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#im very interested on the answer

homofocused · 11 months

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(which do you use most often, used most often as a kid, most memories, you identify with are all acceptable answers. which highway is THE highway, which one is yours?)

#highways #transit #america #american culture #poll #please answer this i have to know #if you're not from the us do you have a highway #mine is I-40 #im going to blaze this i am very interested in the answer

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vanyafresita · 3 months

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after seeing this post by the artist afkeii on instagram, i got inspired to write a poem... and then i drew something to make it into a zine...

the way i feel about romantic love is... complicated... but i've known i'm on the aromantic spectrum for over a year now ! yippiee !

if you'd like to have a physical copy, feel free to [download the print version here] , and check [how to put it together / make a 8-page zine here]

#zine #personal zine #art #aromantic #aromantic spectrum #my art #id in alt text #that was very... interesting to write and draw about #dont ask me how i feel about romantic love its too tiring to explain #(<- thats a lie- do ask me about it as much as you want i have so many thoughts on it. probs more questions than answers tbf tho)#also yeah the black ring on my middle finger and right hand is bcs im asexual too #but ive known im ace since i was 13 so i dont have nothing poetic to say about it cuz its been just a normal thing for me for so long lol #aight its getting late and i need to go sleep byeeee

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assiraphales · 1 year

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me at eleven years old when I watched bones at 8pm on a school night in disbelief as i found out that not only was the dorky lab assistant apparently a cannibal apprentice serial killer in training but my favorite friendship on the show was also effectively ruined: what the hot diggity dog

#bones #Zach addy #why is this such a specific childhood interest that we were all traumatized by #like all the deaths in this show too #anyways im rewatching and my disbelief is back #also I will answer the ask after I watch more of the series he he he #rewatch I mean #jack hodgins #they were my faves bc they were always blowing stuff up and causing trouble #very funny for an eleven year old

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majorshatterandhare · 5 months

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[Answer options in order are:

1. Yes, guitar, mandolin

2. Yes, piano/keyboard

3. Yes, violin, viola, cello, bass (inc. electric bass)

4. Yes, percussion

5. Yes, a woodwind

6. Yes, a brass instrument

7. Yes, multiple

8. Yes, something not mentioned here

9. No, I do not currently play an instrument but I sing

10. No, I do not currently play an instrument and I do not sing.

End Options]

Please specify in the comments or tags!

I’m sorry there aren’t more options, I only had 10 spaces or I would’ve included more. I tried to go with the most common and obviously with groups!

What counts for singing is up to you. I think most people sing some amount, but you can decide if yours counts or not. The reason for this is because you can teach yourself an instrument, so not requiring lessons or anything for either instruments or singing.

If you want to learn an instrument, especially if you don’t currently play any, I would love to know if you shared!

Please reblog! I wanna know how many of us play instuments ourselves and what that distribution is.

If you don’t listen to the Mechanisms don’t respond to this poll! I’m sure your answer is very interesting, but it will skew the results!

#the mechanisms #poll #i included the answer options in brackets because my phones screenreader wont read them if i havent voted. ive heard other peoples do but i-#included it to be safe!#i have experience with multiple instruments!#chronilogically they are guitar. recorder (which i still count even though it was required in my school because i still have it and can-#still play it). alto saxophone. piano/keyboard. ukulele. violin. electric bass.#i have most experience with the saxophone and least with the bass!#i also sing. i did musical theatre ages 10-14 and a bit of non-musical theatre outside of that. so i have *some* amoung of training.-#plus chorus in middle school. but very little of it was one-on-one. plus i take t now and my voice dropped! so i dont havd any idea how my-#singing is now. not that i really knew before.#anyway im very curious! i always think its interesting when people are really into music but play no instruments (like my dad)#sorry to harmonica and accordion for not being able to fit you in the poll and also everything else because there are so many instruments!

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howlonomy · 1 month

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A somewhat heavy question, but if Clover was the only one to come back how do they feel about that? More importantly how do they feel about Asgore? I'd imagine that they of all people want Asgore to answer for the others (especially given the likelihood that they... didn't give their SOULS willingly ( on that note how is Asgore not in prison))

survivors guilt baby!!!! of course they’re happy to be back (they didn’t really want to die in the first place, no matter how many times they said they wanted to) but they cant help but feel bad for the previous fallen kids. the whole reason they went down there was to save them, and clover was the only one that could come back. its not like it’s they’re fault, they didnt KNOW or ASK to come back, but they just cant help feeling guilty.

they’ll always feel a little bitter that asgore didnt get any repercussions for what he did. they could never interact with asgore without remembering. i think if they had a long, solid conversation, clover could understand asgore a bit more, but they would definitely think asgore a coward for everything.

