#anyway i am still kind of designing it so this may not even be its ‘final form’ if you will

[sirfrogsworth]

These folks watched a whole ass movie not realizing the main character was transgender and it was a 2 second kiss between men that made them lose their ever-loving minds.

It's amazing to me that if it weren't for those 2 seconds, many of these folks would have given this movie a 4 or 5 star review. But two seconds of the most vanilla, non-sexy, yet genuine and loving kiss somehow ruined every moment of enjoyment the previous 90 minutes brought them.

Imagine if they realized the trans allegory. I wish I had a way to tell them. I wish I had a way to make them realize they related to a trans character. That they rooted for them. That they accidentally empathized with a trans story.

This was a beautiful movie. In every sense. I really hope between this and Spider-Verse, we can have a moratorium on every 3D animated movie using this style of character design.

It's time to let go of the rubber toy look.

I love Toy Story, but its success kind of doomed 3D animation to never take any risks. I thought maybe it was just a limitation of the medium, and perhaps it was for a time... but after seeing Love Death + Robots and Arcane...

I realized they can make 3D animation look however the hell they want now.

The rubber people were just risk avoidance.

"That's what people are used to and so we're sticking with it."

But the real beauty of Nimona was the story. I won't spoil it but the plot is pretty much, "If you get to know a trans person, you probably won't hate them anymore."

Not knowing any trans people is one of the biggest factors in anti-trans bigotry. And so this movie uses allegory to let an audience get to know a trans person. And you get to experience someone slowly start to understand what it is to be trans from an outside perspective.

It's sad that will probably be lost on those folks above because all they will remember is the kiss. Seriously, it was such a harmless, mundane, blink-and-you-miss-it kiss. But I'm hoping that others will take the lesson of this movie to heart. That you should get to know people before you judge them.

Part of me does wish we could tell trans stories without allegory. That we could just have overt trans characters. But I think this is the best representation possible right now.

It's crazy that Supergirl was one of the bravest shows as far as modern trans representation. It wasn't an edgy HBO drama trying to push boundaries. It was a family-friendly superhero show and they were just like, "Here is a transgender woman with superpowers and it's fine." And I loved that it was part of the character but it wasn't all the character was. Though I think they just missed the manufactured "moral panic" window where that choice would have been extremely controversial causing boycotts of Warner Bros. and whatnot.

My only complaint about Nimona was a small penis joke. It went by very quickly and many may even miss it. But I was surprised to see it in this movie in particular. Especially since those jokes can have collateral damage toward trans folks. With all of the positive messages, wasting a joke on body shaming was a tad disappointing. I mean, it was a fairly lighthearted "Is it cold in here?" joke. I don't want to make it sound worse than it was. But it still registered on my Richter scale of things that bother me.

Anyway, I wholeheartedly give Nimona a 5 out of 5. It helped me understand my friends on a deeper level and it was warm and funny and entertaining. There was a scene at the end that was so beautiful and heart-wrenching and I was crying my eyes out. The animation and the symbolism and the acting were just so perfect.

It's a shame Disney tried to kill this movie. But I am so glad it was allowed to exist despite that.

#long post #nimona #homophobia

[the-kr8tor]

Mr and Mrs Smith AU: When Jane met John

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 9k

Summary: Joining a spy agency? Check ✓ Hired in said agency? Check ✓ Getting a new fancy house? Check ✓ An entire armoury of weapons at your disposal? Check ✓ A new Husband? Check ✓ wait, what?

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie and R call each other by fake names (ie: John, Jane, Smith etc), spy AU, CW suggestive, CW food mentions, TW blood, CW violence, CW vomit mention, TW death.

A/N: Happy 1k! Happy reading!!!❤️

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The waiting room seems like it's designed to make you extra anxious. From the bright fluorescent lights that whir above, to the carpet that smells like a very harsh citrus soap. Add the metallic chairs that's incredibly cold under your slacks— It all makes you bounce your leg from the bundle of nerves inside your stomach. The people waiting around you don't help either, they all look like they came out of magazine covers. Hair all tied up in a perfect bun, pencil skirts that cinch their waist perfectly. Button ups that are ironed until there's no crease in sight.

You bite your lip, eyes glued on the steel door, to where your last resort is, to where your entire future depends on. Looking around the room full of models, it doesn't seem like you're applying for a security job.

Maybe you should've worn that pencil skirt that's gathering dust in your closet.

Even though you technically don't know what kind of job it is, you really need to get this one, or else. Your savings could only get you so far. An old ‘friend’ of yours recommended this ‘company’. It operates at the highest security, the risk is just as high, but the pay is higher. More than what you've ever earned in the five years you've worked anyway.

Flicking your eyes above the door, the light finally turns green from red, and a chiming sound can be heard as the door clicks open on its own. You still wonder where the applicant goes after their interview since you never saw them exit out the same door. A morbid thought passes by your mind: a gun plus a bullet to the head. The image makes you grab the rubber band on your wrist to slap it against your skin. It leaves the stinging pain for only a moment, but it's enough to throw away the vision from your brain.

An applicant enters and you look down at the piece of paper in your hand— you're next.

The number, 2715 is written in Times New Roman. You can recognize that font anywhere, for it's the same font used on newer gravestones, the same font on his— you slap the rubber band against your wrist again. This time harder than the last. The stinging stays for a minute more. Your heels tap against the carpet, the clock ticks, the fluorescent whirs, someone coughs and you want to punch them in the face— you slap the rubber band against your skin again.

Your ears perk up at the familiar chime like you've been Pavlov’d by the sound after waiting for three hours on that uncomfortable metal chair that has tiny holes that you've gotten your pinky finger stuck in on hour two.

With a deep breath, you saunter your way towards the creaking door, trying to summon all the confidence in your body. They may be watching so you do your best to not look as nervous as you feel like.

As you enter the room, the large screen in the center raises a curious brow. The light from the monitor shines a spotlight on the singular office chair right in front of it. The room is dim, save for the single light. The screen reminds you of one of those mall touch screens that shows you the map of the building. There's another door on the opposite wall, now you know where all the other candidates exit, and it's definitely not from a bullet judging from the clean floors.

With a tentative step, you cross the distance. Sitting down, the chair is a comfortable welcome from the last one you sat on.

“Am I supposed to push a button?” You roam your eyes over the circular shape up top. You surmise that it's the camera.

The calming sky blue screen flashes words,

> Hihi, welcome

“Hi?”

> Insert nail clippings

A box slides out below the screen, prompting you to take the ziplock with your nail clippings from your bag. It slides back in with a mechanic hiss once you place the plastic on the drawer, and the screen blinks to a couple of questions that you answer honestly.

> What's your ethnicity?

You don't falter. Answering it truthfully.

> Height?

You clear your throat, the lump is either from the nerves or how your voice faltered when you answered.

> Are you willing to relocate?

You wring your hands together on your lap. “Yes, absolutely. Nothing's holding me back.” Then the dreaded question pops up on the bright screen.

> Tell me about yourself

“Uh, I graduated top of my class.” You scratch the back of your neck. “MI6 agent for three–no, uh four years.” Chuckling shakily, you continue. “I got high merits…w-well until the thing— but I was on the road to promotion b-before it happened.” God, you hate interviews.

> Words that people would describe you with?

You blink, sucking in a breath. “Truthfully?” Joking, the screen doesn't appreciate your humour.

> Yes

“Oh, p-people would describe me as a… someone who has initiative. Cunning…” unfeeling— you slap the band on your wrist again. Sitting up right, you gaze at the camera like your eyes could see the person typing behind it. You guess it's a person at least. “Passed all my training with flying colours, infiltration, marksmanship, hand to hand, you name it. You tell me the job and I'll do it with no questions asked.”

> Are you okay with high risk?

“More than okay.” You answer quickly.

> With a team or alone?

“I'm alright with either, but I prefer alone.”

> Why did you get fired?

“You know why.” You say intensely, eyes boring holes into the screen. For a second you thought you flubbed it but the screen continues to flash a new question.

> Have you killed anyone?

> And why?

The question turns into what you're more accustomed to. “Yes, approximately…” you inhale sharply. “Forty three. Two unintentionally, the rest with various…weapons.” You mindlessly play with the loose thread of your blazer to get rid of the flashing images in your head. “As for why, that's confidential information.”

The robot or the person behind the screen seems to accept your vague answers for it moves on with the interview.

> Favourite food?

Your eyebrows knit at the sudden turn of question. “Uh, I have a sweet tooth, ice cream. I think. But I can't resist good popcorn.” Your tone wavers at the end.

> Have you been in love?

You laugh, but the question still flashes on screen, unchanged and unamused. Clamping up, you feel for the rubber on your wrist.

“I-I'm sorry but what is this part for?”

The screen remains the same.

“—No,” you remember that they've probably already known everything about you even before you applied. So you decide to answer vaguely, that seems to work out before. “Once, just once.”

> When was the last time you said ‘I love you?’

“A long time ago.”

> To whom?

“You know who.”

—

You're surprised that you got the job even after the disastrous interview. The suitcase is light in your tightly clasped hand. The belongings you've tossed inside are sparse, only packing the ones you only need.

The large wooden door looms in front of you, the street behind you is bustling and right across your new home is an expansive park. A park that looks like you need to pay just to get inside. The neighborhood that you're situated in can be described as exclusive, rich and very suburban. The kind of setting where parents would do anything to raise their kids in. Something you've never thought in your dangerous life to live in, more so even step foot in.

With an exhale, you unlock the door. It clicks open surprisingly, you doubted the company for a second when you pushed it in. Maybe they gave you the wrong address? Maybe something went wrong in their system and your name popped up instead of someone more worthy? Someone who's a better shot, someone who isn't as bat shit insane as you.

The long hallway greets you, the low warm light brings comfort to your rattling bones. Its carpet runner is soft beneath your sneakers, red and blue threads weaved around the thick cloth. Framed art is posted on the walls, the artist's name you recognize from some pretentious reality tv about selling mansions that you once drunkenly watched alone on a friday night.

You leave your baggage in the hallway. Opting to explore the cinnamon scented home. Its rich walls remind you of chocolate that you once got for your birthday. The furniture doesn't look like it came from Ikea, the oak is sturdy under your palm, no rough surface, no protruding nails that slashes your flesh.

You snap the rubber band on your wrist for the umpteenth time today.

There's an ornate door sitting on your right, robins and roses are carved on the wood. The biometric scanner is placed right next to the door, it’s a stark contrast to the traditional home. Flipping the cover open, you place your thumb on the smooth surface of the scanner. After a half second, the door clicks open, revealing a steel elevator. The bright light above it almost blinds you.

Your curiosity makes you enter the steel cage, roaming your eyes, you spot the buttons.

“Might as well.” You say to the emptiness of the house.

As the elevator door closes, the front door opens.

There's a lack of elevator music, perhaps that's the best since you always hated the cheery chiming of it. The second the door opens, you take a peek inside. The weird smell combination of chlorine and butter hits your nose.

“Holy shit,” you mumble in disbelief at the indoor pool and theatre. “A fucking pool under the house? And a fucking theatre screen in front? Which rich fuck decided that?” Your voice echoes, bouncing off the tiled walls of the pool.

Roaming the large room, eyes wide and strides small, you marvel at the high ceilings with the same warm tone lights hidden in the coves to soften the lights. You crouch down, letting the warm water lap at your hand.

There's a handful of sun loungers on the side, tables in between them for drinks and whatever rich people put on it. A projector hangs above the pool, an electrical hazard, you thought and an image of an entire pool party getting electrocuted lingers in your mind. You snap the rubber band against your wrist.

The popcorn machine helps distract you from the intrusive thought. Opening the machine, the popped kernels are still warm against your skin. You quickly scoop up a handful of it in your palm, the butter slicking your hand and your mouth as you eat it like how a baby deer eats grass.

You've had enough of the overly decorated basement, getting back on the elevator, you finish off your popcorn with one big bite. Still chewing, you wipe your hands on your trousers to press the shiny buttons on the elevator. The doors close as you chew loudly, eyes up on the screen showing the floors of the house, you don't notice the stranger standing outside of the opened doors.

Butter on your lips, you almost smack him on his pretty face.

“Christ!” You yelp, almost choking on a kernel.

“Close, but no.” He smirks, eyes flicking at the sheen on your lips.

Your husband, the title echoes in your popcorn filled head. His smile captures your attention, a ten megawatt grin that could power the entire posh neighborhood. His piercings glimmer in the warm light, and your eyes are glued to the ones on his eyebrows. Hazel eyes, the left one seems to be lighter than the other, watercolour eyes stare back at you, scanning your features. If you stare long enough you swear you can see patches of green and gray in those expressive eyes.

“John Smith.” He introduces himself, your husband, your partner. John doesn't raise his ringed hand for you to shake, instead he nods at you, waiting patiently for you to say your name. As if he doesn't know.

Clearing your kernel filled throat, you quickly run your tongue across your teeth (with your mouth closed of course) because you don't want to embarrass yourself further by having popcorn stuck in your teeth.

“Jane, Jane Smith.” You reach towards him to shake his hand, he raises a brow at you in turn.

“I don't do that, love, sorry.”

“Shake hands?”

“Yeah,” he looks to the left of your face, his eyebrow twitches slightly— a tell.

“Are you a germaphobe?” You ask before you could stop yourself.

“Not really, I've got issues…with intimacy.” John shrugs, the metals on his leather jacket clinks together. You think he'd rather be a model or a rock star instead of a spy with how he dresses and carries himself with confidence.

You smile knowingly, “We all do, but you don't have that issue. It's our first day of marriage and you decide to lie to your wife?” You click your tongue, eyebrow raised. “Not a very good first impression, John.”

