#dont know what it is dont know what to do it happens to the skin that gets the most like 'wet' ig

[amkyor]

hi!! is there any possibility for you to do the opposite of the mha guys getting slapped? like the boys accidentally hurt the reader when arguing, whether it be slamming a door and their hand gets caught orrr a shove that was a little too strong ya know? you obv dont have to but if you did, the same guys in the original one would be perfect!

MHA GUYS REACT TO...

READER GETTING HURT WHILE ARGUING ᡣ𐭩

Katsuki Bakugo ᡣ𐭩

The sound of the iron sizzling as it glided over fabric filled the small apartment.

You stood by the ironing board, focused on smoothing out the creases in one of Bakugo’s button-up shirts.

The room was warm, and the tension was palpable. The argument between you and Bakugo had started as a simple disagreement but quickly escalated into a heated exchange.

“Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” you snapped, your voice cutting through the hum of the iron.

Bakugo stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his signature scowl etched deep on his face.

“I’m stubborn? You’re the one who never listens!” he shot back, his tone sharp and defensive.

You glared at him, the iron in your hand moving a little faster than before.

The argument continued, words flying back and forth. Neither of you were willing to back down, each too caught up in your emotions to see the situation clearly.

“I don’t understand why you have to make everything so damn difficult!” Bakugo growled, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“I’m making things difficult? You’re impossible!” You fired back, your voice rising.

In your frustration, you weren’t paying attention to the iron. As you adjusted the shirt on the board, your hand slipped, and the edge of the hot iron made contact with your skin.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you let out a yelp, dropping the iron onto the board.

“Shit!” You cried, cradling your hand.

Bakugo’s eyes widened, and the anger in his face was instantly replaced with concern.

He crossed the room in two strides, his hands reaching for yours. “What the hell happened?” he demanded, his voice laced with worry.

“I burned myself,” you hissed through clenched teeth, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

The pain was sharp and intense, and you could already see the angry red mark forming on your skin.

“Let me see,” Bakugo said, his tone softer now. He gently took your hand in his, inspecting the burn. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they brushed over your skin.

“It’s not that bad,” you mumbled, trying to downplay the situation despite the pain.

“Don’t be stupid,” he snapped, though there was no heat in his words. “Stay here.”

Bakugo disappeared into the kitchen and returned moments later with a bowl of cool water and a clean towel.

He carefully guided you to sit down on the bed, setting the bowl on the bedside table.

Without saying a word, he dipped the towel in the water and gently pressed it against the burn on your hand.

“Hold this,” he instructed, his voice gruff but steady. You obeyed, wincing slightly as the cool towel soothed the searing pain.

Bakugo crouched in front of you, his crimson eyes scanning your face for any signs of discomfort.

His concern was evident, though he tried to mask it with his usual tough demeanor.

“You need to be more careful,” he muttered, his gaze flicking down to your hand. “What were you thinking, waving that damn thing around while yelling at me?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual intensity. “I wasn’t waving it around. I was ironing your shirt, remember? The one you claimed I ruined in the first place.”

He sighed, running a hand through his spiky blond hair. “Yeah, well… maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I was pissed.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his admission. “Was that... an apology?”

“Don’t push it,” he grumbled, though the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh despite the lingering pain. “You’re impossible, Katsuki.”

“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, but his tone was softer now. He stood up and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small first-aid kit.

Sitting beside you on the bed, he opened the kit and pulled out a tube of burn ointment.

“This is gonna sting a little,” he warned, taking your hand in his. His touch was careful, almost hesitant, as he applied the ointment to the burn.

His thumb brushed against your uninjured skin, his movements uncharacteristically tender.

You watched him in silence, your earlier anger fading away. It was moments like these that reminded you of how deeply he cared, even if he had a strange way of showing it.

“Thanks,” you said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t thank me. Just don’t be stupid next time.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled nonetheless. “I’ll try. But maybe you could help by not being so infuriating all the time.”

“Tch. You’re one to talk,” he muttered, though there was no real bite in his words.

After wrapping a loose bandage around your hand, his shoulders relaxed as he leaned back against the bed, supporting himself with his palms.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension from earlier had melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence.

Bakugo turned his head to look at you, his fiery red eyes softer than usual.

“Sorry, by the way,” he said quietly, almost as if the words pained him to say. “For snapping at you earlier.”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Wow. Two apologies in one day? Who are you, and what have you done with Katsuki Bakugo?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

You laughed, leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He didn’t push you away. Instead, he reached over with his unoccupied hand and rested it lightly on your knee, a subtle gesture of reassurance.

As the two of you sat there, the earlier argument felt like a distant memory.

Bakugo might have been rough around the edges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved him—and why, no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Shoto Todoroki ᡣ𐭩

The kitchen was quiet except for the rhythmic sound of a knife slicing through strawberries.

You stood at the counter, focused on your task, carefully cutting the fruit into even pieces. The tension in the air was thick, a result of the argument that had been brewing for the past twenty minutes.

Shoto leaned against the opposite counter, his arms crossed, his face unreadable.

His heterochromatic eyes were sharp, and his usually calm demeanor was laced with irritation.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just listen to reason,” he said, his voice steady but cold.

You didn’t look up, your hands working methodically.

“And I don’t understand why you always have to be so detached about everything,” you shot back, frustration creeping into your tone.

“I’m not detached. I’m just trying to be logical,” he replied, his gaze unwavering.

