#tampon book

[arson-09]

Tamlin is actually such an underrated character in acotar. Because of feyres very biased narrative she forces readers to ignore the complexity of his character and man. its sad

Tamlin is a character who is genuinely GOOD at his core. He changed so much of the spring court for good, eliminating slavery within the spring lands and mortals having more protection. Hes a morally good character that made a few mistakes and is boiled down to just those mistakes. Locking feyre in the house and the magical/emotional blow up, which are both pretty decent fuck ups (i dont think siding with hybern fully counts as he was a double agent all along and tamlin was decently justified in thinking feyre was being kept against her will. lets be fr here) and even after he’s extremely fucked over by the nightcourt, his lands and court burned to shit, he still saves rhysand. Saves rhysand and tells feyre to be happy, even when he has every reason to NOT do that!

Hes a character that clearly holds himself to a higher standard. throughout acotar he puts lucien and feyres safety above his own, even sending feyre away when she was the only one who could save him. Even though what he did to her wasnt great its not completely irredeemable, rhysand did much worse things to feyre and other people but hes living his best life while Tamlin seems to find himself unworthy of being a person (acosf wheres hes been in beast form for roughly over two years) hes a perfectionist who now doesnt even think he deserves anyone because he accidentally hurt the people he loves most.

Sjm accidentally created a beautifully rich and morally righteous character who is so extremely fucked by the narrative. Which doesnt even work half the time as sjm cant seemingly commit to making him a full villain (seemingly by accident again she gave him quite a reasonable explanation to everything he did ‘wrong’ but still chooses to make him a punching bag)

If Tamlin was genuinely a morally evil character he wouldnt have NEARLY the amount of fans as he does. Hes a character that requires the minimum amount of media literacy and comprehension to understand and i LOVE him.

[gaytobymeres]

My essentials for a solo day out

[spaceshipkat]

STOP SAYING UNALIVE DEAD IS NOT A BAD WORD OH MY GOD

[haroldhighballjordan]

really obsessed with boy!dad Bruce Wayne and his one perfect princess of a daughter of whom he’s had minimal conflict with now suffering under the reign of feral granddaughters he has absolutely no control over. All of his boys end up having daughters. Dick has a daughter. Jason has two daughters. Tim and Kon get married and end up adopting a daughter. Duke inevitably ends up having a daughter. And Zaydee Bruce is, of course, always willing to babysit. He’ll never say no. But he is so unbelievably out of his element. What’s he supposed to do with them? Should he really be allowing them to go out dressed like that? Mar’i, dear god, please stop shooting star bolts inside the house, sweetie.

[rosenecklaces]

girl who cares what the archeron sisters bat boys helion mor or even lulu been doing around people has been appearing from the skies or has been decapitated there's rape kidnapping and abuse. let's grow the fuck up every single character has been shitty at least once

[trueloveandotherscificoncepts]

Fr someone take my credit card away from me.

Here's some close up details.

And here's where they live on my library shelf.

If you want to be irresponsible with your money too, you can buy your own vampons here.

[venoumousbunni]

Spoilers for A Court of Wings and Ruin

“The sun was shining when I left you.”

“When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes”

DAMN, FEYRE— FUCKING KILL HIM

And fuck you Tampon

this is gonna be a good ass chapter

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nathalie Baptiste at HuffPost:

For the last four years, conservative and right-wing activists and pundits have been engaged in a culture war that demonizes racial justice, the LGBTQ community and progressive ideals. So, when presumptive Democratic nominee Vice President Kamala Harris announced Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz (D) as her running mate on Tuesday, the culture warriors immediately dusted off their old playbook to attack Walz. Walz, a veteran and former teacher, has been a champion of LGBTQ rights, public education and racial equality — a platform that is anathema to Republican ideology. As governor, he approved a measure that would provide free menstrual products to public schools, including putting them in both girls and boys bathrooms.