#monster clover au #asked and answered #undertale yellow #asgore and clover would have an interesting dynamic but im. so tired rn so i cant properly think about what it might be #but its along the lines of ‘clover will always be a little snippy and glare at asgore if theyre in the same room’ LMAO #they would need a lot of nuance and thought in their dynamic and thoughts about each other #i think theres a lot here i just. dont know what it is #im not a very analytical person….. i apologize…………..#mcau lore

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crescentfool · 28 days

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What are your ryomina headcanons? I've loved these two since I played P3 FES, and I'm so excited to get back into the fandom^^

hi!! thank you so much for the ask, welcome back to the p3 fandom, it's always a delight to see new and old ryomina fans alike! 🥺💛💙

as for headcanons, here's a "few" i that i tend to come back to a lot! my interpretations of them are influenced from both the source material and other's fanworks, so i've linked to them as i saw fit! hcs in no particular order under the cut because oops this got long (900 word bullet point list, mentions of reload content up to 1/1)

minato's hair is dyed blue (hair originally brown, you can see it in his roots!) and he has a beauty mark on under his left eye. i like mirror imagery and there's definitely a few arts i've rb'd that portray them this way :) (e.g. this one by feliichu and this one by marasschino)

as far as i'm concerned the bathhouse scene from the manga where ryoji's hair down = similar shape to minato? that is canon to me. this art from xierru is a fun depiction of hair down ryoji :D

ryoji is homeless. everyone say thank you foxmulder_whereartthou for this awesome fic it's why i have the headcanon! but like seriously. we have no idea where ryoji lives and i could believe this.

minato dying at the end of the game is sad to an outsider's POV BUT!!! ryomina gets to be together in death for the rest of their lives (this illustration from mafuwara is a gorgeous representation of them as nyx avatar + the seal)!

speaking of the seal, they are like telepathically communicating to me in the great seal together. (mymp3 had a comic wip with this. give it a looksie :D)

ryoji likes cuddling with minato because he's warm :) (something something orpheus has fire affinity, minato is warm by extension and ryoji is cold because he's death)

ryoji's camera roll is filled with pictures of minato! ryoji... loves life, to me. and i feel that photography and journaling are perfect ways of expressing gratitude and capturing the moments in life that are most important to you :3

my other favorite activity for these two is stargazing- i feel like it's something they could appreciate either in life or death (looking at the stars from the great seal...)! they do a bit of this in the fic eurydice's vow by crescentmoontea (P5R spoilers, takes place in third sem it's a very fun fic concept).

between ryoji and minato i feel like ryoji was the one who fell in love first- and it doesn't really click in place for minato that he loves ryoji until december hits (appriser reveal + ryoji transforming into thanatos). its about the realization that ryoji was with him for his whole life and that he gets him like no one else does.

ryoji is like a sad and wet puppy who is so scared minato won't like him back. he is so scared of being rejected by minato to me like. this boy straight up deflates after he does his "i know i said i wanted us to be friends, but... i actually want to be something more." / "what about you?" on 12/1 ???

AND SPEAKING of wet puppy ryoji. ryoji is like. every animal in the world to me. he's a bird. he's a cat. etc. and also ryoji knows every language in the world ever and uses it to express his love for minato. see this fic from superheroics to see what i mean.

both of them are lactose intolerant. "this isn't lactose, it's milk!" i definitely think ryoji would make himself sick eating ice cream and milk he doesn't know what lactose is. (i made a silly poll about this once and the tags were very entertaining.)

i see minato as transmasc or nonbinary depending on the day (schrodinger's headcanons babey they're simultaneously true and not true at the same time!!). either way he's not cis to me and ryoji is like. His Gender. anyway go read this fic by nail_gun for t4t ryomina :D !

