#and feeling hopeless

[lotus-pear]

hngghh domestic......

[nancywheeeler]

hopeless time loop. the way out isn’t to save everyone. the way out isn’t to save even one person. the way out isn’t to change anything. the way out is accepting how it happened the first time is how it always will be. that’s how you acted, that’s how they acted, that’s how you would have acted every time if you weren’t given the curse of hindsight. the way out is accepting you can’t fix the past; you can only forgive yourself for it.

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[vegance]

anyone who calls all individual actions like thrifting, going vegan or using public transport bad or useless, and instead encourages people to just wait for some kind of big revolution to happen before even considering making any change in their own lives is not actually that interested in things getting better

[onlyposersfallinlovee]

"Goodbye."

[lazylittledragon]

do any other artists feel like. yeah you're a 'good artist' because you draw things that look nice, but like. TECHNICALLY? you're really not great

i really hate that i can recognise that yes, my art is good, but is it VARIED? is it dynamic?? is my anatomy good? is it full of texture and colour theory? do i know how to do This? can i do That? no, not really. and that's quite painful actually

[fumifooms]

People should talk about Yaad and Thistle more. Weird granduncle that killed your dad in a petty impulsive punitive act, leaving you very scared of him as you live under his control for centuries. Imagine growing up hearing stories of the King’s brother, the kind, clever, collected and calm advisor and right hand man. But only knowing him by how warped he’s become, violent and erratic. He punishes you, too, robbing you of any agency by putting you inside of a doll. And then despite, he becomes catatonic and you’re left to take care of him in his brother’s body while he thinks you’re him. And then you see those slivers of that nice caring person you heard so much about in your childhood a millenium ago, and as he babbles about Delgal thinking he’s you, recalling memories and old habits, you wonder about how things must have used to be, before, and how they’ve changed irreparably. Today is melancholic again.

Yaad being like, Thistle’s sort of great-nephew who’s lived most of his life seeing him as being out of his mind and only a mirage of the noble attentive person he once was, now having to take care of him, someone who was an older familial figure to him… Seeing him gentle, soft and unhurried after all this time spent in an emotional anxious paranoid frenzy... Yaad and Thistle post-canon is so special

[asha-mage]

Metaphor: reFantazio really stares you dead in the eye and says 'democracy is not some magical system that ensures moral good. Even if you could take away all the barriers and practical difficulties, even if you could guarantee beyond a shadow of a doubt that the entire nation voted, and the vote could not be tampered with, and that it was a genuine expression of their true belief of who was most fit to rule with no other concerns taken into consideration- that still would not keep people from elevating strongmen and demagogues and tyrants. Their is no promise that the 'will of the people' will always be the most moral, the most practical, or the most wise choice. People are short sighted and easily swayed and ruled by their biases and instincts, and more then that they often lack the time energy and understanding to make the most wise choice.'

And then as you are staring into the black void of hopelessness it keeps going and says 'And that's okay. People have lived beneath unjust, imperfect systems since the dawn of civilization. All these things, from Republics, to Theocracies, to Monarchies, to Dictatorships- they are all human creations and so reflect human flaws. It's okay. It doesn't mean you stop living, stop helping other people, stop trying to do the best for those you care for. It doesn't absolve you of your duties and responsibilities to others. Dream of a better world, and do what you can for the people you can and you might just make the world a better place, the same way everyone throughout history has- one day a time, and one choice after another.'

[peppiekorn]

help me afford groceries and rides to work

hi, i know i’ve made dono posts before and i’m sorry to ask for money once again. my older sister financially abuses me heavily, often making me pay for entire bills on my own when she has two teenage children in the house. she forces me to split bills 50/50, when i get paid pretty much half the amount she does. i got a raise recently, but she forced me to foot an entire 100 bill, so my funds were depleted entirely.

i am on food stamps, but it’s never enough because her children eat my groceries often .

i am in the process of getting ready to move in with a friend in a different state. but until then, i need to get to my job and afford groceries and get supplies to keep my dog safe . ( i need to get her a muzzle, a collar, and a new leash. ) i only have her because my dad passed away and left me her.

i am so sorry to ask for so much, but it’s only because i’m trying not to make multiple posts about this because i am extremely embarrassed.

