#i am Normal about hands
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(looks at upcoming card releases)
I'm in danger :)
#art#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland spoilers#stage in playful land#stage in playfulland#smoking#my favorite horrible crime guys are back!!!!#(my hot take is that glomas had a better story but these goobers were just SO fun)#(they should be allowed to kidnap and murder(?) at least a few dozen people. as a treat.)#man i knew there was probably going to be a fellow card and yet i still did a bad job of saving my keys#and there's this year's halloween to think about too!#normally i try to avoid leaks and spoilers but i did accidentally see some stuff and if it's real then holy SHIT#on the other hand fellow attacks by basically throwing gidel at people and i desperately need this on my team#regardless of whether or not the card is actually any good#(if they change the animation to remove gidel i am going to RIOT it needs to be either exactly the same or EVEN SILLIER)#actually it would be hilarious if their stats were terrible. just the worst. and yet...#grown man and his kid with a hammer vs a bunch of teen wizards who can shoot fire#the results may shock you#(if they do the same duos-with-the-last-release as they have been with the staff cards then i will absolutely lose it)#(please twst. it would so useless to me but SO funny)#fellow: it's showtime rollo! :)#rollo: who are you
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I like my men smart
#i need him#i am normal about this man#i want him#spencer reid#i love him#need him#spencer reid criminal minds#hes so babygirl#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#josh hutcherson#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid hands#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x you#five hargreeves#five hargreaves x reader#five hargreaves x you#five hargreeves x reader
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izzy crying when he is given the leg is just so fucking meaningful
he saw the note, he saw the leg and he realised the crew actually care for him. enough to make him a new fucking leg. he realises he isn't alone anymore, he has people in his corner now.
like this cute ass mother fucking smile, like fuck you can see how much it meant to him. and he literally stops drinking, he stops isolating himself, he hangs out on deck showing off his new leg proudly because others had done something for him.
#i am not normal about anything on this show#ofmd#our flag means death#izzy hands#ofmd s2#our flag means death s2#ofmd spoilers
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don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au
this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--
his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!
So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.
Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.
Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.
And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.
Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.
Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.
He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?
Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.
Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.
They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.
Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.
He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.
His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.
Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.
It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.
He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.
Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.
He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.
He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.
Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.
It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.
It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.
"I've become my grandfather."
#dpxdc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dp x dc#dp x dc crossover#danyal al ghul au#dpxdc au#dp x dc au#dpxdc prompt#ive been playing cult of the lamb recently and you can tell#anyways i thought this was funny to think about. its specifically danyal al ghul bc that makes it even funnier#tfw you accidentally become a cult leader. rip to you danny you have a cult following#not at ALL an accurate depiction of a cult but i still think its funny. innaccurate cult depictions. ur in too deep to change it now danno#sam and tucker: hey dude... this is a cult | danny still learning how to People: what. no. these are all my friends and refugees.#his inner circle are all Insane about him they just show it in different ways. Sirius is as equally zealous as the rest they just don't#show it as much. which has mistakenly convinced danyal that they are the more logical one. no danny. they would kill for you#danny: i am being hospitable | sam: you created a cult | danny: i am being hosPITABLE#i dont like ghost king aus but i love danny being in positions of power it just has to feel earned. 'accidental kingdom acquisition' is my#favorite trope it just has to be done correctly. 🫵 build that bitch up with your bare hands and not realize until its too late you fool#'becoming a world power by accident and im in too deep to back out now'#danyal. a raised assassin (has no threshold for normal behavior): *sees utter devotion towards him* yeah this is fine and normal.#danyal: yk i dont see this ending horribly. *goes and collects more followers* yeah this is totally cool. welcome to the constellation#danyal: *saves a few people and houses them in his lair* (everyone liked that [to a worrying degree actually])#his inner circle: my moon! | danny: my stars :]#danny: ive become my grandfather. | danny: ... | danny: idk how to feel about that honestly.#those poor cultists that kidnapped antares were subjected to a 3hr tangent about 'the radiance of the Moon and his resplendent generosity'#before danyal found him and got him home. who were the cultists summoning? who knows! but they got Objectively the Worst out of the#constellation to summon by accident. actually they're all bad there's no picking who. they're all various amounts of Unhinged Danny just#Never Realizes It because he is also Unhinged and thinks some of this shit is normal.#like yeah thats totally normal behavior he has no questions whatsoever. this seems like Typical People Stuff.
