#just maybe not tonight haha

[rudnitskaia]

White Chrysanths for the Swallow

Rocky was waiting for her at the table at the Little Daisy, but this time he was especially eager. Even Ivy had stopped teasing him about the way he lighted up and hummed to himself as he waited for Mau to show up at the door of the café, and just smiled, refilling his coffee whenever it ran out. He almost daydreamed of handing Maura two tickets to tomorrow's musical: of her eyes sparkling, of her taking his hand and telling him he was the best in the world.

But time passed, and Mau wasn't coming.

In those few hours, Rocky had replayed the fantasy in his head hundreds of times, changing the lines and the scenery. At first, imaginary Maura was beaming with happiness, calling him affectionate names, melting in his arms like all those heroines on the stage of a musical theater in the arms of their beloved ones, but every time the fantasy became darker and darker. More disturbing. Mau no longer rejoiced, no longer smiled. Her bright lively figure was becoming more and more dim, and she more often sighed, frowned, did not accept the gift. She asked him to return the tickets, scolded him for wasting his money carelessly, told him some news, one worse than the other, and finally said she didn’t want to see him again. Never again.

It was getting unbearable to sit still, and Rocky abruptly moved away from the table, threw on his coat, and headed for the exit. Maybe a walk would clear his head a little…

“Miss Pepper, I have a very urgent task to attend to. If she shows up on the doorstep, don't let her out of here on any pretext. Lock the doors, board up the windows, show her every fashion magazine you can find, but don't let her leave here until I get back. I'm counting on your wit and exceptional charm.”

The way he looked intently into Ivy's eyes before he left looked almost threatening. He wasn't even aware of the desperation hiding behind that look. But Ivy saw it.

“Don't worry, I'm an expert at this,” she winked at him encouragingly.

The cold air blew across Rocky's face, and he shivered, pulling his scarf over his nose, the same funny skewed scarf Mau had knitted for him last Christmas. Sometimes, like now, Rocky thought he could still smell on it the very same scent of coffee and pastries that wafted from the Venza family's eatery. It didn't help distract him, though. Quite the opposite. After walking a few blocks in an attempt to escape his doubts, he spotted a small flower shop — Rocky's imagination immediately conjured up a lovely picture of Maura cradling a fresh spring bouquet on this cold, cloudy evening and he didn't notice himself stepping over the store’s doorstep. The frail old woman behind the counter put aside the newspaper and immediately chirped, offering him different flowers, and finally convinced him to take a few white chrysanthemums. She tied the flowers with a delicate pink ribbon and also wrapped them tightly in the newspaper she had read before.

“They mustn't be overfrozen. Or they won't last long,” she explained sternly.

Rocky walked back much more briskly. He was warmed by the thought that now he would be able to give Mau not one surprise, but two. Hiding the bouquet from a gust of cold wind, Rocky lowered his gaze to it and pressed the flowers closer to himself… when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the headline of one of the newspaper articles.

“Shootout at the small Italian eatery Casa di Rondine shocked the residents… a bloody showdown in the neighborhood… occurred on the night… police identified the bodies of two…”

Rocky couldn't remember how he reached the familiar alleyway. How he threw the bouquet to the ground, swung over the barrier tape, and rushed to the entrance — a gaping hole instead of a small blue door. Shards of glass littered the floor, the formerly cozy, cramped hall was a real mess, the furniture was riddled with gunshots. Even the old tabletop radio was now on the floor, shattered to pieces.

“Stop right there!” a panting policeman grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “What the hell are you doing breaking into a crime scene?”

“I… uh…” in his panic Rocky couldn't think straight, but nonetheless he blurted out: “I'm from a newspaper. Wanted to visit the crime scene myself.”

“A lousy reporter you are, then. Your buddies sniffed everything around here a long time ago.”

“I was just hired today and immediately assigned to this very intriguing case. So…”

“There's nothing intriguing about it. This Bianchi guy…”

“Who?”

“The renter, Augusto Bianchi, if that's his real name at all, apparently had a huge debt to pay someone. And for that, he got pinned down. There was a scuffle in the night, at least four assailants. The two guys we found here have a couple priors, but they're not in a condition to tell us who hired them. The amount of such cold cases we have…” the man hummed and passed his hand above his head. “We've already explained it all to your fellow scribblers this morning. And I highly doubt the landlord would want to tell the same story tenth times over to another newspaper weasel. The only thing he's interested in right now is getting money from the insurance company.”

“And the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The waitress. Who worked here. What about her?”

