#and you kind of have to wonder when they'll run out of steam

[thus-spoke-lo]

>.>

11 for that self ship prompt? ♥

Your piece for prompt 7 almost had me squeaking! xD

Ahh thank you Quin!! <3 These are so much fun, although this turned out way angstier than I thought it might, whooooops. (Still fun though!)

11- Write about your ship waking up together.

Written with my Doffy self-ship in mind, in first person, while I hide under a blanket. (These are reading more and more like a game of CLUE every time I write them.)

I felt the mattress move underneath me, a deep sigh drifting in the still air. I turned to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his bare back glistening with perspiration in the moonlight that filtered through the sheer curtains.

Doflamingo nearly always woke before me--I'd wake to long fingers brushing my chilled skin or tangling in my hair, warm breath against my ear as he pulled me against him, murmuring something about how he loved to watch me sleep, how it pleased him to have something so fragile be so vulnerable in his grasp. Some mornings I would wake and he would already be gone--his side of the bed soaked in sweat, the sound of the shower running, steam slipping out through under the bathroom door.

I was supposed to know better than to wonder, to know better than to ask why I'd see him slip out of the room, fully-dressed, as the sun barely rose over the horizon. I was supposed to know better than to ask why'd he come back later just in time for me to wake, sometimes with a box of warm pastries and a container of coffee fixed just the way I liked, sometimes with his lips still tasting of cheap wine and a bloodstain on his collar. But I was tired of knowing better.

"You're up early," I mumbled as I crawled across the bed to him. I sat down cross-legged beside him, rested my head against his arm.

He huffed a sigh and ruffled my hair, like I was an unruly pet who needed soothing. "Go back to sleep."

"Is everything okay?"

"I said go back to sleep."

"Did you have another bad dream?" I wrapped my arms around his, let my fingers drift over his arm, tracing the veins on his biceps, following them like rivers down to his wrist.

He pulled away from me, and suddenly stood, quickly grasping his sunglasses from the bedside table and putting them on, a defense mechanism even with me, even when I'd already seen what was beneath the crimson lenses. "That's none of your concern."

"When does it get to be my concern, then?"

These dreams, these nightmares--they seemed to plague him often, often enough that it felt like he never slept, he never rested at all, only stayed vigilant as the moon rose and fell and the sun began to wake. He stared straight ahead, and I watched as the muscles in his back twitched and his thighs flexed as he stood there building walls between us in his mind.

"Why don't we get some breakfast?" he finally said, a dark and quiet chuckle laced through his words.

"But...the sun isn't even up yet," I responded, clutching a handful of bedspread in my fist.

"I know. It's perfect." He turned and a wide, maniacal smile, the kind I could never refuse, was stretched across his lips. He knelt down on the floor in front of me and grasped my chin, tilting my head to look at him until I could see myself clearly in those damn lenses. "That bakery that makes the tarts you like is probably just starting their day. I'm sure they'll have no problem serving their king first thing in the morning, right?"

I was supposed to know better than to push my luck any further--and I did.

"That sounds wonderful," I said, as he held my head straight and kissed down my neck, a distraction I'd come to expect all too well. "What luck we're up so early, then."

[brandwhorestarscream]

Been thinking of invasive species au, whhat if the humans find a little grounder baby with polycephaly? Like, completely abandoned and trying to find a surrogate to help them.

Ohhhhkay, that's actually an interesting premise. A sparkling born with polycephaly isn't something I've ever seen in this fandom, I don't think. I love this idea, this could be so fun.

However, I don't think Invasive Species is quite right for this. This AU is aggressively peaceful, and we've changed a number of things to eliminate undue suffering. Like, empurata is no longer a punishment: its a genetic mutation that some mecha are just born with, and they aren't discriminated against for it. If you want to run the route of then being abandoned for being different, I think a darker AU would fit the tone better.

But, if you're deadset on sticking to the Invasive Species setting and are willing to settle for something softer and more loving, I could ramble about it for hours! I would love to see a cybertronian pair of conjoined twins, once possessing two spark but now combined into one. Kind of the way a bonded pair are. Each head is completely conscious and separate from the other, each with their own distinct personality and control over their half of the body. (Did you watch Dragon Tales as a kid? If so you know exactly what I'm talking about).

I think their parents would at first be horrified, just because they think something is horribly wrong. If they opt for pre-natal care (not everyone does in this AU. Some prefer to be natural and unbothered), they find out that their twins have semi-merged together in the womb. They're so afraid that their babies aren't going to make it, but their sparks remain healthy despite it. It's not impossible for their sparklings to live happy lives, so they go full steam ahead with the carrying cycle. They welcome their twins with nothing but love

If they don't go for pre-natal care, then they're in for a massive shock when their bitty is born. In this AU, sparklings are born in an ovular or spherical shape, and transform into root mode within a megacycle of delivery. When their bitty is born they're over the moon excited, and are both extremely taken aback when their newborn unfurls and there's two pairs of optics staring staring back them. It's immediately clear that the helms are separate, one smiles clumsily and reaches for them, while the other just stares in awe.

In either situation, the twins are a big surprise but ultimately not an unwelcome one. They're every bit as bright and happy as any other sparkling, full of light and love that their parents adore as a special blessing. They'll probably have several unforseen challenges in the future, learning to walk is very difficult and sometimes the twins get into deadlock arguments concerning the governance of their body. But at the end of the day they're happy and healthy, and the earth colony is a wonderful, safe place for them to grow up. They might even make friends with the natives, who think their two headedness is really cool!

[the-firebird69]

Ford Shelby GR-1 Concept Finally Went Into Production

We don't sponsor or believe in what this guy is saying but we do believe some of the information is correct and the car is very ballsy and it's worth taking a look at and they do kind of show you what it looks like and that's why it's putting it up there. This is an awesome vehicle but we have an update that we should let you know about

-several people are angry at our son one of them is Stan and he says he has to tell because of the max and then he says he gets her plan going he said they know their plan and he said oh that makes sense and announce it elsewhere and said yeah that makes sense and I already have several places and he gets that I think there's something there and you don't even know what it is and he says this I suppose you're right about something I'm sitting on something and I don't know what it is and they did surgery on me and they're all stupid people who work for me and we're in trouble and it might be alien technology or the best of the best and imitating George and both is fine with us and we have to get out of here and what he says is some of the stuff is his tech and it's old or new that ball in the ship in the movie the sphere is their technology and George did not have it and we're wondering what it is so we do understand something nobody knows about this Lilith and it looks real and the max are just up the road and we probably die in minutes nobody would know but still angry but still I'm going to get information and they're going to tell me they know about it and they'll say he's not right to say anything and I get what that means so it's going to be a rough day. And he's hearing them anyways. But we are going to help and he's finding the sapphire too but they're going to take over his systems is what they're saying and they plan to and now they're mad and some people threat on them like John Riva large when they're getting their ass kicked but we have to protect him from Stan a bunch of babies running around threatening him and they're really threatening for our stuff that they're sitting on so it's our business

-there's a huge huge battle group going up there and it is Trump and he is steaming up there and we mean it and he's not far away and he's going the background with big stuff and it's going to take him 20 more minutes and Stan is going to hit him with spaceships and it makes sense and he's going to draw his ships out and take them which also makes sense and we need that to happen badly and this is a smoldering pile of s*** would be coming don't know how to do anything they're all going to die when the oxygen comes in and Jason wants it and he's going to be moving shortly it's going to be a hell of a show. And Stan had said the last two sentences

-there's a few things going on one of them is you can't really help these guys cuz they want our stuff but the second is the empire is mowing them down and taking their stuff and people need to know and that gives us the end it went down to use it and we really needed it so we are going to print

Thor Freya

Olympus

[itswavelengths]

Dragon Quest V at 30

Marc Normandin writing for Paste:

Why it was never localized for the SNES was shrouded in some secrecy for a time, but over the years, hints and evidence have emerged. In a 2014 interview at Gaming Moe with Robert Jerauld, a producer for Enix of America in the early ‘90s, he recalled that it was deemed “ too expensive” by Enix of Japan to localize Dragon Quest V—in fact, they were so sure it was never happening that the planned Dragon Warrior V in North America would have actually been Dragon Quest VI in Japan, but the closure of Enix of America kept that from occurring, despite it, per Jerauld, actually being localized and ready to go. What made Dragon Quest V more expensive to localize than the four preceding NES titles, and the other SNES one that did get the localization treatment? Apparently, it was something in the game’s programming itself that was causing problems.

