#saturn-iidae

[transgenderbobdylan]

For the music ask game: 2, 6, 12, 27!

2. Do you still buy CDs (or other physical media)?

HELL YEAH I DO i have a ton of CDs, vinyl, & tapes <3

6. Who's an artist you really like but it's embarrassed to admit it?

hmmmm idk i don't think i really get embarrassed about that kind of stuff anymore? i mean i guess i worry a little about peoples perception of me when i say i listen to old p!atd or emo in general or like. lemon demon or tally hall but thats just because people are weird about it not because i think they're embarrassing to listen to lol

12. Who’s the most obscure artist you listen to?

Intimate Strangers probably. everyone go here

27. Do you enjoy making playlists? If so, are there any you’re proud of and would like to share?

mostly the only playlists i have are like. the one i make of my fav songs each month to put on shuffle while i'm in art class. or the artist playlists i make so i can find my favorite songs from a specific artist more quickly. besides those..... well i'm not Proud of it but here you can have my creepypasta/slenderverse phase nostalgia playlist. what i was listening to at age 14 😁

[linkzac]

list 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers <3

anomalocaris makes me very very happy

sitting outside after the sun goes down and watching the sky get darker also makes me very happy

all this bad blood by bastille is a good album and it makes me smile

music in general

baby seals :3 they make me so super happy

[albatris]

hewwo

I deleted the opening of rentalcar from tumblr months ago when all the ai nonsense happened but now it's back again because I'm me. it's fresh and edited! and shorter

here's the new chapter one for your viewing pleasure. enjoy! or don't. don't let me tell you how to live your life I'm not your mum

hi taglist hello - some of you have already read this! I hope you're having a nice day though 😎

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @silverwarewolf @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @plasticseaslug @jetstargenderfuckery @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @junoshusband @writing-is-a-martial-art @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @sleepycaprine @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @writingsfromspace @carnivalls @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard @desastreus @kk7-rbs @cee-grice @northwyrm @xylophonicsynapse @careful-pyromancer @recapitulation @incandescent-creativity @whole-buncha-snakess @mysticalalleycat @thatonecrowguy @va-nila-bean @televisionjester @excessive-vampires @walkman-cat @davycoquette @xenascribbles

tw for paranoia, anxiety, hallucinations, swearing, general feelings of unease

Nat Finch blinked awake.

He was slumped forward in the driver’s seat of his rental car, his forehead pressed to the steering wheel, his body aching like he hadn’t moved in centuries. His feet were bare. His throat burned. His head throbbed. Curled over his shoulders was the familiar softness of the blanket from his back seat, the one he’d been meaning to give to the Larsons for two weeks now. A deep night breeze leaked through the slightly-open window to his right, the cold gnawing at the dampness that clung to his clothes, to his face and hair. He felt filthy, filmy, disgusting—more so than usual.

A muddle of memories and flickers and voices fought for space in his brain, bumping up against each other and overlapping, threads escaping every time he thought he’d grasped one. He was overcome, for a single surreal moment, by the sense he had just awoken from an exceedingly peculiar dream.

Nat Finch sat up, groaning.

Disturbed by the motion, plastic crinkled in his lap. A collection of granola bars was scattered over him, a few of them having tumbled down onto the seat next to him and the floor below. Like someone had dumped them unceremoniously over his head and just… left him like that.

He recognised the brand, vaguely—something hoity-toity and ridiculous he’d seen at the supermarket, fifteen dollars a goddamn box—but they weren’t something that had any business being anywhere near him. His bank balance barely scraped double digits at the moment.

“Who the fuck…” Nat paused, not sure what question he was even supposed to be asking. “Why the fuck…”

His attention edged upwards, to a scrap of cardboard folded neatly in two and perched atop his dashboard.

DO YOUR BEST! it read in a childlike handwritten scrawl.

Nat squinted harder. “What the fuck.”

He tried to think. His brain, sluggish and laden with fog and aching, refused to provide any context for the mystery shower of nutrition. Or the note.

Or… anything else, for that matter. He didn’t remember falling asleep; he didn’t remember stopping his car. He remembered leaving work, but it had barely been dusk when he’d left work and the trip from Stop ‘N’ Go to his apartment was fifteen minutes, tops.

