#normally we only have one
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Damn I should have gotten this guys phone number today
#he's a coworker and a really cool guy#he definitely has a crush on me and ngl I'm kinda into him too#I AM POLYAMOROUS I AM NOT CHEATING ON MY HUSBAND#he was actually the first one I told about it#anyways I should see him tomorrow too so I can just get it then when I'm not dealing with the tags#they're sending three boxes this week and I'm fuckin annoyed about it#normally we only have one#it's a huge sale changeover week tho so I get it#it's just also my first week as the department head so... yeah I got a lot riding on this#they're not gonna demote me cuz they know I'm capable#it's just me wondering if I'm capable (and I am)
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Thanks for listening to my sad backstory. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#lan xichen#lan wangji#madam lan#This normally would have been two separate comics but I felt like it was a far better joke to have them together.#Enjoy the rare double feature comic!#I was listening to this episode - scripting out and preparing for a longer and heartfelt comic on this scene.#And then Lan Xichen pulled out his flute and started playing unprompted.#I could not contain my laughter. I know it is trying to be emotionally resonate and the flute is pretty but...#It really does have the energy of “Okay thanks for listening to my tragedies and traumas. I don't know how to segue out of this.”#This madam lan design is inspired by Qourmet's design! Really good stuff that I was not able to do more with in this one panel.#Speaking of...I know it is ambiguous on purpose and we are only told what happened through LXC's POV but...#I always interpreted madam lan's passing as a suicide. I think LXC was told it was illness to soften the blow.#She was stuck in a house with maybe a servant coming by to give her food. One day a month she saw her children.#Of course she was warm and loving in their memories-#She was trying to give them a version of her that would be remembered as such. She wanted to protect them from the truth.#She did her best but she was already dead a long time ago. She must have felt like a ghost haunting a house.#Love to her was waiting. And both her boys inherited that view of love.
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I like to sometimes think that the OM! demons and angels have a heightened sense for noticing other beings, like they know when someone or something is nearby even if it's incredibly still and silent. But they're so used to MC being around that MC can completely slip under their radar. MC's presence is a totally natural, constant part of their daily life. For better or for worse, they're too used to it.
They're just chilling in their room, doing whatever, until MC coughs. It really spooks them. Maybe they jump a little.
"How long have you been there?"
"I came in, like, three hours ago."
"What have you been doing that entire time?"
"I dunno, just... sitting here?"
"The whole time?"
"Yeah."
👀
#Thirteen might have this too. what if solomon's the only one who doesnt. haha what a nerd he only has normal prescence-sensing skills /jk#also consider the opposite: mc's prescence is an utterly un-ignorable shining beacon that they're constantly aware of#i had several fic ideas about this but ive got another convention coming up im planning for so theres no time to write em yet#obey me#obey me!#obey me scenarios#obey me headcanon#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me hc#obey me x mc
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lets go gamers
#a little kiss#as a treat <3#i was having a totally normal one drawing those hands no yearning here nope#limited colour schemes saves my ass not for the first time#cant imagine rendering all that#that and gradients gradients have yet to do wrong by me#the only one missing is rim lighting and we would have the whole gang here#my art#isat#sifloop#isat siffrin#isat loop#in stars and time#comic#sometimes you want to make a quick doodle to make tour friends happy and then some things happen
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HOW DEEP IS YOUR DEVOTION? ; SATORU GOJO
synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.
word count; 6.6k
contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3
a/n; big big BIG thank you to @/teddybeartoji for having the biggest brain in the galaxy and infecting me with this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading you can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity
you are five years old when you meet the prince.
five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.
the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.
”does it hurt?”
the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —
a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.
the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.
there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.
but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.
a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.
(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)
satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.
but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy.
the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work.
satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.
and he wins. he always wins.
that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.
time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into.
satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.
that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.
and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears.
but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.
(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)
satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.
because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere.
a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever.
