sylvia plath, todd anderson and virginia woolf (aka ACTUAL tortured poets) watching taylor “im breaking up with my boyfriend for his intense depression and blaming it on him, im dating a racist who enjoys watching woc being brutalized and harasses young woc artists, i sent my fans out on a hate train to attack a young woc actress for a line she had to say as part of her job to show how mentally ill her character was, im dating a maga supporter, i refuse to say anything about a current genocide despite being the most influential person in the world right now, i am a billionaire, i fly 13 minute flights and have the highest carbon emission of any celebrity, i am a known white feminist who only speaks about issues when it affects me and has constantly let my fans get away with extreme racism and even encouraged it by associating myself with known racists” swift call herself a tortured poet (her writing sounds like a bunch of thesaurus words slapped over gabba hanna and rupi kaur-esque poetry that was created purely as a trinket for an edgy pinterest board)
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new dad Bakugou who’s going back to work full time almost a full year after his daughter his born and he now has to grapple with the fact that….goddamn, he’s spoiled the shit outta her.
well, he doesn’t think it was spoiling her. in actuality, he just created a routine with her, gave her every bit of his attention, held her when she cried, scolded her (yes just at eight months) whenever she’d babble for more puffs even though she’s had enough already. it wasn’t spoiling, it wasn’t. he vowed to never be that dad, to raise a snot nosed brat, one similar to himself.
but here he is, on a Tuesday morning three weeks after her first birthday. he’s standing halfway between the front door and the living room in full uniform, with his still sleepy baby and her even sleepier mama. she’s gripping his neck like he promised to abandon her, wailing and crying so loud and dramatically, that you can’t help but chuckle at her antics and how he wavers ever so slightly.
“You promised you’d go back to work,” you scold him gently, rubbing at your daughters quivering back when she whines again the moment he acts like he’s gonna pull her off. Bakugou frowns at you, and you shrug, smoothing her unruly blond curls away from her sticky forehead.
“But you guys need me.” He pouts, eyebrows downturned as he pulls her away enough to wipe at her wet face. she blubbers again, whimpering out a small dadaaaa noooo, that absolutely breaks his heart.
“And so does the world.” You smile at him, gently pulling your daughter away from the matching glassy red eyes who watch her go. “We’ll be fine, my love. Promise.”
Bakugou looks unconvinced, especially since your daughter reaches for him with another cry of his name. you don’t say anything when he sniffles discreetly, quickly reaching down to the coffee table to snatch up his utility belt that he dropped when she waddled out of her room in tears. he snaps it on wordlessly, and you go to turn to the kitchen when he wraps you both up in his arms.
“Love you,” he whispers against your forehead before pecking it, leaning down to kiss your lips next, and then your daughter’s fat little cheeks. He whispers another love you to her, and wipes away at her rosy cheeks when she pouts at him.
“Rub you.” your daughter pouts, the both of you freezing in shock.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, grinning. “She said I love you back!” Bakugou matches your grin, laughing under his breath as he presses another torrent of kisses all of her face. for the first time since she’s opened her eyes today, she laughs, loud and joyous and familiar. he thinks that maybe going back in today won’t be so bad after all. not if this is what he’ll be coming home to.
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it was not quite like a rot.
it felt just as slow, however. you knew the early signs should have been there since some time ago, yet you missed them and ignored them. it was also similar in the way that it was similar to dying.
but, it really was different.
when you saw a rot, it felt unpleasant. it could be sadness, it might be disgust. in this tale, you didn't exactly feel like that. when you realized it, you barely felt recognition for it.
when you realized you fell out of love with him, you merely stared emptily at the photo in front of you.
it felt cruel. because somewhere inside you, you still believed that he deserved a gentle, tender moment in his life after everything. you still wish that he would know a kindness that he understood enough to soothe every bitter unhappiness that was left inside there. because he, you know more than anyone, had tried his best to be gentle, to be good for you.
you knew it in the way he etched your name on his tongue, in the way he had softened many rough parts of him just to see you smile, and yet—
as the clouds continued to move, unveiling the blue sky, you knew that your time as "his" had come to an end. that day was peaceful. the sky and the world continued to move.
the night came and you decided to put an end to a story. seven hundred and fifty two days had passed, calmly and almost coldly, you offered him a quiet smile.
"hey, can we talk for bit?"
SAE, RIN, BAROU, reo, kaiser, WANDERER, DILUC, LEONA, azul, RIDDLE, malleus, IDIA, ruggie + your faves.
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quick goofy doodle page because tangolin (pangolin tango: he may be a flare but he is a pangolin in my Heart) is in my head and he Will Not Leave-
fic that inspired this stupid little thing (please go read it, it's actually really good)
also it is In My Brain now that zed and sometimes impulse go out of their way to spook tango and make him go all roly-poly; like, he's also a bit small so they can grab him and carry him around, but the hermits sometimes make him roll up and just bowl him.
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