“Considering how much blood there is, they're probably both either in a ditch, scattered in pieces, or feeding fishes somewhere at the bottom of the Mississippi… both father and daughter, if you meant her,” boredly remarked the other officer, who had quietly approached them, lighting a cigarette. “There's nothing for you to do here, boy. Henry's right — there's absolutely nothing of interest in this case. People might have chattered about it in the morning, but the very next day they'll forget all about it. Go home, don't add to our workload. And quit the paper that sent you here. If your editor doesn't realize that news like this must be broken in the heat of the moment, believe me, their business will burn out faster than a short match.”

Rocky tried to get anything else out of them, at least a little bit, to look in the kitchen of the eatery, to slip upstairs to Mau’s and Augusto's apartment, but the policemen were adamant. On unsteady legs he made it to the nearest bench and collapsed on it, staring blankly into the dark November sky. He could have screamed, could have destroyed everything around him on a single painful impulse, but the emptiness that engulfed him was far more frightening.

His silence was more frightening.

Years would pass. Would flow, as before, from night to night. The world won’t notice his loss. The world won't notice any loss at all. In the place of his beloved swallow house, other birds will build a nest. Freckle and Ivy will eventually stop opening that wound with their questions. And one day, perhaps, he will stop gazing into the crowd, hoping to find among the unfamiliar faces the features dear to his heart, and stop flinching when he hears someone say amore mio. He knows how it happens — it was not the first time. All he has to do is smile and everything will work out. It'll wear off, getting back to the way it was. One day.

But the bouquet of chrysanths will still remain rotting on the cold ground.

[marshmallowgoop]

Otakon's AMV contest allowed VHS submissions, and I knew I just had to submit the collab I edited with @astravis this way.

I hope it's clear why!

(It uses a lot of actual VHS footage.)

And I loved putting AMVs on tape so much that I quickly ordered a bunch of blank tapes online to compile all of my anime music videos this way.

(Short reel of a few of them.)

And, like, it's definitely far from perfect. My computer doesn't have an HDMI port, so I have to use a converter for that, and it's horrible quality. While that does add to the VHS aesthetic, it also makes some of the subtitles nigh impossible to read (as especially evident in the "First Time" video above). My digitization process also isn't exactly ideal, either.

But popping in a VHS tape of my videos and seeing that on the TV? Absolutely amazing. There is no other way I want to physically compile my AMVs. 10/10. MarshmallowGoop/MarshmallowGoop.

Would like to improve my process someday, but if anyone else is curious about how to make VHS tapes out of videos on your computer, I mostly followed this guide here!

[athousandbyeol]

all about youth with tianwang [an appreciation post, something personal, a word vomit]

whenever i think about jiang tian and sheng wang, i get so sad.

i think there's a part of me, the 15 to 17-year-old na, that hasn't healed from past wounds. but the on1y one magically became a remedy for those still-bleeding pieces. jiang tian and sheng wang's relationship, their personality, and their character growth, they healed me.

tw: suicide, suicidal thoughts, depressing ideas

i was very suicidal at that time. i thought the world was better off without me being in it. i didn't feel that I held any importance. i should just disappear. quietly. and it would all be better again.

i heard voices every single day for those three years. but I couldn't do anything but hold on. i was like a ghost at school. i was lonely. i was sad. i was demotivated. i was discouraged. i was looked down by my teachers. i was utterly hopeless.

i already wrote some notes for my parents, my brother, and my late grandmother. i was so ready to go.

but i'm still here. and i passed the age of 17—alive. i couldn't believe it. i still couldn't. i thought I would just live through 17—without seeing the living daylights of 18.

while watching the on1y one, i was constantly in tears. it was such a comforting watch. it broke me. but so many things about it gave me strength. and it made me reminisce of those better days when I was 18—when I finally had a sense of purpose—when I finally felt like I belonged somewhere.

"(...) almost forgetting, i'm 17. when the whole world is mine. no hesitation. no weighing of options. I'm invincible and capable of anything."

if these words were spoken to me then... maybe I could be someone different. maybe I wouldn't resent myself the way I still am sometimes. maybe I could love myself more. maybe I wouldn't be self-critical. maybe I wouldn't be an overthinker. maybe I wouldn't be a worrier. maybe I would be more composed and relaxed. maybe I could breathe better.

but i'm glad, in one way or another, sheng wang realised that he's only 17, and he could dream a little more. he could be a bit more reckless. he could be impulsive. he could be loud. he could be in love.

and i'm glad that jiang tian realised he's only 17, and he could forgive. he could forget. he could let go. he could open his heart. he could smile a little. he could laugh more. he could cave into someone. he could find a home. he could fight for his love.

and i'm glad—that this drama found me. jiang tian and sheng wang healed me. they healed the 15, 16 and 17-year-old na.

so, thank you. thank you, the on1y one.

thank you, jiang tian and sheng wang.

