#im lowkey sad

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most. 

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes. 

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks. 

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth. 

it’s beautiful. 

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded. 

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere. 

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again. 

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling. 

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.” 

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face. 

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips. 

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs. 

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!” 

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there. 

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot. 

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.” 

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word. 

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology. 

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown. 

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again. 

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it. 

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.” 

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?” 

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.” 

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.” 

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow. 

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice. 

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter. 

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself. 

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest. 

he hopes it never goes away.

[daiwild]

Wonder Girl V3:

But as mad as I was at Hercules for pulling that crap... I wasn't... I mean, I should've been... I could've been wrecked that it wasn't Conner, that he was still... gone. But... look at me, I'm not a big mess...

Meanwhile:

Tim beating up Dick in the back of a Waffle House just to get some Lazarus Pit Juice so he can revive his dead best friend

[sadlad03]

[zephyrine-gale]

kiana bronya mei u will always be my favorite main trio

[jade-len]

you know it's bad when i read svsss and tgcf, stories about just two guys falling in love and getting together, and think, "god i wish i were in between them."

gay little domestic cottage core life with binghe and qingqiu? please and thank you. being sandwiched by hua cheng and xie lian, two pretty men who are hundreds of years old? i am blushing, kicking my feet and giggling

and again, it's not even that i would want only one of them. like in both of the relationships, the two love each other too much to the point it'd feel wrong if they were separated! it wouldn't feel complete, so you gotta be with both of them!

but that's the thing; i just?? i feel so incredibly guilty whenever i think about being loved by these mxtx couples??? like it's so stupid but i feel like i'm intruding in on something and it's like, everyone else seems to just want them together only, not wanna be with them. like it's fuckin taboo or whatever

i feel like with any other character from any other media it'd be fine to simp for and write/read x readers of them, but when it comes to these books, it's off limits! no way, what are you, crazy? yes, yes i'm unhinged and desperately want their love and affection simultaneously. i want to be in a happy little poly relationship with these overpowered beautiful men with long hair.

i can't be the only guy or whoever to feel this way?? to wanna be kissed by these characters? sandwiched?? i have two hands for christ sake and they all look so happy together and im just like "lord i wanna be with them so much". someone tell me i'm not alone cmon <\3

[skitskatdacat63]

"From triumph to failure is but one step."

+ the usual

I love when I can include paper sketches in the process gif. It's very satisfying to see it progress from a very vague imagining of what was in my head to the finished project.

+ version without text

My favorite sketch was definitely the one where I actually put in words what it's supposed to convey. I wouldn't usually write that down, cause it's all in my head, but it was useful to do so when sending it to other people. I'll go into it more but here it is just as a teaser:

Lmao first of all, I like how I was teasing "Spanish GP" art, but as per usual, it's just thinly veiled au art. IM SORRY, I'M NOT INTERESTED IN MAKING GENERAL POSTERS, THAT'S NO FUN! So instead you will get weirdly relevant matador au art. I like it a lot though, I was really shocked I was able to draw 3 different Fernandos, I mean even drawing one figure takes a lot out of me, but this was weirdly easy?? I think it's just the effect of not being burnt out anymore, and actually being able to draw with more ease makes me feel like a god.

Okay, so the text: "Fight or Flight?" I'll be honest, I don't even remember why I chose it, literally came to me in a vision 😭 But I think it's fitting with the narrative of this piece. Is it better to keep going on, keep fighting, or better to finally give up, and flee? Not that I even remotely think he should give up, but I feel like sometimes I can sense him pondering this very question. That was the big fear before he announced that he re-signed. Keep fighting and maybe, just maybe, you'll get the chance to finally go up against the bull again. Or accept it's an uphill battle and the fighting is going to keep getting more and more strenous, and maybe it's time to put down the sword. SORRY THIS IS SO ANGSTY FOR WHAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE "yayyyy home race!!!" Please forgive me <3

I. Renault

At some point, someone pointed out to me that I had drawn all other iterations of matador Fernando with a sword, except for Renault Fernando, and that ended up feeling very poignant to me. In a bull fighting match, they really only pull out the sword at the last minute to deliver the killing blow. So I think it's important to never draw this Fernando with a sword, because it shows the unfailing confidence and stability he has at that point. He only needs to pull out the sword at the end, as a formality almost, there's no reason for him to keep his guard up at all times.

