#so I guess I won't share that

[marlynnofmany]

Singing and Other Noises

If you have to clean the bathroom on a multi-species spaceship, you can at least take the opportunity to annoy your coworkers with some high volume space shanties. The acoustics of most bathrooms I’ve been in are great, and this one was no exception.

“If you find snacks in high places, adhesive eyes making faces…” I sang, passing the sanitation wand over the floor. “Someone gives thanks to the void, and knives to the droid … Then you might have some humans onboard, onboard, you might have some humans onboard!”

Paint laughed in the hallway. “I don’t think anyone would miss the fact that we have a human onboard.” When I leaned out to grin at her, she continued, “You’re very loud.”

“This is the perfect place to sing!” I said, leaning back and switching to a different song. “You’ll hear us singing loud and proud, in halls and hulls and ventilation chutes. You’ll know us by our range and joy, and we sing better than you!” It echoed nicely.

Paint was shaking her lizardy head. “Are there any quiet human songs?”

“Oh sure,” I said, looking for spots I’d missed. “Calm melodies for a relaxing afternoon, lullabies to soothe babies to sleep, plenty of those. They’re just not as fun. I like the ones where you can really feel your lungs vibrate, you know?”

Paint was giving me that cocked-head look that said she wasn’t entirely sure what I was talking about, but didn’t feel like saying so. “Right. I think that one made the floor vibrate too.”

“Oh, you should meet an opera singer. They can shatter glass.”

“What!” Paint stepped closer, switching her tail. “You are making that up.”

“No, really!” I said. “It’s very impressive. A rare talent for sure.” I got to my feet and emptied the sanitation wand into the trash chute. “My voice is nothing special. Pretty good, I like to think, but no kind of superstar. Still, singing is fun.”

Paint seemed to be having trouble coming up with a compliment. “Your voice is very… clear? Low? Is that a good thing?”

“I like to think so.” I put the wand away and washed my hands. “I can sing the low notes easier than high, which is great, because I enjoy them more. I think that makes me an alto? Contralto? Something like that. Not a soprano, at any rate.”

Even with her orange scales, Paint’s expression was a distinct mask of polite blankness. She nodded, hands clasped together.

“Not much for singing, I take it?” I asked.

Paint exhaled and dropped her hands. “I just don’t see the appeal,” she admitted. “It’s only talking! In a distorted voice!”

I switched off the light and joined her in the hall with a head bob of agreement. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Some of it’s fast and good to dance to, though.”

She pointed at me in excitement. “The dancing does make sense! That’s fun! But I just cannot understand the noises that go with it.”

I shrugged. “Eh, don’t worry too much about it. There’s bound to be lots of things that any given species does that makes no sense to others.”

“Like those shiny rocks you insisted on keeping?”

“Hey, that’s not just me,” I protested. “Zhee and Trrili both wanted some too. And you’ve still got those smelly seed-things that you liked so much.”

Paint raised her snout in pride. “They remain beautiful. Coals, Eggskin, and Captain Sunlight will agree with me!”

“And those are all the Heatseekers on the ship, which is exactly my point.”

A high-pitched noise that I’d been barely aware of grew louder, drifting down the hallway all faint and screechy. I had no idea what it was, and judging by Paint’s expression, neither did she.

“Is that metal scraping?” I wondered.

“I don’t think so,” Paint said.

The sound continued, changing in tone like an alien violin. I turned in place, trying to locate it. “Is that music?”

Paint rubbed her earhole. “It’s unpleasant.”

“C’mon, let’s make sure it’s not actually a problem of some kind.”

“Yes,” Paint said with a sigh. “Ignoring a mechanical failure because we passed it off as horrible music is not something I want on my record.”

I started off down the hallway. “I think it’s this way.”

Ready as I was for a long and mysterious hunt for the quiet shrieking, I was almost disappointed to find it coming from the third door we reached. This was the door to Coals and Trrili’s translation workroom. It was shut. I hesitated over the opening panel, then knocked instead.

The noise stopped.

When the door slid open, it was to a vision of exoskeletoned nightmares, shiny black and red, with pincher arms, mandibles, and a pair of antennae angled into a very irritated expression.

“Hi Trrili,” I said. “Everything okay in there?”

Paint added, “We heard a noise—”

The door shut in our faces. After a moment, the screechy serenade resumed.

I blinked. “Rude.”

Paint had her hands over her earholes. “What is it??”

“Probably not a machine failure,” I said, wincing as the noise approached nails-on-chalkboard levels. “Let’s go ask Zhee.”

