Hoy Me Duele Lima

(content warning: blood)

Sewed Up Heart

[ID: A Trigun comic done in grayscale with red accents. First, an anatomical heart gushes blood, forming a puddle which shifts into Vash's coat. Vash's gloved hands can be seen sewing up a tear at the hem.

Vash raises his hands, which are now bare and covered in blood. He looks sweaty and distressed, and he raises his coat to his face and cries into it. His clenched hands rip the sewed portion apart, and the red thread leads to a heart whose own stitches are tearing apart. The background gets darker and darker, and the red looks brighter and starker against it.

Then the background returns to white, and brown-skinned hands using embroidery scissors snip a red thread. Wolfwood holds up Vash's repaired coat, grinning proudly, and does a happy thumbs-up in Vash's direction. Vash lifts his head, seeming distant.

Wolfwood holds out the coat. As Vash puts out his hand to take it, the cloth is replaced so Wolfwood is dropping a sewed-up heart in Vash's hand. Vash rubs the coat against his face with a teary smile. End ID] ID CREDITS

Stars

I used to dream with stars until I met one

“The Proof is in the Soup”

A slightly different take on that chicken soup scene in Releves. For @messy-scandinoodle

Hannibal generally isn’t one to argue with himself. He knows his own mind, he knows what he hopes to achieve, and he knows how to either get what he wants or how to adjust any situation so that it is more advantageous to getting what he wants. If he doesn’t get what he wants, he can still at least amused by the process.

Except…

There is now the Will Graham issue to contend with.

Where Will Graham is concerned, Hannibal does find himself second-guessing some of his choices. There are too many choices, or not enough of them. Hannibal wants certain outcomes more than others, and he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with just amusement at the process.

So as he prepares the soup he intends to bring to Will’s bedside table, Hannibal wonders how best to approach a recipe he’s recreated many times.

Should I leave the dates whole, or chop them? Might they infuse the broth with too much sweetness? What if Will doesn’t like dates?

Have you thought of that?

And the star anise…surely Will  knows not to eat them. Perhaps you should remove them after they’ve imparted their flavor.

Even on the way to the hospital, with the soup done and packed in its carrying case, Hannibal frets over how best to introduce the meal.

Make it sound artistic and complex. Impress him with the exotic components, like a composer showing off rare instruments.

But what if he sees the truth? What if he sees your true intentions?

He won’t. He’ll be dazzled by the ingredients.

In the hospital room, Will stirs from sleep as soon as Hannibal begins unpacking the meal.

“Smells delicious,” he says, hair tousled and eyes still drowsy.

“Silkie chicken in a broth,” Hannibal explains. He decides on a small history lesson. “A black-boned bird prized in China for its medicinal values since the seventh century. Wolfberries, ginseng, ginger, red dates, and star anise.”

Will’s eyebrows go up. A cartoon light bulb practically goes on over his head.

“You made me chicken soup?”

Hannibal freezes in place. His inability to respond lasts only a split second, but it feels like ages. His mind screams at him.

HE KNOWS. WILL GRAHAM KNOWS WHAT YOU’VE DONE. HE HAS SEEN THROUGH YOUR ARTISTIC RUSE.

Time slows to a crawl, nearly stops entirely.

YOU FOOL. YOU FOOLISH FOOL.

Will’s expression bores into him like a tunneling electron microscope, ferreting out the purest essence of the truth.

HE KNOWS YOU HAVE MADE FOR HIM THE NUMBER ONE ILLNESS REMEDY MADE FOR LOVED ONES SINCE TIME IMMEMORIAL. CHICKEN SOUP! CHICKEN SOUP! WHEN YOU LOVE SOMEONE, YOU MAKE THEM CHICKEN SOUP!!!!

Hannibal forces himself to remain outwardly calm and waits for time to begin moving again.

“Yes,” he finally says, his tone curt.

CHANGE THE SUBJECT, YOU FOOL.

“The nurses tell me you’ve been wandering, Will,” he says, and hopes the burning he feels inside cannot be seen from the outside.

(end)

PSMP is the exact reason I love this community and absolutely fucking despise it

I had a friend

Source: 【OVERLORD】　 LOG.１ by 惡道GAZARI

Album: http://imgur.com/a/ZfEFk

My darling, I love you

Her lips are like alcohol

They leave a burning sensation after I kiss her

And they make me feel as if I am commiting a sin

But if I really am,

Then isn't she worth sinning for?

Isn't a love as twisted and wrong as ours worth it?

Isn't it enough to know that when I wake up the next day she will be by my side?

My darling.

I love you.

I love the scars in your arms,

I love your loud laugh, always appearing at the worst moments,

I love your voice,

I love the stories that you write for me,

I love how you look in that dress that you hate so much,

I love your reflection in the mirror

and that you always refuse to see it,

I love that you've never told me you loved me,

but still showed me that you do.

I love you,

I love you,

I love you.

God this is so beautiful yet awful and tragic. Fucking kills me.

memories are bullets

Blond people (2)

The second time that he hated blond people was when he discovered that Germania was his father. He had just been captured by Rome. He had just seen his mother bleed to death.

He was sitting in one of the cells of the coliseum when he saw him. With a blond hair just like his. And he knew, he didn't had to ask, he didn't had to think for long. And then he hated him, he hated him with more passion that he had ever hated anyone, even himself. And he blamed him, he blamed everything that had happened on him. He blamed on him that his brothers didn't love him. He blamed on him that he could never have a family. He blamed on him that his mother was dead. He blamed on him that Rome had captured him. He blamed on him everything that happened and that didn't. And then he hated him even more.

Blond people

The first time that England hated blond people was also the first time that he hated himself. He was running, trying to catch his brothers and he wondered "is this the meaning of family?" "helplessly trying to be loved?". He got his answer hours later when they try to drown him for the first time. That is when he saw it. His reflection on the river. He saw his green eyes, his pale skin and his blond hair. He saw everything that he wasn't and everything that he should be. And then he hated himself. And then he blamed himself. He blamed on himself that his brothers didn't love him, he blamed on himself that he could never have a family, he blamed on himself that his mother always looked at him pity. And then he hated his brothers. And then hated what it meant to live.

bleach au where the human teens are millennials

ulquiorra: if this eye cannot see a thing, then it does not exist orihime: my dude just for got about gravity smh

aizen: i am perfectly capable of reaching your heart at any moment ichigo: pics or it didn’t happen

mayuri: killing you now will be as easy as strangling a baby ishida: op strangles babies but go off i guess

ichigo: i will yeet you into the fucking sun hollow ichigo: i’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me! zangetsu, sobbing: what the fuck is going on

yoruichi, urahara, gin, and shinji are the only ones who understand what the fuck any of them are saying