18 ୨୧ she/her ୨୧ 🍉
808 posts
Kodzukenmaaa - My Darling - Tumblr Blog
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Day 258, still alive.🇵🇸🍉
says “I’m not getting my diploma at graduation Myself and 3 other seniors were notified that UChicago won’t confer our degrees at graduation this weekend. Despite finishing 4 rigorous and excruciating years of undergrad This comes off the heels of the university already having me and other students arrested & criminalized. The 4 of us have been targeted for “possibly” participating in campus-wide protests which a large majority of our student body has. We assumed we’d have criminal records before degrees. And now we might not even have that We’ve done the work. We deserve our degrees. Standing on the side of justice shouldn’t negate that. Sign, call, write to tell UChicago this is not okay. We need more support.” Go to his profile and click in the link in his bio for a quick way to contact the University.
They screamed and screeched and shed alligator tears about their 40 imaginary beheaded babies.
Here in this video is a baby without a head. No empty claim to demonize a resistance group. Just stark reality.
Make no mistake, the 'soldiers' killing these babies aren't gritting their teeth and doing something that is unpleasant to them. They're laughing and having fun. They're genuinely happy because to them the headless baby in this video was a future 'terrorist' (person resisting their occupation).
Their allies are sleeping just fine.
Many are shrugging and saying "I don't care about politics".
Death to the zionist entity. Death to america. Death to you if this made you happy. Choke on your own shit.
Only 6 years old, heartbreaking
Six bullets into a first grader.
You have to understand the degree of hatred and open racism that needs to lay the groundwork for that kind of evil, the dehumanization and demonization that needs to occur for someone, probably gleefully, to put 6 bullets into a little 6-year-old.
The stuggles of being a writer.
A shame that I have to actually finish my book before I get to read it. I enjoy writing it just as much but I am looking forward to finishing my first book and getting to read through it, even if I do know what's going to happen.
wattpad sucks. I left cause of bullying and then they took away messages . ..
I'm sorry that happened to you also wattpad think the worst idea to update wattpad by deleting messages, I put tumblr book links there and there's a drama there I keep reading about
That picture before October 7th Israeli soldier posted it on Instagram after kidnapping a palestinian woman from the west bank. They are terrorism itself
Brazil Hinata Shoyo😽 LET ME HAVE HIM
@churipu @shoyudon @myuroll (if you want!!)
it’s actually so criminal how that man takes up so much space in my brain. rent free. how dare he? god I need him
Israelism (Erin Axelman & Sam Eilertsen, 2023)
Lord have mercy
Goro Kamo
My name is Aya from Gaza, As you know, we are now living under war and siege from October until now.
We've lost our home and the dreams we worked hard to build, Now, after eight months of siege, we are on the brink of famine, struggling to find basic necessities like food, water, and medicine, Therefore, I ask you to help us and save our souls,By donating a sum of money to me and my family so that we can leave Gaza City.
The purpose of the sum of money is to secure an amount for travel and exit
All details can be found in the donation link attached at the top of the page.
OMG
New Jujutsu Kaisen Hidden Inventory/Premature Death Cafe 2024. It will be held in Tokyo, Nagoya, and Osaka starting on June 20th, 2024
MY HUSBAND
౨ৎ incl. husband! higuruma + lots of fluff!!
he thinks for a second that he may be dreaming.
it’s possible. he could still be at work, hunched over asleep at his desk, the ache in his back and his neck keeping him on the border betweeen actual rest and a quick but uncomfortable nap. but he pinches himself and warrants a faint sting, so he’s definitely awake.
now confirmed that this is real, nerves set in quick, spreading like wildfire throughout his body and rendering him near-immobile and — for the first time since he can remember — scared. he's genuinely scared. hiromi approaches his wife’s hospital bed like he's a bull and you’re made of porcelain, completely disregarding his mussed tie and the gentle beading of sweat on his forehead.
he looks down at you with the most loving eyes, stubborn traces of fear and uncertainty lingering in them, swirled into his dark pupils like creamer in black coffee. he’s so in love, but so afraid.
against his wife’s chest is their crying daughter. his baby girl.