We walked very quickly away, and found Zhee outside the kitchen talking to Eggskin. The sound was faint here, but still audible.

“Hey Zhee,” I said cheerfully. “Can you tell us what in the seven spherical black holes Trrili is doing right now?”

Zhee threw his own purple pincher arms in the air. “Butchering a classic,” he exclaimed. “I’ve told her that she’s got the middle part backwards, but she insists it’s a regional variant!”

I glanced at Eggskin, who was just shaking their scaly head. “So it is music, then.”

Zhee folded his pinchers with a flare of antennae. “There’s a skreeking competition at Basal Station,” he said. “She’s under the impression that the judges there will enjoy regional variants that are wrong.”

“I see,” I said, wondering if I should ask the obvious question.

Paint beat me to it. “What’s skreeking?”

“Leg-singing,” Zhee said. “You know.” He moved a hind leg in a way that made a brief screech.

I knew I was staring, but it was either that or burst out laughing, and that was rarely complimentary. You’d think I’d get used to discovering ways that my alien crewmates resembled Earth animals, but you’d be very wrong.

Paint let out a gusty sigh. “I don’t understand that kind of singing either,” she said. “This makes even less sense than the other one!”

“Remember, there’s always dancing,” I told her. “And if it makes you feel better, I have no idea how to dance to the noise Trrili’s making.”

Zhee hissed quietly. “No one could dance to that. Not without tripping over every other limb.”

Eggskin spoke up. “Well, I’m certainly not going to try. Would you three like to help me settle on the primary meal for tonight’s dinner?”

