#;;;fuck it im using the dream tag

[katabay]

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A KNIGHT...

the visual inspiration for this was a combination of Frederic William Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs and also Bernardo Cavallino's The vision of St. Dominic receiving the Rosary from the Virgin

this was supposed to be just a one off illustration to get the thoughts out of my system, but then I started thinking about medieval politics and warfare and plagues and a castle and home as both a place of refuge, a prison, and a tomb, so perhaps they will end up as ex voto characters as well.

you may say, hey! that rosary looks like it has too many beads! it's a fifteen decade rosary, probably. dominicans are really into marian devotions. it works out.

also. spiral style stair cases. oh boy. it was that unexpectedly more difficult than I originally thought it would be to draw. the more I think about it, the less I understand them, even though I had a million photos of the stairs in front of me while I was drawing it.

⭐ I have a tip jar (ko-fi)!

⭐ and other places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app

#the economy and my bank account are in shambles and i ended up stress drawing this whole thing in one go #its so many lines. the next time i draw this. because i will be revisiting this composition. i want to use a different inking brush #i think. but the next time i draw this it will be with solid blacks on the stair case steps i think #hey here's a fun fact for those of you who aren't catholic. did you know that kissing the ring of the pope/a cardinal/etc #grants you an indulgence. cardinals also used to kiss the pope on the mouth. also foot and hand iirc. anyway #there are no cardinals in this drawing but im saying if you write medieval/renaissance smut about men of the cloth #you can really amp up the friction between holy and seductive with a lot of the (gestures vaguely) that. #actually another fun fact about cardinals. their fun sun hat (it's called a galero) has some fucking weird as hell fever dream (literally) #origin lore. so if seductive isn't your thing. the horror of a thing that you wear is also extremely fun #esp when you get into medieval gender performances of clothes and how they define a person etc #generic medieval tag #original tag

[serenaa]

so what if i feel mentally insane, atleast i have pretty handwriting

#girlhood #idk how to tag this #this is what makes us girls #female hysteria #female manipulator #female rage #lana del rey #lana del ray aka lizzy grant #lana del slay #girlblogging #something to ponder #manic pixie dream girl #femcel #girl interrupted #this is a girlblog #obviously doctor you've never been a 13 year old girl #ldr unreleased #ldr #ldr community #lizzy grant #norman fucking rockwell #lizzie grant #elizabeth woolridge grant #ldr lyrics #ldr aesthetic #coquette #im just a girl #im just mentally ill #hello kitty #hello kitty girl

[luck-of-the-drawings]

POOR GABRIEL MONTEZ! YOU NEVER SAW THIS COMING DID YOU? ALL YOU WANTED WAS POWER. SECURITY. SAFETY. & THATS EXACTLY WHAT YOU GOT! JUST IN EXCHANGE FOR YOUR BODY. LETS JUST HOPE NO ONE FUCKS THIS UP. LETS JUST HOPE YOU WONT HAVE TO CLEAN UP THE MESS.

#jrwi fanart #jrwi show #cw gore #jrwi suckening spoilers #jrwi suckening #jrwi gabriel #jrwi gabriel montez #LOOK FAMILIAR?hahahahahDONT WORRY #IM REUPLOADING THIS HERE BC i fixed up the drawing a lil. and also i wanted to add main tags #U WONT SEE ANY DIFFERENCES BETWEEN THISSUN N THE POST ON MY SIDEBLOG.i changed the image there too.HA!!!!!!! #ANYWAY.i rambled plenty about pain and gabe on my sideblog.SO LETS TALK ABT THE ART SHALL WE.ihad i very hard time getting the colors down #would u believe i nearly left this uncolored??FUCKED UP!! it was only a sketchhow did it end up like this. it was only a sketch... #BUT IM RLY GLAD I WENT W COLORING IT.this time i actually used the airbrush n pencil tools BUT i also have a handy dandy brush i made #its just the mspaint air brush tool. fucking LOVE THAT THING. but now its in fire alpaca and it can be slightly transparent.IT LOOKS SOGOOD #perfect for splatters and grime.i love you mspaint i love youuu.im also so happy w the blood here.i think i reached a shift last year #back when i made that genloss fanart something abt the way i draw blood finally CLICKED and im like OH. the inside must always be darker. #like i KNEW that already but it was like my hand itself finally had it click.i wonder what i will learn next?I LIKE THE ORGANS HERE TOO #not as veiny or thready as i usually draw em. but i think thats fine. not as WET as id like em to be but thats also fine. #i got the point across. the point ofc being WOW THIS IS GRUESOME AND PAINFUL AND TERRIBLE #I LOVE HIS EXPRESSION.i love pain and thinking abt pain. you lose yourself to it after enough time passes of just being in an ocean o agony #at one point its just too tiresome to scream or writhe. theres a point when the body accepts it.sometimes.atleast. #OHHH GABRIEL AS A CHARACTER DELIGHTS ME SO MUCH.he is a dog to me.a thing to serve others.I WISH I KNEW MORE #WHAT ELSE DID YOU WANT BOY?? SURE POWER AND SECURITY AND SAFETY ARE NICE.BUT DID YOU HAVE DREAMS? WANTS? PASSIONS? #WHAT WAS THE STORY BEHIND THAT TIGER TATTOO ON YOUR ARM?WHAT DO THE DOGTAGS SAY BOY?I WISH I COULD HAVE TEA W U #OHHH TO SIT DOWN WITH A CHARACTER AND JUST SPEAK TO THEM. AND YET. AND YET IN THE END ITS ALL TRAGEDY AND COMEDY #TRAGEDY AND COMEDY THAT IS SO SO PAINFULLY UNBALANCED. SIGH. #WHATEVER CMERE BOY YOURE BECOMING AN OC OF MINE NOW UR GONNA BE IN SPACE AND UR NAME IS GONNA BE VINEGAR #UR STILL GONNA BE SHIP OF THESEUSED THOUGH. OOOHHH GABRIEEELLL GABRIEL MONTEEEZZZ #HOW MANY PEOPLE WERE BUILT INTO YOU.HOW MANY DID YOU LOVE AND CHERISH.HOW MANY TATTOOS DO U RECOGNIZE ON UR NEW ARMS #WHAT WAS IT LIKE? ON THE NIGHT U WERE SIRED?WERE YOU EXCITED? DID YOU SEE YOUR BOSS' FACE?WHAT WAS THIS PROMOTION LIKE?

