#and he deserved everything he got

[admirableadmiranda]

I've seen it said that NHS had no right to do what he did, as JGY did killed his brother but left his sect and reputation intact, whereas NHS went too far to destroy every bit of JGY's life. But I have always thought it was perfectly fair. JGY used NMJ's worst nightmare against him, driving him to the death he feared most of all. Which, when you look at it, is just what NMJ's loving brother did to his murderer. I'm not saying NHS didn't do wrong to get there, but his revenge was really more than apt. Would you agree?

Jin Guangyao assassinated Nie Mingjue because Nie Mingjue was standing against his father and getting in the way of his buddy-buddy evil friendship with Xue Yang by declaring that he needed to die for wiping out the Chang clan. He also murdered a hell of a lot of other people and destroyed plenty of other people's reputations in the process, or both at the same time in Wei Wuxian's case.

Nie Huaisang might have gone farther than Jin Guangyao personally hurt him in his desire to take him down, but Jin Guangyao deserved it really. Where Nie Huaisang's wrongs are is in not looking out for the people on the sidelines, especially for people like Qin Su, or the juniors in Yi City.

His revenge is apt and he is certainly willing to stop once Jin Guangyao goes down, so he's still a much better man than Jin Guangyao ever was. Jin Guangyao did a million shitty, awful, murderous things and deserves to lie in his rage coffin forever.

[hinamie]

in spite of everything, I had fun <3

[supine-ly]

this is my first time drawing Piper is it obvious

[qiinamii]

"Xiao does things" (and friends) twitter log part 2

-- UPDATE: removed some of the arts to make its own individual post since I am bad at organizing, sorry! (but the last one is new lol) xD

[chronicowboy]

we as a collective do Not talk about this line delivery nearly enough and for good fucking reason, i'll kill bradley james for this one line alone. he's just a little boy :'((

[epiphainie]

i love bucktommy because we see buck on his most childish (complaining to maddie, masterminding his way into basketball games, MAIMING HIS BEST FRIEND) and most mature (acknowledging the poor way he acted, asking for a second chance) behavior over tommy. like, yes king i see your duality. i see your unchecked insane desire and your new software update.

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

It is funny to me how Harry Potter is literally the main character, yet people tend to go like he didn't suffer that much or he wasn't "abused"; Like, how can one misunderstand the literal main character of the damn franchise?

He wasn't abused; yes okay. He absolutely did not grow up inside a cupboard; the tiny place that is mostly reserved for brooms or cleaning supply. He absolutely was not treated inferior to the other child who lived in the same house. He was totally was not treated like a "freak" or a "stain" that his family was ashamed off. He grew up inside a cupboard while there was a literal unused bed in the same house. And you want to know what that screamed to a child, a baby — who slept inside a cupboard while there being a perfectly usable room right there? You are worth nothing and we don't love you and we are ashamed of what you are.

He wasn't starved, or at least he was fed; Yeah, no. We see it from the first book. How Vernon was no food for you and in the cupboard you go — and by the looks of it, that was like his most common punishment. And then, in the second book — you practically see it happen. He was locked, inside a room with only a can of soup that he shared with Hedwig. Now, tell me what it would do to a child — to be given food through a cat flap, and fun fact? Harry got to eat less than people on war rations; in short? He was starved, yes.

He wasn't abused physically so it's not abuse; As for people's thinks abuse isn't abuse until it's physical (which is inherently wrong because abuse isn't only physically, fyi); Harry has learned to dodge Vernon and he states that, very proudly when his uncle tries to grab him. He dodges a flying pan and states that fact, again very proudly as if it is the norm; do you know how heavy pans are? And do you know what would happen when one hits you? If you want an even clearer proof; Vernon Dursley strangles Harry in Ootp. There you go. Also, in the first book, we clearly see Vernon encouraging Dudley to hit Harry. Read between the lines and actually try to understand what that signifies.

And favourite part; When he wasn't treated like a prisoner, or a freak— he was their servant. And that is very much canonical. Tending Petunia's garden during summers and drinking from the water hose in the garden because of how hot it was? Having to wake up early so he can tend the kitchen and when he wasn't doing all that he is locked away. And it is all canon.

In conclusion, Harry— not only grew up to think that he was inhumane, undeserving of love, a freak that didn't even get to have his own bed because someone like him didn't deserve it, physically harmed enough times that he dodges them out of reflex and also the Dursleys' glorified servant; that is not even taking into account what Harry went through in Hogwarts. And after all that if someone tells me; this child, right here — didn't go through much then well, maybe read the books again?

[satoruhour]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

not like this. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[mobius-m-mobius]

(i n / s p)

[olibensstuff]

!!tw: mention of gun use!!!

@it-explains-why-youre-special maybe I will😤

It’s officially an au now guys😔😔 I’m deciding on a name feel free to suggest one!

An alternate universe where donnie has a gun/loves firearms. For more context, check the original comic out!

[gayofthefae]

Girl, I'm so sorry, but if you he really was gonna tell her he loved her before Argyle interrupted them, I would not want somebody to say to me

"I guess, I just, I don't know, I guess I just wanted to say that I love you."

You guess you love me? What, you don't know? Be sure then come back to me.

[runawaymun]

I'm just going to say it. the attitude I'm seeing in the Silmarillion fandom from those who have never watched the ROP show, but are enjoying gifsets of the Annatar/Brimb scenes and expressing that it has them interested in those portrayals, while continuing to loudly assert that the Celebrimbor casting is atrocious because he's 'old and blond' fucking disgusts me.

[hinamie]

wanted to practice some more intense angry expressions and what better excuse to further my agenda of giving megumi the emotional catharsis he deserves

[sysig]

Gift (Patreon)

[ptieuca]

Maybe we should think about getting a few mirrors. And maybe a drawer, you know for some of my stuff. Because that's what couples do. They have drawers.

[drenched-in-sunlight]

people bending over backwards to scream Marika never loved Messmer when he alone has more blessings personally bestowed by her than any other demigods combined are so funny to me. also the fact that it's implied he used to live in Leyndell too 😂😂

also she killed an entire god herself and made sure said God is called all manner of names and depict as ugly forever. for him 😂😂