#i’m GONNA START SOBBING

[alexisafk]

i wanna gnaw at him i wanna snack on him like he’s a bag of cool ranch doritos 😘😘

[c-duceusclay]

Old Trinket is about to make me break down I am so serious

[wyveraed]

Oh you think you can hurt me? I’m a manga reader and my favorite series are Bungo Stray Dogs, Toilet Bound Hanako Kun and Yona of the Dawn-

[superpyodan]

THEY😭😭😭😭💔💔

og picture under the cut (if you know the artist please lmk!)

[bisexualrapline]

wailing screaming sobbing throwing up etc. this is so unfair

[sounknownvoid]

Oof!...

What You're Looking For

Written for @wincestwednesdays prompt 1: lost

Read here on AO3

When DJ gets home, the house is a wreck.

Not again, he thinks with a sigh, dropping his bag by the door. He checks the wards on the doorframe (unbroken) and makes sure the door slams when he closes it.

“Dad?” he calls, keeping his hands up as he edges further inside. No surprises, no sudden movements. He learned that sneaking back in the house after midnight once when he was a teenager. Swears he can still feel the bruise sometimes. He teased his dad about it exactly once; the utter mortification that crossed his face sort of killed the fun. “You home?”

Of course he is. He doesn’t really get out these days. The doctors say it’s for the best.

Suddenly, Dad blows by him, a whirlwind of anxiety and agitation. “—find them—” DJ catches before his dad disappears into the kitchen. Oh, he hasn’t gotten into the knives yet, at least. That’s good.

DJ catches up with his father just as he yanks open the knick knack drawer. Objects are pulled out and discarded at random—thumbtacks, rubber bands, bottle openers, and scraps of tinfoil pile up on the countertop and spill onto the floor.

“Woah, woah, Dad, slow down—” DJ makes sure he’s in Dad’s line of sight when he lays a hand on the man’s shoulder. He’s only shrugged off, which DJ takes as a win. “What are you looking for?”

Dad steps around him and yanks open the cutlery drawer. Luckily, he takes out the drawer organizer and gives it a shake instead of pulling spoons out one at a time. “I can’t find them.”

“Find what?”

Strangely, his father wrenches the freezer open and peers inside. “The... My...” He snaps his fingers impatiently; the words are gone. The freezer door bangs shut as he pats himself down; then makes a fist under his chin, jerking downward before crossing the room to dig around in the cupboard. A light bulb goes off in DJ’s head.

“They’re in the safe, Dad,” DJ reminds him gently.

Dad spins around, brow furrowed, can of cream corn in one hand. He opens his mouth but then pauses, hesitating. He sets the corn down. “Junior?” he asks tentatively.

DJ nods. “Junior,” not “Dean.” Another good sign. “Yeah.”

Dad pats himself down again but stops himself mid-motion as if scolding himself. DJ waits in silence. His father takes a slow breath and looks him in the eye. “What safe?”

“C’mon.” DJ doesn’t lead him—Dad hates to be led—and also doesn’t check if he’s being followed. If Dad comes, he comes. If not, well, he’ll calm down eventually. He usually does.

Dad follows. DJ goes to the master suite, wincing at the chaos within (Dad started here, obviously), and surreptitiously kicks the piles of clothes littering the floor aside as he heads to the closet. He clicks on the overhead light and motions his dad inside. He can see how Dad missed the safe if he forgot it was there. Unlike the gun safe in the corner (open, but emptied out months ago, thank god; DJ tries not to think about any weapons hidden around the house he might’ve missed), this one is built into the wall with a false panel keeping it hidden. It’s also covered devil’s traps and protection charms, both visible and invisible, some with rather nasty side effects. DJ sets the panel aside, enters the combination (01-24-79), and pulls the door open.

There are a handful of objects in the safe: a few photos, a baseball, a deck of cards. All sorts of odds and ends, all appearing mundane but every one of them containing extraordinary stories (only a few of which DJ’s heard). But the photos and the baseball and the cards are bypassed. He knows exactly what he’s looking for.