“Logical doesn’t always mean right, Shoto,” you said, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Sometimes, emotions matter too.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not saying they don’t. But this isn’t about emotions. It’s about—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice sharp. “Don’t dismiss how I feel. You always do that.”

His expression faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered. “I’m not dismissing you. I’m trying to have a conversation, but you’re being unreasonable.”

The words stung, and in your frustration, your grip on the knife tightened.

Your hand slipped, and before you realized what had happened, the blade nicked your finger.

“Ah!” You yelped, dropping the knife onto the cutting board and clutching your hand.

Blood welled up from the cut, and the pain was sharp and immediate.

Shoto’s eyes widened, the irritation in his expression instantly replaced with concern.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, his movements swift and precise.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching for your hand.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, trying to pull away, but he gently but firmly held your wrist.

“It’s not fine,” he said, his voice softer now. His thumb brushed against your uninjured fingers as he inspected the cut. “You’re bleeding.”

He guided you to the sink, turning on the faucet and holding your hand under the cool water.

The silence between you was heavy, but it wasn’t the same tense silence as before. This one was filled with unspoken worry and regret.

“You need to be more careful,” he said quietly, his eyes focused on your hand.

You let out a small, bitter laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? We wouldn’t even be in this situation if we weren’t arguing.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you saw his jaw tighten. After a moment, he turned off the water and reached for a clean towel, wrapping it around your hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden apology. “What?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, meeting your gaze. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings. You were right.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten. You looked up at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes narrowed.

You hesitated for a moment before looking away from his strong gaze. “I… I’m sorry too,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have let my frustration get the better of me.”

He nodded, his expression softening. “Let me bandage this properly.”

Without waiting for your response, he led you to the bathroom, where he carefully cleaned and dressed the wound.

His touch was gentle, and the concentration on his face reminded you of why you loved him—his quiet care, his attention to detail.

When he was done, he looked at you, his eyes filled with something unspoken. “I hate seeing you hurt,” he admitted.

You smiled faintly, reaching up to cup his cheek with your uninjured hand. “And I hate fighting with you.”

He leaned into your touch, his hand covering yours. “Let’s try to handle things better next time. No more strawberries during arguments.”

You laughed softly, the tension finally breaking. “Deal.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment. “Come on. Let’s finish making those strawberries together.”

And just like that, the kitchen felt a little warmer, and the argument felt like a distant memory.

Izuku Midoriya ᡣ𐭩

Izuku Midoriya stood in the middle of the kitchen, his arms crossed, and his expression was unusually tense.

The air between you was thick with frustration, the kind of tension that turned casual conversations into heated arguments.

“I just don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” Izuku said, his voice louder than it usually was.

“You shouldn’t have to handle things on your own when I’m right here!”

You sighed, turning away from him as you wiped down the counter, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand. “I didn’t think it was a big deal, Izuku. I didn’t want to worry you over something so small.”

“Small?” he repeated, his green eyes wide and incredulous. “You were stressed out, overworking yourself, and you didn’t think I needed to know?”

You glanced at him, your jaw tight. “I was handling it just fine. Not everything needs to be a team effort, okay? I’m allowed to deal with things on my own sometimes.”

Izuku’s fists clenched at his sides, but he took a deep breath, clearly trying to steady himself.

“But we’re a team. That’s the point of being together, isn’t it? Supporting each other?”

You could feel your own temper rising, and you turned toward the fridge, needing a moment to compose yourself. “I’m not saying we’re not a team, Izuku. I’m just saying I didn’t need help with this.”

Your words hung in the air as you opened the fridge, reaching in for a carton of eggs to finish preparing dinner.

The argument still buzzed in the back of your mind, and your movements were quicker and less careful than usual.

As you grabbed the eggs and swung the fridge door shut, your finger got caught between the heavy door and its frame.

A sharp, searing pain shot through your hand, and you yelped, dropping the carton of eggs onto the floor.

The sound of the eggs cracking was muffled by your hiss of pain, and you instinctively clutched your injured hand, tears springing to your eyes.

“Ah, crap!” you muttered, trying to shake off the pain.

Izuku was at your side in an instant, his earlier frustration completely replaced by concern. “Are you okay? Let me see!”

“It’s fine, Izuku,” you said, wincing as you tried to wave him off.

“It’s not fine,” he insisted gently but firmly taking your hand.

His fingers were warm and careful as he inspected the injury. The skin around your finger was already red and swelling slightly.

“Why were you moving so fast?” he asked, his tone softer but still laced with worry.

“Because we were arguing, and I wasn’t paying attention,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt as you looked at the mess of broken eggs on the floor.

Izuku sighed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand. “This is exactly what I mean. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up and push yourself like this.”

You glanced up at him, his emerald eyes filled with concern and just a hint of exasperation. “I wasn’t trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “I know you didn’t mean to. But I hate seeing you like this—hurt, stressed, or trying to carry everything on your own. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to us.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just didn’t want to add to your plate.”

Izuku shook his head, a small, rueful smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I’m here for—to share the plate. Even if it’s overflowing, it’s better than you carrying it all by yourself.”

You managed a small laugh despite the lingering ache in your hand. “You and your metaphors.”

He smiled wider, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles. “Come on. Let’s clean up this mess and get some ice on your finger.”

Together, you cleaned up the broken eggs, Izuku insisting on doing most of the work while you held your injured hand under cool running water.

When the floor was spotless again, he led you to the couch, sat you down, and disappeared into the kitchen to grab a bag of frozen peas to use as an ice pack.

