The Audacity Of This Chapter

#EREN AND MIKAKA CABIN ROUTE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#canon

swan song — satoru gojo

summary — why work so hard when you could just be free?

pairing — satoru gojo x f!reader

warnings — major jjk spoilers, graphic depictions of violence, hurt/comfort, angst, happy endings, reader has a cursed technique (mentioned once), established relationship

word count — 1.3k

author’s note — based on swan song by lana del rey. this is the most self indulgent selfship coded thing i’ve ever written but i needed to give gojo the happy ending he deserved idc if its cheesy or out of character

He’s dead.

Dead.

The strongest. Dead. 

Satoru Gojo is dead.

A flash, then his body becomes two — legs here, torso there. 

He’s not moving. Scarlet splatters the ground, blooms like a lily. 

The air is disgustingly thick, and it hangs like a noose, and it cuts your throat. Nobody is breathing. Everybody knows. 

This time, he’s not getting back up. 

A scream claws its way out of your throat, vicious as it pierces through the air. 

Someone else is stepping up to replace him already, a sorcerer with hair like seafoam. The King of Curses turns towards him, his stolen face twisting into a demonic grin, dripping with victory.

Right now there’s just one thing on your mind. Like instinct, like it’s your destiny. You don’t care about the politics, the consequences, the implications of his death. None of it matters.

You just want to be with Satoru.

Your feet are moving. They almost take off, but a steady grip pulls you back. 

“You should leave.” Shoko’s voice quivers as she speaks. You’ve seen her composure crack so rarely that when you do it feels like your first time witnessing it.

Your face is hot, and it’s wet now. Your eyes sting. You don’t try to stop the tears, or even wipe them.

If you were to look up, you’d find eyes full of sorrow and shock and pity—you’re the grieving widow. His students have lost a teacher, his friends have lost a friend. At least I’m not her, they all think, I haven’t lost the love of my life. 

Without another word, without even so much as one final glance at Satoru’s corpse, you leave. You can’t bear to be there any longer. 

The taxi driver does not question why you’re crying. He pretends he does not hear the way you sniffle and gasp for air. He drives you to your home and drives away when you’ve paid him.

You breathe out. Your shoulders sag with relief. You will yourself to stop crying.

He’s in the living room, a thick arm thrown over his eyes as he half-naps. As soon as he hears you enter however, he springs up, beaming like the sun. 

Satoru laughs a little at your puffy face and your glimmering eyes. He gathers you into a hug, his body hard and imposing and warm, and you cling to him. His heart pumps blood around his body and it’s loud in your ears.

“That was traumatic,” you say, but it gets muffled when you bury your face into his chest. He smells fresh, like the wind on a warm day. He must have showered since he teleported home. 

Satoru’s laughing again. You wish he’d never stop. “You knew it was fake the whole time, how bad could it be?”

“I had to watch you die, Satoru! It was horrible even if it was fake,” you admit, tightening your arms around his waist, where his torso meets his legs. 

He laughs, and it reverberates in his chest and rumbles through your body. You’re angry. You can’t climb inside of his skin and live there and you’re angry about it. His giant hands draw circles all over your back.

“I’m here, baby. I’m all yours now,” he tells you. For the first time, he means it without any exceptions.

…

“What if you faked your death?”

Satoru’s head whips over to look at you, scanning your face to find something that will tell him you’re not serious. But you are serious.

One word, he asks, “why?”

“So we can give up being sorcerers and leave Japan and never come back.”

Satoru grows quiet. There’s a pit in your stomach. He tells you constantly that he’d give you the world, and you believe him, and he loves you more than anything, yet he can’t bring himself to give up on humanity. Without him, the world doesn’t stand a chance. He’s the strongest, after all.

“Is that what you want?” he asks. It’s sincere.

“Yes,” you tell him, swallowing as you consider your next words. “I just got you back from the Prison Realm and now you have to fight Sukuna, who might actually kill you… You just give and give so much to the Jujutsu world and what do they give you back? Shit all. And I’m tired of watching you be wrung dry.” 

He’s silent again. All the years that you’ve known him make it easy for you to know what he’s thinking. More than likely he’s thinking of Yuuji and Megumi and Yuuta. Maybe he wonders what Nanami would tell him to do, or what Geto would say.

It’ll be selfish. He’ll be abandoning everyone at the worst possible moment. He turns your words over and over in his head. Then he thinks of a life with you, a peaceful one, where you’ve left behind your days of sorcery, where he doesn’t have to be some pseudo-god. 

Where he can grow old with you.

