#projecting so hard on third hand accounts here

[dilf-in-peril]

"so they fired cm punk.... over this lu... sorry, what's his name?"

lmao

This DJ Kid Whoo audio is great, give it a listen (also because the second hand reporting is so off). It's cute how awed he is by the world of wrestling. Also "fuck this shit, this is our moment, everybody go the fuck out there and do your shit" were Joe's ("the big Hawaiian looking guy") words... not TK. You think TK could say words like that while fearing for his life?

[fading-event-608]

Help Falstin's family survive and escape genocide in Gaza and win hand-made Palestinian thob!

What can you win?

A Palestinian thob made by Palestinian hands, tailored for you. Thobes are traditional dresses worn in Palestine and are embroidered with tatreez patterns of various colors (usually mainly red) on black cloth - you can see the example in the poster.

Who will you help?

24 people trapped in Gaza who desperately need funds for their survival and evacuation. Falastin's family already has a lot of martyrs and they were displaced more than 20 times leaving them with very little possessions. It has been extremely hard for them to meet their basic needs, and they need all the help they can get to purchase food, water and medicine (which are incredibly expensive as there is very little aid entering Gaza) as well as shelter, fuel and clothing as it's getting cold.

Gofundme donation link

PayPal donation link

Please fill out this form after donating: https://forms.gle/1JPkqoab55bxC3iS8

More detailed info under the cut:

We accept both PayPal and Gofundme donations: 50 USD for one PayPal entry; 500 SEK for one Gofundme entry (500 SEK is around 47 USD so it's a slight discount!)

Only donations done after the raffle start (October 19th, since making this post) will count for entries. Additionally, every three weeks starting from today, one winner will be chosen and all entries for that period will be reset. The winner will be given 48 hours to respond and if they do not then we will choose another one from that time period.

Dates for raffle resets:

1) 9th of November - first winner 2) 30th of November - second winner 3) 21st of December - third winner

The winner announcement will be done on those Saturdays at 15:00 (3 PM) GMT (that's 10 AM EST).

Right now we are a little over 12k USD (counting both PayPal and Gofundme) but most of it came in the last several weeks. So we aim to get another 12k USD/126k SEK (again both PayPal and Gofundme) by the end of the first raffle round.

You can enter as many times as you want and can stack entries over time (so one 2000 SEK donation will be 4 entries, or two donations 75 USD and 25 USD will count as 2 entries). Because there will be 3 rotations, if your donations fall short of the minimum donation in the first/second rounds, you can still qualify for the next until your total exceeds the entry cost. For example, if you donated 40 USD in the first rotation you will not enter the first raffle round but can still enter second one if you donate another 10 USD. Another example: if you donated 120 USD in the first time period you can donate another 30 in the next one for one entry. You can enter second or third time even if you won previously.

After you have made the donation(s) required for at least one entry you need to fill out the form: [link]. You will be asked to provide a proof of your donation, your email address (or discord handle) and (optionally) Tumblr/Instagram username. An email address or Discord is required for contact purposes, as there is a possibility that either me of Falastin could be restricted or suspended on Tumblr, but we will contact you on your preferred platform if we can.

One thob will roughly take 3 weeks to complete so please be patient - you will be contacted by your preferred method for any questions after you won and when the shipment starts.

Shipment is covered for Europe, but if you are living outside of that region you will need to cover the shipment cost yourself.

You also need to be comfortable with sharing following info with us privately if if you win the raffle:

address and name for the shipment;

your measures or general size (S, M, L, etc) for tailoring.

You can ask any questions me here on Tumblr or send an email to fadingevent608@proton.me.

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here] Falastin's account: [link]

Donation links again:

GOFUNDME:

PAYPAL:

[mt-oe]

its finals season (again..) and huge projects for classes right now. can we get a stressed reader x modern mizu where reader is like actually tweaking out? like I mean pulling our energy shots, shivering hands, 'gotta lock in', hysterically crying on snapchat video and sending it to their groupchat for moral support type of tweaking out and the reader is going BANANAS over all the final papers, and studying for finals and mizu helps comfort reader?? i hope this would be a silly little write but also helpful to anyone going through finals season right now. much love! xoxo <3

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

To start this, I am absolutely sorry for being gone for so long. I had my thesis defense, practicals, laboratory works, deadlines, and my finals all in the span of two weeks AND I fainted twice, got sick twice, and nose bled a LOT.

I was chugging 3 cans of energy drinks a day, eating one meal per day, sleeping minutes less than how long I showered, and smoked quite a lot. Someone even caught me sleeping on the fire exit stairs (istg so embarrassing ;;). Honestly makes me wonder how I'm not six feet under by now.

To those who are going through their finals, please don't follow my lead. Vomiting at 3am from how dizzy you are while some Sepultura song plays in the background is NOT the experience you'd think it was. Try to plan when you'll tackle your work and get some sleep as much as you can, on your free time, on your commute. I swear, answering tests are SOO much easier when your vision isn't spinning or tunneling.

Chose to do this request first to remind you all to take care amidst your finals (or as a reward if your finals are finished, good job dear!).

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa <3

warning: not proofread, my corny jokes, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

Blue orbs watched as you cracked open another can of Red Bull. A small grunt leaving your throat as the fizzy caffeinated drink went down your esophagus. Was this your second? third..no wait..fourth?

Damn.

How are your blood vessels surviving this onslaught of caffeine you've been shoving down your system? She had no clue. But what she did know was that you've had enough. This wasn't healthy at all. Your lips were already as pale as the palms of your hands which were trembling to the point where you couldn't stop writing because that meant you'd feel the quivering of your hands even more.

The two of you had decided to slave off at Mizu's apartment for your finals. It was mostly Mizu dragging you there since your friends have been bombarding her to take care of you since she had the closest to what was considered a free schedule. T'was something about you freaking out and crying over the finals. She didn't have a Snapchat account so she didn't know.

Usually, she wasn't even interested in these stuff, but when Akemi showed her a picture of you with a thumbs up, holding a can of Monster, dark circles under your bloodshot eyes, tear streaks on your face, with the caption 'Boutta pull another Kay Chung tonight', concerned didn't even begin to describe what she felt.

Boutta pull a Kay Chung?

What or who was this Kay Chung anyway?

She knew you were a hard worker, probably one of the most studious people she knew, so she already expected you to be busy studying. What she didn't expect was the mess you were in.

The moment she stepped into your unit, cans of energy drinks, bottles of energy shots, cups of coffee, and random paper strewn randomly littered your apartment. The only source of light was your window and a small dim lamp you had.

Was that cup noodle container growing mold?

Ew.

It was like the Capital Wasteland in here, and she was the lonesome wanderer, awaiting the dangers to come.

And you were a radiated ghoul hunched over your desk with the emptiest gaze she has ever seen. Your head in your hands, as you scrunched your eyebrows together, trying to figure out what the fuck was wrong with your equation.

Now she understood the bombardment of messages from Akemi and the others, and damn was she grateful for the heads up because you looked like you were at death's door and death... Death just thought you looked too pitiful to let in.

The two of you were now sitting on Mizu's carpet, books, papers, and gadgets on the smooth wood of the coffee table. In her mind, she thought a bit of companionship would comfort you like it usually did. But she was wrong.

The shaking grip you had on your pen and the occasional 'what the actual fuck?' or 'the hell?' already told her that you were too locked in to relax even just a bit. You looked like you were losing it.

Her eyes peered over your review sheet before she raised an eyebrow at how scattered your handwriting looked, numbers and symbols italicized to the left and to the right as if they were dancing and your solutions scattered. Add this value here..derive the formula there..problem 3's solution is somehow on the back of the paper even though problem 5 was solved on problem 1's spot. It looked like a shit show.

"What...problem is this for? You did it wrong." Her tongue clicking as a slender finger encircled a formula you derived wrong, making you look at her with a mildly bothered look. Your eyes tiredly scanned your review sheet, looking away to the side to blink the heaviness of your lids away, then looking back at it before letting out a strangled sounding groan, shoulders slumping back onto the sofa as you covered your eyes with your hands before looking at your own solutions again. "I don't fucking know..maybe it's for..umm..for..fuuuuuck," you sighed defeatedly, realizing that you couldn't understand your own handwriting either.

