#got me sick in the head

[ryanthel0ser]

Killing me that Mitsuba and Kou should just be two teenagers who get up to dumb shenanigans as they stumble around things they want to say to each other and awkwardly show affection

but have been cursed to be doomed by the narrative no matter what timeline

[nicecrumbart]

Keep thinking about that one scene in secret life

[zephyrchama]

(obey me!) moments where they fall in love with you all over again

---01

It’s dinner, and you’re talking about mundane things that happened during your day. You saw a cool bird, got some gum stuck on your shoe, and bought a new flavor of toothpaste to try. Everyone is listening intently. If only they would pay this much attention in class.

Lucifer knows the way his brothers look at you all too well. It’s a look full of respect, admiration, and fondness. It’s a look that’s often reflected on his own face when in your presence. At first he never really understood why you put up with his siblings, as the option to ignore them and be on your way was always there. Yet you continue to make time for them anyway. How unusual.

Moments like these where everyone is together and you don’t treat them as the Seven Rulers of Hell, you just treat them as your dear friends and family. That’s what makes Lucifer soft. He tries to imagine a long future of things staying just like this.

---02

Mammon’s hesitant to lend anybody money, even you. It takes a few minutes to butter him up and fluff his ego before he relents. At last, he hands you the crispest bill in his wallet. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he kids, knowing full well he’d do just that if he was in your shoes.

He’s curious what you plan to buy. It never dawns on him that you have no intention of spending the cash. Half an hour later, he finds it on his desk. The exact same bill, now creased and folded neatly into an origami bird.

He picks it up to wiggle the little paper wings, entranced, then looks around frantically and catches your eye. A playful smile graces your face and tugs at his heartstrings.

---03

Leviathan is not typically one to make mistakes when it comes to anime. But even he’s not perfect.

He had it set in his mind that the new show premiered at 6:00pm, which left plenty of time to prepare the ultimate solo viewing party after school. He was humming quietly to himself when you walked over. “Isn’t your show starting soon?”

You specifically took an interest in his hobbies. You remembered that it started at 16:00 (four o’clock), not 6:00. Leviathan wondered, how could he make such a egregious mistake? You were the one who dashed back to the House of Lamentation at full speed by his side. When your human stamina started failing, he unconsciously picked you up so you’d both make it in time. You made it with two minutes to spare.

Sweaty and out of breath, still in uniform, you were able to watch the premiere together. It wasn’t until after credits rolled, you went elsewhere, and the live reactions on social media started calming down that Levi realized what a big deal this was to him. What a big deal you were to him.

---04

Satan wasn’t expecting you to be spacing out in his favorite armchair. He had plans to read in it that evening, and considered asking you politely to move. But the way the lamp light shines on your skin, the thoughtful expression on your face while pondering ideas unknown. The way your lips part ever so slightly and your eyes gaze off into nothing. It captivates him. You look like a painting. His breath gets caught in his throat, and in clearing it he manages to break your trance.

“Oh, hey. Welcome home, I didn’t realize you were there.”

You go to get out of the chair, but Satan insists you stay. It doesn’t look right without you anymore. He doesn’t feel right without you anymore.

---05

Asmodeus does not have wardrobe malfunctions often. His outfits are of the highest quality and a lot of care goes into putting them on. Still, things happen.

When his fans rush forward out of nowhere, sometimes they are successful in tearing his clothes. A fistful of shirt here, a mouthful of pants-leg there. Being in the center of a lust-fueled stampede can make even the most collected people lose their minds, but you are steadfast. You shout at the rabid demons, shaming them for their disrespect. You believe you can chase them off all on your own, not knowing that the Avatar of Lust behind you is exuding a killer aura and warning his fans to back off with a powerful glare.

As you sloppily stitch up what remains of his shirt so he can walk home without the incident repeating, Asmodeus is smiling from ear to ear. You’re so focused on genuinely helping that you don’t even notice the bedroom eyes he’s flashing. The scene of you waving your arms and trying to chase off a pack of demons as if they were stray pigeons is permanently ingrained in his memory. Just as your existence is ingrained in his soul.

