Latest Posts by gabbag00l - Page 9

I want to write. I have ideas. I open document. I type four of the worst sentences ever created in the english language. I daydream the rest of the scene. I close document.

Hello there! My family needs to leave Gaza out of necessity . I suffer from nightmares that are so closely resemble reality that I no longer Differentiate between reality and a dream.Thank you for taking your efforts and time in reading my plea. There are no words to describe the horrors unfolding in this place,never expected to find myself in this situation. Because of this horrible situation I have decided to come before you guys for a financial support so that I can evacuate my family from this hell that we are into.The funds will be strictly used for the evacuation . I will personally bear any additional expenses incurred.Your support will make a significant difference in alleviating the suffering of my family ,We urgently need any kind of support before it is to late. As time ticking away translates to lives lost in Gaza I'm here and ready to answer any questions or concerns you may have.Kindly reach out and connect with me

I can only pass on the word at thre moment.

Dear professor this assignment did not nourish my fundamentally curious soul so i did not do it No penalty full 100 points please Goodbye!

im noticing that for a lot of americans “free palestine” has been an ideological motto and symbol rather than them actually believing in their heart that freedom is attainable and necessary

Rosario Castellanos, tr. by Magda Bogin, from The Selected Poems of Rosario Castellanos; "Wailing Wall"

[Text ID: “I am the daughter of myself. / I am born of my own dream. My dream sustains me.”]

Neha Malhotra, ed. by Kate Rogers and Viki Holmes, from Not a Muse: The Inner Lives of Women: A World Poetry Anthology; "Menaka"

[Text ID: "I'll whisper my name in your ears. / Soon, your skin will want my breath,"]

on one hand, them banning tiktok is yet again another means to control and silence ppl from sharing real-time information on situations such as Palestine. Not to mention all the people who are losing their income (this is why Patreon and supporting creators externally is important) but on the other hand?….good riddance. it’s been fuck that app for a while now.

PLEASE for the love of the universe read anti-colonial science fiction and fantasy written from marginalized perspectives. Y’all (you know who you are) are killing me. To see people praise books about empire written exclusively by white women and then turn around and say you don’t know who Octavia Butler is or that you haven’t read any NK Jemisin or that Babel was too heavy-handed just kills me! I’m not saying you HAVE to enjoy specific books but there is such an obvious pattern here

Some of y’all love marginalized stories but you don’t give a fuck about marginalized creators and characters, and it shows. Like damn

Erwin with that nipple piercing and Reiner!!! 😫🤰🏻

The way I’d be bouncing around on top of Jean GAWDHHHHH AHHHHH 😭😂

I love you: artofneight

Discord 18+ - Twitter 𝘽𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙆𝙄𝙉𝙂: 𝙄𝙏'𝙎 𝘼 𝙎𝘾𝘼𝙉𝘿𝘼𝙇!!

In celebration of reaching 3,000 followers on Tumblr, it seems ayyypee has decided to host her very first collab!!! The theme is Celebrity Scandal!

What are your favorite celebrity anime men, women or you (the reader) up to these days? New relationships? Maybe a nasty breakup or divorce. Cheating? Leaks, Murder, Cover ups?! There's so much to report on and so little time. But rest assured, The Jujutsu Journal will find out. Someone is always watching.

Status: OPEN

𝙍𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨

✩˚｡⋆ This is an 18+ collab! Minors dni

✩˚｡⋆ All characters portrayed must be 18+ (No aging up of minor characters pls, but if there is a canon timeskip, that's fine. Just write them as their adult selves.)

✩˚｡⋆ It does not have to be only an x Reader pairing!

✩˚｡⋆ Open to ANY fandom (Even though it says Jujutsu Journal lol)

✩˚｡⋆ You can join with as many fandoms and as many characters as you wish

✩˚｡⋆ Both NSFW and SFW works are allowed!

✩˚｡⋆ If you use any topics that need a warning, please use warnings and tag appropriately!

✩˚｡⋆ That being said, dark content is fine as long as it is not any of the following: Non-con, r*pe, beastiality, incest/stepcest, pedophilia

✩˚｡⋆ No particular format or word length required. And you can even do art! Just let me know what you’ll be doing!

