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#anyways I’m sad again
saetoru · 11 months
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al-haitham’s the kind of guy who tilts his head slightly for a kiss before you even lean in to give him one. he just knows it’s coming. expects it. trusts it’ll happen.
he’s yawning when he sits at the table for breakfast, hair slightly disheveled from sleep. he sits down and when you place the mug of coffee in front of him, his head angles a little for that kiss you place on his cheek.
he’s drowned in endless paperwork at the akademiya when you stop by to visit, chuckling when he gives you that look of despair at the all the work he has to do. you don’t even manage to walk up to him fully before he’s leaning in and waiting for the kiss to the top of his head.
he’s shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth at night when you walk in to brush yours too, bumping hips with his as you giggle. you don’t even have to turn before he’s tilting his head so he’s exposed and ready for that gentle peck you leave at his jaw.
“have you ever noticed how demanding you are for these,” you chuckle one day, pressing a kiss to his cheek to prove your point.
he grunts, leaning in and burying his head into your neck as you greet him at the door after a long day. “what makes you say that,” he mumbles.
“you’re ready for one before i’ve even come close,” you grin, “what if one day i don’t kiss you?”
“you’d stop kissing me?” he asks, squeezing your hips as he nuzzles into your neck. something tells you he already knows your answer.
and he’s warm. he’s close. he’s here and he’s everything all at once. he’s all you need and everything you’ve ever wanted. he’s the messy hair of your mornings and the pouty lips of your afternoons and that shirtless back of every night. he meets you halfway—maybe even takes the first step so you don’t have to.
he leans in for that kiss before you do. because he needs you, wants you, loves you—and he never lets you forget it. so you turn your head, press your lips against the side of his head and run your fingers through his hair as he sighs in content.
“no,” you hum, falling in love all over again, “no i’d never stop kissing you.”
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420-what-you-smokin · 10 months
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YEAH 100%
YOUAERE My FUCKIGN GI>RLFREIONGD
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michi-chelle · 20 days
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these might be the cutest towas ever. sorry i don’t make the rules.
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1driedpersimmon · 2 years
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Misa and L makeup adventures and also Matsuda
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nuppu-nuppu · 11 months
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Ignore if you don’t want to read about me being stupid once again
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tabithatwo · 11 months
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I literally never realized jackie lost her virginity on shaunas bed and now I’ll never stop thinking abt it. That’s so intentional wtf how have I never realized and how have I not heard more abt it.
YEAH Jackie is giving shauna opportunities to come clean, is desperate for a small scrap of honestly or remorse so that she can forgive her and have her back, and she’s stopped eating because it’s really looking like she’s not going to get that from shauna. So what does jackie do as a last ditch effort? Try and get a rise out of her. Try and get her to admit to something. Try and get her to tell her why she did what she did. This is all a big part of why I subscribe to the jackie knew that she loved shauna like that/was closeted rather than comphet headcanon, because it really reads to me as I know she gets weird about jeff and maybe just MAYBE it’s because she feels the same way about me as I do about her, so if this is my last shot I might as well go all out. She takes travis’ hand, holds eye contact with shauna as they walk away (to SHAUNA’S bed), and then she gives this speech:
“It's funny, I used to pretend I didn't know if I loved Jeff, when the truth is, I didn't even like him that much. And I was so mad at shauna, but now I realize she's right. Friendship doesn't matter. Love doesn't matter. They're just things that we use to pretend we aren't gonna end up like dead cabin guy. Like rotted-out husks in some bullshit attic. But of course that's how it ends. That's all we are the whole time. It doesn't matter. We're just shells with nothing inside.”
Shauna didn’t stop her. Her last ditch effort didn’t work. From jackie’s perspective, shauna didn’t want her like that. Didn’t love her like that. Didn’t even love her in the friendship way that jackie had thought she did. So jackie finally gives up for good.
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smallphoenix13 · 2 months
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käärijä guitar (guitäärijä?)