(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)
a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company.
so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone.
it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.
and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true.
there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house.
you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.
when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.
you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.
so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.
the prince and his knight can do what they want.
not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight.
(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.
but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)
satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.
and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying.
but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.
as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect.
all of it for one person.
all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue.
that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.
sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.
a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.
(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)
the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now.
despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.
“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”
you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.
satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.
“sure you do.”
”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”
”definitely.”
a moment passes.
satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”
”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”
he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.
it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.
and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.
a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.
and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.
it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.
”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.
”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”
and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”
there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.
it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.
but…
”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is.
you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.
satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.
after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”
you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.
”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”
satoru sits up a little straighter.
”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”
a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.
when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.
”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”
when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.
(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)
“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.
something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.
”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”
satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.
”settle down, little knight.”
a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl.
”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.”
a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”
you purse your lips.
“… i don’t think so.”
another chuckle. a little delighted, this time.
“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”
a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”
satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?”
“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”
he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.
then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.
“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”
when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable.
then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.
(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)
no matter where he goes, you follow.
and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.
“come with me.”
at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.
it’s the river you used to play by as children.
gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.
satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.
“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”
he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”
he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.
”i think you’re too scared to get in.”
you blink.
”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself.
“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”
you raise an unimpressed brow. satoru steps back, inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own.
“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”
satoru laughs, when that makes you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little.
his knight. his favourite knight.
“... fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”
“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.
a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.
the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.
“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”
so you do.
and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate.
the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.
you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.
a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily. his chest is heaving, lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting.
a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.
but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still.
and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air.
“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”
his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…
(he’s warm.)
silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.
“i missed this.”
…
nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller.
then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?
“… me too.”
“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.”
you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby.
”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”
a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.
”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.”
satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”
another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.
”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.”
a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand.
”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”
silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip.
(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.
when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)
”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.
”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”
a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years.
“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”
silence. and then, a chuckle.
that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire. ”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”
but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.
and then;
“i’d do it, you know.”
“… do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows.
satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”
”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”
…
(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)
you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”
“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”
and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.
“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”
“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”
“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”
you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.
“… sorry.”
a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”
he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”
”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”
”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”
and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing. enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.
”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”
there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.
you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze.
“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”
“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”
a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.
“i don't get it, though.”
you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.
”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”
the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.
satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?”
…
his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”
you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.
”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”
a moment passes.
silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse.
all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.
fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light.
satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.
a boy so sweet you’d die for him.
(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)
a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.
”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”
but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”
”you’ll get sick.”
”i never get sick.”
a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.
a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”
and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else.
but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear.
until satoru suddenly chuckles.
“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”
you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”
before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.
“i think i was born to meet you.”
(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)
#u both catch a cold the next day <33#anyway i am normal about the devotion of a loyal knight paired w the devotion of a man who’s only ever loved one single person in his life#shoutout to knight x royalty dynamics for inventing romance#i wanted to get a good balance on prince!gojo’s twisted side and soft side so i hope i did ok!! :’3#hes a kind man at heart he rly is but i think being born at the peak of the class pyramid does smth to a person lmao#i didn't touch on it in the fic but he would have turned out a lotttt more twisted if he hadnt met reader as a child …#what if i was ur knight..;;; and u were my prince��.;;;;; and we changed the trajectory of each other’s lives 😳😳 👉👈#mickey if u see this!!! tysm for letting me write abt this concept i had so much fun!!! this fic is for u <33#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo fluff#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen
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#dndads#dungeons and daddies#dndads s2#dndads quest#lincoln li wilson#scary marlowe#taylor swift (not that one)#taylor swift dndads#normal oak swallows garcia#normal oak#normal dndads#lincoln dndads#taylor dndads#scary dndads#hermie the unworthy#hermie dndads#im having so much fun with my new brush#if you see any mistakes no you dont#i think we should normalize link looking like a normal ass guy because its so funny#everyone has a bunch of pazzaz and link is just. the guy :) the guy ever :)#i love him. he just wants to play soccer and watch garfield and also be an only child#the guy ever
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got him off-balance!