He'll never get used to being called that basic name. ‘John’ takes your hand, it's warm, searing hot under your slippery hand. You'd thought his warmth would cook your flesh, you guess the butter on your palm would work wonders. You're starting to regret snacking. The calluses on his palm matches your own, a large scar across his palm tells you a story untold. Silver rings decorate his long fingers. There's a more simple silver bracelet on his wrist, a stark contrast to the ornate rings he sports on both hands.

He's handsome, you think, rightfully so. With his chiseled jaw that rivals any greek statue and eyes that could be mistaken for stars; he's tall too, so that's a plus. You lucked out on the fake husband department. Well, there's worse men to fake marry out there. Just judging from first impressions, you're glad he's the one you have on your side,

“How'd you know?” He asks, eyes narrowed.

“I'm very perceptive.”

“Trained?”

“Nope,” you hide your bundle of nerves with your casual tone. His hand is still clasped on your own, you don't notice it. “Just very good at reading people.”

“Did you have a stint at the BAU too?”

Too? You ignore it for now. “No,” chuckling, you finally notice the heat on your palm so you let him go. “Just…natural talent, I guess.”

“What’s under the house?” John asks, stepping aside so you could exit the elevator.

“A beating heart.” You curse yourself, fingers already reaching for the rubber band on your wrist.

To your surprise, John laughs. The sound is genuine, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I got the reference.”

“I figured.”

“I saw a black box in the office, you wanna check it out?” He points behind him with his thumb.

“Why? Do you think there's a beating heart in there too?”

“Maybe.” He plays along, walking beside you. “You never know with the company, for all we know there's a head in there.”

“Morbid.” You joke as he opens the door for you.

“Says you?” John keeps reminding himself of his real name whilst he memorizes the side of your face. He already wants to tell you his real name, not the one assigned to him by the suits behind the faceless screen he has grown familiar with. He says his name in his mind again, if he accidentally blurted it out, well, c'est la vie.

“Says me,” you shrug casually, trying to keep up with his wit and charm. You already think you're losing. You scrunch your face at the painting above the mantle. It's an art of two lovers doing the tango, if tango excludes clothes and includes intense snogging.

He chuckles right next to you, an airy laugh that has you smiling too. “A very brave choice. Not my taste, but whatever floats the company's boat. What's inside is a bit better though.” Your ‘husband’ reaches towards the frame of the painting, gently pressing down, it releases a metallic click as it reveals a secret compartment full of weapons.

You hide a snort behind your hand. The cabinet reminds you of your own. Unimpressed, you flick your eyes down at the office table, the large black box sitting on top of it is just begging to be opened.

Without a second thought, you open it. Taking out the bottle of expensive looking wine, you read the card that is tied in a neat ribbon around the neck.

“‘Good luck on your first day of marriage’” you look at the man beside you. He's incredibly close to you, his elbow grazing yours, lips slightly parted whilst he takes a peek at the wine. He smells of burgundy and leather, it calms your senses for some odd reason. “I prefer coke.” You practically shove the bottle in his hands. The glass clinks against his metal rings.

“The snorting variation or the fizzy one?” He asks, placing the bottle down on the narra table with an almost silent thud.

“The fizzy one.” You take his question at face value. He doesn't question why you don't prefer alcohol. Sitting down on the plush office chair, you open the laptop in front of you. It dings, needing a password to open it. “It needs a—”

Before you could even finish the question, he gives you a scrap of paper from the numerous envelopes inside the box. The password is printed on it with the same font as the one from the piece of paper you held a couple of weeks ago.

You type it whilst he rifles through the box. The home screen pops up, nothing too fancy or out of the ordinary. Except for the single application in the corner that's only labeled as ‘S’

Clicking it, a chat box appears.

> Hihi, follow man

John snakes up next to you, the harsh light from the laptop shines on his pensive face. You return your attention towards ‘your boss’. A picture of a young blond man pops up in the chat, there's a mole near his left eye, he sports dark eyebrows. And a look that says ‘daddy paid for my college!’

> 40.748817, -73.985428

“That's downtown I think.” John pipes up next to you, and you look at him like he just said the sky is green and the grass is blue.

> Take keys, take car. Bring car here

> 51.505554, -0.075278.

“A car?” You rhetorically ask.

“Must be a very expensive car, or an important one.” John answers back as he leans further down to take a better look at the monitor. His hand is on the back of your chair, his necklaces dangle on his neck like a pretty chandelier.

You both wait for more instructions but it doesn't come.

“Hihi isn't very talkative, huh?” Your voice echoes in the awkward silence.

“‘Hihi?’”

“Yeah, I thought I'd give it a nickname.” You think he's weirded out but with an amused laugh he pats your shoulder nonchalantly.

“Cute.” You don't know if he's referring to you, or to the nickname you dubbed your electronic boss. “I've separated our papers.” John says as you still contemplate his last comment. “Here's yours.”

“Thanks.” You scan the pile in your hands. Your own face greets you as you flip through it all.

“It has everything we need. Credit card, ID's, carry permit and a passport.”

“What's that one?” You point at the larger envelope next to John's pile. A smaller black leather envelope sits atop it.

He opens the large envelope, giving you the contents of it. “Marriage certificate. And this one…” shaking the leather envelope, whatever is inside of it clinks. Taking it out, he shows you the gold bands. “...our wedding rings.” Heat rises in your cheeks unavoidably once he says it softly. “May I?” Open palm reaching out, he beckons.

You try to remember which hand wears it. With a split second decision, you place your left hand atop his own. Carefully sliding the cold ring in your marriage finger, you stay locked in on his eyes that's concentrating like he's disarming a bomb.

John pats your hand and then inserts his own ring in his finger, mirroring yours.

“Guess we're married.” You shrug casually like your heart doesn't beat against your ribcage, like it's trying to escape its confines. “It feels kind of weird?”

“We are,” he flashes you his signature smirk. “And we'll get used to it, hm, wife?”

“Yeah, I'll adapt.” You say just barely above a whisper, hands suddenly clammy.

“That's my girl.” Throwing you a wink, he walks away from a flustered you.

Yeah, you got lucky.

—

Morning comes and you had the best sleep you've had in years. Even if you slept on an empty stomach last night, you still slept like a baby on the eight hundred thread count Egyptian cotton blanket. You stare blankly at the beige ceiling, hands roaming around the soft bed sheet like you're making a snow angel. Sleep ridden eyes roam around the expansive master bedroom to which your new husband has graciously let you take.

Speaking of ‘John’, his bedroom is just across your own. Surprisingly enough, he hasn't woken up yet based on the silence in the hallway outside, you hadn't pegged him as a late riser.

Breakfast calls for you when your stomach rumbles loudly, but you're too comfortable to even move from your spot. Something taps from your window that's facing the foot of your bed. A soft tippy tap of something hitting the glass that has you sitting up. Eyes blinking rapidly, you stare off a pigeon perched outside. Its iridescent feathers shine in the early morning sun, its beak tapping rhythmically at the window.

Sliding your hand behind you, blindly grasping at a pillow, you fling it across the room to scare off the bird. The pillow hits your mark and out flies away the annoying pigeon. With a sigh, you get off your ass to get ready for the day ahead. You don't want to be late to your first day out in the field, no use in rotting in your luxurious bed if you can't keep it after you get fired for being late.

You dress for the day and for the cool weather. Spring has come but the freezing temperature has decided to stay for a little while. With a cozy turtleneck and comfy slacks, you forgo the torturous device called ‘heels’ for a pair of trainers. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you shrug with a huff. And you snap the rubber against your skin once again.

Taking the chair off the doorknob and then unlocking the door, you exit your sanctuary. Closing your door softly, you find yourself in front of John's room. Judging from the soft snores, you notice that he’s still sleeping. You might be his fake wife but it's not your job to wake him up. So you continue down the hallway and into the kitchen to fix yourself a bowl of cereal.

Bowl in hand, you chew as you walk up to the rooftop. Unlocking it, the sun greets you with a comfortable heat, and you frown at it. You keep eating whilst you explore the space. There's a bountiful garden in the corner, raised garden beds full of fresh vegetables and fruit that is ripe for the taking. An outside dining area sits in the middle, you recognize the long table from a catalog you once read to pass the time at the dentist. You remember that it doubles as a grill and leg warmer in the winter.

“Fancy,” you murmur with your mouth full of grainy goodness. Sipping the leftover milk in the bowl, you place it on the expensive table to crouch down next to a bushel of strawberries to sniff. “Almost ripe,” you figure from the softness of the fruit.

A bird flies above you, it's shadow casting over you. With the sound of fluttering wings, the bird perches on the table, black orbs staring at you, head tilting like it's observing your presence.

“Are you the same fucking bird?” You question the pigeon. It coos at you, and then pecks at the ceramic of your discarded bowl. “Motherfucker—” standing up, you have the look of someone ready to square up with the feathered creature.

“Why are you fighting an innocent bird?” John appears with a mug of tea in his hand. You forgot to make tea.

“I wasn't fighting with it.”

“He,” your partner crosses the distance, the bird doesn't fly away from the close proximity. You raise an eyebrow at that. “might be hungry.” He gestures towards the strawberries behind you with his chin. “Think you can grab us one, lovie?” You're gonna need some time to get used to that term.

“It's not ripe.”

“I don't think he's picky.”

“It's too sour, it might upset his stomach.”

“He's a pigeon, he's used to eating shit off the pavement. I think that's fine, love.”

With an awkward nod, you pick the one that's redder than the rest. Throwing it towards John, he catches it with a practiced hand. He sits down before laying the fruit in front of the bird. You watch it unfold, the pigeon hops on the table, beak pecking at the seeds. You're intrigued at their interaction.

John sips at his drink, still in his sleep clothes. Toned arms in full display from the loose tank top he sports. Pajama pants hanging low on his hips, silk bonnet on his head. He only has one sock on his feet, you tilt your head.

“What happened to your sock?” You point at his bare foot curiously.

“Hmm?” He looks down, and he chuckles like he just realized the missing article of clothing. “Don't know, probably kicked it off while I was sleepin’”

“Oh,” you blink, “you should get ready, we might miss our target.”

He fakes salutes at you, drinking casually from his mug as you leave the rooftop. He doesn't miss how you didn't take your dish with you. Sighing, he watches the pigeon eat his fill.

—

You and John arrive at a pub. It's dim inside with only a few miserable patrons sitting sparsely at different corners of the musty establishment. They all look miserable, all having expressions from different points of the human emotion. But there's only one face you're observing— your target.

He sits alone on the bar stool, back hunched, eyes red and nursing a half filled pint of beer. Holding his face in his hand, blond hair raked in between his fingers, bomber jacket hanging loosely on his form, bags under his sagging eyes. He's the picture of someone who's on the bottom of the barrel.

John guides you with his hand hovering on your back. Not touching, at the same time still close, you are supposed to be a couple after all. You slide into a booth that has the perfect view of the target, but still out of his sight and out of earshot. The leather seat is worn down, tiny bits of it are ripped, at least it's not sticky. He orders for you, and you observe how he slyly roams his eyes towards the man, looking out for the keys.

He comes back with a plate of chips and dip. “Thought it would be weird not to order anythin’”

“Good call,” you take a chip whilst your eyes only briefly leave the target's back. “Thought you'd buy me a pint.”

“Did you want a pint? This early? Do you want to talk about it?” He half jokes as he takes a smaller chip.

“No,” you scoff, “and no. I just thought you'd order it instead of this.”

“You're not the only perceptive one in this relationship.” John looks over his shoulder to quickly do a once over at the forlorn man.

“Did you see where he's keeping it?”

“Inside his jacket, right side.”

You nod, “Is he carrying?”

“Not that I can tell.” He shrugs, licking the salt off his finger. “So, why'd you join?”

“Really? We're doing that?” You watch as the man gulps down his remaining drink and then orders a new one immediately.

“Yes, we're doin' that. Won't that make us work better together? To get to know each other a bit more?”

“Fine,” you silently huff. “No one else would take me, this is a last resort, I guess?”

“Bullshit, love, I think anyone would be happy to have you in their…agency?”

“Flattery won't get you anywhere, birdman.” A small smile appears on your lips, he beams at you. “Besides, who else is hiring for someone with the specific skill set that I have?”

He hums, while turning subtly to take a peek at the target. Returning his attention to you after seeing the blonde man still hunched in his stool, John takes another chip. “True, did you get kicked out from the last one?”

“Not really,” you stare at the crack on the wooden table. “You?”

“Not really,” he shrugs and you roll your eyes.

“You MI6?” He asks casually. “This your first time in London?”

“I'm not answering either of those questions.”

“C’mon,” he wiggles his left hand, the wedding band shines in the pub light. “Husband, remember? ‘sides, I won't tell anyone.”

You place your elbows on the table, smiling sarcastically at him. After a beat for his anticipation, you grin wider. “No.”

His shoulders fall, a chortle escaping his lips. “Cheeky.” Pointing an accusing finger at you, he quickly looks behind him, only to find the target sluggishly exiting the pub. “He's on the move.”

You both follow the drunk man like gravity is pulling you towards him. Walking the streets of busy downtown London, stranger's faces whizz past you. John has his hands casually in his pockets, yet he stays close to you, eyes flicking in the corners to check on you.

“Why don't you ask me a question? Y’know tit for tat?” He waits patiently for you to answer back, hell he'll even take a grunt at this point.

“Okay,” you surprisingly start the conversation on his behalf. “Have you killed anyone?” The passing pedestrians don't seem to notice you and the morbid subject.

Your partner snorts, nose scrunched up, eyes glued on the staggering target. “Nah. Have you?”