You wanted to strangle yourself so bad right now or like, strangle your professor until they give you a passing grade. Maybe the threat of arson would scare the university admins into passing everyone for the semester???? The prospect of being a sugar baby is starting to sound better than trying to finish this degree.

It wasn't like you were an absolute idiot. You could solve these problems no problemo. However, your vision was already lagging and tunneling. Whenever you tried to read the problem or your own handwriting, it was like your vision was hyper-focusing on one spot and the areas around it were...spinning or it'd focus on everything else EXCEPT the ones you wanted to focus on.

The amount of caffeine you had consumed wasn't even helping anymore. Instead of waking you up, you just felt jittery like a hyper-charged toy. Before you were sleepy and slow, now you were still sleepy but faster.

And when was the last time you even ate anyway? Was that moldy cup noodle your last meal? You didn't even know anymore at this point. You could barely feel anything aside from the fear of your impeding academic doom. Not even hunger was strong enough to stop you.

Mizu's eyebrows furrowed at how miserable you looked before sighing and pulling a sheet of paper out of her own notebook. "Here," she sighed out, sitting beside you and scanning each problem you had printed out before re-writing each question you looked like you struggled with. Her eyes occasionally glanced at you, unseen worry rising with every hitch of your breath and every twitch of your eyebrow as you looked at the questions she rewrote.

"Mizu..I don't want to do those all again," you groaned frustratedly, ruffling your hair own hair aggressively, strands falling to the carpet below. A hand held yours firmly, preventing you from tangling the ends of locks even more. "I'm going to teach you, dumbass. We can't have you failing and dying at the same time," she huffed, grabbing your calculator and placing it in front of both of you. She leaned closer to you, hand on your waist to pull you closer before taking the pencil and pointing to the first problem she rewrote.

"I'm not going to repeat my explanations, so listen well,"

...was what she said.

However, Mizu was a big softie when it came to you. Every time she caught you spacing out or having a hard time in general, she took her time and explained it to you again, even explaining it slower, simpler, or more detailed as needed. She really made sure that you understood the principle of the problems and the process of solving them, handing the pencil and calculator to you to make sure you actually understood her.

After a while, you were slowly starting to understand you earlier mistakes, and with her help, you were able to finally solve the review sheet. Thank god for hot smart women.

A look of amusement crossed her face as she watched you slump back onto the sofa with a loud sigh of relief. Shaking her head with a small lop-sided smile, she took the pen again before grabbing your laptop and searching for similar problems. "Here," she said, turning the device towards you. "Solve these. I'll be back in a bit."

You looked at her in confusion before letting out a tired groan. The exhaustion was starting to let itself be known through the heaviness in your lids. Another problem set was the last thing you wanted to do right now.

Oh wait.

Fuck, you still had to edit your methodologies and results, and you haven't even started on the discussion yet. Oh god...

'Better get started, I guess,' you thought with a defeated sigh. Muttering a string of curses under your breath, you picked up your pencil and calculator and began solving yet another set of hellish questions while the dark-haired woman stood up and walked off somewhere in her apartment. Silence filled the room aside from the aggressive scritching and scratching of lead against paper and the sound of clacking from your calculator.

Every now and then, Mizu would come back with something to comfort you. May it be a cup of water, a bigger pillow, a hair tie, or to charge your phone for you. She didn't really speak though, fully wanting you to focus on your work.

It was like her quiet little way of telling you that she was here and that she cared for you.

Amidst your problem solving, the smell of something being fried hit your nose, making you look up. It was a bit oily, but at the same time, homely and savory. Your stomach growled slightly at the smell, reminding you of that uncomfortable feeling of hunger that you were somehow able to ignore during your study sessions.

Just as you had finished writing your answers, Mizu came out of the kitchen with a bowl of rice and a plate of what seemed to be fried fish. Kinda burnt but maybe that's a charm point...or something. At least she tried.

She set it down on a clear space on the coffee table and gently urged it towards you. "Here," she mumbled, looking at you expectantly. You stared at the food she prepared, snorting a bit at the charred skin, some bits missing which obviously stuck to the pan while she was frying it. "Err..Mizu...?"

"Don't mind how it looks just..just eat, okay?" she groaned, sounding a bit embarrassed, a bit of pink dusting her cheeks. Her eyes looking away as her hand went up to cover half her face. You couldn't help but laugh a bit. Mizu? Embarrassed? God that woke you up, didn't it?

The sound of your laughter made her feel even more embarrassed but at the same time relieved. Your laugh was so fucking cute. She was glad that you were starting to sound a bit more like your usual self. Hell, you were smiling now. A big improvement compared to the face of misery you were making earlier.

Eventually, your laughter subsided upon the realization sinking into you. She really did all this just to take of you. Dragging you to her apartment, tutoring you, fetching things for you, cooking for you...

She really does care. Doesn't she?

Your hands picked up the chopsticks before breaking into the soft flesh of the food in front of you, picking off the bones before taking a bite. It was salty, the char even made it a bit bitter, and for god-knows-why, even a bit spicy?? But it tasted so good to you. Heavenly, dare I say.

As you continued to eat, bite after bite and scoop after scoop, the shakiness in your hands slowly calmed down. You couldn't help but look up at your friend who was now checking your answers, the ghost of satisfaction making itself known through the barely visible smile she had. "Mizu..."

She looked over at you, raising an eyebrow to indicate that she was listening. "Thank you for uh..taking care of me," you said shyly, giving her a small smile. A low chuckle escaped her throat as she shook her head slowly as if in amusement. "At least you're not shaking like a leaf anymore," she joked, followed by you letting out a small 'hmph!', making her chuckle yet again.

Though she wouldn't tell it to you right now, she'd be more than happy to take care of you anytime you wanted or needed it.

The sound of your pen tapping on the paper filled the room again as her eyes narrowed at your answers, checking it carefully. After a while, she handed the paper back to you, looking very much satisfied. "Looks good," she said, eyes watching the proud smile on your face. "How 'bout a reward?...Some rest I suppose?"

Your smile faltered at the sound of rest. "I can't...my manuscript is due in a couple of days and I haven't even finished editing my methodologies and results," you explained, opening the files for each of your chapters. "The data isn't even tabulated in the required format. It looks like shit."

She stood up from her spot and sat next to you, placing a hand on your head to pat it gently as she looked at the screen. Her eyes narrowed again while you scrolled up the file for her before she sighed. "Yeah, it does look like shit," she agreed before suddenly grabbing your laptop and setting in front of her. "Go and take a nap or something. I'll do whatever I can to...whatever this is."

"But Mizu, this isn't even your field. I can't—" She cut you off with a finger to your lips before gesturing towards the sofa behind the both of you. "Nap," she ordered firmly. You sighed before standing up and laying down on the sofa. You knew there was no use arguing. When Mizu makes up her mind, she's deadset on it.

Her eyes scanned your figure for a moment, taking in every curve of your body and the way your face relaxed. Then, she took off her jacket and draped it over you, before giving you a small loving pat. Before you could even open your mouth to protest, she immediately shushed you and turned to your manuscript, scanning over it.

Your eyes observed the way her eyebrows furrowed and the way her eyes darted from word-to-word. The sound of her typing and clicking filling the room, oddly relaxing you.

It didn't take long for you to drift off to sleep. And for the first time since hell week started, you finally relaxed.

No frustration, no stress, just...sleep.

You did nap for hours longer than expected though.

Don't worry.

Your methodologies were now updated, results properly formatted, and ideas in bullet points for your discussion were laid out in a new file. Even your references were fixed.

Damn, you really wanted to smooch Mizu reaaal hard after this.

[aristotels]

I would love to hear an extended rant about being an artist in a periphery country, if you're willing to say more.

sorry for this being late! but yes there are quite a few things to this.