It was not dusk anymore. The black outside was the pure solitude of the witching hour and the world beyond his window was silent, save for the buzz and pop of a single faulty streetlight a few metres ahead and the chittering gossip of crickets. No people. No cars. No movement.

Nat’s dread climbed. He craned his neck and strained to decipher his whereabouts. The lonely light offered only flimsy, spluttering illumination—some of it splashing into his car, some of it into dry grass and mesh fence lining the side of the road, most of it merely into the rumble of gravel directly beneath it. He had no idea where he was. He had no idea why he was where he was.

The disco ball hanging from his rear-view mirror glittered at him, blinking urgently.

He shoved the granola bars off himself, suddenly feeling contaminated. A strident, pulsating pain forked through every inch of his body at the movement—he gritted his teeth, letting out a hiss and a wince. The blanket went next, ripped from his shoulders and hurled at the opposing window in a multicoloured flurry. It crumpled to the passenger seat and Nat stared at it, prickling all over with the suspicion someone else had placed it on him. Someone else had been here. Watching. Leaning. Looming. Touching. His hand flew to the window winder and wound it, sealing the opening. Sealing himself in and the outside out.

And then he sat still, mind reeling, chest tight. Panic twisting in his stomach. He waited for his brain to kick over, for his memory to rush back, for the moment he shook free the dregs of post-sleep disorientation and went, Oh, that’s right! That’s why I’m here! That’s what’s going on! How could I have forgotten?

A minute passed.

And another.

Frozen.

Rigid.

Nat swallowed, hard. Nothing clicked into place. Nothing clicked and nothing clicked and nothing clicked. Why not? He’d left work and turned left down Rake Street like he always did. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

The night outside was alive. With every flicker-out of the streetlight, the dark whined at his window, still trying to reach him. A tapping, a whistling, a whispering in its own made-up language. Nat. Nat. Nat. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. The dark that should not have been there. The dark that should have been dusk.

He'd lost hours. Hours. What the hell had happened to him? The note on his dashboard sat there, smirking. It knew things he didn’t.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

Five things he could see were that gaudy leopard-print steering wheel cover, the smeared windscreen from too-old wipers, the radio, the hazard switch, his own hands, crusted in cracked, dried mud.

Four things he could feel were the press of the seat under him, the press of his work uniform over him, the sting of the cold on his feet, pain, pain, pain.

Three things he could hear were crickets and streetlights and dark.

Two things he could smell were the dull citrus hum of the vent-clip air freshener and the fact it was doing nothing to hide the fact he hadn’t showered in a while.

One thing he could taste was—

Okay, okay, alright. Okay. That would do it. Nat breathed in. Nat breathed out. Calm. Calm. Calm.

He reached gingerly for the ignition, exhaling in relief when he grasped the key still inside. He had that, at least. He hesitated, perched on an agonising threshold between hopeful anticipation and whatever reality was about to find him.

He turned the key.

Nothing.

He turned again.

Nothing. The car stuttered and clicked uselessly, refusing to start. Relief left him as quickly as it had arrived. Flat battery.

Nat breathed, “Ah, fuck.”

Nat breathed in.

Nat breathed out.

He twisted towards the back seat, feeling along the faux leather for his work backpack. He hauled it to himself and rammed an arm inside to seek his phone, shoving through a jumble of familiar shapes—notebook, hoodie, empty soft drink can for recycling, empty soft drink can for recycling, gum, nametag—ah, there it was.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Nat whined, his finger colliding with the power button. “Please, please, please—”

Nothing. Flat battery.

Nat breathed in.

Nat plonked his forehead back down on the steering wheel and released a long, agonised wail.

Simmering anxiety climbed into roiling terror. Terror branched sideways into paranoia. Paranoia bloomed up through his chest and into his throat, where it squeezed tight and threatened to choke him. He’d lost hours. Anything could have happened to him. Anything could have been done to him.

The dark outside mocked and laughed. The disco ball blinked its rhythmic little warnings. He could feel it all, even when he wasn’t looking.

Nathaniel. Something’s wrong. Nathaniel.

“No shit,” he muttered back.

What next?

