#I did end up going with itchy due to the thing that made me make this poll in the first place

[candysparks]

Batfam X Reincarnated! Reader [but make it angsty]

I'm feeling angsty so saddle up for this one, also yes I'm writing this at 12 am once more? How could you tell (●'◡'●)

Quick disclaimer for canon-typical for violence, illness, death [lots of it], angst, and time loops. Also this makes, like, zero sense to me but I still wanna write it so yay!

The world always had a love for the dramatics. Everything on this planet has faced hardship after dramatic hardship without delay. It's no question as to why Reader was currently coughing up blood. They were sick, terminal even, and there was nobody to comfort them in their time of need.

Their family had labeled them as a 'financial burden' and cut off all contact with them aside from a once in a blue moon visit. It was supposed to be today but the weather was uncaring and unkind, it was like the sky had opened up to pour all it's tears out for the day. Roads were flooded and it was simply out of the question for people to be making drives.

Reader coughed once, then twice, and then for a final third time as something wet was expelled from their lungs. They looked down, ah...that was their blood, wasn't it? They didn't have time to call for someone, as this was a new development and something that shouldn't be happening, but they were attacked by an onslaught of rapid coughing.

It was getting harder to breath and there was a terrible pressure behind their eyes, like it was going to pop. And then something broke, a silent snap of the thread, and Reader couldn't stop the overflowing blood spill from their lips.

Distantly they heard the shocked scream of someone, maybe it was a nurse? But it sounded so familiar...there were hands shaking them in panic. Rough, calloused hands that felt like someone from their childhood.

Rough hands rubbed over their face as they let out a childish giggle. "Dad stop! You're gonna mess up moms hard work!!" And a rough laugh responded back with a fond voice. "Ah but you're such a cool looking tiger, look at how fearsome you are! I must tame you with pets so you wont feast on us poor folk" Followed by even more childish giggles from the two.

Reader wondered if this was the hands of their father, but brushed it off with a tired sigh. There's no way their father would be here, the roads were covered in too much water.

The book slipped from their hand and fell to the floor just as Reader closed their eyes. The last thing they could ever see through the blurriness of their vision was their fathers terrified and panicked face.

Guess he really did show up. How cruel of fate to do such a thing in this life..

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Reader opened their eyes to a more comfortable bed, one without the itchy hospital blanket that was too thin for comfort. They raised a hand to their face and rubbed away the tears. They looked to the wall, finding the mirror they used to have in their childhood room before they moved.

They lost the mirror sometime during the, moving process and they never saw it again. They had to move closer to the hospital for their mothers treatment. Who would have guess that Reader would have the same illness as their mother later down the line?

Reader pushed away their thoughts, they didn't have time to think about that. This was the tenth time they've died in this universe. And just like the last ten times, they woke up back in their tiny ten year old body like it was all a bad dream.

"Why can't this end? What am I doing wrong? I've been here so many times..." Reader thought to themselves trying to understand this terrible time loop. In the first loop they had clung to their mother, afraid of their sickness. They hadn't died yet, only having been reincarnated into the DC universe as Bruce's neglected child who had a sad fate.

Their mother, Bruce's second wife, had an uncurable illness that would be later passed down to Reader due to genetics. It was one the writers made up for pure angsts reasons, there was no cure and it acted like the Hanahaki Disease. Not in a "I need my love to be reciprocate or I'll spit up flowers and die, or lose all my memories and feelings of you to get rid of them" but rather in the way that the lungs were filled to the brim with something that shouldn't be there and will continue to grow unless you get a new set of lungs.

They tried so desperately to keep the illness from developing in that life time, even trying to tell them of their previous life as someone from another universe. Their kind mother had only patted their head with a small laugh and praising them for how creative their mind was.

When it did develop, like it always does, they were branded as having cursed their mother by the public. Their father, who couldn't stand the looks they were giving his child so he decided that it was best for them to stay inside. So he locked them away without a word, and Reader was only let out for their mothers funerial.

Reader will never forget the feeling of betrayal, and Bruce will never forget the way his own child had glared at him with so much hate in their eyes. How could he do this to them? To lock them away and not let them visit their mother? How could he? How dare he.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

In their next life Reader hadn't said a word about it to their mom, only clinging to them like a second pair of skin. Where ever their mom went they would follow. Yet she still died of the same illness on the 5th of May, just like clockwork.

The third and fourth played out roughly the same. Reader clung to their mom, attempted to be kind to Bruce and his own posse of children but was met with confused looks considering they spent most of their time in the hospital or in their room. They wouldn't die of the sickness, not in those lives, but rather that it was an attack that stole their life. In the third it was a gunshot to the stomach and they were left to bleed out in some warehouse.

In the fourth they were pushed out the way of falling rubble and had gotten impaled by some exposed metal wires. They knew it was an accident. Robin hadn't meant for them to get hurt that way, not ever. But it still happened. It still hurt. They could never make it past 18, always dying before their 19th birthday.

They couldn't stand to be touched in the next life. The weight of it all had gotten to them and they just...couldn't do it anymore. No false joy, no hiding away their sorrows behind closed doors knowing nobody would check on them. They had sobbed so much, and cried for so long that their tears had left them feeling hallow. The next lives just blurred together like sand slipping through their fingers.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

This time was different. For lack of better words, it was weird. Their father had woken them up with a tight hug, sobbing into their shoulder like he was so afraid they might disappear if he softened his grip. Their mother had been woken up by the missing warmth of her husband and had followed him to your room.

She didn't say a word, only hugging the both of them as tight as she could. After that night things started to change from Readers past memories. When Bruce took in Dick, he didn't forget about them after a while. He made time and an effort to include them into his plans, to hangout with his friends.

And when Bruce introduced Jason? He had looked at them like he was seeing a ghost, like he was looking at someone he knew had already died but still couldn't come to terms with it. Reader would never accept it but they had a feeling that people were starting to remember their past lives as well.

Tim had been the most normal. He didn't look at them like a ghost, didn't cling to them like a tick. He had just sat next to them in the library and asked them about their day. And Reader would like to mention they did not tear up at the question, no that would be a bit silly. It's not like they've been waiting eleven lifetimes for someone to ask them, no certainly not.

Steph had invited them places, treated them like they've always been apart of their friendship. Like it was the most natural thing to do in the world. Like in another life time she didn't avoid them like she knew they were dying and didn't want to stick around.

Cassandra was the second best thing to normal in this life. She hadn't deviated, nor had she had some twist in her personality like she was privy to information she couldn't share. No, she had done what she always did and silently offer her support. A tissue when no one was looking during a sad play, a pat on the back when Reader was looking down, and pat on the head when Reader felt like they were simply fading into the background once more.

But Damian? He avoided them at first. like he couldn't stand to see their faced. To him Reader looked sickly, so close to death, that it scared him. He was afraid to touch them but at the same time he just wanted to hold them close and never let go. He couldn't get the images of their death out of his mind.

The way they looked pale when he found them in the first life, frozen solid with nothing but a blanket to keep them warm during the night beside their mothers grave. The way they had seemed so at peace in their final moments, like it didn't matter at all. The way he found them once more in the second life, having died in a car accident near the harbor. Their body submerged in water had floated to the top, mocking him as if saying that this could have been avoid had he shown up sooner.

He found them bleeding from their stomach, beaten and bruised and so incredibly pale. Then he was the cause of their next death. He'll never forgive himself for that. Never. He should have known that it was exposed, should have pulled them his way instead of pushing them. How could he be so stupid? Then he found them in the next, and the next, and the next, and the next, and the next. Pleaseletitstop, hessorrypleasejustletitstop. Because fate hates him so much for how he treated Reader in the first life, he found them in all the other lifetimes too all except the last one.

Bruce had found them. Coughing up their lungs with a pained look, realizing that they were dying just like their mother was and he couldn't stop it. He was unable to do anything, all he could do was shout their name in panic as he tried to keep them awake and- oh god where the hell were the doctors?!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

In this life time the Wayne family had remembered. And cursed with the fruit of knowledge they did everything they could to keep Reader safe from all harm and away from the prying eyes of the public. This time they would do it right. They'd make sure that Reader's mother would survive, they'd do anything to keep the two of them alive this time around.

And if they had to use the Lazarus Pits to do so then so be it.

[2018-01-20]

if you still have your 1k words of kissing satoru pls bestow it to me 🧎🏽‍♀️i’m grabbing him by the back of his blindfold and making out with him fr

pairing. high schooler!gojo satoru × gn!reader

content. fluff + one kiss, implied that reader is shorter than gojo, somewhat proofread (i hate everything) read slowly!!

sticky-note. IM CRYING the way u worded this ask made me want to write an entirely new thing of making out w gojo 😭 ty for sending this in leeee 🫶

it is no secret that gojo satoru looks like a good kisser.

he’s attentive; one large hand on the small of your back to hold you steady while the other rests on your hip, eyes on you to see if you’ll make the first move. to both his and your dismay, you don’t move a single inch.

“i can’t do it,” you finally say, exasperated, pulling away to quickly hide your face in your hands. you awkwardly twist away from his figure, unable to stand the way that you’re able to see his stupidly pretty eyes through his sunglasses. it infuriates you to no end. “i give up. this is too embarrassing.”

“that’s so mean of you to say,” gojo whines not unsimilar to a toddler, but there is only amusement in his tone as he lightly tugs on the waistband of your pants, trying to get you to turn back around. “shouldn’t you be honored to kiss the one and only gojo satoru?”

“shutupshutupshutup,” you chant, mostly to yourself than to the obnoxious boy behind you. you swat weakly at his hand while trying to ignore the demonic voices in your head.

it is no secret that you’ve liked your classmate for a long while now. as cute and funny (and hot) as gojo is, he is twice as annoying and unpleasant. you swear he makes it his daily goal to get your blood boiling every chance he gets. that is the sole reason why you don’t plan on professing your love anytime soon: due to the fact that shoko will forever be disappointed in you and will never let you live it down if she knew. you don’t even want to think about what utahime would ultimately think of you.

he continues to bug you, “c’mo-on...” you can practically hear him sporting his signature smug grin. “do you really wanna go back to jujutsu high like that and kiss suguru instead?”

at that, you spin around in an instant—a mortified look on your face that further urges you to stab an accusatory finger at his chest. “y-you’re a damn liar! there is no way that there is an actual curse who’s goddamn antidote requires you to kiss someone when you get hit.”

sneakily, he wraps a palm around your wrist but makes no move to push your hand away. “but you just got touched by that cursed spirit, right? doesn’t your skin feel all sticky and itchy, like i mentioned?”

as much as you hate to admit it, you know that he’s right. before the two of you had gotten into the fight in the first place, he warned you not to get hit and the symptoms you would have to face if you did. your skin does feel like you just took a swim in poison ivy, and your head feels dizzy with a sudden migraine that should not be there, since gojo had instantly caught you the moment you faced a hit from the cursed spirit.

“b-but it doesn’t make any sense,” you sputter out, a weak last-minute resort. you really do not want to kiss gojo satoru—at least, not because of a measly curse—and have to hear him blab about it later on to your friends. you rant on, “if such a technique exists, then why didn’t you just kill the thing right away? aren’t you the strongest? why am i even on this mission with you?”

“hey!” he feigns an offended gasp, “are you saying that you don’t like hanging out with me?” he groans and dramatically lays an arm on his forehead, reminding you of a mistress in distress. you stare blankly. “how cruel of you. and besides, just because i’m the strongest doesn’t mean i can kill a first-grade so quickly.”

you keep staring at him with a disapproving look, but he only looks back at you with a joyous glint in his eyes. “...you’re insufferable,” you finally huff out, your hand still in his. but the both of you can hear the undertone of surrounder in your voice.

you stand awkwardly still in front of him for a few solid seconds, narrowing your eyes as he returns your defeated glare with a sheepish smile. you can’t help but sigh to yourself—you’re going to have to prepare yourself for a mouthful from shoko when you both head back.

you let him pull you closer when he tugs at your hand, your other palm moving to rest on his chest to steady yourself. but even then, you don’t get to kiss him until he leans down from that freakishly tall height of his— gently meeting his lips with yours.

it isn’t a quick peck. in fact, it’s a sweet and slow kind of kiss that makes your heart skip a concerningly amount of beats. a free hand of satoru’s moves up to softly cup the back of your head to deepen the kiss. nothing about his movements show that he’s in a rush to get the whole ordeal over with—and as much as you would like to lie and say that you hate it, you can’t help but step forwards to reach him better too.

your mind is in so much of a daze that you don’t even realize that satoru turned his limitless infinity just for you.

when you finally step back into reality and—reluctantly—pull away, gojo is grinning brightly with his sunglasses tucked into his hair. you didn’t even notice that he pushed them up to make the kiss more comfortable for you. however, you do notice that your skin still very much feels uncomfortable on your body and your head is pounding (whether it be from the symptoms or the kiss, you don’t really wanna know).

