#he deserves all the friends 😭😭😭

[dororoxpenana]

Inspired from the latest lil Encanto comics, I love me some friends to lovers 😭💚

Context: Bruno and María in my fanfic Love & Roscónes meet at ages 25 and 23, from there the rest is history✨️

[satoruhour]

a/n: jjk 236 spoilers, mentions of suicide from reader’s side, no comfort, cry. around 1.4k. tagging @jabamin @hyomagiri @saiki-enthusiast @arminsumi @shotorus @satohruu so yall can suffer w me

the first signs of grief manifests in you when there’s a bright light that signifies gojo’s disperse of cursed energy, the familiar hollow purple that obliterates half the buildings around the two strongest sorcerers — one from the heian and the other one from our times. surely, your lover wouldn’t do something as foolish as involving himself with the blast, but gojo satoru is always one to take risks.

when he took up the job of taking care of megumi and tsumiki at just eighteen years old and providing all the things they needed to fluorish. gojo is risky as he convinces a kid with a terrifying curse to make some friends and learn about cursed energy. he sometimes puts himself in danger when he takes up more missions he can shoulder just to show the higher-ups that he can kill them any time.

gojo satoru has the world of jujutsu in his hands; how his birth had changed the trajectory of the society, altered the balance of the world and now—

“satoru!” you call out once the smoke clears and he’s still there, intact, smiling a sick smile like the many times you’ve seen him done at megumi and after burning french toast. you brief a sigh of relief and the pounding of your heart calms down momentarily before sukuna emerges and he’s missing a hand and a leg and your heart pulls lower and lower seeing the kid you raised be such a ragdoll for sukuna’s entertainment. but there was always the hope to isolate the king of curses’ soul and save megumi somehow. shoko and you had discussed it, you know it to be true, it has to be true, until there’s a sharp noise that cuts through your ear drums.

it’s high-pitched, like a flash of light that shines in your eyes too abruptly and you have to cover them. but it blinds you as much as it deafens; an attack from god knows which end and you swear you hear the reaper’s scythe.

gojo thinks you look beautiful like this; hand on your cheek and head in your hand as you watch him and the melodic sounds of the knife hitting the cutting board. you’re so concerned about him cutting his hand again that you’ve dragged your chair all the way into the kitchen to watch him closely, which was counterintuitive; the whole reason why he had bled in the first place was because he was looking at you so much.

he admires the way you curl into yourself on the beanbag in the apartment, a book on your lap on how to get to know your teenager better, hair falling over your eyes and the reading lamp not even helping that much in illuminating the words. gojo skims over your features and the way your chest breathes slowly, like everything good in the world. he hopes he’s able to get that with you in this life, for as long as he lives.

you feel it before you see it in the screens that the fight is broadcasted from — something is missing. a light has switched off, satoru has stolen the blanket at night and left you freezing again, seeing your favourite snack missing from the fridge. and you run. past the students you’ve raised, past the bright blinding screens and into the battlefield, past the debris and each crunch of cement under your feet brings a fresh bout of tears to your eyes. the tokyo winter is cool, snow starting to slowly fall upon you and the saltiness on your face seem to crystallise and harden and you’re not even sure any more. there’s a tingling feeling in your feet, in your finger tips and a pull of your heart. you know where gojo is before you see him.

“s— satoru…” you mumble, eyes welling up with more tears when his bottom half stays standing, baggy pants stained with red, red and more red and you’ve never hated a colour like you do now. you hate it, you hate it, you hate it even when he’s proposed to you with a red velvet box and gotten you valentine’s day chocolates in that same darker red and there is just too much blood.

and then it’s like the hierarchy of grief doesn’t matter any more. all those articles you’ve read preparing yourself after gojo’s fated meeting with death at sixteen, and then after shibuya — you think you can’t handle any more of the collecting and patching up and crying and headaches and holding a finger up to your chest and hoping you’d kill yourself with your own technique. the only time you’d accept the absence of the bright blue on his face is when he was sleeping and his chest moved with even breaths, not like this.

not like this. 

“satoru—” your voice cracks and you cannot even see. tears and tears and mucus and the fresh crunch of snow under your feet as you step closer to his severed body.

“baby…” he mumbles, barely above a whisper, hand twitching and reaching out in the direction of your voice because this is infinitely worse than getting stabbed in the neck by toji fushiguro, perhaps a little worse than seeing your best friend of your high school life get manipulated by a cursed user. satoru wants to demote all of that and say that seeing you stumble to your knees in front of him while you hyperventilate and sob hurts the most. 

“d-don’t move, ’toru, we— we’re going to get you b-back, okay?” you’re playing with god now. “shoko!” the doctor stifles a sob at your cry, broken up by the feedback of the sound system. she knows you’re trying to defy god.

“i don’t think—” the light is slowly dying. the world’s light, the student’s light, your dawn and dusk. “m-my love, everything is…”

“satoru, please, you need to—!” they say the last sense to go is touch and hearing. you crouch to his face to see him react to your warmth, eyes moving an inch to where he thinks you were and puts all of his cursed energy into one hand just so he could hold your cheek. you, warm as always as the sun and everything good in the world, a new rush of warmth overtaking his hand when your tears flow over his battered, tired hands, the same hands that has drawn over his love time and time again over your body and you are a canvas made of gojo satoru’s endless, unconditional ardour.

