#u just make them uncomfortable
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
babyleostuff · 1 year ago
Text
i can’t believe that even after wonwoo decided to share his anxiety regarding flying and airports, people still crowded them today til the point where he had to cover his ears????
WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT OF GIVING YOUR IDOL A FUCKING ANXIETY ATTACK JUST LEAVE THEM ALONE FOR GODS SAKE
219 notes · View notes
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
nappingpaperclip · 7 months ago
Text
y’all we r not beating exorsexism and misogyny by calling every transmasc that pisses u off a ‘theyfab.’ Idc if they are annoying or have dumbass opinions, literally using someone’s agab as an insult is wrong and treating transmascs as annoying little afabs is deeply misogynistic and transphobic. What happened to just calling people fucking idiots
290 notes · View notes
darknesspervades · 8 months ago
Text
I LOVE BEING TRANS!!! I LOVE SEEING THE WORLD IN ITS SPECTRUM OF COLOUR AND BEING FREE TO EXPRESS MYSELF HOWEVER I WANT!!! I LOVE THAT I CAN EXPLORE MASCULINITY AND FEMININITY FREE OF RESTRICTIONS!!!!! I LOVE THAT I'M PART OF SUCH AN ACCEPTING COMMUNITY!!!! I LOVE BEING TRANSGENDER!!!!
273 notes · View notes
bambiilooza · 3 months ago
Text
don't wanna sound like an asshole but actually stop with the mpreg asks with me. please and thank you👍
35 notes · View notes
oceanwithouthermoon · 4 months ago
Text
i posted abt this on my tiktok story but i need to rant more so im putting it here 😭😭 the way a lot of mikosai shippers (on tiktok, pinterest, reddit, etc) are is such a big reminder to me of why i hate the strictly romantic soulmates trope with every fiber of my being 😭😭😭 people who interpret soulmates as "that means theyre canonically together" regardless of how the characters actually feel about each other and if they ACTUALLY get together is so fucking gross to me oh my god its so fucking gross i hate forced romance so bad 😭😭 someone cant just say "hey, we're soulmates so you HAVE to date me and its literally weird and impossible for you to like anyone else because i said so!!" and also aiura WOULDNT do that anyway ???? HELLOOO???
you have no idea how many people ive seen call all saiki ships with anyone other than aiura "problematic ships" just because "theyre soulmates"
#SOULMATES DOES NOT MAKE A COUPLE CANON <333#'she SAID theyre soulmates so that means hes HERS now and its gross for u to think he liked anyone else'#hey thats actually... really bad!! hey she actually cant and wouldnt force him to date her!!! hey what the fuck!!!#not a mikosai hate post#only weird forced romance likers hate post <3#if someone doesnt like someone then they dont like them... them being soulmates doesnt change that...#thats actually just not how it works and the idea that that WOULD be how it works is gross#and a lot of the fics ive read of them end up with aiura being all 'ha i told you so! i knew id break u eventually!'#'i knew id get to u if i just kept calling u my boyfriend without permission and saying we're soulmates!'#which like not only would she not do that... its also just really gross#like u really thought 'he doesnt like her so she wears him down and doesnt leave him alone until he relents' and like... u went with that?#oh...#weird...#idk maybe im crazy and also im having a hard time phrasing any of this#but it just brings up so many consent issues and it makes me really uncomfortable#like according to THOSE shippers it wouldnt be by his own will or feelings if he eventually fell in love with her#it would just be because the universe said so and he never had any choice#mikosai is so cute when u think of it in like the totally opposite way#in MY opinion i love mikosai AFTER aiura accepts that soulmates doesnt mean he HAS to date her#that HAS to happen before they date and THEN theyre really cute#saiki k#tdlosk#the disastrous life of saiki k.#meows post
44 notes · View notes
enginator2000 · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
fleetfinite posting hours, look at my goobers
123 notes · View notes
batsplat · 4 months ago
Note
welcome back casey stoner !
https://www.tumblr.com/verdemint/761549873456775168/same-interview-they-asked-him-how-does-he-deal
(link)
asjddkh SEE this is what I'm talking about!! something about those incredibly neurotic ducati champions, eh. in the post linked above, pecco's talking about how he deals with media pressure... which, yeah, pecco and casey really do share a fair bit of competitive dna there - from the insistence that it doesn't affect them whatsoever to how they do in fact get extremely pissy whenever they feel misrepresented by the media. very sensitive to that kind of thing, those two are... but at the same time they're also both their own harshest critics. from casey's autobiography (all quickly nabbed from this post, which ofc expands on casey's perfectionism):
I got a lot of criticism over the years for being honest because I always felt I could do better. Even if I won the race, if I had made mistakes it was important for me to admit them and address them for next time instead of congratulating myself for being the best on that particular day.