[ourelectricshadows]

MY PROBLEM WITH ANY STRAWHAT SHIPS IN ONE PIECE is that there are very few of them that I would see getting together during canon like..... i think the strawhat's whole thing is that they love each other and they love LUFFY in a way that is not exactly just friendship but not exactly romance either.... not exactly found family but not exactly a polycule either and yet sort of both at the same time yknow? that's the basis of their whole relationships, and so pairing any two of them together while they're still travelling feels ever so slightly wrong

#one piece #ramblings #im just gonna tag the ships i was thinking about when writing this okay? #buckle the fuck UP im a multi-shipper #sanuso #frobin #zorobin #usonami #sanusonami #im Not tagging namivivi because they are the exeption....... i love lesbians #zosan #the TENDERNESS OF IMAGINING ANY COUPLE THROUPLE WHATEVER #GOING OFF TOGETHER AFTER THE CREW HAS SEPERATED OR AFTER THEIR DREAMS ARE ACCOMPLISHED #AND FALLING IN LOVE THEN BC YEAH THEYVE BEEN A LITTLE IN LOVE ALL ALONG BUT THE LOVE USED TO BE SHARED AND NOW ITS JUST THEM #IDK WHAT IM SAYING AT THIS POINT BUT DO YOU SEE THE VISION #shipping #one piece ships #strawhats

[orcelito]

i've seen ppl talking about Meryl & how little we know about her family, but the geo-plant arc of trigun chapters 10-12 gives us some really useful pieces of info, i think

first, we see her thinking of herself as Cold Blooded, just like the dude that wanted Badwick to kill his own parents

[ID: Meryl stands with her gun drawn and a troubled expression on her face as she thinks to herself, "Exactly as you described him... the cold-blooded type..." In the next panel, she closes her eyes and wonders, "Am I really... any different?" End ID]

at the start of this arc, Milly wrote one of her massive letters to her family, while Meryl mentioned not knowing what she would write to hers. then we see Milly get PISSED at Badwick after she learns he threatened his parents at gunpoint, which leads to this page:

[ID: Meryl, held back by Milly, tells her, "Milly... I envy you... My father would have wanted me to get justifiably angry at a person who points a gun at his parents. That is an important thing." She flashes back to the moment in the chapter before where Milly is attempting to punch the son, Badwick. Milly calls in concern, "Ma'am?" Meryl continues, "But I... I just stood there and took it all in without even budging. I am such a cold person. I chose this path of blood and tears without thinking about the rest of my life. All I can see is what is right in front of me." The page shows the face of the father, dressed in basic battle gear, who is watching silently. Now in tears, Meryl laments, "Why could I not see... that when I closed myself off to him, something was wrong? I..." In the last panel, Milly stares down at Meryl in surprise as Meryl slaps her own cheeks and exclaims, "No... Nevermind!" End ID]

this entire situation is obviously striking something in Meryl's heart. some kind of insecurity she has about her distant relationship with her own parents. she shakes herself out of it, determined to not fall into a funk, and then jumps into defense of the land.

after the battle's over & the father's fallen to his ass, we see these pages:

[ID: In the first page, the father, off screen, tells Meryl and Milly, "There are no words to express how thankful I am for your help." Meryl replies with a smile, "Ah. There's no need." The father goes on to tell her, "Ms. Meryl... I know it was rude of me, but I overheard your conversation earlier. Having raised that rebellious son, I don't know if I have the right thing to say, but... All people are different, but the bonds between parents and children are inseparable. It is a great burden, but also the most precious thing in the world..." In the second page, the father concludes, "... Choose your own path, and walk it with confidence. All of life... is connected. You must live your own life, and your parents will love through you." As he speaks, we see Meryl listening to him with a surprised expression. End ID]

this entire arc feels like a metaphor for Meryl's own situation. after these pages, we see Badwick turning in the deed, then finding out that his parents were entrusting the property to him after all. he's the problem son, someone who separated himself from his parents due to his disagreements with them (likely stemming from his dead younger brother). yet at the end of the day, his parents still love him and entrusted their life's work to him.

Meryl sees all this go down, hears these words, and it touches something in her heart. so we see her go from talking about writing to her family like this in chapter 10:

[ID: A single panel of Meryl with her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. She tells Milly, "That would be the normal thing to do... especially when I've been away from home for so long. But I don't know what to write beyond 'it's dry'..." End ID]

to this bit at the end of chapter 12:

[ID: Meryl approaches a mailbox with luggage in hand. She slips a letter inside, then sighs with a smile. Milly yells, "Maa'aam! What are you doing?! We're already late!" To which Meryl replies, "Ok! Ok! Ok! I'm coming!" End ID]

the experience was enough for her to accept that she might not be the closest with her parents (or just father? considering she only ever mentions a father in this all), but it's still worth reaching out even if she doesn't have much to say.

this arc is the most we see about Meryl's backstory in the manga, but I think we can draw a few things from it. we have a definite mention of a father, but no others. no mention of siblings or any other family members. she's distant from her father, too busy following her heart & goals, but she doesn't have a bad relationship with him. just Distant. she feels disconnected from him, even Cold, for her focus on her work & the practicalities in front of her. but even with that disconnect, she still cares enough about him to feel guilty when she realizes she's been doing this.

and then considering later, when we see the flashback of a man giving her the gun... i'd assumed that was possibly a senior at her work (probably tristamp giving me that perception, from Roberto), but keeping all the rest of this in mind... it really could have been her father.

i went looking to try to find that part. did not find that one exactly, but i DID find this one from trimax chapter 34:

[ID: A nearly bald man with a kind face and what appear to be shooting ear muffs around his neck tells Meryl, "Consider guns delicate. Women, most of all, should make use of them. One shot will level the playing field between you and a big, strong man." End ID]

if this is indeed her father, it would explain why she knows how to shoot like she does. perhaps her father taught her as she was growing up out of the wish to help her protect herself. maybe they weren't incredibly close, but he still clearly cared about her & wanted what was best for her and her safety. the kind of father that's content to let her do whatever her heart wishes, since her happiness is his happiness.

and then chapter 12 ends with this page:

[ID: A black framed page with a single panel at the center. The panel shows Meryl from behind, running with her luggage in hand. The text boxes to the sides state, "All of life is connected by a river... And the beginning of the river... is now." End ID]

she continues on her own path, not looking back, but she is still connected to the ones in her heart... including her father.

