#angst bruh

[my2t3rry]

"I Don't recognize you... anymore."

Full panel :]

[number-one-shadisper-shipper]

[lazy-ahh]

YOURS, ALWAYS

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

jason todd has always been yours—through scraped knees and robin stunts, through death and what came after. and when he finally says it out loud (awkwardly, over cold takeout, like the emotionally constipated bastard he is), you don’t let him take it back. because some things are just inevitable. like batman’s no-kill rule. like gotham’s shitty weather. and like you loving him, no matter what.

taglist @kasarian , @queermaeda , @yujensstuff , @thebatsgreatestfailure , @roryroro , @cynvia

you and jason have been best friends since forever. since the days of scraped knees and stupid dares—like that one time he showed up at your window in his robin costume, all puffed-up pride and poorly hidden nerves, just because you’d joked that batman’s sidekick couldn’t possibly be someone you know, let alone at your school. "oh yeah?" he’d said, flipping off your roof just to show off, only to eat shit in the bushes. you’d laughed so hard you cried, and he’d scowled, but his cheeks were pink, and you knew—he’d done it just to impress you.

since the nights of whispered secrets under starless skies, when he’d sneak out after patrol, still smelling like gotham’s grime and sweat, and collapse next to you on your bed. "tell me about the stars again," he’d say, even though he’d heard it a million times. you’d grin, bumping his shoulder. "what, robin needs a bedtime story?" but you’d tell him anyway, because the way he listened—like you were the only thing that mattered—made your chest ache.

even when the universe decided to take him away from you—ripped him right out of your hands, left you screaming into the void, left you staring at the empty space where he was supposed to be—you never stopped loving him. you dreamed about him. talked to him like he could hear you. got into stupid fights just to feel something, because nothing hurt as much as missing him.

and when the universe, cruel and kind in equal measure, brought him back—bruised and broken and yours—you loved him harder. held him tighter. memorized every scar, every flinch, every time his voice cracked when he said your name like he couldn’t believe you were real. like he couldn't believe that you waited and still chose him despite him coming back all wrong.

you never dated anyone else. never wanted to. how could you, when your heart had always belonged to him? when every stupid crush felt like a betrayal, when every "you should move on" made you want to punch something? you’d just smirk and say "nah, i’ve got high standards," but the truth was—no one else made you feel like this. like your ribs were too small for your heart. like the world made sense when they laughed.

turns out, he was the same. he didn’t want to fall for anyone else other than you. couldn’t. not when he’d come back 'wrong', all rage and sharp edges, and you were the only one who didn’t flinch. not when he’d catch you looking at him and his breath would hitch, like he was twelve again and trying to impress you with stupid rooftop stunts. not when he’d mutter "you’re such an idiot" after you did something reckless, but his hands would shake as he checked you for injuries.

you were it for him. he was it for you. and neither of you knew how to say it—until you did.

it happened like this: you were on his shitty couch, elbows knocking together over takeout, arguing about something stupid—"no way is superman cooler than batman, jay, that’s just objectively wrong"—when he suddenly went quiet. then, without looking at you, voice rough like he’d been holding it in for years: "i honestly don’t know how to do this with anyone else. i don't think i want to do this with anyone else. just you. always you. it'd just be wrong if it were with anyone else."

silence. your chopsticks froze mid-air.

he immediately backtracked, scowling at the wall like it had offended him. "i mean—fuck, forget it. that was weird." but when he finally risked a glance at you, your face must’ve been something pathetic, because his own expression went soft, stunned. like he hadn’t expected you to care.

so you grinned, kicking his shin under the table. "took you long enough to admit it, jaybird."

the second the nickname left your mouth, his breath stuttered—just a tiny, barely-there hitch, but you noticed. because jason loved when you called him that, loved it so much it pissed him off. he loved whatever pet name or nickname you called him, because it'll always be for him. but he'd pretend, he’d scowl and grumble "don’t fucking call me that," but his ears would go pink, his shoulders loosening like you’d tugged on some hidden string only you knew how to pull.