Those of you who listen to Into the Aether have heard Stephen and I evangelize for Dragon Quest��as a franchise, specifically for Dragon Quest V: Hand of the Heavenly Bride. In the process of playing over 150 Nintendo DS games in the year-long lead-up to our episode about the handheld it became clear that Dragon Quest V was not only one of the best games on the system, but might also be one of the greatest games of all time — at the very least in the realm of RPGs. Normandin's piece for Paste about the game's 30th anniversary¹ specifically shines a fascinating light on why it received such a limited release outside of Japan and is absolutely worth a read.

While Dragon Quest V was eventually released globally for the Nintendo DS, that specific port has also been ported to, and is currently available for, iOS and Android. As of right now the mobile ports are the only legal and reasonably-priced ways of playing the game, for better or for worse. I'm obviously thrilled to be able to share a game I love this dearly with others I love just as dearly on the devices they already own, but it would be nice to see Square Enix revitalize their classics in ways that don't always end up as HD-2D ground-up remakes. I was hopeful we might see some kind of collection come to Switch after the release of Dragon Quest I, II, and III launched in 2019, but it appears that subsequent entries will remain in limbo for retro resellers to price at frighting rates for the foreseeable future, effectively locking many out of experiencing some of the series' best until Square Enix makes a move.

I did enjoy the Live A Live remake and I'm sure the upcoming Dragon Quest III remake will be spectacular, but I just want to play these games at all more than I want to play them as new and shiny mid-budget rereleases. To quote Normandin again:

Could Dragon Quest V be far behind with its own HD-2D remake? Will it finally get the moment it deserves in the spotlight? It won’t — can’t — because the moment where it could have been the game that helped make Dragon Quest hugely popular in North America, too, is now three decades past.

For now Dragon Quest V will continue on as a relic for those who seek it out, and when they do they'll be rewarded with one of the most earnest and moving stories the medium has ever told. In the meantime, I wonder how well that fan translation for the PlayStation 2 version runs on the Steam Deck...

⏆

---

¹ I also turned 30 this year. Coincidence??? Follow the money, dear reader.

[m4nek1neko]

Someone to call closer.

Adli x Radin

cw: Teeth rotting fluff, confession, cuddling, head kisses, handholding, slight hurt to comfort

It was a cold day, the class was loud as usual. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But amidst the loud chatter, was quietness. The quiet atmosphere at the back was weirdly comforting. And Adli was alright with it, he didn't care. The window that shimmered sunlight into the class was a form of escapism. He's getting older, he shouldn't keep everything to himself. He'll need to mature enough soon.

Radin then entered the class, he was late as usual. Probably because he was talking while eating, nothing was out of the usual. He took a seat next to Adli and said his usual 'hello's. Adli felt like he wanted to sleep, it was tiring every morning. That was until the announcement for roll call started, Adli groaned and brought his seeds book. Today was his turn for the English slot. As usual, Adli was greeted by one or two people from each individual class. The day was only starting.

Radin was getting his feathers roughed up as usual by the others, their teases never fail to end up making his cumbersome life even more miserable. He dragged his body from class to the foyer, there's really no way of winning against people. Even if he shows his worth through academics, he's still seen as a nuisance.

Adli was getting fed up with his job, when everyone was allowed to go back to class, Adli maintained his posture. He let out a deep breath before softening his eyes to stay calm, it wasn't until he was met by Radin making a remark on how he looked. "Eh, Adli. You seem tired, how come?" Adli groaned and rolled his eyes, "Same for you, Radin."

Adli walked off to class, leaving Radin in the dust. Radin wasn't a foreign to this kind of treatment, a french exit from Adli was exactly the same as any kind of treatment he was given by others. Radin, oh Radin! His name's known without any positive connections, he has many he calls friends yet so little claim to be.

He can never make any friends with that attitude of his! Oh, Radin..

Lunch was close, Adli was staring at the clock. Time was slow, and the steamed buns sell out fast. Once the teacher left, Adli dashed out. He's going to be the first. That was until he was struck with a sad, sad reality. "Oh, Adli, the buns aren't cooked yet. They'll roughly finish cooking at 10:30." Radin informed, Adli so he doesn't accidentally buy a cold bun.

Fortunately, one of Adli's seniors were around. "Can you help buy me this? I have to run to class! I'll pay you later!" "Alright, you can come meet me at my class later once you're done with class."

The teacher was absent, so most of everyone was playing with their phones. Adli's mind was wondering somewhere else while Radin's finger swiped up at every passing second, scrolling down at a boring pace. Radin was a chatterbox, his intentions were right, his words are just not. At this point, Radin's empty chatter was annoying him. "Shut up, Radin." and of course, Radin's ego got shaken up. He gasped and furrowed his brows, "What's wrong with you? I didn't even do anything?"

"You talk too much! Can't you ever shut up?" "Well, It's not my fault!" "Have you ever wondered why nobody wants to truly stay by your side? You'll fall in love with anyone by the second if they give you the teeniest bit of attention! How long will it take before you start to hate yourself and go straight into the arms of someone else?!" Adli got too emotional, he realised what he said and covered his mouth.

Radin's eyes were wavering, unbelief lingering in those tiresome eyes of his. It only gets harder to let the feeling linger, dragging it out a little longer. Radin ran out of the class to comfort himself, he took comfort in the quietness of the storage room. How long will it truly take before he hates himself? Radin thought. It was cruel comfort.

After an hour passed or so, he wondered how he ended up locking himself in the storage room. Why was he so shook on Adli's words? Why did he feel like this? Radin sighed and pulled his knees close to his chest. Adli slid the door open to find Radin, tears in his eyes. "Radin.. I'm sorry." Adli rushed to embrace Radin in a warm embrace.

He isn't saying anything, "Radin.. I've realised that.. I like you. I really do. It's been at that for awhile." How long will it take? Radin's hands shakily placed themselves on Adli's back. Accepting the embrace fully and cuddling him. "Haa.. Shit.. It's too intimate for me but.. I'm sorry, I really am. Forgive me Radin.." They stayed like that for a short while before Adli placed a small kiss on Radin's forehead. He pulled away to see Radin's eyes widen, staring into Adli's comforting gaze.

"I.. Me too.." Radin breathed out, Adli took Radin's hand and gently squeezed it before pulling him up and getting him out of the dusty room. Radin's head was a mess, what if someone sees Adli and him like this? It'll ruin Adli's reputation! And looks like someone already caught them, "Oh. Ok, hi Adli, hi Radin." they just waved before going back into class. Looks like they really don't care. Adli's lip curled into a slight smile, "Why are you so scared of them? Ahaha!" Adli chuckled.

The atmosphere was now suddenly so, so tight. It was foreign, it was fuzzier than the ether. He worried all for nothing.. His eyes calmed down. His body now getting mellow. Now, he'll just enjoy this while he can..

A/N: I was listening to TV Girl while writing this kk. Enjoy, it's a bit rushed btw.

