#broke is not the right word

[d-16-haha-more-like-deez-nuts]

this shit is funny to me sorry

[paperultra]

the liminal space.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 1,575 words Warnings: Swearing, mentions of alcohol use [A/N: written with the cooper!reader from mise en rose in mind. i don't know where in the timeline this occurs, though. lol.]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms

Living in close quarters can really change how you see a person.

Roronoa Zoro, for instance, had always struck you as rather aloof, having traveled alone for some time before you joined him, and unused to physical affection. He never gave any indication that he was one to enjoy it, and he never sought it out from anyone. That certainly wasn’t odd. You respected his tendency towards personal space, subsequently believing that it extended to his sleeping habits as well.

So when you wake up, hardly able to breathe underneath the hulking mass of a snoring swordsman, you are more surprised than anything.

“Zoro,” you wheeze, patting his back with the hand that isn’t crushed between his chest and yours. Nothing happens, so you swat harder. “Zoro. You’re crushing me.”

His arms squeeze around you as he stirs, inhaling sharply next to your ear. You stop moving as he lifts his head and opens his eyes just wide enough to register you beneath him.

He pauses.

Good morning, sunshine is what you want to say in a cheeky tone. You want to prove that you’re unaffected by the warmth of his body pressing yours into the mattress, the sensation of his breath across your cheekbone and the way his gaze transitions from something bleary into something sharp.

The greeting refuses to leave your mouth. All you can do is blink.

The next thing you know, Zoro’s rolling off of you and out of bed with nary an apology, mumbling something about going to the bathroom.

You hum distantly in response and stare up at the ceiling as he shuffles to the door. Once he closes it behind him, you reach up and fold your hands over your eyes, cheeks hot.

Great.

—

It all started because you and Zoro could only afford a single bed at the inn.

(You use the term “afford” loosely here. The truth of the matter is that you grossly underestimated how much a room would cost, and the owner of the one place willing to lend you a room for half the usual rate demanded physical labor to make up for the rest. Given that Zoro would be spending most of his time hunting down a bounty, the majority of the unpaid labor fell on your shoulders.)

(But you digress.)

The room is small and bare, which is fine, because you and Zoro don’t have much between the two of you anyway. The only problem is that there is only one bed. Zoro had expressed no qualms about sharing so long as you didn’t disturb his sleep, and you had readily agreed, not wanting either of you to sleep on the floor.

After the first morning, you’re not sure if that was a lapse of judgement on your part or not.

Zoro doesn’t mention it at all before he leaves for the day, and you don’t, either. However, when he comes back in the middle of the night and you’re already in bed, squinting and shielding yourself from the bright hallway light as he takes his slippers off and walks in, he sits on the carpet just a few feet away from your side.

“What are you doing?” you ask as he proceeds to lay down.

“Sleeping.”

He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head. You frown.

“Why aren’t you sleeping up here?” No answer. You lift your head from your pillow, indignant. “Hey, don’t ignore me! I know you’re still awake.”

“I’ve had a long day,” he grumbles, “so I’d like some quiet so I can sleep. Thanks.”

You huff.

The thought that Zoro might actually be just as embarrassed flits briefly through your mind, but you extinguish it just as quickly. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy to be self-conscious about those kinds of things. A more likely reason is that he’s decided that he wants his own separate space after all and can’t be bothered to kick you off the bed.

So, you kick yourself off instead.

“What are you doing?” The phrase now comes from Zoro as you throw the covers off and grab your pillow, kneeling on the ground beside him. His eyes open and his brow furrows.

“Take the bed. I feel guilty.”

“I don’t want the bed.”

“Everybody wants the bed.” You lie down on the carpet and cross your arms over your chest, stubborn. “I’ve already slept in it. Now it’s your turn.”

“You’re an idiot,” Zoro says.

Neither of you budge.

The next morning, you decide that the first morning was in fact not a fluke, as you awake with your face smushed against his chest and the smell of steel in your nose once again. He’s not on top of you, at least, but the way he clutches you while you’re lying on your side, one ankle hooked over yours, is somehow ten times more mortifying. You wake him up in the midst of untangling yourself and pretend like nothing happened.

Who’s the idiot now? (The answer is both of you. Both of you are idiots.)

—

The third night, you and Zoro flop onto the hard mattress with twin groans, heads spinning and feeling overall miserable.

“That was the shittiest booze I’ve ever had,” Zoro slurs next to you, face down in his pillow.

“But you got a lead, right?” you mumble.

“Yeah …”

You had been there in the bar when he’d gotten that lead, but you can’t remember what it was for the life of you. Another inn? Another bar? Ugh, you’re never drinking there again.