“I call bullshit,” you dodge a distracted woman scrolling on her phone. “Anyway, I have. I'm not exactly proud of it or flaunting it if you're thinking that I'm doing that.”

“Good, once you start flaunting it like a bloody trophy, you've lost it.”

You hum in agreement, the sound of a deep rumble in your chest as you two turn a corner. “Why do you think hihi needs us to nick the car?”

“Hihi” he chuckles, you turn to him with a serious face. “There's probably a stash of confidential information in the trunk or somethin’”

“Maybe a stash of weapons?” The man in front of you stumbles. “I don't see him as the type to harbor secret documents.”

John nods, “a highly infectious disease then?”

“Christ, we better drive carefully once we get a hold of it.” You turn to him briefly. “Maybe it's a really expensive sports car and he's all sad and mopey because he's gone broke after buying it?”

“Got a whole story now, huh?” He pushes you lightly with his leather clad shoulder, and you smile softly. “You good at pickpocketing him?” Your partner gestures with his chin, said target is walking into traffic. He seems unbothered by the oncoming vehicles. John curses under his breath.

“We should do that now before he kills himself.” You speed walk across the crossing, grabbing the drunk man before a car hits him.

Arms enveloping around his bomber jacket, swiping him away and quickly carrying him to the footpath, you save him before an suv hits you both. The car honks loudly and angrily as your target groans in your arms like he's about to hurl the contents of his stomach.

John punches the hood of the car, pointing at the driver accusingly. A distraction for you to take the keys hidden in the man's jacket.

“You almost hit my fuckin' wife, you wanker!” Your partner yells, covering the sound of jingling keys in your expert hand. He plays the part well.

Surprisingly, the target straightens up in your hold, a split second after you pocketed the car keys inside your own coat.

“Y-you,” he slurs, feet struggling to keep himself upright. “Dickhead!” Slamming his fists on the hood with a loud *thunk, he joins John who gives you a look and a shrug. The drunken yelling gets louder and the driver now exits his car with an equally angry look.

John takes this opportunity to come back to your side, hand holding your elbow, he leads you away from the screaming match as more and more people try to intervene.

“Got it?” He whispers closely to the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps to rise in your arms.

“‘course I did.” You jingle the keys inside your pocket. “I'm not an amateur.”

Playing along, he laughs, hand still holding your elbow softly. “Good job, missus.”

With an awkward chuckle, you lean away from him. “Just so you know, I'm not in this for…the romance.” You bite the inside of your cheek. “I'm not looking to date my co-worker.”

John raises his hands in mock surrender. “Fine by me. if the situation calls for us to actually act as a couple—”

“We'll act as a couple, I won't fuss if that's what you're saying.”

“Good, now let's get this bloody car.”

—

“A fucking ‘99 toyota corolla?” You stare in disbelief at the rusting metal. “At least it's one of the good models.” Kicking the wheel, you expect it to tumble over like in an old timey cartoon.

John is crouched way down to check the bottom of the car. “It's clear.” He stands up fully, cleaning his hands on his jeans. You wince at his movements. “What?”

“Nothing.” You open the driver's side, the smell of alcohol and something musty hits your nose. “Nasty.” Coughing, you air it out by opening another door.

“You know your cars?”

“A little bit.” You say with your nose pinched. Sparing him a look, he stands in the parking lot like he's still waiting for the rest of the story. “What?”

“Throw me a bone here, love.” You roll your eyes. “Why do you know so much about cars?”

“I said I know a little bit.” You place your hands on your hips like an exasperated mother whose son keeps asking weird questions about dinosaurs. “I dated a mechanic.” You say flatly.

“Really? Did you date a pickpocket too? Or do you date people so you could absorb their skills like kirby?”

“Are you jealous?” You tease him with a comment you didn't have the foresight that it would backfire.

“We are married.” He says matter-of-fact with a killer smirk and eyes glinting with mischief. “And this is technically our honeymoon so—”

“Get in the fucking car, birdman.”

—

The wheel is sticky under your hands, you have an intense urge to wash your hands or to at least grab a sanitizer. Apparently your disgust shows on your face, for John chortles next to you.

“What?” You say through gritted teeth.

“Nothin’, you just look like someone shat in your tea.”

“The wheel is sticky.”

“I have a handkerchief with me, d’you want me to?” Taking out the dark green cloth from his jean pockets, he's already twisting in his seat to wipe it clean.

“Please,” you ask softly, hands sliding down to make space for him.

Your hand never left the wheel while he cleans it for you. John's seatbelt is unclasped so he could have more movement, his face is close to your vision, warmth blanketing over you. He's so close that you can smell his cologne, it's a different one from yesterday, it's more flowery with a hint of mint. You spot a hidden mole under his ear. A tiny dot that is just begging to be poked.

Without thinking, you press softly with the pad of your finger. He yelps, flinching away instinctively. Looking at you with wide eyes and mouth agape, you're ready to be called a nasty nickname, or be cussed out with a loud voice. Instead of what you're anticipating, a laugh bellows out, a rumbly laugh that makes you smile and let out an almost silent chortle.

“I think you found my mole.” John holds the side of his neck with a grin. “You let your urges get to you, love.”

“Sorry,” you keep your eyes on the road to hide your embarrassment.

“It's fine, your hand was just cold. Ask me next time, I have a few more cute moles on me.”

“Nevermind, you ruined it.” With a roll of your eyes and a smile, you park at the coordinates. “Nice acting back there, I see an Emmy nomination for you in the future.”

“Thanks, I barely remember what I said. You sure this is the place?” John peeks at the map pulled up on your phone. “Shit, we're here.”

The entire street is suburban, large colonial houses lining the sides, tall pine trees decorate the sidewalks. There's not a lot of people walking by, save for a couple pedestrians walking their dogs, the place is devoid of people.

“What now?” You unclasp your seatbelt to twist around in your seat so you could observe the neighborhood.

“Hihi told us to bring it here, so maybe we should—?” John lets out a high pitched scream that also has you yelling in surprise, not from whatever made him shriek but from the sound that escaped him. “What the fuck!”

Leaning slightly to look at what had his knickers in a bunch, you stare blankly at a bespectacled man in a bespoke suit. The man gives you and your partner an apologetic look, he points for John to open the window.

He turns towards you with an eyebrow raised. “Should I?”

“Yeah, I think you should.”

“What if he's got a gun?” He whispers.

“We also have guns, John. I'll cover you, don't worry. Maybe this is what hihi asked us to do.”

“Easy for you to say, you're not the one opening it.” He gives you a glare before rolling the window down an inch. “Hi, mate. What can we do for you?”

“The car,” the stranger points a lengthy finger at the wheel. His voice is crackly and gravelly, like he just smoked a pack of cigarettes before he went up to the car. “You're late, but that doesn't matter. How much do I owe you, folks?”

“Uh, the usual.” You say with fake confidence.

“Good,” the lean man straightens up, “mind gettin’ out of the car then?”

“Right, sorry, bruv.” John, gives you one look before exiting the car. He's nervous and so are you.

As the doors shut, the man flexes his open palms expectantly for the keys, to which you hand off immediately. He gives you bad vibes, maybe your intuition tells you to run for the hills.

“Thank you, sweetheart. I'll wire the money to the usual account.” The nickname sends shivers down your spine.

He closes the door and starts up the car. With a splutter of the exhaust, he slowly drives away. You and John watch, standing side by side in the middle of the street in confusion.

“He was weird, right? Not to mention it was too easy.” You turn your head to look at him. “Maybe they're trying to ease us in?”

“It was all weird, not just him—” A blast coming from the car interrupts him, the sheer force of it sends you two down on the rough pavement.

Your cheeks are incredibly warm from the searing heat of the bomb. The light from it blinds the two of you.

Palms skinned, trousers slashed at the knees, your ears ring loudly like an annoying buzz from a broken microphone. Coughing loudly, smoke fills your lungs, debris is scattered around the once pristine neighborhood. There's blood on the concrete, you can't hear John calling for you, your vision is blurred by the cloud of smoke. His hand reaches for you, and your instincts tell you to run.

“Fuck!” He yells, running beside you at full speed. “What the fuck!”

“Keep running!” You yell as he turns around to check on a woozy you. “I'm fine!”

Someone behind you screams for you to stop so you and your partner run faster. Knees aching, thighs burning, you don't stick around to look who's running after you. The unmistakable click of a gun’s safety is loud in your eardrums, even if your lungs threaten to give out, you sprint right next to John as he turns a corner and into a carwash.

The smell of soap and heavy pine scented car freshener hits your bloody nose. He tugs you towards the plastic curtains and inside what you presume as the employee lounge, someone yells after you but it falls on deaf ears as you and John continue your escape.

Exiting the establishment, the metal doors open to a messy alleyway. Boxes upon boxes of trash and god knows what are littered all around. The pungent smell makes you want to hurl, or maybe that's the adrenaline having a weird effect on your stomach.

You two find reprieve for a second, huffing, trying to get oxygen back in. Hands on your aching thighs, the concrete below you slowly turns crimson as your mysterious injury drips precious blood on the messy ground.

“You're bleedin’” He says in between inhales. There's rustling of fabric next to you, and you feel the warm cloth placed on your forehead.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Waving the drenched cloth away, you scoff lightly. “Don't.”

“What am I supposed to do? Let you bleed?”

You stand up straight, blood coating your lashes as you stare at him. “I've got a better idea.” Placing your palms on the source of the pain, you let your blood coat it.

“What—?” You roughly smudge the warm ichor all over his face and shirt, the plain white of his t-shirt turns a dark pink shade with your touch. Leaning away, he gives you a slow nod of understanding. “Ease us in, huh?”

“I'm rarely wrong and this is one of the rare instances.”

“Let's hope you're right about this one.”

—

You kick the backdoor open with ferocity. It bangs loud against the wall, getting the restaurant staff's attention.

“Help please! My husband!” John's limp arm is around your shoulders, your hand gripping on to his waist to add that one detail that would convince them of your innocence. “There was a bomb!” You don't let the bystanders touch you or John whilst you quickly lumber through their dinghy bathroom. There's murmurs and chairs scraping on the tiled floors as you lock the door behind you.

The bathroom is small, tiles yellowed from the years, the stench of bleach itching your nose. The lightbulb above you whirs like it's about to burst out. He leaves your side to take off his bloodied jacket, tossing it outside from the window— his exit, you presume.

“Your phone.” He holds his empty hand out to you, when you only raise an eyebrow at him, he sighs, eyes turning soft, adrenaline melting out of his system. “Please, c’mon, love, you got me sayin’ please and shit.”

“What for?” You try desperately to wipe the blood off your face.

“To contact you, just in case you need help.”

“I can handle it.”

“I know you can, how else did you get the job then? Just let me,” his voice wavers a bit but he corrects himself with a timed clear of his smoke filled throat. “Please, Jane.”

After pausing, you take your phone out from your pocket to give it to him. He enters his number after seeing your home screen of a basic mountain range.

“There.” Giving the phone back, you expected him to give his too, but he doesn't as he's already halfway out of the window. “I'll see you at home?”

You let out a chuckle, “yeah, I'll see you at home.” He gives you one last smile as he exits the small bathroom and into the streets where numerous sirens go off from ambulances and fire trucks.

—

It was a blur the entire trip home, you bought a loose hoodie from a thrift store and then promptly discarded your blood soaked coat in the bottom of a dumpster. It was a shame though, you liked that coat, it had real wool in the lining. The uber drive was thankfully uneventful, if the driver noticed the remnants of dried blood on your skin he didn't mention it. You gave him five stars for it.

An empty house greets you, John's shoes are nowhere to be seen in the hallway, nor his jacket. You worry for a second, mind rushing through possibilities. The rubber band burns as you pull it back and release it with a harsh thwack against your skin.

The water is cool as you shower, your blood mixing in and pooling around your feet and into the drain like a macabre whirlpool. You don't let your mind wonder about the man that you turned into a street pancake. Instead, you focus on yourself in the mirror.

You stare at the gash near your hairline, the skin around it is angry, leaving a throbbing sensation. There's also a few scratches on your face, especially around your chin. Your main concern is the large gash. It doesn't look like it needs to be stitched together though, which is a good thing since you don't have the energy to even tend to the tiny scratches on your palms. Cleaning and bandaging the wound, you put on clean pajamas and head to bed.

You stop in your tracks when you see John lying face down on your bed. Still in his iron soaked clothes, save for the jacket. You glare at his boot, it's off the bed but you still grit your teeth at the thought of it grazing your bedsheets.

He senses your presence, and he lifts his head up, chin helping prop himself up. “Your bed is better than mine.” His multi coloured eyes are laced with exhaustion, dull yet there's still a spark when he looks at your annoyed gaze.

“Who are you? Goldilocks?”

“Yeah, I ate your porridge too.”

“Damn, not my porridge.” Too tired to fight him, you slither into bed next to him, an arm's length away from his equally tired body. Staring at the ceiling, you feel his eyes on you. “What's up with your eyes?”

“It's called heterochromia—”

“I know what it is, I'm asking why you're staring at me like you're about to devour me.”

“I could devour you if you want.” He says nonchalantly but with the charisma of a man who knows what he's talking about.

“Maybe next time.” You blindly pat his shoulder which ended up with you patting his cheek. He hums at your touch, a deep rumble that you felt through the mattress. “Not bad for our first day huh?” Lifting your hand away, he twists on the bed to mirror your position. Now you're both gazing at the beige ceiling like it owes you money.

You're tired but for some reason you're fighting off the sandman from sprinkling sand in your heavy eyes.

“I lied back there, I've killed before.” His voice is merely above a whisper but you heard it as loud as a trumpet blaring in your ears.

