#wow this is long holy shit

[starryalpacasstuff]

She Loves To Cook and She Loves to Eat: I can't summarize my love for it sufficiently

A while ago, I asked @lurkingshan for Japanese QL recs, and Tsukutabe was her first rec. And while I'm finally watching this significantly later than I expected to, I'm so glad I did. I watched both seasons as a whole, which turned out to be a good idea because while season one was good, season two was excellent.

I think, going into this show I expected it to be a simple, domestic show that was pretty much all fluff. And while it was all those things, it was so much more too. It's got a lot of hidden depth to it, particularly in terms of how mature and real it is.

Tsukutabe is many things, but at its core, it is a show about people being kind. It's about people receiving kindness and being kind to others in turn. From inviting someone to a home cooked meal to volunteering to cover overtime work, the characters in this show exemplify how much change you can bring by simply being kind. It's something that fills you with warm, fuzzy feelings as you watch.

It's also a show about healing. We get to see people who have very different relationships with food heal and develop them as the show progresses. One thing I loved about this show was that it consistently treated everyone's problems as equal, never downplaying any of them. Nagumo and Kasuga's problems and relationships with food are fundamentally opposing, but are also equal in that they are two sides of the same coin, and are treated as such. I nearly wept tears of joy at the balcony scene with Kasuga and Nagumo, which was absolutely beautifully handled.

The show delving into the pressures of family and society in regards to marriage hit extremely close to home in the best way possible. I really appreciated the realistic and relatable portrayal of people's views on marriage, in particular how the show delved into the relationships queer people have with marriage. The depiction of the common belief that queer relationships are less likely to last was also extremely familiar. My mother, who is more liberal than most Indians, once told me that an Indian lesbian she talked to said the problem with being gay in India is that, due to gay marriage not being legal, there is very little commitment in gay relationships. While I'm still slightly unsure of whether this was true, the point stands that this is a fairly prevalent belief amongst Asians who don't grab pitchforks and torches upon hearing the word gay. I really, really enjoyed how realistic this show is in this regard, because it made me feel so seen.

Kasuga and Nomoto's relationship was adorable. Watching them figure out their deeper feelings for one another, stumble into a confession and then figure out how to be in a relationship was delightful. I was extremely pleased that there was little to no miscommunication, and that both of them acted like mature adults with decent communication skills (what a surprise!). And finally, they had an excellent dynamic that felt very real.

Another thing I absolutely adored was how much focus this show gave to the food, to the point where it was practically the third lead. I mean, I'm sure that it's to be expected from a show called she loves to cook and she loves to eat, but I still found myself genuinely surprised by the amount of attention that was given to the food in the show. Whenever food was cooked and eaten, we were presented with generous shots of both, which, as a lover of both cooking and eating, I greatly appreciated.

This show is amazing in many areas; the food, Kasuga and Namoto's slowly blossoming relationship, and the fantastic explorations of relationships with food. But, what really stole the show for me was the supporting cast. Each character that they introduced was someone who was at a different place in their life, with a different perspective that they brought with them. And, most importantly, as I mentioned before, they were so kind. The interactions between most of the characters were incredibly wholesome, and the story did an amazing job of showing us as much about the supporting characters as it could in the limited screen time they had.

Not only was Sayama a consistent, reliable support and voice of reason to Namoto, she had her own issues that she regularly discussed with Namoto, because that's what friends do. Too often in QL do friends of the main characters seem to only exist to listen to their problems, provide (typically questionable) advice and further the plot. I loved how the story subtly showed us how marriage pressure affect Sayama as well, who seems to be searching for a boyfriend only because that is what society expects of her, which is likely the reason she cannot find anyone. Kasuga's coworker had a wonderful mini arc of her own, and despite nearly all of it occurring offscreen, what little we got was absolutely brilliant. The scene wherein she and Kasuga talked about having to care for elders has to be one of my favourites in the entire show. In this, she was probably one of the first elders to ever encourage Kasuga to act with her own wellbeing in mind. Similarly, Kasuga was likely one of the first people to tell her to do what makes her happy. The fact that they are, in way, speaking in place of each other's loved ones only makes this moment even more of a tearjerker. The final scene wherein we see her looking for a job was delightful; it was the perfect conclusion to her story. Yako perfectly embodied the older, experienced queer and I loved her so much. It's clear that she's not had an easy time being a lesbian and asexual, but she overcame the challenges and came out smiling. Although I do wish that the show had explored her asexuality more, and perhaps even expanded on her story, I also understand that time constraints wouldn't have allowed for it; and besides, there's a certain poignancy to the conclusion she got. Honestly though, I'd absolutely love to see a spinoff based on Yako's story, exploring the hurdles she's overcome and maybe even seeing her find love (season 3 anyone?). As for Nagumo, I don't think I even need to say anything. She had a wonderful arc that was extremely well written, and by the end of the story she had blossomed into a better version of herself. I also loved her friendship with Kasuga, how the two of them grew closer over time and helped each other with their respective problems. The wide range of characters helped emphasize the show's message of how everyone is different, and how it is these differences that make our world a better place. Even Nomoto's coworker is an example of this, as someone who seems to have little to no interest in romance, who doesn't hesitate to take up the overtime work so that the two girls can enjoy Valentine's Day. (I'm headcanoning him as aroace and you can pry this from my cold, dead hands).

Found family is a trope I adore, and this show has to be one of the most beautiful executions of this trope I've ever seen. Watching Namoto and Kasuga build a little family for themselves—one that accepts everyone as they are—was a very healing experience.

Another thing I really liked about this show is how realistically conflict was handled. On the most part, the show did not antagonize characters. The man who told Kasuga to drink beer is treated as simply an annoying person one stumbled across (a common occurrence), the cooks at the restaurant make an effort by offering different sizes of rice portions after serving Kasuga a smaller portion due to her gender and both Nomoto and Kasuga acknowledge that it was not the real estate agent's fault for mistaking them to be friends. Nomoto's mother is slightly overbearing and conservative, but she clearly cares for Nomoto, something that hit very close to hom. I appreciated that the show portrayed this so well. Most people are not evil and out to get you, they're just people living their own lives based upon the beliefs they've built up over the course of their life, and most of the time it is not worth our time to get worked up over it.

Meanwhile, Kasuga's father is perhaps the only actual antagonist of the story. I really liked how this plotline was handled because of how real it felt. The show plays out exactly according to the actual thought process someone would have in a situation like this, in particular an asian; that our parents are products of their time and that while we wouldn't condemn them for their actions, the same does not make us responsible for dealing with them either. Side note while I'm on this, I was also very happy that the show did not compare Nomoto and Kasuga's different methods of dealing with family, because not only were they in different situations, the show also seems to emphasize that neither choice is wrong, and that it is up to each individual to choose their own path. Going back to what I said about being glad that the show did not compare Kasuga and Nagumo's situation, this seems to develop into a theme for the show. The show is filled with different people with different lives and different perspectives, and never once does it try to compare any of them, which I find to be a beautiful message.

If there's any criticism I have of this show at all, it's only that it's probably not the best pick for a binge. The slow plot, laid-back feel and fact that each problem that arises is resolved in the same episode makes it an excellent candidate for a show you watch a few episodes of every day. Unfortunately, I placed myself in an 8 hour flight with the downloaded episodes being my only source of entertainment, so I did end up binging most of it. It's definitely not bad as a binge, I certainly enjoyed watching it, I simply feel like watching it slowly is a far better choice. All in all, this is a wonderful show. It's cozy and comforting, and it's very realistic and mature in a way that's quite refreshing. Watching it made me feel warm inside and I'm so glad I finally watched it.

[itslilacokay]

prepare!

for context: i pitched an idea to the ava tumblr community about a day where we can just draw chosen happy, eventually it turned into a week!

the only real purpose of chosenweek is to draw chosen happy after all the shit he's been through, thats it! its the week of wholesome chosen art, to put it simply

note you can also include other silly sticks, not just tco! though remember what this week is all about heh

ACK, forgot to mention that you can draw, write.... uh etc. stuff for this event!!

the REAL start of chosenweek will start arounnnd 12am gmt+8 (when it turns october 28 in my time), this post is only for preparation

speaking of, i also made some prompts for the event, some of them were suggested by the community! youre welcome to use this though take note that you dont have to finish all of them and that this list is ENTIRELY OPTIONAL because i know sticktober is still going on

this promptlist was only made for fun, btw so have fun

oh yeah to anyone wondering, if you want to post anything related to this event the tag is just simply #ava chosenweek!

participating in this silly mini event the community thought up is your choice btw!!! not forcing you to join or anything!!

[deoidesign]

Quick re-do of a 4 year old piece

[lanadelreis]

drake: haha i’m gonna diss kendrick

kendrick lamar’s honest to god reaction:

[starfinss]

Efflorescent — Tighnari

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Genshin Impact

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Tighnari + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 8,495

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: Triggered by unseasonably cool weather, Avidiya forest is alive with rare flora. Upon going to investigate it, you and Tighnari get more than you bargained for. 

It was supposed to be an ordinary expedition. And by all accounts, it was, until you found that stupid clearing.

The weather that week was uncharacteristically cool for Avidiya Forest, as ushered in by a passing thunderstorm, and the change in temperature had caused flora that rarely bloomed to come to life, painting the forest with splashes of color, and it wasn’t until a few days after the storm that you began to take notice of the unusual plants.

So when Tighnari had rushed to your room that morning, rousing you from your slumber, you were just as excited as he was to go look for rare samples.

The conversation as you walked into the tree line was full of quiet excitement, the clinking of the glass sample jars in your rucksack almost musical against the morning stillness. You were used to the characteristic balmy humidity that was omnipresent in the rainforests of Sumeru, and the cool breeze felt lovely against your skin. The sky was perfect blue, cloudless and painted with streaks of gold and marigold hues as the sun rose.

The Akademiya would never allow this.

You smiled to yourself at the thought, knowing full well how strenuous it would be to get permission to do this if you were still with the Akademiya. You’d have to talk to your instructors, get permission, write a paper, write another paper, write a proposal, and the list goes on. It was all far too much for you, when all you ever wanted was to go out and discover.

“What are you thinking?” Tighnari asked, head cocked slightly to the side, eyes inquisitive.

“Just about how nice this is,” you replied, pulling your rucksack up higher on your back.