“I’m cold.”

There are blankets on the bed. Unfortunately, getting underneath them would require a lot of moving, and you are physically incapable of exerting yourself that much right now.

You shiver and turn onto your side to curl up. You’ll fall asleep at some point, anyway.

Zoro murmurs your name.

“Hm,” you groan, eyes screwed shut.

He doesn’t say anything in reply. But you hear the mattress squeak, the bedsheets rustle as he shifts closer, and your breath catches when the small distance between you closes. He does not wrap his arms around you, no, but your knees touch, and the heat from his skin melds into yours. You hear his breathing slow to a crawl.

Through your drunken haze breaks through a sudden need to draw him into you, to tuck your face into his neck and keep it there forever. You want – you want. But you’re exhausted, and your head aches, so you find yourself slipping into a deep slumber instead.

He’s already gone when you wake up.

—

A suspiciously lumpy gunnysack in the corner of the room catches your eye once you enter, hand over your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Eight million beri,” Zoro says from his seat on the bed. Cleaning supplies for his swords are strewn around him, and he sheathes the Wado Ichimonji as you close the door. “I ran into another bounty on the way back.”

“Eight mill –” You clear your throat. “Wow. That was pretty lucky.” Eight million beri. Sometimes you wonder if you’ll ever get used to how much bounty hunters can make. (God, that would’ve been more than enough to pay for the room.) “We’re heading out to a marine base tomorrow morning, then?”

“That’s the plan.”

He puts away his supplies, setting them and his swords against the wall near his pillow before standing up to pull down the sheets on his side. You turn off the bedside lamp and do the same, crawling in with a sigh.

The two of you simply lie side-by-side until you decide to break the silence with your big mouth again.

“Am I a burden to you?” you ask.

“No.” The plainness of Zoro’s tone is a small comfort, you suppose. “Why are you asking?”

“Well …” You already regret bringing this topic up as you trail off, biting your bottom lip. “I feel like I haven’t really done much. I mean, I help with navigating and searching crowds and stuff, and I’ve been getting better at fighting, but I can’t help you, you know?” You fiddle with your fingers. “You don’t actually need me.”

There’s a gap between you and Zoro that you’ll likely never be able to close. You had always known that, and so had Zoro; in fact, he had told you at the start that going with him was a bad idea, given your inexperience in bounty hunting and traveling in general. And although you’d like to think that your ability to read a map and fix things convinced him of your usefulness, there are times when you think Zoro regrets bringing you along. Like now.

Zoro grunts, turning to lay on his back. His shoulder nearly lands on your hands, and you draw them to yourself as you wait for his answer.

It is brief and straightforward.

“I’m not forcing you to go with me,” he says. “And if you were a burden, I would’ve told you a long time ago.”

“Oh.”

It is brief and straightforward, and yet, there’s a strange lump in your throat. You swallow it and nod, even though he cannot see you do so.

Nothing more is said. However, as the night goes on, you reach out, and you find him, and Zoro finds you, and the space between your arms fills up with warmth and an unspoken promise. And you sleep very well.

[shmreduplication]

see picture of giant artichoke restaurent building on tumblr.edu

reverse image search and find out it's in california (you live in californa)

find out there is an artichoke festival 2 hrs drive from you but you already missed it this year

plan to go next year

buy the hat (and book) from the online store because you love artichokes and are definitely going next year so it's ok to break the rule of "go to a location/event before buying a hat"

don't feel good and don't have the necessary Driving Endurance built up to make it there and back so you miss the festival :(

oh well there is next year

spend the year going on many 1hr and longer drives

your mom is in town for a few weeks and it overlaps with the festival, she also loves artichokes and instilled your love of artichokes in you

like two weeks ago she said she got a deal for a hotel near it so let's drive down saturady, have a nice dinner, then go on sunday

bring the hat you bought over a year ago and have a lovely time, eat artichokes steamed grilled fried cupcaked and taco'ed :)

don't eat the burgered meatstuffed or breadbowled artichokes because they would have been too filling for you to have eaten all the other artichokes

see a video about the history of artichokes in californai and it has a picture of the restaurant from tumblr!

look up restaurant and it's on the way home! barely out of the way at all!

wear the hat to take a picture with the restaurant!

???

profit

[kaynineacademy]

i can know it’s for the better and still hate it with every ounce of my being.