"you’ve got shit taste in heroes and shit timing," you added, just to watch him roll his eyes. but then, softer—because you could be serious when it mattered, when it was him—you leaned in, your knee pressing against his under the table. "but you’re it for me. always have been. always will be. fuck, i don't even think it's possible for me not to love you."

his breath caught, just for a second—sharp, like you’d sucker-punched him straight through the ribs. then he was laughing, that rough, half-breathless sound he only made when you caught him off guard, shaking his head like you’d just backflipped off a building without a grapple. "you’re such a fucking sap," he muttered, but his voice was too warm, too raw, and his fingers were already twitching toward yours, calloused and hesitant. like even now, after blood and bruises and all the shit the world threw at him, he still expected you to pull away.

so you closed the distance for him, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing tight. "yeah, well, you love it. admit it, jay—i’m the best damn thing that’s ever happened to you. bet you even doodled my name in your stupid robin notebooks back in the day."

he didn’t deny it. just exhaled, slow and shaky, his thumb brushing over your knuckles like he was mapping out every scar, every ridge, like he needed to prove you were real. "guess i do," he muttered, voice rough, like gravel and old wounds. then, quieter, like he was fighting himself: "fuck, of course i do. you’re—shit." his grip tightened, just for a second, like he was afraid you’d vanish. "you were always it for me. even when i was—even when i wasn’t me. especially then." a pause, his jaw working. "didn’t think i’d ever get to have this. have you."

the words hung between you, raw and unguarded, and for once, he didn’t try to claw them back. just let them sit there, trembling in the air like the ghost of a touch. like something holy. the takeout was cold now, the chopsticks abandoned mid-argument, but neither of you cared. all that mattered was the way his knee stayed pressed against yours, firm and grounding, the way his shoulders finally slumped—like he’d been holding up the whole damn sky and only just remembered you were there to help.

and when he finally looked at you—really looked at you, without the sarcasm or the scowl—his eyes were soft, wide open in a way they never were with anyone else. "always you and me, huh?"

you grinned, bumping your shoulder against his hard enough to make him grunt. "duh. who else is gonna put up with your brooding bullshit? face it, jay, you’re stuck with me."

this time, he didn’t even pretend to complain. just leaned in, forehead resting against yours, and let out a breath that sounded an awful lot like home.

so. this little 1.2k words of tooth-rotting fluff happened because my brain said enough. my fyp on tiktok has been nothing but jason todd angst for DAYS. like. bro. i get it. he’s tragic. he’s got layers. but PLEASE. i am BEGGING the algorithm gods to throw me a bone—a thirst trap, a shitpost, literally anything that doesn’t make me want to curl into a ball and sob into my hoodie. (…okay fine, keep feeding me the pain. but balance it out, damn it.) anyway. here’s jason being soft. here’s him happy. here’s him getting the love he deserves because i said so. hope it gives you the same stupid grin it gave me while writing it.

[murrpa]

my current favorite hc is that Logan developed OCD after he officially gets together with Wade, and no it’s not the germaphobe one, but ROCD (ocd that’s about a relationship)

but Wade didn’t do anything, it’s that something clicked in Logan’s head that suddenly makes him ruminate about their relationship, something along the lines of

“if I don’t make the bed or help him with dinner he’s gonna kick me out” or “if I talk to him in a certain tone of voice he’s gonna break up with me”, “he doesn’t really love me”, “what if I don’t truly love him?”, “what if he still likes Vanessa?”, “what if he’s secretly scared of me?” “what if im not good enough?” and so much more but those are the most common ones.

so he’s performing compulsive behaviors to calm his mind, like cleaning the entire apartment, making sure Vanessa won’t be where ever they are, consistently buying Wade his favorite snacks, putting his favorite shows on tv even if Logan hates them, and haven’t done or said anything mean to Wade, nor disagreed with him, although his thoughts keep coming back with more slam to the point he’s quietly sobs from time to time when no one’s near, his fear of loosing Wade becomes stronger each passing day and his compulsive acts become more and more intense: he spaces out A LOT, picks at his skin, folds Wades clothes with so much care while leaves his own simply in a pile, makes sure he’s as close as he can be to Wade when they’re walking, eating, cuddling etc., he can’t help but think about different ways Wade could be disappointed in him

“if i won’t kiss him 3 times something bad is gonna happen” or “if i won’t fall asleep holding him he’s gonna get out of bed and walk away”, “what if he’s talking to someone behind my back?”

meanwhile Wade was clueless, up until one morning when he wakes up to a whole meal brought into the bed by Logan.

Wade: Oh my fuck, Wolvie! Holy shit, is it my birthday?!

Logan, temporary relieved to see his sleepy smile: Do you want me to bring you breakfast in bed from now on?

He’s ready to hear yes from Wade, but he only laughs.

Wade: Cmon peanut, you’re not my maid, but man, you’ve been cooking for us this whole time, and everything tastes delicious, though I never expected an ex-alcoholic to be such an amazing chef!

Logan tenses up but keeps a smile, watching Wade inhale his breakfast burrito and coffee.

Wade: Speaking of which, I wanted to talk or… rather ask.

