So I've seen tons of gifs of Dean checking guys out and Cas in particular. (He looks at Cas mouth A Lot) but does Cas ever check Dean (or any other guys) out? I can only think of it happening maybe once off the top of my head when he looked at Dean's lips. I'm just wondering if Cas is sexually attracted to Dean (or anyone). It seems like his experiences with Meg and such were more die to curiosity
I was just talking about this last night actually with some friends. There are different readings of Cas, many see him as asexual and I personally see him as possibly demisexual but the main gist being that he just always puts duty and the mission before everything and what he wants and specifically sexual gratification is just a part of this.
Just as Dean has a facade to hide one of the sides of himself that includes his sexuality, but isn’t JUST his sexuality, I feel this is the case for Cas. He doesn’t really do ANYTHING for himself when he feels duty bound, on a mission.
The only time he isn’t duty bound and on a mission is when he’s Emmanuel, “crazy!cas” in season 7 and human in season 9 (when he flirts with Dean) and…. lo and behold he always falls into the arms of his caregivers, the people who care for him and show him affection.
I have a whole load of meta on my thoughts about this, Cas and his caregivers,because the point is that whilst Dean wants to be the one to look after Cas, it always has to be someone else for *reasons* and Cas ALWAYS falls for the caregiver (Daphne, Meg, Nora, April)… and the one time Dean was his caregiver was in The End… and we all know how we read that dynamic.
Anyway, yeah, I don’t think it’s really a problem that he doesn’t flirt with Dean generally and I personally love the idea of memoryless!cas who therefore isn’t dutybound to see what his personality overall is, but a part of it would be this, being mischievous, fun and flirty with Dean.
Personally I see all the memory loss stories throughout season 12 and Lucifer’s taunts of being a dutybound dullard as emphasis of Cas’ issues as potential foreshadowing for this, or perhaps not, I’m reading into it too much, but that’s what I would write as the exposition to who Cas truly is :)
“I love it here,” she murmurs as they stroll
along the grounds. The place is in need of TLC – the grass hasn’t been mowed in
a while, and the old house probably needs more repair than Kate cares to think
about at the moment – but it’s still beautiful. Peaceful and quiet. Everything
they had jet-setted off to Europe to find after spending the last year fighting
to put another conspiracy behind them, after nearly losing each other in the
And it could be theirs if Rick agrees. If he sees what
she sees and thinks it’s worth it. If he wants to make a little piece of Italy
their own the way she does.
Her husband squeezes her knuckles, allowing her to lead
him deeper along the property. He’d seemed amused when she asked to stop after
seeing the “for sale” sign, but he’s gotten into the tour too,
exploring with his hand in hers, never straying far from her side (except for
when they found the ladder pretending to be a staircase leading to the attic and she had staunchly
refused to put her feet on that rickety thing).
“What do you think?” she asks when they stop to
admire the small cluster of trees she thinks might be fruit - olives, and maybe
figs – she’ll have to look closer in a moment. Once he knows where she stands,
how much she wants to do this with him. She’s willing to put in the work, for
them and for the house.
His lips touch hers quickly, simple and sweet, but she
feels the buzz of energy just beneath the surface. Oh, he feels it, too. He
feels the way they’ve come alive just by being here.
“I’m in,” he breathes, slipping his fingers
into her hair, tugging her closer. She comes without protest, rocking into his
chest, lips opening under his, her hands gripping his back through his t-shirt.
“Whatever it takes to get this place, let do it, Kate.”
I don´t know…but the way he acts is so strange. He is a total douche at one moment, but five minutes later it seems like he regrets it in a sincere way (or at least that’s how it seems) Maybe he has some mental problem thanks to the trauma. If he is 10 years older than the twins then he was full aware of what happened to his parents, he remembers everything, he had to live the loss of his parents and little brothers. I mean, where has he been all this years? Not with his family or else Alexy and Armin would have stayed with him. He was too old to be adopted like the twins, usually people preffer babies. I got some theories but that’s for another time. The point is that he must have a really rough life. I can´t tell what kind of problem he has but it seems like it’s a personality dissorder. I can´t compare him to someone like Debrah yet. He is too aggresive in lots of ways but there must be much more. I wish we can see his story, cause i’m sure it’s hearthbreaking
we love your art no matter what your style dude it’s your creativity we’re here for. it’s the early uploads and school probably
maybe idk. like i’m not saying “OH YOU GUYS NEED TO LOVE ME, DROP EVERYTHING AND GIVE ME ATTENTION!!!!” i’m just wondering why it seems like i’m getting a let less traffic, yknow? ive heard tumblr has been being a bit fucky lately. so idk. it’s just slightly discouraging and all lol. but hey, im still having fun with art! :D
im assuming school. cause i remember around this time last year, the tags were barren. like. you could scroll through a days worth of uploads easily. but i dont go into the tags anymore lmao
I love MARVEL, they were my first heroes before Batman and Superman. And I grew to love all their heroes, aside from the ones I already knew. But then 2012 passed, AvXM finished, and something changed. The studio rivalry began to affect the comics, teams were disbanded, characters changed, others forgotten completely. It seemed like everything was becoming a big mess. I know you know what I mean. Don't you feel it'd be a better idea to just start from zero again, go to basics with all titles?
