#i have no idea what mum was

[sidetongue]

i love them

[obsob]

here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud!!

✷(print shop)✷

[hey-hamlet]

Number 10 for the AU where Inko was crushing Izuku's hands. Good dad Endeavour having a very bad day when he and All Might are to preoccupied with the case to be there when a villain targets the Todorokis for revenge.

“A father’s weakness is always his children,” He says. “In - one way or another.”

(Sorry, i got halfway through the prompt before I read the second half of the ask, so its mostly just good dad endeavour and his son...)

Enji would have given anything to have his son safe at home with the rest of his family. He'd always tried so hard to protect his family from some of the real horrors of heroics - not kept them naive but blunted the horror into something closer to palatable. He'd tried, and then his son's best friend hadn't returned to school after the USJ incident. His son's best friend who was thin and sallow and scared of his quirk and every adult who looked at him, who tried to help his son get through his instinctual fear of his own fire (Touya's burns hadn't been his fault - he'd only been 5 -).

Then All Might had personally called him, teeth grit in a fury Enji had never heard from him before, asking him to come take Midoriya's mother into custody before he did something he couldn't take back.

Then he'd shown up to the scene - Midoriya's mother crying, an impressive bruise purpling her jaw, Eraserhead's hands on her bindings far too tight. He'd seen All Might, a red mess in his arms, and it had taken him one horror filled moment to realise that was Midoriya, god what had she done?

And now he stood, his son silent and twitchy at his side as they walked down the hospital corridor, hoping that Midoriya would break his week long, terrified silence at the sight of someone his age.

Enji would have given anything for that weight to be on someone other than his son, but these sorts of strings could only be pulled for heroes. He pressed a hand to Shouto's shoulder.

"You don't have to do this." he said quietly, stopping infront of Midoriya's room.

He could feel Shouto's shuddering breath under his palm.

"I do."

[wingsofhcpe]

Star Trek: La Sirena Fam & what each of them would do during Greek Eastern Orthodox Easter!

Picard: he's the perfect age to go all-out greek grandfather, tbh. Gets super excited to organise a big feast on Easter Sunday, wants to live it to the fullest, plans to do the whole "roasting an entire lamb for half a day" routine.

Raffi: has no idea what all the fuss is about but hey, there's food, wine and good fun, so why not. she doesn't care but gets EXTREMELY competitive with the egg-cracking, keeps slamming her egg into everyone else's and trying to wine through brute force, ignoring the fact that there's an ✨️art✨️ to the sport.

Rios: "I'm too old for this shit", absolutely doesn't want to partake in the festivities but ends up getting roped in by Picard and made to help with roasting the lamb. At the end of the day he can be found sitting to the side and eating tsoureki (as he should). Also probably gets shitfaced before half the day is done, ends up trying to dance. There's video. Shh, don't tell him.

Agnes: loves the fireworks of Resurrection Night! Loves the candles and the lanterns!! Loves the food and drink! She's so excited to experience something new and learn about a culture she's not familiar with, she's the one taking photos of everyone, she even tried to dye the eggs herself (with a little help from Stewart; it worked!). Definitely drags a very sulky Rios out so they can watch the fireworks together and feel all romantic and sappy (he complains, but of course he secretly loves it).

Seven: crowned winner of the egg-cracking competition, Raffi is SO salty about it. Also a tsoureki fan, ends up stuffing her face with it at breakfast and doesn't want to eat anything else for the rest of the day. Started watching Jesus of Nazareth every afternoon during the week just out of boredom because Elnor and Soji tuned in, is now very invested in it, also lowkey isn't sure the kids should be watching it. Especially Elnor.

Elnor: super disturbed by how bloody, brutal and visceral some of those traditions and cultural details are, tbh. ("What do you mean Jesus died?? Again? I thought it only happened once. Ooh, he's coming back? I see... wait- why are we following his tomb around the neighbourhood? Why are the old men chanting??"). Very invested into watching Jesus of Nazareth, though Soji has to very gently explain to him that that's not Actually Jesus, just an actor (he's shocked).

Soji: very excited to learn about a new culture ! Wants to try everything, from the food to the eggs to reading up all the little tidbits, fun facts and regional traditions she can get her hands on. Wants to help Picard and the holo squad prep the food, set up the table, etc. Feels like she's part of a family celebration for the literal first time in her life!