His voice is still sleepy and soft, but that sentence drenches Logan in cold sweat as he keeps his cool but the more seconds pass with Wade chewing the more his heart races.

Wade: Is everything okay with you lately? Like you… changed and… not like im upset i just… would like to know what’s going on?

Logan feels his chest pinching and throat tightening.

“should i lie, maybe if I speak up about it that will only push him more towards what im so afraid of?”

He’s silent, his eyes drop to his hands as he’s making a life-or-death decision, but the words spill out themselves.

Logan: You love me, right?

Wade blinked as if he just asked the most stupid question in the universe.

Wade: That’s why… oh, sweetheart…

Wades voice softens even more after he sees Logan tear up.

Wade: Cm’here, baby, tell me what’s bothering you?

And that’s when Logan tells him everything and every thought that went thought his head, explaining it all through more tears, after Wade looks him straight in the eyes with all seriousness, holding Logan’s face.

Wade: I want that to forever be engraved in your mind, I love you Logan, I love you like nobody before, and always will, and so do you, I feel it in your touch, your voice, no matter what you do, we love each other, and that’s how it is, nothing can change that.

Logan’s soul finally breaks out the nasty chains as he kisses Wade so passionately he even forgot what started it

[ryusdoll]

MLIST BLUE LOCK

this only contains characters i have written for. i write for everyone! feel free to request 🖤

SAE ITOSHI

dilf sae (suggestive & fluff)

jealous sae!! (smut)

brat tamer sae (smut)

giving sae head (smut)

getting caught by sae! (smut)

sae carries you to bed(fluff)

RIN ITOSHI

rin corruption kink(smut)

nerdy rin!(suggestive drabble)

nerdy rin! p2(very short drabble smut)

OTOYA EITA

trusting otoya again!(fluff)

pegging otoya(smut drabble)

MICHAEL KAISER

in the backseat!(smut)

in the hotel room(smut)

love with kaiser is slow(fluff) forgot to add drabble

mean kaiser:((smut)

kaiser gets loud!!(smut drabble)

sitting on kaiser’s lap!!(fluff drabble)

SHIDOU RYUSEI

subby shidou thoughts(not even smut just a drabble-ish)

ALEXIS NESS

soft dom ness!!(smut drabble)

ness breeding you!(smut drabble)

© ryusdoll || do not plagiarize or translate my work in any shape or form.

this took me way too long due to procrastination omg.

please lmk if i missed anything!!!!

[sweeneydino]

Eldest.

[donttalkmeangy]

someone give me one-sided Aotsumi. Takumi who developed feelings for the kind and reliable Eito, only to find out the latter saw him as a disgusting creature. Takumi who tried so hard to hate Eito and suppress his feelings but had his resolve crumble more and more as he goes through the second scenario. Takumi who can't bring himself to kill Eito because as much as he hates him, he still has a semblance of care for the traitor.

Takumi who finds out his feelings are reciprocated only when Eito dies and uses his final words to confess.

They make me sick and I WANT THEM TO SUFFER.

[rhyslarsenlover]

DRIVE ME CRAZY

A RAFE CAMERON SOCIAL MEDIA AU

part five . part six . part seven . masterlist .

cw: this is just a filler chapter to explain how we get to where we are next chapter! ANGSTY!! only arguing and apologetic rafe.. i wonder if that'll last..

y/n slammed the door to the car behind her, the weight of everything still pressing down on her chest. she’d barely even processed what had just happened, and here she was, already getting in the car with sarah for their beach trip.

she tossed her sweatshirt onto the seat behind her, avoiding sarah’s eyes as she slid into the passenger seat. the silence in the car was heavy, almost suffocating. sarah’s eyes flicked over to her before she turned the key in the ignition.

“y/n, what just happened?” sarah asked, her voice softer than usual, like she could sense the tension coiling around her friend. y/n sighed, resting her head against the back of the seat. “i don’t know, sarah. i’m sorry for being such a buzzkill, i'm just tired of all this drama.” y/n swallowed, her thoughts still tangled from her last confrontation with rafe. she didn’t want to go into it. not now. especially not with rafe’s face still burned into her mind.

sarah was quiet for a moment, the hum of the engine filling the silence. then she asked, “is this about rafe?” y/n didn’t even need to say anything for sarah to know the answer. she could see it all over her face. “yeah,” y/n muttered. “i just.. i don’t get why he thinks he can mess with my head like this. it’s like i don’t even matter to him, and then he does something like.. i dunno.”

