#as you can tell by tags

[deathfavor]

@yeonban​​​​​​ said: 10. for soma to request seiroku’s favorite meal from the chefs and bring it to him in an attempt at helping the doctor feel better after having noticed him looking a tad... off, in some sense of the word, earlier in the day.

comfort starters

   The aura that surrounds Seiroku is different than it usually is, and if the reactions he was getting were anything to go by, others were picking up on it. Not that it effected his work, Seiroku wouldn’t allow for that. His work was as flawless and efficient as it always was, and he didn’t slack off either. It was just that something in the air around him gave a distinct feeling to those witnessing it of a ship lost at sea in a vicious storm. It didn’t help when he could feel the worrying gazes on his back from some of the medical staff, or when some of the patients seemed especially intent to thank him for his help with bright eyes. Or delirious ones. Those ones were worse, because even in the haze of the pain they were trying to make sure he knew of their gratefulness.

  Part of him wanted to snap at them. Part of him wanted to destroy all of this, this warmth that tasted sweet like sugar on his tongue. The emotion in his chest feels like spikes under his skin, angry and sharp. Seiroku didn’t. Instead, he’d only offered a distant smile and gentle assurance he was just doing his job, and to let him know if they needed anything.

  He needs to remove this warmth like removing a tumor, to split himself open and rip it out and throw away the malformed mess. Self surgery - he could probably do it. How many bushi had he slaughtered? Seiroku moves through the busy streets, his gaze barely flicking over the bushi as he made his way back to his room. He’d long lost count of the number. He slaughtered everyone, indiscriminately so long as they were Bushi. He hated them. He hated them. Hated them like leeches. That’s right. He needed to crush them out.

  This wasn’t his door though, this was no creation of those black crystals. (He wasn’t even enchanted by them like some of the other members.) This was all real.

  Seiroku quickens his pace, paying little heed to his surroundings till he’s safe within his own room. At least his work was over and he wouldn’t need to face anyone if he didn’t want to. Everyone had off days, most would brush it off simply as that. He hoped. How would he know? He’d never had anyone care. 

  His three golden swords clatter to the ground as he sets them aside and he moves to stand by the window, head resting against the wooden frame as he watched colors bleed from the sky as the sun lowered. He could imagine what most were doing. Drinking, eating, laughing. Everything he’d wanted. Everything he’d been confident he’d never get. Sometimes he could coax members to drink or eat with him, but it wasn’t the same. It was always him reaching out, trying to catch the sunlight in jars. Of course, you can’t seal sunlight in jars. Of course no one in the eight would reach out to him like that outside of having something they needed him to do.  

  He presses his tongue against the top of his mouth, eyes closed as he swallows away the too-sweet warmth like a fire eater extinguishing the flames. He doesn’t need warmth. He needs smoke and ash and emptiness, or a heat of anger so intense that the nerves confuse it for cold. Except anger is a blinding force and hardly good for strategy. So smoke and ash it is.

  Seiroku snaps out of his thoughts when he hears the door slide open, knowing there’s really only one person who’d come find him. (At least without the frantic rhythm of running feet and his name already being called out because there’s some medical emergency happening). He also knows Soma will instantly notice something is amiss if he hasn’t already - but to what extent he’ll point it out is unknown.

   His stomach growls at the smell of food and his eyes shift to the tray in Soma’s hands.  “  You remembered.  “ His eyes widen in genuine disbelief. He’d only mentioned it in passing once, he hadn’t expected Soma to actually remember something so insignificant as his favorite meal. And somehow that hurts. Even as Seiroku’s expression softens, and there’s a faint glimpse of something melancholic lurking in his gaze before he shoves it down beneath the waves. 

   Why do you have to make this so hard? Please...Please stop...

   Please don’t stop.

   “  Thank you.  “  Seiroku pushes a smile to his lips as he moves away from the window and the dark outside to sit at the table. His mouth waters yet he only stares for a moment at the food.  “  ...I really mean that. I’m not just saying it. “ His head lifts to look at the captain. He didn’t need to do any of this. His gaze lingers before he turns his head back to take a bit of the food before it got cold. Warm..

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth: I, a child, had to earn Thalia’s love, that’s how the world works! I have to earn my moms love. Love is transactional, you gotta be worthy of it first silly :)

Percy, listening to this on the train

[hellspawnmotel]

intimacy between an evil spiteful building-sized supercomputer and the lone scientist left behind after everyone else ditched and forgot about her (in which computer wants to kill scientist really bad but her programming wont let her so she just attempts to make her as miserable as possible instead, which also doesn't work because scientist is a freak)

[1alchemistart]

some dunmeshis bc i love them

[sirenetica]

Thought I'd take a crack at the Life Series In Your Style board (courtesy of @/xmaruu11)

Tell me which ones your favorite :)

[brungeons-and-bragons]

Bitches will be like “my ship just got confirmed” and then show you a single low-res frame of ambiguous origin where the characters walk out of a room together. It’s me. I am bitches.

[kangals]

friendly advice from vetmed: I know that when your animal has an infection that is generating a lot of discharge, you want to describe that to the veterinarian, because it’s a concerning sign. that is true. I also know that the most common word for this type of discharge is “pus,” so it’s logical that that’s the word that you’ll use when describing what’s going on. and in English, we often add a “-y” when we’re using a word as a descriptor.

but. the word. the word you are looking for. is purulent.

please stop sending in messages telling the doctor that your dog has a “pussy wound.”

[lazylittledragon]

please continue with dadstarion if you want to. we lov him

don’t worry i don’t need to be asked

[lotus-pear]

the day i picked up dazai or smth idk i've never read it

[dizzybizz]

i drew them,, with some mixed results

[thoselittleboats]

BG3 text posts - various (3/?)

[ariescults]

#MeganMonday: I Think I love Her Freestyle

[redysetdare]

enough stories about how someone learns to truely be happy through love. i want a story where someone is desperately seeking out love thinking it's the only way to be happy only for them to learn by the end that happiness is what they make of it and they don't need love at all to make it.

[spilledkaleidoscope]

Kim Skills!

No faces for him.

(drew this to accompany what started as a little spin-off of another fic...it's on ao3)

[thenearsightedmicroraptor]

Seen a lot of posts about people coming into your notifications out of nothing and liking your entire blog, but here's a shoutout to the people who do Not follow you, who appear out of nowhere, reblog One (1) post that you are Not the op of, and then you never see them again. Where did you come from girl.

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."