ryomina are WEIRD GUYS TO ME!!! they are so strange and they understand each other better than anyone else because of the circumstances of their relationship!!! if you asked them to do the "i wonder what i taste like" meme i think they'd start biting each other (affectionate) tbh but that's just me.

after ryoji gives minato the music box in 12/31 on reload, minato listens to the music box every night in january. this boy has insomnia and also chronic illness to me (things that housing death does to you). but i think he finds comfort in the melody and memories he made with ryoji.

in general, i think it's fun to imagine minato taking ryoji to places and show him things he's interested in! i feel that ryoji takes a lot of interest in minato's life, this isn't really a hc because in reload, minato DOES give ryoji a tour of the school (11/9) and possibly port island (11/12). but ITS CUTE OK! (tangentially related fanwork: this series of doodles from vinnigami: 1, 2, and 3)

not a hc but minato's kindness is like the backbone of their relationship and i think we would not have the ryomina we know and love today if minato wasn't such a kind soul. oh minato.... we can learn so much from you... like ryoji did!

anyway! that's all the hcs that i could think of, thank you for the ask! i had a lot of fun answering this, these two mean a lot to me 💛💙

i hope you don't mind the links to the fanart and fanfic as well, the fanwork people have made for ryomina have really made an imprint on me! if you want to see more of them, i definitely recommend looking through my tag for them because oh. i got a lot of them reblogged alright 😂 (<- SOOO NORMAL)

#UMMM hiiii #this was VERY fun to do thank you so much for the ask!! im very. well-adjusted about these two #this ended up turning into some art + fic suggests (they are like citations to my hcs)#but it was really fun! i love ryomina to bits and pieces i cannot provide a concise answer #this post nearly gave me a scare bc somehow the bullet point list doubled itself and wouldn't let me post #tumblr is a very functional website! but the posts intact so im happy!!! yippee!#i still need to finish reload but some of the hcs i wrote were partially backed by what i saw there #people are welcome to send asks btw! cant guarantee i'll answer them in a timely manner but i enjoy doing them #doing this reminded me of my early tumblr days when i'd get so many asks where ppl dropped their ryomina hcs it was cute...#im sure i will continue to recommend fanworks in the future i definitely want to start reading fic again after i finish reload! yahoo!#also this post is like the iceberg of my brain btw you have definitely not seen all of my thoughts im soo. (twirls hair) normal.#lizzy askbox #ryomina #<- why not i put effort into the post #anyway bye im going to go to the library to learn about my favorite new interest called html and css aren't websites cool :)

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enden-k · 14 days

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the tags mentioned aventurines trailer name being a reference to the curse of king midas, but with the cure being water, it made me think of a certain scholar who likes baths and seeks an ideal of truth... the cure to aventurines necessitated masks perhaps

ohhhhh wha

#sorry if no proper answer im just exhausted i dont even know anymore but im very interested and all 👀#reply

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3d-wifey · 5 months

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how many chapters is And They'd Find Us In A Week going to be approximately?

there are two parts technically. there's our current part, Catching Fire, which's around 15 chapters and then there's Mockingjay which is somewhere between 8 to 12 chapters (still writing) sooooo, all together it's around 23-27 chapters. But as you know, my chapters are, at their absolute least, around 3k words, but on average 4.5k. so we're looking at a projected 103.5k-121.5k words!!!!!!!!!

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #and they'd find us in a week #3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #im so excited #i've planned this for almost a year now #VERY DETAILED planning #can you tell my special interest is writing?#i could have shown this to the guy doing my autism assessment and it would have been enough

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toffeebrew · 13 days

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I've been staring at ink's FÀQ for a bit. it got me wondering. I've got so many questions about this guy (from serious to silly)

how "fake" are his emotions? Are emotions really "fake" if they're things he really feels. Sure it's temporary, but if he feels it in that moment is it fake? seems to impact his ability to care for others somewhat so it must not be completely"real" . Are his emotions just permanently slightly duller than someone with a soul? Can he even CARE about not caring? How long does it take to wear off? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months?

(more yapping under the cut)

Do his emotions dull as they wear off? or does he just know when he'll "run out" of emotion intuitively? Does he get a like initial emotion high when he first drinks one? How does he try to balance them? Does he measure it??? like he takes out a scale and does it by ounces or something? Does he drink all of his belt all at once at the same time?? Like he puts all his vials in one hand and just chugs them? Does he drink the entire thing all at once? Or just a bit of a vial?? Leaving a bit of it left for later?

