#yeah latinos is gender neutral

[splendontcore]

Not Hispanic or anything even remotely similar, but Primos just makes me sad after I heard about all the inconsistencies. Because if there was proper grammar and spelling and not kids named Nacho, Fat (but she's skinny,) and Pussy, as well as the town name. Yikes.

Just lamenting because the creator, who is definitely Latina, said that she wants to make a show for ppl who don't belong. And I think it's wonderful, but she just did it wrong and guilt trips ppl instead of apologizing for her mistakes and fixing them. I think it could be a decent show if all those mistakes were fixed! Sure, the Hispanic family of like 20 ppl living in the same house is overdone imo, but idk! It's not too late to fix it.

But of course, Disney doesn't care enough. No one working on this show cares enough! The whole thing about people who don't fit in or have no representation is just platitudes at this point.

Or maybe they do. They did delete the preview, after all. Maybe they're workshopping it! But what do you think?

I just find it odd that a show made by Latinos for Latinos came out this bad!

(Latino is gender-neutral, right?)

Y'all deserve better!

Sincerely, a Very Very White Girl who Speaks no Spanish

yeah, I agree it would be an okay show if the staff would handled the situation in the right way. actually, latinos (mostly mexicans, as op) love see our ethnicities represented! Thats why series as Mucha Lucha, El tigre or movies as Nacho Libre and Los campeones de la lucha libre are really beloved media for us (specially for the ones who grew in the 2000s as op)

In my personal opinion, Primos seemed to be something like Big City Greens but aimed to the 2nd generation hispanic (going to use the word "pochos", as we call them) and what it was filter it seemed somewhat charming. But again, the staff didnt know how to handle the situation and made everything wrong

[pjsk-headcanons]

as someone who’s latino, the word ‘latinx’ bothers a lot of us bc its a term thats like. a very white/english people speaking term? if that makes sense? the pronunciation for the word is one that literally does not exist in spanish. some people don’t mind it, some people do, i personally find it irritating. adjectives ending in -o are already technical gender neutral in spanish, but if you really want a completely gender neutral alternative that fits the language’s rules, latine has been used a lot and i personally prefer that one.

i figured that was the case, yeah. dw the issue has been resolved so we are good now i think !

[tortugatalks]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗞 𝗖𝗿𝗲𝘄 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗦/𝗢𝘀!|ᴴᶜˢ

a.n. the birds of paradise episode has become one of my all time favs! new comfort ep unlocked. like?!?! its seriously so wholesome :')

𓆉 gender neutral reader

𓆉 established romantic relationship

𓆉 no warnings! just fluff

Martin Kratt

━ literally dances every dance known to man more like attempts to and when i say he goes ham, he goes HAM.

━ his confidence is super contagious, so even if you're not that strong of a dancer, it will. not. MATTER. he will pull you in for a funky dance and you'll both lose yourselves in it, music booming. you guys receive some noise complaints here and there, but it's not like you can actually hear the rest of the gang sooo (unless the crew turns off the music to get your guys' attention, but more often than not, they cave in and end up joining you two instead <3)

━ ever seen those movie bits where ppl dance in their pjs and slide across the floor? yeah, thats the vibe! doesn't matter where you two are, if you're itching for a good dance, consider it done! many moments of you two trying to crack each other up included. it always involves some form of laughter and lots of tugging each other by the arms.

━ very affectionate in the way he dances and loves picking you up and and swinging you around to the rhythm. try to break free all you want, mans gets all chuckly and squeezes you tight!

━ dancing with him is an experience and he'll do anything to have you enjoy yourself!! won't hesitate to be overly cheesy in his advances if it means he gets to see you have fun.

Chris Kratt

━ gets so so sooo into it! he busts some moves so earnestly that he ends up tripping over his own feet more than 90% of the time and drags you down to the ground with him.

━ encourages you to let loose and does this thing where he tries to imitate your own dance moves. you've impressed him with your own moves that he can't help but want to replicate em! it derails into a competition of who can do the most impressive dance.

━ if there's room for it, mans will swing, leap and do all these flips that have him crashing literally everywhere. he gets a little shy about it—he was trying to stun you with his super cool moves after all—but he's quick to pick himself up and get back on his feet!

━ the nerd just adores it when you two dance similarly to creatures you've encountered in your adventures. blue footed boobies? peacock spiders? grebes? you've done it all!

━ makes jokes about "courting" you despite already being in a relationship with you, but c'mon, nobody can resist playing along with his shenanigans! it's not everyday you get to see him shimmy like this, so take full advantage of it!

Aviva Corcovado

━ admits with a light chortle that she isn't the most confident or talented dancer and to not expect much from her in the field of choreography, but literally no one cares about how "good" she can dance—she deserves to let her hair down and have herself a jammy jam!

━ if you're like her, prepare for lots of giggles as you two try to learn how to dance. eventually, the aspect of actually "learning" some moves is long gone as you two end up doing whatever comes to mind and just roll with it!

━ she feels very comfortable in her skin around you, so if you do happen to know how to dance, encourage her maximum level! it makes her feel so relieved that you wholeheartedly accept this quirk of hers that she gradually learns to not take herself so seriously! she loves showing off, so there'll definitely be moments where she'll exclaim "watch this!" before performing her own little dance move.

━ put on music like cumbias, urbano latino, tropipop or pop romanticona and she gets all giddy inside! she absolutely loves spinning, so please do take her by the hand and give her as many twirls as she'd like!

━ once shes reached the point where she's become sure of herself, she does this cute little thing where she pretends she's only met you now for the first time in forever as she asks for your hand to dance <3

Koki

━ the ultimate dancing queen!! enjoys making up her own dance moves on the spot and it's always the most sensational thing ever. the execution is so smooth that all her moves seem legit!

━ if you two were to dance a song made for two, you better believe she'll be the one taking the lead! very cheeky in the way she dips you out of nowhere. she thrives off being spontaneous on the dance floor and shaking her groove thing!

━ cheers you on as you dance to the sound of your own beat. she claps, whistles, woo's—the whole shabang! she's extremely adamant on making you feel goated with the sauce <3

━ the type to get a hold of absolutely anything, use it as a microphone and belt out the lyrics with you. she goes full throttle with it as if it were a real performance and for a while you two believe it to be true!

━ it's a heavy workout every time that whenever you're both done with dancing, you two just lean on each other's backs as you slowly fall to the ground, heavy breaths and all. compliment her; tease her about how she's got quite the happy feet and she'll chuckle out an airy "shut up" <3

Jimmy Z

━ chair dancing! chair dancing!! chair dancing!!!