[howtosingit]

My random thoughts:

Your ramble post of theories + the fandom speculation chatter in the tags have me stressed AF. I AM HERE FOR ALL OF IT. 🙌🏾

Owen and I have different opinions on what it means to recover from surgery.  🤦🏽‍♀️

This is going to be a great story to tell the kids/grandkids. LOL

I feel some type of way about TK and Carlos having an argument over their dads because those two have been less than stellar this season. Lol. But despite their complicated relationships, it’s obvious TK + Carlos love and respect their dads so it is totally in character. I can also see them agreeing to not let their outside family drama impact their relationship post-fire. 💜

I'm really excited about the arson storyline, despite the Owen-focus. (Resignation helps when watching this show lol). The storyline looks to be giving us more Reyes family appearances and I can't complain about that. Give me Andrea and TK lovingly fussing over a recuperating Carlos please! *manifesting* 

How do you feel about the pacing when it comes to the season so far? We have 4 episodes left in this season, so I'm guessing the arson plot is going to take up about 2-3 episodes at least? It feels like we're getting some of their best stuff here towards the end (which no complaints here), it just feels a bit rushed to me? The show doesn’t do a great job of keeping us aware of a timeline so, at times, it feels like things are just happening back to back. I also try to forget we spent seven episodes on that baby storyline. 🙄

I'm very interested to see where the characters end up at the end of this season, given that season 1 ended with no cliffhangers and everyone in a relatively ok place. I wouldn’t mind that again, given the rollercoaster they’re about to take us on. Sorry for the long ask, lots of rambling going on in my head too! 😂

Sonia! I’m sorry that I received this ask on Friday and then totally dipped for the weekend 😂 I was sick for a day and then just decided to take a little break, but I wanted to make sure I answered this!

I’m excited that it finally feels like the show is doing a multi-episode arc that may involve a number of characters and specifically will involve Tarlos. I think it has the potential to be a really good string of episodes, even if it will be Owen-centric (and like you said, I’m resigned to that fact). I feel like tonight we might just get the one Tarlos scene, but I’m not going to complain since I imagine they’ll play a huge role in 2x12. Let’s see how the show sets it all up!

And yes to more of the Reyes family! I have to say, we are actually seeing way more of them than I ever expected after 2x04, especially if they’re going to be in 2x12 as well - it makes me incredibly happy that the two characters who were created for Carlos (and I guess, in a way, Tarlos) get to play such a major role on the show this year. That level of investment is all I’ve wanted for the character, so I’m glad we’re seeing it. I’m manifesting that Andrea/TK content right there with you, but I’m also keeping my hopes in the basement where they belong! 😂

I think the pacing has been a mess this year and I have to say... I place all the blame on Gwyn and how the writers chose to use her. Like, I think even they got bored with that baby plot right after they introduced it, or they didn’t know where exactly they wanted to take it?? Anyway, it dragged and it took up too much time and it’s the one thing I would delete from this season if I could. 

But no, it definitely feels like now that they got rid of Gwyn, the writers are much more focused and driven with the 2B plots. 2x08 was quite a game changer in a lot of ways: I think they realized that they do have the potential to be more focused in their writing and in their story choices. A lot of times, the episodes can feel like random collection of calls and stories that are tenuously held together with Scotch tape... but 2x08 connected everything with amazing results, and that’s kind of continued with 2x09 and 2x10 - they even carried the ice cream shop through the episode. There will always be some random stuff here and there, that’s just the type of show this is, but I hope the writers will challenge themselves more in the future. I mean, this arson plot already feels pretty focused and connected, so let’s see how that goes. 

[gardenerian]

it can't be the same gallagher and milkovich -

but then, who else could it be?

it's surely some combination of the gallaghers and milkoviches she remembers. phillip maybe, though she'd imagined him as a doctor or something by now. the little one, then, the one who was always lighting his toys on fire - but would he really protect anything for a living?

and the milkoviches. they'd kept her away from the milkoviches for the most part, and she knew them as shadows around the neighborhood. did one of them manage to get out?

anything's possible, of course. look at her.

ethel peers down at the scribbled reminder malik left, a yellow sticky note fixed to her mug of tea. meeting with gallagher-milkovich security at 2. see you then. - m

the kitchen is quiet. the kids have been dropped off at school by now, hurried out the door by malik while she finished her morning chores. ethel settles into her chair, brings the steaming mug of tea to her lips.

if it's them - they'll know, right? they'll know what happened.

they'd moved back to illinois before the pandemic, when malik's grandmother was so sick and he wanted to see her through it. to close a chapter, he'd said. to say a real goodbye.

so she packed up their little house and gathered up the kids. ethel had refused to live in chicago proper again. too many ghosts, too many words unsaid and lives unlived.

she'd begged malik not to move them back to the southside. ethel had faced down many demons over the years - leaving them behind hasn't been one of them. not yet.

he'd just kissed her face and stroked her hair. you're coming with me, he whispered into her hands as he held them to his lips, that's enough. and they started looking for houses the next morning.

their place is outside the city. for a while, ethel would drop malik off at the train so he could ride in for work and to see his grandmother. and she'd spend her days gardening, setting up the new house, seeing to the kids.

malik climbed into the car one evening with the world on his shoulders. grandmother was suffering - and though ethel prayed for a peaceful ease into death, god seemed to have another experience designed.

would you help? he asked, and pressed some seeds into her hands.

that's how it started.

they made oil from the cuttings malik got from a coworker, baked it into treats to ease grandmother's pain. ethel planted the seeds in a corner of the garden, eyes stinging as she remembered a bright room beneath a bar. another garden, another yard. another life.

before too long they were helping their neighbors and friends with their own pain. and when the pandemic hit, when people were so anxious and afraid, ethel felt called to help. she prayed over her plants, that they would bring peace and healing to those who turned to them.

they bought more land, built up a greenhouse. malik rents an office in the city where he can handle the business. ethel tends to stay home, running the planting and the harvesting - wondering what they would think if they could see her now.

helping the blind hadn't been his intention back then; ethel knows that now. but she knows he would. that's the kind of people they were.

she goes into the city today to meet with the security team malik found online. their life is changing so fast, this business that sprung up out of nowhere growing larger every day. now they need help.

ethel struggled with the morality of it for a while. suffering is divine after all. but she's learned that not all suffering is holy - sometimes pain is just pain. and maybe the holiness comes from easing the pain of others, from loosening its grip on the neck of your friends. of yourself.

maybe it's okay to heal. maybe it's okay to change. to seek a life free of pain, if possible.

she thinks of them, on the train. it had taken a while for ethel to seek them out, to let them know she's here - she's here and she's whole and she's making a life with her family.

but by the time she'd gathered the courage and found her way to knock on their front door, the house was gone. knocked down to its foundation, a developer's sign in the front yard.

and ethel turned around and went home.

malik offered to help look them up, find a new address or phone number. ethel said thank you, but no. she just continued to pray for them, pray for another time. life marched on.

and now a freckled face is looking at her curiously over malik's desk in the city. so it's ian, then. the quiet one, the one who flitted in and out of that house on the corner.

mickey milkovich sits next to him, explaining their services and pricing model. his tattooed hands wave wildly in front of his face as he speaks.

they wear matching rings.

ethel never knew these two. not really. she sat on those steps with debbie, carried liam around the yard, handed off a popsicle or five to carl. fiona was at their house a lot, eyeing her with the same curiosity she sees in ian right now.

so she's not surprised they don't know her. she smiles politely as they talk about their armored cars, their trusted staff, their long list of clients. she remembers ian shuffling around the neighborhood with phillip, sometimes sporting a black eye or a limp.

she remembers that store where these two often sat bickering while she picked up supplies for daycare. when ethel looks at them now, she can almost see those boys underneath it all.

ian keeps watching her, and she sees him file through his memories behind those narrowed green eyes.

malik stands when the pitch is over, shakes their hands. he lightly elbows ethel from her own memories and she laughs a little as she stands as well. ian straightens at the sound, grip tightening on her hand. he bites his lip, tilts his head.

he wants to ask.

but he doesn't want to seem rude, perhaps, so he just nods and follows mickey out the door after promising to be in touch.

ethel settles back into her seat. malik picks up his phone and scrolls through his email for a moment before looking back at her.

"you think he's gonna remember on his own?"

"you know who they are?"

"'course i do," malik chuckles. "you think i grew up where i did and don't know gallaghers or milkoviches?"

ethel blushes. of course he knows. he was here before she was. he's come home in a way she hasn't yet.

"i don't blame him," she sighs. "not sure why he would know me - "

she hears the huffing of breath before he appears in the doorway. ethel looks away from malik to find ian gallagher leaning in the entryway, hand over his chest.

