cw: you two have a son together, mention of being married, old man Bakugou
older retired pro hero Bakugou, who you find hunched over his desk one night. it’s late and the day was long and your son was whinier than he usually is. you’d think the old man would be in bed right now, but alas—he’s not beside you.
instead, as you round the corner to get a full look at him, he’s wearing his reading glasses, adorning an old ratty tank, his arms still big but softer than the years from before. he has a book open in front of him, desk scattered with pictures you can’t see from your angle, scissors, stickers, glue sticks.
“What are you getting up to at this hour, old man?” You ask softly, smiling when Bakugou doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. his tongue is sticking out in the corner as he cuts a squiggly line on a picture, posing it beside another on a blank piece of paper.
“Therapist said I should get into crafting,” he grunts, finally looking over at you from over his glasses. “Do things with my hands, feel busy, get my mind off’a shit.”
you pad over to where he sits, the overhead lamp on his desk focused on the big baby blue book with white pages. peeking over his shoulder, you rest your head on top of his, chin nestled in the still unruly blond and silver locks, overseeing his work.
and honestly? it almost makes you wanna cry. it’s a scrapbook, the page open to pictures of your wedding day, how pretty you looked, how big he smiled at you. you can see other scattered pictures on his desk—when you got a promotion at work, when he was number one for seven months in a row, a positive pregnancy test, the cutest baby you’ve ever seen, two little teeth coming in, baby being held in dads big ole arms that will always protect him.
“After this page, I gotta do the honeymoon.” Bakugou speaks gruffly, setting down a picture to wipe a hand down his face. “And then life accomplishment shit, the baby, his first steps.” He sounds so tired, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around his shoulders, sliding down to smush your face against his own.
“You always have tomorrow. Come to bed.” You say against his cheek, squeezing him when you feel the rejection start up in his belly. But he deflates, pulling his glasses off, reaching around to pull you in his lap. He looks so grumpy, with his frown lines and crows feet, and yet so handsome with his small smile and soft eyes.
“I’ll print more pictures tomorrow. And maybe go by the store to get some more stickers, too.” He tells you in between kisses, his words soft, his hands rough through your pajamas. You hum against his mouth, holding his nape, afraid to ever let him go.
“You do that. Now let’s go to bed.” You whisper, standing up and pulling him with you. He closes the scrapbook for now, and you glimpse at the cover, heart melting at the picture of you two holding up your son, both kissing his cheeks. The picture is captioned with “Our Life” and you don’t think you’ve ever been more grateful to have met him.
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“Roy was the engineer, and anything related to engineering, in any specialism, would have to pass through his hands. This included assembling the plane’s radio, just like he’d fixed the small battery-operated Spika radio and made it work.
“Adolfo sat down beside him. He explained to Roy that it was not a matter of expertise in electronics but one of ignorance, and pointed out that Roy was the least ignorant of everybody in that department. Roy argued that he had never seen an airplane radio in his life, not even in a book. Adolfo put his hand over Roy’s. ‘I know that, Roy. We all know that. I only wanted to tell you that you were the best one at handling the wires and the terminals, that’s all. But right now that’s a lot, it makes a huge difference … you are the engineer.’
“Roy, almost breathless, added something that his older friend already knew: ‘I am barely in my first year in Engineering, I’m only twenty years old, and the only time I’ve ever been remotely close to anything like this was when I helped instal a damn audio system for my cousins.’
“‘And you fixed the Spika radio,’ Adolfo responded, as if it were a thermonuclear station and not a basic portable radio the size of a pack of cigarettes. Before Adolfo even said the next sentence he knew clearly that it was as painful for him to say as it was for his friend to hear it. ‘Roy, the group needs your abilities. All we’re asking is that you try.’ ”
– “Is Anybody Listening?” from Society of the Snow: The Definitive Account of the World’s Greatest Survival Story by Pablo Vierci
LA SOCIEDAD DE LA NIEVE | SOCIETY OF THE SNOW (2023) dir. J. A. Bayona
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“the same ones who say this come up with THE most misogynistic takes in this fandom and I'm supposed to be taking them seriously” they’re also the ones who blabber about people ‘hating’ s*nsa when the story has war criminals and rapists and then you go to their profiles and they’re… stanning the war criminals and rapists!? these people adore characters like st*nnis and j*ime but they’ll bring up the geneva convention when it comes to dany & arya.
Literally...Jaime, Theon, The Hound, Stannis etc. get so much more grace and kindness than Dany and Arya. Everyone roots for their redemptions and wants happy endings for them but when it comes to these two young female characters suddenly they're "too far gone" and have no chance of a good ending. People literally fantasize about them getting narratively punished. Male characters always get to be flawed, but good in a way female characters are never allowed to be. Meanwhile, if a female character isn't 100% pure and docile then people don't think they deserve anything.
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How is Clear Sky literally always worse than I remember him?? (I stopped DOTC at the third book I believe)
It may have something to do with the fact you stopped at Book 3, which is First Battle. The book after First Battle is The Blazing Star (and the one I'm posting from now), where the narrative has just decided to treat him as a completely new person.
He never addresses anything about how fucking awful he was in books 1 - 3. Book 4 hits and the book falls face-first into a "redemption arc" which is just everyone immediately forgiving him even though he's still a huge piece of shit. He's "Working Sooo Hard" to not randomly murder people and that means he's a good person, and the writers have a panic attack if any character goes more than 30 seconds without sucking his toes.
So if you're coming at it with Clear Sky from books 1 - 3 in mind, it's infuriating. You remember the actual character they wrote so the "redemption arc" feels as flat as it actually is. It's like watching Fire Lord Ozai suddenly be considered a good guy and the entire plot of Avatar changing midway through Book 2.
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Fanfiction has ruined some of y’all’s brains so badly. Gaiman said to expect 3 seasons of Good Omens. That’s how much content he has planned for the show - meaning there’s a definite end he’s looking towards.
What did you really think s2 was going to be? The two of them running around and then being at the Ritz just like s1? That’s not an interesting show, it’s just fan service fluff. (Which is obviously fun and all but not something you should base 3 seasons of TV show on)
Gaiman told you what has to happen for Crowley and Aziraphale to be together in the show: Aziraphale has to heal from his past ‘relationship’ to be in a healthy one with Crowley. What Nina says about her and Maggie is not just a character talking to fill up run time, it’s the show saying something too.
TL;DR: Aziraphale is in a toxic relationship with heaven and needs to get out of that mindset before he can be with Crowley. It’s natural story progression and some of y’all have fanfic brainrot where everything must be instantly gratifying.
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