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Then an old wife, Ioreth, the eldest of the women who served in that house, looking on the fair face of Faramir, wept, for all the people loved him. And she said: ‘Alas! if he should die. Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.’
#aragorn#lotr#tolkienedit#lotredit#lord of the rings#anduril#ring of barahir#filmedit#*lotrq#*#tw blood#“i am normal about this man and all his hand closeups in film and book” is what i would say if i was lying
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"You know, maybe I could teach even you a thing or two."
#OFMD Spoilers#Izzy Hands#Con O'Neill#OFMD#Our Flag Means Death#ourflagmeansdeathedit#ofmdedit#Our Flag Means Gay#Our Flag Means Daddy#My Gif#Daddy#dilfsource#dilfgifs#dailymenedit#dailymencelebs#lgbt#lgbtedit#candles#swordplay#I am so normal about this gifset yep#he is so hot I love him#gay#queer
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while teen while goblin while aroace while injured while doing your best
#fantasy high junior year#fhjy#riz gukgak#figueroth faeth#sklonda gukgak#dimension 20#this. mmmmhhh this is so. I did Not know how to draw this really.#I am very normal about riz (<- lying)#it's a brennan-dm d20 campaign the bad guy is always capitalism (I am saying this with clenched teeth)#riz out of all of them being aroace fucks with me SO bad. bc its also established that elmsville specifically and probably the#majority of solace is not. made for goblins. and that becomes sklonda being worked to the bone and pok dying on the job#and riz spending all his time trying to keep his friends together. maybe to the point of it being injurous#like. do u get what I mean. its an economy of time it takes your time it eats up your time#not just the gukgaks but everyone you have to spend time to get to live and you don't have a lot of time left in a day#and you have to spend it carefully. you have to prioritize#you're somewhere without an established community and companionship is bought with your time spent working#this place doesn't take care of you. at the end of the day who do you have who'd prioritize you. do you understand me#the evolved aroace loathing where if your friends and family are granted more time nobody would have to choose. we live in a society#holds ur hand we live in a society. idk if Im making any sense#anyway . uhhh riz is my favourite that's my statement thank you for listening. au revoir
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To any disabled person undergoing tests to find What's Wrong: I hope your results come back the way you hope and that you receive the help you need. I hope you are not denied care, I hope you are taken seriously even after this, and I hope that you will be taken care of compassionately
#disability#currently going through something like this for myself and while i doubt there's anything 'wrong' i still did it#people are always weird about people who are disappointed or devastated about 'normal results' but...#...it's because normal results don't mean much when you still have the issue at hand...#...if my test came back that my back is physically normal that doesn't indicate that i don't have back pain does it?#because i am still in pain so often even if i have a 'physically normal' back...#...just as an example but i don't think a lot of abled people 'get it'#also like... if your tests are coming back 'normal' every time that might give your care providers pause...#...and they might just start infantilizing you or treating you like a hypochondriac...#...'are you SURE [problem] isn't just anxiety?' 'are you SURE you're actually experiencing [x] or are you exaggerating it?'
