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#but whirlpool
fishtinker · 2 months
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I love pretending i have friends to talk to!! No one talks to me still months later i cant wait for people to follow my account just to ignore me sooo cute (leaaave)
Anyways all eyes on rafah
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catchymemes · 1 year
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the-wolf-and-moon · 4 months
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M51, Whirlpool Galaxy
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traverse-our-universe · 3 months
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M51: The Whirlpool Galaxy
Nick Fritz on Instagram
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hellsitegenetics · 1 month
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Can you do the lyrics to Cotton Eye Joe?
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Closest match: Anisus vortex genome assembly, chromosome: 7 Common name: Whirlpool Ram's Horn
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(image source)
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falling-skyzz · 18 days
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self-defense
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without-ado · 8 months
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A Feast for the Eyes: Whirlpool Galaxy l ESAWebb NIR+MIRI
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M51 Whirlpool Galaxy!
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ybon-paramoux · 23 days
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皮哥 Pigo Lin (1984) The Whirlpool Dream
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zorosdimples · 6 months
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AFLOAT
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pairing ༄ zoro x gn!reader
warnings ༄ this fic is slightly suggestive, but it’s more fluffy than anything else. reader has an unspecified devil fruit power, and thus cannot swim. reader wears a bra and underwear, and is implied to be shorter than zoro, but no gendered terms are used.
word count ༄ 1365
notes ༄ my birthday fic for zoro! this has been in my drafts since july. it’s disgustingly self-indulgent and filled with emotion; i hope you all enjoy regardless <3 tagging my beloved wife @redskyvenus!
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sitting on the edge of a rickety, weather-worn dock, you dip your legs in crystalline water and try to keep your focus on the depths: on the flora that roots at the bottom and reaches to the sun, on the schools of tiny fish that flit around the underwater jungle.
but your gaze keeps drifting to the man swimming laps around the spring, admiring how gracefully his strong body cuts through the water. the midafternoon sun hotly caresses your skin and presses into you like a greedy lover. you lean back on your palms and tilt your head up to soak in the barefaced sky; its cerulean is only obscured by the dense foliage that surrounds the secluded watering hole.
you’re startled from your thoughts when you feel something tickle your toes. with a strangled yelp you scramble back from the edge of the dock. as you steady your breathing and wonder what the hell just touched you, a familiar mint green head bobs up to the surface.
“asshole!” you shout, slamming your hands down on the wooden planks for emphasis.
zoro laughs heartily as he hoists himself out of the water and plops down next to you. he ruffles his hair, sending sparkling droplets flying in the sunlight, landing on your sweat-damp flesh. your eyes flicker to the rivulets that ebb and flow down his naked torso into a little pool beneath him.
remembering your irritation, you half-heartedly punch his tricep and scold him. “you scared me so badly i could’ve fallen into the spring and drowned. and then you have the audacity to laugh at me?”
zoro snorts at your dramatics, but glosses over them, nudging you with his elbow. “i’d never let you drown and y’know it.”
he’s right, of course. zoro is certainly strong enough to haul you out of the water. you’ve watched him save countless people—friend and foe alike—from a premature grave. you put your feet back in the spring, playfully kicking the swordsman’s leg in the process. the chilled water cools your body but isn’t enough to stop the perspiration that beads at your hairline.
“i miss swimming,” you state, thinking aloud more than speaking to the man beside you. you can’t see the way his lone eye maps your profile as though he will forget the cant of your nose and the curve of your lip once this moment passes.
silence hangs comfortably for several breaths before zoro turns to you with a sly—or is it sinister?—smile. “let me take you swimming.”
you blink at him a few times, face scrunching into the signature scowl he secretly adores.
“did you hit your head on a rock or something? i’m a devil fruit user. it’s physically impossible for me to stay afloat in water, let alone swim in it.”
his grey eye shines with mirth. “just listen for a sec, will ya? no need for insults,” he chuckles as he rises to his feet and offers you a hand.
you appraise him with a quirked brow. you will yourself to push away thoughts of how beautiful he looks bathed in sunbeams and how you wish you could chart the planes of his body the same way you are charting the grand line. how you would see and count and kiss every scar etched in his flesh and tell him how happy you are that he’s alive.
zoro keeps his expectant stance, and you focus on his outstretched hand, just as sinewy and scarred as the rest of his body.
“d’you trust me?” he inquires. his eye searches yours for truth.