“you’re so cute,” gojo chuckles unabashedly, laughing again when you avert your gaze with another huff and a warm face. you are more than used to his flirty remarks and his more-than-platonic habits, but somehow it feels more... genuine this time around.

“and gullible,” he suddenly adds, the out of blue comment making you turn back towards him with a raised eyebrow. you squeak out a sound of surprise when he unexpectedly, but gently, pushes your head downwards, his other hand now in your line of sight. you feel more confusion swirling in your head when you see him holding a small vial with some clear, greenish liquid inside of it.

“here’s the real antidote,” gojo casually cheers, and he does not have a single shame in the world. a whole minute seems to pass by until you connect the dots, and when you do, the first thing that pops up in your mind is the thought of absolute murder.

“are you serious?” you practically screech. “you made that whole kiss thing up?”

[my-rewrite-academia]

what is some fun trivia facts about class 1-a? 👀

Hello!

-

This actually made me very excited to see, as I do have random trivia in the character notes. In alphabetical order...

Aoyama Yuuga: Along with being absoultely fabulous, he has a thing for femme-presenting stuff, such as dresses and skirts

Ashido Mina: Really wants a tattoo, but her quirk would just get rid of it within a day

Asui Tsuyu: Can vomit her stomach out, but doesn't like it as she did it once when she was young and couldn't figure out how to put it back until her parents got home

Bakugou Katsuki: While he won't refuse to take them, he hates showers, as he feels 'weaker' due to the water washing his sweat away

Hagakure Tooru: Has a natural affinity for pranks, and will pretend a ghost is haunting someone, via lifting objects, changing her voice to spook someone, and so on

Iida Tenya: Whenever he's on a long-rant, Tensei will place karate plates under him, and there is now a pile somewhere in a closet of broken karate plates

Jirou Kyouka: Claims that her favourite genre of music is rock, but it's truly disco. Only listens to it with headphones on, and will dance to it when she's alone

Kaminari Denki: Has really old, used devices, due to his tendency to shock when he's surprised or emotional, which would break many devices

Kirishima Eijirou: He was born with straight teeth, so when his sharp teeth came in, all of his teeth fell out within two days, which made both him and his parents panic

Kouda Kouji: He can't stand bugs, as their brains are too small for him to understand or control, making them far stranger to him than to those who can't understand any animal

Midoriya Izuku: Has once gone on a two-hour rant about why All Might is the best hero, and only stopped when he passed out due to his fever

Mineta Minoru: Has a ranking of the top ten sexiest female heroes, which he has not touched since his intervention

Ojirou Mashirao: When he was starting his training with his tail, he tried to swing off horizontal poles, only to end up slamming his face into the mats

Satou Rikidou: Will go to the grave swearing he got his lips from a 'lip challenge'. He did not, he just thinks it's funny

Sero Hanta: Has accidentally used his tape to wipe... you-know-what. Will 100% do it again in the future, because he's dumb (love him though)

Shouji Mezou: Cannot reach his back, so when it's itchy, expect to see him using some sort of pole or the corner of a wall to scratch it. May ask for help if he's desperate

Todoroki Shouto: Really wants to try fast food, as he's been told it's not good for him so obviously he'll rebel against that

Tokoyami Fumikage: Will sometimes sit up high, maybe on a fridge or a shelf, and just... caw. Has tried bird food and will never try it again. He can eat it, but just doesn't like it

Uraraka Ochako: Massive tom-boy and super vulgar after growing up with construction workers. But, due to how women are seen in the heroics industry, she hides it and acts all cute and innocent

Yaoyorozu Momo: Like Shouto, she really wants to try fast food, but rather than not being able to, she's simply scared of what she'd be eating, and has no idea where to start

-

Thanks for the ask!

[luvyoujelly]

caleb journal no.1 🍎🍏

caleb is so fascinating to me as someone who grew up as the older sibling and as someone who’s basically the opposite of him (i’m very similar to zayne icl😭)

i’ve always been staunchly independent, like to a detrimental fault, to a point where i only discovered a couple years ago how damaging it is. i’ve never had someone like him by my side. everyone’s always going. no one cares as much as i did. i never meant as much to them as they did to me.

i’m just in awe when i see the lengths he goes to keep mc with him. everything to keep them by his side, remembering every minute facet of them, and every detail of their relationship. it seems unrealistic to me to have someone care for me that much. even i find it hard to care for myself and yet there he is.

he just

i’m actually gonna eat him

anyways here are some things that i think that my mc and caleb would have fun w/ in their dynamics :D

i love love love lotus flowers (and plum blossoms!) but most other flowers make my hayfever go buck wild. spring is my least favourite season due to how itchy and stuffy i get during it (even tho my birthday is in spring lmao) so that entire spring boat ride would have destroyed me even with a bunch of antihistamines

as a kid i really didn’t like apples because they’d get all soggy when it came to lunch so i can just imagine caleb packing kid me those bunny apples and my face = (·•᷄‎ࡇ•᷅ ) but i’d feel too guilty to throw them out so when he would ask me about it at the end of the day.. i’d just eat it then and there in front of him to stop the questioning (◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ )

i still can’t fold paper cranes no matter how many times i learn or how many times someone teaches me (caleb would definitely tease me for it but still accept my wonky folds and misshapen beaks in our 1000 cranes. he would try and make me wish for something but i’d argue back and say it was technically his since he made the most. he gives up in the end and makes a wish that’s most likely wishing for my happiness and health or something.)

i’m the introvert #1 like.. super socially awkward super reserved.. so every time he tries to drag me out.. (っ- ‸ - ς) like i can do 3/7 days of the week out but more than that.. 😓😓😓 would give into my whining to stay home 90/100 times

i’m not a maths person at all😭 so he’d get fed up so quickly trying to tutor me. ngl i would cry to get him to feel bad and wrap up the tutoring session faster but i don’t think it would work after the 7th first time

i dont like the egg filling in mooncakes so every mid-autumn festival, either 1) he buys purely the mooncakes with no egg filling even if likes them or 2) he just separates the egg filling from the mooncake skin and just eats all the egg filling on its own without complaining😭

^ my 18th birthday actually fell on the mid-autumn festival that year (i’m gonna punch the wall because he definitely would’ve gone all out for it)

thx for reading 🍎 (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ and thank u everyone for the support on my last post! i really wasn’t expecting much attention at all so thank you all!! ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

moon divider by enchanthings!

paper crane divider by omi-resources

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 10 - Coalescence

Description: Refusing to let you go back to work until he'd seen that you'd returned to your normal, tenacious, strongwilled self, Marcus made sure you kept your mind on other things for the time being.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 4145 (1988 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   You woke up slowly, as though your brain and body were in disagreement over whether you were rested enough, until their argument got sufficiently loud for you to gradually become aware of yourself.    And the first thing you noticed was that something was making you uncomfortable, and you slowly learned it was due to being tangled in sheets with your blouse and skirt twisted around you.

   You didn’t remember going to bed in your clothes. You never did that, it always ended up waking you since you moved around a lot in your sleep.    And why did the bed smell like lilacs? Your detergent smelled only faintly of citrus.    Too much perfume in anything meant to rest against your skin had always made you itchy. Not because you were allergic or prone to eczema, it just irritated your skin.

   So, if the bed smelled wrong, it had to mean…

   You sat up with a jolt, making yourself dizzy, and you briefly wondered if you’d hit your head yesterday, before it all came back to you.    The room was small, filled with bookcases and trinkets. Lots of stuff Missy must have made when she was younger, and things she’d probably outgrown, but which they hadn’t gotten around to selling or throwing away yet.

   There was one large window to your right, and the blinds hadn’t been closed, so the daylight was coming in unhindered.    Daylight… not morning-light.    You scrambled to free yourself from the sheets, then jumped out of bed and hastily tried to pull your clothes into some semblance of order as you left the room.

   But you were momentarily disoriented when you stepped out into a hallway you didn’t recognize. It was long, probably stretching through the entire inner half of the house, and the room you’d come out of was in the middle of it.     Thankfully, at the end of the hall to your right, you could see a part of the kitchen and you did recognize that, so you headed there.    You walked in to find Marcus behind the stove, frying something which smelled really good, making your stomach wake up with a growl.

   “What time is it?” you asked, or more like demanded, and he jumped in surprise at the sound of your loud and gruff morning voice behind him.

   But when he turned around, he was smiling, looking over your rumpled state and apparently finding it cute, because he hummed in a giddy sort of way when he replied.

   “That watch on your wrist broken, or something?”

   “Honestly, I don’t trust it anymore,” you deadpanned, to which he chuckled and shook his head, returning his attention to the frying pan.

   “It’s almost midday. I’m maki-…”

   “What!?” you cut him off and then started frantically looking around for your shoes. “Marcus, what the hell? Why didn’t you wake me, I’m beyond fucking late!”

   “Cálmate, preciosa. You’re taking a sick-day, I called it in this morning,” he responded, perfectly at ease, not missing a beat as he flipped something in the pan.

   And completely unaware of how peeved you suddenly were, stopping your search to glare at him.

   “And what exactly gives you the right to decide that for me? Do you have any idea what I have on my plate today?” you accused, before something else occurred to you. “And why the hell did they just take your word for it, without checking with me first?”

   At first, all your saw was his broad back, seemingly unbothered by your little tantrum. But then he turned the stove off and moved the frying pan off the hot plate.    He turned around, and there was a gorgeous smile, mostly in his eyes, as he came over to you and put his hands on your cheeks, before he kissed you. Just once, but tenderly.    You were a bit too annoyed to appreciate the gesture, until he leaned back and spoke.

   “There you are, my feisty, headstrong hermosa. I’ve missed you.”

   It took you a couple of seconds, but once it dawned on you what he meant, you sighed and allowed yourself to fall forwards, and he let go of your face to wrap his arms around you instead.    The irritation vanished, but was instantly replaced by a sense of idiocy, because you knew he was right. You hadn’t felt like yourself ever since you’d taken the job, and of course he’d noticed even before you had.

   “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice at you,” you offered, meeting his eyes to let him see how bad you felt about it.

   “Thank you, but please don’t worry about that. To be honest, I’d expected worse,” he replied, trying to lighten your mood, but you really did feel awful.

   “I crashed and burned, honey. Don’t let my mildly panicked morning mood fool you, I’m still way too tired for any elaborate comebacks,” you said, but he got a strange look in his eyes then, and you couldn’t work out what it might mean. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

   “Because you just… called me a nickname,” he realized, starting to smile as he continued. “You’ve never called me anything other than Marcus before.”

   “Oh. Is that okay?” you nervously asked, suddenly worried, even though he looked happy about it.

   “Are you kidding?” he said with a laugh, before starting to count out all the ones he regularly used for you. “Hermosa, preciosa, querida, cariño…”

   You still didn’t know exactly what they translated to, and you didn’t care, because you loved hearing him say them. Still, feeling less stressed and more joyful, you playfully scrunched your nose at him.

   “Alright, so I might not have a dozen cute Spanish words to offer, but honey suits you, since that’s what your voice has always sounded like to me,” you admitted, and then thought about just how important that sound had been to you, for a long time. “Hearing your voice is the first memory I have of you, except for seeing your face at the hospital. And for so long it was all I wanted to hear.    I waited every day for your visit, hoping you’d find time for me, but I was still so surprised every time you showed up. I just couldn’t understand why I would ever matter to you. Why you would take the time to sit there with me, in that boring room with all those machines, with nothing to do.”

   His smile faded as you spoke, replaced by that look you’d only seen on him once before, and assumed you’d imagined.    Something like reverence.    But he didn’t seem to know what to say, or how to respond right then, which left you with a good opportunity, since he was clearly very emotionally open, to let him know just how much he’d come to mean to you. If you only had the courage to say the words.