𝙃𝙊𝙒 𝙏𝙊 𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙍

✩˚｡⋆ To join, please send me an ask, or you can dm me! Also I'm nosy so let me know what your idea(s) are! Like Stalker!Paparazzi Sukuna x Reader LMAO)

✩˚｡⋆ The deadline for submission for the collab is June 30th

✩˚｡⋆ I would also REALLY appreciate it if people reblogged this post so that it's boosted!

✩˚｡⋆ Please tag me in your works and use the tag: #JujutsuJournal after you're done. I'll add it to my Masterlist and reblog it on my account! I know the tagging system is bonkers right now though, so if tagging doesn't work, you can just send me an ask.

✩˚｡⋆ If you have any other questions, just let me know!

𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

𝙂𝙤𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙥 𝘾𝙤𝙡𝙪𝙢𝙣𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 𝙍𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝘿𝙪𝙩𝙮:

JUJUTSU KAISEN

@tojiscumdumpster - stalker!model!naoya x journalist!blackreader

@bungalowbear - stuntman!toji x actress!reader

@lost-immortality - DELICIOUS FANART (Characters updated later)

@lemonlover1110 - toji x reader, sukuna x reader

@xo2dee - actress!yuki x actress!reader

@yasu-1234 - tailor!higuruma x movie star!reader

©ayyypee, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, reupload or modify my work to other accounts and platforms. please ask before translating any of my works!

Banner Credit: @benkeibear!

I could even learn how to love like you

There’s a certain type of peace you find in the mundanity of the typical morning commute. The soothing whirring of the railway, the chill of metal against your fingers wrapped around the handholds, even the odd comfort of being surrounded by strangers who are equally as half asleep as you are, willing to shuffle the slightest bit to make room for new passengers. Sure, it’s a nuisance for the most part, but it’s your tiny pocket of harmony before the usually stressful workday. A routine you’ve grown accustomed to, something you can rely on to stay the same in this ever-changing society. 

Change is never a bad thing, though. And sometimes, it takes a stranger on the train to show you that.

He immediately captures your attention the first time you see him. Tan business suit, straight posture, hair neatly parted, stoic expression etched on his face. The typical salary man heading to his office job in the city. While his stature is most-impressive, it’s his tie that piques your interest, a spotted pattern akin to leopard print. A splash of pizzazz on an otherwise ordinary outfit. 

He maneuvers his way to you, wrapping his fist around the same pole you’re holding, his grip a safe distance above yours. He glances at you through his spectacles, giving you a short nod to acknowledge you. You return this with a small smile, and when you notice he doesn’t have any headphones in, you say, “I like your tie.” You normally wouldn’t speak to anyone here, most people too immersed in their preferred choice of media, like music or the news. Something tells you that straying from your usual habits might be good for you today.

The second of silence where he’s processing what you said scares you; maybe you’ve become a bother for him in this already troublesome commute. Then, he clears his throat, his gaze flickering at you for the briefest moment before it focuses on the floor. “Thank you.”

The conversation ends there. In fact, that’s your entire interaction throughout the remainder of the journey. Your station arrives before his and you leave without another word. It’s neither awkward nor extraordinary. Still, the moment doesn’t stop replaying in your memory the rest of the day. You wonder if you’ll get a chance to see him on the way home, knowing the chances are slim. Schedules vary, there are many different sections of the train. The stars would have to align just right for you to be reunited with this stranger. Despite the improbability of it all, you allow yourself to be hopeful. The little taste of excitement this morning has you craving more. 

~~~

Two days pass until Nanami meets you again. Maybe he does it subconsciously, maybe it’s intentional, but he finds himself gravitating towards you. When he places his hand above yours on the pole, in similar fashion to the last time, he gives his usual nod, unsure if you recognize him.

You beam at him. “Good morning!”

He doesn’t say anything else; he’d only be pestering you with trivial conversation. Though he can’t help watching from his peripheral as you scroll through pictures of delicious food on your phone. He notices you screenshot the ones that include recipes in the description, causing him to grin to himself at how he does the same. The urge to comment is in the back of his throat, the tip of his tongue. Getting it out proves to be difficult, and he knows why. Nanami made a vow to himself ever since he returned to being a Jujutsu Sorcerer: don’t fall in love. He’s completely aware of how dangerous his job is, how his life is at risk every single mission he’s sent on. It’s what he signed up for, the life he’s currently committed to. There’s no room for attachment, for love. It's easier for him to avoid it altogether, even if it means swallowing down a simple hello on the train. It’s better this way. And quite frankly, he isn’t sure if he’s even capable of loving the way others do. His heart has become so callous throughout the years that there’s no chance at it ever softening, he’s sure of it. Perhaps the flutter in his chest at the smile you flash him is a coincidence, nothing more. 

This theory is soon debunked. 

Nanami is especially tired after today’s mission. Heading home, he manages to secure a row of empty seats and plops himself down, resting his head back, sighing. He closes his eyes, listening to the usual hustle and bustle of rush hour, resisting every temptation to fall asleep. Missing his stop would put a damper on his already foul mood. 

Eventually, the automated voice announces your stop. For whatever reason, he made it a point to remember it when you hopped off this morning, just two away from his. When he feels someone sit beside him, he peeks with one eye open, curious. 

“Hi.” You smile softly at him, eyes crinkling with genuine kindness. “It’s you.”

While Nanami is guarded and closed off from people outside his intimate circle, he’s never rude. He has no other choice but to respond to you, ignoring the obvious thump in his chest at your endearing greeting. “Hello.” He tries his best to convince himself that this unfamiliar flutter surrounding him is some sort of medical condition that needs proper diagnosis and not affection towards a beautiful stranger on the train. Stiffening in his seat, he pretends not to be intrigued by the food magazine you start flipping through, secretly studying the way you fold the corners of all the recipes you want to save for later. 

Halfway into the ride, he actually does fall asleep, only rousing awake when he feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he catches you staring at him guiltily. “Sorry,” you apologize. “I think your stop is coming next and I didn’t want you to miss it.”

He sits up straight, readjusting his tie, clearing his throat before he replies, “Thank you.” Sure enough, the automated voice from the speaker announces that they’ll be approaching his stop next. Slightly disoriented from his nap, he stands up, grasping the nearest handhold tight. His mind is racing, body itching to say something more, say anything more. Before he can, the train comes to a halt. The doors open and without another glance, he’s gone. 

Nanami spends the entire fifteen minutes of his walk home attempting to quell the stir of emotions inside him, from guilt to giddiness, all over the simple fact that you’ve memorized his stop. That you’re paying attention to him just as he is with you. 

~~~

This time, he’s the first to greet you, offering a polite nod before he grabs onto the same pole that you’re occupying. “Good morning.”

You’ve been boarding this particular section ever since you started seeing him, hoping he’d do the same. “Hello, stranger,” you respond with a grin, unable to contain your happiness.

He holds his other hand out to you. “Nanami. Nanami Kento.”

You state your name in similar fashion, shaking his hand. His skin is rough against yours, though his grip is gentle. You let go of him, dropping your arm to your side, fingers tingling. “I guess we’re not strangers anymore.”

“I guess not,” he says with a small smile. And it’s enough to send you into a tizzy. 

Conversation is easy with him. He mentions the magazine you were reading the other day, expressing his mutual interest in food. From there, the two of you talk about your favorite restaurants and eateries around the area, giving your best recommendations. Because of all the ambient noise, you lean in close to one another to hear each other properly. The gap between your hands on the pole is shorter by the time your stop approaches. You’re prepared to bid him a reluctant farewell, so it surprises you when he follows you off. “Is this your stop too?” you ask him, though you already know it isn’t. 

He shakes his head, fixing his tie idly. “My office is fifteen minutes from here. I want to get a quick walk in before I start work.”

“Are you sure this isn’t an excuse to spend more time with me?” you tease him, smirking.

He gazes into your eyes. “Maybe it’s that too.”

This is the start of a new and exciting routine for you, one that involves Nanami. You’ll spend the morning together, talking to each other in the middle of the crowded train. Then, he’ll walk you to your office building, where he leaves you with a cordial bow. You’re reunited during rush hour, sitting next to each other sharing either the newspaper he brings along with him or the new issue of a magazine you’re subscribed to. You’ll even rip out recipes for him to keep, which he tucks safely in his pocket. When he’s too tired from the workday, he’ll close his eyes, his head falling just shy of your shoulder. It all seems silly and insignificant, but to you, it’s special. 

Your relationship never goes beyond this. The two of you don’t talk about work, you never ask questions about the new injuries on his hands or the minor scrapes on his face. The idea of being anything other than acquaintances who commute together terrifies you, and you have a strong sense that it terrifies him as well. While it would be nice to be in love, you’re not confident if you can give that to him. 

It's only after Nanami stops coming when you realize that maybe you can love him. 

On Thursday, the morning after Halloween, the commute takes longer than usual due to a mysterious incident in Shibuya that the media hasn’t disclosed fully. You listen carefully to the gossip surrounding the train. According to the elder folks, it has something to do about “the hooligans” partying too hard on Halloween. The younger generation of passengers chalk it up to some conspiracy about magical entities attacking civilians to lure other magical entities. You’re not sure what to believe, and whatever is the truth doesn’t matter once you realize Nanami hasn’t boarded at his usual stop. The delays don’t help your anxiety as you spend the remainder of the ride wondering where he could be, why he hasn’t shown up, if he’s okay. 

You follow the same routine as best as you can, frequenting the same section as you usually do, holding onto the same pole, which is lonely now without his presence. On the way home, you place your bag in the seat beside you, saving it for him if there’s ever the slim chance he does show up. You continue to tear recipes from the magazines you would normally read with him, placing them inside a small envelope marked with his name, ready to present to him if you ever do see him again. To show him that you never stop thinking about him even in his absence. 

Nothing is ever revealed about what really happened in Shibuya. The general consensus is that whatever danger emerged on that Halloween night is no longer a threat and that the citizens of Tokyo are once again safe. And based on the timing of Nanami’s sudden disappearance, you believe that he’s part of the reason for that. It’s the only solace you find in this otherwise heartbreaking situation. Still, you hold out hope. For what? You’re not sure until two months later when Nanami returns to your life. 

~~~

It takes one month for Nanami to be discharged from the hospital. He was admitted two days following Halloween, after Ieiri performed all she could with her abilities to aid him with his injuries. But he’s alive, they all are. The Jujutsu sorcerers succeeded at defeating Kenjaku and all his minions, thwarting whatever horrible fate they had in store for Tokyo, potentially the entire world. They won. 

However, their triumph came with a cost. The Shibuya Incident left him permanently scarred on the left side and one eye lost forever. Rehabilitation has been grueling the past few weeks, struggling to come to terms with this battered body. He’s received unyielding support from his colleagues who he shares this trauma with. Despite this, there’s something missing, someone missing in his life. He thinks about you much more than he ought to, wondering if you’ve noticed his absence, if it’s affected you at all. Ever the pessimist, Nanami has convinced himself that you have forgotten about him, even after all the tiny, special moments you’ve shared together. It’s better this way, he knows that. After all, he doesn’t have the slightest clue what love is or how to love somebody. 

Still, he’d like to see you again, just to know that you’re doing alright. 

Another month passes before he musters the courage to be out in public again. Because of the winter season, he can hide as much of himself without rousing any suspicion. A large coat, mittens on his hands, a scarf around his neck, a mask to cover the burn scars. He dons his usual spectacles, hoping to conceal the eyepatch draped across his hollow socket. Ever since the incident, he’s felt like a monster, unable to reveal himself to strangers oblivious to the true events of that night. 

He finally boards the train, stepping foot in the usual section as he would going home, searching for a familiar face. There you are, as beautiful as ever, sitting in the same seat, your bag occupying the one beside you. You look up, your eyes meeting his, holding onto his gaze a split second longer than expected before you focus back on the magazine laid out on your lap.

It takes everything in him to deny the swell in his chest, the tiniest sliver of hope fluttering in his belly at the thought of you recognizing him. Before he loses his composure, he takes his place on the empty row across from you, enough distance to observe you inconspicuously. That’s all he intends to do, nothing more. 

As much as his world has been shaken, he’s comforted by you flipping through your magazine as usual, your life continuing normally as it should. However, he can’t help feeling a deep sadness, knowing he’s not a part of it anymore. 

Once again, you prove his assumptions wrong.

His eye widens, intrigued by you grinning at a particular page, carefully tearing it from the binding, something you used to do this for him not too long ago. He watches with bated breath as you retrieve from your bag a marked envelope already teeming with what he assumes are other recipes from previous issues. You add the new one with a delighted expression, making sure to close the flap for a temporary seal. And clear as day on the front of the envelope, even with his obscured vision, is his name written on the front. 

He sits up straight at this, his full attention on this seemingly insignificant discovery. This captures your attention, the inkling you had earlier validated. It’s him. The stature, the posture, those distinct steampunk glasses. You didn’t want to be wrong, so you didn’t say anything, trying to stifle your quickening heartbeat. But you’ve been waiting two months for this reunion, yearned for it more than anything. Unable to contain yourself any longer, you stand up, traversing towards him until you’re an arms-length away, gripping a pole tightly to steady yourself. “Nanami?”

Panic sinks in as he decides to reveal himself to you, anticipating the shock and terror in your face when you see what he looks like now. He removes the mask slowly, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, it’s me.”

Your reaction surprises him. With that same warm smile he’s missed so much, you sit down beside him, unfazed by the scars. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Love is standing close on a crowded train to keep each other company. Love is getting off at the wrong stop to spend more time together. Love is magazine clippings in an envelope with his name on it. Love is seeing all the broken pieces of him and still finding him completely beautiful. 

Nanami is certain now that he could learn how to love like you. 

Author's Note: This is the final installment of the past lives vignettes series. It’s a bit cheesy, but I really wanted to explore the aspect of “missed connections” and I thought strangers on the train would be perfect to do that. Title inspired by the song “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are never expected, always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Had to illustrate what I envision literally every time I see this text post

i am such a sucker for unplanned proposals — he carries the ring around everywhere because he is frightened you will find it, but then you’re both eating in his car in front of the lake and you’re laughing and he knows he has to make you undoubtedly his right then and there. or you’re getting ready to go out and he’s standing by the door and you look at him through the mirror on your vanity and smile and he goes to you and gets on his knees and asks you to marry him

now that i am a real adult i am starting to realise. media lied to me about the availability of rooftops to go hang out on. every day i wish i could be hanging out on a rooftop somewhere looking cool as fuck

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.

Helpppp

world war 3 jokes on twitter meanwhile none of them live in the region and none of them understand the severity of the situation. these next few hours will really determine whether or not we head into a regional war…

"i would post about Palestine but i dont want my aesthetic to be messed up" fuck you. From the bottom of my heart, FUCK YOU.

au revoir is a forbidden word

Some of my writer’s block cures:

Handwrite. (If you already are, write in a different coloured pen.)

Write outside or at a different location.

Read.

Look up some writing prompts.

Take a break. Do something different. Comeback to it later.

Write something else. (A different WIP, a poem, a quick short story, etc.)

Find inspiring writing music playlists on YouTube. (Themed music, POV playlists, ambient music, etc.)

Do some character or story prompts/questions to get a better idea of who or what you’re writing.

Word sprints. Set a timer and write as much as you can. Not a lot of time to overthink things.

Set your own goals and deadlines.

Write another scene from your WIP. (You don’t have to write in order.) Write a scene you want to write, or the ending. (You can change it or scrap it if it doesn’t fit into your story later.)

Write a scene for your WIP that you will never post/add to your story. A prologue, a different P.O.V., how your characters would react in a situation that’s not in your story, a flashback, etc.

Write down a bunch of ideas. Things that could happen, thing that will never happen, good things, bad things.

Change the weather (in the story of course.)

Feel free to add your own.

happy trans day of visibility trans people no matter how much the world condemns you, you are worthy of love and kindness and most importantly of life.

I like these guys

Theyre trying their best

112 days Nanamiless.

I miss him so bad I'm losing my mind.

Rick Grimes certified Loverboy!

unfortunately a lot of the corny self help advice turns out to be true but the thing is you have to come to those conclusions yourself otherwise it just sounds dismissive and dumb

It’s crazy how low self-worth fucks with peoples lives