#according to google translate

[gingerninja8]

I imagine Ryou Bakura introducing his friends to tasty British Cuisines like Sunday Roast, Meat Pies like Shepherd or steak and Kidney Pies . I imagine Bakura liking stuff like blood pudding,Haggis, or Stargazing pie which would put off some of Yugi friends minus Jonouchi who would eat anything

Wait until they translate spotted dick into Japanese.

[fatiguedcorvid]

everything stays- Golden Wind fanfic

JJBA GW one shot ~1.6k words, SFW genfic

now on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50584042/share

As much as he might have been loathe to admit it, Giorno hated his requiem stand. He felt like an immature ingrate thinking it; Gold Experience Requiem saved him and his friends in Rome. It was the reason Giorno was able to pursue his dream of cleaning up Naples’ streets. But with every passing month the feeling weighed on him more.

He sat bodily on a public bench outside some hair salon, the sign reading ‘il parrucchiere mago- trova il tuo nuovo sé’. Breathing heavily, he was trying to glance at GER behind him without arousing suspicion from the few people already out and about at 5:40 AM on a Tuesday. GER had no such considerations, glaring at every passerby with what Giorno could only imagine was murderous intent. ‘Touch my water bottle’ he thought to it. ‘Turn it into a nutria.’ GER didn’t budge. He tried to call it back into him. It didn’t work. 

Once his vision stopped spinning he sighed and started heading back to the Villa. Giorno had taken up morning jogs in the past few weeks, hoping they would help clear his mind. In reality they did little other than make him feel guilty for not starting his already too busy workday earlier. Is that why he found himself sprinting full force every time he started running?

~

“Ah, man, what to do about GER… ?” Mista scratched his head with the tip of his revolver, considering the question. Most people would be hesitant to stand at the barrel of a gun, but Mista trusted Sex Pistols to never let him come to harm. Well, no harm so irreversible as brain death. Even if perhaps he shouldn’t have. “I dunno, Giogio, I’m not usually the advice guy.” he looked at Giorno, impassive as ever. “But,” he smiled at him, “I'll tell you what. I might not be able to fix anything, but I do know what you need. A distraction.”

“Distraction.”

“Yeah! Anything to just stop thinking about it.”

Giorno paused to consider. “I am very busy, Mista. But I increasingly can’t put it out of my mind.”

Mista pftt-ed automatically before suddenly remembering where he was and looking to see if Giorno was offended. He wasn’t able to tell. “Yeah, but you’re busy with work stuff. Peril, danger, stand attacks. How can you expect GER to lay low like that? Do something fun, for once.” Giorno tried to think back. ‘When did I last do something for pure enjoyment?’

~

“How was the movie? Did Tony McGire spider a lot of men?” Fugo asked, somewhat exasperated. Though he was invited, he didn’t come to the viewing, which only quietly convinced Giorno he got the name wrong on purpose. Fugo wasn’t exactly a pop culture aficionado.

“I don’t know. Fell asleep about fifteen minutes in.”

Fugo shook his head. “C’mon, Giogio. How can you expect to be taller than me one day if you keep sleeping barely four hours a night?” Fugo still retained three stubborn centimeters over Giorno, which he didn’t hesitate to mention at any available opportunity. Giorno had to admit he probably had a point, but sleeping more would leave even less time for his job, let alone having fun. He took a tentative bite of his croissant, smeared with copious butter and his favorite apricot jam; the taste was divine. He loved this quaint little cafe. But at that moment it brought him no comfort. He took his time chewing, wanting any excuse to delay the next part of this conversation. But if anyone could help him with this, it had to be Fugo. “When we came back, I tried to summon Gold Experience again. Strained so hard I felt my eyes almost pop out of their sockets. GER was just staring at me, wearing a certain disapproving expression. I might have snapped at it. Or maybe it was the one who snapped at me. Even now I'm not entirely sure. But it left a giant gash on my forehead.” He pointed to the now traceless site of the injury, undone by the very stand that caused it. Fugo sat there staring at him, mouth full of tuna salad sandwich. Giorno waited expectantly for him to swallow, silently resenting him for using the same time earning trick as himself.

“I don’t really know anything about requiem stands. Did you ask Polnareff about this?”

“I did. He even contacted the Speedwagon Foundation on my behalf to see if they can discover something useful.”

“And… ?”

“And nothing. He says he barely understands them himself. But if the original Gold Experience hadn’t asserted itself once since it was pierced with the arrow, it’s unlikely it ever will again.”

“I see.” Fugo said eventually. “If that’s the case, I think the only way forward is to accept your circumstances. You need to stop thinking up ways to bring it back. You’re just torturing yourself. You’ll never be able to make peace with GER if you only ever think of how to turn it back. Who knows? Maybe GER will change, become something bearable, even if it will never be the same Gold Experience again.” Giorno held back his response.

