#hope this shows on my blog

[thelolarahaii]

The poster for "Cunty Little Rich Kids" came out. They went with the picture you don't like, and the airline mishandled your luggage, so you'll have to wear something of mine.

DYLAN O'BRIEN in FANTASMAS (2024–)

[drarw]

supa old homestuck art for you!

[cruel-hiraeth]

꒰ THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF LOVE ꒱ RORONOA ZORO X READER

warnings ⟢ slight angst (though it gets resolved). hurt/comfort. mentions of death and dying. descriptions of blood and wounds. brief allusions to buddhism. reader is gn and described as “beautiful” once.

word count ⟢ 1086

notes ⟢ happy birthday to my most beloved! this fic is self-indulgent (i.e. full of my hcs about zoro’s childhood) and a labor of love. the three of swords design in the banner is from the rider-waite tarot deck. three of swords generally depicts a difficult, sorrowful experience.

So this is how it ends.

The midafternoon horizon is fathomless—a halycon ocean—the sun anchored in its depths. A cool breeze stirs, kissing his tawny flesh, rustling his hair, and chiming his earrings; whispering beachgrass casts sinuous shadows across his face, allowing his good eye to rest in partial shade. Nearby, the tide laps at the shoreline—tenderly, the caress of a lover. Foam glides across half-buried seashells and beached debris in a brief greeting before returning to the sea, heeding her call.

Where Zoro is, he can’t be certain (not an uncommon occurence, though he would never admit it). His robe was slashed off at some point, and fell to the ground in shorn tatters. He lies bare-backed in a slurry of sand and ichor, his swords beside him; weeping wounds litter his torso, the most gruesome of which stretches from his navel to his right side. While he had the wherewithal to cut his haramaki and tie it around his waist as a makeshift tourniquet, the fabric is sodden, metallic teardrops puddling in the sand.

Pain is a feeling he greets like an old friend. It’s comforting, almost, like a suffocating embrace. As a boy, he had to nurture that cold familiarity if he wanted to survive—be it fighting bigger kids for spare scraps at the orphanage, or taking lashes from a bokken at the dojo. Strength comes with a cost, as does physical and mental growth. Existence is suffering, and suffering is—in its purest form—pain. But the mind-numbing sting that currently radiates from his injuries is the last thing on his mind.

For the first time in years, Zoro is afraid. He shivers despite the scorching sunbeams, sucking in shallow mouthfuls of air, glistening beads of sweat sliding down his body toward the earth.

It isn’t the prospect of death that scares him; he has walked most of his life along the corpse-strewn path of demons, fighting against his fate as an asura. And he has peered into death’s grim visage before—too many times count. He even dived into hell and cleaved through its bowels to face Enma, emerging victorious as the king of souls departed.

Regret, however? Regret is a different beast.

It’s why he trembles now, covered in grime and gore, half-lucid. As dark thoughts slink to the forefront of his consciousness, he’s aware that dying here will mean failing. Not simply failing himself and his own dream of becoming the greatest swordsman, but also failing his captain and best friend, and failing to preserve Kuina’s legacy. Most gut-wrenching of all, he knows that dying here will mean failing you. There’s so much Zoro wants to do with you, so much he wants to say. He itches with regret, calloused digits twitching at his sides, desperate to claw his skin off.

Clarity torments him. Memories flit before his steel gaze, now wet—a tear-streaked blade. He sees you: the flicker of your eyes when you tell a story; the curve of your lips when you poke fun at him; the halo of your hair when you nap against his chest; the set of your jaw when you’re serious. More than anything else, he longs to tell you how he feels.

I love you.

Three simple words that he always struggled to string together. Perfect moment after perfect moment was presented to him on a gilt platter: inside the crow’s nest at dawn, or beneath the lush boughs in the tangerine orchard—even perched atop the Sunny’s bow to watch the sunset. He squandered each of these opportunities because he (foolishly) assumed there would be more in the future.

I love you.

If only he could muster the strength to breathe out the sweetness of your name once more—to taste each smooth, honeyed syllable on his lips, to feel it silken on his palate. Maybe then he could forgive himself. But instead, it dies on his tongue as his vision blots and blurs. Eventually, his world goes black.

I love you.

Zoro awakes to the muffled creaking of a hull.

His head pounds, his mouth is bone-dry, and his limbs are leaden and stiff; he feels like death, and suspects that he looks like it, too. Surgical gauze tightly wraps his frame, stifled wounds screaming in agony. When he glances up and sees framed pictures of the crew above his cot, he recognizes where he is: the Sunny’s infirmary. In his periphery, you’re sitting at Chopper’s desk with a book in your lap. He tries (and, to his frustration, fails) to shift into a seated position. As soon as you notice the movement—head snapping up in surprise—you rush to his bedside.

He waits for you to reprimand him for being so reckless while away from the rest of the crew. But you don’t—not yet, anyway. (Not until he’s mostly healed. And for that, he wonders if you may be an angel.) Instead, you kneel on the wooden floorboards to level with him. Your fingertips tentatively brush against his cheekbone, as though you’re testing to ensure that he’s real. Content with what you find, you cup his chin, allowing him to lean into the soft warmth of your touch, catlike.