II. Ferrari

Meanwhile this Fernando, he's considering his sword like he hasn't had to in the past. He's checking the sharpness, making sure in advance he can do what needs to be done. He's on guard, he feels like he needs to keep up his defenses at all times because he doesn't have that same amount of trust and stability anymore. He knows though he will be up against the (red) bull, at least that's never in question. At least there's the assurance he'll get the chance to fight.

III. Aston

Oh, Aston Fernando....He doesn't know whether to take up his sword or finally put it down for the last time. While at least Ferrari Fernando knows he's on constant guard against the bull, this Fernando doesn't even have that assurance anymore. He feels like he can never put down the sword, just in case he gets the chance to strike the killing blow on the bull, which feels like it's growing more and more unlikely.

Spanish flag: ? Lmao this was meant to be something to celebrate Fernando's home race and it turned very introspective whoops. Also got the Napoleon quote in there hahaha, can't escape it!! Shame though there is no French gp anymore, if so I'd probably draw an unhinged thing for it :,(

[yippee-optimistically]

ive seen like 2 actual episodes of the loud house but i watched no time to spy last night. they kind of cooked i cant lie

[miraacleworker]

more wg stuff!!! the hyperfixation is consuming me

[atticoratticus]

Yk what fuck it I was gonna jsut not post this because I'm not super happy with how it came out, but on second look it's fine I think??? So here's my first try at drawing Vil idk

[indigopoptart]

gonna get back into the swing of things with!! some faces I did a bit ago!!!

+ closeups and oc creds under the cut!

the welcome home guys ofc <3

some of my guys!

(Niebla belongs to both me and @akemima ! <3)

-

And now, some friends’ ocs!

Lady belongs to @gremliinsart, Keira belongs to @funonion001 !!! :3

Sundown belongs to @carnivalcarrion !! <3

Damon belongs to @sammysun , Wizard belongs to @akemima !! :33 <3<3

[darby-rowe]

cw STEPCEST, nsfw twt link

and if i said this was stepbro!coryo trying to get himself off without exactly fucking you but still needing you. but since he isn’t inside you it’s technically ok and he can get his nut out relatively guilt free 😊✨

[sparklingchim]

[modmad]

do you have a fursona?

hilariously I have tried REPEATEDLY to make one and just end up making new OCs that turn into their own characters!???! like legit the closest I have is the sky kid bc I'm always wearing the tiger mask with antlers I can't change it now it feels weird

but hey here's a terrible idea I'm about to go to bed hey people put what animal(s?) you think my fursona would be in commentrs or my inbox I might reply to some like the trick or treats :D

[sweetpaintedladie]

tagged by @pirateboy (hiii jorge 🤗) to add five songs you think are essential listening for understanding you as you are right now soooo

i’ll tagggg @omg-hellgirl (haha), @theclocky1 , @tiredfinch , @little-bit-of-mystery, @bargainoriley and anyone else who wants to do this !

[fujimousee]

@sanusoweek sanuso week day 4 : reality tv (...click 4 quality 😞)

[haerieee]

{ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʷʰʸ, ᵗᵘʳⁿˢ ᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵃˡˡᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ˢᵒ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ }

y/n stared confused and a little annoyed at her seatmate who refused to take part in their paired project.

"nah, im tired"

"but we have to finish this"

"yea yea just do your part then send it to me, i'll do it at home"

karma rested his head in his arms on the table, facing away from her. seriously what did y/n even do? all she did was become his seatmate by luck and occasionally ask him math questions because he's smart. so why did he have to be so hostile?

"okay.."

he made y/n so uncomfortable. She admits she did have a crush on the redhead but has said nothing and done nothing to him about it, making his coldness much harsher on her.

-

during their pe lessons, karasuma made seatmates partner up to spar with each other.

y/n glanced at karma, and he glanced back before looking away and walking out of the field to skip the class.

"did both of you get into an argument?"

nagisa asked, knowing his friend was not the type to be so cold to someone without a reason. sure karma can be unfriendly and aggressive to people, but it was to those who did or said something bad.

"no he just hates me for breathing"

y/n sighs and rolls her eyes before asking if she could spar with another person.

-

"why would you pull that off?!"

karma is angry, but y/n was confused, was he angry at her for trying to defend their group when they got attacked by students who are much bigger and older than them? or did he have some grand plan and she fucked it up?