“Well, regarding the monthly budget-”

~

Giorno knocked on the half opened door to Coco Jumbo’s room. It was already rather late, but Polnareff would usually still be awake at this hour. From inside came an ever cheery voice “yes, come in!” It echoed like it was coming from a much bigger space than the modest room could allow. Coco Jumbo was sitting on the sofa in the corner. Normally much too tall a surface for a turtle to climb onto, given access by ramps stretching from the floor to every piece of furniture or appliance not already placed on the floor. They’d offered to get rid of the sofa, but Polnareff insisted they keep at least a small sofa and desk. As soon as he was inside the turtle Polnareff charged at him with a bear hug. The contact with his ghostly form felt a bit weird. It had mass, but wasn’t entirely solid. 

“What’s wrong Giorno? Couldn’t sleep? Something bothering you?” Coming from any other person that kind of attention would’ve felt smothering, but from him it felt genuine. Like he was asking because he wanted to hear the answer, not just out of politeness.

“I suppose.” he sat down, reminding himself not to get so comfortable as to fall asleep in the turtle. “I talked to Fugo. He said I can't live with GER if I'm constantly trying to turn it back to something that's already gone. But I can't seem to actually let it go. Even though I know it’s all useless.”

“What is it exactly about Gold Experience that you miss?”

Giorno was a bit taken aback. “How do you mean?”

“Well, Gold Experience might not be coming back, but why do you miss it in the first place? Do you know what it is about it that made you happier than GER? Maybe you can have this thing back. That same feeling, just in a different way.”

~

It was over a decade ago now. Giorno, only five years old, was sitting on the dirt in the tiny unkempt garden of their new house in italy. It was the time when his mother’s marriage was still fresh. When he was excited to make friends at this new place called “school”. When he still believed his stepdad’s wrath could be avoided if only he was well behaved enough. That garden was his refuge, a garden of eden. Crows and pigeons would fight over the right to rule the fence. Stray cats would sometimes sneak in; they might’ve let him pet them, if he gave them food scraps before. He was digging around for worms, eyes widening every time he found a squirming form in the moist ground. It made him wonder if they were placed there by a higher power just for him. The critters hiding in foliage and underground seemed like too much of a miracle to be a product of mere chance. Aristotle wrote about the theory of spontaneous generation. That living creatures could be birthed from dead, inanimate matter. And that was what humans believed for centuries. Common knowledge, really. By Giorno’s time everyone knew this was nonsense, of course; a fantasy created by prescientific minds. But Giorno was too young to have learned about such things; free to dream up explanations for the miracle in front of him.

~

Once giorno figured out how the damned UV lamp was supposed to be set up the cage was complete. Substrate, sticks, a stone to rub on, and every amenity a crested gecko could hope for. He opened the small plastic container and placed it inside the terrarium, letting the little guy step out and explore in his own time. Mista stood behind them, making faces.

“A gecko, really? Am I going to see it now every time I step in your office? Ugh, it’s face gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“How could you say something so awful?” he said, his back still turned. Not that seeing his face would’ve given away whether or not he was joking. “In any case, his name’s Charlie, and you’re perfectly within your right to look away if his face bothers you.” When Giorno finally turned to face him, he took another sip of his tea. Out of politeness more than anything. He was never much of a tea guy, but when Giorno offered him a cup he brewed with the mint he grew himself, Mista didn’t have the heart to tell him no. Because at this point he knew Giorno well enough to see through his mysterious air; he was proud of himself.

[very-uncorrect]

Just watched la diplomatie de l'éclipse and I'm kinda in love with it

[mymanymerrymuses]

@droppingdonkeys said: Luisa picks Pietro up for a hug.

He's quickly getting used to having someone around that can lift him. Here, now, with Luisa in his life, being manhandled means only good things, and Pietro's able to settle into the embrace very quickly.

"Luisa." His voice is soft as he nuzzles against her, returning the embrace and making no attempt to get his feet back on the floor. Why would he? He's perfectly safe where he is, whether Luisa only means to hold him for a moment or is planning to keep him off the ground for a while.

"Are you taking me somewhere, dušica?"

[ijustdontlikepeople]

I don’t know who else spoke a language when they were little that they lost with age, but sometimes I still find myself uselessly reaching into the empty void, certain there’s a better way to communicate a thought or feeling than I can with the tools at my disposal now. It’s like straining to see the top shelf when you’re too short, you know it exists but you just can’t … get it.

[ghurab-alzilal]

3 y/o Damian: *pats Jason's head *

LoA's Jason, with a soft smile : What's up, bǎobèi?

3 y/o Damian, while still patting him : I'm trying to wake up the skunk in your head.

LoA's Jason, squeezing Damian's cheeks with a bitter smile : xiǎo shǐ...

[grelleswife]

Miri and Rei are all smiles on their excursion together…though a distraught Kazuki appears quite peeved at having to miss out!

