#this sounds super basic

[shelfthe-reader]

Just had a really goofy idea for a non-Angsty (for the most part I hope) Daniel lives AU and it’s just the Three Buckleys being first responders and working on calls together on accident I need to write fluff for once

[yuukirita]

He's doing hand talk :'D Cute and Sad.

[repmet]

@rwrbsource & @rwrbmovie’s rwrb appreciation month bingo: alex

[insp] [Henry]

[tagetto]

he stinks of diesel fumes, solder flux & cigarette smoke which has caked itself over the years into the fan blades of a used prebuilt msi gaming PC bought from ebay dot com core 2 duo high performance rtx 2.5 tdi 1.6 litre engine top speed of 48.3mph.

[dreamsfulblues]

I die every time with how quickly Karamatsu’s body language changes AND THE VOICE

“I’m such a cool dude heh òvó “

To

“Oh my god I’m so sorry please forgive me óvò”

Love it

[turtleblogatlast]

One of the biggest things that makes me see Leo as trans is absolutely the size of his carapace in comparison to his brothers’.

And I’m not talking about height! I’m specifically looking at his shell here, because when you compare him to the others, particularly Donnie who is nearly the same height as Leo, it’s very clear that Leo’s carapace is much longer in proportion to the rest of his body.

Like - standing side by side, even though Donnie is shorter his carapace ends noticeably higher up than Leo’s does. And I like this not only because it really helps push the idea that Leo could very likely be trans (or intersex!), but it’s also just a fun design difference between them.

(It also lends way to future scenarios of Donnie eventually getting taller than Leo, but sitting down still has Leo being the taller one haha.)

[ricesinspo]

i find it really interesting how you can write dialogue that mean the same thing with a completely different vibe, and at the same time convey a character's personality and possibly relationships, just by changing the way it's worded

for example, to tell someone that they should be more open, a character might say this:

"you should open up more."

pretty blunt and straight to the point, something a no-nonsense type of character would say. or they might say it like this:

"you can tell me anything. i'll be here if you need to talk about it."

which says it without actually saying it, and also gives off a comforting vibe, for if the character doesn't want to be direct but wants to show the other that they care and will listen. like if they're talking to a friend or someone close. or they might even say this:

"just speak up, why don't you? no one's gonna know what's wrong with you if you don't say anything."

this one sounds annoyed and comes across as commanding, in a way.

and sometimes you don't even have to change the wording much, just the tone can be enough to completely do a 180 on the vibe. compare:

"hey, stop worrying about it." they sit next to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "it's not the end of the world."

to this:

"hey!" they stand up, raising their voice. "stop worrying about it, it's not the end of the world!"

the first one sounds relatively comforting and reassuring, compared to the second one, which sounds more like they're telling you what to do aggressively.

i just think it's neat, y'know?

— ☆ —

[kitkatt0430]

Joe - Be careful, I worry about you kid.

Cisco - I appreciate that, but also you really just cannot look at someone approximately your children's ages without parenting instincts turning on can you?

Joe - Nope. ^_^

[nightlight-stardust-and-rain]

But what if Koyuki became a ghost, like, mere hours after her death? She was so very determined to not let her fiancé suffer another awful loss that she just noped out of heaven. She has a wonderful boy to marry and cherish, thank you very much!

Sadly she gets to him after Muzan does. At which point Hakuji is busy being driven insane by the hunger of a newly-born demon. Good thing that there's precisely sixty-seven freshly killed bodies near him!

Point is. Koyuki being with him as soon as he regains his senses (she had the very good idea to stay away from Muzan, he gave her a very bad feeling). Obviously he doesn't remember anything but I think having a living breathing reminder of his past with him would make him remember real fast. So he would still go by Hakuji I think.

Koyuki learns how to make herself solid enough to touch things after a few months or a few years, and Hakuji and her spend a very long time not letting go of each other's hands. Once she is able to touch things, being a ghost becomes much less sad. She can stay with Hakuji forever, there is literally no downside to that!