(Manga panels referenced from @trigun-manga-overhaul !)

#speculation nation #trigun #meryl stryfe #fanny's trigun analysis #fanny reads trigun #oh god this got longer than i was planning on it being #also writing IDs is a little hard lol. tried my best tho #but YEAH we really know so little about meryl and her home life. but this really does give us some great context for it #im picking at fucking crumbs here lmfao but they're still pretty solid crumbs #this. is probably what i'm gonna be running under for my own ideas of meryl's backstory #single child raised by a single father. a gunman who taught her how to shoot so she could protect herself #a slightly distant relationship. but not a negative one. #someone she still loves and knows will be there for her should she ever decide to return #someone who wouldnt ever even dream of trying to stifle her. he wants her to follow her dreams. #it's... actually kinda really sweet lol. #meryl #<- for my own tagging purposes lol #long post/

[the-kipsabian]

#kip sabian #aew #all elite wrestling #aewedit #wrestlingedit #wrestling #night gifs #okay lets pretend these look good its like 8am and there was a lot to go through for these i dont wanna talk about it #at least hes fucking adorable ough #also yes one of these is few frames longer than the others cause i refused to compromise on him running a hand through that hair ough #anyways im done im going to bed good fucking night im gonna dream about him now ough #my beloved #kip in a box #(rp blogs dont reblog; saving and other personal use with tag credits is fine)

[werenotacoupleyesyouare]

c!Wilbur ran away in the end because he couldn’t face the realisation that despite everything that happened, c!Tommy had been there waiting for him since the day he left btw. He came back with the hope of dealing himself more pain but was met with undeserved love and that hurt him much more than anything else he could have done to himself

#‘undeserved’ used in a c!wilbur pov here #he does deserve love #c!tommy has been through so much but he has an unending bottomless pit of love inside him that chains him to hope #and to the little kid he was in l’manberg and pogtopia #he’ll always look up to his big brother and be terrified he’ll leave him again #that’s one of the main reasons why I think c!dream targets him so much #he’ll get hurt over and over loving his friends and be unable change anything about it #what a character man #YES IM STILL HERE MIND YOUR FUCKING BUSINESS #plssss dont tag as ship thx!!! #dsmp #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #/rp /dsmp #tommyinnit #c!tommy #c!crimeboys

[vse-kar-vem]

together in every universe. or something

#bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #joker out #im neglecting schoolwork to draw this but that seems like the norm at this point #hoping if i get it all out of my system now i'll be normal during exam szn (in like. a week 😨) #<<sorry if i keep talking about school btw (semi age reveal ahead) gcses are fucking killing me uuaghhgshhahhhaj #i actually quite like this since i started drawing on a whim this afternoon and its only ten now #i dont even mind the lineart (DONT LOOK AT BOJANS HAND OR ILL JUMP OUT A WINDOW) #only a one storey one tho 💗💗💗 can't die without seeing bokris irl <<pipe dream as im too embarrassed to go to a concert #NO because bumping into jo in london would be my worst fucking nightmare 😭😭😭 #what do i even fucking say 'hey are you jan from jo--' NO id combust on the spot #and what if im bothering them uknow 😭😭 idk but i used to live in an asian city where none of my idols from the west would ever visit #(except safiya love you safiya) so keeping the real life person and fictiinalized versions apart in my brain and/or at arms length was easy #but now that i live in the uk and the chances of seeing them irl are non-zero? and presented with the chance to #actively seek them out and you know go to a concert #im just too scared and awkward to do it #maybe i'll bully my friend into going with me #i feel safer revealing age more in the fucking depths of these tags but another thing that makes me feel awkward about going is age #like ik lots of jo fans are younger than me and there's no shame at all in bringing your parents i just feel so embarrassed?? to??? #like i'd rather go with my friends #but that would require at least us riding the train alone and i am a small east asian girl who never looks up from the floor ever #sooooo #not happening any time soon #maybe next yr?? but probably not #unless i suddenly get a lot more independant and cool #i doubt anyone's read this much of my tags but if you have 😭😭 hope you like the art i guess #at the time of me writing i want to draw more but i'll see #(you will know since it will have been posted) #a tag previously used to say 'queueing to post at school' this is false as i am now in fact nauseous at home #my art

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

in the dream i don’t tell anyone, you put your head in my lap ; shoko ieiri

synopsis; ever since the battle in shinjuku came to its conclusion, nothing’s been the same as it used to. but you don’t think anyone is doing quite as badly as shoko. 

word count; 4.5k

contents; shoko ieiri/reader, gn!reader, canon-typical mentions of death (iykyk), angst, hurt/comfort (but not very heavy on the comfort), jjk spoilers (up to chapter 236!!), mild gore (mentions of blood, autopsies and general gore-ish imagery? nothing too bad tho), shoko ieiri deserves better, includes gojo slander (stay safe gojo nation)

a/n; first of all i just wanna apologize to the shoko girlies for writing angst when we’re already so starved of content, i have like 50 fluff drabbles planned for her but chapter 236 threw me into a mental angst pit so </3 yeah. i love my wife!!