Perhaps, he thinks, it’s necessary for him to disappear. It’ll be a struggle without him, but he has faith. They’ll persevere. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks eventually.

“I’ll use cursed energy to create a clone of you. Since my clones can’t use cursed techniques it’ll have to be right when Sukuna is about to kill you. You switch out and teleport out of there.”

For a moment he stares at you, then he chuckles, shifting sideways so he can lay on his back and stare at the ceiling with resolve.

“You’ve been thinking about this,” he says. 

“I have,” you say. “For as long as I’ve loved you.”

…

He thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful. 

He’s convinced of it, actually. Life has filled your cheeks out and erased your dark circles away. Your eyes shine brighter. Fear no longer lives in them, nor does hopelessness.

Your fingers are gentle as you pluck fresh, plump tomatoes off the vine. Satoru’s heart swells because you’ve been so excited to harvest them.

“It’s just a handful for now,” you tell him, letting him peer inside the basket you have on your arm. There are a few bunches of rocket and basil leaves, and a small squash too. 

He reaches in, takes a tomato and pretends to take a bite out of it until you snatch it from his hand and scold him. 

“They just look too good, baby,” he says between laughs. You roll your eyes, but you don’t manage to bite back the smile that grows on your lips.

“Go finish building my chicken coop,” you tease, calling him by his last name, the one he took from you, then brushing past him to head back inside your home.

“I told you it’s almost finished!” he exclaims, trailing behind you as you make your way to the vintage renovated kitchen of your house. 

Satoru settles on a stool at the island at the centre, observing the way you rinse the vegetables in the sink. To him it’s fascinating—well, you’re fascinating. The way your brow scrunches slightly with concentration. He hopes you never run out of vegetables to harvest and wash. He’ll make sure you don’t.

“By the way, what do you think about getting some mini goats?”

“I don’t care as long as you take care of them,” you tell him. “Do you want salad or roasted vegetables for lunch?”

Satoru’s heart races. He’s transported back to 2006 for a moment, when for some reason he wanted to be around you all the time and thought it was weird that he liked it when you teased him. Before he realised.

“Roasted vegetables, please. I love you.”

Satoru doesn’t look much different now. He’s gotten a little more toned, put on some muscle from some of the heavy work he does on the farm. 

And when he smiles, he’s not pretending anymore. 

When my friend loses me in a crowd:

Friend: I can’t find her.

Friend: This calls for drastic measures.

Friend: DRACO MALFOY IS EVIL!

-”HE’S JUST MISUNDERSTOOD”-

Friend: Found her.

Both the real life Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky drew.

Fyodor Dostoevsky was known to sketch in his manuscripts. Osamu Dazai painted with oils and was very interested in fine arts. Fun fact the main character in No Longer Human also wanted to go to art school and become an artist. There's actually a lot of mention of yozo liking making art in no longer human.

So of course i had to draw their twink versions painting together. <3

⋆｡°✩ neighbor; gojo satoru pt. 2

★°。 shouldn't have given your number to your noisy neighbor, now he won't leave‎‎‎‎‎ you alone.

PART ONE

★°。suggestive | crack | fluff

★°。warning(s): 2 kys jokes | it's implied they did the nasty lol, reader wears a thong idk if that needs a warning or not🧍‍♀️| I doubt anyone will care but the joke in the final pic is NOT meant to be a fat joke it is very much a joke about his height and I didn't realize till after I wrote it that it sounded that way so pls beware 🧎‍♀️

★°。note(s): this just turned into crack boyfriend texts LMAOO <3 gonna be so honest I had no plan for this so pls forgive that I rushed to end it🧎‍♀️‍➡️I’ll make a better one soon! I'm gonna go work on an smau and some oneshots I think but thank you for the love !! you guys are so sweet ;( pls ignore any spelling mistakes, I'm just a girl

if you saw me say this would be posted two days ago no you didn't cause I never said that (there was a snowstorm where I live so I was fighting for my life also I listened to do it again by Pia Mia while writing this)

here we go again ☹️😫

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

Crime and Punishment

Im just hoping for a new phone-

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

book one harry: *loses 2 house points* oh my god they’re all going to hate me this is the biggest atrocity i have ever committed in my academic career, i have forever tarnished the reputation of gryffindor house

book six harry: *loses 70 points for gryffindor* * almost gets expelled* ask me if i give a motherfuck??

People who think Shane isn’t a demon: 🤡🤡🤡

𝗜𝗻 𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗠𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗿𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗖𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗻 𝗕𝗼𝘆𝗰𝗲 (1999-2019)