#oh man I just realized

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) house in pre-heat, hiding out in wilson's office and needing a nest but taking what he can get right then without going home because He Has A Case. and startles wilson half to death because house isn't on the little sofa or like a chair at all, he's sitting on the floor, the knobs of desk drawers digging into his back, right next to wilson's chair. and wilson (after getting over the initial shock) just sighs sympathetically.

"this because of the, uh...? (gestures vaguely)"

"yeah. can't go home yet so."

"right, so you choose the next best thing: the doctor's office"

"hey, i'm a doctor too >:( "

but then wilson just settles into his chair and runs his hand through house's hair and house relaxes. "just paperwork for me for the next few hours so you've got time to... pull yourself together, or close enough to it." stay however long you need, i'll be here

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Three panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows a young Livio scrubbing tears off his face with clenched hands, his expression almost entirely obscured except for tears coming out of his left eye. The second panel shows a young Wolfwood with a bandage on his left cheek and a chunk of bread in his mouth, the other half of the small baguette held in his hand, which extending beyond the boundaries of the panel in a mild 3D effect. The third panel has his speech bubbles saying, "I'm Nicholas. Here. Eat." End ID.]

So there's this anecdote about Glasgow and Edinburgh (and no doubt plenty of other cities with this particular relationship) that folk in Edinburgh are polite but not nice, and people in Glasgow are nice but not polite. I did once live this experience when taking a train from Edinburgh to Glasgow, needing to use the lift on both ends to get to and from the platforms on my crutches. At the Edinburgh end, I got into the lift, and two people then crammed in their roughly ten million suitcases with me until I was pretty much crushed in the corner, the whole time going "I'm awfy sorry about this, sorry, we're just in such a rush, sorry about this". In the time they spent doing this I probably could've gone down on the lift and sent it back up, without being crushed. On the Glasgow end, I got off the train and got in the queue for the lift behind an old man in a motorized wheelchair. He looked around when it was his turn at the lift, saw men, and shifted aside, saying "'mon hen, you go" and when I went "oh, no, it's fine", as you do, he slapped the arm of his chair and said "take the lift, ye daft cow, am awready sittin'." I was tired as FUCK and in a lot of pain and because I took that lift I made it to the bus stop just in time for that bus, so I'm earnestly grateful to that guy.

All this to say that if they ever dub Trigun in purely UK accents I think Wolfwood should be Glaswegian because there's a bampot reputation but also the way that he's consistently kind and supportive to others even when he's often being a blunt asshole about it.

[egophiliac]

last chance to guess what the new round of birthday outfits will be!

[zombie-bait]

I can’t believe Gideon and Harrow had like 3 weeks of something approximating fun before experiencing 2 solid years of endless suffering 😭 lemme tell you, nothing could’ve prepared me for that or the realization that post book 1 these poor fuckers just never get to spend any time together, I miss the old days of One Flesh One End Bitch!!!!! We had it so good and we didn’t even know it

[willowser]

shouto accidentally gets drunk while out with you and some other friends and he's sitting there in the heat of the bar, watching you smile bright and laugh wholeheartedly with your hair a little messy and your eyeliner smudged a bit—and he gets suddenly and completely overwhelmed with the desire to kiss you.

which is exactly what he does when you manage to get him home. it's kind of awkward because he doesn't kiss many people and he's also drunk and gangly and looming over you, but you let him crowd you against his front door until the both of you nearly run out of breath.

and you push him away gently with a quiet laugh, telling him, "okay, slow your roll, loverboy. how about we do this when you're sober, huh?" because you're not sure if he means it and you don't want to get your hopes up for something he won't even remember tomorrow.

but he absolutely does remember it, and now he can't look at you without feeling that unfamiliar white-hot strike of desire lighting up his body.

[rottentiger-art]

"You want me to shake your hand?" "are we not friends?" Colin you SLUT, how many liberties are you going to take on the excuse of you two being friends? There are RULES

[naamahdarling]

I didn't get pics I didn't get pics my phone was in the bedroom charging but FANCY IS PLAYING WITH THEM. Not next TO them but INITIATING PLAY WITH THEM.

Not bitchily, not reluctantly, not with a short temper, not tolerating THEIR advances, but making her OWN advances! Inviting them in!!!!!! Even the detested Junie!

