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#just want this suffering to end
hcmoeroticisms · 2 years
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#hating people that you still love is fucked up#like 'yes you make me cry. but i still want to make you laugh'#and isn't that the most hurtful feeling#i talk too much then i'm clingy. i talk too little then i'm not putting effort into it#the problem at the end of the day is just me#perhaps there are things not worth fighting for. perhaps i'm not#and what else am i supposed to feel like you know? like the rug was pulled from right under my feet#sorry means nothing if things don't change. and if people don't listen to you when you share what you feel then well#the words just become even more empty and worthless.#the fucking ache and longing of wishing to talk to people but knowing they don't want to talk to you#so you grow quiet and they do too. and the silence is fucking deafening because you know conversation won't happen#so things will crash and burn. you start wondering how much it all mattered in the end. what you did wrong#because it all comes back to it in the end; the problem is me.#and despite all the pain i'm really tired of crying for people who don't care. i tried all i could#but it is all one sided and it honestly feels like i'm burning and choking on glass. i just want this situation to be resolved#just want this suffering to end#anyway this is my last vent. i need to just learn how to deal with all of this#people are dick head sometimes and i'm tired of getting hurt#i could've done better perhaps. but i don't think it would've mattered#i need people to tell me if they want to stay in my life or leave. because i need people to put effort too but i just#i can't have them stay somewhere in the middle. so you know if anyone who has ever broken my heart see this#let me know if i should try or if i should shut the door#if people want to make things work i will put the effort but i need them to put effort too#if not than just let me know you are leaving instead of leaving me in this silence; feeling pathetic and stupid and like a last choice#between the lack of sleep the headache and the tears something clicked today#clicked into place i suppose. if people decide to ignore your sadness and leave you in silence during it? yeah#perhaps i never had a place in their lives in the first place. just there warming the space for better things#anyway spent the night writing messages i will never send. unless people want to read it. but yeah#to the people causing me suffering; just let me know what to do#this distance and silence is destroying me
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tariah23 · 2 months
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The manga industry, especially JUMP, needs to hurry up and do away with weekly scheduling for mangaka. There needs to better regulations put into place for their health and safety because this is pitiful. Two weeks - monthly updates should’ve already been the standard for the manga industry at this point. These money grabbers will only continue to put the lives of these artists at stake for the sake of capitalism unless some serious changes are implemented.
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inkskinned · 10 months
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at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"
like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.
"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."
... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.
and i'd still keep writing.
i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.
i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley
"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"
and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.
it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.
you create because you're greedy.
#every time someones like ''AI will replace u" im like. u will have to fucking KILL ME#there is no replacement here bc i am not filling a position. i am just writing#and the writing is what i need to be doing#writeblr#this probably doesn't make sense bc its sooo frustrating i rarely speak it the way i want to#edited for the typo wrote it and then was late to a meeting lol#i love u people who mention my typos genuinely bc i don't always catch them!!!! :) it is doing me a genuine favor!!!#my friend says i should tell you ''thank you beta editors'' but i don't know what that means#i made her promise it isn't a wolf fanfiction thing. so if it IS a wolf thing she is DEAD to me (just kidding i love her)#hey PS PS PS ??? if ur reading this thinking what it's saying is ''i am financially capable of losing this'' ur reading it wrong#i write for free. i always have. i have worked 5-7 jobs at once to make ends meet.#i did not grow up with access or money. i did not grow up with connections or like some kind of excuse#i grew up and worked my fucking ASS OFF. and i STILL!!! wrote!!! on the side!!! because i didn't know how not to!!!#i do not write for money!!!! i write because i fuckken NEED TO#i could be in the fucking desert i could be in the fuckken tundra i could be in total darkness#and i would still be writing pretentious angsty poetry about it#im not in any way saying it's a good thing. i'm not in any way implying that they're NOT tryna kill us#i'm saying. you could take away our jobs and we could go hungry and we could suffer#and from that suffering (if i know us) we'd still fuckin make art.#i would LOVE to be able to make money doing this! i never have been able to. but i don't NEED to. i will find a way to make my life work#even if it means being miserable#but i will not give up this thing. for the whole world.
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missmolsa · 1 year
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Truly the family of all time <3
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mobius-m-mobius · 6 months
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#letting time pass
Loki S2 (2023) // Good Omens S2 (2023)
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a2zillustration · 9 days
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I love u Karlach
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bluespiritshonour · 1 month
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here's 18-19 year old aang sketches. been hearing aang is ugly discourse—no he ain't. he was just 12.