and:
Whatever challenges I take on now I am still driven by the same quest to improve - I can’t change who I am. As a personality trait this is both a good thing and a bad thing. I like that part of me but it would be nice to not be like that sometimes, to enjoy something without being obsessed with getting better at it. I am sure you can go through life a lot happier if you don’t analyse everything.
versus pecco:
The strength that I've proved in various situations comes from the fact that I am extremely critical of myself, and so it only takes a little bit for me to put myself down even more.
like yeah I suppose that's one way of looking at it - nobody else can get to you if you're already tearing into yourself. it's a motivational process that's very much built on negativity, right, on the need to live up to their own exacting standards. both pride themselves for their ability to put failures behind them quickly - to be able to immediately bounce back because they tell themselves they only care about doing better in the next race. plus, there's that interesting dynamic where both are like... pretty big on this idea they're not making excuses for themselves, committed to honestly assessing themselves and all that,, BUT also have reputations for being whiny to the press... because people for whatever reason end up thinking they're constantly blaming everything but themselves for their shortcomings. again, very prone to feeling misunderstood!! neither of them are necessarily terrible communicators - but there's a certain reluctance there (obviously more so from casey) to even play that game at all. mix in a learned wariness because they feel like they've been burned before.... that whole pecco episode last year where he said one reason for the increased injury rate is probably because the field is tighter now (which, yes! seems logical!) ,,, and then some unholy combination of clumsy phrasing, media framing and an ungenerous fan response ended up translating that to pecco saying he wanted satellite bikes to be slower again... gave me real casey vibes lol. casey had a fair few of those episodes himself - though at least the news cycle and social media fandom weren't quite as bad back then. in a lot of ways he'd struggle even more nowadays
also,, you do have to mention - they both end up defining themselves against valentino specifically when it comes to their public personas. casey might be the rival and pecco the mentee, but both of them have been clear that they do not desire to be the next valentino rossi. kinda what I said here, right
Tumblr media
idk, obviously pecco had a heads-up a little earlier than casey did that sensibly communicating to the media WAS going to be a big part of the job. but there's still a wariness there, an unwillingness to be something they're not, knowing that they'd be miserable trying to match valentino's particular brand of flamboyance... it is key that it is a choice they're making. they just don't want that for themselves, never have. there's only ever so much outreach they're willing to do
also this
“Stoner and Bagnaia are two different riders, but they have the same mental attitude,” Tardozzi told AS. “I think Pecco is still growing. He already took a big leap by winning the championship, but the biggest jump in his head has been done this year, after the two falls in Argentina and Austin. “He is an intelligent boy and has spoken a lot with the team, and what happened has made him take another step to make him even more of a champion. Now he has the right mentality. Pecco will become one of the greats. Right now it is showing that he is growing, as I told you before."
