#`` and the saddest thing

[beybuniki]

and when bakugo starts coming over and having sleepovers at the midoriyas’ again and inko makes sure to buy extra snacks and more iced tea and extra toothbrushes then what

[khadame]

Was I sweet once?

(Based on a Dark Urge dialogue from Blighted Village.)

[minzbins]

changbin the allergic cat whisperer 🐱

[ex0toxin]

started watching got :]

[mournfulroses]

Federico García Lorca, translated by Carlos Bauer, from Poem of the Deep Song; "Encounter,"

[lyss-sketchbox]

That last bit didnt exactly happen like that but i like making dramatic comic shots. STILL yall should read this fic. Its such a wonderful experience that people should know about, I PROMISE ITS GOOD

Bonus scene

Now you HAVE to read it :)

[dhmis-autism]

DHMIS doodle pages that I managed to cut and paste together and color! I personally like them a lot haha.

2nd doodle page is sorta inspired by @mariaisshiki ‘s piggyback trio drawings.

 B/c it reminded me of the time I tried to carry my baby cousin on my back and I am SO short that even though I got her body off the ground,both her feet were still firmly on the floor. That memory was so horrific I had to project it onto the smallest one.

[tkachuktkaching]

In memory of the dynamic duo together

Fly high Johnny

[gdn019283]

Have we taken into consideration that perhaps, the reason Merlin does not die, it’s because the Gods don’t want him to? They’ve been playing with him this entire time, and The Cailleach made it clear that even if Merlin wants to die, he can’t, and he cannot change the course of his life. Merlin does not say, “yes” willingly, but rather tests to see if the goddess in front of him knows about his destiny, and her answer proves him right. It’s not because she sees Lancelot going into the veil. It’s because she knows deep down Merlin cannot do anything now. Merlin is more powerful than Gods, and to prevent him to come to this knowledge, they constantly stop him from achieving his destiny.

[hatsukeii]

i caved in guys…i went and read the manga…and now i can’t get them out of my head…

call it fate, call it karma / gojo satoru x reader

genre(s): angst + hurt/comfort, sadness, gojo is a poor unfortunate soul :( conflicting intentions/feelings, tbh he js needs a hug and you can be the one to give it to him!! i do twist up the canon timeline a little bit so apologies for that but it's all for continuity's sake!! im debating over whether this should end well or not but i'll let time decide ;P

warning(s): um idk jjk spoilers for s2 and jjk 0? just sad tbh but no nsfw or anything so dw!!

wc: 1564

tldr; close the door, not all the way.

Fires of cursed energy burn at Gojo Satoru's body as he towers above the corpse of Geto Suguru. He reeks of blood, hands shaky despite barely exerting any power to finally end Suguru's maniac rampage, and his bloodshot eyes train onto the crater pushed into the cavity of his chest, mutilated by his hand.

"You were my one and only best friend, Suguru."

Palms move towards the hanging head as Satoru conjures up the inferno of cursed energy that plagues his body. His eyes sting beneath his blindfold, the energy can't seem to emanate from his fingers.

Enough.

He's already dead. Suguru is not going to get up, he isn't coming back, he can't do anything but slump against the fucking wall, blood pooling at the ground beneath him.

So Satoru shoves his hands back into his pockets, forcing the cursed energy back into his body like a rag soaking up fresh vomit, and runs.

The first time Gojo Satoru shows up at your doorstep unannounced, it is following the death of Geto Suguru, special grade curse user, Tokyo Jujutsu High alum, his best friend gone rogue. He knocks at the door in the rhythmic code that you have established long ago in the secrecy of your usual meeting spot- some alleyway of Shibuya. With two knocks, then a pause, then three, he invites himself in. You sit at the couch, eyes trained on the television as yet another report of mass destruction has graced regional news. You, his beautiful, yet fragile secret behind closed doors, the light at the end of a tunnel, something he swore to never come back to, not in times like these.

"Satoru?" No one has called him that name in years.

The house is silent, spare from the droning news report on the channel. The door shuts gently behind Satoru as he steps his shoes off, and slumps into your floor. You frown, a pang of something bitter plucking at your throat. Something has gone unequivocally wrong. Glances are taken at the faded streaks of dried blood on his hands, his blindfold sitting looser than usual on his nose, his fingers gripping at his hair until strands begin falling off. He rips off the fabric above his eyes, setting his vision free as he soaks in his surroundings; the shuffling of your feet on the hard ground, the city lights that seep into your living room in streaks of yellow and white, your gradually approaching figure.

"Turn it off, Satoru." He turned it off before even reaching for your door.

"It already is."

Your hands pry his own away from his hair, ignoring the stench of death that wafts from his body as you hold them together and bring them to your lips. His breathing finally finds its pace, slowing from frantic hiccups to normal exhalation. Gojo Satoru alone is the strongest, yet in your wake, he is the smallest man alive.

"He's gone. Suguru. He's not coming back."

Your heart drops at the revelation, and Satoru gets up from the ground, pulling you with him as he walks towards your room. Tears begin welling in your own eyes at the sight of his despair, before they ever begin to even form as a knot in his throat. The bags of his eyes suddenly seem this much darker, the twitching of his fingers by his side growing into erratic trembling. Gojo Satoru has killed many before, taken thousands of heads clean off bodies without a second thought, yet the mangled state of Suguru's corpse is everywhere; on your couch, at your desk, through the hallway too. It's all a little too much, a little too fast.

"Satoru..." His name spilling out of your mouth feels exactly as it should. Like home.

His lips quiver, and he collapses into your body, sending both of you into your bed. You toy with his hair, scratching his head the only way you know. Satoru is unmoving, eerily serene as he buries his face into your chest, warm heaves diminishing into small breaths as he passes out in your arms. You hold him in your crossed arms, carving out the perfect cradle for his head to fit into. Fingers continue to massage at his head, and for just a moment he is just Gojo Satoru, rid of the special grade title, stripped of the burden to be the honoured one, away from the despair of Jujutsu.