“look who it is!” you mutter happily, tired lines seeping into the smile hiromi so adores as you swirl the small tufts of hair on top of your baby’s head between gentle fingers. “look, d/n, it’s daddy.” you gesture him closer to the bed, a faint giggle on your lips. “she’s not gonna bite you.”
“are you sure i can hold her?” he doesn't know what to do with something so tiny. something so loud. he rushed here with the sole intention of seeing his wife. he watched you give birth, and he told himself he was ready, but now that it’s happened, he’s terrified. when you nod with that familiar warmth in your face, he leans down to kiss your forehead, then your cheek. then he worries, “what if i drop her on accident?”
you smile at his unease, trying to hand him the baby. “just make sure her head is supported; you won’t drop her.”
after a second, he reaches his arms out for the newborn, and the minute they make contact, he swears all the stress leaves his body. he feels connected to her forever from this point on, an invisible tether rooted deep in their hearts and wrapping around one another. he holds the tiny head of his daughter in his palm — “she’s so small,” you hear him mumble and watch his eyebrows elevate when he discovers that her entire head fits in his hand — and cradles the rest of her in the crook of his elbow, tucking his other arm under her for good measure. you smile despite the fatigue, your heart melting into goo at the sight of your little family, complete. there’s a sticky sweetness about it, a content air to watching them: like nurturing a flower garden and watching it bloom.
“heyyy… hey, d/n,” he mumbles, trying to rock the fussing baby in his arms, the sound of her crying and the sight of her scrunched-up face already breaking his heart. “it’s daddy.” god, did that taste so sweet on his tongue. “daddy’s here… shh. don’t cry, princess, ‘m here.”
higuruma’s pulse thrums in his ears, watching the baby’s gum-mouthed cries turn to whimpers, then soft little coos as big black eyes meet the matching set of his own, and immediately he makes it his duty to thumb her tears away.
he loves her.
“hi, my baby,” your husband whispers, nuzzling into her soft, supple cheeks with his large nose to kiss her, his heart swelling so big he was afraid it would pop out of him when her hands patted at his face, exploring the soft skin of his jaw and the apples of his own cheeks while her legs kicked (giving him a slight heart attack, thinking she’d wriggle out of his arms and onto the floor somehow) curiously. you notice (and smile) when his eyes so obviously gloss over with tears at the surrealism of the moment — that this was his daughter. this was the living, breathing, essence of him and his wife’s love.
the spring in which he’d married you was the same spring that he began to see the little things for what they were. higuruma had always had a sort of fast pace about him.
but now he hopes time will slow down, stretch like the thick pour of molasses. he wants to milk this life for all it's worth.
MY HEART HAVE BEEN RIPPED FROM MY CHEST
Not to be THAT guy.... But...
Imagine an AU where the reader is Satorus wife and they stay home during the whole fight w sukuna, and the stuff with recent manga leaks happens blah blah blah
And Yuta (who is obv in gojo's body) returns home to to break the news, and it's a whole bit of like-
"baby! You're finally home-" but you can tell by some looks in his eyes, by the way he stands, by something just OFF-
"...you're not my husband."
"...I'm sorry."
Anyways that was just my thought I wanted to share with you 🥱
oh my god that would be such a nightmare.
satoru didn’t tell you about Sukuna because he didn’t want you to worry. so when he comes home a few days later, you just expect your husband to be battle weary and safe.
“hi love, are you finally home?” and you’re stepping forward, and you stare, his eyes meeting yours — and you know, “you’re not satoru,” the six eyes may have not known — but you do — the way he carries himself, the way he looks at you, the way he even breathes—
“I’m sorry,” the man says, because it may be his face and body, but that’s not him, “it’s Yuta,”
and you can’t move, rooted to the spot in horror, unable to put the pieces together, and even as he explains, you can watch his lips move but every word is nearly gibberish with your head dunked underwater — you can death, Kenjaku, and copy — and that’s all you need.