“I was worried about you. Well, so was everyone else. But I’ll only speak for myself,” you murmur.

His voice is gravel, cragged from disuse. “Sorry.”

After a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “Is Chopper on break?”

You nod. “I’ve picked up the night shift so he can sleep.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Roughly two days.”

“Fuck.”

That draws a chuckle from you.

Zoro swallows. “Listen, I—”

Your thumb grazes his chapped lips, forcing him to pause. “Save your energy, Zo. You don’t have to defend yourself; you’re safe with me. I promise.”

Tired but patient, your gaze breaks him, only to piece him back together. His heart aches.

He inhales deeply. Then—in a flood of emotion he can’t stem—the words flow out: “Y’know I’m not good with feelings…or words. But, uh…” A broad palm wraps around your wrist, your skin hot against his. Ignoring the heat creeping up into his cheeks, he sighs, “I love you.”

Before he can second guess his confession, your lips bloom and burst into a radiant smile, setting your features alight. He doesn’t think you have ever looked more beautiful.

“I know,” you admit airily. Leaning in, you dot a kiss to his scarred eyelid. “I love you, too.”

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

ORV is about enduring the horrors in real time.

(for @everyonesfavoritebastard)

[myokk]

💘

[susiehunsecker-remade]

jane eyre (1983) + jane and rochester holding each other :)

[beps-brainrot]

Thank you for the suggestion, @sliceobanana!! And thank you for your patience as I took 83 years to get to this! I don’t know if you meant this to be a SAMS bros thing, but that’s where my brain went anyways lmao. I had a lot of fun with their expressions :D

[clowningaroundmars]

my personal atsv hobie brown hc is that this boy can build a watch that enables the wearer to travel to any dimension they want to, made entirely out of cobbled up parts he "finds"

but anytime anyone brings up AI or algorithms or social media he pretends to be 100 years old

hobie: what's a bloody "snapchat"? fuckin 'ell those effects are nightmarish, mate

miles, exasperated: hobie, you BUILD TECH that astrophysicists in my dimension can't even replicate. how are filters on a phone trippin you up?

hobie: dunno, everyone's got their strengths n weaknesses, i 'spose... 🙄😒

[girl-missing]

oh look, it's this hellhole classifying trans women's bodies as inherently pornographic for the millionth time

[silverquillsideas]

Maybe eternity is just an obsession with holding on...

The On1y One (2024)

[mel-loly]

-Some doodles I did of ocs from people/friends I like and think are cool :]

@mrd0ll @yago-undertale @thatotherman001 @shaibonbon @adagiorii @gojicorps

[chibimui]

Link to the original tweet: https://twitter.com/kusuriya_ten/status/1818845657505185993

The Apothecary Diaries official twitter account shared a short story that Natsu Hyuga wrote specifically for the account. I decided to translate it and share! It's just a cute casual conversation between Jinshi and Maomao about what they were up to as 10 year olds.

Disclaimer: this is a fan translation, I am in no way a professional and may have made some mistakes. Please do not use this translation elsewhere or claim as your own.

(translation under the cut)

The Apothecary Diaries (Hero Bunko) 10th Year Anniversary Short Story

10 Years Old

“Maomao”, Jinshi called to Maomao. This was after he’d called her in today asking for the details of another random case. Apparently the case was solved after she shared recollections of similar cases, and Basen had been sent to clear things up.

“What is it?”

Maomao drank her tea quickly with the desire to return home to prepare dinner.

“What did you do when you were ten?”

“That’s quite an unexpected question. Wasn’t that the age you began posing as a eunuch?”

“...that was later. I’m just curious what childhood could have led to your personality. Ten is a significant age, but eight or nine is fine too.”

Maomao grunted. “At ten years old things were pretty normal for me. I helped out at the apothecary shop under my adopted father Luomen.”

“Could you be more specific?”

Jinshi had asked Suiren for more tea and was now drinking it.

“That was around the time I was finally given permission to make my own medicines. Before then, I was yelled at for making things on my own, so I was really happy.”

“Don’t make things on your own.”

“Also, the madam taught me to do calculations and I was shocked at how messy my dad’s numbers were. I wondered why we always earned less than we sold, and I learned there was someone who was sick and had no money who he’d always give the medicine away to for free.”

“I see.”

“I followed them and found out they were a dirty little re-seller, so I enlisted one of the male servants and brought them with me to the marketplace to secure a spot. I took back our goods and told other buyers if they wanted stuff for cheaper to buy it directly from us instead.”

“Is that really something a ten year old should be doing?”

While Maomao had been speaking, Suiren had prepared her a new cup of tea and so she remained in her seat.

“If I hadn’t, the madam wouldn’t have given me my dinner.”

“She gave it to you?”

“She put it on my tab.”

There isn’t a single person more stingy than The Madam of the Verdigris House.

“Now I understand why you’re so particular with money.”

“What about you, Master Jinshi? What did you do as a ten year old?”

“Me?”