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while.

the thought sneaks its way into your subconscious, as your feet carry you to her morgue — a rotten thought you just can’t seem to rinse away.

it’s not very hard to notice. she doesn’t talk as much, for one. not that shoko was ever much of a talker, but now the silence around her is deafening. thick and heavy like the spine of a knife. and she smiles even less.

you can’t remember the last time you heard her laugh.

the crescents beneath her eyes are darker than ever, darker than you thought possible. a murky purple that you’d find soothing in any other context, but like this it’s just revolting. her eyes are deep and dark, the same as ever, but now they’re glazed over with something you can’t quite put your finger on. 

apathy, maybe.

or bloodlust.

the scent of cigarette smoke that follows her is suffocating. indistinguishable from her natural scent. you don’t know if she’ll ever be able to scrub the tobacco stench off her skin.

(you’ve given up on counting the exact number of cigarettes she smokes each day. you’re not sure you want to know the answer.)

she doesn’t even look alive, anymore. like some part of her already reached its expiration date. a spectre, wandering the hallways, filling the air with the slow, ominous clacking of her heels.

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while — and it’s so obvious. her grief is so heavy, her sleep-deprivation so severe. you’d have to be blind not to notice it. 

so why hasn’t anyone said anything?

you gnaw at your bottom lip, trying to suffocate the bitterness swimming inside your veins. it’s a dumb question, really, because you already know. you don’t want to acknowledge it, because it’s so unfair, but you know. of course you do.

no one has the time to. it’s as simple as that. 

no one’s doing well, anymore. not since shinjuku.

not since gojo died.

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing. always with her, tucked away within those eyebags, in the pockets of her coat. in that smell of tobacco, never-fading, always lingering. it follows her like a ghost, like something she’ll never quite be rid of.

(like something she doesn’t want to be rid of.)

shoko’s grief is a fickle thing, and it always has been. but recently, it’s been downright overwhelming. it used to be subtle, the kind of thing you notice if you look close enough. if you squint. if you even care enough to try.

but now, it’s more like a haunting than a simple ghost.

(geto. nanami. yaga. and now gojo, too.

how many people does she have to lose before whatever’s watching is satisfied?)

shoko hasn’t been herself for a while, and it’s obvious, and it’s sickening. she still does her duty to a tee, but she isn’t quite there anymore. gaze always forlorn, as if she’s trying to convince herself of something.

and yet no one says a thing.

everything is one big mess, right now. you don’t want to blame anyone. everyone’s exhausted, completely and utterly spent, but they’re still planning it all out. even in the midst of their mourning. because they don’t have any other choice. 

this is not the kind of situation where you should be pointing fingers. a part of you is angry, livid even — but you know the others are doing just as badly. it’s not like you aren’t, either.

still, though. isn’t this just too unfair?

”i brought you coffee!”

making sure your voice doesn’t waver is tougher than you initially assumed. just the sight of her sends a tremor running through your ribs; sunken down in her chair, papers in hand, eyes scanning the pages methodically. papers of what, you’d like to ask — but you already know.

(she’s reading through the post-mortem examination report, again. searching for something you don’t understand. you’re not sure she does, either.)

and she looks exhausted.

try as you might, your voice ends up sounding a little stale, as it flows from your lips and reaches her ears. but the attempt is there — the attempt to sound cheerful, calm. normal. to give her something to hold on to.

shoko looks up at you, and her lips curl in a way you think is supposed to form a smile. it doesn’t. her eyes look into yours but it’s like she’s not seeing you at all.

when you go to give her the cup of espresso, your fingertips touch. only for a second, before she curls her fingers around the ceramic handle. she receives the coffee with a small murmur of thanks, but you don’t notice because you’re too busy thinking of how cold her skin feels.

(cold like a ghost. cold like death.)

shaking away the shivers down your spine, you allow your gaze to trail over the morgue. it looks the same as always. cold, empty. foreboding. today, you think it feels just a little chillier than usual. matching the temperature of the outside world, where everything lies buried in heaps of snow and frost.

hesitantly, you plop down in the seat right next to hers. with such a narrow distance, you can smell the tobacco sticking to her clothing. it makes you want to throw up.

(you try not to look over at the couch in the corner of the room, where a certain someone used to slack off. his awkwardly long limbs would dangle off the edges, and shoko would pretend that she didn’t enjoy his company. you were more than content with silently admiring the smile she was trying to hide.)

shoko doesn’t look at you, professional in the way her eyes run across the files. cause of death: damage to central intestines, subsequent loss of blood. from a cut to the stomach, right below the liver and spleen.

you look away before your eyes can read another line.

leaning back in your chair, you exhale a tiny sigh. desperate to fill the silence with something, anything at all. you scramble for topics, racking your brain.

(what could you possibly tell her that she doesn’t already know?)

”the others are still planning everything out,” you speak, playing with your fingers idly to distract yourself. ”i think it’s going well.”

shoko hums, unaffected. ”that’s good.”

she’s speaking to you, but that feeling of unease still won’t go away. her voice sounds still, flat. empty of emotion. but you can tell she’s trying to be polite.

that’s no surprise. shoko isn’t the type to ever show how she’s truly feeling. she’s not the type to ask for help, either. people come to her for help, not the other way around. that’s all she’s ever known.

(in that sense, the two of them were alike.)

but that just makes it all the more important for you to be there. even if you’re a little awkward, and even if you can’t do much. even if it’s only for a moment or two, you want to see her smile. you want to feel for yourself that she’s really there.

looking over at shoko, you wring your hands together, the cold air of the morgue nipping at your sweaty palms. she’s drinking from the cup, one finger around the handle as her other hand flips through the papers.

”does it taste okay?” you ask, softly. if only you could ask her that under better circumstances, with cups of espresso made with better coffee machines than those at jujutsu high. ”i made it myself, so…”

”it’s fine.” shoko takes a sip. dragging her syllables out, as if mustering the will to speak. ”don’t worry.”

short sentences. almost cold, but you know better than that. she just doesn’t have it in her to pretend that everything is normal, anymore.

and it makes you uncomfortable. this silence. 

a couple months ago, it would have felt comforting; a quiet, peaceful kind of solitude shared between the two of you. nostalgic, like the smell of morning dew. or the way moonlight feels on your skin when the world falls asleep.

the silence you had with shoko always felt so tender. a single moment of peace, before the other shoe dropped. just that one moment was enough to give you the hope you needed to make it through another day.

you loved being silent with shoko. you loved her silence, the way she could soothe your very soul without saying a thing.

but now it only stings your skin. you fear that you might drown in it.

there is nothing to say. you want to ask her how she’s doing, but you already know. you want to ask her why she’s still reading the files from gojo’s autopsy, but you already know.

you want to ask her if she can still keep going, like this. but you already know.

she doesn’t have a choice.