“and you’re trapped, in his body—“ he nods, “and you can’t—“ and he shakes his head.
“I have no words that will make this okay, but I did ask his permission before I did—“
“I know you did, Yuta,” and you’re shaking your head, a bitter chuckle on your lips, “Satoru’s gone and all I can think about is how to help you,” you look at your husband’s face — and god, you never realized how much body language can change a person’s appearance — he wasn’t Satoru. He was a stranger, “because that’s what he would have wanted.”
yuta swallows thickly, “I have access to his memories from this technique,” he bite his lip, a sigh lodged in his throat, “and his last was of you.”
and you smile at your husband’s face, “of course it was.”
I almost had a heart attack
YALL IS YUJI DEAD
NO????
Concentration camp.
They built a concentration camp.
I don't think words can describe what this other than genocide.
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 .ᐣ
a husband's call.
ᯓ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 .ᐟ neuvillette, jing yuan, ayato, sunday x fem!reader (separate), feat. fu xuan, ayaka, thoma.
ᯓ 𝐜𝐰 .ᐟ hey guys look yet another fic that's prob been done before 😻, mentions of suicide, mentions of 'cheating' (literally nothing tho), mentions of torture and death (sunday is just a girl🎀), banter, fluff, crack, SFW, i am not very proud of this one (like wow my writing fell off here 💀), 2.7k words (yay a short one!!), god i love this trope, can y'all tell i really like sunday? 😔 rbs are appreciated!! <3
ᯓ NEUVILLETTE .ᐟ
𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 the residential wing of the Palais, swinging open the doors, marching in through the threshold and right for the parlour area.
The butler scrambled after him, frantic. “Monsieur Neuvillette, please, take a moment to calm do—”
“Where is my wife?” The Chief Justice’s voice thundered, and he continued storming through the halls. “I wish to see her. Now.”
“She’s—the Madame is in her study, Monsieur. She doesn’t wish to be distur—”
“No one is to interrupt us while I speak with my wife.” Finally, the Iudex stopped in his tracks and faced the butler. The usually calm, soft-spoken judge was icy and severe as he glared down at the frazzled attendant. “In the meantime, prepare the carriage.”
“Of course, Monsieur—but, may I ask why?”
Neuvillette heaved a sigh, and fatigue washed over his sharp features. “For the moment, please just do as I’ve ordered.”
“Oh, yes, of course…” The butler bowed three times before turning rushing off. “I shall have the coachman prepare it right away!”
The Chief Justice wasted no time in turning and heading down the hall for his wife’s study, and immediately entered without knocking.
You jumped in alarm at the abrupt slam of the door, and your book tumbled off your lap as you rushed to stand. “Neuvillette, what on ear—”
You hastily backed up as he charged toward you, startled and frightened. Oh no, what did I do? He looks furious!
“Do you know,” he began, extending a hand in a flash and grabbing your arm, pulling you toward him. Even though Neuvillette appeared utterly incensed, his grip was not bruising. It was gentle, and he swiftly curled an arm around your waist as he pressed you closely to him. “How utterly terrified I was when I received your letter?”
“What letter?” You placed a hand on chest, trying to calm him down. Those violet, slitted eyes of his were dark with untold emotions—fury, fear, and terror. You couldn’t fathom what had flustered the calm, gentle Chief Justice into such a raging state. What has happened to scare him so? You could feel his hands shaking as he gripped you tightly.
“This letter.” Neuvillette wrenched out a scrunched piece of paper from his coat pocket. “It is addressed to me from you. In your handwriting. Do you hate me so much, that you wish to torture me with such…such—”
“I never wrote this.” The contents of the letter was, yes, penned in your handwriting—at least, a very accurate forging of it—and it spoke of your apparent intentions to throw yourself off one of the cliff faces of Mount Esus. “What is this? A suicide note?” You continued reading, and you were supposedly expressing how discontent you were with being married to such an ‘exalted, unreachable’ man like Neuvillette and it had driven you into great depression.
Shaking your head, you looked up into the distressed face of your husband. “Neuvillette, I assure you, I would never write such a horrible thing as this. I’m not suicidal in the least. Not with you. You make me very happy.”
