#I love big windows

[chalkrub]

saw some mangy dog on the outskirts of town

[p4nishers]

god. GOD. the underlying anger in everything terry writes really IS apparent in hogfather bc fuck u mean this is how things should be? no the fuck it shouldn't. poor people shouldn't have to be satisfied with what they get, that's just fucking capitalism. i REALLY like that terry decided to use death as projection for what he thinks bc death doesn't know anything and it has to be explained to him and by it being explained to him it shows how fucking stupid those things are. bc ok here's this world where an equivalent of santa ACTUALLY exists and, because it mirrors our world, it's still unjust. santa actually fucking exists in this world and he could give ANYONE ANYTHING bc he's essentially a god and people gave him that power by making him up, BUT because ppl imagined him in a way that poor people don't get shit (like they usually do) and rich people get EVERYTHING they want, he exists like that. whereas death has seen the absolutely WORST of humanity and he STILL thinks that's bullshit and it's not how it should be, it's just how it goes. bc capitalism is always capitalism where there's money and the world will always be fucked up as long as there are oppressor to hold it up. like i just.

[mauraeyk]

RUBY BELL AND JAMES BEAUFORT 1.06 | Maxton Hall

[nipuni]

Homemade food, live music, early 19th century party games, dancing and good company 🥰 from last month's historical reenactment event!

[steddilly]

It’s very important to me that Steve and Lucas go on jogs in the morning with a cassette player each and an hour in they pause to stretch and swap tapes before making their way to their destination, the trailer park, where they’ll split off from each other and go see their partners 🥰

[suntails]

👑⚔️

this is a piece from my silver artbook, currently accepting preorders!! u can get a copy here!

non-UK: suntails.bigcartel.com

UK: etsy.com/shop/SuntailsArt

[sanjiaftersex]

Favourite pre-timeskip Sanji moments

These are a few of my favourite pre ts sanji moments

(1) Baratie arc when sanji served fresh food for don krieg despite everyone telling him that krieg was notorious for betraying people. Sanji still served the food because of his value of "feeding the hungry no matter what"

(2) Sweet sanji preparing bentos for Luffy vivi and a special drink for Vivi's duck karoo so they can go explore the little garden island. Also packing and tying the lunches for the kids (luffy and karoo) by himself

(3) water 7 Sanji following his principle of "never waste food" while fighting CP7's ramen guy wanze (who had a full ramen armour and sanji cut his armour up and served the ramens all in different plates around the kitchen)

(4) thriller bark Sanji holding an unconscious nami up so she won't get injured while he takes all the hits from Absalom He's not just a simp, he genuinely cares for nami

(5) water 7 Sanji smoking a cigarette while spying and finding out sensitive government information

(6) Post enies lobby filler sanji crying throwing up stressing over finding out the right spices of a fried rice. He is a true chef at heart and has so much love for his craft

(7) post skypiea filler G-8 arc sanji when someone says he is better than all of the navy chefs and sanji cutely offers to give his recipes to them. He is so cute kind and humble

(8) sabaody sanji kicking the Celestial dragon knowing what'll happen and not giving a fuck anyway

(9) skypiea sanji being all big smiles and happy while showing conis the bento he has arranged for her and telling them how arranging food is an art (look at the little winged angel he put there as a representation for conis who has wings)

(10) Sanji leaving a message for nami in water 7, even in the dire situation they were in (usopp left, robin was abducted, they were all accused of murder) sanji being his usual cute loser self

[peachymune]

what are you STARING AT >?@?

[notbecauseofvictories]

I was sitting in my hostel's common room (journaling and absentmindedly eating dinner) and tripped and fell into a two hour discussion with a British man who happened to be sitting there as well. We discussed international politics and I managed to hold my own---who knew I had this many opinions about the ICJ? Also he kissed my hand afterward, which has to be the most charming thing to happen to me in recent history. Now I'm sweetly cradled in wine bed and listening to a recording of the opera I wanted to see...it's okay, actually. Everything is wonderful.

[enfinizatics]

okay i’ve got to vent about the nicki minaj situation bc yeah. i used to be a hardcore barb for almost 10 years (2010-2019). and when i say a HARDCORE stan i truly mean it, i had a twitter account dedicated to nicki, she was even following me and often interacted with my tweets when she was online. i was absolutely in love with her and her work. i met my best friend, who’s like family to me, because of her. the pinkprint helped me survive middle school bullying. i followed her through europe when she went on tours. i supported every project, stayed chronically online for her and engaged in petty arguments with people on stan twitter to defend her. i fell out around late 2019 because i felt like most of her lyrics had sounded the same for a while but mostly because she started seeing her current husband, a confirmed rapist. seeing nicki pick up a beef after beef with every young female rapper gives me a huge ick and internalized misogyny vibes. but the beef with megan? it’s been years since i last followed news on nicki, but now i find myself losing my mind every time i see something on here or tiktok. not to mention her twitter omg. it truly feels like i’m witnessing her downfall caused by no one but nicki herself. she’s literally destroying her legacy, a legacy tied to so many memories i made during those 10 years while being her fan, and it just sucksssss. it feels like she no longer has a pr team capable of damage control or persuading her to take a break from social media. she seems to be spiraling with everything she posts. not to mention that ben shapiro tweet, congratulating a white, homophobic supremacist. and the barbz who let her remain in her perfect little bubble, shielding her from any criticism, constructive or otherwise (perhaps out of intimidation – i know, i've been there) and doxing people in the name of what? a millionaire to whom you’re a literal stranger?