What do they taste like to him? Are they yummy? Do they smell like anything? Just paint probably but what type? Like does it smell more like oil paint, acrylic or watercolor (they all smell different i swear)? Could he theoretically use it like normal paint? Like if someone was feeling silly could they paint with his vials?

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tennessoui · 10 months

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democratic fic part 3

(democratic fic masterlist) (2.5k)

Anakin breathes in for a count of three and out for five. Obi-Wan Kenobi is the single most vexing creature in the entire galaxy.

Not a small part of him wants to grab the boy by his throat and shake him, make him look at him. How dare he look away. How dare he test Anakin’s control so casually. It is untenable, the way the boy smirks and flutters his eyelashes and begins to walk as if Anakin’s compliance is a matter already resolved.

“No,” Anakin steps forward and reaches out to grab his arm. Before his fingers can curl around the bone of his wrist, Kenobi has snatched his hand away, curling it to his chest protectively. The boy turns and glares at him, all hints of sweetness washed away from his face. “I said no, Obi-Wan.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan says, tone as far from alright as it can get. “Then have a good rest of your night, Senator. I will, I am sure, see you again during my stay on Coruscant, though I will not inflict my company upon you any longer—”

The boy cannot be serious. “You are throwing a tantrum,” Anakin snaps. “I will not be beholden to the whims of a spoiled princeling—”

Obi-Wan throws an embittered, fierce look over his shoulder at him. “I am the grandson of a Count, Senator, I am not a prince—”

“Then stop acting like one!”

“And no one has asked that you accompany me—”

“You just did—”

“Yes, and I have taken your rejection with aplomb—”

“Sith’s hells you have,” Anakin mutters, working his jaw furiously as his thoughts fly rapidly through his head.

Everything he knows about Obi-Wan Kenobi points to the boy being made of soft stuffs; he is bratty and rude, no doubt about it, but he does not possess the spine that would be necessary for him to truly venture into the Lower Levels of Coruscant by himself. He is simply testing Anakin’s patience for the fun of it. Perhaps the thrill of it. But a failed Jedi turned spoiled servant of the Court would never have the guts to go alone somewhere so violent and dark.

“Fine,” Anakin says, turning away himself. “Do send me a comm tomorrow morning so that I know you are alive.” “I didn’t realize you would care,” the boy sniffs, his head held incredibly high when Anakin peeks back at him. For someone apparently not born into aristocracy, he has taken to it quite well. It sets Anakin’s teeth on edge, and his whole body twitches forward, filled with the urge to put his hands on the boy’s body, ruffle him up and tear the cold mask of indifference off his face.

These are very, very dangerous thoughts as he is quite sure that the boy would welcome those sorts of advances and Anakin has already committed to not allowing the boy into his bed. If not for the scandal should they be found, the questions of propriety, the fact that Kenobi is a ward of a foreign Count, then simply for the reason that Obi-Wan Kenobi is a spoiled little brat of a princeling, and Anakin is old enough to know better than to give into his demands.

He listens to Kenobi’s footsteps move further away from him, towards the elevator at the ends of the gardens that would take him to the speeder lot. He’d probably get into a speeder and fly back to his grandfather, pouting the entire way.

Yes, Anakin can see it now: Kenobi in the front seat of the speeder, full and pink bottom lip pushed out—perhaps even wobbling slightly, spit-slick too—hair a bit tangled and mussed from the wind, eye makeup smeared slightly from rubbing his hand over his face, pointing his speeder back to his grandfather’s apartments because he would never in a million years venture into the Lower Levels without some sort of guardian.

But—

What if Anakin is wrong?

After all, he only met the boy a few days ago. He has impressions of Kenobi, but that doesn’t mean the boy can’t surprise him. He’d been unexpectedly catty in the presence of Padmé: what if he could be unexpectedly brave and direct his speeder down far below the safest levels of Coruscant?

Dressed as he was, he would be noticed immediately. He’d be a target before he even stepped out of his speeder, and if anything happened to Kenobi, the blame would fall on Anakin’s shoulders.

Stars and moons and blasted suns, Anakin thinks to himself.