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galaxywhump · 11 months
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Whumpee whispering "I want to go home".
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haunted-xander · 3 months
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Using my god given ability as an artist to emotionally hurt as many people as I can
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luxaofhesperides · 3 months
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Post-Apocalypse + Soulmate AU ; requested by @burr-burr!
When Danny was a kid, he used to imagine how the world would end. It was never a zombie apocalypse or the fallout of a nuclear war, but the death of the sun, the expansion of their star in death that would swallow their planet whole, leaving no survivors.
It would have been nicer than the post-apocalyptic world he stands in now, knowing that it’s his fault the world has ended. 
He’s still struggling to wrap his head around it. To understand that all of this is his fault because he cheated on one test, desperate to pass after being unable to study for it with how exhausting and time consuming fighting ghosts is. Everywhere he looks, there’s more destruction. His own home is rubble, with only the partially untouched Ops Center remaining to let him know that this is where he once lived.
The rest of Amity Park is in worse shape. Buildings are hollowed out, the skeletons of their foundations visible, if they still remain standing. Most homes have been burned to the ground, leaving blackened corners of walls and nothing else. The roads are cracked and difficult to walk through, as if an earthquake tore through the city. Cars are scattered along the road, overturned or left abandoned, doors still open.
Danny has yet to find any bodies. He doesn’t know if that’s a good sign or not. 
He’s only caught a few glimpses of his future self, the cause of all this, and can’t bring himself to chase after that monster. He feels sick to his stomach knowing what he’ll become. 
That monster has to be stopped. The world has already ended, but that doesn’t mean his future self can be allowed to go on like this. If there are any survivors, they need protection. They need to know they’ll be safe to try to start rebuilding, and that can only happen if his future self is dead.
Danny knows what he has to do; he has a responsibility to protect what little remains of Amity Park, and to do that, he needs to kill himself. 
But his head it spinning from the horror of the situation and his throat is tightening up the way it only does when he’s about to have a panic attack.
He needs to stop his future self, but he also can’t stay another second in the ruins of Amity Park without destroying himself.
The guilt sits heavy in his chest as he goes ghost and takes to the sky, flying blindly towards the setting sun. Danny doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t really care. He just needs to get away for a bit, until he can calm down and put together a plan of attack so he can take out his future self in one go.
He just…
He never thought he’d be a monster. But here they are.
Flying away from Amity Park reveals the truly harrowing extent to which this world has suffered under his future self’s hands. There are no intact cities or towns. Roads are broken beyond repair, highways littered with empty cars, most bridges crumbling into the rivers below them, and everything is covered in overgrowth. All signs of humanity’s careful cultivation of the world has been erased. The earth takes back what humans took from it, covering everything in green. 
There is no movement. No people. Barely any birds flying beneath him. 
What remains of the world is silence.
Danny is terrified that there’s no one left. That his future self has so thoroughly destroyed the earth that no human survivors remain. 
That gives his guidance, some idea of where to go: a big city. Any big city, really. 
He flies lower, searching for some sort of landmark, or a sign that will tell him where he’s going. A rusted over green sign farther down the road tells him that he’s 50 miles from Gotham.
Oh, Danny thinks, Maybe Batman can help me.
If anyone could survive the end of the world, it would be the superheroes, right? If anyone stands a chance at defeating his future self, it would be a superhero. Superman might have been a better choice, but Metropolis is the opposite direction and multiple states away; Danny’s not sure he can make it before his future self catches wind of him and hunts him down. 
Danny has no doubt about what would happen to him if he’s caught; there’s a reason he hasn’t seen any ghosts around, after all.
Gotham is a city of secrets and rumors. What little he’s heard of it is baffling and, frankly, insane. There’s no city in the country like it and Gothamites prefer it that way, stubbornly loving the home that will kill them. For all the manmade horrors they survive on the daily, they would be more prepared for the end of the world than anyone else. 
Gotham may be another casualty of his future self’s destruction, but it also offers him hope.
Danny follows the broken road towards Gotham, pushing himself to fly faster than he ever has before. What should have been a half hour flight is completed in fifteen minutes. 
As soon as the towering buildings of Gotham, dark and semi destroyed, come into view, Danny drops from the sky and returns to human form. The strain from pushing himself has exhausted him and he feels it like an ache in his chest, his heart twisting and trying to burst from how hard it’s beating. 
He collapses to his hands and knees and gasps for breath on the outskirts of Gotham. 
It takes a good few minutes to calm down and breathe normally, then another to gather his strength to stand up and begin walking. 
