#everything is so soggy because of the humidity too i just feel so gross

[tamagotchikgs]

i feel So awful n bad and off and ag,h,,hjj,

[batfoonery]

No Matter the Weather....

Doing this on my phone whilst my chrome book gets repaired..... fingers crossed the formatting isn’t too funky!

Anywho. Here’s my thoughts on the Batfam’s weather preferences. Stupid? Possibly. But we all have them.

Bruce

Likes clear nights. Easier to patrol, bc visibility.

Wont admit it, but prefers spring nights. Not too cold, but cool enough that he isn’t overheating in his armor. And the few trees in Gotham don’t trigger his allergies until autumn so....

Abhors smoggy/foggy nights because Trauma. He is always extra vigilant on nights with lower visibility—refuses to let his Robin (whichever one it may be, even if he’s on patrol with a no-longer-Robin like Steph or Tim) go more than an arm’s length away. Everyone is irritable by the end of patrol because of it.

Dick

Also prefers spring nights, but of the lightly misty variety. Not full on rain, and he’d rather not patrol in the mist (the dampness brings oil to the surface of cements and pavements, and makes it tricky to get a good grip, making it a dangerous patrol).

Likes it best in evenings or early mornings, when the sun would be hazy anyways. It reminds him of being a kid, when they’d had a few high altitude venues and he’d wake up, walk out of the trailer into a literal cloud.

Not fond of thunderstorms. As a kid they wouldn’t ever perform in storms, because they risked the poles being struck by lightning. He’s still wary of it as an adult, because it was one of those safety rules drilled into him so heavily (childhood swim team people—you know what I mean?). Has adjusted his patrol routes so that he has a safer route on storm nights—he goes by the streets rather than rooftops those nights.

Jason

Likes storms—they provide good cover and all that. But also, there’s something innately soothing about the storms outside reflecting the general chaos of his mind/emotions. Likes to sit and just. Watch.

Probably a summer child. Likes the way that sitting in front of a window lets the sun seep into his bones and soothe old aches.

Not fond of the muggy weather before or after a storm. The humidity messes with his hair and his helmets get all sweaty, which is really really gross tbh.

Cass

Likes crisp, clear autumn nights. She doesn’t seem to have any allergens in Gotham, so she enjoys the full benefits of autumn.

Gotham has a few autumn celebrations and street festivals, so clear nights filled with the lights and smells of fried festival foods bring her joy. Watching from the shadows as kids shriek on the tilt-a-whirl and parents take pictures and eat funnel cake... everyone knows Black Bat is watching their backs. Batman is scary, but Black Bat is a nightmare when crossed, so major villains steer clear of these smaller festivities, and the rogues that do intrude quickly learn why it is a bad idea.

Doesn’t like snow. It makes her joints stiff.

Tim

Winter baby. He’s allergic to everything, so in winter when everything is dead or sleeping and he doesn’t have to worry about his eyes itching while on patrol he’s happiest to be on patrol.

Likes snowy nights. When it’s dead outside, everyone tucked away unwilling to embrace the cold. If things time out just right, in the wee hours of the morning Gotham looks like something out of a fairy tale, snow undisturbed and air quiet. He’s gotten some of the best shots of the city at these times and looking at them makes him nostalgic.

Doesn’t like sunny summer days. He thinks he’s melting in his suit, and there’s always something making him sneeze. Probably has to carry around a parasol.

Steph

Likes winter nights too. Likes the clear nights when the air just feels clean (even if all the pollution means it isn’t ever clean anymore). It feels like she could be anyone on these kinds of nights—go anywhere and start over, be someone new. But then morning comes and she remembers that she doesn’t know how to be anyone else, deep down.

Not crazy about spring. It’s a different muggy than summer, and all the bugs come out.

Hates fog. Scary things lurk in the thick mist, and B gets even more annoying and controlling than usual. They aren’t allowed to patrol together on foggy nights anymore, as per Alfred.

Duke

Likes early late spring/early summer mornings. The air is still cool and crisp, and the morning dew clings to the grass as he heads out for patrol. There’s no worry about overheating and the world is still sleepy and silent enough for him to have space to think.