“I know, you wouldn't be here if you haven't.” You answer with empathy. “If it makes you feel better, I've been to London before. Twice, on a family trip and a decade later…on vacation.”

“Glad to know.” He taps the inside of your elbow as a thank you for trusting him. “You CIA?” He blurts out above the comfortable silence.

“God no.” You truthfully say.

“And here I thought you're an alumni of the culinary institute of America.”

For the first time in years, you let out the loudest laugh you could muster. Snort and all.

Your ‘husband’ joins in with his own rambunctious laughter, the bed shakes at the loud guffaws. The happy sound fills the room, and your heart feels like it isn't as heavy as before. It's still there, the heaviness, but it isn't as cumbersome. You now realize that you've only snapped the rubber band on your wrist a couple times today.

An annoying tapping sound interrupts you both. Simultaneously sitting up by the elbows, you two tilt your head at the intruder.

“It's that pigeon again.” You actually smile at the thought of the same bird coming back to your house like a white strand of hair that keeps growing even after you've pulled it out. “I think we should name him. Something like Terry or Flanders.” You chuckle softly.

“Jeff.”

You shake your head. “Nope, doesn't suit him, what if it's a she?”

“His name is Jeff.” John turns to look at you, eyes full of certainty.

You turn to him, blinking rapidly in realization. “He's yours. He's your bird, isn't he?”

“You are insightful.” He smiles, a soft one that fills you with endearment that you haven't felt in years. “Met him a few months ago, fed him once and now he wouldn't leave me alone. I guess he followed me here too.”

“Y’know, pigeons are really smart, kinda like crows. He probably thinks you're his daddy.”

“Does that make you Jeff's mummy?”

“I don't want to be Jeff's mom.” Said bird taps on your window again, like he senses that you're currently talking about him.

“Too bad,” he raises his marriage finger, showing you the gold band. “He's our kid, love.”

You smile, hiding it with a huff and by laying back down with a gentle thump.

“Can I tell you somethin’?” His face pops up in your vision, you nod in place. “My real name is—”

“Let me stop you right there.” You sit back up, almost hitting his head with your own at how fast you sat. “There's a reason why they gave us fake names. Whether we like it or not, It's John,” You point at him. “And Jane Smith.” You point at yourself. “Until they dismiss us, that's our names. Not whatever you were about to tell me.”

“But you know it's not our names, right?”

“Of course I do. You don't look like a John, John.”

“And you don't look like a Jane. I just…” He sighs. “Just want someone to know my real name. We almost died back there, what if we stayed a minute longer inside that car? What then? I don't want to die with someone else's name written on my grave.” His words are genuine, but it sounds like he has said these words before.

Still, you sympathize with him. You've gone undercover before, taken someone’s name instead of yours for months. Those missions were so long and tiring that you almost forgot your own name. But it was…survivable because he was with you. John has no one, and this time you have no one. No one that calls your real name, no one that can identify your body if you suddenly croak in the middle of a mission.

No one else but John and Jane Smith.

So with bated breath, you give him the go ahead. “Okay, tell me. But I can't promise that I'll call you by that name.”

“Don't want to get in trouble with hihi?”

“No,” you scoff. “I don't give a shit what that robot says. I just don't want to die with a stranger's name. So fuck it, tell me yours and I'll mine.”

He smiles the same smile that he gave you before he went out of that dinky bathroom window. The smile that reassures you, a smile that tells you everything will be alright.

“It's Hobie,” Hobie finally says. “Hobie Brown.”

“It suits you better. Thought it was Jeff.” You whisper, and you give him your real name. The same name you were born with, not the fabricated ones your former agency has given you, not the ones your new company has given you.

He whispers back your name, tongue rolling off it like honey. Then, Hobie smiles again, nodding and those heterochromatic eyes bore into you comfortably like the sun's rays kissing your skin in the summer.

“You look like one. Definitely suits you better than Jane.” You smile shyly as you lose the fight against sandman.

In Hobie's mind, he hopes that knowing your real name is enough, enough to keep you alive, enough of an incentive for him to keep you safe, since you're not just a typical Jane anymore that the company randomly selected for him, no, you're Y/N L/N, and he'll do anything to protect you better. Because maybe, just maybe, knowing your real name this early would work, and you'll outlive all the Janes that he himself has outlived.

As you fall asleep next to him, he stares at Jeff the third. In that luxurious house, within those bulletproof walls, and in your room lies a deep anger in him. An anger that keeps him sane in all those years trying to pay his debt. He needs to end the cycle, not just for him but for all the agents that are in the same shoes as him. For now he lets you sleep soundly, for now, he plots the demise of the people behind the screen.

The laptop flashes a new message from the company.

> Mission complete: 3 fails remaining

> Good job, next mission?

Support banner by @cafekitsune ❤️

A/N: thank you for reading!!! Please consider reblogging if you liked it ❤️❤️❤️

#1k special #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #atsv fanfiction #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #hobie x reader #hobie fluff #spy au #mr and mrs smith au #spy! hobie au #spy! hobie #spy! hobie x reader #cw food mention #tw blood #cw violence mention #tw death #cw vomit mention

[yaekiss]

Congratulations on the 400! If I'm not too late, may I send a #mailroom open letter to a yan!Albedo? Any gender neutral or feminine nickname would work and, if it so pleases you, a nsfw reply would be lovely.

__________________________

To my lovely Albedo,

How are you, love? Are you taking care of yourself while I'm away? As I sit here, working away in Inazuma City while I enjoy a sweet dessert, I cannot help but think of you... and your tendency to get swallowed up by your research when I'm not there to reel you back.

I was hoping that my business here would be done far faster than this. I suppose it isn't all bad, though. I can't say that I've ever been a social person, but people have been nothing but kind to me thus far. I may have even made a friend. But still, my heart belongs to you- and as such, no matter how I may enjoy my time, I can only eagerly await the moment I am able to return home.

I miss you dearly, my prince. I'll make sure to work even harder so that our time apart may be shortened by even a little bit. I can't to have you in my arms again, to feel the warmth of your embrace and know that everything is right with the world.

We both know that I could go on with the sweet words for pages and pages, so it's probably best that I stop here. Stay safe and take care of yourself, alright? I love you so, so much.

May my affections cross what feels like an eternity apart,

Your Wistful Lover

(Alongside the letter are various, shockingly well-preserved Inazuman sweets including Sakura Mochi and Dango milk, as well as a small pouch containing a handful of carefully-chosen Sakura Blooms. Lastly is an intricately designed silken blindfold, with its own little note attached that reads, "I had this custom made for you. I wanted to make one myself, but I couldn't find the time. Hopefully you like it anyway!")

꩜ Letter Content: Dom! GN! Reader x Yan! Sub! Albedo, no gendered terms for reader, Albedo calls you "my constant", mentions of blindfolds and a vibrator used on Albedo, unhealthy and obsessive relationship from Albedo, lmk if I missed anything ! ꩜ Delivery Notes: Albedo sure is a busy man to track down... I had to look for him all over Mondstadt since he was gathering quite a collection of alchemy ingredients. It was quite the staggering assortment too... I never understand what he's planning. ꩜ Wanna write a love letter yourself? Check out it out here!

Placed at your hotel doorstep is an innocuous package. It's decently sized, the box a lovely shade of pale indigo and shifting it slightly under the light shows an underlying iridescence hidden in the pigment.

Undoing the sturdy rope securing the lid down, you gain access to the contents within the box. You first retrieve a wondrous blooming bouquet of cecilias, wrapped in a sheer gauzy yellow fabric and tied with a teal satin ribbon. The petals are soft under your caress and for a moment, you reminisce about the first cecilia Albedo gifted to you after showcasing his alchemy.

Next, you fish out a cloth drawstring pouch. Peering into it, there's an assortment of all your favourite Mondstadt candies, enough to last you weeks. A little tag is attached to one of the strings, it reads: “In case you miss your usual sweet treats and need a boost of energy. ♡”

Unwrapping one, you pop it into your mouth before you pull out an envelope. The paper is smooth under your fingers and an impressive sketch of Dragonspine decorates the front. Flipping the envelope over, there's a wax seal, a cursive letter “A”, with flecks of gold dotted in it.

Carefully, you open it and obtain the parchment inside. His handwriting is a sight you've missed, from days spent watching him jot down his hypothesis and findings in his laboratory. Albedo's response to you reads:

“Replying to: My beloved constant.

Thank you for writing to me, my constant, I was growing somewhat nervous with your prolonged silence and I feared something unsavoury might have happened to you. As such, I am writing back to you to assure you that I've been doing alright as well. Though, I'm sure I would do a lot better with you by my side.

Next, I must thank you for the gifts you sent me. I shared the sweets with Klee and she has been pleading nonstop with me for more. Also, the sakura blooms were of high quality and proved immensely useful in my research. If you're willing, I can share my findings with you when you return, my constant.

Now, I can't help but ask what went through your mind, gifting me such a sly gift as a blindfold. What scene did you picture in your head? Was I blindfolded and tied up on your bed while begging for you to please touch me? Or perhaps I'm laid on my laboratory table, my sight obscured with the silk, pliant and willing as you drag a vibrator across my skin in an attempt to find my erogenous zones? Did you fantasise about muffling my moans with a kiss as you toyed with me? You should reenact it with me as soon as you get back, my constant, I feel as if I'm about to burst with how much I long for your embrace.

Ahem, getting back on track, I too have been working hard. (Fret not, I have not been overworking myself. I do not wish to worry you after all.) And I've made discoveries of my own and uncovered intriguing new possibilities whilst ruminating alone in my laboratory. I heard of the Inazuman archon's dedication to eternity.

Eternity... goes against natural orders, but lately, I have been finding myself relating to her obsession with such a concept. You might think it strange, my constant. However, I can understand how fearing the loss of someone close to you can affect your decisions, despite the morality of said actions.

You are golden in my eyes, unforgettable, and the time I spend with you feels like I'm the closest to unravelling the truth and meaning of this world. Is it my greed talking when I say that I want more time to uncover all of you, to understand the very fibre of your being, to see what has irreversibly drawn me to you and what makes you stay by my side? Maybe it is, but that is a question best saved for another day, my constant.

I shall end my letter here. I sincerely hope that the rest of your stay in Inazuma goes smoothly and safely, and that your return will be swift. I cannot wait to have you by my side once more, my constant. I love you so, so much as well.

Ever and eternally yours,

- Albedo -”

You fold the parchment and place it back into the envelope. One last item rests in the box. It's a handpainted painting of you, framed in an intricate wooden frame. Albedo captures your smile in the sunlight, the background featuring one of the picnics the both of you went on recently before you left for Inazuma.

However, you notice that one of the corners is a little wrinkled. Removing the backing of the frame to fix it, you discover another layer of canvas material behind that first painting. Gingerly, you peel it back to reveal a haunting portrait of the both of you. 

In dim lighting, you're seated on his laboratory table whilst he's knelt at your feet, his head resting on your lap. You almost don't recognise yourself. You're familiar with his art style but in this, you're ethereal to an eldritch degree... almost devoid of humanity. It's unnerving, to say the least. 

Perhaps Albedo's research has veered into more forbidden territories, challenging the principals of nature, all in the name of love. You muster one more look at the portrait.

A matching star rests delicately on your neck. In the bottom corner, he titles it “New birth.”

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

#📜.qi celebrates #📜.Mailroom Open! #📜.qi writings #📜.qi musings #📜.qi chats #chats with a hotel guest! #yandere #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #yandere genshin #albedo x reader #albedo smut #sub albedo #yandere albedo #yandere smut #sub yandere #dom reader #aaaand here's your reply from Albedo!! hope you enjoyed it ! ^^ #do let me know hehe <3 #apologies that it took a while too! ><

[eveningrainstorm]

my take on teenage raz and lili!

some design notes under the cut:

They're intended to be about 16 here! I didn't go for anything too drastic in terms of changes -- these are largely just what I'd consider natural evolutions of their canon designs

For Raz, my main focus besides just making him look older was to add a bit more resemblance to the other Aquatos in his design, since his relationship with them wouldn't be strained like it is during canon

Raz is shown with very straight hair in canon, but since most of his family's hair is more wavy or curly I tend to imagine he styles it that way on purpose as part of his Sasha Nein cosplay or whatever. He wouldn't still feel the need to do that at this point, though, so for this design I wanted to make it more curly, similar to Augustus or Frazie, while still similar to his canon style. This turned out to be incredibly difficult and I'm still not entirely happy with where I landed, but it's good enough

I didn't think he would still wear the helmet but I didn't want to discard it entirely, so the goggles were a compromise. I meant to give them some visible scratches and wear and tear since they're presumably the same goggles he's been wearing since he was 10, but I forgot. rip

Obviously the most notable change to Raz's outfit is the scarf -- I wanted something that would tie him visually to the other Aquatos while still fitting with his general look. I imagine they gave it to him as a gift, sort of an acknowledgement that even if he doesn't perform with them as an acrobat, doing his Psychonaut work is his own way of being an Aquato

Raz's outfit here is honestly very similar to his PN2 outfit. This is because in my eyes "long coat and turtleneck" is Peak Character Design and cannot be improved on. (Hence why I may not be the best person to redesign Raz.) He has an actual coat rather than just an oversized blazer this time though, so that's an improvement. With the turtleneck I was was vaguely intending for it to be color-wise something of a middle ground between the Sasha-style green striped turtleneck and the Aquato blue/green and white stripes, but it ended up basically just being the PN1 stripes with the PN2 color. which, you know, that works