“more than i trust myself,” you answer without thinking. the admission is perhaps too honest, but you catch his dimpled smile and feel a little lightheaded as you grasp his rough palm and stand up beside him.
zoro leads you off the dock and around the rocky curves and edges of the spring to an ideal point of entry. you reach a stretch that resembles a beach: a sandy shore that slopes into the water. he starts walking into the spring expecting you to follow, but when you hesitate, he pauses and spins to face you.
“somethin’ the matter?” he asks.
you wordlessly glance down at your jean shorts and white top. “ah,” he says with a curt nod. “you should just wear your swimsuit. don’t wanna get all bogged down with wet clothes.”
you absentmindedly fiddle with the edge of your shirt and clear your throat. “i don’t have a swimsuit, zoro.”
“huh? nami’s always got one on. you’re tellin’ me you don’t?”
you rub your temples. “oh my god, zoro. nami can swim—i can’t. why would i ever wear a swimsuit when i have no intention of swimming?”
after a few tense beats, he tries again. “so—”
you interrupt him with a huff. “just turn around and wait a second. please?”
he obeys without question and you sigh. before you second guess yourself, you undress, leaving your shirt and shorts in a tidy pile on the sand. you’re left in your bra and underwear. they’re nothing special: just a matching cotton set that has seen better days. they are well-worn and comfortable—perfect for the sticky summer heat. you muster all your courage and start walking toward the shoreline.
it’s not a big deal.
it’s just like a swimsuit.
he won’t care.
it’s not as though he likes me.
zoro can hear your tentative steps, faint splashes in the water behind him. he doesn’t turn to you since you never told him he could. once you reach his side, he angles his head so he can look you directly in the eyes, saying, “we’re gonna walk until the water is up to your shoulders. is that okay?” if you saw a rosy flush on his cheeks, you could have easily mistaken it for the heat or too much sun.
“yeah,” you breathe.
the two of you walk in silence. you feel fine until the water hits your waist, then reality sets in. you haven’t been in a body of water since you were a young child. icy panic surges through your veins when you feel a fish graze one of your legs; you instinctively grab zoro’s tanned forearm to steady yourself.
“easy there, s’okay,” he soothes, stopping so you can get your bearings. when you don’t let go of him, he adds a simple “c’mere,” securing a strong arm around your waist. the water is cold, but his touch burns you.
it’s a strange sensation, delving deeper in the clear water, the surface lapping at your shoulders. it’s both nostalgic and new, familiar and foreign, frightening and exciting—even more so with the man holding you.
“see? you’re a pro,” zoro teases, calloused fingers gentle as he squeezes your waist.
usually, you would bite back, but you’re transfixed by the feeling. you attempt to turn and face zoro, but stumble in the process, unused to how clunky your legs feel underwater. he wraps both his arms around your waist, anchoring you to him.
it dawns on you how close you two are: your bodies pressed together, a thin layer of sodden fabric separating your flesh from his. the swordsman hopes you can’t feel how fast his heart is beating. (you would if you weren’t so focused on your own heartbeat.)
you peer up at zoro, hands splayed on his firm pecs, and for the first time, you see unguarded longing in his steel gaze. it’s awkward, the way neither of you can bring yourselves to speak. but leaning into one another feels right.
uncharacteristically, zoro breaks the quiet. his voice is rich—husky—as he asks, “you okay?”
boldly, you link your hands around his sun-warmed neck, thrilled when he doesn’t pull away, but instead sinks into your touch. you stand on your tiptoes, inching closer to him. zoro’s head hangs low, chapped lips parted, breath heavy. he’s so close that you can see him and smell him and hear him and feel him, but you want to taste him, too.
“let’s just stay like this,” you murmur.
and in the middle of the chilly spring, two burning souls stay afloat, zoro’s lips moving, melting, blurring against your own.
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zegalba · 1 year
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mossymandibles · 2 months
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THE MOON TURNS HER FACE AWAY
PULLING THE SEA UNTO HER
SENDING HER GHOST OUT TO HUNT
A CRIMSON CAPE AND SCALES OF SILVER
Anyway, Yuna playing with her food.
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sixpenceee · 1 year
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“Stumbled across a mesmerizing whirlpool in a bay”
Source                          
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the-wolf-and-moon · 9 months
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M51, Whirlpool
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spacewonder19 · 2 years
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M51: Whirlpool Galaxy © Hubble
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milktea-grn · 2 months
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i think if you put these two in a room together and came back ten minutes later you would find it fully burnt to the ground
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