#Try to run in every other direction

[dent-de-leon]

Do not think I'll get over the fact that Molly encourages the idea that he's always had a string of lovers, lets people believe he goes off with someone new or visits brothels every night, and the whole thing is just...just because he doesn't want anyone to find out he's got this bleeding heart.

That his "choir practice" is him risking his life to save some strangers he's never met. That he's this compassionate, fiercely loyal protector who believes, "The truth is...How do I put this...the world is harsh and cruel, and I don't seem to be able to just walk on by."

That he has this reputation for being a shameless flirt with countless partners, and just...as far as we know, he only ever had one relationship. And after she died, he carried her cards and wore her coat every day, kept her close to his heart and never said a word about it. Not until he admits to Yasha that he's lonely, that he wishes he still had someone. The way Molly is grieving and mourning a partner just like Yasha, and no one ever knew.

The way Lucien couldn't believe that Jester found him "dreamy," the way people only ever saw him as a demon and monster for so long. Waking up as Kingsley and still looking for the love he lost. Still falling for Caleb. Tealeaf keeping so much close to the chest, afraid to let himself be too vulnerable. Only ever trusting his heart with a few. Wanting so badly to be good, to be loved, to be whole. Worshipping the goddess of love herself. Writing down, "Love. It binds us. It frees us. What more needs be said?"

[devilsskettle]

i've watched a lot of good films lately in an attempt to catch up with a bunch of movies that have come out recently, but talk to me was the best movie i've seen in a LONG time

[thedreadvampy]

Yes people are fucking dying and no I don't ever feel like. Great about people being killed in missile strikes.

But I also don't feel great about decades of civilians, including over 2,100 children in the last 20 years, being killed both by missile strikes and by being shot or beaten to death in the street.

250 people were killed in the Hamas rocket attacks on Saturday, which is around the same as the number of Palestinian people the Israeli security forces had murdered this year before Saturday, and significantly less than they've killed since Saturday.

look the people are not the state and despite Israel being an apartheid colony, being an Israeli citizen doesn't necessarily imply 100% agreement. It's been 70 years and 3 generations since Israel was established as a state and the majority of Israeli civilians now didn't choose to come, they're living in the country they were born (although the same is not so much true for people living in Gaza who have recently occupied the stolen homes of Palestinians). Israelis are human people with lives and hopes and passions and deaths of any person are tragic.

BUT.

Palestinians are human people with lives and hopes and passions and their lives matter just as much and are snuffed out without the international community batting an eye - I remind you again. 212 Palestinians including 38 children were murdered this year before this weekend's missile strikes and if you didn't give a shit until Hamas killed the same number of Israelis at which point everyone went OH MY GOD THE HUMANITY HOW COULD PALESTINIANS DO THIS (while Israel killed 300+ more Palestinians in under 24 hours) that's bc uhhhh you're fucking racist and don't think Palestinian lives are as important as Israeli ones

so like. sure we can acknowledge that 250 Israeli civilians' deaths are a tragedy, if we can also agree that the 300+ Palestinian civilians killed in retaliatory strikes are a tragedy and most importantly if we can agree that the 200+ Palestinians killed in 2023 before the Hamas strikes this weekend are not just a tragedy but a deliberate atrocity.

in January the Israeli government made it vocally clear before the UN than not only do they consider the occupation of Palestine permanent, they are explicitly focused on taking over as much Palestinian land as possible in perpetuity. Since then this whole year there have been a total of only FOUR (nonconsecutive) FULL WEEKS in which NO Palestines were killed by Israel (compared to only 8 weeks in which Israelis WERE killed, of which 2 incidents were friendly fire from another IDF member)

It's legitimately tragic when people are killed. And Israel has been systematically killing Palestinians to the degree there are Palestinian casualties recorded about 3 days in every 5 this year, usually multiple, with displacements, demolitions, injuries, arrests and beatings recorded almost every single day. I do not know how LITERALLY anyone can look at the numbers from this year, let alone the last 75, and conclude that Israel is the victim of unprovoked violence.

[nachosncheezies]

don't get me wrong i love mulder as a character and i don't put scully on a pedestal over him. she has her dumbass hours too.

i am an ~equal opportunity bitcher~ about these two 🤗

[craycraybluejay]

schizo lizard stare + 'piercingly colored' + deeply disinterested to way too interested eyes = people will openly and deliberately move to the other side to not be near you and you never know whether to find this amusing or somewhat irritating

[tasukete-eirin]

god i hate this fucking game

[steakout-05]

eeuuaghh i would like everyone to know that i apologise if i have not responded to your reblogs/mentions/posts on tumblr, i have really terrible social anxiety and for some reason people talking to me makes my nervous system think i'm being hunted for sport by a resident evil boss. sorry if i havent responded i'm not being rude i'm just having a panic attack :P

additionally: social anxiety is actually the reason why a lot of my old posts from late 2022 had weird spacing and spelling mistakes. i was too anxious to type properly

[tovaicas]

friend and I were discussing it and it's so fucked how the ishgardians literally have nowhere to go even if they wanted to run

[mxdotpng]

we. as a community. are severally lacking in anything about richard and asbel trying to kill each other.