━ it usually starts out with him listening to some bops on his headphones and telling you to take a listen. all it takes is you tapping your feet or bopping your head for him to disconnect his headset and blast the music out loud for the both of you to hear!

━ before you know it, you two are swirling in your own chairs—hovering literally everywhere and anywhere. a mixture of "whoas!" and laughter boom from wall to wall as you shimmy and wiggle in your respective seats.

━ loves doing this thing where you meet each other half way, outstretch your hands to each other and lunge yourselves around hq! sometimes your hands slip from each other and you're practically squealing like little kids, excitedly trying to come into contact again.

━ sure, you may bump into some walls and tech, but it's never enough to actually hurt you. mercy to anyone who happens to need something 'cause they'll literally have to zoom in zig zags to avoid a collision with either of you.

[pedges]

to polish up a diamond - chapter i [4.3k]

joel miller x afab!reader

summary: “We can get an annulment,” Joel says, cutting you off. It’s almost as if he couldn’t wait to say it, and you’re not sure why that stings so much.

“Yeah—yes,” you mutter, swallowing the softball lodged in your throat. You clear it in hopes of sounding more compelling when you speak again. “Of course. Duh.” 

or, the one where you wake up married to Joel Miller.

series notes: this is set in 2013, no virus; joel is 35, reader is 30. i wanted to make this as gender neutral as possible, but it will eventually become pertinent that reader is afab, and their gender expressions lean towards a more feminine side. if i eventually end up using pronouns, this note will be updated! also - this fic is being written with reader being a BIPOC in mind, in small ways, but it will be there in later chapters. (also joel is latino so, yeah.)

content for the series: 18+ themes (allusions to, and eventual smut, alcohol, swearing, etc), friends to lovers, accidental marriage, mutual pining

chapter warnings: allusions to drunken sex

chapter ii

a/n: this is unbeta'd (hoping to find one soon!), and i am terrified of posting this for some reason. just wanted to write a silly good time, and i hope i deliver! enjoy, my friends

You read about Paris syndrome in an article once, and laughed about it.

You laughed, because it seems a little silly to you to get your hopes up so high, that you go insane when reality doesn’t even graze the expectations. Paris exists on the same little drab Earth that you do. It’s just a place with buildings, and people, and croissants, and the Eiffel Tower. 

Not the only one either, because you’re standing at the base of it, head cocked to the side, face scrunched up, staring hard—as if you can get it to turn into something it’s not. Like, the real Eiffel Tower, for starters. Or maybe even the one in Paris, Texas, with the little cowboy hat on it. That’s when you get it, you think, because if it’s anything like this, you’d end up out of your goddamn mind by the end of any trip to Paris. Then again, it’s not really fair, is it? Paris is Paris—and you talk a big game now, but you know that if you were really there, you’d buckle at the knees. But right now, you’re standing here with an oversized frozen drink from Fat Tuesday’s, one where the sugar can’t drown out the taste of the tequila, someone is pissing in a bush nearby, and you can’t feel your teeth—so you’ve got only a modicum of room to talk. 

“Do—do you think the real thing is like this?” you ask into the night air, and even though you’re being quite harsh, you can’t deny how dazzling the lights are. Turning your head, you look at Joel, who’s standing there looking at you looking at the fake Eiffel Tower. His eyes are glazed over, yours probably are too, and he hiccups once. 

“Wouldn’t know,” he says, and then, “You’re awfully pretty right now.” 

Something flutters in your stomach. It’s not quite as graceful as butterflies—it leans towards something more violent, like bees. You think briefly of how bees are a little beautiful too, though. Either way, something ripples through you that you take a moment to relish in. 

Instead of replying, you extend your drink to Joel. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the plastic straw and sip until there’s nothing but a slurping sound resounding in the cup. You let out a giggle, and he emits something akin to one of his own. You can’t help but feel something blossom in your chest at how relaxed he looks. His eyes glisten with something that isn’t worry—worry about work, or getting Sarah to soccer practice tomorrow morning, or bailing Tommy out of jail. The Joel you know isn’t here, the one that carries the weight of the world on his shoulders—and to be honest, the jury is still out on the one that is. But as you smile at your friend, tingles coursing through your body, the last thing you truly remember is thinking about how he looks awfully pretty right now too.

—

Of all the things that could have woken you, it’s a knock on the door, and your first thought is why you didn’t have the foresight to put the Do Not Disturb hanger on the doorknob last night. Your second thought is about how fucking warm and cozy you are right now. Your third thought is your last, because it’s the only capacity your raging headache will allow. It’s about why you’re so warm and cozy, and that’s when you realize your cheek is pressed up against bare skin. In fact, you’re absolutely tangled with someone else—your leg hooked over theirs, their calloused hand on your naked torso, and you’re all but laying on top of them, clinging like your life depends on it.

In a way, it sort of does, because the more awareness that seeps into your brain, the more your head aches. The warmth radiating from the body that is rumbling with snores is the only thing that is making the act of waking up tolerable. At least for a moment. 

There’s another knock on the door, and when a meek voice says something about coming back later for housekeeping from the other side, you finally remember exactly where you are. 

You’re in Las Vegas. You’re sleeping in a hotel room. Joel is in the next room over. You saw Shania Twain’s residency last night, and the first half was fucking stellar. Calling everything after that a blur is an understatement, though. If you ended up bringing back some guy for a romp, you wouldn’t exactly blame yourself, but you wouldn’t be happy about it either. A Vegas one night stand where the guy is still in your bed the next morning would not be in your Top 100 Proudest Moments. 

It’s just that, as the conscious mechanisms in your brain slowly flicker to life more and more, you take more of it in. Suddenly, you recognize the smell—besides the left over stench of alcohol and scent of hotel linens—as a familiar one. A good one, one you catch yourself soaking in too often. Like cedar, and lemongrass, and what you imagine the burn of whiskey in your throat would smell like. It’s then and only then do you lift your head up slowly, despite the disorientation it drags upon you, to see exactly whose hand is now searing your side, awfully close to your naked breast. 

Pushing him out of the bed when you find out is merely an accident. A gut reflex, if you will. 

Your heart is beating fast and loud, doing nothing good for your headache, but it’s the only logical reaction to finding yourself naked in bed with an equally naked Joel Miller. He lands on the floor with a harsh thud, and the poor thing looks like he doesn’t know where he is. You’d probably feel bad for him if your mind wasn’t reeling with a thousand questions. 

