#YOU TRY TO TAKE /HIS/ PLATE

[tanoraqui]

ADOLIN KHOLIN AND THE POWER OF FRIENDLEADING

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

When in doubt, Soup it out.

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[shitpostingkats]

Alabasta Ace is so funny.

Like the strawhats keep commenting that Ace is so polite and restrained compared to Luffy but like. This dude drags himself out of the ocean just to thank them for looking after his brother and offer to help wash dishes. Mans asks "Are these guys bothering you?" and proceeds to blow up an entire fleet with his bare hands. He trips over himself to make sure all of Luffy's crew likes him and no, really, you don't mind that he's a weirdo???? That we, I mean he, are feral little insane guys who take up space and emotional labor and are kind hard to handle? Really???? Cool cool cool hey just a reminder I can help out with anything that needs doing. I got lost in the desert but donnut worry in the 0.6 seconds since you last saw me I have somehow acquired water and provisions for several weeks. Don't ask me how!

Peak oldest sibling behavior.

[a-bottle-of-tyelenol]

I often think about how Mutiny has that callback to Luck Runs Out and how it, as the last Eurylochus song, contrasts to his first.

Right now, something I’m currently thinking about is that line Odysseus has— please don’t do this, I need to get home.

In LRO, there’s a moment where the music changes during Odysseus’ verse when he’s parroting Polites’ philosophy and it’s meant to represent the way that Odysseus was reaching out to Eurylochus, not as a captain but as a friend. There’s a similar moment that Eurylochus has when he calls Odysseus Ody instead of captain. It’s a moment that strips away the sociopolitical factors that dictate a lot of their relationship and it’s personally my favorite in the entire show.

Odysseus follows that by, once again, calling out to his friend, rather than his right hand. What’s interesting, though, is that Odysseus says that he needs to get home, and then follows it by saying “reconsider— we can get home”.

This happens while Eurylochus is doing the same thing— starting by asking how much longer he must suffer, and then ending with the crew speaking with him and asking how much longer they must suffer. What I find particularly notable about this is the fact that Eurylochus, as the voice of the crew, is implied to be the one voicing their thoughts regardless of if they’re actually backing him. It’s implied in Keep Your Friends Close that Eurylochus wasn’t just voicing his concerns in LRO, he was voicing the concerns of everyone (which is part of the reason it was such a public confrontation). In Mutiny, the same thing occurs in the first half of the song, where Eurylochus confronts Odysseus and then we learn that the crew agrees and shares that sentiment right after.

In the second half of Mutiny, however, that isn’t the case. This moment is the only one in the entire show where Eurylochus is truly being selfish. Arguments could be made about him urging Odysseus to run from the cyclops or him choosing to tell Odysseus about the windbag before Scylla, but I would then argue that those moments are him acting for Odysseus’ sake as well. With the cow, in this verse, he is only acting for himself. He is only responding as himself— Eurylochus is not the voice of anyone else, he is only Eurylochus. He has isolated himself, for just a moment, from the rest of the crew. Most of the show is Odysseus acting for himself and, in this moment, Eurylochus is doing the same thing.

[jasperyourmutt]

zonked out on the dog bed snoring up a storm. you come over and rub the soft spot on the top of my nose. i let out the most contented sigh

[krickficet]

Quick Galacta Knight design sketches and notes

[askblueandviolet]

Which one of you can eat more? I will only believe the results when I see them.

MASTER POST

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[mycatmoo]

Isat au where everything's the same except siffrin has nagito komaeda luck

Good luck following the script when the universe is actively working against stage directions bitch

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy who likes to look very innocent and pretend that he simply wants to smell something but then will try to bite it out of your hands as soon as you've let your guard down

[jrueships]

If Alpey and Jaba got ice cream together, which flavours do you think they’d choose? 🤔🍨🍨

From the way Jabari acts, some people would mistake him to be a pretty boring guy when it comes to tastes in food. He's a creature of comfort who, if uncomfortable, will battle and yell with all the ferocity of a territorial lemming to regain it. However, some people tend to oversee that comfort and luxury can come hand in hand. Jabari is not the man who will play it safe, he will squint at the ice cream's menu and carefully select one of the most obscure options ever after conducting some serious research either beforehand or during the process. This research includes asking the employees what they think of the dessert. Even if there's a line of hungry kids and their late to work parents waiting behind him, Jabari will hush the ground so he can calculate All the options to come to a stable conclusion that Yes, this Is, in fact, The Best choice of item to spend my money on. He probably likes combinations, like an upside down banana split or something odd like that. If he's buying ice cream at a place that's stabilized itself by making good ice cream, it can't just be any ice cream he can just buy at a store then. It has to be THEIR SPECIAL ice cream. He's here for luxury and specifics, whatever the ice cream store says they can do the best, like, actually do in terms of making it, sprucing it up with syrups and fruits, and decorating it all nice and different, mixing it, etc, he'll buy it. I feel like he'd be one of those people that buys those really fancy overloaded ice cream shakes where there's like syrup or crumbs decorating the outside of the cup like sugar on an alcoholic beverage and there's a brownie bar on top for extra extra appearance appeal.

