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#and I will be crying myself to sleep
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Like the majority of society I’m obsessed with Nimona
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And I rewatched it a million times and one thing always sticks out to me 
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There are moments when Ambrosius is surrounded by light like a little protective bubble 
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That keeps him away from the man he loves more than anything 
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I just want to have this on my blog <33
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ghost-bxrd · 1 month
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(“the weather warmer, he is colder”)
— Army Dreamers, Kate Bush
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transmonstera · 1 year
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seeing other trans people be happy and enjoy being trans is not a threat to you. to doubt their transness because they're (perceived as to be) not as miserable as you is, however, a threat to them. - transmonstera
[IMAGE ID: "to measure the validity of other transsexuals by their misery is to hold the cissexual narrative higher than your own right to joy" in bold white text. the background is a number of yellow measuring tapes and rulers. the base of the measuring tapes has a sad face sticker on the side. the background is solid black. END]
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Haha, Im in danger :)
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lemeduartes · 17 days
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Something about Rooster admiring so much his parents relationship and aspiring to have a love so beautiful as theirs, sweet and romantic and truly a fairy tale that would warm his heart forever
And ending up with the asshole who can't be nice to save his own live, that chews on a toothpick 24/7 and makes his life a living hell for the fun of it while looking so smug NARCISSUS HIMSELF would be jealous
He wanted a love like his parents had, and he got it! Unfortunately he had 2 set of parents and the love he ended up having was similar to the WRONG ONE
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glitteringpoet1685 · 4 months
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Not a day goes by where I don't think about how Sizhui is the embodiment of the Lan principles despite not being Lan by blood, exactly how Wei Wuxian was the embodiment of the Jiang principles despite not being a Jiang by blood. God I forgot how tragic this show was.
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simplepotatofarmer · 11 months
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today is june 1st, today is what would've been technoblade's 24th birthday and it feels surreal he's no longer with us.
he touched so many people, changed so many lives, and made an impact on the minecraft youtube community that will never fade. despite everything, he leaves behind an amazing legacy full of accomplishments and kindness and humor, a community known for their generosity, and content people turn to even now for comfort.
and in that way, he's still with us. each one of us carries on his memory and legacy, always to be missed, yes, but always to be loved and treasured for the amazing person he was and the things he did.
i know he's looking down at us, amazed at how far we've come. happy birthday, techno. we love you and we miss you.
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shrimparts-blog1890 · 4 months
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Can we get a drawing of Darling and Apple kissing? 👉👈💕
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as a fellow deluyuyu looking out for another deluyuyu.. do NOT look at Yunho's Saitama Day 2 pictures 💀🧎🏻‍♀️🕳 we don't have the hotteok health insurance!!
bro.
YOU'RE TELLING ME WE WITNESSED THE YIPPLE???? HE ACTUALLY BROKE THE WALL DFKJGHJDFHGJKDF
AND HE LOOKED THIS HOT ANYWAY???
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I. AM. NOT. OKAY.
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froggyteehee · 19 days
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i don't care that they gave Gambit a beautiful sendoff. I don't care that his death was a heroic sacrifice and a masterpiece. I don't care that it fits into the plot perfectly.
That 2D fake man meant more to me than most people. I'm still in tears. I feel like I'm in physical pain. I actually think I hate life rn
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espinosaurusrexex · 6 months
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I just found out about this and now I’m gonna need five to ten business days to recover - thank you 🥹
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via @idkwidowsgrimm on TikTok
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bizarreandjarring · 1 year
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harrier if you didn’t want this to be romantic why did you wear your most boobylicious shirt ???
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just-jordie-things · 6 months
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just megumi being the prettiest boy that’s it that’s the post
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sleepanonymous · 8 months
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I wanted to post this here because it's very important to signal boost things like this, no matter how small of a gesture they seem.
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starry-bi-sky · 29 days
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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out
and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.
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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it. 
Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.
He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats. 
Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.” 
Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.  
He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died. 
Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream. 
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. 
He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.  
He has no mouth, but he must scream. 
Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood. 
Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off. 
Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts. 
Scrappy is just not enough. 
He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all. 
Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash. 
But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane. 
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings. 
Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice. 
He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail. 
Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.
Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it. 
Being dead is agony. 
Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow. 
His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever. 
In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be. 
Being dead hurts. 
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