'resilience' is I think a word I associate quite strongly with both of them. they take their fair share of punches, do tend to get called mentally fragile a lot - but in truth there's a steel there that serves them well. did talk a little bit about the similarities of their motivational processes here too:
Tumblr media Tumblr media
and
Tumblr media
and one other thing I've been thinking about is that this... y'know, use of spite, of self-criticism, of how annoyed they get at others' criticisms - for both of them, it is also paired with a determined refusal to countenance they could be mentally affected by anything. with casey in particular, it's a bit of an overcorrection in response to how often he was described as mentally weak; it's understandable you might get extremely sensitive about the whole thing, if you weren't already. a lot of it is also stubbornness... a bone-deep contrarianism that immediately makes them push back if somebody suggests they might struggle for any reason related to psychology. where this really jumps out is how they talk about their rivals. obviously, nobody is going to say that their opponent's mind games work on them because that'd be deeply stupid to admit - but there is something about pecco's firm insistence marc's mind games don't have a hope of working on him that is really reminiscent of how casey has talked about valentino. it's that dynamic of ,, well, they're not wrong in that they're stronger than people give them credit for, but obviously they are also. like. extremely defensive, past the point of necessarily being reasonable. sometimes, what your rival does will affect you. that's kinda how rivalries work lol. but both of them are very committed to this narrative that their working process is super self-directed. casey's whole thing about how he's never gotten obsessed with rivals, pecco's 'we work in silence' schtick... it comes back round to the relationship with the media, right, where they have a natural inclination towards framing that as an oppositional dynamic - and automatically chafe against any narratives that might be externally imposed on them. actually, you see, rivals don't affect their performance at all, they don't need to constantly slobber to the press to hype up their performances, they'll do their talking on-track... but the unspoken truth there is that all of those things do matter, they are paying a lot of attention - and in the end, 'proving a point' to someone becomes a central part of the motivational process. they hear all the criticisms, they seethe in 'silence' (often involves a fair bit of public complaining but let's allow it), and then they determinedly show how all their critics were fools and losers. rinse and repeat
anyway yeah apparently that's part of the ducati magic - a dash of neuroticism, a heavy dose of self-flagellation, inject a desire for authenticity that might at times read as whiny, stir in the makings of a persecution complex and top it off with a sprinkling of spite. probably not the easiest type of guy to handle, but clearly there's something to the formula. a compelling approach to be sure
14 notes · View notes
elftwink · 25 days ago
Text
one thing about wearing a mask is occasionally people who don't mask but kinda feel bad about it will make some comment about how you're being smart about it and they WOULD wear a mask but you see they just don't have one on them! oh darn and shucks well next time maybe. and then you can say "i have extras, do you want one?" and you get to watch the gears turn as they figure out how to say no without having to actually admit the reason they aren't wearing one is because they just don't feel like it. because they were expecting you to like absolve their personal guilt about not masking and therefore do not expect even for a second that you will instead ask them to confront it.
they Never take an extra mask.
14 notes · View notes
hermitcraftx · 3 months ago
Text
just got a dm abt one of my posts and y'all please don't try and show the hermits (or any minecraft youtuber or content creator for that matter) my posts, i'm uncomfortable with it and don't want any of my posts shown to a cc. if they stumble upon it naturally that's unfortunate but i can live with it since i do maintag a lot (something i REALLY need to stop doing tbh i already know i need to make a tagging system just for my blog that wont clog results) but going out of ur way to show a cc is entirely different and something i am not comfortable with.
no hate to the person at all but even if i wasn't a little silly and weird with it sometimes i wouldn't be comfortable with it, i want my blog to be a purely fandom only space with none of the creators involved <3 please respect this
#which is imo how a fandom space should be#i'm old fashioned and it breaks the fandom etiquette rules i stand by#i ship and stuff and absolutely NO cc needs to be subjected to that please and thank you even if it's a non-ship post#not saying hermits and others cant hang out and interact if they wish hell no but like....#if you as any person with a following willingly go into a fandom space you have to expect to see some things you find weird#doesn't even necessarily mean ship just stuff the cc finds weird :v idk im not phrasing this right but like#the rule with shipping around any sort of media has been to keep it away and not show the creators anything !!! and thats fallen out#of practice the past few years with ppl getting more and more comfortable demanding boundaries and personal info from creators#which isn't right imo bc its like you're trying to see how much you can get away with. u want a guide on how to interact and social skills#which is... huh??? just be polite and keep anything weird away from them like what we were doing#some folks nowadays need “permission” to ship stuff even from SHOWS and shit with no real people and its like wow... huh....