#u come into my house

[muzdiir]

im watching the last of us & they just showed a scene "10 miles west of boston" & yall......that is the most West Coast lookin vista like. all the trees are conifer, the river is this pretty little wild thing, & the mountains in the background are way too tall (i dont even think the appalachians go that far east in mass).

[bisexualnamjoonie]

just saw someone tag "rap monster" on an IG post saying 98% of K-pop idols cant rap and now I need to kill something

[freakygirlie]

ur telling me taylor swift, phoebe bridgers, harry styles were all together at a 1975 concert. ur telling me taylor, harry, phoebe and matt were in the same room. ur telling me

[milkhorns]

Thanks For Watching! 🦉💖

[karda]

the innate horror of google earth

[choccy-milky]

modern AU seb and clora's first interaction 📘📗 (and by modern AU i actually mean super trope-filled high school romance set in the 80's/90's LOL)

[godofstory]

art of flirting..

[baoxie]

🥀 sylvain + ingrid 🌼

[liauditore]

how many belts and buckles does she need someone save me.

[cowardlycowboys]

thinking about you (with my pussy)

[houseswife]

bro can you imagine being tritter. you’re a power hungry cop who just wants to get revenge on the asshole doctor who humiliated you, so you approach his prescribing physician saying “here’s cold hard proof that he committed several crimes and endangered your career”. and instead of testifying against him in light of this information he’s like nooo he didn’t do anything wrong!! it was my fault actually that he committed felonies without my knowledge!! don’t take him away!! send me to prison instead!!! like. what do you even do with that

[fumifooms]

"Marchil? I guess I can see it on Chilchuck’s end, but what about Marcille’s? What makes you think she could develop feelings for him?" I’m glad you asked!

The first thing to note is that she does think highly of him

In the page on the right, literally defending his virtues and literally comparing him to Dalclan. And oh…

She does love a brooding mysterious guy who closes himself to love. But surely, Chilchuck isn’t her type at all, right? He’s not princely or knightly at all. In apperances certainly not, both looks wise and demeanor wise, but then that’s why she seeks to know him on a deeper level, to not only look shallowly.

And hmm. Chilchuck really is quite selfless isn’t he? Always looking out for others, and saving specifically her often, always making sure himself and, staying in or even running towards danger for her sometimes. Modesty is often considered heroic…

And can we talk about that drowning one… You can definitely frame the special attention as him knowing she tends to hesitate or be clumsy, and then his insistance on pulling her out of danger that she’s the healer aka the most important to keep alive, but. From the one who says that he just keeps his ass out of fights and won’t help this is a lot of risk to take, and he does die trying to pull her to safety in the dungeon rabbits chapter. And the drowning bit??? That’s when the dungeon collapses. The only reason they DON’T die of drowning here is that the water then gives way to outside. There was NO hope of pulling her to safety here and resurrections would likely not work either, he truly preferred to die with her than try to survive himself.

Sit your ass back DOWN you are in no state, self-sacrifical hero much damn

And Marcille definitely noticed this imo, after all she loves learning all she can about him, remembering things like how he hates waiting on people too. She pays attention to him and what he does and what he says. This to say that it’s notable, whatever reason for it you may think (though we know by this point at least she was already aware he was an adult though it wasn’t internalized), out of everyone it’s Chilchuck’s bed that she wants to sleep in during the Golden Kingdom stay. He’s safe and comforting to her: dependable, the defining trait in her view of him as is shown by the relationship chart in the Adventurer’s Bible.

^ Lending handkerchiefs is a romance trope btw and handkerchiefs have irl history of being used for courting. Especially in old English literature and plays like Shakespeare’s Othello, and personally I do see a lot of Shakespeare in Dalclan (nobility political drama with some romance). There’s how his cowl is a dearly beloved souvenir from his family too, there’s a lot of aesthetic tropes you can apply to him.