1) EDUCATION/JOB OFFERINGS

when you are from a periphery country, the art education accessible to you is much worse than in the imperial core. yes, i know, you dont need to go to art school, you can be self-taught, you dont need a degree, but art school is about making potential job connections. in a country like croatia, you do not have access to those connections. you do not have ability to go out, show your portfolio, get reccommended by a professor for a listing. the education is stunted as well - the animation program here is atrocious, my building had an attic with dead pigeon corpses littering the room, there are no drawing tablets, computers are old, the building is leaking, but the lack of ability to make professional connections is the main concern.

also, your degree? people hear you got a degree from a balkans land and you are immediately less worthy in their eyes. your name, which is not anglo? crossed out, despite your skills. job offerings within your country? good luck, everyone lives in poverty, you are underpaid, and studios hiring can be named on fingers of one hand. you are left with earning online.

and you are left with earning illegally. making author contracts with pdv, taxes, etc is incredibly complicated when working over upwork, doing commissions etc. this does constitute as black market. we do not hand in our taxes like in the usa, theyre deducted from our salaries and contracts immediately. this means you are missing out on potential grants and statuses which require you to provide papers of your commissions. it also means that transfering money over paypal has to go into small amounts to your own account, to avoid suspicious activity.

2) ART TOOLS ACCESIBILITY

a thing that is very frustrating. living in a periphery country? good luck getting anything. art shops are scarce. art shops do not carry the same amounts of items, and they are more expensive than in their mother countries. you are left with office supply stores. the quality of accessible paints and other tools is lower. its already been proven that products shipped to eastern europe are of lower quality and higher price than in the west; and this goes for paints too.

this means that, if you do traditional art of any kind, you are left with shopping online. this includes shipping - youre in a periphery country? congrats, often it does not ship to it, or the shipping is atrocious. your choices? mostly deutschland amazon - every item has 10€ shipping minimum. prices are not adjusted to your salary, they are adjusted to the german ones, which are much higher. i have to regularly order fillings for my brushpen. it is not available in my country. the price on amazon is significantly higher than on pentel website, and their usa based shipping. yes, just the price of the product. pentel does not ship this to my country btw. aliexpress is what you have, it takes 2 months to arrive, is frequently lost in mail, and even with it being cheaper - its still a bit more expensive than the original.

3) ALGORITHM, SOCIAL MEDIA

this is the third thing - algorithm works against you if you are not from the imperial core. of course, there are timezones, but also - your posts tend to be shown to people who live around you; meaning you have harder time breaking into the international market, and that market is the only viable one.

4) BEING PAID LESS

being eastern european (or asian or southern american or african or...) gets you lower salary. i indeed love my employers, i adore the comic i work on so much that its become my own project as well, theyve been nothing but kind to me - but the fact remains that i, as an eastern european, am and will always be paid much less than my usamerican counterparts.

5) JOB OPPORTUNITIES, ONCE AGAIN, ENGLISH LANGUAGE

adding this but: its hard to break into cartoon network/adult swim/etc without being presently there. you cannot get to conventions, you cannot have your portfolio checked, and you must speak english. yes. anglos take english-speaking for granted, and fail to realize that actually speaking english for us is not a privilege, its a necessity, and its a tool of imperialism. it is unfair that you cannot do ANYTHING without speaking english. you cannot get jobs, you cannot advance your career, and while i personally speak english quite well, not everyone does, not everyone should have to.

anyway sorry for the length

[myloveforhergoeson]

October 6th

Prompt: Shadow

(Learn more about Ellis here!)

There was something unknown lurking around the Palm Woods.

The witch could feel it, hair on her neck and arms standing when she entered the building as she and her friends returned from work. One moment, it was to the right of her in the lobby, just out of her line of sight, then a floor above them in the stairwell, right outside the apartment door to 2-J as she had dinner with the band. Her senses even picked it up as she lay in her bed that night, as if it were crawling around noiselessly in the ceiling above her.

Out of all the creatures she could think of to invade her home like this, she was worried whatever it was may have flocked there to feed on the wonder and hope of Hollywood's future famous.

Not on my watch, she silently promised as she left her apartment the next morning, songbook in hand, to find out just what was the source of her uneasy feeling.

In reality, it was probably a better idea to have phoned her dad and see if he knew any hunters in the Los Angeles area. There were plenty of witches who had dedicated their lives to keeping non-supernaturals safe from some of the terrifying creatures of the world of magic; They were likely more equipped to handle this sort of thing. However, she wanted to confirm something was actually wrong before she went to the trouble of seeking out extra help.

The hunters who came to visit her father for his potions when she was younger weren't the most pleasant of individuals. They'd seen a lot in their line of work, and though she was grateful to them for it, they were quite hard to work with. Plus they charged exorbitant fees, so if this could be a DIY project, her bank account would thank her kindly.

Since she'd sensed the creature above her apartment the previous night, Roxy hiked up the stairs to the third floor and began her search there on high alert. Beyond her apartment, and the apartments of her friends, the witch didn't spend much time exploring the inside of the Palm Woods, so traversing the winding halls of the third floor was a bit of a challenge. The walls were the same beige striped wallpaper as the first two floors, the same boring blue-grey carpet under her feet. All in all, nothing to write home about, though she did find that this floor had a far nicer community lounge than her floor.

After about 20 minutes up there, the witch hadn't gotten the same electric feeling she had in the lobby and concluded her sweep of the area. When she finally managed her way back to the stairwell, she opened the heavy wooden door with the intention to head up to the fourth floor, before a black shadow shot by her legs out of nowhere, darting down the long hallway at her back with incredible speed.

Speed no normal animal would possess.

Roxy didn't think twice before turning on her heels and chasing after it when the tingly feeling from before returned. This creature was magical, no doubt about it, and she wasn't going to risk her friend's safety by letting it roam free.

Through labored breaths, the witch muttered out a freezing incantation, eyes locked onto the sprinting shadow before her, and shot her hand out to send the amber sparkles of her magic in a straight line toward it.

To her dismay, the creature jumped to the side, avoiding the attack entirely and leaving a patch of ice in its wake. The girl let out a far-too-loud curse as she willed her legs faster, wanting to try the spell again before she would inevitably lose sight of it.

Around the corner now, her feet pounding on the carpet, Roxy was granted another clear shot at the creature. When she flicked her hand this time, her pointer and middle fingers formed the likeness of a gun as she said the spell again.

When the creature moved again, attempting to jump to the top of this floor's venting machine, she was prepared, hand moving in the same direction and changing the course of her spell. What was once a straight shot zigzagged, hitting the shadow mid-leap and suspending it in the air halfway between the machine and the floor.

Finally, she was able to stop and catch her breath, doing her best to calm her pounding heart as she approached what she had caught, just in case it fed off of something like fear or adrenaline. Thanks to the energy she had exerted between running and spellcasting, the witch probably had one good spell left in her before she'd need to relax and recharge her energy. With what this thing may be capable of, she'd have to be more than careful.

Her skin crackled as she grew nearer, and she could hear the creature screaming in agitation, but it was rooted in place, unable to move thanks to her spell.

The witch could hardly believe her eyes as she finally got a good look at the shadow she'd been chasing. Save for the silvery metallic stitching sparkling around the areas of major limbs and joints, what looked like an ordinary house cat stared back at her with one green and one blue eye.

When she looked closer, now mere inches away from the yowling cat as she walked around its frozen form, she took note that none of the areas connected by stitching appeared to be the same shade of black, and one of the sides of its face was dappled with what looked like a bit of calico.

An equally dark collar was wrapped around its neck with a golden tag reading Patches.

Roxy didn't even need to call the phone number to know who this pet belonged to; She quickly shot a few texts off, doing her best not to break concentration on her spell.

So focused, in fact, she didn't hear the large, heavy footsteps of someone rounding the corner.

A handful of change dropped to the ground. "Um... Whatcha got there?"

"Buddha Bob!" The girl cried, whirling around in a panic, attempting to place herself between him and the frozen animal, but she knew it was already too late. Under her breath, she repeated the incantation like a prayer.

The tall man blinked at her, messy hair and beard extra tangled today for some reason, as he awaited her response.

There was just one small issue. Roxy couldn't think of anything.

"Oh! Well, you see, I'm, um, cat-sitting? Yes! Cat-sitting for a friend!" As she spoke, she twirled around and took the frozen creature into her arms. "He was just... stuck to my back just now. Quite the little climber..."

Using the end of his plunger to scratch at his head, Buddha Bob furrowed his brows in thought. "I had a cat like that not too long ago..."

