#and he loves his mother
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Clay: “Mother, could you go on ahead? I’ll join you in a minute.”
Porter: *sigh* “Clayton, you’re getting more like your father every day.”
Clay: “Well, thank you mother.”
Porter: “That wasn’t a compliment.”
#clayton webb#jag#episode: ghosts#porter webb#these two have such a good dynamic#she loves her son#and he loves his mother
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Unpopular opinion but Ambessa saying "You are the wolf” to Mel as she's dying is quite literally the worst thing she could ever say. It means Mel is becoming who she hates, who she didn't want to be. She's becoming her mother. I do wish that for all Ambessa was about and for Family, she might have said "I love you", but instead it seems the only love in Ambessa's heart was for Kino.
#kino wasn't even wolf and yet he had his mother's love. and mel finally became wolf but couldn't earn it#I'M SO SAD ABOUT THIS#arcane#mel medarda#ambessa medarda#medardablr
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Michael Afton let his FNAF trauma slip again…
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#michael afton#mike schmidt#ballora#fnaf#fnaf movie#sister location#fnaf fanart#five nights at freddy's#I’m so sorry to Michael Afton once again#my boy just misses his mom#TBH he must have mixed feelings on Ballora#similar to with baby Fredbear and spring Bonnie#it just reminds him too much of his mother despite her not being his mom#Ballora is just based off her from what we know#Mike can actually sympathize here though he also misses his mom#Mikes just get mommy issues it comes with the title#Ballora at least is also sympathetic to this#love you dearly Ballora 🩵 really wanted to draw her again
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The moment Wade handed Mary Puppins to Logan and Logan had no protest beyond groaning, I knew
#Logan... YOU are the father#wade is the mother of dogpool#complaining under his breath and then going “you don't wanna see this bub” to that same dog ten minutes later#Logan twenty years aren't enough to beat out the disaster father you are#you're seeing the ugliest (affectionately. we love peggy the dog here. and wade too. sometimes.) creatures in existence and deciding#mine forever now#Logan you're a Dad#legend says if you collect enough trauma#or if you're a widdle mawy pawpins she's so cute#a wolverine will adopt you#he won't pay child support but at least he'll be present#deadclaws#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool#wolverine#logan howlett#wade wilson#poolverine#deadpool 3#peggy the dog#mary puppins
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free will is drawing ur two favorite characters together and making them gay
#akekita content in this economy? it's more likely than you think#this is like for the three ppl that ship them (me tumblr user haliai and atlus)#also which boyliker at atlus designed yusuke's phantom outfit like WHY is he dressed like a gay hooker 💀💀💀💀#the skintight spandex bodysuit designed to show off the slutty waist?? the exposed cleavage?? the cunty little fox tail?? bro 😭#my hand was shaking while i was drawing the second img it felt so IMMODEST 😭😭😭😭😭#i wish atlus confirmed which highschool akechi went to bc i love the hc that he attends kosei#his tie matches hifumi's ribbon so i think they're trying to tell us smt (im delusional)#ANYWAY akechi and yusuke would match each other's freak lowkey like they're both hardcore yappers that weird everyone else tf out#akechi would find solidarity in the fact that yusuke doesn't shut up abt whatever he's interested in#also also the fact that akechi is a mirror version of him bc they're victims of the same situation#both being exploited and utilized as tools after their mothers death#by the man they called father in exchange for validation or a false sense of place#but ultimately yusuke was saved by phantom thieves while akechi refused any pity and slowly succumbed to fate of his own making#really makes you look at atlus and think whats going on in their buttery smooth brains for not including other character interactions#aside from the social links with joker. the wasted dynamic potential between some of the characters is insane 😭#persona 5#p5#yusuke kitagawa#kitagawa yusuke#goro akechi#akechi goro#akekita#bro me when i stay up until three am drawing persona instead of finishing my lab (i’m beyond cooked 💀💀)#i think i need to switch college majors i can’t keep doing this#lotus draws
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To Protect Them
Another DPxDC idea with twins Danny and Damian.
