#like thats literally him!!!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
amorettopedri · 12 days ago
Text
Gavi as Spiderman for Halloween 🕸🕷
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
22 notes · View notes
vinestaff · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
sighs. another guy in my brain i guess
3K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
"You and me, Ethan. Together we go save Rose, and then we can grind Miranda into paste!"
4K notes · View notes
h20milk · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
GET REAL GRIM
5K notes · View notes
aroaceleovaldez · 2 months ago
Text
i have suddenly become obsessed with a theme that HoO established but never proceeded to extrapolate on, which is:
You are Percy Jackson, and you have been swapped with a boy who was allegedly everyone's favorite person, but they have decided to replace him with you. They just met you. You stand next to his best friend and the people he's known his entire life. In his home. In his cloak. In his place. They stopped looking for him.
You are Jason Grace, and you have just found out you have a long lost sister who completely replaced you in her life with this girl you just met. Your lives and personalities are mirrors. She is you, living the life you were robbed of.
You are Annabeth Chase, and you have just become starkly aware that you have been inhabiting the void left behind by your best friend's long lost brother. You and Luke were just replacements for him. Now you have to look him in the eyes when he has nothing and know you took that life from him.
You are Piper McLean, and you have just found out your relationship is fake and built entirely on the memories of Annabeth Chase. You have been given a boyfriend when hers has been taken away. You have no idea how much of it is real or not but regardless you feel like if your relationship isn't exactly in their image that you have failed.
You are Leo Valdez, and you have just learned that you are the echo of your great-grandfather. You are not your own person. You just exist to be a mirror of him. A doppelganger. An actor and stunt double facing all the danger he never had to but wearing his face. To be there for his best friend decades later simply because he couldn't. You are playing a role. A seventh wheel and a pawn for a goddess who carefully sculpted your entire life for her own purposes.
You are Hazel Levesque, and the only reason you are alive is because your brother couldn't save your his sister. You are a consolation prize. An apology. Your existence here is misplaced in every way but you inhabit it anyways.
You are Frank Zhang, and you are a shapeshifter. Inhabiting your own body feels strange and clumsy when you could be literally anything at any time. You are anything and everything and live your life with the simple certainty of knowing exactly how you will die.
#pjo#hoo#heroes of olympus#percy jackson#riordanverse#jason grace#annabeth chase#piper mclean#leo valdez#hazel levesque#frank zhang#meta#analysis#me shaking hoo: what if we actually address the interpersonal dynamics of the characters. please. please. please. please.#frank is the only person on the boat not having an identity crisis tied to another member of the crew somehow and that is FASCINATING#but also WHERE is all the interpersonal literally anything. hello. please. making grabby hands. everybody identity crisis go.#i wanna see the entire argo ii crew stumbling through trying to figure out their places and senses of self!!!!!#particularly in relation to each other!!!!! we get snippets but we rarely ever get the full thing or a resolution!!!#like. HELLO??? Piper acknowledging that her relationship with Jason is artificially sculpted in the image of Annabeth and Percy???#and that her ideals of what Jason and her can be are just that she feels like they need to be like what Percy and Annabeth have????#and thats just DROPPED COMPLETELY????#poor Jason is getting replaced twice. Leo is not his own person.#Hazel at least gets the resolution that Nico does not truly see her as a consolation prize#but Annabeth gets to be hit with the like EIGHT YEAR DELAY of learning the place she inhabits in Thalia's life is the echo of someone else#cause like. yeah she knew Thalia had lost her brother but i dont think it clicked for her until she met Jason that oh. she *replaced* him#Frank at least has some certainty about his identity in one aspect (his curse). everybody else is floundering a bit#except for maybe Percy but its kind of the camps of ''i replaced this person and it weighs on me'' versus ''i have been replaced''
2K notes · View notes
puppyeared · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
horrible truth bomb dropped on my head 20 min ago
#I DIDNT KNOW I DIDNT KNOWWWWW#when i say damn thats crazy its bc i DO think its crazy i think a lot of things are crazy. like how birds have cloacas#or the way ppl draw a five pointed star in different ways and everyone assumes their way of doing it is how everyone does it#my brother is not letting me live this down btw he literally shouted at me like HOW DID YOU LIVE THIS LONG AND NOT PICK UP ON THAT#IDK!!! IDK I THOUGHT SOMETIMES IT COULD BE USED TO EXPRESS GENUINE SHOCK??????#he says its my delivery that makes it sound insincere bc i say it in a monotonous voice which when i think abt it YEAH....#THAT DOES MAKE IT LOOK KINDA BAD IN HINDSIGHT.....#and then i told him i keep a list of phrases that tickle my brain so i can remember to use them in conversation and apparently#most ppl dont do that bc he was like ???? stop doing that??? just let the conversation flow naturally it sounds fake>????#idk man i feel like if i did that and blurted out 'i forgot people find stuff like underwear arousing for some reason' instead of#smth like 'i wonder what kind of ppl find this kind of stuff the bees knees' like i normally do. it would. not go so well.#ALSO THE FLOW CHARTS ARENT NORMAL? i make flow charts before i call the bank or smth so i know what to say#its not just to blend in its also so i dont waste ppls time going uhhhhh as i think of how i put smth into words#its called stalling for time and i dont care if i have to say smth like thats just how the cookie crumbles if it gives me#5 more seconds to process whatever the fuck someone said without letting them think im not paying attention#doodles#diary#sona#puppysona#comics
1K notes · View notes
twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 11 months ago
Text
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
Tumblr media
”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.