"How nice!" Roxy jumped in, running a hand on the cat's side to try and stop it from continuing to cry. "Tell me more, please."

"She loved to climb everything; The couch, the curtains, my clothes... Sometimes I swear it looked just like she was floating. 'Spose your little one reminded me of her."

"Yes! He's a climber this one... Especially fond of the vending machine..." The laugh Roxy let out was anything but humorful, to terrified of being exposed to even try and hide her real emotions.

Buddha Bob smiled, finally bending down to pick his change and make his way to the machine. "You two be good, okay? Don't let Mr. Bitters see ya. No pets policy and all, but your secret is safe with me."

"Thank you-" Roxy said breathlessly before she heard another pair of steps running in their direction.

The accompanying cry of, "Spellman?!" let her know she could finally breathe again. Ellis Bonecall, the Palm Woods' resident teen simulacrum, was coming to collect his pet.

The witch wasted no time running off to the sound of his voice and in a few short moments, kitty and owner were reunited once again.

Similar silver lines littered the actor's skin, made visible to the supernatural eye by his white tanktop, magically holding him together as he scooped the cat out of Roxy's arms and twirled him around a few times, "Patches! What did I tell you about leaving the apartment?"

Patches mrowed back to his owner in a way that made the witch giggle. There was something calming about seeing her hulking friend clutch such a small creature in his arms.

"It seems like you've been busy," She noted, gesturing to the animal. "How long has this little guy been around?"

Though they spoke often, it was hard getting used to his aged voice. "My second birthday is in a few days. Mom decided I could finally have a pet like the other kids so she made him last week!"

Roxy's mouth dropped open. "Dude! Why didn't you say something sooner? We've got to start party planning!"

Ellis cocked his head to the side, brown curly hair sweeping down in front of his brown and blue eyes. "A party? Like in the movies? I've never had one of those before."

She suspected if he had blood that flowed, it would all be rushing to his cheeks.

"Then we've got to throw you one. How about we get Patches back to your apartment and we can talk it over?"

The boy smiled, nodding his head. "How old am I supposed to be again?"

"Depends," The witch tapped her cheek with one of her fingers as they headed back in the direction of the elevators. "Sixteen if you want to drive, seventeen if you want to be the same age as our friends, eighteen if you want to impress some of the younger girls."

"Seventeen it is," The actor concluded, crooked teeth on full display. "What kind of cake should I like?"

"Now that is an excellent question," Roxy looped her arm through his, dragging him a bit faster down the hall. "And I know the perfect bakery to help us answer such a question!"

[apigeonisapigeon]

Arson and Other Fires: Worldbuilding I

At some unspecified point in the future, humanity has expanded into the stars. While the rich and powerful set up in atmosphere-controlled space stations and the handful of planets that can be terraformed, a series of genetic experiments creates a "second generation" of humans capable of withstanding harsher environments, who are sent to remote planets to work as miners, as factory workers, as farmers, as soldiers. The subsequent generations — who inherit these traits and are raised without much by way of education or social support — largely carry on in the same types of jobs. (Some skeevy rich people also use it to create bespoke kids for themselves but this isn't about them. mostly.) 

Because humanity as a rule cannot resist the urge to tinker, there are experiments and medical trials, and after a few decades, one group of scientists comes forward with a proposal: they can, they believe, induce a range of psychic abilities in their subjects. One of the larger governments (who I'll call G1 here because they have a provisional name in the WIP) gives them a grant out of their military budget, five years to produce results, and sends them on their way. The first set of subjects are soldiers who "volunteered" to participate, and it goes... badly. There's fatalities, there's lifelong health complications, there's a flagrant disregard for ethics and also the scientific method. They manage to bluff their way through the annual reports, but the full review at the end of the five years sees the whole thing shut down. There's threats of legal action, bribery to avoid the legal action, a good number of the scientists are strongly encouraged to take an early retirement.

So there's just this group of bitter, unemployed, highly-trained scientists and their traumatized ex-research subjects in this little Manhattan Project-style city of a space station built specifically for the project — a handful of both the scientists and the test subjects leave, along with most of the support workers (janitors, cooks, ect.) but most don't really have anywhere else to go. So they stay as this terrible little dysfunctional community, and after a while, some of the former test subjects start to have kids, and like the Second Gen before them, the Third Gen kids inherit their parents' traits, but they're not quite as unstable. Within a few years, the remaining scientists have the whole Third Gen thing more or less figured out and manage to wrangle themselves some shiny new private funding from the peripheral rich people mentioned above.

But the majority of Third Gen kids aren't going to live with the peripheral rich people; they're born into the community and reach adulthood with a sketchy education and the fact that they're the products of illegal genetic experimentation severely hampering their career prospects. While they're not (initially) raising the kids to be soldiers, it pretty quickly becomes a small town where joining the military is just the thing one does at the age of 16–18 — except they can't join the actual military on account of the whole illegal experimentation thing, so instead they become mercenaries, and the mercenary outfits in turn start funding the scientific study-turned vaguely cultish town, and suddenly it *is* a place that's raising kids to be soldiers. 

In the midst of all this, with their mercenary funding in hand, the project starts to expand and eventually establishes a secondary site called the Outer Station, but the problem with growing numbers is that they're hard to hide. There's people who leave, there's all the vendors needed to support any population centre, and of course the other mercenaries talk. At some point, someone in G1 starts to get suspicious. There's an official study commissioned, and it's determined that the number of documented Third Gen they have wandering around — which they know likely isn't anywhere near the total — cannot mathematically have come from the original batch of survivors organically having kids. There's an inquest, and then a stealth operation. Those who aren't taken into custody scatter, and after five years of searching, the former director is finally arrested. This is where our story starts. 

[masterwords]

I’m back!

I was thinking about Derek and Aaron having to put together some kind of toy or project for Jack (you know kids always do it the night before it’s due). I’m just picturing some sweet and sarcastic time together doing something for Jack that should be easier but is probably harder than they thought.

Super excited for May now!

Starting May off with this one! And yeah, it got a LOT sappier than I meant for it to...that happens I suppose.

Summary: Jack needs to build a rocket and he has two dads who can help him out. Lucky kid.

Warnings: mention of Derek's dad's death and financial troubles after

Words: 1.3k

Read below the cut or on AO3!

**

** Blast Off **

“You're doing it wrong,” Derek says from the floor. He's on his second set of one hundred pushups, maybe the third, Hotch has lost count. Up and down up and down.

“The directions said...”

“Read them again.”

He can't. Jack lost them about an hour before when Hotch told him to clean up all of the mess he'd made that didn't have anything to do with the damn rocket so they could focus. He can manage chaos on a grand scale, but in his own home it's just a little too much. The sad truth is, those instructions are probably in the trash can beneath the scraps from dinner.

In other words, long gone. He's not digging through the trash to figure this little thing out.

He doesn't think it should matter. There are not that many pieces. They're all laid out, side by side, just like he would set it up if he was taking apart one of his guns to be cleaned. It looks so simple, and it probably is it's just that he's afraid to commit and make a mistake. They don't have time to go buy another kit, they waited until the last minute. Not because anyone forgot, just because Hotch had been a little extra busy at work. Story of his life.

Derek finishes his push-ups and spends almost a full minute drinking every drop from his water bottle. Hotch envies his dedication to fitness, the way he always manages to get these things in without excuse. Hotch hasn't done push-ups in days even though they entered into this monthly challenge some of the guys at the Academy started together. This month is push-ups, next month is running. He'll make them up, no way he's going to come in last or just give up, but he's definitely not making it easy on himself.

“This part goes here,” Derek says, pointing. “I watched my dad and Sarah make one of these.”

“I made one when I was a kid but not from a kit. My dad almost cut his hand off helping me with mine. He wasn't much of an engineer...” In other words, his rocket had looked pretty cool but had been an epic fail. It blew to bits when it hit the ground.

Derek's mom didn't have the money to buy him a kit when it was his turn. It wasn't that expensive, but it would have over drafted her account. If it had been a week later maybe she could have been able to swing it, pinch a few pennies, but things were just tight. Her job didn't pay much and the hospital and funeral expenses were still weighing her down so he was home sick on rocket day to save face. Being the only kid who showed up empty handed would have killed him and Fran knew it. He already had to be the kid whose dad died, he didn't need that too. Things were hard enough on him.