“It is quite beautiful,” Tighnari said fondly, “I wonder if we will find any Avidiya Lilies.”

You hummed in assent, your interest showing in the way your eyes lit up. You’d only seen the flower he mentioned as a bud, coiling along vines encircling trees. It only bloomed when it was cool enough, just after a storm, and since the cool had lingered, you were wondering if the flower had remained in bloom, just as Tignnari was wondering.

Small animals skittered past you as you walked, shroomboars and foxes paying you little mind, as they were used to the presence of the forest rangers such as yourself and Tighnari. You loved it out there; totally at one with nature, and filled with a sense of peace like no other.

Avidiya Forest was like a living organism, so full of vibrancy and life, awash with color and all sorts of smells. If you were hungry, you could stop and forage for mushrooms. If you were thirsty, there were plenty of clear streams you could drink from. Nature provided, and that was one of your favorite things about it. You took a deep lungful of forest air as you walked, a smile spreading across your face.

“There!” Tignnari cried, his voice hushed as he knelt beside the path, “creeping silkweed.”

You knelt beside him, studying the small, pale blue blossoms, which were blooming on a fallen log, attached to a delicate vine. Your fingers brushed against the fragile petals, and you withdrew your shears from your pack.

Carefully, you snipped off a segment of the vine, packing some soft dirt and clear water from a nearby stream into the jar before adding the sample. With a satisfying click, you screwed the lid closed, replacing the jar in the rucksack.

“I’ve only seen those in bloom at twilight, and even then, they often stray closed. It’s amazing to see them in bloom right now. When the conditions are right, they’re supposed to glow. It’s very beautiful.”

You stared at the remaining flowers on the vine, admiring the way the pale blue of the petals tapered off into white the closer it got to the soft yellow of the center. Veins of deep indigo laced up and along the petals, a beautiful contrast to the gentle color.

You stood when Tighnari did, listening intently to the information and facts he was giving you, happy to have the field experience rather than just looking at drawings of plants in a dusty textbook.

Tighnari looked like a painting in the fresh morning light. The dark of his hair was a sharp contrast to the lush green around you, the chartreuse of his bangs elegantly framing his pale, delicate face. Your face felt warm as you watched him, and when he saw you looking, he gave you a friendly smile.

“Is there something on your mind?” He asked gently, his eyes genuine, and you blushed, tearing your gaze away from his face.

“No, I was just listening. You were talking about the hypanthium of the silkweed blossoms?”

Tighnari nodded, eyes lighting up as he continued on talking about the various parts of the flower, and you went right on listening.

It wasn’t until about two hours later, when you were sitting down to rest and refresh yourselves when you caught your first lungful of something new.

You paused mid-gulp as you drank from your waterskin, moving the spout away from your lips as you took another deep breath. It was something you’d never smelled before, like jasmine and lavender, vanilla and lemongrass. It was indescribably scrumptious, smelling of earth and flowers, of your favorite incense, all at once, shifting, sending your senses into overdrive, even if it was still rather faint, requiring several deep breaths to get another whiff of; the kind of scent that you had to take several lungfuls to fully appreciate, or to even place. You had to wonder, out of academic curiosity and for more selfish reasons, where exactly that wonderful scent was coming from.

“I see that you smell it, too,” Tighnari mused.

You nodded, and suddenly, you were aware of how nice Tighnari’s voice was. It was musical against your ears, making you smile.

“It’s new,” he continued, frowning, “I’ve never noticed it before, and with my oversensitive olfactory system, it would have been very evident.”

“Is it dangerous, do you think?” You asked.

“I doubt it,” Tighnari said, glancing sidelong at you, “do you know of anything that would smell like this?”

You shook your head. “It smells like… like many things. All of them are wonderful. Maybe it’s supposed to draw in certain insects, or animals. I don’t know what made it this strong. That’s interesting.”

Tighnari’s brows pushed together, and he was clearly deep in thought.

You’d never noticed just how good looking he was before. You already knew that Tighnari was handsome, that was obvious. You were attracted to him, as many undoubtedly were, and he was a very dear friend. But right now, lit by the sun filtering through the canopy above, he looked more incredible than anything you’d ever seen. With him this close to you, you could smell the earthen scent of his soap, and—

“I’d like to take a sample.”

His voice snapped you out of your staring, and you coughed to hide your embarrassment.

Get ahold of yourself. Think about all of that when he isn’t less than a foot away. Collei already teases you enough.

Truthfully, you wanted a sample, too. You were always hungry for new information, and this was no exception. You eagerly pulled a sample jar from your rucksack, passing it to Tighnari. He sniffed the air once, then a second time, before motioning for you to follow him.

“I learned about plants like this in the Akademiya,” Tighnari explained, “they’re bait, like you said, for small animals and insects. I don’t think the plant is carnivorous, it’s just a way to spread the pollen around, since the scent is nearly irresistible. I’ve never heard of it affecting humans, or my species, this strongly before, however.”

You remembered something like that in a textbook, but the name of the flower in question escaped you. Also, the flower you were thinking of usually affected animals roughly the size of a squirrel or a fox, and not the size of a fully grown person.

The scent got stronger as you walked, off the beaten path and into a clearing.

You stopped after stepping past Tighnari, your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight before you. There was a waterfall tumbling off a cliff and into a clear, glimmering pool. The pool was lined with stones worn smooth, as well as large slabs of slate. Patches of young grass were peeping through the cracks and bleeding into the small, surrounding meadow. Soft, golden sunlight was scattering through the leaves, casting speckled patterns across the grass, gleaming on the water.

Finally, there, growing on the stone wall, nestled in a curtain of vines beside the waterfall, was a blanket of lotus-like flowers. They were reddish pink, some tinged purple, with multiple layers of petals circled around a small yellow center. Filaments, thickly coated in pollen, were protruding from the flowers’ centers, and you imagined that this was the most likely cause of the powerful scent.

“There they are,” Tignnari said, and you were suddenly hyper aware of his athletic form at your back. The scent of that soap you noted earlier was mingling deliciously with the overpowering fragrance of the flowers, with the scent of his skin, which was somehow all you could even think about now.

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat and turning to face your companion, “any idea what they are?”

His brows furrowed, lip catching between his teeth as he pondered your question, and you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring how unbearably attractive that simple action was. You swallowed thickly, turning away from him about three quarters, just to give yourself some time to breathe.

If only you could remember the effect those flowers had on such animals, but, as it often happens in times of need, you were drawing a blank.

It was Tighnari’s turn to clear his throat, and the intonation made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

“Shears, please,” he said, and you forced yourself to nod as you passed them to him, a jolt of electricity passing up your spine when his fingertips brushed against yours. He clearly felt it too, because he looked at you for a handful of seconds before gingerly pulling away with the shears.

Blushing, you trailed after him as he approached the tangle of flowers.

Tighnari’s eyes were lovely. Two toned, fading from brown into forest green; eyes like you’d never seen before. They were one of your favorite things about him, among other things. The cut of his jaw, the way the space between his eyebrows creased when he was focused, as he was now, carefully taking a snipping of a couple of the fragrant blossoms.

You forgot to breathe until he handed you back the jar, and that was when you got your first direct hit of the scent. It was like being kicked in the chest in its intensity. It made you dizzy, as you cradled the blooms in your hand, putting soft dirt and water into the jar, placing the flowers down and fastening the top. You put the jar into your rucksack as carefully as you could with your hands shaking as badly as they were before you gently pushed the bag aside and sat down on the soft grass.

Your head was spinning. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears, like how you can after you’ve been running.

“I need to rest,” you said.

“It’s the scent,” Tighnari said, his voice lower than it was before, “something is… wrong.”

Oh, Gods. You were getting warm. And not normal Sumeru weather warm, worryingly, feverishly warm. You pulled your shawl off, draping it over your rucksack and rolling up your sleeves.

Tighnari rolled his shoulders back, softly breathing as he sat down beside you, and you could feel that heat spread across your body at an alarming pace. You could hardly take your eyes off him, and you watched with rapt attention as his tongue flicked out to wet his bottom lip. What were you feeling?

Everything was warm and getting even warmer; everything was hot, and you felt like you were suffocating.

“Stop that,” you blurted, “stop— everything.”

Tighnari looked puzzled. “Stop— stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

The crease between his eyebrows was back as he studied your face, and you felt yourself grow miserably warmer.

“You’re perspiring,” he said, softly, “I am, too. Whatever this is, it is affecting both of us. Your breathing is accelerated, as well.”

You realized it was. Your breath was coming in quick, shallow bursts, and you consciously tried to take deeper breaths. You quailed away in surprise and needless alarm when he reached for you, and when he pressed two of his fingers to your pulse point, you felt like an electric shock went down your body, stronger than when he’d touched you before when he took the shears.

“Your pulse is very quick,” he noted, “but still strong. It’s much too cool for you to be suffering from heat stroke, but it is hot out here all of a sudden, isn’t it?”

You nodded absently.

“Mydriasis,” he muttered, “I suspect with myself, as well. Archons, it really is too warm.”

Sure enough, the dueling color of his irises was thickly ringed around the pale circumference of his pupils, which were widely dilated. His breath was quick, matching yours, and you felt heat begin to simmer beneath your skin, nearly suffocating where his hand still lingered, though gloved, against the skin of your throat.

Your own gaze fell to his lips, soft and full, and you realized just how badly you wanted to kiss him. You’d wanted to kiss him before, in several instances, but doing so would irreparably damage your platonic friendship, which was the last thing you wanted. Now, you could not give less of a damn. You’d give anything to feel his mouth against yours, to feel his skin—

Stop. Stop, Archons help me.

“The scent,” Tighnari said, voice lightly breathless, “there’s a-a correlation between the scent and these symptoms, I think the microgametophytes in the air, combined with the odor is having a physiological effect, on the both of us.”

It took you a handful of seconds to process his words, because the sound of his voice was suddenly the most distracting thing in the entire world; no song you’d ever heard could compare, and the heat beneath your skin was becoming nearly unbearable.

“Pollen,” you said, your brain catching up, “you think it’s the pollen?”

“Yes,” Tighnari said, the hand on your throat dropping to the curve of your shoulder, “it resembles oxytocin, in a very heavy dose, coupled with accelerated lutrophin production, driving reproductive urges.”

It clicked in your head.