$0 / $400

cashapp / venmo / paypal / commission post

[plasticmutations]

if you voted please reblog. help me stay alive during my birthday month🩵

hi it’s dylan, i just found out from the manager at starbucks that i won’t get hired for another month (if at all). i’m trans and disabled so nowhere else wants to hire me & i’ve applied almost everywhere. it’s my birthday in 2 weeks so if i could be even slightly less stressed out that’d be great.

i’m 2k in credit card debt and i have $550 in bills upcoming next week. if 60 people could spare $10 then i’d have my bills for august covered and anything else would go towards groceries which ends up being around $150 a month.

paidpal @ aidenallison

cashedapp $diabolicshrimp

vendmo @ diabolicshrimp

i also have 5 commission slots open on my art blog @dirkcomplex . i’m very grateful for your help. thank you

[deputyrook]

I think that when Rook is trapped in the fade prison, Spite’s Spirit of Determination side really starts to shine through.

Lucanis is desperate, and over time he becomes increasingly plagued with the doubt and fear that Rook is lost to them forever.

But Spite is so singleminded, so unwavering in his focus- “No. NO! We will find Rook! We will bring Rook home to us.” - it’s Spite that keeps him from falling to despair completely.

[lupucs]

Grrr-friend 🦖

[megafart1]

Fiddauthor doodles

*leaves this politely on the floor and scurries away*

yeah. enjoy ^_^

[artbyblastweave]

🔥 government-sanctioned superheroes

So for a long time, in many spaces in which I was in, the reflexive intellectual contrarian position on superheroes as a broad concept- often framed in liberal terms, liberal in an American context, because this was frequently regarding the Superhuman Registration Act from Marvel specifically- was that superheroes are unaccountable, and if they were real the correct, or at least inevitable thing would be some form of nationalization or licensing system. After all, these people are untrained irregulars, appointed by no one and answerable to no one except whoever's powerful enough to bring them down in a fight- would we really want them running around with no oversight from our good friend The Government? Who watches the Watchmen?

And, you know, a lot of these premises are basically correct. But about four years ago, as a very ancillary point to, uh, everything else going on at the time, it was quietly cemented for me that there had always been a version of this argument being made from a position of ridiculously unwarranted faith in proceduralism, in the goodwill of the government and law enforcement in particular. Versions of this argument being made by people who've never had a bad encounter with the cops. Maybe it's not the worst thing in the world that Spider-Man usually isn't on speaking terms with the NYPD, actually! Maybe you very much don't want him to be!

That said, I think there are certainly risks of swinging too far in the other direction here, beetlejuicing into the conversation a particularly annoying kind of cape fan who treats superheroes as leftist, anarchist or at least antiauthoritarian by default- they aren't, you have to work to characterize them that way, and it's often extremely visible that you're doing that work. As you may have been able to tell from some of my recent bitter doomposting, my own stance has ultimately settled at a glum median "I hope they bite each other's dicks off" kind of position. I think it's possible to do a cape thing that's meaningfully anti-state or anti-police in the way people badly want them to be, but as always you're now left holding the bag of trying to explain how your grassroots outside-the-system vigilante culture isn't going to degenerate into cops 2, the sequel to cops. It requires actual thought! It's likely on some level what that story would be about.

[abortionpostbirth]

hard not to break down entirely right now.

Why do I even talk when none of it ever matters? When the second I came out the womb as a female I immediately mattered less to people.

'The men are so lonely'. And we aren't? The world is against us. It's not safe to be around men but it's also unsafe to not be around them because other men could still find a way to hurt you and limit your power and ability to get a sufficient income.

I'm so sad. So heartbroken. So afraid.

[lazylittledragon]

can anybody who's made it beyond 22 please tell me i'm going to be ok