All this to say you can 100% romanticize Chilchuck into a princely noble guy if you try and that’s exactly what Marcille does with the wife roleplay. She doesn’t need much in the first place, she latches onto crumbs and makes aesthetic narratives out of details, give her an inch she’ll take a mile.

But what’s interesting about the shift throughout the arc of her and his relationship is that she starts out idealizing him into a little angel of a kid (shapeshifter), and she ends it idealizing him as a virtuous husband and family man instead.

And what’s doubly interesting is that in the former, she’s actively warping who he is personality and demeanor wise to fit the aesthetic, he doesn’t have that bitter pride of not asking for help and the edges have been smoothened. But what she does during the wife roleplay is something else, she acknowledges the flaws and just… Accepts them, rolls with them. She’s aware of his flaws and implements them into the narrative, but the reason why his wife left doesn’t capitalize on them even, rather Chil is chilblivious and his wife loves him very much still, she’s just testing him after having had a night of feeling out of place at his side.

And this is what separates the idealization vs romanticization, she’s not twisting him into someone else she’s just uplifting what he is and focusing on the good sides.

Marcille: "he has a shitty personality sometimes but if he was my husband I’d still cherish him" "If I were your wife I’d be overjoyed to go out with you and would get myself prettied up while you complain about me taking a long time, your friends would tell me that I’m nice and that’d make me happy, but I’d also be sad because you wouldn’t tell me that you love me enough"

He’s angry and his wife left him, he’s *flawed*, but he’s still worth hyping up, still worth having his own romance story, still has a shot of winning back his beloved. She sees him for what he is, human and real and not a carefully scripted character that fits an aesthetic, and she thinks it’s still worthy of love and admiration and fighting for

And what’s funny too is that you might expect her to cool down on him once she learns more about him but actually she only gets increasingly into his business. You tell her your age and next thing you know you promise to introduce her to your family. Give her an inch she takes a mile. And too the thing is, Senshi is equally mysterious but she doesn’t pester him like at all, asks him ONCE about his succubus and he doesn’t even answer and that’s like… It. With Chilchuck it starts off innocently enough with her wanting to know his age, hometown, the stuff she mentions having asked pre-canon. But it just keeps and keeps going and escalating. Think she’ll be satisfied now knowing you have a wife and kids, maybe she’s disillusioned now? Wrong! She wants to know their names and ages and occupations and hey how did you propose to your wife? Do you think she’ll stop after meeting them? What’s next? What will she want to know next????

She’s… Like it’s not a reach that Marcille is all over him. Like it doesn’t mean it’s romantic but she just is. She is not normal about him idk. Can you not ask him about what tongue technique he used when first kissing his wife, give the man breathing room

Marcille could literally go "if I was Chilchuck’s wife" having deeply pondered and thought out the hypothetical and people would still ask where anyone sees any romantic potential between them. Oh wait

There’s a platonic explanation for everything (almost?) in Dungeon Meshi don’t say I’m saying otherwise, but it’s definitely not like there’s nothing here to read into lol

Going off a bit more under read bc it’s my fave topic

Marcille has a whole theme with the charming prince trope with her idealization and storybook motif and Chil is kinda the "Well someone perfect like that isn’t very realistic and romance is usually more complex and that’s ok and good and flawed people can still be ✨virtuous✨" catalyst

Do you see do you see she starts canon thinking the most romantic thing is a prince charming but her arc in the end has her romanticizing an average, flawed, real and realistic family man, who’s on the poorer side and is on the verge of divorce. And that’s what he needed, too, seeing the positive of himself and the situation instead of focusing on the negative is explicitly what inspires him to hope that he might be able to reconcile with his wife, gives him the courage and self-esteem to shoot his shot.

He IS a prince figure instead that now it’s not about idealizing the grand and overt it’s about romanticizing the small things in real life!! About finding joy and beauty in things that seem normal or mundane and uplifting them to make the world feel kinder!!!!