sarah’s expression shifted. “what are you talking about?” y/n hesitated. “he texted me a couple days ago, it kinda ended with him saying he hopes i enjoy getting 'passed around by the pogues.' and then he goes off and makes out with some girl, and then he thinks he can pop up on my instagram like we’re still friends or something. he’s driving me insane!” y/n winced, her stomach tightening. “he basically called me a hoe, sarah. and then he just moved on like it meant nothing.”

sarah’s hands tightened in a fist, she had never been so angry before. “i can’t believe he said that to you. i thought you were talking about that time topper called you a whore, but not rafe.. he’s never been that way with you,“ y/n agrees, “no, and what i hate most is that it hurt. topper’s words didn’t even phase me, but rafe..” sarah didn’t say anything for a long moment. she just focused on the road, and y/n felt a little guilty for dumping all of that on her. but it wasn’t just the words that bothered her, it was everything. the jealousy. y/n had never really been jealous before, rafe had brought girls back to the cameron's house and she had never batted an eyelid. she had always told herself it wasn’t her place to care, because caring meant hoping. and hoping meant getting hurt. so she always kept those feelings at a distance. that was until he started acting more possessive, maybe that was what finally made her realise that he might have feelings for her. and his lingering attention actually meant something now.

after a moment, sarah spoke up, her voice more determined. “i'm going to talk to him” y/n shook her head, feeling a little pathetic. “no. that’s not going to fix anything. i’m... i don’t know what i want from him, sarah. i just hate feeling like this. seeing that girl in his arms, ughhh i hate this, it’s like i’m waiting for him to finally choose me, and then he goes and acts like this.” sarah glanced at her quickly. “you’re not waiting for him to choose you, y/n. you’re worth so much more than that. he's always been so blind to see that you were the one. and i hate saying that, because it's my dumb, stupid brother.”

y/n let out a breath, her heart feeling heavy. “i know. i just... do you really think that he meant what he said?” sarah shaked her head, “absolutely not, y/n, he thinks the world of you. you know what he’s like when he’s angry, he's a fuckin idiot,” y/n didn’t really know what to think, sarah had always teased that rafe had a crush on her. y/n just thought that it was because sarah wanted them to be sisters. but now things seemed real, and instead of him confessing those feelings, he’s making out with some girl at a club.

when they finally arrived at the beach, the ocean stretched out before them, vast and open. the salty air and the sound of waves crashing against the shore did little to calm the turmoil inside her. but she tried, focusing on the waves and the sand between her toes as they walked toward the water. “you should’ve told me sooner, y/n. i can’t believe he said that to you. he has some nerve.” y/n stayed silent, watching the ocean waves crash on the shore, her heart heavy with everything that was left unsaid.

they had only been at the beach for a few minutes when y/n caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. “he followed us,” sarah muttered, her tone already deadly. y/n didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified. rafe was like this, a storm that never knew when to stop. and sure enough, as they started to head further down the shore, he approached them, his footsteps heavy in the sand.

“so, you thought you could hang out here without me? thought beach trips are our thing,” rafe called out, his voice light and joking. sarah’s eyes narrowed immediately, and she whipped around to face him, “seriously, rafe? you think you can just show up like this? like everything’s fine after what you said to y/n?” her voice was sharp, cutting through the air.

rafe’s grin faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered, taking a few more steps toward them, hands in his pockets. “hey, relax. i’m just messing with you two,” he said with a small smile, trying to downplay the situation. “messing with us?” sarah practically snarled, her fists clenching. “you don’t get to say the shit you said and then act like it’s all just some game!”

rafe’s eyes flickered for a moment, and he hesitated. “look, i-”

“no,” sarah cut him off, her voice rising with fury. “you don’t get to act all innocent now. you basically called her a fucking slut like it was nothing. our y/n. the girl that has cared for and loved our family since she was a kid." sarah's words were pointed, as though she was repeating an old conversation they had, "and now you’re here acting like everything’s fine? you think you can just show up and apologise your way out of this?”

y/n was frozen, torn between the anger radiating off sarah and the quiet guilt on rafe’s face. she could feel the tension building, thick and suffocating, and she hated conflict.

rafe’s expression shifted slightly, his jaw tightening. “i didn’t mean it. i was just.. pissed off, okay? i saw you with jj and it made me angry. i shouldn’t have said that. i never should’ve said that to you, y/n.” his voice softened, the humour gone.

sarah scoffed, stepping in front of y/n, her stance protective. “no, rafe. you can’t just apologise and make everything go away. you don’t get to treat her like that and then think saying sorry will solve it all!”

rafe’s eyes burned with something unreadable, but he didn’t snap back. he just stared at sarah for a moment, the weight of her anger settling over him.

sarah shook her head, disgust written across her face.  the air between them was thick with tension, and y/n couldn’t breathe, feeling like she was caught in the middle of it all. “guys, it’s okay.” y/n breathed out, trying to diffuse the situation, “he’s said sorry, i haven’t fully forgiven you, rafe, but yeah.” y/n spoke softly, tugging at sarah’s hand to remind her that it was okay.

finally, rafe seemed to deflate a little, his anger waning, replaced by a resigned guilt. “i didn’t want to hurt you, y/n.”

