Armin can be kind. People always tend to make the mistake of assuming that makes him nice, and he can’t help but feel that mistake clanging dissonantly in his chest as he sprints down the last living member of his squad, blade already in hand, Eren’s sloppy chewing noises behind him.

From the beginning, there was something odd about Namimori. In a world where every city had its own method of dealing with the bane of humanity that were ghouls, Namimori was the first place Reborn had ever been that felt safe to him. People were calm and unafraid on the streets, even after dark. It was remarkable and at first he thought it was due to the fact that Namimori's police force had some sort of foolproof guard against ghouls. But then he noticed the distinct lack of graveyards. By the time Reborn really understood what kept Namimori safe, it was too late to do anything about it. After all, the successor was being tutored, the guardians were chosen, and Xanxus was bearing down on them with half the Vongola rings and all of his wrath. All there was left to do was wait and see.

It’s funny, Robin notes as she sits on the deck of the Thousand Sunny, book in hand, That the people who are called Demon, Monster, Devil aboard this ship of dreams are not the true Monsters. No, she thinks, watching her crew as they spend the day on the deck of the Sunny, Not monsters at all. - Or: The East Blue has a different nickname to those in the Grand Line, and those who hail it as home have a few... unique traits.