He’s the devoted virtuous man that she wantsss not the storybook prince that’s unrealistic and could crumble like a script at any time. He’s the perfect example of a flawed realistic but virtuous & devoted & loving man. Far from a prince charming, but not fully detached from it either. Something worth fighting for despite the flawed cracks. Like literally, flawed romance being worth fighting for is literally the finale of Chilchuck and Marcille’s arc on the matter, where their separate arcs and issues intersect at the most crucial moment.

Marcille is important to Chil’s arc not only because of her optimism, but also because of her interest and knowledge in romance & matters of the heart, and that’s what he needs to both open his heart up to hope and to try to reconcile with his wife, like idk sounds gay

Their arc together is literally learning to 1) see each other for how they are and not undermining their qualities capacities etc etc while still not leaving flaws unchecked either and 2) opening up to people. Marcille LITERALLY makes Chil open his heart up to hope like idk man. What do you want from me. He’s literally the guy helping her through deconstructing novels and fantasy and rose tinted glasses and like. Deconstructing the prince charming figure into something more real but still romantically beautiful like KUI KUI STOOOOP STOP I’M ALREADY HOOKED I’M ALREADY-

 Ok fine that’s me reading into the tropes too much forgive me for being storybook brained but like. Speaking his heart out to a lone woman on a balcony, Romeo and Juliette shit, asking if she, too, doesn’t want to meet his family, madly blushing. And like she’s learned with Chilchuck it’s all in the little things, all the implications he cannot speak aloud. She does reciprocate, does blush madly back, and the first thing she does is shower him in flowers and jewelry and what in her heart is coded as romantic gifts

A lady, stashed away in a high tower by her lonesome, waiting for someone to call out to her from below… Romeo courting type shit with an offer, a heartfelt spiel, implicit confession from underneath her balcony. Offering him flowers because he succeeded in calling out to her heart…….. And they have to climb to her too…. Crazy

Doesn’t it sound like a proposal. One that’s both so storybook-like and not, contrastedly real and grounded, all about the implications rather than in your face grand gestures, "Don’t you want to meet my family?". They literally have an arc about the topic of romance and this is the climax/pinnacle of it like god?? This is @ the woman who said "Chilchuck is a shy/bashful man so I know he wouldn’t tell me he loves me, but…" btw

To quote a friend, truly the shiny secret unlockable dating sim capture target : THE DUNGEON LORD BIT WAS SO FUNNY BECAUSE HE KNEW SHE'D TAKE IT HOOK LINE AND SINKER HES THE ONE WHO GOT HER TO TURN AROUND COMPLETELY SHES LIKE. WIDE EYED FLAG RAISED???? FLAG RAISED WITH CHILCHUCK 👀👀👀‼️👀👀‼️👀

And the way that this is the culmination of their arc together… Like people are not ready for the ‘Chil calling out to dunlord Marcille on the balcony has Romeo and Juliette romance novels imagery’ take. Or the ‘their arc is about growing to see beauty even in the non-idealized, in the flawed and in the real’ take which makes it so so perfect if she were to lower her ideal from a charming elven prince to a virtuous halfling man (which she does end up romanticizing)

So there, you got to witness in real time what happens when I think about marchil for longer than 2 minutes, there are so many layers it’s a deranged rabbithole. I saw the necronomicon of subtext and it’s driving me to madness with forbidden knowledge that no one else sees

……. Like what if I told you she implicitly picked Chilchuck over a "unrealistic prince charming who’s actually disingenuous" much earlier in the story already. If she was given the choice to think through going with a guy that seems perfect and chivalrous like her succubus she’d pick Chilchuck over the other actually. If I sound insane rn tune in for my full analysis on them coming this month hopefully thank youu. Interwoven arcs of fantasy vs reality and idealization vs pessimism I love youuu