"akabane i-"

"what if you got seriously hurt? you wouldn't even stand a chance against those guys!"

he gripped your shoulders tightly.

"then what should i have done? you were getting kicked!"

you smacked his hands away and got up, brushing the dirt off your skirt. you looked over to your elbow which got scrapped when the students shoved you and winced a little at the pain.

"you're really a fucking idiot you know that."

karma held your arm to look at your wound, then poured water to disinfect it. y/n took the bottle out of his hand and stepped back.

"i can do it by myself, after all, you don't want to waste your time with a fucking idiot you hate."

karma was stunned, he knew he was an ass to her these past few weeks but she thought he hated her?

"what are you even saying y/n, since when have i hated you?"

y/n looked at karma incredulously

"don't give me that bullshit, you were so cold to me when i did nothing to you."

he was cold to her he knows, he was trying to avoid her. why? because he felt something with her, something foreign, fuzzy and warm. whenever he was with her his heart would like someone squeezed the life out of it. it was so annoying but he was always addicted, so he avoided her to stop what he was feeling.

karma sighed, "i don't hate you. really. its just,,"

he looks away ashamed of how vulnerable he is now in front of her. he combs his hair back with his hands in frustration and also to hide his red face.

"just?"

y/n hoped for a suitable answer as to why he had shunned her this whole time because it really did hurt her quite a lot.

"i feel something with you, its so weird, i don't like it."

karma says, eyes never looking at the girl in front of him. he couldn't bear to see what expression he had on her face, it would truly kill his heart.

"it's...ah you know what never mind."

he tries to control the damage that's done, he thinks that anymore he says, y/n would never want to see him again. y/n grabs the hem of his black jacket to stop him from avoiding her, something she should have done all along.

"no, karma, what feelings do you have with me. don't try to run away again"

y/n gripped tightly, feeling like if she let go he would be gone for real this time. she calls out his first name for the first time showing how desperate she was.

"i really really like you. alot."

ah. he did it, he admitted his feelings. it's done, whatever relationship they had is gone now.

"what? is that why you acted like that?"

oh my, karma is so fucking cute, y/n thought seeing his face flush even redder

"so annoying, i can't believe i feel so weak when i'm with you. i can't even fight properly. i can't even focus on anything in class."

karma kept trying to hate how he feels, perhaps its because he never knew what it was like to give love since his parents were always either overseas or at work.

"annoying? you are so stupid. you liked me for a month and you found it annoying, i liked you for 6 months you ass!"

y/n smacked his shoulder, then winced at the pain from her wound, making karma grasp her arm to check it. he looks up to her as he processes her words.

"6 months? u like me?"

"yeah 6 months of always looking at you and noticing what you do, i was so happy talking to you and then suddenly you went cold-"

before y/n could finish her rambling, she felt a pair of arms wrap around her, engulfing her in an embrace. karma held y/n tight and buried his face into her neck, his heartbeat beating too quickly he felt faint.

"i like you, ahh i like you so much, fuck"

y/n laughs and hugs him as tight, caressing his hair.

"you finally admitted your feelings, idiot."

y/n pulls away and cups his warm cheeks, smushing his face a little which made his lips form a pout. he furrowed his eyebrows at her action. karma leans in and pecks y/n on the lips, and she gasps.

"how dare you be so bold now when you were avoiding me the whole month, tsk"

y/n playfully chided him and he laughed before apologizing and then kissing her again.

-

"oh? i guess both of you are on good terms now?"

kayano nudged your shoulder and you smiled and nodded.

"now you have a chance to get him to like you, y/n!"

y/n looked at karma, who was with nagisa and sugino. and then her phone chimed.

//

karma <3: should we skip class and go on a date? >:)

//

y/n laughed, "i don't think i need to anymore, kayano"

after that, karma and y/n disappeared for the rest of the school day to hang out with each other. ♡

ᵒᵐᵍ 2 ᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ 2 ᵈᵃʸˢ? ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ʸᵉᵃʳ ᴴᴬᴴᴬ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵒᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ⁱ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵏᵃʳᵐᵃ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵈᵉⁿⁱᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ⁱᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷᵉᵃᵏ ᴴᴼᴴᴼ

ˢᵒ ᶜᵘᵗᵉ ᵒᵐᵍ

ᵃⁿʸʷᵃʸˢ ⁱ ʰᵒᵖᵉ ʸᵃˡˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ !