Piscesatthesea - *°☆•°

Yeagers... by ***

Dad Levi / “Dadvi” Headcanons (1/?)

The best partner to have for those random midnight crying fits - uncontested. He is, more than likely, already awake anyways and is always the first to hear them stir.

When rolling out of bed, sometimes whispers “little brat” under his breath - but with a pitiful tone, not one of annoyance. It’s the closest he gets to “poor thing”.

A secret goal of his: he hopes to take care of them before/without you waking up.

Has a naturally keen ear for what they need. Based on their cries and wails, he can tell if they’re hungry, need a change, whatever.

Really, he never gets angry with their crying. The upset he feels is just sorrow for them. It’s that fatherly instinct.

In an odd way, it often gives him a pained smile. This cute little thing is just a little hungry, just a little fussy, and has no idea how bad things can be - he’s determined to make sure they don’t find out.

// // //

Always knows just how to coo them. Innately understands when they need cuddles, swaddles, bounces, a nap.

“Hey. They need a nap. I’m going to put them down, alright?”

A cool, low, calm voice is perfect for lullabies. However, more often than not, he falls asleep with them. With the baby’s consistent need for sleep and his spontaneous schedule, they regularly take naps together even just on accident.

Reclining on the sofa, he keeps the baby laid across his front: heartbeats meeting, pillow cheek against his hardened clavicle, their chubby arms looped around his neck.

// // //

The first time your little one tried store-bought baby food was the last time. At their scrunched face, “What’s the matter? Don’t like it?”

Levi himself tried a bite and matched their expression, “The hell? No wonder you hate that shit.”

So instead, in the solid food stage, he chops up the fruits in perfectly symmetric little chunks. Puts on an apron to do it (making your heart go boink).

Feeding the spoonfuls of food is one of his favorite parts of parenting. You thought he would hate the messy process, but he feels a sense of satisfaction when scooping the mishaps from their cheeks and into their mouth. Also, he cracks up at their facial reactions.

“Not a fan of kiwi.”

“Tasty apple, huh?”

Meanwhile, you stand in the hallway biting your sleeve, holding back those smiles and giggles. He is completely unwound when he thinks its just them two, and you wouldn’t want to miss that for the world.

ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to be infertile

*seeing a 6 year old in the wild* and skibidi greetings to you my young mr beast

This is probably my favorite image of all time I first saw it years ago and it has stuck in my head since then. The only vibes I’ll ever need

It always upsets me so much when I see interpretations/illustrations of the two headed calf poem that show a living calf being torn away from its mother and killed to sell to a museum and framing the poem as being "humanity kills beautiful things for being different".

Two headed cows almost never survive more than a few hours after their birth. The farmer finds the *body* the next day. The calf was destined to die, and that's a tragedy, but for the time it was alive, it had a beautiful and unique experience.

It's not a poem about the cruelty of man. It's a poem about the beauty of life in an indifferent universe. It's about purpose and beauty being able to exist even in an existence doomed to come to an end, as all our lives are. It's not a poem about how a calf dies, but how, even for only a brief moment, it was alive.

And, for that moment, because of that life, however fleeting, the sky had twice as many stars.

denji + power matching icons

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i hate this fucking "i'm just a girl" brand of feminism bc it is so easy for young women in their 20s who are afraid of big changes and personal growth to revert to depending on their gender and the associated fragility of it so that they can make it through life when really they're just trapping themselves in a position where they cannot and will not grow out of that fear.