So now you know the general thesis of my planned analysis about the importance of the prince charming figure in Marcille and Chilchuck’s arc, where she romanticizes things to a sometimes worrying degree or idealize people into something easy and digestible and poetic (like Chil being a kid, and then him being a virtuous ✨✨✨husband), and how she needs to value aesthetics less and actual acts and facts more, be more grounded (like seeing people for what they are flaws and all, and accepting that people need money and not pulling through on principles of honor or unity shouldn’t get Namari shamed) and a part of that is accepting that Chilchuck is BOTH flawed and virtuous, a loving husband that still has shitty moods and fumbled his marriage so bad etc etc. So it’s like, her image of perfect prince charming that will whisk you away on an ethereal romance -> realistic flawed middle aged dad with personality issues and a failing marriage but he still is worthy of love and having his cute grand romance story and his happy ending. Ik I keep repeating the same point through this but I need it to be burned into everyone’s brains it has its grip on me I can’t do this. They are so special……

[lotuslate]

been thinking abt MDZS House MD au

[kimmie2me]

Lasagna Drama

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀Pro Hero!Bakugou x AFAB!Pro Hero!Brat!Reader

.....

You’ve been beat up enough times to know when you’ve hit your limit, but today? You feel like you’ve crossed some invisible threshold. Every single bruise, every single cut feels like it's been painted with the loudest, most obnoxious color of exhaustion. Villains really do have the worst timing—especially when you're just one bad decision away from completely losing your shit.

There’s something about fighting solo, about handling every explosive attack and every screaming villain on your own that drains you. But being the hero that you are, you keep pushing through, doing the job. The second you finish cleaning up the mess, though, the press—fucking press—are there, asking their stupid fucking questions like always.

They’re practically vultures, swarming around like they’re starving for something to tear into, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every question is like they’re poking at an open wound.

Questions..questions..blah, blah blahh.

"So, are we invited to you and Dynamight's wedding?" the reporter asks, voice overly enthusiastic.

What.

You tilt your head slowly towards them at the speed of a snail, your exhausted eyes narrowing with so much venom it could melt through steel. A bleeding cut on your forehead sends a reminder of how badly you want to snap, but you hold back, fighting for just one last ounce of control. "Can you come to the wedding? CAN YOU. COME. TO THE WEDDING?" Your voice is slow and deliberate, every word dragging with the weight of your exhaustion and irritation. "NO THE FUCK YOU CAN’T! AND WHO SAID I’M GETTING MARRIED, HUH??"

You’re practically spitting, the anger bubbling up as you point a shaky finger at the reporter—though it's less for dramatic flair and more because you're trying not to pass out from your head throbbing. The crowd watches, stunned by your bluntness. The blood dripping down your face is probably the cherry on top of this glorious shitshow.

"MATTER OF FACT, GET THE HELL OUTTA MY FACE!"

Another reporter, some idiot you didn't try to locate in this sea of absolute buffoons trying to ask about your condition, gets a response that’s just as brutal. "AND WHOEVER ASKED IF I'M OKAY—" You gesture to the bruises, the cuts, the swelling on your face. The swelling in your brain too, probably. "ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND? ‘CAUSE YOU MUST BE TO ASK ME THAT SHIT QUESTION."

The PR team, their faces pale, looks like they’ve seen hell itself. They try to rush in and intervene, but it's too late. They’ve all seen this before—this version of you, who doesn’t take shit from anyone, even when she’s on the brink of collapse.

But this moment? It’s a whole new level.

A disaster.

A train wreck.

And it’s all caught on camera.

.....

Hours later, you walk into the apartment, expecting to finally see Bakugou at work on the lasagna, or at least close to being done. Because, god, you're hungry. You've been requesting (read: begging) him all week and it took a while, but you finally got him to say yes. Even if it was very reluctant.

Instead, you’re met with the sight of him lounging on the couch, his arms behind his head like he’s been living the life while you were off doing actual work. And today was his day off! He had all day to make it!

You freeze in the doorway, your eyes narrowing. “What the hell is this?” you snap, voice dripping with annoyance.

He doesn’t even look at you, just casually glancing at the TV where your earlier press meltdown is playing on loop. You’re there, in full glory, flipping the camera off and shouting at the reporters like you’re about to spontaneously combust from frustration. The volume’s up, and you can hear yourself getting progressively louder, each sentence punctuated by Bakugou’s quiet laughter.

