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wincestisasincest · 2 years

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What if dolphins had legs?

*cracks knuckles*

okay so there are two possible ways to interpret this question, and i will answer both, but really, it comes down whether or not the dolphins always had legs (as in, evolved with them and have had them since the beginning of humanity) or whether or not dolphins suddenly gained legs.

so, for the first one:

dolphins actually did have legs at one point. most evidence points to them evolving from a 4 legged land mammal into the dolphin that we know today.

now, you may be wondering why they did this. we don't know for sure, but it's believed that their food source transitioned from land to water. and the dolphins stayed in the water - the only ones that survived were ones that were better equipped to swim than to walk on land.

basically, they used to have legs, and they evolved not to have them for a reason. the ones that did have legs kept dying.

so, if the dolphin had insisted on keeping its legs, their species would've probably died out a long time ago.

okay, now the second one:

let's assume that a dolphin would get four legs, just like most mammals. important to remember here that they are mammals, meaning that they have to breathe or die.

they would probably swim a lot slower. alligators, another four legged marine creature that has to breathe air, can swim up at a speed of up to 20 mph, but alligators can also hold their breath for a time that's long as fuck.

a four legged dolphin (which i will henceforth be referring to as a nightmare dolphin) does, like other dolphins, need to breathe by breaking the surface of the water. the average dolphin does this every 2-3 minutes.

even IF their swimming speed isn't that slower, they are definitely less aerodynamic with those new legs, so they can't jump out of the surface and keep their speed either. it would be a very slow, draining process just to stay alive.

this maps the range of bottlenose dolphins, so i'll also use it for nightmare dolphins. please note that a lot of these are in the middle of the fucking ocean.

so, with our newly slow-moving dolphins, they'd be more likely to:

die from exhaustion

die as a baby

be hunted by other predators (that will now have a way easier time because they are slower)

die from starvation (they are too slow for their food source)

BUT lets say that somehow, some dolphins still make it to shore. and decided, against their better judgement, to come on land.

they'd move a lot like alligators on land as well, i think, since they are still mostly adapted to water. this means that they can move fast, but tire easily. and since human society has adapted to deal with alligators and crocodiles fine, i don't think dolphins would be a threat.

they'd probably just screw around like slightly more aggressive deer.

also, i don't think they'd really enjoy being on land either. not only is there no food for them here, but they can't communicate with each other, since most of their communication methods rely on water. it would suck :(

BUT lets say that a dolphin somehow got so pissed off that they wanted to kill a human.

dolphins are known to be aggressive towards humans and other marine life in general, and in some cases are just cruel, so this is actually not as strange of a possibility as it sounds. dolphins have injured and killed people before. but that was underwater.

let's look at the stats.

so yeah an unarmed human is fucked.

but unarmed humans are fucked against a lot of wild animals, and we've used our intelligence to find ways around it. thing is, dolphins are smart as fuck too, and are constantly adapting the ways that they kill and eat their prey.

if humans were to go to war with dolphins, it would be difficult. dolphins have actually been trained to use military weaponry in some parts of the world, so they've got that going for them, and are capable of charging and crushing you like a horse.

we'd win, but it would be hard, bloody, and worth it. and then we'd have some holiday to honor everyone that died in the Dolphin War of 2022.

#and scene #this ask healed me #the confessional #wince says a lot of words

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 4 months

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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, 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 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.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

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ruporas · 1 year

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can’t talk about it

[ID: Black and white comic of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The comic starts with the sounds "thud, thud, click". Vash, mid-action of peeling an apple, turns to the sound, noticing who it was that entered, and says, "Oh, Wolfwood, you're back." He resumes back to his apple in the next panel as he speaks, "Where'd you go? You snuck out of bed quickly this morning..." Wolfwood's hand then enters the panel, hovering over Vash's cheek and Vash looks up as Wolfwood asks, "Can I?" Vash responds, "Not going to talk about it?" while using a hand to gently hold Wolfwood's hovering hand and presses a kiss to his inner palm.