'He knows.'
That was only message Danny received before he felt like he had dropped in freezing cold Arctic waters naked and felt if he remembered to breathe at this moment he would see his own breath, even though he had an ice core and no longer felt actual cold anymore, and for a moment the world around him faded into nothing.
No sound, no touch, not even smell.
Nothing.
Then like a supernova, everything around him exploded.
Everything was too loud, to strong, his skin felt hot and cold at the same time somehow. The feeling of dread crawled up his body.
He needed to go.
Run.
This message was his only warning. The only thing his birth mother could send him in regards of help. He knows it, he knows she can't do anything else but this. He also knows she wants to do more but in order continue to be the eyes and ears inside of the hellhole he once called home, a place he both hated and feared yet somehow still loved if only for the memories of his mother and brother, she could not do anything more.
"Hey Dann-o! Anything good in the mail today!?" Came the loud voice of Jack Fenton, his adopted dad, from the doorway. The same man who took one look at a muddy, dirty, tense, untrusting, almost fully feral little six year old Danyal al Ghul who held onto his only daughter hand when she dragged him home after finding him behind the Nasty Burger looking for food, and decided point blank that he was now a Fenton. That Danny, Daniel was his son as if he always was.
Danny could feel his lip tremble when he realized if he ran, if he booked it out of Amity now, the people he loved, the people he would happily die for, would be targeted. It wouldn't matter if he faked his death, or just left with no warning and never contacted them ever, ever again.
They would be killed for just knowing him.
For their deaths would be his punishment.
Danny could feel the rest of the mail in his hands, the ones he had went outside to get before breakfast cause his mom asked him to, fall out of them, the only one staying was the message from his birth mother. He took in a shaky uneven breath and turned around.
His face no doubt was pale, paler than it normally was, and his body trembled, and Danny had no doubt that despite all the training he had learned when he was in the League that even if he brought it out and pretended he was fine, his dad would be able to tell something was wrong.
Because his dad's happy cheerful face shifted to a concerned worried frown, a frown Danny hadn't seen in a few years, a frown that was common when Danny would wake in the middle of the night screaming, begging, or cursing in his native language or when he would be spooked enough to reach for a knife. But even with those moments the man never ever found fault in Danny, instead he would lower his voice and speak softly to Danny, waiting until he calmed down before asking if it would be okay to touch or hug him. Then he would sit with Danny for hours, keeping his normally loud and booming voice soft as he talked about random things, like family fudge recipes and how they came to be.
"Danny?" Jack asked softly as he took a small step forward, one of his hands lifted up as if asking permission to reach out.
Danny wanted nothing more than to rush into his dad's arms and hide in his large frame. Hide from the world around him but Danny knows he didn't have time, none of them did.
He took in one more breath and could feel his body stop shaking, his mind no longer chaotic, and his nerves steeling up. For the first time in a long, long time, he wasn't Daniel 'Danny' Fenton anymore.
He was Danyal al Ghul again.
"Dad. Get mom and Jazz into the GAV. Now." Danny ordered, his eyes narrowing as he clutched the message in his hand tight.
His dad knew something big was going down.
And he trusted Danny enough to do so quickly.
Danny closed his eyes as his dad ran into the house, yelling for Maddie and Jazz to get into the GAV. Danny opened them when he could feel the message in his hands slowly being covered in ice and knew his eyes were now glowing green.
He didn't have a lot of time. He needed to get his family, Tucker, and Sam out of Amity.
He needed to get them someplace safe.
He needed backup. More than his family and his friends.
He needed-
Danny nearly jumped when he realized who he can call to help.
In a flash he took his phone out of his pocket and quickly dialed a number he barely liked calling but needed to do so at this moment.
He waited, it felt like ages and it was agonizing, before the person on the other line finally picked up.