"Did you seriously not even start yet?” you seethe, already feeling the heat of frustration building. "Where's the lasagna?"

“Yeaahh about that," he drawls "Yer not gettin’ that lasagna,” he says, his tone flat but with the faintest hint of amusement.

The weight of his words hits you like a ton of bricks, and you nearly stumble, caught off guard. “Wait—what? No,no, no. You said—..! But why!?”

His smirk deepens, and though he doesn’t laugh, there’s a glint in his eyes. “You go shoutin’ yer mouth off on national TV, actin’ like a brat, and you think I’m gonna reward that with lasagna? No way, Cupcake. Gotta teach you some self-control.”

Your heart plummets. The devastation is real, and you’re .3 seconds from a meltdown. "But—'Suki! They kept asking me stupid questions! Plus, I'm bleeding and hurt and in pain!” You point at your bruises, your puppy-dog eyes in full force, desperate to sway him. “You’re just gonna hold my lasagna hostage?”

He raises an eyebrow, his mouth flattening into a look that’s somehow both deadpan and amused. “Yup. Sucks, don’t it?” His tone is full of mock sympathy, but he can barely keep himself from chuckling when he catches the absolute betrayal written across your face.

Every ounce of bratty energy in you rallies to make your case, to somehow earn back the lasagna you’ve waited for. And you swear, from the way his shoulders shake, that he’s one second from cracking up, even if he’ll never admit it.

You start with the tried-and-true techniques, laying it on thick with a pout that would break any heart softer than Bakugou’s. He’s still ignoring you, now scrolling through comments about your press conference antics on his phone, his lip twitching as he takes in the spectacle you’d made of yourself.

“Kaaaaatttsukiiiii,” you draw out his name in a long, syrupy whine, leaning against the couch in a way that has you looking small and weary. “Look at me—don’t you feel even a little sorry for me?”

One look at you, with your bruised cheek and dark circles, and he does soften for a second, but only a second. His mouth tilts into something of a smirk, his eyes glinting with deadpan amusement. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “You dug this hole yourself, Cupcake. Gotta learn somehow, right?”

“Learn?” you gasp, clutching your heart dramatically. “I saved a whole block of people! And all I wanted was some lasagna.”

He only raises an eyebrow, nodding at the TV where a rerun of the press conference plays. “Maybe if ya kept that pretty mouth shut, you’d be eating it by now.”

You press your lips together and shoot him a glare.

Fine. Time to step up your game.

You drag yourself into the living room and flop onto the couch, sighing loudly enough for him to hear. Then, even louder, you moan, “Can’t believe I’m starving in my own home.”

Still nothing. He doesn’t even look up from his phone. What a meanie. So, you ramp up the theatrics, muttering all kinds of melodramatic things under your breath, but every attempt only earns you a muttered, “Yer not starvin’, drama queen. Eat some leftovers or somethin'.”

With a scoff, you sink back onto the couch, dramatically placing your hand over your face as if you might pass out any second. “Fine, then! I guess this is how it ends... Left to waste away, bruised and abandoned. And hungry.”

Bakugou snorts, completely unmoved. “You’re such a pain,” he mutters, shaking his head. But he’s only encouraged by the little grin he’s barely hiding, scrolling through the comments online with a wicked kind of enjoyment.

You’re about to give up—but not just yet. So, you put on your best big, teary eyes and head over to his side of the couch, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt. “'Suki, please,” you say in a soft, pitiful voice. “Do you really want me to suffer after the day I’ve had?”

Without even looking down at you, he flicks your hand off, murmuring, “Don’t pull that pitiful act on me. Told ya, I’m not makin’ you shit.”

A few agonizing minutes pass, with him still ignoring your efforts as he scrolls on his phone like what he's watching is just the best thing in the world. Finally, with all your usual tactics exhausted, you pull out your last resort—the one card guaranteed to make him surrender his holdout. You hated (not really) to pull out the trump card when things didn't go in your favor, but hey. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Behold: The Mitsuki card.