1 2

[spaceinvadeeer]

the sillies i love them

[katerpotater]

"many shy little creatures don't dare to show off"

[macaquesrottingcorpse]

I find hsr characters names really funny

[starscelly]

☀️ roope sighting ☀️

[clatterbane]

Weapons of mass affection

Оружие мaссoвого умилeния

Оружие мaссoвого умилeния

[chilling-seavey]

👀 It's getting seriousssss

[cure-yell-liker]

I think some of you may like this manga

[shubaka]

(x)

[aliteral-ghost]

This writing piece was inspired by this art by @azaleastobloom, mostly the pose used and their name for e!False (obsessed, by the way) and also @theminecraftbee's vault hunters aufest fic for the idea of children in the vaults in the first place. Lmao I had fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She’s so much smaller than you remember. This only reaffirms the doubts you had earlier, about taking a child into a Vault. Companions make it dangerous enough, always underfoot, and making them a child will only muddy things more.

She looks at you, all spindly arms and legs, and you realize with a jolt of horror that this is not you. See, Iskall had said this event (special for today!) was in an attempt by the Vault Gods to allow the players to reconnect with their inner child, by forcing every hunter to play with themselves as a child. But something must have gone wrong in the portal, somehow, because although those eyes (just barely a shade darker) are not your own you recognize them.

You and your twin are not identical, of course, close enough that the untrained eye wouldn’t notice, close enough that you were able to pass as one person for nearly ten years, but you are not identical. And this is not you, sitting folded up as if origami. You were never this lanky. You caught up to her as you grew older, but she shot up first.

“Vera?” You ask slowly, using the name that she would have known at this age. “Uh… hi?”

She widens her eyes at you, in surprise or maybe fear. You don’t look the same as you did at this age, face longer and with no baby fat, taller, wearing strange armor that covers your eyes and face.

“Do you know where we are?” She asks, and you almost laugh. Of course she wouldn’t know. Her eyes are wild, terrified, looking around at the Vault room and hallway that leads off it as if trying to find an exit. There won’t be one, of course, there won’t be one until (as the popup at the edge of your vision says) you collect enough elixir. Should be easy enough.

“We are in a Vault,” you say slowly. “You were meant to help me get out, although I’m not sure Iskall thought this through very well.”

She-Vera-is still sitting on the ground, having chosen to fold her legs up to her chest and hug them. That’s something you recognize, a sign that she is very much not interested in moving from this spot, thank you very much, and that it will take physical force to move her from the tiny ball she’s wrapped herself in.

You are not interested in picking her up like a sack of potatoes, because that feels dangerous to do in a Vault with many many mobs and a child (and you have strong words to say to Iskall later about this, because who thought it would be a good idea), so you sit next to her, cross-legged. The timer hasn’t started yet, thank goodness, because neither of you have left the portal room, so you have all the time in the world. Hopefully no one questions how long it takes you to get out.

Vera looks at you, long bangs nearly covering her eyes. Her hair is longer than you ever remember it being, before you became one person. She never liked having long hair, cutting it short whenever she got the chance to. You were the opposite, and your hair has stayed long throughout all your life. It is, even now.

“I’m sorry I’m not brave,” she says quietly. “My sister is brave. She would be better to have here.”

You swallow hard, trying to think of what to say to comfort her. You are not the person for the job. “I know for a fact you can be-you will be very brave,” You say. You’ve fought a lot with Vera, over the years, and she just gets bolder. “And right now you are the only one that can help me get through this Vault. But you have to get up, because I’m not interested in carrying you through it.”

She just keeps looking at you, eyes narrow and calculating. Vera was always thinking, you remember that. She did enough thinking for the both of you. That thinking caught up to you, of course, when she got out of control. She was always half a step ahead, and you had to run twice as fast to keep up. You’re sure Vera is still thinking, wherever she’s ended up.

“What if I can’t, though?” She asks. “What if… you die?” Her eyes go wide, and you’re reminded of just how small she is.

“I won’t,” you say. “Not forever, at least. That’s what makes it fun.”

Vera curls up further on herself, and you scoot closer, wrapping your arms around her like you used to as a child. She fits better, now that you’re finally taller. “Brea?” Vera whispers. You freeze at the sound of your given name, one you haven’t used in years.

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m so… so sorry.” If you apologized to her now, wherever she is, she wouldn’t accept it. That’s part of the reason why you haven’t. But Vera just tucks her head deeper into your chest and takes a deep breath.

“I know,” Vera says. “I’m sorry, too.” Her voice sounds stronger, older, as if she is possessed by the older version of herself, even though you can feel she’s still smaller than you.

The pair of you sit there for a bit longer before you stand, extending a hand. Vera has uncurled a bit, legs tentatively splayed in front of her, and she takes it, standing for the first time. You take her through the Vault, cautiously leading her to all the spawners and ore rooms and treasure rooms you might need, until you’ve fully collected the elixir you need and have found a lodestone.

“I don’t think you can go back with me,” you say to her. “I’m not-not sure where you’ll go, what time magic has been placed on these Vaults that allowed… this, but I don’t think it’ll be with me.”

Vera nods, standing up straight, hands clasped. “I know,” she says, quiet. “That’s what I thought.”

You walk towards her, wrap her in an embrace that you both relax into. It’s a hug that you haven’t felt in a long, long time. She’s so much smaller than you remember.