"What do you want-" came a somewhat same but rougher sounding of his voice but Danny cut him off.
"Dan, he knows." was the only thing Danny needed to say because he could hear the sharp intake of breath.
"Get them here now." was the order.
"Already on it. Is Ellie and Vlad with you?"
"Yes."
"Good. We'll be there shorty. Keep them safe."
"And then what?" Came the gruff question.
"Then... Then we'll prepare and call in Father and Damian. We need all the help we can get."
".....He won't be happy... About everything. Our... your fake death you know."
".... I know. But hopefully Father and the rest of his batclan will keep him from lashing out too much, especially with civilians and innocent lives on the line."
The two, Danny and Dan fell into a silence for a moment. Danny could hear his dad trying to hurry his mom and Jazz into the GAV despite their questions
".... Explaining all of this is going to be a shit show isn't it." Came Dan's voice after a couple of minutes.
Danny winced because yeah, not only explaining his actual past as Danyal al Ghul to the Fenton's, Tucker, Sam, and to Ellie, and Vlad but also having to explain his new life to his birth father and twin brother, a brother who thought he was dead, was going to be a hell in a handbasket.
"Yeah... it will be." Came his only response as he heard the GAV starting up and the garage door opening. Dan must of heard it over the speaker phone and said "Get Sam and Tucker and get here soon. No stops. We'll fortified Vlads dumb place in the meantime."
Dan didn't wait after that and instead just disconnected the call. Danny removed his phone from his ear and quickly pull up the group chat he had with his friends, sending them a quick message to meet him now. He used the code they had set up incase the Fenton's didn't take to him being Phantom well, he never had to use it since they took the news good, well as good as one could be after finding out their invention had half killed their son and that they had been hunting his ghost side down, but since this was important he needed them to be ready now.
He frowned as the Fenton GAV pulled up towards him and knew that what happens next would be...
Stressful.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#crossover#dp x dc#blue rambles#danny phantom dc#writing ideas#random idea#dpxdc#.... this just came to me lol#danny and damian are twins#Danny was once again killed by Ra's in my AUs as a child#and Talia brought him back in secret#she dropped him off randomly near Amity Park and told him to never return to the League#shes kept some tiny tabs on him but never contacted him#Danny still loves his mother and brother#but knows how League life is#Dan knows too because he has Danny's memories#to keep his chosen family and friends safe hes willing to expose his existence to his birth father and brother though#the Fentons know Danny is Phantom btw#but are about to find out about being an ex assassin though#and Dan too
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Are you here to take me to Mama?
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Rewatching ep3 and every time I think about the Emissary I get choked up, so I painted them again! He’s going home, and there will be light 🍎
#critical role#cr downfall#critical role fanart#downfall#the emissary#the raven queen#matron of ravens#Erathis#noshir dalal#cr fanart#cr art#critical role art#critical role campaign 3#floweroflaurelin art#quick painting with both liberties and shortcuts taken! I am feeling Emotion#he’s a kid!! and he wants his mother!! what if I sobbed again#I knew going in I was gonna love this character but I didn’t anticipate just How much#🥲
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COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO
synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.
word count; 4.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues
a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33
”holy shit!”
the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.
”satoru, it’s too early for this...”
”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.
your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.
(snowing.)
with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.
satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.
maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.
it’s beautiful.
satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.
all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.
the first snow of the year.
and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.
there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.
like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.
and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.
(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.
and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)
high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.
and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.
a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.
he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.
— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.
satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.
(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)
”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”
he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.
it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.
so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.
satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.
”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.
”never.”
a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.
a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”
and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.
his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”
his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.
he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.
when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.
you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.
hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.
satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.
because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.
what more could a man want?
”hey, idiots!”
the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.
”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”
”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.
suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.
(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)
with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.
”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.
then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”
satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”
a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”
a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”
and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”
satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.
despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”
”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.