Your face turned several shades of red, and you nodded once. Of course. What better way to spread the pollen than to draw in whatever unsuspecting animal, slather the stuff on its fur or whiskers when it leans in for a sniff, and then passing it along when said animal gives in to its reproductive urges and—

“A-an aphrodisiac.”

Tighnari’s eyes darted away from your face, then back to meeting your own gaze.

“Correct.”

The implication hung heavy in the already suffocating air as the sounds of your breathing overlapped, interrupted only by the thrum of the waterfall.

“T-the water,” Tighnari said, his voice strained, “we should—”

“Tighnari,” you said, addressing him, and you intended to continue speaking, until you noticed the way his breath hitched as you said his name. It sent a wave of suffocating, shameful arousal down your body, and you tried your best to ignore it. His hand against your skin was searing, even through the glove, and it took everything in you not to reach out and touch him.

Oh Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods—

“The water,” you repeated, finally, your eyes flicking to the waterfall, “right. Let’s wash off.”

You figured that this plan was flawed, as the water was probably saturated in the pollen, but you were so overheated that as you hurried to unfasten your clothing, the feel of the air against your skin was a mercy. You pulled at the various buckles fastening your Forest Ranger uniform to your body, pulling off your blouse, then your shorts and boots, but as you did, something caught your eye as Tignnari moved to unfasten the toga he wore over his clothing.

There, straining at the front of his trousers, was a distinct shape against the dark fabric. It was hidden by the excess cloth before, but now that this was gone, the evidence of the pollen’s effects was more than evident.

But you weren’t the only one with wandering eyes.

You realized that Tighnari’s eyes were riveted to your bra-covered chest, to the now-exposed skin of your waist, and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. An exquisite flush painted his perfect, pale cheeks as he realized you saw him looking.

Quickly, he pulled off his gloves, then tugging his sweatshirt over his head, leaving him bare chested, and oh, you were an absolute goner. His chest was much more muscular than you imagined (and not that you did), toned and lithe and lean, with hard ridges of muscle in all the right places. Of course, he’d have a great body, you reasoned, with all the activity he does, and like the other rangers, you were certain he stuck to the strength training and cardio work you were supposed to do to keep in shape.

You tore your hungry gaze from his body, standing up to step into the water, which was colder than you expected, reaching your mid thigh as you stepped into the pool. You tried to focus on you and not how the space between your thighs was aching, and you stretched your arms over your head with a breathless sigh.

A soft splash filled the air, and a ripple traveled across the surface of the water as Tignnari stepped into the pool as well. When you turned on instinct to look at him, you wished you hadn’t, because you were helpless, your eyes raking down his defined chest, lingering on the thin threads of battle scars, his body tapering off into a trim waist, where his underwear hung low on his hips. It took every ounce of your waning willpower not to jump him right there.

His erection was even more evident through the thin cotton of his underwear, and you realized you could see the flush of pink through the now damp fabric as it clung to his skin, and absently, sinfully, you wondered what it would be like to put your mouth—

No, no, no—

But then your focus was brought straight back to him as he moved closer, his hand reaching out to catch a droplet of water traveling down the curve of your waist with his thumb. His eyes weren’t shy with their wandering, and you knew it was the pollen talking, but Gods, it felt nice, for him to look at you like you were the most exquisite thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“I-I apologize,” he whispered, but he didn’t sound apologetic.

His hand remained on your waist, fingers tracing a pattern against your skin, causing you to shiver, and your own hand rose to catch his wrist, stopping him. The feel of his skin on yours was like someone applying a salve to a burn, and you had to stop yourself from sighing embarrassingly in pleasure at the sensation.

“Terribly sorry,” he said, sounding even less sorry, and his voice was lower than you’d ever heard it, “I— I can’t seem to help myself. I will go to the far end of the pool—”

“It’s fine,” you said, a little too quickly, your voice light and breathy.

You realized a little too late that you were moving closer to him, and by the time you had, you could feel his breath fanning against your skin, sending violent shivers down your body.

There was a warning in Tighnari’s eyes, but not a particularly firm one, that disappeared with every passing second as his gaze fell to your lips, raking down your body, and you almost lost your composure when he caught his lower lip lightly between his teeth again.

“May I—” Tighnari asked, finally, a note of need leaking into his voice, “may I kiss you?”

Your breath left your lungs in a dizzying swoop as you gave in.

“Gods, yes.”

That was all it took for him to surge forward, his lips connecting with yours more gently than you expected, but that didn’t stop you from tangling your hands into his hair, pulling his body close to your own. You felt his arms wind around your waist, holding you flush to him, and when your tongue swiped along his lower lip, he didn’t hesitate to give you access.

And everything rapidly went downhill from there.

The kiss was messy and uncoordinated, your tongue tangling with his, and you felt one of his hands rise to cup the base of your skull, holding your mouth to his, only separating every so often if only to reconnect. You were suddenly being crowded against the edge of the pool, his arms going on either side of your body to cage you in. Your thighs parted as his hips moved against yours, and he groaned lowly into your mouth when you finally made contact with him where he needed it most.

He was so hard. It had to be uncomfortable to be confined by the little fabric he was wearing, and you wanted so badly to touch him, but he beat you to it, one of his hands trailing up your body to palm your breast through your bra before fumbling with the clasp. You were about to lift a hand to assist him when he managed to unhook the garment, and you broke the kiss briefly to discard it.

“I can’t stop,” Tighnari mumbled against your lips, breathless.

“Then don’t,” you urged, and Tighnari’s grip on your body tightened.

His palm felt like perfection on your flesh, and you whined into his mouth when he rolled your nipple between two fingers, tugging gently and making you arch your back into his touch. His hands were calloused from years of working with them, with the soil, with his bow, and the rough skin sent delightful tingles up your spine.

Your hand slid down his torso, feeling the dips and curves of his defined abdominals, and you reveled in the sound of his breath hitching, his muscles tensing as your fingers crept closer to where the waistband of his underwear met skin.

“Can I—” You started, and he nodded, reconnecting your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Please,” he panted, “please.”

You’d never seen Tighnari anything but composed, so to see him like this was as disarming as it was arousing. You palmed him gently through the thin fabric, and at the sound of his breath catching sharply in his throat, you pressed a little harder.

That elicited a more extreme reaction. Tighnari groaned against your lips, a sound that prompted a cry of your own, and his hips pushed forward against your hand. You squeezed him through the fabric, your fingers dipping past and grazing just the very base of him, making him shudder, a stricken hiss escaping his lips. Fascinated by his reaction, you teased the clearly sensitive flesh with the soft tips of your fingers until he caught your wrist.

“Don’t tease me,” he murmured, his voice firm.

Tighnari guided your hand to his waistband, and you slowly pulled it down to tug him free. You paused for a moment, breath unsteady as you took in the feeling of him against your palm. He was thick and heavy, and long enough to make you dizzy with arousal. He groaned softly as you explored the new territory, mapping out the spots you knew contained the most nerve endings with your fingertips. Finally, you wrapped your fingers around him, stroking slowly.

“Oh,” he gasped, eyes half lidded as he broke away from your mouth, “oh.”

You rested your forehead against his as you looked down to where your hand was encircling him, and you felt him throb against your palm, the tip of his dick visibly twitching. You bit back a moan as his breath expelled itself through gritted teeth.

“Rub the tip— yeah.”

An obscene moan fell from his lips as you slowly circled the tip of his cock with your thumb, and you spread the leaking precum around the sensitive flesh, aiding in your motions as you stroked him, long and slow.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he muttered, eyes slipping closed.

Gradually, you sped up, squeezing where you observed that he liked it, and he grabbed at your body, hands on your breasts, the curve of your ass, and you knew he was unable to focus on anything other than the sensations he was feeling at that moment. He let out a quick, stuttering exhale as you squeezed gently, biting back a groan.

You picked up the pace, and he was canting his hips along with your hand, his breath leaving his lips mixed with an incoherent praise as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth sinking into the soft skin of your shoulder. He laved the damaged flesh with his tongue, soothing it, and you couldn’t help but moan, thighs rubbing together in a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure building there.

Tighnari’s mouth trailed down your torso, his lips closing around one of your nipples, and you gasped, back arching, your free hand flying to his hair, the sensitivity making your head spin. You knew it was the pollen heightening your senses like this, but Archons be damned if you weren’t enjoying it. You wanted him inside of you more than you’d wanted anything in your life. You wanted anything inside of you. And so, when he pressed his palm between your thighs, his head rising to lock his lips against yours, it was like he’d read your mind.

“Dammit, You’re so wet,” he seethed, breath heavy, expelling through his teeth, “I can smell it; how aroused you are. You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?”

Your face turned pink, but you nodded, squirming against his hand as he pushed your panties aside, his fingers finally sinking inside of you.

“Good,” Tighnari said, breathlessly, “I’ve wanted this, too.”

You cried out into the crook of his neck as his fingers filled you, stretching you so perfectly, and you were helpless as you ground your hips down, your fingers tightening around Tighnari’s cock, drawing out a needy groan.

He wanted this, you dully registered, just like you did. That meant he liked you, he felt the same, he— oh Gods you couldn’t think.

“I love the way you touch me,” he whispered, his voice hushed and chaste, “don’t stop, please.“

He whispered more hushed praises into the crook of your neck, hips bucking as you stroked him faster, and his thumb found your clit, making your legs tremble. His fingers weren’t very practiced, but he knew where he was touching, finding every spot inside of you with a certainty that made your knees feel weak, and you gasped sharply, inner walls fluttering around his fingers, making him groan. The pressure on your clit increased, making your hips jump, your heartbeat pounding in your ears, and it wasn’t long before you were grinding down onto his hand like a bitch in heat.

“Tighnari,” you gasped, head falling back.

“Our tactile receptors are affected by the pollen,” Tighnari said, ever the academic, even like this, “making us more sensitive, increasing oxytocin, making everything more intense.”

You were barely able to formulate a response, your brain fogged with desire so strong it was making you dizzy.

“Just don’t stop,” you gasped, back arching into his chest,

He curled his fingers inside of you, making you cry out.

“Not a chance.”

All eloquence and academic vocabulary flew out the window as you stroked him quicker and quicker, his words replaced with moans of ecstasy mixed with your name, muffled by your skin or filling the open air. You felt him twitch against your palm, his hips bucking harder, and from the deliriously pleasured expression on Tighnari’s face, you knew he was close.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “don’t stop, please, please—”

He was going to cum, and you could tell by the way his thrusts grew uneven, eventually stilling to let you control the pace, working him closer and closer to his release, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Ah… shit,” Tighnari blurted, his jaw clenching, face laced with a stricken expression, “don’t stop, I’m so close—”

You wanted to tell him you weren’t going to stop, but all you could manage was a desperate moan as you ground down on his hand, your head falling back at the divine pleasure, and Tighnari’s groans of ecstasy grew louder, mixing almost incoherently with your name as you continued to jerk him off, your rhythm in tandem with his own as he worked his fingers inside of you.

Your climax was creeping up on you faster than you wanted it to, urged on by the increased sensitivity from the pollen. Your free hand knotted in his hair, your fingers raking upwards to wrap around the base of his right ear, making him groan.

“M-my ears— Not usually that sensitive,” Tighnari stammered, puzzled, his expression hazy, “feels good normally, but not— oh.”

You hummed in assent, fingers rubbing where his ears met his scalp, making him cry out against your skin, the combination of sensations clearly overwhelming to him. His fingers were now curling inside of you, making your eyes roll back in your skull, hips moving with his hand as you squirmed in his hold.

All it took was one more squeeze at the base of his dick to send him over the edge.

“C-cumming, I’m cumming,” Tighnari’s gasped, and with a final buck of his hips, your fingers were coated with white, dripping down your knuckles, painting your stomach, and there was so much of it, hot against your skin. You worked him through his climax with sure, even strokes, and he wasn’t softening, even as you milked him dry.

The sounds he made were madly erotic, his face the perfect picture of ecstasy as he rode out his blissful high, his ears drooping to the sides of his head as his face pressed against your shoulder, teeth sinking into your skin once again.

He yanked your hand away abruptly, even as he continued to twitch, and you were suddenly on your back, laying at the side of of the pool, his hands tugging your panties down and off your legs. He held your thighs apart, pinning you in place as his mouth took the place his hand had been, his tongue hot against your cunt.

Your cries were far too loud, but you were beyond caring about volume as he held you down and devoured you, your clit trapped under his tongue, between his lips, and you were aching to be filled, but he wasn’t giving you that satisfaction, not yet. You were already so close, and all it took was that one final push before you toppled over the edge, sobbing his name, your hands knotting in his hair, but he didn’t even slow, not even as you convulsed under his touch.

Tighnari’s tongue flattened against your clit, dragging up in broad strokes, and you felt your head pitch back, gently knocking against the stones beneath it as you tried to close your thighs instinctively, but were barred from doing so. You felt Tighnari’s hands grab at the backs of your knees, hitching them over his shoulders as he moved closer.

“Please,” you cried, desperate and dizzy with torturous desire, “please, please, fuck me.”

You heard him, felt him snarl against your cunt, more animal than human as he sped up his pace, taking your clit into his mouth and sucking hard enough that it made stars dance across your blurry vision. You were suddenly cumming so hard that you couldn’t even breathe, your mouth wide open in a silent scream, back arched off the ground, your hands locked in a white knuckled grip in Tighnari’s hair as you clenched down hard on nothing.

He was gentler this time as he helped you through your climax, pulling away finally when you were incoherent with pleasure. You lay there, panting hard, your eyes half open as you tried to recover, but even that wasn’t enough. You could still feel the effects of the pollen coursing through your system, and from the way Tighnari was looking at you, it was the same for him.

“I’m on a birth control tonic,” you said, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at him, “just— please, Tighnari, I feel like I’m burning inside.”

Tighnari’s hands went to rest on your parted thighs, pulling you forward and towards him, to where he stood, still thigh-deep in the water. Your own legs were submerged up to your knee as he pulled you flush to him, his cock pressing against your pubic bone.

“I won’t be able to stop,” Tighnari warned, “I apologize if it becomes too much, but I can’t promise you that—“

“Please,” you whined, growing more and more desperate, “I need you, I can’t take this anymore.”

That was all it took. Tighnari nodded a single time, once he was sure of your consent, and he reached between your bodies to line himself up with your entrance, slowly sheathing himself inside of you.

You made a soft, breathy whine as he filled you, a sound he juxtaposed with a heavy groan. The stretch was almost enough to send you over the edge right there, and if it weren’t for the effects of the pollen, you’d probably have felt more pain from the intrusion, but all you felt was a dull ache and a hint of discomfort.

“Oh, Gods,” Tignnari whispered, and you watched his hands flatten on the stones beside your hips, muscles tightening as he took in the new sensation.

His head tipped forward, his breathing heavy and uneven, and you used your thighs to pull him closer, disregarding the whisper of pain in the back of your mind as the pure relief of being filled up overtook you.

“Stay still, stay still,” he growled, the very threads of his control slipping away as he spoke, the warning clear in his voice, but you didn’t listen, pulling him forward again.

Your actions were met with a sound that was produced deep in his chest, like a warning an animal would give, and it hadn’t even occurred to you how the pollen would affect someone like Tighnari, someone with non-human heritage as opposed to yourself, and as he drew himself out, only to press back in again, your mind went blank, all semblance of scientific curiosity tossed out the window.

Your cries of pleasure mixed with his as he repeated the motion, again, and again, and again, and oh Gods, you couldn’t even think. The pace he adopted was clearly with your comfort in mind, but it was rapidly becoming not enough. You needed more, all you could fathom was how much you needed more.

“Faster,” you gasped, your voice barely there, but he heard you, as evident by the way his ears perked up.

Tighnari snarled, his grip on your body tightening, and when you whimpered, he lost control completely.

His fingers were sure to be pressing bruises into your flesh from how hard he was gripping your body, but you didn’t care, not when every cell in your body was demanding more, more, more. You were vaguely aware of your volume, and you put the back of your hand over your mouth in a half hearted attempt to quiet yourself, but it basically did fuck all, especially when Tighnari reached up to yank your hand away, pinning it by your side.

“I want to hear you,” he rasped, “every single sound you make, I want to hear it.”

Your brain fogged further with desire, fueled by the low, rough timbre Tighnari’s usually gentle voice had adopted, and you whined, back arching off the pleasantly cool stones beneath your body. With his words, every last shred of dignity that you’d feebly been clinging to evaporated.

Tignnari hiked one of your legs over his shoulder as he inched closer, rolling his hips in a way that made stars blast across your hazy vision. You’d never been this aroused before in your life, and all you could do was squirm and cry out as Tighnari fucked you absolutely dumb.

“Need more,” Tighnari hissed, his hands sliding along your body, “need more, needmoreneedmore—”

He let out a low, keening moan as you tightened around him, your hips bucking against his, toes curling. You felt like your sanity was slipping through your fingers like a palmful of sand, and you realized with a sudden shock that you were about to cum, and you were about to cum hard.

The climax hit you with the force of a tidal wave, and your body went stiff, back arching off the stones, hands scrambling for purchase and finding nothing. Your mind was a sea of empty thought, stars bursting across your vision as you convulsed, pulsing around Tighnari’s cock, and he wasn’t even pausing, a snarl tearing from his chest as he pushed deeper inside of you.

Your continued climax was making you lightheaded as you panted for breath, the decline less of a decline and more of a work up to yet another peak as Tighnari kept a steady, dizzying pace, making your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Everything was too much, but it still wasn’t even slightly enough, a bizarre oxymoron that sent shockwaves dancing across your electrified nerves.

Tignnari twitched inside of you, making you whimper, and you looked up at him through your lashes, watching his face. The mask of delirium was back, Tighnari’s eyes wild as he drove himself towards his own climax with deep, even thrusts that grew more and more unsteady.

“Take it,” you heard him rasp, “take it take it take it—”

He shoved himself all the way inside of you, and with a sudden shout, he twitched sharply, and you could feel him filling you, stuffing you full with searing heat. Somewhere in the back of your pollen addled mind, you were glad that your birth control tonic kept you from getting pregnant with a guarantee.

You could feel his cum leaking out of you, and when he noticed, his fingers swept along the curve of your ass and shoved the liquid back inside of you, a sensation that made you let out a startled moan.

Without pulling out, Tighnari was shifting, switching places with you on the stones, where the sat himself down, with you in his lap. The sudden change of position caused you to sink down, pushing him deeper inside of you, a sensation that made you gasp sharply. You appreciated some aspects of the shift, however, as this gave you full access to his body, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as his hands found your hips, dragging up and along your waist.

He said nothing as he found your mouth, joining it with his in a kiss far more gentle than you’d been expecting, an expression of affection amid the suffocating lust that afflicted you both.

Slowly, you moved, rocking your hips as you sank back down onto him, a motion that made you cry out, a sound that mingled almost musically with his own cry. His nails dug into the plush of your thighs, one hand sliding down where you were joined with him to rub circles against your clit, an action that made you stiffen sharply, almost started by the burst of sensation.

His mouth left yours to trail down your throat, teeth grazing against the spot he’d bitten before and making you shiver. He was moving with you as you rocked your hips, one hand on your waist to help you along, his hips bucking to meet you every time you sank back down onto his cock. You heard him whisper your name, and you bent to kiss him again, an action he returned with vigor.

Your fingers combed through his hair, meeting where his ears met his scalp, and you heard him gasp into your mouth as your nails grazed against the sensitive skin. He broke the kiss to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, keening desperately, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Keep touching me there,” he finally managed, and who were you to deny him?

Your nails dragged along his ears, making him groan, and you felt his arm wind around your waist, taking over controlling the pace as he pushed you down onto his cock, guiding you as you moved. You somewhat appreciated it; your thighs had been growing sore. You assisted him by rolling your hips as you moved with him, something he rewarded with a sharp buck of his hips, making blurry stars scatter across your vision, a shrill whine tearing itself from your throat.

Tighnari pressed down on your clit, making you tense, teeth gritting and eyes squeezing closed, and you felt him trail open mouthed kisses down your throat, overloading you with sensation, and you sobbed his name as he tugged you closer, filling you so completely. You felt like you were going insane, and not one part of you wanted it to stop.

You couldn’t even speak as your climax drew closer, only able to let out a strangled cry as Tighnari’s teeth sank into the delicate skin of your shoulder, the pain barely noticeable as it mixed with the overwhelming pleasure. If anything, it just heightened it all, your nerves going off like fireworks under his touch.