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something something about buttons and izzy both being first mates and their existence somehow reinforcing both stede and eds roles as pirate captains, something about how that means that they both needed to go for ed and stede to truly leave piracy behind, something about that above all a first mate should always be loyal to their captain and that even though they have both left this world, izzy and buttons are still there with their captains at the end of it all
#I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS OK I AM FINE#< - lying#our flag means death#ofmd#izzy hands#ofmd buttons#Nathaniel buttons#ofmd season finale#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd s2#ofmd spoilers#our flag means death spoilers#god how else do people tag spoilers#ofmd season 2#ofmd season two#my post#100*#500*#1000*#2000*#top post
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more of the dapper lad! i Cannot get him out of my brain
#i sit down to draw dragons and/or ocs and OOPS my hand slipped its wally#hes so. bites him bites him bites him#but affectionately <3#but also with affectionate intent to maim <3#every time i feel like my feelings about him are starting to level out to a normal baseline....#....i feel a heart squeeze and im back to insanity#welcome home#scribble garnish#wally darling#welcome home wally#welcome home puppet show#also i am once again imaging that he is modeling for sally#this is alternatively titled 'consistency? dont know her'#his hair confuses me so much#no matter how many times i look at references or draw him it still baffles me#which way does it curl? how does it floof? fuck if i know!#yknow before i drew this i set out with the intent to put Other neighbors in schmancy outfits#and then i saw that colorblock shirt. and it all went downhill#its 2 am now.#i spent a solid hour making a fancy background but i scrapped it bc it was Too Much
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Gloom nightmares...
Link is totally sleep-deprived on his Tears of the Kingdom quest.
He NEVER rests. But despite all his efforts, it is inevitable: Link collapses and sleep wins over him... and when that happens, Link has the most vile and repulsive nightmares!! Puppet Zelda and her cruelty is always there, ready to mock and torture him.
PS. Nintendo could've gone waaaaaaaay worse with Puppet Zelda if you ask me
PS 2 If you are wondering, yeah, this is a shameless homage to that iconic Evil Dead 2 scene. Groovy! 😊
#my art#tears of the kingdom#zelink#zelda#puppet zelda#gloom hands#so my drawings are wholesome lol#gloom spawn#blood moon#zelda fanart#legend of zelda#loz fanart#breath of the wild#botw#princess zelda#botw link#I am normal about Puppet Zelda...#Link is a sleep-deprived mad-man#be warned cuz i either draw extreme fluff or extreme angst#I feel horrible cuz i really enjoy drawing Link having a bad time#i also love the original Hellraiser#slight nudity#totk#totk link#blood
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Stupid Inkmare teacher AU idea that I stole somewhere
#I am not good with clothes#Ink and Nightmare are married and has too much time on their hands after the truce and decides to become teachers in a random modern AU#With the help of the AU's Creator after some convincing and attempts to act normal in front of everyone in said modern AU#Ink is an English teacher while Nightmare is a history teacher#I do not know jack shit about teaching#and neither do they#Ink has 5 kids#Nightmare is the father of only one of them#ink sans#nightmare sans#inkmare#nightink#nightmare sans x ink sans#ink sans x nightmare sans#utmv#sans au#fanart#doodles#digital art#artists on tumblr#my art#digital fanart
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#i want him#spencer reid#i love him#i need him#need him#i am normal about this man#hes so babygirl#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#doctor spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid angst#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid edit#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid hands#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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I’VE ALWAYS LOVED THE WAY YOU EAT ; SUGURU GETO
synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.
word count; 4.9k
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.
a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!
something smells good.
as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.
there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.
soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.
indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with.
it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.
in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.
a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.
with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room.
suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.
you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy.
you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.
a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can.
until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.
“good morning, sweetheart.”
softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.
and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.
(god, he’s pretty.)
suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch.
you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.
but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.
“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat.
he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting.
you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.
suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.
a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.
(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)
a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.
the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light.
“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.
and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.
between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy —
but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile.
look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.
(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)
“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”
breakfast.
something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.
suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.
“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.
suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.
you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.
suguru is just so good to you.
and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.
maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy.
a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.
suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.
but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.
arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth.
and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you.
being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.
”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.
”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”
a pause.
then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.
(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)
but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.
he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.
”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”
but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is.
and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection.
but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.
”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”
he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.
“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”
to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.
”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.
”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”
it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.
and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.
to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.
you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage.
and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.