I smiled. “Oh, I’m sure we won’t disagree on anything there.”

~~~

Keen eyes might recognize the shanty lyrics from a couple older posts. I even used one song in The First Time Traveler to Survive, which is a different storyverse entirely, but it's too much fun to leave there. I'm going to say humans invented it twice, and no one's going to stop me!

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[etapereine]

Tadej Pogačar & Jonas Vingegaard + Hands (2024 edition)

2024 Tour de France, Stage 1 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 2 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 7

2024 Tour de France, Stage 11 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 11 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 11

2024 Tour de France, Stage 12 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 15 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 15

2024 Tour de France, Stage 16 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 17 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 18

2024 Tour de France, Stage 19 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 20 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 20

2024 Tour de France, Stage 20 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 20 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 20

2024 Tour de France, Stage 21 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 21 | 2024 Tour de France, Stage 21

2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony | 2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony | 2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony

2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony | 2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony | 2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony

2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony | 2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony | 2024 Tour de France, Podium Ceremony

[squirrelno2]

All right so I haven't been active in the Julie and the Phantoms fandom in a long time, and although I know there are definitely still people creating and reblogging in the fandom it tends to be a much smaller handful of people than it used to, which for me felt disheartening and was part of why I've backed off from it. I'd love to see new stuff more regularly and start recirculating older things just to remind myself and anyone else who needs it how much I love this silly little show.

All this to say, I am putting out feelers to see if anyone is interested in a blog that runs consistent, casual event-type things for the fandom to try and revitalize interest in jatp fanworks, like featured weeks for individual characters here, fic rec events, etc. I'm toying with ideas to inspire people to pick up their wips, spark new stories, and highlight older content that didn’t get much attention or would just be nice to see again. I’d like to create a community space to liven the fandom back up for people who miss the show or got into the fandom after the hype died down. Does that seem interesting to anyone?

[theaprilcot]

The world in your hands

[spacekatdet]

Already seen victim blaming on xitter 👍 Lets not do that and lets leave the hermits alone. Make up your own minds on if you should support Iskall. But I feel like if one of his VH team members leaving for differing morals, the hermits going back 6 plus years to remove him from thumbnails and titles, and removing him from the site and merch should be enough Doc even said they can't talk about it which could mean anything, including something legal. Mumbo said there were no minors invovled but doesn't mean others weren't since there ARE victims Just leave the hermits be, and let the victims decide if they want to come out. And stop victim blaming lmao

[amee-racle-ofmyown]

Between the lines | Heist Mark and Y/N | 328 words | AO3

Mark stepped into the apartment, locking the door behind him with a click. He'd had to head out to run a quick errand, leaving his partner in crime to finish up making the plans for the next heist on their own.

He made his way inside and called out to let them know he was back, but was met only by the soft patter of paws as Chica came bounding up to him, tail wagging. Setting down his keys, he bent to give her a few pats and, figuring that his roommate was probably in the shower, headed over to the small living room to look over the completed plans.

He found the papers lying in a neat pile on the coffee table, maps, blueprints, and crayons set off to one side. For as long as he'd worked with them, they'd always complained about the crayons. They still used them, though.

It was as he skimmed over the newly drawn up plan that he noticed something he hadn't expected.

He glanced over the little doodle he'd left on the page: an overly simplified rendition of himself, dressed in the usual stealth garb for infiltrating museums, holding up the artefact they were currently after with a grin. And there, right beside it, in matching crayon, was a similar portrayal of his heist partner, and the words 'Yay! We did it! :D' above the pair of them.

The drawings were a little silly, really — childish even — but a smile tugged at his lips nonetheless.

He found himself gently brushing his fingertips over the markings on the paper, running over the newly added half of the doodle featuring his partner and lightly tracing the outlines.

Something coiled deep in his chest in that moment, but not unpleasantly. It was something almost eager. Something softly fond. It nestled between his ribs and lodged itself behind his heart, quiet again. He couldn't articulate it if he tried, but... he liked this feeling.

[dxxtruction]

Louis does see Armand for all his flaws, and yet still chooses him, and loves him, but when he sees them for what they really were, and really entailed, he no longer can. Oh, gradations of evil. Louis had in ways bought into it.

[abbeyofcyn]

Meet baby Leo(nardo)

After a first bonding went very wrong, I finally got Pippin a tiny new friend.

I hope Merry can rest peacefully knowing his brother has someone to care for now he's gone ❤️

[rallazart]

Ah fine I'll post somethin. Experimenting with designs and shit is all I'm doin. Nothin new.

(Not posting the colored in versions yet. These are only concept sketches. Keep that in mind)...