“Jesus Christ, what the hell?” Joel is saying, groggy and tired, voice hoarse. Maybe pushing him out of bed was a bad idea, because now he’s on full display, so you pull the sheet over your head with a noise that’s somewhere between a gasp and a squeal. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask urgently. 

“What am I—this is my room,“ Joel says then. You lower the sheet just enough to see that yeah, his suitcase is here, his things are strewn around the room, and you’re the intruder in a foreign land. It doesn’t begin to explain things though—in fact, it just makes you feel sicker. “Wait—“ 

Joel says your name, strained and confused. You finally look at him. His eyes are squinted, brow furrowed intensely, but he’s looking right back at you with the realization you had just thirty seconds ago. 

“Oh god,” he mutters with that thick drawl of his, and yeah. You’re right there with him. “Don’t tell me—“ 

“I’m not,” you say quickly, “because we didn’t. Right?” 

You’d have to be one gigantic, calamitous fool to believe that. Not only because with enough inspection, you can see a litany of marks on Joel’s neck and chest, like his assailant went a little wild, and there’s a dull, pleasant ache between your thighs—but because the harder your brain works, the more first flashes of last night come at you full force. You and Joel, hands on each other, Joel between your legs, your hand on his— 

“Oh, god, we did.” 

You groan, burying your face in your hands as you suddenly go through the full range of human emotions in less than ten seconds. 

It’s not that it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened, it’s just—Joel is Joel, and you of all people know better. You do this thing, sometimes, when you meet someone new and you briefly imagine your life together, in all the possible iterations of it. You met Joel, and saw him there forever, like he’d seared himself into your life before you even learned his name. You’d rather die than risk anything else—regardless of whether or not you’ve wondered what it would be like to hold his hand, or kiss him, or fall asleep beside him. 

“Hey, hey—”  Suddenly, Joel is rising from the floor, a pillow that tumbled down with him pressed into his lap. You’re still not looking—in fact, you look like you’re about to die, which is why he is frantically searching for his briefs, or pajama bottoms, or whatever the hell he can put on. When he finds them, he does so quickly, and brings over the next best thing for you too. It ends up being his shirt, and neither one of you has the mind to think of how tender that is as you put it on. He kneels in front of you on the bed, like he’s about to put a bandaid on your wounds, which is so Joel of him. “It’s alright—it’s okay, shit happens, right?” 

Yeah, you think, holding back a bitter tasting laugh, catastrophic shit like this always happens.  

But you realize what he’s doing right away. Joel is watching you self-destruct, so he’s doing everything in his power to keep that from happening, even if he’s imploding himself. It somehow makes this a thousand times worse. Still, you finally look up to meet his eye. He looks tired, hungover, and a little confused. You’re one hundred percent sure you look exactly the same. 

You truly do want to argue. You want to tell him No, this isn’t just a shit happens moment. Deep down, you know you’ve just altered your entire friendship forever, and no matter how bad you want to keep from imagining the downfall of You and Joel, you just can’t help it. But then he’s grabbing one of your hands, like he can see the cogs in your brain start to grind and smoke, and it douses whatever shitstorm is going on in there. You think you’ll save your catastrophizing for another day, at least until— 

You look down at both your guys’ hands, just as your heart has begun to settle, before it shifts into high gear. 

“Joel,” you say, small and quiet. Your eyes have gone wide and your left hand is frozen in his. 

“What—“ Joel is saying as his gaze follows yours, and he sees exactly what you do. 

On his left ring finger is a silver band. On yours is one to match, a diamond glistening in the light pouring into the hotel room, and suddenly a drunken, lust filled night between you two was the best case scenario. 

Joel sighs. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.” 

—

You might’ve blacked out again. No alcohol needed this time—all you know is one moment you were sitting there, staring at the very obvious wedding rings on both yours and Joel’s fingers, and the next, you were in your actual hotel room alone. You probably asked for a moment, and he gave you ten. 

You at least had the mind to put some pants on, but when you finally return and knock on Joel’s hotel room door, you’re still wearing his shirt—and the ring. 

“You might wanna look at this,” he says when he opens the door, not even missing a beat, and lets you step inside. Your head is still pounding, and your stomach is still churning, but you’re at least wide awake now. You’d spent the time in your room convincing yourself that none of this was real, actually. You guys were wasted, probably found some pawn shop, got the rings as a joke. But then Joel is handing you a Polaroid photo and now you’ve got to shirk any notion that this isn’t real. “Found it on the nightstand—then called the chapel, and—yep.” 

If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you might cry. The photo is you, and Joel, obviously. Except it’s not just you and Joel, it's youandJoel—standing outside of a chapel called, well, Little White Chapel. He’s got his familiar hands on your face, and his lips on yours; you’re gripping his lapel so hard your hands might’ve been cramping, and you’re both fucking grinning into this sweet, tender, heart wrenching kiss. You can see the ring on his finger, clear as day. It’s a little sickening, how happy you both look, and even more so, how you two slot together perfectly. By the time you finish gawking at the photo, it becomes an indisputable fact. You got married—to Joel Miller of all people. 

You wonder why he decided to show you the photo when it would have been just as easy to tear it to shreds and throw it away. You kind of wish he did, but part of you understands why, even if you can’t explain it to yourself right away. Still, you set it down and sit on the edge of the bed as you try not to think about what happened there just the night before. 

“I can’t believe this,” you finally say, because you can’t. You truly believe you’re going to wake up any moment now, but the way your brain is threatening to crack your skull right now tells you that’s not going to happen. 

“Guess you’re not the worst person this coulda happened with.” Leave it to Joel to joke at a time like this—and leave it to you to fall for it. You have to laugh, because the only other alternative is crying, so you do. It’s small, and weak, but it’s a laugh nonetheless; it’s enough to make Joel smile, like he’s a little proud it worked. 

“Does this make the Vegas trip worse or better?” you attempt to joke back, though the ring on your finger is scorching your skin. 

“Hm,” Joel hums. “Jury’s still out, I think.” 

Another laugh escapes you, and tapers off into the air. Joel sits next to you on the bed. You can’t help but look down at the ring that adorns your finger. There’s a small, tiny, microscopic part of you that thinks it looks like it was meant to be there. You kill it immediately. 