I know hitting the giant “reset button” seems like a great idea and way to clean house, but I don’t think it’s that simple.
Arguably, Marvel has never fully reset their line. Yes, there have been major shake-ups (Heroes Reborn, the new Secret Wars) but there’s always been a desire to keep those threads of over arcing continuity intact. The closest thing they’ve done is to build a separate sandbox with the original Ultimate line of comics, and that experiment did generate solid sales for quite a while, but it also reflected some of the biggest problems with the big ol’ reset button:
1) Hitting reset means cleaning up and some version of starting over. That can be an incredible jumping on point for new/lapsed readers. It can also be a huge jumping OFF point for the existing readership. The door is closed on the past. The old stories no longer “matter.” If you’ve been collecting for decades you can cap off your old collection and walk away.
(I feel the constant new #1′s of the past few years have created a similar collection problem, so maybe we’re already too far gone at this point. I’m genuinely curious to see if Marvel’s return to legacy numbering will help with that.)
2) Fans and creative team quickly get pulled into the trap of wanting remixes instead of new stories.
“When are you going to bring back (fill in the blank)?”
“What about (favorite story line)?”
“I hate that you no longer acknowledge (classic relationship).”
It’s a clean break, except it isn’t.
The grip of continuity still has a hold on storytelling and creators either feel a need to incorporate those old ideas into the new vision of the character or to change things specifically in response to that original version. It’s not evolution and growth. It quickly becomes endless navel gazing, trying to recapture past glories instead of moving forward with new ideas.
With the New 52, DC Comics tried to have it both ways - the best old stories were relevant, except for those ones over there or ones where it didn’t work with future plans, or ones where editorial didn’t know for sure but the writers referenced them anyway, and…uh…crap. The freedom of a clean break was quickly mired in past continuity and choices without a clear idea of which parts were canon and which weren’t.
Batman fared better than most because Scott Snyder went out of his way to build new villains and new conflicts through most of the run.
Rebirth seems to be working better, but I wouldn’t call that a clean break either, especially with Hypertime and Watchmen in the mix. For better or worse, continuity still matters and a fresh start really isn’t fresh.
3) Which version is “right?”
If Marvel did go Full Reset, the answer to that question would define the future of comics.
Your choices for which versions of the characters/teams would make sense would be vastly different from mine or any other number of fans. Just look at the X-Men. The line-up changes constantly. There’s no mix of characters that would please the fandom and feel iconic enough, especially if you’re jettisoning their favorite plot lines/conflicts/relationships in favor of a fresh start.
Is Psylocke still a British psychic in a Japanese ninja body? How much time do we spend explaining the similarities and differences to her past version for our “fresh start”? We have to go through every character and do the same thing or risk confusing the existing fan base. Is this a good use of our time? Is this a clean break? Nope, it’s just another continuity-style headache but now one that’s splintered into version numbers for both past and present.
Using the Marvel movies (global entertainment phenomenon) as a template may seem like a natural choice, but it isn’t. The Marvel Cinematic Universe has a format built for the movie medium: a few 2 hour chapters released each year, culminating in mega-movies every few years where many of the characters team-up together. Very cool, but the comic medium allows for dozens of stories in the same span of time, more in-depth and far more experimental. It’s not limited by actor schedules, location shooting or special effects budgets. The comics have to be their own thing, hopefully generating great new material that inspire movies, TV, and games aplenty.
I agree that there’s a real need to clean things up and refocus titles, making sure they have a distinct voice and purpose in a broader shared universe. Generating jumping on points that make sense and bringing in new and lapsed readers while acknowledging the weird and wonderful history of these books. When it works well, that’s the grand soap opera of superhero comics.
