#so i’m sleepy

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

WHY IS EVERYONE SAYING GOJO IS ATTRACTED TO OLDER WOMEN???

Gege never said that pls, he said that if he could ever imagine himself as anything other than a jujutsu sorcerer which is a “probably not” and then a freeloader and swallow was mentioned

Where tf is him being attracted to older women mentioned???? Also we can say that it insinuates him being separated from him mother from a young age causing him to have mommy issues AND he needs someone to love and care for him not that he needs an older rich woman

Let’s not forget how there’s so much emphasis on him needing someone to understand him.. An older rich woman is not what he needs…. He’s already filthy dirt rich 🙏

A younger girl can also understand and love and care for him?? Like let’s not make up gojos preferences for age which ironically alot of older women are doing all over social media rn with this tiny piece of information that never specified his preferences

ITS PISSING ME OFF ARIIII HOPE YOU GET ME HERE 💔💔💔

😭😭😭 WELL . honestly i don’t see gojo liking women period in the manga so i might not be the best person to ask here anon……….

hmmmmm honestly i don’t have a problem with people saying he likes older women? it’s seems mostly harmless to me? :3 overall i don’t think he’s the type to fixate on age too much though…

anyway. if you want more info on the interview question then please check out soukatsu’s tweets <33 they went over both terms akutami used to describe gojo, ヒモ and ツバメ!! the former seems to imply a degree of uselessness (freeloader, leech, etc) while the latter is less derogatory and more so just… a younger guy who dates older women + lives off their money. i have zerooo clue if these terms are used only for hetero relationships or if they’re also used for men living off their older bf’s money, and so on, but yeah!! those are the terms :3

if you wanna be reeeally technical and clear cut then i think it’s kinda obvious this is a bit of a troll answer 😭 akutami is basically calling gojo a useless leech in the first part LMAO. but i do think it says something about gojo’s character!! my own take is that when he does fantasize about not being a sorcerer (which, like akutami said - it’s unlikely that he ever does), he fantasizes about being pampered and free from responsibility <3 as he should be!!!!!

as for the mommy issues 👀👀👀 i will always support gojo having them. i think it adds flavour to his character. but i definitely don’t think that’s what akutami was implying with that answer 😭 i doubt gojo thinks about his mother much at all. but the idea of him having a subconscious longing for maternal love is tasty to me… for hurt/comfort purposes….

anyway <3 bottom line, i definitely agree that gojo would need someone who understands him (even if i don’t think anyone really could). when he falls for someone i think he sticks to them no matter what, and i doubt age is a real factor in that :3 don’t get me wrong i do think he deserves a hot sugar daddy boyfriend but that’s just me being me. i really don’t see him caring about age much at all!!!

[mysillycomics]

[sainthomura]

[anna-scribbles]

resolutions

[vixvigil]

[timethehobo]

Tfw Rook keeps dropping by and aggressively picks all the romance options.

[lochlot]

morgwen study

[koolaidashley]

Ykw I get it me too man

[verocitea]

Sorry for disappearing for the entirety of November, have some doodles 🤲

[evilandfilthyginger]

he’s venus as a boyyyy

i’m so freaking tired how do people make actual comics oh my gyatt. just little baby mini ones knock me out i’m not built for this

[biirdex]

The Mymble + some couples

[daeyumi]

we r exploring a dungeon

[soupfather]

Erm, what the flip guys

[sincerelybubbles]

btw Spencer would always know when you’re feeling sad

He would practically smell it walking in the door — it’s his job to notice the signs

The indent on the couch, your favorite blanket discarded on the floor instead of tucked neatly away

The way your smile doesn’t tilt up on one side like it does when you smile in genuine happiness

The way laughs come out just as frequently as before, caught with a too small smile and just loud enough volume

The way you take deeper breaths then normal, regulating yourself quietly

The way you linger in your head a little more then usual, hesitating before doing little mannerisms you usually do without thought, habitually (tapping your toothbrush on the sink, filling your water bottle, tracing a finger along the spine on the back of his neck)

Little things, minuscule, that you don’t think about. It goes a step beyond his training and further into knowing you. He has the instinct built specifically for identifying everything about you, a draw from his center to catalogue every movement you make. Any variance in movement, any insincerity in your bones, any wariness clinging sharply in your heart, is noted and filed away in his head

He loves you, achingly so. Enough to know not to say anything. Enough to notice, to know so instinctually that pointing it out will only make it worse. Somehow, he knows how to make it better, too.

He can’t say what part of him tells him the right things to do, he just does. He makes your tea slightly sweeter without thought. Picks out a comfort show for you without having to be asked, no conversation about it. Places the blanket from the floor onto your lap when he settles down next to you. Traces fingers through your hair and lets his touch linger

Hands, tired and built for turning pages and work from the handle of his gun, settle on your back as you cook. In your hair as you brush your teeth. On your calf as you read on the cough with him. On your shoulder blades, gently, not prodding, as you fall asleep.

“I love you,” he murmurs in as many languages he knows to soothe you to sleep, lips catching on the skin between your earlobe and jawline. He wants to tell you that you matter more than it all. That he’s a first of what he would do for you. That he’s takes every breath in anticipation of using the air to talk to you. That he thinks of you, always, in a gentle hum turned on low in the back of his mind.

“Te quiero,” will have to do, though, in a butchered accent, one exaggerated enough to bring a genuine, sleep scented, giggle from your chest

[steddieas-shegoes]

for @thefreakandthehair (and @vecnuthy and @wormdebut while we’re at it) because sometimes you help a baseball player through French class so they can stay on the team and then they end up on the Savannah bananas and you decide to put the fictional men into situations about it *shrugs*

Eddie was going to have to transfer out of this class. This was one of his easiest classes and it was filled with every jock on campus attempting to fill their foreign language requirement with French.