[myimaginationplain]

do you ever think about how Ohkubo extremely casually dropped the fact that Spirit & Kami were teen parents & then proceeded to never expound upon that fact or bring it up ever again despite it explaining a whole lot about them & Maka

[3-aem]

MY BRAINS NOT WORKING AND THE CUTE BOY I WORK WITH KEEPS CORRECTING MY GRAMMAR THIS IS SO AHAIWIAKSDHDGRRRRHRNE

[plusultraetc]

Fourteen Days of MHA | 7/14: First Impressions, Just One Bad Day

Shouta’s first impression of Yamada is that he’s loud.

He’d thought Shirakumo, who deposits their classmate in the seat across from him in the cafeteria and scurries away with a cry of Shouta, this is Hizashi, be friends! was bad, but Yamada’s YO! is loud enough that several people at nearby tables turn their heads to look.

“It’s Aizawa, right?” he says, still too loud, leaning across the table. At least he doesn’t assume familiarity just because Shirakumo introduced him by his given name. “I’m Yamada Hizashi. I’m in your class, but I sit waaay in the back, so you might not remember—”

Shouta does remember. Yamada has very distinctive hair, and Shouta had thought he was loud in the classroom, too. He might sit near the back, but their homeroom is definitely not big enough that he has to yell during attendance to be heard.

Yamada is undeterred by Shouta’s continuing silence as he launches into what, for all intents and purposes, is an opening monologue of relevant information. Every so often, he pauses like he’s waiting for Shouta to cut in, which of course he doesn’t, so Yamada forges ahead, gesturing with his chopsticks in hand but never quite managing to pause long enough to actually eat anything.

Shouta has to appreciate the logic of having an introductory speech prepared. Maybe he should do the same, so he doesn’t have to sit in awkward silence at times like this. At least times like this are few and far between.

You can only have so many first days of school in your life. One day he’ll graduate and never have to introduce himself to a new class again.

[nina-ya]

>.>

I AM ABOUT TO SAY SOME THINGS THAT WILL SET THE WOMENS RIGHTS MOVEMENT BACK ONE HUNDRED YEARS

[marxism-transgenderism]

..

[introspectivememories]

I FORGOT I EVEN SENT THAT ASK AND YOUR RESPONSE HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK OHMSYGODDFJDJ

I seriously love your writing so much you always put a heap of emotion into it 😭😭

also adore the idea of TIM being the one who's obsessed with bear and going to such lengths just to keep seeing him, I tend to prefer happy endings so I like to think they work it out after a while but like also the angst is amazing

god the amount of yearning in this au makes me so mmmpfhhhf

god im just so sorry that it took me soo long to reply!!! you sent just as i was taking my break from tumblr and other social media :(((

i remember reading it and thinking to myself "god if i had the timbern brainworms, i could write smth for this" but then recently they've been coming back and i was a church bored out of my mind when i was like "hmmm maybe i should respond?"

and ohhh my god, when i first got it, i immediately thought about how toxic it could get and like, personally, i feel like i can't write complicated characters? if that makes sense? to me, im not very good at writing multi-dimensional characters. which to be fair, i never set out to become like a pulitzer prize winning author. i just do this for fun haha.

and like i knew that my answer to your ask was always gonna be toxic timbern but i didn't know if i could write it? ig??? bc like tim is a good person. he is!!! he just wants bear so badly. and it's past the initial physical attraction now.

he and bear are all grown up. he likes bear's wit and humor, well the wit and humor he gets to hear when bear doesn't know he's around. but bear wont let him in!!!! bear wont open himself up and tim's apologized!!!! he did!!! he doesn't even know what he did and he still apologized!!!!! and it changed nothing. bear doesn't talk to him or look at him or anything. nothing but polite professionalism.

and then one day, he sees bear on his balcony as he's swinging through the streets of gotham. and bear isn't doing anything special, he's just sitting there in sweats and no shirt and the moonlight hits his pecs just right and his shoulders are so broad and-

well he cant be blamed for stopping to take a peek, right? and maybe when he has has time he swings by more and more. just watching for longer and longer, until one day bear catches him. and as they stare at each other from opposite sides of the street, tim thinks this is it. the cold glances and frosty words are going to come back. bear's never gonna just sit on his balcony again. he's lost this too. but then-

oh.

bear sends him a hesitant wave and tim raises a trembling hand to wave back. and bear- well bear's mouth splits into a smile brilliant enough to rival the sun. beautiful like the sunrise. the promise of a new beginning. if he closes his eyes, tim thinks he can feel the sunlight's warm rays on him.

hes' hooked after that. he comes around again and again. one day bear lets him on the balcony. weeks later, bear's hugging him. weeks after that, tim's in bear's lap. and he knows it's not right. that bear thinks he's someone else. that bear doesnt want anything to do with him but how is he supposed to let this go? how is he supposed disentangle himself from bear's arms?

so he lies and he lies and he prays to any and every god he can think of, that he'll get to keep this. plus he's not really lying to bear, he's just... not talking about it! if bear asks, he'll tell him point blank. he swears it. but that's a problem for another day. things are looking up! bear said more than 5 sentences to him the other day and yesterday? he even got a small smile. it'll all work out. he'll be fine.