His dad looks ready to weep when DJ drops the objects into his hands—a leather necklace with a brass, horned figure and a car key. Stumbling to the bed, his father brings both to his mouth as he drops as if kissing them, eyes sliding shut. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye. “I thought I lost them. I-I- thought I’d—”

DJ sits beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. Not an easy task—his dad’s a big guy. “We put them in the safe so you wouldn’t lose them, remember?” he explains, giving a gentle shake. Dad nods but DJ’s fairly certain he’s lying. That’s okay. It’ll come back to him, probably. Softly, he adds, “Do you wanna sit in the car?”

Not the mid-sized electric sitting in the driveway. The other one. The one parked eternally in the garage and covered with a tarp. The one DJ wasn’t even allowed to breathe on until he was almost sixteen. The car.

To his surprise, Dad shakes his head. “No. No, I’ll just—” he sniffs and looks up, eyes clear. He glances around. “The... damn, the house. The house is a mess, I need to—”

He tries to rise. DJ lays a hand on his chest. “Dad, no, it’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“No, no, I need to clean up—”

“Dad, I’m telling you, I’ve got it. You should rest, you—”

“No!”

DJ jumps. That’s the drill sergeant voice. The voice he used when he taught DJ how to shoot and made him memorize exorcisms before moving into his dorm. It makes the man sound ten years younger. Dad always gets upset after he realizes he used that voice. Always said it made him think of DJ’s grandpa.

He automatically sits a little a little taller, but Dad’s already softening. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” Dad apologizes. “Just, it’s my mess. I can at least help pick it up. I can do that much. Please.”

As if anyone can say no to that face. DJ nods and Dad’s face cracks into a weak smile. “I think broke a vase,” Dad admits as they stand.

DJ rolls his eyes. “That fake Ming thing? Good. I always thought it was ugly.”

“That was a gift from your mother.”

“That’s probably why she gave it to you, to see if you’d say anything. I’m telling you, she’s laughing at you every time she sees it on the mantle.”

Dad’s laugh is genuine. “That sounds like your mother,” he agrees.

DJ gestures towards the closet. “Want to put them back?”

His dad wavers for a moment but shakes his head no. “Later,” he says. “Go grab the broom. I’ll be there in a minute.”

DJ steps out. But he hangs around for a moment right outside the doorway. Just in case.

For a long moment, there is nothing. But then: “I miss you.”

There’s no question who his father’s talking about. There’s never any other person on his mind when he gets like this. Actually, DJ’s pretty sure that’s who’s always on his mind, and these are the only times he can’t hide it.

Then, so softly DJ almost can’t hear it: “I love you, Dean.”

Love. Not loved. Not past tense. Never past tense. DJ’s not sure if that’s a good sign or not. His dad has always talked about Uncle Dean like that—as if he’s just around the corner, ready to crack open a cold one. That impossible expectation is why his dad and mom never got married, he thinks. When DJ was feeling sort of petty and resentful for not having normal parents (at least you can explain divorce; he never had any idea what to say to other kids on the playground when asked) he figured his dad was a liar. That Uncle Dean was really just Dean because nobody talks about their sibling like that, alive or dead (and DJ’s known people with both). No one but the most devoted widowers mourn like this; as if the world is inalterably changed and it’s everyone else who’s is strange for not seeing it.

But then DJ always remembers the look on his dad’s face the one and only time he asked why he didn’t have a little brother or sister; the haunted look in his eyes when he said, “I want you to live for you, okay?” As a kid, DJ didn’t know what his father meant. Now, knows three things: he had an uncle named Dean; his father will always be wrapped in grief; and he understands. As much as he can, anyway.

DJ gets the broom. A few minutes later, his father appears and together they laugh over the shards of the knock-off vase. As they put the house together, not for the first time this year, DJ thinks it won’t be long before his father finds what he’s really looking for.

