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naumala · 5 days
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i will hold on to you for as long as you let me — megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, satoru gojo x reader
a/n: sorryyy the fushiguro-gojo family dynamic was rotting my brain and i needed this out of my system. LOTS of projection of my fear of growing up in this one soz. this was fully meant to be a drabble and it just kept going idk wc: 3.1k angst/fluff. mom!reader has a lot of bittersweet thoughts about megumi growing up and satoru is there to comfort <3 lots of parentheses and lots of repetition
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you put on a brave face all day. all week, even. despite the burn in your chest that engulfed your lungs and squeezed unrelentingly. despite the tears that burned the corners of your eyes delicately balancing on the your waterline, one blink away from breaking the surface density and opening the floodgates to pour down your cheeks. despite the non-stop ache of your stomach, churning what you ate every day but still holding the same emptiness as anxiety consumed you.
megumi didn’t pack much, he never held on to many things to begin with. (you always prayed for that to change, for his comfort your home. you prayed he would see it as his own, as well). he neatly folded his clothes into his suitcases and stacked his hangers on top. he purchased a new sheet set for his bed in the dormitory because the one he was used to was much bigger, much softer. 
he packed most of his books, carefully picking out the ones that tugged at the nostalgic parts of him, frayed along the edges after many years of re-reading, as well the ones that still had vibrant covers and stiff spines he hoped to finish. you noticed the leather journal he kept tied together– the ink-blotted pages bursting at the seams –sitting on the shelf before he tucked it into his box of personal belongings. it was his third one since living with you, all filled to every last page and used beyond ruin. the rest were hidden between his headboard and the wall. you pretended not to know, after stumbling upon them while changing his sheets.
closing the door to your home felt eerily empty. it looked the same as every day. the couch was cleaned and the floors swept. dishes rinsed and promptly put away. but with your lingering gaze your mind fixated on the dining table set for four, two adult pairs of shoes at the door, one pink backpack slumped on the hook of the closet door with an empty space below. your chest twisted at the lack of clutter, though it’d been like that for some time, with tsumiki and megumi growing older and cleaning up after themselves properly like you taught them. like you wanted. the pride you initially felt with those memories of parenting were becoming eclipsed with resentment and despair.
the ride to school was quick and familiar, megumi knew well what he was getting into after visiting there to train. satoru liked to call them little getaways from megumi’s civilian life, claiming he wasted too much time around non-sorcerers when he could be on missions with his ever-loving benefactor instead.
satoru, who was whining while he laid himself across the three seats in the back of your car. you’d banished him there for such a special occasion, and he threatened to transport himself to the school alone. an empty threat, at best. he didn’t want to miss this. 
megumi had sparred with the older students and found himself thrown around the field many times already. he knew his way to the infirmary by heart, he knew where gojo tucked away his most powerful curse-imbued weapons (that were supposed to be under the surveillance of higher ups), and knew what letter-number combination granted him the ginger chips nobody else seemed to like. 
you were glad he was comfortable. you were glad he would fall into routine easily after the repeated trips to jujutsu high and developing a rapport with his upperclassmen. you’d waited for the day that he’d truly be part of the jujutsu world and welcomed into a better suited environment for people like him. and you knew he would be great, he already possessed an incredible technique and wielded it like he’d been fine-tuning it since birth. far ahead from most kids his age, you were proud.
still, your gut was sinking, sinking, sinking into the floor with each passing second.
megumi picked his room in one of the far-away corners of the boys dormitory, leaving inumaki and panda heartbroken (panda said he would find a way to organize sleepover. megumi said he would drop out before that happened. inumaki cried– no, wailed at the rejection). yuuta fell into step with you, slipping one of the boxes out of your hands and insisting on helping instead. it was sweet, if it didn’t feel like he was ripping precious time away from you.
but you smiled, and granted his wish. megumi wasn’t complaining, he liked yuuta more than the others. it was a good chance for them to talk more. all of this, a chance, a new chapter, the rest of his life. the thoughts weighed on your shoulders with a disgusting strain traveling to your fingertips.
you were painfully aware you were in your own head, doing this all to yourself. he wasn’t going away, you would still be seeing him, more than you used to when he went to his other schools. he would always be here.
satoru found you in your classroom, while you were organizing the stationary with an unnaturally stiff composure. your arms were tense, he could see the muscles constantly flexing with each of your movements.
your jaw was clenching and unclenching again. you made a point not to look outside, where the second-years were training brashly after successfully moving their things back into their dorms. you made a point not to meet satoru’s dangerous stare as he shut the door to your classroom, as if it granted any privacy with the seven large windows running along the wall that showcased the hallway. 