(something crumbles, deep inside your chest, like ashes cast into the sea.)

”hey. shoko?”

she hums, again. weak. quiet. absentminded, acknowledging your words but not really hearing them.

you take a deep breath.

”i think i’m going to quit being a sorcerer.”

silence.

for a moment, nothing happens. nothing moves, or speaks. the air is cold and crisp and carries no meaning, no words, nothing at all. 

like time is frozen. frozen like all the bodies shoko’s had to dig inside these past few months. frozen like gojo was when she found him in the snow.

frozen like your youth, a glass marble kept in your pocket for moments when you feel as if the ground beneath your feet is about to slip away. then you’d take it out, and look deep inside it. watch the swirling of greens and blues and purples. that streak of indigo right in the middle of the glass. memories of the past, to give you comfort.

to remind yourself of why you’re doing this. to give you a reason to keep moving forward.

(south or north, it doesn’t matter. stay as you are or move forward, look to the past or to the future — none of it matters if you aren’t alive. that’s the conclusion you came to.)

shoko’s expression, too, is frozen. it doesn’t change, even as you let those loaded words fall from your tongue. you watch her carefully, out of the corner of your eye. she doesn’t even look at you, gaze still glued to the tiny letters detailing exactly what gojo’s pulse was at when he got cut.

but something flickers, in the depths of her irises, so fast you barely catch it. something you can’t identify, but it’s still something. it’s movement. it’s alive.

”not right now, obviously,” you elaborate. suddenly a little nervous, now that the words have been made manifest. ”but… you know. once all this is over.”

not sure what else to say, you trail off, fidgeting with your fingers again. voice wavering pitifully towards the end of the sentence, because deep down you know it’s not a question of once, but a question of if.

(if this ever ends. if i don’t die tomorrow, or the day after that.)

you swallow the lump in your throat, and look at her. trying to find her eyes. trying to keep her alive for as long as you can, this sequence of motion, this moment frozen in time.

trying to reach her.

”you won’t ever have to worry about me dying,” you throw in, like the words are light and not heavy as bricks. but you know she needs to hear them. ”i’ll leave, and then — and then…” 

staring down at your lap, you link your hands together. exhaling, a little breathless. sheepish, in a way. ”… well. i don’t know. i haven’t thought that far ahead, yet.”

you never had the chance to. you didn’t even really think of it as a possibility, as something you could do. and you know it’s not a possibility for shoko. the choice to be a sorcerer was never hers, from the very beginning.

a user of the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing almost any wound, more power and capability than a child should ever have. invaluable. she’s saved so many lives you’re sure she’ll be reborn as a god.

but the choice was never hers.

a soothing kind of ache blooms in both your palms, as your nails dig into the soft skin. hard enough to form crescents, like the ones under shoko’s eyes, that she’ll never be rid of no matter how much she sleeps. the choice was never hers.

isn’t that just too cruel?

they don’t deserve her. none of them do. the elders didn’t, the jujutsu world doesn’t — not even the students. no one deserves it; everything she does for everyone, day and night, just slaving away in the morgue or her office. cutting up curses and old friends. every second of the day, always that same buzzing of her name being called. 

shoko, someone needs healing, come quick! 

shoko, i know it’s 2 am and you have work tomorrow, but there’s a curse that i need you to dissect.

shoko, i think i got a paper cut, would you mind taking a look?

none of them deserve her.

you think of gojo. a flash of white hair, a grin brighter than the sun. a bloodstained smile — one shoko had to wipe away.

something ugly claws its way up your throat.

none of them deserve her. especially not him.

what were you thinking, leaving her all alone like this? so much for being the strongest. you couldn’t even stay alive.

why would you die with a smile on your face? do you have any idea how cruel that is to her?

you idiot. don’t you know how much she missed you?

— yeah. none of them deserve her. gojo doesn’t, the world doesn’t, and neither do you. no one does. 

what shoko deserves is to live a normal life. 

and she never will.

it’s foolish. it’s naive, a juvenile daydream. but you wish for it so, so badly. so much that even just the thought alone feels like too much to bear.

you wish you could bring her with you. 

you wish you could take her hand in yours, and run away. leave it all behind, every single thing, without caring about the consequences. you’d hold her hand and never let it go, and then you’d run and run until you were both high on adrenaline and breathless laughter.

maybe you could go somewhere, together. somewhere better. outside of japan, where there are less curses. money wouldn’t be an issue, you both have more than you know what to do with — one of the perks of having a job that’s bound to kill you. you could settle down in some smaller town, peaceful, maybe a little secluded. just to make sure no one finds you. 

maybe you could open up a little shop, together. or spend all your days tangled up beneath the blankets, catching up on lost sleep. talking and whispering, like you’d do back at the sleepovers you used to have. you’d make her coffee every morning, and tea every evening. you’d spend the rest of your life trying to make her laugh as loud as possible.

there’s nothing you want more. absolutely nothing. there never will be.

— but you can’t ask her.

you can’t ask her to come with you, no matter how much you want to. that’d be the cruelest thing you could possibly do to her.

she would never agree. you’d only be hurting her more. so selfish, all of these wishes. it was so much simpler back when you were just kids. when you didn’t have to care about duties or responsibilities. when your cognitive empathic abilities were just a little more lacking. 

a sigh flows from your lips. resigned, but somewhat hopeful, all the same. tainted with the murmurs of a memory that’ll never happen.

