Letter To Theo By Vincent Van Gogh

Being a pro censorship ao3 user is so insanely cringe. Either use the (incredibly effective and well designed) filtering system to avoid seeing the shit you don't like or stop complaining. Leave the pro censorship rhetoric to Wattpad or smth

hoot hoot

But Tooru had to, somehow, have the bad luck of attracting the soul-searching eyes of pretty Ushijima Wakatoshi with his taciturn nature, dry wit and soothing quiet; an ass of epic proportions simply because Tooru cannot figure out for the life of him, how a Wizard of Ushiwaka’s stand can be so terribly unimaginative and dull.

It’s off-putting to say the least and if Tooru hates anything then it’s a) people who are better than him and b) especially if they have nothing that makes them stand out from an average crowd of Wizards in The Consortium.

Traits which unfortunately also apply to Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t quite know what to do with Satori.

Aside from the fact that Tooru is pretty certain that he shouldn’t be caught dead with the redhead who has been excised from The Consortium at thirteen, he knows that was Satori has is special.

Tooru doesn’t know what it is, but it’s…

It has bite.

It has teeth.

There’s a prickle of something metallic and acidulously dangerous at the back of Tooru’s tongue every time he gets to witness Satori’s Magic up close and personal.

Most days, thinking about Satori makes him angry.

Five cats

“Alright, Princess,” he mutters, when he finally feels the first tendrils of The Hive reaching for him and his eyes alight on the red-yellow sign of one of their street-level eateries.

He shifts her so she can burrow deeper into his hold. “If you ever had any fleas, the river drowned them good and I don’t have to be disappointed that a life on the street made it hard for you to uphold your royal standards.”

A wet, cold, nose presses against his collarbone in response and Satori feels it when she tucks herself carefully into the space he gives her. A warm, gentle weight pressing right against the beat of his soft, dumb, heart- already nine-tenths in love with her.

Sketches by A.K. MacDonald, 1932

Weathering with You - 天気の子 - Tenki no Ko

when furudate wrote “today you happen to be the defeated. but what will you become tomorrow?” and then “nothing would ever get started if they didn't first think, 'let’s give it a try.'” and then “he who climbs the ladder must begin at the bottom” and then “we’re not limited to just one way of being great” and then “being weak means that there is room to grow” and then “does losing prove that you are weak? isn’t losing difficult for all of you? a challenge where, after ending up on your hands and knees, you must see if you can stand up again? if you stay on your hands and knees, that proves that you are weak.”

Urgh. That moment when you think you're ready and prepared to finally publish that story you've been working on only to hit Publish and then realise that it's really nowhere near fuck'n finished and you need to delete it again so you can rewrite all of it.

Nothing is set in stone and all that. But he has a really good feeling about that.

Tooru groans, loud and frustrated, and dramatically throws himself over the steps at his back. Proper, respectful Consortium Wizard rolling around in the streets like a five-year old.

His tabby Princess has slipped onto the pavement between Satori’s knees. She licks her paws, smooths them over her ears and her face- left first. Entirely unbothered by the flamboyant man next to them.

A Princess that doesn’t bother with the jester.