“what are you doing all by yourself, beautiful?” his tone was soft and inviting, begging you to open up and let yourself fall against the cushion of his words. 
“um,” you exhaled, voice shaky. you scrunched your face to break apart the tension that had hardened your expression. “i figured i would get a few things ready for tomorrow.”
it took satoru’s long legs two-and-a-half strides to meet you at your desk, where you gently shut the drawer. there were a handful of dated photographs in there, signed with his name and the chicken scratch of two children. 
“it’s all ready, baby. we did that last week.”
(correction: you did it. he tagged along for the shopping trip).
“there’s just… a few things...” you mumbled, not finding the strength to finish your own sentence. 
satoru gently placed his hand on your shoulder, emitting inhuman warmth that spread across your skin. you leaned into him as he dragged his hand down your arm and intertwined your fingers with the care of handling fine china. his presence brought you solace, effortlessly bringing the walls down that you desperately wanted to wait until you got home to break.
he kissed the back of your hand and rubbed the skin. “you know you’re going to see him every day, right?”
it was embarrassing how well satoru knew you, knew your thought process like it was an extension of his own. he knew your doubts and insecurities, your fears and desires. he could predict the words before they came from your mouth, more in tune with the way you spoke than his mother tongue.
“mhm.”
“you know we’re going to be the ones chaperoning his missions, right?”
you closed your eyes and looked away. “i know.”
“do you remember when he said he’d like to go home some weekends, and have dinner?”
“he said that to be nice.”
“when has he ever been nice?”
you opened your eyes to glare at him, though he was right. megumi was not nice. he was polite. he was too self-aware for his own good, too perceptive of others and their emotions. in all the time that you’d known him, raised him, he made himself smaller for the convenience of others. he walked on his tiptoes for a year and a half so no one else would wake up because of him. he made his own breakfast and bit back his tears when he burned himself. he didn’t ask for things or food and didn’t offer his input unless asked directly. for some time, he was a ghost in his own home. 
it seemed as soon as the bits of his shell started to break off, he was being swept away from you by the jujutsu world, leaving you with looming fears that consumed your mind and disrupted your sleep for weeks.
satoru smiled, though it was weighed down with your sadness. “hey, he’s not going anywhere, you know that. just because you’re not driving him home everyday doesn’t mean he’s gone.”
it’s funny, it’s nearly the same speech he gave you when tsumiki started middle school. and when megumi followed those same steps.
tsumiki didn’t make it this far, though.
the thought makes your lip wobble again, and you bite it back pathetically.
“i know. i know that. it’s just that…” your voice cracked, and you shoved your head in your hands. your palms squeezed your eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the already-flowing tears. “he’s not my little boy anymore.”
satoru’s soothing hands pull you into a tight hug, and you don’t have it in you yet to move your hands from your face. his embrace makes you sob harder, louder as all your emotions from the last week begin to pour out at once. his chest rumbled with your cries, and he tucked you further under his arms as if to shield you from what was making you hurt so much. it was all you.
“baby…” he chuckled, without a hint mirth or mockery. he squeezed you with compassion and adoration. “you know that’s not true. he’s still pretty short, he’s got another growth spurt coming.”
a small laugh slipped through, but was quickly drowned out by your cries.
“he’ll be okay. he’s still here.”
he was so, so warm. he gently began to rock back and forth with you, the heels of your shoes gently clicking on the tile floor. a small hiccup erupted from you as you found the strength to wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his chest. the familiar thrum of his heartbeat welcomed you.
