#happy sad i think
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Wiggly-Worm Wednesday!!! 🧠🪱
share a recent brainworm and tag your friends to do the same!
ty @scoops-aboy86 @marvel-ous-m @devondespresso & @runninriot for the tag :3
gonna share my most recent brainworm bc my actual WIP's are hidden away atm, not ready to be written yet
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Thinking about Steve washing Eddie's hair, because he can't do it on his own, and because Steve wats to. Wants to do this, for Eddie.
Steve tries to set it up as much like a real salon as he can, Macgyvering a chair with pillows so Eddie can rest his head comfortably over the wide kitchen sink. Steve goes all out, double shampoos and leaves the conditioner to sit while he massages Eddie's head a jaw; watching the guy go boneless and sleepy, the pinched scar tissue across his neck and cheek relaxing for the first time since Steve watched Eddie's eyes flutter open in the hospital months ago.
And maybe after, maybe during, Eddie asks Steve how he ever knows what he's doing. 'You're good at this man.' And Steve confesses that after graduating, after losing Nancy and Tommy and Carol. His parents moving more permanently to work on the side of the business located out of state: Steve was lonely.
Working at scoops and only really having to cover the cost of his car; his parents still fine with him using the credit card for groceries and bills (or not fine, but, they never said anything otherwise) and Steve didn't exactly have a lot of social activities he needed to splurge on anymore. Meaning while he saved a bulk in the lockbox in his closet, there was a decent amount that just seemed to be burning a hold in his pocket.
Steve was lonely. Steve wanted to feel good. So Steve started going to a salon two towns over.
He'd go once a month maybe, get a trim and his hair washed. Ask the hairdresser about haircare and oils and moose, not really sure what else to ask about, sometimes getting into shop gossip once they knew him as a regular. Started getting highlights and more layers and sometimes the nail lady would massage his hands while they washed his hair just because, 'You just look so tense honey.'
A little bit of care for a lonely Indiana boy, a little bit of touch, and kindness, and community.
So Steve wanted to wash Eddie's hair, give him a little bit of the same.
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(not sure how to make this into a scene that isn't just steve monologuing but, anyway, here is my worm)
no pressure tagging: @scoops-aboy86 @marvel-ous-m @devondespresso @runninriot hehehe
also: @pearynice @steviewashere @someforeignband and anyone else who wants to show me their worms 🪱
#hotlunch#steddie#steve x eddie#ideas#happy sad i think#eddies heart might break a little but he cherishes steve sharing with him#wiggly wednesday
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the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.
when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."
but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.
now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.
the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.
but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."
the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.
but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?
because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!
and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.
#spilled ink#writeblr#warm up#this is an incredibly difficult idea to express#but i basically keep watching the same timelooped interaction:#someone makes tradwife content where she's like ''i think it's SO sad when ppl don't have kids EW''#and then the response is ''... go fuck yourself? i think ur life is miserable and bad ?"#and instead of being like ''oh we are all under capitalism huh''#the response is like ''you CANT say that. she made a CHOICE. she is ALLOWED to have KIDS and be HAPPY#unlike YOU who is UNHAPPY bc you don't have KIDS.''#like .... these are people who will throw the first stone. and then when you lob one back#they ask why you're so violent. they tell you that you're a bad activist.#and you're like. PARDON????? you implied being a woman meant i need to submit to my husband???#and they're like - well it's just my belief. so what if i'm invalidating your entire identity.