---06

Beelzebub knows what he likes. He knows what will catch his interest and is pleasantly surprised when a new one crops up.

One thing he likes is you. Another is food. Both are in the cafeteria. He piles a tray high with carbs and goes looking for you at lunch time, finding you seated in the middle of a long table at the edge of the room. He calls your name.

It’s unexpected, the way you quickly swing your head up mid-bite. Your cheeks are full and noodles dangle from your mouth, sauce dripping back onto your plate. Your eyes light up as you look at him from below. It makes him stop in his tracks, causing several shorter demons to walk into him. Such a simple action, yet so profound. You hurriedly chew and offer him a seat while Beelzebub powers through his emotions. He takes a seat across from you to offer a napkin, wondering when he’ll see that face again.

---07

It’s late, far past everyone’s bedtime. Yet Belphegor forgot to tell you something during the day and decided now would be a great time. When you don’t respond to the quiet knocks at your door, he lets himself inside. Your sleeping figure looks too comforting to resist and he gets the brilliant idea to crawl into bed with you to whisper in your ear.

The problem is, as soon as he lifts the covers, you fart. It’s loud. You don’t move an inch, remaining fast asleep and ignorant of what just happened.

Belphegor freezes in his tracks to process it, but is soon doubled over on the futon laughing. The vibrations wake you. You sleepily open your eyes to see who is in hysterics and ask the obvious: “what?”

Belphegor is laughing too hard to tell you. He doesn’t want to tell you. It’s too priceless. You groggily smack him with a spare pillow and it makes him laugh harder. While he loves to look at you, that week it becomes difficult for him to meet your eyes without erupting into a fit of giggles.

[wasyago]

so, would you?

nothing important under the cut, you don't need to look haha

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

is that disney-esque artstyle, peter parker look alike PILOT RANDY CUNNINGHAM???

also ngl i kinda dig Viceroy II and Deputy Mayor Kranski

+bonus Bible designs

[queen0fm0nsterz]

Saw a twitter post about Near and L with the "do I look like him?" caption and it got me to feel so viscerally sad because... he does. He does look like L. The similarities are so uncanny that, had I not known they're not related, I would have guessed they are. And not just appearance too... some of his mannerisms, the way he speaks and reasons... all of Near is haunted by the traces of a man he has never even met.

It's not really surprising: he was groomed by Wammy's to be just like L. He never really rejected that notion, either; he just embraced it as something that has always been part of him, because how could he refuse something that was there from the beginning? He was just a kid. A very young one at that.

But someone who did reject that was Mello. Or, rather, he felt rejected by that system, so he turned his back on it -- at least partially. The effects of it are still felt even in its rejection - his visceral hatred of Near being a lampant example. But I wonder if that rejection, that search for individuality, is what made Near so endeared to Mello in spite of the other very openly hating him.

Mello became his own person and Near, forever bound to be one of two parts of L, admired that. Because he couldn't do it.

[beebeeazzy]

admiration for his muse or whatever!!1 thank you BoB for the mental illness <3

[spaciebabie]

um!

[kitamars]

🌌

[wukpng]

arin from last nighttttttttt

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )

[flaticeball]

hey! as the first season of connor bedard gets underway i, your local indigenous hockey fan, have a request of you: please don't let this kid's sure to be marvellous and jaw-dropping rookie season make you complacent with the racism of the blackhawks as an organization. it is beyond heinous that they were able to secure the first overall pick this year for a number of reasons i'm sure we're all familiar with, but i am pleading with the hockey community not to let the racism of this org fall through the cracks.

they drafted connor bedard and handed him a jersey with a giant racist caricature on the front. their mascot is named tommy hawk. they continuously fail to curtail their fans' egregious displays of anti-indigenous racism at games.

