#taking a massive L

[mossy-chaos]

I love how Grian said that he was LITERALLY going to take the L after trying to compete with scar

His ore mountain was kinda pathetic but at least he tried :')

[calypsolemon]

in love with how lloyd's insecurity about being a bad mentor is a vicious cycle, btw. If his students are failing, it's his fault bc he's failing them, so they have to be capable of figuring things out eventually, so he won't be failing them. And that's how he fails Arin

[lizmitches]

all they have to do is stand next to each other and my extremities start getting tingly

[sad-emo-dip-dye]

Fyodor is so silly for sending Chuuya to Dazai as if they aren’t gonna come back stronger and gayer than ever before

[mikaelsrose]

some thoughts and theories on abh so far

Both Raphael and Mikael's touch is said to be cold while David's is hot

If anyone has any theories about who the guys' superiors could be, please share because I have no idea.

I'm 1000% certain that the guys don't really live at the agency.

The mansion possessed a most unusual trait: if its residents weren't actively seeking you out, it was nearly impossible to find them yourself."

Moreover, I think MC was going somewhere and mentioned again that the house was empty.

"Our father went missing. I believe he's dead" - this actually makes me think the father they talk about isn't God.

This could be a red herring but the man who approaches MC at the club could be involved in the murder. His glassy eyes ("but he didn't look drunk") are definitely a hint and his hot-tempered personality make him very suspicious. "He looked around quiclkly," his outfit is rather out of place at this club, he's pushy and insistent. I found some info that glassy eyes could mean lifeless eyes and when you look at this dude, it's.......plausible (kinda kidding, kinda idk. He just looks suspicious)

I believe they all don't truly grasp the concept of emotions. Mikael doesn't really care about the clients + don't understand the concept of grief, David has no empaty for the deceased. Idk about Cas, and Raphael could be the one able to understand emotions (or he's just good at pretending and/or he feels the emotions his interlocutors do)

As for MC - I think the guys had sth to do with her patient going beserk and her ending up at Astrea. It's just a hunch, I don't have any proof, but they obviously need her for something, and I wouldn't be surprised if Mikael already knew she lost her medical licence.

Mikael:

Cheeky if you pay attention - even during the interview in ch 1 he laughs at MC's poor attempt of touching him under a really weak excuse (can't blame her though); "a playful spark flashed in his eyes," "sly smile" so he's not as stuck up as it looks at the first glance lol

Physically: a picture of Renaissance beauty, it is constantly stated he's very graceful and charismatic. MC also says he's very fit and has prominent muscles (which is surprising "for someone in his position); "stately figure"; statue chiseled out of marble".

He's Not a doctor, but yet heals. In ch. 4 he 1000% sucked the poison out of MC body, and I believe so not only because of what he says but also from the way his eyes look. He also says "I've never had a chance to heal mental wounds" which implies he's been healing for a long time.

David:

Could be far reaching and I formulate this theory mainly because I've been watching too much Supernatural lately, but I believe he's some type of a demon.

He's very confident and he "never loses" as a lawyer, so he's either very very good or able to influence people somehow.

MC obviously didn't end up in Astrea by accident, and she's the MC so she must be somehow special, so it makes me think David constantly calling her a witch isn't without a reason. Ch. 3: "don't admit to anyone in the village that you're a witch, either." Could be just a joke though.

Also the fact he was extremely friendly towards MC is suspicious, almost as if he tried to influence her to stay at all cost.

"It's impossible to get enough of me"

After the murder: "he's like a doctor who has seen death so many times that he hardly feels it anymore"

We learn his father lost his mind because he sold his soul. I've yet to come to any conclusions on this ngl.

Raphael:

I think he takes people's emotions onto himself and makes emotions come to the surface in people. Ch. 3: "Raphael approched the man, and the man's eyes filled with tears."

General:

Felonia emphasising that the guys treat MC differently, kindly and friendly. During the meeting in chapter 3, Mikael is cold and impartial when he talks to Fel

David: "You're so hash, Mikael"

"Only constant effort can attract his attention and make him believe that you deserve another chance" so the question is - who's he?