Koyuki being a ghost is also much less angsty than it sounds because now she's functionally invincible : she can't die of old age, blows and blades go through her, and she can't be poisoned since she can't eat. Really, not being able to eat is the saddest thing about being dead, but she figures that since Hakuji is unable to eat human food now it's only fair that she can't either! The vows say in sickness and in health after all.

Speaking of. They don't actually stay engaged that long. Of course, the wedding of a ghost and a demon sounds like a joke, but once Hakuji masters shapeshifting enough to make himself look human it's not that hard to find a priest who'd marry them (really the hardest part is to convince the priest to hold the ceremony when the sun's down). So they've actually been married for a long time when canon comes in!

Koyuki thinks that Hakuji's pink hair is soooo cute. She's also aware that his hair color and the snowflake of his demon art come from her, and she's super touched. She kind of regrets not being able to change clothes, she'd like to wear things blue like Hakuji's eyes!

Obviously having his memories since almost the beginning means that Hakuji faces a certain dilemna when it comes to eating. Koyuki helps him with finding a solution, and after a while they figure that Hakuji can go the scavenger route - find bodies that have been freshly killed so he doesn't need to kill - or eat horrible people, which is still murder but eh you do what you gotta do.

Koyuki and Hakuji, free from human restrictions, travel the whole country several times over. They don't fear illness or the elements anymore - they can play in the rain or in the snow and climb freezing mountains and neither of them needs to breathe so they can dive into the oceans mingling with the fish for hours. For Koyuki, who's always been so restricted by her frail body, this is nothing short of a dream come true. And she gets to spend eternity with her husband!

Koyuki manages to avoid Muzan's awareness by virtue of being able to be invisible and having no presence to speak of. Hakuji can feel her spirit like he can everyone's, but she has no smell and no mass and she is dead so if she goes invisible no one can know she's here except Hakuji.

Hakuji and Koyuki don't try to break the curse Hakuji is under because they're not aware it can be broken. They don't like Muzan at all but they don't have any other choice.... Of course Hakuji once tried to tell Koyuki that she wasn't bound to his master, so she could leave if she wanted to, but he didn't even get to finish his sentence before getting yelled at. At some point they learn of Tamayo, though, and, well.... It's a very interesting thing to learn.

Also! Koyuki being dead means that she's absolutely sturdy enough to learn Soryuu! I think she would want to learn to honor her father and also because Hakuji finds so much joy in it and she wants to share that with him. She's not much for fighting, and they both try to avoid demon slayers because those guys are just doing their job and they feel bad if Hakuji has to kill one of them (and anyway Hakuji is actually pretty low-key as far as demons go, what with being mostly a scavenger... And they move around a lot so they're pretty untraceable - all in all Hakuji is pretty much never specifically hunted by demon slayers).

They spend much of their time holding hands because even after centuries they're still ridiculously in love, and they may in fact have some separation anxiety (you can't blame them, the last time they were separated ended very badly for both of them).

They go see the fireworks every year and visit Keizo's grave often to tell him about their travels :)

Also! Just thought about this but I remember reading somewhere that Akaza's demon marks were actually related to his thief tattoos in the sense that they were marks of his crimes. But like. Are we talking murdered-67-swordsmen kind of crimes or killed-and-ate-people kind of crimes? Because if it's the latter, then it means that the marks developed over time (weird to think about) but also that in this au he might not have those marks at all since he kills. WAY LESS people than he presumably does in canon. Like he's mostly a scavenger which still falls under "eating humans" but....... Idk the point is that in this au Hakuji might have way less or different demon markings.