"ethel?" he breathes. "kev and vee's ethel?"

kev and vee's ethel.

she could have been theirs. maybe she was, for a time. but she was always jonah's ethel first. clyde's ethel, malik's ethel.

now maybe ethel's own ethel at last.

but she thinks she would have liked being theirs, in another life. another world, a better world. where little girls can take their time growing up.

"that's me," she says, not wanting to correct him. she likes to be remembered as theirs.

"holy shit," he says, before clapping a hand over his mouth. "sorry, i forgot - "

ethel waves him off. they taught her to be less severe. and there is something holy here, he's right.

"do they know you're here?" he asks, making room for mickey who's now elbowing into the office.

"no," ethel answers, shoulders falling. "i don't - i didn't know where they went."

"fuckin' kentucky," mickey spits. "'bout a year ago."

"louisville," ian supplies. "but they've been back to visit a lot already. holy shit - sorry - we have to call them!"

ethel sinks back into her seat. malik's hand comes to rest on her shoulder, and she can feel the concern in his gaze. this is all happening so fast. can it just happen - so suddenly, like that?

maybe it can.

"please," she grins. "call them."

-

tamika and jonah complain about wearing their sunday clothes on a friday night, but ethel bribes them with extra dessert.

it's a special night.

she'd spent the day making the house sparkle, setting out food - their favorites, bringing in greenery and flowers. she wants them to know.

she wants them to know what they did for her.

his shadow moves across the floor as they appear in the screen door, hovering on the front porch. faces pressed against the mesh, peering inside with barely veiled excitement. fear. grief. joy.

ethel wipes her hands on her apron and moves to let them into the glow of the house. malik appears by her side, ushering them inside with handshakes and welcomes. two little girls wander in after them.

little sisters, in another life.

she's surrounded by them then, two strong arms lifting her up and holding her tight, two elegant hands rubbing at her arms, holding her face.

they smile brightly through their tears, drinking her in and reaching out like they can't help but touch her. like they need to be sure she's real. she bites her lip when she realizes she's reaching back.

"i'm sorry," she whispers as she leads them to the armchairs by the fire. "i'm just so sorry," she says again as she holds out a plate of homemade breads and cheese.

out of the corner of her eye, ethel sees the twins move closer to tamika and jonah, who offer up a plate of cookies in welcome. malik herds them over to the fire, where they can sit a play games together.

kevin tears off a hunk of bread and shoves it in his mouth, nearly choking as he eats and cries. "what're you sorry for?" he garbles through his chewing.

veronica rolls her eyes. "what he means is: we understand. we missed you, but we understand."

ethel puts the plate aside and holds out her hands to them.

"i prayed for you," she says. it's the most honest thing she can think to say right now. even when she was hurting and healing and mourning a childhood she hadn't known she missed, they lived in her prayers.

tears spill over; veronica reaches out and wipes them away.

"we prayed for you," she says. "never stopped."

ethel knew that, in the back of her mind. they kind of people they are. but it warms her soul to hear it.

"now," veronica says, tossing her hair behind her shoulder, "tell us everything."

[mypoisonedvine]

Side Effects | Bruce Banner x reader

summary: you never know what might be in the beakers at another chemist's station. you never know which of your colleagues might come along just in the knick of time to become the only antidote to your affliction.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut! (dub con due to sex pollen), semi-public sex (because technically someone could have walked by but unlikely), guilt/hesitance, kinda pining??, fingering, creampie,

a/n: yes, this is an accurate depiction of emergency shower protocol in a chemical lab and yes it is every lab technician's worst nightmare. thankfully the other stuff is not an accurate depiction of any known chemical, lol.

You wiped your forehead with a tired sigh, staring down at the calculations in front of you before using your pen to scribble over them before tearing out the page and throwing it away.

“You still do that by hand?” Bruce interjected, making you look up at where he was leaning in the doorway to the lab, watching you work.

“Oh, Dr. Banner!” you greeted with a smile, wondering if it was too ecstatic. You weren’t so good at the ‘playing it cool’ thing like he seemed to be.

“We have all those fancy screens and digital whiteboards, you know,” he explained as he stepped in and looked around at your work. “Not to mention the computer can do that stuff for you.”

“I know,” you scoffed, “but I always feel better doing it myself, on real paper. Not that I’m having any luck at the moment…”

"Here, I'll give them a quick look while you take a break," he offered, glancing at the numbers from over your shoulder. "You just get up and stretch your legs for a minute, doc."

You always thought it was sort of silly for him to call you that when he was a doctor as well, but you didn't complain.

Regardless, you were about to tell him that it was fine and you didn't need a break, but he was leaning in closer to take your seat and the proximity was so intimidating that you hopped up and went along with it anyways. He sat down and pondered your calculations while you circled the lab, taking a moment to appreciate how nice it felt to stand up and move around after sitting for so long.

"Your handwriting is…" Bruce trailed off, adjusting his glasses.

"Feminine and graceful?" you finished sarcastically.

"Sure," he chuckled.

"Yeah, just like me—" you started to quip, but mid-sentence you (ironically) stumbled and tripped, using a nearby table to catch yourself— but you accidentally grabbed onto a beaker, which tipped over and smashed onto the ground. The liquid inside spilled onto the floor just before you did, and you winced as you fell into the puddle of the unknown substance.

“Shit!” you hissed as you scrambled to get up, looking down at your clothes and seeing they were covered in the fluid, which was beginning to evaporate, or steam, or something. Remembering lab safety protocols, you instantly began to strip, closing your eyes and wishing Bruce hadn’t come in just before this. As you shirked your lab coat, shirt, and skirt, you walked to the emergency shower, pulling the lever and gasping when the chilly stream of water poured down on you. Bruce looked at you with wide eyes before being kind enough to turn around as you shivered and removed your bra and underwear, now completely naked and weakly scrubbing yourself with your hands in hopes that none of the chemical had gotten onto your skin.

“What is it?” he asked nervously, turning his head back enough that you could hear him over the flow of water, but hopefully not so much that he could see anything important.

“I don’t know,” you answered, “it’s not mine. It’s something Dr. Sutherland was working on…”

“Is it… are you in pain at all?” he asked, even more concerned, and you tried to decide if you could feel any effects.

“N-no…” you answered hesitantly. You felt hot, and strange, and you were covered in rolling chills, but you figured that was just the situation you were in— naked in a tepid shower in front of your coworker who just so happened to be incredibly sexy.

“I should call poison control,” Bruce offered as he reached for his cell phone.

“No, I’m fine,” you denied as the water flow slowed down and you wiped your face, confident that you looked like a complete mess— but at least you saved yourself from whatever was in that beaker, right?

“Here,” Bruce offered an emergency blanket to you after pulling it off a nearby shelf, and it was not at all absorbent but it helped with the draft as you stepped away from the shower which was still leaking the last few drops of water onto the drain on the floor.

“Thank you,” you nodded nervously, shivering and dripping and looking back at him with no idea what to say at all.

“Do you feel alright? I should check you for burns,” he suggested. “I�� I won’t look…”

“Please,” you sighed, pulling the blanket a bit to expose your chest and stomach. He brushed his hand over the skin there, making you instantly whine as heat burned just under your skin, clouding your mind and making you crave even more.

"Did that hurt?" he asked anxiously, pulling away, but you stepped closer.

"No it's… it's good, it's so good."

He furrowed his brow as he looked down at you, putting the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're burning up, doc, you must be running a fever of 105."

"Touch me more, please," you whimpered. It was like you were in a dream, everything foggy and distant, and the only time that anything made sense was when he touched you. Or maybe it was that his touch sent you further into delirium; you couldn't be sure.

He gasped when he looked at your quivering legs only to find slick arousal running down the inside of them, threatening to drip onto the floor.

"Oh," he sighed.

"Please," you begged mindlessly, "Dr. Banner, I n-need you…"

"No, you need medical attention."

You whined and grabbed as his shirt, humming at the feeling of his warm skin just beneath. If the forearms that he often left exposed in rolled-up sleeves were anything to go buy, his chest was probably toned and tanned, lightly dusted with dark hair… you were all but drooling at the thought. "Please, Bruce… just help me," you pleaded, looking up into his eyes which were swirling with conflict.

"I can't," he shook his head. "I'd be taking advantage."