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Michael doesn’t like Halloween anymore in FNAF..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#fnaf fanart#michael afton#abby schmidt#fnaf gregory#fnaf 4#security breach#fnaf movie#listen this started as a funny grim joke#but the more I think about#I genuinely think Michael doesn’t like Halloween#and has not worn a costume since the events of fnaf 4#I CAN UNDERSTAND that the whole occasion just makes him numb now#so he truly hasn’t worn a costume since the foxy mask#something that use to make him happy as kid#is now just another month for him#sorry for this funny comic to be sad#ILL MAKE a comic where Michael’s happy again sometime promise 😔
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“Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”
#Frankenstein#gothic literature#gothic lit art#victor frankenstein#happy new year lads#ive been thinking about nothing else but them for the past 3 days#been trying to figure out a decent design for victor and i think im getting closer#he needs to have a cruelness to him#and he needs to be kind of pathetic#someone who the creature could snap in half yknow#and i need to make the creature more Mean looking but it just feels right to draw him sad and despairing#THAT BEING SAID i think i did a good job here hehe#henry is next :)))#my art#illustration
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the beginning and the end
#angsty sketch i did when i was sad thinking about deku#he's just so#ugh#i love him#mha#bnha#my art#digital art#digital illustration#sketch#my hero academia#deku#izuku midoriya#also i drew this before the last ch came out#i like the ending#it actually made me v happy for him
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his therapist woulda had a field day at their next appointment
#my art#doodle#fanart#resident evil 8#ethan winters#i think its so funny that he has a journal in re8. not only does he have a journal but he illustrates it. i dont know if capcom intended to#imply that ethan stops every now and then to jot down the horrors and the hour that the horrors occur my guess is prolly not#but now its there and it makes me laugh. i shouldnt laugh at his mental health journey but i am anyways#shoutout to people who journal i wish i was you but instead i draw a guy feelin my emotions for me#but im so happy the sun goess away at 5pm. truly immaculate. i miss snow. but we stay chillin#i made more dear diary doodles but these were my favs n they went well together#i changed the entry in the 2nd one though cause i thought it was funnier to me this way#i cut my hair too short again im not even sad about it anymore like whatever man#at least its out of my way. and my shower was SO fast i got to stand there 5ever and it was still only like 15 minutes#fantastic. there are so many joys in life. theres twice as many horrors but the joys are definitely there and they are definitely joyful#anyways thats the post stay warm n cozy out there gang
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Soooooo after the new details that have been revealed about Veilguard, how do we all imagine a Solavellan reunion is going down? Trapped in the fade together? Lighthouse makeout sessions? A very sad mural dedicated to his Vhenan? My brain is infested with new headcanons.
#the brainrot is stronger than ever. I think that after 10 years it fermented into something slightly unhinged#they are living rentfree in the lighthouse (in my head)#someone wrote about some sad murals on the walls and I couldn’t take it anymore#Solas stop haunting your ex in the fade and make up already#challenged myself with this one! more detailed than my usual work and damn it takes long#foreverrr actually#takes a lot more planning than how I normally work#but I must say I’m happy with the results :)#dragon age#solas#my art#my fanart#dai#the veilguard#da: the veilguard#da:tv#solavellan#the dreamworld#dreadwolf summer#solas x female lavellan#solas x inquisitor#digital drawing#digital illustration#BioWare#dragon age art#art#daze chroma#dazechroma#solas dragon age#solasmance
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so all you need to do right now is disappear.
HHHHAPPY ISATVERSARY EVERYONE. here’s redraws for every single battle cg in the game. 36 drawings this time around, with 11 of those being custom (though admittedly a good portion of those are edits). combined with the portrait redraws i made back in september, i’ve made 114 redraws for this project! jesus christ! just like those redraws, these are completely free to use!! as long as i’m credited and it’s not for commercial purposes, go wild!! do whatever you want!!!
no i didn’t make these for isat’s 1 year anniversary this is just wildly good timing.
i genuinely can’t fit all of these cgs in one post even with the 30 image limit on browser, but i’ll still try to fit Most of them below the cut (without making this post horrifically long), along with some notes that might be important 👍
okay! once again, i labeled all of the custom art as such in the drive(UPDATE. NNOT TRUE ANYMORE. reformatted file names to be easier to mod in auau. apologies!), but if you want a full list, the customs are hatless siffrin jackpot, bonnie jackpot, bonnie special attack, bigfrin attack, and a bunch of alts which are definitely not related to any projects i’ve been thinking about don’t worry about it. and out of those customs, only like. 3 of them are actually completely from scratch.