#my art#ds9#star trek deep space nine#julian bashir#elim garak#garashir#watercolor#image desc in alt text#i normally post on mondays but. today im breaking my pattern! getting a little silly. getting a little wild. garashir jumpscare#“tumblr user chitinleg garak would neot easily let himself be swooped off his feet into a hug like that” yes i know BUT!#look at his expression. look at how his arms r pinned. he didnt let this happen LMAO julian just surprised him. grabby huggy human behavior#if you look really closely you can see the tiniest frown in the world on Garak's face. because he's like “EEP !”#cant see bashirs face at all in this only his body but i think we can all imagine that whatevers going thru his head. he needs this hug bad#ALSO. for anyone wondering what the fucked up shadow is that starts at the juncture of the teal sleeve-cap where its set into the armhole#the jumpsuits have a bit of a fold of extra fabric (called an Action Pleat) there which allows for a little more maneuverability of the bod#AND creates a really sleek and flat back panel#because you can see the fabric twists along the side arent grabbing the flat back fabric theyre grabbing the fabric folded beneath it#often times i think about drawing out a dissection of kiras first uniform and this voy era one for other artists to use. bc god knows#i struggled at first to find full body references#they like to shoot ds9 very close to peoples heads. and the camera is so blurry. they smeared butter on that thing. god bless
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saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.
I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.
Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?
I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.
You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.
#asking ppl to [celebrate different takes] is... WHAT?#different takes as in well I think she likes apples and you think she likes grapes. yeah that’s some fun discussion to be have#but different takes as in the fundamental of a character’s drive and personality??? NO#let’s put that down very clear here#I can still read fics where Marika is cold and calculate and manipulative as long as I can see there’re layers to it and the author#set it up in a way that I can see they got her backstory and build those layers based on that#and then there are ppl who literally only portray her as omg evil girlboss 101 let’s blame everything on this cardboard character#then I click back.#and there r ppl who might not vibe with how i portray her and they can ignore me. THAT'S OK TOO. we r in our own space.#it’s as simple as that!#ever since the dlc is out i literally could see the amount of ppl blocking me go up and im just “ok” because i do go around muting ppl too.#that's normal fandom space managing experience. pls do that#lore discussion is for ppl to engage in so u say ur piece i say mine and we can continue or not depending on situation#but FANWORK? leave each other alone or be a hater in ur own space ok?#personal#also where are these ppl who have been defending Marika at... because if u exclude me#and some others i can count on one hand. where are these ppl?#ppl saying headass stuffs about the HS aren't even Marika fans or engage too much in fandom to begin with#meanwhile u can't even find one youtube lore essay that says anything good about her#ppl are even trying to give Messmer's mother position to GEQ for no goddamn reason#like where is this overwhelming support for Marika at cuz as the active Marika stan around im not seeing it
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“Keith is not a tsundere he just sucks” you know and understand more than a simple mortal mind could ever dream
i feel like a quintessential part of understanding keith's character is realizing that he is generally okay at socializing with people (he just doesn't like dealing with strangers), but there is something very specific about lance that makes keith fumble every single interaction they have
#klance#voltron#idk how to best word this but i think that keith is genetically preordained to fumble every bad bitch he meets tbh#like keith is a hothead but lance is the only person who consistently baits him into making a snarky response and its sooo funny-#-if you interpret it as keith having a crush on lance and him having no idea how to have a normal conversation with his crush#i think this is the funniest way to interpret all of keith's antagonistic barbs towards lance#i firmly believe keith has 0 rizz and negative aura and it is only by the grace of god (lance also being a weirdo and having terrible taste#that keith and lance were ever able to get together. they are freak4freak if you will. keith's rizz would not have worked on anyone else#also keith is excruciatingly aware each time he fumbles lance & he goes to bed every night agonizing over the terrible choices he's made#'WHY DID I SAY THAT WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME' <- one of keith's daily affirmations#otp: we are a good team#ask#anonymous