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hold on. i just wanted to see their height difference and. and hold on-

ill probably clean this up & do the other neighbors but ohhhhh my god. hes SMALL!!!!!! TWELVE! APPLES! (bg Home included to see if Barnaby would be able to fit through the front door. nope<3)

[moeblob]

Me, too, Blade. Me. Too.

(I am taking donations to buy a gigantic $250 stuffed cheeseburger. It's giant. I want it. I will never obtain it. I saw it in a shop window and..... wow. Big.)

[puppyeared]

modern au ft @crow-cap's oc sailor <3

the wood markings on xins face were inspired by @zah-likes-tea's art of them hehe

[phantomvegetable]

Trapper x Reader

twice saved, once trusted tw’s: typical dbd violence, strong language NOTE: made some edits :B

Kindness was something that did not exist in Evan’s world. Not anymore, anyway—not as long as the entity existed.

The closest thing to kindness to be found here was the sweet, merciful kiss of death after minutes of excruciating pain. To put one out of one’s misery… that is kindness.

So, when Evan—or “trapper,” as these feeble humans titled him in hushed whispers around the campfire—was shown kindness that resulted in being freed from pain without death to follow, he was at a loss for… well, anything.

You showed up without Evan being able to hear you over the blood rushing in his ears; timid and meek, like a rabbit first stepping out of the brush to check for predators. A bear trap—one of his very own—clamped painfully tight around his foreleg, crunching the bone and tearing ligaments at any tiny movement he made. Even worse, he was pinned beneath debris that fell atop the stun pallet that was thrown on him in a survivor’s attempt to flee. It was heavy enough to make him wheeze, lungs rattling with every slow inhale.

Irony was cruel like that—it didn’t care that he was the Trapper, caught by his own bidding. Evan sneered at the thought.

You must have heard his struggle—that, or you simply walked in on his unsightly hindrance and were curious—because you stepped out from the shadows and approached him, cautious.

“Are… you okay?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper. The gentleness and concern make Evan’s ears itch. Did you not know he was the killer? Could you not see who he was?

Unable to see, Evan relied on his hearing to pinpoint your location, listening closely to your careful footfalls that edged closer and closer.

Either you didn’t see that he was the killer and the shock of the situation finally dawned on you, if your startled gasp was anything to go by, or you truly were rattled by the grisly sight of the bear trap and couldn’t help but express it outwardly. Evan waited for you to do something—to run away screaming, to laugh and mock him, to finally kill him for the atrocities he’s committed against you and your community of survivors—but the silence merely stretched on, causing his lips to pull into a tight frown. Maybe you had run away, and he just didn’t hear you leaving.

Evan tried shifting the weight on top of him, the muscles in his calf contracting and making the trap tighten its vengeful grip on him. He groaned, low and in pain. His leg was starting to go numb.

Suddenly, Evan feels hands working to free him, starting with the trap first. It gives one last painful squeeze before loosening, the jaws falling open and releasing his leg from its teeth. The blood that rushes out feels both warm and cold against his skin. The contrast makes him grimace.

Next, the debris pile is being lifted, and finally Evan can see your face. He recognizes you at once—a killer never forgets his victims. Your brows are pulled taught in effort to push the wood and rubble off of him, teeth gritted as you struggle. Sweat causes the hair around your face to stick to your temples, dirt coating your forehead and chin. To anyone else, you might look grimy. To Evan, you were a sheen of light splintering cracks in his darkness.

The pallet and the items it collected topple over, granting Evan air to breathe deeply. His body creaks as he sits up, grunting. He reaches for the bear trap still hanging around his ankle, raising his foot to toss the gear haphazardly to the side. Despite the constant throbbing his leg is giving him, Evan clambers to his feet with low groaning, rolling his wide shoulders. He towers above you, enveloping your trembling frame in his monstrous shadow. You make no moves to get away; instead, you seem to be rooted in place, watching him with wide eyes.

Before you’re able to say, or do, anything further, Evan simply staggers forward on his bad leg and limps away, leaving you to watch his retreating frame in wild confusion that he let you go.

He wasn’t quite sure why, either.