Derek doesn't bring it up but Hotch can see it on his face, he can see it written in the lines on his forehead. He doesn't dwell on these things but they still sting when confronted with them.

“Do you want to take my place?” Hotch asks without a hint of frustration. He thinks maybe Derek might like a do-over. “I could use a few minutes to get some push-ups in before I'm at the bottom of the pile.”

Derek doesn't need the instructions. He can reconstruct a bomb from scraps, he can see the way the pieces fit together and instinctively knows what each of them does. Hotch knows that even if it's not exactly the way the instructions say to do it, Jack's rocket will probably win.

The only thing Derek can think is that this feels huge. This is a father son project, Jack has been talking about it for weeks. The fact that Hotch isn't home often and Jack was worried he'd have to build it with aunt Jessica had been at the forefront of his mind. Not that he would hate that, he just...it was all Jack wanted. Building a rocket with daddy. It's a whole thing. After they build the rockets his whole class will go to a field and launch them, there are even prizes for the winners. Highest, farthest, best paint job. There are about a million categories, enough that each kid in the class will probably get something for their trouble. But Jack just wants to build it with Hotch. And after launch day, to further the experience, they get to go to the air and space museum. It's not the sort of thing some random guy just gets to jump in on. He knows he isn't just some random guy, but until this moment he wasn't really sure where he fit. Jack likes him, or at least tolerates him, and he's careful not to infringe on Jack's precious time with his dad.

This makes him feel like part of the family in a way he hasn't before.

“You sure?”

He expects Jack to politely refuse. He wouldn't mind it. If he could have done this with his father...

“YEAH! PLEASE DEREK!”

Jack's enthusiasm nearly makes him cry. It's all he can do to hold himself together as he takes a seat beside the kid and starts rearranging the pieces into an order that makes sense to him. No hesitation. If Jack wants him to do it, then he's going to do it and he's going to do it right. He thinks about that stupid Inside Out movie that makes him cry every time Jack wants to watch it and he knows this is a core memory.

Maybe for both of them.

They work all evening, laughing and making a mess while Hotch makes up for lost time on his damn push-ups. His arms feel like jelly, his elbows are creaking, but he's back in the running again. He pops a few Tylenol PM so the ache in his arms doesn't keep him up that night but he feels good otherwise. Could probably do more if he wanted but he didn't want. It's late and all he wants to do is read Jack a chapter from their bedtime story and go to bed.

By the time he comes to the table to check on things, they've got it painted with the wildest set of tiger stripes he's ever seen. It looks fast and mean. And the most shocking part? The table is mostly cleaned up.

“Will it fly?” Hotch asks in awe. Derek and Jack laugh in unison and he can't get over how good that sound is.

“Not only will it fly,” Derek starts, standing and arching his sore back. He hates sitting so long. “It's gonna win.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

Hotch takes Jack to get ready for bed while Derek finishes shutting down the apartment, checking locks, turning off lights. He gives the glue a test, tugs at the fins, pulls the nose off and checks that the parachute is intact. It all looks good. He knows the engine is solid, it's in there, it's going places. Once he's satisfied with the work they put in, he heads off toward Hotch's room to wait for him to finish, but hears his name called from Jack's room.

“Yeah?” he asks, leaning in the doorway. Jack is tucked into his bed, Hotch kneeling on the floor beside him with the book in his hand.

“Would you come with me tomorrow?” Jack asks with a hopeful smile. “Since you helped me build it.”

Derek can't stop the tears this time. They obscure his vision and for a moment he's speechless. Hotch nods and smiles.

“Yeah, buddy. If the boss says I can have the morning off, I'd love to.”

“Can he dad? Please?”

“I'll think about it.” He's posturing. It's a done deal. Derek already knows it.

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddddddddddddddddddddddd...”

Hotch smiles in a way that lights his eyes up and he nods. “Of course. But only if he brings me lunch.”

“Deal.”

[roter-zirkus]

Ma'am, I just work here

Working in a pawn shop in Baldur's Gate sometimes means being privy to the most interesting items, even those that maybe you should have never put your hands on.

or: Raphael visits the most unfortunate little pawn shop worker

It's another quiet day at the "Brokering Gate", a little smarmy pawn office that lies between the recently collapsed Steel Watcher Foundry and the Guilt docks, a blocked-off area for incoming trade that remains just barely under the table. Ever since the rubble of that huge flying brain mass came down, there has been a weird rotting note to the air that borders on repugnant just barely. To keep the worst of it out, most of the "Gate's" shutters have been closed and enchanted with a shield-type spell – Yas doesn't care much for the details – due to their windows being blown to shittereens during the initial blast. It's a wonder, or curse depending on who you ask, that the shop still stands.

Yas hates, absolutely loathes working at the "Brokering Gate" on account of its weird customers and despicable owner, but she also hates not having anything to eat or a roof over her head, so in the end she just has to bite the bulette. And with the evasion of total annihilation comes some perks. People find the most interesting things to sell amidst the chaos coming to their silly little pawn shop, their competitors having mostly been wiped out or turned into ilithids.

One of those people had surprisingly been none other than THE hero, Tav, and their merry band of weirdos waltzing into the store, most of them heaving under the weight of overfilling pouches and backpacks, the jingle-jangle filling the air when the bags hit the ground. It had been a bad day for their accounts but a good one for stuffing the shop up the roof with items of varying usefulness.

One of these items had been a trilogy of diaries. As soon as Yas opened them during a lull in the shop she knew she had found her new obsession for the next weeks. Two of the three books were filled to the brim with mischief, silly little poems, intricate plans, or just daily developments, all written by some seemingly third-grade bard working hard to fill his made-up fantasy with lore. The third one however stopped halfway through, leaving an open end to the saga of the writer, a self-serving schemer hungering for power over the Nine Hells, and his assumed dalliance with the so-called hero, a tadpoled fool trapsing through the world the writer seemingly controlled.

Usually, Yas wouldn't go for such bottom-of-the-barrel fiction, but after skimming over them she had decided to fully embrace their weirdness.

Now it's deep into the afternoon and instead of having another go at the inventory she stands entranced at the counter ruffling through the pages, giggling to herself.

"Predilection. Who talks like that?", she quietly murmurs, although a part of her envies the artful usage of these special little words. With a grin, Yas comforts herself by imagining the fop with this kind of speech trying to order a beer at the bar she works her evening shifts at.

The soft little chime from the bell above their entrance takes her back to the store and she mentally readies her customer service personality. In walks an older man, a slight limp to his right leg, steadying himself on an intricate wooden cane with golden inlays, the soft tock of it accompanying the scraping of his "good" foot across the floor. Yet something about his demeanor stops her from emphasizing with him. His "warm" smile sends shivers down her spine, not the good kind, his left hand readies itself in the air for a grand gesture and his clothes look preened and faultless. She knows she probably can't hide it behind her fake smile, but all she feels is disdain.

Yet when the man starts to talk, she does notice that his voice has a deep rumble that resonates with her. Yas gets a good look at his sharp features and soft skin, since no matter what he says, he can't seem to stand still, instead opting for theatrical movement and emphasis on his words with every twitch of his face. "My dear bespackled attendant of this fine éstablissement, may I use some of your precious time to inquire about some items that might have found their way into your possession? Obviously, your help will be well compensated should you have any of these items at hand. I have had quite the adventure searching all over town and imagine my unbridled surprise upon finding out that there was still one last market to peruse. Resting amidst the-"

By this point Yas has already put two and two together, looking forward to the peacock finishing his exhausting monologue and confirming her suspicion. In the meantime she nods politely along, adding some "Uhuu's" and "no way's" here and there, nearly draining her affirmative vocabulary, until she finally has it and simply moves the diary she had been reading across the counter.

That shuts him up all right. As soon as his eyes spy the unassuming, worn-down cover, a wave of joy washes over his features, quickly hidden away just so, behind his noble mask.