[thenonbinarydetective]

I just reminded myself that Otho and Osul have an older biological brother who died when they were younger and might not even remember

now they have Jon who's probably becoming the only older brother they can think of

[chloecherrysip]

Mario watching his and Luigi's commercial in Punch-Out Pizzeria

[call-me-chips]

thoughts on the hit franchise super mario

Tis alright, yeah. Not bad. Everything's kinda mid excepT WALUIGI YEAAA

[f-imaginings]

I was watching misfits last night and it made me think about what power I'd like to have based on my current circumstances. I used to cosplay so I'd go for something like shapeshifting or teleportation since I was paying a lot to travel to see my ex, but looking at who I am now and what I want, I'd love the power to be able to create a little bubble around myself where time stops. During that time I'd want the caveat to be that the time bubble has a radius so devices and people I pull into the bubble still work normally, and that when in a time bubble I don't age, but I'd be able to freeze time and spend however long doing what I need to do, then unfreeze time and go about my day. So like, if I didn't get enough sleep before work I just freeze time, sleep until I'm no longer tired then head into work. If I complain that I don't have enough time to work on my writing I could freeze time, knock out a scene or two and then unfreeze time and carry on with my work day. No excuses either, I'd always have time to cook or go to the gym or grocery shop or play video games ect. I could earn money and not stress as much about things and I could enjoy the time I have normally and prolong it.

[moeblob]

In case anyone who follows me forgot or did not know. Good lord I love Saizo and bless him for finally getting an alt and also bless him for being the only reasonable adult once again (in the paralogues). This man suffers so much from the people around him and the fact even his alt isn't a vacation but more stress is really funny to me (and bad for him, sorry buddy).

Saizo Dislikers please leave it at the door I don't wanna hear it. I've read enough rude tags on my art of him to last me a life time. o7

[daz4i]

thinking abt that time i went to new york by myself when i was 17 and i was naturally panicking the whole flight, and a guy next to me helped me fill out the files you gotta do when entering the us bc i didn't fully get them and my english wasn't that great yet (mind you, he didn't know hebrew and i think his english wasn't 100% either, so we also communicated in mostly broken english), and then since it's a long flight at some point we both fell asleep and i woke up with his head on my shoulder and me leaning on him. and that was so sweet. little moment of humanity there. hope he's doing okay wherever he is

[cellody]

DWC: Day IV

SALTY & EUPHORIA @daily-writing-challenge MENTIONS: @v-e-g-n, @k-i-h-u

“—What the hell are you doing here?”

It was the first time Vegn ever actually caught himself speaking before he could think about his words or tone. How else was he supposed to respond, though, when he heard a knock upon his door and opened it to find the reclusive Lance? The lamb of a young man rarely ever seemed to leave home and never sought the mage out beyond the occasional letter that pertained to friendly matters of business, whether they be requests for an enchantment or something pertaining to their shared artistry with instruments (even though Vegn only specialized in the one).

If the clear folder containing personally-penned sheet music he held up had anything to say about it, the later seemed to be Lance’s reason for appearing.

A few loose waves of ivory hair that fluttered in the salty, seaside breeze were tucked away as he timidly explained, “I’m sorry, I-I know I should have given you a notice… but I had a request I do not trust mail for.” A sheepish yet relieved hum of thanks was given once allowed inside and detail-oriented, spring-green eyes immediately began to take in the minx’s abode since he’d never come to see it before. The kitchen was the immediate room stepped into after walking over the entry mat accompanied by a few commonly-used pairs of black shoes and slippers available for guests that the cultural aspect of was forgotten. Vegn, however, did not point out the matter when he knew how distracted and somewhat foreign Lance must have felt in being here.

“Tea?”

A passing moment of consideration over a fresh cup that he could smell kept him quiet before he reluctantly decided, “No, but thank you. I do not wish to trouble or keep you long so I hope to be brief.” Having said that, he smiled, “But the aroma is as lovely as your place is.”

Vegn chuffed to himself. It was a decent sort of cottage but nothing special in any way so it was only the kindest of folk that complimented its small size and sparse decorating. He thanked Lance regardless and motioned for him to take a seat at the table, himself choosing to occupy the chair across from his guest. “What’s this about, then…?”

Lance opened the folder and fingered through a few of the pages before pulling out the selection desired—something Vegn silently noted with the slow quirk of a brow. This must have been a part of a whole considering how many papers were in there. “I was hoping I could gather a recording of you playing the flute for its part in this piece.”

