#they haven’t caught on yet

[raddest-laddest]

scug cat bug cat quirrel cat doodles

[ramshackledtrickster]

Hextorals…

[keepin-it-on-the-d-l]

Two generations of dumbassery

[pyr0frnzy]

Comm I did of Usopp in his Elbaf fit!!

[crushedsweets]

Toby specifically stalks this elderly lesbian couple because one of them started spouting off nonsense about demons and slendy wants them to stop poking their noses in the paranormal.

Toby decides to purposefully make it obvious they’re being stalked by a real person instead of haunted, but he just further convinces both of them that they have a demon in their home. Nothing he does works and he doesn’t really wanna kill them. Starts sending them emails saying giving the demons attention gives them more power.

The ladies give ignoring the “demon” a shot, so he stops purposefully breaking into their house and moving stuff around and scaring them. Now they truly believing ignoring a demon is how to stop a haunting. They no longer stick their nose in the paranormal. This is a successful Toby mission. And he stole a lot of money and jewelry in the process. Extra Toby points

[vuomelo]

[torawro]

guys i nearly embarrassed myself and moaned out loud….in PUBLIC.

[dandyleyen]

I don’t talk much about Laios and Falin as siblings because I’m usually busy being gay about one or the other, but y’all,,,,,

My heart just hurts for Laios. I haven’t finished the manga yet so idk if they do get Falin back at any point or somehow manage to unchimera her ass, but like,,, I’m just stressed for him. He and Falin clearly love each other very much and this is such a rough situation, because if they can’t find a way to get her out of that form or smth, they’re very much going to have to kill her or do something so she doesn’t hurt anyone. He’s made that clear.

It just hurts my heart because I cannot imagine being put in that place. I’m also an older sibling and if I had to be in Laios’ shoes rn I would end up on the news.

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Favorite niche book genre

[lale-txt]

the click of a tongue and a condescending “sweetheart” while you’re thigh riding sakusa, ruining his expensive suit pants in the back of a limo

[azul-marie]

leon. (dolor)

fem. reader. angst with comfort. mentions of trauma.

he stands at the bedroom doorway, brows tight and tense the way they get when he’s lost in twilight thoughts.

he doesn’t walk in. he doesn’t quite look at you. just stares at the visage of you sitting up in bed, curled up under blankets and clean duvets, cuddled into dovefeather pillows. scrolling through your device, observing whatever it is you’re talking to him about lately. that show, that book you’re into. maybe some hobby you’re getting better at.

leon, for a good long while, stares into the mundane of the room.

you don’t say anything. you don’t insist, or inquire, or shoo away. you know this is how he gets sometimes. you know it’s because of everything that’s happened. everything, everywhere, everyone that resides behind those sky blue eyes, hollow and sunken, deciding to visit him every now and then, even on good days like today. even on days when earlier he’d looked at you like a man falling in love for the very first time, all over again, whose handsome face twinkled with mirth and stars and the kind of youth he may have once had when he was a boy.

leon stares. strong, safe body frozen at the door. tousled hair. roaming eyes. if you look closely enough, you may be able to see the growing desperation to ground himself. to ground his mind, at once racing with repressed memories but blank with numbness and nothing. there’s so much. so much yet so little he can manage to think out, to put into concept, perception.

it must show. it must because you finally lift your head up and force his eyes on yours, and you’re so sweet and beatific and good he wonders why you’re even here, when did you get here? between the blood and bites and flesh and bones and mama and dad and the city and spain and luis and jack when did you show up? when was it decided that you’d love him and stay? after everything he did, after everything he didn’t, why was it you chose him?

something burns down the sides of his face. one by one by one something burns after the other, but he doesn’t move. doesn’t make a sound. he just stares, stares and hopes you don’t notice it’s a bad one this time, hopes you notice he wants to talk now, he does, but he can’t, he can’t because nothing is coming out and his mouth is open but he can’t he can’t—

“sit with me, sweetie. keep me company.”

you pat the space beside you. the normal, cheery way you do. if he looks too close, he’ll see the calm look of worry you wear. but he doesn’t, because he might start hiding everything away again if he realizes the state he’s in. reminds himself it’s okay though. it’s okay, because it’s you, no one else, no one to hide from like so many times before.

