#as is everything in my head

[effervescentdragon]

Cirdan, wanderlust, fast.

Time passes slowly for Círdan. It has done so for too long, and there is nothing he can do about it.

He knows this with his whole being, the being which he knows others consider ancient, and have for quite some time; for much longer than he would care to admit. Olórin had told him when he last passed through Círdan's domain, 'Old friend, now your hröa matches mine'. Círdan had laughed and replied 'Ah, meldo, 'twas never merely about one's physical bearing, else I would have left already when my hair started turning mithril-silver! Before my time was past, and I still had some vigour for travel left.'

Olórin had narrowed his eyes, and for all his far-sightedness, Círdan could not decipher the look in them. 'Would you have, truly?' he had asked. 'After - all that has come to pass, you would have left for the Grey Lands at some arbitrary time for what? Wanderlust?'

There were eons of knowledge in Olórin's gaze, and if he had concentrated, Círdan was convinced he could see echoes of golden locks and harsh steel in their depths.

'I have no wanderlust,' he replied truthfully. 'I am where I am by the will of the Valar, and here I shall stay until I sense it is time for me to leave.'

'Think you not that time is passed? Long gone, smothered by the fast passage of time?'

Círdan had laughed then, and it was not a merry laugh. It carried too much pain too deeply buried to ever be called even close to merry. Laughter had, for Círdan, lost its appeal a long time ago, for how can one love an imitation after one had heard pure joyous laughter in its original form?

'Time had slowed for me, old friend, and with every passing year it slows some more, until I fear it will cease completely.' He met Olórin's knowing eyes. 'And when it halts, then...' he trailed off, for he dared not speak of his greatest wish, buried deep within with a ribbon of golden hair and bloodied steel.

They had stood in silence, watching the ocean before them. There was no need to speak, for if Olórin knew who Círdan was always, always thinking of, he knew why that memory was as painful as it was old.

"Faith," Olórin had whispered. "Have faith in yourself, Nowë."

As much as you do in her, and she in you, the ocean wind seemed to whisper, but Círdan had merely closed his eyes, and did not dare to hope.

[nyancrimew]

yknow it's kinda crazy that ive only really been on here for a bit over a year it feels like this website is my parent

[lotus-pear]

learning to love

[juliangelart]

"I've been searching, all of my life,

Finally I've found my north star."

[sexymoonmansslut]

lily mf evans.

the only woman ever.

[hinamie]

"I'll show you every day that choosing to live was worth it"

some of my favourite scenes from @hijinks-n-lowjinks' fic things i would miss from the other side . this fic tore my heart out fr but like in a good way and i wanted to pay it homage the only way i know how <3

[toyducks]

made my own prefall/angel lucifer design

[sanatomis]

cw. none except satoru being disgustingly cute (part 2)

satoru isn’t used to people calling him anything other than his surname. gojo-san to most, gojo-sensei to others. it’s simple, and gets the job done.

only a handful of people stick to calling him by his given name. to them, he’s satoru. it’s easy, and rolls of the tongue, and he greatly prefers it over the sound of his surname. it makes him feel like an actual person.

satoru never entertained the possibility of being called anything else other than those two names. he didn’t think it would ever happen.

for once, he was glad to be proven wrong.

“tough day, pretty?” you ask gently, and he sighs with a nod as he throws himself into your opened arms. his body moulds easily into yours, and he lets out a heavy groan as he settles onto the couch with you. the groan is loud, and over-exaggerated.

it’s so satoru.

you have to stifle a giggle.

“everything went horribly wrong,” he grumbles, his voice muffled against the fabric of your shirt. “the higher ups were up my ass again, my students laughed at me again, and when i finally made it to that bakery you liked they were out of your favourite pastries so i couldn’t get them for you—again!”

“oh, my poor baby,” you coo, and gently push his bangs out of his face. he nods in agreement, faking an immense amount of sympathy for himself. “‘s okay, at least you tried, hm? i think that’s very sweet.”

satoru hums, as if he’s deeply thinking about your words. “’m still your baby?” he mumbles, deciding that’s the most important thing right now. his eyes briefly flutter shut, consumed by utter bliss as you play with the hairs on his undercut.

“mhm, still my baby.”

“yeah? what else am i?”

this time you do giggle. he does this sometimes. you aren’t exactly sure why—but on tough days, satoru likes to crawl into your arms and listen to you call him every cheesy nickname under the sun. it’s easily providable and makes him so very happy, so you always indulge him.

“my honey bun.”

“and?”

“my boo bear.”

“mhm.”

“my sweetheart.”

“yes?”

you laugh softly. “my mochi,” you coo, and pinch his cheek. it’s a little squished because he’s laying on your chest, but it emphasises your point.

he grins under your touch. it’s adorable.

“keep them coming, please?” he asks, and you do. you always do, unable to refuse him. especially when he asks so sweetly.

“my sugar cookie.”

“my muffin.”

“my baby cakes.”

“my angel.”

“my love.”

“my husband.”

“h—huh?” satoru stammers, looking up from your chest. he lays his chin on your sternum, baby blue eyes blinking up at you. they’re filled with awe, surprise, and utter glee. “that’s, i’m not. . .”

“just testing the title, baby,” you tell him, and continue playing with his hair. he bathes in your touch and you smile softly as he grabs and kisses the palm of your hand. “what do you think, hm?”

“i think you should call me it again.”

“oh?”