“i know, i’m sorry. i know he’s not leaving, or anything… i just… i thought i was ready.” you blubbered into his button-up. surely, there’d be two wet spots where your eyes were when you pulled away.
he swayed side to side with you, staring at the blackboard ahead of him. he nestled his chin on the top of your head, wondering if you could hear the cracks tearing through his heart. “it’s okay if you’re not ready. but you’re treating this like it's goodbye.”
“but what if we don’t get a goodbye?”
“okay, you really are overthinking this,” he pulled away from your embrace, your fingers still digging into the material of his shirt. he brushed away the hair covering your eyes, stuck to your skin by the wetness of your cheeks. streaks ran through your foundation and the corners of your eyes were smudged. “there you are. so pretty.”
it was silly how he believed he could make things better like that. it was silly that he was a little bit right.
“don’t think for a second i’ll let megumi be sent on a mission he can’t handle. he’s going to be fine.”
satoru’s love ran deep. for you, for megumi, for all his students. he fought curses everyday for you, rotted himself with his technique and stitched himself back up in a moment’s notice to fight for you. to come home to you. all of humanity be damned, those closest to him were the ones he fought for, and he would do everything in his power to preserve their lives.
he already towed the line with the higher-ups and their conservative rules and regulations, but he would tear them down if you asked. for megumi, he’d fight tooth and nail to see that he wasn’t being sent off on a mission ill-prepared. under his watch, things would be different for his students. 
you nodded meekly, wiping away your tears with one hand. “i hate when you’re right, toru. it’s really annoying.”
he smoothed down your hair and grinned. “i know, just let me have this one, though.”
his sweet murmurs filled your ears, along with the gentle shuffling of your clothes as you made yourself presentable again. you balled up your sleeves and patted the corners of your eyes gently, and he straightened out the hem of your shirt. it was wrinkled, a reminder of how harshly you clung to him.
you smiled at the water stains on his shirt now, and he claimed it was in need of dry cleaning anyway.
neither of you noticed the eyes of megumi and yuuta, both stuck in place at the very corner of the windows leading to the hallway. they had training staffs with them, megumi’s grip becoming tighter as he watched you wipe your eyes and knock your head into satoru’s chest lazily. your shoulders low, clearly drained from the amount you cried. 
yuuta was frozen, eyes flickering from you to megumi repeatedly. he found his courage in placing a hand on his shoulder, a feather-light grip. “hey, let’s go through the east wing. i’m pretty sure it’s faster that way.”
it wasn’t. but megumi nodded anyway, begrudgingly tearing his gaze from you and turning around with yuuta. 
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you stared down the red light of the intersection with a blank face, blank mind. letting it all out of your system had successfully flushed out your emotions, taking the rest of your energy along with it. the car was painfully quiet, but no part of you wanted to listen to anything.
satoru was whisked away by yaga, being delivered another mission he swore would take less than a day. ‘less than twelve hours’, he promised to be back for megumi’s first day. he would make it.
it was dark, and you milked all the time you could on school grounds. speaking with yaga and shoko, running through the still-developing information of missions to be sent on. cleaning the classrooms. the lockers. stocking the teachers lounge. dusting the armory. before you knew it the curfew ushered the students into their dorms.
a ringtone broke through your thoughts, making you jump. though the tune was soft, the sudden intrusion made it much more shrill. you fumbled with your phone in the passenger seat, seeing megumi’s contact on the screen.
“hello?”
“hey, mom?”
it took everything you had left not to gawk. he said it before, sparingly in desperation for comfort. his voice was quiet, a near-whisper despite the fact he was alone in his dorm. like he was nervous.
“yes, megumi?”
“um… are you home?”
you wondered if he forgot something. “no, i’m still driving. are you okay?”
“i’m fine, i just… can’t sleep, i guess…” he trailed off, hoping for you to fill in the gap.
“oh. okay. did you take–“
“do you think you could pick me up?” he interrupted. “and i just stay home tonight? you could drive me in the morning.”
you were quick to dissolve into a smile, pointed at the streetlamp on the sidewalk. sadness struck your eyes but you were too occupied by the warmth of his question to feel it.