Meanwhile, alpey just wants some Dondurma, which is a Turkish ice cream notable for its hard texture and melt resistance, so he brings his own special knife and fork sets, one for him, one for jaba so they can cut into their ice cream bricks :] !! He's fond of the sweeter flavors, but they can't be artifical. ... sadly, there is no delicious Dondurma, and the ice cream just melts and slips between the slits of his special fork with much despair and pity. His ice cream lacks the sweetness and realness he desires, and they have no honey !!!! It's not stretchy or chewy at all! the texture is almost nothing !!!

It's okay, though, because Jabari orders him something special off the menu, an ornate mixture of various fruits and syrups and decorative pizzazz that they both end up using their forks to eat it. The creature of luxury cannot stand to see his fellow critter in need lack his own creaturely comforts. Before Jabari orders Alpey a new unique ice cream, he coaxes (demands) alpey to try a spoo-forkful of the carefully considered dessert of Jabari's choosing. Once he can tell Alpey likes Jabari's ice cream more than the simple and safe one he chose, Jabari buys Alpey something similar but with more sweetness. Cue another hour long research session that makes the poor teenagers groan as they watch their line grow longer and longer behind the happy couple(?) clinging onto their weird little forks instead of spoons.

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Actually need Horrid Henry's parents under the ground of a jail cell, not even joking- the fact that Henry got in trouble for REACHING FOR CEREAL cause Peter whined....because the cereal was right next to Peter and therefore he had to reach across Peter and he didn't even nudge Peter mid-coloring but he still whined anyway, and then when Henry tried to get the milk after being told don't be horrid henry, ALSO NEXT TO PETER and again, didn't nudge Peter, but Peter still whined, THEY TOOK AWAY HIS BREAKFAST AND SAID GO BRUSH YOUR TEEHT LIKE- Your child needs fucking food??? Its basic parenting to provide food??? Let alone tell your second child if he doesn't wanna risk being nudged, move the cereal and milk so other's can reach it safely, not indulge the whining and punish the other child for shit they didn't even do... Oh and if you thought it was one day: next day Henry and Peter have started a silly game of dividing the table so they won't touch each other's sides...and Peter again has the cereal and milk near him so Henry can't even reach it and is stuck with an empty bowl...that the mom proceeds to take and fill up with cereal, only to give it to Henry's dad and say time for school! Meaning again, Henry's gone without breakfast and the mom is fine with it.

[cryptidsdad]

robert making food for you or sharing his food . hm ??

[princeofyorkshire]

woke up feeling v silly. in a bad way hehe

[kkusuka]

pt. 2

your roommate was a strange man.

can you even really call him a roommate if he's only home for one week every few months? but when he is home, simon riley is a pretty good roommate.

he fixes the heater that's been broken for two months, he replaces the faucet after it drenches you for turning it on too quick, he even takes a look at your car when you mention how your breaks have been squeaking. but other than his penchant for whiskey and the color black, you really don't know much about the man you've been living with for more than a year.

he's in the military, you know that for sure. he works with a team because he tells you that you have a striking resemblance to a man names "soap"? you take that as a compliment even if he didn't really mean it to be one. he wears combat boots even when he's off, you buy him a pair for his birthday that he doesn't take off until soles wear out. but all of these are merely observations, you don't actually know anything about him.

and it's not like you don't try to find out more things about him. you search his name on google- nothing. you ask him about his social media- 'don't got any'. you never ask about family because he never brings them up. all you have is a phone number and the license plate on his beat up dodge charger.

so, getting a call in the middle of the night, three months after you'd last seen simon, about a mission taking a bad turn and simon taking a bullet for an american private. all you really manage to catch after that was the hospital's address and a room number to ask for.

you feel like you're in a trance as you pack yourself an overnight bag, then move to simon's room and just start grabbing the softest clothes you can find and a bunch of snacks from his side of the pantry, then you're off.

you didn't want to see desperate or overly worried about a man whose favorite song you don't know but you're pushing into the high 90s on your way down. and your mind isn't clear until you're standing in front of a tired looking nurse in sanrio scrubs.