I went back and forth on what their heights should be -- I thought it would be kind of funny if Raz ended up short and Lili ended up taller than him, but then I decided to just make them more in line with their families, with Raz being tall and lanky and Lili being average verging on short. Except then I accidentally made Lili tall anyway because I was only vaguely considering her height relative to Raz. I guess Lili's probably taller than her dad now? good for her ig

Most of their facial features are just slight variations of how they look in canon -- slightly smaller eyes and so on. the only real specific change is that Lili has a more defined nose now, similar in shape to her father's

Lili's outfit here is more different from either of her canon outfits than Raz's is, but there's still not much that really requires a ton of explanation. The goal was to make her look vaguely cool and fashionable, although as I am neither of those things I cannot guarantee I was successful

I tried a couple different hairstyles for Lili, and I'm still not entirely set on this one -- Originally what I settled on was to give her two braids, which I did like, but I kept doing sketches of her where I just drew the top part of the hair and was like "ngl this kind of works on its own" and so I ended up going with the short hair. I also briefly tried an asymmetrical haircut but I couldn't get it to look right. I think this one suits her though

Lili's tattoo (on her left wrist) was a later addition to the design, and even in the later stages of drawing this I wasn't sure whether to keep it. I like it conceptually I just haven't figured out a consistent design for it yet, only that it has to be of plants

god these notes got way longer than I meant them to be I am so sorry. Uh basically I'm still figuring out the details of these designs but for now here's Raz and Lili, they're teenagers now, thanks for reading

#still not completely set on these designs but i think i've mostly gotten an idea of what i want from them #i'll probably revisit them in the future. i'm happy with these for now tho #razputin aquato #lili zanotto #psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #my art

[ach-sss-no]

I feel weird giving out unprompted permission statements because I'm making a big assumption that anyone's going to want to use my work. That said I also know people do like to build on other people's art and can't always work up the nerve to ask, so: Anyone is free to use this design if they want to for any reason- I don't own this character anyway. (Although I am hopeful that you do not, you know, monetize it, because i cant do that and if you do that its not fair ;_; ) Feel free to remix, improve, use as basic inspiration, etc. I would appreciate a tag/mention if you use it so I can see what you did!

This design has evolved a little since I first started drawing it, and I will see people reblogging the original design notes and think 'oh no! those are out of date and I don't have new/accurate ones!'

Reblogging the old one is still an honor- and the first take on a design just sometimes has a different appeal because it's less refined and more chaotic (especially with a character that should be chaotic), so I suspect some people will just prefer the older drawings & they'll still get shared, which is great! But I felt as if the project was a little bit incomplete without an update, since I think I've reached the point where if you see that old post & then come to my blog and look at my current content, there's a noticeable difference.

Also I kind of like making design notes.

If anyone's wondering why things changed, the answer's really simple- 90% of it is just the result of him settling into having more consistent anatomy and facial structure so that I can keep him looking accurate across different angles and poses. If you look at the old drawings you may notice that Gollum has an inconsistently shaped squishy head. That's fine for a concept post but doesn't work as well for maintaining him across different comic panels or in an animatic, at least not the way I work.

In the same vein, while my art is still & will always be heavily stylized, I started giving him more structured semi-sorta-realistic anatomy so that he wouldn't look entirely out of place next to less bizarre-looking characters such as Aragorn. (I feel that's also helpful in nudging Gollum into the uncanny valley where he ought to be, rather than leaving him so abstractified that there's a risk you won't see anything wrong with him having noodle arms.) He also acquired the new-style 'garbage bag' outfit because I found a reference in LOTR to his arms and legs being bare/exposed (it's in one of my favorite passages, the 'an eagle would think Gollum was dead if it came by right now' passage in The Two Towers):

Not even an eagle poised against the sun would have marked the hobbits sitting there, under the weight of doom, silent, not moving, shrouded in their thin grey cloaks. For a moment he might have paused to consider Gollum, a tiny figure sprawling on the ground: there perhaps lay the famished skeleton of some child of Men, its ragged garment still clinging to it, its long arms and legs almost bone-white and bone-thin: no flesh worth a peck.

#long post #blobart #lotr #lotr gollum #lotr fan redesign #i really do love that passage because it says so much and implies more #sam and frodo are sitting there invisible because they are being protected by the gift of love and honor galadriel gave them #gollum who has been busting his butt to hide all of his life #issplatted out there like a frog entirely exposed. he has nowhere to hide and no protection- not even proper clothing #and even a carrion bird would think he was 1) dead 2) of no value #...and then we have tolkien drawing the allusion to a starved/abandoned child #it's eerie and deeply empathetic at the same time #It's also funny. why would there be an eagle here pondering gollum #same energy as 'a fox wondered why these hobbits were bobbling around in the woods' and then the fox disappears forever #also same energy as 'there was a thrush nearby. bilbo was in such a bad mood that he tried to kill it' #body horror #eye horror #unsanitary/ #bones?.... #tw: gollum #there #I will be doing a morning reblog of this because i only do this once every two years so postblock it if once was enough

[invinciblerodent]

I have been thinking fucking incessantly about this one Todd May quote ever since that scene meeting Mystra:

"Why, for the Immortals, are all undertakings in vain? Given an infinite amount of time for existence, everything will happen of its own accord. There is nothing an immortal being cannot eventually do; and, in fact, nothing he or she will not eventually do."

This is from his book "Death", from the chapter "Death and immortality", about... well, immortality, and the morals of it, as contrasted with its mortal conceptions.

Essentially, in the most straightforward way I can phrase it, May describes how for mortals, life is fraught with urgency. We are always at least tangentially aware of our existence being temporary: which is in part what makes our actions meaningful. We are aware that there is a finite amount of things that we are able to accomplish in our lifetimes, and we are at least kind of aware of our existence being singular in time (even considering religious beliefs of things like reincarnation or an eternal afterlife, the here and now when I am both this and present is still unique), so the end, or the idea of it, in its way, generates the meaning of the limited number of events within this particular chunk of time.

An immortal, like a goddess, would likely be more of a disinterested spectator of life than an active participant in it. Without the urgency of a time limit to drive them forward, and the precariousness of living to make the future uncertain, a goddess has no real interest in things that happen in the world of mortals. With good turning to bad, and bad turning to good over the centuries, it's easy enough to kind of stop caring about what is currently going on, because, well, it'll eventually be different, and then the same again.

Of fucking course she doesn't care for Gale the way he cares for her: it's impossible for her, which is what he, with his limited, human perspective, is (imo) initially incapable of understanding. In his very short, limited life, there is room for one, maybe two such great loves, but in hers? There is an endless, constant stream of near-faceless people, flowing through and not making a permanent mark, because permanence for an immortal is a word largely devoid of meaning. Bad or good, the guilt/pleasure will always fade, the people will all die and get replaced by a brand new crop of similarly expendable people, and the goddess will still have an infinity of time to go.

Even considering that she was once Mystryl, and that technically this incarnation of her was once mortal, and keeping her brush with a kind of death in mind, the future for Mystra, as she can conceive of it, is an empty, vast expanse of nothing but the certainty that she will live, and she will be present in some way. Even if slain (if I recall correctly how this works in DnD), her essence just kinda returns to the cosmic soup, and eventually, she'll... reform, or be resurrected, or changed as she has been already, or she'll remain as an immaterial fragment, or something. Point is, she is unending, and he is no more than a blip on her radar.

That's why she's so callous about asking him to die, and in turn essentially dooming Faerun: she doesn't care. She can't care. He was going to die anyway in what feels to her like the blink of an eye (whether it's 5 days, 50 years, or 500, it's not important), and what does she care if the Grand Design comes to fruition? Whether there are people or mind flayers inhabiting the world, it's of no real concern to her. Eventually, either people will strike back, or go extinct, or the mind flayers will cease to exist and something different will come from it, all without truly affecting her. In a year, a hundred years, or a million years, she will be here, and there will be another bright mageling to amuse her.

Fun as it is to joke about it, I don't think that the toxicity of their relationship is her fault, strictly speaking. It's not the ocean's fault when a tsunami destroys a village and kills hundreds. It's not the storm's fault when lightning strikes and kills a tree. Her very nature is this nebulous, capricious existence, only truly occupied with having the power to indulge her whimsies, and filling an infinite amount of time with things to do- unconcerned about how that affects others, because their whole lives barely affect her for a short segment of her eternal soup of undefined presence.

It can be argued that any relationship that may exist between mortal and immortal is necessarily tragic, toxic, desperately unequal, and grossly unhealthy for the mortal. By its very nature, such a relationship pushes the needs and feelings of the mortal party into essential inconsequence to their partner. There can be no regret to feel when the mortal is hurt or gone, because there have been others like them, and there will be others to come still, and everything will happen, or has happened, and will happen again.

Gale was always doomed to be her devoted plaything, only to be discarded once he stops being fun. That could have been once his appearance stopped pleasing her, or once his wit stopped entertaining her, or for any reason whatsoever, and him recognizing that this relationship was never anything more than entertainment to her, while it was devastating and singularly defining to him, is such an important thing for his future happiness.

(This is mainly why his throwaway "Let me make myself indispensable" line is so important to me, tbh. He yearns to matter, and that is only possible if he either finds contentment entirely within the mortal realm, or becomes a god himself, which in turn just dooms him to essentially become Mystra and continue this vicious cycle.)

(Fucking tragic-ass low-wis wizard man, making me fkin... re-read my philosophy books. Honestly the gall, Larian.)

#mystra #bg3 mystra #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #what else uh #i'm not tagging philosophy because that's fucking pretentious as hell #and that's coming from someone who just unironically used the phrases “capricious existence” #and “the precariousness of living” #AFTER quoting Todd May #don't worry I hate that I am like this too #squirrel plays bg3

[steampunkforever]

Dune Part 2 is once more proof that Denis Villeneuve is an incredibly calculating director. And it should be good. He's been storyboarding Dune since the 80s. Of course Zack Snyder also released a film recently that'd been his passion project since before he was making movies, and Rebel Moon sucked, so that's clearly not a metric for success, but you get my point.

Right on the heels of releasing the phenomenal Sicario, Villeneuve got the keys to Dune. This is a moonshot take the money and run opportunity. I love this type of film. One of those "They may never let me do this again" movies like Magnolia or (to a lesser extent) Apocalypse Now! that build on previous success to sucker studio funding for something you really want to do. Usually this involves jumping to it and spending as much money as possible before accounting changes its mind about sending all those blank checks, but Denis was just as calculating as ever with it.

Adapting two more scifi properties at differing scales was the right idea for this, both allowing for more time to develop Dune and for Villeneuve to find his footing with less ambiguous science fiction (considering that my friends who watched Enemy barely understood it to be about aliens). Villeneuve is calculating. His steps are measured, and I've yet to see a film of his that feels outright rushed.

I think that this is in part due to Villeneuve's understanding that he is (at least up until the release of Dune) not part of a generation of directors who get whatever they want. This generation of director has been waning for a long time, but Nolan and Tarantino really mark the last generation of directors allowed to experiment on blank checks no matter if their last film flopped. Zack Snyder is also technically ranked among them but his decade-long slump is clearly an outlier. Villeneuve has to put out solid movies to earn the right to take creative risks, and Dune has clearly been another measured step in his film career. Which is to say that Dune Part 2 is fantastic.

I have a deeply nuanced relationship with Dune screen adaptations, so do note that there is some bias here, but regardless, this is a wonderful film. Did I wish they'd stuck to their guns and shown Alia for real? Did I kind of hope they kept it to just two films instead of the projected 3+ that are sure to come? Am I still outraged that they didn't recast Sting? Of course. But when it all boils down, this film is a science fiction accomplishment that you SHOULD go see.

The set design, sound design, acting, and cinematography were all top notch. There was rarely anything in this film I did not love (read: Timothee, my archnemesis). Of particular note were Pugh, Ferguson, and Bardem's performances. Bardem's Stilgar was an absolute delight, and I found myself losing the fact that he was acting in his performance. The plot, spectacle, and inclusion of Christopher Walken all sold me on the film.

Another detail that was clear evidence of Villeneuve's extremely calculated process was Zendaya's role as Chani in Part 2. Chani (largely sidelined in the books after showing up partway) is positioned as sort of the soapbox character to remind you that colonialism is bad at predetermined intervals. And while this is certainly not a choice I would've made for the character (I prefer to do my soapboxing in different parts of the text) I can't help but find that I didn't hate Chani's direction in the film. This is in spite of the fact that I detest Soapbox characters (except for in Spike Lee films. Love you Spike Lee) and find their usage lazy. Somehow it works for me here, even if it could've been more subtly rolled into the narrative. Man I'm really reaching for nitpicks, I should go back to demanding they show me a creepy toddler Alia.

Anyway if Sting was the one fighting Timothee's Paul that twink would get stabbed to death so hard you have no idea.

#sting metal diaper zone #dune part two #dune 2 #filmposting #dune

[kalofi]

Your buggy design is so excellent because not only does he have that „Has a good amount of body fat but you also KNOW he’s fairly strong and muscular“ kind of Strongman physique, but I also can see him being the type of guy who people don’t expect to be as agile as he is. Like, even without chopchop powers. People see him and think „I’ll just need to move faster than him and tire him ou-„ and they already got hit with a pretty nasty fakeout right hook. Not even mentioning how surprisingly fast he can move, even if lots of said movement is him trying to run away from something and accompanied by silly noises. You look into one direction for one second and see something approaching, before turning to look at him only to see a Buggy shaped dustcloud and realizing he’s already half a mile away from you.