He lifted his head and flipped the sun visor down to look at himself in the mirror. With no phone screen and no overhead light to guide him, it was hard to get a full picture. He tilted his head, twisted his neck, attempted to catch himself on some jittering streetlight. He snagged a few glimpses—a dribble of blood from a presumably cracked lip here, a smudge of dirt on a cheekbone there. The collar of his shirt looked bloody, too. His hair wasn’t sitting right, tangled black all caked together and hanging in thick clumps. Two trembling hands lifted, the quiver partially from weakness and partially from fear, and Nat gripped at his face. Tugging along those familiar edges and curves and juts, finding them not so familiar. Finding them wrong. Hollow. Caved in. His fingertips wandered down towards his jaw—

—and along the thick, uneven mumbling of stubble that hadn’t been there when he’d left the apartment that morning.

Nat’s heartbeat tripped up. He hadn’t lost hours.

He’d lost days.

Nat breathed in. And in. And in. Not enough. Too fast. His chest heaved. His lungs refused to fill.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t have lost days. He couldn’t have lost days. Jesus Christ, Nat had never been the shining poster child of mental health, but he’d never lost days. He’d been God knew where for God knew how long. He’d been—his feet were bare, his hands and face were streaked with mud, someone had clearly been messing around in his car—he’d been taken. Drugged. Kidnapped. That scribbled note? Do your best? He was being toyed with, probably by some deranged serial killer. And what was with the granola bars? Some kind of clue? A message?

He had to go. Run. Get help. Something close to a whimper climbed up his throat and fell from his lips. His hand crept to the door handle and stopped.

He’d seen horror movies. Not many, but enough. The chase, the hunt, the twisted mind games before the inevitable kill… these were part of the fun. There was probably someone watching him right now, folded into the shadows and out of sight, waiting for him to panic. Waiting for him to make his first mistake and step outside.

Waiting for him to start the game.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t stay.

Could he stay? Could he just wait it out? Someone would find him. Someone would look for him. Someone would look for him, right?

No, no one would look for him. No one would care enough that he was gone.

No, there was no way they’d let him wait this out, whoever they were. They would find some way to lure him out, drive him out, force him into the waiting hands of the night air. Unprotected. Alone. All at once Nat felt a million eyes boring into him, leering from beyond the black, drinking in his every move. He shoved himself lower in his seat, clutching his dead phone to his chest.

Nat fought to breathe in.

Nat fought to breathe out.

He tried a final time to reason with himself.

When he’d worked twelve hour shifts four days straight, he’d started being dogged by the idea that someone had snuck a microscopic tracking device into his takeaway pizza, which he had subsequently consumed. When he’d been behind on rent for the third fortnight in a row, he’d become fixated on the idea that other customers in the supermarket were reading his thoughts and laughing at him. Look at this fucking loser. Grimy hair and track pants. Can’t even afford instant ramen.

Panic and stress tended to climb on top of him bit by bit. Panic and stress tended to twist all kinds of everyday events into all kinds of unnatural, terrifying shapes. It was normal. Even the tiny, audible hints of speech pushing through the dark, giving voice to his anxiety, those were normal under the right circumstances. It was all… no, not normal. It was a pattern. Tomorrow, he’d be fine. Tomorrow, he’d understand he’d never been in any danger.

So even though he was here now, helpless and stranded in the empty night, barefoot and filthy, abandoned by his memories and surrounded by leering scrawled words and fucking rich-people granola bars—he had to take this moment of clarity and hold it tight.

Tomorrow, this would all make sense.

DO YOUR BEST! the dark around him sang.

“Go to hell,” Nat spat.

And with that, he wrenched the door open.

[magical-mysterygirl]

Great minds think alike @saturn-iidae

[sweet-as-peach]

last song i listened to: i’m your man by mitski

favorite color: PINK

currently watching: heaven officials blessing s1 with @pieridae-art and @momzawa-5, JJBA, always dungeons and daddies <3 (anthony burch u will die by my blade)

last movie/show: powerpuff girls!

spicy/savory/sweet: sweet! i live up to the blog name and so does my taste

last thing i googled: “where to buy chalk markers” bc i needed a place i could steal them from lol (i ended up choosing to steal from hobby lobby)

tagging @turtleboyonland @snalsupremacy @saturn-iidae @raspberryfemme

[ao3feed-izch]

Let you go

by Karkelia (Saturnsrings23)

In this emotional time-skip story, Ochaco Uraraka and Katsuki Bakugou grapple with their feelings after learning they cannot have children. A year later, their close friends Tsuyu Asui and Tenya Iida welcome their first baby, Aiko. Though they’re overjoyed for their friends, the couple faces a bittersweet moment as they hold the newborn, confronted by their own grief and longing. Despite the pain, Ochaco and Katsuki lean on each other, knowing that while they may not have the family they once dreamed of, their bond remains strong enough to carry them through anything.