Vash then gets up fully, setting down the knife down on the table and the apple onto a plate, He leans into Wolfwood as Wolfwood explains, "Had to meet someone. Nothing interesting to talk about." Vash kisses Wolfwood's left cheek and a hand moves to cup his other cheek while muttering, "You're being vague." Wolfwood says neutrally, "If yer really that curious, keep askin'. We can talk about that instead of doing this." Vash leans back and responds, "Let's talk after, since... You look so tired."

The panel pans to a close up of Wolfwood's downcast eyes, bags heavy underneath his eyes. He doesn't allow Vash to sit in that moment for long though, then saying, "Yer not helping, Spikey. Being all slow with it... I could fall asleep right now." He moves his hand to start unclasping Vash's coat, starting from his collar. Vash with red cheeks, responds briskly, "Oh, shut up. I'm worried about you. I can't be worried?"

The final shot shows Wolfwood's back to the viewer while Vash's softened expression can be seen as he holds gently onto the side of Wolfwood's face and a hand firm on his waist. Wolfwood responds, "I'm fine, seriously," pausing for a moment before continuing, "Is it okay to still..?" Vash responds, "Yeah, it's okay."

The next image is a shot from later that night after the previous comic. Vash and Wolfwood are now in bed, half naked. Wolfwood's buries his face into Vash's chest, his arms wrapped around him, while Vash is petting at his hair. Vash reminds him, "Hey. You said we'd talk about it." Wolfwood pauses for a moment before piping up, "In the morning? I'm sleepy." Vash says, "Okay..."

The next two pages start from the morning after. Wolfwood is already fully awake, pulling on his outer jacket as he says to Vash, whos' still bundled in his blankets, "Breakfast is on the table. Make sure to eat it. I'm going to grab some things in town and then we're leavin'. Got it?" Vash says, "Mh." Wolfwood responds, "Good. See ya in a bit." The dialogue starts to shift into Vash's inner thoughts now, as he gets up and eats toast, thinking, "Wait. Weren't we supposed to... talk about it?" The next shot then shows him fully up, meeting Wolfwood in town. He carries a half worried expression with him while Wolfwood slides on his glasses for him. A quick panel shows Wolfwood's tired expression from the night before and quickly juxtaposes with Wolfwood in front of him who's smiling gently, the shades covering his eye bags. Wolfwood asks him, "Still not awake yet?" Vash pauses, his thoughts stirring, thinking, "Oh. I guess I was getting ahead of myself... thinking you owe me that kind of honesty." He smiles at Wolfwood and responds, "I'm awake!" His thoughts continue, "Maybe one day, you'd trust me enough to share your burdens."

The final image shows Wolfwood pulling at Vash's cheek and Vash complains, "Owwwww why..." Wolfwood quickly says, "You were thinking something stupid, right? It's all over yer face." Vash mutters, "Nooo, I wasn't..." END ID]

#vashwood #trigun #trigun maximum #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #Theyre both thoroughly exhausted tired individuals -- vash having to fight this lonely battle for over a hundred years and getting dragged #back into inevitable situation with knives after a 2 years hiatus of being a gunslinger. they both need so much Rest and comfort in this #department... .SIGHS. BUT I JUST THINK ABOUT WOLFWOOD . AND HOW... LITTLE He has existed on no man's land. how majority of his years being #alive is being used as a weapon and to kill when him at his very core is the most giving and selfless individual ever #badlands rumble inspired me a bit but i do think wolfwood gets dragged into occasional tasks from the eye of michael while on his duty of #guiding vash -- or i think that one chapter where we got to see other members of eom -- there's like a clear division within the eom too #i think.... so i figured similarly to vash but not to the same amount -- there are people that look for wolfwood too. but most of the time #it's probably wolfwood that has to look for someone else and take them out. i feel like it happens ever so occasionally.#evidentially these two don't talk enough canonically but they always know how to express things properly to affirm that they're okay #they have the worst time ever sharing burdens - can't willingly burden the other and has neeever asked for help or reprieve in their #desperate situations... vw is a huge case of right person wrong time syndrome so they just. in the time they get to spend together -- even #if romantically - they don't have enough time to heal to get over that kind of hurdle. They've just never asked for help in all the years #they've been alive -- they don't even know how to and its just aughhhsgskg #and well! they don't even need to ask! because they'll be there for each other anyway at the end of the day -- company and presence alone.#ruporas art

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alienssstufff · 3 months

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The Slimecicle analyst sleeper agent in me woke up again we analysing shit

The dynamic between qSlime and Sunny is so fascinating - like by law yes they are bound together as family and of course they care about each other and trust each other to an extent, yet there's always this distance that they try to keep.