“So I guess—” 

“We can get an annulment,” Joel says, cutting you off. It’s almost as if he couldn’t wait to say it, and you’re not sure why that stings so much. Still, you have to agree, because you’d be insane not to. You’re not the first people to get drunk and marry someone in Vegas, you’re certain, and you absolutely will not be the last. Though you’ve got a knack for feeling like you’re the only person in the world to feel a certain way at a certain time, you know at least this time that isn’t true. Because Joel is sitting right next to you, stewing in this all the same—it makes you feel less alone. 

“Yeah—yes,” you mutter, swallowing the softball lodged in your throat. You clear it in hopes of sounding more compelling when you speak again. “Of course. Duh.” 

“Truly don’t think this is as big of a deal as we think it is,” Joel says then. You wonder if he’s trying to convince you, or convince himself. You settle on both, just because it makes you feel better. But the thing is, it is kind of a big deal, at least to you. 

Legally, an annulment would make it seem like this truly never happened. On paper, you and Joel would never have gotten married, and your lives would be as normal as they were yesterday. But the law has never mixed well with emotions, you think. Or the fact that you’re slowly regaining glimpses of the night before, and maybe remembering the way his lips felt on your lips, his hands on your body. Annulment of the heart sounds like a stupid phrase, but you’ve never wanted something so bad in your life. 

“I suppose not,” you tell Joel, but you don’t sound so convincing. You’re not sure if he can tell, but if he can, he doesn’t say anything about it. Instead, he reaches over for your hand and gives it the most reassuring squeeze he can muster. You wish his touch burned you, so you had a reason to pull away. It doesn’t, so you don’t. 

“Lighten up, darlin’,” he says. “What’s that they say about what happens in Vegas?” 

You roll your eyes—and though it’s a struggle, you smile anyway. 

—

As it turns out, the plane home could crash, and it would still be less eventful than the rest of your trip—in fact, it might make things a lot easier. But the whole flight is turbulence free, and the wheels of the plane touch down in Austin like a butterfly landing on a flower. It seems a little cruel. 

And as much as you and Joel want to pretend like this whole ordeal is so easily fixed, like you can make it disappear by filing some paperwork, there is something so obviously lingering in the air. It’s a funk, and it’s thick, and uncomfortable, and mean. You wish you could say you perfected the art of small talk with him on the way home. You wish you could say that as time trekked on, he got less and less terse with you. But Joel went from cracking jokes about it, to being the least interesting man on Earth, and you’re starting to think neither of you are really believing the whole it’ll be okay thing. 

“Y’all actually came back in one piece!” 

Tommy is picking you up from the airport. He’s standing at his truck, parked in an area that clearly says No Parking, but Tommy Miller has never been one to care, and you really want to go home. He grins at you guys, takes your bags from you as soon as you approach him with them, but neither you nor Joel really laugh at his jokes. 

Joel grumbles something like a greeting, and you offer a quick hello, but you climb into the backseat as fast as you can. 

“Well, fuck me, I guess,” Tommy says sarcastically with a click of his tongue, rounding the truck to get back into the driver’s seat because a security guard has finally spotted him.

“Sorry, Tommy,” you tell him. Guilt seeps into you—just because your life imploded in Vegas, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on someone who is kind enough to pick you up from the airport, which is arguably the most generous thing a human being can do. The least you can do is apologize, and lie, so you do, with a quick, “Just tired. Flight was awful.” 

“Where’s Sarah?” Joel genuinely speaks, not in the muttery, mumbly way he’d been for the past twenty four hours. You try to think back to when his mood shifted, and place it somewhere between you giving him your ring (when you both found out they were bought with his credit card), or giving back his shirt. It makes something scratch at your brain in the most unpleasant way. 

“Adlers,” Tommy informs him. “She’s makin’ y’all cookies. Told her you guys were only gone for four days, but she insisted. But—” Tommy says your name, “—she’s makin’ your favorite. Sorry, brother.” 

A genuine, though small, smile twitches upon your lips. Of course Sarah is being such a doll—you know exactly where she gets it from. The thought brings a bit of an ache to your chest. 

“That’s sweet of her,” you say, still wearing that meek voice. 

A few beats of silence fill the car when Joel doesn’t make any comment, just lets out a small grunt. 

“Sooo,” Tommy trails off when it becomes obvious he can’t stand it. “What did y’all get up to—how was the show? Still think I deserved to see Shania more, but whatever, I guess. Get into trouble? Feel like y’all the type to get married by Elvis or somethin’.” 

You nearly choke. Tommy is laughing a little wildly, because he obviously doesn’t know, and to him, making a joke about two good friends getting shacked up is the funniest thing in the world. Mostly because he expects you both to be snarky about it, like you’ll go Eww, and Joel would say something like, In your dreams, darlin’. But instead, you feel like all the color is draining from your face and you can see Joel’s hand fist until his knuckles turn white. 

“Concert was good,” you say quickly. There’s no levity in your voice, no insinuation that you found his joke funny. You couldn’t force it even if you tried. 

Tommy doesn’t catch on though, at least you think he doesn’t. He just huffs, and pouts. “Tough crowd, gotdamn.”

Thankfully, Tommy quits while he’s ahead. He turns up the radio and accepts that you and Joel might be truly tired. In a way, you are, just not physically—though the weight of your emotions might be starting to get to you. As you lean your head on the window and watch your city fly by on the way home, you start to think about how you’re going to get home, Google How to annul a Vegas wedding, and pray for some sense of normalcy to return. Or at least that Joel will look you in the eye again. 

The truck rolls up outside your house just as the sun has begun to set. You get out, fully prepared to do so alone, but as you’re grabbing your bags from the truck bed, you hear the passenger door slam shut. A moment later, Joel is taking one of your bags from your hands. 

“Be right back, Tommy,” he calls to his brother, and gets two honks in response. He looks at you then, for the first time in what feels like eons, and nods his head towards your house before taking the trek up your walkway. 

Tremors fill your chest, and that softball has made its way back to your throat. You feel like you’ve swallowed wasps, and that they’re going to come out in the form of word vomit if you don’t reign in the trillions of thoughts in your head right now. You step up to your front door, keys in your trembling hand, and let the two of you inside. 

“Joel, I—“

“Listen—“ 

You both start and stop speaking at the same time. You bite at your chance to let him do the talking, gesturing for him to continue. He takes a deep breath before he does. 

“Listen—I started thinkin’—” 

“Uh oh.” 

Your joke doesn’t quite land how you want it to, like it normally would, but you can see the tension in his shoulders deflate a little at the hint of mirth in your voice. You look down at the ground, kicking at it like a child getting in trouble and allow him to go on. 

