#and these songs lyrics fit well

[humanmorph]

SPOILERS FOR PALISADE 24 ! my short animatic is done : ) i had a good time making this + learned a lot... shoutout to windows movie maker. and branched man of course shoutout to branched man

[fma03envy]

You should watch fma03; it's really good I promise

[bloodbruise]

college barista james falling in love with college radio host regulus through song.

james tunes into the campus radio every tuesday night—not because he’s really into finding new music, but because regulus is the voice behind it. regulus’ show is all late-night jazz, obscure indie tracks, and that smooth, low commentary that james could listen to for hours. the first time james hears it live, in person at the café, he nearly spills the iced latte he’s making all over himself.

he isn’t completely pathetic, though—he flirts a little, drops hints here and there. memorizes regulus’ favorite drink so it’s always waiting for him when he walks in. asks about why his favorite songs are his favorite. still listens every tuesday as he falls for him more and more.

james has never called into the show—he wouldn’t know what to say—but regulus’ voice still fills his dorm every week.

one night, regulus runs a quiet segment where listeners can request songs and share a few words. james, maybe a little tipsy from the cheap wine he and sirius scored by charming the lady at the corner store, finally decides to call in. he keeps it simple, asking for a song he knows regulus loves—"the only love song he can tolerate," as he once told james. when “the boy” by the smashing pumpkins starts playing, james hears regulus laugh softly into the mic, a sound warmer than any wine. “someone out there has good taste,” regulus says, and james feels his heart skip.

on air, regulus doesn’t let on if he knows it’s james, but the next day, as james makes his usual coffee, regulus gives him a small, knowing smile—like he just might.

[quinns-art-box]

I'm that "first-person" they talk about in all the books / I'm that perspective you cannot doubt, see how I look

[screams-of-the-damned84]

oh, you’ve really done it now!

[hinamie]

もう一回、もう一回

[doctorsiren]

“Can’t change what you’ve done.”

[graegrape-art]

i'll still be playing the villain

[h3lian]

` Two times that I've heard before "It's a curse if you care enough"

[meitantei-shitpost]

Finally finished with this little detective conan animation!!!

The song is Under the Wool by KMODO

When your boyfriend mysteriously disappears and this creepily smart kid who looks like him shows up along with all these other shady characters who are obviously hiding some bigger conspiracy. I imagine that not knowing everything that’s going on and being left to put together clues would be pretty terrifying. It feels unfair that like literally most of the people Ran knows know about the organization while she’s left in the dark about the truth. Enjoy some Ran angst! 🥲

[sinlizards]

Wheels slow, the fumes die There's nobody left, she's alone and counting

[soni-dragon]

wait for me // if I don’t make it back from where I’ve gone just know i loved you all along

[clowninthecoffeehouse]

captain lyric comic is done !!

[starry-bi-sky]

What would a mother not do for her child What lengths would a mother not go There's a bond that exists between mother and child With no end to how strong it can grow It's a promise for life between mother and child It begins from the moment of birth.

================

She is six years old, and standing on the porch at her Auntie Alicia’s cabin. She is six years old, and holding an old rifle in her hands, standing at the railing and pointing the nozzle at a large target a couple feet away. There’s a pair of old ear muffs covering her ears. Behind her is her daddy and her sister, and Auntie Alicia. She can’t see them. 

Danielle Martha Fenton is six years old, and her momma has her arms wrapped warmly around her, keeping the gun steady for her. It’s heavy and the butt digs into her shoulder uncomfortably, and she feels nothing but determined. And nervous. 

Her momma was teaching her and Jazzy how to shoot, and they’re down in Arkansas to visit Auntie Alicia for her second “Divorce-iversary” as Auntie calls it. She keeps a hunting rifle in her gun safe for the rabbits that like to nibble on her garden. She mostly grows rhubarb, which goes untouched. But her carrots and greens and other veggies like to be tempting snacks for the game. 

Regardless, she is six years old and learning how to shoot. Her momma and her daddy (mostly her daddy) have been banned from every shooting range outside of Amity Park in a hundred mile radius. So Auntie is the best place to learn, or so momma says. 

Danny thinks it's just an excuse to see her sister, not that she's complaining. She loves visiting Auntie.  