Felonia: "They're not villains, but they're not exactly heroes either. They have a mission and will go to any lengths necessary to complete it"

Mikael knows about the nightmares MC has and the dream we saw at the beginning of the book is definitely an answer to one of the big mysteries of the book, imo we'll learn what it means at the end of season 1 and it'll be the first supernatural thing we witness (although I'm not entirely sure because of how the last chapter ended)

Mikael: "Everyone's terribly worried about you" - why? They're not that close. They're worried because she's crucial to their plan.

My take is that Raph and Mikael are (arch)angels. Possibly fallen angels or at least angels who fucked up and are being punished. I'm not sure about Raphael, but if Mikael is the Angel Michael then he's the God's commander - his strict, controlled character, the fact he's the director of the agency then it kind of makes sense he;s so harsh to Felonia who seems to have seriously fucked up? He doesn't like disobedience.

Quora (don't judge me lol): "His power is believed to come from his closeness to God and his unwavering commitment to righteousness and the defeat of evil."

"The sword and shield are used today to represent a cutting of cords or energies that no longer serve and protecting us from harm. Michael can help in healing and repairing our energies where trauma, grief, past lives or karmic debts are holding us back from our true potential in this life. He will then work with Archangel Raphael to replace the negative energy, emotions, worries, doubts, physical ailments with positive vibrations. Michael will cleanse your entire being both the physical and spiritual."

@agattthaa mentioned that God is kind only to humans, he's not a good father to angels because he isn't present or forgiving to them; God forgives humans, but when angels make mistakes they fall from grace. Just a food for thought.

I'm curious about others' thoughts and theories. I just wanted to put all this together to sort it in my head as well.

Tagging @raleigh-edward 🫧

[mag200]

i still think that if agnes montague kissed me and it caused my entire face to burn and melt off i would not even be mad about it. like what did you expect shes hot as hell.

[autoauthor]

Tobirama would be the kind of person who would be completely unable to let people be wrong on the internet. Meanwhile, Izuna would spread misinfo on purpose just to get under his skin. Any contradictions would make him double down harder.

Izuna: "Sharks are smooth"

Tobirama: "Actually, shark skin is quite rough. Akin to sandpaper."

Izuna: "I can see how you would think that given you don't moisturize."

Tobirama: *Physically brings a shark out of the water to prove his point* "You cannot deny a fact staring you right in the face"

Izuna: *Petting it straight-faced as his palms tear up* "Very smooth"

[gayvampyr]

question for university leaders: if cumulative GPAs are impossible to bring up after a rough patch, what incentive is there for students to get good grades? asking for a friend

[hussyknee]

Me, watching any brown person rise to fame or sympathy: please don't do or say anything antiblack please don't do or say anything antiblack please don't do or say anything antiblack please don't do or say anything antiblack please don't do or say anything antiblack please don't do or say anything antiblack please don't do or say anything antiblack

[fraternum-momentum]

The Lord's Prayer.

damn that one ask got me reminiscing 😔

[katyspersonal]

Honestly, I will never be able to say something along the lines of "can you even REALLY call yourself a fan of the character if you have to remove or ignore their crimes to like them?" again after Mohg beaten the allegations. I've had my load of people complimenting me for 'acknowledging that Messmer is fascist' or 'remembering that Marika is absolutely a war criminal' or whatever after SOtE launched, but even in the heat of getting angry about excusing fictional genocide I retain some sort of "modesty" regarding accepting the compliments themselves, and this is why. I still have my autism and passion, but I will never have my confidence again. 🙄

[masked-disciple]

Update: Union has permission from the government, we're going on a full strike.

I have literally no idea how this is supposed to work. Tomorrow I must go find my union rep and ask!

[kyeterna]

"Oh General, what did you witness the night of the tragedy?

Oh General, could you have even known that your inability to act doomed the world?"

The Army of the Primordial Flame, the only strictly military guild- working directly under the Fourth Overseer, has been known for its expansionist expeditions throughout the world. Expedition "AURORA" was one like many. To lead such an expedition means your strategic skill has been acknowledged by the Fourth Overseer himself, the greatest honour. Gale was never really religious, he didn't care much about the Fourth's vision of the world. He just liked the prestige and importance that came with his role. And he was good at it.