The holos pop up at random inrervals: Emil makes sure everyone stays hydrated and that nobody accidentally sets anything (or anyone) on fire. Enoch is in charge of the music (oh, so many corny traditional greek songs... meanwhile nobody in there speaks greek). Emmet is supposed to help in the kitchen but just falls asleep, and Ian is helping Agnes take the most embarrassing (and adorable) photos of a drunk Rios & Seven

[special dedication of this post to @coffee-in-that-nebula because i feel like we're the only greek ST:P/La Sirena stans around 😂]

[baeshijima]

it is now officially the 25th which means...

merry christmas everyone !!! regardless of whether u celebrate or not, i hope u all have a lovely day with whoever u spend it with or with urself <33

[mangostar]

seeing the new planet of the apes movie <- has never seen the other movies

[dollypopup]

Colin Bridgerton learns early in his life not to be too loud. Too open. Learns not to give all of himself to anything, putting on a perpetual pretense. To be cheerful. Charming. Agreeable. It makes him feel useful. It makes him feel in control.

His papa dies when he is twelve. Colin is still shorter than Daphne. She laughs at him when they play games together because she can reach the taller branches on the tree. He skinned his knee last week trying to run after the family dog, Tippet, or Tippy, as he liked to call her, when she ran off with Frannie's doll. His papa dies when he is 12 and as it happened, all he could think was that Papa would get back up, soon, as he watches him laying there among the flowers, Mum in shambles and the whole family on the steps. Colin learns. He learns no one has the space for his grief in light of their own, and Anthony is the new head of the family, and Benedict is trying to take care of the siblings, and what good is Colin?

Colin can't do anything. Colin can't do anything but try to make it lighter, better, easier. Try to be useful any way he can.

So, he comes to his mum, cradled away in her dark room, the curtains perpetually closed, pale and wane and laying on the bed, always, her palms feeling at the linen on the left side that she refuses to have changed. Because he thinks he can be useful. He thinks he can be good. Make her smile. And he loves her. And he misses her. In confinement, several months pregnant, when she lays on her side, she still cannot adjust to the feeling of a flat bedspread, back perpetually turned to the door. She doesn't want to see anyone. Almost can't even bear to. But Colin sneaks in. Colin sneaks in with biscuits he foists from the kitchens, and paper flowers (like the kind she taught him to make for all those birthday hats, fingers quick and nimble, some of the only time he is ever allowed to favor his left), and flowers he picks from the gardens of Aubrey Hall. He sneaks in, calling a hesitant

Mum?

into the dust, and maybe it's only because he will be gone, soon, off to Eton, that she tolerates it. The time he has left with mum is short so yes, Colin comes into the mausoleum. As often as he can. As often as he is capable of. And he tries to make mum happy. But he can't. He can't make it better for her. He brings her treats and he holds her hand and he tends the tomb. Changes out the funeral flowers when they rot, the way the maids are never allowed to, tucks mama into bed as she blinks glassy, swallows, then turns away.

In his boyhood, he has one final, awful cry with her. The last sobs of his childhood to his mum. Comes in to try to cheer her up again, to bring levity, but today is a bad day, he feels it near instantly. There are always bad days. They aren't always, but there always will be. Mum's voice rings out, soft and disbelieving

he's gone

he's gone

he's gone

over and over as Colin eventually realizes all he can do is hug her. hug her and listen as she cries

he'll never see you grow up

my darling

my boy

he'll never see you get married

never see who you'll become

wringing dry. and Colin has never felt more tiny. He can't hold all that emotional overflow even though he tries. He hugs her and he tries. Tries not to let it get to his heart, all that she's saying. Tries to hold her together. Tries to make it better. If not better, painless. If not painless, not alone. But he just lost his father. and he's small, and he's scared and he'll be leaving, soon, everything familiar to him, all his family. Eton, so, so soon.

Last week, all he wanted was for dad to finally take him out on a hunt, like he did with Anthony and Benedict. Every time it was a

One day, when you're older.

There would never be a one day. Last week, he was betting dad on how many ducklings would hatch from the nest, eager to win from him extra candies, which dad would always give him, anyway. Somehow, the sugar was always the more sweet when he won it from Papa. Never again. Papa won't ever see the man he'd become, and he didn't even know what that would look like. He tries to keep it in, he does, but he breaks at each whisper Mum can't help but spill, trying to assure her until his voice goes crackly and thick and his snuffles snot at the shoulder of her dirty housecoat when he wipes his face and then

he's wailing. Just a boy crying to his mum because he needs her, but it only makes Violet feel worse, cry worse, hurt worse, because she can't be needed. Not now. Can't provide him any comfort, and Colin knows. he feels it. after that moment, he knows. he knows it's agony for his mum to see him upset and he knows she can't help him. he knows she can't handle it and he knows he feels awful asking her to. so, when he leaves the room, completely wiped out, he promises himself he'll never put her through it again. and he sticks to it. because Colin's already lost his dad, he just can't bear to lose what he has left of his mum, too.