[star-dust78]

i loooooooove the fact basically all my friends don’t care about what I have to say!! It’s so funny!! :3

[poisonedpassionate]

Chat I can’t take it

(Just saw the chapter)

[phantom-does-a-thing]

Shaking in my boots at the dentist rn

[luminique]

Lighter when reader is sick/has a cold/etc he has to be a hot fucking mess

OH HES ALL OVER YOU WHEN YOURE SICK !! the moment you’ve got a cold, he’s immediately telling the girls that he is out of commission. he wants to take care of you but like lowkey. he’s buying medicine, he’s getting food, he’s making sure that you’re not overexerting yourself.

but he’s also getting bothered by the fact that you’re calling out to him with a red flush on your face due to the sickness. you’d think he would be pushed away by how rough your voice sounds but no, it’s actually a little conflicting to him. something deep within him wants to be all cuddly with you but he’d tell himself that he’ll catch a cold and who will take care of you if he’s sick too?

you’re more than capable to take care of yourself but having you depend on him like this, even if its only for a short moment, has him melting completely. he’d pretend to be a little distant (because he can’t show that he’s worried) but he’s always looking out for you. coughing ? he’s getting water. sniffling ? he’s grabbing tissues. too hot ? he’s ready with a wet towel.

once he’s done taking care of you for the day, the girls are definitely there to tease him about it and all he does is push his shades up a bit more. he cares so so much but that’s not a good look for his cool and mysterious personality. either way, he promised to take care of you until you get better, so he’ll be back in the morning to check on you again as usual. it’s all too obvious when in the next few days, he’s the one sniffling and sneezing instead.

[my-hyperfixations]

The second I see someone edit Luke with his reprise of Good Kid from the musical it’s gonna be all over for me

[ariseur]

ok i saw you wanted some requests so im here to give you an idea!! im really angst about gojo right now and i need an angst fic. (spoilers for the manga)

ok so: gojo x reader but readers cursed technique is to be able to see into the future (but they can’t do anything about it or talk about it) and they get a vision of the gojo vs. sukuna fight and what happens. they get all upset about it and cling to gojo, trying to get him not to go. (established relationship pls🙏🏻)

sorry for the drabble, i’ve been aching for someone to write this haha

HOLD ME ( TIGHTER THAN YOU EVER WILL ) - SATORU GOJO

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ notes - i’m not gonna lie anon, i just finished the manga and i fell to my knees when i saw this request. ilysm for this but you are EVIL ( kiss me rn thank you for providing me with this angst )

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ warnings - spoilers for jujutsu kaisen manga chpts 222 - 236, character death ( canon ), weirdly descriptive mentions of you choking back words ( like that feeling you get when you’re trying not to cry and it feels like there’s barbed wire in your throat😭 ), gojo calls you “my girl” twice so fem!reader in mind when writing this, i didn’t really describe it as much of a technique i mainly kept it like you were seeing visions since i didn’t know how to correlate the ct i’m sorry!!, intended lowercase, hope you guys enjoy 😚💕!!

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹ word count - 1654 words, 9068 characterss

“satoru.”

gojo turned around, his footsteps coming to a halt down the hallway of the infirmary. his face tipped towards you, cocking a bit as he let out a low hum of question.

upon seeing his face, your stomach clenched; a deep regret swirling in your abdomen. with a look at his face, your bottom lip quivered with furrowed brows. he stood there, trying to decipher your expression as he awaited an answer. his eyes, narrowed with confidence stood out on display rather than shielded from his blindfold. there was nothing left to hide now, not his strength and not his arrogance. you remembered how you had always begged him to take it off at least once, just so you could see his pretty eyes.

and now looking back retrospectively, it didn’t matter. those visions you saw, how real they felt. they couldn’t have been dreams, they always haunted you as they showed up everywhere. your eyes fell to satoru’s pink lips, pressed together in confusion before another thought intruded your head — another sight to behold as you felt like gagging upon remembering his bruised face, the blood spouting out from his mouth tainting his lips.

“i just,” you swallowed thickly, “i don’t think it’s a good idea to do this just yet.”

he sighed, giving one shake of his head before he stepped forward towards you. your head hung low, your words choked at the back of your throat as they threatened to escape their enclosure behind your uvula. “megumi’s in danger, people are watchin’ — i can’t postpone it, baby, you know that.” his hand placed itself on your shoulder, softly rubbing against the fabric of your shirt where the seams met.