Stranger, it was titled. “Piece,” Vegn echoed. “I did not know you to dabble in large orchestral arrangements—only solos. What is this for…?”

Lance fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. Oh, he dabbled… he dabbled a lot. More than he painted. More than he sculpted. Orchestral things were as much a part of his life’s consistency as being a luthier was. “Kihu requested a commissioned song.”

Again, Vegn emphasized his wonders by slowly repeating them even as he studied the sheet music before him. “Kihu. A commissioned song.” His forehead went taut whilst rubbing at his left temple. “This is… unexpected. You know he cannot sing to or for others, yes? I was unaware he’d even taken up enough interest in hearing about your expertise to reach out.” The papers were perused for some sort of signature. “And who wrote this?”

Lance’s fidgeting quickened in a way that answered for himself. “Please do not tell…”

The arcanist thumped back into his seat with so much perplexed weight that the legs of his chair nudged a noise out of wooden floors. “Why? How long have you been composing? And when did Kihu approach you for this? What did he say?”

One question too many, it seemed; the artisan didn’t know which one to begin with thus stammered for a second as hands went from his sleeves to the low braid gathered over his chest. “I—well…” He told Kihu everything, so why not Vegn? But was Vegn capable of keeping it to himself? Was this still even a secret worth keeping? (Kihu had been so much easier to open up to.) “He let me know that it was his dream to sing to the people and that, even if he never found a way to, it’d do him good to know that a suitable piece existed at the ready for him to belt. One all his own. One from… my hand.” His throat cleared with the want to have accepted that offer for tea. “He visited under the assumption that I may know someone to direct him to for music writing. He knew of all my previous pieces when I caved enough to list my own out; never knew that they were all by the same person.”

Nor did the rest of the world, it seemed. Vegn blinked in accordance with the population and remained mum in order to force the other to continue elaborating in his own time.

Lance sighed. The only way he could once more expose himself was by first looking down at his knees. “I have been composing all my life under pseudonyms.”

Unsurprisingly, Vegn pieced as such together before the words were spoken, but he lifted his chin anyway when probing, “Why?”

“To preserve my peace. I never wanted to be known as a prodigy; I can barely handle crowds and compliments as it is when my surname is recognized for the family craft. People start to ask for favors and personalized things—start to try and get close as a means ‘in’ rather than for any true… you know… desire for normal friendship. I don’t need infamy.”

Vegn tried to object that Lance put his name on his art but was told that that was because his paintings and sculptures were an imperfected hobby he rarely ever displayed or sold in the first place. His music was freed. Classic. Ridiculously so. When a few of his titles were quietly prattled off, the mage could feel himself paling; these were pieces that children hummed the basic melodies of as unforgettable lullabies. Tunes commonly used in formal advertisements. Ballets. Sound bites in ballad remixes. The impossibility of suddenly having this knowledge dropped on him left him winded.

All of those composers were known by name only; all had backgrounds that had to be speculated upon. A few had indeed theorized that they were all connected to one person not yet unveiled and many of those conspiracists respected that obvious desire for privacy, but… to now know that name and the man that bore it was historic. Lance was historic.

“Please,” Lance pleaded again in a whisper after leaning forward. “I trust you with this because of and for Kihu. I accepted this commission because he just—he… really bore into my heart with his predicament. His longing was infectious a-and I could not say no. Even if anonymous on paper, I’d be honored to bestow upon a siren a song of his very own—even if he can only ever enjoy singing it to himself.”

Vegn had plopped his whole face into a palm at some point, in need of the bewildered privacy its masking shade provided. This wound up being a far more momentous request than he at first realized. To play the flute for a man that wrote music he himself—and practically all musicians of the world—practiced without knowing… Why me was on the tip of his tongue but dissolved when he recognized that Kihu likely insisted on him being the flautist for the instrumental track. How much of this was Kihu’s beloved pleading and how much of it was his power of allure? Did that even matter…? “Lance,” he steadied, hands moving to steeple over the bridge of his own nose. “I want to say that I don’t think you understand how revered you are, but... I know you know. I just don’t believe that you want to remain unknown.” A pressing stare flit directly into a connection with the composer’s lifted own. “You would not otherwise have told Kihu and me.”