”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”
satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.
suguru sighs.
”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”
his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.
he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.
when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.
the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.
(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.
and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)
suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.
when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.
that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.
”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.
satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”
but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”
a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”
you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”
a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.
and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.
his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.
and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.
(i'm sorry, you big baby.)
satoru grins.
you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.
”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”
he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”
”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”
”and don’t play dumb, either.”
a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”
said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.
and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.
”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”
satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”
you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”
”hmph.”
suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.
and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.
that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.
this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.
(married.)
sometimes he still can’t believe it.
”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”
and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.
and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.
your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.
his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.
(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)
and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.
a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.
and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.
”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”
”— you’re disgusting.”
the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.
and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.
you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.
then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”
”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.
silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.
”… santa can only do so much, baby.”
two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.
”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”
you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”
”of course not! blasphemy.”
a moment passes.
”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”
a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.
then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.
he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.
and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.
he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.
for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?
(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)
— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.
it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.
and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.
warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.
he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.
and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.
he hopes it never goes away.
#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3#i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother#i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u#but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it#and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child#im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me#geto suguru x you#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto x reader x gojo#gojo fluff#geto fluff#satosugu x reader#satosugu x you#satosugu x y/n#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#……… thats… a lot of tags.
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Back at it again with my Danny is mom coded au’s, but this time it’s because of Clockwork that he suddenly has a whole ass teenage kid.
Clockwork had been bored or maybe he was playing a game against an opponent, or even lost a bet, whatever it was, he stepped in right as Jason was searching for his biological mother.
The DNA that would have registered itself as one Sheila Haywood, confirming Jason’s mother, glitched a terrible green across the screens of the batcomputer.
In those few moments of chaos Jason’s heart beat rapidly as he tried to figure out why the computer wasn’t working, wondering if his only chance to find his mom — his blood mom — would never find success.
Then as suddenly as things went wrong the DNA settled and pinged.
Jason watched, his chest tight, as one Danny C. Works, formerly Danny Fenton appeared onto the big screen.
Danny looked a lot like Jason, short cut black hair more straight than the subtle curls of Jason’s own; deep blue eyes, tired in a way that spoke of long days and nights, but with a warm happiness that made the familiar smile — the one Jason would see on himself every time he looked into the mirror — even more striking.
Jason didn’t linger too long on the male identifying gender, nor the fact his mom leaned more towards a masculine name or clothing.
There were plenty of male to female, and female to male leaning individuals that lived in Crime Alley. He had seen it enough to not even bat an eye at it, even now. After all, in Gotham you minded your business least you find yourself in business you can’t leave.
On a different monitor information of Danny C. Works piled for Jason to quickly browse through.
Danny was a senior engineer, no intimate relationships, and with no close connections to family outside of the tentative calls from Jasmine Fenton.
Danny was estranged from Jack and Madeline Fenton, a falling out that had occurred just a little before Danny’s high school graduation. If Jason calculated it correctly that would have been — around the season Jason himself would have been born.
Okay, so no grandparents then but I might have a maybe aunt. Jason scrolled further and stilled.
Twin toddlers: Dante and Danielle Works.
Jason had baby siblings.
He doesn’t let the sting of younger siblings consume him, doesn’t allow the whispering thoughts of why he had been given up when his younger siblings had been kept and so very obviously loved.
Jason took deep breathes, he didn’t have time to linger here. He had a family to get to, and a family he would get to.
It took almost all night to reach, the starlight night sky slowly and surely fading into cloudy wine as the sun rose, but Jason made it.
And when the door opened to his hesitant but firm knock, Jason was unable to speak. His mom — dad, maybe? Did they want to be mom or dad? — stood in the doorway, brows furrowed in confusion.