[son1c]

What would Sonic have done if Shadow stayed catatonic for a while ?

"for awhile" could mean anything. 5 minutes? 5 hours? 5 days??? regardless of how long it was, sonic wouldn't have just left him there on that tiny island all alone

[seaweedstarshine]

Thinking about the convolution of Eleventh Doctor's expressions of love for River Song in Season 7B. He does not trust Clara. He is utterly (wrongly) convinced that he and Clara are playing a grand manipulative game together. “What are you, eh?! A trick? A trap?!!”

So naturally, the last thing he should do in this game is to clue his opponent in on something that could be used to hurt him. Something like River, so painfully near the end of their time together, whose data ghost he can always see, who “it would hurt too much” to acknowledge. He can't let Clara know of the loss which constantly floods his senses; (“You are always here to me. And I always listen, and I can always see you,” he professes, once Clara has vanished into his timestream).

And yet. River fills his every moment (irregardless of any sneaking out for dates with increasingly-young Rivers while Clara is asleep like he did while the Ponds slept, which would explain his absence when the TARDIS is hiding Clara's bedroom). Even though it's not strategic, he can’t help but tell Clara about her. The best defense he can manage is to phrase it as if River isn’t as important to him as she is. Not only is avoiding her first name in his grief; he's also completely avoiding pronouns; which seems extreme given that he's still mentioning her as often as: “Oh yeah, of course he has! Professor Song! Sorry, it's just I never realized you were a woman.”

Leave out the emotion — leave out the details — don't show the cracks in the armor — play the part — win the game.

“Well, there's no point now. We're about to die. JUST TELL ME WHO YOU ARE.”

[amateurmasksmith]

oh my god the way one phrase led to a cascade of everything piling on and on and becoming overwhelming all at once despite being only made of individual components each one hard to bear but collectively becoming a tidal wave of too, too much-

I can’t

[naivety]

not even saying it's a good thing because i am so far beyond checked out at this point but i cannot fathom nailbiting over this election after more than a year of genocide, after every single 395 days of it. like i can but i can't. the truth is americans will sleep just as well tonight as we have every day since october 7th no matter who wins because that's the world we live in. we live in. while the money we generate from shitty 9 to 5s is taxed and sent to keep children and mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters up night after night after night with the sound of drones and gunfire and bombshells. this world is so far beyond americans' worst case scenario already and the solution to it is outside a ballot box on election day.

[narwhalsarefalling]

everyone makes feral midoriya mean when feral midoriya is dressing Kaminari as the christmas tree and seeing how many lights is too many for him to self power, feral midoriya is gifting kaminari things that usually need batteries to operate and never including batteries, feral midoriya is awake for three days solid figuring out how to make Aoyama's disco ball concept into something viable

[inevitablestars]

snippet game!

ty for the tags @calamitoustide and @starsworth <3

rules: If you get tagged, reblog with roughly 100 words of a WIP. No explanation, just the snippet.

They know what is going to happen before it does. Their eyes close and they are standing at that same cliff they are always at. It’s like an old friend, in a twisted way. Each time they have been here before, they get pushed and then jolted back. It’s never been their choice to go over, and it’s never been their choice to be pulled back. They hate the rush they feel in their chest. 

This time is going to be different. It has to be, that’s the only way to stop the falling for good. 

Sirius stands there on the edge of that cliff just looking out. Unsure what is out there, hoping it’s better. The bottom is too far away to see what’s down there either. Knowing that no one is going to push them off aside from themself, they look over as much as they can. Trying to see, trying to figure out how this will end. They hope it’s soft. Gentle. Welcoming. Things that life never was to them. 

They jump. And they feel… Free. Weightless. That’s how it feels. As a kid you’re taught to be afraid of falling, of getting hurt, of heights. None of those things are scary in the end. No one tells you that the best feeling in the world is in mid air where nothing matters. You’re flying, you’re floating, you’re the most free you have ever been. It’s amazing. It’s not something to be afraid of, it never really was. 

no pressure tagging: @twisted-tales-told @otrtbs @mayescapade @roblogging @itsjaywalkers @aurorboros @galaxostars and anyone else who wants to! :)