Scandalized by the idea, Chaya Raichik, the person behind the Libs of TikTok account, which is dedicated to smearing the LGBTQ community, began calling Walz “Tampon Tim,” suggesting that he should be embarrassed by advocating for period products. But studies have shown that there is still a lot of stigma around menstruation, and 23% of students struggle to afford their own pads and tampons. Elsewhere, Fox News’ Jesse Watters recently took aim at Minnesota’s new flag, which debuted this year, and blamed Walz for the change. “This guy changed the flag of the state to look more like Somalia,” Watters claimed this week. The old flag, which was introduced in 1957, depicted a white man plowing the land while an Indigenous person rode horseback. Native communities in Minnesota asserted that the flag promoted the removal of Indigenous people from the land.

The new flag design was conceived by a state commission created by the legislature. While Walz did sign the bill creating that commission into law, he played no part in the design process. Also, the star design that conservatives allege was a copy of the Somalian flag was actually intended to be a literal representation of the state motto, “The Star of the North.” But that hasn’t stopped conservatives and right-wing figures from making false claims like this and others about Walz. During a recent Fox News appearance, Stephen Miller, who was a senior adviser to Trump, said Walz and Harris would “turn the entire Midwest into Mogadishu,” also citing Walz’s backing of refugee resettlement programs. Meanwhile, Angela Morabito, the spokesperson for the Defense of Freedom Institute, a conservative nonprofit, posted claims on social media Tuesday that Walz kept “pornographic books in Minnesota schools” and “promoted critical race theory.”

These are popular lies among conservatives and right-wingers, who have spent the last three years attempting to ban books that promote racial equality or have LGBTQ themes from schools by falsely claiming they are sexually explicit or harmful to children.

But some of the most unhinged attacks have come from Christopher Rufo, a conservative activist who is largely credited with manufacturing a panic about critical race theory and helping Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ (R) takeover of the New College, a small liberal arts school in Florida. In a series of social media posts filled with lies, Rufo said Tuesday that Walz “shouts ‘trans women are women’ in the shower,” “knows that child castration is life-saving, gender-affirming care” and “speaks fluent critical race theory.”

The right-wing attacks on Minnesota Governor and Kamala Harris running mate Tim Walz are weird, especially the fake outrage about tampons in schools for grades 4-12 and the redesign of the Minnesota flag.

[straightasaaro]

A very suspicious little pattern

Call me crazy, but I’ve gotten through two very popular book series and one tv show adaptation (and a friend who read the books of that adaption) and I’ve noticed a little something.

Each series includes a scorn love interest of the badass mc who, if already isn’t abusive to her, does:

kill one of her (could be found) family members

Chase her through all the lands

ignore her demands to leave her the fuck alone or that she has no interest in him anymore

put her through general hell

hurt her or her (found) family members a lot

and yet some how, by the end of the book series, a lot of fans love this very toxic man despite all listed above. They usually list this as their reasons:

he’s conventionally attractive

he’s said that he did it all out of protection of the mc

he has trauma

I don’t get it. Yes someone can have trauma and want to protect someone, but when the want to protect trumps the respect he has for the mc as a person who can make her own decisions; that’s not love. Trauma does not excuse his (usually murderous) actions. Especially when he’s inflicting trauma on the mc and all her friends as well.

I want to know why these fandoms romanticize toxic, borderline abusive men who won’t take no for an answer from someone they supposedly love.

please don’t start a war in the replies; I just genuinely want to know 🥲

[holmesoldfellow]

c. 1900 copy of "Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes" by A. Conan Doyle (published by A. L. Burt Company)

[alessandro55]

Rachid Koraïchi 7 Variations autour de l'indigo

René Guitton, Danièle Giraudy

Photographies Jean Bernard, Rachid Koraïchi, Jean Pierre Linuésa

Éditions Alors Du Temple/Musées de Marseille, 2003, 48 pages, 21x27,5cm, ISBN 978291793248

euro 40,00

email if you want to buy : booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

Exposition du 28 janvier au mars 2003 Galeries de la Vieille Charité, Musées de Marseille