It was when Danny spoke his vigilante name did Jason only just realize that he was still dressed to the nine’s in his Robin costume.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dc x dp#dcxdp#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#jason todd#Danny is mom to two de aged terrors#and will now be a mom to his newest terror#Dan and Ellie de aged due to circumstances when Danny left Amity Park#Dan and Ellie didn’t form until recently from their cores#he had run away with the two and didnt have any connections to other family or friends until Jazz finally tracked him down#but he threatened to go no contact again should she try and push him to return to Amity and speak to their parents#Jazz understands and doesn’t want to lose her baby brother again#clockwork meddled for whatever reason and now Danny is Jason’s mom au#Danny is going to mother that child so hard#yes he is an adult#Jason WILL be loved >:(#Jason is also going to be the best big brother#Dan and Ellie love their mom and big brother#they will bite#Jason thinks Danny is ftm#Danny is biologically male but is more built like Maddie#misunderstandings of gender#and further misunderstandings on how Jason and his two siblings were conceived#Vlad Masters being a theatrical creep#Jason will fist fight old men#he will also fist fight his grandparents
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Erdtree’s Sacred Tears.
(discussion of my inspiration to draw this under the cut)
#elden ring#queen marika the eternal#miquella the unalloyed#messmer the impaler#st trina#albi’s art#while playing the base game i always find it interesting that the blessing from the flasks are all tears… like is the tree crying ?#why cry tho? then the DLC came out… yeah…#i like the idea of Messmer during his time in Leyndell just shadow Marika like that in case someone accidentally said stuffs that would#absolutely send her mind to that jar again#I’m inconsolable at [I abandon my love] too but i don’t agree that Miquella is behaving like Marika#Marika never abandon Radagon to the bitter end#no Miquella is mirroring his dad he’s like Radagon trying to cut out Marika near the end of their reign#Marika became a God full of rage and love Miq abandoned love and emotions to become one#Order without the kindness of Gold#golden doomed mother and son
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A message for Penelope’s suitors
#he’s a mama’s boy#and I love that for him#he loves his mommy very much#and she loves him too#epic the musical#the odyssey#telemachus#penelope#Penelope’s suitors#mother#son#antinous#get dunked on lmao
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What do you think of Rook's savanaclaw card? <333
I didn't get him (and I need to save my keys for Silver's birthday, sob) so I looked up his groovy, and I'm not over how incredibly dramatic and epic and cool it looks in direct contrast to the absolutely ridiculous context. just look at that dynamic action and his majestic sparkling tears and keep in mind that this is pretty much right after a bunch of characters have been dance battling for his soul.
and then even the actual moment of the groovy is just like
this is NOT a negative in the slightest, I love it all, this truly was an incredible update in so many ways
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 spoilers#twisted wonderland episode 7 part 8 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 7 part 8 spoilers#to be fair it's not COMPLETELY wacky there is actual drama going on#but that's inbetween rook's dream-vil and neige being totally hilarious at each other#'i shan't let you hurt this beautiful child!' 'vil no! if they were to harm your beauty i would be crushed by sorrow!' <- actual dialogue#also neige seeing vil as a mother figure. it's WONDERFUL and i hope real-vil never finds out because this would kill him#just like he killed neige multiple times in his own dream! :)#there was so much wild stuff in this update and not in the least was that the second time vil realized he was in a dream#his reaction was to KILL EVERYONE and cackle maniacally about it#god forbid a queen do anything i guess#anyway i also love the contrast between what i assumed savanarook would be like and what he was actually like#'he looks so wild...what kind of dangerous dream will this mighty hunter have...'#oh no he's actually just an adorable movie geek who is SO EXCITED to share his hyperfixation with us#somehow less intimidating than regular rook#and yet still a delightful little freak. his BEDROOM#the background artist went SO ham on it. truly the magnum opus of twst backgrounds#there are a bunch of little details it is SO worth zooming in on#(including a tiny little picture of che'nya! which...actually i think that implies rook may have stolen an rsa yearbook or something)#(that's our rook! /sitcom laugh track)