He turns around. He follows Kenobi’s disappearing figure with his eyes. It’s rather easy to do at least, with how the boy glimmers and glows in the light of the lanterns as he kriffing sashays along the garden path to the elevator bays.

Anakin gnashes his teeth; Anakin’s feet start moving.

—-------

The kriffing idiot goes to the Lower Levels.

Anakin barely has time to hijack a parked speeder and point it towards Kenobi’s when the boy flies his own over the edge of the lot and down at a steep angle.

Too steep of an angle to be going anywhere but to the Lower Levels—alone, looking as he does, dressed as he is.

Anakin curses once more and follows him over the edge.

—--------

He’s just going to make sure nothing bad happens to the boy, that’s all. It’s practically his duty. And as long as Kenobi doesn’t feel him in the Force or see him following him, it won’t be giving into the boy’s whims. As long as the boy doesn’t know he’s there, then he will not think he has won, which is of the utmost importance.

He has not won.

This is the thought on repeat in Anakin’s head as he jumps down from his stolen speeder and lands on the ground of Level -214 solidly. Kenobi has already dragged his bike, a lithe, slim model of a speeder, into the crook of an alleyway, as if that’ll be enough to keep it safe.

Anakin lets out an explosive sigh as he watches the glimmering blue and silver figure disappear into the crowd. “Hey,” he barks to a street vendor leaning against the wall next to the mouth of that same alley, lazily using a long stick to stir a pot of foul-smelling, iridescently blue liquid. He tosses him a roll of credits. “That’s, uh. Fifty-eight credits. I’ll give you a hundred more if that bike is still there when I get back. Alright?”

He doesn’t actually have one hundred more credits, but he knows he certainly looks like a man who does. The vendor seems to believe him, if the eager way he nods is any indication. Good. He can’t let the kriffing princeling’s speeder-bike be stolen, else the idiot would probably ask someone to give him a ride back to his apartments and either end up stolen himself or dead in a gutter.

Speaking of the princeling, Anakin can hardly see him anymore in the crowd, which obviously cannot stand. He throws the hood of his cloak up to cover his face and stalks after the boy.

Kenobi is already turning heads, just as Anakin knew he would, and while he takes a sort of sick satisfaction in being right, the feeling is mostly swallowed by a darker emotion, one that’s much harder to name. His feet pick up their pace as he watches Kenobi round an upcoming bend in the main street, eyes turned upwards as if basking in the neon lights and flickering signs.

Fucking tourist, Anakin thinks to himself uncharitably even as he follows doggedly, eyes glued on the shifting muscles of Obi-Wan’s back and shoulders as he walks instead of the sentients on the streets around them.

Where is he even going? What does he even want to get out of this little excursion save for a layer of muck and grime on the hems of his robes and the perfume of smoke and liquor and stars know what else clinging to his skin?

When Anakin visits these levels, it’s for a specific reason, to complete a specific purpose. He does not wander through the levels, he does not need to stop at the vendors or skulk inside the cantinas—though he has been known to indulge in the Lower Level clubs, moreso a decade or two ago than nowadays.

It’s strange cutting through the crowds of this platform, feeling the slight sway of it beneath his feet as his ears are overwhelmed by the clamor of the inhabitants, as his eyes begin to strain under the barrage of flickering neon lights.

When he’s down here, he is usually heading towards a podrace or coming off the high of one, and this—following Kenobi in his useless, aimless trek—does not feel similar to either scenario. It feels more like he has already lost just by being here, traipsing after Kenobi’s figure like a dog on a leash.

Anakin is so distracted by his thoughts that he almost misses the moment that Kenobi stops.

Or is stopped.

Between one moment and the next, a tall, hulking form melts from the shadows of the cramped alleyway Kenobi has chosen to wander down. It’s a Zephrian, long purple horns curling around their thick and proud forehead, shoulders wider than two Kenobis put together. Their hands fall onto Kenobi, bringing him to a halt at the same time that Anakin realizes that he’s not the only one who has been following Kenobi as a much smaller figure darts forward from just in front of Anakin to launch itself up to land on Kenobi’s exposed and unguarded back, claws sinking into pale flesh and pulling a pained noise from Kenobi’s lips, high-pitched and soft, filled to the brim with surprise.

Its voice begins to chatter loudly in the narrow alley, and the Zephrian’s voice joins in, but Anakin cannot hear any of it over that sound Kenobi had made.

