if you haven't cried

anonymous asked:

sounds like your recurrent depression is just lazy syndrome. who the fuck cries looking at dirty dishes? grow the fuck up jesus chrisy

I’m starting a Lazy Syndrome club! Anyone else who has on occasion cried at inanimate objects and definitely does not have “depression” is very welcome to join! Password is ‘jesus chrisy’ 

so in golion their names were metals and I kinda wish they would’ve kept them

And they will run you down, down to your core
Yeah, ‘til you can’t crawl no more (x)

I’m re-listening to the first season and I have a lot of feelings.

Ghibli tears.

(Edit: i posted this late at night and i wasn’t very happy with how it looked. It’s fixed now!)

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[FANCAM] 140419 Live on Earth Chicago Attack B.A.P - Body & Soul by theultimatedodo

2:44: The souls left bodies of BABYz
3:04: Daehyun scattered their souls into a hot mess

Snuggles are good for the soul and the spirit

Guess who’s late for ShpwatchWeek’s Day 2 *points at self* What can be more domestic than napping and snuggling though?

Inspired by “The Girl Who Cried Wolf“ from 5 seconds of summer.

“ Look at me in the eye, is anyone there at all?
Is anyone there at all? I’m not dreaming
Look at me in the eye, is anyone there at all?
Is anyone there at all? Cause I’m not leaving…

frywen-babbles  asked:

Kisses with meaning: Chest and Mitsunari

  • Mitsunari + Chest (possession)

He has ice in his veins.

So much of it bubbling beneath the surface it takes a moment for the bitterness to start flowing. It begins in his toes, undulating in waves across every crevice before splintering onto the road mapping his legs, cutting up and up until the cold freezes into a glacier, plonking down in his gut.

He needs it to happen a lot faster if he’s going to withstand the impact of your palm striking his cheek.

And there’s no doubt it’ll hurt. You’re frozen in that vast space between a second and a heartbeat, and Mitsunari doesn’t think he’s ever seen you so alive. Blazing. Torn between hell’s fury and the devil’s wrath. Arm jerked high and hand poised, ready to strike.

He’s prepared for it, despite the curdling in his pulse and the ice in his gut.

Don’t ever say that to me again.” And you tear away from him so fast, like a whip returning to its master, he feels the echo of a slap ringing out anyway. You can’t look at him, and the ice snaps and huffs as you stagger to his bookshelf, pitched forward, fingers etched too tight into the wood for purchase.

It’s all he hears, your breaths furious, rankling in his ears.

“Manju-girl—”

“Shut up. Don’t say a word.”

His breath shakes out of him too, once, twice, before you turn to look at him, red and puffy lining poison-black eyes. It’s the only part still savage when your entire face withers. He has but a beat to summon the ice again before you’ve stalked back, hands fisting into his sleeve.

“Listen to me, Lord Mitsunari. You can’t— you can’t say something like that without realising what it does to the people around you. It’s too cruel. We love you… Lord Hideyoshi loves you. I— I love you.” You gasp against the choke, swallowing, and every word has to be dragged out. “If I don’t see you barreling down the hallway with a book in your hand, my day doesn’t feel right.

“You are important and valuable and a part of this family. We would crumble without you. You don’t know how significant you are to all of us.” Your breath hitches, voice too shaky to go on. He wants to howl because he’s hurt you. “I need you to know that if you suddenly disappeared from this earth it would— it would—” Tears gather again though they don’t fall because girls like you don’t cry; strong girls, fierce girls, “—it would break my heart.”

In a broken rush of air you drop the world into his lap.

He doesn’t know what to do because he has ice in his veins.

So much of it bubbling beneath the surface it takes a moment for his heart to cry out a rhythm to the corners of his flesh. It starts in his feet, shooting out and pulsating so furiously it doesn’t see how his toes curl, cutting off the path and sending the ice hurtling head long into its first barrier and smashing little fractures all over. It back tracks in revulsion because the sensation is so foreign, crashing through the chambers of his veins up into his legs. The ascent is a rocky one, and along the way shards crack and hurl about, whittling the cold down before it reaches his gut.

Mitsunari can’t breathe.

His gut swallows the torrent and a glacier starts to form, a feeling so familiar to his bones it takes a moment longer before the cry reaches it and everything starts to spit and hiss and decompress, and his gut, wound so tight already, spits the ice back out because it no longer wants to be the sanctuary of so much fear. The ice weaves back into his veins and spindles out and out and, bypassing the heart altogether, funnels into his arms and down through his fingers, where it thinks it can make a mockery of how coiled his fists shake.

But Mitsunari can’t breathe.

And the ice shrieks against a blaze so thunderous it jerks back through the sensory paths and twists around his neck. Freezing and freezing.

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe.

His mind steps in, his breath, short and stiff, steps in, his gut steps in, his toes and feet and arms and fingers step in, you step in, straight into his chest and they all clip and chip away at the stranglehold around his neck. The ice screams and chokes, spittles furiously, and it won’t let go because he is ice, he is nothing without the ice, he needs this ice.

It’s too much. He can’t breathe. It’s all too much.

Suddenly everything bursts. 

He can breathe.

Because he feels it, so soft and sweet, against his chest and it makes him want to crumple to the ground and cry because your lips flutter through the fabric to his heart, hushing and cooing the storm.

It starts in his toes then.

Seeping out in lazy flicks, burning and lighting the path and sizzling the blood in his veins. It caresses every nook and cranny, each dip in his muscles, until the aching pool of warmth settles into his gut, and he feels the holding and whispering tendrils of heat fanning out and out. It’s fire. Hot and bright, gentle and misunderstood. And it’s you as well, breathing a fever through his heart, melting the winter and roasting the shards, making it blaze forever and ever until his whole body thaws into you.

Your hands cradle him, and he sees red.

Everywhere. 

He has fire in his veins. 

It’s alive. He’s alive. It burns him.


‘Kisses with Meaning’ [Masterpost]

  • @frywen-babbles @dreamsinparadise Forgive me for not tagging you when I first posted, friends! Once I realised real life had called. Can I make up for it with some Mitsunari? 
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@leoandreeda submitted: *LEAVES THIS HERE AND RUNS* ✨

OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR DRAWING MY MODERN!ZOSAN AU ;3;

For context: Zoro is a CID police and Sanji is a hairdresser. Zoro gets a new murder case that is located near Sanji’s salon. Sanji totally doesn’t need a Marimo cop to protect him while there’s a cold-blooded murderer on the loose.