Hi! Since I’ve been on TSC brain rot (again) lately I’ve been revamping/reformatting up my Pinterest boards related to it and also making and adding to some playlists so I thought I’d self plug here, the playlists aren’t anything special but they’re fun and I am genuinely proud of my (somewhat pathological in set up) pinterest although not all my tsc boards are as detailed as I want them to be. But here they are!:
Tessa pinterest board w Wessa + Jessa + Herongraystairs sections: https://pin.it/75FjUJ3
Tessa playlist: https://spotify.link/fTZ01JDbQDb
Herongraystairs playlist: https://spotify.link/iDcBbeGbQDb
Jem pinterest board w heronstairs section: https://pin.it/5kGH7fa
Julian pinterest board w blackstairs section: https://pin.it/2M7mVRn
Julian playlist: https://spotify.link/txvgM6TbQDb
Emma pinterest board w emtina/rosastairs section: https://pin.it/1o3qzgw
Emma playlist: https://spotify.link/gujbLLWbQDb
Blackstairs playlist: https://spotify.link/Mpby6hYbQDb
Cristina pinterest board w kierarktina section: https://pin.it/7IjiUWg
Magnus pinterest board (this one is really not as detailed as I want it to be/I’ll be doing more work in the future lol): https://pin.it/5LsJp8F
Cordelia playlist: https://spotify.link/ngM3s1WeQDb
TSC pinterest board with sections for different characters dynams aesthetics etc. I might give certain characters like Isabelle Cordelia Grace or Will their own boards later on also I do plan to add and edit more sections all my Pinterest boards are constantly under construction lol: https://pin.it/6GdB0kt characters who currently have sections here are Clary Isabelle Maia Lily Will Charlotte Sophie Cecily Mark Ty Livvy Dru Annabel Kit Diana Helen Aline Cordelia Grace Alastair Lucie Anna and like I said more tba
in case the links don’t work or something I’m ourladyofthetrees on pinterest and blackiris on spotify
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The biggest misconception in the bsd fandom ever to me is people constantly portraying Atsushi as someone who trauma dumps excessively when he canonically barely talks about it at all.
The entire point is that Atsushi does not talk about his trauma he’s just constantly thinking about/reliving it. He can’t escape the memories of his past so he tries not to acknowledge them.
He only mentions it when asked, either directly or when someone asks him to explain himself.
Atsushi doesn’t even give a cohesive explanation for what he saw while under Dogra Magra, he just apologizes to Haruno and Naomi.
If Lucy hadn’t had her whole “you’ve never suffered the way I have” spiel then I doubt even the audience would’ve gotten to find out about his scars
If Akutagawa never asked him how it felt for the orphanage headmaster to die Atsushi would have never told him that he’s been hallucinating.
In the omake where Kyoka asks him why his hair is like that it’s clear he wouldn’t have told her that unless she had asked.
In 55 minutes Atsushi very briefly mentions sleeping on a dirty floor somewhere to Kunikida because he was trying to explain and justify his behavior.
And the thing is that there are scenes that implies that the other characters see Atsushi behaving strangely and are visibly confused because they do not understand what’s wrong with him.
Remember, we as an audience get to see things about characters that the main cast doesn’t. Just because we see into Atsushi’s mind doesn’t mean the other characters know what’s going on in there.
Also little footnote here that I think the scenes with Lucy and Akutagawa in specific are probably references to the moon over the mountain but I digress
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౨ৎ — fluff ending to this. wc ? 1k.
“…oru…satoru.”
an eye opened. then two. white lashes fluttered around hazy blue irises as the sorcerer began to come to his senses, adjusting the sunglasses that had slid down his nose with a small, ‘hm?’
at the sound of your voice, gojo’s eyes slid around to take in the scenery. but he could’ve sworn you just… wasn't he back at jujutsu high a minute ago? in the infirmary? but instead, the teenager found himself sitting on a bench, his body sheathed in dancing blue artificial light and the passing shadows of ocean creatures behind glass.
the aquarium, he realized, his heart rate spiking. it wasn’t real.
“y/n,” he mumbled slowly, a lazy grin on his face, and never before had gojo been so happy to say your name to you.