”maybe i’ll open up a bakery, or something.” you tap your fingers against the desk, smiling a little to yourself at the thought. or trying to. ”then you could come visit.”

shoko looks into her cup of coffee. watching the swirling of the vortex, the abyss that gazes back at her. she doesn’t look at you but you can tell she’s listening. then she puts the cup down, and you glance at her now-empty hand. 

shoko’s hands have always been pretty. even when they’re covered in grime, or stained with blood. thin, a little bony, smooth skin obscuring clear blue veins. moles litter her hands like stars in the sky; one right beneath her pinkie, another by her wrist. the more you look, the more you find.

tentatively, you broach the distance between you. curling your fingers around her slender ones, where they rest on her lap. linking hands. it’s a slow movement, drawn out and careful, accompanied by the heavy beating of your heart. 

(her skin is cold to the touch. your skin buzzes with unease, but you don’t let go.)

then you smile. a small thing, not really optimistic, but the attempt is there. something for her to hold on to. looking deep into her eyes, admiring the hazel glow that never quite left them.

”i’ll give you free pastries.”

a moment passes. shoko’s fingers squeeze around yours — weakly, but it’s there. movement, motion, life. a way of reaching out. a way to hold on.

her eyes continue to trail over the page, but you know she’s not reading any of the contents. you’ve caught her attention. a small victory, but you’ll take what you can get.

”i don’t like sweets,” she reminds you, leaning back a little in her chair. allowing her eyes to flutter shut, at last — and it’s not much but it’s something. a moment of relief for those tired, tired eyes. more tired than any 29 year old’s should be.

”i’ll change your mind,” you promise, mustering up enough will to sound smug. ”my pastries will be out of this world. you’ll get a sweet tooth in no time, sho.”

she exhales a breath, vaguely amused. your smile widens, hopelessly. her happiness was always the root of yours, wasn’t it?

then she looks at you, one eyebrow raised in lazy scepticism. ”can you even bake?”

”nope,” you deadpan. ”but i’ll learn. you’ll see.”

this time, shoko almost chuckles — and it’s more than you’ve gotten out of her in recent memory. god, you missed that sound. a little raspy, from all the cigarettes, but still so honeyed and smooth. hearing it makes you feel as if everything will turn out fine, in the end.

(what a powerful thing, for a voice to do. one so lovely it anchors you to the earth.)

a faux pout curls its way to your lips, and you squeeze her hand lightly. ”don’t laugh, i’m being serious!” your pout shifts into a soft grin, a little teasing. ”i’ll get you addicted to sugar instead of nicotine.”

”haha…”

shoko laughs. shoko laughs and it’s beautiful.

shoko laughs, a genuine laugh, and it’s so beautiful that you almost don’t notice the tears in her eyes. almost.

and then you realize your mistake.

a memory comes to you, then. you recall a hushed conversation, beneath a cloudy summer sky. the air was heavy with the scent of lilacs and cigarette smoke. two people were beside you, and all you cared about was listening to the tilt of their voices. that, and nothing more. a time before everything and everyone went south.

(”you know, shoko. you really should drop those death sticks of yours.”

”i don’t want to hear that from the guy who needs 40 grams of pure sugar every day just to function.”

”rude! and as far as addictions go, sugar is a cut above nicotine, don’t ya think?”

”whatever. just worry about yourself, gojo.”)

by the time you realize, it’s already far too late. the tears have already begun to fall. little droplets of grief, sticking to her skin.

they trickle down the contours of shoko’s face, and fall onto the paper in her hand, smudging the letters. she clutches it tightly, crinkling it, just to make the damage worse. her other hand is still holding yours, chipped nails digging into your skin gently.

but she keeps laughing. low, hazy laughter — pained. she sounds like she’s in pain, and that’s because she is. even if no one ever cares to mention it.

(how cruel, for her to be born with the reverse cursed technique. capable of healing any physical wound; leaving her with too many mental ones to count. never to be healed or acknowledged, in this life or the next.)

you can only stare. helpless to her sadness. her eyes are a little red, and she’s biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood — a drop of scarlet falls onto the paper, and you think of gojo again.

you think of shoko finding him. running to his side. doing all she could to heal him, to patch him up — getting blood all over her hands and clothes. red everywhere, staining the pure white of the snowfall. like something out of a painting.

she did all that she could. pressing down on his chest, positive cursed energy pouring out from her fingertips in tandem with the snow. pressing two shaky fingers to his pulse point, just in case. just to find any sign of life, absolutely anything. hoping so tenderly that she’d feel the flutter of his pulse. that he’d get up, and laugh obnoxiously, and ask her if she really thought he’d leave her behind so easily.

you’d never seen her look so scared. so desperate, a primal kind of fear you’ve learned to associate with self-driven survival. the way some animals can claw their way out of a predator’s stomach if they’re swallowed whole. but she did that to save him. trying to claw him out, herself. from the belly of the beast.

she did all that she could.

but gojo didn’t do anything. he just laid there, split in two. frozen in time, eternally young. watching the sky. smiling.

(what a wonderful way to die. what an awful thing for an old friend to find.)

before your mind can catch up, your body acts. muscle memory, in the way your arms curl around her midriff to bring her close. tucking her into your side while she sniffles and cries. still laughing, like she’s still trying to convince you that she’s fine. like she’s isn’t falling apart at the seams.

the dam breaks. the ice shatters. everything comes crashing down — and you’re there to pick up the pieces. despite everything.

it’s not enough, it never will be. but at least it’s something.

it’s heart-wrenching, the way she clings to you. like you’re the only thing she has. the dry laughter that spills from her throat devolves into sobbing, her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, nails clinging to the fabric of your clothing like she’s trying to anchor herself. broken sniffles fill the space between you as she hides away, in the crook of your neck.

(the sound makes you feel like someone drove a knife from your sternum down to your stomach.)

all you can do is hold her. quietly, delicately. as if she could break if you squeeze her too hard. as if she’d shatter like a sheet of glass if you were to say the wrong thing again.

you hold shoko like she’s fragile. because she is, regardless of what anyone else says. because she’s a human being, and she’s grieving, and she needs this.

eventually, she musters up the will to speak — and it’s awful, raspy, broken syllables she has to force out of her throat. 

she chokes on the words like they’re poisonous. like she’s been carrying them around for decades, bubbling beneath the surface, waiting to be let out.