4K notes · View notes
bunnieswithknives · 29 days ago
Text
Tumblr media
Mephone takes the Operational out of Operational System.
655 notes · View notes
xxplastic-cubexx · 23 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
you open my Super Important Documents and its just pictures of charles xavier
#xmen#mcu#xmen movies#xmen first class#charles xavier#professor x#snap sketches#todays schedule has been ruined by my ever occurring need to practice drawing movie charles its horrendous#i started this sheet last night but then i kept adding to it and i keep wanting to add to it but i MUST stop myself#in an ideal world i get paid to draw charles xavier and erik lehnsherr but no i live in this baka society#sleepless charles WAS inspired by me starting this at 1AM and forcing myself to sleep at 4AM#and then here i am picking i up still later .... i need professional help i fear but i aint got time for that#NEVERTHELESS I THINK IT GOT IT NOW. I THINK IM OK. i think i know how i wanna go bout drawing him now ...#chat can i confess that like. .5% of the reason i barely draw FC charles i because of his hair#for some reason some demonic entity prevents me from drawing it easily i am in STRUGGLE CITY#the only thing that gets me is that whenever i draw him i can only think of the likes of a disney prince but man thems the strokes ig#i also drew a quick dark phoenix charles but i figured id just keep this first class oriented#anything else i want to say ? uh. hm. its funny i never do any of these sheets for erik#genuinely On My Life made One (1) sheet and was like 'no yeah i got it. i got it down'#literally not my fault his head is So Shaped and defined but anyways. this aint about him.#i mean it could be. i still wanna do a doodle page concentrated on drawing how his powers show#more specifically how do i wanna draw the glow cause i cant decide on it ... also i wanna draw the 'levels' ...#but thats for another time. for right now i should probably eat i havent eaten all day#bye bye !!!!!! here's to hoping i draw something thats not a doodle sheet one of these days
485 notes · View notes
nextstopparis · 7 months ago
Text
i really like the hc that magic loved arthur and protected him until merlin came into the picture but very specifically bc it means his idea of like. the laws of physics and How Nature Works would be completely warped. the reason why all those miraculously falling branches didnt raise any questions? its been happening to him his entire life
1K notes · View notes
casualavocados · 2 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Learn from who? Learn from you?
Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)
#kiseki: dear to me#kisekiedit#kdtm#kiseki dear to me#ai di x chen yi#chen yi x ai di#nat chen#chen bowen#louis chiang#chiang tien#jiang dian#userspring#uservid#pdribs#userspicy#userjjessi#*cajedit#*gif#uh huh. mmhm. parallels and shit#OK LIKE. in nice words ai di essentially tells chen yi to go for it BUT bc hes a Lil Shit he says it like 'use force to PROVE how you feel.#followed by '.....OH WAIT YOU CANT BEAT HIM'. the way he rubs that in chen yi's face too like it isnt even 'youre weaker than him.'#it's you're LOWER than him. & thats why ai di calls him a coward bc therell always be a divide between chen yi & cdy that chen yi wont cros#and the point of this is - okay i know chen yi is literally picking ai di up and throwing him around here but also you have to remember#ai di LETS HIM. ai di doesnt fight back as hard as he could and that puts them on EVEN. EQUAL. GROUND. every time.#& yeah theres some comedy to it but you cant Ever forget that ai di wants chen yi to want him. needs it. he's faking sleep in the 1st scene#and once chen yi realizes what he wants he puts everything he has into keeping it - inadvertently taking ai di's advice by doing so -#& expresses it in every kind of way too. whatever it takes. bc between the two of them its not just 'bring him back' it's 'bring him HOME'#in a way thats based on the constantly being witness to the worst of each other & choosing it AND. years and layers of trust & love.#..ok only I would take a gifset of chen yi picking ai di up & make it abt how their relationship is perfectly balanced. but im right so idc#the last one ties it all together in my onion. chen yi got him home. and ai di's deliberately allowing himself to be loved. they won
493 notes · View notes
cubbihue · 2 months ago
Note
What does Timmy think of his little brother Peri growing up to have a neurotic personality?