When he returned, he crouched in front of you, carefully placing the makeshift ice pack against your finger. “There. Keep this on for a while, okay?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Izuku. For everything.”

He looked up at you, his eyes soft. “Always.”

As he sat beside you, one arm slipping around your shoulders, the argument felt like a distant memory.

The only thing that mattered now was the quiet understanding that you didn’t have to face anything alone.

Eijiro Kirishima ᡣ𐭩

The sun had long set, leaving the apartment illuminated by warm overhead lights.

Dinner dishes were still on the table, and the faint scent of grilled chicken lingered in the air.

You were on your way to the kitchen, carrying the plates from the table, your footsteps brisk. Behind you, Kirishima’s voice followed, sharp with frustration.

“I’m just saying you could’ve told me before making the plans!” he said, his tone a mix of exasperation and hurt.

You turned your head slightly, your own irritation bubbling over. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal, Eijiro! It’s just a dinner with some friends!”

“Yeah, friends I barely know,” he shot back, following you into the kitchen. “You know I like to plan things. I hate feeling blindsided like this!”

The plates clinked loudly as you set them on the counter, your movements a little too forceful. “It’s one night! You don’t have to go if it’s such a problem!”

Kirishima ran a hand through his hair, his usually soft expression hardened by the argument. “That’s not the point, and you know it. Why do you always do this? Make decisions without even talking to me?”

You spun around to face him, your hands gesturing wildly. “Because not everything needs a full-blown discussion, Eijiro! Sometimes, I just want to do something without overthinking it for hours!”

The tension in the room was thick, your words bouncing off each other like sparks flying in a forge. Neither of you were backing down, your voices overlapping in a heated exchange.

As you turned to grab something from the counter, your hip collided with the edge of the kitchen island. Hard.

The sharp pain took you by surprise, and you let out a yelp, instinctively clutching your side.

The impact sent a dull ache radiating through your hip, and you stumbled slightly, leaning against the counter for support.

Kirishima’s anger evaporated in an instant, replaced by concern. “Babe, are you okay?” he asked, rushing to your side.

You winced, blinking back tears of pain. “I’m fine,” you muttered, though your voice wavered.

“Let me see,” he said, his hands hovering near your waist as if unsure whether to touch you.

“It’s nothing, Eijiro,” you insisted, though the way you clutched your hip betrayed your words.

“Don’t give me that,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re in pain. Sit down, please.”

Reluctantly, you allowed him to guide you to one of the kitchen chairs.

His hands were gentle as he helped you sit, his worry evident in the furrow of his brows.

“Where did you hit it?” he asked, crouching in front of you.

You hesitated before lifting the hem of your shirt slightly to reveal the reddening spot on your hip.

Kirishima winced at the sight, his expression softening even more.

“That looks like it hurts,” he said, his voice filled with guilt. “I’ll get some ice.”

He stood quickly, rummaging through the freezer until he found an ice pack.

Wrapping it in a towel, he returned to your side, kneeling in front of you as he gently pressed the ice pack to your hip.

You hissed at the sudden cold but didn’t pull away, the pain already beginning to dull. “Thanks,” you said quietly, avoiding his gaze.

Kirishima sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to get so worked up. I just… I hate fighting with you.”

You looked down at him, his crimson eyes filled with sincerity. “I’m sorry too,” you admitted. “I should’ve talked to you about the dinner. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I overreacted. I know you weren’t trying to. I just… I like being included, you know?”

“I get it,” you said, reaching out to brush a hand through his hair. “And I’ll try to be better about that. I promise.”

Kirishima leaned into your touch, his eyes closing briefly. “And I’ll try not to blow up over little things. We’re a team, right?”

“Always,” you said, a smile finally breaking through the tension.

He stood, helping you to your feet as well. “Come on,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get you comfortable on the couch. I’ll clean up the kitchen tonight.”

You laughed softly, leaning into him as he guided you out of the kitchen. “You’re really trying to make up for this, huh?”

“Damn right I am,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I screwed up, and I’m not letting you think for a second that I don’t care.”

As you settled onto the couch, Kirishima brought you a blanket and a glass of water before sitting beside you, his hand resting gently on your leg.

The earlier argument felt like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his care and the quiet understanding that no matter how heated things got, you’d always find your way back to each other.

Denki Kaminari ᡣ𐭩

The evening had started off normally enough. You and Denki were at home, trying to enjoy some downtime after a long week.

The living room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the TV filling the silence as you moved around, trying to organize the tangled mess of chargers and wires behind the entertainment stand.

Denki sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone, his usual carefree demeanor noticeably absent.

A small disagreement earlier in the day had left a lingering tension between the two of you, and neither had made the move to resolve it.

“You’ve got too many things plugged in back there,” Denki said, breaking the silence.

You sighed, crouched behind the TV as you worked to untangle the mess. “I know, Denki. That’s why I’m fixing it.”

“It’s not just about fixing it,” he shot back, his voice sharper than usual. “You’re always leaving it like that, and it’s dangerous. I’ve told you a hundred times.”

You rolled your eyes, the frustration bubbling up. “I don’t need a lecture right now. I’m handling it, okay?”

His phone landed on the coffee table with a thud, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Handling it? That’s what you always say. But you never actually—”

“Can you not right now?” You interrupted, turning your head to glare at him. “I said I’ve got it under control.”

Denki scoffed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Yeah, sure. You’re so ‘in control’ that you’re probably going to end up shocking yourself.”

Your temper flared at his sarcasm. “At least I’m doing something instead of sitting there complaining!”

The tension in the room thickened, your voices rising as the argument escalated.

You were so focused on getting the last charger plugged in and proving a point that you didn’t notice the faint crackle of static building up in the air.

“Maybe if you actually listened—” Denki started, but his words were cut off by your sudden yelp.

A sharp jolt of electricity shot through your fingers as you plugged in the charger, making you jump back and wince in pain. “Ow!”

Denki was on his feet in an instant, his earlier anger replaced with concern. “What happened?” he asked, rushing to your side.

You cradled your hand, your face twisted in discomfort. “I got shocked,” you muttered, trying to shake off the stinging sensation.

“I told you!” Denki exclaimed, though his voice was more panicked than accusatory. “That’s why I said it’s dangerous!”

You shot him a glare, still cradling your hand. “This isn’t the time to say ‘I told you so,’ Denki!”

His expression softened as he crouched beside you, gently taking your hand in his. “Let me see,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You hesitated but allowed him to examine your fingers. His touch was gentle, his thumb brushing over the spot where the jolt had hit.

“It doesn’t look bad,” he said, his golden eyes scanning your hand for any signs of burns. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little,” you admitted, your earlier anger fading as you saw the genuine worry on his face.

Denki let out a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “You scared me,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden vulnerability. “I’m fine, Denki. It’s just a little shock.”

“Yeah, but it could’ve been worse,” he said, his brow furrowed. “I shouldn’t have let you do that by yourself. I should’ve just helped instead of being a jerk about it.”

You sighed, the weight of the argument finally settling over you. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you, either,” you admitted. “I was just frustrated, and I took it out on you.”

Denki’s lips quirked into a small smile, his usual lightheartedness beginning to return. “We’re both pretty good at being stubborn, huh?”

You chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah, we are.”

He stood, offering you his hand to help you up. “Come on. Let’s take a break from this mess. I’ll get you some ice for your hand, and then we can figure it out together.”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “Thanks, Denki.”

As the two of you walked to the kitchen, the tension between you began to ease.

Denki rummaged through the freezer, pulling out an ice pack and wrapping it in a towel before handing it to you.

“Here,” he said, his grin more playful now. “And for the record, you look cute when you’re stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re lucky I love you, idiot.”

Denki laughed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Love you too, spark plug.”

The argument was forgotten, replaced by the warmth of your shared laughter and the promise to face things together, no matter how tangled or messy they might be.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader Fanfic

[yuansie]

ocean memories : chapter one.

synopsis. you never listen to your parents. what makes them think you'll listen to them now?

pairing. rafayel x fem! non mc! reader

warnings. reader is a preteen or a tween in this HAHFAHEFA so is rafayel, ooc preteen raf oopsie daisy (it's for the plot, unfortunately), formal speaking (it's set in the olden times...), reader's hair and eye color change to specific colors (it's for the plot... IT'S FOR THE PLOTTT PLS DONT HATE ME 😭🙏🏼) but skin color is not specified (obvi), raf is kind of serious... just a little bit (i think), slight spoilers to his forgotten sea myth (kind of?), reader is also supposed to be the smartest kid in her village . if there's anything i should add, please let me know!

genres. fluff

rating. sfw

w/c. 2.7k hahaha... 😟

a/n. HELLOOOOOO this was so long bye i didn't mean to make this chapter long but it happened so good bc sometimes i struggle even writing a sentence down BYEEE anyways ! for this section of the series, dialogue will be very formal because i do NAWT want to write in shakespearean ! bro's plays are good to read but writing it? NO ! reading raf's forgotten sea myth with all the "thy/thou" words had me internally crying.

YOUR PARENTS LIKE TO SAY THAT YOUR CURIOSITY WILL GET YOU IN TROUBLE, and while you don’t agree with them, you think their words might prove you wrong tonight.

the adults have always said never to head to the current by the coral reefs, said that it's too dangerous. you asked your parents once about why it was so.

they never answered you.

and then you asked the head of the village once—he said that you were too young to know.

to know what? that it's just a current? what is a current going to do to your strong tail? what will it do to a lemurian?

these vague answers have done nothing but pique your curious mind and your adventuring-craving bones. and so you find yourself laying wide awake at night, waiting and waiting until you know your parents have gone to sleep and are well into their dreams.

it's easy to slip out afterwards, easy to swim past the sea lamp outside the front door and the other homes. it's easy to swim past the village head’s place and head to the coral reefs behind it. the current comes into view quickly, easy to distinguish by the light blue waves that rush down and disappears beyond the wall of coral reef.

your parents words echo in your ear: stay away from the currents.

but they’re pushed away, a soft voice calling out to you. come closer. the voice sounds pleasant, not too deep nor too high pitched. it calls out to you again, come to me, find me, their words lulling you closer to the currents. and you move closer, abiding to the voice’s request. then you blink, finding yourself in the current. laughter erupts from your throat and spills from your lips, “and they said it was danger—” you squeal, waving your arms wildly when the current abruptly pulls you down, taking you away. you wait for the coral reef to scratch your skin and tail, but there was never any pain. it was almost as if the current protected you from it as it dragged you away, tugging down you to the entrance of what looks like a cave.

you’re dropped softly on sand, your mind absolutely blank from what just happened. the eerie silence gnaws dread into your bones, your heart beginning to pick its pace up. you’re all alone in some cave who-knows-how-far-away from the village. you push yourself off the sand, your tail hitting the ground and sending sand upwards. just as you’re about to explore the area to find a way back, you stop and tilt your head to the side, watching how the image of the cave shimmers and vibrates, its appearance morphing into what you think is a temple.

columns of pristine marble that look whiter than the pearls you sometimes see in the market, renders you speechless. you swim closer as if you’re in another trance, slowing to a stop right at the entrance. there is no door to keep you out, only a pitch darkness separating you from the inside. you stretch your hand out, fingers embraced by the darkness inside for a few seconds. the darkness doesn’t startle you, you feel no fear as you look into it but rather a strange calmness. the darkness erupts into a blinding light, making you shield your eyes until they adjust to the sudden brightness. the light now illuminates the temple and you move inside. your breath stops at your throat, wide eyes taking in every detail of the beautiful temple. you swim and reach an alter, blinking in confusion at the body of a boy around your age lying there.

the boy lies flat on his back, dark lashes and purple hair contrasting against his pale skin. his skin is so pale you think he’s sick, so you press a hand to his forehead and then your own against the back of your hand, closing your eyes. his skin is cold, though it soon warms up much to your surprise. you feel soft puffs of air against your skin; your eyes flutter open to find a pair of bicolored eyes, with beautiful hues of ocean blue and sunset red, staring back at you. there’s a faint glow of red by his shoulder blade, but you don't say anything and neither does he, choosing to just stare at one another.

“i am so sorry,” you say, leaning back to give him space. “i was just checking if you were sick since you looked so pale…”

“i am not sick,” he says, eyes trained on you. the intensity of his stare makes your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but you decide to hold his stare. “i was merely sleeping.”

“sleeping?” the embarrassment you feel is washed away and replaced by curiosity. “all the way out here and not in whalefall village?"

he ignores your question and closes his eyes, “i have been waiting to get awakened,” he opens one of them to look at you, “you should have woken me up when i grew into an adult.”

“…what?” your curiosity is now skepticism because you have no idea what this boy is trying to say. “are you okay?” you look at him with narrowed eyes, studying his features. “you are not from the village. i would have recognized you.”

he ignores your question and rambles instead, “of course i am fine,” he says, “like i said, i was just sleeping, waiting to be awakened; now that i am awake…” the corners of his lips slowly lift and he points at you, “i have a question for you.”

“for me?” you point at yourself.

the boy nods. “i don't see anyone else here, now do i?”

you huff through your nose. “alright… but first, you must answer my question!”

he quirks an eyebrow up. “...okay. what is your question?”

“what is your name?”

the boy blinks at you. “i am the god of tides.”

your jaw drops, “what?” clearing your throat, you hit his arm to which he yelps in surprise. “don’t speak lies!”

he rubs the sore spot on his arm, his lips forming a pout. “i am not lying! i am the god of tides!”

“the village head told me that the god of tides has not been seen in over hundreds of years!”

“that’s because i was sleeping in my temple!” he huffs and throws his arms up. “i was waiting for my priestess to wake me up!”

“priestess?”

“yes!” the boy gets up from the alter and swims to you. “the deep sea told me it would send a girl who loves the sea more than anything, with hair the color of sea foam and eyes like sea… and here you are!”

“woah there,” you chuckle, lifting your hands to push the boy away from you. “i do not have sea foam-colored hair nor eyes like the sea.”

the boy points at your hair. “yes you do.”

you grab a strand of your hair in your hair and look down, choking in surprise at the color of your hair: blue sea foam that appears when waves crash on the surface. turning towards the boy, you grab his shoulders and shake him. “my eyes! what color are they?”

he rolls his eyes, “i told you that they are blue like the sea. why have you already forgotten?”

“no!” you whine, “my parents will kill me! that is not the color of my eyes nor is my hair this color! what did you do to me?”

the boy shrugs. “the deep sea must have blessed you when it chose you to find me.”

breathing in deeply, you exhale slowly, your hands still on his shoulders. “you say you are the god of tides, yes?” he nods, and you continue, “the village head once told me that only the god of tides could wield fire… can you?”

he pushes you away enough to create some distance between you two. your arms fall to your side as you wait with bated breath, and the boy holds a hand out, a fire burning brightly in his palm. he glances at you through his eyelashes, his lips forming a bright smile at the sight of you watching the flame in his palm with awe. the flame flickering in your blue eyes, he thinks, is pretty.

very pretty.

“oh,” you gasp, snapping him from his thoughts. “i was rude to you. i am so sorry.”

he waves it off. “i will forgive you because you are my one and only priestess.”

a priestess to the god your people have longed for.

you beam at him, “thank you—ah.”

“what?”

“your name,” you say, “you never told me.”

you watch the boy scratch the back of his neck as he thinks before finally replying, “i don’t have one.”

“what?” you gape at him like a fish does when it’s out of the water. “you have no name?”

“no.”

you close your eyes and tap on your upper lip with a finger, thinking long and hard. there is a text book you read not long ago, a text book the village head had lent you after you asked about the god of the sea. while reading it, there was a name that had appeared in the text that you liked.

“rafayel.”

blue and red eyes stare at you with curiosity. “rafayel?” he echoes.

“yes,” you grabs his hands and smile at him. “i read it in a book the village head gave to me. it means god has healed, and our god has finally healed and is back.”

rafayel mirrors the smile on your lips, gripping tightly onto your hands. “rafayel,” he says, “i like that name.”

it hasn’t been long since you woke rafayel and took him back to the village, and while the village head wanted to stick to his side like glue and aid him in whatever he could, rafayel had shooed him away, claiming that he only needed his priestess—you.

“you cannot be serious right now,” rafayel deadpans, watching you with narrowed as you swim about in the temple, the trinkets you had found on the surface clinking in your arms, “why would you go to the surface? again?”

“because it is fun and,” you raise your arms slightly, “i can find these odd things. they are fascinating, raf!”

rafayel furrows his eyebrows. “fascinating?” he repeats, glancing at the things in your arms before looking back at you, grimacing, “they do not look like that to me.”

“well, they just are!” you let the items go, letting them drift as you swim to your friend. “why don’t you go with me?”

“go with you?” he hums in thought. “no. the people will not let me leave the temple.”

you grab his hand tightly. “but i will be with you, rafayel. nothing bad will happen.”

you can see the gears in his head turn before slowly nodding. the corner of his lips twitch as you brighten, beginning to ramble about what you will show him first. he won’t admit it aloud—no, he can’t because he must remain a noble figure in your eyes—that he is excited to see with his own eyes the wonders you hold dear to your adventurous heart.

it’s almost comical how you wait until nightfall to sneak out of your home and head to the temple to meet rafayel. you have to continuously pinch your hand to refrain from laughing at how easy it is to slip out of your room and past the homes.

your parents will never learn, you think as the temple comes into view.

“rafayel?” you stick your head inside only to yelp in surprise at how quickly rafayel appears in front of you.

he gives you a lopsided grin, calming your racing heart instantly. “did i scare you, my priestess?”

“what do you think?” you grumble, slapping his arm. he whines, rubbing the sore spot on his arm as he sticks his tongue out at you. his foul mood is washed away when you grab his hands and press a finger to your lips, winking at him as you lead him to the surface.

out the temple, take the current to the coral reefs, swim to the canyons and cliffs, go up.

moonlight reflects on the surface of the water when you two emerge from it.

rafayel turns his head to face you, grimacing. “you sneak out for… this?”

the island not too far in front seems bare, lacking the human trinkets you like so much. there is only but the beach and the forestry, nothing else.

“that is because we are not on the beach,” you say, dragging him closer to the sand. he lets you drag him. “and there was a storm last night. there will be treasure to find once we are at the beach.”

when his tail brushes against sand, you release his hand and push yourself out of the water, your tail which once shone with beautiful, iridescent scales, turns into human legs. twirling around on legs foreign to him, smiling so brightly he thinks he might be staring at the sun, you hold out your hand. “what are you waiting for, rafa?”

he grumbles, pushing himself up from the water. his tail morphs into human legs as well, and he takes a wobbly step towards you, almost falling. you laugh as you catch him, your skin warm against his. “this is not fun,” his cheeks feel like they’re burning, a feeling he has never felt before—perhaps it is embarrassment.

he looks at you, a frown etched on his lips. “lemurians are meant to swim, not walk.”

you giggle, continuing to support rafayel as you walk to the other end of the beach. “we lemurians can do anything, rafie.” you point at something, and rafayel looks in front of him to find something glimmering as the moonlight shines on it. “see that?” you whisper, “that is the treasure i was talking about.”

you bring him over to the object that shines, which happens to be a circular metal with a button on top, a thin chain hanging on its back. you grab it excitedly, like a child given a candy, and show it to him.

“what am i looking at?” he asks.

“a pocket watch!” you press the button on top and the circular contraption opens, revealing a ticking watch at the bottom and a small mirror at the top. “oh, this one is different.”

“how so?”

“the other ones i have found usually have a map here,” you tap the mirror. it reflects his eye and tufts of his hair on the left while the right shows your eye and sea-foam colored hair—he remembers you saying that you’re still not used to the new colors of your hair and eyes, admitting that you miss the original colors. you catch his stare through the mirror and wink at him, continuing, “but there is a mirror here.”

he averts his gaze. “i must admit… it looks interesting.”

“i told it was interesting and you did not believe me!” your smile, so infectious, brings one to his lips.

you go on a scavenging journey while he opts to sit on the sand near the water, watching as you run back and forth on the beach, sometimes stumbling and falling. when he attempts to get up to check on you, he always falters when he hears your laughter echo into the sky soon afterwards. eventually, you tire from your search and plop down next to him, dropping your new trinkets next to you. your legs turn into your tail, and you rest your head on rafayel’s shoulder.

his legs turn into his tail, and he gently hits the ground just as a wave nears both your tails, splashing water onto the two of you.

“you have pretty scales,” you say, your tone soft. “they remind me of your eyes and your eyes remind me of the how sunset looks when it is reflected on the ocean’s water.”

“you have pretty scales, too. prettier than mine.”

“really?” you ask, shoulders slightly shaking with the giggles that spill from your lips.

“yes.”

when he’s back in his temple, watching you swim back to your home, he thinks that maybe the surface isn’t all that bad.

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taglist (open). @bakutual @nadinefromwhere @justmystical @holywaterbucketchallenge

OCEAN MEMORIES, yuansie 2024

[definitelynotshouting]

saw this post assigning devastating quotes to each life series members, got incredibly inspired, and decided to try my own hand at it but specifically with snippets of the poetry ive personally written throughout the years :] thoughts and musings on several of my choices will be under the cut if you're interested in that sorta thing!! Enjoy<3

Bdubs: "it's all so blue. so blue, so wet, so cold, but you've got a fire in your heart like a hundred rockets. you aren't hungry, but you could eat the dead, / cut your teeth on a rotting corpse."