🤡 💨

(Also I don’t know why but I love how your Shanks looks almost the opposite. Someone who’s strong and physically fit in some ways but also sounds like… someone tapdancing on a bag of potato chips every morning when he gets out of bed and stretches. It’s all just really good shit I gotta say)

this is such a beautiful analysis of how i draw them im nodding in agreement as if im not the one who depicts them this way. so true bestie sooo so so fuckin true. right on the nose (HA!)

basically my thoughts for buggy when im drawing him are “i will make this guy into someone who i am so attracted to” and thats basically it. i want that fat boy. also yeah hes strong to me like he detaches his arms to use as body part “canons” but im under the assumption that he’d still have to be able to pack a decent punch himself if he wanted to deal true damage w his devil fruit. kind of in the same vein of how i believe robin is so lowk jacked bc i think her flowered limbs are only as strong as the originals. anyway buggy works on toon logic as you said with the dustcloud. it may seem impossible for him to pull off but if its funny enough for the bit well he can do anything he sets his heart to. i truly believe this

as for shanks well yes i dont have much to say you laid it out pretty perfectly. that guy does not have a graceful bone in his body he lumbers and grunts and scratches his ass . hes like a mountain beast or some sort to me. hes strong and fast but you’ll know when hes coming hes not much for subtlety. buggy values his means of escape and i think with his devil fruit comes a certain elegance to it if i can be so forthright. well whatever i think im just in love with that clown and it affects the way i percieve him maybe im crazy

#sorry i responded so late to this tumblr is hatd these days #but i miss u guys i want to b more active i do…..stay with me #well i love shuggy i think its obvious by now from how much ive posted about them #zolu will never be topped but i do contemplate those two old men frequently #kalofi’s asks

[penguin--rat]

canine girl in all her doggy glory!! already posted her design and profile the other day, but i updated her profile and i want all her images in one post.. speaking of her profile, warning warning for talk of violence there more on canine (+ lyrics?!! Woah!!) under the cut:)

canine girl is inspired/an au of my oc alík, but i don't think it'd be wrong to say she's a different character alltogether? while the things she struggles with are things that alík does, too, she's more like.. idk ❤️only i can understand this ...

as you may have guessed by her warning, canine girl has violent intrusive thoughts, and feels extremely guilty for them, even if she never acts out on them. her profile doesnt get too into this .. since she feels that guilt and shame, i don't think she'd wanna share the details online .. or with anybody ever.. you know how it is 💥

her design is smth i struggled with greatly .. her mask is this

and as soon as i saw it on alíks pinterest board i was set on using it and im sooo happy i did!! i think it works greatly..!!! other notable things about her design, that im happy with, are mostly to do with her hoodie. her hoodie-ears are actual ears, shes just hiding them:) and its made to resemble a service dog vest!

you can't really see it in the 'fake screenshot' art, the first one, but she's got a kind of belt (harness ?) around her chest !! its around her shoulders too.. and her chain hanging from that could be interpreted as a leash ig ?? idk 💥💥you'll never understand sinister minds inner workings... another design-y thing is !! shes got her arms around herself in the fake screenshot, which is bc she's hiding her claws from you 💥her eyes are also made to resemblea wolfs:)

her pants are just like that bc its alíks fashion sense 💥and bc i think they fit! and i like them!! a little treat just for me:)

another thing that i wanna talk about is her profile!! its so !! chill !! the colours are warm and inviting, her info there is silly, she invites you to talk with her if you're struggling, shes got fun blinkies.. !! shes just having fun on a site hanging out and chilling .. its like that bc i wanted to show, even if in a little way, that intrusive thoughts arent indicative of a persons identity. canine's intrusive thoughts don't make her a bad person, they don't make her a rabid dog like she thinks, they just make her somebody with intrusive thoughts. shes more than her intrusive thoughts, you know ??

anyhow! the lyrics !! i wrote lyrics for a theoretical song that she would have, but Wont, because im not a songwriter. i might make a silly littly tune for her one day, like a minute long at most, most likey shorter, so these lyrics are what you get !! and also it was my second time writing actual lyrics (first time was 10 minutes before when i was writing lyrics for another tptm oc, unknown girl) so Dont be meanies... Ok... treat me niceys... her voice for this would be kohaku merry btw :3

warning, again, more specified this time: themes of violent intrusive thoughts, talk of violence, vague references to generational abuse

That I’m just like a dog, I know Got the leash and collar to show Tug it one way, then another I’ll obey you like no other

But obedience doesn’t cut it With teeth sharper than a razor blade The only way to be is afraid That’s what I say, anyway

Can’t say I’m sorry, not to you That’d scare me, letting you know  About your mangled body on the floor Still just a fantasy, nothing more

(Violent thoughts suppressed) Ineffective muzzle helps little (Violent needs repressed) ‘Cause my razors make it brittle It’s not on purpose, just my spittle Can’t help my second nature

(BEAT ME, FLAY ME, LEAVE ME DEAD PLEASE DO YOUR WORST, I BEG IT WON’T BE UNDESERVING TO BEAT A WILD DOG SENSELESS

GIVE IT YOUR ALL, YOUR EVERYTHING WE BOTH KNOW I’D DO WORSE WERE I NOT A DOG BUT SOMETHING LIKE I AM NOW, JUST SHAMELESS)

The carpet floor’s forever stained A family heirloom of violence and hate Trying so hard to reject that norm Can’t help but feel it’s all I’m destined for

Gotta stop myself with only a collar Can’t be like my father’s bully father So as long as you hold my leash I swear I’ll hide my deepest needs

Even if it’s not real, I fear You’ll reach into me and see All these sinful fantasies Of your bloody arteries I don’t mean them, believe me It’s just that this is all I know how to be A mutt that doesn’t know any better Only to claw and dismember

(Violent thoughts excessed) Maybe it’s just natural selection (Violent needs processed) Can no longer deny this connection That I’m just like a dog, I know Got all this shame to show

Your hands are only ever kind A stark contrast to my mind It’s not real, just thoughts, I know Adrenaline still fills me though

My collar thins, soon it will snap Go away, don’t want you here for that Your kindness is naivety My impending misery Your outstretched hand is prey Don’t say I didn’t warn you  Here comes the prophesised day Where the hand feeds no more

(WITH MY LEASH AND MUZZLE GONE YOU MISTAKE FOR A FAWN YOU THROW MY COLLAR TO THE FLOOR I BEG, PUT IT BACK ON NOT YOUR FAULT, BUT C’MON DON’T BE SO CRUEL AND SHOW ME I’M THE ONLY VICTIM TO MY FANTASY)

#tptm #the post traumatic manifesto #tptm oc #oc art #AT004-212 #kinda ? #eye contact #eye contact tw

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Hisuian Qwilfish

Debut: Pokémon Legends: Arceus

I for one really loved Legends: Arceus, and a big part of that is the attention it gives to previously overlooked or conceptually underdeveloped Pokémon. From Stantler and the Ursaring line to Basculin of all things?? I can confidently say I never expected Basculin to get any further attention from Game Freak but by god they did, and Basculegion is definitely one of my favorite additions that came from the whole generation. But we’re not talking about Basculin or Basculegion today. No, instead we’re talking about another famously neglected grumpy little one-stage fish.

I think I’m with most of the fandom when I say I never really paid all that much mind to Qwilfish. I feel like it was even a bit of an in-joke that it’s like, completely inoffensive and unremarkable, which is probably precisely why Game Freak decided to give it the treatment it did. Hisuian Qwilfish plays well the part of a regional variant by adding a bit of unique flavor to the design while also retaining the charm points of the original, namely the sharply angled semicircular eyes (albeit no longer cock-eyed) and cute pouty fishy lips.

Its black and purple color scheme is owed to its new typing, dark/poison instead of water/poison. I always like it when sea animal Pokémon are allowed to not be water type. The bright purple accents really pop against the black and I especially love the little bags under the eyes. I think my favorite detail has to be the little lowercase q on the tail. It’s subtle enough that it doesn’t feel too inorganic and I just think it’s really cute! Now they could have just stopped at a fun new regional variant and called it a day, but there’s a bit more in store for our pufferfish friend…

Name: Overqwil

Debut: Pokémon Legends: Arceus

That’s right! A Qwilfish evolution, and not two decades too late. Now, on the one hand, part of me misses when Pokémon could just add on to evolution lines without the pretense of a regional variant, but on the other hand I know that, at least in the case of Qwilfish, it opens more creative doors to do it this way. I’m not sure I would have liked a straight up-and-down evolution of Qwilfish as much as I like Overqwil with its Hisuian design elements!

Anyway, overall, Overqwil is a bit of a mixed bag to me. I kind of wish the facial proportions remained the same instead of the lips getting so much bigger, but that’s a pretty minor gripe. What bugs me more is the spines. While I am a fan of the oozing toxic goo look… they’re huge!! I suppose it is called Overqwil, but… agh I dunno they’re just a lot is all. My favorite detail is probably that it now has a capital Q on its tail! What a q-t idea!

While I may have my nitpicks about Overqwil, it really is so cool that even a Pokémon as unassuming as Qwilfish still has a chance at being given a breath of fresh air like this, and I think the fact that every Qwilfish fan I’ve heard from was pretty much totally in love with these two new additions to the family is really all that matters at the end of the day.

#pokemon #hisuian qwilfish #overqwil #mod shyster #april fools

[sweetalyssum]

[Genshin 3.5 Spoilers] Cyno Lore Ramblings

Disclaimer: I'm using the English localization as reference, so idk how it holds up co mpared to the original Chinese. So joining the convo about the new Cyno lore. There's so little we know, and have seen people speculating back and forth and also making some assumptions. So here's me overthinking and over analyzing 2 lines of dialogue, and some chara stories. And hopefully clearing up some information.

For starters, this is what is mentioned regarding Cyno and the spirit so far. 

More About Cyno II:

With my body as a vessel, I can harness the power of the spirit that dwells within me. This is possible in part due to my natural constitution, but also due to a deal I willingly made in the past. There's no reason to shy away from the topic. If I am to weigh the souls of others in this world as a matra, then I must also place my own soul on the scales to be judged in the same manner.

From Windblume Day 2 dialogue with Lisa: Lisa: I suppose you're something of a mentor to her (Collei), aren't you? Now that I think about it, the two of you aren't so dissimilar. The power of Hermanubis once brought you great suffering.

Cyno: That's all in the past now. Besides, Professor thankfully didn't treat me like a test subject for the priest's power like the higher-ups had hoped, even though I was a desert-dweller.

(For some context, in the webcomic the Fatui experimented on Collei when she was young, injecting her with "archon residue". In Cyno's words, "You can think of it as a kind of parasite." He seals it within her in the end.)

Just two lines of dialogue in this convo raise so many questions!! Because wow did this information come out of left field!!! 

So at face value we find out:

Cyno's spirit caused him some suffering

He was brought up by professor Cyrus (100% unrelated to the Mondstat guy)

He was supposed to be a test subject

He refers to Hermanubis's power as "the priest's power"

It's not said outright what groups these "higher-ups" belong to, I'm guessing it's the Akademiya. Cyrus, a professor of the Akademiya at that time, took care of him. And in his letter to the Sucrose Mailbox, he does mention he had been living in the Akademiya since childhood. Cyno's Letter: You are correct to assume that I seldom lie. This has to do with my upbringing. As a desert-dweller who has been living within the Akademiya since my childhood, my unusual identity makes it hard for others to trust me — and it would have been harder still if I was not honest. As a result, I learned to talk less and speak no more than what is necessary.

Uncovering the secret behind the prophecy may come with its perils. If you need someone who would never lie, I can join you.

—

So to finally address the Hermanubis and priest's power thing.

To start, Hermanubis is a combo god of Hermes and Anubis in reality. Won't go into more details, but I do want to add he's also referred to as a symbol of Egyptian priesthood. Hermanubis has only two prior mentions:

Cyno's Vision story: 

"…Some believe that Cyno is actually a descendant of King Deshret. They say that he grew up in a temple located in the Great Red Sand and was raised by a nameless Hermanubis priest who cultivated Cyno's will and strength before, when he was ready, bestowing upon him a Vision and requiring him to cross the desert all by himself to arrive at the Akademiya and enact Hermanubis' will…"

The second is the Lay of Al-Ahmar. From the description: "The veracity of the story cannot be determined", and it's written from the perspective of a Jinni. But regardless, it really only mentions Hermanubis once, as "one as wise as the greatest of sages", which doesn't say much anyways. I've heard some people think Hermanubis is King Deshret, but I highly doubt it.

Hermanubis also has Anubis's jackal head, influencing Cyno's headdress design. Who else is also depicted with a Jackal headdress???? Yep, this is how I segway into Kasala.

In the 3.1 AQ, we find Kasala's grave (with a massive Jackal statue) underground and find a recording of his last memories there. Alhaitham reads off the elegy, "Here lies our faithful priest, Kasala. His wisdom is a miracle among the people, deserving of high praise and admiration."

Following shortly is the cutscene of his memories: "...Were it not for Greater Lord Rukkhadevata from the forests, the damage would have been irreversible. She summoned the priests to build temples, and infused into them the divine power of life…"

"...I have spent my whole life since guarding one of these many temples, but now, my duty is coming to an end…"

So, all we know about Kasala is that he's a priest that served in the time of King Deshret, and helped run one of the temples to combat forbidden knowledge. Nothing concrete regarding Hermanubis so far. However, we do know that priests of Hermanubis are said to exist (or at least rumored to), as mentioned in Cyno's Vision story. 