The expedition was successful, only taking 4 months with no casualties. Back at Farport, he had managed to return with all 560 soldiers and mercenaries contracted from the Pharus Guild alive. Their trip back to Arkhan would have taken 3 days by boat. As Volkan had warned him; "It would be the best course of action, after all I have good reason to believe you might get attacked by enemy guilds on your way back. Keep an eye out for ambushes". The god couldn't accompany them as he had other matters to attend to. But Gale had other plans. His wife had given birth to their first kid just 2 months prior and his home, Spithol, was less than a day away. Sure it was the opposite direction than their destination, but surely it should be safe. There was no way any other guilds could have possibly known about the detour. And he missed his family so much.

They were at the town gates by evening. A joyous occasion, worthy of festivities. By night an entire festival was ready for both the civilians and the soldiers to enjoy. A celebration of the success and safe return. In honour of the hero of the town Gale. What later turned into the event known as the Unyielding Flame Massarce.

After a few hours of time with his family, plenty of food and a couple of drinks, movement away from the venue caught Gale's eye. A little drunk but still aware enough of his surroundings he ventured deeper into the dark alleyways of the town. At that point people were either fast asleep in their houses or still celebrating at the centre of the town, so the only light by now was coming from the clear starlit sky. A moment of peaceful quiet. The general slowly breathed in. The scent of the night humidity and- gunpowder?

What a terrible time to be drunk. After investigation, as much as one can investigate when under the influence, he realised that most of the town seemed to have been trapped. But no sign of culprits- everyone he had seen up to that point were people he knew. None of them could have done this, right? He ran to the town walls, towards the gates. Frozen shut via an impenetrable substance. Upon further investigation he came to the grim realisation that they were all trapped inside for good. As he looked for potential suspects or ways out if the worst was to happen he came across one of the people contracted from the Pharus guild. "We are in trouble- have you seen anyone suspicious around town?". A pause. It was too dark for Gale to read that man's expression. "No- not that I am aware-" "You need to warn the rest of the crew, we have to find a way to evacuate everyone" another pause. "Sure".

After minutes pass with no news from the crew or any results from his investigation, he headed towards the centre himself. And in the distance, in the sky, he could clearly see smoke. Mind racing he ran towards the festival. Tripping on his way back- what a terrible time to be drunk- he came across that same mercenary holding a torch. Making eye contact they both froze. Adam- he thinks that was his name, stared at him like a deer caught in headlights. Gale tightened the grip on his sword. He thought he understood what was happening in front of him. He thought for a moment that of course this was happening. He thought of killing the man in front of him. But he hesitated. At a standstill he couldn't help but think how much he just wanted to see his wife and daughter. The sound of explosions and loud screaming brought him back to reality. And he ran towards his home. Letting the man go.

It didn't take long for the fire to spread throughout the city. It didn't take long for the laughter of joy from the festivities to be turned into screams for help. It didn't take long for the smoke to overtake all the senses. Chaos and confusion spread. Gale tried directing his crew to help the people calm down- but where would they go? There was no escape, none that he could find. It didn't take long till the men in his crew who weren't consumed by the flames starting fighting each other. And all Gale could think about at that moment was how badly he wished to see his wife and daughter. He ran and ran, burnt corpses surrounding him. The smell of smoke and burnt flesh slowly choking him. His armour suffocating him, oh how badly he wanted to get rid of it. But it was his only protection from the fire. And he ran as towering flames grazed him. And he ran tripping on collapsed people, some still conscious enough to scream in pain. Maybe they were all cursing him at that moment. But all he could think about was how badly he wished to see his wife and daughter.

When he finally arrived at his home, it was completely ablaze. "Lyn?!" He shouted, choking on some of the smoke. No response. He jumped inside and looked around. He couldn't see anything but fire and smoke. Parts of the roof had already collapsed. And as he walked forward the floor beneath him crumbled and he fell in the basement, which had been untouched from the fire. As he was attempting to stand up again more debris fell on him, knocking him unconscious.