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ickypuppi3 · 1 year
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i love the idea of everyone just assuming billy’s a music snob and that he refuses to listen to anything outside of metal and then realising that that is very much not the case
like that scene with them looking for music in s4 but they’re at steve’s and steve pulls an ABBA tape out or something and everyone turns to look at billy expecting him to say something but he’s like ‘what? ABBA fucks’ and they’re like.. oh
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gaybearwedding · 2 months
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hi hi hello i have been gone forever due to various reasons such as “work” and “mental illness” and “having developed a kpop hyperfixation that has been occupying most of my attention recently” but i need everyone to know that i saw off book live twice last week (in philly with a friend and then in nyc with my girlfriend) and it was truly so everything. i didn’t get many pictures but i did get a few and none of them are very good but one of them is of jess’ amazing stool balancing act and that’s all i need really
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rooolt · 2 months
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I know I’m always like “oh haha silly she’s my girlfriend” but truly as an autistic lesbian ayda means so much to me as a character and not even just because she’s also an autistic lesbian but because she’s an autistic lesbian surrounded by so many people who love her for exactly who she is and truly it gets me every time I cherish her dearly
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secretmellowblog · 2 years
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So much internet analysis of media feels like……. if people were trying to criticize Chick-Fil-A, but refused to talk about anything other than the quality of the sandwiches. All that mattered was whether the product was good. So people just debated endlessly over whether the products were Good or not, and no one discussed how Chick-Fil-A donated to conservative homophobic hate groups.
“Is this Disney product Good and does it have good gay representation?” Does Disney still donate to homophobic republican politicans!!!??? Do they still actively censor any queer content during production, cancelling gay projects and actively forcing their writers to cut gay content, to the point where every sad scrap that makes it onscreen is a miracle? Can you meaningfully make any statements about “gay rep at Disney” without bringing in that larger context?
It’s not a perfect analogy— because art shouldn’t be a product, and a movie is theoretically trying to Say something in a way that a sandwich is not. But Idk I feel like the reason we fixate so much on media analysis is because it is Fun. It is fun to talk about lord of the rings and the owl house and Steven universe. It is not fun to talk about the horror and exploitation that is baked into the “entertainment industry;” it’s not fun to research and analyze the systems that created the horrifically expensive movies you love.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately because amazon is releasing the most expensive tv series ever made, a spin-off series based on lord of the rings. I have no interest in watching it despite my lifelong love of lotr but the thing is—
I have no doubt the series will be good! It will be fine. Lots of money has been thrown into it, and I have enough friends in the entertainment industry to know that on every massive corporate product there are hundreds of writers and artists sincerely trying their best to create good meaningful art. The Amazon series will be Fine. It will be good.
But my question is: Does it being good actually matter? Does it matter if a chick-Fil-a sandwich is good? Does it matter if this vile evil horrible media monopoly run by a villainous CEO that works its employees to death creates a good product?
I feel like I’m going crazy when most of the criticism of Amazon’s lotr is conservatives and people who act like conservatives ranting on about how “I can’t believe they gave Blorbo GenericElf a personality! That’s so out of character—he didn’t have a personality in the book! Tolkien, our lord and savior who we must worship as an authority, would be infuriated (because we still are bound to submit to this dead guy’s opinion apparently!) Everything would be better if everything stayed exactly as it was in the past, in the Sacred Original Canon. Any attempt to transform Tolkien’s work is morally reprehensible and a sign of the fall of the civilization.”
Sometimes I just want to shake those people and say “PEOPLE ARE DYING! people are dying in Amazon warehouses, and you’re treating your petty fandom opinion about blorbo genericelf’s personality as if it has this laughably enormous moral weight.”
I know that’s unkind, and that people can care about more than one thing; but I don’t know. I used to have this really naive idea that adaptations were a conversation with the original work, and every reinterpretation was a beautiful addition of meaning. I still believe that on some level. I think every author should be free to reinterpret stories however they want, should be able to argue with the original author and set their work on fire if they need to. there’s a lot about Tolkien’s work specifically that deserves to be disrespected, like his vicious racism and sexism. I LOVE transformative work—especially transformative work that meaningfully argues with the original author.
But like….you really can’t talk about these big media franchises without talking about the systems that created them.
Yes, people can sometimes create great beautiful sincere emotional art within these exploitative systems! I love the original lotr films and books. The new Amazon series is so expensive that it will be perfectly Fine.
But creating good art doesn’t change the fact that these giant media monopolies do so much real, constant, tangible harm. Warner Brothers caused massive harm to New Zealand while making the lotr/hobbit films, essentially strong arming the country’s government into changing their film industry laws to benefit massive foreign corporations. And Amazon is a vicious violent exploitative mega monopoly that is literally overworking its underpaid employees until it kills them.
