#But I’ll never say

[rooolt]

personally a really big fan of when stories go really hard on the “killing people is bad you can’t kill people” thing but then they write in murderous villains and are left with two choices for dealing with them which ultimately boil down to either just having the main characters ignore the fact that this guy hatched multiple evil plans to kill them and he kinda just hangs out and is a dad sometimes, or they end up sending a teenage boy to what is basically hell because it’s not technically killing him, he will just suffer reliving a nightmare of his own sister ripping his heart out time and time again for eternities to come

[chloesimaginationthings]

You're version of Elizabeth is really sassy lol

At the end of the day, she’s still Michael’s little sister

[shima-draws]

I’m still so mentally ill over the whole Luffy refusing to eat unless it’s Sanji’s food thing. Like. We KNOW how fucking feral over food Luffy is. He loves food and loves eating so much that he steals it off other people’s plates and out of their hands and is so impatient when it comes to meals that he’ll literally try and sneak into the kitchen to mooch before it’s ready. Or he’ll try to break into the refrigerator. I know Sanji mentioned putting a lock on it at some point bc Luffy literally wiped it clean. He will not hesitate to eat other people’s portions or literally an entire meal meant for a whole ship of people! He’s unbelievably selfish when it comes to food and that’s just SUCH a central part of his character that it’s become almost endearing. Even in Totto Land Luffy didn’t think for a second before devouring everything in sight, including an entire fucking HOUSE, regardless of the consequences or the people it might affect. Homie did not care!! He’s food driven first and foremost!!!

Until Sanji leaves him. Until he decides that eating—something that he loves and brings him comfort—isn’t WORTH it unless it’s Sanji’s food he’s eating. It’s been shown that Luffy has zero self restraint when it comes to food so the fact that he was SURROUNDED by food on all sides on a food themed island and utterly refused to partake in any of that? Even though he hates being hungry and will always make eating a priority over pretty much anything else?? The amount of willpower it must have taken for him to sit there and purposefully let himself starve, for SANJI. Even when food was offered to him conveniently (in the form of syrup rain) he stubbornly rejected that. Because it wasn’t Sanji’s food. Because it wasn’t Sanji who made it, who always puts so much thought and care into the food he makes, who always indulges Luffy and prepares extra because he knows how much Luffy eats and how much he loves to eat. Luffy literally took one of the most defining traits he has and tossed it out the window. For Sanji. I’m going to fucking blow up

[sweetlypunk]

honorable mention to this wonderful man

[watchingwisteria]

aziraphale, the one who gave the first human exiles his flaming sword as both a source of protection and warmth, who did not look on them as sinners deserving of destruction but people entitled to the best chances possible, has never once looked at crowley, a heavenly exile, with anything other than compassion and a desire to protect. from their first meeting, he never wanted anything bad to happen to him. when crowley slithers up to him in eden, he treats him like an equal rather than an adversary. when crowley appears, his eyes fill with love and excitement, his gaze turns soft and hesitant, his whole body seizes with joy of seeing him. crowley might typically the one to seek him out, but aziraphale has always welcomed him home.

[vessel-token]

in this light, you are mine

‘til the sweat turns to blood

won’t you say that you will?

even if you won’t

[hollytree33]

“Not much farther now.”

Wanted to try my hand at a mock screenshot study of Shivana! This is of the night before she reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes, before a much longer journey begins (she did not dress for the weather)

[kayclipse]

my version of swapfell sans AND HE IS A GOOD BROTHER🗣️🗣️🗣️

[karmicpunishment]

atsushi with more cat/tiger behaviors but some lesser discussed ones:

he scratches all the doorways of the agency building and his dorm. kunikida scolds him for damaging property for over an hour but while he apologizes he’s strangely uncontrite (at least for atsushi who tends to overapologize) about it

/

a mostly nocturnal sleep schedule feels the most natural to him but since his orphanage’s schedule was (quite literally) beaten into him, he regularly wakes up early, though after a long mission or multiple in a row, he tends to sleep through the day instead.