Tumblr media
Peri's always had severe anxiety. It sorta comes with being the first baby born in a 1000 years and constantly being kidnapped by everyone around you.
Timmy's just glad Peri grew up to be more confident in himself, and more assertive.
Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]
473 notes · View notes
hyacinthsdiamonds · 4 months ago
Text
I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️
#f1#formula 1#formula one#max verstappen#nico rosberg#lewis hamilton#brocedes#like niki lauda had to try multiple times to literally parent trap them to try and get them on speaking terms it never worked#because one would arrive they'd see the other and the other would leave#& if i remember correctly the garage crew would swap around from race to race as a like see we aren't favouring anybody gesture 😭#and thats no shade to nico because it was both of them contributing to that environment#his comment re max is just making me laugh#like if i was a part of the pr/media team - which is a part of the degree I'm working on irl - at merc that year i would've lost the plot#like its insane reflecting on it nearly a decade later but the poor souls just trying to do their job in the eye of that storm#truly gods strongest soldiers#ngl the professional comment irks me a bit because its not like max is engaging in inappropriate work place behaviour#he's engaging in another aspect of racing that his involvement raises awareness of & that makes racing more accessible#& we all know how inaccessible not only getting into racing is but also to continue to pursue the further along you go#theres so many stories of 1 sibling giving up racing so the other can keep going because the family can't afford for them both to race#its a huge financial strain & we only see a handful of drivers talk about that & try to do something to change it#and nicos fellow sky sports commentators are routinely unprofessional on so many levels#additionally max had a lot of valid reasons to be annoyed at his team today#but alas he's not english so he's ungrateful#i hate that drivers can't criticise their teams or car without immediately being branded as bratty & ungrateful#ESPECIALLY WHEN THEIR JOB IS TO GIVE FEEDBACK#you can see the double standards from sky when say Lando or George have complaints with their team/car v the likes of Max and Yuki#especially Yuki my god the things i would do to get the British media to leave him alone#this was a jokey post at one point and then became a rant whoops lmao#I'll leave it that before i write an actual essay here 😭✋️
530 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
me, my boyfriend, and the 8 foot hole in the sand i dug for him because i love him
2K notes · View notes
aroaceleovaldez · 3 months ago
Text
i am once again thinking about Percy and Annabeth and their respective relationships with their step-parents, particularly how the other views the other's dynamic with their step-parents.
Because there's a really interesting subtle thing that we see which is when Annabeth talks about her step-mom to Percy, Percy's assumption is that Annabeth's step-mom is like Gabe. He just presumes that because that's what's familiar with him and based on his own experiences he assumes their situations are similar.
But then when Percy actually meets Annabeth's step-mom (and her dad) he realizes their situations aren't at all the same. He was expecting another Gabe, but instead he just found a genuinely caring family that was just struggling to find their footing with one another.
The interesting thing is that this implies an inverse - especially with what we know about how Percy and Annabeth describe their experiences. Percy doesn't really talk about Gabe ever. To anyone. Grover knows the whole picture there but he's basically the only one of Percy's friends who does. As far as we know, unless Grover told her at some point, Annabeth doesn't know about Gabe. She knows he was a jerk, but Percy out loud doesn't ever really get into details about it. She knows they didn't get along and eventually Gabe disappeared and Percy basically never spoke of it again. Presumably, Annabeth thinks Percy's dynamic with Gabe was like her dynamic with her step-mom, like how Percy had thought their situations were the same. Especially given we know Percy assumed their situations were the same and likely spoke about it as such if it ever came up.
Like. That's such an interesting tiny aspect of their dynamic that never gets touched upon. Annabeth likely doesn't know about this very core traumatic experience Percy endured before they met because she's operating under the assumption that their family just was a little rocky like hers was.
530 notes · View notes
om0000 · 6 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
happy pride month guys
613 notes · View notes