Associant les techniques ancestrales des tampons de bois en usage à Alep (Syrie) et la couleur traditionnelle des indigotiers marseillais, R. Koraïchi a créé de nouvelles étoffes : aujourd'hui exposées sous forme de bannières ou de carrés, elles se déclinent autour du chiffre 7 et de sa mystique.   L'artiste méditait. Il était venu chercher l'inspiration dans cette cité vieille de plusieurs millénaires. Alep au nord de la Syrie. Comme les couleurs voyagent, il voulait retrouver des traces de bleu sur cette route de l'Inde d'où venait l'indigo. Car en Alep, au fil des siècles, cette teinture avait été l'objet de nombreuses études dont certains secrets furent peu à peu révélés: indigo mêlé d'écorce de grenade avec addition d'eau de dattes ou de suc de raisin noir broyé ou de figues piétinées. Ces macérations étranges conféraient à l'indigo d'Alep une haute réputation dans toute la Méditerranée, Rachid Koraïchi souhaitait aussi acquérir de la soie, chiner de ces tampons anciens que les imprimeurs de tissu utilisaient encore au début du XXe siècle. Il les mêlerait aux siens qu'il allait créer ici, inspiré, comme nulle part ailleurs, par les étoffes imprimées. L'ambassade de France, à Damas, et les responsables des services culturels, sensibles au projet à ce point prometteur lui accordèrent une aide chaleureuse et il fut hébergé en une demeure, vestige du Mandat français, toute proche de la citadelle. L'artiste allait y travailler en paix et remonter la mémoire de l'indigo et des routes de la soie.

23/09/23

[cuntwrap--supreme]

I keep loads of basic supplies in my car because there are so many homeless people in my city. I'm leaving the gym, and this dude stops and asks for a light. While I'm handing him my lighter, he asks if I have any water. I say I only have Gatorade right now, and move to my trunk and tell him he's welcome to anything he needs back there. He picks up some soap, sniffs it, and says, "This is all garbage. Nobody wants this," and left. And, like, I'm not sure if I need to rethink what I'm stocking my car with or if he was just an asshole.

[ervotica]

i’m mad that sjm made lucien sad and not snarky anymore

[cosmicrhetoric]

you know it's my own fault for reading it in one sitting but i can't even tell if i liked chlorine. it really really achieved what it was trying to do but i fr kept getting distracted by how realistic the locker room/team sports culture was........even the gay stuff. especially the gay stuff.

[rosenecklaces]

I'm tired of this overused argument but like, pointing out rhysand countless mistakes/ trying to paint feyre like this underlying woman who actually was the cause of tamlin downfall is moronic as hell. Like I don't know how to tell tam fuckers than spitting about rhys instance of canon asshole-ry doesn't make your ugly ass blonde husband less of an asshole either or erase the fact he's-an-abuser. He aaalways had anger issues BEFORE his ptsd that fucking lulu himself was witness of. Sure, Rhys is messed up especially in the first ones, I'm not particularly opposed to that, but one character flaws doesn't mean another one is free from theirs all of a sudden lmao

And again, blaming a fucking victim perfect or not, from A MAN'S actions is plain old misogyny and just dumb all together. He's a woman's beater and yall should just dealt with it like damn fucking adults with pubic hair already

[fushitoru]

i don't wanna lose this with you a spiderman gojo fic

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ an amalgation of misunderstandings and stress lead to a very big fight between you and satoru, but you certainly don't expect the way he wins you back.

warnings ⸺ college au, spiderman!au, angst, hurt/comfort, i warn you reader might infurate you, but she's just a woman in stem :(, tooth rotting fluff bc he's a loser for his gf, not edited sue me

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

a/n you'll probably need to read the first installation (nsfw, so mdni) to understand this one :3

general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list

you've blocked gojo on all platforms.

