hi, i’m amoeba - laviyuu connoisseur - they/them - pnw
[ catch me on ao3 ]
Keni

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
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wallacepolsom

Kiana Khansmith
ojovivo
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

@theartofmadeline
Claire Keane
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
RMH
No title available
occasionally subtle

#extradirty

izzy's playlists!
Sade Olutola
Misplaced Lens Cap
trying on a metaphor
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@hotellavi
hi, i’m amoeba - laviyuu connoisseur - they/them - pnw
[ catch me on ao3 ]
how many degrees away from d.gray-man do we think gerard way is
like i desperately want to know
平池 // Daira Pond
夏雨の銀閣 // Ginkaku Pavilion with Summer Rain
Rainy day in Kyoto
sometimes i remember that suguru has literally been dead since the beginning of jjk and it makes me feel physically ill. like. we never got him back. not once. that was never him. it was always kenjaku in his skin, wearing his face, using his voice. and everyone just went along with it. and gojo went along with it. because what was he supposed to do?? watch his best friend's body walk around and pretend he doesn't feel like he's 17 again, failing all over again??
it’s not even a “they fell apart” kind of tragedy. it’s so much worse. suguru died, and then got turned into a puppet, and then gojo had to keep living in a world where his best friend’s corpse was smiling at him. talking to him. looking at him like nothing ever happened. you know how violating that is??? how soul-crushing it must’ve been to hear that voice and know it wasn’t him?? that his suguru was long gone and all that was left was a cruel joke played by the universe???
kenjaku didn’t just take his body, he took everything. his identity, his name, his legacy. made a mockery of it. reduced him to a vessel. and gojo could never do anything about it. he couldn’t kill him, not really. not without killing suguru all over again. and the worst part is that he hesitated. he always hesitated. because he kept hoping—kept hoping—that maybe there was something left. that maybe, just maybe, suguru was still in there. listening. waiting.
and that is the most heartbreaking thing. gojo never moved on. he couldn’t. he never even got the chance to grieve properly because the body never went cold. the body kept moving. kept smiling. kept killing.
suguru never got to rest.
and gojo never got to let go.
and in the end… they were both just trapped. one in a body that wasn’t his, the other in a memory he couldn’t escape.
no peace. no closure. just echoes and rot.
Do you ever feel absent but like from your own life????? Like it feels like every day is here, and you’re fucking missing it.
first snow
gothic revival home, ca. 1840. thompson connecticut
There’s a reason why we feel lonely even though we aren’t alone. It’s because loneliness is not about how many friends we have or how many people are in the room with us. It’s a disconnection from others. Being social doesn’t cure loneliness, loneliness comes when there is not a single person close enough to see past the illusion to who we really are and what we really feel inside.
Reminiscing about the unfiltered joy I experienced attending Sakura-con 2024 as our number one boy, Lavi Bookman Jr 🧡🪑🧡
If there are trees you aren’t alone
I can’t tell if this is supposed to be encouragement or an ominous warning
#that’s entirely up to the trees
I've been thinking about crop circles and how they kind of just stopped being a thing like 20 years ago and I've decided the obvious explanation is that they were all made by one individual alien who recently retired from the art world after a long career of controversial surrealist art in which he went from one pre-contact planet to another fucking with the indigenous species' corn
Traumatic encounters of the fourth kind