CRYINGGGGGG.

[shaadowmilkcookie]

One of Shadow Milk’s many prop replicas of himself, left behind. Even though the eyes are forever staring straight into the distance… Oddly enough, you still feel like you’re being watched.

But surely, though, it won’t hurt to take it home and touch up the colours, right? :)

[tubbytarchia]

Could we get more Jimmy and Doc? Or Ren and Doc... for the children

You may... I'm struggling with the actual continuation still oops but please accept this doodle for the time being... for the children

[fatedroses]

And some days, I just wish you wouldn't look at me at all.

[egophiliac]

queen of diamonds, upright + reversed 💎

I've redone this like eighty times, I have to just be done with it now and stop staring at all my mistakes oh no 🫠

[elsecrytt]

so i had a thought.

what if 236 is actually jujutsu tech propaganda?

mei mei is broadcasting this entire thing, right? what better way to protect gojo from bounty hunters etc., than convince the entire world that he's already dead?

the final battle happened offscreen, with significantly less fanfare. gojo rescued megumi, defeated sukuna. the day was saved.

at a cost.

gojo gave up everything - at least, everything he valued. the six eyes, his abilities as a sorcerer. he assumed that would make him a normal man, and he was right -

what he didn't realize was that it would also make him blind.

so now... you live in a nice apartment complex. a guy moves in next to you.

you can't help but notice he happens to be blind - at least, he's wearing a blindfold, uses a cane, but he's often swearing and stumbling through his porch, over his entryway. he is very, very blind.

you, wondering what the fuck up is with your obviously blind neighbor who seems to have no sense of self-preservation.

he walks into objects all the time, especially hitting his head on things, since he's so tall. forgets his cane when going out. the dude just left his door open the other day, like, WIDE OPEN, who DOES that?

helping gojo learn, not only how to be human, but how to be disabled. how to not be disgusted with being disabled.

gojo learning that being blind isn't the end of his life, nor the end of his happiness - life is still worth living, even without one of his senses.

helping gojo mourn his lost sense while still finding things to enjoy. gojo who learns to cook by taste, by feeling heat or texture, with your help. gojo learning to organize things so he always knows where they are from memory.

bringing gojo audiobook versions of your favorite stories even if he teases you for your taste. he listens to them when he has nothing to do, which is most of the time, now.

he goes out on walks all the time because he doesn't have a job, you learn. while it's nice to not have to work, you can tell he comes from money, his life comes with a gaping hole inside it, one that isn't entirely explained by the blindness.

gojo who's overstimulated all the time because he no longer has infinity as a barrier, but somehow also as touch-starved as ever, alone in a foreign country away from all his students and colleagues.

gojo, who has only ever done Big Things with his life, who has only ever been an Important Person doing world changing things, now, just an ordinary guy.

he barely cares what happens to himself now. it's not that he wants to die, or anything. it's just that he doesn't have a reason to live.

and that wouldn't change overnight. not with cooking lessons or audiobooks or friendly greetings whenever you see him by the door. not with smiles or waves (he can't see them) or a braille rubik's cube you find online (how did he solve it in under a minute??) or karaoke (he has an AMAZING singing voice, and he knows so many songs better than you do?).

it wouldn't change overnight, because nothing worthwhile forms in a day, or two, or even a week or a month.

but gojo's life doesn't have to be amazing a day after he's gone blind. or a week. or a month. it's okay if it's difficult, he learns, it's okay if he hates it, hates himself, hates every choice that brought him here, even if he would never take it back.

it's okay. it gets better. with you there? it's getting better.

[beatcroc]

there's no way the bathroom at peppino's pizza is actually that big but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ . hey ummm anyway.... i care them...... anyway there's a lil ramble on my take on fake pep's like psyche or whatever in tags on the og post if ur into that kinda thing :y

hey! it's a series! fake peppino world tour: [noise] [noisette] [peppino]<- u are here [gustavo] [gerome] [noisette again]

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[commandertartarsmoocher]

The ✨tumblr sexymanification✨ of Commander Tartar from the hit video game series Splatoon™

[aioliravioli-69]

what a waste of a lovely night...

Aight, just because I can't make an animatic doesn't mean I can't do the au!

btw: @nocontextsock, I am looking forward to it!!