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Every Boromir hater makes my enormous love for him grow stronger. Sorry you couldn't understand him, I get him tho and we're holding hands and the whole of Gondor is laughing at you
#lotr#boromir#tbh i think id actually have a good time chatting w a boromir hater if they knew and understood the material but still hated him#cuz most people who dislike this man do because of very shallow reasons#'he was upset looking down at narsil' one can only wonder why that has baggage for a gondorian and the stewards son#'he didnt accept aragorn at first' yea i bet when a dirty ass ranger claims the throne of a kingdom without having lived there#when your fam took care of it for several generations it doesnt feel super great and you Might be a bit upset and worried about it#'he tried to take the ring from frodo' despite disagreeing w the councils decision he still earnestly followed them to destroy the ring#and he only fell after weeks of traveling as the ring whispered to him threats of destruction#one that unlike the rest of the fellowship was already Actively happening and had been happening for a long time#you see ur cities fall and people die everyday as the 1st line of defense against ultimate evil and we tell you not to use a perfect weapon#while said weapon tells you yes it will fix everything just grab it go on boy#and echoes words your father has been pushing onto you all throughout#it feels like people just have no sympathy compassion or understanding for all he's gone through or for the power of the ring#deep breath. im ok#im normal about boromir and my heart doesnt shatter at every rewatch of his death#id have followed you my steward.
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for real tho guys can we stop using “he” as the default/generic pronoun for an unspecified Blorbo. can we stop doing that. we’ve moved on from he as default pronoun in every other context by now but we’ve apparently reinvented it in the specific context of fandom posts
#this was not actually prompted by the post I just reblogged#I know that ‘he would not fucking say that’ is just the structure of that meme#it annoys me at times but that’s how memes work and I don’t really care#no this was prompted by a completely different post I saw immediately after that using ‘he’ to refer to a generic character dynamic#and not just that one but allllll the other ones I’ve seen before it#I made a rule for myself like six months ago that I wouldn’t reblog those rotating my blorbo etc posts#if they used exclusively male gendered language#do you know how few of them I have been able to reblog since then??#like 80% of those generic relatable posts talking about how no one is normal about their blorbo or whatever#are about men. and only men.#can we stop#hot takes with stars
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That viral post that's going around about how people who write "book quality" mlm fic are too "normal" to publish and have real jobs so only "weird" people publish their "shitty" fanfic is so completely out of touch with reality and I am giving a massive side eye to everyone reblogging it.
Not only is it completely, easily verifiably untrue (you cannot enter any professional writing space without tripping over a dozen grizzled scifi writers who got their start by filing off the serial numbers and publishing their Star Trek fanfic even going back decades ago??? it's a whole thing?? plus how can you look at the mlm category on Amazon right now and say with a straight face that people aren't publishing shitty Spirk and Stucky fanfic??? Oh, honey...) it's also the perfect example of this kind of sneering elitism that true artists would never sully themselves by seeking profit, they do it only for the purity of the thing that always somehow leads back to, "no one should be paid to make art, actually."
The only reason you're seeing more published fanfic right now has nothing to do with the idealistic purity of your hypothetical government employee written smut of the past vs the debased scribbles of those awful straights of today and everything to do with the fact that a) self-publishing has created a voracious readership that wants a ton of content so it's become a viable, flexible income stream for many, especially disabled people b) anyone can publish now with self-publishing tools so there are less gatekeepers and c) lockdown got a lot of people into fandom and therefore writing who never tried it before.
And if you really think there's no "shitty" published mlm and no "book-quality" m/f writing out there that started as fanfic, then you are clearly not a reader so why are you even talking about this?