It’s hard because I believe that good art can be very meaningful to people, and that media analysis can be important and valuable.
Its just that— not to swing a bat at a hornet’s nest— sometimes I wish people would stop hyperbolizing about how [petty fandom opinion] will cause lasting harm to the world, while not engaging with the things about the media property that are causing immediate tangible physical objective harm.
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goldensunset · 7 months
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surprise art attack!!! here’s @deityofhearts ‘s cashmere, everyone’s favorite whimsical tiefling
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there’s something so alluring about the idea of living in a perpetual horror movie to me. like a time loop. specifically a paranormal one where you could never make it out alive. in the same sense of “heaven is a place where nothing really happens” (from the talking heads song Heaven), being trapped in a story where there’s only one ending and you suffer through whatever horrors are laid out for you (but they are laid out exactly as they are and always will be, and they are laid out for YOU) sounds like. morbidly peaceful. no need to worry what happens next, you already know. and you’ve done it a hundred times. of course you’re in pain but it’s intimately familiar and maybe you don’t even register your suffering anymore. and you’re not preoccupied by your performance in this dance anymore either— it feels like whatever you do, the same events occur, but you’re an actor in a story and you never had free will to begin with. anyways. it just sounds kind of nice 👍
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whereismyhat5678 · 7 months
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I don’t remember.
I don’t know what exactly happened.
I heard loud noises I think.
I don’t know what they were but they hurt my ears.
But then I heard a voice. I liked it. It was calmer. My ears felt like they were ringing, and he softened them for me. I don’t remember his face though…. But I think I remember what he said?….
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Tw: There is no blood but I want to put it here anyways if anyone doesn’t like to see characters with a shit ton of bandages. (Just to be safe 🩶)
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My body hurts…
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sesamestreep · 2 months
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30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 9
Write about a heated debate (from this list) ➸ set in the Bakeoff AU AGAIN, because after my last fic, I wanted to write more Milly content and also it’s been a rough few days and I need to be silly and self-indulgent or I shall perish!! Based on an Instagram Reel I sent to @firstelevens the other day and that we’ve been spinning into a kid fic concept ever since. It grew out of control and I don’t know if it technically fits the prompt, but it’s what I got for you nonetheless. Bon appetit I guess???
“Euuuugghhh! Daaaaad!”
“What? What’s the matter?” Foggy asks from his spot in the kitchen. That tone of voice from his daughter is never a good sign, but he’s mostly used to hearing it when he and Matt are being particularly disgusting about how much they love each other. As Matt is still in the shower currently, he knows that can’t be the reason.
“What did you put on this?” Milly asks, holding up a piece of toast accusatorially. If she ends up following in their career footsteps someday, her cross-examinations are going to be brutal.
“Cinnamon and sugar, as requested,” Foggy answers, coming to stand across the counter from her. It’s a long way from the elaborate recipes he used to make with his spare time—which he no longer has—and when he was on Bake-Off, but it’s one of his daughter’s favorite breakfasts despite its simplicity. Well, it normally is. She’s currently staring daggers at him, so it must not be her favorite right now.
Milly shakes her head at him, like he’s a moron or maybe, more accurately, like they’re going to have to send him to a home soon if he keeps this up. “Not cinnamon,” she says, holding the offensive piece of toast out to him.
Before he can take a bite (his original plan, to illustrate that she’s being silly and unnecessarily picky), the smell reaches his nose and it doesn’t take an extremely experienced baker to know that’s not cinnamon. He brings it closer to sniff it again and makes himself cough. To confirm his suspicion, he returns to the cabinet where they store their spices and looks at the jar he used to make Milly’s toast a few minutes ago and, yep, there it is.
“Paprika,” he says. “I made you paprika toast.”
“Paprika and sugar,” Milly says, in that same enjoy your time in the retirement home, old man tone of voice.
“They look similar in the bottle,” Foggy says, rubbing a hand over his face. “Same color, I mean.”
“Do they smell the same?” she asks, innocently.
“Listen, you—”
“And are they spelled the same way?” she asks, thoughtfully. “You know, when you read the bottle before pouring it over my toast? You did read the bottle first, right?”
“Mills, I’m not kidding, if you can spell ‘paprika’ or ‘cinnamon’ for me right now, I will give you twenty dollars out of my wallet,” he says. “Otherwise, I don’t want to hear it!”