Both Slime and Sunny put in the effort to get to know one another despite what other people say about them, but there's a billion unanswered questions Sunny has for their pop - and a billion unspoken secrets that Slime doesn't have the vulnerability to share.

Notably the assassination Slime initially had on Sunny (he never tells her this), and the conversation the two of them had in the snow when Sunny brings up the rumours. Even towards his daughter Slime is defensive, he doesn't coddle them as much as he did with Juanaflippa. The distinction between Juanaflippa (as a concept) and Sunny for Slime's character is extremely important as Sunny (even as his daughter) does not fit that flippa mold. By doing this Slime draws this line as a response from his trauma, but when these lines start to blur as Slime and Sunny do more father-daughter stuff together (egg tasks, games, lullabies) -- is when Slime starts to break down (eg: the bedtime rap).

There's only so much they can do as a family without addressing the glaring holes in their relationship before it gets worse.

#qsmp spoilers #stufff rambles #qsmp #slimecicle #qsmp sunny #archive - 21/01/2024 #DISCLAIM: this isnt saying that Sunny isnt Slime's kid - they are - but they arent *a* Juanaflippa (like Juanaflippa and Codeflippa were)#The impact Juanaflippa has on Slime isnt to be taken lightly and not smth that can easily be healed or overwritten by someone else alone #whwhwh dont ask me about the new Bedtime Rap lyrics either cuz i can and Will psychoanalyse the shit out of that too if so tempted

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ask-symbrock · 1 year

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((You’ve been challenged by trainers Eddie and Venom!!

I’m moving soon so I haven’t been able to work on asks, so I hope you guys enjoy this 😌 and if you want to ask any Pokémon venom questions I’ll create a separate tag!))

#Pokémon aus heal me #Poké Venom #venom #veddie #ask symbrock #symbrock #Eddie Brock #Pokémon #my art #marvel #mcu #illustration #cartoon

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hellcifrogs · 10 months

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Kishimoto literally could have let Sakura have sage mode but just didn't

Like, she has near perfect Chakra control, why couldn't we have seen her messing around with senjustu like Naruto?

So, if Kishimoto hadn't been a coward, what do you think Sakura's Slug Sage Mode would have looked like?

I have actually wondered about this many times and tried to come up with something myself a few other times... This was my favorite so far~

#ask doodle #haruno sakura #and yet the blue stripes along her arms remind me of airbenders lol #but i liked her eyes turning electric blue #maybe the slug sage lines could follow the same paterns of the healing seal #naruto

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amygdalae · 6 months

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watched my dad stream elden ring the other night; he kept calling the crimson flask estus, which then morphed into him calling it estrogen. "gotta drink my estrogen!".... he would do numbers on here

#also when he fought margit i kept reminding him to heal but thru my mic he thought i was saying “KILL” in a funny accent #which to be fair IS something i would do #he wanted to stream it 2 me on discord so he could go through his inventory and ask me what all the shit he picked up does lol #understandable cuz theres a lot going on in ER

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smalltimidbean · 17 days

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Gus and Pep go on an epic adventure to bring home treasures!!!!!

I.e. they are going grocery shopping for Peppino, bc he's sick or something - maybe they'll make him some soup

#pizza tower #fake peppino #gustavo #I have blasted Peppino with my pain so imagining his friends helping him out heals me with da warm fluffies #also I saw people asking for more Gus and I agree!!!#also also the return of Pep's nervous jacket - now with epic pins!!!