/

when really frustrated (usually during an argument with akutagawa) he has a tendency to stomp his feet. it tends to break the tension, and atsushi finds its super embarrassing. akutagawa finds it cute

/

he’s constantly fighting the urge to sit on his coworkers desks while they’re working and distract them. same with knocking things off their desks.

/

head bunting!!!! he first starts doing it to kyouka after the end of the guild plot. just does it to her one morning while they’re cooking breakfast without realizing. he’s mortified for a moment until kyouka does it back, equally shy yet earnest about it. slowly he catches himself doing it to the rest of the agency: when kenji gives him a hug after a mission, when yosano buys him something he was looking at during a shopping trip, while sharing lunch with the tanizakis, to ranpo after atsushi solves his first mystery on own, to kunikida and dazai after a dangerous mission. he hasn’t worked himself up to doing it to the president yet (and fukuzawas kind of sad about it). dazai and kunikida are the most flustered by it, kenji and kyouka do it back to him the most.

/

as much as he hates being locked up or confined against his will (and he really hates it), he genuinely loves being in small spaces. he sleeps in the closest for kyoukas privacy but he does geniunely feel comfortable there. sometimes he eats lunch under his desk or in the supply room if he’s feeling stressed. dazai did give him a giant box once to see if he’d sit in it and he totally did.

/

he tends to suck on the corners of blankets and things like his shirts or sweaters when he’s asleep or distracted. dazai used to tease him for it until he read that it was often found cats taken to soon from their mothers. he didn’t really find it funny after that

/

he will just Stare at people. agency members look up from their work and will see him looking directly at them. he usually snaps out of it right after and apologizes but just like slow blinks and winks and closing his eyes, he starts doing it more and more as he gets in tune with his ability.

[stinkypeanutbutter]

this is how their next interaction is gonna be trust

[shirkers2018dirsanditan]

idk what ultimately is the source of average height men pretending they’re oppressed but to see grown ass like 35+ men insist that they’re single solely because they’re 5’7-5’10 is legitimately insane. its worse when you see someone being like. my wonderful son can’t get a date because he’s 5’9 it’s so sad out here! like you do not live on planet earth this is the stupidest fucking incel cope of all time

[mediumgayitalian]

“I’d pick you up at the airport.”

“What?”

“If we were normal. I would — have one of those signs, you know. When you came back from your adventures.”

“Oh.” Nico snorts. “I’m still fucking off all the time when we’re normal? And you’re not coming?”

“It is woven within your very soul to fuck off as you please,” says Will sagely. “You get antsy. You know, like a house cat.”

He laughs when Nico shoves him. Less when he loses his balance and rolls into a tree, but he crawls back, anyway, kicking Nico’s ankle as he lies back next to him, folding his hands over his ribs. Nico watches him for a moment, tracing the round edges of his knuckles, until Will’s smile begins to twitch with him knowing, and he looks hastily back to the sky. It’s embarrassing, Will’s snorting huff of amusement, but more than that it’s electrifying, zapping a trail down Nico’s spine and making him shiver.

He can feel the heat Will is always throwing off, blazing every centimetre from his shoulder to his heels, a hair’s breadth away, a millimetre of distance.

“What else would it look like?” He clears his throat. “Our, um. Our normal?”

Will hums. “New York, probably. Big-ass penthouse with your trust fund.”

“I’m a trust fund baby?!”

“Hey, Nico, how much does dish soap cost?”

Nico opens his mouth, and closes it again. Will’s snickers get louder. Is it considered bad etiquette to banish one’s significant annoyance to the Underworld? Only permanently, probably. If he only keeps him there for a couple weeks it should be find. A couple weeks would be appropriately humbling.

“And what do you contribute?” Nico asks, instead of answering. (Not because he doesn’t know. Obviously. Because he is dignified, that’s why.) “Your dimples and boyish charm?”

“Yes, obviously.”

Well.

“…Okay, fair.”

Will snickers triumphantly.

“You still a doctor?”

“Mhm.” Will shifts, mouth curled in amusement. “Paediatric in Mount Sinai. We live close, by the way. You said it’s cause it’s close to Central Park but really you like to hide my lunch in the mornings to have an excuse to come see me.”