“I don’t know—”
“Exactly!”
“I’m eight! What’s your excuse?”
“For one thing, my eight year old daughter won’t stop tricking her babysitter into letting her watch scary movies and then crawling into bed with me in the middle of the night because she can’t sleep,” Foggy says, grabbing the plate from her. “How’s that?”
“Don’t throw it away!” Milly calls.
Foggy pauses. “Baby, you don’t have to eat it. I’ll make you more with actual cinnamon.”
Milly looks at him like he’s grown an extra head. “I know,” she says, slowly. “I just wanted to show Dada what you did.”
“Okay,” Foggy says, rolling his eyes and returning the plate. “Just for that, maybe I won’t make you more toast.”
“Sure, starve me for telling the truth. That’ll go over great with the other trusted adults in my life when I snitch on you.”
“It’ll never hold up in court,” Foggy replies, already putting two more slices of bread into the toaster.
“Besides,” she says, ignoring him and popping a sliced strawberry into her mouth. “I don’t crawl into your bed, I crawl into Dada’s.”
“It’s the same bed,” he explains. “Just because you cuddle with Dada and kick me all night doesn’t make it any less my bed. And what’s up with that, anyway? I have it on good authority that I’m the more cuddly of the two of us. Why don’t you ever snuggle me?”
“You want it too bad,” she says, taking a two-handed drink of her orange juice.
“Devil child,” he mutters. His mother once told him, when he and Matt were first looking into adoption, that your children will act as cosmic comeuppance for all the things you put your poor parents through as a child yourself and he hadn’t believed her. Maybe he just thought that, because Milly didn’t share any DNA with them, that his and Matt’s most exhausting qualities wouldn’t rear their ugly heads in her at all. And, boy, love her as he does, he was wrong on that count.
“Dada would never do this to me,” Milly continues, happily. “And he can’t even see! Makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“About looking into boarding schools?” Foggy asks. “Definitely.”
“Mean!”
“You’re saying you’d miss me?”
“No,” Milly says, crossing her arms. “But I’d miss Dada and my friends and my teachers and Aunt Daisy and—ooh, can I borrow your phone?”
“Why?”
“I want to text Aunt Daisy a picture of the paprika toast.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Come onnnnn,” she whines. “She’ll think it’s funny!”
“That’s exactly why I’m not giving you my phone.”
“You’re no fun,” Milly grumbles, sinking down to rest her chin on the counter dejectedly. Her head immediately pops up again when Matt appears behind her. “Dada! Wait til you see what your husband did!”
Matt stops to press a kiss to the top of her head. “Please don’t say your hair because it feels…uh, chaotic?”
“I haven’t even gone near it this morning,” Foggy says, as he fetches the toast that’s just popped out of the toaster. “That’s all natural.”
“Well, that’s something,” Matt replies, coming into the kitchen. “So, what did you do?”
“He made me cinnamon toast,” Milly interrupts, enthusiastically. “Here, try it!”
As with Foggy, the toast doesn’t even make it to Matt’s mouth before he’s frowning. “That’s…not cinnamon, honey.”
Milly cackles while Foggy glares at her. “I made a small mistake,” Foggy says, over the chorus of his daughter’s laughter.
“What is that? Chili powder?” Matt asks, sniffing delicately.
“Paprika.”
“Oh.”
“And I have been soundly roasted for my error,” Foggy says, mostly in Milly’s direction. “So, I don’t want to hear it from you, okay?”
Matt shrugs. “Okay.”
“Apparently, you would never make such a mistake in your life, because you’re a good dad and I’m some sort of rodeo clown who ended up here by mistake.”
Matt looks at him, very clearly stifling a laugh. “She only thinks that because she’s led a charmed life where I almost never make her breakfast,” he says. “Give it a week, she’ll be begging for you back.”
“You’d just let me eat fruit snacks for breakfast,” Milly says, as Foggy puts her new breakfast down in front of her.
“Yes, and then you wouldn’t have all the nutrients you need to learn new things at school and get smart enough to become the first female president of the United States,” Foggy says. “And then where would we be?”
“There better be a female president before I’m old enough,” Milly says, darkly and with a mouth full of toast.
“Better eat a balanced breakfast just to be safe,” Matt says, pushing off the counter to go find some coffee. “And be nice to your dad.”
“How will that help me become President?”
