#of a fucking panic attack

[dykeredhood]

I am having. a weird fucking time.

[stump-not-found]

mabel pines #1 hater

[inkskinned]

hey btw if you're in the USA at  2:20 p.m. ET on Wednesday, Oct. 4, they're testing the emergency broadcast system. your phone is probably going to make a really loud noise, even if it's on silent. there's a backup date on the 11th if they need to postpone it.

if you're not in a safe situation and have an extra phone, you should turn that phone completely off beforehand.

additionally, if you're like me, and are easily startled; i recommend treating it like a party. have a countdown or something. be surrounded by your loved ones. take the actions you personally need to take to make yourself safe.

i have already seen mockery towards any person who feels nervous about this. for the record, it completely, completely valid to have "emergency broadcast sounds" be an anxiety trigger. do not let other people make fun of you for that. emergency sounds are legitimately engineered to make us take action; those of us with high levels of anxiety and/or neurodivergence are already pre-disposed to have a Bad Time. sometimes it is best to acknowledge that the situation will be triggering for some, and to prepare for that; rather than just saying "well that's stupid, it's just a test."

"loud scary sound time" isn't like, my favorite thing, but we can at least try to prevent some additional anxiety by preparing for it. maybe get yourself a cake? noise cancelling headphones? the new hozier album? whatever helps. love u, hope you're okay. we are gonna ride it out together.

[mothgenes]

Part 3

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

[strwbrryfire]

[seldompathic]

Too much fear in familiar blue eyes for his liking :((

[ianitegal56]

I saw Godzilla Minus One and he is quite literally one of god's silliest showa scientists

[xblackreader]

Jeremy Allen White, Ayo Edebiri and Chris Storer: “Sydney and Carmy were never meant to be romantic!”

The Audience:

[carhorno]

felt called out with this latest chapter

anyways go follow @3koboldsinahoodie so YOU can get notified as soon as a new chapter is uploaded :333

go read this fic now im losing my mind over it

Alt styles because i'm indecisive anyways love y'all

[cupophrogs]

How powerful is the anon magic? Because what if I just....

REVIVE MAMA SPIDER REVIVE MAMA SPIDER REVIVE MAMA SPIDER REVIVE MAMA SPIDER

“That may not be the best idea. I’m sorry.”

(scene inspired by @bumblehoneybee's fic "You're Safe With Me" GO READ IT NOW)

[whilomm]

oh okay heres one:

"sleepaway camp"= you go there for at least a few days, a week, sometimes several weeks, and sleep there, as opposed to a """camp""" where you go for the day and your parents or whoever picks you up afterward (those arent really camps, but like. idk when i went to "space camp" it was a weeklong but not sleepaway). in the U.S. at least, the typical image of a sleepaway camp involves staying in cabins, dunno how common it is/what it looks like in other countries.

for the first few i just mean like. not necessarily a stealth church camp, just like. idk, a camp where theres also an Assumption Of Christianity and just general vibes without being actually church camp. So, there might not be daily services and jesusy dedicatwd activities, but maybe theres still a prayer said over meals and shit. Which i assume might exist...

(oh and @reblogforsamplesize if u wanna)

[sgt-tombstone]

headcanon that Ghost doesn’t know how to drive a manual transmission. Military vehicles are all automatic, and he’d never had a reason or opportunity to learn, so he just… hadn’t. At least, not well. He’d driven stick shifts enough to understand the basics and not stall every time he got behind the wheel, but it’s not something he’s super comfortable with

When he retires (or is forced to retire), the car that Price sets him up with is a manual. He makes it back to the flat (that Price also set him up with) with no small amount of frustration, and he spends the rest of the following week in a state of near-paralysis

If it were just the car, it would be fine. He’s not afraid of learning new things, and he’s definitely not one to let his own pride get in the way of being a functional adult human being. But it’s not just the car. It’s the disruption to his whole routine, the stark unfamiliarity of civilian life, the fundamental alteration of his entire life being uprooted and hastily replanted. The car is just the physical embodiment of it

He’s avoids driving as much as possible, because he hates the reminder that things are different. If he just stays in his flat, he can almost pretend that he’s just on leave. So he lives on take-out, he doesn’t furnish his flat past the bare essentials, he doesn’t let himself settle in

It all comes to a head when Johnny tries to visit on his leave. He asks Simon to pick him up at the airport, and Simon… can’t. He’s built such a mental barrier around his car, the physical manifestation of everything slipping out of control in his life, and he just… can’t

He calls Johnny, who’s obviously still at the airport if the background noise is any indication, and he pours it all out. The empty flat, the constant take-out, the unmoored feeling, and above all, the fucking car. He’s scared, he’s alone, he’s in over his head, and it’s the first time he’s admitted any of it. When he finishes his outpouring of uncharacteristic emotion, Johnny just says, “I’ll help you buy a new car,” like it’s that easy, like that will solve everything

And it does, because the car was never just a car. Johnny cashes in all of his built-up leave time and helps Simon pick out a new (automatic transmission) car. He helps Simon shop for furniture, even if it takes all day and they both leave the store frustrated with nothing to show for it. He helps Simon stock his pantry with ingredients, snacks, and pre-prepared meals, because some days are worse than others. He helps Simon get his feet underneath him, because it’s something he’s never had to do before

He never drives a manual transmission again and he thinks that maybe that’s okay

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[23z567]

[wiisagi-maiingan]

Anyway if you think cultural Christianity doesn't exist then I fucking dare you to try to find a vet clinic that's open at reasonable hours on Saturday or open at all on Sunday. Having a pet have a medical issue on a Saturday is very much a question of "can this wait until Monday or am I shelling out $500+ for a quick visit to the emergency vet because literally every other clinic closed at noon"

[be-queer-do-arson]

The whole Riko Roast is a masterpiece but in particular the line "Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time" gets me every time because no the fuck they do not!!! Neil just made that up for the drama!!!! He thought hmmmm... what will make this fucker the angriest and then he held nothing back. Neil threw Kevin's ass right under the bus without a second thought just to see Riko's face twitch. Iconic.