#but not enough to tag him
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More watchdog homeworld headcanons with an example city (pre-Hater Empire.)
Details that wouldn't fit on a 2D map:
There's paths around both the acid pit and lake. One of the lake ones has their baths.
#wander over yonder#woy#woy watchdogs#watchdogs#yes the jails are near the acid pit for a reason#technically Peepers is in this#just like he was technically in the landscape#but not enough to tag him#he had to carve his own lab because the watchdogs didn't approve of his experiments#(which- fair- some of his early weapons DID blow up)#not that he's not mad#his illegal lab is barely tolerated just to keep him away from the rest of the city#mati
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you dislike Luke Castellan because he disagreed with an oppressive government system and actually took action to change the abusive ways him and his peers have been forced to follow for millennia.
I dislike Luke Castellan because in the Titans Curse he manipulated Annabeth, who he raised as his little sister, into holding up the sky, the FUCKING sky, for over 20 hours and had the audacity to walk away as though he was completely apathetic towards it while she begged and pleaded with him to help her.
we are not the same.
#I agree with Luke’s beliefs 100%#I don’t agree with his actions#but I specifically remember Luke seeming real fucking unaffected while leaving Annabeth to endure being literally crushed to death#the rest of the halfbloods that joined the titans army had good intentions but Luke… oh boy#I’m sorry I can’t help but disagree with his actions#percy jackon and the olympians#luke castellan#annabeth chase#percy jackson#percy series#camp half blood#pjo hoo toa#some ppl in the comments pointed out shit I forgot ty guys#like the way he manipulated Silena and Annabeth because he knew they loved him is literally pedophillia 🤢🤮#I was cautious with my tags at first because I thought Luke apologists were gonna come at me with knives if I said more than necessary#but now I’m brave enough to admit I hate that man and no one can convince me otherwise
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the easy grip on the knife. the leg over the seat. the hand over the other seat. the sassy "come get it" move. you know the bitch is smiling behind that mask even as he said the line.
#i can't believe i'm saying this#DEADPOOL CAN GET IT#Logan I'm sobbing I understand why you lunged at him#I would too bestie#it's the sass for me folks#paint that car white as much as they painted it red my god#a deadpool thirst post? from me? more likely than you'd think#this is a branch in realities i know it#i've never had Feelings for this motherfucker until this movie#all i'm left with is anger now because WHAT DOES HE WANT FROM ME#camera crew could have just made it landscape but noooooo they had to do a medium shot of this son of a bitch#i'm sending an especially affectionate fuck you in ryan reynolds' direction#i love how you love deadpool#deadpool#wolverine#deadpool and wolverine#wade wilson#logan howlett#poolverine#deadclaws#don't get me wrong i've always adored deadpool's personality. nobody's that hilarious and not have humongous balls i mean trauma.#but i've never went 'why he kinda' until this specific shot right here#@ camera crew why the fuck did you zoom in? WHY?#for me? well it's infuriating#do it again#gif is credit to the owner#30 tags aren't enough for me to dismantle how this shot made me feel. tumblr you gotta update#damn tumblr i'm tryna feed a village here#guys just find my other post
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all my behind-the-scenes concept work and such for the HGCZ! i had a blast working on it all.
check out my finished piece here, and check out @hotguycomiczine for the full zine!
#hotguy comics zine#hgcz#hgcz spoilers#sort of?#enough that i think i should tag it LOL#as you can see. i made a final design for impulse . and then Did Not Commit to It#well i sorta did#but my dumbass made the camo like#so complex#so as i was drawing him three billion times#i was like#why the fuck would i do the camo every time#so i simplified it#you'd think with me being an animator i would Know this lesson#but alas#chris doodles#also im going to reblog this post with all the draft versions of the pages cause i think theyre fun to compare
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me when i start trekking
#i've been reawakened!!haiii#while i scrap the bottom of the barrel looking for unposted art to share have some assorted trek stuff#star trek#star trek tos#star trek fanart#james t kirk#spock#nyota uhura#there's a lil bit of McCoy's chin showing but not enough for me to tag him<//3
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(draconifies your zelink) oh whoops lol
+ an extra pic of em hanging out together :]
btw, you can find these guys on inprnt! both as a pair, or apart :] You Choose.