She hopes that between his grandiose entrance and the following speech, he never realized that she was actively reading one of his diaries, before pushing it out of the way. When trying to glean his face for a reaction all she gets is the usual calm demeanor.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, but from my colleagues' descriptions, this book and its siblings might be the item you're looking for. If you would like we can verify this by counter-checking the text with your description." Yas is trying everything not to let her face betray that she knows about the innards of this book or that she can't believe that the writer is the guy in front of her. It's never good to directly laugh at a customer.

A shadow crawls over the customer's face and suddenly her giddiness dissipates into fear. Unlike before, this time she feels like the show of emotion is meant for her. Yas quickly puts up her hands in defense: "I'm so sorry that my colleagues rustled around in your private property but they had to make sure none of the books were cursed or dangerous in a similar fashion. Obviously, I have no interest in further violating your privacy."

Now a toothy smile flashes across his features and instead of the cane he now leans onto the counter, somehow still being taller than Yas standing at full height. "My dear friend, I am so very grateful for your understanding. The loss of these precious memories has left me quite hurt and it would not do to add to this pain. There is no need for you to read more of the text, there should be a sigil on the blurp, simply lay it out here and I will show you."

With an unsure grin of her own, she does as he bids and lays down the book, blurp for both to see. A swift motion later he holds a dagger in his hand, much to the shock of Yas, yet before she can exclaim her bewilderment, he simply pokes himself in the finger and vanishes it just as quickly as he conjured it. A distinct smell of sulphur fills her nose and she gets a bit queasy looking at two drops of blood spilling on the page of the book.

A second ticks by and suddenly a fiery symbol burns itself into the book.

The silence afterward is palatable.

"Yeah. I guess this is yours, huh." Yas is sure that she is not getting paid enough to deal with what kind of fiery devil shit this might be, so she just shrugs and goes to the backroom to get the other books. She wants this man out of the shop as soon as possible.

As soon as she comes back into his view, he starts up again: "Thank you very much, dear. Say, you don't happen to have some hellishly delicious paintings lying around?"

Oh no.

She knows very well where they are, but considering what Cambrin, her boss, has done to them, she decides she won't be the one to bring this up.

"There might be some more in the personal vault of my employer, but he is unfortunately not in today and won't allow anyone else into his office." Before she finishes the sentence anger flashes into his eyes and his nose scrunches, but she has an idea to smoothe him over immediately. "I'm sure he will come in in the evening to make sure everything is up to speed. Considering how late it already is, it shouldn't be long now."

That somewhat appeases her customer and she allows herself a moment of respite.

He purses his lip, a hand to his chin as if to seriously consider what she just said. "Well, I think I can offer up some more of my precious time for your employer, even though it will certainly throw around my plans for the evening. Will some of your other colleagues be there tonight? Specifically, those that wanted to sate their curiosity with these books?" He is all smiles but there's a dangerous shine to his gaze, that renders his brown eyes almost black.

"The evening shift should be taking over then, yes. We usually stay open late into the night, so we have to change it up. Considering the work plan they might be there, but I can't make any promises."

He pushes himself further onto the counter to lean closer to her face as if to share a secret just between the two of them. "Surely you have heard of the little idiom of the fortunate rat, fleeing the ship before it tragically goes down with its captain. I suppose, there are certain situations in which one should adhere to that principle, saving one's skin before it is too late." He gifts Yas another smile, this time arguably more toothy than before, his canines growing before her eyes.

She can't stop herself from mumbling: "That would make me the rat I presume." They both lock eyes and all he does to acknowledge Yas is a slight tilt of the head.

Living in Baldur's Gate is hard enough as it is, with weird tentacle monsters, bandits, and bloody murders seeping into the daily survival. And now this… thing was making it very obvious that the shop was going to see his reckoning. Maybe it was finally time to leave the city for good.

With a deep inhale she takes a step back and fishes the key to the store out of her pocket, puts it on the counter with a soft clink and slips it over to the stranger.

"A very wise decision."

Without another word or acknowledgment, she steps out behind the bar and slowly makes her way to the exit. Before she can fully leave, however, the stranger has to get in another sentence:

"I do hope you remember to keep privacy matters a higher priority from now on, my dear. After all, you never know who might be watching."

She can only nod, locking eyes with him once again before she all but runs out of the store.

The next day she will walk past the store, finding it surrounded by Flaming Fists trying to put out the fires and talking about the charred corpses inside.

[confusedpan-da]

Hiya! I was if you would do a caregiver Toshinori x Age regressor male reader? Where the reader has a bad day and regresses to cope with it and Toshi supports him? Absolutely Fine if not! Hope your doing well and have a fab day!

Hi! Thank you for the request!!!! I’m doing quite alright! ^^ I hope you are doing well as well?

Text after the cut!

I’m like 90% sure that what I wrote isn’t what you aimed for BUT I’ll post it anyway for you because maybe you’ll still like it XD

I don’t really do ‘x reader’, however! I did write third person he/him with no further description of the character so it should be easy to project? I think? Help ( °̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥˟°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ )

Also I have never written Toshinori before. Be warned.

Warnings: exam stress/ black out + crying+ mentions of math exam (don’t worry, it can’t hurt you… I think)

He was so done. 

Not just done with everything going on but also done for. 

God, wasn’t math supposed to be logical?! All the stuff he had learned for weeks, all the exercises, all of that didn’t even scratch the surface of what their teacher was asking off of them in this exam. 

Or maybe the information was simply hiding somewhere in the depths of his brain? Does that mean he studied till literally 3 am for absolutely nothing?! He stressed out about it, missed out on meeting his friends and even neglected his own needs for absolutely nothing?! Or maybe this was exactly because of that? But it didn’t matter. 

What mattered however, was the still empty sheet and the fifteen minutes left on the clock. 

Think!

But thinking was hard when the words were turning nonsensical and the numbers were swimming along the page. He blinked. Not the time to cry! It’s time to write something. Just something! Literally anything! 

So he did. Putting down snippets of things and sentences he remembered from class. Were they even from math? He didn’t know but he wrote it down anyway. Then it was over. He gave his papers to the teacher, packed his bag and left. 

Now a ten minute break. 

It’s fine.

It’s fine.

Maybe he did write something right? He could have… or not… what if-

Don’t think. Don’t think about it. It fine. It’s okay. It’s fine. 

“Careful there young student!”, his body grew stiff. No. Not the time. He’s not here!

“Is everything alright young boy? Is there a problem? Threat not because I’m here!”, god damn it. Finally he dared looking up to the figure in front of him. The figure he had just almost bumped into and that’s his biggest idol. 

All Might. 

He could see his own surroundings starting to blur. No, wait, he was tearing up. He quickly tried to hide it, turning around, wanting to make a run for it. He didn’t want his idol to see him like this. But he forgot to take into account that the man he just met had made it his life mission to help people in need. And if he wanted to admit it or not, he did look the part. He probably did look like a helpless little kid right now. At least he felt like it. This was just too big. 

He sniffed as a large hand was softly placed on his shoulder, prompting him to stop in his movements. 

“My, what happened to make you cry like that young one?”, he hated this. Why did this man need to behave like a parental figure to just everyone? Even people he didn’t know. Why did he have to just call people like that? Why did he-

The dam broke and he couldn’t fight the tears anymore. 

“Oh- oh… erm… hey it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me young one!”, but he continued to cry. There was no stopping it. How could he? He failed the exam, he met his idol and couldn’t stop embarrassing himself. He lost control and couldn’t gain it back. It was too big. He felt too small. This was simply unfair. 

“Erm… would you like a hug?”, and he found himself nodding. Shortly after he was held in secure arms. A hand was soothingly rubbing his back and he sniffed again. 

“It’s alright young one. It’s alright.”

“I- I’m so sorry.”, he pressed out against the man’s shirt. 

“Now now, don’t be! It is my job to rescue people! If from villains or other things doesn’t matter.”

He melted further into the hug. Suddenly limp and feeling tired beyond believe. So tired. From the crying his head hurt and his nose was stuffy. He sniffed and the old hero brought some distance between them to reach into his pocket. A paper tissue was given to him shortly after. 

“It’ll be okay young one! I am here.”