“yeah. i can be back there in a few minutes, just let me turn around.”
“thanks.”
he didn’t hang up. neither did you. the silence lived on for a few seconds.
“mom?”
“yeah?”
“… gojo’s on a mission, right?”
you laughed, your hand sliding across the steering wheel as you reouted back to the school. “yeah, megs, he’ll be gone tonight.”
“he’s back tomorrow?”
“yeah, we can leave before he gets home.”
“thanks.”
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bonus:
satoru tiptoed through the entrance of your home, brushing his blindfold over his hair and peeling it off his head. he hung it up with his keys, lax arms nearly missing the hook on the closet door meant for him. it was beyond late, and he was tired, but he was home like he said he would be.
he bent down to tie his shoes, buffering momentarily as he caught a glance of well-worn sneakers at the front door. they were as clean as they could be, though scuffed rubber turning gray and the laces becoming frayed where they were tightened most.
satoru made a grunt in acknowledgement to no one but himself, as he tossed his shoes down. he glanced around the living space, cautiously bringing himself to each room with a curious itch to scratch. a third pair of shoes. both backpacks on the door. dishes for two placed on the drying rack. 
he was expertly quiet by nature, but found himself avoiding the squeaky floorboards on the stairs and all the way to the hallway. he was greeted with a blue sign, corners covered with dog stickers. the frilly handwriting of tsumiki warding off unwanted visitors with the phrase: “megumi’s room. keep out!!”
the door opened quietly, satoru pushing it open to the limit and stopping before it would let out an ungodly squeak. he insisted on never getting it fixed, knowing it bothered megumi.
megumi had his face shoved in his pillow, a desperate attempt to block out any light creeping through the crack of his bedroom door or the streetlamp just outside the window. he was always a light sleeper, always on edge, sleeping with his back to the wall so if something barged in the night he was ready. it was horrible he thought that way, you always said. 
his duvet covers were black and white plaid, per his request three years ago when he begged to be free of the puppy sheets. still, he seemed small, curled up in a ball. his face was released of the usual tension and his light breathing filled the room. for a moment, he was little again.
satoru smiled, taking a step back and closing the door gently.
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naumala · 5 days
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fem rid 🌹🌹
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naumala · 5 days
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them >>>
I love turning Heartslabyul into an actual zoo
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naumala · 6 days
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Study sessions 😺🦐
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naumala · 6 days
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naumala · 6 days
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Extremely excited to share this gorgeous comm I got done by the amazingly talented Nana! I'm over the moon with how it turned out and can't recommend them enough 🥹🥰
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naumala · 8 days
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Hiromi-kun
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naumala · 8 days
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Faculty Wardrobe!
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naumala · 9 days
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4EVER N EVER - geto suguru
summary: the night that suguru becomes certain, as certain as he can be as a sorcerer, that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.
genre: fluff, post haibara death, angst to comfort, (trust this is an actual deleted scene i know bc gege told me)
warnings: swearing, f!reader, mentions of death
notes: this is before he meets mimiko and nanako. i wanted to write ab riko but i cba lemme be honest!! not based on a song (surprisingly 🙌) JUST LET MY POOKIE BEAR BE HAPPY HUHUHU 😭😭
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suguru had never been the type to allow himself to get attached.
as a sorcerer, he'd learned that people die often. far too often, too quickly, and too easily for his liking. seeing someone smile so happily, wearing a carefree grin, and bubbling with boundless joy was one thing; seeing them dead was another.
it baffles him - haibara had been alive hours ago.
in the stillness and silence of death, suguru had contemplated. he'd thought about haibara; lacking a pulse, a pulse evidence of a heart seemingly made of gold. haibara, without the rise and fall of each breath, breaths that were formerly steady proof of vitality, and haibara, complexion drained of previous warmth and colour.
haibara, who was once suguru's underclassman.
always swamped in work, sorcerers barely even had the time to mourn; to allow themselves to accept that someone they held close was gone. it makes him feel sick.
even so, suguru finds himself attached to one person. you, his girlfriend, his lover. for as long as he can remember, you'd never failed to be there for him, ready to kiss away his tears, to tell him how pretty he was even after he'd told you how ugly he felt, and to soothe the inner turmoil that rages within his chest.
part of him feels horrible about venting to you, like he's burdening you with his troubles no matter how hard you try to convince him of the opposite. worrying you is never his intention, and he doesn't understand how he always manages to do just that.
but like clockwork, suguru finds himself outside your door.