“I was thinkin’, and I just wanted to say sorry,” Joel finally says. “I’ve been actin’…weird. Didn’t mean to start icin’ you out, I just—I know I said this whole thing wasn’t a big deal, but I think we both know—”  

“But it’s not,” you interrupt without really even thinking about it. Deep down, you know you don’t believe yourself. “I know it probably is. For other people, I mean. But what did you say? Guess you’re not the worst person, or whatever.” Your attempt at mocking his deep, gruff voice slices through the tension, at least a little, and you’re grateful for that. And even though he lets out a breathy laugh, Joel looks a little taken aback, like he didn’t entirely expect this reaction from you—and to be quite fucking honest, neither did you. Turns out those wasps you swallowed were reasonable ones. 

“Right,” Joel says, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. He rocks on his heels once. “Right. I just thought maybe—because you seemed a little torn up at first—I mean—damn, I’m really not good at this.”

You can’t help but giggle, because he’s not, but you can’t fault him. You truly can’t believe the one eighty you’ve both made, but you’re still not entirely sure the way you’re handling this now is true to how you actually feel. Regardless, something compels you to step forward, and lean up to press the most tender kiss to Joel’s cheek.

“I’m just glad you don’t hate me,” you say gently when you pull back. There’s something swimming in Joel’s eyes as you meet them—you can’t quite make it out. You stop trying when he offers you a quiet smile. 

“Hate you? Could never hate you—you do too much for me. It’d be bad for business.” He’s teasing, you know he is, and you might actually start weeping because this is such a far cry from the Joel that you sat next to on a plane for three hours. Instead of weeping though, you laugh once more.

The truth is, you decide, that this entire situation is still gnawing at your bones, replacing the marrow with fear and uncertainty. But, though you’ve had to remind yourself a thousand times over, you’re not alone in this. It literally takes two people to get married, even if it was a black out drunk, late night, alcohol fueled Vegas wedding. The people in that photo, the photo you have in your suitcase right now, made that decision together despite whatever inhibiting factors—they both woke up the next morning confused, and unsure of the future. And even though Joel’s initial reaction was to comfort and soothe you, you knew sooner or later he’d start to rip at the seams. Sooner just came quicker than you thought. 

With your own deep breath, you reach out your left hand to Joel. A silent offer that if he’s willing to work this out, you are too. 

“It’s going to be okay,” you say. “Friends?” 

Joel looks like he hesitates—for the briefest moment—if you had blinked, you would have missed it. You try not to take it to heart. But he finally puts his left hand in yours, and gives it a firm shake. 

“Friends,” he replies. “Always.”

-

-

-

-

-

[darkfictionjude]

Huh. Until it was brought up it never crossed my mind that someone could interpret Sally's infantilizing and condescendion of a fem!mc as misogynistic.

More seriously, you do a really good job of keeping the mc neutral with enough gender flavor for any given mc that they don't feel like an amorphous blob(and its just enough thus far it doesnt feel overwhelming). Instead, they feel like someone who had been considering themselves an amorphous blob, recently realizing they actually have a shape to them they may or may not like or even care about. But now if they dont care it's an intentional lack of care.

If that makes sense.

-many asks nonnie

Yeah for a female mc the sexist angle could work since women are infantilized by male relatives alot (re: Latino households 😭)

Yeah I don’t want mc to feel non-human it’s just that no all text in IF can be flavour text, some of it has to be general text and in general text I feel like it should be gender less unless you as a writer want to code so much to make every piece of text corresponding to gender which not only is a lot of work but could lead to stereotypes

And yeah you do make sense hahaha

[thedeal-if]

We consider it extremely rude 😑

Latino *is* gender neutral

Yeah I kinda guessed wkfkwlf sorry again, I obviously didn't know it was rude, thanks for clarifying tho

[haleyhalcyon]

How Gender Neutral Spanish ALREADY Works

This post is an overview of a few ways that Spanish is spoken by and about nonbinary people, a famously gendered language.

While there are some proposals for gender-neutral language, like the 3rd-person singular epicene pronoun “elle”, I will not be talking about them in this post, which aims to highlight how Spanish can already accommodate non-binary gender (also because it is far frem universally1 accepted).

Disclaimer: While I am a huge linguistics nerd and intermediate Spanish speaker who learned it from 7th to 12th grade, I am not a native speaker. This is just what I’ve seen and heard online from native speakers.

0: preferred pronouns of nonbinary people

As you will quickly find when you learn Spanish, grammatical gender often has nothing to do with gender identity. What makes a piece of furniture feminine when it’s a chair (una silla), but masculine when it’s a seat (un asiento)?

Many nonbinary native hispanophones will tell you that they prefer él, for the reason that any person or group of people that’s not explicitly (and exclusively) female uses masculine grammatical gender.

That being said, here are a few workarounds that are available if you want to write one sentence for either grammatical gender:

1.1: “offloading” to a different word

I think this is the most useful one. Lots of Spanish words have a masculine and feminine version: for example, español/española (“Spanish” or “Spanish person”) and actor/actriz (“actor” and “actress”).

So instead of saying Soy español/española, you might say Soy un tipo español or Soy una persona española, because tipo and persona both refer to people of any gender, despite their grammatical gender.

1.2: “offloading” to a word with a unisex form

On a related note, some Spanish words don’t change between masculine and feminine, like estudiante (“student”), artista (“artist”), and aguafiestas (“party-pooper”). If there’s a gender-neutral synonym for what you want to say, you just use that instead!

Some words for professions like azafata developed gender-neutral synonyms, in this case auxiliar de vuelo, just as English went from “stewardess” to “flight attendant”.

2: rephrasing to remove adjectives

You can also rephrase the sentence to remove adjectives altogether. A common example these days is Bienvenid[o/a](s)! (“Welcome!”) which changes not only with the addressee’s gender but with whether there are more than one addressees! It gets rephrased to (Te/Le/Os/Les) damos la bienvenida! (“We welcome you!”), which changes with the formality and plurality of the “you”, but not the gender.

Using this approach, instead of saying Soy español/española, you might say Soy de España (“I’m from Spain”), and instead of saying Soy actor/actriz, you might say Actuo (“I act”).

3: pluralizing

Spanish grammatical gender is kind of weird. When there are two or more of something or someone, if they’re all male, they’re masculine, and if they’re all female, they’re feminine. But if it’s mixed, it’s also masculine. So yeah, Spanish has a way of embedding into a plural noun when they’re all women, but not when they’re all men!