His feet are moving of their own accord, his body pushing roughly through the thin remnants of the crowd to get to Kenobi.

“I—I don’t carry any credits on me,” Kenobi is saying, voice wobbling from fear or pain, Anakin doesn’t know.

The smaller figure, a Kowakian monkey-lizard, lets out a sound akin to a cackle, and its claws leave Kenobi’s skin to dive into the waves of his hair, grasping at a hair ornament—sapphire and twinkling diamond—and pulling it out of the locks with enough force that it pulls another cry from Kenobi’s lips as his hands raise to defend himself.

A moment later, Anakin is there, hand clenching down onto the Kowakian’s neck and ripping it away from Obi-Wan, the sound of his pain deafening even as it fades from the air. The Kowakian goes flying—Anakin hasn’t used the Force consciously in years, but that has to be what rises up and responds to the push of his hand, that has to be the reason the monkey-lizard slams so hard into the wall of the alleyway that the plaster cracks in multiple places as its body snaps.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan says, a punched-out, instinctual noise that Anakin has no idea how to interpret. He cannot turn to look at him either, because the Zephrian’s hazy red eyes go wide as he focuses them with what looks like great difficulty on the monkey-lizard’s rather unmoving body.

“Go,” Anakin commands, voice low and quiet, his body carefully moving in front of Kenobi’s as the boy shifted towards him, curled up on himself with one hand pressed to his face as if terribly injured or frightened. The Zephrian steps backwards, mouth twisting, and then steps forward with his mouth stretches into an angry snarl, eyes hazy with drink. The Force reverberates around them with a warning, and the Zephrian takes another aborted step forward, chest heaving.

“Anakin—” Obi-Wan cries, and Anakin’s hand shoots out. The Force runs up and down his arm, like a loth-cat batting at him for affection. You’ve returned, it seems to murmur in the air around them, nuzzling against his mind, his soul.

He pushes out, picturing the Zephrian going flying as far and as hard as the Kowakian had, and the Force obeys with glee. The would-be attacker’s feet lift off the ground as he’s thrown into the same cracked wall as the monkey. Anakin hears his body connect with the duraplast, but he doesn’t watch it, swinging around fully to glare down at Kenobi.

“What the fuck did I tell you?” he’s growling out before he can stop himself, vision turning red as he glowers down at stubborn, willful, beautiful Kenobi. He takes a step forward, and Kenobi does not move except to tilt his head further up.

His eyes are dilated. Fear?

He should be afraid. Anakin has just—Anakin does not know what he’s just done, but there’s no undoing it. The Force is swirling around him like a churning whirlpool, the sort that sucked souls in and spat them out on Kamino for thousands of years. There had been a reason the Jedi warned him against using the Force. A reason he hadn’t touched his connection with it in decades, had simply suffered through its warnings and nudges and prods.

Now all his reasons lay in tatters around him, and the Force is so fucking loud.

Obi-Wan isn’t so much as breathing as he looks up at him, pink lips wet and parted as he allows him to approach, to back him up against the other side of the alley wall.

“What did I tell you?” Anakin snarls, hand falling to rest on Kenobi’s shoulder while the other makes a fist at his side. He’d fucking said—and now someone’s gone and made a mess of Kenobi’s hair; someone’s gone and clawed at his dimpled chin, leaving a long scrape up one cheek, leaving marks across the play of muscles on his back, leaving his eyes wide with fear which never would have happened if he’d just listened. His hand jumps up to smooth out the messy tangle of Kenobi’s hair, tenderness in the face of his fear warring with righteous anger.

“Is that what you wanted to see, princeling?” he murmurs, tightening his grip on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Was that enough of a Lower Levels experience for you?”

The boy shivers.

(Link to the corresponding poll for this fic)

#democratic fic #a bit shorter and i won't put it on ao3 until i have the results of the next poll and write it out #but im very interested in your votes for this next poll and the one after that #do you think obi-wan is really actually afraid ;)#obikin #i will answer that now: no he is not he is aroused out his damn MIND boy would be on his knees if anakin wasn't holding him up #also yeah 1000% obi-wan mind tricked those two into attacking him #knowing him they were probably like. social workers. traveling priests.#doesn't matter. they had low shields and obi-wan wanted to see what anakin could do #boy did he deliver

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