you don't really remember what caused the "break up" (you didn't really break up). maybe it's the fact that you've been stressed about grad school admissions, your dorm's floor was covered in his boxers, and he's never been able to visit you pre-3am these days. somehow, the city's criminals are determined to keep your boyfriend away from you, and maybe it was your pms, or maybe it was truly just because satoru is annoying. regardless, it's when you guys have plans that's not an impromptu healing-gojo's-wounds-in-your-dorm-at-3am sesh and you're waiting at the coffee shop that you explode.

because he was supposed to arrive ten minutes ago, and when you move to go to the bathroom, you see him. through the window, his white hair is never not noticeable, and who you see next to him makes you falter.

he's standing next to a girl with blue tinted silver hair that you recognize as mei mei, and she's gripping his upper arm as she smiles while looking at his face, his lips with such fuck me eyes that you could tell they were having some sort of intimate conversation.

and if it were an ideal day, you would know that it's all a misunderstanding, you would know your boyfriend is someone you trust. but, again, the cards were stacked against you, and the only things that go through your mind all make your eyes all glossy. he's late to the one date that you planned because you and him were finally free at the same time and you've been busy because you've been desperately applying for internships because unlike your boyfriend you don't have a plethora of papers and coding experience and you've been getting four hours of sleep on average this week and ugh you've heard a rumor that satoru used to hook up with her and fuck now your tampon is poking at you in the wrong way—

great. now tears are fully streaming down your cheeks. in public.

as you rush to the table where your stuff is your vision is so blurry that you also almost fall flat on your face as you stumble over the legs of chairs and tables. blurting out a ensemble of choked up sorry's and excuse me's you hurriedly gather your laptop and notebooks in your backpack and book it for the exit.

the biting cold stings at your face, but you nevertheless determinedly move in the opposite direction of where satoru and mei mei are situated, praying your boyfriend doesn't recognize you. however, it seems that the heavens are working against you because you hear a yelled "baby?"

you don't look back because you know a new set of tears will leave your eyes, and with it being finals season, you're not very hydrated to being with. but you hear footsteps running towards you and fuck your boyfriend's long ass legs because he quickly catches up to you. then, he grabs your hands, attempting to stop you from running away and face him.

"baby," he breathes, baby blue eyes looking into yours as he moves to kiss your forehead. you stay silent, pinning your gaze to the ground while shivering. "where are you going? aren't we supposed to hang out right now?"

look, you and gojo have a good relationship. but recently, things have gotten...strenuous lately. you guys haven't been communicating, and it might not help that half of your calorie intake was from energy drinks. or perhaps what lead you to say what you said next was driven entirely by the brain eating mold on your unwashed dishes, but dumb excuses aside, you sneer. "shouldn't you be busy doing that with mei mei, instead?"

a small part of you--the part that knows you shouldn't be like this--feels relief that hurt doesn't immediately flash across his eyes, only confusion. but lack of sleep has not only stripped away at your sanity but also your people pleasing and overthinking tendencies, leaving you only as a girl frustrated, even irrationally angry, with her boyfriend. so you only avert your gaze when he dumbfoundedly asks, "what?"

"what do you mean, "what?"" you scoff, wrenching your hand from his grasp. "you were ten minutes late to our meet-up, gojo." it is at your use of his last name, instead of your sweet my love, that the hurt you've been looking for flashes across his eyes. he moves to speak but you cut him off, no longer wishing to be here with him. "if you're so busy talking to bitches you hooked up with before, why did you even bother saying yes to hanging out with me?"

he looks at you in confusion, eyes quickly flitting back and forth across you. then, slowly, as if he's still processing the weight of your accusations, he says, "i don't exactly know what you're referring to, but let's calm down---"

and you see red.

"calm down?" you snap, voice sharp and icy, just like the wind stinging your cheeks. "did you seriously just tell me to calm down? you were late again, gojo, and i find you chatting it up with her?" you practically spit the word, arms crossing as a flimsy defense against both the cold and the ache building in your chest.

satoru blinks, his confusion genuine, but you’re too far gone to care. "wait—mei mei? is this about mei mei? she's not—"

"don’t you dare finish that sentence," you cut him off, your voice rising as your blood boils hotter. "i don't want to hear how she's just a friend, or how it's not what it looks like. i’m so tired of hearing the same bullshit excuses."