#love how they manipulated people into spreading that post by making it seem like a cishet vs gay thing#when the real message is OP thinks trying to sell your writing is cringe and 'weird' and 'normal people' with jobs would never#which would of course never have flown on the fandom website#so they played into the queer shipping is purer than cishet shipping puriteen thing#and it worked!#because my god people are gullible#this is the direct pipeline that leads to AI thievery#''normal' people write for the joy of it anyway so why do you need pay? you are just greedy and 'weird'!'#'oh no this isn't about who we get to call cringe and who gets to profit from art it's about um...#(quick what's a hated m/f ship?).. oh uh 'shitty' REYLO#and not our super pure uh... (spirk is still popular right? lets throw in that avengers one too to make it seem timely) stucky!'#I'm sorry if I have no sense of humor about this but the year is 2024 and people are still way too ready to sneer#about writers trying to earn a fucking living in the shittiest timeline#and i need you to look deep into yourself and ask you why it's so important to you to tell yourself that only people writing what you like#are 'normal' with real jobs and to vilify everyone else as 'weird' and 'shitty'#for trying to make an income during a financial fucking crisis#i would say sorry for ranting about this but I'm not sorry because wtf#write whatever you want#publish whatever you want#there is no moral fucking purity in what the content is#and one thing certainly doesn't make you more 'weird' or 'normal' than the other#like there is soooo much shitty mlm that started as fanfic???#that post is 100% OP made up some guys to get mad about and called them relyos for the clicks#writing#publishing#writblr#writeblr#i wasn't going to tag this anything but you know what fuck it I'm mad#i had like 5 more tags but tumblr cut me off which is fair 😅#fan fiction
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Vanha Kauppahalli date: en full, a 2 minute 50 second masterpiece...
Primetime Panthers | 11.6.24 (x)
#aleksander barkov#matthew tkachuk#florida panthers#2425#the global series is a gift#“alright talk to me what do we got?” with the camera following behind them makes it seems like theyre spies doing reconnaissance#the start to a thriller where they got sent to finland stake out for intelligence#maffhew not even waiting for sasha to answer before hes asks about chocolate#“the purple one you always bring” maffhew has been charmed by sashas leaving choco in stalls as gifts when he comes back from finland huh#you can tell he says that with depravity of a man who finally realises he doesnt need to rely on his supplier he can get it himself now#“uh oh [laughs] okay... what is this?” maffhew was not prepared for all the food to already be ready for him he just hopped off a plane and#expected to have to wait more and did not and absolutely does not trust the situation in the same way you get romantic candlelit-dinnered#and youre like alright whats all this then whats your angle what are you doing#“this is salmon and rye bread 😄” “(with the eagerness to prove hes smart and engaged) so is that 👉” “(charmed) and so is that 🫱”#“ill try your favourite first” GURL RELAX OKAY SETTLE DOWN YOURE IN A NEW COUNTRY JUST CHILL MAN#“salmon and rye bread—thats the famous one 🤓” [sasha nodding along because he has to reassure maffhew but also hes in the middle of eating]#maffhew choosing the most inopportune time and you can TELL sasha is like [swallows quickly] because he wants to answer but also BIG BITE#“herring” “herrin' 🤠?” “eating all this her-RING” no notes#“is this just another salmon on rye bread” he says with hope because he likes salmon but also disappointment (he wants to try more foods)#“different salmon? smoked?” the amount of questions hes askijg because hes so terribly engaged he wants to know and sashas like [shrug]#he has to get an A+ in experiencing finland which is normal to want and possible to achieve#“i still love your country though” and sasha explodes into the mirthful grin ive seen in my life like he just won the damn jackpot#he speaks at 100 mph like please take a deep breath sweetheart youre excitement is papable but PLEASE#THE WAY HE GETS SO UNSURE WHEN HE MENTIONS BARKY HATES THAT FOOD WHEN HE LIKED IT SO MUCH#MAFFHEW YOU CAN GET A PASSING GRADE IN EXPERIENCING FINLAND IF YOU STICK TO YOUR GUNS I PROMISE#SASHA HELP A GUY OUT HERE MAN THROW HIM A BONE#SASHA ONLY LAUGHS AS MAFFHEW THROWS HIMSELF INTO A TIZZY OVER THIS YOU ARE SOOOOOO#the chuckle when sasha mentions he had runebergin torttu in school... id like to know what was funny there#we call out sasha for being too lovesick and laughing at all of maffhews “jokes” BUT HES JUST AS BAD???#“what the hell do i do with this thing?” MAFFHEW HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN MERENGUE IN YOUR LIFE???
