#uhhhh what else lmao

[kiyoobi]

we all are small particles holding very tightly together in a very large universe • pt 1

Soulmates are given to every child when they turn five through their dreams. You were never assigned one. Growing up and coming to terms with never having a soulmate, you find another Tamaki with a similar fate and become happily engaged. What happens when you start to dream of an old classmate though, his ruby eyes and caramel scent haunting you in and out of your dreams?

ao3 link

minors dni

-(-)-

It’s him.

Your eyes meet his and you remember it all.The folds of his school uniform from years ago. His blonde hair in the wind as he blasts his way through the air, racing to be the first pro-hero on site. He stands there, watching you go through the motions. Watching you unsure of yourself, palm over your heart as it aches for him. You step forward, not sure if you’re making the choice to walk towards him or if your heart is still the one in control.

He watches with a careful expression, as if he’s known for years that he’s been the one. He watches as if he’s been waiting. Waiting for your eyes, once clouded, to look into his vermilion ones and see for yourself who he is.

Katsuki, your voice is barely above a whisper and there’s tears starting to sprout from your eyes.

His eyebrows furrow, as if he can’t tell if you’re relieved or questioning the weight of his name on your tongue.

You hold out your hand, outstretched fingers aching to brush his skin.

You okay? The palms of his hands are warm as they hold yours, and for the first time in forever,

you tell the truth.

-(-)-

The room is still dark despite the streaks of light filtering through the blinds. Your mind is foggy, the remnants of your dream withering away with each second. You blink back tears, unsure of what it was you were dreaming about now that you’ve started to wake up. Still half asleep, you mistake the man in your arms for blankets and pillows until he starts to stir awake. For a brief second, a scary moment, you forget who he is and why he’s in your bed.

“Tamaki,” you whisper. You didn’t mean to say this out loud yet he groans in reply, mistaking your answer to your own question for a greeting. “G’morning.”

“Mm,” he hums. Your arms squeeze tight around his shoulders and now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, you can finally make out his indigo bedhead against your pillows. “Mornin’.”

You smile, ignoring the strange sadness settling inside your belly. “When did you get in? You were still working when I went to bed last night.”

Tamaki doesn’t answer for a moment and you think he’s fallen asleep until he turns onto his back. People mistake him for being thin, wiry. Yet you can feel the ropes of muscle in his arms as he pulls you in close by your waist, you can feel his broad chest and his stocky build against your soft curves. His quirk revolves around food and he’s a damn good pro-hero, a prospective top 10 hero this year, of course he ain’t skinny.

“Three,” he replies. “Stay in bed.”

“The Clash is in full swing, Tama.” You joke but you curl into his warmth nonetheless, allowing yourself the few minutes of peace before you go into work. ‘The Clash’, meaning your conflicting schedules, happens at least three times a year. A few weeks of one of you having graveyard shifts while the other keeps to the normal day-time shifts for a pro-hero. He sleepily groans again, yet Tamaki loosens his arms around you.

“When’s your shift done?” His words slur, and it takes you a moment to comprehend his question before you answer.

“I’ll be going in by then,” Tamaki sighs.

You kiss his jaw, soft and clean shaven. He still shaved after his graveyard shift last night, knowing that you prefer the feeling of his skin smooth over the prickle of a five o’clock shadow, AM or otherwise.

“Should’ve gone to my agency instead of staying with Fatgum,” you tease. Tamaki never would’ve changed agencies, and he reaffirms that with a displeased hum. A soft giggle slips out from your lips and you roll your eyes.

Your agencies aren’t that far apart, yet it’s clear that Fatgum’s is far superior than the one you’ve started at a few weeks ago. Your manager nearly quit on you when you transferred, ignoring her pleas to move somewhere that’ll help you climb the ranks instead of plateau. You waved off the questions people threw, ignoring their confusion as to why you’d ever leave such a high ranking agency for a… mediocre one. He doesn’t put up much of a fight when you start to peel away from him, stuffing his face into your pillows as you fumble around the room. The apartment is quiet when you slip on your running shoes, you sling your work bag over your shoulders before you give one last quiet goodbye to your fiancé.

