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This fic was my ‘magnum opus’ of a sort for ATLA and zukka. I added some last bits and bobs that have always been on my mind, as a last hurrah. This’ll be my last contribution to the zukka community :)

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OPLA has me putting fic out again, who woulda thought.

This is my current obsession announcement. Sanji and Zoro have so much simmering tension it’s crazy, pass it on.

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✨💘✨ Sanji & Zoro ✨💘✨

( SanZo )

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the history book on the shelf is always repeating itself

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Some more panels from my little patreon comic 🥰

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THE V O I C E S

I'm unhealthily obsessed with Zoro's earrings, so unsurprisingly, my demons popped out of the ether at 2 am, and told me to draw him in body jewelry

My headcanon is that Nami bought the jewelry piece for Zoro bc she's a good wing woman

Bonus:

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Zoro's short mossy haircut gives a great view of his pretty neck, it's so bitable'!!

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And a lil bonus+

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HAIKYUU!! S1E8: HE WHO IS CALLED ‘ACE’

You’re the one who wanted to see the ace.

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🧡❤️

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HQログ1

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“"The Jackals” is a dangerous trio of outlaws who killed the sheriff in a violent conflict.Now the town has a new authority. Someone who holds a special grudge against the one jackal who shoot down the old man.“ one sakuatsu AU

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Third year first years~ Thinking about Captain Yamaguchi and his gang of cool upperclassmen who consistently make it into nationals…. *wipes tear* 

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Silly HQ sketches from twitter. I really like how many of the characters from this show seem to fit a certain stereotype at first but then you know them better and you see they’re actually more ‘believable’ characters than what they seem. 

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The Lost Lie

by Anne Sexton

There is rust in my mouth, the stain of an old kiss. And my eyes are turning purple, my mouth is glue and my hands are two stones and the heart, is still there, that place where love dwelt but it is nailed into place. Still I feel no pity for these oddities, in fact the feeling is one of hatred. For it is only the child in me bursting out and I keep plotting how to kill her. Once there was a woman, full as a theater of moon and love begot love and the child, when she peeked out, did not hate herself back then. Funny, funny, love what you do. But today I roam a dead house, a frozen kitchen, a bedroom like a gas chamber. The bed itself is an operating table where my dreams slice me to pieces. Oh love, the terror, the fright wig, that your dear curly head was, was, was, was.