The world is eerily quiet as he enters the city, feeling the chill fall upon him as he is consumed by the shadows of tall buildings. It’s much more intact that Amity Park, but there’s no denying the destruction that still surrounds him. Buildings are empty and worn down, decaying and slowly being consumed by new growth. Burnt out husks of overturned cars fill the street, leaving Danny to carefully pick his way around them, unable to walk in a straight line. 
He feels like the only person in the world. He feels like he’s being watched by a hungry eyes. 
Danny shivers and walks faster. 
The deeper he goes into the city, the more he starts to hope that he’s not alone in this world. There’s small signs of life: the smell of smoke, recently burned, certain streets cleaned up, makeshift walls constructed from rubble to block access to certain areas of each block.
He swears he can see people move above his head, but anytime he looks up, the windows of every building are empty. 
“Batman,” he whispers to himself, “I just need to find Batman.”
He turns a corner and continues walking. Apartment buildings give way to stores and businesses, all with their windows broken and nothing on the shelves. Then the buildings end abruptly and he’s left staring at an overgrown park that resembles a jungle more than it does a part of the city.
The scent of something sweet lingers in the air. Fruit, perhaps, or flowers. 
If he was left in the aftermath of an apocalypse, he would go to where he could find growing food. If there’s anyone left in Gotham, he’s willing to bet they’re in here, surviving off of what food can be grown in the confines of the park. 
Danny crosses the road and takes three steps onto the grass before someone appears beside him and points an electrified baton at him.
“Who are you?” they demand, eyes hidden behind a cracked helmet, but the bottom half of their face is visible, revealing scars crossing on dark skin. 
Danny takes a step back, eyeing the electric baton warily, and lifts his hands to show he means no harm. “Danny. I came from out of town. I was hoping to find people here.”
“You don’t look like you’ve been traveling.”
His clothes are clean and intact and he has none of the world-weariness that weighs down this Gothamite. Danny winces, and says, “My situation is kinda complicated. But I did just get here. I’m looking for help, actually. Do you know where I could find Batman?”
There’s a long moment of tense silence, then he hears a quiet sigh and the helmet comes off. An exhausted looking man looks at him with one blind eye, turned a milky white, and his voice is low and stricken as he says, “Batman’s dead. But maybe I can help you.”
“Batman’s dead?!” Danny repeats, shocked.
“Yeah. Sacrificed himself in one of the last times Phantom attacked Gotham. Got me and Nightwing out of that encounter alive. We’re really the only heroes left in Gotham, not that there’s much need anymore with everyone trying to survive.”
Phantom killed Batman. His future self killed Batman. 
Danny feels sick to his stomach.
“Oh,” he manages to say. 
The man’s expression softens. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you as much as we can. Why don’t you come on in? Ivy can get you some food if you’re hungry.”
Danny nods numbly as he follows the man deeper into the park. He walks with ease, taking paths that only become visible when he walks them, leaving Danny to follow close behind. It takes some time before he realizes that the plants are moving out of their way just enough that they don’t trip, and when he looks back, the path is covered again, hidden from sight.
He’s taken to the heart of the forest, where the trees shift to the side to reveal a large encampment of survivors all living together. Beds are strung up as hammocks between trees and rope ladders dangle from branches to help people move up and down. The ground is full of small fire pits, a few in use to make make food, and sections in the back full of vegetable and herb patches, separated by berry bushes. 
The people here all look tired and worn down, but they still smile and speak in light voices, adjusted to a new life after surviving so much horror and destruction. He even spots a few people using powers, or just looking different, including one large man who looks like a crocodile. 
“Pick up another stray?” a raspy voice asks, humor lighting the tone. They both turn to see a woman with long red hair and a green tint to her skin be lowered to the ground by a vine. She’s also heavily scarred and her right arm is completely gone, replaced by a wooden limb covered in moss that moves as if it’s always been a part of her body.
“Hey Ivy,” the man greets, “I don’t think this one is staying. He came to Gotham looking for Batman.”
The words make Ivy’s gaze sharpen, and Danny feels a trickle of dread go down his spine. She’s dangerous and standing before her feels as if he’s in the mouth of a hungry beast.
“Is that so,” she says, voice flat. “How interesting. I’ll let you two talk somewhere more private.” Her gaze flicks to the side, and when Danny turns to look, he can see some of the people in the encampment observing them warily, bodies tense and poised to either flee or attack.
Ivy turns and the plants part for her. Danny waits for the man to begin walking before he follows, trying not to feel trapped as the plants close the path behind him. She takes them to a small pond full of water lilies, gives the man a careful look, then leaves, swallowed up by the plants.