So when you have 4 Latin-American women and 1 Latin-American man? Ellos son latinos.

This may sound sexist until you realize that this means that plural nouns don’t need to be changed to include nonbinary people! As long as a group is not all women, use masculine grammatical gender.

4: avoiding 3rd-person singular pronouns

There’s a proposal for a 3rd-person singular epicene pronoun elle that’s decently common, but since I’m not counting that for this post, this is the hardest thing to rephrase.

Fortunately for us, Spanish is pro-drop, which means that, in many cases, we can just choose not to use one. Instead of Él/Ella me está hablando (He/She is talking to me), you can say Me está hablando (Is talking to me), because está already shows that it’s 3rd person singular.

If you find yourself in a situation where that kind of construction isn’t possible, just use a short nickname of theirs, or their name if it’s already short enough. You can already do this in English, too!

Conclusion

This was an overview of the ways that Spanish can already be gender-neutral without changing its grammar. It should convince you that Spanish is already plenty usable for nonbinary people!

It’s not to say that we shouldn’t accept change when enough native speakers embrace it; it’s just to say that change shouldn’t be forced when it isn’t necessary.

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

I’m curious to get your take on something. As someone who studied linguistics, what’s your take on terms like Latinx, a word being used in the US to identify non-binary gender fluid people of Latin descent? It’s meant to me inclusive but also deeply unpopular within the Latin community. I was born in Latin America, live in the states, am very supportive of the gay community but HATE this term. Spanish (my native language) is gendered. Adjectives and other conjugations have to agree with the gender of the noun. I’m an ally to the gay community but it’s silly things like this that make people take a step back sometimes. Yes, tolerance is important but wanting to change the morphology and structure of a language simply to accommodate a portion of the population is kind of ridiculous. Thoughts?

You really dumped a bunch of gasoline in my inbox and asked me to light a match lmao

Okay, there are a lot of things going on here and I want to address them all. From a linguistic standpoint—meaning from the standpoint of simply studying how humans use and modify language—I think “Latinx” is interesting because people were presented with a problem: how can we express gender neutrality in a gendered language? Seeing what people’s minds come up with in these kinds of situations is objectively interesting. It’s why I said recently that something like doublespeak in 1984 is nonsense, because humans find ways around obstacles in language all the time.

I sympathize with people who want more gender neutral language, and I’d be interested to hear how non-binary people born in Latin America, for example, feel about speaking a language with grammatical gender and if/how that impacts their experience. How do they express themselves in Spanish? Or how do non-binary people express themselves in other gendered languages like Italian and French? It’s an interesting question.

With all of that said, I have absolutely seen the consensus in the United States by the people who are actually supposed to be described by the term that they hate it. Even terms like “Hispanic” and “Latino” can be controversial because people (especially those whose families haven’t been in the US for a long time) tend to more readily describe themselves by nationality, like, “I’m Mexican” or “I’m Venezuelan” as opposed to, “I’m Hispanic.” There’s already this issue with trying to condense different people and identities into a neat little category on the census that fits America racial ideas, and when you add a term that goes against how the language actually functions into the mix, I think it’s understandable that people will be resistant to it. The reason why I, personally, don’t really use “Latinx” is because most people from Latin America don’t use it, this has been confirmed by polling, and I don’t want to use a term that the actual people are uncomfortable with.

I should note that I actually had no idea how this term was even supposed to be pronounced for years, because I only ever saw it on the internet; I thought it was like “latinks” (the way we usually pronounce an “x” in English) and my brain skidded to a halt when I first heard, “Latin-ex.” I was actually talking about this very issue with my co-teacher a couple of weeks ago, who lived in Mexico for years and taught ESL to immigrant teens in Texan high schools, and she had no idea it was actually pronounced that way, either. I’m bringing this up to point out how heavily confined to the internet this term was for a long time, and how little this term is still used in real life. Again, I think this partly explains the resistance people have to this term, because it didn’t happen naturally irl, it’s an internet word that people are trying to bring into the regular world.

I do think the morphological rules and phonotactics of Spanish play a role in people disliking them term, too, because yeah, using an “x” as a kind of neutral marker might work in English, but not Spanish. Grammatical gender is baked into the language’s DNA, and I don’t see that ever changing. It would be too drastic. I think that even if people aren’t opposed to being inclusive, most Spanish speakers kind of have the immediate reaction of, “What?? But that’s not how that works.”

So, yeah, I understand why people dislike the term. I don’t see it catching on widespread outside of the internet, at least not in the near future. I certainly don’t think people outside of a community should say, “You don’t like this term to describe yourselves? Too bad! Use it!” 

The only thing I’m going to push back on is the idea that pushing a term like this would justifiably “make people take a step” back from trans rights (because that’s really what this is, it’s not about sexual orientation but gender identity), because as fucking stupid as I think “folx”** is, I don’t think there’s a reason to turn one’s back on trans people. I’m not saying that you’re doing this btw, I’m just preemptively putting it out there because plenty of people go, “Ugh, these marginalized people are being annoying and loud, therefore bigotry against them is justified.” And that’s a big no from me. There’s so much backlash against trans people in our culture now, and clunky internet terms don’t compare to the violence and animosity happening in real life. I think this whole thing reflects the very interesting cultural moment we’re in with increased visibility of trans and non-binary people, and people trying to find new ways to express their identities, and there are going to be clumsy attempts that really don’t work out long-term, but that’s inevitable.

**(“FOLKS” IS LITERALLY ALREADY GENDER NEUTRAL BECAUSE ENGLISH DOES NOT HAVE GRAMMATICAL GENDER LIKE ADDING THE “X” DOES NOTHING, NOT EVEN CHANGE THE PRONUNCIATION)

[still-breathing-and-full-of-life]

🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️ Hi, I’m Luna and I’m just blob of a human who was plopped onto this planet for some reason and I like to scream about stuff I’m interested in.

Yeah, this image about sums it up.

You may follow or interact with me as long as you’re respectful and mindful of everyone else. (And I mean everyone, Karen) Bullies and haters may go away and sit in the corner to either melt away into a puddle or rethink their entire existence as a human on this planet.

Some things about me include…

Name: I named myself Luna/Lunita because I couldn’t think of an internet name so I looked up to the night sky and thought, “Moon… Yeah, it’s good enough.”