“Sounds like you forget your shit a lot, actually.”

“That, too.”

He looks over and smiles at Nico and for a moment he is convinced, wholly genuinely and truly, that the sun that’s been hiding behind the clouds all day has finally peeked out, because he can actually feel his whole body warm, in that slow-rising, penetrating way; he can actually smell the surge of sunshine in the air, feel the red glow in the backs of his eyelids, taste the brightness of the light. Every one of his neurons sinks into his system, sighing, cells reacting to thousands of years of memory of the gentle warm of the Earth’s closest star.

But the sun is not shining, and there is only Will, and his too-big teeth brush against the bottom of his lip, and his dimples show, and his eyes crinkle, and he is more radiant in even his old stained camp shirt and fraying jean shorts than his father has ever been and could ever hope to be. A thousand planets could thrive under a hundred blazing stars and none could come close to him. He knows it, how those ancients felt, the drunken surety as they stood and challenged the gods, swore up and down that their beloveds outshone Venus, Diana, Juno; Will does, Will does, and Nico understands intimately the hubris in a way he scoffed at as a child, because the words bubble and boil and threaten bursting inside of him now. What claim have the Olympians? Over sunlight? Over beauty? Over Will?

“We’re happy?” he says instead, choking hoarsely over the veneer words, over the blocked desperation, truth. “In our normal, we’re happy?”

“Always,” Will whispers. He twists onto his knees, crawling the two inches over to press close, close, closely, hand gentle on Nico’s stomach when he tries to sit up, and presses his lips to Nico’s cheek, dry, twitching with his smile, shaking with his laughter. Nothing is funny, and he isn’t joking, but Nico can feel the giddiness bubbling up and out of him the way sadness flows out in tears; when Will is giddy he giggles, constantly, hiding it barely in his hands, and now he presses it into Nico’s skin, because he knows how Nico aches to hear it, how he watches him like he’s burning it into the ridges of his brain. “I am always happy with you, Niccolò.”

“I love you,” Nico says, fiercely, and it will never be enough, not in English, not in Italian, not in Greek, but he will try. “Te amo. Capiscimi? I love you, Will, I —”

“I know.” The tiny little vibrations of his laughter are — intoxicating; Nico is drunk, ascending. “I know, di Angelo. Sap. I love you, I know.”

He dissolved into giggles into the crook of Nico’s neck, and Nico is lying, still, facing the clouds, and he is warmed, and he is warmed, and he is warmed.

[lestatscock]

You ever read something that’s not even “he wouldn’t say that” it’s straight up what planet are you from where you think humans could even think of stringing those words together?

[snarky-art]

I don’t think I’m ever gonna get over the sheer amount of religious symbolism present in toh finale

The colonial puritan, this white man, trying in vain to become God in the only way he knows how, through fire and brimstone and absolute control, only for Actual God (one of MANY, mind you) to be this casual, kind, bi-gender being who presents to Luz, a mortal, through a combination of the things that have loved and protected her son (Hooty, Eda’s bad girl coven shirt, the glyphs that Luz uses) and who wants magic to be accessible to all so they can enjoy and experience life, who tells jokes, and wants the first and last thing said to his son directly from her to be a bread pun about how much he loves him

How the symbol of a Winged Being Shrouded in Light who helps guide and save is this wild witch who’s imbued in this pagan magic, who’s fully embraced and accepted her disabilities and the very things Belos deemed wrong through the eyes of his ideology

How The Archive is this halo atop the head of the god figure, how it begins to fall and crumple the moment Belos takes over to reach his idea of godhood

The Titan’s body, controlled by Belos, reaching towards the heavens in the same image of Adam in The Creation, trying to touch God, the idea of touching what gave life to everything as symbolized by his connection with Adam, everything being obliterated where it stands while this is happening, and then how only in being bereft of Belos’s soul did life finally return to what is posed as Adam, without the need of the God imagined by Belos

Etc. etc. etc.

There is just,, so much

I am in shambles

[dazeyeau]

Noah liked this on twitter 😭