Hours passed before he finally got up to the first light of dawn. He slowly stood up, and made his way upstairs. By now his house had been completely burnt. Looking outside there were still fires burning some of the houses but he couldn't hear anything or anyone else. He walked further inside the house. A burnt corpse hunched over the what used to be a cradle. Ah. He sat there for what felt like ages, staring at the gruesome sight in front of him. He got to live out of sheer dumb luck. Just dumb luck.

When evening started approaching he just walked out. Very few fires were still burning in the distance, only some smoke now visible. He started looking around the streets and houses for anyone alive. He made sure to count them all. 2, 5, 10, 27, 42, 75, 100, 341, 784, and the number kept growing, and growing. People he could no longer recognise, people he had grown up with, people he had fought with, people he had so horribly failed. 1207 civilians dead. 558 soldiers dead. 1 missing person. Only survivor- Gale himself. By night he reached the gates of the town. Still completely frozen shut. And so he dug.

What followed after was a haze. He just walked for days, dwelling on that night. Ways he could have prevented it, ways it could have been better. Plagued by images of that night, all the victims. Why did they have to die. Why did he have to live.

A chuckle echoed in his ears. He looked up and saw a figure of legend. At least he thought he saw Her. It had to be. White robe, blindfold, the three halos decorating Her head, the pale hair and complexion. The doting Mother, Creation, Amatheia. She was smiling at the man. A smile that invoked fear. She reached Her hand out. The Witness of the end, of fates worse than death. And the verdict was decided.

================================================

Have some stills I like

(for the previous one i like both cleaned up and sketch versions a lot)

[catsaysmlem]

the shippers love to hc rooster and hangman's history as "they're estranged because rooster screwed up somehow and that's why hangman's such a dick to him" to justify hangman's assholery (conveniently ignoring the fact that hangman is a dick to people who aren't rooster as well).

so this bit of the script was hilarious to me:

turns out their actual history is that hangman has ALWAYS been such a raging asshole, rooster felt compelled to bestow a permanent reigning champion of assholery award on him in the form of his call sign lmfao

EDIT- and BOY is he an absolutely malicious asshole:

[revasserium]

the good earth

chevalier; 1,282 words, fluff and the barest hint of angst; chevalier agrees to have a picnic, gn!reader

you ask him out for a picnic, and he agrees before he can stop himself. later, he’d wonder what possessed him to entertain such foolishness, such misanthropic meanderings of the mind but then — then you smile, and he puts aside the seventeen things he’s had on his mind and reaches out to help you carry the four bottles of champagne.

by the time you all settle in the rose gardens, clavis is grinning like the devil and chevalier teeters briefly on whether or not to kick him in the shins.

he decides on not as you go about laying out the freshly baked breads and the soft, melting cheeses. there’s jam from the orchards and cakes from the kitchens. chevalier cocks his head as he watches you spread a liberal dollop of creme fraiche on a piece of bread and offer it to him.

“it’s good! i promise.”

chevalier quirks a single eyebrow, smirks, and takes it from you. the cream is sweet and light and tangy, the bread the perfect amount of warm and chewy. he wonders if the kitchens have always been this good, and then he wonders if it’s just the effect of you.

and later, much, much later — when they’ve all had their fair shares of creme and bread and fruits and jam, when the sun is hanging sweet and low as summer berries, the sky painted in languid, lazy brushstrokes of pinks and golds and blistering silver clouds, he finds himself watching you. like he always has.

“you’re staring,” you say, your eyes slipping towards him to catch his gaze, to hold it for a second before it flickers back up towards the darkening sky. up, far, far above you are the first burgeoning sighs of twinkling stars.

“yes,” he says, unabashed in his intensity, “so i am.”

he watches as your cheeks darken, watches as your eyes slowly slide back to meet his again. and this time, he doesn’t let you go. all around you, the other princes are slowly making their exits, their excuses muttered on smirking lips, first luke, then nokto, and finally even clavis, who’d been watching you both with a sharp, rapier-like amusement bows his head and heads back in. you try your best not to blush and you’re unsure if you manage it.