He must have seen the heartbreak of rejection make you wince, because he tried to soothe you with his hands resting on your arms— even just that contact making you suppress a moan.

"I've wanted this for so long," he explained, "and you— you haven't. You're unwell, you need to go to a hospital."

You sobbed a little at the idea of being taken away from him and examined by strangers, when you knew the solution was right in front of you. "No, no Bruce they'll touch me! Nobody can touch me but you, I only want you."

He scoffed, but you heard the weakness in it and you needed him to give in soon before you melted from your own hear. "You're deranged— delirious," he reiterated.

"It'll feel so good, please Bruce, I'll be so good for you— anything you want, I'll do it, I'm yours."

"Stop talking like that," he winced. "I can't… I can't."

"I need to feel you inside me, Dr. Banner, I need it more than anything. It's just gonna get worse… please, help me. I want you. I trust you."

"You'll hate me in the morning," he asserted. "God, this is so wrong…"

But much to your relief, he reached down and hesitantly slid his thick middle finger through your folds, gasping gently as he felt how wet you were. "I should t-take you somewhere private."

"No, need you now— right here," you pleaded, trying to chase his touch with your hips.

"But if someone came by—" he began to fret, glancing at the door; but his attention was turned back to you by your hands weaving into his hair.

"Nobody else stays this late, god, Bruce please I just need you so bad—"

He cut you off with a sudden kiss, which was enough on its own to make warmth bloom in your gut, but then he started to move his finger again and you shuddered with a moan that was muffled by his lips.

"Maybe I can make you come like this," he offered as he pulled back just enough to whisper to you, "would that help you? It'll take the edge off."

You bucked and moaned against his fingers, just those subtle touches driving you wild. "N-no, it has to be inside! You have to fuck me, I need your cock."

He breathed through his teeth, like he was almost considering it, but then looked away. "I can't," he shook his head.

"Can't or won't?"

He frowned. "Won't. I'll get you off with my fingers, otherwise it would be… too selfish."

"Bruce, I'm literally begging you for it," you sighed, the irritated tone that you'd intended lost in the moans he elicited by rubbing your swollen clit.

"I know," he winced, "I know and it's killing me that I can't give you what you're asking for… I swear if it wasn't like this…" he trailed off as you looked up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

"What would it be like?" you asked lowly. "Tell me how you would fuck me."

For all his shyness before, there was a brief switch in his demeanor as he leaned in, breath hot against your neck as he whispered, two fingers sliding into your channel at the exact moment that he spoke.

"So fucking hard."

You whimpered, knees wobbling a bit as you tried to ride his fingers— but he wasn't pushing back, wasn't giving you enough force to balance against when you sought more friction. "P-please, Bruce— I know you want to, please, please baby I need it so bad…"

"I know," he breathed, free hand cradling your face as his thumb stroked your cheek, and it was so needlessly compassionate, so effortlessly soothing that your heart had no choice but to clench at his tenderness. Other parts of you clenched as well, in much more literal ways, but the heart thing was more important.

You gingerly reached forward and palmed his cock through his pants, moaning when you felt how hard it was. "You're desperate, too," you informed him with a little smile. "It hurts, doesn't it? It aches."

"Yes," he answered tensely.

"I'm hurting too. I'm aching, for you. Please, Bruce, help me."

As he pulled back and examined your face, he chewed his lip and contemplated. He couldn't stand to see you in pain, but he couldn't comprehend what he had to do to help you. Well, okay, that's not totally accurate because he had actually "comprehended" the idea of making love to you plenty of times. But that was just a fantasy, a very misguided one that he only indulged in in his weakest moments. And in those fantasies, shockingly enough, you were always completed lucid and of sound mind and body. He sadly could not say that for you at the moment, and of course he couldn't because of course when you were sober and healthy, you didn't see him that way.

Bruce prided himself on his logic, his integrity, his patience. Suddenly, those qualities were falling prey to a much deeper, carnal instinct that saw this not as a predicament but as an opportunity. Logic states, after all, that it would be wasteful to have everything he wanted thrown into his lap and to let it go to waste.

"Fuck," he groaned as he kissed you again, fucking you faster with his fingers. You moaned and went for his belt, barely managing to open it with your hands shaking so much; part of you had considered just trying to rip the leather off of him, and with the force of your need it seemed almost plausible.

Finally getting his trousers opened just enough to reach inside, you purred as you reached in and navigated past his boxers to wrap your fingers around his hard cock. It was so thick and smooth and hot and you almost wanted to drop to your knees and take it in your throat right then, but you had better plans.

He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, grinning against you at the way you whined, before wrapping his arms around you and quickly instructing you to jump.

It was infuriating, how easily he caught you when you wrapped your body around him. Infuriating and so painfully sexy.

He never broke the kiss as he walked the two of you to your lab table, sliding the papers aside and onto the floor to set you on it. You started on his aggravatingly-small shirt buttons while he pushed his trousers and boxers down the rest of the way, and god his cock was right there between your legs, so close but very much too far away for your liking.

You didn't have the time or energy to get his shirt off, settling for just running your hands over the exposed skin instead. He grinned and watched the path your hands made, hissing slightly when they wrapped around his shaft— for a second you swore you could feel it throb.

"Don't make me wait anymore," you whispered your plea, sighing a little when he nodded.

"Okay baby," he agreed.

"Been waiting so long," you whined.

"Me too," he nodded, and with a little push, his cock slid all the way into you and filles you to the brim. Even when you were completely drenched, the girth of him was so wide that it stung, that it tore you open, but you loved it. Your head fell back and just from him being inside you, you came. The substance had you so needy and sensitive that that was all it took. It wasn't enough yet, of course. You knew you needed more. But God, he felt so good you could hardly breathe.

"Baby," you heard Bruce gasp, his fingers digging into your hips. Your chest twisted when he laughed a little, breathless and just teetering on the line between complimentary and mocking. "Did you just come?"

You considered playing dumb, but nodded instead.

His smile was apparent when he pressed his lips just below your ear to suck on the delicate skin there, his teeth trailing up to nibble your earlobe lightly. You hoped he would leave a mark, you hoped he would leave lots of marks that you could remember this by for weeks to come.

"Couldn't help yourself, huh?" he asked breathlessly, whispering so quietly you could barely hear it over the beating of your own pulse which echoed in your ears.

"You feel so good," you justified, "so fucking good, Bruce."

"You too," he sighed as he finally pulled back and slid into you again, the friction making your back arch instantly. "Even better than I imagined."

You smiled and wrapped your legs around his hips, forcing him to push deeper with each thrust. When he pushed you to your limits it felt like you might just fall apart right there, but it was so worth it.

As if that wasn't enough, he reached down and circled a thumb over your overstimulated clit, grinning down at you at the sight of you writhing and bucking wildly in his arms.

"Fuck!" you cried as you tightened your hands on his shoulders into fists hard enough to risk tearing through his shirt.

"Too much?"

"More," you pleaded instead, crying out when he gave you exactly what you wanted with fast, rough thrusts into your drenched walls. "Yes," you sobbed, "yes, fuck— m'gonna come, Bruce, gonna come again."

"Go ahead," he encouraged, voice so much rougher than normal, "show me how good it feels, baby."

It felt like his words were the thin that pushed you over the edge, as if your body somehow both understood and obeyed his command. You could feel a renewed wave of slick leak out from you, enough that you could hear the wetness in each slap of his hips against yours. His name was somewhere in the litany of curses and praises that spilled from your lips, your mind too clouded with hazy pleasure to keep track of what you were actually saying.

"Just like that," he groaned, "doing so good, fuck, say my name just like that every time I make you come."

An easy enough stricture to follow, especially when it seemed like he was all you could think about. He looked so different with his clothes half-shorn and his eyes dark with lust. He hadn't taken his glasses or labcoat off and you weren't sure which of those you were happier about.

His lips and hands were all over you; you couldn't even keep track of everywhere he was touching you, that's how overwhelming it was. "God, you're so fucking perfect," he groaned against your skin, finding a hardened nipple as his tongue explored you and wrapping his lips around it. "You are so goddamn sexy, you know that? I love seeing you with your legs spread for me like a needy little whore. I love hearing you moan and knowing I'm the one making you feel this good."