"baby, you're jumping to conclusions—"

"and you’re jumping at the chance to look like an idiot in public," you snap, your hands trembling now, either from the cold or your rising fury. "god, what do you even say to her? let me guess, you go around telling girls you're spider-man to get into their pants, huh? bet that works like a charm."

the accusation hits like a slap, and for the first time, satoru looks genuinely stunned, his mouth falling open slightly. "what the hell are you even saying right now?"

"am i wrong?" you let out a bitter laugh, one that echoes in the frosty air. "you’re late to the one date i actually planned, and i see you with her, all cozy, like i’m not even waiting for you. like i don’t even matter."

his eyebrows knit together, frustration mixing with something softer. "you seriously think i’d—"

"i don’t know what to think anymore, satoru!" the words burst out of you, your voice cracking as hot tears well in your eyes. "all i know is that i can’t keep feeling like this. like i’m some afterthought while you’re out doing—whatever it is you do. swinging through the city or flirting with your exes or—" you choke on the words, wiping at your cheeks furiously as the tears spill over. "just forget it. i’m done."

"wait." his voice is quieter now, more desperate as he steps toward you, his hand reaching out. "baby, come on, we can talk about this—"

"no," you say firmly, jerking your hand away before he can grab it. "i’m blocking you. on everything." then, mockingly, "you can figure out how to save the world without me."

his eyes widen, his mouth opening like he’s about to plead or argue, but you don’t wait for him to speak. you turn on your heel and storm away, the cold wind biting at your skin as the lump in your throat grows heavier.

you don’t look back. not when he calls your name, not when you hear his footsteps falter. you just keep walking.

it’s 3 a.m., and you don’t know if you exist.

well, you do, but after how light you feel after you’ve cried a disgusting amount, you just lie down on your floor staring at the ceiling and contemplating the meaning of life. or more specifically, the meaning of your life, which right now feels like it’s revolving around nothing but stress and a breakup you don’t even fully understand.

you wouldn’t be having these problems if you were a childless cat lady.

but alas, you’re just a college student. in the few days where you haven’t seen satoru, you’ve finished all your finals—miraculously, considering the fragile state of your emotional wellbeing—and now you’re finally on break in your dorm. you’re supposed to go back home in two days, but the thought of packing feels like trying to climb a mountain barefoot. you can’t summon the energy to do anything except wallow in your self-pity and selfishness, letting it wrap around you like a weighted blanket that’s somehow comforting and suffocating all at once.

you’d like to say this is rock bottom, but truthfully, it’s worse than that. because rock bottom implies a kind of finality—a place to push off from. this? this feels more like you’re sinking in quicksand, the weight of everything dragging you further down.

in your stress and impulsiveness, you’ve managed to kill your entire grind for internships. deadlines have slipped past while you spent hours doom-scrolling job boards and second-guessing every application. the ambitious, career-focused version of yourself feels like a stranger now, buried under the weight of your own doubts and insecurities. and on top of that, you may have potentially lost the love of your life.

it’s laughable, really, how thoroughly you’ve managed to self-destruct in such a short time. the worst part? you can’t even bring yourself to check your socials. if you unblock him and see there aren’t any messages, you think your heart might shatter completely. which, if you’re being honest, isn’t exactly fair to him. you’re the one who had the meltdown. you’re the one who blocked him on everything. he probably doesn’t even know what he did wrong because you didn’t even communicate anything.

your stomach twists at the thought, guilt mingling with the ever-present ache of missing him. he was supposed to be the one person who made everything feel a little less impossible, and now you’ve pushed him away.

there has got to be a taylor swift song for this.