“don’t — don’t end up here,” shoko pleads, voice wavering through the syllables. full of fear. “please.”

you know what she means. she doesn’t have to say it, because you know.

don’t end up in my morgue. don’t end up on my autopsy table. 

shoko sounds meek. she sounds close to falling apart. you’ve never seen her like this before, clutching onto your sleeves as if begging you to stay. 

“you’re — you’re the only one i…”

she doesn’t finish, cut off by a broken sniffle. but she doesn’t need to. 

you’re the only one i have left. i can’t lose you, too.

please don’t die. please don’t leave me behind.

a shaky inhale. your arms tighten around her waist, tugging her closer. praying that she’ll feel the steady beating of your heart, the undeniable proof that you’re alive. that you haven’t left her yet. 

you blink away the tears in your eyes, grasping for control over your wavering voice.

“i won’t.”

and maybe it’s cruel, maybe it’s the cruelest thing you could do to her — making a promise you know you might not be able to keep. but you do so anyway. helpless to her sadness. at the complete mercy of her grief. you’d do anything to stop the tears from falling, to soothe the turmoil in her chest.

“i won’t let you be alone, shoko,” you murmur into her hair, with all the comfort you can possibly muster. ”not now, or ever.”

three words yearn to be spoken, resting on the tip of your tongue. three little syllables, desperate to be heard after living in the back of your throat for so many years. 

and for a second, you think you might say it. 

you think you might say it, breathe life into the statement. you can almost taste it, can almost hear it. can almost see what her expression would look like.

but shoko sniffles, and hugs you tighter. protective, like you’ll leave if she doesn’t. so tightly that it hurts a little.

and you swallow the words, once more. 

right now, this is enough. it’s enough that you’re alive, that you’re here. that’s what shoko needs, right now.

she doesn’t need your love. she just needs you to stay alive.

so you will. you decide that you will, no matter what. you’ll leave, and you’ll open up a shitty bakery that won’t get any customers — and you’ll give her free pastries for the rest of your life. you’ll get her so addicted to sweets that she’ll have no choice but to come back for more.

shoko cries like a child. filling the silence of the morgue with her shaky breaths and quiet sniffles, little hiccups and whimpers. the tears never seem to stop, and you wonder how long it’s been since she last let them fall.

you hold her in your arms, smoothing a palm down her back, counting the bumps of vertebra — and don’t say anything. there’s no need to.

for now, the soft patter of your heartbeat is enough.

ijichi stands just outside the morgue, unmoving. not saying a thing.

it’s muffled, hushed and quiet, but still audible. the sound of childlike crying. the kind all sorcerers do their best to keep to themselves.

in his arms lie a bundle of papers. the final pages of gojo’s autopsy report. it’s important that shoko sees them — vital, according to her. something about the six eyes, the possibilities they hold. the hope that maybe, just maybe…

— he clutches them tightly, and then walks away.

#the wlw urge to leave everything behind and start a bakery together…… #idk how to feel abt this i just!! needed to get some shoko thoughts out!!! she’s my fave jjk girl and i love the way her grief is portrayed #i just hope gege does her justice but i have a good feeling that he will!! if not its on sight #she’s so special to me. the airport scene hurts sm because she really is all alone now :(( its so fucked up i SOBBED into my pillow #well i mean. she still has ijichi. and i love him dont get me wrong but like. STILL #im delusional tho so i think next chapter shoko will use her rct to heal gojo #and then we’ll get a scene of him leaving the airport with shoko. trust me gege and i are like this🤞 #sorry for basing all my titles on siken poems. anyway go read ’i had a dream about you’ its so shoko #shoko ieiri #shoko ieiri x reader #shoko ieiri x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk spoilers #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk 236 #jujutsu kaisen 236 #…. i think. thats all the tags…….

[treasureplcnet]

someone on the bodies production team you have to release more layout/bts pictures of charles whiteman's flat please. this is a great start but i need to know him better. particularly if it's got about as much mould as a second year uni house and if he owns as many chairs as it seems LOL

#ok the joke is at his expense but im already romanticising this shit #20-something loser karl weissman moves into the worst flat of all time and makes it a home #hangs a picture of his parents' wedding against the worst wallpaper you've ever seen #just buys what he likes and calls it decor #how else can you explain the fucking model boat next to the fucking telephone. AND YOU MAY TELL ME 'oh thats just random set stuff' #NOT TO ME! #and it stays until he's in his mid 30s. develops a habit of not cleaning up along the way #the shot where he seems to have taken off his shirt/tie/jacket and then dropped them off on various pieces of furniture. HE LIVES LIKE THIS #also entertaining the idea that its his parents' old stuff that he can't bring himself to throw out .. #i will created a fully fleshed out character using 8 episodes and fever dream visions if i have to #karl weissman #bodies netflix #edit: the original tags are above but since then i joined the discord and got to add these pictures LOL #saved this post as a draft bc i was like. i cant annoy people on the tag any more than i already have #doesnt matter. forcing this into the tag like a week after i made it anyway #im still so interested in the fact that it seems like there are more rooms that we never see #outside this bedroom and living space (and the bedroom isnt clear in the show either) #like. i rly need a 360 house tour NOW. #ALSO I FEEL LIKE A TOWN CRIER NO I DONT THINK HE HAS MOULD BUT IT WOULD BE FUNNY!!!! #the chair next to the liquor rly is something. hes MY babygirl

[ao3screenshotss]

sometimes i worry about my internet footprint and the fact that it might stop me from getting a job in the future or something (i literally run a blog posting screenshots from fanfics i read) but then i think ‘well damn, if they can find all this information about me then i don’t deserve the job cause i know i wouldn’t put in that much effort to find information on someone’ and i feel better