#u need it to be canon?? u need everything told to u by the show?? wheres the imagination. the spirit.#the making of everything so far removed from what it once was#like that guy that played nick from heartstopper that had to be outed to play a gay guy. like#idk im so sick of the boundary fandom ppl in mcyt 'what if they saw and made it uncomfortable!! im going to show them!!!!'#you are making them MUCH more uncomfortable than i am by GOING INTO THEIR FACE AND DEMANDING THEY LOOK AT IT!!#AND DEMANDING BOUNDARIES N SHIT... CRAZY.... idk the hermits especially its weird to me bc clearly they understand fandom etiquette#and the dynamic im talking about. most of them understand that by going into fandom spaces they will see things they dont like#which is why a lot of them only like fanart and answer questions asked by fans. even on tumblr !!! where the weird ppl are!!!#they also all seem to understand they are playing characters (citing joel cleo and grian as examples) for their audiences#which is. smth the audience itself doesnt understand most of the time anymore. oh my god they all died in real life in hermitcraft season 8#idk hermitblr used to be a lot more okay with hermitshipping n then a bunch of ppl from other fandoms moved in and its all more negative#and makes me sad. idk...#i never meant for this blog to gain almost 500 followers i just wanted to make silly little ship posts and now im scared to#bc ive gotten hate and its.... bwugh.... tempted to remake blogs and make one thats very clearly just for me and a few weirdos#whatever i went off on a tangent in the tags as usual just pls dont show creators my posts even non-ship ones for this reason#jamies bad posts#talking in tags#serious posts#<- ig??? idk
13 notes · View notes
joestarluxe · 1 month ago
Text
man veilguard is fun while you're playing it and there are things i like but the elf racism issue is actually so uncomfortable i kinda....... don't want to play it anymore
white queer writers slapping superficially diverse traits (like having One (1) prominent nonbinary character*) on characters and patting themselves on the back meanwhile their writing wrt indigenous-coded characters is straight-up white christian imperialist propaganda
*not saying nonbinary rep is bad. i am nonbinary. queerphobes fuck off
14 notes · View notes
menlove · 9 months ago
Text
the rise of rpf on this site again is so funny to me bc like not even 5 years ago you had posts a mile long about how rpf is Evil and basically makes you a stalker/sexual abuser. there'd be dnis about it. and now you'll have posts with several tens of thousands of notes about how paul simon and art garfunkel for sure fucked
nature is healing
22 notes · View notes
kuromi-hoemie · 3 months ago
Text
people who post pics that emphasize their thighs and feet, intentionally or not, are god's favorite children and deserve to have anything and everything they want forever and ever amen
7 notes · View notes
4ddi3addie2005 · 4 months ago
Text
Before I went to bed I saw the Youtube notif that TADC was going to Netflix and it INVADED my dreams so vividly I have not had such an episodic sequential serialized cohesive dream in months it was literally its own chapter its own short story
#I was Pomni it was literally Pomni POV#Caine had cooked up some sporty adventure and I was like Ummm...... no#So I found a glitch where I could hide in a technically out-of-bounds area#I had a theory that if I stayed super close to the ground I wouldn't be in the range of Caine's mod powers or whatever#Some random girl was w me I don't think she was important#Anyways I started thinking “This could hurt. When they leave#the map will not have to exist.”#I'd be crushed by the nonexistence of the area I'm in. When they come back I'll load in somewhere slightly different#and be stuck in the walls."#DIDN'T HAPPEN everything was OK#But at some point I was like man... sure is boring and scary. Sure wish my friends were here.#So I ended up finding them anyway LMAO#I told them what happened cuz they were obviously concerned and Caine got his feelings hurt???#Like. surprising moment of clarity. Everyone was shocked and uncomfortable.#Bro was like “I try so hard for U guys 🥺 I just don't get it. Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to stay home??”#Most everyone was like IDC UR OUR JAILER!! CRY ABT IT!! but me and Ragatha were coerced into pity...#Like yeah whatever. Sorry man. I'll be honest next time and not do things that could make me die. I think we were just caught off-guard.#Exchanging glances like “Wow... didn't know he could feel anything!” Like imagine if ur Furby just had an emotional outburst#and felt remorse abt it. WYD.#I think we held his hands or sum cuz all my dreams end like a Barbie movie#Episode ended and I was like Wow :) Great show#Sorta off-topic but the cafeteria today started playing very quiet carnival music for Hoco and I literally felt chills up my back cuz#I had been thinking abt Pommy all day...#I used to be enraptured by clown motif what happened#Did I throw it up#For the best...... for the best.
9 notes · View notes
rucow · 9 months ago
Text
sometimes i feel so self conscious and intrusive for having crushes on famous irl people, but you guys take it to a whole other level. how are you guys ok with writing smut of real life people? or shipping ppl? like, those are real humans. with thoughts and feelings. why are you playing dollhouse with them? how are you okay with that? am i looking too deep into this??? ive had people write p0rn fics about me before. it feels disgusting and it made me cry. it's so uncomfortable. i don't know if im just sensitive or if you all lack common sense.
15 notes · View notes
marinetteplztakeabreak · 1 year ago
Text
Was going to make felix and kagami kiss in my feligami fic but what if they simply made romantically charged eye contact. Thats like the same right (screams)
58 notes · View notes