BigB: "SOMETHING HAS FRACTURED HERE AND IT WILL NEVER BE THE SAME AGAIN. EACH DAY YOU WILL CHASE THE FAULT LINES LOOKING FOR A BRIDGE ONLY TO FIND IT ALREADY BURNT."

Etho: "I am above myself, hovering, pressing pale fingers into the dull bruise of yesterday to test its lingering ache. Is this all that's left?"

Gem: "what are gods if not the mothers of our own inventions. we are the avatars of violence and love and hope and fear in equal measure."

Scar: "I think I want to live. I know one day, I must die. In the cosmic wheel of fortune, I am a gamble in the making, gentle breath washing a little luck over the dice."

Grian: "Within the shape of my clawed fingers are knives: scrabbled dirt; scarlet lines; the escape route / Between a fence and / Tall grasses."

Impulse: "Life's bitter, stilted offering / Is that every person we meet / Will one day become a perfect stranger."

Martyn: "Dangerous beasts must earn / Their survival. / You are no different than a knife / In the hands of murderers."

Lizzie: "When I think of the egg-tooth, / I revel in purple glass; the lightning; the shatter; the knife-slip between / Death, and a wake."

Mumbo: "This is your life now, / Found in the cracks and crevices, scraps pried between laughter and reckless abandon."

Pearl: "I am begging, raw in the face of absolution— do not hate me. Please, keep watering me in your garden, / Despite how closely my heart resembles a weed."

Ren: "— and sometimes hearts are forged in violence /— and sometimes blood cannot form scabs / — and sometimes wounds carry half-hearted sutures / — and we are all but living fragments / —"

Skizz: "Just a little longer. Please. / There is light pooling at the bottom of the flower vase."

Scott: "I can only hope that with the rising of the dawn / I will pass through darkness and return to day, / Where I am a solar ray blinding— teeth and claws sharpened, the stretch of my skin carrying gold / Above the dull, dug out earth"

Joel: "Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; / Yes, there is a loss."

Jimmy: "for year after bloody year, i clung to life with aching fingernails, grasped at every straw, took every scrap of double-barrelled hope and shot myself in the chest with it."

Tango: "every time you claw yourself from the ashes you insist it will never happen again. every time you reach the breaking point, it happens a little bit faster."

Cleo: "It's about catharsis, not letting go. / Because a part of me wants to hold this, / A swelling hurt deeper than tides, / Hotter than stars. The kind of rage / A mother might raise against her own child."

I dont share my poetry on here very often, partially because it tends to end up coming from a very personal part of me, but since this was actually a lot of fun maybe i'll start posting my poems more often here :]] i think what i found most interesting about this exercise was that as i scrolled my notes app and cherry-picked quotes for each character, it felt like the ones i chose naturally became part of a larger conversation-- as if the characters were speaking to me through my own words about their lowest points, about their ultimate views on the games filtered through the lens of a red life.

It felt enlightening; i dont often feel like im speaking to characters or being informed about their plots/preferences, etc. the way many other writers discuss in workshops or casually online, but by the end of this exercise i felt like i just... understood them, better than i had before. There's something inexplicable about reading your own words and consciously finding ways to apply them in a way that encapsulates them down to a character's core that just... truly highlights the specific qualities that resonate most with you. And i think stumbling upon that organically was a very vivid and incredible experience for me

Admittedly, i did struggle on Scott, Ren, and Etho a lot-- im not as familiar with them as characters, and for a while i couldn't quite pinpoint what exact themes they tend to carry with them throughout all their life seasons. But when i started to really look at everyone's quotes as a whole, i realized they felt like a story, like the response to a question-- as if i was being TOLD what they felt and how, and that that was how i needed to frame the rest of my selections. So Scott's ended up being about control, and the desperate hanging onto of it; Ren's is about the acceptance and bitterness of what he cannot change; Etho's is a quiet resignation rounded out with softer disbelief. The more i looked at these choices, the more they felt correct to me-- and while i still think i have a ways to go before i fully understand these characters, i feel like this has helped me a lot with that ultimate goal :]

Of all these poetry snippets, though, i think Scar, Skizz, and Joel's are my absolute favorites. Skizz's poem is actually the whole poem in its entirety (as is Cleo's, funnily enough)-- it's a short, very simple poem that is incredibly close to my heart for many reasons, but the main one being because it was written at one of my lowest points a few years back. Its about clawing for hope when there isnt any, and finding even the smallest of beautiful things to hold onto, and begging yourself to keep holding onto that at any cost. The pure, clean beauty of watching light refract through a vase of flowers, and knowing that sometimes, that's all there is to live for-- I felt like that really spoke to Skizz's life series character as a whole: finding the beauty in every tiny thing, no matter how small, and scrabbling for more time to appreciate it.

Scar's snippet comes from a much longer poem of mine about the difficulty of reconciling the idea of a future when you havent had to think of one before (incidentally, Etho's snippet comes from this poem as well). I think out of everyone, this quote encapsulates him the best; i like how it subtly references that inner well of vivacity he draws from that many other characters struggle to find, and how that in turn ties in with the lore that he never died a final death during Secret Life. And i love how it simultaneously manages to encompass the way he utilizes the social game in each season as well-- Scar's an incredibly intelligent social player, and i think the imagery of a gambler breathing their luck over the dice as they cast it, and as he casts himself at others for alliances and enemies, truly does fit him.

