😭😭

i can no longer mine im not a miner anymore its my 18th birrrrrday hip hip hooray 😼 draws nightwing anyway

i can now play the 18+ servers on ponytown without getting banned

i love him 🙁

creating the ULTIMATE housewarden

I'm not trying to die

“But if you forget to reblog Madame Zeroni, you and your family will be cursed for always and eternity.”

I had a dream that someone started a meme at the bottom of their tumblr posts that was just a banner of harry styles giving a thumbs up with the text "This post is Ravioli Approved." It got really popular, and eventually Harry got wind of it and went on James Corden and said "this meme is Ravioli Approved." Everyone loved it and it was really funny, and Harry Styles played along. Until one day he tweeted "Donald Trump is not Ravioli Approved." And the next day Trump fucking died.

suddenly everyone was DMing Harry Styles like "am I ravioli approved???" And he mostly said yes, but the ones he said no to died. And the next day it would come out that they had been murderers or just terrible people.

They gave Harry Styles his own government Bureau of Ravioli Approval (BORA) and every baby born got an approval/disapproval rating with their social security number. Infant mortality dropped because every baby except the Disapproved ones lived.

Eventually he did like a 12-hour live special of him reading the death records of the last 20 years and approving/disapproving of their deaths. There wasn't any earthly repercussions to that but im pretty sure it meant he was sending them to heaven or hell?

The dream ended with a looney tunes ending card, except instead of porky pig it was harry in the middle with the message "This Dream Is Ravioli Approved." And i woke up.

I’ve seen a lot of posts on my dash tonight about users who are threatening suicide, with other Tumblr members posting in effort to try to get ahold of them. I think you all should see this:

IF THERE IS EVER A TUMBLR USER WHO HAS POSTED A GOOD-BYE MESSAGE, SUICIDE NOTE, VIDEO, OR ANYTHING OF THE SORT, PLEASE FOLLOW THIS POST.

1. Scroll to the top of your dashboard.

2. See the circular question mark icon at the top? It’s the third one over from your home symbol. Click on that, and a screen similar to the one in the picture will come up.

3. Where you can type in questions, the box with the magnifying glass at the top, type in the word “suicide.”

4. Click on the first link that shows up. It should say, “Pass the URL of the blog on to us.”

5. Type in the user’s URL and tell Tumblr admin that the user is contemplating suicide and has posted a message indicating that they are going through with it or will be attempting. Hit send! Tumblr administration will perform a number of actions to contact the user and take the necessary steps to prevent the suicide.

TUMBLR: THIS COULD SAVE A USER’S LIFE. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE SUICIDE THREATS.

Reblog this to keep other users aware. Suicide isn’t a joke, and neither is someone’s life. If you didn’t know this, someone else may not, either. Pass it on.

“can i have another bracelet?” gojo was practically flopped on your back, whiny tone prominent as it always was whenever he asked for something he had to obtain. 

“this is your seventh one, you’re going to get a sugar high”, you tried to shove him off, but rolling your shoulder did about as much damage to him as a feather.

you should have known better than to wear a candy bracelet near gojo satoru of all people. a start of a new sweet addiction. he’s managed to eat enough gummy bear packs to make a five year-old with the biggest sweet tooth sick, had somehow obtained the sweetest chewing gum (which you had to throw out because you were sick of how he smacked it so loudly), and don’t even get you started on his chocolate phase. 

“sixth, actually." gojo snorted sharply, “shows how much you care.”

about what? your unhealthy sugar addiction? you brushed the retort aside. it was one thing going quip-for-quip with gojo normally, but doing it whilst he craved any sort of candy like a child who got cleared at the dentist? yikes…

a huff escaped you, “how about you get off of me and i’ll think about it, yeah?” you wished you lead with that statement, sighing in relief as you rolled over. with a turn of your head gojo was now completely in your view, sitting with his legs crossed and a hand outstretched. the sight would have made you laugh if not for the acquired annoyance of the entire scenario leading to it. 

sometimes you wonder if you should have chunked out the bag of abominable bracelets the second your younger brother shoved them in your hands, forsaking them himself. although you suppose it was better that gojo caught you with them instead of him, he absolutely would have bribed the eight year-old into giving them all to himself. 

you held out your wrist, letting him slide one off and breaking the string in the process. your nose scrunched up but gojo didn’t seem to care as he popped the entire bracelet into his mouth much to your horror.

“the string-”

“if’el oum oot.” gojo’s crude crunches only continued as he spoke and you swear you saw the corners of his lips upturn just slightly as he chewed at the sight of your disgust. 

pure exhaustion overtook your facial expression as you brought your hands to cover your face, “you’re so disgusting and you’re going to choke and die on a stupid string.” 

“nah.” he finished it that quickly? you nearly jumped when his hand went to tug off another bracelet on your wrist – your neverending arsenal of doltish candy bracelets, “a stupid string isn’t going to take me out.”

yeah, right. he lifted your hand from your face to take off another candy bracelet properly, realizing that his childish tugs weren’t going to do much in his favor. you felt wet, sweet kiss on the corner of your lips and pushed away his face in a knee-jerk action.

“what the hell?! gross”, you wiped the remains of the kiss from the side of your mouth, listening to him gasp in melodramatic incredulity.

“that’s a product of my pure thankfulness, you heartless scoundrel.”