EDIT: these tags have become less and less about asbel and richard killing each other. i am so sorry. do not ask me to speak about anything ever this is exactly what happens every time.

[becausegoodbye]

I'm obsessed with this piece. As absurd as it feels to say, it really feels like ... they've found the guy? They found out who the Zodiac Killer was. And he's dead, so there's no possibility of justice and it's all a little academic, but still.

To me the most important dimension of this is unmasking that sense of sneering senselessness that Zodiac pioneered: the figure of the terrifying serial killer who kills for no reason and cannot be understood. But behind most masks of 'incomprehensible evil', there's usually just misogyny and power and domestic violence, and Paul Doerr was no different. His daughter's recollections make such perfect, awful, patriarchal sense of the seemingly 'senseless' killings. Furious with his daughter for defying him and running away, he drives out to the local teen drug/sex spots – either to find and punish her, or else to punish the abstract shape of her: to exact revenge on the milieu that he blamed for having corrupted her.

The Zodiac Killer presented himself as a new and unique kind of evil, but he never actually was. He was the same kind of evil it always is. If the sad, odd revelation of his identity – so many years after it would have actually been a big deal – can mean anything, let it at least mean that.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

I feel like I need to drop all commitments, move across the country and try again.

Two years ago, in the hell that was 2020, I was supposed to go to college. I was supposed to go to my dream college for a major I was passionate about. It was only an hour from a friend I really really loved, who lived ten hours from me before that. I was about to be so close to her, to live my dream, to open the doors to my best life.

I took a weekend and did a college tour there in 2019. I stayed with that friend who was only an hour from the dream college. The second I stepped on campus, everything felt right. I felt like I belonged there. The library, the dorms, the grounds, it felt like home. I talked to the band and choir teacher about joining, she invited me to their production of Godspell in the spring that was going to include ASL interpreting students (my major). I saw my future and for once, it felt right.

Then in March 2020, I got an email. The college went bankrupt and was closing. Just months before I was supposed to be there.

And just like that, my plans, my life went out the window. I hadn't applied to any other colleges and now it was past most deadlines. I didn't want to go to a different college. I wanted that life back.

So, directionless, in June 2020 I moved two states away from my hometown, to live near my best friend. I didn't have a job, a car, an apartment, nothing. Just three boxes and some hope.

I met a potential roommate and toured the apartment the first day in the new state, and that day decided to move in. I ended up buying a sketchy minivan from my friend, and moved into my new apartment. Got a job and a couple of fish. But I didn't feel at home, it didn't feel right. It felt like I was living in someone else's apartment that I wasn't wanted in. Still, I was there for a year and a half.

Finally I got sick of it, I got impulsive, I moved states again. I applied for an apartment, got approved, put down a deposit, and six days later I packed my life into a UHaul and restarted. I got a different job, a different car because the first one only lasted about nine months, and now I was further from my best friend. But I was living alone and could make my own life.

I've lived here for eight months. I bought a dresser, I found a coffee shop that I like, the area is beautiful. Of all of the places I could've impulsively moved, this was a decent one. But I've had trouble settling in. I don't feel like I'm in the right place. I feel like this is just a placeholder, and I hate that.

I want to appreciate the life that I have right now. I live in a nice area, my best friend is only forty minutes from me, when three years ago he lived five hours away. I just got a promotion at my job. I count my blessings and I know I have so many, but I still feel like I'm in the wrong story.

And I know that that story passed me by. I'll never go to that college. The friend I was going to live near, we haven't talked since January 2020. I will never live the dream that I had and I know I need to get over it, but I feel like I'll be mourning it forever. And I always feel like I'm trying to chase it. Move to a new state, a new apartment, get a new job, maybe this time it'll feel right.

It doesn't feel right. I go to the coffee shop, I'm surrounded by people, I feel alone. I go to work, I'm surrounded by coworkers I've known for months, I feel like I don't know any of them. I go home, I'm surrounded by my belongings, it feels like this is just the storage unit where I keep myself.

I don't know what to do except run and hope that this time it'll feel right.

[ironmanstan]

Changed my mind i hate children

[hellofastudysession]

fanfic idea the ddlc club goes to the beach

[sapphicjigsaw]

girl as someone going through some of that stuff as well no that stuff is not something everyone has and people are generally usimg 'the horrors' to mean like chores and things no one enjoys doing not. mental and or physical illnesses </3

I have learned recently I maybe have to do something about my debilitating mental illness and physical body deterioration. Unfortunately the horrors have decided I cannot do anything right now and should instead start shaking so hard I can’t read. And then pass out.

[suguann]

Ex-husband!Gojo who doesn’t understand that the parents (mostly the moms who try to hide behind their giant sunglasses) at Mio’s soccer games talk, and he chooses today to pull you into his lap. Several sideways glances cast your way at how cozy you both must look as you watch your four-year-old daughter run in the wrong direction across the field because she got distracted by a butterfly.

He doesn’t hear what they talk about—aren’t they divorced? I’ve never seen anyone divorced act like that—or (worse) when they try to be subtle about their probing into Satoru’s dating life while you stand there with a stilted smile plastered onto your face. 

(More than likely, he’s listened to every word and doesn’t give it the same amount of thought or care as you do.)

“Gojo,” you hiss, trying to move off his lap to no avail. “I have my own chair.”

“Can you still call me that if it’s your name too?”

A huff. “Go bother somebody else—”

“Shh,” he tells you, tugging you further against his chest. “You’re missing the game. Mio’s finally found her way back onto the field again.”

“But everyone’s staring at us.” You catch the eye of a mother tearing into a pack of fruit snacks.

“So? Let them stare.”

Everyone starts cheering, and you both watch Mio chase the ball down the field, her little body ducking between the taller kids. 

“That’s my girl!” Gojo shouts over the other parents.    

And then Mio kicks the ball into— 

The wrong goal.

“Maybe we should have let her join t-ball,” you whisper, though you both clap as your daughter starts doing not-quite cartwheels in the middle of the field.

Ex-husband!Gojo who still does work around the house every Friday, and to your dismay, shirtless now that the weather is warmer.

The plate in your hands has a few scuffs, half of a cartoon character’s face scrubbed off to oblivion that Mio will have something to say about later. Doing everything to stop from staring out into the yard where he’s mowing the lawn because the window is right there, above the sink, to tempt you.

It’s difficult when his chest glistens with sweat from the early-summer heat and how those stupid gray cotton shorts (that you know he picked out with the sole purpose of torturing you) sit dangerously low on his hips— 

He looks towards the kitchen window, a crooked smile stretching across his lips. The blood rushing to your brain, that must be what makes you give a sudsy wave and cause heat to creep into your middle.

Ex-husband!Gojo who strolls into your room while you’re putting away laundry one afternoon, and unsurprisingly shirtless as he crowds you against the dresser. Front to back. His mouth at your ear.

That steady resolve you pride yourself in crumbles at your feet, and you swallow the tiny, helpless sound working its way up your throat. A slippery thing that slips out. “Satoru…”

“You know, these little shorts were always my favorite,” he tells you, his fingers playing with the elastic waistband.

“Were they?”

“Don’t you remember? Couldn’t get them out of the way fast enough.”

Your mouth is dry, something playing in a loop in the back of your brain. Early morning, breakfast cooling on the stove, crumbs stuck to your cheek, these shorts dangling off the leg propped up on the counter—

“Where’s Mio?”

A kiss to your nape, a knowing smile. “Taking a nap.”

Ex-husband!Gojo who works your shorts and underwear off your legs before pulling you to the edge of the bed. 

“Satoru, we—we can’t keep doing this—”

Your words trail off into a moan when he slaps your clit with the leaky tip of his cock, and wet sounds echo in the room.

“Yeah? Go on, baby,” he tells you, slowly splitting you open, stuffing you full, two puzzle pieces slotting perfectly into place like it should be (how it’s always been). “Tell me some more why we can’t keep doing this.” 

You can’t, not with how he’s filling you up in the way only he knows how. Not when he hooks two thick fingers into your mouth because you’re getting too loud, pinning you against the bed with your cheek buried into your pillow, every sound choking into nothing.

You wriggle underneath him, fingers clawing at the comforter and your back arching.

“Christ, look at you,” he growls, leaning over you, teeth bared. “Fucking look at you. You needed this, didn’t you?”

Ex-husband!Gojo who presses what leaks out back inside you with his thumb after he pulls out, wet and sticky circles between your legs until you fall apart again with a soft cry. His thumb is there again, at your entrance, pushing and stopping like a plug, muttering something under his breath that sounds like, “Can’t waste it.” 

And quieter, “Maybe it’ll take.”

(Who knows?

Maybe it will. Worse things have happened.)

Ex-husband!Gojo who stays for dinner for the fourth time that week, and none of the reasons have been because Mio asked if he could. It’s more about the fact that you’ve enjoyed how whole your family feels again, that you can pretend for a moment this is what you do every night.

(How it was probably always going to come back to this.) 

That your wedding ring doesn’t sit in the back of your sock drawer, and his isn’t tucked away in his wallet. That you don’t feel guilty when you think about saying I love you or wishing he’d stay longer—

“Daddy, you gonna lose,” Mio tells Satoru as Mario Kart appears on the screen.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, tugging on one of her pigtails until she’s giggling and swatting his hand away.

You lean back against the couch, watching them with a small smile you share with Satoru over your daughter’s head.

[gikairan]

In a modern fantasy setting, magic users would be the most desirable computer programmers and you can't convince me otherwise