A smirk plays on your lips as you grab your phone and sneak into the bedroom. Bakugou doesn’t even notice you’re gone, too busy scrolling through comments, probably snickering at people analyzing every part of your outburst.

You dial the number, and Mitsuki picks up on the second ring, her voice bright and full of concern. “Hey, sweetheart! You alright? I saw that press video today—those reporters looked like they’d been scolded by the damn principal!”

You sigh dramatically, just enough to paint the picture. “Oh, I’m fine… just a little sore, really. Sorry you had to see that. I took some hits, had a rough day. And now…” You add a slight quiver to your voice, “… now I’m barely getting by, Mitsuki ma'am. Katsuki refuses to feed me after everything I went through today. Said I don’t deserve it. He promised me too. It's okay though..I'll just have some leftovers. I wanted to just talk to someone who's on my side.”

There’s a deadly silence on the other end of the line, and you can practically feel Mitsuki’s rage building. “Wait, wait. He refuses to feed you?!” Her voice spikes with indignation. “That little brat. You tell him if he doesn’t get his act together, I’m coming over there right now! And of course, I'm on your side! Hell, I would've done exactly the same!”

“Thank you and, believe me, I’ve tried.” You sigh, putting every ounce of your frustration into it. “All I wanted was some lasagna, but he’s acting like I committed some crime.”

“Well, he won’t be actin’ smug when I’m done with him.” Mitsuki’s tone is so sharp, you almost feel bad for him. Almost. “You just hang tight, sweetheart. I’ll take care of it.”

You thank her sweetly, ending the call and walking back to the living room with a triumphant smile, watching as Bakugou continues to chuckle at his phone. He raises an eyebrow as you sit down, looking suspicious. “What’re you so happy about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you reply, a little too casually.

He gives you a long, side-eyed glance before turning back to his phone, mumbling something under his breath. He’s still grinning like a smug cat as he reads through more comments, clearly reveling in the mayhem you’ve caused. The seconds tick by, and you’re waiting, barely containing the anticipation.

Then—buzz buzz buzz. His phone starts ringing. His dumb grin drops at it, sees “Ma🤦🏼‍♂️” flashing on the screen, and he mutters something unintelligible. He lets it ring a few times, thinking she’ll give up, but Bakugou Mitsuki is nothing if not persistent.

Ring… ring… ring.

Finally, with a huff of exasperation, he answers. “What, old hag?”

“What?! That’s how you answer your mother? Especially after starvin’ that poor girl who’s had a rough day?” Mitsuki’s voice is so loud, you’re sure even the neighbors can hear it. Bakugou pulls the phone back from his ear, wincing, and you’re fighting every instinct not to burst out laughing.

“Ma, she’s fine—”

“Fine?! Fine, is she?!” Mitsuki snaps. “I saw that press video on the news! The girl’s out there practically bleedin’ her guts out, and you won’t even give her a plate of lasagna? You selfish little punk!”

Bakugou groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Ma, she doesn’t need—”

“Listen here, Katsuki. You’re gonna give that girl a big ol’ plate of lasagna, and you’re gonna get her some damn ice cream to go with it, too, or so help me, I’ll come over there and make it for her myself!”

He tries to stammer a response, but she’s already launched into another tirade, laying it on thick about the importance of compassion, especially to those who put their lives on the line for others. By the end, his face is a mix of annoyance and exhaustion.

Finally, she hangs up, and Bakugou stands there, completely defeated. “You just had to go and pull in the old hag, huh?”

You give him the sweetest, most innocent smile you can muster. “All I wanted was dinner, 'Suki.”

With a begrudging sigh and glare, he stomps over to the fridge, grabs the ice cream, and scoops a heaping bowl.

Bakugou thuds the bowl of ice cream down in front of you. “Here,” he says, and his tone drips with irritation. “Happy now?”