“People skills,” Matt says.
“Surviving into adulthood,” Foggy says, at the same time.
Milly blows a raspberry at him, but eats the new toast without complaint. Matt’s scouting around for the sugar bowl now and Foggy stops him with a hand on his elbow.
“I already put sugar in it for you,” he says.
Matt smiles. “I don’t care what Milly says. You’re the best rodeo clown a kid could hope for, and a very good husband too.”
“Thanks,” Foggy replies, and allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. He gets to enjoy that for about ten seconds before Milly makes another disgusted noise behind him. He sighs and pulls back. “What’s wrong with the toast now?”
“Nothing,” Milly exclaims. “It’s you two that are grossing me out!”
“Sorry your dads are in love with each other,” Matt says, with a smile and a faint blush. “You live a tough life.”
“I’m glad you understand,” Milly says, as she shoves an improbably large bite of her toast into her mouth without issue. She’s not even finished chewing when she asks, “Will you walk me to school today, Dada?”
“Why? Are you worried I’ll do that wrong too?” Foggy asks, putting an arm around Matt’s shoulders.
“I’d be happy to, baby,” Matt interjects before Milly can say something smart-alecky back to him. “Go get dressed, okay?”
Mill hops down from her chair happily and practically skips to her room. Matt nudges Foggy’s shoulder with his nose.
“What’s up with you two?” he asks.
“I don’t know. She’s just pushing my buttons.”
“Successfully,” Matt replies.
“Yeah, well,” Foggy shrugs. “I slept half the night with her foot in my face while she cuddled with you. I’m a little cranky, I guess.”
“Feeling left out?” Matt asks, smiling, as he turns to wrap his arms around Foggy’s middle.
“I’m definitely the cuddliest person in this household and I want it acknowledged.”
“I agree,” Matt says, kissing him on the shoulder. “Don’t listen to Milly. She’s a maniac.”
“She takes after you.”
“Not true. I love to cuddle with you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Matt says, leaning in to kiss him again.
“We could make that happen, you know,” Foggy says against his lips. “Drop the kid off at school, cancel our appointments for today, play hooky from our responsibilities, stay in bed all day…”
Matt seems to be thinking it over, tempted. “We couldn’t,” he says, not quite convincingly.
“We could. I know our bosses and, trust me, they’d want us to get laid.”
“I’ve said it before but those guys are weird,” Matt jokes. “They’re honestly too involved in our sex lives.”
“Yeah, it’s an HR nightmare,” Foggy replies, kissing him again.
“You two better not still be kissing when I come back,” Milly hollers from the bathroom, where she’s brushing her teeth (or so Foggy guesses from the sound of running water).
“We definitely will be,” Foggy shouts back, as Matt collapses into his shoulder laughing.
“I’m going to go attempt to get our daughter’s hair fit for public appearance,” Matt says, giving Foggy another quick kiss on the lips.
“And I’m going to text Kate that we’ll be in late this morning.”
Matt pauses. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Foggy consults his watch. “Our first appointment is at 11. I can do plenty to you in that amount of time.”
Matt looks a little startled by that, but not in a bad way. “Kate’s going to know what that text means, you know.”
“That just means there will be someone to share in Milly’s pain over us being disgustingly in love after all these years. Unless that’s your way of saying no?”
“Definitely not. Just warning you that we’ll get a lot of grief for it later.”
“I’ll make it worth your while.”
“You always do,” Matt replies, and Foggy’s definitely not being conceited when he says Matt’s tone sounds downright dreamy.
He heads off to help Milly finish getting ready and Foggy tackles the few dishes in the sink while he waits for another pot of coffee to finish brewing. A few minutes later, Milly appears in the kitchen, dressed and with her hair pulled into a neat bun. Neither of them can do anything particularly fancy with her hair, not least because she won’t sit still long enough for all that, but Matt does a good job for someone who’s never had long hair or siblings. A now presentable Milly pulls her backpack and coat off the hook on the wall and stops by Foggy’s side expectantly.
“What do you need, kiddo?” he asks, as he dries his hands on the towel hanging by the stove.
“Hug goodbye,” she says, lifting her arms towards him and he kneels to capture her in a big hug.
When she finally pulls back, she still looks hesitant, like there’s something she needs to ask him. It once again strikes him as crazy how much she reminds him of Matt sometimes.