   “I think I knew even back then,” you timidly started, searching for the right way to phrase it, while he curiously tilted his head and waited. “Don’t ask me how, I didn’t even know you, so it shouldn’t really be possible. But somehow, I knew… that I’d already fallen for you.”

   You weren’t sure, but he seemed to stop breathing then. And once again you were terrified you might’ve said too much, moved too fast.    How was it possible you could be so desperate for him to know, and at the same time so absolutely terrified of his reaction? It wasn’t that the two emotions were impossible to have at once, of course not. It was just that the intensity of them should be too much for one body to experience at once.

   Also, you felt so stupid and hypocritical, since you were the one who’d wanted to slow things down.    Yet here you were, declaring your love for him like some infatuated teenager, awaiting his response with the sensation of a lead-weight being wrapped around your neck, ready to pull you down through the ground and choke you if it turned out he didn’t love you back.

   He made you wait for it, probably just because he couldn’t speak at first, holding your eyes for a long moment before he finally managed to draw a jagged breath.

   “Te quiero, hermosa,” he finally whispered through a windpipe which sounded much too tight. “I know what you mean. God, I know exactly what you mean, becuase I felt it too. From the first time I walked into that med-chamber and saw you, I knew you mattered. I felt it so strongly it nearly made me panic.    I’ve wanted to tell you every day since then. Thought I’d go crazy while I waited to find out if you could possibly feel the same...”

   He trailed off when his voice faltered, and you could hear the overbearing emotions which were causing it.    Letting his arms tighten around you, as if he found strength in the sensation of your body safely tucked into his own, with a few breaths he seemed to find a deeper power, giving him back the usual honey smoothness of his timbre.

   “I love you,” he declared, and there was no tightness bothering him now.

   These words he spoke with the conviction of the leader he truly was, and all the power within his heart. Then he stood still and waited, looking for your guidance on how to proceed.    A declaration wasn’t automatically an invitation, but you’d never met a man who hadn’t treated it as such, so it took you a moment to grasp what he was doing.

   You’d never felt anything like the feeling that spread through your blood in those moments. It was warm and tingling and exciting, comforting and joyous and fucking scary.    But also, just… perfect.    You weren’t sure if his lips reached yours first, or if it was the other way around, only that once you felt those soft, hungry lips try to devour you, the heat inside you flared like never before, and you were suddenly absolutely certain that if he didn’t touch you, you’d spontaneously combust.

   Slipping your arms under his t-shirt, needing to feel his skin like a parched person needs water, you silently begged for relief, but it was nowhere near enough.    You squirmed in his arms, reaching down to his ass and holding him to you while you rubbed your sex against him, gasping with the intensity of feeling his hardening member grinding into you in eager response.

   Reaching for his hand, you pulled it down between your bodies, reluctantly pulling away from him just enough that his arm fit between you, placing his fingers over your mound, and he eagerly obliged.    He barely even needed to touch you, but his hand was perfect. In no time at all he’d figured out how to stroke you just right, so that even through both the skirt and your panties, he had you cramping in a matter of seconds.

   You couldn’t have spoken to save your life, but your throat was making all kinds of sounds, all on its own, and he apparently loved hearing it.    His fingers danced over your hyper-sensitive clit, and you unravelled. He kept his other arm around you, holding you to him so he could feel your orgasm against his body. And while it was strong, it was also more like a precursor than a full-blown release, and if anything, it only made you hungrier for more.

   Marcus watched you ride it out, wetting his lips repeatedly in the meantime, as if he couldn’t wait to taste you. Finally growing so impatient that he licked your neck and bit into the top of your shoulder, before moving back to look at you again.    And then as soon as you were starting to come down, he picked you up and without even waiting for you to wrap your legs around him, he started carrying you down the hall to his bedroom.

   Once there, he set you down right by the bed and in one fluid motion, ripped your blouse clean off. You hadn’t even had a chance to react to that before he quickly followed up with your skirt, discarding both the ruined garments by throwing them over his shoulder.    Right. Super-strength.    He’d never really flexed that side of himself in your presence before, but now that he did, you found you liked it. A lot. You had lots of blouses and skirts, after all.

   Clearly very eager not to waste time on anything trivial, his own clothes met the same fate right after. Although, while he’d kept your underwear intact, his own was shown no such mercy, leaving him bare and exposed. But he seemed perfectly comfortable with it.    When he reached for you again, his hands were soft, removing your bra slowly, obviously worried the tight-fitted fabric might burn your skin if he ripped it. But you also felt certain it was to give you time to object, should you feel uneasy.    You didn’t, though.

   He slowed down then, caressing your breasts, exploring their shape and softness, first with his hands and then his mouth, and every second that passed seemed to deepen his desire.    Especially when his efforts drew sounds from you, making you gasp and moan involuntarily with the intense pleasure he gave you, even with the smallest and simplest touches.    It spurred him on and he righted himself so that he was flush against you, his now fully hardened length pushed into the little gap between the tops of your thighs and your pussy.

   Pushing back until he could put one knee on the bed, he then slowly lowered both of you down, while keeping your body pressed against his.    As soon as your back was on the mattress, you reached down to rid yourself of the last bit of cloth between you, to show him just how much you wanted this, and he lifted his hips up to give you more room.

   But before your panties were even half-way down your thighs, you felt the weight of his torso lessen, before he sat up to reach the obnoxious fabric and quickly ripped it on both sides, relieving you of having to try and shimmy them down your legs.    You stole a better look at his cock while he was seated upright, feeling yourself grow wetter with the anticipation of having him inside you. And when he caught you admiring him, that excitement only intensified.

   He moved slowly, probably to tease you, but definitely also to prolong this wonderful feeling you knew he was experiencing just as intensely as you. It was practically written on his face while he caressed your hips, massaged his way up your sides, sliding over your chest and then around to the backs of your shoulders when he dropped his elbows to the mattress to support his weight.

   You let your own hands roam along with his, tracing the muscles of his abdomen at first, then as he dropped lower, caressing the length of his spine all the way up to his shoulder-blades, where you wrapped your arms as far around him as you could, and then tried to pull him down heavier on top of you.    He kissed you with such heat, you could’ve sworn you heard purring somewhere deep within his chest, content to finally taste you, but also desperate for more.

   Rubbing his shaft firmly against your slit, he was making your entire body tremble, while coating himself in your wetness. Of which there was a lot by then. There had to be a minor pool underneath you already, you craved him so badly.    Growing dizzy with desire, you slipped your hands down the length of his back, lightly clawing at him along the way to the enticing curve of his ass, where you pulled him down harder against you, and he immediately took the hint.

   He didn’t even need to use his hands to guide him, there was no mistaking the heat and slick which was practically oozing out of your entrance.    As he pushed the head of his cock inside you, you both gasped as your bodies reflexively tensed with the overload of sensations, and he had to stop there for a beat, just to remember how to breathe.

   When he’d regained some of his composure, he tried to push further, and seemed to utterly lose control of himself. His arms moved as if operated by someone else, snaking further underneath you to wrap all the way around your back, squeezing you about as hard as you could take, while his hips relentlessly drove forwards even though he was trembling with the effort.

   And you? You had the curious sensation of hanging on for dear life, but devoid of all fear, instead experiencing the most intense pleasure anyone could ever imagine.    Your limbs seemed strangely detached, each one tingling and sparkling in its own way, but at the same time saturating your nerves system with so much vibrancy it was robbing you of all your higher brain-functions.

   The way he was holding you meant he couldn’t support his own weight, leaving your tightly held torso to carry all of it, and oh, how you loved the feeling of him pushing down on you, as he slowly stretched you and went deeper.    Once he was buried inside you, all he had to do was flex his hips a tiny amount, and your entire core clenched in on itself.

   Your abdomen constricted so much it forced your back to curve against the massive hold of his arms. He growled deeply against your cheek, and then you felt his forehead drop to the mattress above your right shoulder, as he tried to ride out your reaction.    You were starting to tremble with the sheer effort your muscles were being made to expend, and you could feel drops of sweat trickle down the backs of your thighs, down your neck, and even along your ribs.

   There was no thought involved with any of this. It was purely physical. Both of you lost in a world created by the other’s body, to which only the two of you had invitations.    But somewhere in your mind, you knew you’d never believed it possible to feel this much. And while your body was practically ripping at the seams with the need for release, the only thought you were aware of having, was just not wanting it to end.

   God, had you ever actually made love before? It had sure as hell never felt anything close to this with anyone else.

   Marcus was so relentlessly captured by your internal walls that all he could do was stay buried all the way inside you, and just grind his base against your opening in small circles. But that was also all it took.    You would’ve thought it impossible for your core to constrict any more than it already had, but it did. A lot more.

   As you tumbled over the edge, you lost all control of every muscle, tendon and nerve. Your abdomen drew so harshly in on itself that your entire upper body actually lifted clean off the mattress, even with your partners added weight on top of you.    Then it unclenched to let you fall back down, again entirely out of your control, only to repeat the motion a second later when the next wave rolled through you.    Your knees drew upwards as well, your legs clenching hard against his hips, and you couldn’t have let him go if you’d wanted to.

   Marcus didn’t really have a choice but to topple over along with you, as no one could have held off against that much pressure, squeezing, rolling, and demanding his release.    But while your orgasm was quite literally taking all the breath out of you, your partner’s reaction was the opposite. He cried out when he spilled into you, with a completely involuntary, raw and almost animalistic sound, which was honestly the sexiest damned thing you’d ever heard.    There was something primal and pure about a total loss of control.

   The waves of pleasure kept rolling through you for what had to be a good minute, continuing to force your torso to push up against him, while clenching down on him to milk him of everything he had.    They lasted long enough that your abdomen was seriously hurting towards the end, having been cramped up as tightly as it would go, and then some.

   But when they finally ebbed out and soothing dopamine began to replace the harsher edges of the craving, you quickly became completely limp underneath him. Your arms and legs fell to the sides and you felt as though your bones had turned to jelly.    You felt the same thing from your partner as he seemed to grow droopier, slumping down heavier on top of you with each passing moment. But even now, when you were pleasantly exhausted, you didn’t mind his weight on you.

   The way his broader frame almost enveloped you made you feel safe, and after a few minutes, when he turned his head to press light kisses into your neck, you were glad he didn’t rise back onto his elbows or hurried to roll off you.

   “Holy fuck, woman. What the hell are you made of?” he said with a strong exhale, still noticeably affected by what had just happened.

   “I could ask you the same,” you countered, blissfully languid but also just as taken as he clearly was.

   “So… this wasn’t a normal experience for you either?”

   “Hell no. Not even the same ballpark,” you admitted, and then something occurred to you. “Could your powers have affected us somehow?”

   “No, I don’t think so. At least, they never have before, and if they were, I didn’t even notice it.”

   “Does that ever happen, though? Have you ever used your powers without realizing?”

   “Sure, on a few rare occasions. Usually if I’m really stressed or pissed off.    But never like this. Not even close.”

   “Hm… Maybe we’re just super-compatible, then,” you joked, smiling as you turned your head to meet his eyes.

   “Now that’s a theory I could get behind,” he grinned in return, before kissing you softly.

   When he pulled back, he took a deeper breath and managed to muster enough strength to drag his arms out from underneath you, making it more comfortable for your back. But you quickly wrapped your arms around him to make sure he stayed on top of you a little longer.    And you were ridiculously pleased when he not only remained in place, but also jutted his hips forwards to make sure he wouldn’t slip out of you yet.

   “You do realize this means I’m never letting you go again, right?” he wondered once he’d stilled, his face now directly above yours.

   You noticed that there was an edge to his voice, though. As if he was worried about something, needing to confirm he hadn’t misunderstood anything. Which felt utterly illogical to you, after what you’d just shared.    But he really seemed adamant about not making any assumptions, which made you wonder if he’d been burned before after moving too fast or maybe just not communicating well enough.

   “We’re… together now. For real, right? I get to call you mine?” he continued, and you couldn’t help but smile at the notion that he could be so insecure, even after such an amazing experience.

   But he was seriously asking, so you gave him as a clear of a response as you could come up with.

   “Yes, Marcus. I have professed my love for you and then consummated it. We’re practically married. Of course, I’m yours.    And you’re mine,” you added, which wasn’t a question but a statement, and you could tell he really liked hearing you make such a claim to him.