“please never say scoundrel ever again, ‘toru, or i promise you that will you never see the candy bracelets again.” you heard his mouth snap shut, stopping his rejoinder immediately. now that made you huff out a breath of laughter.

Happy 1st Birthday to

“Top 10 Worst Things Your Friend Could Possibly Spend Their Money On”

Idia never thought he’d be the type to have a muse. Inspiration wasn’t something he sought—it either struck at odd hours between gaming marathons or never came at all. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.

You were effortlessly poetic, weaving words together like they were spun from moonlight and ink. You had a way of finding beauty in things he never noticed about himself, piecing together metaphors and prose that made him sound like something out of a fairytale.

A writer who’s ultimate weapon is a pen and paper.

You write like a poet who can never run out of words.

Effortlessly so.

The first time you showed him one of your poems, he had expected it to be about something grand and abstract—love, nature, time. Instead, it was about him.

It wasn’t grandiose or overly sentimental. It was simple. Soft. A quiet sort of admiration captured in careful lines—how his hair burned like foxfire in the dark, how his voice curled around words like an autumn breeze, how the glow of his screen reflected in his yellow eyes like constellations trapped in glass.

He had read it once, then twice, then a third time, his heart hammering so hard he thought it might short-circuit his entire nervous system.

God, it’s like reading a declaration of love from years ago.

“I-I… um… wow…” he had stammered, his fingers twitching at his sleeves. “You… wrote this?”

You simply laughed.

“Of course I did. Who else would I write about?”

He didn’t know how to answer that.

So instead, he drew.

A few days after your conversation, that is.

Idia had always been good at art—sketching was second nature to him, a quiet hobby he indulged in when he needed to clear his head. But now, every idle doodle, every sketch in the margins of his notebooks, was of you.

The tilt of your head when you peered into his screen. The way your eyes softened when you looked at him. The delicate curve of your fingers as you held your pen, lost in thought.

He didn’t show you at first. It felt too raw, too personal. Like, if you saw it, you’d know just how much space you had carved into his thoughts, how easily you had settled into his world without even trying.

Maybe that was the point.

To show you how much you meant to him.

But then, one evening, as you sat together in his room—you’re lost in your writing, your boyfriend sketching absentmindedly—you caught a glimpse of his notebook and gasped.

“Is that me?”

Idia tensed, his fingers twitching as if to slam the book shut. But you had already leaned over, your gaze locked onto the pages, your eyes wide as you traced the lines of your own face on the paper.

“You’re insane,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

“This is amazing.”

He hunched his shoulders, his hair flickering between shades of pink and blue. “It’s not a big deal…”

“It is to me.”

Your fingers brushed against his, and Idia felt the warmth of your touch settle deep in his chest.

“You write about me,” he muttered, his voice quiet.

“I guess… this is how I write about you.”

You smiled, nodding. “Then I guess we’re even.”

His heart pounded, his fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie.

“Y-Yeah… even…”

But you weren’t done looking. You turned the pages slowly, taking in every sketch. Some were detailed, inked carefully with soft shading that made your features stand out, while others were simple pencil sketches, quick and loose. Some had little notes scribbled in the margins—things like Her smile was really pretty today or I think she’d like this outfit—and the further you flipped, the harder it became for Idia to breathe.

“You’ve been drawing me this whole time?” you asked.

Idia swallowed hard, feeling like his soul was about to eject from his body. “I-I mean… you’re… I like drawing you.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “No one’s ever drawn me before,” you admitted. “And definitely not like this. It’s like a commissioned self-portrait.”

He ducked his head against his desk. It’s all too much for him, and yet, he yearns for more.

“Well… no one’s ever written about me before either.”

You reached for your notebook and flipped to a page filled with fresh ink. “I wrote something new,” you told him. “Do you want to hear it?”

Idia hesitated, but he nodded.

You took a breath, then began reading.

Your voice was steady and soft, weaving words like magic.

You spoke of constellations hidden in the depths of golden eyes, of firelight that flickered and burned but never consumed. Of hands that danced over sketchbooks, creating entire worlds with nothing but ink and quiet devotion. Of a boy who lived in shadows and blue-tinted neon, who never realized he shone just as brightly as the screens he spent hid behind on.

By the time you finished, Idia was gripping his sketchbook so tightly his knuckles were almost turning white.

“…T-That’s—” His voice cracked, his throat dry. “That’s… about me?”

“Of course, Idia.”

His mind was racing, his chest aching with something he didn’t know how to name. He didn’t understand how you saw this side of him—a version of him that is raw—in ways he had never expected. And for once, instead of wanting to hide, he wanted to let you see more.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for his pencil and turned to a fresh page. “C-Can I draw you again?”

Your smile grew, and you leaned into his side, your fingers resting over his. “Only if you let me write about you again.”

Idia let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding.

“Deal.”

But somehow, he knew he would never stop drawing you. Even if time catches up to him and he could no longer hold a pencil. There will always be a way for him to draw his muse.

Just as he knew you would never stop writing about him.

Two halves of the same story—lines and words, ink and paper, art and poetry intertwined.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

that one tiktok trend 🌚

i was debating between jack or sebek and then my friend was like: “honestly why not silver? he’d fall for it tbh”

she was so right so i did it

(sorry i render myself very lazily, all the focus goes into the boys ^^)

soulmates 🗣️ (sketch under the cut