so you make your way to your spotify account to listen to afterglow, putting in your airpods while somberly looking at the ceiling once again as the lyrics fill your ears. tears well up as soon as the lyrics start

i blew things out of proportion, now you're blue⸻

tears well up before you can stop them, hot and heavy as they trail down your cheeks. god, you’re a mess. and yet, as much as you hate it, you can’t seem to stop the flood of thoughts that follow.

you miss him. you miss the way he made you laugh even when you were on the verge of tears, the way his ridiculous confidence somehow made you feel like everything would work out. you miss how he’d stay up late just to facetime you when you were overwhelmed with schoolwork, how he always seemed to know exactly when you needed him most.

and now? now you’ve gone and ruined it. maybe he’s angry, maybe he’s hurt, or worse—maybe he’s just done with you entirely.

the thought makes your chest ache, your breaths coming in shallow and uneven as the lyrics hit their crescendo.

i need to say, hey, it’s all me, in my head—

then, suddenly the song changes. you frown as you hear early 2010's pop blast through your ears.

i threw a wish in the well, don't ask me i'll never tell⸻

why the fuck is call me maybe playing?

annoyed and rubbing at your eyes, you move the change it back to, now, the sad girl hours playlist spotify curated for your and assume your dead fish position on the floor once again.

however, it seems as if your spotify is genuinely tweaking, like it's realized it’s gotten your attention. when call me maybe starts playing again, you groan out loud and move your phone. but before you have a chance to switch the song again, it seems to switch.

baby by justin bieber.

call me, blondie.

i love you, i'm sorry, gracie abrams.

letstalkaboutit, aminé.

i don't understand but i luv you, seventeen.

please please please, sabrina carpenter.

and then, once more, as if to really drive the point home: call me maybe, carly rae jepsen.

again, it's 3am, and you're stuck in a surreal mix of grief and confusion, staring at your phone as your spotify queue seems to have gained sentience. each song feels like a pleading nudge, an unmistakable pattern forming, and your blood runs cold when you remember one very important fact.

you share a spotify account with satoru.

"carly rae jepsen," you mutter under your breath, a mix of exasperation and fondness bubbling up despite yourself. he's hijacking your queue. right in the middle of your emo songs.

you sit up abruptly, tossing your airpods onto the bed, and hover over the call button on your phone. there’s a split second of hesitation—your pride battling with your longing—before you give in and press it.

the line rings twice before his voice comes through, breathless, like he’s been pacing. "baby?"

the sound of his voice sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, sharp and raw like an open wound. the sound of his voice makes your stomach twist uncomfortably, equal parts relief and guilt. "satoru," you say, barely above a whisper. "why are you messing with our spotify?"

"why am i messing with our spotify?" he echoes, his tone incredulous. "why did you block me on literally everything? what was i supposed to do—send you a letter by carrier pigeon?"

you wince at the edge in his voice, your earlier anger wilting under the weight of his hurt. "i… i don’t know," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can catch them. "i was upset, and i wasn’t thinking straight. i shouldn’t have done that."

"yeah, you shouldn’t have," he says, still sounding a little indignant, though there’s something softer beneath it now. "do you know how many songs i had to go through to make my point? do you know how hard it was to resist the urge to rickroll you instead?" then, there’s a pause on his end, the line suddenly feeling too quiet. then he sighs, his voice softening into something that feels too much like an apology. "i didn’t know what else to do. i hate not talking to you. i hate knowing i made you upset, even if i don’t entirely understand why."

you close your eyes, the lump in your throat returning with a vengeance. the silence stretches between you, thick and unbearable, until you finally break it. "i’m sorry," you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "i shouldn’t have blown up at you like that.” and now that the dam has been broken, it all comes rushing out as you start choking up. “i’ve just been so stressed, and i’ve been missing you and then i saw you with her and then got irrationally angry when i really should’ve trusted you and oh my god i’m like a possessive tradwife husband that doesn’t let you leave the farm i’m sorry and i didn’t even communicate before i blew up at you like that—”