   He kissed you again, and when you reciprocated, letting him taste your devotion in the way you let your lips linger on his, asking for, and offering more at the same time, you felt him stir inside you.    And even though it should’ve been impossible, given you were still fucking spent and couldn’t move right, the heat somehow sparked within you again when he started slowly rolling his hips, working the sensitive nerves around your opening to get you to release a bit more lubricant for him.

   “I’ve made a decision, honey,” you hurried to tell him before you lost the ability to think again.

   “Hm. What’s that?” he hummed, already getting lost in the fresh volleys of pleasure.

   “From now on, all rights of decision-making concerning my sick days, fall to you,” you declared, and he smiled in a way which made his entire face light up, happy, giddy and definitely mischievous.

   “Careful, mi amor. Or I might just make you lose your job on purpose.”

[lettucebee17]

Hi! So, about your twst summer camp au, I'm very curious about the Octatrio. Why did they decide to move to land? Why are they going to this summer camp? How long have they been on land? Did their families approve of them going to the surface world? (I'm assuming that since humans don't know about mers in this au the mers are afraid of humans knowing about their existence in the same way they were in The Little Mermaid, correct me if I'm wrong though lol)

And any other info you wanna share about them!

Yo! You know anon, you have posed a wonderful question that you'd think I would've thought about before...

That's why these asks are so great though, because I have been thinking about this just about nonstop since receiving this ask.

First of all, the relationship between humans and merfolk is very much the same as in The Little Mermaid. Humans don't know that merfolk exist but there are plenty of myths and stories about them. Merfolk tend to steer clear of the surface for fear of the humans discovering them, they're taught from a young age to fear humans.

However, I think Azul has a lot of the same curious tendencies as Ariel - exploring old shipwrecks for things to add to his collections. Plus, he's not too content with his life under the sea due to the amount of bullying he endures for being an octopus (which is probably even more because I'm not really sure the Great Seven exist in this au?)

I think, around the time Azul was around 14 his fascination with the human world had grown to the point where he actually ended up going to the surface just to see what it was like (and naturally the tweels followed him because they were curious too and it sounded fun). After actually seeing humans for the first time, Azul started working on creating a potion that would turn him human.

Side note: merfolk don't really have innate magic in this au or anything (the tweels can't do magic at all), but some of them can make potions and such, Azul is particularly skilled at it.

I don't think the tweels' parents were ever really afraid of humans, so they find out pretty quickly what's happening and are like 'you guys do whatever you want, as long as you're enjoying yourselves.' Azul was a lot more hesitant to tell his mom his plans but she ended up finding out on her own. She's very supportive of him, she just worries about him...

Azul managed to figure out the potion when they were around 15 and they took an experimental trip to land. They lived off the coast of Sage's Island so that's where they ended up on land (which was probably good because in this au Sage's Island isn't densely inhabited and it's pretty off the grid so no one really did much about the three of them acting very strangely at first)

While they were on land that first time, Jade overheard something about the summer camp and essentially went 'you mean I can look at those cool mountains more?' and told Floyd and Azul that he wanted to go. Floyd was instantly on board, Azul was significantly less on board, wary of how well they could blend in.

Obviously Azul gets talked into it and he takes a little while to perfect the potion before he feels confident it won't wear off randomly while they're at camp. Unfortunately, they don't really understand the concept of registering for a summer camp or anything so they just kind of show up the day it starts. Luckily for them, Crowley doesn't really care so he just lets them stay. Azul insists they actually sign up correctly the next year though.

At this point they've managed to remain undiscover at camp, although Floyd has had some close calls because he gets itchy when he stays in human form too long.

Azul also very quickly started to enjoy camp and very much enjoys his human form (mostly because he has the same number of legs as everyone else so no one can bully him about it.)

All in all, camp is pretty much just a way for them to experience human culture and explore the human world and they've all made friends(?) so they're having a great time.

Sorry if this is kind of rambly, I went a little stream of consciousness...

I'm just very excited about this au!

[cr0ftisprocrastinating]

Crofty! My favorite and beloved academia Dramione writer! Will you be a student again this year? What is the back to school season like for you?

I also want to ask, how do you set intentions for the beginning of the semester/school year and make sure that you stay committed to them? How do you balance separate writing projects with your coursework?

In addition, would you be willing to share advice for a reader halfway through her undergraduate degree? For context, I’ve had some rough setbacks in my first two years, but I’m really eager to prove myself. I want to build back my GPA and earn my way into a humanities PhD program.

Thanks so much! I hope your academic years are wonderful (in the true old meaning of the word!) and give you great joy, wisdom and inspiration.

#ADHDinacademia #PhD #dramione #darkacademia #hogwarts #oxford #oxbridge #ivyleague #columbia #manuscript #marauder #hermionegranger #undergradwoes #lumos

Sweet Piedra! Happy September, aka the best month of the whole year! (it may or may not include my birthday).

I will be a student this year again! I'm just about to start my second year as a phd student (programs in the UK are usually 3-4 years, so I'm nearly halfway through already?!).

The biggest advice I can give about studying is firstly: wanting to do well is the first step to doing well in anything, so you are already a good chunk of the way there!

2. pick things that you are naturally interested in (for option papers). Life is a hell of a lot easier when you're not making it harder for yourself, even if you think you *should* be studying something bc it sounds impressive (personally, I am not into Russian Literature at all, so I just don't force myself to slog through Crime and Punishment, etc. This simple realisation improved my life by at least 100%)

3. Do as much reading as you can. When I did my undergrad I was so surprised at how little reading people did lol, and doing the reading makes a big difference. The Professors have made the reading lists for a reason and they want to help you.

4. Utilise office hours! It took me ages to realise that I can just...go to the office hours and talk to the people who were teaching me. Go in person if you can. Talk them through your essay plans and they will course correct before they're marked. Let them know that you're interested in pursuing it further, and find out what they think you need to do to fill in any gaps you may have. Don't be discouraged if they're short with you, bc academics are a weird bunch.

5. Try not to be so focused on an end result that you forget to enjoy what you're doing right now. Romanticise the hell out of your life whenever you can. It's short!

In terms of my 'process' (sorry this is SO long):

This term is going to be pretty hectic! In addition to my PhD I work Tuesdays and Wednesdays at a corporate job to help pay the bills. I have funding, but funding in the arts is just...not enough.

I will also be teaching this semester for the first time ever (yay!) so I have reading lists and essay questions to put together before Oct. That's every other week though, so it's not too much work.

My supervisors and I try to get a 'chunk' of my thesis written a term (8-10k roughly). I have about 8k due at the end of this month as I have written 2 chunks over the summer, and will have another due at the end of term in Dec.

Also, I've been asked to give a talk about my research at the end of the semester which I am SO excited about, but it means I'll be adapting one of my thesis chapters for that, too! :)

Broadly speaking I do fanfic writing Tuesday and Wednesday evenings, as after grown-up-job-things my brain is too toasted for academic work. When I'm getting to the end of a story however I get real itchy fingers and have to get all the words out as quickly as possible, so I let a lot of other things slide, like cleaning or cooking or washing my hair or also doing my work. Gross, I know, but I've never been particularly functional when I have an idea in my head.

However, I do believe that if you are busy then you are more productive. I have 2 modes: INSANE or blob. I do not recommend this approach, but that is just the way that I'm wired. Today, for instance, I spent the entire day in bed. Tomorrow I really must go back to the library.

Oxford terms are only 8 weeks long, and honestly no matter how prepared I am at the beginning, by halfway through I'm clinging on by a thread. I try not to be too hard on myself when that happens, and focus on getting my work done and not keeping my house clean or whatever else I've decided to beat myself up about.

My username is about procrastinating for a reason. I just kind of productively procrastinate and then at some point everything just gets done?

Some personal mantras:

'everything in moderation, including moderation'

'say yes and figure it out later'

'the work comes first' (normally I say this to try and galvanize myself into staying in the library when I want to go to the pub)

'fuck it' (said when the pub wins out)

'it'll get done, because it has to' (said when I have a week to write 4,000 words because i've procrastinated too close to the sun, again)

[psuedovillainz]

A Life Worth Living - Chapter 4

(TW: Physical and Verbal abuse, attempted murder)

When Tomura got home, driven by his Mom, he was due for an application of some of his medicinal skin cream, though it never did much to help. He was sitting in her lap, watching his toy train drive around it's track idly. The sight was eerily familiar. He could never just... stop itching, scratching at his skin. And his memories retained clearly why. 

His mother warned as she gently applied the cream to the scarring around his eyes, "Tenko, what did I tell you? Stop scratching, it's only going to get worse."

"Mom-" He shook his head slightly, uncomfortable, "I told you, it's the house! I'm only itchy in here...!"

Nao sighed, shaking her head. She gazed into the backyard wistfully, as if something else was occupying her thoughts. After a moment, her gaze returned to Tenko, "Tenko... do you... still want to be a hero?"

He could remember his past answer clearly, the naivety echoing in the back of his mind: 

A past Tenko explained half-heartedly in response, "Yeah, because no one wanted to play with Mikkun and Tomo-chan. So I said, let's play together! We played heroes and it was super fun! Mikkun said 'You should be All Might, Ten!' And it was really nice, even though they don't have any other friends." It was past that point where his thoughts delved darker, thinking about his father's violent disapproval of heroes, and how upset it made him. A lot more went through Tenko's mind than the adults around him ever though. Though now he could probably be able to tell the difference between his father judging him for wanting to be a hero and judging his overall character, as a child, you can't tell at all.

Tenko surged forward, hugging his mother tightly, tears threatening to spill from his sore eyes, "Mommy, why does Father say No all the time? Does he hate me? Will he like me once I get my quirk?!"

Tomura already knew all he needed to about him, he had no need to ask all those pointless questions anymore.

Coldly, he answered, just as his prolonged silence was starting to worry his Mom, "I dunno, Mom."

Nao's brows furrowed in confusion, "Really? That's unlike you, Tenko... Are you alright?"

Tomura briefly considered hugging his mother again. Very briefly. He shut his eyes and looked away from his mother, pained, "I mean... I could get a bad quirk, or even... no quirk at all. That wouldn't make a very good hero."

"A bad quirk, where'd you get that idea, Tenko?"

Tomura continued rambling, "Or, my quirk wouldn't be strong enough. Isn't that why Father hates it? Why he hates me being a hero? Me being too weak to fight?"

"Tenko...? How do you..." Nao's expression hardened, before she whispered, bringing her child in to caress his head comfortingly, "Tenko, I don't know where you're getting these ideas from, but I know your father doesn't hate you at all. He just doesn't want you to get hurt."

"He thinks I'm weak."

Nao sighed, shaking her head, "Now's not the time to talk about this, okay? Let's just finish this up, and then I'll make dinner, okay?"

Tomura stayed silent, what he always figured the best thing to do was when he was sour.

---

Dinner was fine, but this whole situation was starting to grow old on Tomura. How badly he wanted to get out of this loop of live, avoid trouble, eat, sleep. It bored him to no end. For once, he was actually craving a return to his life in crime.

It occurred to him, that his father might let him be a hero this time, if they were even somewhat aware of his thoughts at this moment. At least, if they even would believe him. But it wasn't exactly believable that their supposedly quirkless toddler was actually the reincarnation of an infamous serial killer with the power to destroy everything, from a person, to the core of the earth thousands of miles below their feet. It sounded like the typical crazy story any old kid could come up with. The only indication of truth would really be how verbose he was now.

He let his mind stop thinking about it, tuning back into reality to hear his grandparents justify his father's cruel actions to his face. Maybe he should've kept thinking about being a villain after all. At least, that was until he heard Hana from behind him:

"Ten! Hey Ten!"

She had been poking around their father's study, and just appeared to have found what she wanted to show Tenko.

The feeling Tomura felt at that moment looking at Hana wasn't something he could describe. It was similar to Deja Vu, but oh so different. Dread caused his heart to sink into his stomach and his heartbeat to pang inside his head, and nausea to start making him feel lightheaded. It was pure horror. He had to get away. 

Desperately, he scrambled off, outside and away from the house, the itch all over him growing persistent. And that's where he found Mon. Thank god... The sun was just starting to set, and a neon yellow ball neatly sat atop a clump of grass. Tomura needed to relax, being here... It was somehow more stressful than his life of crime... He called Mon over, picking up the ball and waving it around. "Hey Mon! C'mere!"