Jinshi grunted. “I was usually at my mother’s, the Empress Dowager’s, palace. How should I put this. Because of the odd proclivities of the previous Emperor, I was shielded from a lot of things while being raised.”

“I’m sure even a ten-year-old Master Jinshi was already sparkling with beauty as a child and was surely mistaken for a young girl.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Of course not.” Maomao denied such nonsense.

“I was taken care of by my nursemaids, and tutors were called to give me an education. The Ma brothers were my milk siblings, and Gaoshun would occasionally teach me martial arts.”

“I heard that Master Gaoshun was a military official back then.”

“That’s right. Since the Emperor was only the crown prince at the time he was guarded by another member of the Ma family. These were orders from the Empress Regnant and had to be followed, but it was still quite a lot to endure. Still, Gaoshun would occasionally visit the Emperor and make time to see me so he must have been quite busy. I remember frequently hearing him say ‘My daughter hates me’.”

Maomao recalled Mamei to mind and could understand.

“Even so, I couldn’t stay in the palace forever so sometimes they’d let me go outside.”

“Oh?”

“I was told everything is an experience and was brought to military training camps, and during summer retreats I remember having fun jumping down waterfalls. Although I was yelled at afterwards.”

“Summer retreat......, waterfalls. Ugh! H-How were the training camps?” Maomao appeared troubled, and attempted to refocus the topic of conversation.

“The training camps? I would join the soldier's in their regular training routines. This was also arranged by Gaoshun.”

Gaoshun’s paternal influence was strong.

Now that Maomao thought about it, Jinshi had mentioned something similar while eating chicken skewers before.

“Normally I’d only eat meals that had been carefully prepared, so I never realized grilled skewers flavoured with just salt could taste so good.”

Maomao could feel her mouth filling with saliva.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was thinking maybe my dinner can be paired with chicken skewers tonight.”

“Chicken skewers.”

It appeared that Jinshi’s mind had wandered in the same direction as Maomao’s and he held his stomach.

Just then--

“Young Master. Maomao.”

While smiling gently, Suiren appeared holding a large chicken.

“How do you two feel about chicken tonight?”

“Please and thank you!”

“Yes please!”

Both Maomao and Jinshi exclaimed loudly.

[kyouka-supremacy]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[findafight]

god i love when fics have steve experiencing insane things but being nonchalant about it bc he thinks it's normal when it absolutely is not. i like to think there have been multiple instances where other guys have been like psychosexually obsessed w steve so when billy starts acting like that steve's just like "ugh again?" like imagine if when he's dating eddie he's just casually like "god isn't it so annoying when other guys get like aggressively obsessed w you and stare at you all the time?" and eddie is sitting there chanting wtf in his head wondering how steve is a real human.

Ya I think it'd be very funny if kinda very strange things happen to Steve and he figures that it's just a normal thing. He'll be sitting around with people like hey y'all ever think about when you and your friends would dig a big hole and pretend to bury someone alive and hold a funeral for them and then they'd go home and tell your parents you died in the woods? When your mom ran into the forest she found you covered in flowers and dirt staring at the sky thinking about how cool it'd be to decompose into the ground she cried and it was probably the first time you saw a grown up cry? And every one is like uhhhhh no. Our friends did not actually fake our death semi successfully and scare our parents??? And he goes oh. Huh. Weird!

my HC is Robin is Steve first similar age friend that has not wanted to fuck him since eighth grade. This is funny because she has also never been normal about him. No one has ever been normal about Steve.

I think it's also very funny that Billy teamed up with Tommy, who you know has never been normal about Steve in his life. Like maybe when Steve was in middle school there was a guy who also was weirdly obsessed with Steve except he and Tommy viciously hated each other. Like straight up brawling and crying about it and Steve is there like what the fuck are you doing??? And Carol beside him just shaking her head going uhg Steve they're being gross let's leave.

But Tommy and Billy...They sniffed each other out or something idk how but they found each other and were obsessed with Steve together in a toxic positive feedback loop. And poor Steve is sitting here like "uhg 😑 Still? Another one? Why does this keep happening?" As though it's a completely regular occurrence. Bro. Buddy. What is your life actually.

Eddie finding out about this history and he's just like. No. Steve. I do not know what it's like to have men stare at me with thinly disguised lust?? But also keeping to himself that he was ALSO obsessed with Steve. He's like oooh my god. I'm not the only one?? The one thing I have in common with Tommy Hagan and Billy Hargrove is our weird obsession with Steve? What kinda world...

Except he's also immensely smug about it because yeah other guys have been obsessed with Steve. It seems to be a Hawkins right of passage for their age group. But Eddie actually got him. He fucking won.

[moonlit-dreamers]

hey btw to that anon who just sent me a hate ask about how nonshippers "had it coming" when theyre getting harassed

go fuck urself

u dont belong here

my blog is a safe space for shippers and nonshippers alike

THIS IS A SAFE SPACE FOR ASPEC PPL

if u think ppl deserve to be harassed just bc they ship or dont ship something pls block me and get a fucking life

ur fucking revolting