“What’s the matter?” Foggy asks, tucking a picturesque loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You feel alright? Is all that paprika I fed you bothering your stomach?”
Milly shakes her head, looking away. “I just wanted to—Dada said that his dad would have made him eat that gross toast because they never wasted food when he was little.”
“Did he?” Foggy asks, already making a mental note to kick Matt’s ass when they’re alone together. “Listen, baby, your Grandpa Jack, he…didn’t have a lot of help when your Dada was young. They had to be really careful with their money and Dada was in the hospital for a while…”
“I know,” Milly says, nodding. “I’m just—thank you for making me new toast, instead.”
Foggy feels a lump in his throat that he struggles to swallow past. “Hey, you don’t have to thank me for that, okay? It’s my job to make your life as good as it possibly can be. Even if I have to make you a hundred pieces of toast every morning.”
“That would be expensive.”
“Still,” Foggy says, firmly. “I’m sorry if what Dada said made you upset.”
Milly scrunches up her face like she’s eating the paprika toast all over again. “He said it like it was funny,” she says, mildly horrified.
“God, okay,” Foggy replies, running a hand over his face. Matt would consider that a charming anecdote about his father. Speaking of people who are going to need a hug from him… “Don’t worry about that. Just have a good day at school, okay?”
“Okay,” Milly says, all concern gone as she hops in place excitedly.
Matt appears around the corner then, pulling on his coat. “Ready?”
“Just gotta get my shoes,” Milly shouts as she zooms off in the direction of the door.
“Alright,” Matt says, as he comes into the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“Okay,” Foggy says, as he leans in to kiss him goodbye. “Oh, and maybe no more stories about your dad before school, yeah?”
Matt blinks at him. “What? Why?”
“We’ve talked about how sometimes the anecdotes from your childhood that you think are charming and scrappy are actually alarming to the people who love you now,” Foggy says, gently.
“Yeah…” Matt says, uncertainly, before his expression clears. “Oh. Shit.”
“It’s fine,” Foggy replies, rubbing his back. “I already explained that she can ask for as much food as she wants. Just maybe reinforce that with her on your way to school?”
Matt looks pale and queasy even as he nods. “Right. God, I didn’t—I’m sorry—”
“I know. I’m not mad.”
“And you still want to play hooky from work with me, even though I’m the world’s biggest idiot?”
Foggy kisses him on the forehead. “Of course. You’re still a very cute idiot.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Listen, I told Milly it’s my job to make her life as good as possible, and that’s true, but it’s also my job to do that for you. And right now, the best way to make your life better is to take you back to bed and—”
“Ready!” Milly shouts as she skids around the corner. “Are you guys still kissing?! What about my education?”
“She’s right, you know,” Matt says, pulling back and looking a bit better, though still tremulous. “We’re terrible parents.”
“Maybe I should look into boarding schools, after all,” Foggy jokes, crossing his eyes goofily at Milly over Matt’s shoulder.
“I’m never going to be President at this rate,” Milly laments.
“Alright, let’s get you to school,” Matt says, holding out his hand for her.
Foggy leans down to give Milly a kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t let your dad walk into traffic, okay?”
“I won’t,” Milly says, swinging their joined hands between them. “I promise.”
“That’s my girl. Have a good day, baby cakes.”
“You too, daddy cakes.”
“I’ll be back shortly,” Matt says, smiling at the two of them.
“I’ll be here,” Foggy replies, as suggestively as he can manage. It must work because Milly snarls in disgust.
“If you two start kissing again, I’m taking myself to school,” she says, leveraging her full weight against Matt to drag him towards the door. “Or running off to join the circus. You won’t know which until it’s too late.”
“She gets that from you,” Matt says, tiredly.
“I was going to say I think she gets it from you.”
“Maybe she has a point about us being gross.”
“Oh, well, yeah,” Foggy says, with a wink at Milly, who’s glaring at both of them now. “There was never any debate about that.”
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cactusprisms · 1 year
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I did the lost kin fight again and I just.
even as a spirit, even as an entity between the living and the waking, as an entity of dreams, the vessels cannot talk. Lost Kin, after it all, bends down to look at their sibling, and then disperses into essence. The only prompt is Accept.
and out of all of the dream bosses they give the most essence. They were the youngest. They had the most potential and the most dreams. And then all they could do was offer their sibling those dreams, silently.
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