Reblog Only If You’ve Received Less Than 1000 Boops! We Can All Get Each Other To “max”

Guys my jjk brainrot is killing me, but I’m so far behind in everything else that I don’t have time to write rn I’m so sorry

Found this on an old post by a seemingly-deleted account and it is my very honest reaction:

don’t make me lose you too

i wake up thirsty and i think of palestine. i go to the doctor’s office and i think of palestine. a sign in the corner of the waiting room says ‘this is a place of healing, disruptive behavior will not be tolerated’ and i think of palestine. they probably weren’t thinking of bombs and snipers and mass graves in parking lots. i call my parents and i think of palestine. i drive to the grocery store and i think of palestine. i look at the clear blue sky and i think of palestine. i put the dishes away and i think of palestine. i feed my cat and i think of palestine. i listen to music and i think of palestine. i read poetry and i think of palestine. i text my friends and i think of palestine. i think of palestine and i think of palestine and i think of palestine

That shit makes me wish I was a medieval knight wounded in the heat of battle, finally home and (scandalously) falling to my knees before my beloved. I crumble before her, dire wounds needing tending, as I refuse any aid or touch but hers. I kneel, wounded and in agony as if I have naught but a scratch, if only to have a chance to press gentle kisses to her hand as she mercifully lays her countenance upon me and softly agrees to tend me, only for it to be revealed that I, a woman, have been masquerading as a long dead, distant relative, so that I might be able to serve king and country as a knight in order to earn enough valor and glory to be worthy of being in the presence of my beloved. That I might be worthy to breathe the same air that she does, that I might kneel on the same ground her feet have walked upon. As I know that it is unspeakable that I might love her and she might love me, but I’d do anything to be worthy of her, even if it means I must resign myself to loving her from afar, yearning and needing until my last bloody breaths are rended from my chest at the swords-end of a swordsman much greater than I. And as I sputter out my last breaths, my mind can’t help but drift to her, her soft ethereal presence calming me in my last, torturous moments and my dying thoughts can’t help but pledge fealty to her, in this life and this world, and in every other; resigned to love her in whatever form I may from now until eternity.

wound tending is everything. unparalleled intimacy. let me care for you. let me touch the skin around your open flesh. let me stain my hands with your blood. let me get close and breathe in the same air as you and stare into your eyes for a few seconds too long. let me make you think of me every time you see the bandage, or scar

all your stuffed animals love you. they're not sad if they're in a box, or on the floor, or not held/played with as much. they understand. they know that you might need another stuffie more, or that you don't have enough space. they're just happy to be with you, and if you ever give them away, they'll be happy there too. stuffies are for comfort. they understand. they love you too. it's okay.

It’s fine because I’m actually using a secret technique called writing it in my head and nowhere else.

Guys. GUYS

in 2022 i was thinking about a gyjo au in which they were in a rock band called balls of steel and today i felt like revisiting it

Things AO3 is according to this hellsite:

- My husband (still at war)

- My wife (lost at sea)

- My beloved (in a coma)

- Gone forever (will be back in a few hours)

I’m so sorry

What i made instead of writing.....