ok i know we always talk about girl dad satoru but imagine boy dad satoru and his lil gentlemanly lessons.
it happens for the first time when you go to take your seatbelt off and get out of the car as soon as it’s parked, but there’s a little voice from the back saying “wait mommy! wait!” and satoru’s nodding like “yeah, wait mommy!” with a knowing grin. you watch him get out of the drivers seat and jog over to help your son out of his car seat before they both make their way to your door. it’s teamwork: satoru opens, and your son holds a tiny hand out for you as he says, “hold my hand mommy, don’t fall!” you walk with satoru trailing behind you both, smiling in amusement as he tells your son “remember kiddo, we never let mommy open her own doors!”
and from then on it’s always a small squeal of “no! mommy stop!” when you’re about to sit down, just so they can jog up and pull the chair out for you and push you in once you’re seated. there’s that routine “after you, mommy!” when he lets you out the door first because it’s always ladies first, of course. there’s always a strict, “mommy’s cold! give her your jacket” you hear thrown at satoru with tiny hands on hips that makes you giggle as satoru shrugs off his jacket with a huff from being scolded. sometimes, there’s a “for you mommy!” before a small bundle of flowers is pressed to your hand as satoru grumbles from the back that he paid, so he should be able to give it to you.
you can’t help but pick your son up every time and kiss his cheeks, grinning as you murmur, “what a sweet little gentleman i have to take care of me.”
and satoru’s always pouting, always standing in the back as he whines out a petulant, “i taught him all that! what about me?”
so you kiss him too—because he treats you just as good, teaches your son to be even better, in fact. and you love your boys, and they never let you forget they love you too.
8K notes
·
View notes
cw: babies!!!! you’re also referred to as “ma” once
okay but like,,,,,first time dad Bakugou giving his baby their first bath after coming home!!! you’re fluttering around the kitchen, trying to make sure you have your daughters towel ready, her baby safe soap, a tiny washcloth, that her teeny tiny pajamas are in the dryer.
it’s only when you take a second to ask Bakugou something do you finally just—pause. your gaze instantly softens, a lovesick smile inching on your face as you watch your big buff pro hero husband hunch over the kitchen sink.
your daughter is resting in the baby bath seat, lilac colored and reclined back. she squirms when Bakugou lets the warm water run over her naked, fat little belly. her face scrunches at the new sensation, fists balling up against her chest. he coos at her, gentle,
“I know, ya little princess. Feels weird on ya, doesn’t it?” he asks her, voice so small under the running water. he cups his hand, holds a handful of water, tilts her fat cheek up to let it slide in her neck rolls that always smell like milk. she whines at that, sniffles and hiccups before she cries. you go to take a step forward, to console her, but Bakugou is so patient.
“It’s alright,” he kisses her tears away. “Daddy’s just tryna help you.” he runs the water all over her body, and paired with his softly spoken words, does she finally quiet after a few seconds. her little body trembles with the aftermath, pouty lips puffy and he can’t help but smooth his hand over the softness of her face.
“Yer a crybaby, just like your ma.” he whispers to her, grinning when that breaks you out of your stupor to smack him on the shoulder. you both laugh at that, and you finally feel the peace that is your little family. you lean against Bakugou’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his jaw before looking at your daughter again.
“You’re gonna be a great dad,” you mumble into his skin. he doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his shuddering breath, and the calmness that blankets the rest of your house.
3K notes
·
View notes
Thinking about the what if El was never interested in Mike romantically, she just assumed she was discourse on the tag today and how it's very possible what could make El fully realize this, is when in s5 she see's Will's love for Mike in real time, for the first time, and she's just like damn! That is not me!
2K notes
·
View notes
Don't let Alisaie fool you, she is amongst those MOST in need of therapy
327 notes
·
View notes
HoO is so funny to me when you actually think about the ages of all the characters. Octavian is 18. Percy and Annabeth are 16, almost 17. Reyna is presumably 16. Frank just turned 16, Jason’s about to turn 16. Leo and Piper are like 15. Hazel’s like 14 and a half, and Nico is 13.
The Death Sibs are both the youngest and oldest on the Argo II. Octavian is a college freshman getting into petty drama with a bunch of high schoolers. He gets told to shut up at one point by a random 8th grader. Everyone is scared of the 8th grader. We Sent A 13 Year Old To Superhell and he came back weirder, Just Like Middle School. TLH was just three high school sophomores being sent to do a task and it going Exactly Like You’d Expect. Percy’s the only demigod on the ship who can legally drive (though Reyna gets her drivers license at some point before TOA). What Is Happening.