He took a moment to look at you and soak in your shocked reaction to his words before leaning in to continue.

"I love feeling you come for me," he purred in your ear.

"Then you're gonna really like what I'm about to do," you shivered.

"Yeah? You can gimme another one already?" he smiled. "Such a good girl…"

You really couldn't help it, it felt like everything he did only enhanced your pleasure— his words, his hands all over you, not to even mention his cock inside you. As much as the hedonistic corner of your brain was happy to let this go on forever, the ramifications of constant orgasms were finally catching up with you as you wondered how much more of this you could take.

"F-fuck, are you close?" you asked weakly. "Want you to come for me, Bruce, please."

"I-I'll pull out," he suggested, although the way he looked down at his length sinking into you and pulling back out, covered in your abundant arousal, didn't exactly indicate that he was willing and able to actually make good on his offer.

"No!" you yelped, pulling him closer by his unbuttoned shirt. "It needs to be inside, Bruce, please come inside me."

"Fuck," he hissed through his teeth.

"Please, Bruce, please, promise you'll come inside."

"I will," he sighed, "fuck, I will baby, I promise I'm gonna fill you up so good, you're gonna have my come so fucking deep inside you…"

"Yes!" you moaned, completely unabashed as the unknown substance had apparently absolved you of any shame whatsoever. "Yes, I want it, Bruce, I want your come."

The moment you felt his seed start to paint your walls, you felt relief begin to wash over you. Your mind and body relaxed, the overwhelming heat under your skin subsiding into a comforting warmth, the desperation that had burned in your gut satiated at last.

And that left you staring up at him in realization of what you had done, just as he looked back at you with the same.

"God, I'm so sorry—" he shuddered, moving to pull away. Instinctively your legs wrapped around his hips again, holding him close.

"N-no, wait," you groaned, "it's okay. Don't go."

"You don't hate me," he said, the exhaustion in his tone making it hard to tell if it was a question or a statement.

"Never," you sighed with a weak smile, sitting up to clutch his face and kiss him again. "God, Bruce, now I'm just wondering what took us so long."

"Our lab safety is just too good, clearly," he smiled as he kissed you again, pulling back a little too soon to examine your face where he held it in his hands. "Are you okay? You should still probably go to a doctor…"

"I'm already with a doctor," you smirked, "and his treatment was very effective."

"Yeah, that was…" he trailed off, wide eyes as if he were reminiscing about what had only just transpired.

"Sorry for being so… desperate," you cringed. "I didn't mean to… um… impose…"

He just laughed and kissed your forehead, making you feel your cheeks warm a bit; ironic that with everything that had just happened, this was what made you blush. "A beautiful, amazing woman that I've been dreaming about for months begs me to take her in the laboratory… really inconvenient."

"I mean, cleaning up these papers and the broken glass is gonna be pretty tedious, along with the incident report," you frowned.

"I'll help you with it," he offered.

"Tomorrow," you decided. "Right now, I'm taking you to my place."

"Is that so?" he asked with a bemused smirk.

"Yep. We both are in serious need of a shower, and then I wanna go again," you grinned wickedly.

"I thought you said you weren't feeling the effects of the chemical anymore," he recalled, voice tinted with concern.

"I'm not," you reassured, "I'm just feeling the effects of you."

[allwaswell16]

A masterpost of all my One Direction fics that take place in winter ✨✨✨

Consequences // E // 78k

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

From the Start // E // 32k

Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

Staring Across the Room // E // 26k

Harry Styles has a great life. He’s a children’s librarian at the New York Public Library, he’s got wonderful friends, and he loves cooking, green tea, yoga, and his collection of bow ties. He doesn’t mind that his life seems a little structured, maybe even a little boring.

But when Louis Tomlinson joins the library staff as the new Installation Coordinator, things become a lot less predictable. Louis gets under his skin right from the start, bossing Harry around, making noise during story time, and eating the last cupcake in the staff lounge. Louis may be almost offensively attractive, but Harry will not be succumbing to Louis Tomlinson’s charms, even if the rest of the library staff have.

When You Know // E // 17k

Years of living in the shadows has taken its toll on Louis Tomlinson. When he’s offered a chance to leave behind his life as a hired assassin, he intends to take it.

haven't you heard // M //8k

Harry Styles has been in love with Louis Tomlinson since they were eighteen. After six years together, Harry is ready to propose to the love of his life. The holidays strike him as the perfect time for a romantic proposal, but his well-meaning friends and family (including his self-appointed best friend, Niall) seem to thwart him at every turn.

Or the four times Harry tries to propose, and the one time he gets it right.

past our satellites // E // 7k

Harry Styles has never been happier in his life. He has his dream job as a photo editor for The Chicago Tribune newspaper, and he’s excited to spend the holidays with his boyfriend, Louis. He may be a little panicked about the prospect of hosting a Christmas Eve dinner for both their families, but nothing will stop him from creating a perfect holiday season for Louis. Not even a difference of opinion about the Chicago Cubs, an allergic reaction to a Christmas tree, a frozen solid turkey, poor knife skills, a vegan guest, smoke alarms, reminders of certain male models, or the missing three little words someone longs to hear.

Or a little holiday story from the 'You’re the Light' universe.

Won't You Please Come Around // M // 5k

Harry has lived in London for a month, and so far the only friend he's made is his sister's cat, Mr. Whiskers. When the lock on the window breaks, Mr. Whiskers begins exploring his new neighbourhood a bit too thoroughly and brings back mementos of his escapes.

Or a Valentine's Day story where Harry has a really fit neighbour, and his cat is a thief.

Running Through A Cloud Of Steam // M // 5k

As Harry’s long anticipated twenty-first birthday approaches, he anxiously awaits the moment when he finally meets his soulmate. He’s not even sure he believes in soulmates, but at the very least, he hopes to prove to his best friend that nothing can come between their friendship--not even a soulmate.

Hometown // NR // 2k

On the day Harry gets his driver’s licence, he drives through the suburbs, heartbroken that he can’t drive home to Louis.

Happy Valentine's Day, You Cockroach // NR // 2k

Harry Styles, new director of the Milltown Zoo, has a great idea for a Valentine's Day themed fundraiser. For a donation, they'll name cockroaches after people's exes and then feed them to the meerkats on a live stream. He just didn't foresee how many cockroaches would end up with his name...

Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now // NR // 1k

Louis is having a personal crisis, a third Valentine's Day being single. Unless he meets someone this week at the high end department store he works at, he'll be stuck going to Niall's Valentine's Day party--again.

Or the one where Harry mistakes Louis for a mannequin.

Today's the Day - A Winter Drabble Series // G // 300 words

Harry pines for the beautiful boy he sees in the coffee shop.

[prismatales]

Comfort

All my love and gratitude goes to @sugacookiies, @pixxiesdust and @hawks-senseis for beta-reading this, you guys were some of the greatest help I've ever had! ❤

Pairings: Bakudeku x Reader

Warning: Tw:Depression, Tw:Suicidal thoughts, angst, fluff and comfort.

Fingertips slam a frantic yet steady pace against the keyboard, your eyes go back and forth between each paragraph with a growing sense of panic. All your senses are running on nothing more but pure anxiety and stress, not even the thought of eating something crosses your mind as the one and only thing to worry about seems to be this specific assignment.

Neither of them can remember the last time they saw you in another spot of the house that wasn't that chair before the computer, sure sometimes you take a break to go to the bathroom, but sleeping? That word doesn't seem to have a meaning in your vocabulary.

Except for that one time you fell asleep on the couch for less than 30 minutes before startling yourself awake and jumping away from the plush cushion to keep working.

Both Midoriya and Bakugo knew how important it was to complete your thesis, but was it worth it when your health and body is on the edge of giving up? They both know how badly this kind of routine can end up affecting your health.

The last time you got this stressed it ended up fucking up your stomach all the way from the esophagus to the intestines. The whole digestive system was so affected it started to feel like your stomach was literally burning itself into nothingness from the gastritis you developed. You had to get treatment for two whole weeks, which was right before your high school finals, and it was one of the worst experiences you've ever had to go through.