And they were all failing. And annoying. And obnoxious.

And a few of them were also hot.

But Eddie wasn’t gonna focus on that!

He was gonna finish today’s assignment and then head straight to the advising office to find another class that worked with his work schedule.

“Hey,” the guy next to him whispered as the teacher droned on about conjugating verbs. “Do you have any idea what the fuck the homework was?”

Eddie turned to glare at the person, but his face dropped when he noticed who it was.

The campus celebrity: Steve Harrington.

Couldn’t quite make it on the college baseball team, but managed to make the sort-of professional, but mostly joke team Hawkins Hooligans.

Eddie didn’t like sports, never had. He could appreciate that it took skill and whatnot, but he didn’t care much to watch it or make celebrities of people who were just really good at one very specific thing usually involving some kind of ball. But he could appreciate a joke. And this team had jokes.

Steve was actually apparently good enough to play pro, had even been scouted by the MLB his senior year of high school. One week before his professional tryout, he tore a muscle in his shoulder, had to sit for three months and had to do physical therapy for another three, and voila! No pro ball for him. No college either since he missed spring training.

But he still had skill, and he still had a father with a lot of pull in the business, even if it wasn’t quite enough to get him on the Yankees or whatever.

So he was biding his time on the Hooligans until next year when he could try out for the college team again, maybe increase his chances of a real pro career.

Eddie definitely hadn’t watched videos of him during their first few games of the season where they faced the Indy Idols and the Chicago Charades.

He definitely hadn’t gotten a weird flutter in his stomach when Steve had been the one to lip sync to Hot For Teacher while pretending his bat was a guitar.

He definitely didn’t have a crush on Steve.

“Uh. Dude?” Steve asked him again, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. It was the study guide for the first quiz. Not due until next class though,” he whispered back.

“Oh. Thanks.”

Eddie turned his attention back to the professor, not really needing to pay attention since he already knew quite a bit of French.

A tap on his shoulder made him yelp, and the entire room turned to him. He waved apologetically before turning to Steve with a murderous look.

“What?” He hissed out.

“Do you understand this?”

“Yes and you probably would too if you stopped talking to me.”

Eddie was ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to let Steve keep talking to him for as long as he wanted.

“I don’t think that’s it,” Steve huffed before sitting back in his seat and folding his arms across his chest. He mumbled something else that sounded like ‘I’m just stupid’ but Eddie couldn’t be 100% sure.

“A lot of this stuff is just English spelled a little differently.” Eddie sighed. “You could almost definitely figure it out if you took some notes.”

“Yeah, probably.”

Eddie’s brows scrunched together as he glanced at Steve’s red face.

Hm. There was definitely something to unpack here.

“You can borrow mine if you want,” Eddie offered as he watched the professor switch slides on the presentation. “I don’t really need them until the final.”

“Oh!” Steve sounded genuinely surprised by his offer, like he hadn’t been basically asking for help only a moment ago. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, it wouldn’t do much good for me anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Steve had Eddie’s full attention now.

“I’m. I-“ Steve sighed. “I’m dyslexic, man. Reading’s hard for me.”

Well, fuck. Eddie felt like an asshole now.

“Oh.” Eddie looked down at his scribbled notes, cringing at the thought of someone else trying to read them, let alone someone who already struggled with reading from a printed page. “Yeah, my handwriting is shit so it’d probably be useless to you. Shit, it’s almost useless to me.”

Steve snorted, immediately covering his mouth to avoid any more noise from escaping. Eddie could see he was still smiling though. His eyes were very expressive.

“Don’t you have accommodations?” Eddie asked him.

“Nah, my dad doesn’t believe it’s a problem.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Said I just need to focus more and it’ll ‘work itself out.’”

“He sounds like he’s a lot of fun at parties.”

Steve snorted again. “Yeah, a blast.”

“So you aren’t a natural at French?”

Steve shook his head. “I’m barely a natural at English.”

“I could help you?” Eddie was an idiot. An idiot with a crush on someone who would never be interested in anything he had to offer except tutoring.

“Help me? You’d help me?” Steve seemed eager, maybe a little desperate.

Eddie kinda liked that.

“I mean, yeah. If you’re actually willing to put in the work and not expect me to just do the work for you.”

Steve smiled. God, that was a nice smile. Eddie was absolutely fucked.

“I work well with a reward system,” he smirked. “If you’re willing.”

Eddie’s eyes widened momentarily as the realization sunk in that he’d just been flirted with.

By Steve Harrington.

“Oh, I can definitely work with that.”

Steve nodded once, grinned at Eddie as he picked up his pen and ripped off a small piece of his unused notebook paper. He scribbled something down and folded it once before handing it to Eddie.

“Let me know when I need to show up, Eds.”

Eddie unfolded the paper and nearly dropped it.

Stevie H. 555-555-0086 My dorm at 7? No clothes required

When Eddie looked back up, Steve was facing the front, seemingly paying attention to the lecture.

Eddie quickly pulled his phone from his pocket and put Steve’s contact info in. He could wait until after class to send him a text. He could.

Instead, he typed out something quick to hold them both over until later.

Studying naked is my favorite thing 😉

Steve’s knee nudged against his in response.

Maybe Eddie wouldn’t take that trip to advising after all.

And if he was featured on the next TikTok for the Hawkins Hooligans, with Steve fake serenading him in the stands, nobody had to know he didn’t really like sports.

He liked Steve, though. Even when Steve actually managed to play real competitive baseball. Even when Steve managed to get a spot on the Cubs.

Especially when Steve proposed to him during a game in maybe the worst recorded French of all time.