The corgi, from across the lawn, perked up, and bounded towards Tomura. The boy hadn't known how much he missed this simple pastime.

"Go... Get it!"

As he tossed the ball, a sudden itching pain covered his skin, making Tomura yelp, "O-Ow-! Huh?"

Half of the ball had crumbled by the moment it hit the ground. And Tomura heard a faint crying in the distance under the sudden ringing in his ears, and following it, a looming presence behind him created a shadow. Reluctantly, Tenko looked behind him.

"Tenko, did you get into my study?" Kotaro did not ask, but accused. His hand was already raised.

No...! I didn't, I swear! I was innocent this time, I-... But his intents could not be heard as terror constricted it's grip on his throat.

By the door, Hana was clinging onto their mother's skirt, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivers as she pleaded, "No! I just wanted to show him something, I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

Tomura had forgotten how much more those few words made the following slap hurt. A sharp impact, stinging on his cheek, as he was knocked onto the ground. A new, burning feeling resonated in his chest. But the child inside him didn't let it surface for more than a second. A second that was used to shoot an unnoticed crimson glare up at his father.

"As punishment, you'll be spending the evening out here again." His father made his final remarks before returning inside.

---

By the time the sun had set, Tomura was huddled against the fence. Anger and turmoil boiling under his skin in the uncomfortably hot, humid air of summer. His whole body was covered in a crawling itch that the pollen and bugs and dirt outside never consoled, only exemplified with the resentment he was still holding towards his father. That resentment he was always taught to hold in his heart and fester. He never knew what else to do with it, so fester it did.

And again, he was in the same terrifying predicament. This time it had to go different, it had to. Mon-chan was whimpering next to him, snuggling up against him to try and get pets. "-Sorry Mon-chan...", his voice was barely present in his throat, full of agony as he tried to console the puppy, the only member of his household he still held care for at this particular moment, "I can't pet you..."

Mon gave a defeated whimper before laying up against Tomura. If the night could just keep being like this... Maybe things would be better. Maybe if he was just quiet enough, his goddamned father would never come out here, and-

It was then that the door to outside opened, the silhouette of his sister bounding towards him, "Tenko! I... I wanted to say sorry! I didn't want to get you in trouble, I just-" She stepped a little too close for comfort.

Tomura flinched at the quick approach, his hands sweeping across the concrete and landing on the fence behind him, "Stop! Don't get any closer!" He had a little more spirit in his voice this time.

Mon-chan yelped and jumped away as he felt the ground shift under his paws, Hana and Tomura reacting in tandem. The fence behind him crumbled from the bottom up, causing the top to almost fall on top of the boy, whose appearance was slowly changing, the hairs atop his head growing greyer the more he destroyed. The ground underneath Hana's feet collapsed, and she screamed in shock, falling over and scraping her arm.

The ground had become lumpy and uneven, and a certain silence had taken over the Shimura household. Tomura just almost killed his sister and Mon, again! His skin grew more and more itchy, and his heartbeat grew faster, and the dust on his skin made it feel unsufferably dry like it always did after a fight. Adrenaline, hate, and panic building, growing. Then his father and his mother opened the door.

"What is going on out here, do I need to punish you more, Tenko?! Did you not already learn your lesson?!"

That was it. He wasn't taking any more of this. He had the power to stop it! He knew he did.

Everything but Kotaro in his vision blurred, his skin already rubbed raw and inflamed like his patience. And he found himself getting up and stalking towards his father, his toes activating Decay on the ground around him, creating sharp, rigid land formations in their oh-so "perfect" lawn that had Hana and Mon running off to the more isolated corners.

"Tenko...!" Kotaro warned.

Get rid of him, get rid of the incessant itch. You've done it once before. You can do it again.

Tomura's internal voice was starting to distort.

With every step, Kotaro grew more apprehensive, and Tomura lost more and more pigment in his body, the black vanishing from his irises and hair. The more and more he felt like himself again.

But just as he was getting close, his tunnel vision hadn't let him see the garden shears his father had grabbed. Suddenly, Tomura felt an impact, a pulsing sting in his lip, and tasted the oh-so familiar taste of blood.

His father cried, "GET BACK, TENKO!"

That does it.

Tomura leaped forward, the only voices in his brain begging for father to be gone and dead, for that tortuous itch to be gone and dead!

Then his mother tackled them and grabbed his wrist.

"Tenko, please stop!" She wept, horror in her eyes. And suddenly all that adrenaline pumping through Tomura was gone, down the drain. He clenched his fist and tore his hand away, stumbling back and falling over.

Hyperventilating, his eyes welled up with tears, his heart once again sunken and leaving him nauseous. Not even the crickets or cicadas sang to console the moment. Only the grotesque sounds of anguished sobbing and scratching wounds into his skin from Tomura echoed through the night.

All his family could do was stand and watch in shock as Tomura realized he almost did it again, he almost killed his mom. And more importantly to the rest of his family, who he could see circling him, and staring at him like hungry buzzards, he tried to kill his father...

[the-firebird69]

He's making jokes and they are funny you say this is bja and he's saying where redheads and you can tell she comes up and says I think you're Brown and he says you're Brown and she goes yes and stuff like that and he says how am I supposed to tell so they're kind of arguing now this is a quarter horse they're very beefy and they're different breeds of horse. Now these people are saying that it's not the year and the quarter horse is his ebike and now they're saying no that's not true it starts now and it doesn't take long for it to end and it's your end and his and all the stuff is what they're saying about us it's just wanted to go to Saturn and stick your head in the urn. So anyways I'm starting to get this and there were two of them s*** that's was biting me okay a flea is biting him it sucks these damn things is so damn itchy he's got some stuff up but oh Christ do they suck. We are in tune to what he's saying it's due to this confusion a German motor could be considered powerful but not that powerful a buckboard is like a pickup truck it's not that little truck that motor is nothing it'll hard to get you around when two people are in it and it works but it's just not powerful and right now it doesn't work at all and it's not opened he said this buckboard is like a buckboard and it comes with a bench seat and it's very arcane it's out of wood and that's it. People came up with how to make a cushion and their hope they're a bunch of different types A lot of pillows and they get squished flat pretty quick so they make like a hefty one some of them worked okay with certain things and he thought maybe lambswool it'll be like a foot high and you sit down and it wouldn't squish all the way cuz you'd make it like a compact pillow he's right I went down to like 3 in it was still kind of soft but it wasn't it was really weird and you can't let it get wet and that was a big ass problem it gets wet and it's like sitting on a wet newspaper we have a lot of problems back then so I put springs in a seat and leather seat and leather to keep the springs together and it filled it with lamb hair and you have to keep it dry and I said good so I'm using it one day and I put a cover on it when it rains and it works it's a modern seat everyone has them now I heard make it well cuz everybody is just still using that and they are so I've thought all sorts of evil s*** then I thought I could be the adventure of the seat and he has a version of it it's similar it was a nice idea and we had springs some sorts they were not made with a coil but they were springs and it worked and he said you could put a board even because the springs are kind of hard that works as well now I didn't think it would but it did made a huge difference.

And he changed the design a little and I thought it was smart but this might be what it is and it's a buckboard with like a tractor motor and it's a vehicle so I think I know what that is

Tommy f

What the hell is that well it's something that moves stuff around on the farm

Hera

Olympus

[whatididtday]

Sept 16/Saturday

I woke up at 7:30

Had amazing dosas as breakfast and studied

I purchased Scrimba pro subscription so I can study more, I'm giving myself 6 months to get ahead and get a job by the end of six month

Studied for two hours and added it in my calendar

I feel very interested in Front end and I really hope I keep loving it and make a career out of it

Wasn't able to sleep in the afternoon, skin feels itchy - probably because of the swimming and not showering propley after the day before lmao

Didn't feel like going to swimming but cause I pinky promised the kids at the pool I'll go, I went.

I reached the pool at 5:55 ish and got in the pool by 6:00

In fifiten minutes the fourth grader - Di came in the pool and said'' I didn't feel like coming today but as I promised you, I came''.

It was v sweet, she was saying stuff that kids say like counting the laps wrong lmao and clinging on to me. I still tried swimming propley and I did 13 rounds.

Stamina is p low but I swim fast

The second kid, Gi also came soon after and both were pushing me to play with them and not swim

Another kid joined in our smol circle , I didn't get get name propely but I am sure it started with S.

10 mins before 7, three of these kiddos asked me to play with them. Kids really do be playing the weirdest games, they said it's truth and dare but it was not really that xD

The rules were each player will ask five questions, and you'll have to give an answer that's not the truth (?) and do it fast, else you are disqualified.

They asked me the following questions : what's the color of your swimsuit, as it was blue and black, I had to say anything but those colors so I said red.

Then they asked me what's the color of the pool, what's the color of the shirt of the person on the right side out of the pool and when I turned to look they days no no you can't look and tell, you have to guess but if you guess right you are out xD kids be scary

Then they asked me my age xD anf I said 98 and they all gasped and said you are out, you can't tell your age!!! I died laughing, so kids think I'm 98 years old, like oof, I understand they are like 8-10 year old kids but still. Then I started joking that I'm so old like a Granma if I keep playing I might die if exhaustion as I'm 98 years old xD and they were like "no no you are not that old, you are very very young" in an attempt to not hurt my feelings and make me feel included

Kids are sweet, I've been terrified of them cuz they say some nasty stuff and yet are so fragile bit these kids were super sweet and it felt very nice. I never got to play much after I was 8 years old due to my dad getting transferred every three years due to his work, and thus I poured my life into books and school.

Now playing wuth these tiny kids feel like a part of smol me healing as she never got to play like this

I hope it also means that as the days go by I'll keep healing and experience all the happiness and love I've always wanted and needed.

After swimming they waited for me to get changed, I usually do not comb hair after swimming and drying my hair as anyways I'll go home directly and I don't care tbh, but cuz yday the tiny one was like Owo why you no comb hair, I got it and I combed and the tiny one was like wow sis you look very pretty after combing your hair, and looked at me with her wide eyes with so much awe, it made me feel very nice cuz the innocence of a child is unmatched.

Then the second kid Gi and I walked till she reached her home which is stones throw from the pool. On the way home, I saw many frogs and I couldn't help myself but try to catch one like a kid till I saw a group of ladies walking past me and I felt embarrassed and ran back home.

I was v excited to tell someone about this, the swimming pool thing, I knew I was going to video call with my partner at night anyways, but I couldn't wait so I told my mom about it and she laughed and said that kids are attracted towards nice soul, so you should be proud of yourself.

I made tea for myself after that anf I tried to get some study done but I couldn't

I was tired and I just didn't feel like doing anything so I played pogo and texted J (pardner) here and there

Then after dinner, we video called.

I told them the whole story about the swimming pool and they laughed, then they told they'll be staying at their holiday house with their fam tomorow and it made me a bit sad cuz if means tomorrow no videocalls and I feel very upset about being upset and it tbh. I didn't tell them that, I wished to talk longer but it wasn't possible as they were vvv sleepy.

I played Pogo the whole night till 3,then I discovered I got periods uwu.

I assure tons of chips in the sofa downstairs to cope lol.

[villxinmiixx]

their darling with anger issues and an itching problem hcs

characters; all for one, shigaraki tomura, gigantomachia, dabi

♡ extreme anger issued reader, the reader itches their body when they get mad

♡ genre; extreme fluff, comfort, sort of cringe, idk i was mad and needed comfort from my villains <;/3

♡ extra; ooc all for one?

♡ note; i got angry from something and now im writing about it, also sorry for not posting fics!! ;( been really unmotivated and didn't know what to write even though i had a lot of drafts and asks with ideas already.

﹫ ALL FOR ONE; he thinks it's adorable when you get pissed off, and admirable when he sees you letting out your anger on a poor not-so innocent soul. he supports the whole idea of you killing someone (that's actually guilty of something) when you're angry. but he quickly realizes you're similar to tomura when you start itching your neck, your wrists, your arms, your calves, your scalp, etc.

ㅤwhen you start doing that near him he'll come to you and put his large hand on top of your head, pulling you closer when he put his other hand on your waist, and tug you into his embrace. smelling your hair and telling you to breathe slowly.

