You are light...
I'm at the chimera ant arc and every episode my heart crushes a bit more tightly. I suspect it will soon explode.
I really want to do more fanart, hope I will find the time (I wanna draw Kurapika sm). I actually have several complete HxH animatics in my head that I cannot do, it's frustrating af (literally the only free time I have I spend it watching this shit, i'm doomed).
Anyway this anime has occupied my entire brain lately.
Or maybe 80%, the 20 other being a random book I'm reading (that I will soon do fanart of hopefully).
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The energy you surround yourself with, the people you allow access to you, and the environments that you linger in, will indefinitely determine the way you experience life.
It is your responsibility to constantly evaluate whether your surroundings are inspiring you to become a better person or requiring you to dim your light.
Xoxo, Natalie 🤍
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JUST SAW A FED-EX DRIVER JUMP OUR OF HIS TRUCK AT A REDLIGHT AND RUN UP TO A SECOND FED-EX TRUCK (THREE CARS AHEAD) AND THE GUY LEANED OUT AND THEY JUST KISSED ON THE LIPS? HELLO?
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Imagine if you locked Light and Patrick Bateman in a room together. They would be having the most generic conversation but you wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of their overlapping internal monologues. There would be a few seconds where their monologues both play in sync to say something misogynistic.
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me whenever i see /pos and /hj: why are you calling me a piece of shit and what do handjobs have to do with any of this :/
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as soon as i saw gem's thumbnail i fell in love i adore this build so much. here is my attempt at big glowy fish
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infatuation makes your heart race
love is quiet. love sets you at ease.
and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:
Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.
The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.
Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.
the soulmate to this piece, i guess.
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love how the moment ao3 goes down we all start acting like housewives waiting for their husbands to come back from war
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