#(the weakest pitiful coughs youve ever heard) yay#modelled off those ancient scythian deer tattoos..... i like how theyre posed and thought itd be fun. also feat slight ld redesign#makes em look like how they'd might appear on a mural together. ish. LOL i get too impatient to try stylising that much#light dragon#loz#totk#dragon link#totk spoilers#link#zelda#princess zelda#totk au#loz au#tloz#artists on tumblr#sighs. is this enough tags. i hope so#this is very much for Me though bcus i have too many thoughts abt botw/totk dragons. its silly#i was glad to draw my boy again though. i have more ideas for him that ill get around to in like. uhhh. Who Knows.#my art#zelink#you know what. ill add it here too in like the loosest most tragic sense possible#what if we were trapped in mindless eternity forever....... together <3#dragon link au
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i dont have a caption for you lol i'll let shanks's heart eyes speak for themselves 🫶
(source)
#mishanks#akataka#dracule mihawk#hawkeyes mihawk#shanks#akagami no shanks#red haired shanks#one piece#one piece fanart#incorrect one piece quotes#op fanart#i have accidentally signed up for too much to draw as lesurely as i have been lol soz 🙏#but i noticed my blog got taken off the mishanks tag's top blog list which clearly means i havent posted enough abt them recently LOL#comic#op comic#shanks: no u dont understand. he only calls me by my first name when he's feeling soft and he would never let anyone else touch his face#especially like that from behind! and first thing in the morning? anyone else would find themselves without a hand.#i call my angel all these lovely pet names and in return he lowers all his walls and i love him 🥰🥰🥰#(mihawk on the side is feeling extremely exposed lol)#(but also fond 🥰 he loves him back so much too!!!)
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The S1 Archives main staff was composed entirely of people who (at least partially) liked men. I choose to believe the OIAR will continue the trend of being equal but opposite to the Archives by having the entire S1 main staff like women.
#it's only fair#now let's try to tag this for visibility without obnoxiously overtagging shall we#tma#tmagp#dyhard#jonmartin#the magnus archives#the magnus protocol#yeah the main tags and main ships are more than enough#also i consider lena the elias here aka not main staff but like. big lesbian vibes from her too#which to be fair that works as a mirror to him
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part 4 of a lot funnier in my head than on paper
#before anyone asks its not a series the part 4 is a joke dont go looking#the solver granted me this mental image#definitely not at the right skill level to draw it correctly but i did good enough#nori forgetting her ipod in space and then needing n to launch her into orbit to get it back#yknow now that im actually stopping to think about it v would be the only one of the two in functioning order at this point#or they just waited for n to regen and then forced him to do this#we both know n is fully capable of punting nori into orbit#something something stupid mutt#my hatred for this is growing the more i look at it im gonna finish off the tags#art#murder drones#murder drones n#murder drones nori#murder drones uzi#murder drones flesha#i guess#or#murder drones cyn#serial designation n#one day ill be able to draw n in a way i like#noris text box is supposed to be a rose it did not come out looking like a rose#i dont know how to draw roses help
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#fiddauthor#fiddleford mcgucket#ford pines#old man mcgucket#guck#no id#gravity falls#get wormed lawl. cat drawn by my pookie <3#oh yeah and stan mention. but idk if that counts enough to tag him lawl#oh yeah and hal from megamind is here too. please don’t ask
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A little something silly in my werewolf/vampire jmart au, for @milkteamoon as part of @magnusforgaza. Thank you!
This specific project has now closed, but here's a list of artists who are still individually taking requests for Gaza donations - go check them out
#the magnus archives#tma#tma au#magnus archives#magnus for gaza#milkteamoon#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#tma s3#hopefully this is funny enough while still also fitting the au and expectations :'D#gammijart#tma vampire au#tma werewolf au#i still dont have a tag for this#tma vampwolf au#i guess#id in alt#also in this au martin is actually the archivist while jon is an assistant - because the Fears arent really a thing here#and Martin was turned by Elias who keeps him down there where he can stay out of the sun and out of the way until he needs him for somethin#like keeping an eye on the newly turned werewolf employee
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FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 61-64)
* I-I don't think we were talking about the same thing...
[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]
#FINALLY FINISHED THIS WOHOO#Okay so#I have been keeping this small part of info secret for SOOOO long and it was so funny that JUST this week I got a ton of asks about#Wingdings' voice and I was SO tempted to talk about this little detail#BTW I DIDN'T FULLY MAKE THIS UP#i mean#Yeah I did#BUT IT IS BASED ON SOMETHING I NOTICED!!!!!!#When redacted talks in Wingdings the sound is clean#but when we listen to entry 17 (which is most likely a recording)#There's a VERY loud overlay of garbage noise#And so I was like#I could use this.........#like yeah a sound based on symbols?? we can't understand it! but our brains might do the work for us and maybe try to understand it?#but recording it goes very bad.....#I thought it was fun so I made it a hc for Gaster#and then I applied it here :D#lol#I think the pacing of this one is also a bit too fast but ehh#I hope it's clear#I am so proud of how I drew Alphys in these pages I feel like I am finally understanding her shape and how I want to stylize her#Sans is very good at reading people#He can tell when people are lying#that's why Wingdings didn't lie! he just conveniently forgot to tell him some details about what they found#okay yeah that's enough#TIME FOR THE TAGS#undertale#forgettable-au#forgettable-au-comic#sans
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To all my long-term followers: You have to look through all of my art and deduct exactly what's wrong with me. I know you can do it by now.
#If Sugar Rush is based on MK64 then he'd still be 2D sprites (of prerendered 3D graphics) just at a higher resolution and color count.#+ would also have more sprites BUT I am not insane and particular enough to try and replicate that. Maybe one day I will be though.#wreck it ralph#king candy#turbo wir#wir#beebfreeb art tag#*walks around in a circle autistic-style* I need to see his textures z fighting I need to corrupt his color palette I need a pointer to get#flung around in memory and start reading garbage texture data onto him. I need to softlock him. I need to cause an overflow error. Shut up.#turbo twins#turbotwins#zip and zilch
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really? right in front of my karaage?
-
more windbreaker comics
#im ngl this scene cracked me TF up when i rewatched it#umemiyas talking to choji but right as he says this specific phrase he looks STRAIGHT AT SAKURA#almost as if he's flexing like “hey hey sakura. hey. did u know. id never lose. winks. isnt that hot of me. isnt that cool. are u smitten”#like dude you met this kid just YESTERDAY and youre immediately letting him decide the other teams punishment and giving special treatment#damn bro i know hes a cutie cat but CHILL OUt#(i say as if episode one sakura didnt have me on my fucking KNEES)#anyways thats enough out of me onto tags winks#umesaku#umsk#wind breaker#wbk#wind breaker comics#comics#thecmart#hajime umemiya#haruka sakura#ive had this in my wips for a while now but the latest wbk chapter spurred me to finally finish it.. umsk real guys... umsk real
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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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I made this AAAAGES ago and forgot to post it and now I'm annoyed by how it's rotting away on my phone so here. Bratty teen Thancred being a menace to Fourchenault (and a bad influence on Urianger lol)
#we never see fourchenault & thancred interact in any meaningful way (outside of Group Interaction) and i like to imaginr#its bc fourchenault Did Not Like thancred when they were kids and has resolved to just ignore him now#and thancred-the little bastard that he is-wouldve 100% messed with him on purpose if he had the chance#bc i just KNOW he pulled stunts like this to annoy fourchenault all the time#fourchenault tells him to eat more orderly and thancred gets more messy on purpose yk. he is wired to be petty against stuffy rich kids#also urianger isnt actually being influenced much he has always been down to break the rules if he wants to#hes taught by louisiox thats like a requirement. him & his group of unconventional little smartypants#only reason he went to thancred specifically for help here is bc 1) he knows thancred knows how to easily get onto the roof and#2) hes like idk 13 here so hes still a tiny baby size. hes too short to reach up lol#anyway thats enough silly kid rambling time to tag#fourchenault leveilleur#thancred waters#urianger augurelt#final fantasy#final fantasy 14#final fantasy xiv#ff14#ffxiv#art#my art#xanders art#digital art#fan art
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