“yeah, well, too late. this isn’t just about your stupid jealousy, rafe. it’s about respect. and you completely lost that.” sarah answered, shook her head, disappointed by her brother.

“i’m sorry,” rafe repeated, his voice quieter now, more sincere. “i messed up. i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you, y/n. i don’t.”

y/n spoke up again, her voice barely above a whisper. “i think you should leave, rafe.”

rafe nodded slowly, his face a mix of frustration and regret. 

a/n: I CANT TAKE THE ANGST IDK IF IMMA LAST. also sorry for not uploading for a couple days, it was my 21st bday!! <3

taglist!!: @princesspeaxhh , @cokewithcameron , @lolasangelz , @a-sunflower-in-bloom , @rafecameronswhoore , @stoned-writer , @pogueprincesa @countryclubwhore @pillowprincess4him @ren-ni love u all <333

[lovethatmakingcoffee]

Sick Shadow

an au that probably is never going anywhere, especially if I don’t master how to draw these hedgehogs

anywho, au is that shadow gets sick or poisoned by some higher secret organization and he actually almost dies from this time. It is painful and violent, and he was teetering between life and death. Sonic found him amidst the poisoning and him and crew somehow kept him from dying. But it was a week long experience where Shadow was basically in a coma. So that’s why Sonic is so tired, sad, and worn out about it. And Shadow is secretly touched by his sincerity and the blue hedgehog saving his life.

[chronicdisasterwrites]

death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot. 

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead. 

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both. 

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut. 

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. 

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot. 

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high. 

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option. 

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day. 

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor. 

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door. 

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.” 

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you. 

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction. 

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point, 

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?” 

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru. 

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well. 

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you. 

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power. 

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had. 

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms. 

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too. 

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps. 

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door. 

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back. 

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream. 

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod. 

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

[hanasnx]

oh no i’m on the porn site with all the porn and smut oh no why can’t i read other stuff besides smut on the porn smut slutty slut porno pornography site :( and i’m going to put this complaint in the main x reader tags so that i can tag clog

[kpchrs]

Btw btw btw the real angst of the mortal/immortal Spuffy is that Buffy knows that she will go to heaven when she dies but they don't know about Spike.

His soul was in heaven but now it blends with his demon and a century of sin, so will they accept his soul again? Will he have to stay on earth after Buffy's death to do good; to tip the scale so he can be with Buffy again? How many years, or centuries will he have to walk without Buffy to do good? How long will he have to watch other people he love die and they leave him to go to heaven? How long will he be alone in uncertainty? What if it will never be enough?

With the power of plot, one day he can ask Powers that Be when he can finally die.

[samijey]

Royal Rumble 2025 Kickoff show

[phrasetale]

YOU SHOULDN’T LOOK LIKE ME.

Part 2 of TO LOOK LIKE YOU which is by @shinyeclair

Whisk trying to function as a normal monster, but the past haunts him.

>ooooohhhhhh my god, I’m finally done with this damned comic. This took WAYYYY LONGER than I expected it to be. I got too lazy to color, let alone shade, LET ALONE DO LINEART so have this shitty sketch lol

Finally, I’m done with one wip. Time to finish at least 5 more….haha…

Me experimenting TOO MUCH these days but I really needed this practice for my future mangas of Phrasetale.

Whisk belongs to me

Chibi Esha belongs to @shinyeclair

-29/March/2025

Edit: holy fuck I forgot to mention this. I’m sorry but I MAY HAVE BUTCHERED YOUR CHIBI SONA, ECLAIR 😭

[lavaabee]

Dazatsu Month 2025

Day 18 - Death + (COTL AU)

I know, you can argue it's Cult of the Lamb Au, not Death but hear me out. Narinder is a god of death so it gotta count, right?

Atsushi as Narinder (God of Death)

Dazai as Lamb ( he looks more like a Goat here tbh)

Akutagawa Ryunoske as Aym

Akutagawa Gin as Baal

[starsarehere]

so y'all think s5 will win over S4 and steal the trophy of "gayest season ever" or?