“i’m not saying that— i just mean,” you closed your eyes, letting out a quiet, shaky breath. you recalled the conversation that happened not too long ago, back with ijichi and shoko. lamenting with all the memories back in your youth, along with reminiscing over everything that’s happened. shibuya, megumi’s possession, okkotsu’s return. everybody who’s died, it haunted you like no other knowing there was nothing you could do to prevent it; kugisaki, nanami, all those lives dealt a bad hand at their dreadful end. even yuuji itadori, someone so young being used so carelessly.

“damn, so it’s just the four of us left.” gojo’s voice had echoed throughout the room of your previous conversation. your head tipping back against the cold lockers as you stood in the corner, the scent of tobacco wafting in the air and seeping in through your nostrils from shoko’s cigarette whilst she stood not even a few feet away from you.

“well, there’s still also that idiot.” she huffed, transparent smoke slipping out in thin shapes from past her lips.

being around her for so long, the smell became indelible in your brain, your senses immediately causing you to retrace back to ieiri’s bad habit. even now, as you stood in front of your beloved — even as his distant musk flew up to your head as it had just barely intoxicated you, the smell of cigarettes and menthol was still unforgettable. you remembered the scratch in your throat as you hummed in agreement, your voice uneasy and raspy from misuse as gojo looked back up at shoko. “. . that’s true.”

eyes fluttering closed, you let out a small huff as you heard ijichi debriefing about something related to nanami, not that you could pay attention anyways. the voices and the images and the downright fuckery that went on in your brain was too loud for you to focus on anything else, including satoru’s face right in front of yours as you stopped recalling the transpired events as your head bowed down even further.

“look at me,” you heard him say. he gave your shoulders a gentle shake as his hand snaked up from your arm to your chin, trying to redirect your attention back to him no matter how much your head resisted. “where’s my girl at? don’t be shy, jus’ talk to me.”

your eyebrows crinkled as they met in the middle, the slight bit of skin creasing at contact when you finally looked up at him. his lashes ridged around his upper eyelids, pupils gazing ever so delicately as they softened at the sight of you. his thumb turned to face vertically, grazing your lip as he cocked his head; and then, he smiled. what once was so comforting long ago, where you two would spend mornings lazing around in bed as you’d forget about the first years, forget about yaga, forget about responsibilities. it was like you were in that high school bliss again, unable to care about anything more than the person right in front of you — even if they were drooling all over your arm. his smile, canines on display, only made you feel sicker about what you knew.

he pulled you into his chest slowly ( giving you enough time to thrash out of his embrace and tell him to knock it off, even if it’d hurt his pride a bit ) and as he rested his chin on you, he mumbled against your ear, “you can cry it out, you know.”

“‘m not crying.” you smacked his shoulder, pulling away as you sniffled — an obviously very convincing sign of totally not getting upset.

he snorted, “okay ma’am, don’t need the attitude — i’m just saying you can if you needed to.” he kept you at an arms length before he tilted your chin up again, causing you to roll your eyes and give him a sharp huff.

“gojo—!” you heard from around the corner. a high, stern voice interrupting the small bickering back and forth between you two. his hand faltered on your face, his thumb no longer brushing your cheek as your body tilted to the side only to find utahime walking in your line of sight. her eyebrows raised at the two of you, her mouth quirking to the side in shock as she sputtered, “not to ruin the moment but,” she shrugged slightly; a way of telling you indirectly, ‘it’s time.’

“few more minutes ‘hime, and i’ll be out.” he called out singsonging along as she walked away.

“don’t call me that,” she repeated in the same cadence, her voice collecting more distance the further she retreated — allowing you guys to have a moment before they prepare to go out.

satoru turned back towards you, his smirk growing wider as you looked away, your hand grabbing the one glued to your faced as you savored the warmth in between his fingers. “ah, there she is,” he teased, “my girl.”