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don’t get how you can watch iwtv and be a sincere diehard lestat hater. like the world’s biggest lestat hater is louis and that man can’t even commit to it for more than five minutes before literally hallucinating lestat wearing a wedding ring and talking pretty to him. this show is about louis and every road leads back to lestat for that man
#nobody hates lestat like the men who have brain rot about him#like that’s Claudia’s mother their whole thing is far too messy to be reduced to hate#like sorry that was her mumdadbastardparent. too complicated to get it sorted out right#madeleine didn’t even know him#daniel doesn’t know him (yet)#santiago will bend over for any vampire with more power than him unless they don’t like him#(then he’ll seethe while imagining getting fucked) so in another life he’d dickride lestat or seethe at him and louis hardcore#uhhh. who else knows this bitch. his momma dipped she got her own shit going on she don’t really think about him#maybe Louis’ family are bigger lestat haters but they’re all dead#armand hates him but that’s entirely dwarfed by the sex thing and also he’s way more obsessed with daniel. lestat is not touching that thing#so yeah it’s just louis who knows him deep enough to be a true pure hater#and louis loves him so so so much. so it’s kinda over this show is literally about these two#attacking each other and then holding hands. or punishing the other for 77 years#so. yay!!!#this is not the show for you louis gets the mic for like five minutes n he’s immediately going ‘so there’s this blond-’#like we all didn’t know. get off the stage!!!!!! silence on the blond guy. but alas. louis has the mic still so it’s blond guy central#louis de pointe du lac#ldpdl#lestat de lioncourt#loustat#iwtv#interview with the vampire
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Last part for old GF sketches
(Actually, most of these aren't old at all, but their average is brought down by the last picture, which I drew back in August and kept forgetting to post)
#fanart#drawing#gravity falls#stanford pines#stanley pines#i wish more people talked about Ford's piano skills#and his shadow puppet skills#i forgot what i was thinking when i rushed these out#something about Ford only taking pride in his skills because of how other people (ie Stanley) appreciate them#and how he attributes everything exceptional about himself to his hands bc that's where his deepest insecurities/motivations come from#but that isn't something Stan or most people think about at all#but he also IS really talented#and so he gets this big fragile ego#stemming from his mother and brother's praise#but also filbrick's neglect#so it's like outside validation is a substitute/reminder of the people that really loved him#bht also he thinks he's different from them and better than them#but he does love them#and he likes making them proud because he likes seeing them happy#maybe he doesn't know how else to make people happy#something something#Stan being his biggest supporter is a double edged sword#because his opinion matters the most and then he's gone#and Ford doesnt have anyone to show off to anymore#OR anyone who can call him a showoff when he gets too into his own head#OR the person he was pitted against in the first place that made him feel special#because- knowingly or not- they always compared themselves#idk man#Ford is an interesting guy and his head fascinates me
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a true powerful leader, that aims 'to-protect', and never 'to-be-protected' in the first place
#it's part pride part love; at least this is what i'd like to think; he'd step in & protect them before they ever actually get annihilated#he is not being powerful to hide; EVER; just like his mother#twst#twisted wonderland#malleus draconia#sebek zigvolt#twst silver#twst yuu#twst mc#fanart
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"hualian invented love" well bingqiu invented telling your partner that if you were his mother you wouldn't have aborted him even if it killed you, so. im not sure what that is, but bingqiu sure invented it
#svsss#their freudian bullshit knows no bounds#i was gonna include a screenshot of that passage but i forgot it's like a whole page long oh my god#sqq really needed to get that monologue out there#i like to joke about the abortion love confession but that's because if i start thinking about it too hard i get emotional#bc on the surface it's like haha sqq is comparing himself to his mother and saying he wouldn't abort him#but then in reality it's him telling lbh just how loved he is and wanting him to know he's cared for#the fact that he's alive at all is proof that he was loved#and making it clear that he loves lbh to the point that he'd let that love kill him#god. i need to lie down.
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