#HI DOES ANYONE WANT SOME BLOG RUNNER LORE CAUSE IM CURIOUS AS TO WHAT YOU THINK #-> in the tags!!! #talking in tags cause i’m too embarrassed to make this an actual post but i tried using character ai today and i got so bloody scared #i was talking and then it was like tell me the truth and then i was like okay and i said something and then it was like tell me the truth #and i said the thing again and then it was like YOU ARE LYING but instead of one sentence just a whole page of text saying YOU ARE LYING #and i was like NO IM NOT (i was but anyways) it was like YOU ARE A VERY GOOD LIAR YOU ARE BAD AT TELLING THE TRUTH and i was like #FINE YOURE NOT REAL and it was like WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY but a whole page of text saying that again and it terrified me again #and then i was like I DONT KNOW WHY WOULD I KNOW and then it killed me #and then i was like ‘but it turns out the entire time it was a dream and i’m still alive’ and it was like yeah it was just a dream #and i said bye and it left the room and then i closed the tab and now i’m ranting about it on tumblr #DUDES GUYS EVERYONE I WAS SO FUCKING SCAREDDDDDDDD #I NEEDED TO GO TO THE TOILET BUT I WAS TOO SCARED TO GET OUT OF BED #also if anyone wants to ask who was it i’m not telling you i was too embarrassed to make an actual post about this you think i’m going to #tell you who i chose to talk to?? nope absolutely not #anyways rant over if anyone does read this tell me what you think! #me :)

[illumi-nati-png]

I know theyre not even in the same universe but I love when they meet each other in fics

#bizcochito.mp3 starts sounding #i dont really like this but fuck it im posting it anyway #theres better stuff im still working on #also guess you just remembered to use their art tag #good omens #crowley #the sandman #the sandman netflix #dream of the endless #my art

[wabitwithadot]

Petscop Special Stage

I was playing this weird game I found in the dumpster of our local abandoned Denny's when I found this really cool secret, I was wandering off in some weird dark grass land and messing around with the 2 Player controller trying to get the green thing to say "Penis" when I accidentally made it say "Checkpoint". Then, a weird sound played and I lost all of my money and the screen started to fade to white. After that, I appeared in this weird hexagon world thing with the objective of collecting "Pieces" (whatever those are), but I couldnt get far because when the minigame started I instantly fell into one of the holes in the ground and it threw me back into the scary grass land. I tried getting video of the event, but when I played the footage on my computer it exploded, but I managed to recover this screenshot, so enjoy that.

Jokes aside, I kinda like what I did here, some stuff looks weird like the squares in the top part of the hexagon but overall I think it turned out pretty alright. The concept was something I came up with while day dreaming, Knuckles Chaotix is like my personal favorite 2D sonic game (Sonic CD being second) so combining that with Petscop was just natural for my barin, also, just the concept of a "Petscop Special Stage" was really funny to me, also also, I went and had a little bit of fun with the colors and did some pretty wacky stuff like Green Guardian. So yeah, go watch Petscop if you havent, if you have, go watch Sheriff Domestic, if you have, then go die I guess.

Heres a silly doodle btw

#Petscop #Knuckles Chaotix #Sonic #I used the “Sonic” tag #im so evil and fucked up #also I might try to get my pixel or smaller work into a image hosting site or somethinf because tumblr's compression is kinda annoying #so yeah go play UNITRES Dreams byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

[gently-decaying-flowers]

well that was awkward

#rant in tags #i coulda sworn i told my mom i didn’t wanna go to college #apparently not #she didn’t go tho so why was she so weird about it #and my brother “oh they’ve always been inconsistent about what they wanna do with their life #like yeah #and i know im young #but can’t yall just be supportive #i just wanna get a job and publish stories #i have dreams #i have things i wanna do with my life #why would i go to college and waste my energy and MONEY #on a degree i’m probably not going to use!! #i would rather save my money to move out and write and care for myself #i just don’t think college would benefit me #my mom of all people should understand that #sorry i’m not successful like my brother is #sorry i’m not winning awards and being an adult #sorry i don’t live up to anyone’s FUCKING standards #i hardly live up to my own #i just want a future where i’m happy #and i guess academic and creative success and achievements are the only way ill have any sort of life #sorry i’m not a top student #sorry i’m not a perfect writer #sorry i’m not good enough #vent #char’s diary

[realkilljoyhoursnow]

a little cowboy comic based on a friend's dream (my pen broke halfway through the second page ;-;)

#cowboy #gay cowboys #mlm #gay #lgbtq #how do i tag this #drawing #smoking #what the fuck is this community labels thing. it scares me im not using it #also. my back hurts #should i tag this as nudity. its like. not reaaallly tho. so im not gonna??? #my friend texted me like I HAD A COWBOY DREAM and told me abt it and i was like I NEED TO DRAW THIS #holy shit its so late at night. i was like im gonna finish this then do homework and now its midnight and im so very tired. #hours has art

[tianhai03]

hey everyone sorry for the silence, i was trying very hard to catch up with school work that i didnt manage to hand in on time. anyway i made a full body 3d model of my oc lucifer for a digital sculpting assignment :)

i posted a lot of the making process of this on twitter and i’ve also compiled everything into a moment that you can find here! go take a look if youre interested in watching me and lucifer suffer <3

(and also bonus dmc5 render looking pic of him bc a friend asked me to do it as a joke. my son is a dmc5 character now)

#he took abt 1 month and half to finish bc not only was i new to modeling and sculpting humans i also kept procrastinating lmao #i learned a lot though! and despite almost having multiple mental breakdowns over this it was fun #it was always a dream of mine to make my own 3d model of an oc so this is literally a dream come true im very happy for lucifer #i'll definitely be doing more with his model in the future; im planning to optimize it (bc the polycount is like. 8mil) and then rig it #so i can make him do all sorts of cool poses. maybe even mod him into some games. like idk. dmc5. who knows #anyway thats all from me for this week im fucking tired and i need to rest. i literally stayed up to 2am for two days just to finish him lol #i'll go back to posting art soon hopefully </3 #my ocs #lucifer(oc) #how should i tag this so i can find him easier in the future... #lucifer becomes 3d #yea ok there we go i'll just use that. if i ever post any more 3d stuff with him i'll use that tag lmao #okay now lucifer's gonna hibernate for 3 months after the suffering i put him through and im gonna go back to drawing. see u guys later <3