“that’s me,” and the full, clear sight of you brings immediate relief — a painkiller for the heartache he’d just endured in his sleep. it was still rattling to him, after all this time, how realistic his nightmares were. he swore he saw the blood soak the pure, ivory sheet that covered you, the paling of your dying skin, the emptiness where your gorgeous, beating heart should’ve been. felt his own heart rip nerve by nerve and his stomach clench into an ugly knot as yaga told him you were “killed in action”: finite, just like that. you were gone.
he’d never been so glad to be awake, to be here, in front of some stupid fish tank, with you. he took in your face as you talk, a worried crease in your brow when you see your reflection in his blue eyes, now glassy. transparent and red-rimmed. vulnerable, if you looked close enough.
“you, um… fell asleep on my shoulder,” you spoke when he didn’t. “you okay? been getting enough sleep?”
oh. that was another thing i loved, he remembered, and it was like his body knew you the way his heart did, as his smile stretched into a pair of dimples. your stupidly big heart.
“…yeah. don’t worry your pretty little head about me,” he assured her, much quieter than regular old satoru gojo would have. cerulean peeked out at you from over his sunglasses and from under his hair, trying to say the words his mouth couldn’t as he rested his head on your shoulder.
call him clingy, but he wouldn’t move for anything right now. feeling you, alive and well and happy against him, that was enough.
knowing you were here was enough.
in an attempt to make small talk, you lifted you arm — the one he wasn’t using as a pillow — to point at a passing beluga whale at the massive tank in front of you both.
“satoru, look, a belu—”
“y/n, i’m in love with you.”
he lied. it wasn’t enough. he didn’t just want to be near you, to be close, yet still at arms length, he wanted to be in your arms. to kiss your face and make you smile at him in a different way than with everyone else. to nap with you on days he didn’t feel like “the strongest”, to be weak around you, to feel those damned butterflies every time he heard you call him “baby.” that was what he wanted — to openly love you, to be loved in return by you and nobody else.
“you… huh?” your hearts pounded in tandem, slamming against your ribs uncontrollably, to the point where it hurt to breathe in the best way possible. “wh… s…say that again?” you must’ve heard wrong, must’ve misinterpreted.
“…said ‘m in love with you,” he repeated, muffled due to his cheek squished against your shoulder. “like, i wanna be a jellyfish with you.”
“…oh.”
“yeah.”
it would be a lie to say that you hadn’t noticed the way your best friend looked at you, the blatantly obvious hearts in all six eyes when he laid them on you, so this wasn’t as unexpected as you made it look.
“…i think,” dry as your mouth was, you still spoke. your eyes weren’t trained on him, but instead at the fish in the life-sized tank, the shadows of passing jellyfish diluting the clear blue luminescence of the waterlogged glass periodically, “i might be in love with you, too.” it came out shakier than you wanted, but you patted yourself on the back for even getting it out at all. and it was true. you came to know him, to appreciate him, to be annoyed by him, to fighting by his side, to wishing you could be there forever, next to him.
in typical gojo fashion, he makes a face. you can’t see it, because he’s still resting on your shoulder, but you feel the indent of his cheek as he pouts. his hand not-so-subtly sneaks down to yours, and he prods your fingers open so he can slide his palm on top of yours. you swear you would’ve fallen over if you weren’t sitting.
“you ‘might’? i just told you i wanna live as a sea creature with you forever, and you ‘might’ like me back?” he mumbles: maybe he spoke clearly, actually — you don’t know, because the only thing in your ears is the pumping of your blood.
the lovestruck idiot pokes at you again — “c’mon, y/n, say it properly.”
his fingers play with yours, scratching your palm gently, tracing hearts into your skin. his head continued to rest on you, and he was ever grateful you couldn’t feel the warmth of his red face through your shirt, the burning of his ears. he’d find some way to make today last forever if he had to, if it meant sitting here next to the best friend he’d come to see as more, just watching fish swim. your hand finally clenched around his, slightly clammy, and clearly nervous, but it was your hand, so he couldn’t care less. and you squeezed his hand and said it right, because if gojo had the right to anything in this world, it was your heart.
“yeah… you’re right… i’m in love with you, satoru. let’s be jellyfish in our next lives.”
@boundedbyfate, @c4ndytr4p, @iluvies, @sad-darksoul, @fayereblogs-4, @ratmilk14, @lovelymimimoo
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