(Part 2)

Words: 6895, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 11 of 15 days 15 stories (Halloween Saturns ver.)

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, Multi, M/M

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Izuku, Asui Tsuyu, Iida Tenya, Todoroki Shouto

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako, Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu/Iida Tenya, Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto

Additional Tags: Inspired by How I Met Your Mother, Love Triangles, Past Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59708374

[caffienateddipshit]

@saturn-iidae im so sorry that when you open your feed this fine morning, you will be bombarded by my incessant reposts gay fish man and feral blond rat.

it is pride month, they have two hands, and i have autism.

love u !! <3 (enjoy ur bob dylan)

[albatris]

current covers one and two! nat and alex, alex and nat :3c

a manynumberst go at cover one and a first attempt at cover two, which I have been staring at way too long so idk man. idk. I changed font to something easier to read. enjoy!

and I am tagging my taglist again mwah hello

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @softboiled-doomdesire @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @flapuflapu @femme-gerard @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @itisi-asimplegay @constellationof0rion @writing-is-a-martial-art @starry-winter-skies @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause @somealienquill @cannivalisms @violetfoxsketches @approximately20eggs @mohluskiepedard

[rhuby-zeug]

Thank you @saturn-iidae this has literally been my anthem for almost a decade

[ao3feed-izch]

The bar (part 1)

by Karkelia (Saturnsrings23)

How I met your mother (MHA ver.)

In a cozy city bar, a group of U.A. heroes balances their personal lives with hero training. Izuku Midoriya, the hopeless romantic, is on a quest to win over Ochaco Uraraka, an independent and career-driven woman. However, Katsuki Bakugou brings a bold, flirtatious energy to the group, complicating Izuku’s pursuit with his undeniable chemistry with Ochaco. Tsuyu Asui and Tenya Iida, embodying the heart of the group, offer steady support and guidance. As they navigate love triangles, friendship, and hero life, the gang faces the ultimate question—will Izuku win Ochaco's heart, or will Bakugou's charm win out?

 (Part 1)

Words: 6502, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 10 of 15 days 15 stories (Halloween Saturns ver.)

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga), How I Met Your Mother

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M, Multi

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki, Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu, Iida Tenya, Midoriya Izuku

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Uraraka Ochako, Asui Tsuyu/Iida Tenya, Midoriya Izuku/Uraraka Ochako

Additional Tags: Inspired by How I Met Your Mother

source: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59708041

[highlyincorrect]

@saturn-iidae

This tag is absolutely entrancing me. What does this mean? How does he transition you in the wrong way? Does he strap extra boobs over pre-existing boobs? Astounding concept, really need to watch this show

I have never in my life watched a millisecond of the hit 2010 medical drama House, but the general impression I’m getting of Dr House himself is he’s like if your transition doctor was great in getting you meds and guiding you through surgery but called you unimaginable slurs the entire time

[albatris]

rental car cover ideas! I'll tidy them up when I can be bothered hahahahaha. and reserve the right to fuck around with colours and filters and etc etc etc

also I'm never drawing another hand again ever ever ever in my life

also which title / author name positioning do you like best

also now that I'm about to post this I feel like his arms look weird but TOO LATE NOW

also taglist? hi? mwah

@transmasc-wizard @saturn-iidae @polyaubergine @tracle0 @goosemixtapes @valence-positive @the-one-who-makes-negative-noise @ambiguousfiction @afoolandathief @softboiled-doomdesire @mecharose @vellichor-virgo @flapuflapu @femme-gerard @multi-lefaiye @writeouswriter @itisi-asimplegay @constellationof0rion @writing-is-a-martial-art @manuscriptsatmidnight @starry-winter-skies @cream-and-tea @gailynovelry @lefttigerobservation @indecentpause

[saturnity]

as request, same prompt but now in your ask box!

