#you deserve a rest

[star-ocean-peahen]

tumblr istg if you eAT MY ASK AGAIN- it literally crashed and I Cannot be typing that all out again I will Die sdkfhsjk

anyways, have an unfinished experimental Shei doodle, I did a Thing with his hair. no headcanons bc tumblr said No :( I'll probably send it later when I'm not fighting for my life (I'm fine btw, life's just taking me for a spin)

Impa post coming soon (yay! :D)

also, thx for the goodies in my inbox, I'll try to get to them soon

love ya, bye, gonna go rest now

anyways listen to this song and angst about a what if the queen was trying to protect Shei that doesn't make sense with the current canon but still hurts me otherwise I'm obsessed with this song

i

o

MARS

YOU CAN'T JUST COME INTO MY ASKBOX LIKE THAT AND JJUST EXPLODE MY HEART

i was hyperventilating ITS HIM!!!!!! ITSG MY BOY!!!! THATS EXACTLY HOW I IMAGINED HIM HE LOOKS PERFECT OHAIFWHFCAWHFOEIWHVDOSAEF THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS HIM ITS HIM ITS HIM ITS THATS HIM THATS HIM YOU GOT HIS FACE EXACTLY RIGHT THATS EXACTLY HOW HE IS IN MY HEAD (ignore the sim i had no idea what i was doing) ITS HIM ITS HIM ITS MY BOY

his hair is AMAZING that style is so CUTE on him ohhhhhhh my goodness this is so incredible(also sorry about tumblr eating your asks that sucks)

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiIIIIIIIIICAN'TWAIT FOR THE IMPA POST I WILL VIBRATE OUT OF MY SKULL

TODAY WAS ALREADY WONDERFUL AND YOU JUST PUT IT SOLIDLY IN THE TOP TEN OF THE PAST FEW YEARS (right up there with the time you first mentioned you were interested in loam) THANK YOU SO MUCH

————

WOW THIS SONG IS ROCKING

oh

OH

WH

GOOD QUEEN AU IS RUMBLING AROUND IN MY HEAD

ok ok ok ok ok so like what if the king and queen were cousins before they got married right (come on royal line descended from the goddesses PRIME space for inbreeding). and the king was higher in the line of succession than she was and he also had kids from a previous marriage. and instead of her being the tyrant he's the tyrant and hes training his kids to be just as bad as he is. so if she has a child thats hers and not his she can claim some obscure by-law and depose him. but in order to do that she has to wait until he grows up SOOOOOOO

im having too much fun with this

[worm-on-a-blog]

hey! take it easy soon, if you can. 

[ash-and-starlight]

The world needs more Yue and Zuko friendship, I squeal just thinking abt the parallels. They deserve a life changing field trip together and if u have abt ideas I’m all ears 👀

Hiii anon this ask fermented in my inbox and in my brain for so long,, so take this??? Post canon yue lives/no war au arts?? Anyway aside from the Parallels and their political position & their duty before hoes grindset I think they could learn a lot from each other. With zuko learning the gift of patience & diplomacy from yue & Yue learning that allowing yourself to feel anger and speaking up can actually be Good.

anyway hypothetical life changing trip outcome: zuko takes an intro gender studies class and yue says fuck

(oh and also must not forget the crush on sokka)

[rrat-king]

“and for the briefest moment, you see two silhouettes in the rail of moonlight across the ripples of the lake. a tall and awkward teenage girl’s silhouette and a strong and confident woman briefly hold hands”

a tall and awkward teenage girl.

a tall and awkward teenage girl— god she was only 16! she revived rats in the woods! she was a cleric and a beloved student and tall and awkward and just. lucy frostblade i will never stop thinking about you.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i am delighted to inform you that wild bears seeking out and swinging on hammocks is in fact a fairly common occurrence!

[momonica05]

CONCERNED APE I WANT TO DRINK MAYONESE WAKE UP

[chloesimaginationthings]

Peni had a rough canon event

[lotus-pear]

I AM SHITTJING MYSELF WHY DOES HE HAVE THE SPECIAL EDITION $1.5K VICTORIA’S SECRET RED SATIN PAJAMAS

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it would really benefit people to internalize that mental illnesses are often chronic and not acute. Some of us will never be able to jump the hurdle of managing illness, much less sustaining a sense of normalcy. Many of us will never "recover," will never manage symptoms, will never even come close to appearing normal - and this is for any condition, even the ones labeled as "simple" disorders or "easy-to-manage" disorders.

It isn't a failure if you cannot manage your symptoms. It isn't a moral failure, and you aren't an awful person. You are human. There's only so much you can do before recognizing that you cannot lift the world. Give yourself the space to be ill because, functionally, you are.

[satoruhour]

a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me

the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.

when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.

gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—

“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.

it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.

gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.

he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.

you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.

“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.

and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.

not like this. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.

“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 

“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.

“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”

“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.

“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.

“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.

“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.

but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.

the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[yashley]

[shyghosties]

just taking it one day at a time

[fairyhaos]

bro do u know who's an idol that i wanna gatekeep soooo bad? dokyeom. like this is a man who's so crazy talented that he's lead vocal of a hugeee group, belts high notes Just For Fun, is moodmaker, energizer, sunshine of the group, cute and funny and adorable and sexy buff all at once and is ALSO the leader of the incredibly successful bss on the side?? he's been in a musical, TWICE (bc he was so good that they called him in to reprise the show), and no matter how much he struggles he literally never fails to have the hugest smile on his face. he's caring and gentle and loud and bubbly and he's so fucking GORGEOUS. like it's actually insane how beautiful he is. people don't appreciate him enough and i think that this is a sign that we start gatekeeping him bc if lee dokyeom is gonna be treated with anything other than kindness and love, then others don't deserve to know about him at all.

[wiggispa0fartface]

This has definitely been said before I feel it in my left kidney but

The reason we can't distinct what's symptoms of autism/or quite frankly any neurodiversity and what's effects of trauma is because society has not produced a single not-traumatized neurodivergent person.

[delicatepointofview]

LOVE ON TOUR: THE LAST LEG (EUROPE 2023)

[cozy-the-overlord]

What upsets me so much is that Taylor (from the stage where you can’t see most of true people in the stadium and can only barely make out individual faces on the floor) was able to tell immediately that something was wrong to the point that she was stopping the show, telling security to get water to fans, having her personal team hand out water to fans when the stadium security wasn’t doing it, and literally throwing water bottles into the crowd mid song, and yet the security in the crowd whose only job was to protect the people there acted as though they saw nothing out of the ordinary. How was the performer on stage more aware of what was happening in the crowd and doing more to help them than the people literally in the crowd who were there to help? It’s just disgusting.