Age: I am old enough to get married but not to drink alcohol in the USA. No, I won’t be updating this when it changes. It may even change tomorrow and you’ll never know. (Or maybe I just got married but can’t down a glass yet)

Species: Human female. Although, for about a month when I was five, I was convinced I was part magical unicorn. (I’m still mad that I’m not)

Ethnicity: Hispanic/Latino. More specifically I’m Mexican-American who speaks fluent Spanglish in all my pocha and chicana might.

Emojis: I use emojis a lot. Especially if I am thanking someone or like something. You’ll just see a bunch of 💖💝💖💘💖💘💖💕💓💗💕💖💝💕💓💗💝💓💖💞💞💓🩷💘💖💕💘💖💘💝💘 spattered everywhere. Sorry, not sorry. 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Something That I Don’t Have A Category For: I have some health things that sometimes land me at the hospital or extended bed rest, sooooo if I post something a little weird or hyper just blame it on the meds or a long night and I’ll fix it later. Also I may disappear for a bit but I always plan to return.

Humor: Broken and not due for maintenance anytime soon.

Names: I call people “bro” gender neutrally a lot and use it in place of calling someone op. Sometimes I’ll call people “guuuuuuurrrl” (girl) too in the same sense. One time I called an old man who was a veteran, “guuuuuurl” by accident when I got overly excited. He was cool and laughed it off.

Favorite Color: Scarlet red and turquoise. Not mixed together, I like them separate.

Favorite Songs: (It changes over time) Uhhhhh, High Hopes by Panic at the Disco cause it makes me feel like a superhero and I like the dance they made for Just Dance and I Can Only Imagine by MercyMe cause it hits different after certain life events.

Pets: Some dogs, cats, and fish. I will protect their identities by not mentioning their names or what they look like because they are secretly superheroes who fight crime every night after I go to bed. (At least that is what I am told by the horde of little kids who I am related to)

@jasmineofthecommonwealth is my other main blog that’s dedicated to my Fallout OC and some companion reacts get sprinkled in there when I feel like it. I probably spend more time over there than over here.

@nintendo-girl-4-life is my Nintendo blog.

@you-are-wanda-ful is my Marvel blog.

[bruxeco]

if no: BORING. try it and put all kind of shit on it too like cheese or something /lh

if yes: hell yeah bro(gender neutral)

if latino: que deus tenha piedade da nossa alma

asking this because im eating this banger hotdog

[dreamslesbian]

latinx isn't a racial slur what. What. like dislike it all you want but it's not a slur. also claiming it doesn't follow "spanish grammatical rules" is whatever bc spanish is a colonizer language anyway lmao like fuck it all the way to hell for all i care

[roseurer]

Remembering this one twitter user that I used to follow would complain about people using Latinx basically saying only "woke white girls" use it and not once have I seen anywhere in his profile say that he was Latino.

[acomfyteashop]

Un día lluvioso - A Camilo Madrigal One Shot

He/him for Camilo, gender neutral/unspecified for reader.

18+ DNI, these are minors.

----

In which you spend a rainy day at la Casa Madrigal, cuddling with Camilo, and reading your book.

Pure fluff ❤️

----

Like many other days, you had paid a visit to la casa Madrigal.

It wasn't ment to be an all day thing, but one thing led to another, and you went from being invited in for a cup of tea to napping with your novio through the rainy day.

"Camilo! Don't you have things to do?" Called Abuela, implying his chores had gone unfinished.

"mmmh. Sí." He groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck as you still continued to stir awake.

"Mi amor, lo siento."

"Este bueno, let me help you."

"No, no, it's ok y/n, he can do them on his own, don't worry." Said abuela, now ushering him off the couch. "go, go get your work down, problemático."

"Ok ok, I'm on it" he groaned, pulling himself away from you, and off to go take care of things.

At this, Abuela gave you a smile, asked if you needed anything, then walked off to do whatever it was she herself needed to do.

You got up, looked outside to see it was still raining. With nothing much you could do other than head home, you went to Camilos' room to grab your book. Might as well make a day out of it.

Once you find it, you set yourself down onto his bed, and flip to where you left off.

After a while of reading you hear the door squeak open, and a whisper.

"¿Cariño? ¿Estás dormido? I'm coming in."

"Ay, no, I'm awake. ¿Terminaste? "

"Not yet, I've got to clean my room first. " While you continue to read, he went around the messy room, picking up things, and tossing them around, singing random songs, bits and pieces of each.

Occasionally he'd sweep by you, when he caught you humming along, and sing directly to you.

" ~quiero vivir en salsipuedes, tierra de ilusión" * he sang spinning around the bed, smiling at you, then humming the rest as he went back to cleaning.

You continued to catch snipets of other songs as well.

"~hmmm, quisiera decirte al compás de un son, hmm hmm que tú eres mi vida" *

"~la mmh El apasote, para los brotes" *

You laughed watching him dance around, shaking his hips, wrapping a scarf oved his head, and then tossing it where it belonged.

Once he was done, he shouted to his Abuela he was finished, and snuggled up on the bed with you.

"Still reading that book? Is it any good? What's it about?" He asks, running his hands through your hair, and peeking over your shoulder to read the page.

"Yeah, I'm enjoying it. This guy wants to be a knight, except he's incredibly incompetent, and out of his mind. It's pretty funny, I think you'd like it. " *

"Maybe once you've finished you could tell me the whole story. "

"What for? Why not just read it?

"Well. For one I love to listen as you tell me stories, and talk about them."

"... And?"

"Two I'm not reading a book with diez mil páginas."

You simply giggle at the dramatic Madrigal.

He snuggles back into you after this, and hums a song, one he'd heard his Abuela sing, and his mama. One that'd been passed down through la famila Madrigal.

Slowly though the humming comes to a stop. You look down to find he's fallen asleep.

With this you run your hands through his hair a few times, and kiss the top of his head.

"Dulces sueños, mi amor." You whisper.

----

*I included multiple 1950s-ish latin songs popular in Colombia, to fit both the location and the estimated time period of Encanto, and also to bring in some Colombian/Latino culture. :) I'm not Colombian, so if one of these is off or something, let me know. This one is Salsipuedes by Lucho Bermúdez.

* Amor de mis amores by Agustín Lara

* Yerbero Moderno by the queen of salsa herself, Celia Cruz

*Can u Guess this book? I'm currently reading it now, which is why I included it.