If there is a giant gonzo reset at some point down the road (and I’m not aware of one, so don’t take this as any kind of between-the-lines confirmation), I hope the Marvel crew has learned from the pitfalls of the past and doesn’t make similar mistakes. I also hope they call me to work on one of those spiffy new titles. ;P
STAHP. This is already the third ask I’ve had this morning about this. You don’t have to like it. Harry likes it. And I fully support my zero fucks to give, french courtesan, vegas high rolling, harlequin son’s tomfoolery in whatever way he wishes to express it. Who cares what other people think, he obviously doesn’t. It’s his life, he seems to be loving it, so let him live it. Take a leaf from his book and stop taking everything so seriously. Lighten up and enjoy the ride, it’s fun!
We reference the same jokes Talk about the same folks We live in the past Although the moment passed We are content to be idle To points that border suicidal We keep our hopes to ourselves Letting them gather dust on the shelves We talk for hours of what we will do But everything seems to fall through We criticize others But we ourselves lack colors We are placated in our numbness And we are in denial of our glumness We live in hopes others speak in our name Having long ago flipped the standby switch in the brain
But I want wind to blow, I want to grow, I want to experience life’s glow I want no more excuses, I want no more refusals, no more deception The time for starting fresh, the time for saying no to stagnation A new aeon of strength and victory, fueled by health and wealth I want our spirits to flourish, our will to be realized Do not fear sacrifice, for you have already lived your life in sacrifice: You discarded motivation, hid your ambitions, stopped believing in yourself But I believe in you, I believe in all that you do, I know you believe in me too Do not settle, do not belittle, do not stop until each endeavor Springs forth the petals of your own inner lotus Do not fade, do not relent until you are at one hundred percent I charge these words with love, with a gentle but firm push: Create, create, create, art, art, art, grow, grow, grow, wealth, wealth, wealth Health, health, health, heart, heart, heart, love, love, love
Yellow Days came swinging out of the gates last year to become one of the most heavily lauded and widely acclaimed indie artists of the moment. The 18 year old wunderkind continues to impress as he works towards the release of his upcoming project ‘Is Everything Okay In Your World?’ by sharing an astonishing new single named I Believe In Love. As always, there’s a ghostliness to George van den Broek’s warped and gauzy form of saccharine aching, deeply cutting alt soul and psych blues. Love is romantic, yet love is poignant. Love is powerful, so love is unmerciful. But we’ll always believe in it, because that’s what makes life worth living. Never has this seemed more palpable in a song than in Yellow Days’ spacey, woozy new song, on which his quivering voice carries a mountain of heart rending anguish along with its staunch conviction. Yellow Days will be playing a series of dates in the UK and Europe this fall, all of them sold out, unsurprisingly. Debut full length Is ‘Everything Okay In Your World?’ drops on October 27th via Good Years.
He’s nervous. He’s never been in this other strange building across the street from the elementary school, and he doesn’t like being in unfamiliar places.
It turns out alright. Some of his friends are there too, so they meet up and go to classes together, and everything seems fine.
Then lunch time rolls around. Suddenly Cal and friends are surrounded by angry kids that look much older than them, despite only being a year or two their elders. It’s intimidating. Some of them recognize Cal, because let’s face it, he’s a Weathers.
Jealous of Cal’s heritage/family/financial fortune, they start to pick on him. He’s used to this kind of treatment, and refuses to act like it bothers him. It always has, and still does, but he knows they’ll stop if he doesn’t react.
He ends up having a decent time with his buddies. They go outside and mess around until it’s time to come back in for class.
He discovers that half of his classes have his special lady friend in them, which gives him something to look forward to every day.
After classes are over, the bullies show up again and threaten him, asking for money. Cal rolls his eyes and revs his engine so loud it’s painful, nearly deafening. They shrink back from him and he makes his way home like nothing happened. They never bother him again.
It had started slow, like an unbound, trickling wound. They could all feel it; their power, their very souls, fading away like evaporating water. Talking hadn’t helped, bargaining even less so, and Mark outright refused to respond at all to anger and threats. Not that they could follow through on any of them anyway. Not when his own life was so wholly connected to theirs.
It had seemed like such a hopeless time. Wilford watching as his friends simply withered away. That was the problem with not only being an energy being, but a quantum one as well. Everything died around him, because that was what it always came to. That was the life he had come to know now and, in his own way, he had come to accept it. But this? He found his tolerances for it wearing away much faster than his already short patience. This time he couldn’t stand to just watch. Not when he had finally found others he could actually call friends, family even, method of creation be damned.