I'm speculating that Hermanubis priests do exist. Also going off the real life Hermanubis, perhaps the spirit once was the leader of the priests in King Deshret's time. And that Cyno is descended from those priests. But I guess we'll have to wait for more lore crumbs in the next limited event Cyno shows up in to learn more!!! (Cries)

Jotting down some other questions I have bc of two freaking lines of event dialogue + his chara story/voiceover lines:

How/when/why did Cyno become a vessel for Hermanubis

What deal did he make with Hermanubis

How/when/where did the Akademiya find Cyno

Where's Cyno really from in the desert

Cyno's "natural constitution" ?  ? ?

How many people actually know he has a spirit in him

Once again, wtf is the Temple of Silence!!!!

Side notes, recently learned that one of the Caravan Ribat messages talks about Cyno: Message: "They say one of us from Aaru Village has become a high official at the Akademiya. We desert folk might well live a better life in the future."

Message: "I barely earn enough carrying these stones. But with a single order of carrying something like cans of knowledge, I could afford to get married back at my hometown."

Another Person's Message: "But I heard that that official happens to be one who tackles smuggling. I don't think that person will be on our side."

Message: "Tsk, that's how we desert folk end up like this. We don't unite."

[EDIT Mar 09: It's not directly stated to be about Cyno, but the topic of "tackling smuggling" seems like something the matra would deal with.] Interesting that maybe Cyno could be from Aaru Village…?? But no one recognized him in the AQ, so I'm a bit suspicious of its validity. It could be possible people would have forgotten who he was since it was years ago, but hm…

Also Cyno finally explicitly confirms himself as a Spantamad graduate. It's been implicitly confirmed for a while now, but it's nice to hear it from Cyno say so himself. I wanna know more about what else he knows regarding elements and what not…

(Banging on Mihoyo's door) Mihoyo explain!!! But also holy shit I'm absolutely eating up these crumbs. I love Cyno. Cyno best boy. I hope they add Cyrus too bc he sounds like a fun time. (I'm just delulu and wanna see Cyno shyly call him "dad" lmao. Also Cyno pls call Lisa your big sister.. I'M BEGGING. I play w CN audio so I just wanna hear "Lisa jiejie" lol)

Anyways if you made it through this word vomit, congrats but also I'm sorry…

#genshin impact #genshin lore #cyno #genshin spoilers #rambling hahaha #i love u cyno

[evolutionsvoid]

Imagine you are a bird, fluttering through the forest. You soar amongst the trees, untied to earth and soil. However, your aerial prowess has its price, as using these magnificent wings costs a whole lot of energy. Your stomach rumbles, signalling a need to feed. You dare not venture on the ground, but rather search the branches for a meal. And amongst the green and browns you see it! The brilliant color of fruit, ripe and waiting! You land upon this branch and- hold up didn't I write something like this before? This seems oddly familiar. Bird is hungry, bird sees fruit, bird tries to eat fruit but instead gets eaten. I swear I have been down this road before. Am I crazy? Maybe I am, but I can't exactly keep the bit going since I kind of already spoiled the ending. I will have to check over my previous entries to see if I am accidentally copying myself. Anyways, what I was trying to hint at was an arboreal predator that hides amongst the branches and eats critters that show up in search of fruit. This creature I am referring to is the Gharboreal.

The Gharboreal is a reptile that enjoys a life in the trees, typically in deciduous forests. Though some may think it a lizard, it is actually related to crocodiles and the likes. This cousin has ditched the water and turned to the branches, using hooked claws to scale the trunks and crawl onto large branches. To help with this, their tail is more flexible to support itself as it clambers across the gnarled limbs. While they may have left the lakes and swamps, they have kept some traits to adapt to this new lifestyle. Their scaly hide is still tuned to blending in, but this time it is more hardcore camouflage to help it look like a part of the tree. Brown coloration, knobby growths, and a bark-like texture helps them melt into the trees they hide in, which is important for avoiding predators and hunting. It should be no surprise that this species still prefers the ambush style of hunting!

With their scales designed to hide them in plain sight, the Gharboreal will climb up a particular tree and find a good sturdy branch to lay on. Claws and tail help anchor them, as they stick their long thin snouts out, posing them as if they were another stick of this great limb. They want a bird to land on their snout, or a squirrel to climb up nearby, but that part is just dumb luck, right? Well, not for the Gharboreal, as they have a way to entice their prey! On the tip of their snout is bulbous growth, which is called a "ghara." This hollow structure may seem awkward on their long thin jaws, but once you see it in action you will understand! The ghara is capable of changing color, and often chooses brighter ones to attract attention. With a vivid color and peculiar shape, the ghara brings to mind fruit growing on a branch, which is what the Gharboreal is trying to mimic! When hunting, it sits perfectly still with this fake branch of a maw outstretched, the fruit-like ghara tempting targets. When a bird lands to eat, or another arboreal critter comes close to inspect, the Gharboreal whips its head and gnashes its jaws! Long teeth sink into flesh and hold the prey fast, as the creature shakes its head about to finish off its meal. Once dead or stunned, the jaws will open and close to slowly move the food down the snout and to the throat, where they are swallowed whole. Due to their jaw size and thinness, Gharboreal target smaller prey. Don't expect one of these to try and eat a human, as they would never fit! Squirrels, birds, monkeys and other reptiles are their typical menu options. Anything bigger gets a warning bite to try and scare them off. 

Since they don't target anything larger than squirrels, they don't come off as a threat to people, more like annoyances. Gharboreals like to climb into fruit trees so that their disguise works even better, their ghara changing color to better fit the surrounding fruits. So when one doesn't pay attention and starts picking through a fruit tree, they may disturb a hiding Gharboreal and receive a nasty bite for their offense. And since orchards present plenty of trees to pick from for hunting, they tend to infest these places. Though it isn't all that bad, as some folk like the taste of Gharboreal and hunt them for their meat! So if an orchard has a problem with them snapping at workers, they reach out to townsfolk to come in and hunt a free meal. So they aren't the worst threat, just pests to some folk. In truth, they bring about the same issues that people have with a ladon. OH THAT IS WHERE THE BIRD THING IS FROM! 

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

---------------------------------------------------

"Gharboreal"

So a long time ago, I saw a post on here talking about how gators can actually climb things, like fences and trees. This prompted someone to point out that tree gators should be a species in a fantasy world, as it would be neat. And I too thought it would be neat. I wonder if someone is going to do that?.........WELL BEHOLD, FOR YEARS LATER I ARISE TO GRANT THEE THIS WONDROUS GIFT OF-where is everyone?.....Hello?......Guys?.......I, uh....I did the thing!.....Hello?.....Anyone?......Hey, why is this door locked?

#gharial #reptile #monster #creature #crocodile #art #drawing #whatever that tree gator post was

[makima-s-most-smile]

Trigun Ultimate 2 (Part 4)

Will this volume ever end? Why do I have so much to say?

OOOOooOOooooh, it is woowootime. Nyehehehehehehe *continues to say even more about its favourite character!*

Chapter 6: A gathering of demons

Oh, I love how nightow portrays the vastness of the desert. How much is an ile? How big is this planet? Is it earthlike? With no oceans and all... are the cities splayed out? I am European and live in a big city conglomerate. In two hours, I can switch countries and visit like 20 different cities. This picture reminds me of the "Wild West". I remember American friends being shocked at how connected everything is and how we Europeans see distance. For them a 4-12 hour drive is totally normal and you are still in the same state. I can only imagine that No-Man's-Land is even worse than that.

But what does that entail? Is travel between cities something regular or something you only do if you try and get work or flee from something? There is the big trade between the cities, but those have to be the outliers. Sandstreamers being something like trains. I imagine that they are mostly used for commerce, then. Transporting people has to be a lesser side hustle.

But how long does the journey with a bus between the cities take? I'd say days with the thoughts I just had.

I leave the Wolfwood introduction panel out, because of the limitations for pictures, but damn, it is good. It also took me too long to realise that this was not fabricated, but that Wolfwood literally had a bike mishap. His whole interaction with Vash reads differently for me when I take this into consideration.

Three things. 1. what I like about Wolfwood’s design is that if you don’t take the tit window and the facial scruff into consideration, he is dressed like a typical Japanese salary man! A nobody, one of many. Black short hair with suit, he could be a 0815 background character/random casualty in nearly any anime/manga. But here, he falls out of the line. All in black in the desert heat, that is suicide! He is not dressed like the others in typical western clothes. He’s an outlier from the start but at the same time a very usual sight for us readers!

2. I love how silly and welcoming he is. He is just a very charming random dude. We next to never see him interact with random people after this, so we miss this side of him in the later volumes. But he easily fits in and connects, even as a weird outlier. He is an idiot, but an idiot with street smarts.

3. Maybe because I am not a native English speaker, but I stumbled more than once over the word “tradesman” as a colloquial term for assassin. Kinda a roundabout way to say, hey, if you’re interested in me, I may provide you with more information and maybe I have the kind of skill you’re looking for. Tradesman basically means person with a specific skill, so not elaborating on that, but letting people mock him always reads for me as Wolfwood playing with being caught/putting his “profession” down/offering work. That he has a good eye is shown on the next page with him immediately realising who Vash is (at least he know the bounty pics and knows how to look. Wolfwood is not faceblind!)

Without the context of Milly being especially perceptive, this always read for me as Vash being absolutely annoyed by Wolfwood and being distrusting, when in reality he seems to be already warming up to him. Like with us readers, Wolfwood has wormed himself into his heart already. Who could deny Wolfy?

“‘Bout time I left, anyway.” Rings differently when you know him more. Wolfwood is a person that has his foot already out of the door to be not a burden to anyone nice. And we learn that in his introduction.

Wolfwood looks so damn fucking young there. I always have big problems in discerning ages in Manga. But even with his scruff, Wolfwood looks barely out of his teens.

When I think about the different WooWoo-versions, I always deck '98 as the oldest in his mid to end thirties, Ultimate barely 20, Trimax 30 max and Stampede... Sorry, StampWolfwood, you are still in your teens for me. You are baby.

I always remembered Wolfwood as a liar by omission, but damn, he is doing everything but spelling stuff out.  “Not exactly just that…” Damn, and he looks so pained. Vash surely zoomed in on it. I now believe, the only reason why we know stuff so late about Wolfwood is because Vash never asked or tried to pin Wolfwood down.

The following pages is Wolfwood sharing his money with the orphans and I love it. We get to know Wolfwood as a very perceptive, benevolent and honest guy, who seems to be desperately begging for people to see him, to ask more about him. As much as he is funny, we also see someone who sees himself as a burden and who is burdened by a big responsibility and who still shares and gives as much as he can. No wonder Vash smiled with such earnesty. Wolfwood is the personification of what makes him still have hope in humanity.

Chapter 7: The demon’s eye

You know him just for this little bus drive and you already trust him with that info, Vash. Wolfwood is part of the team now, wether they realised it or not. Like I said in the chapter before, the journey must take longer, so they may have had a few days to bond.

He knows what happened. We learn in the next chapter why Wolfwood is there. It is easy to put two and two together for him.

Or regrets that they have to part ways and Wolfwood has to go back to being the Punisher. He had a short dance with Lady Death and then a little vacation where he could be human.

As much as we learn that Wolfwood hates his predicament, it is his duty. There is a reason why he does what he does.

It is kinda sad that Wolfwood left immediately. Nightow, most likely, had other stuff planned, but the cancellation of the magazine kinda threw a wrench into it. I kinda like how '98 did it with Vash and Wolfwood having their own little adventure on the journey.

Funny observation. People are there, because there is gunshots. Not children’s laughs or anything, it is gunshots that show that people are there. What a shitty world they live in.

08: The fifth moon

Did Legato control the corpses? Or did he “take in” the survivors and used experiments on them? Nicholas knows his bounties. Without him, I wouldn't peg them as the Slavers.

First of all, the hint/info that Vash and Knifes are both not human. A man between a rock and a hard place. A well-prepared dead man, but a dead man either way.

Since we as a reader already have a bond with Wolfwood, he is our point of reference for a "normal" human reaction to the shit that goes down. Nightow regularly flashes back to Wolfwood's reaction to it all. Either so we don't forget that he is part of the EVUL or to bring down that point how fucked up Knives is (especially with the SA-symbolism). People with uteri will agree either way that the scene with the sister being that pregnant and Knives bursting out is… massive body horror.

At least both legs and one arm are smashed, pelvis most likely, too, his head is squished into his torso, neck broken? and I have no idea how else he is crumbled up. Paper doll Legato

Vash didn’t only shoot himself to regain control. He shot Knives, too! He shot Knives to get free, but it was already too late.

While someone else (I am sorry, I am bad with names D; If I find you again, I will link your post) has put it brilliantly how Knives taking control over Vash can be read as assault, there is something else I’d like to point out.

Knives is the only person in the whole story who has been able to take control from Vash. We have seen him fight so many people, like Neon, Monev and others, but Vash never was not in control. He put rules upon himself that constricted him, e.g. the pacifism, but those constrictions were by his own decision. Vash takes into consideration that he may die, but it is by his own free will and as we have seen, he is a bit suicidal. Likewike, Vash gives people all the agency, all his agency. He mostly reacts to their decisions towards him. Knives is the only person in the whole world who is able to take away Vash’s agency and he uses that power over him. Not going into powerscaling or such a thing, but it shows what a powerful player Knives is.

Again, Wolfwood is our focus point for human reaction. Dude is scared out of his mind and mixing both brothers. Messengers of God coming to cast down judgement on us? That would be Knives, not Vash. But he demands an answer from Vash, with whom he already formed a connection. Wolfwood may feel even somewhat betrayed, as hypocritical as that is.

#trigunbookclub #trigun bookclub #Trigun Ultimate 2.4 #It is done #I am finally through with it #Also WooWoo #here to break my heart again

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

jjk chapter 253 spoilers under the cut !!