So, Colin learns to be cheerful. Is cheerful, up until the day he goes, off to learn about Greek Mythology and Abstract Mathematics, studying philosophy and religion and boxing and learning how to be a man from strangers.

but of course it aches. Colin cries alone. Curled fetal in bed in the secrecy behind a locked door. No one wants his sorrow. Or his anger. He's scrappy as a boy, angry at Eton. His father didn't go here. Nor his brothers, off at Oxford. A distinguished school for distinguished men, men of titles, men of power. For Colin, for a third son, Eton was beyond agreeable, beyond generous of his father to have set the funds aside for. And Colin appreciated Eton, yes, but it was also where he learns to lock his fury behind his sternum and even when it claws to be free, he shoves it down until he can wrap his wrists for a spar. Colin learns to hide in plain sight.

Everything, everywhere, everyone: he leaves.

Colin cultivates a talent for leaving. Until it thrums in his blood, bleeds out into the tapestry of his existence. As a boy, he sneaks snails in Benedict's bed and leaves off to hide in the linen closet from his fury. He waves goodbye to Daphne on the steps, his younger sister already looking so much older and heavier and faraway, leaning on Eloise as his carriage rolls off. His papa dies and he leaves. Each year, Eton, he leaves and finds Mama a shade more vibrant than last time. The world moves on away from him, aside from him, outside of him. Marina breaks his heart and he leaves. Lady Whistledown break his heart and he leaves. and each time he is Back, he is also in the background.

when he returns after his second tour, this time, it's Penelope who's changed. Penelope who looks at him differently. Penelope like he has never seen her. and he feels so much a stranger as he always did each time he left, but never felt with her, before. in a way, their closeness had been his sanctuary. steadfast. like a heartbeat. like a drum. when it falters, when she avoids him, and when she breaks his heart unknowing she could, and when he finds out she's Lady Whistledown, he leaves. and he hides. and he keeps it in secret.

keeps it poorly. because his mum is a smart woman and even though he's tried not to let her see it, somewhere in her, she can always know when her boy is in pain. he's of her blood, her body, a fragment of her soul. and when she comes to him, this time, when she recognizes this heartbreak and he can no longer keep it in, for the first time in a decade, Colin breaks open, and he cries to his mum

and he starts to unlearn.

[tiptapricot]

Ok hc idea but what if Marc set up Stevens phone so that the voicemails to his mother actually went to him and maybe if Marc has a spare moment while fronting he'll sit with a coffee and just... Listen to Steven? Catch up with how his life is going and just feel close to him? Be proud of his boy for sticking up for himself against Donna or how he took a nice walk through the park and saw a cool bird?

This hurts me greatly.

NO BUT LITERALLY This is one of my favorite fandom headcanons because it like… makes sense. While I don’t think every one of Steven’s calls was to an actual number, I like the idea of him having his mom’s contact in his phone, or someone he believes is his mom’s contact.

Marc set up the apartment, we know that, since their mom absolutely wouldn’t have and likely never even went to England, and he’s also probably the one who sent Steven postcards. He’s done so much to build up this elaborate role to care for Steven through, because it’s his only way to interact with him semi directly while still staying in the background. And Steven’s life needs some structure to uphold its illusion, to keep it so that he can exist semi-normally separate from their trauma.

The real phone contact wasn’t their initially, I think, not at first. It was just the house and then the postcards (because Marc visited somewhere on a mission and thought about how Steven always mumbles about feeling trapped or never getting time off from work, and he thought maybe giving him a secondhand window into the rest of the world would help ease the tension. Which it did. And does. So he continues), but then Marc started noticing the calls.

Maybe Steven didn’t do them at first, maybe something about the postcards sparked his brain to talk to her again, put his mom back as a forefront relationship. Like… if she was sending him things, he should too!

Marc started out bitter about it. He’d drift near front and hear Steven chattering away like he was talking to an old friend and it made him feel… wrong, and he’d recoil and sink down so he wouldn’t have to hear it. But it kept going. It never stopped. And Marc started trying to linger close to front more frequently so he could hear about Steven’s day, but that ended up getting messy. His presence would make Steven spacey or confused because he was getting too close, their communication not really at the point of comfortable cocon at that point.

