"it's All In Your Head" Correct! Unfortunately I Am Also In There

do people not realize sanemi and giyuus miscommunication is supposed to be FUNNY it’s supposed to make you laugh. They’re not enemies they’re just traumatized adults that need to work on their communication skills.

princess rhaenyra’s dragon scale riding jacket in episodes 1-3

EXAMS ARE ALMOST OVER I CAN DRAW AGAIN

Anyways first thing off the backburner, I had an idea for a concept where Kokushibo uses wisteria incense to call Yoriichi on the other side of the Sanzu river to complain about work. Yori basically shows up in the smoke let off by the incense and hangs around for as long as the resin lasts. They're basically just facetiming while the actual plot happens in the background.

Some bonus sketch notes:

His arms are not connected! As yūrei typically don't have legs, and since Yoriichi's corpse got cut into 4, the only present pieces are his upper torso and two arms. His kimono has full sleeves, but his arms have extra

His hair is out, both to better match billowing smoke from the incense, and because yūrei keep it loose

Kokushibo can call Yoriichi on the road with a kiseru pipe, but he usually only calls him when he's alone and free for the night. Yoriichi is visible like this so he doesn't want unwanted visitors seeing him

Smoke is what makes Yoriichi visible, kind of like how beams of light become more defined in dusty spaces. Sometimes he'll hang out after talking and take a look around at things. Koku can take him around for tours if they're whispering

Get you a ship that can do both

sorry I beat the shit out of you I have a really big crush on you and I got nervous

"He Can Keep His Tongue."

Daemon Targaryen's fingers danced upon the hilt of Dark Sister, who all but sang from the violence of her prince, bloodlust temporarily sated. What a pair they made, those brutal rogues, so eager for the slightest taste of war.

He needed no more than a moment to look upon the corpse, savoring in the justice brought by his own hand.

Whore, Vaemond had dared to call his wife. Bastards, his sons. The King had ordered the would-be usurper's tongue for such vile words, but Daemon thought his slanders better deserved to rot with him in an early grave.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon declared before his brother's court, relishing in the shock and terror echoing throughout the halls of the Red Keep.

They cowered before him, those most noble lords and ladies. Had he still the desire for chaos that ruled him in his youth, he would have brought his blade to their throats and sneered as they soiled their finery. As they begged and bled, he would have forced the truth from their lips.

It was not the witnessing of such violence that distressed them, though they would claim it so. It was not the death, nor the pain, nor the fear of meeting a similar fate.

No. It was the single stroke that silenced their precious gods. It was his own will, agonizingly more powerful than that of the Seven.

Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, husband to the princess who would soon be queen, and in the sight of men, more powerful than all the gods.

cats being capable of understanding accidents and even giving you a little head bonk to let you know you're still cool makes it infinitely funnier that they don't understand when you're trying to help them

cats when you step on their tail: i'll admit that was rather ouchie, but given the lifetime of goodwill and trust between us, one must conclude this booboo is but a fluke.

cats when you try to get their claws unstuck from the couch covering: this nefarious bitch has never had a single honorable intention in their dishonest and shameful life, this must be one of their sinister plots or perhaps even an attempt on my life,

every time I see someone take a fork that I know ends up rejoining with the path I'm on, I break into a dead sprint as soon as I'm out of sight so that I can get slightly ahead of them and make them wonder if they accidentally took the slower path