“there’s still a glass of champagne left.”

chevalier’s voice is pointed as always. you turn to look down at the half-filled flute sitting by your hand.

“so there is.”

“come.”

chevalier stands up with a woosh of ghost-white robes and offers you a hand. you regard it for a split second before taking it and letting him help you to your feet.

“leave the mess, we’ll come back to for it later,” he says, as if reading your mind.

you press your lips together but before you can make to follow him, he turns around, his eyes fixed on you as he says —

“bring the champagne.”

you blink. and then, you reach down for the glass.

you follow him to the memorial grounds, the huge marble monoliths carved with the names of all the knights and soldiers who had given their lives for the greater good. chevalier pauses before each with a solemn silence. you follow behind him, unable to stem your curiosity as you watch him.

“graves are for the living,” chevalier finally says as you come to a pause beside him, looking over the vast sunken green field of the memorial grounds, “they’re for us to mourn the dead. those who have passed have no use for them.”

you nod.

“yes… i know.”

“but it’s because of that… that they’re made all the more important,” he says, turning to face you again. there’s the shadow of a smile flickering across his lips.

“go on then, pour the champagne.”

you blink at him before turning back to the memorial grounds and slowly emptying the glass of champagne into the grass at your feet, pouring it out in a steady, horizonal line. a toast to the dead, made for the living.

how fitting.

later, after the remnants of the picnic have all been cleared away, after the glasses have been washed and the fruit pits disposed of. you find yourself watching him as he reads, leaning against the wall of your room, the balcony open against the tepid summer air.

“you’ve never done that before,” you say, without preamble. because chevalier has never needed you to explain to understand.

“hm.”

you bite back a grin, “what’s made you so sentimental?”

the book in chevalier’s hands snap shut.

“don’t asks questions you already know the answers to.”

you fight back the urge to roll your eyes as he pins you with a glare.

“alright, alright — but… it really isn’t like you… even after all…” you motion vaguely at the space between you and him with a faint blush, “all… this.”

at this, chevalier smirks, cocking his head, and you feel your stomach twist into ever tighter knots inside you.

“i suppose it’s because… someone somewhere once taught me that the only difference between a graveyard and a garden is what you choose to put in the ground,” he says, his head still cocked, his eyes cool even as you go ever and ever hotter beneath his penetrating gaze.

you can’t help but blush at his pointed words, but your body is awash with tingles as you finally parse out the depths of his admission.

you’d taught him something.

“o-oh! i — uhm… that’s… well,” you cast about for something to say, something other than oh and uhm. finally, you settle on, “sounds smart, whoever taught you that.”

chevalier’s smirk grows as he pushes off the large loveseat and closes in on the edge of your bed, towering over your as he looks down at you over his aquiline nose and sculpted lips.

“yes. they were.”

he leans down, and you feel your breath hitch in your chest as he presses you back into the soft, downy sheets of your bed.

“s-so… have you thought about… planting some more flowers in the memorial field, then?” you ask, averting your eyes as he crawls onto the bed, his weight shifting the bed beneath you, your traitorous heart thumping up against your chest in ever and ever faster rhythms.

“i have,” chevalier muses, his voice light and unaffected, “i’ve already given the order for it to be done.”

“oh…” is all you have in response, though it seems to please him all the same. you take a deep, steadying breath before forcing yourself to turn back and meet his piercing, star-fire gaze.

“so next time,” he says, pulling back suddenly, smoothing his hands over the material of his clothes as he makes his way back over to the loveseat to resume his book, “we might have a picnic there instead. once the flowers start blooming.”

“a picnic… in the memorial field,” you echo.

he nods, flipping open his book again.

a picnic with the dead… for the living.

you allow yourself a secret smile as you nod, thinking back to that last glass of champagne.

because yes — the only difference between a graveyard and a garden might be what you choose to put in the ground. but says who that life cannot thrive in a place for the dying? after all — graveyards are for the living, aren’t they? and champagne and flowers too.

“yes… i’d like that,” you say, nodding, smiling, bright as bright can be, “i’d like that very much indeed.”

requests are open

[wolf-tail]

Tw: Bad take

Had to block him for this one lads