[cardinalec0pia]

The Papas deaths from copia's perspective?

this turned into a longer-than-intended introspective, i hope you enjoy! i apologize for any formatting errors, i’ll try to fix that when i’m on my laptop. (cw: mild descriptions of gore, i tried to keep it brief)

It was an interesting type of idolization.

One step removed from being a part of the Ghost project, but one step above being just another fan in a room adorned with tour posters. Copia wasn’t sure how he felt about it—he wasn’t sure how he felt about much of anything, in fact. His entire life had been characterized by a willingness to please others. He had never considered that that willingness might have translated as ambition.

Once, Copia’s heart had swelled just to see his “Employee of the Month” plaque up on the abbey wall.

How far he had come.

-⛧-

In his heart, the Cardinal must have always known it had to end like this. The former Papas were loose ends, fraying strings that had to be cut loose.

Still. The sight of their bodies was not something he would ever forget.

His anxious stomach churned as he stood pressed against the wall, watching the Ghouls wheel the old corpses of Papas I and II away. Two men who had served as staples of the Satanic Church for so long, now reduced to nothing more than lifeless flesh. He remembered spinning their vinyls endlessly, down at his own abbey. Watching video after video of their rituals.

No more.

From within the empty room beside him, two more Ghouls were doing something horrible to Papa III’s body. Copia closed his eyes against the sickening sounds of flesh parting, resisting the urge to clap his gloved hands to his ears, like he had done as a child when the world became too much.

Whatever happens now, you are involved.

The thought came, unbidden and yet deadly certain, into his mind. Whether he continued to be the Cardinal, whether he was promoted to Papa, whether he was further demoted to Papa Nihil’s errand boy. Satan’s plans for him were irreparably intertwined with that of the Emeritus blood line.

“Cardinal.” From the room, Papa Nihil’s rasping voice spoke his name. Copia adjusted his robes nervously, stepping over the stone threshold. Something heavy and soft was immediately thrust into his hands, and he instinctively took it before he could realize what it was.

When he looked down, Terzo Emeritus’s face stared back up at him.

“Satanas—” Copia wanted to drop Terzo, wanted to drop the head, but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t defile the Papa’s body more than it already had been, by letting his head collapse to the hard stone floor along with the rest of his body. “Oh Satan…oh Satan…”

Unaffected by the Cardinal’s panic, the elderly Emeritus waved him to follow. “Come, Cardinal. We have a photography shoot to do.”

-⛧-

He had three hours until the concert, but Cardinal Copia stood alone in the room holding his three predecessors’ bodies.

He wasn’t often allowed to be alone anymore, on tour. And he wasn’t quite sure he was alone now. Weren’t ghosts real? Couldn’t that creeping sense of dread in his stomach actually be the accusing eyes of the three brothers whose death had been facilitated by his very arrival?

Slowly, reverently, Copia placed his gloved hand on the glass casing holding Primo, and then Secondo, and finally Terzo. Terzo, who by all accounts should be standing here right now. He had accomplished more than any of them. And isn’t that what Sister Imperator had wanted all along? What could Copia do that Terzo couldn’t?

Almost unbidden, Copia began to speak, gazing down at the perfectly-folded hands of Papa Emeritus the Third. He could still feel the weight of that head, so carefully-curated in life, held in his hands. his clumsy hands had smeared the papal paint applied after death, although everything was picture-perfect now that the tour needed it to be.

“How far I’ve come.” There was no triumph in his voice, no pride. It rang with the hollowness, like an empty cavern. “How far.

“I never thought it would end like this, you know? I never thought you would end like this, any of you.” He turned, facing Primo, Secondo, whose reign had shaped his formative years. “Well. At first, I never thought. But I suspected, by the end. By your end.”

Copia closed his eyes, but opened them quickly again. He felt too much like another corpse that way.

“I…Well, I.” The words died on his lips, but he forced them out anyways. “I’m not sure how to feel about you all being…gone. I never felt much of any way about anything, you know?” He laughed—it sounded flat.

“No matter how I feel, I just want to tell you…too late, I know…that I—”

“Papa? Sorry—I mean, Cardinal?” A Nameless Ghoul stepped into view at the entrance to the chamber. His bug-eyed mask tilted to the side, like a curious cat, and Copia pulled his hand from Primo’s glass coffin like it burned.

“Yes, Sodo?”

“We’re gonna run through the choreography. She’s looking for you.”

Copia inclined his head. “I’ll be there in two minutes. Thank you.”

The ghoul scuttled away, tail hidden down the back of his pants, and Copia regarded the coffins with a pale face. Being called Papa here, amongst the remnants of the last Papas, felt so wrong it made him faintly nauseated.

Carefully, concentrating on each step, Copia walked slowly to the entranceway of the chamber. He paused there, looking back at the three, doomed, dead men.

“I know I do not deserve this, no. But…as I said. How far I’ve come. And now I…cannot go back. Never to return, like my song, eh?” The words left his lips with a weight attached to them. Never to return.

Copia raised his hand in the weak approximation of a wave.

“Goodbye, Papas.”

[fromdevcom]

It’s hard to underestimate the valuable impact of digital transformation on the healthcare industry. With a variety of tech solutions used by practitioners and their patients, medical services have become not just more accessible, but also more accurate and effective. In this article, we are going to provide you with some useful information about marketplace platforms and their positive impact on healthcare. And for sure, offer some mind-blowing examples of how such solutions can be used on a brilliant example of an Uber-like app for doctors developed by a trusted technology partner and software development company Emerline.  Marketplace Platform: IntroductionTo start with, let’s define a marketplace platform to create a clear picture of what it is and why healthcare providers may need it. Wikipedia defines a marketplace platform as a type of e-commerce site where product or service information is provided by multiple third parties. It’s also mentioned that such solutions can ‘streamline the production process.’In other words, marketplace platforms serve as a facilitator of exchanges between buyers and sellers. But that’s not all. The thing to mention here is that rentals, exchanges, negotiations, auctions, and other forms of interactions are also covered by these solutions. At the same time, interactions may involve a variety of members, including individuals, products, locations, projects, etc. To put it all together, marketplace platforms can find their way to any business that deals with customers and vendor relationships, including healthcare companies which are the focus of this article.  How To Use Marketplace Platform in Healthcare?While there are still a lot of concerns about the Coronavirus outbreak and we still live in the world where the pandemic dictates its rules, regular healthcare-related issues haven’t disappeared, and when (hopefully soon), the number of infected with COVID people get to a minimum, there still be a need in the optimization of healthcare. As any service providers, representatives of the healthcare industry will have to continue the competition, trying to find the golden mean between expectations of their customers and the cost of the services on offer. And considering the fact that today customers can get nearly anything in two clicks, this model will also be required in healthcare. Allowing to eliminate excessive services and pitfalls, crash the barriers within the organization, and increase customer satisfaction, a marketplace platform can serve as a great solution. So let’s look at some bright examples of how it can be used.  Health InsuranceWhen people want to ensure their well-being, get extra confidence in tomorrow, and keep anxiety associated with costs of medical services under control, generally, they choose insurance as a solution. But, as you know, insurance plans largely vary, and sometimes, choosing the best option is not as simple as it may seem at first, especially when taking into account the need in compliance with the regional healthcare reforms.Having a marketplace platform at hand, healthcare industry players can achieve a private insurance model which implies that there will be an intermediary between a healthcare company and its customers - an insurance provider. Furthermore, the company’s customers will be able to get exceptionally fast and accurate service, as the platform will automatically determine the best insurance plan for every individual in a few seconds, as well as allow them to avoid unnecessary fuss around the transactions.  TelehealthThe pandemic situation has resulted in a huge rise in telehealth services and it can be assumed that the tendency to use technologies for the provision of health information and services will rather remain at the same level or continue to increase. And here’s where marketplace platforms can come into play, offering the ability for remote healthcare services for people with chronic illnesses (remote management and those who need post-hospitalization support.