1K notes
·
View notes
it's the levels of scrutiny too.
a movie that has a largely-female cast has to be well-written, well-shot, well-acted, well-advertised. people will spend 2 hours on youtube talking about a single plot hole; about a moment of bad pacing, about a singular background character's poor scripting. if there isn't something obvious, they will say - well there's nothing specifically bad, but it wasn't specifically good either.
they will turn out another all-male movie, and it's just a movie.
a book that has queer representation in it has to defy every convention of writing while also being true to traditional plot, structure, format, and pacing. it must have no boring chapters, no missteps, no awkward dialogue. it must be able to "prove" that any queer relationship "makes sense", their sparks must fly off the page and their love must be eternal. the writing must be clear and beautiful, the storyline original and fresh, the values traditional but with an undercurrent that is modern and saucy.
they will turn out another book without queer rep, where a man and woman just-fall-in-love, and it's just a book.
i am latinx. i am queer. i am nb & neurodivergent. my father said to me once: you will need to be exceptional to be just-as-good, and you will need to be beyond exceptional before they see you as just-a-person, and not your labels.
i am not beyond exceptional. i am a human person. i am skilled because i worked my ass off to be skilled.
i am currently reading a book that's so-bad-it's-good about a girl that falls in love with a vampire. i was 64% of the way through the book before she figures out tall-dark-fanged is not natural. i like books like these, i like letting myself relax while i just enjoy the read. but i do spend a lot of time wondering - would this have been published if it was about queer people? would this have gotten past the editors if the characters weren't white and sexy?
i want to write a movie about being a woman in a male space, and i want to start that movie with a 10 minute scene where the woman is lectured with the exact same whining that occurs in the youtube comments of even the trailers for those movies: "haven't we had enough diversity?" "we've had enough girl power movies" "sorry, this is just pandering. it's boring."
here's what's fucked up: it shouldn't matter, you're right. my identity shouldn't fold after my name like a battalion of stars: a cry of what i've gone through. what we all know i had to move past and through. i should just be a writer, plain and simple, without my work being shifted through with tweezers - i know everything i make, always, i am incredibly responsible for. beholden to. i don't like knowing that if i fuck up, i am also fucking up for every person like me. every person in a community i belong to.
once, back in undergrad, i wrote a short story about a girl who had been kicked by a horse. it was my first time writing about my experience with my ocd; i felt proud of it. the story was mostly about grief and slow recovery. the queerness of the main character was not important to the plot, my main character was just-queer. there wasn't even a romantic interest in it.
i remember one of my classmates being disappointed. "i just feel like you always write about girls who like girls, and i'm bored of it," he said. "you're a beautiful writer, but i'm like - oh, at some point, it's gonna be gay again." during the workshop, he folded his hands over my story and said, "and okay, i'm just going to say it. she's ocd, she's gay, she's depressed - it's a little much for me to believe is all happening to one person."
it is a little much to be that person (and more besides). i have therapy weekly, after all.
over and over, belonging to exception.
3K notes
·
View notes
Okay what if the winners got to meet previous versions of themselves through the life games.
Like grian meets no one. He didn't have any previous "versions".
Scott meets 3rd life Scott.
Pearl meets 3rd life and last life pearl.
Martyn meets 3rd life, last life and double life Martyn.
Scar meets 3rd life, last life, double life and lim life him-
This whole thing was an idea that I got just because I was thinking about ll and sl scar because they were both so lonely like wtf and I just though about a scene that would be so. Grips chair.
Ll: "We won?"
Sl: "Yeah"
Ll: "Did we have allies? Friends?"
Ll scar probably thinks sl scar won only because he had allies to support him. He knows what its like being lonely and he hopes no one has to go through that loneliness. And he wants to be optimistic for once that sl scar, future him, gets allies, gets friends.
He tries to hope and then he sees the look on sl scars face. Or maybe sl scar tries to lie- maybe he tries to say they had allies.
Ll scar sees right through him. He's him after all. Maybe he's always gonna he lonely anyway
124 notes
·
View notes
Wait we can kiss them?! Smallest little kiss on Machete's snout (I am being very brave and NOT grabbing it)
[not saying you should draw it, just tell him. That's enough for me]
.
159 notes
·
View notes
if you took a bad enough hit while dao rock armour was active, could you have scars from blunt force trauma that spiderweb like cracks in stone
58 notes
·
View notes
744 notes
·
View notes
a slight continuation of this
no caller ID pops on your screen, pulling your attention away from your previous task at hand: not fucking up your eyeliner. you typically wouldn’t care if it was a little uneven, but you’re going on a date tonight, for the first time in so long, and you want everything to go as smoothly as possible.
which is why you groan when you end the call, and that same no caller ID pops right back up seconds later. you know who it is—who else would it be? you figured he’s already seen your story of being excited for going on your first date in a while, on the only app you hadn’t blocked him on. petty? perhaps, but it’s on him to be keeping up with you despite you cursing him out for wasting your time and then blocking him right after.
you watch it ring though, contemplating for a while longer than you should. you blocked him for a reason. no need to entertain his same shit that he always spews to you when he realizes that he might be losing you once more?
….but it doesn’t hurt to hear the hero beg for you.