ㅤhe found out you have this problem when you were itching like crazy over not being able to do your hair right.

ㅤ“sweetheart, are you alright? ” he came up to you with a concerned face ( or a molded face with slightly frowned lips ) while he took your wrist to stop you from itching the side of your face. “huh? oh yeah! im fine, don't worry about it hunny! something just bit the side of my face and it was itchy. hehe ” you made up an excuse.

ㅤhe could practically feel your heartbeat going faster due to the tension. you smile while you grew nervous. you don't wanna make him worry, he's already too busy trying to make plans to end hero society. you don't wanna be a burden to him.

ㅤall for one lifted you up from the chair you sat on and hoisted your butt using his arms while your own was wrapped around his neck, your chin laying on his shoulder.

ㅤ“i know something terrible happened in your past for you to have this issue but i assure you i'll be with you every step of the way, and i want you to be beside me when i put japan onto it's knees. ” he told you in his soothing deep voice, you started tearing up. you pushed your face onto your husband's shoulder, feeling actual care coming from him.

﹫ SHIGARAKI TOMURA; whenever you get frustrated over the smallest things he'd look at you dumb founded before telling you to calm down while he wrapped an arm around your back and rubbing your forearm... as you itched away the skin on your wrists.. ( without him knowing )

ㅤhe only realized that you had an itching problem after dabi pointed out that you have one. “yo, shig. didn't know your bitch has an itching problem like you back then. ” “the fuck are you talking about, dabi. ” “yo ass don't know? she itches her skin each time she gets mad. ” your boyfriend stared at the black haired lieutenant. the fucking hell is this burnt fuck talkin' about?

ㅤhe didn't exactly know what to do; should he trust dabi and talk to you about it or just play it off as some weird joke. again, he didn't know what to do or should do. so he just checked up on you at random, ( surprisingly ) most of the times you weren't angry when he did. so of course he decided to just play it off as a weird joke dabi said.

ㅤbut one day he catched you itching your arm furiously as you screamed at an PLF worker for making an idiotic decision, he screamed at your name and you stopped itching and yelling at the unfortunate worker.

ㅤyou turned back to your normal nature clasping your hands and saying “yes, dear? ” flowers decorating your aura. “follow me. ” he said you gladly followed after shooting a quick glare at the person you were yelling at awhile ago.

ㅤwhen you and tomura were in a more private area you asked him if he needed you to help him with something.. or something - but he shook his head and placed his hands on your shoulder blades. “whenever you get pissed and start itching yell out my name, i'll be here to calm you down. ” “wh- what are you talking about? ” you start laughing off what your dearly beloved boyfriend told you, a sweat dropping from your face.

ㅤ“[your/name], you know what i'm talking about. ” his grip on your shoulders tightened. “hey you don't need to worry i'm fine! i don't have an itching problem! ” you smile warm heartedly. he took your arm and showed the red scratch marks on it. “eh- i swear it only happens sometimes, it's oka- ” before you can countinue your sentence he pulled you into a hug. mumbling comforting words in your ear, telling you it's okay. everything will be okay.

﹫ GIGANTOMACHIA; he didn't notice that quickly since of course, he's large and your height is not that able to compare to his. he found out when you were itching both your arms so strongly to the point you started bleeding, the smell of metallic and the sound of itching made him wonder. he looked around but there was no one there, it was just you and him. he examined you more and realized you're the reason why there's a metallic scent in the air and the sound of itching.

ㅤ“master... what are you doing? ” he asked, you stopped itching. “ah, machia i thought you were still sleeping. ” you smiled up at him rubbing your arms and pulling down the sleeves of your clothing. “master.. ” he frowned, while your sweat dropped. he lifted you up using a finger and laid you on the palm of his large hand.

ㅤ“master, you may always tell me if you have a problem you and master all for one know more than anyone i can defeat your enemies if any of you told me to. ” even when gigantomachia had a terrifying appearance, he's a sweetheart at times.

ㅤyou held his chin with your small hands are kissed his nose “thank you, machia. but i'm alright, really. it's just a small habit, it won't affect me that much. ” you smiled at him, a blush formed on your cheeks knowing he cared about you and would rather die than live alone if you or all for one left him, all alone.

﹫ DABI; “compress stop protesting, my bitch managed to hit more idiots than you. ” your boyfriend smugly smirked at his co-worker, while compress stared at him and sighed.

ㅤyou started itching your knees and legs out of frustration from not being able to full combo a song in pjsk ( project sekai ) a few minutes later you started itching your neck and the side of your face.

ㅤdabi started getting concerned, so he stood up from the comfortable sofa and went towards you. your boyfriend's arms snaked around your waist, placing his hand on your hip before he lead you to his room. dabi entered the room, his hand still on your hip while he turned the dim light on.

ㅤ“you okay, baby?” dabi asked, settling you down on his messy bed. your boyfriend's hands on the sides of your arms awaiting your answer. “i'm fine i just got a bit frustrated is all!” you replied, a sweat dropping down your face. dabi's lazy eyes stare at your face then slowly descended to your neck, he leaned into you and started kissing your neck and collarbone. a small blush appeared on your features, your face still frowning.

ㅤwhen dabi was finished kissing your neck, he pecked on your lips. “let's go to sleep early. how's that sound, doll?” he asked. “okay.. ” you said before dabi fixed your position on his bed. discarding his jacket, shirt and pants leaving him in his boxers. dabi placed himself beside you. you automatically wrap one of your legs on his waist and bundled up on his chest. your head laid on his masculine arm while his hand entangled itself in your hair, he put his free hand on your lower back moving it up and down.

ㅤnight's like these weren't that rare, but it didn't happen all the time either. so you enjoyed every second of it, and so did your lover. he cares, it's obvious. when later that night while you were asleep he put ointment on the places you've been scratching.

[kitty-on-the-brink]

Dear world. Dear those who have the power to stop this. Dear people who could make a change but won’t

By the time you get this it will be too late

For days upon end this month fires have raged and burned, yet you say ‘it’s not that bad! The smoke is fine to breathe’, and you continue to heal the promises you made as you dig another oil line.

This week has started for me with a heat wave, sweat dribbling down my legs, and an itchy nose from all the polen. Storms have been raging on the evenings, and as much as I like storms -for they are very calming- I can’t help but think that the storm’s usually come after the summer, not right at the beginning. Or just before, even, in spring. But no, here are the storms and the heat waves in June.

It wasn’t this warm this time last year, or the year before, or the year before that. Or any year I can remember in fact. We had to switch out our winter duvets for the summer ones much sooner this year, and already I don’t want to have a blanket on my bed at all. I hate the sounds of the plug in fans whirring through the night; this country doesn’t come with air-con in the houses, just some fancy schools and offices for rich workers ran by richer people. I bet they have air-con in parliament, where they sit and discuss the rising temperatures, melting ice caps, and never seem to really do anything about it.

Did you know that just stop oil disrupted a flower festival last week? I wouldn’t choose that particular place myself, but it’s admirable work when the government won’t listen any other way, and the news will not report the legal non-disruptive work. And yet my friend, who was writing a book about climate change when we were eleven, still called them the morons. Funny that.

I feel guilty, every time I have a tuna sandwich or get driven down into town when I could have walked. I really shouldn’t. And yet rich people who could speak out and make a difference take half an hour trips on private jets and feel no remorse. It saves them time and convenience. And they eat rare caviar. Big oil and fossil fuel companies that destroy habitats and pump out atmosphere destroying gasses only care about the money they receive and not the impact that what they are doing has. They don’t care that a rare species of bird just went extinct. That a polar bear cub didn’t make it out of its first weeks after I near starved then drowned due to their not being enough ice or food around.

Dear people, while you sit back and watch this happen, just know that you will be dead before this get too bad, and I’ll be left to pick up your mess. I’d not want to go into politics. I want to act or dig up segments of the past and marvel over what happened. But I might just need to take a seat at that table to get things to go right.

[fastlikealambo]

link to chapter one.

link to chapter two.

Fall of 94′: Eddie Munson x Black Reader Chapter 3

summary:

it’s been nearly 8 years since the events of hawkins and out of the entire party, the only one to stay behind is the one and only eddie munson. with a five year old daughter in tow, his life is a simple one, still trying to escape the dark cloud over him that never went away.

but when all too familiar hellish events start happening again eddie must team up with his daughter’s favorite and mysterious new teacher to protect his little girl and the town he owes nothing to.

warnings: violence, gore,  religious trauma,  soft dom! eddie, discussions of mental health and ptsd,  praise kink,  smut to end all smut,  hawkins indiana is a warning to me.  minors dni

yall aint ready for this chapter

When you got to your classroom, you already had a visitor in the form of Vice Principal Carver, itchy ill fitting suit and all, sitting in your desk chair.

“Good morning Principal Carver, how can I help you?” You asked, trying not to cringe as the man put his feet on your desk, resting them on top of your kids’ art projects. 

“ Principal Tucker  is checking in with all our staff this morning about yesterday’s events. There will be an assembly for the students later on this afternoon but I told him I wanted to see you personally.” He said, finally standing to his feet and sauntering up to you.

“Oh, well that’s very nice of your Principal Carver but I’m fine. It was a difficult day but the kids and I got through it the best we could.” 

“We’ve heard such good things about your class so far, your teachers across the hall have nothing but nice things to say about you.”

“That’s good to hear.” You said with a small smile he did not return but instead moved closer to you than what was necessary.

“ It’s almost like you were dropped out of the sky, sent to help us in our time of need.  You know I don’t think Tucker ever told me what school you were at prior to Hawkins?  I haven’t had a chance to read over your file just yet.”

“I was at Abbott Elementary in Philadelphia, left for a change of pace. Is there something I can do for you Principal Carver?  My students will be in from breakfast in a few minutes and I need to get things started.”  You said, putting some bass in your voice. 

That made him smile and he pointed  at the name on the desk in the back.

“Rose Munson is also why I’m here. Should you have any issues with her, you will come to me directly.”

“I should?”

“ Her embarrassment of a father  went to school with my late brother, so I feel it is my responsibility to make sure his offspring is brought to heel as early as possible.  You are new to Hawkins and you are unaware of the good and bad this town has to offer so I trust you’ll keep an eye on things?”

“With all due respect Vice Principal Carver, should I have any issues with any of my students I will handle it myself and with their parents should it escalate to that.  I may be unaware of certain things in this town but I’m not unaware of how to protect my students, Rosie Munson included.  Now if you’ll excuse me-

You’re interrupted when the actual principal pops his head in, flanked by two police officers. Your heart is in your throat but they don’t even look in your direction.

“Carver, we’ve got a situation, let’s go. “ Tucker explains.

“Hawkins is a good town full of good people, it might be in your best interest to come to heel like everyone else.” Carver whispered in your ear before leaving.

The moment he steps through the threshold of the classroom, every single door in the hallway slams closed, including yours.

As if on cue, a few of your kids come racing in, putting away their stuff, no knowledge of what had just transpired.

You quickly wipe the blood from your nose and greet your students as the rest file in.

“Good morning class!”

“Good morning Miss!”  They recite back, taking their seats.

“ Now yesterday was pretty tough and it’s okay if you were scared. It’s okay if you’re still scared right now but you don’t have to be, as long as I am here, you should never be afraid of anything. What does Miss always say?”

“ Rain or shine, if we work together we’ll be just fine.”

“ Exactly. Now we’re gonna take it easy today so take your color pencils and we'll draw for a bit, how does that sound?”

“Yay!”

“ Great, let’s get started and then if anyone would like to, we can share something fun we're doing this weekend.”

The day ends quieter than it started and with a big hug from Rosie, you send them off to their buses in the pouring rain.

It’s dark  by the time you leave school but you’re not too worried.

Carver be damned, today was a good day.

A day for the longest time you’d never thought to be possible, a prepared daydream during your worst days, silly to others but so important  to you risked everything for it.

Everything was going to be fine.

Except for the brief moment you took your eyes off the road, glancing at the bandana in your passenger seat only to look up and see someone standing in the middle of the road.

The last thing you see before your car crashes into a tree is the figure in the road coming into full view.

A girl in a cheerleading uniform.

“Before we wrap up for today, how have you been sleeping Eddie? Any more nightmares?”