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crushedsweets · 8 months

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Would you ever consider including nurse ann in more of your art/ stories? She's one of my favorite characters and I think your design for her is amazing lmao- I'd also sort of like to know what her relationship with the others would be like

yes. actually. i would love to . ok i have some vague ideas for how shed fit into the lore so thatll be under the cut !! i also start rambling about lulus lore too cuz i decided theyre friends.

ok so, again, my au is based around slenders forest being like... some sort of magnet for the paranormal. slenderman wants to keep all of these cryptids within the forest.

since its in a fictionalized forest in tuscaloosa, where marble hornets was filmed, i decided to move the abanonded hospital they visited up north of the tuscaloosa lake. she roams there.

SOOOOO nurse ann is just... a demon. slenders forest is sort of like limbo for a lot of the cryptids and kinda puts them in like.. a long daze and loops unless they're consistently leaving or being grounded by humans.

i dont EXACTLY know why/how she's in that specfic hospital, especially since i dont believe she has an official origin? maybe when the hospital shut down, she was let go and wasn't transferred to work in a new hospital, so she lost her shit and preformed some crazy rituals that ended up making her an undead nurse ? now she's forever roaming the hospital. or maybe she was killing patients when she was a human and kept doing weird demon shit with their bodies and the operator/zalgo fed off of her bad vibes. LOL IDK.

now about lulu cuz i drew her too.

i used to be sooo fond of lulu. and i originally said she was just going to be another ghost roaming the forest pointlessly, mourning everything and being incapable of interacting with humans, BUUUUUT. she is 24 and NOT A GHOST?!?!??!?! IDK WHY ALL THIS TIME I THOUGHT SHE WAS JUST A GHOST WHO AGES CUZ YK HOW CHIBIWORKS STUFF WAS BACK THEN LOL... i def am tired of little kids being tortured and all these children ghosts tho so im kinda glad to have smth new to write. anyway. so im thinking lulus just another little demon thing... i'm thinking her story goes.

she was in strict private schools all of k-12, and went to uni on her own in tuscaloosa. she wanted to branch out, have a little rebelious phase, make friends, etc. tried to join a co-ed frat. she experienced an absolutely horrific hazing when she was like 19, the frat fully believed they killed her by accident and in their panic, tried to bury her in slenders forest, and some demonic entity in the forest infected her before she was buried fully. she ends up climbing out of her shallow grave, never having died. perhaps the operator did it, perhaps zalgo like in her og lore ? PERHAPS ANN CUZ SHES A DEMON HERSELF?

anywaaayyyyy :3 l think theyd be cute friends. they just look really cute together and i could see good chemistry so i totally would love to expand on them and make them friends. maybe expand more on the type of species they are, what kind of powers they have(esp if i make ann the demon who infects lulu).

BUUUUT ALSO this made me realize i should totally look into adding zalgo to my lore. cuz it doesnt make sense for the operator to make anyone a demon, thats not really what he does.... and i dont want him to do that i just dont like the vibes. so mmm yes.

anyway in terms of relationships..

lulu and her are cool good besties beautiful they would take selfies and do tiktok dances together.

masky and hoody are incredibly indifferent to her, because they dont have to worry/visit her often. she stays in the hospital thats in the forest, and thats exactly where slenderman wants her, so theyre content. theyre kinda grateful she keeps lulu in the hospital too, cuz lulu actually freaks them out bc she'll be jumping at them and shit talking about their eyes.

tobys EXTREMELY scared of ghosts (bc of his hallucinations of his sisters ghost . . ). he eventually gets over it(kinda?) with sally, but he keeps accusing ann and lulu and the sort of being ghosts cuz they just.. kinda pop in and out. at least jack has to walk into the room to show up. so he doesnt like them

mmm jack wouldnt like her IF he knows that she kinda turned herself into a demon through like, a ritual or smth. he'd be beyond pissed to know someone CHOSE to be what he is. if he doesnt know, he doesnt care for her. he kinda jokes about 'well why dont YOU be their medic' and shes like 'dont fuckin wanna be'.

jane and liu and kate prob dont know her... kate might but wouldnt care.