So he did what no one else could do, and shared the power he had. It wasn’t perfect, and it had its hiccups and flaws, but for the most part it worked, and life continued for them as best it could. Luxuries had to be given up; hobbies pushed to the side. All energy had to be used only to remain alive and nothing more, but it worked, even as the pastel ego slowly suffered for it.
He lay now upon the couch he used for his interviews, absently looking up at the lit spotlights above shone directly over where he sat, the only point of light in the entire room. He was, for the first time in his long life, exhausted. Never had he ever spent so much energy for so long, and his body could barely keep up with the use. He was burning up slowly, and if they didn’t find a solution soon, he wasn’t sure if he could keep up the supply to meet the desperate demand.
The light within those lamps seemed to swirl inside like water, swimming and blurring his vision, burning bright imprints behind his eyelids every time he blinked. He swallowed thickly, slowly wiping a hand across his forehead and found the back damp with sweat. He looked almost sickly, not only pale, but as if his entire bright form was slowly bleeding into grey. Maintaining his form was becoming more and more difficult, and the results of his temporary loss of control could be seen in the bullet holes, broken glass, and overturned chairs that now littered the room.
He had just about as much of an idea of when it happened as he did about how he ended up on the couch, but he no longer had enough presence of mind to contemplate either. Simply existing was tasking enough, and so he dedicated no further thought to it. He could be content to lay there, just a little while longer.
Of course, he was soon reminded that no such peace lasted long amongst them when suddenly a bitter voice rang out in his head with all the ferocity of a foghorn and an air raid siren all at once.
“Wilford, get down here! Now!” On a normal day, Wilford would have scoffed and ignored the source of the voice until it was angry with him, but right now, it sounded just a hoarse and desperate as he did, and he suddenly remembered that he wasn’t the only one this was affecting. With all the effort of an elderly human, Wilford managed to stand, take a deep steadying breath, and disappear in a lackluster flash of whitish-pink, smokey light.
When he reappeared, he found himself standing upon the desk of their resident doctor, unable to properly guide himself in his haze. Instead of getting down straight away, he lowered himself to sit on its edge, taking in the room before him with a weary look.
Three of the room’s gurneys were currently occupied, taken by the egos whose power, even with Wilford’s boost, was only just barely enough to keep them alive. They were unconscious, their forms going comatose in a last ditch effort to save what energy they had left.
A crash, a shout, and a wave of cold pulled his vision to the opposite side of the room where Wilford could see his summoner writhing in a hospital bed while the resident doctor did what he could to try and calm the storm surrounding him. Although, in the doctor’s case, Wilford supposed being angry back was not helping much, but honestly he couldn’t be blamed. Dark’s aura was corruptive in the best of times, especially to the demon himself in the worst.
As he hopped off the desk and wandered over, snaking a lollipop out of the doctor’s pen cup, he saw a tendril of black whip forward to knock the doctor back, throwing him directly into Wilford’s path and allowing the being to catch him as the he stumbled. Wilford righted the ego, gave his shoulder a casual and inappropriately comedic dusting off, and moved around him to stand next to the swirling chaos that didn’t seem to yet register that he was there, completely unconcerned about the potential danger being so close held.
Dark almost seemed to move in time with the raging aura around him, hands - claws? - gripping the metal bars along the sides that would have made his knuckles show white from strain if he wasn’t already as pale as a corpse. Or if he had any blood or proper tissue to do so anyway. His form only barely held together as wisps of black smoke and dichromatic light bled from him like a poorly capped fog machine, swirling about him like a miniature storm.
Slowly, painfully, Dark finally turned to look at him, his eyes almost entirely black while a snarl pulled his lips apart like an angry animal. Cracks ran up and down every inch of his exposed skin, and whenever he moved, it sounded like ceramic shards scraping together. And when the demon said his name, spoken in a slow hiss through his teeth, it sounded oddly distant, like a grainy recorded echo combined with a terrible sounding growl. He was on the edge of breaking, and Wilford, pulling the sucker from his mouth, sighed at him tiredly.
“You overdid it,” The faded pink ego stated, giving the demon a world weary glare as if he had seen it all before. Mostly because he had, and it was very much something he never wanted to see again.
“I need…” The demon didn’t even finish, writhing again as his aura threatened to break apart what little control he had left. It was obvious what he wanted. It was probably why Dark thought he could get to this point and get away with it.
“You know I can’t,” Wilford countered almost crossly, a wife chastising her husband for working himself into exhaustion despite nagging him otherwise. Dark made a warning sound at him; a strange mixture of a hollow growl, a breathy hiss, and a rapid clicking, but Wilford remained unfazed. “I’m stretched thin enough as it is just keeping us all alive.”
Dark’s hand - definitely clawed - suddenly lashed out and gripped Wilford by his suspenders, nearly pulling him into the swirling smoke and blackness around him. It radiated cold like an open freezer door. “Damn them all! I’ve known you the longest, and you will give me what I need!”
“You don’t mean that,” Wilford chastised, laying his hands on the guardrail for balance. “You’ve just stretched yourself too thin trying to help. Now look at you.”
While nobody would believe that was true, Wilford was probably the only one who knew that the demon actually was, in his own special way, trying to help. And succeeding, considering no other ego was yet unaccounted for. What exactly he was up to was beyond Wilford, but it was working, and while the pink ego was extremely grateful, what it was doing to Dark was just not worth it.
Especially if it led to the same events as their previous dimension.
Dark, however, did not seem to share this train of thought and gave Wilford a terrible snarl. “Everything I’ve done has only been for the good of us!”
Tired, irritated, and unwilling to play Dark’s game, Wilford leaned in further, face pressing into the barely controlled black chaos without fear, the swirling smoke lashing out and leaving onyx-colored cuts across his face that disappeared just as quickly as they were made. And he did not stop until he was barely inches from Dark’s face.
“But at what cost?” He almost whispered, the words escaping his tired lips like a plea. Dark narrowed his eyes like he wanted to argue, like he wanted nothing more than to gut him and simply take what he wanted, but just maintaining what he barely clung to now was tasking enough, and Wilford could certainly sympathize.
After a moment or two, it seemed Wilford’s words actually managed to break through, and the demon’s face softened, if only barely. The pink being could see so much in that small relent, so many little emotions that neither of them would admit to, and Wilford would only be lying to himself if it wasn’t like looking into a color-deprived mirror.
“It hurts,” Dark wheezed, releasing Wilford to gently pull in on himself, grimacing as his agony was finally laid bare.
“I know,” Wilford replied softly, moving to sit up on the guardrail wearily.
“I hate him.”
“They’re going to die.” The words came quiet, rough, a truth shining through the sea of lies the demon had helped spin to actually instill hope amongst the lessers, and they were every bit as bitter and disgusting as Wilford had expected them to be.
He felt the innate desire within him to be contrarian, the need in every fiber of his being to be the optimist and tell Dark he was wrong, but the urge faded quick as a dying echo because even he knew, deep down, that the very real possibility was this.
After everything they had been through, they were going to be alone again.
Wilford watched the demon writhe in general silence as the soul crushing reality spun through his head like a tornado and ravaged his already poor mood. It was unavoidable, and he should have realized by now that there would be no escaping it. It was always this way. He had come to the conclusion some time ago that both of them were cursed, and that in the end, it would always be them, one way or another. This one time, he dared to hope it could be different, even forgot what their fates had always been condemned to be.
But everything that actually meant something was collapsing all around him, either stuck in place or withering away where they hid. And there would be no stopping it. Just like before.
And it was with this he decided.
With a soft breath through his nose, he flicked away the stick of the lollipop, and reached up to unclip his faded bow tie, before making short work of the buttons trailing down his shirt.
Dark had stopped to watch him work with wide eyes, the visage of a hungry vampire surprised with a willing victim, which was just about the same way he operated too. Except Wilford had no blood, and Dark had no desire for the organic life source.
“We’ll get through this,” Wilford muttered softly, offering a hand to help the demon sit up. Dark didn’t see fit to respond as he slowly took it. He didn’t need too, for the knowledge was mutual. No matter how many universes they traversed. No matter how many schemes they blew through. No matter how many friends they made along the way. In the end, it would always and forever just be… Them.
If TRF is a scenario that happens inside Sherlock’s head, on his Mind-Stage, then Sherlock himself is the creator of the character 'Jim Moriarty' and the way he is portrayed in this episode. Jim’s external appearance, his profession as a criminal mastermind, his behaviour, the words he uses …. everything is constructed by Sherlock. It’s how Sherlock perceives what Jim represents.
And Jim seems to represent some of Sherlock’s darkest fears but at the same time he is also the cause of immense fascination. Jim - the dangerous and destructive side of Sherlock - a side which turns everything into negativity. Boredom grows into depression …. depression increases into suicidal thoughts.
And when Sherlock’s mind suddenly starts to contemplate about the topic of 'girlfriends and boyfriends’ …..
… while I’m flattered by your interest …
… it doesn’t take very long and 'Jim’ focuses exactly on this topic as well ('hello, sexy’). At first Sherlock deeply enjoys to learn more of this thrilling part of himself. He enjoys playing the game. Not long though and Sherlock starts perceiving Jim as an uncontrollable danger, as a risk for everything that is dear to him … especially his heart (John). But Jim stubbornly refuses to stay away. Very quickly he turns into the criminal mastermind, the consulting criminal, a constantly growing threat, ticking like an unstable bomb …. ready to explode at any moment. And suddenly it becomes an absolut necessity for Sherlock to examine and investigate and deduce this 'threat’ more closely ….
Did you see the new Toe article from people about the lyrics burton to taylor? Seems to be pushing Toe real hard.😂😂
i did read it….lol
what i love though, is that they strangely didn’t mention the heavy drinking, big arguments and legendary fights, the cheating & everything else that had happened during their mariages…..lol
bc of course Burton & Liz were the dream couple, Hollywood style….the Het fans will identify Tay and Joe’s “relationship” to this glamurous couple….They’re just so naive….If they did a bit of smart digging, they’d find articles, archives & videos about it…Even Liz acknowledged, at the end of her life, that their relationship had been very destructive, even if they’d had a few great years, when their kids were babies…
Is it just me or does Mark and Elena's relationship outside of the house seem so forced? I mean in the house she stayed swerving his ass but now she's All About Markus,,, seems fake but okay
I totally see what you’re saying. There’s a HUGE possibility that they really connected in Jury because of no cameras and such. But it’s very weird to me that Elena was all like “I don’t want to do anything on camera.” But everything she’s doing is on camera on so…?
I love what you do, but I also need some Namjin too, so by any chance do you know of a similar fic recs blog that is Namjin and from ao3? Namjin is so established and domestic that everything seems to have background Namjin or "Namjin if you squint" but I need some good old relationship development and possibly some canon!au
the only blog on tumblr i can think of is @ao3feed-namjin which posts every fic on ao3 that has namjin as a pairing (namjin centered or not)
You're not trash, you're far from it. Don't feel bad because you don't talk to every one. I have lots of friends that don't actively talk to a lot of people, just because they aren't very social people, but we are still friends and keep up with each other when we get the chance. I still consider you my friend even though we don't talk all that much!
Thank you! From what I know and everything you’ve said you seem like a really kind person. You always take time to send me thoughtful and nice messages and it’s super sweet and I appreciate it a lot!
I think it’s no secret to anyone that my OTP is a rarepair, right?
But the fact that it is a rarepair is actually a huge reason, why I love it so much.
You see, it was pretty much the first time for me that I entered a rather small fandom. Before, I was always part of fan communities where pretty much everything was a thing somewhere. So I just couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact no one seemed to ship my ship as I first checked out the fandom of SnS.
And so I started to pay even more attention to the two and what actually was just a small, little, random thing made more and more sense. I explained the ship 100 times to my RL friends and 200 times to myself. To put it simply, my love and obsession just grew and grew and now…here we are.
But well. While I do know nowadays that there are people who ship them, it’s still a very overlooked ship and I wanted to try my best to explain it to the fandom now as well.
A Ship Analysis (or at least a Try of it) for
Zenji Marui x Yuki Yoshino
1. My opinion. If you have different views, that’s alright okay? Please just leave me be.
2. English is not my native language and I apologize in advance for grammar and spelling mistakes.
3. Spoilers for both Manga and Anime, of course. I will focus on both.
4. I will refer to Marui with his first name here, simply because I am used to that.
5. I am horrible in explaining.
6. Looots of pictures.
7. This might get updated in the future quite often *shrug*
If you buy a decent Android phone, it’ll do pretty much everything you need it to do, you’ll actually be able to get it repaired if it stops working, and you’d only have to pay a very tiny fraction of what you’d pay for an iPhone.
Remind me why iPhones are better again? Because honestly, they seem to just be pretty much the same thing as every other smartphone, but with less features and a much higher price tag.