You flash him a saccharine smile, knowing he’s gritting his teeth behind that scowl. “Getting there,” you say, taking a huge spoonful of ice cream. You savor it slowly, letting him watch as you relish every bite. "This will help me stay alive while I wait on that lasagna you’re finally making.”

Rolling his eyes, he mutters something about “goddamn brats” and stomps back to the counter to get started on the lasagna from scratch. He’s measuring ingredients with an irritated efficiency, muttering curses as he moves between the stove and the counter, clearly making a point to be loud with every spoon clang and pan scrape. You can’t help but smirk, lounging at the table with your ice cream while he seethes his way through the prep.

“Y’know, you could just admit you’re glad to make me dinner,” you tease, trailing a finger around the rim of your ice cream bowl.

“Shut up,” he growls, not even looking at you. “Only doin’ this ‘cause you’re about two seconds from callin’ my mom back.”

You laugh, knowing you’ve won. He knows it, too, and you can tell by the way his jaw tightens. But he’s still at it, chopping, stirring, and layering with perfect precision. He even throws in extra herbs like he’s really trying to impress you—or maybe it’s just his stubborn pride refusing to serve you anything less than perfect, even if he’s fuming the whole time.

When the lasagna finally slides into the oven, he gives you a long, exasperated look, as if you’re personally responsible for the next forty minutes he’ll spend waiting for it to cook. Because you were. Meanwhile, you’re content, scraping the last of the ice cream and smiling as sweetly as possible.

“Looks like you’re the real MVP tonight, 'Suki,” you say with a grin, earning a deadpan glare as he slouches in the couch besides you, crossing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he mutters, but he’s got a reluctant smirk, that little glint in his eyes betraying him.

As you savor the victory lasagna, taking big, dramatic bites and humming with exaggerated satisfaction, Bakugou watches you with a mixture of grumpy defeat and faint amusement. You’re absolutely eating it up—literally and figuratively—relishing how the whole thing turned out exactly the way you wanted. You even add a contented sigh, just to drive the point home.

“Happy now?” he mumbles, feigning irritation as he leans back in the couch.

“Completely,” you reply, all too pleased. “Though... later I might need a few cuddles to really recover from today.”

He gives you a look that could curdle milk. “Okay, now you’re pushin’ it.”

But you just grin, because you know damn well you’ll probably get your way. After all, you got ice cream, lasagna, and a little victory over Bakugou and his mom tonight. Cuddles? That’s just a matter of time.

All in a day’s work.

[yourgalgremlin]

Petition to cease & desist using WATER as a ship name for Regulus Black because:

It’s slander

It’s the location where he d!ed, not the (kinda metal) thing that caused it.

It don’t make no sense.

That twink didn’t “drown”— he breathed in water while monsters ripped his flesh from his body (there’s a difference.)

He was taken down like a thirsty gazelle drinking @ a watering hole that gets ambushed by an alligator, dragged into the water, & chomped on 2 d£ath.

Canon: After drinking the poison (to switch out the locker horcrux) he was hella thir$ty -> bent down to drink the water in the cave -> he was ambushed by water dwelling monsters that can only be killed with Fiendfyre (like mf-ing horcruxes) -> dragged into the water (still alive) by their creepy skeleton hands -> ripped his flesh from his bones while breathing in water -> he ☠️.

Out of all of that 🔝 this was the thing we latched onto?

His most likely causes of d£ath (ranked in order from ‘ofc its this one’ to ‘interesting wrong opinion’):

The Inferi injuries/attack.

The mf-ing poison he’d already drunk.

Lack of oxygen; water into the lungs.

🙅🏽‍♀️ the names of Moonwater/Rosewater

[starflungwaddledee]

been trying to figure out how exactly i want to draw him; i'm glad folks liked him in that one picture! here's some more bill studies. can't make my mind up between a softer duck-like bill (a little closer to his canon one) or a longer and more pointed shape slightly closer to an actual penguin...? thoughts?

speaking of... um. here's how i think he could look if i didn't have to follow like.. The Rules™️.