As for Joel, the full poem his quote comes from is one im particularly proud of, especially for its final lines. I think, quite honestly, i can let this poem stand for itself in its entirety:

They say transformation is letting the light in, But in my mind it's a violence. A coarseness, a fracturing, the bloody vowels between a scream And a howl. How do you transform without killing yourself? When I am a lion, my hands and feet Grow claws; my teeth sharpen. No longer do I spark— I ignite. Tamed by nothing, no one, I lose myself to the shattered chains; Yes, there is a loss. To transform is to leave behind a body And eat its still-breathing corpse.

I find myself referencing this poem a lot even in my daily life-- as longterm readers of mine already know, one of my favorite themes is that of replacing yourself and permanent transformation. This poem really is just about how changing, in any shape or form, alters you forever; how you can look back on yourself from even just a few months ago and feel like a completely different person despite remaining the same. Connecting it with Joel's character, and how he acts during his red lives in each season, was a natural and intuitive progression once i really sat and thought about it.

Alright thats enough yapping from me 😂😂😂 im not used to writing meta nor delving into my poetry on here, so this was a bit of an experimental post for me. If youve read up until this point, i both applaud your patience and really hope you enjoyed this window into my personal works and thoughts on them :]] cheers, and thanks to @/chipperchemical the op of the original post for inspiring me!!!❤️❤️❤️

[xxplastic-cubexx]

MARVEL RIVALS NEW SEASON DROPS ON MY BIRTHDAY LETS FUCKIGN GO????????

[tea-cat-arts]

"Madam Yu would be a Karen/ treat minimum wage employees like shit-" literally the only servant she's shown abusing is Wei Wuxian (and that's because he's the victim of a proxy war between her and Jiang Fengmian around the idea of him being adopted into the family, not because of his class). Madam Yu's two handmaid's love and respect her, and Madam Yu actually defends them when Wang Lingjiao tries being a Karen to them. She also tells Wang Lingjiao to fuck off when she demands the Jiang servants bring her tea.

Also, Karens are unpleasant women, but not all unpleasant women are Karens. That term is about entitlement and being unreasonable (and often times, racist). Madam Yu is mean and unpleasant to talk to, but she keeps most of her interactions brief and probably doesn't have the time or mental energy to be a Karen or hold a grudge that long. If you want an actual example of a Karen in mdzs, Wang Lingjiao is right there

[triglycercule]

i feel like horror would have sourdough starter. he doesn't even use it to bake he just keeps it alive like a funny little experiment. the yeast in that starter will never get to experience the fulfillment of becoming bread unfortunately

and then he totally gets mad at dust and killer if they dont take care of it properly when he can't. WDYM THE STARTER OVERFLOWED!!! YOURE SUPPOSED TO ADD LESS WATER!!!! that's his baby guys he named it and decorated the jar and EVERYTHING 💔

[itsseriouslyridiculous]

I really hate how my physical body looks so so so much. unfortunately there isn't much I can do about it.

[teplejtrouba]

every so often i now notice my first beard hairs coming in. it's incredibly euphoric but also scary as i Do Not trust myself with sharp objects and am a coward and im already dreading having to shave. but i am also a snob and an aesthete and don't want a few stupid stray hairs on my neck. i also miss my smooth luscious baby face because of sensory reasons.

[ghoulodont]

i got new covid booster + flu shot yesterday and im feeling really surprisingly miserable at the moment but im going to use this to fuel my sickfic wip. never stop the grind

[scouting4love]

Crasin, my bald rat, started growing hair and is no longer bald......

[confusedsiewmai]

-

[devilbombers]

I REALLY do wonder what has happened that i CANNOT be fucking normal abt a girl character i like all of a fucking sudden

[xxplastic-cubexx]

seeing the scarlet witch comics made me wonder what do you think of wandavision / mcu wanda

i have legitimately like. no conscious memory i watched a movie with her in it but i did because i watched age of ultron nearly a decade ago with my bro and multiverse of madness within the last like. five years With My Bro so now what ...

[natjennie]

grrrrrrr

[faaun]

ok let's catch up quickly

[relmint]

I understand lmk isn't a completely faithful adaptation (Also the murder monkey tone down cuz kiddos) but is it that bad of one? I got into LMK first and then started looking into jttw but haven't had time to sit down and read it just yet (school be like 🙃) I've seen some people say it's a pretty good one, and others seem to really dislike it. After your posts about lmk I'm curious about your opinion? Is it just the fandom or the show as a whole? Cuz I'm kinda with you on the buff, that's funky to me too, but curious if that's your only issue with it.

Ramble underneath!

For me personally, I don't have much of a problem with the show itself although there r some bits in the show I grew to dislike haha Especially when they downplayed DBK and SWK's friendship replacing DBK with Macaque KSKSKSKS Another thing is that I don't like the fandom much coz sometimes I just see takes that are so devoid of the characters from the og novel and they state it as fact KSKSKS. For ex. making SWK not being able to read is one irritating take. I really don't like it when ppl dumb SWK down because in the book he really is clever and conniving. Also, I'm gonna be honest here the amount of shadowpeach I see started to irritate me as well KSKSKASKLJKL Like a lot of my previous opinions about the LMK show and fandom changed ever since I started reading the book and looked more into Chinese culture jsjsjsjs I am no expert mind you and I have not finished reading the book yet, but I wish some ppl just did basic research you know KKSSKSD I know there r some ppl in the fandom who does put in the effort to learn more about Chinese culture and mythos but I feel like they r the minority here. I don't like to associate myself with the LMK fandom anymore but I'll still watch the show because I like the animation I guess HAHAHAHA. Anyways read JTTW you won't regret it JSJSJSJ