“Is everything okay?” Danny asks hesitantly. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
“Nah, you’re good,” the man replies, “It’s just that people don’t trust me much.”
“Why? You’ve been really nice.”
The man shrugs. “My soulmate is Phantom. He’s the one responsible for doing all this and killing almost everyone we love. I didn’t know until the first time I fought him, but they hate anything to do with Phantom, including me.”
Danny’s heart stutters in his chest. This is his soulmate.
Most people don’t subscribe to the belief that they’re meant to be with their soulmate. Meeting your soulmate is rare enough that most people don’t try, and plenty of people have spoken of how important it is to have a variety of relationships, to not close yourself off for the slightest chance of meeting your soulmate. 
Danny never looked for his; he didn’t want to subject them to his parents, and then he became a halfa and gave up on all dreams of having a normal life or any relationship with someone who didn’t know he was Phantom.
And now he’s here, in a ruined future, standing before his soulmate who understandably hates him for destroying the world. 
“You’re Phantom’s soulmate,” Danny breathes. His hands are shaking. He wants to cry.
The man sighs. “Yeah. I am. Not that it’s stopped him from trying to kill me. Don’t worry, kid, I’m not working with him. I swear.”
“He’s your soulmate and he hurt you.”
“He hurt everyone,” he says, then gestures at his blind eye. “This is barely a thing compared to what he did to other heroes.”
Danny can’t find the words to expression his horror at seeing the damage he did to his own soulmate. His future self is heartless and cruel and bloodthirsty. He has to be stopped.
He doesn’t want to kill his soulmate. 
“I came here for Batman,” Danny says, “Because I thought he could help me stop Phantom.”
“That’s rough, kid. Batman couldn’t beat Phantom. I don’t think anyone can. We’ve tried, but most heroes are dead and we can’t just go out there and risk the lives of everyone here. We gotta focus on survival, not revenge.”
“I have to stop Phantom.”
“Sorry kid, but that’s a terrible idea. Don’t go out there trying to be a hero. You can stay here, alright? Ivy will get you set up and the others will help you settle in.”
Danny takes a step back and shakes his head. “No. I have to stop him. It has to be me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because I’m Phantom,” Danny whispers. 
The man immediately reaches for his electric batons again, taking a step back. “Not funny, kid,” he says with a tense voice. 
“I’m not joking. I am Phantom, just from the past. I’m not supposed to be here.”
“You’re Phantom?” the man repeats. “You. You’re just a kid, and you’re going to destroy the world one day?”
“I don’t want this to happen! That’s why I need to go back, so I can stop the event that will set me down this path. And to go back, I need to defeat the Phantom that exists here.”
“He’ll kill you, kid.”
“That still solves the problem, doesn’t it? If I die here, then he’ll never live long enough to destroy the world. He’ll die too.”
The man stares at him with cold eyes, then turns away, dropping his hands away from the batons. “Don’t turn this into a suicide mission, kid,” he says. “The Phantom who’s here isn’t you. You don’t have to pay for his crimes. Just… stay here and I’ll go fight Phantom.”
“He already hurt you,” Danny says. 
“What’s a little more hurt? I can handle it.”
“No,” Danny says firmly. He shoves away the fear and hurt in his heart and finds his strength in determination. No more running away. No more hiding. 
The timeline should not exist. He can’t hesitate at the thought of erasing this version of his soulmate from existence; he’s tired and injured and an outcast in the only community that still exists in Gotham. He deserves better. Everyone here does.
And to give them a better life, Danny needs to stop this one from ever happening.
“This is my future. It’s my responsibility. I’ll stop it and make sure this never happens. And… I’m sorry for everything I did.”
“It’s not your fault, Danny. You’re not this version of Phantom.”
That’s not at all true, since Danny’s actions lead to the end of the world, but he’s not going to argue when he’s preparing to fight a stronger, more ruthless version of himself. He takes a deep breath, then goes ghost and floats into the air. 
“Before I go,” he begins, hesitantly, “What’s your name? Since you’re apparently my soulmate.”
The man smiles sadly and answers, “Duke. If we ever meet in your time, tell that version of me to look for my mom’s favorite book.”
It’s an odd request, but if it’s important enough to be asked for, then Danny will do it. “Your mom’s favorite book,” he repeats, “Got it.”
“Take care, Danny. Good luck out there.”
Danny nods and takes one last look at his soulmate, older and worn down, stubbornly getting through each long day, and swears to make things better.
Then he flies off, ready to fight his future self and make things right again. 
. . .
