Reblog Or Your Mom Will Die In 928 Seconds.

bitches be like "nooo i don't have any family trauma" and then their favorite game is mystic messenger

Leviathan, the master of the seas.

If you like this art, it's already available in my shop! There are prints, t-shirts, notebooks, bags, phone cases, pillows and more here.

Inspired by this.

Ladynoir

Jean: *avoiding stepping on cracks in the sidewalk*

Mozart: What are you doing

Jean: Avoiding the buttcracks on the pavement

Mozart:

Jean: Dazai has informed me that stepping on them will guarantee that ma mère will break her back

Mozart: Jean your mother has been dead for centuries

Jean: You... are not wrong

Mozart: And she was awful to you

Jean: She was?

Mozart: Did you not read your route?

Jean: Barring the fact that I can't read, how does one read a path? Are you referring to palm-reading? *stares seriously at his palm*

Mozart: No, Jean. Your story in the Ikemen Vampire dating simulation

Jean:

--- Yanderepuck's Jean-panic-digging-graves hc made me think he'd freak out about this kinda thing too, as would probably any normal human being

You ever think about how in The Headband, we're introduced to a side of the Fire Nation that's had its culture whittled away by a hundred years of imperial wartime propaganda. And how perhaps the most damning expression of this is that students are forbidden from dancing. And so Aang, maybe the only person on the planet who still truly remembers the Fire Nation of old, from before the war, brings it back to them.

And then we get to The Firebending Masters. Zuko's entire young adulthood has been spent using his anger towards the Fire Nation's enemies, his drive to capture the Avatar, as a crutch. And now he doesn't have that crutch anymore. So he and Aang set out on a pilgrimage, going to the birthplace of firebending itself, in search of answers. In search of a way to express the power of fire that isn't fueled by rage or smothered by fear. And they find a dance.

I have a feeling this will become iconic in due time.  

so i have a mildly popular “reblog and put in in the tags” post going around and its. very clear how many people don’t know how to interact with a tumblr post

so, first of all, tumblr’s culture has changed a lot in the past couple years. there’s a genuine community effort to not start any drama, and ironically a lot of the current hostility is an effort to keep things calm. there’s also a change in how people interact with posts, so if you haven’t been here in a while please skip down to the tags/replies/reblog with text section.

for newcomers: you should be reblogging posts about as liberally as you would like something on twitter. if you only like stuff, people will think you are rude/a bot. you’ve probably heard people talk about “cultivating your dash,” and thats because this platform is 100% centered around your dashboard. trending matters less, unfollowing and blocking in order to shape your dash into it’s best form is widely accepted, the majority of the content you’ll find and interact with will be because of your dash, and the only way to put things on your dash is to reblog them. tumblr users are deeply distrustful of algorithms and have largely turned off the “see posts your friends have liked” function (i recommend you also turn of the various algorithms in settings → general settings → dashboard preferences).

so, once you’ve reblogged a post, there’s three ways to add content to it. the tags, replies, and reblogging with text. all of them have different connotations

the tags: an inside voice. originally they were meant for organizing your blog (and they’re still used for this), but they’ve also morphed into a way to share thoughts that aren’t funny/insightful enough for non-followers to be interested in. when in doubt, put your comment in the tags

replies: basically talking to your friends in class. your followers have no way of finding your replies (they don’t pop up on the dash, nobody gets notified except for the original poster) so chances are, only the person who made the post is gonna see your comment. it’s for quick one-offs that you’re okay with other people overhearing, but really is only made for one person. they’re like a public dm

reblog with text: an outside voice. you’re getting up on a stage in town square and entertaining people. make sure it’s funny or insightful— bottom line, add something new to the conversation. you should use this the least

general rules of thumb: 

when in doubt, reblog. people will judge you if your blog is only personal posts and you only interact with other content by liking it.  

the only things people will judge you for reblogging are personal vent posts. leave a like to give a little virtual hug

if a post is asking about your personality/opinions (i.e: tell me what’s the last tv show you watched, that kind of thing) put it in the tags 

also if you see a nice edit, gifset, or art, reblog and say something nice in the tags! it’s that nice sweet spot of common enough that no one will notice but uncommon enough to make the artist’s day

Omg the kissing the prettiest person in the room one was so good!!!! I was squealing the entire time

No pressure at all, but i sure hope you plan on continuing with the other characters! You write them all so good, I'd love to see what you'd come up with!

"kiss the prettiest person in the room" with the younger brothers

includes: satan, asmo, beel, belphie x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.2k | rated t | m.list | pt 1 | pt 3

a/n: at long last it's here! thankyou for all of the support on the first part, and i hope this holds up to it's legacy lol. my inbox is open to chat, request, and leave feedback, so come say hi!!

please reblog :3

diavolo is holding another sleepover, and you’re all crammed into one of his living rooms, sitting in a rough circle, with some on the couches, some in chairs, and some on the floor

you’re on one of the smaller couches, sharing it with solomon and when the sorcerer gets this glint in his eyes you know he had something up his sleeve

“let’s play truth or dare,” he suggests, and though you suspect the game will devolve into chaos, many of the brothers are quickly on board

the game goes a few rounds before solomon calls on you. “mc, truth or dare?”

you balk; the dare will no doubt be something intense and possibly humiliating, but choosing truth would probably be much worse. “dare,” you say, as confidently as you can

solomon grins wickedly. “kiss the prettiest person in this room.”

you gape at him even as various protests are raised around the room.