“‘toru?”

he hummed, his hands squeezing yours. your eyes zipped up to his. “please,” you pouted at him, “be careful, yeah?”

he laughed as he shook his head in amusement. taking a few steps back, he extended both of your arms before ceremoniously letting go. “i think it’ll be okay — i am the strongest, after all,” gojo chuckled.

you managed a meager, bittersweet smile as you let out a wry laugh. no matter what kind of sounds left your lips, he always relished in them knowing only he could pull them out of you. whether it’s a small laugh, a full on abundance of giggles, whimpers along with your squirming about that he’d always tease you for; satoru never failed to appreciate them. even your groans of discomfort when he’d piss you off, all it took was some sweet talking and a trail of kisses along your jaw and he’d bounce back all sunshine and rainbows.

it wasn’t your voice or your body ( although those were major bonuses, might he have added ), and it wasn’t even the way you’d purse your lips to stop an embarrassed smile from painting itself on your face whenever he would make a stupid joke ( another thing he had loved about you ) — it was the fact that you saw him. he wasn’t the strongest when he was with you — he was ‘toru, only satoru.

he began to walk away, his shoes tapping against the hard floors as you watched his white robe flow behind him. you swallowed back a small whine at the back of your throat as you watched him leave; his hand about to slide the double doors open until you called for him once more. “satoru—?”

“huh?” he let out an airy laugh, mixed in with the syllable.

you put a hand on your hip, swallowing to try and moisten your dry throat. you let out an awkward laugh, “i love you — so much.”

gojo put a hand to his mouth before sending it off with you as he blew you a dramatic air kiss. “i love you, always.”

and with that, he turned away; the door sliding open with a satisfying sound before it closed behind him. left alone, with your thoughts only growing louder. you couldn’t help but scrunch your eyes shut, your hand clutching your head as your fingers buried themselves under your hair.

behind that door, gojo stood as he took a deep breath. he had burned your face into his memory, his brain fading back into images of your eyes — so piercing, always searching into his own, whether that was for the better or worst remained unknown in both his and your mind. as always, you had come, you had seen, and you had loved.

as he walked out to where utahime and gakuganji were waiting, he couldn’t help but think about you. satoru gojo could be held down by anybody, with all of their might — and be stabbed with sharpest of swords and the strongest of curses, but he’d never stop loving you. because you had never stopped loving him. satoru gojo had never stopped being seen by you; for he wasn’t the strongest, merely satoru.

𐙚 taglist ; @seternic @sad-darksoul

𐙚 requests are open — june twenty second, 2024

[symbiotic-slime]

NEW TRAILER THURSDAY!!!! also I am unwell

[mischiefbuckley]

THIS FREAKING SCENE!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ve already talked about this scene before, but again it made me fall in love with Eddie’s character even more

The vulnerability Eddie has with Buck here is one of those special moments between them because again it proves how vital and important Buck has become to the Diaz family like Christopher called Buck and Buck rushed over because he didn’t know what was happening with Eddie and he rushes over again because he’s worried not only as a best friend, but also in regards to Christopher

Eddie saying that not only demonstrates how he’s taking back some control from what was taken from him in his childhood growing up in Texas and how he was expected to not feel any emotions at all because he is the man of the house and again being vulnerable enough to cry in front of someone else in a moment of a crisis and be completely honest with that person as well with how you are truly feeling speaks volumes to the trust you have with them.

Also it’s interesting with the word choice of the word normal being used in this context because what does Edmundo Diaz even begin to classify as normal and what does he believe would be normal because again anything he grew up from his family to his siblings to his parents to his marriage to his culture is all embedded under the religious beliefs of Catholicism and we have the season 5 opening episode called “Panic” which is a callback in the episode to how Eddie has a panic attack because someone refers to his current girlfriend as Christopher’s mom while they are out shopping for new suits and then we have Eddie breaking things off with Ana a few episodes later because he panicked over the idea of being a ready-made family so again this use of the word normal is just something because he already has that family unit with Buck again because Buck is always there for Eddie and for Christopher like Eddie literally put Buck down as Christopher’s legal guardian in his will after the well incident, so again this use of the word normal by Eddie is very fascinating with all this context and all the changes that Eddie took upon himself during season 5

[lilacjunimo]

“You must be Crosshair. Tech told me all about your sparkling personality.”

“Any friend of brown eyes is a friend of mine.”

[milimeters-morales]

top ten reasons to live: this !!!!!