i'm not going to ask anyone not to post about bedard. i know he's huge news and i'm bummed as all hell that i won't be able to enjoy the beginning of what is sure to be an incredible career myself. but i am asking, given that his presence on the team is likely to increase the prevalence of people making and reblogging posts about the blackhawks, that you please care, loudly and actively, about the racism of this organization and how much it hurts indigenous fans to see that go unquestioned so often.

consider mentioning it in posts. consider amplifying the voices of indigenous fans and community members about the issues of these types of sports organizations. consider reading up on the history of the person they claim to 'honour' with their hideous effigy of a logo. consider censoring the logo in your posts if you are able to (please do this if you are able to). consider tagging posts so that indigenous fans are at the very least able to blacklist that team and not have to see it.

above all, please just. don't forget about it. don't forget about us. we belong here too.

[solivagantingrebel]

Everyone knows Soap's an open book. He doesn't bother hiding his emotions — no matter how unpleasant or explosive they might be, being mindful of his expressions only in the face of uncertainty or circumstances. But what most don't know is how in tune he is with everyone around him too. The boy's sharp, eyes focused and calculating, words casual and probing without giving himself away, and he prides himself in his ability to trust what he sees, discern what the situation means, what the fleeting glance and lingering grimace gives away about others, storing that information for future use; what it means for the actions he will eventually take.

So, in comes the Lieutenant, Ghost's used to keeping things to his chest, hidden from the world, masked and covered from head to toe without even a glimpse to show unless it's on his terms, for his purpose. It takes a while for Soap to worm his way close — hard to when the only getaway to Simon Riley is through his eyes and military seasoned bodily reactions. Controlled, dangerous. He's too good at hiding, too good at deflecting, and the admonishing 'keep it tactical, sergeant' feels like a sharp tug on Soap's leash, reminding him of the collar on his throat; the collar that both of them wore, one looser than the other. There are moments he slips, though, humanity seeping through the cracks between their quips and banter, the genuine tenderness in his voice when he calls him Johnny, the concern that rasps when his impulsivity gets out of hand — reprimand and care twinned together in his breath.

He likes it best when he can see Ghost enjoy himself; from his painful, silly, jokes to the subtle crinkle in his eyes that makes his lashes flutter in the light, golden and addictive. The probing and sharpness is less for certainty — he acts, reacts, seeking and searching for those fragile moments of happiness between the blood and violence of their daily life.

And Ghost lets him, knowing how easy it would be for him to reestablish that distance between them, cage himself back in those walls that are familiar and safe. Soap realises that he notices, that he has noticed from the start, how intently he had observed him from the start, rebuffing his attempts at first but gradually letting him in, melting and thawing until Ghost and Soap as a pair, whatever they were, was as natural as breathing. There's something to be said about how gently he holds Soap's gaze, how he doesn't mind the dissecting reassurance that he seeks, that he's fine with being seen for who he truly is without the need to feel threatened or vulnerable about it.

Or perhaps, he's fine with how Soap does it. Loving, instead of invasive, an attempt at understanding instead of othering.

Even when he's being annoying about it, even when he's pushing buttons that he knows Ghost wouldn't have forgiven if anyone else did it.

The closeness and vulnerability unlike anything Soap has ever felt before.

Almost as if, in spite of everything, he appreciated —

Loved —

So, that's it.

How hasn't he realised it sooner? There was only one explanation to it after all, the complexity of emotions, vulnerability and closeness spiralling without anything else to match it.

Love.

For all the laughable confusion to consider in hindsight, it was simple, really; he was in love.

[cubedmango]

return gifts

[mumbo-jumbo-facts]

The ask box says to submit facts about oli, however this is a mumbo themed blog. Alas I must submit both to maintain equilibrium

Oli misses his sweet prince (joehills) and sadly never got to play on his pinball base in s9

Mumbo joined hermitcraft at 17! How! Why am I not on hermitcraft I was 17 once

OLITHEORIONSOUND FACT #1

Oli misses his sweet prince and never got to to play the pinball machine

MUMBO JUMBO FACT #191

Mumbo joined this psychotic dysfunctional family when he was only 17!

[kagoutiss]

green beetle black beetle