The digital "version" of ^this^ is just some lazy color blocking I did. (Pay no mind to the weird light effects); But it does add a little clarity to the original sketch that might be helpful. Note: the values will change to some degree later.

Full body type idea ^here^. The tail is fan shaped from proper perspective.

The basic blocks of his design include an array of different animal features i.e. plucked feathers and skin, goat horns and eyes, coyote skull and body, and lizard scales. Idk if anyone was curious though;

if anyone asks for more detail in the design inspirations and lore I might share it. I just don't really feel the need to post every part of my process yk (especially if I'm not 100% happy with it)

[drop-the-curtain-123]

ok very specific gripe about assassination classroom

But how comes the series is all "be yourself, use your hobbies, despite everyone judgement, for good" then just... Never questions the roasting of Mimura air guitaring?

Look at my boy! He's so unwell afterwards

Ik now there are more scenes later in the manga that again use it as a Punchline. It just encapsulates that weird gap of "things that are just never Not the Joke/Mocked" which kind of defeats the show messaging 😭

t's not even used in a "do it anyway, grow strong and proud" like some others, it's just. There.

(hi rinka btw happy belated birthday to you)

Anyway unconsequential nitpicking rant over, have a good day.

[swordsonnet]

sorry but saying that the accessibility needs of mentally disabled people are just preferences or about "comfort" is blatantly incorrect. if i can't enter a building because the bright lights and loud noises would send me into a meltdown, then i can't enter the building, and that's not less important than me not being able to enter a building because it's not wheelchair accessible. if you genuinely think that mentally disabled people aren't really struggling, and that it's okay to mock their very real concerns, then that just shows that you've been refusing to listen to their experiences. do better or shut the fuck up.

[morningstargirl666]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Did some work on the next two chapters of tbbw instead of working on the rewrite, so here's a rare sneak peak:

“So, care to tell my why you insisted on being so cryptic over the phone-”

Klaus froze halfway inside the trailer Sam had directed him to with less than detailed instructions, eyes widening on the arrow embedded in Sam’s chest and the long, thin metal wire attached to it that led to a suspiciously shaped bomb-like box fixed onto the trailer’s wall.

“Let’s face it,” Sam said with a wince, standing very, very still. “This isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught me doing.”

Still, like he was, in fact, attached to a bomb.

“Sam,” Klaus said eventually, stepping fully inside and closing the door without taking his eyes off the bomb-like box, the pin attached to the wire shaking every time Sam breathed. “Tell me that is not a bomb.”

Sam hesitated for half a second. “It’s not a bomb.”

Klaus glared at him. “Sam.”

Careful not to twist his body, Sam turned his head towards Klaus, licking his lips nervously. “You know, if you think about it, this is all your fault.”

Klaus felt his eye twitch. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the one that told me to look into this Connor Jordan guy!”

Klaus gaped, face twisting with anger. “I told you to look into him, not to engage with him!” he hissed, stepping forward. His eyes trailed down to the arrow embedded in Sam’s chest, thankfully several inches too far to the right to have hit his heart.

“How was I supposed to know he had a bomb hooked up to his death-trap trailer?” Sam hissed back, earning him another glare that effectively silenced any further protests. “Look, can you, I don’t know, just cut the arrow out. I would myself but…” 

Sam raised a hand, moving to touch the metal wire attached to the bomb.

“Don’t-” Klaus warned, too late, closing his eyes when Sam flicked it, the vibration travelling all the way down to the pin. It didn’t pull out. Sam brought his hand away, making a sound with his mouth that mimicked an explosion.

“I’m going to kill you,” Klaus deadpanned.

“Not if the bomb kills me first.”

“Just-” Klaus snapped his mouth shut, using every shred of willpower he had to stop himself from strangling the idiot. “Don’t move. Let me think.”

He moved around to stand behind Sam, inspecting the arrowhead sticking out of Sam’s back as he contemplated his options. It wasn’t some amateur thing, crafted carelessly and put together - it was professional. A thick, sturdy, pitch-black shaft with a sleek metal head, dipped in vervain if the sting when he touched it was anything to go by. His eyes narrowed, grabbing a mean-looking combat knife the hunter must have left behind off the side and resting the serrated edge against the shaft, wondering if he cut the head off. He couldn’t break it with brute force - too risky. The jolt could set the bomb off.

“So, how well did you know this Pastor Young?” Sam asked to fill the silence as Klaus worked, grunting a little as Klaus began to try and saw it off. He reached down to the table next to him to grab one of the pieces of paper strewn all over the surface, ignoring Klaus’ earlier warnings of staying still. “Did you talk to him much at your mother’s Ball?”

Klaus didn’t look up from his work. “I can’t say I did. Why?”

“I think he’s the one who contacted your hunter,” Sam said, causing Klaus to look up. He raised the letter, so Klaus could see it. “Mad as a box of cats by the way. He wrote a letter about sacrifice and war brewing in Mystic Falls.”

Klaus paused what he was doing to look over Sam’s shoulder at the letter, skimming the contents. “A greater evil is coming?” he read aloud, brows furrowing.

“Yeah, crazy, right?” Sam hissed as Klaus resumed his work, grunting painfully as the arrow shifted inside him. He forced a smile, tilting his head in Klaus’ direction. “Hey, do you think he was talking about you?”

Klaus sent him a mock-glare, unimpressed. He ran the blade across the arrow’s shaft perhaps a little too forcefully, nudging it inside Sam’s flesh, causing the younger hybrid to wince, stifling a cry. He nearly didn’t remember to remain still in time.