And Marc didn’t want to cause harm (which is what he’d see it as, as intruding on Steven’s life because he’s he only one of them who gets to have that and Marc has already taken so much all he does is steal, doesn’t he?), and so he came up with the contact. He wired it to a burner phone, one he didn’t use for anything else, and labeled it “Mum💖🐊!” and Steven started calling it seamlessly, rattling on to a number that never talked back, to an empty message line.

The messages are always cut off at the start, since Steven usually starts talking before it goes to voicemail, but Marc still gets enough. Steven will slip out of front after a long day, or Marc will push into control for a mission, and there’s something there waiting for him. If he doesn’t have a mission, he’ll sit on Steven’s bed and flip open the little phone, the screen illuminating his face in blue in the dark, and there’ll be a message or two waiting.

(“Hey Mum! You won’t believe it but today I had an amazing chat with a bloke at work…. Yeah! He was some type of exchange student, I think, agreed that tons of the junk we’re selling is inaccurate… Right? It’s a bloody relief that’s what it is. He was quite nice, actually, though I don’t think he’ll be coming back. Shame that. Leaving me stuck with Donna.” Laughter crackles over the speakers.)

If he does have a mission, he listens to the messages on plane rides, and in the back of jeeps, and in the steamy bathroom of a hotel where he’s trying to scrub the blood from his hands.

(“Hey Mum!” “Helloo!” “Mornin’!” “Love you so much, bye!”)

Marc holds the phone so tight to his ear sometimes he’s worried it’ll break. (But it won’t. It’s a nokia for a reason)

The messages allow him to keep tabs on pieces of Steven’s life he can’t be present for, make sure he’s still comfortable and catch any events that might run into time he has to be away. It can be a bit patchy sometimes, since Steven doesn’t always actually press the call button, doesn’t always actually talk to anything, but that’s ok. Marc’s gotten good at taking what he can get, at grasping at scraps.

He’ll answer sometimes, if he’s alone. Pretends like Steven’s talking to him for real. He’ll respond in the space of the blank pauses and hope the reply matches up alright, and sometimes he can almost forget he’s talking to a recording and not the real thing… until the usual “Lators gators!” Steven always tacks on to the end. That always makes Marc’s breath stutter.

It’s stupid. It shouldn’t. He isn’t really part of Steven’s life, not really, so he shouldn’t expect it to feel real. He’s forging a fantasy to step in by proxy, to give him access to information and… a voice. Someone to talk to, even if they aren’t really talking back. It’s close enough. He makes it work.

Sometimes he wonders, though, how close it is to the truth.

Steven says “Mum,” and Marc listens, and wonders how much he takes after her, if his voice raises the same way and carries the same force, if his anger would make others scared like hers did, if he drinks the same way she does, for the same reasons.

Steven says “Mum,” and Marc hears it, and eventually it gets hard to distinguish where the act ends and he begins.

“She” isn’t like this, not like he makes her out to be, not real, but he is. “She” didn’t leave a letter under the door with twisting letters and a reminder to eat regularly, but he did. “She” didn’t leave a little wrapped present for the mail desk to get to him, didn’t look through online pet stores until he found some suitably nerdy tank decorations, but he did.

“She” didn’t care for Steven, but Marc does.

And he’s not quite sure he can stop.

[aliencatastrophe]

❥ 25 days of agere moodboards day 14: moodboard based on the current month!

[obsob]

im like tamftgebka (thinking about maia from ‘the goblin emperor’ by katherine addison)

[mossflower]

how many breakdowns should you have about dropping out before you seriously consider dropping out. asking for a friend teehee

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[albatris]

my mum gave me an enormous chili whose name I do not know but it's roughly the size of a banana what the hell should I make with it

[dandyshucks]

everyone pray for me that i did not just give myself food poisoning (;･∀･)

[spicyicymeloncat]

I saw in your notes that you had to cancel your birthday so happy (possibly late) birthday!!

Haha thanks it was last year in September lol!!

And actually I did get to do birthday plans it was just kinda miserably bc the reason I was going to cancel was due to conflicts with my mum (and her making me feel like an awful person about it), but my other mum didn’t care and we went anyways and it was actually fine (the concerns my mum didn’t happen)

Also I was going through basically a platonic break up as well so crazy month lol

But thank you, and everyone who sent me flags, it was nice to get some positive interaction during all that!

[fauna-and-floraa]

when they said stray kids everywhere all around the world, they sure meant it