“What do you want, Bakugou?” You sigh irritably as you finally answer his call, putting him on speaker as you go back to even out your eyeliner. You hear him huff on the other side of the phone at the use of his surname, but he doesn’t say anything about it, instead, quickly telling you what he’s been bothering you for.
“Who’s the fuckin’ loser that’s gonna drool over how good your tits look in that stupid green dress you love so much?” Bakugou grunts, and you instantly feel your face heating at his crude words. You glance over with a frown at that same green dress that makes your tits look good, where it hangs on your closet.
“None of your damn business, Bakugou.” You snap at him, wondering if it’s too late to find something else to wear. “Not like you ever took me out in my stupid green dress.” Your voice holds a level of bitterness that only he can bring out of you, and you hear his sigh through the speakers.
“I told you this before, I’m always—”
“Busy.” You cut him off, voice suddenly thick as you think back on the countless rejections he’s splattered at your feet every time you tried to further your relationship with him. “You reminded me of how busy you’ve been since you first started this whole situationship.”
“Situation—? Huh? We were dating!” Bakugou protests with a huff, and you can hear how he paces the floor quickly. You glare at your phone, setting down your liner to instead pick of your (his) favorite lipgloss.
“You’d have to ask me out to be dating, Bakugou. You’d have to court me to be dating, Bakugou. You’d have to make time for me and take me out on dates and not hide me to fucking date me, Bakugou.” You spit at him, venom dripping off of your lips in waves. You don’t know why you answered, why you even entertained him. You shake your head with a huff when the line goes quiet, eyebrows quirking up when your date sends you a text to make sure you’re still on for tonight.
“I’m sorry.” Bakugou mutters pathetically, his voice suddenly soft. You hesitate, for some reason, when it comes to texting your date back. Why do you always hesitate when Bakugou is around?
“Let me make it up to you, court you, and shit. I can take you to one of my favorite places, you can wear that pretty green dress and that gloss you know I love.” His voice is pleading, thickening and sweet and suffocating. You shouldn’t respond, should reply back a yes to your date.
“Please? You know how much you mean to me.” Bakugou mumbles, and you can hear the earnestness in his voice. Why haven’t you said yes to your date yet?
“I’ll do better this time. Just one more chance, sweetheart.” Bakugou’s voice is so soft, you’ve never heard him this vulnerable before. You sigh with a shake of your head, slumping back into your seat in defeat.
…
Sorry, I can’t make it tonight. Something came up. Maybe we can reschedule for another time?
516 notes
·
View notes
Idk where it was, but I think I saw a post about how Cassandra couldn't finish saying the word "fair" without being consumed by the rage shard. Going back and watching the moment when it starts to go wrong in the wizard synod, Cassandra says "it's not fair" immediately before the shard rips through her and she begins bleeding out.
Thinking about this with the Bad Kids' convo with Lydia Barkrock and how the pit fiend in her chest couldn't say the name of the dead fallen god he served or he could only say it in certain contexts... I wonder if Cassandra had another sibling aside from Galicaea and Sol (or maybe it is Sol?? Or Helio???) that she was a right hand to or had a contract with (now I'm thinking about rules and relationships re: figs warlock classes????), and maybe what Lydia's party invoked is what happened to Cassandra. I wonder if, when the Bad Kids find out more about the ritual, they will recognize elements of what happened at the wizard synod.
Anywayyyyys, maybe I'm just drowning in red strings lol
68 notes
·
View notes
hhhhhghgg... jason grace thoughts... [my telekinetic powers make every wall in my house explode]
323 notes
·
View notes
it's like. louis attempted to tell this story to daniel the first time, broke down, and attacked him before he could finish it.
and then decades later he's convinced himself that it was leaving the story unresolved that's holding him back from living his life fully now. so he invites daniel back again. and louis is sitting poised and put together, confident in his ability to recite his history in a pretty, poignant, neat little narrative that will resolve all the guilt and yearning and emptiness inside of him. that if he can just tell a compelling, satisfying story, maybe it will actually be that, and not the life he lived through, with all the pitfalls of his own failures lurking inside.
and then season 1 ends with him once again being forced to confront that the story he wants to imagine and the life he actually lived aren't the same thing. the boundaries around his narrative are shredded and he's left exposed, and subsequently able to face his past for the first time since that original interview. and you think, you think, "well this is it. they've crossed the event horizon. there's no use hiding the truth anymore, not after it's come flooding out into the open like this"
and then season 2 opens. not only is it back to the original, practiced distance, we now have armand literally enforcing that distance. a man sitting at the table who's interjections must be disregarded, an intentional interruption to the flow of the story. he doesn't exist to aid or add detail, he exists to distract louis when he gets too deep in the story. the only time we do get louis allowing any deep truth to come out is when armand leaves the room.
it's like. louis wants a story that's true, and the truth is what he's convinced will leave him satisfied. armand wants a story that will satisfy louis, to the extent louis will accept it's true.
49 notes
·
View notes