“I was scared. So scared.” The Chief Justice buried his face into the dip between your neck and shoulder, clinging to you like a frightened child would its mother. Rain lashed against the windows. One of his hands cupped the back of your head, fingers entangled in your hair. “I’ve never felt such terror in all my life. Who could be so cruel as to do this? What if they had kidnapped you, thrown you off the cliff, made it seem as if you really were miserable with me—"
You kissed the top of his head. “That won’t happen. How could you ever make me miserable? Do you know how long I prayed for a husband like you? You treat me like a queen.”
You could feel his erratic heartbeat drumming against your chest, and you threaded your fingers through his silvery locks gently. “Shall we spend the evening together? Just you and me? How about a weekend getaway?”
Butterfly kisses ghosted the skin of your nape and shoulders, and Neuvillette’s right hand dropped to clutch at your left hip. “Just as long as you’re at my side the entire time.”
“I’ll stick to you like glue,” you chuckled into his ear, and you wound your arms around his neck. “A little holiday in Liyue sounds nice. You need a break. How about it?”
“Mm,” The Iudex hummed appreciatively, emerging from your neck and he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. His unfairly long and curly lashes cast shadows across the apples of his cheeks. “Somewhere isolated?”
You tilted your head and pressed up into him further, eyes on his mouth. “Of course. I’ve been craving some real Crystal Shrimp. And proper Liyuean tea.”
“Oh, yes,” he chuckled lowly, and he leaned in, whispering against your lips. “…It’s stopped raining.”
“I should hope so,” you smiled up at him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about now.”
ᯓ JING YUAN .ᐟ
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑-𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 had been looking all over for you, and he was starting to get worried. He’d checked all your favourite places—garden, lounge, his office, your office, library, even places downtown—but you were nowhere to be seen.
I want to play chess with her. Jing Yuan always had to be around you. That was the fact of the matter. If you weren’t around, he was down in the dumps. He was so besotted with his wife, even after centuries of marriage.
After going around in circles for a little while, the General finally came across Yanqing. “Yanqing, do you know where my wife is?”
His retainer blinked up at his master. “Uh, yes, general. She’s with Fu Xuan, in the garden. Playing chess.”
“Without me?” Jing Yuan couldn’t keep the inflection of a whine out of his tone. I’ve already checked the garden, and she wasn’t there! But, that was a few hours ago now. Aheming, Jing Yuan righted himself. “Ehem, that is to say—thank you, Yanqing. Go take a break.”
Yanqing eyed his mentor warily. “…Yes, general.”
Ignoring his novice’s look, Jing Yuan immediately made his way back to the estate gardens and searched through the hedges for you. Soon, your lovely form came into view, and the General picked up the pace.
“—Thrashing Jing Yuan,” Fu Xuan was saying, casually moving one of her chess pieces across the board. “He’s probably wandering around looking for yo—oh, General. Here you are.”
Two strong arms encircled your waist, and you were abruptly tugged into the warm chest of your husband. His shock of ivory hair brushed over your left cheek. “You promised you’d verse me later.”
“Oh, I don’t recall.” You grinned at Fu Xuan, who rolled her eyes at the General’s blatant affection as he nuzzled into your nape. “Did I? My goodness, must’ve slipped my mind.”
“Do you like Fu Xuan better than me?” he lamented, clutching you tighter. “You do, don’t you? Well, why not marry her, then?”
“I have your blessing?” You bit back your laughter, waggling your eyebrows at the huffing Diviner sitting across from you. “Well, then, don’t mind if I do.”
“Verse me in chess first,” your husband murmured, nibbling at your neck. “Then you can wed her.”
“No, I think I’ll see myself out,” Fu Xuan sighed, gathering up her things. She looked like she was about to throw up. “You two make me nauseous. Have fun, I guess.”
You bid her a chipper farewell while Jing Yuan petulantly ignored her, too occupied with you to bother paying respects to the Master Diviner of the Divination Commission. Patting his arm, you leaned your head against his comfortingly. “Alright, my future wife is gone now. We can play chess.”