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if meg! sam has no fans, it means im dead
(not my edit: creds to the owners)
#daisy yaps <3#meg!sam#meg! sam is always on my mind#he lives in my head rent free#this post is bc i got a meg! sam edit on my feed#i have an unhealthy attachment to meg! sam#ik we only had meg sam for one episode in szn 2#but he lives on in my head heart and soul forever#i’m so normal about him i swear#KANJDNSNIAJSND#MEG SAMM MY LOVE#sam winchester#yapping about sammy#sammy my boy#supernatural#spn#sam winchester x reader#supernatural x reader
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Rouge-like tendencies, courtesy of grandpa
#scary is a clothes thief i believe it#one day she takes off a jacket to reveal one of lincs Garfield shirts that no one even knew was missing#normals like: “scary do you like... not own any clothes??? is that what this is??? we can BUY you some clothes scary.”#scarys like: “are you just jealous cause i dont steal any of your clothes?”#normal: “YOUVE TAKEN EVERYONE ELSES!!! WHATS WRONG WITH MY CLOTHES??? IS IT THE SHADE OF BLUE? DO YOU HATE THE BLUE?? I CAN CHANGE!”#scary: “its cause they all have fuckin teeny the teen on them.”#normal: “thats.... okay. actually thats kinda reasonable. i was worried you didnt like them because-”#scary: “-also they REEK. have you ever washed any of these?”#normal: “oh. yeah. thats.... thats what i thought you were gonna say.”#her justification for why she steals everyones clothes is to show those losers how much better they look on her#(its cause she loves them. and only knows how to express herself through her appearance.)#scary marlowe#dndads#dungeons & daddies#dungeons and daddies#terry jr stampler#terry junior#taylor swift#dndads s2#fanart#digital drawing#my artwork#fan art#taylor swift close foster#terry jr#my art
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i do think peak comedy is a steve who is absolutely aware of the effect he has on people, but has never felt that way towards anyone else-- the closest he got was with nancy and robin, because he loved them both in different ways, and sometimes he felt like he was going to go insane if he didn't talk to them or touch them right now, but it was never like he had seen other people act about him. robin and nancy made him a better person. they didn't drive him to ridiculous levels of violence and obsession. maybe people in hawkins were just fucking weird.
and then he meets eddie, falls in love with eddie, and he's like... yeah, okay. alright. no, i get it. if anything happened to this guy i would steal the nuclear launch codes.
#steddie#jgkfldgj separate fic idea where everyone is talking about their best murder ideas as like a joke#nancy has a gun she's been thinking about longingly eddie's is dramatic argyle's is disturbingly competent etc#and steve is just like how many of the government officials that we know do you think i would have to fuck to get access to the nukes#idk steve is the epitome of go big or go home To Me#like he's always the one put in situations and then he commits to the bit a thousand percent and is way more extra about it than everybody#he hit billy with a fucking car . do u get that#nancy was like im gonna shoot at him like a normal person in an action film#and steve was like oh the vehicle im currently in? before airbags were invented? im gonna send it full speed into that guy#as you fucking do#the only one in the upside down mostly naked and shoeless btw#like ???? do u think this is die hard u bitch bc that hasnt come out yet#what was i talking about its 2 am
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