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHH THIS CHAPTER…….. 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 one of my favs in a while i think IT WAS SO SO GOODDDDDD

FIRST OF ALL. GOJO CRUMBS 😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞😭😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺😞😞😞😞😞 I CRIED I SOBBED I STARTED WRITHING ON THE FLOOR IN AGONY……. OUR SWEETIE………

HE’S SOOOO CUTE…. :(((( blindfolded gojo is my favorite ever he’s SO baby…….. i miss him sm it hurts i almost teared up seeing this panel that isn’t normal human behavior 😔😔 ”don’tcha think?” SIR PLS STOPPP…….. :((((( silly little goose…… i need to kiss him all over his pretty face just to hear him giggle (doctors surround me w syringes from all sides)

ok but gojo aside (come home baby the cats miss u 💔) MAKI????????? MY GODDESS?? i ADORE the fight between her and sukuna …. she looks completely feral i’m so enamored <333 wild raccoon coded <3333

and also…… the dynamic between these two……. 😵‍💫😵‍💫 maki being the only one since gojo who sukuna seems to be taking seriously/having genuine fun with???? (all the parallels between maki and gojo have been KILLING me i’m so glad akutami agrees w me that she’s his daughter ever <3) LIKE THAT’S SOOO SICK??? maki nation getting fed silly rn

”at its core, sorcery is all skin and flesh (…) that body of yours is all marrow and bone” BANGER ASS LINE EXCUSE ME??????????? AKUTAMI??????

but it’s also soooooo interesting isn’t it….. sukuna has always had a very specific view of sorcery and how it should be, and maki’s very existence completely goes against that ideal while simultaneously acting as a genuine threat to him… i think it’s so . insanely cool that he essentially views her as an alternative to sorcery?? and it forces him to revert back to the sorcery that he favours, just to prove that it’s superior (which is why he uses black flash for the first time!! at least that’s my read of it rn)…. IT’S JUST SO GOODDDD I’M EATING IT UP‼️‼️‼️

also sidenote kinda but but but . the sukuna theories…. abt him eating his twin……… if those are true then the sukuna/maki parallels are even MORE insane bc she had to sacrifice her own twin for the sake of survival/power but would undoubtedly choose mai over her newfound strenght every single time :(( while sukuna willingly chose strenght over companionship….. yeahhhh they make me ill

what else is there to say ……. kusakabe was there. PHDJDHDJF NO BUT WDYMMMM HE’S THE STRONGEST GRADE 1 SORCERER…… SINCE WHEN 😭😭😭 ??????

jokes aside i think it makes sense considering kusakabe just so happens to Know abt a bunch of stuff he shouldn’t know abt + somehow keeps surviving ???? but i still think it’s so funny how everyone is hyping him up while he’s like . I Am Not The Strongest 💀💀 he’s so funny actually…..

….. this is smth my fuckass brother said that unfortunately made a lot of sense + made me go completely insane but. maybe the reason kusakabe keeps trying to run away is bc he wants to stay alive for his sister….. :((( bc he needs to take care of her/doesn’t want to die and leave her alone the way her son did. sob. T_T that would be kind of a genius move on akutami’s part bc it changes his comedic moments to very heartwarming ones…. i’m actually rlly excited to see where this fight goes wahhhh

anyway back to gojo .

HE’S LITERALLY SOOOO BABY I CAN’T STAND HIM …. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 i don’t think akutami will ever truly understand how perfect this design is . like. there isn’t a single other character who perfectly manages to strike the balance between cute and handsome the way blindfolded gojo does . i’m sorry but it’s true. this is what the ideal male form looks like

#anyway that’s all!! PHEWWWW feels nice to get the post chapter euphoria off my chest …. #THIS CHAPTER SLAPPEDDD it reminded me a bit of older shibuya chapters actually :3 #w the interview scene in the beginning and all too !!! #i think i mentally tapped out when yuuta was fighting (sorry yuuta nation 💔💔 unfortunately he killed my wife) but now i’m back ‼️‼️ #i hope maki comes back into the battle tho…. she deserves a lot more than just one chapter smh #forever cradling this gojo panel to my chest #ari noises ✩ #jjk leaks #jjk manga spoilers #jjk 253

[cubur]

Excuse me, may I ask you a question?

I was really wondering how you are still friends with the artist named snow124? They are so talented and high amount of sasunarusasu community loves their art but once i saw their very rude and unsympathetic behavior because of my reposting their fan work on instagram, but that was one year ago. As far as i know you were friends with this artist even back then and i wonder if they've ever been rude to you? How you can still tolerate that person?

You can ignore my question if i caused you discomfort by my words

Hello there！ Hmmm ok I've been looking at your ask for a while and just thinking how to answer it… "should I answer in one sentence or the length of a novel?" And then I just thought i couldn't describe myself in one sentence. So here we go…

Warning！This is a long post, sorry.

First of all, I have a few things to say before answering your questions. And these things about me, if you don't mind. Okay so, I really have no idea what i look like through someone else's eyes, but i don't like to talk to people often in my real life. In most cases, creature called "human" acts only for its own benefit… This is purely my personal opinion and I won't say all, but 95% of people are like that even if they don't admit it. I don't like selfish, liars, two faced people. So can we say that I am as lonely as Sasuke? Yes I am. (I've already said that i feel close to Sasuke's character during the insta Q&A thing) but anyways… That's why there are very few people around me that I truly trust. And Snow is one of them.

Now coming back to your questions… Well…… Firstly i didn't like you calling her "the artist named snow124". I mean, what does that mean !? Many people in the sns community don't think of more than one person when Snow124 is mentioned, right (?) but everyone thinks of only one artist. So I would understand if you only say Snow124. (Just felt like you were trying to marginalize her or something, and this bothered me)！ Secondly, have you ever thought of turning the mirror at yourself before calling someone rude, unsympathetic, stupid, idiot etc? When there's a disagreement, do you really think it's always the other person's fault ? …You know what, I asked Snow first before answering your ask just because her name is mentioned here. And if she had said "don't answer", I wouldn't have answered. But why did I do that? After all, this is my ask box, my account, so why am i asking her? But actually the real question is, why do you post her artwork that she spends her hours maybe days on your own account without even asking her permission, while I get permission from her just because her name was mentioned in a question that came to me? Can you see the difference between these two examples i gave? Well, if you still can't see it, i'll explain in one word. This is "respect"！

Is that your commission? No. Is it your work? No. Is it your idea, design, collab or something? No. So then, who gave you the right to post someone else's work for just a few likes and followers? And what kind of reaction do you expect the artist to react to your disrespect towards their work? Think about it a little……

It's not the first time I've seen people call Snow rude. And maybe others are right in their own way but her attitude or words were never rude to me… I think it's wrong to expect everyone to give the same reaction when faced with a problem or something！For example; I'm not good at controlling myself emotionally …not that professional yet. On the other hand, I see that Snow is able to keep her emotional side more controlled and stronger than me. But do you think that means she's callous? I know many people don't even care about empathy. But just for once, have you ever thought about this repost issue from an artist's perspective? I don't know if you are aware but many artists even deleted their accounts for this reason！So you can't say you saw their rude (as you call it) behavior as if you were the only right side！

"I wonder if they've ever been rude to you? How you can still tolerate that person?"

Snow124 herself always says she's as cold as snow. Not rude but she is aware that she has a cold personality. So maybe "No." sounds very rude to you but it's just a simple no to her, you never know. And before I talk to someone, i try to get to know that person. I already knew she was like that, and frankly i like her critical attitude. She can see details that I can't see, but I take this as help, not rudeness (and this is one of the reasons i chose her as my teacher). I mean if someone likes rock music and says they hate pop, then I wouldn't try to get them to like pop music. Briefly, I accept that person as they are… Not with everyone but sometimes I talk so much that others even get a headache because of me …and from time to time Snow also (maybe forcibly) puts up with this side of me *im sorry* x) And she usually gives short answers to my boring novels but I never questioned that, or didn't think she was rude, or something. Do you know why? 'Cause she's not me, i'm not her. Maybe there are common tastes but one person is never 100% the same as another person. I never expected anything in return when i drew her a gift or a piece. When I care about someone or something i do it without expecting anything in return (this is also one of the reasons why i still keep drawing Naruto and Sasuke)

When it comes to "tolerate" thing… Hmm ok I don't understand exactly what you're talking about. I mean it's not about tolerating Snow, on the contrary she tolerates me at many points (and my silly jokes that aren't funny at all x)) Also yeah there are many things in my real life that I have to tolerate, so i just remember how i was able to calm my mind again thanks to my fanart accounts and some golden people here…

Also if I remember correctly, someone on insa said i was nicer than Snow for warning them before reporting their repost, just like you anon. But after that due to another report, someone else started sending abusive messages to my personal email address. Yes maybe i'm more patient about reposts than her, but not anymore！Everyone has a limit, please remember this！ And one last thing, you guys don't even realize when you're actually being rude by directly calling someone rude.

#believe it or not Snow is one of the most respectful and decent also kind hearted person I've ever seen #...but even she herself is not aware of it #just wish you guys could see this grumpy cat turn into a fluffy kitten from time to time #i'll probably disable anons again soon #and sorry again for my wall post... #text post

[not-poignant]

hihi pia! youve said before that you like to leave a lot of the visuals up to the readers imagination with what you write, but i thought to ask can you explain maybe the layour of garys cottage? 😭😭 im so bad with stuff like orientation and space, and i struggle so much sometimes when i read and think ok, now where is that door they came from and where is that chair next to the table and that window. rereading the teacup incident & i just really cant make it work. its fine if not. ily!

Anon, very unfortunately, I am not an architect, and I just spent 30 minutes trying to draw this out which has highlighted to me that I know what the layout is but my job is actually writing and not...drawing the layouts of homes. (If only)

You can always just look up cosy cottages and then use that, anon!

The job of a reader (imho) isn't to imagine things exactly as they are, but go from the details they've been given and often relate that back to what they already know. Sometimes that might mean looking something up if it's genuinely something you've never seen before (karri trees), or relating them back to a tall tree you're familiar with (sequoias). In fact no reader imagines the same thing when they're reading. I could spend 1000 words describing a red cabinet and people will imagine 1000 slightly different variations anyway. Everyone has a different idea of 'red' and a different idea of 'wood' and a different idea of 'cabinet' and even if I lock down into the nitty gritty, if we're not living in the same country, our power sockets look different, our heating and cooling systems (and accommodations for them) are different, the fabrics we use are different (unless we all go to IKEA), the smells of the home are all slightly different.

I think even if I did draw it out successfully in two hours (which is not time I really have spare at the moment :/ I wish I did because I think it could be fun except that I don't want to download architecture software to make an actual blueprint of an entire cottage that's in scale but also shows exactly where the furniture will go which includes interior design as well x.x - and I do know exactly how it's laid out mentally, so I know I could make it work. (And I still might, maybe, but probably not while I have a 15 week old puppy I'm sorry anon D: ) But yeah doing it on paper has proven to me that actually writing out the location of like 50 different things means the blueprint becomes too small and messy to still tell what's going on. I wrote 'table and chairs' over the table and chairs and now you can no longer see the table and chairs in my sketch which is not useful!

There's a difference between the layout of a house and the layout of the objects and furniture in a house. I may have worked for an architecture firm, but I am not a house designer. *cries*

But! All you really need to know is that Gary can't see the kitchen cabinets from where he sits on the couch. Which means if someone crouches down and opens the cabinets, he can't see them either. There are a lot of houses that have layouts like this, especially houses that have a counter not just up against the wall, but in the middle of the kitchen.

For example in this image, if a couch was in front of the kitchen counter that's free-standing, and a person was sitting on the couch and looked at the free-standing kitchen counter, they would not be able to see the kitchen cabinets from the free standing kitchen counter, or what's in them. They can only see the counter. If the lounge was lower than the kitchen, they'd see even less.

In this image, if the couch was where the stairs are, you'd not be able to see what Efnisien was doing in the kitchen at all until he stoop and held up the teacup. If he kept the teacup low in his hands, you'd not be able to see it at all.

Because Gary's cottage is small, but open plan, the lounge has a view to the kitchen, but not directly into the kitchen.

There's lots of houses that feature this kind of architecture, so if you really want to go down that rabbit hole, you can just search different kitchens in cottages until you see one where if you sit on the couch, you can't see someone crouched in front of the kitchen cabinets.

Gary's free-standing kitchen counter is also multi-level like this is multi-level:

So someone could stand there and make a coffee and a person sitting on the couch wouldn't be able to see what they were doing. Ornaments and vases and notes etc. can go on the raised bit, and kitchen stuff can happen on the lower bit.

Ah marvel at my use of technical terms *cries again*

Anyway! I hope that helps somewhat. I'm mad that I can't draw this layout for you because I do wish I could just...mentally take people on a tour through this cottage. And it would be great to do that. But I am looking at the saddest most pathetic sketch in my sketchpad right now, and I used to work as an artist, but I'm just very very very very bad at this kind of technical drawing.

But maybe the teacup scene will make a little more sense now :)

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on failing at writing lmao #underline the black #setting description is tough because like #unless you yourself are actually drawing a layout anon #which almost no one does #what most people get instead is just a 'sense' of where things are #they might know the bedroom feels like it's in the right place if it's too the right or the left #or they might imagine something cosy for them #when you don't get that sense #you can then go to looking up cottages #like 'australia cottage bushland' or something #and get an idea of the woods and furniture used in some of the nicer small ones #if you find something you like you can use that #just like writing is an artform #reading is also a bit of an artform #the best part is you transform the story as you read it #it's not meant to look like how i imagined it exactly #it becomes something entirely new in your head #but i still hope this post helped!!!!