Instead of letting you go and taking a seat across from you, Jing Yuan picked you up, sat down in your spot, and situated you nicely on his lap, before burying his face back into your chest. “You’re a tease. I practically turned the entire Luofu upside down looking around for you. For hours. Hours, you hear? Only to find you cheating on me with that pink-haired Diviner.”
“Cheating’s a bit of an overstatement, my dear. You want to play chess, or are you going to fall asleep on me again?”
“Chess, of course.” He made no move to follow through with it. The man was practically purring into your chest. “I won’t go easy on you.” “Like you ever do.” You lightly massaged his scalp with your nails, running your fingers through his lovely hair, making him preen at your attention. If this man was a cat, he’d be purring like an engine right about now. “Sure you’re not going to take a quick nap first?”
“Absolutely.” Jing Yuan’s cheek was laid on your right breast, a fully innocent gesture. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” You continued gently massaging his head, feeling quite content yourself. You gave the man one minute before he fell asleep. And you were right.
You let him sleep. It was bliss—peaceful, sitting together like this. Something that, even after centuries of marriage, you could never grow used to.
ᯓ AYATO .ᐟ
“𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐒 my wife, Thoma?” The Yashiro Commissioner rummaged about his coat sleeves and pulled out two bobas, striding through the halls of the Kamisato Clan’s estate with purpose. “I have some bubble tea to share with her.”
Thoma smiled to himself, following behind Kamisato Ayato. “She is with Lady Ayaka at present, my lord, in your chambers. I do believe your wife will be overjoyed at your return.”
“I’ve missed her dearly.” Ayato hurried along, taking a turn and making his way toward your shared bedroom. “If you would accompany Ayaka for the rest of the afternoon while I spend time with my wife, it would be much appreciated, Thoma. I’ll get you some boba another time.” “Don’t worry about it, my lord.” The head housekeeper tried not to grin too much at his boss’ unending antics around his beloved wife. “All that matters is you having a relaxing time with Her Ladyship.”
“Absolutely right. See? This is why you’re so reliable, Thoma. You always know exactly what to say.” Lord Ayato is in a particularly good mood today. No wonder. He just arrived home from a long trip overseas and the first thing out of his mouth once he set foot in Inazuma again was his wife’s name.
The duo stopped before a door and Ayato swiftly lifted a hand to knock. There was a shuffle, quiet words from the two women behind the door, and the patting of socked feet upon wood. The door slid open, and there you were—still in your jinbei.
“Ayato!” You exclaimed, flinging your arms around him. “It’s been months! You’re finally home! Oh, how I’ve missed you.”
“Are you alright, my dear?” Ayato didn’t get a chance to thank Thoma for quickly plucking the two bubble teas from his hands so he could hug you back. “You sound stuffy, like you’ve got an awful cold.”
You sniffled, and then coughed. Then you snivelled again. “Yes. I caught the flu two days ago. Ayaka’s been keeping me company.”
There was a soft flash of grey-blue and there his sister was behind you, beaming up at her brother. “Welcome home, brother. I trust you are well?” “Quite well. I did not expect to come home and see you sick as a dog! Have you been taking the appropriate medicine?”
“Ayaka almost throttled me trying to get the horrid stuff down my neck.” You turned and waddled back to your and Ayato’s comfortable futon, sitting up against the pillows. He followed after you like a lovesick puppy, accepting the two bobas from Thoma. Sighing, you put your face into your elbow and coughed. “It’s…” You wheezed again. “Working.”
“We’ll leave you two to it.” Ayaka placed a hand on Thoma’s shoulder and they turned to leave. They both smiled back at both of you. “Rest up. Both of you. Brother, make sure she drinks that tonic.”
“Will do,” he said, ignoring your aggravated groan. He brushed back your hair from your forehead, and the door clicked shut. “Want some boba?”
“I love you,” you immediately said upon him handing you your bubble tea. “Marrying you was the best decision ever.”
“As long as I have boba on me, huh?”