She’s already seen Jazzy do this, her momma told her before the muffs went on to shoot when ready. No use trying to fire when you’re not; you can’t afford to miss when shooting ghosts. 

Danny breathes out steady, just like momma taught her, and quells her trembling little fingers. She focuses down the barrel, and pulls the trigger. 

Immediately, the recoil throws her off, the side of the gun that her cheek was resting on knocks against her skin, harsh enough to bruise if it weren’t for her momma’s steady hands holding onto her. The bang of the gun startles her more than she thought it would, and her heart leaps up and runs a jackrabbit through her chest. 

The gun is carefully slipped out of her hands, and Danny lets it go easily, her cheek smarting in pain and her eyes wide and following up to momma. Momma turns the safety on, and with a gentle hand, pushes against her chest. Danny takes a few steps back, and slips the ear muffs off her head. 

Mommy is smiling big at her, something that Danny can’t help but replicate on her own face as her heart swells. “Did I get it, momma?” She asks, watching as she passes the gun off to Auntie Alicia, who steps over to take it.

“I’m going to go see, sweetie, but I think you did.” Momma coos, before planting both her hands on the porch railing and, in a single leap, vaults over the side and onto the grass. She’s dressed all comfortable for the summer heat, with her hair all tied back and in shorts and a tank top and nice boots. Danny’s ribs swell hopefully, and she stands on her tiptoes to watch her walk over.

“I’ll be hard-pressed to believe if you didn’t, Martha Mae,” Auntie tells her, grinning like a cat, “that was a damn good shot.” 

‘Martha Mae Knight’ was Danny’s granny’s name. Auntie Alicia calls her that because of her middle name — and because, by her words, she has her momma’s weird-shaped eyebrows and piercing blue eyes. The kind that could scare a hawk into singing like a robin. It was Danny’s favorite nickname ever.

Daddy laughs brightly, the sound painful on her ears but twice as nice, and despite the distance, Momma whirls her head around to shoot Auntie a glare; “Language, Alicia. Not around my girls.” She warns. Her accent always comes through when they’re around Auntie. It’s Danny’s favorite thing to listen to. 

“Do you think so, auntie?” Danny says, bright-eyed and ever-optimistic. Auntie Alicia nods fiercely as Momma finally reaches the target and searches for the bullet hole. Daddy then comes up behind her, still laughing, and claps a hand onto her shoulder so hard that it makes her knees hurt.

“Of course she did!” Dad boasts, as bright as the sun and twice as warm. He shakes Danny affectionately, wobbling her on her feet and pulling her straight into his side. She goes so willingly with a burble of giggles. “She’s got the eyes of a Fenton! And our family are darn good shots.”

Auntie eyes him up and down, her smile immediately fading off into a pressed line. “I’m sure you mean she’s got the eyes of a Knight. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn at twenty paces, Jack Fenton.” 

Jazzy holds back giggles from where she’s standing by the door, her ear muffs in hand, and Danny watches her Daddy’s dark eyes immediately narrow. Just like Auntie’s, his smile tapers off into a frown. 

Before he can say anything, there’s a cheer from the yard, and they all turn to Momma clapping her hands in delight. 

Danny immediately pricks her ears up, and would’ve darn near rushed over to the railing if it weren’t for her Daddy’s hand on her shoulder. She yells instead, excitement thrumming like a hummingbird against her ribs, “Did I hit it, momma?!” 

Momma beams at her with all the pride in the world, “You sure did, Danny!” And she turns to press her finger against the target, right on the inside red ring of the battered old bag. “Right here, sweet girl!” 

There are cheers from all around, and Danny’s heart bursts inside her lungs with shiny, sunshine glee. She puffs her chest out big, and smiles so wide it hurts the cheek where the gun smacked her. Her Daddy shakes again, squeezing her tight against his side in a hug that Danny happily reciprocates. 

“What’d I tell you, Martha Mae?” Auntie tells with a big wink and a wide grin, the gun still gripped tight in her hands as Momma makes her way back over. “You got a Knight’s eye.” 

When Momma makes it back over the railing, she hugs Danny tight and praises her shot. Danny looks her in the eyes and chases the feeling, and asks to shoot again.

[aq2003]

ten and martha thankk you for the dialectics amv