Eddie sighed, ceasing playing with his rings, careful in the way he answers his therapist. He called them for an emergency appointment after Rosie’s horror story yesterday and immediately regretted that decision seeing as “ I think the hell spawn from another dimension that nearly killed me is back and wants a rematch” was not an acceptable answer to “ what brings you in today?”

“The pills help but I don’t like them. I mean,what if Rosie needs something in the middle of the night and I’m so under I can’t hear her?”

“We can lower the dosage if that’s what you’d like but I think we need to build a better framework for combating your anxiety. There’s something at the root of all this that we haven’t explored yet and when you’re ready, we can do that.  Do you feel meeting me today helped?”

“As much as it could.” He responded, the first honest answer he had given since he walked in.

“You know, you won’t give me the exact details of what happened to you and that’s alright, maybe you’ll never be ready to disclose that.  Whatever happened to you, you came out the other side of it, Eddie. Something terrible happened to you but that doesn’t make you any less of a person or a father.”

“You sure about that, Doc?”

“ Mr. Munson, your life is not a series of atonements and at the heart of the matter, you only change what’s right in front of you.  I’ll see that we get you a new prescription and let’s get you scheduled for another session soon.”

 They exchanged goodbyes and feeling no better than when he came in, headed to the nearest payphone to check in with Wayne and his wife who were watching Rosie for the weekend.

Night munchkin, be good for Uncle Wayne, okay?”

“I’m always good Daddy!”

First night alone in months, he didn’t know if he was  looking forward to or afraid of the quiet that  awaited him back home. 

The idea of fixing his guitar with a few beers went out the window as he drove up on a car smashed into a tree, hood still smoking in the rain.

He could keep driving, report it from a payphone and keep moving. No doubt they’d find a way to pin this on him, the final push to drive him out of Hawkins.

But Rosie wouldn’t want him to just run away and after all these years, he made a promise to himself to never run away from the dark ever again.

So that’s what led him, armed with a flashlight and a pocket knife, to emerge from his car, hoping he wouldn’t be introduced to a charred body.

“ Hello, is anybody out here? Can you hear me? I can get some help, you just need to make some noise. “ He bellowed, shining his light into the car only to see smashed glass and a bandana.

His bandana.

“Shit, shit, shit!”  The apprehension he had vanished and caused him to break out into a run on the slick road, racing around the car to check the backseat and trunk but there was no sign of you.

A whimper coming from under the car had Eddie on his knees in an instant, the flashlight rolling away from him but that didn’t stop him from reaching out a hand.

“Hang on, I’m gonna get you out! You’re gonna be okay, just don’t go into the light!”  He shouted, fumbling for your hand in the dark with one hand while grabbing the flashlight with the other.

Eddie finally managed to get the flashlight on, aiming it under the car to better see you but what he found sent him scrambling.

Before he could even cry out, the cause of his nightmares had its tail around his neck, yanking him across the road, the demobat’s grip growing tighter around his windpipe no doubt ready to make up for lost time.

This was it, the upside down had finally come to finish what it started.

At least Rosie wasn’t there to see her father die.

He’d never see his daughter again.

His vision swam, rain and lack of oxygen turning everything to a blur as he tried to reach for the switchblade in his pocket but the bat was faster, teeth mere inches away from sinking into his throat.

But then that doesn’t happen.

A wild cry split the sky as the demobat was ripped from his body, exploding like confetti in mid air before falling in pieces on the road.

Choking and sputtering, Eddie shakily got to his feet, flashlight in hand and blade out aiming in the direction of the scream only for you to come out of the shadows, soaking wet with your arm outstretched in the direction of the bat, blood dripping trickling out of your nose.

Eddie had only seen one other person bleed like that in his life.

“ I can explain.” You muttered weakly before your eyes rolled back into your head, collapsing into the rocker’s arms.

“Jesus H. Christ.”

[erimeows]

Complications

Deidara hates Itachi Uchiha. He always has and he always will- or, that’s what he tells himself. He’s in tune with himself enough to know that, at times, he can be hot-headed or jump to conclusions without any real reason to do so, but when it comes to Itachi? Well, he has plenty of reasons, and they all make sense in his head.

It’s a cold December day. Some stupid bug has been going around and Deidara has been cursed with it. Itachi has been, too, it seems, but apparently the Uchiha has one thing or another wrong with his immune system that makes him more susceptible to the symptoms of illnesses. Everyone else is out on missions, leaving them both alone in one of the rooms in the base. He thinks it’s Itachi’s. Pein demanded that they quarantine there to keep everyone else from getting sick. He also demanded that, since Deidara only has a cough and a slight fever, he should be the one taking care of Itachi to minimize the risk of anyone else getting it.

Deidara hates the thought. He hates that he became free of the Stone Village and the control they tried to have over him only to be forced into the Akatsuki so he could be controlled there, too. 

Thankfully, he at least has one solace; his art. He sits on a wooden stool at Itachi’s desk, making statues out of his clay. He doesn’t dare blow them up with Itachi in the room, though. Whatever the older man has seems like it’s a respiratory ailment, and Deidara doesn’t want to make him breathe in the smoke from his explosions while he’s trying to recover.

Wait.

He shouldn’t care about that.

Deidara shakes his head. Maybe it’s just because he’s trying to follow Pein’s orders; take care of Itachi while he’s sick, quarantine, and don’t make it worse. He clears his itchy throat and looks around for something to distract him. He follows Itachi’s charcoal eyes to a framed photo that sits on his nightstand. There’s Itachi in it, though he looks a lot younger; fuller face, brighter eyes, a small smile, even. In front of him is a little boy with a similar face and navy hair. To his left is an older teenager with ash-hued hair and stress lines akin to the one Itachi has now, and to his right is a young girl with long hair and a beauty mark. She has her arms wrapped around Itachi’s shoulders. Her smile is bright and radiant. 

It’s a little too quiet. That’s one thing that Deidara hates about Itachi; the fact that the Uchiha is so comfortable with silence. If he didn’t know better, he would say that Itachi revels in said silence because it unsettles those around him. To break the calmness in the air, Deidara speaks.

“So, who’s all in that picture with you?”

“You despise me,” Itachi says with a sickly rasp. He coughs and sits up just enough to shoot a glare in Deidara’s direction before flopping back down. Apparently, he’s grumpy when he’s sick- the opposite of Deidara, who usually becomes very affectionate. “Terribly so, in fact. Why are you acting like you want to get to know me now that we’re in a situation such as this? You’ve been talkative all day. It’s bothersome.”

Deidara pauses. The sharp words from Itachi’s end make his chest hurt, though he tries to ignore that like he tries to ignore all the other god-awful things Itachi has made him feel since they met. This has been the most talkative that Itachi has ever been with him, and of course, it’s because he’s sick and annoyed by Deidara’s presence.

“I was just curious, hm,” Deidara shrugs.

“Izumi, Shisui, and Sasuke Uchiha… Those are their names… Ah, never mind, I shouldn’t get into it. I don’t know why I even told you any of that, actually.”

Deidara’s eyes flicker back to the framed photo. He knows the many stories about Itachi Uchiha, the man who single-handedly murdered his entire family- spare his little brother. If all of it is true, that means that half the people in that picture are deceased due to Itachi himself.

“So, they’re all dead now. You killed them like you did the rest of your clan,” Deidara mutters and looks over at Itachi, who shrugs.

A non committal answer, but if the framed picture of those three by his bedside is anything to go by, then Itachi probably hasn’t accepted it. Or maybe he has and he’s just not over it. 

“Yes, you’re correct... You can leave, if you want,” Itachi murmurs. He’s lying on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Regardless of the fact that Deidara is in the room, he seems totally relaxed. Deidara is a little unsettled by it, to be honest. “I won’t tell Pein. I really don’t care what you do, Deidara. I don’t need you here to take care of me.”

Deidara rolls his sky blue eyes. If he were a worse person, he’d take advantage of Itachi’s illness and off him right now, but that just isn’t fair. He wants to beat Itachi at his best, after all… Or that’s what he tells himself. Deep down, the thought of killing Itachi under any circumstances makes his stomach drop, even if he’s been fantasizing about it for years. Itachi makes him feel things he doesn’t want to feel and having him dead would make those feelings go away. It would make life ten times easier… Right?

“You look half-dead. I don’t want to take care of you either, but if something happens, someone needs to be here, hm. If Pein shows up to a dead you and no one in sight to hold accountable, he’ll be pissed,” Deidara makes up the excuse on the fly, and surprisingly, Itachi looks convinced. “Unfortunately, the person who needs to be here just so happens to be me.”

“I see,” Itachi sits up and pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. It’s an odd posture for someone so tall and lanky, but Deidara doesn’t say anything; simply watches as Itachi rests his cheek against one of his knees. Soft-looking, feathery raven locks frame the circumference of the Uchiha’s neck and head like a halo. They’re so pretty that Deidara briefly considers cutting them off. “Tell me why some part of me was hoping you were here because you cared and not because Pein told you to be? I’m actually a little hurt.”

Deidara’s eyebrows shoot up.

Since when does Itachi care about that sort of thing?

His face flushes. Really, he could ignore Pein’s orders and leave if he wanted to. He could completely disobey Pein and try to kill Itachi right now. Itachi, however, is a subtle and reserved man who usually doesn’t question him about his motives when it comes to such things. He doesn’t question the way that Deidara spends so much time staring at him or question why Deidara purposefully starts trying to bicker with him any time they’re in a room together. It’s a game of cat and mouse, and finally, the mouse has decided to stop avoiding the cat.

Deidara refuses to give in and catch Itachi once and for all. Instead, he stands from his chair, crosses his arms, and starts pacing around the room with his back turned to where Itachi is sitting on the bed.

“I don’t know what gave you the impression that I’m physically capable of caring about you,” Deidara crosses his arms over his chest and looks away from Itachi. 

“I’m not sure what gave me that impression, either,” Itachi says in a hushed whisper. “You have my sincerest apologies.”

Silence hits the room once more, and again, Deidara is uncomfortable. All he can really here is the cacophony of low-pitched noise that is the mixture of his own heartbeat slamming in his ears and Itachi’s sniffly, wheezy breaths.

“Hm,” Deidara starts up. “As strong as you are, I would’ve never guessed that a bug would take you down like this.”

And, to his shock, Itachi laughs. Not a chuckle, not a small smile, but a deep, genuine laugh characterized by him throwing his head back and laughing so hard into the cold air that it starts his cough back up. Deidara snaps his head back around to observe. When Itachi manages to clear the cough with a few slaps to his chest, he shakes his head, grins up at Deidara, and speaks again. 

“You’d be surprised at all the things that could take me down, Deidara.”

Deidara quirks a brow and scrutinizes the wistful look in Itachi’s dark eyes for a few seconds longer than he honestly should.

“Care to give me a list?” He prods in a manner that makes Itachi shake his head. 

“No. I don’t want to make it too easy for you, lest you get bored with your fantasies of blowing me into unidentifiable pieces once you realize just how easy it would be.”

“You must be screwing with me.”

Itachi looks up. His eyes pour into the one of Deidara’s that’s visible, two orbs of charcoal burning into a pool of blue.

“Am I? Am I really?”

A few days pass. Deidara and Itachi both recover from whatever sickness it was that they had. Sasori was even kind enough to help out with some medical ninjutsu to heal the soreness in Deidara’s throat. As much as a mean bastard as the puppeteer can be, there are times where he’s actually quite helpful, hence why Deidara has gone to him for advice a handful of times in the past. Tonight is no different.

“What is it, brat?” Sasori spits without so much as turning from where he’s sat at his so called ‘art’ station, nimble wooden hands fast at work to adjust the threads of a new puppet.

Deidara lingers in his open doorway, his own hands clutching the wooden edge. He gulps and starts to speak.

“Can I get some advice?”

“Advice of what variety?” Sasori asks coldly.

Admittedly, the puppeteer is less than comforting and far from compassionate, but that’s just how Deidara likes his people. It makes things less awkward when situations such as this one come to light. 

“I’m… Not sure how to define it,” Deidara responds and stims by running his nails up and down the rough wooden surface of the doorway. His heart beats a little faster in his chest than it normally would. “Interpersonal, maybe?”

At that, Sasori sets his work down, turns in his chair, and faces Deidara with crossed arms and raised eyebrows.

“As in a relationship with another person?”