“I can’t cut it out,” Klaus decided, observing this and stepping back. He dropped the bloody knife on the table. “It’s too thick and one small movement, it’ll get very messy very fast.”

“Then what do we do?” Sam asked, voice shaking. His brave bravado was finally cracking.

Klaus stared at the arrow embedded in Sam’s chest, gaze flickering up to meet his. “You’re going to tear it out.”

Sam frowned, looking quite annoyed. “And how does that stop me from getting fried again?”

“You tear it out and I’ll flash you to safety before that bomb ignites.”

Sam paused as he thought that over. “Are you sure you’re fast enough to do that?”

Klaus turned, opening the door of the trailer, knowing that was one less obstacle he had to worry about. “Only one way to find out,” he muttered under his breath. Sam still heard him.

“That’s not reassuring, Nik,” he said, eyes slightly wide, almost pleading. “I don’t want to end up as a human kebab.”

Klaus raised a challenging eyebrow, stepping towards Sam and grabbing his shoulders. “Do you have a better idea?”

“No.”

“Then human kebab it is,” Klaus declared, nodding. “On 3?”

“Fuuuuck,” Sam whispered, breath shaky.

Klaus ignored him, beginning the countdown. Sam raised his hand, carefully wrapping his fingers around the end of the arrow’s shaft.

“1…2…3!”

Sam yanked the arrow out and Klaus heard the click of the pin flying out but he was already moving, hands gripping Sam’s shoulders, pulling him with him as he flashed out the trailer. The world blurred around them and behind, the air roared as the bomb ignited, exploding through the trailer and blasting out the windows. The heat of the explosion licked at their backs, the force of the blast sending them flying several feet before crashing into the ground, saved from the worst of it. Groaning, they both rolled onto their backs, Sam the first to sit up on his elbows and survey the damage.

“Well, that wasn’t too bad,” Sam commented, eying the smoking wreckage.

As if taunted by his words, there was a terrifying hiss from the trailer and a second later, the gas supply had ignited, a secondary explosion ripping through the structure, blasting it to smithereens. Pieces of roofing and wall were thrown in every direction in the ensuing fireball and they both ducked, flinching away from the dangerous fiery projectiles as they crashed to ground all around them.

Slowly, Klaus turned to look at Sam, his expression thunderous. 

“You were saying?”

[headmateelevator]

hold the door!! someone's coming in!

name(s) - Tommy , Theseus , Sage , Amaryllis , Cole , Hide , Imp , Raccoon , Icarus , Rascal , Auburn , Rouge , Bandit , Dire , Mutt.

pronouns - he / it / disc / song / axe / bloom / imp / bite / lone / cringe / pog / lake / stick / fanta / fire / demon / fang / blood / moo / boom / bark / fun / red / shout / game.

gender(s) - transmasc , happycolorsgender , happygender , tommyInnitCharic , Demongender , Bitething , muttial , thingmutt , boymutt , traumamutt , muttfreak , weirdpup , muttlexic , partygender , confettigender , loudpartygender , sillynsilliergender , Fungender , Goofygoobergender , Hapifriendix , Happygender , Partygender , Sillymaxxed.

orientations - bisexual , demiaroace.

role(s) - trauma holder , mood booster , rehabilitator , double agent.

species - humany demony thing.

source(s) - c!tommyinnit , DSMP.

emoji(s) - 🩹 , 🖍️ , 🌈 , 🎨 , ⛺ , 🏚️ , 🪵

likes - records , discs , music , animals , cool sticks , diet Coca-Cola , the color red , dragons , Fanta , oranges , trains , flowers.

dislikes - silence , sudden loud noises or movements , loneliness , being cold , injury.

front triggers - fun things , music imp enjoys , minecraft music , raccoons , source things , sourcemates , another fronter feeling unsafe.

personality description - very excitable and generally talkative, loves being around friends and trusted people and will talk their ear off for hours when he gets the chance. though he can get easily nervous or scared in unfamiliar situations, or when he's around crowds of untrusted people or on his own. will be very wary of some sourcemates at first, and will be slow to talk to them, though if he's given time he will warm up to them.

typing quirk - all caps, rarely punctuation other than exclamation marks. (ex: THE QUICK BROWN FOX JUMPS OVER THE LAZY DOG!!)

typing example / small message - HELLO ALL!!! I AM WRITING A MESSAGE BUT I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE IT ABOUT!!!!! SO I AM WRITING IT ABOUT JUST THAT!!! I HOPE YOU ARE HAVING A VERY GOOD DAY!!!! GOODBYE!!!!!!!!!!

faceclaims -

( 1 - 2 - 3 )

[damiel-of-real]

im surprised ive never really paid much attention to deltarune's menu background before because its honestly really fucking good. every part of it is absolutely beautiful. also i really want to believe that the big fucking energy pillar is the angels heaven

[lia404]

"Ai, living has no answer."

"When we're in pain, we search for an answer to feel better. A concise, absolute answer. But if you really want an answer… it's that there is no answer. There are no absolute in this world. Even if we think there is, in the end, it'll only make us feel better for a moment.

If there are no absolute, then what's left?

Bonds. Bonds between individuals. Bonds between one another. That's all there is.

That also changes with time. A huge trigger can cause a huge change. Bonds may be severed. But new bonds can also be formed. So living is a series of bonds.

That's what life is.

I have to do that forever?

Yes.

That's a lot of work.

Yeah.

I'd need to be so strong.

That's why people become stronger. That occasionally leads to conflicts. But even if that happens, we have to keep fighting. Keep searching for bonds, even if there's no answer.

You can't rush living."

So I saw on MyFigureCollection that October 13 was maybe possibly Yusaku's birthday, although I couldn't find any reliable source for this. I'd have loved to do something nice and light-hearted for the occasion, but I'm still feeling too strongly about it all. So here you are instead: Happy (maybe) Birthday, Yusaku! Please have some trauma to go with your trauma. Here's to another year of fending off expectations and looking for your own life and its non-answers with eyes wide open and always filled with hope.

[phantom-overdose]

Possible new fc for James???