jeff would prob think shes hot or some bullshit and nina would be beyond pissed. at first ninas like AHHH SHES SO COOL cuz shes a fangirl at heart, but the second she hears a single 'goddamn' from jeff shes livid.

ben prob wouldnt care much for her... hes so uninterested in demons idk why i just feel like he doesnt care.

clockwork would LOVE HER. she'd think she's so fucking cool. she'd try talking to her all the time but ann prob wouldnt be interested in clocky at all...

ofc the proxies purposefully come into contact with the paranormal the most because thats their job, so i wrote the most for them, but that doesn't mean theyre the closest or anything.

ok thank u anon you did smth to my brain that benefitted my mental health cuz i love writing this shit for the creeps thank u sm .

#asks #creeped #hcs #sweetart #creepypasta #nurse ann #lulu creepypasta #creepypasta art #creepypasta fanart #creepypasta headcanons #ticci toby #masky #tim wright #aaahhhgghg #i love doing these so much seriously #heals me #toby rogers #Lucille-Tiffany Greatfeild

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surskip · 2 years

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really don’t like it when people act like early 2000s-2010s internet was good or safe for kids. sure it had club penguin and neopets and stuff and it is absolutely worse for kids now with data mining and algorithms pushing them directly into the most awful stuff imaginable. but that doesn’t mean it used to be good.. incredibly vitriolic bigotry was everywhere and it was so easy as a kid to stumble across shock sites or gore. it’s the time period that spawned somethingawful and other sites like that. and the whole phenomenon of taking photos/videos of ‘weird’ people without their permission can be directly traced to sites like peopleofwalmart that were popular then. i understand survivorship bias and nostalgia making the good parts stick out, but just because it’s worse now doesn’t mean that it was good back in the day either

#mine #ask to tag #long post #i'm really politely requesting that people don't go in-depth on the horrible things they experienced as children on the internet in the tag #I’m very sorry that that happened to you. you did not deserve it and i hope you are able to heal #but it is really upsetting for me to read as someone who has experienced similar things

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idk-bruh-20 · 8 months

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Irondad fic ideas #154

CW: this one's pretty gruesome. read at your own risk

Peter is a young child who's been kidnapped. His parents and/or his aunt and uncle were killed and he was taken. Along with a bunch of other little kids, he's been held captive and experimented on.

When the Avengers suddenly bust the kidnapping operation, the kidnappers try at the last second to destroy their research. They gas the small room where the kids are being held.

It's Iron Man who ends up blasting through. What he finds is horrifying. All but one of the children are dead.

The one who's left is just sitting among the bodies, crying, shocked, terrified. Iron Man carries him out of there, then once they're safe from the gas Tony steps out of the suit to comfort the kid while he's given oxygen.

Little 5-year-old Peter Parker imprints on his savior hard.

He just went through an unimaginable amount of trauma, then Iron Man burst through like an avenging angel. This is the first time he's ever felt protected in his memory. Tony holds the crying kid, and the kid can tolerate no one else near him.

This becomes a slight problem when they get back to base. But Tony can't find it in him to let SHIELD take the kid away, let them strip him of this one tiny bit of comfort. He keeps seeing all those other kids when he closes his eyes.

This one needs him right now. And if "right now" eventually becomes "this is my son," well. Who could've predicted that.

#sing it with me: codependency irl is bad but reading it in fic heals me on fundamental levels #give me separation anxiety peter! fiercely protective suddenly-a-parent tony!#irondad fic ideas #irondad and spiderson #btw sorry this is so gruesome y'all #cw: violence #idk is that the right tag?#just this image of peter being the only one of a whole group to survive wouldn't leave my brain #then him imprinting on his rescuer instantly #how tony might struggle with emotional vulnerability normally but wouldn't hesitate to comfort this child #iron dad and spider son #peter parker #tony stark #also imagine the moment a few months in when peter finally asks tony to be his dad #tony (crying): sure I can do that #imagine a moment where tony tells peter about his own time being kidnapped #imagine what would happen if the kidnappers (let's say hydra) CAME BACK #queueueueue #see announcements

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