#and not at all most bc i dont think about it that often

[omitea]

SOMEONE ELSE TO LOVE .ᐣ.ᐟ

❥. ft. g. satoru.

╰┈➤ satoru has been thinking about something lately. though the way he brings it up, comes across as something completely different. but he’s quick to reassure you.

❥. content. f! reader, whipped satoru, mention of baby bump, a pinch of angst, satoru has baby fever. a tiny sentence of suggestiveness. the thought of dad! gojo has me in a headlock.

❥. note. i had to fight with writers block to get smth out… ended up w this bc i dont wanna process ch 261. this is all over the place, forgive me.

gojo satoru was a man consisting of many qualities. the most obvious one, was being totally whipped for you. that fact only succeeded in leaving you with a tingly feeling in your chest.

he's been tracing your stomach since he joined you under the heavy duvet that’s covering both of your bodies. you place your hand on top of his, giving it a firm squeeze. and with a deep sigh, he finally speaks for the first time for the night. the words flowing from his mouth laced with a slight rasp, “what if there was someone else i’d be able to love...someday?”

it was a soft murmur. the sound of his voice almost getting drowned out by the busy city that could be heard in your high-rise apartment. it being the complete opposite of the ambience you were currently engulfed in. you felt the familiar feeling of something uneasy sinking into the pit of your stomach. what does he even mean by loving someone else? the grip you had on his hand loosened as dread started to bubble under the thick layers of your skin.

slowly, you turned around to face him. wide eyes mirroring his, but they were only filled with adoration. different shades of blue specks glistening from the moonlight that's peeking through the curtains. yet it soon dims once he sees your lips tremble and the dejected look on your face. his hand desperately grabs your face— rubbing his thumb on the apple of your cheek.

“hey...hey, what’s wrong?,” he pleads, eyes darting across your face to search for any form of discomfort. his lips form into a small pout, silently begging for you to talk to him. to tell him what's wrong. but your throat feels like it's slowly closing in, not allowing you to utter a single word.

sometimes it was hard to figure out what was going on in that pretty head of his. often being unspecific with his choice of words. realization slowly began to sink in, and he felt his breath shudder out of sheer panic. “i didn’t mean it like that, angel,” he swallowed. once he was met with silence, he rested his forehead against your own. the sight of your teary eyes looking up at him, made it feel like his heart had been ripped out and shattered into the smallest pieces. “sweets…i didn’t. i promise.”

he was quick to reassure you and placed a wet kiss on your forehead before placing one on your lips— which are currently formed in a pout. “shit. uhm..,” he cleared his throat. “i know we talked about this a lot, but lately it’s been the only thing i've been thinking about.” a questionable look found its way on your face and he took that as a sign to continue.

“you know, someone who can call you ‘mama’, someone who’s the perfect mix of the two of us.” his hand rested on your stomach yet again. “you’d look absolutely beautiful with a cute baby bump.”his white eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes to take a breath to drown out the sound of his heart beating in his ears. “wouldn’t that be exciting, hmm?,” he chuckled. “a little version of you and me eventually running around the house...being the most precious thing in the world.”

it was quiet for a moment before you finally had spoken, "satoru.'' it sounded more like a small whisper into the cold night air, "you're such an ass." at that, he pulled back, and his jaw dropped. "c'mon, it was cute. admit it.'" you scoffed and turned your back before pulling the covers over your head. "goodnight, toru."

he dipped his head under and propped his head on your shoulder. allowing his soft lips to leave wet trails of feathery kisses on your skin. "prettyyyyy,'' he whined. his cold hand made its way under your nightgown— squeezing the pooch of your stomach. "wanna practice right now?''

you started feeling giddy with his soft touches and his breath fanning against your cheek. but you weren't going to give in that easily. "would you be able to handle it?," you grinned. the small gasp leaving his throat only amusing you more.

"of course!," satoru boasted," i'd make sure to pump you round and full of quadruplets too."

you almost choked on your spit and you felt him wrap his arm around you, pulling you closer to his chest. "i did not need to hear this. goodnight," you yawned. he muttered a small, "yes, ma'am," before straining his neck to place a big kiss on your lips.

although, sleep couldn't overtake your consciousness because of something prodding at the back of your thigh.

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[samarecharm]

Love being able to write. I can do whatever i want. I can make Ryuji interact w Lala-chan and u literally cant stop me.

[liquidstar]

the goddamn show came out

[dennisboobs]

my favourite thing about the always sunny podcast is listening to rcg all say something extremely neurodivergent and then agree amongst themselves and convince themselves its completely normal

[kingprinceleo]

Maybe doing another or a new hobby can help ! Maybe baking could help, even if u are not really good at it from the get go, is a fun thing to try out

i really should try to get into other hobbies but its very hard!! i have really bad perfectionism habits and immediately drop things im not instantly good at jfdgn and the Horrors make it hard for me to squeeze dopamine out of anything </3 tbh if anyone has suggestions for like, cheap things to do im listening fdbhjghjb

[moonshynecybin]

benjamin tallmadge is such a genuinely neurotic control freak it’s awesome

[nymika-arts]

the real reason why tumblr is my favourite social media is people actually interact with the things I create here lmao. I post on any other app and most of the time even people I know don't stop long enough to drop a like on it

[dandyshucks]

blinks tiredly. i decide "hm maybe i should try to expand my circle and step outside of it a little, lets go look at the main community tags" and im just greeted with a bunch of edgelords who think saying "fiction doesn't affect reality, don't like don't read" is peak activism and "fighting censorship". head in my hands. this is partially why i do not ever go into the community tags, my nervous system cannot handle blocking fifty weirdos every single day just so i can have a normal experience in the community tags hfdsjkl

[maybemountains]

the first thing fancy brew thinks when joe beans tells her to come upstairs is that she's definitely not paid enough to be interrupting her break for customers but she agrees to come up regardless.

the second thing fancy brew thinks when she sees the combination if people in front of her are family. the feeling fades as quickly as it came and it leaves her head aching and her heart pounding. she feels as though she's found a part of herself in them and she doesn't understand why. she pushes the feeling down. 

and then the lot of them yell jancy and oh, these kids (and kids? that's not right and she knows it's not but, then, what is the right word for them?) are loud and she’s already so tired. but they keep going and oh they have the wrong woman, don't they? because she can't remember them at all. and, while fancy brew knows her memories aren’t all there, she’s not sure if she can bring herself to believe that these kids are her family.

they call her their mom but she's, she's not that old, she knows she's not that old, at least. and anyways, one of them is a grandma? so she can’t possibly be their mom, because jancy- fancy brew may not know much but she knows she’s not that old.

and yet, she can't help but think of the pang of familiarity she felt, the pang of familiarity she keeps feeling but -- god her head aches -- but something isn't right here and jancy tru- fancy brew is on the case. 

fancy brew knows nothing. she remembers little of her life before working for joe and still, she can't help but feel as though that didn’t always used to be the case. 

fancy brew may know nothing but she's certain that these... children of hers, aren’t actually her children. they simply can’t be.

but fancy brew is a smart woman, and she knows that, perhaps, if she truly were to know these people, they might be able to trigger some of her memory gain if they talk about memories they'd shared in the past. and despite everything, fancy hopes that she knows these people and fears that she doesn't. 

more than anything, fancy wants to believe that these people are her family, but a part of her is worried. what if she lets them down? what if they are her family and she simply can’t remember them? what if she isn’t? fancy’s not sure which outcome would be worse.

still when she floats the idea, the party takes it and runs with it and she's almost struck by the speed at which they are willing to bare their souls to her. fancy brew is reeling from the blind trust and faith they've put into her, a woman who can't remember and who doesn't know, a woman who may be a stranger. she knows that whoever this jancy is, these kids love her. and fancy is reeling at that fact, at the love they share for the woman they believe she is. 

fancy bre- no, jancy true, does not remember everything. but she remembers cheering york on, she remembers bailing her children out of bad situations, she remembers the butt cloud and an angry (exasperating) horned woman and a sadder, older, horned woman as well and most importantly she remembers Rosé's birthday. 

jancy true remembers her family. 

jancy true used to know everything. 

fancy brew knew nothing. 

currently, jancy true remembers very little. when all is said and done, her memories are fuzzy and her head hurts so much so it feels as though she can't think. 

when jancy looks at the party, her family, her children, she knows that she’ll be okay. because if she knows anything, she knows that these are her children, and, as hard as it may be to believe sometimes, they’re smarter than they may seem.

[justablah56]

hmm . thinking abt glark again y'all .

[thedevotionaltour]

karen is MY special white woman. my problematic fave. because i understand why she sucks. i think in order to be allowed to be a karen fan you have to actually understand why she sucks. if you don't understand why she sucks then you're a bad karen fan i think.

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?

[pinkopalina]

as a huge batjokes shipper i want batman and joker to hate each other in the sense they dont really hate each other, they just have really different goals and see their own version of potential in the other and right now hate is the best word for their situationship. they both love the other for what they could be but neither of them wants to be what the other one wants, and that's equally as frustrating as it is necessary for them to keep existing in their current roles. they're deadlocked and that fate surrounding each other is kind of the point -- we both have to be like this, the opposite of what the other wants, for us to keep existing at all, and for giving me that gift i both love and hate you. it's an agreement. i think the hate that's there now is born from an intense underlying love.

i think batman "hates" joker for being so amazing and smart and cunning, for being able to create grand gestures and schemes, to pull people together under his charisma and make them all believe in something, for being as extraordinary as he is but batman hates that he uses it to hurt people. he hates that joker can't channel his energy into doing something good for the world, that he hurts himself and others just because he wants to be batman's greatest enemy. i think batman wants to help joker but also hates him at this point for joker exhausting him, constantly getting hurt both emotionally and physically by him, joker never trying to improve his situation, throwing away other people's lives, showing batman he loves him by lashing out and hurting him. batman hates joker because he loves his rogues, he wants to help them, and he knows they can do better. he wants to live in a gotham that doesn't need batman but he still needs to be needed, because when there's no batman, what is bruce going to be? without joker, he will continue being batman, but it's an empty crusade. some of my favorite interactions between harvey and bruce are the ones where harvey thanks bruce for "always being there for me, never giving up on me, my very best friend." even with someone like harvey, bruce can still hold onto that hope for his rogues, never give up on them, keep going for them, even if it puts them through the cycle one more time.

i think joker hates batman in the most toxic way possible, but it's still love. i just think he's selfish and doesn't want batman to think about anyone else but him, the same way he operates for batman, but if he must think about other people then joker will make it as amazing as possible! i think he hates batman for wasting his time on ordinary people, people who are so boring that batman claims he has to protect and serve and love them but joker thinks it's all surface-level. batman won't kill joker but he'll leave room for people dying in his crusade. it's a choice he allows, and even if joker knows that's a morally fucked up way to put someone in a box, he doesn't care. batman is the type of person to train himself mentally and physically for decades and dress up in a half-silly-half-menacing costume so that everyone can have an idea about him. batman himself is not normal, and joker knows that and loves that! why is he wasting his time trying to save people that use him, abuse him, don't want him to be the best he can be? i think joker's motivations for loving batman and lashing out as if he hates him lie somewhere in between extreme admiration -- like i truly believe in your cause and that you're the right person to do it, but i'm so angry at you for wasting your time on other people and i'm so hurt and jealous that you choose them over me, just so you can be a hypocrite and let them die if i want them to anyways -- and anger at his hypocrisy -- like it's easy for joker to dedicate himself to chaos and just being in batman's life by putting batman in situations that force him to be a better and better hero, but how can batman sit there and choose and pick what morals he'll uphold and who gets to live and who gets to die?

i want to be your greatest enemy because you are the greatest hero ever, and the only way you and i can keep being the best at what we do is if we do it together, because of what we both believe in.

[manslutz]

gonna word vomit in these tags oops

[cuntstable]

drank a single small glass of wine mixed with glogg before my nap btw and my legs are achey atm and when i was falling asleep i noted that i got a tingling sensation and flush as i always do and even though ive been drinking since like age 15 im actually for the first time questioning if this is normal for everyone else