With a sudden gasp, your climax slammed into you, making you still as the sensations hit you with enough force to make you dizzy. You were vaguely aware of the sounds Tignnari was making as you tightened around him, muffled by your shoulder, and you were suddenly under him again, sprawled across the stones once more, hands pinned above your head with one of his as he fucked you at a near punishing pace.

His eyes locked onto yours as he moved against you, and you couldn’t even imagine what your face looked like. You could feel tears of overstimulation on your cheeks, sweat on your brow, and you were sure you were an absolute wreck, but so was he. His hair was a mess, the chartreuse of his bangs intermixing with the dark of the rest of his hair, and his face was flushed a rather lovely pink, eyes half lidded. His ears had fallen to droop on either side of his head. His lips were kiss swollen and pink, and you were sure your own were the same.

Tighnari’s free hand slid down your body to hike one of your legs up around his waist, gripping at the plush of your thigh, and you whimpered as his nails bit into the tender skin. You were so sensitive it was almost unbearable, and you tossed your head back when his thumb pressed your clit again, letting out an unrestrained wail, tears beading in the corners of your eyes, and you felt Tighnari kiss them away before joining his mouth to yours once more.

You knew he was going to cum from the unsteady way he was breathing, and you were too, far too sensitive to stand anything else. You didn’t know how much more you could take; everything was blurring together in a cacophony of noise and sensation that left you straining against Tighnari’s grip on your wrists.

“Fill me, please,” you gasped abruptly, surprising even yourself, and Tighnari pulled back from your mouth to gaze at you, eyes wild.

“That’s what you want?” He snarled, “you want me to stuff you full of my cum? yeah? You wanna be filled?”

You nodded rapidly, his words making suffocating arousal course through your veins, and you felt him pick up the pace, forcing you into another dizzying climax, your back arching sharply off the ground. You could just barely hear him whispering praises over the thrum of blood in your ears, and you let out a strangled whine as his mouth connected with your nipple, making you thrash in his hold. He wasn’t even letting you breathe, and all you could think about was him, all around you, mixing with the scent of the pollen in the air in an intoxicating fragrance.

Mercifully, he removed his hand from between your bodies, simply resting it on your hip as he chased his own climax next, whispering your name and filthy praises as he drew closer and closer, his pace growing uneven.

He finally reached his end with a low, nearly possessive growl, holding onto you with a bruising force as he stuffed you full once more, heat blooming in your belly, uncaring about the way his cum was leaking out of you. His teeth were gritted, eyes squeezed shut, and you felt his grip on your wrists loosen just enough that you could wrestle free, so you pulled him down to meet you in a fierce kiss.

He finally slowed, his breath heavy and uneven as he came down from his high, his forehead resting against yours as he remained still, softening inside of you. You relaxed back onto the stones, pleased by the cool temperature they brought, soothing against your burning skin. Your breath was still quick and thin as you recovered, and you could still smell the pollen in the air, but exhaustion was taking over, forcing your eyelids to close.

Tighnari pulled out of you, and you whined at the sudden emptiness, but recovered quickly as he tugged you onto the grass and to his chest, nose nuzzling into your hair where he pressed a kiss. Neither of you were able to speak, completely spent, and you shifted slowly to wrap an arm around his bare waist. The pollen’s scent was falling into the background as the exertion began to wash over you, and you could tell it was the same for Tighnari.

You were asleep in a matter of seconds, pressed close to him.

Warm.

You were warm. And it was dark. Well, darker. You’d been sleeping, you knew that much. The sounds of Avidiya Forest were present around you, as well as the sound of a waterfall. Your brain was lagging behind as you woke, still groggy from such a deep slumber.

You were pressed against something solid and warm and breathing, and when you opened your eyes, you almost jumped from your skin.

Tignnari was laying beside you, sound asleep. He was holding you in his arms, in a possessive, tender way, and it was suddenly all flooding back to you. The pollen. That damn pollen.

Your brain finally caught up, and you remembered. You expected you should be sore, but you weren’t. You felt more satisfied than you ever had before, completely rejuvenated. You lifted your head to look over at the curtain of flowers, only to find that the blossoms had closed, taking the pollen’s scent with them. It had also fallen dark, the sun already setting. You’d been asleep for a while, but after that, you supposed that wasn’t surprising.

You focused back on Tignnari. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, so relaxed. Every bit of tension had been drained away, leaving him looking soft and gentle. You reached a hand up to cup his cheek before you could stop yourself, and he started you when he leaned into your touch.

“Hello,” he said, voice still thick with sleep, and you felt your cheeks beginning to warm.

“Hi.”

And there was your anxiety. What if Tighnari thought that what you’d just done together was a mistake? Things surely wouldn’t be the same after that, you knew that much. He couldn’t just fuck your brains out and then act like nothing happened. That wasn’t how Tighnari was.

But then, he was leaning in to kiss you, and every single doubt was expelled from your mind. It was a soft, gentle kiss, full of tender emotions and care, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

“Was I too rough with you?” He asked after pulling away, and you shook your head.

“No. It was… it was good.”

Tignnari raised his eyebrows. “Just ‘good?’”

You blanched. “N-no, it was more than good. It was amazing.”

A soft, tender chuckle. “I was only teasing you. You were amazing, too.”

A few moments of comfortable silence passed before he spoke again. “That wasn’t how I imagined that happening for the first time,” he said, a laugh in his voice, and you turned to look at him, trying not to show the surprise on your face.

From the way he was smiling, soft and affectionate, you’d failed on that front.

“I fell in love with you quite a while ago,” he said, “I thought I’d been clear in my advances, but maybe not. I care for you very deeply, though. If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You cut him off, scoffing derisively at the sheer absurdity of that statement, with a kiss. He held you to him, cradling your face in his hands, until you both ran out of air.

“There’s my answer, then,” he said with a smile. You answered him with another quick kiss.

“I love you, too,” you said, “I thought you didn’t feel the same.”

Tighnari snorted, eyes glittering with mirth. “I suppose we’re both a little dense, then.”

You sat up, stretching your arms over your head. “We should wash up. And head back. It’s gotten late. We’re probably missed.”

Tighnari sighed, sitting up beside you. “As much as I’d rather stay here with you a while longer, you’re most likely correct. Collei is probably beside herself with worry.”

You stood on unsteady feet, and Tighnari followed you to the clear pool. The two of you rinsed your bodies off until you felt sufficiently clean before redressing. You were careful to make sure your sample jars were well sealed before you picked up your rucksack, shrugging it onto your back.

“Ready?” Tignnari asked, and you decided he looked lovely in the first rays of moonlight. You smiled at him, taking his outstretched hand in yours and squeezing.

“Yeah.”

Hand in hand, you walked back to Gandharva Ville, basking in the natural symphony of the forest.

Fin.

[dysfunctional-doodle]

Raph finds Mikey annoying but if you hurt Mikey he will kill ya lol

Exactly. Mikey is annoying but he couldn’t live without him.

Something I really like about 2003 was the subtle hints throughout the show illustrating how much Mikey means to Raph. It is never said out loud, but watching the series again made me see details that I had missed, some more obvious than others.

First off, that moment in attack of the mousers where Raph, cornered by mousers, is oddly sincere when Mikey makes a joke to try and ease the tension of them potentially getting killed:

“This is it, it’s been fun guys!”

“Even me, Raph?”

“Even you Mikey - especially you.”

Mikey’s tone is light, half joking but Raph responds in complete sincerity (at least that’s how I interpreted it lol). The show had already begun showing that Raph has a fondness for Mikey different from his other brothers. I was pondering as to why, and I think I have a reason.

Mikey, I think, is his best friend (at least before Casey). At the very least, he’s someone that he can always goof around with, always willing to do whatever reckless shit he’s doing. Mikey is annoying, but Raph teases him for it, which I turn releases any pent up stress he has. Mikey is just as reckless and rough as he is, and Raph knows this. He knows how much Mikey means to him, even if Mikey doesn’t.

Another major example I can think of is in Back to the Sewers, when all the brothers get mind controlled by a virus and believe they are a part of The Foot Clan. To break the control, a strong memory of emotion/love (it wasn’t too clear, just a fond/treasured memory for them) needed to be remembered. Whilst the other brothers remembered their childhood with Splinter as the final memory, Raph was much harder to fix.

When he did remember, however, it wasn’t a memory of Solinyer that broke the control - it was a memory of Mikey. It seems really small. Just a memory of Raph dunking Mikey’s head into his cake on his birthday, but this kinda solidifies the theory for me.

Raph loves Mikey because of that annoying, playful streak he has in him that fits his own personality so well. His best memory seemed insignificant, but I think it’s actually the opposite. Him being able to be much more irresponsible and youthful only happens with Mikey around because Mikey brings that out of him. Honestly, with what Mikey said about their roles in the family in season 4, it wouldn’t surprise me if Mikey was fully aware of this fact and is why he doesn’t mind being teased by him.

TLDR: Mikey is annoying but in the best way for Raph. You mess with Mikey, you deal with Raph

[marciliedonato]

So... Apparently UA s4 is a massive flop.... I'm not saying we need to start bullying* showrunners and writers and networks/streamers (*putting pressure on them to do right by beloved pieces of media with passionate fan bases so much so that they feel they'll get the guillotine if they do anything less than perfect and justice by the story/characters) but.... We need to start bullying showrunners and writers and networks/streamers again. These mfs have gotten too comfortable

[thegreatyin]

How did you manage to handle not one, but FOUR separate accounts in fl? I recently made the account for my HD little guy but having to do the tutorial again just seems miserable

there's... weirdly several answers to that question, actually??

a HUGE part of it is due to the way FL is structured. the 10-minute action timer is a core part of the game on a fundamental level, and the fact that i can very easily run out of stuff to do on one character and thus have an excuse to quickly and easily swap to another is just... convenient? satisfying? i'm not entirely sure how to explain it. the fact that i can make progress even while i am fundamentally simultaneously Not Making Progress is like pure dopamine for my freak insane awful little brain. there's just something really pleasing about spending all of my actions pursuing The Goal Of The Day™ on one account before casually swapping to another and doing the same without feeling like i'm wasting time or acting to the first account's explicit detriment. the downtime helps! the recharge time helps! the structure really really works!!