Probably lowkey terrified of hurricanes. Has a stockpile in the house specifically built up for hurricane season. Every year it is dutifully checked and batteries refreshed etc etc. Gotham doesn’t get them often, but it still haunts him.

If one does hit, all the kids stay in from patrol (and Bruce too, if he isn’t away on JLA business) and they let him herd them into his designated safe room and they ride it out together. They don’t get much flooding because of where the manor is situated, but sometimes Batcow’s pen gets a bit soggy.

Damian

Likes misty weather, especially in the fall or spring. Weather is nicest then anyways, and he likes the way that the city looks when it is overcast out. The lights seem brighter and the shadows darker and the buildings both stand out and blend into the sky..... a place full of adventure. A siren song for a little boy.

Hates hail with a burning passion. Hadn’t experienced it much before moving to Gotham. It makes no sense! Ice from the sky?! In summer spring and fall but NOT winter?! He knows the science of it but it’s still annoying as heck and he hates it.

Clear nights make him sad. It’s one thing when he’s out in the Midwest with Jon, and the corn fields stretch out for forever and they can spend the evening pointing out stars and he can recall all the stories about them from his childhood (secret whispers, his mother’s voice hushed so no one else would hear as she told him about sailors and heroes and gods, whispered promises about how he would be the greatest among them someday.....). But in Gotham, there are no stars even when the sky is completely cloud-free. There is too much light pollution and it makes his heart heavy.

Babs

Likes when it just starts to snow. She’s got all these cozy afghans all over the clock tower, and it’s kind of nice to curl up with one and a mug of coffee or cocoa in the windows and just watch the little flurries flutter down.

Rain is the same, she likes watching the drops race down her windows, leaving little paths behind.

Probably doesn’t have a season or type of weather she doesn’t like. She just prefers ones that give her an excuse to get cozy at home. And ones that provide white noise that help her sleep.

[amajikilvr]

hi! can you write a bnha sickfic for me? the scenario i want is; tamaki is sick with a stomach bug and gets sick during class time. his anxiety is at it's peak from gettin sick, but mirio is there to help him through it. thank you, if that wasn't too much to ask!

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under the weather - tamaki amajiki

word count 1.1k

contains graphic depictions of illness and vomiting, anxiety, crying, panic attack, comfort

characters included tamaki amajiki and mirio togata

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Amajiki had unwisely dismissed the queasy feeling stewing heavily in his stomach.

It’d been there when he’d rolled out of bed, but he didn’t let himself think too deeply about it and its implications. His anxiety had given him an ultimately harmless upset stomach an infinite amount of times in the past and because of that, he figured this was nothing new or anything to worry about.

He knew he was wrong about that claim from the moment that the idea of eating his usual hefty breakfast made him wrinkle his nose in disgust. Amajiki was someone who loved to eat and that paired well with the conditions of his quirk so he ate his food this morning as usual because it was his responsibility to do so.

His work-study, something he couldn’t even fathom doing with his gut constantly churning like this, was relying on his constantly varied diet and for him to show up after school…

Maybe it was nothing and his anxiety had just simply turned it into something. He had to believe that, had to believe it wasn’t sickness to blame.

He couldn’t be sick today. He couldn’t be sick, period.

Waiting for this first class to end is bad enough before his stomach suddenly gives a startling groan that’s both extremely audible and just as nauseating. Amajiki’s eyes go wide with embarrassment as he winces and waits for it to pass. Someone nearby had to have heard that over the teacher’s lecture.

The sounds don’t seem to be stopping any time soon either. The angry burbling noises continue mercilessly on as if the organ itself is yelling at him. He holds a shaky hand to his clammy forehead and tries his best to ignore the sudden pressure that’s building in his chest.

It starts with a loudish belch that Amajiki wasn’t prepared for, his ears fold over themselves and burn with intense shame when he receives several varying glances from the students around him. Some appear merely amused by his surprising outburst and some toss dirty looks his way.

There’s another. This burp is much queasier, wetter, and is stifled pathetically against the hand he slapped over his mouth after the first one. Something truly horrible burns his throat, insistent, and his stomach gives another drawn-out sickly gurgle.

An excess of saliva fills his mouth, rapidly pooling on the tongue that suddenly feels heavy, and he can taste the remnants of his breakfast with every single sour burp that leaks out of him. Reality hits him with a rush of despair.

He’s going to throw up.

The nausea is aggressively overwhelming, but Amajiki can manage to register that one thing he’d been denying, that one thing he’d been trying his best to push out of his mind this entire time. He still can’t get himself to move or do anything for that matter. He’s petrified, frozen in place at his desk.

He whines, low and fearful, before the first gag makes him jolt forward. His stomach clenches, bracing itself. The second one accomplishes nothing more than a final soggy belch and it’s the next violent retch that does it.

A torrent of thick vomit hits the hand that’s still over his mouth, a good portion of it spurting between his fingers and out from under his palm. It gushes down to his desk, half-digested chunks of his last meal splattering the front of his shirt.

“What the fuck?”

“Oh shit!”

“Ack!”

“Gross!”

The various surrounding cries of disgust are nothing more than faraway background noise as Amajiki sputters and coughs up more lumpy sick onto the tabletop. He lets out a wobbly sob when some of it squirts from his nose, burning like the abundance of tears stinging his eyes.

His head pounds like a drum and his stomach continues to ache even after expelling its ill contents. It’s an eternity of sitting there while trying to catch his breath and keep his cries subdued.

Nothing else seems to exist. It’s just him and his mess…

“Hey,” It’s Mirio. He clutches Amajiki’s trembling shoulder with a strong hand and doesn’t look nearly as repulsed as he should be. “It’s okay. Can you get up for me?”

“M’m really sick…” Amajiki mumbles, feeling dizzier by the second and head growing foggier in half of that time.

“I know, buddy.” He feels his shoulder being squeezed. His vision focuses somewhat, for better or worse. “Let’s get you out of here. Do you think you could walk if I helped you?”

Maybe it’s the pungent smell of his own vomit choking him or the stares from his classmates that pierce his skin like needles, but either way, Amajiki finds himself being led, practically dragged, by Mirio to the door.

They’ve nearly made it there when his stomach gives another urging twist and he whimpers as he swallows thickly. Amajiki tugs pressingly on Mirio’s shirt and he gets the message quickly, thankfully, pulling him over to the trash can at the front of the room.

Salty tears dribble down his flushed cheeks as he weakly spits up more liquidity puke on top of piles of pencil shavings and discarded papers. His shoulders shake forcefully from the effort of silently crying before Mirio places a palm on his back and moves his bangs away, effectively stilling some of the hysterical tremors running through him.

“You’re okay, you’re okay. Just let it all out, you’ll feel better, I promise. Keep breathing for me, Tamaki.”

Mirio’s soft comforting words guide him through the necessary actions that his body forces upon him. His stomach heaves for the last time, it’s beginning to really hurt from all of the throwing up, and soon he’s finished up and greeted by the fresh air of the hallway.

It’s a much appreciated change from the humid stench that had started to hang heavy in the classroom. He really does feel terrible about that and even worse for whoever’s tasked with cleaning the source. There’s one more emergency pitstop to the restroom on the way and they’ve made it to the nurse’s after what feels like a slow-moving century..

Now that he’s resting on a cot with a small bottle of Gatorade (and a clean shirt), his tummy still feeling upset and turbulent but somewhat calmed compared to before, Amajiki can’t help but let everything sink in and think about what really happened back there.

“Everyone saw me…” He mumbles miserably, rebirthed horror creeping in menacingly to join his lingering nausea. “Oh my god, it got everywhere… I don’t know why I didn’t move...”

“And? They’ll all forget about it by next week! Tomorrow even.” Mirio replies almost immediately from his nearby chair. So far, Recovery Girl hasn’t even questioned his presence.

“Messes can be cleaned!”

Amajiki voices his disagreement in the form of a single grunt and takes a very tentative sip of his drink. That acidic sick taste still remains in his mouth no matter how much he tries to rinse it out. His stomach grumbles a few times, almost passively.

“Aren’t you worried about catching this from me?” He says finally, disbelieving that he was actually lucky enough to have someone like Mirio with him through all of this.

“Maybe you just ate something bad.” Mirio retorts with an air of confidence that Amajiki can only dream of having. “Besides, best friends who share the flu together, stay together!”

“... You’re impossible.”

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