“I can make a few exceptions.”
Ayato smiled, poking your cheek, before leaning in, heading right for your mouth. “Can I have a ki—”
A hand smacked him away. “No! You’ll catch my cold. And I’m all snotty at the moment. Drink your boba.”
“I can just get sick with you.” He shrugged. But he yielded to your request and crawled in under the covers next to you, chewing away at some tapioca pearls. “Now, tell me. What have you been up to while I was away?”
“Keeping the entire Commission afloat,” you snarked, no bite behind your words. “It was so boring without you. I didn’t have anyone to go horseback riding with in Chinju Forest.” You had a sip of your bubble tea, wiping your nose with a tissue. You relished the caramelly taste. “Anyway, how did the meeting go? Since you acted as Ambassador to the Dawn Winery, was it?”
“I did, and the relations went exceptionally well, if I do say so myself. Inazuma is bound to have an onslaught of dandelion wine within the next month.”
“Wonderful. I could use a good glass of wine.” You sighed and relaxed against your husband’s shoulder. “…I’m glad you’re home.” “I am, too.” Ayato nuzzled you. “Are you warm?”
“Very.” You closed your eyes. You had another sip of boba. He laced your fingers together, and you smiled. Even bedridden, you were content as could be.
ᯓ SUNDAY .ᐟ
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 Head had his icy moments, but nothing compared to this. Every staff member was scared witless, shaking as they were dismissed from his presence, leaving him and his victim alone. The poor soul on the receiving end of Mr. Sunday’s placid wrath was visibly shaking.
“Now.” The Head of the Oak Family stood with his hands held tightly behind his back, staring frostily down at his target, halo glowing, having just recited his incantation for the light of the Harmony, calling on THEM. “I will ask you once more, and you will have no choice but to answer honestly. Question: where is my wife?”
“I—I don’t know! I swear—argh!” An expensive shoe pressed down on the sobbing man’s hand harshly, Sunday’s golden eyes frozen to a murderous amber. The man clutched at his head in agony. “It hurts! It hurts! Please, stop!”
“It won’t hurt if you tell the truth.” The Family Head’s voice remained as calm as an arctic sea. “Yet, you continue to refuse. Must I bloody my hands to extract my wife’s true whereabouts from you?”
“N-No, just—please…” THEIR light was shredding at the man’s thoughts. “I really don’t know!”
“Question: is your hirer a lackey of the IPC?”
“Argh—yes…” Sunday’s victim fought for breath.
“Is my wife alive?”
“…Yes…ugh…”
“Is she unharmed?”
“…I don’t…know.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“…I don’t—hngh! Yes…”
“Where is my wife?”
“I can’t tell you!”
And then the man let out a wail, mental state driven to the brink. Sunday’s fists tightened into two white-knuckled balls. “Oh, yes, you can, and you will. The Harmony rejects you. THEY reject you. Tell the truth.”
“Sh—She is…your wife is…”
“Where?”
“She’s on Penacony. Hidden in a…ugh—warehouse. Guarded. Not in the Dreamscape.”
“Where is this warehouse?”
“That…I honestly don’t know. That’s all they told me.”
Sunday narrowed his eyes, glacial, before whirling around and marching for the doors. He flung them open, and called his men in.
They stood to attention. Sunday coldly regarded each of them. “Send this man back in pieces to the IPC. Warn them that if they do not reveal my wife’s whereabouts within the next twelve hours, they will have a very big problem on their hands.” He threw a repulsed look back at the screaming man. “Shut him up for good. Make sure that all IPC delegations and influences in the Dreamscape…” The Family Head approached his desk. “Are cut off, imprisoned—or, better yet, killed.”
“Yes, sir!” One man back knocked the IPC thug out, dragging him away.
Sunday coolly clicked his pen. “Send a clear message that consequences for any inaction on their part will be dire. I want my wife back, and I want her back by tomorrow.”
all rights reserved © kisstrela 2024. do not copy, repost, redistribute, translate, plagiarise or modify my work(s) in any way on any platform. thank you.