Also, marketplace platforms can be leveraged to schools for healthcare purposes, allowing students to get immediate consultation on their health in case they are feeling unwell. One more branch covered is preventive care.  ‘Uber’ Model Leveraged to HealthcareFollowing the same Uber scheme (schedule the ride - accept the price- receive information about the car and the driver), marketplace platforms can be used in healthcare to ensure extra convenience in service delivery. As we promised, there's a real-life example of such a solution developed by a software provider Emerline, it’s an Uber-like app for doctors that now allows its owner to outperform competitors by offering quick and easy-to-access medical service delivery.It’s a healthcare system for doctors that consists of a web app, mobile app, and custom EMR system with a user-friendly online editor for documents.And it’s not just an ordinary healthcare solution be the one adapted to the current epidemic situation. The product ensures the convenience of work for medical professionals and eases of use for patients requiring prompt medical help or Covid test. While the software provider is in the continuous process of the solution’s enhancement, even today it offers the client a range of competitive business benefits:Users of the app receive medical help in the shortest time, in the convenience of their homes and the simplicity of a mobile solution, together contributing to greater levels of loyalty and trust among patients.The convenience of the delivered system also positively impacts retention rates among the client’s employees.Group requests allow receiving large orders. For example, it could be a wedding, corporate event, banquet, etc., where guests are required to provide a negative RT-PCR test.The client can receive fees for the use of the app by third-party providers that operate in other states.The developed custom EMR system with an easy-to-use custom document editor can also be sold as a stand-alone solution to third-party providers.You can learn more about the app, its features, and the process of development here.  Supply AggregationBecause healthcare is not just about diagnostics and treatment, marketplace platforms can also be used as a means to gather other services offered by different providers (in different spheres) in one place, from teeth whitening procedures and beauty injections to birthmark removal treatments. For sure, this will contribute to a significant increase in customer satisfaction as there will be no more need in searching for the service and its provider for hours. Within a marketplace platform, a customer will be able to see a variety of service offerings with all the important details, whether it is location, price, provider’s experience, or rank. Sounds great, right? Sounds great, right? Want some examples? You are welcome to explore Emerline's portfolio!Bottom LineAs you can see, companies that leverage marketplace platforms to their businesses and enjoy a great bunch of competitive benefits. With a growing demand for the digitalization of services, including those related to healthcare, quite soon there will be no questions like ‘implement or not to implement. So, if you have a business connected to healthcare and think about the possible way of getting a competitive edge, consider a marketplace platform as the solution. But make sure to choose a reliable software provider with a proven track record of service delivery.

[ouran101]

hq!! ctt [log 1]

you are here | log two | three

an acronym for "Haikyuu!! Cross Team Match" for the 3DS. oh, how i love to start projects that i inevitably drop. but for now, i make a log because this is really hard. i'm having flashbacks to when i tried to fix the FE12 patch for NoA localizations... only for the solution to be "make a serenes forest account"

so here's rom hacking. from someone who doesn't code. this can only go well.

Step 1: extract files from game

easy. i already have a 3DS with custom firmware because why wouldn't you have one at this point, nintendo loves to kill everything they ever once loved

extra easy. i actually have a cartridge. back in the day of Fire Emblem Gay Fates, i used OOT3DS to use a launch method called HANS. it also let you bypass region lock. and then i never touched the game again because i was a plebian in japanese. now i am an elementary schooler.

First, search "3ds game hacking basic." thank you, reddit post. i recognize the "romfs" folder from the Gay Fates days.

Second, get confused as to whether I have GodMode9 or not. (Did not.)

Third, using the "Universal Updater" app on my 3DS, download "GodMode9" so I can actually do the steps listed on reddit.

Fourth, to actually access GodMode9, hold SELECT while booting 3DS and then you can follow the tutorial.

(You're gonna press B a lot to back back in the directory. To actually copy the romfs folder, make sure to scroll up to the "SDCARD" folder because the beginning is the /root folder.)

oh no these files are different than the ones listed in the table of the reddit post

Step 2: wtf are ".arc" files

After discovering that NARC =/= .arc files, I went down a long rabbit hole.

".arc" files are archived files, and every company has a different way of compressing these files. Oh no.

The default decompression pattern built into most of these tools is for Nintendo (NARC file), because duh you're on the 3DS

There is one extractor tool for some Capcom games like Monster Hunter and Resident Evil called ARCTool.

none of those worked :')

An important note is I tried using "Tinke," an old tool because it's for DS roms instead. I used it once for Princess Debut.

(Side note, I should really finish extracting all of those and upload them to Spriter's Resource.)

It took a long time tbh but this GBAtemp forum post helped to get to the next step.

As written in the forum post, grab the files to deal with the "ustarc" and "ustcomp" files. Search and get the "QuickBMS" thing also mentioned in the post.

Open a file using Notepad/++ to see which prefix is in the file. Using that same file in QuickBMS, choose the correct script that matched the prefix. Using it on romfs/main/tutorial/tutorial_upper.arc gives me... "tutorial_upper.arc." Huh.

Going back to Tinke, it told me that the file was originally a "ustc" file... like in "ustcomp." After using QuickBMS, Tinke now tells me it is a SARC file. That is suspiciously close to a NARC file.

Step 3: i hope SARC files exist

They do exist normally! Progress!!

The first search result of "SARC Tool" did not work for me. The second result of "SARC Extractor" did work, however. And it has a release on the right column! A boon for me, who doesn't code--hold on i'm gonna have to repack all these files after editing them.

...I hope SARC Tool works later, but anyways

Using SARC Extractor on the new tutorial_upper.arc gives me tutorial_upper/arc/blyt and tutorial_upper/arc/timg.

In the blyt folder, there are only two files called tu_a01_upper.bflyt and tu_title_upper.bflyt.

In the timg folder, there are 11 files all with the ending of .bflim.

Step 4: .bflyt and .bflim

A search of ".bflyt file" gives me this "(Switch) Layout Editor." It does work, but I also probably shouldn't mess around with this file if it's about a layout. That's not the goal here.

A search of ".bflim file" gives me "BFLIM Tool," but it doesn't work for me... (holds head in hands)

I do find "3dstools" and "3DSkit" but those require me to have Python. Which I don't. Because I don't code.

Out of desperation, I put all of these into something that didn't work with the compressed .arc files from before, called "Every File Explorer."

...Huh, it actually works! And the graphics are exactly what I thought they'd be!!

...But the buttons in each individual window are greyed out, which would've been really useful. By hovering over them, I can see that they are Save, Import, and Export. Damn.

Not to mention how all of them are in the wrong orientation and/or mirrored...

Well, it's time to try out 3DSkit, because it lists exactly what version of Python I need. There's just one thing.

Step 5: What is even in the romfs folder?

Yeah, maybe I should take inventory first. 3DSkit actually does a lot of files, so I should see what I can do with it. The main romfs folder actually has two folders: "main" and "test."

In the "main" folder, there are a whole bunch of folders which are self-explanatory, like "save_slot" and "mini_game." This is also where I got the tutorial_upper.arc file.

Most of the folders contain that compressed .arc file type. With the exception of...

common = .dat .arc .bffnt .incs

effects = .ptcl

mini_game = .arc .dat .bffnt

shader = .shbin .bch

sound = .arc .bcsar ...and has a folder named "stream" containing only .bcsar

vbl = .arc .bch

Now, I'm scared of the "test" folder because of one folder. The two folders in here are "fhq" and "script." The folder itself also has files in it, ending in arc, bch, ptcl, and incs.

The "fhq" folder just has another folder called "item", and going to that has three files that can probably be edited in Excel. Actually.

EnemyStateList.csv, ItemDataList.csv, and ItemDataTable.csv. When going through FE11/12 stuff, I saw something like this table, so it's not that unbelievable.

(Might need to restore that folder I deleted to doublecheck though. I'm not sure if they edited it, or if they romanized all the hira/katakana.)

Up next in log 2 because it's midnight now oh no: Step 5.5: oh god the "script" folder

Bonus: A GBATemp forum post was also suffering in BFLIM files, and they had tried a program called Kuriimu. I tried using it for compressed .arc files earlier, but got nothing. So I tried it out.

First, the Github release actually has three tools: Kuriimu, Kukkii, and Karameru. Kukkii is the one that deals with BFLIM files and it works omg

Second, Karameru can actually read the tutorial_upper.arc file that was made after using QuickBMS.

Third, I'm actually two versions behind for the Kuriimu trio, so I should go and update mine oops