"hey. hey, hey, it’s okay," he says immediately, his tone filled with an earnestness that makes your chest tighten. "i know things have been hard for you. i should’ve been better, too. more present. i hate that you’ve been feeling like this while i’ve been...doing spider-man things." then, he lets out a dramatic sigh, the kind that’s equal parts exasperation and playfulness. "but wasn’t fair,” and you can hear a whine in his voice, “you blocked me and then ghosted me like i’m some kind of random tinder match. do you have any idea how insane i felt when i couldn’t even check to see if you were okay? i thought you hated me."

your breath catches at his words, guilt twisting like a knife in your chest. "i don’t hate you," you say quickly, the words spilling out in a rush. "i could never hate you. i was just… stupid, and emotional, and i didn’t know how to handle everything piling up. i’m so, so sorry, satoru."

there’s a pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, a little more vulnerable. "then why did you say those things? about mei mei, and… and me using the spider-man thing to get into girls’ pants."

you bite your lip, the memory of your harsh words making your throat tighten. "i didn’t mean any of it," you whisper. "i was just lashing out, and i know it wasn’t fair to you. i know you’d never do something like that, and i trust you, satoru. i just… i let my insecurities get the better of me."

"wait," he interrupts, his voice laced with amusement that shouldn’t make your heart ache the way it does. "you actually think i’d use the spider-man thing as a pickup line? that’s...wow. that’s genius. i should write that down."

"satoru!" you exclaim, half-laughing, half-crying, your emotions unraveling all over again. "i’m being serious!"

"i know, i know," he says, but you can hear the smile in his voice, warm and teasing. "and i’m being serious, too. i’d never do that to you. mei mei’s just...she tripped in front of me, i was just helping her up. i didn’t even realize how it must’ve looked, but i’ve never done anything with her. you’re it for me, okay? always."

you sniffle, wiping at your cheeks as your heart swells and aches all at once. "you mean that?"

"of course i do," he says, his voice soft and sincere in a way that makes your breath hitch. "i love you, even when you block me on everything and make me resort to spotify warfare." he sighs again, but this time it’s softer, the warmth in his voice breaking through his remaining irritation. "i’m not mad. i mean, i was mad, but mostly i was just upset. you really hurt my feelings, you know?"

the lump in your throat grows, your guilt threatening to choke you. "i know," you say, your voice cracking. "i’m so sorry, satoru. i’ll make it up to you, i promise."

"oh, you will make it up to me," he says, the teasing edge returning to his tone. "i want a week of boyfriend privileges—no complaining when i steal your fries, no making fun of my movie picks, and you’re buying me snacks for at least three of those days."

a small smile tugs at your lips despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. "deal," you say softly.

there’s a pause on his end, and then his voice comes through the line, quieter but no less sincere. "you really mean it? you’re not still mad at me?"

"i’m not mad," you say, your voice thick with emotion. "i was never really mad at you, satoru. i was mad at everything else, and i took it out on you. but i’m not mad anymore. i just… i miss you."

"i miss you too," he says, and the raw honesty in his voice---the subtle way it chokes up, as if he had been crying and missing you too---makes your chest ache. "so, can i come over? or are you going to make me keep hijacking your playlists to get your attention?"

you laugh softly, the sound tinged with relief. "just come over already, you dummy. and bring snacks. good ones."

"done," he says, his grin audible through the phone. "i’ll be there in twenty. and for the record, you owe me at least a whole playlist dedicated to how amazing i am and you sucking the absolute soul out of my dick---."

"don’t push your luck," you reply, but there’s no heat in your words, only warmth (and you’re absolutely going to suck his soul out of his cock). regardless, for the first time in days, the tightness in your chest starts to ease, replaced by something lighter, something whole.

general masterlist | spiderman!gojo m. list

a/n he's so cute :( i'll keep on writing stuff for them whether it be small fics like this or long ass fics. i think my next one is gonna be freaky if you guys are nice to this one

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