how about a nervous Ida psyching himself up to hold your hand for the first time? i think it'd be really fluffy

this is a great prompt!!! sorry I got to it so late T_T

I feel like poor Iida would be so nervous. Like the idea of being with you is enough to warm his heart but touching you??? In public???? he'd absolutely LOVE that- but the idea of PDA seems improper...at least to him. that and he wouldn't be sure if you liked it, because he knows not everyone is okay with being touched. so there's just a period of time during your first date where he's running circles in his own head wondering what he should do and how he should do it, when he really should be enjoying the time he has with you :( he even tries to reach for your hand when you're not looking, but he draws away thinking it's not right, or maybe you get distracted by something else and your hand moves from where it was. as much as he wants to tell the world you belong to him, there's a wall holding him back from himself.

BUT when he eventually decides to bite the bullet and hold your hand, the serene look on your face makes his worries vanish. now he feels stupid for even worrying so much. you guys are dating now, why worry so much? there's nothing to hide from, nowhere to hide from. you're rightfully his. and your smile confirms it. (god i hope this was good enough ;w;)

[caylsalad]

@saturn-iidae

[peachiimilquetea]

hey uhhh can i have a uhhhhhh caramel vanilla cake with powdered sugar for...you know who, Iida Tenya heehee

thank you 🥺🥺🥺🥺

“𝚌𝚘𝚖����𝚗𝚐 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚞𝚙!”

caramel vanilla cake with powdered sugar + tenya iida

a/n: this is literally one my favorite things ive written like i didnt think it would come out this good and then it just??? it just did??? i hope you like it as much as i do!! check out my event here! only 3 slots left!

length: 659 words

contains: nothing but tooth rotting fluff

when iida had asked you to move in with him, it was almost like the first time you met all over again. naturally an awkward man, iida had to prepare himself for weeks, practicing in the mirror and with his friends, trying to get his phrasing just right in order to secure a date with you. the same happened when he asked you to be his girlfriend, and when he asked you to stay the night for the first time. it was like a pregame ritual.

so here he was in his bathroom, obsessively watching the clock tic by and using the mirror to practice what he wanted to say. it wasn’t like his offer was far-fetched - on the contrary. you had already wormed your way into his apartment in various ways, the small drawer full of your clothes being self-evident of that.

he even kept an overnight bag for you under his sink. just in case, he said but really it was so you had no excuses not to stay with him just a little bit longer.

he heard you come through the door, presumably using the key he had given you a few months ago, and giving himself one last look over, he went to go and meet you.

you knew something had to be up from his stiffer than usual attitude but opted to say nothing, knowing that whatever it was, he would come clean eventually.

and he did, he asked you to move in, stumbling over his words and chopping his hand through the air with such speed and he almost hit you, causing him to stammer even more. of course, you had said yes, who in their right mind would say no? and so you began your new couples journey.

late nights surfing on ikea together became the new normal, as you made it your mission to turn his apartment into a home for the two of you. tenya iida and ikea were a match made in heaven and you laughed as he excitedly rambled on about how efficient their floor plan was and how organized and neat they kept the main store.

he helped you build the stuff you bought on the weekends, taking back his previous compliments because of how convoluted the instructions were.

“why wouldn’t they translate these according to the region of distribution?” he huffed as you giggled on the couch watching him put every single combination of parts together, just to end up more confused than before. eventually, you two figured it out and now you had a new table for the hallway which quickly became a catchall for the small trinkets and random objects you seemed to magically accumulate over time, even without buying anything.

moving your clothes was the worst part in iida’s opinion. he considered himself a relatively strong man, and even he gulped when he saw the size of your closet, knowing it was going to take you all day to even make a dent.

“i’ve never even seen you wear half of these!” he cried as you unearthed yet another plastic tub full of clothes from deep in the recesses of your closet. he urged you to downsize and you resisted until he promised to buy you more clothes if the need arose. the need would never truly arise, but tenya didn’t need to know that.

you learned the others’ schedules, compromised on toothpaste flavors, and learned more about each other than either of you thought you needed to know, and yet fundamentally, nothing had changed.

your relationship had evolved, and iida found himself taken aback at how many more ways there were to love a person. he had never thought his feelings for you could grow any stronger but after coming home to you for the first time, waking up to you every day, seeing you at your best and at your worst, he knew that life couldn’t get much better than this.