• . ☆° ✦. °.
it's pouring with rain as suguru decides whether or not to knock. he'd forgotten to bring an umbrella, so his hair and clothes are soaked through. he's too exhausted to care - both mentally and physically.
is it right for him to lean on you like this? to show up at your door so he can feel comforted by your presence? it hurts. it hurts because suguru knows the moment you tell him everything will be okay, he'll want to believe you. he'll feel safe in your arms - a feeling he's not sure he deserves to feel - and he'll curl into you as he shields himself away from the world.
you're lazing around on the couch when you hear a knock at the door, the familiar rhythmic sound indicating who is on the other side.
suguru's looking at the floor, hunched in on himself. his shoulders sag, eyelids weighing heavy as he looks at you, giving what he hopes is a small smile.
"suguru," you greet, and you can already tell from the look in his eyes that something is wrong. they're clouded, devoid of their usual pleasant glow.
"hey," he attempts, voice hoarse from disuse.
you blink at him, a soft, comforting smile settling on your lips. suguru knows that look; it's the one you give moments before you make him feel like he's the most precious thing in the world. he barely registers you gently tug him inside, closing the door behind him.
he's always loved your home. it's snug and cozy, warmth radiating from every room. every inch of it is personalized, filled to the brim with trinkets and decorations of your choosing. his favourite part is your living room - the heart of your residence. it's a perfect reflection of you, the sofa well over-cushioned with pillows and blankets; he thinks he recognizes the plush in the middle. the bookshelf stands tall in the corner of the room, stacked with beloved novels and literary classics.
there are pictures of your favourite people on the wall: him, satoru, kento, ieiri, and others that he doesn't recognize. family, he presumes.
if he could, he thinks he'd happily spend all the days he has left in this house.
suguru feels your arms encircle his neck, pulling his frame down into a hug. he tenses, part of him aware that he's still soaked from the rain but he knows you don't care.
it takes him a moment, but he eventually relaxes into your hold, pressing into you as you support his body weight with practiced ease. his nose instinctively finds the crook of your neck, nuzzling into the spot with a barely audible groan. his strong arms find themselves wrapped around your waist and he pulls you impossibly closer as if trying to sink into you completely.
"haibara died," he murmurs into your skin, "it was a grade-one curse."
suguru feels you nod and hum. you remember him - he was a close friend of kento's. you'd met on a few occasions; he was straightforward and honest, and you'd understood why kento liked him.
you thumb a circle into the flesh of his shoulder and close your eyes. "how's kento?" you ask, still cradling suguru as if he'd fall apart.
suguru's heart throbs at your selflessness, and he pushes his face further into you.
"bad," he bites his lip, "really bad."
you hum again, taking a mental note to call kento later while your fingers thread through your lover's dark hair. it's knotted, you notice, he hadn't been taking care of it.
a sigh escapes your lips as you maneuver yourself so that suguru's forehead is resting comfortably against yours.
"and you?" you ask gently, kissing his nose, "how're you, my love?"
if he's being honest, suguru isn't sure. he feels oddly hollow and empty, his emotions feel duller - more muted. the world feels farther out of reach than ever; he misses its vibrant colours and sounds. from the sunken feeling arise questions that are left unanswered, and they bounce around in his head, finding little holes to bury themselves in.
"bad," is what he settles for.
"really bad." he reiterates.
as loving and as calm as ever, you kiss his lips, hoping it'll remind him that you're there. he isn't alone in this.
"okay," you say, "that's okay."
how was any of that okay? it certainly doesn't sound okay to him. he doesn't feel like himself, and he doesn't know what to do about it.
you feel his hands tremble on your waist - from the cold or something else you aren't sure - but you press yourself closer, sharing your body heat.