i'm technically only actively playing three, maybe two accounts minimum. the only reason the fourth (the one that'll be my future BaL playthrough) currently exists at all is so i can get his earlygame completely out of the way now and not have to waste time running through it all later, when what i actually want to do is play the ambition i've made myself wait a full year to play. and also getting free goodies as seasonal stuff happens,, something something surprise tools to help us later. the only two accounts i'd say i'm really "actively playing" at the moment are caeru and lark- and of the two, lark takes the most priority, since his ambition is the one i'm currently pursuing in earnest. for a couple months now- despite being My Main FL Character- the scoundrel has actually been pretty inactive on a gameplay front outside of the occasional progression in TLC and discordance content. purely by virtue of having Very little left to do outside of Very long-term grinds and vanities. they're in their "now what?" "now you can start playing the game" era. they've graduated to previous protagonist background cameo in a sequel anime series. they're like the yin FLPC equivalent of red at the top of mount silver. they're Literally just vibing rn. i only keep posting about them regardless because i'm insane and i will never ever ever ever ever let that bat go. but yeah, big TLDR, outside of doing the bare minimum to keep making waves/notability up every week, i'm not actually spending that much time on accounts i'm not currently actively interested in playing. and that accounts for way more gaming spoons than you might think.

i have a virtually lifelong history of playing MMOs, especially and specifically world of warcraft. i was born in the endless grind for useless video game pixel vanities and/or bragging rights. molded by it. you all have merely adapted to doing the same piece of content a pointlessly excessive amount of times for literally no reason besides whimsy and folly. me? i've done my time. i've served my sentence. i've spent weeks doing the original burning crusade netherwing dailies. i've devoted days to running praetorium over and over and over again, back-to-back, nonstop, long before square enix cut it in half and made it NOT take at minimum an hour and a half per run. i've perfected my silverwastes + auric basin goldfarming strategies. i've (almost) crafted dragonwrath tarecgosa's rest. i've killed the sha of anger so many times its dying scream of agony is embedded into the very fabric of my being. ""only"" doing making your name content four times over? that is nothing to me. it means nothing to me. it is so infinitesimal i can do the persuasive seduction quests in my sleep. it's not a matter of handling misery, or having the capacity, or even sighing as i remember the brass embassy raid segment of the watchful questline seriously i don't know why i keep forgetting that exists or what even is my problem with it i just am so consistently mildly inconvenienced by it and its highly specific resource requirements and it is the worst thing ever. maybe i'm just so used to the scoundrel's near-infinite money and troves of disposable items that i've completely forgotten what being poor is like. despite having done that step 3 fucking times now. ahem. anyway. i have transcended the feeble mortal bindings of my resistant-to-grinding flesh and ascended to a higher plane of enlightenment, they may call me insane but they will be the ones left laughing when they see what that "insanity" has wrought, i've usurped them, i've usurped them all-

hacks and coughs and awkwardly clears my throat. i mean. uh. um. Ahem.

the empress' court artistry + tales of the university nerfs helped too.

[extantformoflife]

do you think if I don't look at my computer for the whole time I play this bit act five will be easier to get through

[siflshonen]

Takami Keigo's politics're probably extremely aggressive. Because he's a Hawk.

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

month-long chronic insomnia flareup got me acting a BIT too HDB-esk so I drew myself some Kims. I have cracked it! (The case of 'how to draw this MF')

feat one Harry, ECHEM, and Kineema that I fucking made up from memory because im not studying that beast

[waitineedaname]

I love cooking so much

[ashes-in-a-jar]

I've been listening to Breaker Whiskey...

[the-takosader]

While we're in the prep phase for the Crusader...

...let's go through the Ideas Archive, explore the stuff that's shelved, canned or otherwise not happening right now. This'll be the new pinned post, so I'll use this as a place to put everything I'm currently working on, and what I might do at some point.

Current:

The Crusader, a mix of Burns Double Six, PRS CE24 and Rickenbacker 4001, combined with influences from Hamer, Gibson and Fender. Note: this build is currently in the wood prep phase (stripping pieces of mahogany and sapele door for use in the guitar body and neck) as of 21/11/2024, and will likely take a year at my current progression rate.

Shelved:

Fender Marauder Build (yes, I still want to do this. The Crusader evolved from this, so it's still on the cards)

Casino Humbucker Mod

G6122 Country Gentleman '62 Style

Crest Replica (NEW!)

Telecaster Bass VI (kit body, custom neck)

Lennon Les Paul Jr. Replica (kitbash)

Höfner Violin Bass from scratch

Canned:

Lerxst 355 Replica

Acoustic Rickenbacker 360/12C63

Telecaster-Shaped Red Special (TSRS)

Plausible:

A non-specific doubleneck.

Resonator acoustic (kit build)

Completed:

Fretless Stratocaster

Cherry XII/Tele-Shaped Rickenbacker (TSR)

So, let's review top to bottom.

The Crusader:

I don't need to explain this much, I've already made a long-ass post about this. As said above, it's a mix of a Burns Double Six, PRS CE24 and Rickenbacker 4001 combined with influences from Hamer, Gibson and Fender.

The design is set in stone, aside from the exaggeration of the upper horn. You'd understand if there was a picture around here of the Burns. In the meantime, I'll get on with describing the others.

Fender Marauder Build:

Not the wackiest idea here, not by a long shot. As previously described, the Marauder is the culmination of Fender's offset guitars, featuring the switching of a Jaguar, the lead-rhythm circuit of a Jazzmaster, parts of the trem system of a Mustang, modified to fit with the pickguard and general aesthetics of a Jag. It even gave the Starcaster, the only semi-hollow by my reckoning that Fender still produces, it's headstock, something Fender afficionados call the "running shoe", at least, that's what my aunt calls it. Considering the contour gets filled in by paint, it's not hard to see her point.

The issue with doing this one is that barely anyone does Marauder vibrato plates. And to do this from scratch? Yeah, I need to find someone who would do the specific metal pieces I'd need, that being the Jag-style metal plate for the lead-rhythm circuit, the switch plate for the pickup switches, the extra long control plate, and that Marauder vibrato plate.

Yeah, if I ever find somewhere that does metal parts out of aluminium or something, I'm gonna get them to do the metal parts of this. Next item on the list!

Casino Humbucker Mod:

This one should be self-explanatory - take an Epiphone Casino, stick some P90-sized humbuckers in there. The only caveat is that they have to be hidden and mounted via dogear P90 covers, which isn't too much of an ask; this guy in Manchester does custom pickups, even hand-winds them. Certainly sounds appealing, may go for those. Next one!

G6122 Country Gentleman:

Yeah, uh... this one's shelved with good reason.

For context, the G6122, more commonly known as the Country Gentleman, is one of Gretsch's most famous guitar models, up there with the Duo-Jet, the Tennessean (now Tennessee Rose) and the one that Malcolm Young gutted and modded for his purposes as the rhythm guitarist of AC/DC. Gretsch list it as the "Jet" but I have no clue if that's a different model to the Duo-Jet or it's a variation, or whatever.

My aim with this would be to make as accurate a recreation of the Country Gent as I could with the documentation and information present on the internet. That means making it with 3-ply maple veneer top, back and sides, utilisng the thumbnail inlays on an ebony fingerboard, slotted for 24.6" (24.75" if you measure from the middle of the nut), with the same style of tuner, the little plaque on the headstock, the vinyl/leather pad on the back of the body covering a backplate access hatch, and all around trying to recreate this mad thing.

The only downside is the cost, because I'd need to source TV Jones Filter'Trons (not hard), maple veneer (harder), Grover Imperials or lookalikes (very hard!), and figure out how to make a veneer press, and how to shape the slightly arched top and back in a 3-ply veneer, not to mention the Bigsby, all the spare parts, the flip-up foam mutes that Jimmie Webster came up with (and also patented).

In short, the entire project is shelved. For the foreseeable future, until I can source all this stuff myself. Onto the next one!

Crest Replica:

This is a new one, inspired by an admittedly newfound appreciation for the Gibson Crest.

...oh right, I should explain what that is.

The Gibson Crest, as a name, refers to 2 different models, respectively produced around the late 1950s to early 1960s and between 1969 and 1972, with a one-off model of the latter style produced in 1983 for that year's Winter NAMM show. Said model is in the possession of guitar collector and YouTuber Trogly, who runs the eponymous Trogly's Guitar Show on YouTube. At first, I thought he was a bit of a knob, or at least a bit naïve, but as it turns out, his show's a good way to pass the time, and satiates the GAS (gear acquisition syndrome) that guitarists seem to get pretty damn often (as far as I know).

The former is estimated to have been produced a total of no more than six times, each custom orders put in by Gibson salesman-clinician and budding guitarist, Andy Nelson. Due to the nature of being entirely custom orders, no one knows the exact specs as they would obviously vary between examples as each guitarist would want something unique.

The body shape is assumed to be reminiscent of a similar model that Gibson were producing around this time: the L-5CT, that being a jazz archtop around the thickness of a Gibson Byrdland, but with a Venetian cutaway, a singular humbucker, a toggle switch next to the cutaway on "deluxe" models (models with 2 pickups as stock) and a trapeze tailpiece paired with a "floating" or freely moveable bridge.

One example of the original Crest, however, had a thinline single-cutaway body with a Florentine cutaway, as opposed to the Venetian cutaway of the L-5CT. It featured a carved spruce top, maple back and sides, with a 7-ply bound top, and a 3-ply bound back, as well as a pickguard made not of plastic, but of alternating dark and light plies of maple.

Now, that's interesting, because (and this is a personal side tangent because this guitar is so very unknown because of Google's overuse of SEO and keywords) the only other guitar Gibson produced with a wooden pickguard that I can think of is the Gibson The Les Paul, produced between 1976 and 1980, and that was only because the way Norlin-era Gison constructed these things, everything was either wooden or metal, with plastic being used as little and as sparingly as possible. The switch tip was rosewood, the binding for the body was rosewood, the veneer on the headstock was rosewood as opposed to holly, the knobs were rosewood, the pickup rings were rosewood. About the only thing I can find that wasn't wooden or metal is the inlays, which are actual abalone, and the binding for the headstock, which appears to be plastic, though this might not be the case.

Point is, the guitar was designed with one main principle in mind: "Can it be rosewood? Yes? Make it rosewood." That's why they now go for around £35k and rarely ever sell.

But anyway back to the Nelson Crest. Yes, that's what I'm calling it, it's better than calling it Crest 1 or Crest Custom. The example I'm drawing from here had bound f-holes, was stained cherry red like most of the ES models around the time, and had an HS pickup layout, with the usual number of volume and tone controls, and a toggle switch in the usual mounting place for an ES model guitar, that being near the treble-side f-hole.