"um, i need to get into room 1206?" you barely choke the words out before she's getting up to lead you, "oh! mrs. riley, they told me you were on your way."

"oh-i'm, well" and if you hadn't watch so many hospital shows where they don't let anyone but family into the room you would have just told her the truth, but you just shut your mouth, give her a tight smile, and follow her down the hallway.

the room doesn’t take long to get to, but the door is shut and you can hear the people inside talking. but the nurse doesn't even hesitate to swing the door wide open, "mr. riley, your wife is here."

and then there are four sets of eyes trained on you, but all you can look at is the hulking figure of your roommate sat up in his comically small hospital bed. and all you can muster up is a slight smile and a small wave in his direction before the bags you're holding fly straight onto the floor.

"oh, shoot- i'm sorry. i didn't know if you needed anything so i just grabbed some things from your dresser- and some of those granola bars you like, and there should be a gatorade somewhere in there. and, oh my god, i'm sorry, how are you? i came as soon as they called, and they said you got shot, and-"

"calm down, sweetheart, or yer gonna be the one that needs a hospital bed." ok, simon could still speak that was good, and he was conscious and remembered you.

"i'm sorry. i just got worried, and-" simon knew you well enough to know that you'll worry yourself to death if he lets you keep going, "nothin' to worry about, sweetheart, pull up a chair, you've 'ad stressful few hours."

you practically fell back into the chair that the man with the kindest brown eyes you've ever seen pushed towards you. and for the first time since you arrived, you took a deep, long breath. hand clasped in your lap as you take simon in.

"feeling any better, mrs. riley?"

"she's fine, garrick." 

'garrick' seems utterly unphased by your roommate's- husband's? you can address that later- tone and just continues to smile at you.

"c'mon simon, we just wannae ken 'bout the bonnie lass yer hidin' from yer pals. ye 'aven't even introduced us." you're glad the scot waited until you'd calmed down to start speaking because it took you at least 30 seconds to realize he was even talking about you.

"sweetheart these are the boys, boys this is sweetheart, now fuck off before you scare 'er away"

they didn’t seem like they were going to leave until the older man practically dragged them out saying something about the heaping loads of paperwork they had to do. so will a little wave and a cheeky smile, they were gone.

"so, um, ho-how are you feeling? they, uh, said that you got shot?"

" 'm fine, sweetheart, better knowing i've got a bird at home who'll come runnin' cause she thinks 'm hurt, yeah wife?"

yeah, maybe you'll let the mrs. riley thing go on for a little bit longer.

idk i just really like the idea of simon just picking someone random and being like 'yeah this is it, you're mine now' and they have literally no idea

[mahowaga]

it started innocently—really, it did.

you had no idea the chaos you were about to unleash when, that first time, you pulled your phone out at dinner to capture the gorgeous table spread.

you aren't some influencer, you don't have an aesthetic food page or anything. you just like saving the memories. you like looking back at the colors of the dishes, the way the warm lights catch the steam rising from a bowl of ramen, or the glistening sheen of freshly grilled corn. it makes you happy.

but nanami kento—who sits across from you at that table, handsome in his pressed white button-up and tie still a little too tight against his throat even though the workday has ended—mistakes your angle.

his gaze flicks up from his plate, catching you just as you are angling your phone. and for a brief moment, his face freezes.

then—composed, but stiff—he straightens his spine and fixes his tie.

you blink. "what... what are you doing?"

"you could've warned me if you were going to take a photo of me," he murmurs, eyes dropping to his food. "i must look ridiculous while eating."

the words catch you so off guard that you barely manage a confused laugh, and the words i wasn't taking a photo of you! i was taking a photo of the table, of the food don't come. instead, you stutter, "oh, well, i—"

kento nods, but his eyes don't meet yours. he simply spears a piece of potato and says, "of course."

you meant to correct him properly. you meant to explain. but watching the slight pink creep up the tips of his ears—the usually unflappable nanami kento, embarrassed at the thought of you taking his picture—you hesitate.

and then you just never said anything.

the next time it happens, it's sushi.

a fancy little place you pick because you know kento likes it—quiet, clean, no frills but top-tier quality. you're practically bouncing in your seat by the time the chef slides the first omakase platter in front of you, every piece glistening, delicate, artful.

you pull out your phone.

kento, mid-reach for his cup of tea, freezes again. just like last time.

then slowly—almost robotically—he sets the cup down, places his hands neatly on his lap, and gives you the most stilted half-smile you've ever seen.