He leaves the next morning, careful not to wake you, and he swears he will never return. Not when you can live away from the grasp of curses that plague his every waking hour. Not when you can live the life he will never be able to give you.

The next time Gojo Satoru turns up at your doorstep unannounced, it is almost one year later. His arms are heavy, feet dragging along the ground to your apartment. He swore that he would never return, especially not in times like these. You have waited, God, you have waited so patiently. You replayed his head against your chest every night, heart heavy at every passing thought of Gojo Satoru, the man whom you understood from the inside out, but never managed to keep around for long. After one year, the knocks still resonate throughout your apartment; two, pause, then three. The door unlocks, and Satoru selfishly invites himself in at midnight, the same way he did a year ago.

"Satoru?" He has not heard this name in a year, nearly forgotten by most, even himself.

He stumbles towards you on the couch, legs giving out from beneath him as he falls into the plush fabric. He is frail, almost sickly pale, and you shoot up, rushing towards the kitchen to fix him something, anything to help.

"I can't stay." He wants to punch himself for confessing it.

You snap around, glaring at Satoru, who groggily props himself back up from your couch. Like hell he isn't staying, he can barely walk straight.

"Yes you are. You are staying right fucking here, Gojo Satoru."

He doesn't think you understand, rightfully so. You did not see him in that box, waiting day after day to break free. You could not find him beyond the world of the ordinary, uttering baseless prayers to a God that he doesn't believe exists, begging to see you once more before whatever awaits him. You don't know of the promises he has made to keep you safe, which meant keeping himself as far away from you as possible. He swore to never come back, no matter how badly he needed to relish in the mundane for just a fleeting moment.

"I have to go after him, now. I can't let him destroy this world."

You storm towards him on the couch, panadol and hot water in hand as you set them down on the coffee table. It's not much, but it's what you can do.

"Then why did you come back here?"

Satoru's words gather at the base of his throat, too many to release at once. No, he isn't sure why he came back here either, after swearing a million times to never return, for your sake. Yet his questions are answered as you lunge forwards into him, chest heaving and rising frantically as you weep into his shoulder, arms around his neck.

"You were gone for a year, Satoru!" He knows, and he would kill himself a hundred times over if it means you would forgive him.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"So, I'm telling you to stay this time! Don't leave again!"

He readjusts his position to prop himself upright, bringing an arm to the back of your neck as he holds you closer, closer than he ever has before. Pressing a soft kiss into your pulse, his lashes tickle your skin as he stays there. Just for a little longer, he pleads with the ticking clock that taunts him, begging to be the weakest man alive, to be nothing but Satoru, the name that rolls off your tongue in velvety syllables. He squeezes you against his body, and his mind tells him to let go, to release you from the torment that is his existence.

Yet he cannot bring himself to do it, even as the curses run amok across Japan, destroying everything in their wake. He is selfish, thoughtless for any other that is not you.

Until you pull away from him, nose running and dried tears staining your skin. His thumb presses into the streaks, rubbing them dry. He presses kisses into where the tears drew their lines, holding your face in his hands. You shake your head and get up from your position. You know that he means it when he says he has to go.

After all, he is Gojo Satoru, because he is the strongest.

"Go. They need you."

Satoru crawls off your couch, stepping towards you one last time. His hands find your face again, and he holds it tenderly, like it might shatter if he so much as moves. He takes in your eyes, and your hair, and your lips, and everything that is conceivable about you, who he swears he can never come back to, but knows he selfishly will anyways.

He betrays his promise one last time.

"Don't close the door all the way on me, please."

"It never is, Satoru."

author's notes:

YALL i really needed to write angsty gojo as a jjk debut to this account because i feel like all i see is smut and dad gojo or like super smitten gojo but like no i need his heart to fucking BREAK and i need your hearts to break with his too!! sorry not!! this is what true gojo is like and i will actually die on this hill alone if i have to!!

i genuinely hope you guys like it though i thought it up after a martini and two sake shots and literally just fleshed it out when i was fully sober again and i had this whole idea but then the pacing was hard to balance so i had to cut some stuff out because it would be too long and drone on and i was NOT ready to write another 7k fic today sooo

anyways tags!!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @fiannee @bailey-reeds @catsoupki @akaakeis @hiraethwa

ok i love u guys bye bye until the next one

[fakakta-art]

I screamed out, "How'd it get this bad?" And the thunder answered back; "If you know not what you lack Then you must un-turn your back Your inside is overcast You are tethered to your past And it must feel like fucking hell To be a patchwork of yourself"

The Thunder Answered Back by Gabby's World

[fairycosmos]

i feel like whenever i say i have a dead sibling i miss a lot it makes the vibe very depressing but i don't want that and she wouldn't want that. i'm saying it in like a real way not a sad way. i mean it's very very sad. but it's also like i want to talk about how we shared clothes and ate breakfast together and how funny she was. not about how badly i grieve her all the time

[aengelren]

It used to be their joke.

[smolbean-17]

First Hello & Last Goodbye

[witchinatree]

thinking about how in the magnus protocols universe tim and sasha are (probably) alive, and don't know each other

thinking about how basira and daisy are still cops, (probably) slowly getting corrupted by the hunt (again)

thinking about how georgie and melanie may finally be able to be healthy and happy together (fear and eyes in tact)

thinking about the other jon and martin. the other jon and martin who have not met. without the magnus institute, without the horrors, they never would have fallen in love.

thinking about our jon and martin, in love and in a computer

thinking about what would happen if they met their others. the others of their friends. thinking about

[ruporas]

post ep 11