while i did my absolute best to keep the aspect ratios completely the same as the originals, there’s 3 exceptions that i just couldn’t get to work.
isabeau’s hair in his special attack cg wouldn’t fit in frame if i kept things completely accurate to the og, so i moved his cg down a bit. it shouldn’t cause any issues with modding or anything, it’ll just appear slightly lower than it does in game. alas…
isabeau’s sleeve and mirabelle’s hair made their jackpot sprites a little larger than the originals? i’m hoping this doesn’t have too much of an effect (since the jackpot sprites have inconsistent sizes) but i can’t test this myself unfortunately. aaa feel free to let me know on discord if any problems arise!!
i managed to fix these, so they aren’t going to cause problems now, but my original drawings for mirabelle and siffrin in the final attack scene were a pain in the ass to fix. mirabelle’s sprite was slightly too talk to fit in frame and siffrin’s hat whacked bonnie in the face while i was editing everyone together. i’m only mentioning this because it took like an hour and a half to fix them and finish the scene.
all that aside, these were a fucking BLAST to work on. apparently this ended up taking 57 hours over exactly 10 days. which is a little worrying if you do the math on that but somehow i have not burnt myself out. i will be doing enemies at some point!!! but probably not for a little bit. i think my friends will actually kill me if i don’t take a break.
once again, happy birthday isat. you’ve ruined my life and i wouldn’t have it any other way (silly).
also, on an actual serious note, this little timeloop game has genuinely changed my life for the better? you guys are probably sick of hearing it at this point (or maybe not, i don’t talk about myself That Much. i hope), but i was practically a ghost for about 2 years before joining this fandom. it’s a little surreal to suddenly have friends (plural!!!) and people who Care about me, or even know i exist, honestly. it’s weird!! in a good way!!!
i don’t think i would’ve ever come back to social media if this community wasn’t so welcoming. i’ve met a lot of really great people through this game!!! so, uh, thank you isat, i guess. here’s to another year.
#marshdoodles#isat#in stars and time#isat spoilers#also for full transparency. the sadness death redraw is effectively just a trace job. i’m not super happy with it because of thag#but i think i would be Killed if i tried to redo it. i dunno. maybe ill try to change it when i do sadnesses. maybe not.#besides that GOD im really happy with how these turned out#bigfrin was a last minute addition but i think he turned out fantastic#bonnie’s special attack isn’t my Favorite but i think it turned out pretty well considering the Struggle#gggod. trying to make a heavily foreshortened pose that still feels dynamic is really hard. how did id5 do this.#also don’t. worry about the Extra custom sprites that’re in there. i’m not planning anything.#happy isatversary everyone.#i blow away in the wind#isat redraw project
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[ x ]
#enough heartbreak guys time to be happy#tho now that i think of it... it's really sad if that post was trey visiting restaurant jade works at while they never exactly be together#or trey is married to someone else; and when he got dementia even tho he didn't remember the wife he married anymore he still remembers jad#and was taken there to visit his restaurant again; or jade was called to deliver food to the aged care trey was at#augh...... also if anyone wants more clarification jade eating his own poison is implying he ended his own life#lmao what am i saying on this happy post let's get to tagging#twst#twisted wonderland#treyjade#trey clover#jade leech#fanart
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Made way too many posts about jealous Charles so here is Charles actually smiling for a change
#ngl this was supposed to be a happy post but the sheer amount of time his smile drops the minute he's not looked at#or realizes that people aren't matching his energy#is kinda sad#charles rowland#dead boy detectives#paynland#payneland#tagged paynland bc who do u think he's looking at in 10/14 of these#this is obviously not everytime he smiles it's more like everytime he smiles showing teeth while my wifi cooperated enough that i could see#actually not even every time he smiles with teeth just that one smile in particular
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take the parts of me i cannot stand, and replace them with what you can no longer carry
when i look at my reflection, let it be some rotted version of you
#gravity falls#billford#gf theseus’ guide#stanford pines#bill cipher#illustration#stump art#hi yes this is part of my au but i think works fine on its own as well#here's my comedy fanfiction with the backdrop of two extremely sad people ruin any chance of being happy together on purpose#all the time all the time#yippee#also here's a fun fact i think mabel can see fordtramarine just fine and always has been able to#i think mabel can see shrimp colors and if ford ever finds out he's gonna eat glass
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Legend tells of the carp that leapt over the Dragon Gate at the crest of a river and became a stand up comedian.