———

The next time it happens, Evan could not be more frustrated or in disbelief at the sheer embarrassment of being caught stuck in a window. The barbs and spikes that protrude from his skin hold him hostage against pinewood, having one leg strung over the sill while the other kept him upright from the outside. His left shoulder remains pinned against the wall, his right arm hanging out the other side lamely. The survivor—Ace, he recalls—stops a few feet ahead of him and turns once he realizes he’s not being followed, barking out an incredulous laugh at the sight.

“Ha! What, can’t get out, big buy?” He sneers. “Should fuckin’ teach ya.” Ace spits on the ground in a show of defiance, but at Evan’s animalistic growl and effort to swing at him, Ace yelps and jumps back, wasting no time to scramble away in a cloud of dust. Evan snorts, unimpressed.

For the next few minutes, he tries to push, to pull—only earning protesting groans from the wall that refused to let him go. He’s ready to start clubbing the building when he hears an all-too-familiar gasp come from behind him, causing his hackles to raise.

“Oh, dear…” You sigh, matching Evan’s bewilderment at the deja vu. You don’t say anything else and tip toe to where Evan is able to catch sight of you in his peripheral vision, revealing the same sweaty face that so sweetly stared up at him with doe-like eyes. You’re sporting a new hat today, one that compliments your features. He would like to admire it more, but he’s growing more agitated by the minute.

As you take in his situation, you chew your bottom lip apprehensively, eyes sweeping him up and down. “Okay… I’m going to touch you, okay?” You warn him, hands hovering just above his bicep, but not making contact. Evan waits, until he realizes that you’re waiting for his consent, piquing his curiosity further. Were you really not that scared of him? Or just stupid?

He mutters before giving an approving grunt, which you take as a sign to go ahead and start pushing. The feeling of your fingertips against his skin is alien—they’re not calloused or rough at all. Not entirely soft, yet not scarred like his. You’re also incredibly warmer than he is, something that Evan finds himself not disliking.

“You—ngh—going to help?” You huff, jostling Evan back into reality. He resumes his attempts, teeth grinding as he strains to pull himself free. There’s a crack, then another one, and at a particularly hard shove from your end the wood finally splinters and breaks. You give one final heave, hands now against Evan’s back, sending the him through the window. Pieces of wood fall to the ground like rain around him, an unshapely hole now cratered on the side of the cabin. Evan couldn’t care less, though.

He staggers to his feet, craning his head to look up at your face, which looks immensely pleased. Evan tries to find his voice to thank you when he realizes that he hasn’t used it in ages, creating a sense of insecurity within him. It’s bound to be an unpleasant sound. He also realizes he’s supposed to be killing you, not thanking you. What Evan failed to remember, the Entity would surely remind him of.

But as he stares up at you—you, whose expression had dropped at Evan’s intense silence; you, who had helped him for the second time in a row without hesitation—he feels angry. A familiar emotion, and an even more familiar recipient.

The Entity. The cause of his suffering. The dark ruler of this forsaken place.

Evan’s grip on his weapon tightens.

“Thank… you,” He manages to garble out, correct about his assumption that his voice would be rough on the ears. It makes his innards recoil.

But you don’t grimace, don’t draw back at the sound of it. Instead, your jaw hangs open in shock, and you almost seem to lean in.

“You… talk,” You spectate. Moonlight filters through the bare tree branches above, casting shadows that dance in the gap separating you and he. Something about it is mystifying.

“…Yes,” He grumbles hoarsely, shifting his weight uncomfortably underneath your awe-filled gaze.

“Do you have a name?” You prod figuratively. Evan’s nose wrinkles beneath his mask.

“Not.. important,” He gruffly rasps, “you.. have a name?” You tell him, and Evan breathes it in like oxygen. Your name is much sweeter than iron and tears.

At the sound of a generator imploding, your and Evan’s head turns, and you’re both reminded of your roles to play in this fiendish game.

“Please,” You plead, earning his sights back on you. “Please, will you let us escape just this once? No killing, no attacking.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that Evan has defied the Entity—the marks on his back were enough to prove that. But, something in the way you look at him has Evan itching to bend the rules again. Break them, even.

So, he nods.

You look like you’re about to cry—something Evan doesn’t particularly want to witness—so he turns to leave. “I knew it,” You whispered, loud enough for his ears only. “I knew there was a reason I was supposed to help you.”

He pauses, then, “…Evan.”

“Huh?”

He faces you, eyes gleaming from behind his mask. “My name.. Evan.”

You crack a smile. If he had it in him, Evan was sure he might return it.

[allastoredeer]

Currenting editing the next chapter of "Damage Control," and I'm absolutely giggling over Alastor being unable to navigate the bigger, grander hotel and all its twisting halls.

Our big, powerful Radio Demon is lost and he can't even shadow travel to find Luci's room quicker. Poor baby.

[lightbulb-warning]

whenever i see my cat i get woken up from my stupor and remember that my cat is in fact a guy who also lives here and then there's joy