering his allegences. And obviously he's disappointed and betrayed (Ngl, kinda illogical. He should expect this kind of thing. Nobody in his city is sane, him included.)

i think i hauve covid.

Yeah, he is just one of the many insects to her. And an insolent one.

I know I make a lot of jokes about Joris using his magic wand to break people's bones, but.

Joris breaking people's bones counter: 1

The classical "little guy leg grab" move that all of Joris's opponents perform at least once.

SFGSDFGKASFGJSDFJGISLFDGUJSIDOFFDSGDJLFHGSUEROGHDFGDFJGHSDFKJLGHSDUFLHGULSGHA;LDJSFHAJLSDFHASJDKFAUEWFHSDJKFHASDFKAHSUKFHASKDFASDJHGASRLKHKGAWGHALSDHGFDSLHAAUGRHFGALJSDGHLDFKSGHLDFJGHSLUHGAOWHFJGASNGSKLGHSDFGHSDLFG;AJG'EJFA'DSGSFBJDSFHNSDHG

Legendary.

If Joris heard Yugo (whom he is normal about) say this about him, he would have to excuse himself and start quietly vibrating from excitement that Yugo (Yugo!!!!!) (literally a random teenager) thinks he's THAT cool.

Tot writing male villains: you see, hes immortal and his family is dead, and also he has done warcrimes, and he is so, so sad and morally vague, due to his interesting moral code, and he has moments of kindness with the main cast which complicates things and also he cries.

Tot writing female villains: she is irredeemably fucked and evil and hurts children and kills everyone indiscriminately and is bad to everyone around her and tortures little kittens too. And she is so evil it makes her braindead actually, like she can't make a single rational or kind decision. Isn't it crazy? Isn't it hot? Anyway now you have to cheer and clap because she actually did this all because her boyfriend is dead. And this makes all of her past decisions pretty morally gray and rational. Like that time she pummelled some random kids and killed an entire family. Her tits are big too btw, if it sweetens the deal.

THEY FORGOT ABOUT HIM AND JUST LEFT HIM TO CRAWL BACK I CAN'T. SDFGSJDFKGJSDFG.

He wants to be friends so baddd.

This is the handsomest most prettiest guy ever. Now cheer and clap.

I am very pleased that Joris is described as shy. He would hate it so bad, if someone said that he is shy in front of him. He would hate it and be like "I'm not???" even though he literally is.

Also: "He who claims to really know master Joris must be quite clever!"? Wrong! I am stupid. And so are his dad and uncle.