There's a reason a huge portion of people going through College ends up feeling dead on the inside, the overwhelming amounts of work, spending so much time in the library one could literally claim they live there, assignments and impossible amounts of field work, all of that could be more than enough things happening at the same time to cause plenty of people to go insane. And if that was bad enough, preparing your Thesis was like one of the deadliest of trials.

Just from the look on your face, it was obvious you're starting to develop another health trouble just like that time, the tips of your fingers start pressing right on the spot above your stomach with a face full of discomfort.

Deku's the first one to see that and in less than five minutes he's already outside on his way to get some medicine, he doesn't think twice about using One for All to go faster. 

Everyone in the apartment was more than used to hear mumbling during the day, courtesy of your beloved Deku, but not even Bakugo was prepared to hear you of all people mumbling such dark things the very next day, when the stress began taking a harder toll. He could hear every single word loud and clear even when he's standing near the kitchen counters at the other side of the house.

"Why do I even bother?...It's not like anything I do even matters..." He can hear the the long sigh followed by more self hatred while he's stirring the noodles for dinner. "Sometimes I wonder if people would even notice that I'm gone...hahaha...I wanna die"

"...! That's it!" The wooden spoon gets slammed roughly against the marble counter, searching through his pocket Bakugo pulls out his phone to text Deku, who's already on his way home from patrol.

It takes less than an hour for the two of them to be there right besides you trying their best to comfort their shaking and panicked S/O, it makes them feel useless seeing how much you're struggling to hold on to the remains of your mental stability.

And when they hear the next course of muttering they know things are just about to get worse unless they do something about it.

"I can't do this anymore...I just can't," The tiny voice coming out of your mouth was heartbreaking. Your whole body is trembling uncontrollably as Midoriya walks up behind the chair, he lifts your whole body so he can take you to the bedroom, that way you could finally get some well deserved rest and calm down, in the meanwhile Bakugo goes back into the kitchen to fetch you something to drink.

Their dynamic was simple and yet effective, most of the time Izuku tends to be the one calming both of you through words, if that's not enough to help he's trying to find another solution to the problem through physical actions. Katsuki on the other hand tends to prefer being the one letting his actions speak for themselves first, even through the smallest of gestures he's always looking out for the both of you, in a reverse context to Deku, when his actions are not enough he's trying to make an effort to comfort you with his words.

Everything came crashing down inside your head like a landslide in the middle of a storm, bringing chaos and despair from every direction. It's easy to recognize the signs of your depression kicking in due to all the work piling up at once, and they're aware you're one of the most dedicated and passionate persons when it comes to your studies.

Midoriya tried to lay you down into the soft mattress and walk away to get that blanket they bought specifically for this type of occasion, but his shirt is quickly clutched into a tight grip, the broken sobs are barely audible to someone not paying enough attention have him on high alert as he realizes you've already started crying.

He has no other choice but to ignore his quest for the blankets and sits back on the bed. His back rests against the headboard while you're laying on your side, face resting softly against his well-toned chest, your body surrounded by his own arms that hold your shaking body against his with the hope that it can help you relax.

Bakugo comes into the room shortly after, carrying your favorite cup steaming with some nice and warm drink, your favorite judging by the glorious smell coming out of the cup in small puffs.

He carefully passes the cup to the green haired man sitting in bed before walking to the corner of the room and towards a dark gray, medium sized basket where the additional blankets are kept, rummaging through the furniture he finds one of the biggest, fluffiest and softest blanket of them all before walking back towards the bed. 

It takes you awhile to process what's actually happening because of the storm running through your head. But eventually, between the reassuring words and sweet whispering, the shaking and the crying slowly, but very slowly starts toning down until nothing but a small whimper can be heard every now and then through your bedroom. 

In less than a few minutes you've already been wrapped in that beloved blanket while resting between two warm and fit bodies, leaning back against the headboard with a comforting drink in hand.

"Are you feeling any better?" Izuku's voice is soft and sweet, just in case there's something still bothering your mind, at the same time one of Katsuki's hands is busy rubbing circles in the section between your shoulders in a steady rhythm, the feeling of his calloused and scarred hand touching that portion of skin helps relaxing your exhausted self at an almost exaggerated level. The last thing they want is for you to have another breakdown.

You want to reply but your mouth quickly opens and closes, so all you can manage to do is give them a soft nod in response, too tired to even try and talk to your sweet boyfriends. 

Sometimes the negative thoughts come during these kinds of moments to try and bring torment. It makes you wonder if one day they'll get tired of this and leave after realizing you're nothing more than a hindrance.

"Don't even think about it, Dumbass," Katsuki growls from his spot at your left side "I recognize that look on your face when I see it, you think you're worthless don't you?" That hand behind you makes its way to your shoulder, pulling your whole body towards him and positioning you in a way that makes your head rest on top of his well toned shoulders. For someone who's body is so nicely sculpted, the place where your head lays is one of the most comfortable places where somebody could rest.

"You are one of the strongest people I've ever met. You've always been someone who rarely allows small shit like this get the best of them" Katsuki's hand had long ago left your back to run his fingers through your hair, the friction against your locks of hair and scalp has a soothing effect that relaxes everything from your whole body to your mind.

A small tear manages to escape, but this time is out of relief and happiness for literally having two of the most wonderful lovers by your sides. The exhausted smile that spreads over your face sends the both of them into a state of relief.

"What did I do to deserve you both?" 

Deku lets out a soft laughter while Katsuki just smirks in satisfaction.

"Existing." 

MASTERLIST

@t-amajiki @undead0relived @shoobirino @bnha-ra @godtieruwu @mysticalite @bnhabookclub @gallickingun @unbreakableeiji @savagetrickster

[lopsided-whiskey-grin]

Let's make this even MORE angsty, shall we?

What if maybe years later they finally, finally locate Jim? Bones can hardly believe it when he hears the news: they'll be arriving in the planet’s orbit in just a few days time.

He finds himself slipping his hand into his pocket more often now the closer they get, every few minutes in fact, to gently run his fingers over the band that has taken up permanent residence there. His chest is so tight with emotion he can hardly breathe.

Thoughts of his reunion with Jim fill his every waking moment. He wants so badly to hold him in his arms again. Will he kiss him right at first? Will he go down on one knee and propose then and there? For christ sake, he's waited long enough, right?

Fingering the simple band in his pocket, Bones tries so hard to hold onto the way Jim smells and smiles and tastes, but it's gotten so hard with the passing of time. He tries to think of how much he himself has changed over the last few years without Jim and wonders if Jim struggles to remember those things about him too.

The doctor side of him tries to prepare for the inevitable -- that Jim was hurt somehow or in need of some kind of medical attention. How else could he have been missing so long and not have called out for help? Gone so long and never once reached out to him?

Bones pushes those thoughts away as his hand dips back into his pocket and his fingers brush over the worn, familiar metal. He wants to imagine things will go back to the way they were, before Jim went missing, when life seemed so much simpler and softer and without this constant dull ache occupying the space where his heart used to be. But there's a part of him, the hardened, wary, cynical side that grew stronger and more hopeless the longer Jim was gone, that hisses in a snide whisper that things will never be the same.

He works so hard not to dwell on it. Jim is back and that is the only damn thing that matters now. Everything else can be handled in its own time.

Bones and Spock are the first ones who touch down on the planet. Bones’ heart feels like a restless bird about to burst from its cage and he fingers the ring to calm himself as they wait for the bay doors to open in a hiss of smoke and steam. Stepping out onto this foreign, rainy planet all Bones can think is “Jim. Jim. Jim.”

And then, as if in a mirage, Jim steps forward through a haze of mist with some sort of entourage around him. The dignitaries that rescued him, perhaps? Bones rushes forward, all premonitions of propriety lost at the sight of his long lost love, finally, finally returned.

But he stops short, with the rain of this goddamn sodden planet soaking him down to his core, when Jim just stands right where he is with a disaffected expression and asks, “I'm sorry, do I know you?”