"sugu, baby," suguru hates the way your voice so easily cuts through his thoughts. "look at me."
he does. he forces himself to focus on you; to look into those gorgeous eyes of the person he treasures most. your eyes are comforting, he thinks, full of love and subtle concern.
"it's okay, 'cause we'll get through this together."
suguru feels his heart flutter, breath hitching in his throat. we. right, he wasn't alone. he had you. we. you and him were a team, lives interwoven by fate. he hasn't even told you what was truly wrong yet, but here you were, making the world seem 10x brighter than before.
"yeah," he agrees slowly, voice quiet, "yeah." he repeats again as if to assure himself.
he exhales, a breathy laugh escaping his lips. he doesn't miss how your smile grows a tad wider.
suguru was nowhere near okay yet, but he'd get there.
• . ☆° ✦. °.
two hours later, suguru has showered and changed.
(you'd gotten into the habit of keeping clothes for him at your house if situations of the like ever were to arise, or if he stays over.)
he's feeling far fresher and lighter on his feet than he was before. he ambles down the stairs, stopping momentarily to admire the photo of baby you hung on the wall.
he can tell from the sounds and occasional curse down the hall that you're in the kitchen, probably fucking summoning some sort of demon with all that noise.
he makes himself at home on the couch, clinging to the plush that he now recognizes as his 6-month anniversary gift to you. it's a pikachu plush, one brought from the store just days after you'd expressed your favourite pokemon in a debate with satoru. there's a collar around its neck, with a tag that reads:
'to my one and only. - suguru'
you'd kept the tag? he thinks he's going to cry. having someone love him so much was partly overwhelming, he'd worry about whether or not he was enough for you, about whether you'd be happier with someone else. but the other part was so, so rewarding. he's pretty sure he'd kill people just to keep you happy, and he thinks he must have been a saint in his past life to deserve you in this one.
"sugu?" it's your voice that once again pulls him from his trance. you're holding out a mug of hot chocolate, steam rising from the cup. whispering his thanks he takes it and, bringing the mug to his lips for a sip, suguru's reminded of just how much you mean to him.
you snuggle into his side, careful not to spill your own drink. to your relief, suguru seems slightly better.
"i love you," suguru says, so quietly that you almost miss it. "i love you so, so much."
you falter slightly, not expecting this sudden confession. nonetheless, you grin, pressing a kiss to his sharp jawline. you know that he loves you, of course.
"i love you too," you soothe, pretty lips turning up into a wide smile that makes his heart do flips, "you wanna talk about it?"
suguru's eyes crinkle at the corners in a way that you know by heart, and he looks at you with the softest look you'd ever seen.
"yeah, please."
suguru may be far from perfect and he may struggle with his emotions sometimes, but he had you. you'd be there for the rest of his life. he knows that for certain.
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BONUS:
when suguru later checks his phone, he realizes it isn't just you who's there for him. it's a couple others too.
99+ messages from satoru (derogatory):
sugururuuruur
u okay?
u looked a bit off today
i'm here if u need me !!
...
35+ messages from shoko !!:
geto u looked like actual shit today
come talk to me if ur feeling bad
i'm worried
wait ur probs at y/n's place forget this
...
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naumala · 9 days
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News From Home (1977), dir. Chantal Akerman.
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naumala · 9 days
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naumala · 2 months
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kick off 💨💨!!
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naumala · 2 months
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I love Mob Psycho 100 SO much <3
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naumala · 2 months
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happy birthday, cater!
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naumala · 2 months
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I am BEGGING younger drivers. drive carefully. give yourself room. for fuck's sake use your turn signals and don't fucking weave thru traffic. this is not a video game, this is real life and if you get into an accident, you could get killed or kill someone else VERY easily
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naumala · 2 months
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"They don't teach us about that in school how am I supposed to know" well you seem to know a lot about Bakugou but they don't teach you about him in school. Do they
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naumala · 2 months
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please vampire gojo please one chance plsssplslsppsl on e chance
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