#also toyed with calling this comic riddle of the sphinx#but that had a little too much reference already associated with it#comic#comics#sphinx#dragon#ive been thinking so much about humor as related to the tortured artist and comedians and poets as sad artists etc etc#and how often that can be true but how this predominant cultural vision pigeonholes comedy as a low art or even just one you have to just#'be talented' at intrinsically. or even 'be sad enough' to be good at#instead of a craft you hone and an artform itself#this comic isnt exactly about that.#but it's related#it's more about... two very different kinds of people. but who are the same kind of artist#if that makes sense#and literally being scared of what you want#art tag#sequential art#personal comic#quite happy with how this one turned out. im excited to have made it i feel like its really different than my usual comics
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Zelda goes mushroom girl
#tloz#a link to the past#zelda#link#my art#I was happy with that first one but for some reason decided it still needed a companion piece so I spent way too long on that second one...#I don't think there was any time during the progress where I was happy with it but hfduhdfu at least I got to Attempt drawing moss hell yea#I also at some point sat in Pyu's art stream and said I enjoy drawing legs As I was being murdered by the infamously impossibe (imo) squat.#it's ok I had fun !! but I need to learn how to let doodles be doodles or I'll never finish stuff at this rate dfsuhfd#if everything in my tloz tag looks like it was drawn by different people uuuh 2023 was art crisis year ngl......#I'm falling back into my old ways rn though#anyway I think about these two a lot I think they're both stone faced and awkward ppl in different ways but they try rly hard to be friends#like I like to think it starts out so incredibly awkward and a bit sad bc they keep stepping over each other's toes accidentally the harder#they try but idk they find comfy middle ground idk in my brain they have a very interesting friendship I wanna get around to drawing it#in a proper way that might make sense....#if I don't write 200 tags I will die maybe it's bc I grew up on dA or smth#and yes I know how to find 1 (one) type of mushroom /I/ am not mushroom girl unfortunately smh
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What if Mike got the bad ending of the FNAF movie..
#myart#chloesimagination#comic#fnaf#five nights at freddy's#mike schmidt#abby schmidt#ella fnaf#fnaf chica#fnaf movie#fnaf fanart#okay time for yalls weekly angst#now and again I think about the scenario where Mike was too late to save Abby#maybe by minutes or seconds#just thinking how horrific that would of been#Mike losing both him siblings#and Abby staying with her friends forever..#ITS SO sad that’s why I haven’t drawn it sooner#I’ve had this idea since the movie dropped but didn’t have the strength to draw it out 😭#I’m not joking if anything happens to Abby or Mike I’ll lose my mind#I’m so invested in them I just want them to be happy#begging for the movies to never hurt them I can’t take it
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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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Theirs kid souls in there….kids like Bluey right??? 😭
#honestly I made this bc I get sad thinking about them missing out on stuff like this bein stuck in the pizzeria all day…#n you know them not being able to be kids again n all…#LET MY BABYS BE HAPPY#my art#digital art#digital illustration#fanart#fnaf#fnaf 1#freddy fazbear#bonnie the bunny#chica the chicken#foxy the pirate#cute#funny#comic
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