you pause, staring at him. "kento—"

"it's alright," he says quickly. "i understand. people like documenting memories. i just. i just wasn't prepared. that's all."

you really should clear the misunderstanding right now.

but instead, a laugh bubbles out of you. "alright. then—hold still."

and you snap a photo. of him. not the food. him.

the photo is terrible—he's as stiff as a board, his jaw locked, and he looks like he's posing for a passport photo at gunpoint.

but it's cute. in the way kento always is, without ever meaning to be.

it becomes a thing after that. you don't even know how.

every time you take your phone out, kento will assume the position. stiff shoulders, straight spine, polite smile.

and every time, you can't bring yourself to tell him that no—really—you're just trying to take a photo of the food.

but by the fourth or fifth outing, something shifts.

kento starts asking, carefully neutral, "do you want me to sit differently? or is this alright?"

and that? that cracks something in you.

"no," you laugh, breathless. "you're perfect."

the words slip out before you can stop them.

kento blinks once, then twice. then he looks down quickly, ears flushing crimson. "i see."

after that, it's like he's resigned himself. if you pull your phone out, he waits. patient, polite, quietly ready.

so you start taking photos. of him. on purpose.

at the cafe, with the tiny cappuccino cup too delicate in his large hands—snap.

at the bakery, applying jam to the slice of freshly baked bread—snap.

at the park, sitting stiffly on the bench while you both have ice cream—snap.

"you're building a collection, aren't you?" kento asks one evening, watching you put your phone down with a barely-contained smile.

you start. "what?"

"photos. of me." his voice is flat, but his eyes—his eyes are soft, just the slightest glint of amusement there. "i'm assuming you have a folder by now."

you flush. "i—no—maybe."

kento lets out a low sigh, running a hand through his hair. "you could just ask, you know."

you blink. "ask?"

"if you want a picture," he says, clearing his throat. "i don't mind. but maybe then—maybe i could try not to look like a stiff idiot."

you laugh, loud and bright, and kento flinches like he's just startled a bird.

"you don't look like an idiot," you say, wiping your eyes. "you look like you. that's perfect to me."

kento stares at you for a long, quiet moment. and then—unexpected, a tiny miracle—he smiles. a real one. the kind that softens all the lines of his face, that crinkles his eyes just enough.

"that might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me," he murmurs.

you open your mouth, close it, then grin. "well, get used to it. you're stuck with me, nanami kento. my photo album's already proof."

kento gives a long-suffering sigh, but his hand—warm, steady—reaches out across the table, brushing yours.

"i suppose," he says, almost fond, "i can live with that."

seven months later, you've built a whole gallery. and when kento catches you looking through it one night—tired from work, tie loosened, his shirt sleeves rolled up—he doesn't say a word.

he just kisses the top of your head, quietly, and murmurs, "just let me know next time, hm? i want to look good for you."

and that is how your silly little secret turns into the softest thing you've ever shared with him.

[devil-in-hiding]

the men finding farmer!reader awake earlier than you usually are one morning, scribbling in a little notebook at the kitchen table, eyes darting between your words and the calendar on the wall

“good morning, there’s tea on the stove and toast on the counter.” you greet, voice soft and tired and Price rolls his eyes.

(once you start warming up to them and allowing them to help more, they grill you about working yourself to exhaustion)

“Thought you promised to take it easy this morning.” He mutters, giving Grimes a scratch behind the ears as he goes to grab a mug. He feels Ghost squeeze by behind him, hands warm on his lower back as he pours his tea.

“I’m making a schedule Price.” You yawn, shooing Soap away he tries to snatch the last bite of eggs of your plate. “Hey!” You snap, slapping his hand. Soap looks at you as though you beat him. “Not even a little bite?”

“Make your own, you don’t even like my eggs-“

“Aye! All I said that mornin’ was they was runny!” He whines, and Ghost lightly shoves him away, stealing the seat closest to you.

“What kind of schedule hm?” He questions, trying to peer down at the paper.

“Breeding season.”

Gaz chokes on a piece of toast, Soap slapping his back quickly. Ghost’s fork clatters back onto his plate and Price freezes, only to curse when scalding tea cascades over the side of his mug and down his hand.

You watch, brow raised, as they compose themselves.

“Breeding season?” Soap asks weakly, voice tight and you look between them, tilting your head.

“Yeah…? For the animals…?” You say slowly, and they let out a synchronised groan, Price running a hand over his face.

“Christ love, learn how to phrase shit yeah?”

“What? What do you mean? It’s breeding season!”

“Lass please-“