According to the source I'm getting all this from (an article on the Gruhn's Guitars website), it also had a Switchmaster tone switch and was wired for stereo output. The floating bridge, as it was an archtop, was mounted on a rosewood "foot" which was inlaid with mother-of-pearl decorations. The bridge itself, meanwhile, was your bog standard late '50s, early '60s Gibson ABR-1 without retaining wire for the saddles, while the tailpiece has the diamond ornamentation seen on a Casino/ES-330 while also incorporating a shield and coat-of-arms motif.

This motif is continued on the absolutely gigantic headstock, which had individual Grover Imperial tuners, and an inlay featuring a coat of arms with three Moorish crescents on the shield. The fretboard is given the top-level treatment of the era, as is to be expected of a custom build, with 3-ply binding all-around, and Super 400 inlays up to the 17th fret, unsurprising for an archtop. The truss rod cover, meanwhile, is a sort of merger between the typical shape for a Gibson, and the art deco movement which was starting up in the early '60s, with it being a trapezoid interpretation of the standard Gibson bell shape.

This is one of the few images I can find of the original style of Crest, in all its resplendent late 1950s glory:

As you can see, it's basically everything I mentioned above, down to the cherry red stain.

So, that's the Nelson Crest, in all of its custom and stupidly insane glory. It'd be an interesting challenge to replicate that thing, but that's not the one I want to replicate, not by a long shot.

The Crest that I do want to replicate, however, is more reminiscent of a short-neck ES-330 or, to be more conforming to normality here, the Epiphone Casino. This has its own subsets, referred to as Crest Gold or Crest Silver, for the style of the hardware, those being either gold or "brushed silver". Assuming I was mad enough to build this, I would have to either source vintage-accurate parts or get someone to make them custom.

As you can probably guess, neither sound appealing! However, ignoring that, let's get down to business. What is the Gibson Crest, in this latter format?

The Gibson Crest, in the 1969-72 styling, is a double-cutaway ES-style guitar, as you can probably guess. Now, a double-cut ES-style isn't surprising, both CMI and Norlin loved making those. The surprise comes from the features, starting with the short neck, with the join at the 15th fret. Now, normally, that's weird for an ES-style, they all have long necks, with a meeting with the body at the 19th fret. Why does this one have such a short neck?

Well, it's because it's a hollow-bodied guitar, like the ES-330 or Casino. Then again, that is no excuse, considering the ES-330 and Casino both had long necks at this time, even if the Casino returned to the short neck, dragging the 330 along with it whether it liked it or not (kinda miffed about that, I like upper fret access, taking it away on an electric guitar like the Casino is just annoying).

But anyway, the Crest has this short neck, and that's where the similarities to most ES models end. The toggle switch is placed where the first iteration of the 347 would place the coil-split switch, that being the lower horn, and that's about it for known similarities, with the other features being more reminiscent of the original Nelson Crest rather than an ES-330 or similar guitar from Gibson/Norlin.

Let's start with the pickups, which are mini-humbuckers, most certainly an interesting choice; apparently, the reason they chose P90s as the pickups for the 330 and Casino is because it was a "budget" model, and not because they were fucking cowards. That last bit's not important, though, so we can come back to it at a different time.

As with the Nelson Crest, the Crest Gold and Silver have a floating bridge akin to an archtop, though I cannot for the life of me remember if they're an ABR-1 like the original, or a pre-compensated bridge. It doesn't much matter either way, because the fact of the matter is that this guitar has some nice details to it. A 7-ply bound top, with a 3-ply bound back separated by a decorative strip, and a large heel cap which has a strap button screwed into it.

The electronics are the interesting thing. As noted above, the toggle switch was placed in the location where an ES-347's coil-split switch went, which may even be where they got the idea for that, but as is also noted above, the thing has 2 mini-humbuckers with individual volume and tone controls, and treble-side adjustment screws that go through the pickguard.

None of this is nearly as impactful as what the thing was made of, though, because I have been keeping that bit entirely shtum for surprise factor. Y'see, the Crest was made almost exclusively out of Brazilian rosewood veneer, which, for a time, was entirely phased out of Gibson as a wood option, before even becoming a protected wood by the Washington Convention. Trade in it is restricted, even now, and that means it is incredibly hard to get hold of it, even in veneer form.

Does this mean I am shit out of luck? Well, if I wanted to recreate the thing using the exact same wood, yes. If, however, I wanted to recreate the guitar with just any species in the family Dalbergia, rather than specifically Dalbergia nigra (note: that's the scientific name for Brazilian rosewood), I am not, in fact, shit out of luck, as most other species of rosewood (any wood in the family Dalbergia) is not restricted, and has not been under restriction for almost 5 years.

Here's a photo from Gary's Classic Guitars in case you were having difficulty visualising this thing:

I'll be including images like these for projects that are either replicas, or I feel need the image in some way or another.

So, the rosewood veneer isn't a problem. Why is it still a shelved project, then? Well, the fact of the matter is that we live in a capitalist society. Things cost money, both for the item itself and the labour required to produce it. In short, wood is expensive, and I don't have the money yet. You may notice that "too expensive" is a running theme, even in cases where half of the expense is the guitar itself.

To avoid getting depressing, let's move on (finally)!

Tele Bass VI:

So, you may be wondering, "why's this one shelved?"

The thing is, it wasn't intentionally shelved. It's just that I can't really do anything with it without finishing the Crusader first. I need fret wire, wood for the neck, a nut, and a truss rod. Not that many things, but it's also what I need for the Crusader, and in the case of that, I at least have the wood for the neck, and a nut, but that still leaves me without a truss rod and fret wire (which I also need for my acoustic because it's got fret sprout, but that's neither here nor there).

I was intending a maple neck for it, anyway, and I need maple for the fretboard of the Crusader. Maybe I'll be able to sort that at some point. Moving on!

Lennon Les Paul Jr.:

This one's hard to call "shelved" seeing as I've done jack shit with it for 3 months at this point. Do I want to do more with it? Yes, absolutely. It's just finding the werewithall to actually go do more with it. Part of it's been the stress of organising my college stuff, but part of it's also been laziness and just not being able to decide if I want to do it or not.

I'm sure you don't want me to bore you with this one, and you saw a photo of a replica on the previous pinned post, so I'll move on.

Höfner 500/1 Violin Bass Replica:

This one is very much a doozy, but it's at least sensible.

Höfner's been going for over 100 years, that's an accepted fact, something that makes sense to everyone. Their "peak" of iconicity, however, came in the form of Sir James Paul McCartney, who has used Höfner's basses since 1961. Now, since then, they've done plenty of reissues of his (two) different basses, the 1961 with its close pickups, and the 1963 with the wide, separated pickups.

So which one would I go for? That is a good question, because it's really not what I should be asking. What I should be asking in its stead is "do I want to learn Actual Violin Lutherie to make this thing", because the whole "Violin Bass" is not just a selling point, it actually is constructed like a violin. It's a chambered hollow body, like the Country Gent, but it's the size of a violin, with the construction to match, including the use of flame maple (or, to use its more apt name, fiddleback maple) for the back and sides. The top, meanwhile, is solid carved spruce.

Don't believe me about the body size? Look at this sub-model Hofner do, based on the one you can see in Get Back:

As you can see, the body is tiny in comparison to the length of the neck, especially when you compare it to an actual violin:

Look at the proportions on this, then look at the 500/1. Doesn't the neck seem so ridiculously long now? Anyway, that's gonna take some going at, and thus it's shelved for when I feel confident enough to actually do it, or at least to take a partial stab at it.

Now then, we've seen the ideas that I might get round to but aren't being done now for one reason or another. Let's look at the ones that won't be done at all, for one reason or another.

Lerxst 355 Replica:

To the average reader, that name's going to look like gibberish. To be honest, I don't blame you, the way it's pronounced feels like you're speaking gibberish as well. "Lurks-st". It sounds better if you try and put on a Canadian accent. Not full tilt Canadian, with all the "eh"-ing and being super polite, just a hint of Toronto.

Anyway, what's Lerxst? Or, more accurately, who is Lerxst? Lerxst is the nickname of Aleksandar Živojinović, a man known professionally as Alex Lifeson. He was the guitarist for Rush for as long as Rush had existed, until their semi-functional retirement after the death of their drummer Neil Peart. The remaining two members, that being Alex and the bassist Geddy, have performed together since, including at the Taylor Hawkins tribute concert and at the 25th anniversary concert for South Park.

Now, Lerxst has used many a guitar over the past 50 years, from that ES-335 he used in the beginning, to the large amount of PRSes he used between 1990 and 2010. His most famous, however, is the one this one is talking about: a 1977 ES-355 built by Norlin-era Gibson. It has T-Top humbuckers (named as such due to the bobbins having a slightly raised part in the shape of a T), 22 frets on a voluted neck, a 7-ply bound top (you saw me refer to this in the Crest section; 7-ply bound top doesn't mean the top is 7 plies of veneer thick, it means the binding is 7 plies thick, and is bound around a 3-ply top of maple-poplar-maple) with a 3-ply bound back, a Maestro vibrola unit, an individual set of volume and tone controls per pickup, a simple 3-way toggle, and the key part - a varitone switch, with accompanying bypass mini-toggle for the "raw" tone unmodified by the varitone.

The output jack's also mounted to the top, but considering it's an ES model, I wouldn't think that too revolutionary. So, what's a Maestro vibrola unit when it's at home? For that, we need to explain vibrato units overall.

The history starts with Clayton "Doc" Kauffman, who devised the first ever patented vibrato system in the 1930s, fittingly named the Kauffman vibrola. This worked quite differently to vibratos that we know now, as the action of changing the pitch was much more subtle, and was done through moving the arm laterally, instead of pressing the arm down to the body. The sound was meant to mimic a slide guitar (as that's where Rickenbacker's guitars originally started), but there was an ever-so tiny but incredibly crucial detail: the tuning stability was terrible. Guitarists such as John Lennon decided to replace the Kauffman units on guitars they were installed on with other models, such as the Bigsby vibrola, the second patented vibrato unit, and the first to see widespread commercial success.