[todayisafridaynight]

barely four hours into the new month and im already silly

[wayfinderships]

Good evening gamers!! Hope you're all doing well!! As for me...I have 3 Yakuza Crushes now 😔 One of them if from Judgement though if that helps-

[phaoi]

OHH MYY GOD THE SHOW TONIGHT WAS CRAZYYY WTF IT WAS SOO GOOD AHHHHHGHHHH

[lesbin]

no hot shower for me tonight. but i will be channelling my inner medieval peasant and heating various pans of water on the hob for a bath.

[lilyoffandoms]

WIP: The Server from The Fernweh Saga

[violetsareblue-selfships]

good morning!!! <333

[camels-pen]

mmm read a hurt/comfort Zoro fic recently and like. I get it now. That guy DOES hurt so pretty. kinda wanna try my hand at it.

-

A voice disappeared.

Zoro stopped in his tracks, feet rooted to the spot.

Who was it? Where? How-?

Just barely, he managed to block a blade aiming for his neck.

Luffy was ahead of him, laughing his head off. The cook was a bright flaming beacon in the sky.

The rest? C'mon take a count, Zoro. Make sure.

Usopp. Nami. Chopper. Jinbei. Robin. Cook. Luffy.

What? Two? No, where were-

His breath hitched as he blocked another attack.

Calm down. Take a breath. Count again.

Usopp. Nami. Robin. Cook. Luffy.

Fuck. They couldn't-

No, they had to have left the battlefield. These guys were smallfry, even for the so called "weakling trio".

Zoro took a moment to focus on the enemy around him. He let off a tatsumaki before focusing again.

One at a time, Zoro. Come on.

Usopp.

Robin.

Sanji.

Zoro jerked, eyes wide and searching frantically.

"No, no no no no no. He can't have-" Luffy would never leave before the battle was done, not without making some kind of grand exit. He wouldn't leave without telling Zoro- telling anyone- about it.

He wouldn't up and disappear into thin air like that. Not unless-

Zoro shook his head roughly. They were fine, he just couldn't see them. It would be too much of a coincidence for them all to disappear like that. He just needed to count again, then regroup with Usopp, Robin, and the cook, and figure out what was going on.

Stay calm, Zoro. Losing your head won't find your friends.

So, again, Zoro breathed. And Zoro counted.

Usopp.

The only voice left, was Usopp.

Zoro wasted no time.

He sprinted as fast as he could, cutting down anyone in front of him almost as an after thought, as he bulldozed towards Usopp's voice.

He'd nearly made it too, when some dead man kicked his side hard enough to stop him in his tracks.

Zoro turned to him, a snarl on his face. "Get out of my way before I kill you."

"Huh?" The man sneered. "I should be saying the same thing, watch where you swing those swords, asshole."

Zoro was about to retort when he noticed Usopp's voice moving away from him. He didn't have time for this.

Without warning, Zoro moved to slice through his opponent and, to his surprise, the man blocked it with ease.

"You wanna go? Here and now?" the man growled. "I'll kick your fucking ass."

This man- Zoro has never met him before, but nonetheless felt he would need to pay him his full attention to have a chance at winning.

But Usopp was getting farther and farther-

Oh, Zoro could hit himself.

"USOPP!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, startling the man. "STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE, I'LL BE THERE SOON!"

Usopp didn't respond, but he stopped moving, and that was good enough for now.

"Hey!" The man yelled, pressing down on Zoro's swords. "Whatever you need him for can wait until after our battle's over. He's got his own problems to deal with."

Zoro didn't bother wasting his breath. He cut and slashed, throwing attack after attack without abandon. It didn't matter if he was wasting his energy, he needed to get to Usopp before- before-

The man, infuriatingly, blocked almost every blow, and got a few hits in on Zoro himself.

Zoro would get to Usopp, even if it killed-!

Suddenly, there was a crackle in the air and all at once, Zoro's nerves lit up with pure unfiltered pain.

He dropped to his knees, blurry vision wavering on black shoes. He couldn't feel his arms. Or his face. And his head was getting lighter and lighter.

Zoro's fading thoughts were prayers, to a god he didn't believe in, to keep his friend safe.

-

"GYAHHH, ZORO'S GONNA KILL ME!"

"Nami-swan, a little help please?" Sanji said, voice uncharacteristically strained.

"If you're asking, how can I say no?" Nami said, smirking. "Get out of the way... now!" The moment Sanji pushed off Zoro's swords to hop away, she brought down her Thunderbolt Tempo on top of Zoro. He fell to his knees before crumbling to the ground, twitching.

"You could've knocked him out on your own though, why ask for my help?" Nami asked.

"Ah well, it seemed he had a couple screws loose and I didn't want to kill what little braincells were remaining." Nami nodded in understanding.

The two of them turned to Usopp as he inched his way closer. He carefully prodded Zoro's thigh with his boot. "He's really unconscious, right? Not gonna get up anytime soon?"

Nami shrugged. "It's always hard to tell with him. But don't worry," -she stood tall, holding out her Climatact- "I'll shock him as many times as necessary."

"That means I get to live another day, so you have the Usopp deal of approval." Usopp gave her a thumbs up.

"What'd you even do to get him so pissed at you, Usopp?" Nami asked.

"Nothing!" He paused and looked away. "Well, nothing recently."

"He wasn't just mad," Sanji said. "He looked..." Scared, Sanji wanted to say. But the word was so... simple. Too simple. And it didn't explain the desperation in his eye. The wet sheen. The way he hardly blinked.

The way he kept himself facing the direction Usopp was in, revealing his constant use of Haki.

This wasn't just Zoro scared. This was Zoro terrified.

And Sanji had never seen him terrified before.

"...off," Sanji settled on, furrowing his brow. "He looked off."

Nami and Usopp hummed in thought.

The three of them stared down at Zoro's prone body. An ominous dark puddle started growing under him.

The three of them sighed.

"I'll call Chopper-" Usopp felt a tug on his ankle. He looked down. Zoro's hand was holding his boot. "I thought you said he was unconscious!" he yelled, trying to break his grip unsuccessfully.

Sanji poked Zoro with his shoe. Zoro didn't move. "He's still unconscious, so you're gonna have to be his teddy bear."

"What?! No!" He gripped onto Sanji's shirt. "Sanji-kun pleaaaaase free me before my ankle's crushed in his sleep!"

Sanji rolled an eye. "You'll be fine."

"Then can you go get Chopper? Zoro's losing a lot of blood."

"The mosshead'll be fine too. Also," -Sanji pointed to Luffy and Chopper doing some kind of strange combo attack, with Chopper in Heavy Point using Luffy as a whip- "I don't wanna break up their fun."

"Sanji-kun," Nami piped up. "Go get Chopper, please."

"Of course, Nami-swan!" Sanji immediately ran off.

-

The two of them quietly watched him go.

"Did you see what caused this?" Usopp asked.

Nami shook her head. "I know about as much as you do: Zoro suddenly taking out a big group at once and then charging towards you." She bit her lip. "I don't think he recognized Sanji."

Usopp sighed, squatting down to pull the bandana from green hair. He stared at the slackened face of his friend, hands tightening in dark fabric.

"What happened to you, Zoro?"

[talesofwhimsy]

WHY?, “Sin Imperial" // Car Sear Headrest, “I Can Play the Piano”

[babacontainsmultitudes]

It's at times like these that I really wish I could draw (well) cause boy would I be making the stupidest Nicky and Gable art right about now

[outeremissary]

Having one of those weeks of "is this the monthly Malaise or am I about to have a real mental health rut"

[emulation-0]

i have to be one of the dumbest people alive

[todayisafridaynight]

oh girls dont look im rambling in here

[lesbiansanemi]

Okay. My roommate’s bf that is moving in in a couple weeks brought his fucking dog over today and 😭 like ig it was well behaved but the cats hated it (and both my cats are already anxious messes I dread to think of how they’ll act/what they’ll do with a brand new big stressor added) and it fucking. It fucking REEKS like dog. Like yeah it’s a dog but I haven’t been around dogs in so long I forgot how much like dogs dogs smell and 😭😭 if it’s gonna be here that means my apartment and my things and my blankets and clothes are gonna start to smell like fucking dog and I’m fjfjdjsksk I don’t like this but I’ve also said a couple times I’m not happy about the dog thing and they’re both like “haha well! He’s a good dog” and I think they think I’m kinda being jokey about it but like. No. I don’t like the fucking dog and I don’t wanna live with a dog 😭 because even if it’s super well behaved and doesn’t bother me in a literal sense I will still have to deal with the inescapable consequence of Living With a Dog in the sense of it making my cats anxious/moody/angry and my apartment smelling like it and hfjdjdjdks I don’t know what to doooooo