“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his.
a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”
a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind.
inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment.
“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”
suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.
“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”
and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide.
always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.
his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest.
your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.
“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.
“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”
a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.
and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.
(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)
a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is.
there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.
suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.
there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.
there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.
that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.
and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips.
everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.
all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —
suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up.
as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.
just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.
the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.
you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.
and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.
he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.
”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly.
and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.
more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.
you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?
”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.
breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.
”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”
suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.
“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”
”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”
the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.
a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?”
an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.
smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”
the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”
suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.
but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.
”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”
suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.
sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words.
you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.
and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.
he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.
he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same.
when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.
his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest.
butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.
butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.
in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.
(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)
#im normal abt him!! i swear i am!!!!!#smth about extremely devoted malewives with black hair just do it for me#suguru geto n aki hayakawa are like this🤞in my brain#i think suguru was like. crafted specifically to look good in the morning#like that deep voice……. his hair in a messy bun………. wearing sweatpants w no shirt……………….. i am on my hands n knees#this ended up almost as a parallel to my gojo fic…. it wasnt even intentional blame stsgs soulmatism#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#geto x reader#geto fluff#geto suguru x you#jjk geto#jjk x reader#jjk
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apparently pjotv twt was being weird about book!Percy's eyes being green because they don't think the ocean can be green (???) so consider this a sequel to my Grace siblings eye colors post and here is some visual references of green water for all your Percy inspo needs:
And for reference, the water around New York-ish where Percy is usually is somewhere around this color:
or some alternatives:
or here is a nice hazel green if you want his eyes more on the brown side, which is very common in freshwater ponds and streams:
or if you want him to have totally brown eyes - water rich in tannins will appear brown, greenish-brown, or very dark brown - this is sometimes called "blackwater" due to often appearing very dark or having low visibility:
#pjo#percy jackson#riordanverse#i am eternally amused by old pjo fandom's tendency to interpret ''sea-green'' as ''tropical seas / neon aqua''#mostly just cause as someone who grew up around boats when i think of ''sea-green'' i have a very particular color in mind#and its that kind of murky desaturated green#like sometimes ur at the docks and are just shoving your hand into low visibility green water to catch jellyfish yknow#thats the vibe. thats what i think of whenever i hear ''sea-green''#reach into your local harbor and you may find a friend and a boy (jellyfish)#and i respect not everybody is as familiar with the ocean but ''Percy's eyes being blue is *better* because the ocean is blue not green!''#is. just a ridiculous statement to me.#like. just. first and foremost. claiming blue eyes are ''better'' and the implications in that (bleugh)#secondly - claiming that ''the ocean isnt GREEN'' is just. well you're just wrong so jot that down#it is in fact not uncommon for the ocean to be green. this is very normal actually#the ocean not always being blue does not feel like particularly groundbreaking news????#like gonna be real my guy usually the ocean is actually pretty. idk. greyish.#especially if its not actively a very sunny day in the summer#cause a lot of the time if the water is just reflecting the sky and is not being particularly affected by whatever is actually in the water#then. well. the sky is usually greyish! on your average day the sky is usually kinda grey! it usually only gets really blue when its sunny#but usually water has. yknow. stuff in it. a lot of the time algae and such. so it ends up murkier/greenish#anyways this has been: AALV's oddly specific nitpicking about Percy's eye color
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insp.
#twabbbiih's low quality gifs#dead boy detectives#edwin payne#charles rowland#edwin paine#dead boy detective agency#dbda netflix#dbd netflix#dbda gifs#payneland#dbda#painland#AND SO THEY DIDN'T LET EACH OTHER GO#they spent one night together as charles died and that boy decided Im never letting you out of my sight again and i am SO normal about them#yes I did contemplate using the scene where charles is holding edwins hand as he drags it off his mouth in hell but#it looked even worse than these do#apologies if the fourth is hard to read i cant tell how bad it is anymore because i know what it says so im praying it's readable
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