He thinks of his soulmate for years after he’s back in the present. The timeline where his future self exists is gone and the world is safe, but he still remembers the pain he caused Duke. 
When the time comes to apply to universities, Danny sets his sights on Gotham. His parents take him on a trip during spring break to tour the campus, and it’s after the tour, as he wanders around on his own, that he bumps into a student walking out of a building.
“Sorry,” they both say at the same time, reaching for each other to help each other keep their balance. 
As soon as their hands meet, it’s as if lightning runs through him. From the look on the other guy’s face, he felt it to. 
This is his soulmate.
“Duke,” Danny says, amazed and disbelieving all at once. And the request crosses his mind, something he wondered about almost every night since he returned to his time. “Look for your mom’s favorite book.”
“How—?”
“I met you in the future. You asked me to take back a message for the you that’s here. So: look for your mom’s favorite book. What does that mean, by the way? I never asked.”
Duke blinks, then slowly retracts his hands from Danny’s. “My mom’s favorite book was a hand bound journal from my dad. They were soulmates and he wrote about their first year in a relationship together. It’s full of pictures, and she loved it more than anything. That message is to remind me to have faith in soulmates, to believe that something good can happen to me.”
“Oh! That’s… wow, sorry, I didn’t mean to pry into something so personal.”
Duke shrugs. “It’s fine. I needed the reminder. I would have already run away by now if you didn’t say that. You already know my name, but I think now’s a good time to introduce ourselves.”
“Right!” Danny says, flustered. He sticks his hand out, which Duke shakes with an amused smile. “I’m Danny. Fenton. I’m coming here next semester.”
“Duke Thomas. I’m a freshman here and I’d really love to get your number.”
He’s not hitting on Danny, not really, but it still makes him blush. The way Duke looks at him is full of light and laughter, so different from the exhausted and wary way he looked in the future now rewritten. 
This is what the future version of himself tried to kill. He doesn’t understand how anyone could ever hurt Duke when he’s so full of life. 
But he’s safe now. Everyone is; Danny changed the future and what lies ahead is wholly unknown to him.
The world is safe and full of promise. 
No matter what comes, Danny is sure he and Duke are going to be just fine.
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dinemunyu · 9 months
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He has sold his life away for a coin, or half of it, which makes him something a little (a lot) lower than Judas. His role is to give a brother so that he can take back his own.
anddddd we're back with vw angst featuring this line that has HAUNTED me since I read this fic last July.
i lost my draft because i accidentally posted it last night and in my panic, i deleted the post soo guess this is staying spoiler-free from my ramblings
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horsemeatluvr23 · 15 days
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hermit a day may is here ohohoho ramble about my goals for this month under the cut :3
i am so excited about this art challenge.... drawing people is a huge weakness of mine and so i am going to use this as a way to practice/improve my skills while also fuelling my autism with special interest content ... i am a traditional artist so these are all gonna be sketchbook drawings :3 constructive criticism is welcomed i really want to learn n improve during this month!!! going to be trying to use different materials and rly getting out of my comfort zone - some of these drawings aren't gonna be artistic masterpieces but i want to share them all no matter how i feel about them as a way to document my journey!!! looking forward to doing some collage, using markers, coloured pencil, maybe watercolour too :0
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aq2003 · 6 months
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ten and wilf are just so fucking devastating man. ten wouldn't have opened up to him if he didn't have the death prophecy hanging over his head in the first place. he lets himself reach out in the sense of "i'm going to die very soon and i might as well let myself have this" and in their short time together he lets himself hope that he might make it out (in no small part due to wilf telling him to stand up and fight for himself). but of course he won't make it out and the person who he kept pushing forward for ("I'D BE PROUD IF YOU WERE MY DAD") was the person who he had to sacrifice himself for. and over the course of 6 years ten had SO many things he'd been ready to sacrifice himself for. except for the person that told him "you're the most wonderful man and i don't want you to die"
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arthurtaylorlester · 6 months
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so like do you ever think about john doe
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i-d-e-g-a-f · 1 month
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i ache for katara so deeply, she deserves so much better than her canon fate. i cannot express in words how much her story and how the fandom views/treats her physically hurts me
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jewreallythinkthat · 1 month
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Call me old fashioned but when I see suffering alongside those who are not suffering (in the same way at least), my first thought is not to drag down those who are happy so they can experience suffering themselves, but to instead try and work out how those suffering can be raised up so everyone is living happily and peacefully.
And if to stop one group suffering, I must instead pass that pain onto others, I simply don't make a decision about who I executively decide to be mose deserving of suffering but instead put in the effort to find another way
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