“no, mc does it or gets punished for chickening out,” solomon insists, and you recall the punishment, which is to buy a dinner next time you’re all out, something your poor wallet really can’t handle.

“i’ll do it,” you say, and a hush falls over the room as they all wait for you to pick.

satan raises an eyebrow in surprise when he sees you accept the dare. he was sure you’d chicken out, so to see you challenge solomon so boldly, well, it’s interesting.

around him, everyone stiffens, wondering who you’ll pick. satan won’t lie- he’s no different. will you choose him?

it’s unlikely, but not impossible. no, it’s almost certain you’ll pick either asmo, mammon, or lucifer. although, he wouldn’t be surprised by simeon either. he watches you look around the room, mentally gauging all of the candidates, and though his insides burn when your gaze lingers on lucifer, he forces himself to behave.

when your eyes stop on him he suppresses a jolt, oddly feeling like cornered prey. as he’d thought, unlikely but not impossible. you make your way over to him, holding out your hand.

“can i kiss you?”

satan takes it, and you pull him up. his hands find your waist, and he steadies himself, ignoring the heat trailing down his neck where he’s surely blushing. “of course.”

you waste no time, leaning in and giving him a perfectly nice kiss, somehow managing to sate his appetite and leave him wanting much, much more at the same time. you pull away first, and satan doesn’t chase you, but he does hold your gaze for a moment too long, making it clear that this isn’t over. instead of backing down, you give him a little wink, returning to your seat without so much as a backward glance. he can’t wait for the game to be over so he can get you alone.

asmo taps his chin, lips curving upward. “you’re going to kiss me, right mc?” he asks coyly. “i mean, of course i’m the only choice.”

“you think you’re the prettiest in my eyes?” you question, and asmo holds his ground, laughing easily even as everything inside of him begs you not to contradict him.

“well, of course,” he trills. “we are talking about me here~”

“i suppose you’re right,” you say, beckoning him over. the gall you have, to make him come to you, but asmo supposes he doesn't really mind. it is you, after all. he waits in front of you, glad he’d applied scented chapstick only a few moments ago.

you gently take his wrist, pulling him down to your level. “of course you’re the prettiest,” you whisper, only to him, breath fanning over the shell of his ear. “you are my asmodeus, after all.”

he needs to hide the boneless relief the words give him, so he moves your chin from his ear to his face, watching how your lashes flutter. you kiss him, and asmo can’t remember the last time he’d had such a kiss, so pure and chaste and utterly perfect.

someone calls for the two of your to break it up after a moment, and you pull back, leaving him stunned. “was that good enough for you?” you take your turn to be coy, as if you can’t see the effect you have on him.

“i suppose,” asmo says after a moment. “but it can’t hurt to reinforce is just to make sure.”

you laugh, pushing him away softly, but before the sting of rejection can hit him, you smile, promising, “later.”

beel is only half-paying attention to the game, but when he hears the word ‘kiss’ he pauses, looking over at you. you don’t shy away from solomon in the slightest, accepting his dare sweetly, and beel can’t resist a smile. that’s just like you, after all.

beel doesn’t really have any expectations. he knows he’s good-looking, knows that some people at rad have liked him, but he’s never been called pretty. this dare isn’t meant for him, which is fine.

but you seem to disagree, locking eyes with him and sending him a silent question. beel tilts his head. you can’t seriously be considering him, now can you?

confused, he ducks his head yes, and you grin, jumping up. he watches you approach, skin buzzing. he still can’t beelive it. why, out of everyone, did you pick him?

“hey,” you say, a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “you sure you’re okay with this? i won’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

it hits him completely then- you want to kiss him! as in, your lips touching his.

“i’m good,” beel says, mouth sticky, and he desperately thinks of the last thing he ate, glad it was one of barbatos’ desserts, and not like hellfire newt soup or something you weren’t a fan of.

“okay,” you lean down over him, “here i go, then.”

he instinctively grabs onto you, holding onto your shoulders. your mouth is warm on his, and when you pull back, beel knows he’s probably bright red. the game moves on after a few minutes of ribbing and teasing, but beel can hardly focus, getting lost in the memory of your skin under his palms, the softness of your lips.

belphie narrows his eyes as he takes in solomon’s dare. just what is this sorcerer playing at? you accept, as he suspected you would, and your eyes flit around the room, studying everyone for a brief moment.

“belphie,” you say, but it’s almost an order, as belphie instinctively moves towards you, sliding across the floor until he’s at your feet, looking up into your eyes. you place a hand under his chin, gently forcing his head even further up, and he moves under your fingers easily, letting you arrange him as you wish.

vicious satisfaction runs through him when he thinks of what his brothers must be feeling, especially lucifer. and diavolo doubtlessly was jealous too. heh, as he should be.

you kiss him without preamble, leaning down, and belphie relishes in the moment, short as it is. his arms go up to you, holding you closer to him, and you don’t seem to mind. it’s only when the cries of outage from the peanut gallery reach their fervor pitch does he pull back, bracing a hand against the floor to keep himself steady. you look as affected as he feels, eyes wide and bright, but your hand is steady where it still holds his chin.

“thank you,” you say, releasing him, and belphie feels oddly like a servant at his master’s feet, used on a whim. but if that’s where you want him, then that’s where he’ll happily be, as long as it means he can be close to you.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

Métis Miku (Creeku)