The Bigsby works in a much more conventional way, using the standard we know now: push down to lower pitch, release to return to normal. Supposedly, it has terrible stability in and of itself, but that is from players who ended up being like Floyd D. Rose, who overused the vibrato of the Bigsby, requiring that they retune. The Bigsby wasn't intended for that; instead, it was only intended to provide a slight "warble" effect to playing, what some would term a "shimmering" effect.

This, in effect, is what Gibson's vibratos were meant to provide, starting in 1961 with the Sideways vibrola. I have an opinion on these: they suck, both in function and form. They copy the function of the Kauffman nearly wholesale, and the large folded up arm in direct contact with the nitrocellulose finish(!), well. Yeah, no, not for me. The Maestro, however, looks and behaves so much better. It functions like a Bigsby would, excepting that it doesn't copy the mechanism wholesale like the Sideways does with the Kauffman.

To explain this, let's go on a small side tangent about a Bigsby vs. a Maestro vibrola, because I assure you, this is actually necessary to the guitar.

The Bigsby works by loosening tension using the leverage of the tremolo arm to cause a deepening of pitch. It's kept in place and returned to normal pitch by a spring which is compressed in the action of using the vibrato unit. The Maestro, however, uses direct leverage on a bent piece of metal to cause the same loosening of tension and lowering of pitch.

This means that the Maestro, while more primitive, is easier to work with when restringing due to the fact that the strings are threaded into the tailpiece, which is then bent, changing the angle and distance between the tuners and the ball-end of the string, thus affecting the tension. The metal returning to its standard shape (because the force required to permanently change its shape has not been applied) is what returns the guitar to standard and proper tension (as long as it's been set up correctly).

The Bigsby, meanwhile, has a specific way of threading the string through the unit before sending it down the neck to the tuner and the nut. When restringing a Bigsby, there is a massive rigamarole if you don't have a Vibramate spoiler installed. You have to thread the string down from the bridge, under the tensioning bar, then up over the string bar, around it, and slot the ball-end on the tiny little post on the underside, so it can function correctly when the arm is depressed. I honestly wish I was joking about this. I have restrung a Bigsby once, and once was all the experience I needed. Never again. I heavily advocate for people to damn well use a Vibramate spoiler on their units, even if it's just because of a personal gripe.

Back to the point where we were, about... 8 or 9 paragraphs ago, the 355 generally came stock with a Maestro vibrola in 1977, so it's no surprise that Lerxst got it on his. It's even featured on the reissues from 2008:

These are the same reissues that have a Fucked Up volute on the neck that's approximately halfway between the nut and the first fret, as opposed to in line with the nut. If I were to recreate this, I'd at least fix that.

So, it all seems possible, right? Then why is the build canned? Generally, it's the fact of the varitone, specifically the chokes. How, the literal fuck, do those things work. If I ever figure how they work, then maybe this will move from the can to the shelf. But right now? Canned. Completely and utterly.

Next, please!

Acoustic Rickenbacker 360/12c63:

This requires much less in the way of explaining. The Rickenbacker 360 is a famous guitar by most stretches of the imagination, soldiered on by its incarnations as the 360/12, used by George Harrison, the 370/12 used by Roger McGuinn, and the 330/12, used by innumerable amounts of famous guitarists like Peter Buck, Johnny Marr, Pete Townshend and The Edge.

But y'see, those are electric guitars. They've got magnetic pickups and all sorts of gubbins in there. My idea with this was to see if you could just... get rid of all that, construct a 360/12 in the double-bound style without that central block and all the electronics, and be left with an acoustic Ricky 12, complete with the compacted headstock and a piezo if I felt like it.

Knowing what I do about how Rickenbacker's shit is made, though, that would require making the body in the form of back, then sides, glued with bracing and then the top, with two sound holes. I'd then have to find somewhere to fit a pre-amp, and make sure that it's the usual thickness before then setting the neck in, which itself would be a 5-piece construction of maple with walnut center stripe and headstock wings, adding the truss rod(s) and the fretboard, before finally assembling the metal bits onto it.

Doesn't sound too hard, sure, but if you look at this example of what the Rickenbacker 360/12C63 looks like...

Yes, that is the entire thickness of the body. It's approximately an inch thick and not all that acoustically resonant. It'd be good as an experiment, but considering I'm debating over getting a standard acoustic 12 at some point, it's canned for that reason. Onto the last canned build, and the last build that's overall a hypothetical.

Telecaster-Shaped Red Special (TSRS):

I laid this whole thing out in a Notepad file back in May or June, as we were finishing up the Cherry XII, as a proposal of "maybe this can be the next build," but I scrapped it a month or so later because I fell into a trap I've fallen into so often it might as well be my home: I wanted to recreate a specific thing, without remembering the way that guitar is constructed, and really, what that guitar is built out of.

You see, the Red Special, built between 1963 and 1964 by Brian May and his father Harold, is a very interesting case of guitar design, in that it was designed to feedback in an appealing way. The internal cavities were actually carved out in a very specific way in order to allow for this, and most copies of the thing do the feedback, but struggle to do it exactly like his. He also has his own brand of guitars mainly made up of official replicas fitted with either a standard Strat-style trem system, that being the BMG Special, or the more accurate design mimicking the original's trem arm made of a knitting needle and a bicycle saddlebag holder.

Now, having only a Telecaster body, I couldn't recreate most of this. I mean, where am I going to put all this stuff? And the neck couldn't be slotted for 24" scale length. It just wouldn't have worked. 25", like the Harley Benton copy, maybe, but then I'd have to modify the body to allow for a 25" scale, and then rout out chambers for controls, the cavity, and the trem system's springs.

Looking back on it, I think I had a grand idea, but had bitten way too much off to just go and do it. If I ever do get it in my head to recreate the Red Special, even without a treble boost circuit or a treble boost pedal, I think I'm not going to try and start from a jump-off point, and just go at it from scratch.

Now then, we've gone through those that've been canned, let's look at the ones that aren't shelved or canned, but aren't currently in play. I denoted them as plausible above, but I might go at them at a slower rate than the Shelved builds.

Non-Specific Doubleneck:

When I say "non-specific" doubleneck, I don't mean "bland-name EDS-1275" like a Chibson or a Gear4Music or Harley Benton or anything like that.

For one, the EDS-1275 isn't the only doubleneck out there, nor is it the only doubleneck Gibson ever made. Rickenbacker made a 12/6 doubleneck 360, fittingly named the 362, as well as the 4080 doubleneck which was a bass on top and your option of a 480/6 or 480/12 on the bottom. That latter one was most famously used by Geddy Lee on Xanadu, as well as the former on A Passage to Bangkok (a song about smoking weed, if you didn't know).

Here's him with the former, in a surprising tuxedo (white with black plastics) finish:

And here's him using a Fireglo 4080/12 back in 2015 for the purpose of playing Xanadu:

Anyway, that's a Rickenbacker doubleneck, but they're not the only ones to do this stuff. Fender also make doublenecks. Well, "make" is a strong term. This is the only one I know about:

This is the craziest doubleneck I've ever seen. It's a basic 12/6, but actually No It's Not. You've got an Electric XII on top, which is the only "designed to be 12 string" guitar Fender made pre-CBS, and the Marauder on the bottom, with the vibrato merged into the pickguard, and the 5 pickup switches and the kill switch and everything that makes it the Marauder.

If I ever decide "okay, let's make a doubleneck," and then actually go through with it, I think I'm gonna take some design cues from all of these. I'll probably also chamber it so it's not uncomfortable to play for long periods of time, and just hide the chambering under the pickguards because that's a thing that could work.

Now, the other plausible idea.

Resonator Acoustic (kit build):

You know how I said kit builds were out of the question? Yeah, I didn't believe me either.

Resonators are a really cool relic of the pre-amplification era. Like, they're the step between electric guitars with magnetic pickups, and the acoustic guitars we all know, minus the piezoelectric undersaddle pickup. They work by passing the strings over a bridge mounted to a resonator cone, and when a string is plucked, strummed or otherwise makes a sound, the cone takes the vibrations and amplifies them entirely acoustically. They were originally made by a couple companies before Rickenbacker came along and invented the horseshoe pcikup and, by extension, the electric guitar.

Those companies were National String Instrument Corporation, and Dobro Manufacturing Company. The former was founded in 1927 by George Beauchamp (anyone who knows the history of Rickenbacker will know that name), and John Dopyera, a Slovak immigrant who came to America with his brothers and father in 1908, sensing that war would soon break out in Europe.

Smart move, fellas!

Anyway, Dopyera and his brothers, Rudy and Emil, soon left National to form their own comapny, Dobro. Dobro is a name with double meaning, in this case - while it's an abbreviation of Dopyera Brothers, it's also the word for "good" in a lot of Slavic languages, leading to the slogan "Dobro means good in any language!"

Due to Beauchamp's work with Rickenbacker, though, resonators fell off the radar in terms of popularity. After all, they'd figured out a form of amplification that didn't use lots of metal, so resonators ended up failing as a product. Or at least, they did for a while. Nowadays, you can find many brands producing resonators, usually for the specific tone resonators provide: rich and metallic. They're seen nowadays as bluegrass and country music instruments, but you can see people like Mark Knopfler using them for songs as well.

Now, this isn't referring to a specific kit build. I found one that's kinda an ES-style thing, with 21 frets, so that's probably the one I'd go for, not least because I like upper fret access, but it's all dependent on if I still want to build a resonator acoustic after the current build, or if I'd want to do something else entirely. It's an odd thing, my mind.

So, what now? The completed section? Eh, not exactly.

I would do a small piece on the Fretless and the Cherry XII each, I really would - God alone knows I love rambling about these builds enough, this post is testament to that on its own - but I don't need to. I made a full post about the creation of the Fretless, and made multiple posts in the course of building the Cherry XII, starting back in January and leading up to June.

But other than that? That's all there is to this post. There's nothing more I can really do in terms of explaining my ideas. I may have more ideas in between now and whenever I revisit this concept, I may reshuffle things, shelve one idea or can another. But as for everything else? It's in flux, constantly uncertain unitl we reach and observe it. I can't really say what I'll want to build after the Crusader, because I haven't finished the Crusader. Hell, I've barely started it.

Hope you enjoyed reading this. If something needs explaining further for one reason or another, tell me, and I'll try and explain it to the best of my ability.

[theintelligentfool]

you guys i love college so much

[boycritter]

thinking about how much worse my pain used to be like holy SHIT. its gotten so much better in the last couple years and im so relieved. how did i LIVE genuinely it was so bad