“i-i’m…” it fades out, his voice box is almost gone and you wail again and the snow from below wets your knees. his name is all that leaves your lips and you think if you can’t play god, you can only beg, even if your religion is solely gojo satoru.

“no, no, no no nono, satoru, c’mon, baby, stop it!” you scream in his face, words all mushed together when you feel the breath of life leave his chest, the blues die out in his eyes, “i love you, i love you, darling, i love you—” your lover barely manages to muster a small smile and you scramble all over his chest, clutching at the tattered black t-shirt and his hand that is starting to go cold and he has the energy to mutter out a stupid remark like gojo satoru always does.

“i’m sorry i got y-your favourite outfit stained with red, princess…” satoru whispers and that breaks the dam fully. you sob and groan and cry and wail until your voice is hoarse and you cannot speak any more and gojo wants nothing but to full heal himself again just so he could stop your crying. perhaps hold your face in his hands and kiss your forehead and nose and lips and embrace you until you couldn’t breathe. perhaps even to tell you he loved you more than anything and everything; more than poems and that foolish line he just had to say at the end and kikufuku and waking up next to you.

but in what world will gojo satoru ever get repose and a normal life? you hope for every other universe to have him be a preschool teacher, or maybe a florist, or even a superstar. but not in this one, no.

the hand that caressed your cheek is replenished again with cursed energy.

satoru gives you three squeezes.

[profoundmakerdreamerss-blog]

Tomarry AU where Tom HATES this book he read because his favourite character dies a miserable death. So what if his favorite character was a no-named side villain? Why does it matter that he only had like seven lines (seven is Tom's favourite number anyways)? He was still gorgeous, smart and strong and beautiful — and it doesn't matter that others think he isn't all that because they would never know him— understand him like TOM DOES.

An AU where Tom has a healthy obsession with a character named Harry Potter, a no named baron's son who was the first to go against the king (MC's father, and the mc who is incidentally known as Draco Malfoy, ahem anyways); he tries to “poison” him. But he gets caught or to be more precise he ends up sacrificing himself for the common girl Hermione Granger (the female lead, I'm sorry guys but imagine the fucking drama.) who gets blamed for his transgressions.

But that is not why Tom falls for this weak villain, no — it's because he respects how this no-named orphan became a baron on his own two feet without anyone being there for him especially in a world where old money and title is everything— and he hates how he had to give his life for the MC to notice the female lead? (Harry is better looking and smarter than her anyways — Tom, in an online forum perhaps.)

Anyways, now imagine Tom dying (he hated it so yes he ends up looking for immorality anyways.) and waking up in the world he hated. Now imagine, Tom Riddle, waking up in the body of a Duke who wasn't even given a name in the novel. (He would know because he has a photographic memory, ok? It's totally not because he read it more than 14 times) and then saying fuck it and owning it.

Just think, Tom taking over the world slowly with his worldly knowledge while trying to keep Harry alive because even though he was right about Harry being smart; the guy treats his life like Draco treats his money - you get the idea.

[hiddenmoonbeam]

Thinking about teenage Sirius, wickedly smart with top grades, a rich heir to an old pureblood house, tall and handsome and haugty, drawing many admiring and envious looks that he appears to be above acknowledging. Popular, yet sticks to his small and close circle of friends, not really allowing anyone else close.

But even with them he's guarded about his own physical space; the old uncease is hard to shake, and it twists the want into knots. No matter how much he craves this intimicy, he struggles to accept it when it's given, and initiating it himself is even more difficult.

Padfoot makes everything simple, though. And so Sirius starts turning into him whenever he needs to be close - because asking for cuddles is so much easier for the dog than it is for the boy.

[arthurtaylorlester]

so like do you ever think about john doe

[local-limebug]

jason todd has so many underrated canon love interests. essence, isabel, artemis, and rose are all characters i love with him. like those are good ships. why is everyone ignoring them?

[crescentfool]

adventures in makomart!

[jimmyspades]

[good-beansdraws]

@sunnyreblogsthings I am thinking about Aphrodite!! There were so many sweet headcanons, but the thought of Mappi singing along with her little bird definitely stuck in my mind 🦜

They are singing TIHTBILWY together :')

[hotasfahrenheit]

Onew!!!! ONEWWWWWWWW!!!! LEE JINKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-

[nicoscheer]

X

[conanssummerchild]

"i dont want to be your father" "perfect you already know your lines" HELPPPP SNFBDKSJBEKJSABDFKJSBFJS ABSOLUTELY CACKLING RIGHT NOW

JFJDJSJSJ its such an iconic line what a king

[risingsunresistance]

apparently twitter is fightng about whether or not alpharad is Literally Rich Like Actually 1% "Eat The Rich" Rich because of his last vlog and people are mad that he was nice to his friends and think he's just bragging about having a lot of money because they didnt care enough to watch the video and only went by the title and thumbnail

anyways have i told you how much i love alpharad that guy is awesome

[poppyseed799]

I wonder how different my feelings on Drew would be if there wasn’t that freaking spare laptop scene

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

My friend not only bought me matcha Oreos buuuttt just told me he got me something when he was out of town this weekend 🥺💗💗

[chrisbangs]

❤️‍🩹