Yes, it is true. I, Gaia, like Detective Conan. I like the series that has been going on longer than I have been alive and STILL isn’t finished. The series where Takagi and Sato STILL haven’t married yet and the author said to wait a little more longer in an interview in 2006. The series with almost 1,000 chapters for the manga (which I need to continue to read) and over 800 episodes in the anime. The series that teaches me stuff that I never knew I would be taught. Like for example: cyanide smells like almonds on the victim’s breath. Yes, I like the series about murder. Which is actually great for people who want to write stories about stuff like that. So yes, I am anime trash. - Gaia
“I tried…we’ve been trying for years, Ichigo, to fix what happened. We could watch you, but we couldn’t communicate, couldn’t manifest,” she takes a deep breath, “I am…sorry. I am sorry that it took so long.”
There’s a brush of another familiar reiatsu, and Rukia looks behind him, waving a hand in greeting, “Ichigo. Look.”
He does, and it’s Isshin, face grim but no older. With a start, Ichigo realizes that one day, he might surpass his father in age.
When he looks back, she’s already gone.
“Son.” Isshin stares down at the boy in the grass, still seventeen to him even though he’d watched him grow up from afar. Ichigo’s shoulders are hunched, drawn inwards and away from him. There’s a flash of naked hurt, and then the vulnerability disappears as Ichigo straightens and stands, looking his father in the eye.
Look, Masaki, he finally caught up.
Son, Isshin had called him, but the older shinigami knows that blood means little when it comes to family. He doesn’t look for forgiveness, but he hopes Ichigo will one day understand.
“Let’s go, Urahara is back at the shoten. We’ll explain everything there.”
Ichigo hesitates, and Isshin thinks that he might refuse after all. “Rukia-chan will be there.”
When Isshin turns to leave, his wayward son follows.
Newt’s supposed to be gone, but he isn’t. Thomas still sees him everywhere, hears him everywhere - feels him everywhere - ever since the car accident that left Thomas with a hole in his chest and a dead boyfriend. Except he isn’t really, truly dead, or else Thomas wouldn’t be able to talk to him (among… other things).
Minho only wants to help. And if that means getting his only remaining best friend sent away for god knows how long, so be it.
technically the skelebros and most other monsters (if not every monster) don’t have to necessarily consume actual food for sustenance.
You could be hanging out with sans and he pulls out a packet of cigs. You think to yourself, you didn’t know he smoked. And after he pops one in between his teeth you assume it’s his lighter he’s reaching for in his pocket, but he never takes it out. Instead, you watch him suck it into his mouth and start chewing. Swallows it like it’s a french fry before reaching for another.