[sigmaleph]

I'm Cuban and I appreciate your post about Spanish grammar. Agreed that saying "In Spanish the gender neutral term for people from Latin America is literally just “Latino”" is "wading in the middle of a cultural conflict and deliberately taking the regressive side." Yeah it'd be like saying "in English the singular 'he' is the accepted gender-neutral pronoun and 'man' is the accepted term for any human"

thank you!

[astroninaaa]

Wait, I dont know if this is a dumb question, but why is saying "latinx" bad? I've never said it before but I've heard others use it and Im just curious!

oh it's not a dumb question!!! don't worry about it at all!!! there are no dumb questions and all that, it's alright.

latinx was a term created by latine people as a way to modify language. in both spanish and portuguese (the main languages used in latin america), almost all words are gendered, and you don't have gender neutral pronouns like there are in english. instead, the gramatically correct way of going around gender neutrality is to just... use the male gendered version of words. it's rooted in sexism and in gender inequality, so latine people have been wanting to change it for years.

there came latinx. latinx, however, is not a word. it's... not. it's a symbol! it's supposed to be a drawing of a big X, like, a NO, on the "o" at the end of "latino", to symbolise the fight against gender inequality in language. it's not supposed to be said out loud, because in spanish and portuguese it's literally impossible to say the word "latinx", those languages don't work like that and we don't have the sounds to say it without it sounding wrong, confusing, and uncomfortable. that's why we have "latine" as the gender neutral term for "latino"! bc it's a word we can actually say in both spanish and portuguese and that makes sense with our language!

latinx, however, is still used by mainly gringos (which is slang for non-latine, not a "racial slur" as some people who obviously have no idea what they're talking about have said) and liberals who want to seem "inclusive" and "woke" while not caring one bit about our language, our history, or our culture. it's performative and it means nothing. it's what happened with biden, who called latines "latinx" and then proceeded to imply every latine in the usa is an illegal immigrant. stuff like that actually happens a lot, so latinx is, generally, really hated by the latine community, specially by people that are actually from latam (there's a whole discussion if people not born in latam can even be considered latine but i'm not getting into that), since it was a symbol created by latine people for latine people that just became another mark of colonization as gringos turned it into a word to call us that we can't even pronounce.

besides, "latinx" is considered ableist because it's not accessible to people with screen readers that operate in the languages commonly used in latam and for latine people with dyslexia.

so!!! yeah!!! that's basically it!!! thank you for caring enough to ask!!!

[bbykeijis]

LATE NiGHT DATES (1)

# izuku midoryia, shoto todoroki, katsuki bakugou, hanta sero

summary: when you & your mha boyfriend decide to have a late night self-care or casual date ! (black!reader, gender!neutral reader)

author’s note: so i’ve rebranded my whole pageee & i’m fucking tired but it looks good so good for me i guess 🙇🏾‍♀️ enjoy these with lil dates with these boys

warnings & genre: might’ve cursed somewhere, fluff, slight crack but it’s pretty chill ig

IZUKU MIDORYIA | activity is hair care !

his fingers in your hair as he massages the products into your scalp with a smile

ft izuku constantly asking how all the contents smell so good and reading the ingredients,, c’mon he wants to learn !

ur boyfriend fussing slightly when he sits in between your thighs as you attempt to detangle his hair

“but baby, it’s soreee-” “shush and sit still istg”

kissing his head after you’re done ofc,, the poor boy is tender headed

listening to diddy bop - noname (feat. cam o’bi, raury) !

the same song on repeat for hours as you listen to him talk about the same old story of his dreams and you admire his unwavering perseverance

(even though you’ve heard this shit one hundred f*king times)

singing along to the song and zuku thinking you’re directing it to him

“ooooo, you about to get your ass beat” “i’m about to what?”

falling asleep on your couch with his head on your chest as the song plays quietly thoughout the night

SHOTO TODOROKI | activity is self care !

“shoto, you’re the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen but if you keep touching your face we’re gonna have a problem.”

late nights listening to sza’s good days as sho admires you whilst you apply the face mask on him

you’re wearing his shirt, your hair is protected in that red and white bonnet he bought you a few weeks ago, and your skin glows under the warm light

he lit the candles himself and they sit in random places around your bodies in the bathroom to ‘set the mood’

yeah, he’s in love but he won’t tell you though. not yet anyway.

closes his eyes as he hears you singing along,, he hums along too knowing pretty much the whole song

yes. he likes sza. ctrl is his shit.

he enjoys spending this quiet intimate time with you away from the loud asses in class 1-a

“please don’t stop.” “hmm?”

shoto takes your hand and puts it back on his cheek just under his scar

man look at this softie ...

KATSUKI BAKUGOU | activity is a movie night !

yeah, let’s not talk about the 30 minutes of arguing over what to watch before you win and get to choose

“i let you win-” “boy, shut the hell up and look at (movie character)”

lounging on his couch on top of bakugou’s lap as he lays back and absently looks at the moving figures ahead

doesn’t even watch the movie tbh, he just holds you whilst you laugh or cry at certain scenes

“watch the damn movie asshole” “i am dumbass!” “staring at my ass isn’t watching the movie!”

manages to get through the first 15 of minutes of the movie without kissing you or playing with your muscles

oh, but if you do the same when his movie is on you better watch out,, bakugou’s such a hypocrite

you look away from the screen for 2 seconds and his hand is on your chin turning you back whilst the action scene is playing

y’all end up throwing popcorn at each other and by the end of movie 3 you have nothing left

putting the titanic on for shits and giggles but bakugou gets emotional when jack dies????

“pussy ass-” “s-shut your damn mouth”

HANTA SERO | activity is cooking !

okay sero and his latino ass plus your talented black ass?? get ready to make a feast

sero quoting ‘cooking like a chef, i’m a five star michalin’ whenever he dices the food ‘super fast’ without any accidents

which is why he puts on god’s menu by stray kids to get into the mood

this boy will not let you go when you’re tryna cook or clean,, his arms will be around your waist at all times and he’s not gonna apologise if you can’t move around

“baby, the food’s burning.” “shhh, lemme hold you lil longer mi amor.” “it’s on fire.”

taking breaks from cooking so the two of you can around dance in the kitchen with your music blasting into the night,, your neighbors don’t mind :) theyre too intimidated by you to ask for quiet

sero constantly asking for your approval when he adds the spices,,, it’s always too much or too little. there’s no inbetween with this man

uses his quirk in an attempt to flip the pan like a professional at some point,, now there’s a mess on the floor

the two of you clean up together and soon bubbles and water are everywhere too

it’s just a rlly good night 😌

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