“Hm, yeah,” Deidara nods and slowly but surely eases out of the doorway so he can sit in front of Sasori on the carpet. The bedroom door is half-shut behind him. “Something like that.”

“Spill.”

“There’s this person that I like… Romantically,” He starts to explain with a rose blush dusting the tops of his cheekbones. Sasori appears interested yet simultaneously unamused. “They hinted the other day that they may like me back, but they have a habit of pushing away anyone who’s interested in getting to know them. I don’t know why they’re that way, but it’s frustrating as fuck and every time I think I’ve made some progress they push me away again.”

Sasori shrugs.

“I think you have a simple problem with a simple solution.”

Deidara pauses, opens his mouth to speak, and allows it to fall shut again. Simple? He has not a semblance of a clue as to how anything regarding his relationship with Itachi could be considered simple. It’s a complicated issue with a solution that he has yet to figure out, because every solution he’s thought of has a vast list of negative complications that could come with trying to implement it.

“Simple? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t let them,” Sasori states plainly.

“What?”

“Don’t let them push you away,” He reiterates, making Deidara’s brows furrow together in a mixture of awe and confusion. “The solution is to simply push back. People like that tend to push those who care away because they’re afraid of vulnerability despite secretly craving it. If you push back, this person is sure to break and let you in.”

With that, Deidara stands, determination flickering in his core.

“Hm… I hadn’t thought of it that way before, but actually, you’re right,” He nods and looks Sasori dead in the eye before heading towards the door. “Yeah! I’m gonna go give Itachi a piece of his own medicine, hm.”

“Wait, what the fu-”

Deidara excitedly leaves Sasori’s bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Usually, at this time of day, Itachi is locked in his own bedroom or training. When Deidara looks outside through the windows to see that the Uchiha isn’t at the Akatsuki training grounds, he heads towards said Uchiha’s bedroom instead, only to open the door and find that it’s empty. He enters before he can think better of it, one big blue eye darting around and taking in his surroundings.

It’s cleaner than it was the other day when he was there, he thinks. That photo of Itachi and his clan members is no longer on the nightstand, probably hidden away in a drawer or a cabinet somewhere. The bed is neatly made and the floor is spotless. He considers leaving, but just as he does, Itachi walks in behind him and closes the door so quietly that Deidara doesn’t even realize he’s there until the smell of cologne hits his nostrils. 

“What do you want? And why are you in my room?” Itachi asks in his usual monotone voice, that one he uses when he’s around people he’s either trying to blow off or intimidate. After what happened when Deidara was in there the last time, the blond can’t help but be offended by it; by how Itachi is acting like nothing happened between them. “This is quite… Invasive.”

“Drop the formalities, Itachi. Shit happened while I was in here the other day and boundaries were crossed,” Deidara turns, walks to Itachi, and gets in his face. Though they’re only four or five inches apart in height, the difference feels staggering. Itachi doesn’t slouch nor does he look away, simply standing tall and meeting Deidara’s gaze with crossed arms and a painfully neutral expression. “Things aren’t the same and I have questions.”

“Such as?”

“You made that comment about being hurt that I don’t care for you,” Deidara starts, reflecting on that genuinely hurt tone Itachi used and tried to thinly veil with feigned sarcasm back when they were sick together. “I don’t understand how you can expect anyone to care for you when you act the way you do. You do what you can to keep people at a distance and no one knows anything about you except for the fact that you’re a psychotic murderer who slaughtered his entire clan, you’re ridiculously strong, and you have some sort of autoimmune disorder that takes over when you get sick. That’s it. No one knows your favorite color or your hopes and dreams, or anything you’re passionate about, or what foods you like, or what you consider art.”

“It’s not an autoimmune disease.”

Deidara’s surprised at how the first thing Itachi addresses is his sickness. He expected the ravenette to avoid the subject at all costs. His eyes widen in shock at Itachi’s bluntness.

“...What?” Deidara quietly demands, hoping that Itachi will elaborate.

“It’s not an autoimmune disease, it’s… Rare, and terminal. I was diagnosed with it when I was a teenager, just days before I killed my clan members,” Itachi explains and pulls away from Deidara so he can go lay on his bed and stare at the ceiling. Unsure of what else to do, Deidara stands there quite awkwardly and listens to Itachi’s woes. The part of him that hated Itachi and everything the Uchiha stands for from the very start of their correspondence wants to laugh. The rest of him wants to cry.  “It’s a sort of stress induced Chakra depletion. The more stressed I become, the less Chakra reserves I have, and let me tell you, I am stressed. All of the damage that’s been done to my body is irreversible. Eventually, I’m going to slowly run out of Chakra and die, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It just so happens to be more draining when I’m sick like I was earlier this week.”

Silence. Neither of them talk for a few moments after Itachi finishes. Deidara scans Itachi’s body up and down with his eyes, trying to memorize it in case today (or tomorrow, or the day after that, or the next day, or the next day) is the last day that Itachi has in this life. Itachi doesn’t pay him any mind without being prompted to do so, either, so Deidara asks-

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Why not? It’s not like you’ll tell anyone. The one person you talk to is Sasori and the only interest he’d have in my terminal illness is the potential of obtaining my corpse to turn into one of his puppets afterwards, not my wellbeing.”

“I-” Deidara starts, desperate to argue, but Itachi doesn’t let him get more than a word in, simply steamrolling the conversation.

“And even if you were to tell anyone, they wouldn’t believe you. How would telling the other Akatsuki members benefit you, anyway? It wouldn’t. They’d laugh- though whether it’d be at you or at the thought of me dying, I’m not sure.”

“Itachi-”

“So? What else do you need to know for you to care about me?”

And there are a million things Deidara wants to ask. He wants to ask why Itachi murdered his entire family, why he willingly joined the Akatsuki instead of having to be forced in like most of the other members, what kind of art he enjoys, what his favorite foods and drinks are, what books he enjoys, what his favorite color is, whether he’s a tea person or a coffee person, what his deepest fears and desires are. First and foremost, though, he asks-

“When- do you… Do you have a prognosis? Or, any idea of when you’re going to die?”

“If I had to guess, within the next two years,” Itachi answers while raising a hand to look at his fingernails, as if inspecting them. They’re short, yellowed, frail, and slightly clubbed.

“Then why should I care about you if you’re just going to leave me soon?” Deidara huffs and crosses his arms.

“I’m not saying you should. Really, I’d advise you against it, but part of me suspects that you’ve been harboring feelings for me for a long time,” Itachi smiles something soft and wistful that makes Deidara’s heart skip a beat. Finally, the ravenette looks at him, too, something reminiscent of affection in his eyes. Deidara thinks that’s what it is, anyway. Most people are annoyed by him at best and don’t care about him at worst. He actually isn’t quite sure of what love or adoration or any of those sappy feelings look like on anyone’s face aside from his own, but he suspects that this must be it. Itachi must at least like him for them to be doing this, right? For Itachi to be reaching out for his hand, to hold it so gently and intertwine their fingers like they’re meant to fit together in the way that two puzzle pieces would? “You’ve never been one for following orders, and yet you stayed in my room and cared for me like a good little Akatsuki member despite having claimed that you hate my guts since you joined.”

“And?” Deidara whispers. “So what if I do? Harbor feelings for you, I mean… Care for you. I think that’s the term, hm.”

“Then… I’d say I care for you as well, Deidara.”

“You care for me…?”

“I do.”

It’s quiet again. Neither of them say anything else, but Deidara does dare to join Itachi on his bed. He didn’t lock the door, they’re both still getting over their respiratory bug, and Itachi is dying, but Deidara chooses to throw caution to the wind like he always does, ignoring whatever complications are sure to come so he can enjoy this. 

He deserves to enjoy something other than art, right? To enjoy someone loving him for once? Caring for him in a way that a lifeless clay statue never could? Or maybe that’s what Itachi is to him; another art form. Yes, that sounds nice…

“Itachi.”

“Yes?”

“You’re like art, you know that? Fleeting-”

“Shut up, Deidara,” Itachi blankly states and reassuringly squeezes Deidara’s hand. “You don’t have to fill the silence. Let it be.”

“Hm… Fine.”

[katscki]

just watched a movie were this boy jumped into the end of the pool and he cant swim and made the life guard (whos a girl) jump in and save him and give him mouth to mouth. he has my respect and i now knw what to do when i go to the pool or at boxing <3

omg i was gonna do a fic like this a while back and then i forgot about it!!!! YOU SMART LITTLE THING YOU SMOOCH SMOOCH SMOOCH

High Tides

barely edited sorry and the name kinda doesn’t fit bc it isn’t at a beach but i liked it so i’m keeping it 😤‼️

lifeguard!bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 797

You had thought that coming to the new town pool would be a total drag this summer, but how can you not go back when he’s there.

masterlist

You had come here out of sheer boredom. Of course, this wasn’t your first place to spend your summer vacation from college, but all your friends were either still at school or on trips far away from home. Hanging out with your parents wasn’t an option even if you had wanted it to be because they worked day and night.

You hadn't intended on swimming only coming to tan so you lay out your towel on one of the lounging swim chairs rather than the itchy grass counterpart. But before you yourself could lay down with it, a blonde tuff of hair caught your eye. The strange hairdo piqued your interest enough to let your eyes wander further down to see the tall muscular body attached. You continued to ogle him whiles he was turned away only snapping him out of your gaze when he turned to you.

You were never one for showy bikinis, but you decided to wear one today to cover the most ground when you sunbathed, and you have never been so happy with a decision in your entire life.

Bakugou turns back around to Kirishima to resume their conversation, “Her? Yeah, she’s hot so what? Probably wasn’t looking at me anyways, shitty hair.” He said gruffly.

“Are you KIDDING ME?! She was practically undressing you with her eyes man, cut the nonchalant tough boy act, you know you think she's pretty. I mean commmee onnn if I were you, I would be all over that, not stop being a little pissboy and get her number!” Kirishimas enthusiastic tone didn’t do much to calm his nerves.

“Maybe later, my breaks almost over.” He mumbles before returning to his stand.

About twenty minutes ago you had decided to switch to lying on your back to tan your front but the sun beating down on you was becoming more and more noticeable by the second, practically sweating bullets.

Finally, the heat was too much for you to ignore, so maybe a dip in the pool wouldn’t be so bad. Making your way over to the edge of the pool you sat first then slowly slipped in. Trying to look good just in case there were lingering eyes from a certain someone. You swam out a bit just enjoying the coolness of the water until some stupid kid jumped in without even looking in front of him kicking you clear in the stomach when he came in.

You would feel embarrassed if it weren't for the growing feeling of being winded taking over. The lack of air making it to your lungs as you struggled to breathe, making it increasingly difficult to keep yourself up, ultimately letting you pass out in the water.

Bakugou saw the entire thing making a move to go scream at lecture the kid for what he did before he noticed you laying limp in the water. He blew his whistle yelling for everyone to get out of the water when he dove in and carried your smaller than his, seemingly lifeless form out of the water.

When you had woken up from lack of consciousness, you saw him kneeling above you, his face so close to yours, like he was going to perform mouth to mouth one more time. Everyone was quiet except one person. You look over to your side to see the red-haired lifeguard lecturing the child about looking before they jump. You would have kept your gaze there due to tiredness if it weren't for bakugou gently moving your head back to face him.

“You alright? Shit... I mean of course you're not, you almost just drowned-” He silently scolds himself for his awkwardness. But you paid no mind to his stumbling words, only the low baritone of his raspy voice, and the feel of his hand on your face.

He continued to look down with furrowed brows, confliction visible in his features, it’s only when you speak with the prettiest voice he’s ever heard does he forget about it. “Yea I'm okay. Thanks to you at least.” You smile at him and in the background hear everyone resuming their aquatic activities now that you're awake. You sit up to make your throbbing head feel better when he speaks again, “s my job. Any of us woulda done it, plus I probably would have gotten sued if I didn’t.” He joked

“Well don’t I feel special,” You giggle. “My um my name’s Y/N by the way.”

“You can call me Katsuki,” He leans down to whisper in your ear so no wandering ears can listen, “And I'm sorry, maybe I can take you out for dinner, somewhere real nice, make you feel special then.”

You turn your head to lock eyes with him again, “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

TAGS 🏷:

@trafalgar-lau @mybabekatsuki @loving-katsuki @ariavaana