“mhm,” he mumbles.

“my dearest husband.”

“again.”

“my handsome husband.”

“again.”

“my sweet husband.”

“again, please?”

you hum, impressed. “my well-mannered husband.”

satoru chuckles, and lays back down on your chest. his white hair tickles against your skin, and he sighs in content.

“i think i want to be your husband for real.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” he mumbles and nuzzles further into your hold. “y’ve got the same ring size still, right?”

“i sure do,” you say, a content smile on your lips as you watch him slowly doze off to sleep.

“hm, good to know.”

for satoru, those nicknames make him feel as if he’s something even greater than a person—it makes him feel yours.

he’s not just gojo, the strongest. he’s not just satoru, the at-times somewhat immature adult with the sweet tooth of a child.

he’s yours. your baby. your honey bun. your boo bear. your mochi. your boyfriend. your love. and for satoru, there’s no greater thing in the world than that.

[thebibliosphere]

Have you ever vomited so hard you not only wrecked your throat but dislocated your collarbone?

How about a migraine so bad it triggers your mast cells into a pre-anaphylactic reaction and you start breaking out in hives all over your body?

Yeah. Me neither until 4 o’clock this morning.

New level of hell unlocked.

And the migraine is still ongoing. I’m just no longer blind and dry-heaving.

I hate this.

[the-barefoot-hatter]

Party Billiam AU Origins!

there's so many bill-goes-back-before-things-went-bad-but-knows-everything fics, but what IF it was Ford-with-future-knowledge?

But Ford isn't a god, what can he do to stop Bill? Can't kill him, can't trap him, can't risk him running off to someone else for portal building. The only thing he can really do is- seduce the seducer first! Nudge him away from evil plots with sweaty nervous dates! He is definitely emotional-ready for this!

[teaboot]

Sometimes at work it's not my place to tell people the things I want to say, and I find I often go home at the end of the rougher days to stand blankly in my shower and tell myself over and over what I wish I could pass on.

This accomplishes very little, and mostly just gives me a tension headache, but through it all I think I've narrowed myself down to a few solid things I'd like to tell people the most.

You can't change people. Not permanently, not for anythig. You can support them, encourage them, love them, give them tools and opportunities and resources, but you can't make them change. They can change themselves if they want to, but they have to want to, and they have to want it for themselves, because they're the only one that's certain to be with them forever.

For better or worse, you make your own choices, and blaming bad choices on others doesn't only work to absolve you of responsibility- it also robs you of control. Because if you say you only did something because I did something, then you arent only shifting blame- you're admitting that you cannot control yourself, that you cannot truly make choices for yourself, that other people can control you- and as long as you truly beleive that, you'll keep facing the same problems over and over. You'll keep letting others dictate your choices, because you'll beleive that they can, and you'll never be free.

White knights on horseback are from fairytales. Nobody can help you if ou're not willing to help yourself. To try, to put the dirty work in, to belive you're worth that effort- Act as though nobody is coming to save you. From a struggle, from pain, from bad relationships, from yourself. And when you do save yourself, because you will, because failure here isn't an option if you want to survive, you'll never find another dragon that can keep you prisoner.

Don't say anything to anyone that you wouldn't want them remembering forever.

Doing the right thing in bad circumstances is hard. It's the hardest thing. But if you make the choice to do that hard thing anyways, despite your fear, you'll go on the rest of your like knowing that you're the sort of person who did something.

The present only seems the hardest because the past I over and the future hasn't happened.

There's so much joy ahead of you, the kind you can't possibly understand until you see it yourself.

The responsibility of consequences is often disguised as the power of permission. "I won't do this if you help me", "I'll work on my anger if you do this for me", "I promised you I'd quit, but can I have just one?". The unspoken question is, "Can it be your fault if this goes badly?"

You cant make someone love you the way you need to be loved. Someone can love you very much and still be bad for you, even if you love them very much in return. Two people can love each other very, very much, and try their very best, and still be wrong for each other.

Sometimes being near to someone changes you, even in good ways, and the people you become don't fit together as well as the people you were.

Caring takes work. Even if it's real. Especially if it's real. And the most important gestures aren't the grand, poetic, songs-and-flowers-and-tears moments; they're getting out of bed even though you don't want to. Paying attention to things you don't enjoy. Scrubbing pans, or opening a window, saying "thank-you", or helping carry groceries into the house. The small things fill the big things- without the small, boring, mediocre things, big things feel hollow.

Thrre is honour and dignity in humble work.

If you are a cruel and spiteful person, then you will find every place you visit to be full of the same cruel, spiteful people. This is not because the world is as cruel as you, but because everywhere you are, you will be disliked. This is the curse that comes with being persistently cruel and spiteful.

If you are a kind and ppsitive person, you will repeatedly encounter kind and positive people, because as they grow familiar with you, they will be happier to have you near. This is the reward of being a kind and positive person.

When splitting paths with loved ones, briefly or forever, aim for your last words to always be "I love you".

[zephyrine-gale]

Kazuscara | A Ghost of a Memory

Part 1/?

Also hbday to scara ♡

[avastazyana]

[youre-dreaming-302]

More photos from my digital camera (7.2 megapixels)

[remxedmoon]

y’know what? fuck you. *UNGRAYSCALES YOUR ISATS*

no wait come back there’s greyscale versions under the cut :(

[srfiv]

and whenever they couldn't speak they looked at eachother