It was Lance’s turn to pale. The discoloration, however, was short-lived as he let a wash of silence re-warm his soft face and closed eyelids. Yes, it was an enormously difficult yet tremendous weight to think about lifting; only in recent years when he let his husband in on the enigmatic renown and with never-ending pressure from his aunt did he finally begin to even contemplate stepping into the limelight. He’d grown so impossibly much since having made the decision to use pseudonyms in his youth—physically, mentally, and in budding confidence thanks to the presence of a steadfast romance. Would people really herd him if he so simply put his own name on this page? On all the countless others from years past that he never publicly owned up to?

…Yes. Yes, they would! He knew how the world worked. Most would probably retain respect but the few that did not, well… what if they threatened all of the security he found in the Valdrakken abode he shared with his husband? What if some hatched a parasocial relationship? What if critics came out of the woodwork to nag about the truth? Was he really prepared for the potential negativity and lack of confidentiality? He’d existed, since birth, as a fragile male kept away from the cruelty of the world in clinics, churches, the workshop, apartments—treated all of them like survival bunkers wherein he only left to acquire groceries. To watch Taldormu train. To find a secluded yet scenic area to sketch at. Places with people—events—were rarely ventured to if he could help it. More and more, though, he was requiring less prepping to ease the anxieties of stepping out into the world and he was able to accept words of admiration without rebuttal.

They were very small steps but he noticed them. Taldormu noticed them, too; encouraged them. Vegn’s encouragement was of a completely different flavor but heard nonetheless and impactful in different ways. When the flautist stood to take the seat beside Lance, he did not know, but there he sat with one arm halfway hugging the leucistic male’s shoulders. “I will play the flute for this if you pen your name on it.” The words were as hushed as they were tender in order to keep from spooking Lance from the considerations he so visibly stewed in. They acted as an outstretched hand. Patient and wise.

One such hand actually fluttered before them over the table to teleport a quill and inkwell from the mage’s desk upstairs.

Lance opened his eyes in order to vacantly stare across the dining room corner. “I don’t know,” he whispered. Vegn was turned to with a gutted wilt. “I don’t know…”

“You’re at the peak of your life, Lance. You’ve the safety of your happy marriage and the success of your crafts. Let yourself be recognized for the rest—the best—of your work. You deserve that.” That arm snugly tightened at those last three words to make sure he drilled that home. “I am extending the support Kihu gave to me when I was similarly unwilling to do what he knew would be best. I know what this is like; we’re set in our ways and change is a terror. But you ought to let the world recognize your gift—it is an uproariously divine one tucked within the most humble soul I’ve ever met. Let your name be as monumental as it ought to be for the impact you have in the world of music. Let yourself be an idolized vision to others in similar circumstances of wariness. Prove your worth. If not for the populace, then for your own sake.”

Being consoled by Vegn was just as astonishing as Lance’s arrival in the first place but the more he therapeutically murmured on, the more Lance steeled with surety. What if all of his own inspirations growing up had been just as unreachably fake in name without a history to learn from? He supposed they wouldn’t have been able to be inspirations in the first place and that deeply depressed him to finish the puzzle with. But the end result was now a picture that he wanted to make a reality.

Without a word, a dainty hand reached for the pen, dipped it into the ink, and paused over the first row of measures. A heartfully deep breath helped him to move the rest of the way towards the title… the space beneath which was quickly decorated by his signature that tailed the ‘words and music by’ listing.

Tears of euphoric rapture sprung instantaneously the second he set the quill down and before Vegn could ask how that felt, Lance announced amidst smiling sobs born from the sudden liberation, “I have finally made a pact with myself rather than with a demon.”