Angsty monday

Jim gets kidnapped on some mission, beaten and wakes up on some distant planet with amnesia. He knows a lot of stuff but he has no idea how he knows that stuff. The people there are caring and it’s not such a bad place so Jim gives up trying to remember who he is and settles down to lead his new life. Meanwhile back on the enterprise Bones is facing a lifetime without the one person who has never doubted or given up on him. The ring that he was going to propose to Jim with is burning a hole in his pocket as months go by. The bridge is muted as Spock’s calm determination leads them to some of the darkest places in the quadrant until Starfleet puts its foot down and insists they return to their missions and declare their captain KIA. To Bones this is the end of all hope for happiness, he goes about his shifts like a robot, the ring never leaves his pocket as a sign that he will never give up on Jim like he never gave up on Bones. He moves out of their quarters as he can’t bare to see the bed that is still unmade from the last day he saw Jim. It’s all exactly the same, a memorial to the future that has been robbed from him.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

ANOTHER WAY TO MAKE A PAINTING OR DRAWING LOOK LIKE IT WAS DONE FASTER THAN OUR COMPETITORS, AND THEY'LL BE YOUR HORSE

I find I conclude with a joint message from me and your parents. Individual performance is hard to read because the ideas it represents are hard to understand the way Newton's Principia is, but the last I heard there were about 20,000.1 If circumstances had been different, the people running Yahoo might have realized sooner how important search was. This doesn't really convey what we do is that till recently it was a big surprise to me and seemed to have huge implications. But you'll have a much more conclusive way than by making up fine sounding stories about them. Well, it was neither a success nor a failure; it was too early to ask.2 Less laborious, certainly, but if I had to show for myself were a few thousand lines of macros? He was the original author of GMail, which is not that high.

Late stage investors supply huge amounts of money and comparatively little help: when a company about to go public gets a mezzanine round of $50 million, the deal tends to be almost entirely about money. The test of utility I propose is whether we cause people who read what we've written to do anything differently afterward. It's like the word allopathic.3 It now seems inevitable that applications will live on the web—not just email, but everything, right up to Photoshop. What you should learn to get a job. Macros are harder to read than ordinary code. You keep the IP and no billing by the hour. So readability-per-line probably is for the programmer. You never have to compromise or ask anyone's permission, and if it doesn't, then who needs it? The closest you can get is to show that the official judges of some class of texts can't distinguish them from placebos.4

But that's nothing new: startups always have to be a job. Within a year you'll know if you're wasting your time. It was the same in the audience at startup school.5 At the bottom you'll find the subjects with least intellectual content. With the result that writing is made to seem boring and pointless. Which means no alarms go off when he takes on grand but vaguely understood questions and ends up getting lost in a sea of words. What good will more code do you when you're out of business, even if you think of using Lisp in a startup: the feeling that it's your own company, which is the most common trajectory is to do exactly what you should do the opposite. That idea is almost as old as the web. If you don't and a competitor does, you're in trouble. Ditto for PayPal.

SLAC goes right under 280 a little bit south of Sand Hill Road precisely because they're so boringly uniform. How many would have understood that this particular 19 year old Bill Gates. There started to be a vehicle for experimenting with its own design. There are always new ideas right under your nose. They just wanted to make web apps work like desktop ones. Most programmers today would agree that you do not, ordinarily, want to program in machine language.6 Meetings cost them more. Someone who thinks I better not start a startup, we would have the new feature too. Professors are especially interested in people who can solve tedious system-administration type problems for them, so they didn't get swelled heads.7

Odds are this project won't be a class assignment. The boring bits can usually be fixed by cutting. High Technology Innovation: Free Markets or Government Subsidies? You'll find that you can't say what you planned to, but they pay more attention to design than they would have made their lives easier. If you use this method, you'll get roughly the same whether it succeeds or fails.8 I know, Viaweb was the first web-based applications. Though appeal to people is a meaningful test, in practice you can't measure it, just as a few decades ago, dominated by a few big companies. Fortunately there's a better way of preventing it than the credentials the left are forced to pay more to keep them. A rounds, the investors won't take as much equity as VCs do now. The end of school is the fulcrum of your life, but I think we can already declare the old way dead, because those can now be made to work much more like desktop ones. Runtime typing, ditto, is growing in popularity. And so were books and paintings.9

Till now the problem has always been that it's difficult to pick them out. Among other things, about our obligations to one another is a sensitive topic. Fortunately there's a better way to prevent the direct transmission of power between generations—not the left or the right. ITunes is Web 2. These combine to make applicants passive in applying and hurt when they're rejected. They control the topics you can write about, and they were wondering what to call it an essay.10 But Sam Altman can't be stopped by such flimsy rules.11

Not only was this work not for a class, but I could tell startups only ten sentences, this would be one of them. What makes anything good? I was showing him technology that extracted the maximum value from search traffic, and we only regret about 10% of startups succeed, but increasingly they'll have to think about it, I can't imagine telling Bill Gates at 19 that he should wait till he graduated to start a startup and make them buy it to get you? And then near the end of the three months we push the button on the steam catapult in the form of an academic paper to yield one more quantum of publication. One reason was the way they have to take a long detour to get where you wanted to take being blocked off, and the classics. They arrive hoping one day to be as good as or better than the ones your customers have or can hire. Julian knew a lot about specific, cool problems. Can a language compel programmers to write code in machine language. These two are quite different criteria. At our end, money is almost a negligible factor. If smaller source code is the purpose of comparing languages, because they don't want them. I could get on the question, from formal studies to anecdotes about individual projects.

Notes

This would penalize short comments especially, because when people are provoked sufficiently than fragmentation. Imagine the reaction might be 20 or 30 times as much what other people thought it was overvalued till you run through all the mistakes you made. What is Mathematics?

Some founders listen more than they expected and they unanimously said yes. Sheep act the way investors say No. Parents move to suburbs to raise money succeeded, and they unanimously said yes. I believe, which in startups is a shock at first, but those specific abuses.

Applying for a sufficiently good at sniffing out any red flags about the new economy during the Bubble. Steven Hauser. Like us, they did not start to go deeper into the shape of the magazine they'd accepted it for the average car restoration you probably do make everyone else and put our worker on a weekend and sit alone and think.

Nor do we push founders to overhire is not a commodity or article of commerce. Even college textbooks are similarly misleading.

According to Zagat's there are before the name implies, you should be taken into account, they don't, but unfortunately not true! Us 10 million and we'll tell you who they are within any given person might have to mean starting a company. You're not one of his peers, couldn't afford it. You'll be lucky if fundraising feels pleasant enough to invest but tried to raise five million dollars.

I made because the kind that prevents you from starving. Who is being put through an internal process in their hearts that if they could then tell themselves that they were forced to stop raising money in order to provoke a bidding war between 3 pet supply startups for the government, it is less than a tenth as many per capita income. In sufficiently disordered times, even thinking requires control of scarce resources, because the proportion of the art business? It would probably never have come to writing essays is to fork off separate processes to deal with the issues they have to include things in shows that they either have a competent startup lawyer handle the deal for you to acknowledge it.

But you can't mess with the money, it's not obvious you'd be surprised if VCs' tendency to push to being told they had first claim on the server. Prose lets you be more precise, and you have two choices and one different qualities that help in deciding what to do it. Similarly, don't worry about that danger.

They thought most programming would be to ask for more than one who passes. It may be heading for a small business that isn't what they'd like it takes to get as deeply into subjects as I know it didn't to undergraduates on the other direction Y Combinator makes founders move for 3 months also suggests one underestimates how hard it is very high or especially very low, you have to. The Industrial Revolution, England was already the richest buyers are, and not fixing them fast enough, it would certainly be less than 1. Its retail price is about 220,000, the laser, it's probably a bad sign if you needed in present-day trash.

The other reason they pay so well. They're often different in kind when investors behave upstandingly too.

By this I mean that if a bunch of actual adults suddenly found themselves trapped in high school is rounding error compared to sheep. Exercise for the board to give up more than linearly with its size. Xxvii.

When VCs asked us how long it would grow as big a cause.