leon finally moves. he watches himself from somewhere high up above the ceiling, climbing into the place you directed him to. he’s shaking. he looks a mess. but the feel of cool sheets and soft pillows brings him back just enough. enough to catch his breath, to try to organize a racing mind.

your hand sticks out. not too close, not too far. a noncommittal invitation. i’m here. it says to him. i’m here if you want. only if you want.

leon curls himself into your lap, taking the both of you by surprise.

the back of his head presses into your stomach. his nose pokes the soft of your thigh. his hair falls over his tear-striped face, shoulders trembling with silent sorrow. his hand frantically searches for something up above.

it lands on yours. without a word, he sets it over the hairs of his head, and silently motions for you to pet him.

“please.” is all he says.

you listen.

teardrops cascade down the expanse of your skin, each one a memory unspoken. uselessly do his hands cup his cheeks to catch them before they bloom, before he remembers the reason behind their fall. they will not stop. his silence becomes that of weeping whimpers, low, deep, from the cavity of his chest.

your fingers are featherlight across his scalp, a cautious touch in the wave of emotion. you say nothing only because you know he needs this, the physicality of affection, for words and sentiment are lost on deep dark hurt, unable to comfort like the caresses from a lover.

the two of you stay like this, for a long while. waiting for the tide to change, the storm to pass. until his tears lessen into saltskin, until he blinks fog away from damp lashes and loose strays of hair. you pull strands away from his rosy, tear stained cheeks to tuck them behind his ear. you run a gentle hand down his jaw, to the aching bob of his throat.

“my love, my boy.” you say softly. “you’re everything to me. nothing will change that. it’s been so hard for so long, i know. you’ve been strong all this time, leon.”

“what if i can’t do it? what if it’s not enough for you?”

“you’re more than enough, lee. you’ve been trying your best, don’t forget that in these moments. you’re home and life to me, always. love, darling, would i lie to you?”

his answer is immediate. “never.”

and he takes comfort in the pressing of your lips to the shell of his ear, the curve of cheeks and tissue scarred by the past. eyes shut tight, basking in the waves of gradual calm over him, keeping back the dark for the time being.

but he knows there’s too much to heal with simple kisses or honeyed words. plenty things he can’t bring himself to speak aloud with you. perhaps that’s where he’ll start, find somewhere to go, someone qualified to talk to. take the load off his back, and keep from worrying you, too.

he entwines your fingers together. brings them up for a kiss to your knuckles. “i love you. i’d do anything for you. anything.” hoarse his voice may be, he speaks strongly, clearly to emit his conviction. leon presses kiss after kiss across your fingertips, heart caught in his throat by how gently you cradle him into your bosom.

the warmth of your love lulls his fatigue into a dreamless sleep; his last thought is full of you and you alone.

[catwouthats]

I’m researching all the animals wolverine gets compared to so I can see which ones are most like him and to which degree they are like him.

Bro this shit is fueling headcanons…

His love language is definitely gift giving, but he wouldn’t usually say the gift is from him. It would just appear at the person’s place. Like randomly, his friends get random tiny things, and they have no fucking clue where they come from??? And things they thought they lost appear again?? They must just think they are lucky at first.

[pyr0frnzy]

Someone said to draw yourself picking up your fav OP characters…

[wizard-legs]

Hey god!! 😁 I just wanted to say that like, I see what you’ve done for Bean, and I wanted you to know that like. If you have any more sexy mermaids who want to take ME away to a little seaside cottage… my schedule is pretty open…. No pressure! Just letting you know ☺️☺️🪓😁😀☺️

[inkbagel]

Yk what’s funny is I can be wildly obsessed with so many things and yet still I see or hear one odd thing and am instantly thinking about the magnus archives. Nothing else. It’s always haunting me

Weird ad plays? That’s like the spiral. This song? That’s like the vast. That mug sitting on the clearance shelf? Martin would have that mug. This person looks kinda like Peter Lucas. That fanart of a completely different franchise is so Jane prentiss core. That lady looks just how I imagined ink5oul.

This doesn’t happen with any of my other past obsessions. Just tma. All the others I have to actively be fixated on in order to be reminded of them constantly every day. But tma is always there to remind me there no reason to be bored when you can assign fears to inanimate objects.

You guys should listen to tma btw it’s funny