-(-)-

There’s a nagging feeling that you’ve forgotten something. All day you couldn’t shake it. All day your fingers drummed against every desk and flat surface, you bounced your legs on the balls of your feet until your coworkers threw heated glares in your direction. You ignore them now, you ignore their exasperated sighs as you continue to bounce your leg while you type away your paperwork. You chew the inside of your cheek, resting your chin in your hand as you scroll through the file one last time before submitting it for review. These arrests won’t help your rank, it won’t make you popular, they won’t even make it to the front page of the Esuha Daily News let alone the fourteenth page. But it’s a good day.

You’ve made good arrests today, all without casualty. You even meal planned your fucking lunch. So why the hell are you on edge?

Of course your arrests didn’t have casualties though, they didn’t even have injuries. You barely used your quirk today.

Did you even use your quirk today?

The highest activity your watch took track of was when you took a light jog back to your agency building after capturing a runaway purse snatcher. In fact, that was the first and only time you had to use your quirk. He thought running sporadically would throw you off your balance, and maybe it would’ve for a low ranking hero. In a split second you activated your quirk and he teleported right into your arms instead of turning the corner like he had planned. You’ve been working on this trick for months, teleporting objects or people in your place but catching them halfway. Meeting them in the middle. In seconds he was in handcuffs and you left it to the police to get him into custody. You jogged back to work for lunch.

The inside of your cheek starts to bleed as anxiety gnaws inside you. Whatever it was that you had forgotten, is probably gone forever. Irritated at the realization, you sigh and decide to burn off this extra energy with a walk around the building. Tamaki is probably getting dressed by now, stuffing his hero costume into his work bag right from the dryer. He’s got a terrible habit of not folding his clothes, you both do. It’s why you invested in a wrinkle releaser spray, and you hope he’s remembered it for tonight’s shift. Civilians recognize you still, you can’t help a sense of pride and relief when their eyes brighten at the sight of you. A child stops you from your anxiety-ridden walk for a quick autograph, begging you to show them your teleportation quirk before their parent bashfully drags them away.

Your hands twitch, begging to be useful and aching to be used again. You turn the opposite away and head back to the agency.

-(-)-

I cooked u dinner!, you text Tamaki, don’t forget it. it’ll help ur shift tonight :P

Your head bowed low as you stroll down the block, your shift just ending according to the time in your phone. It’s why you don’t see him, it’s why you feel the split second heat of his body prickles against you before you activate your quirk to avoid further disaster. He stumbles in your previous spot, his cheeks pale from nausea as he leans forward (usual symptoms of being teleported without warning).

“Watch where you’re fucking going,” he spits out before straightening up. An eerie sense of dejavú washes over you as you stare back at Dynamight. His eyes haven’t been painted with eyeliner yet, and he’s carrying a gym bag over his shoulders that’s most likely holding his costume.

“Right- sorry.” You let out a laugh, not sure why you’re feeling flustered. You have work to finish before going home, a few more files to mark as “important” even though they’re technically insignificant. You have a home to go to. But his eyes are still on you. And you can’t look away. You’ve forgotten something today, and it’s nagging at you even more now than ever.

His eyebrows furrow and he watches you carefully as your thoughts race. “Shadow Step,” he greets you curtly.

“Dynamight,” you nod and give him a polite smile. Your eyes cut to the athletic compression band on his left arm, surprised to even see a kind that begins from your shoulder and ends at your fingertips. “Are you going into a shift or coming from one?”

Bakugou looks you up and down for a moment before answering, “Coming from one.” There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat. “You look like you’ve got a long night ahead of ya.” Yeah because you haven’t fucking done anything all day and you’re bored .

“Shift just ended actually,” you smile and look behind him towards the agency building.

“You okay?” Bakugou’s words snap your attention back to him, that feeling of dejavú even stronger now.

You both stare for a moment; you, deciding on telling the truth, and him patiently waiting for you to answer or just move along.

“Yeah,” you lie. You hurry back inside the building before he can reply. He used to call me Bambi, you distantly remember. You don’t know why your heart is still racing after seeing him again.

-(-)-

For the next week, it keeps happening.

You wake up with either tears in your eyes or the ghosts of one’s still on your cheeks. Yet whatever you dreamt of is long gone, no matter how much you try to cling to the memories. Until one morning it lingers, the feeling of his hair between your fingers and the warmth of his body against yours. The smell of caramel.

The realization settles slowly, until the weight of guilt is heavy against your bones.

“Fuck,” you mutter. Out of fear, you reach behind you only to feel a cold empty bed beside you. That’s right, Tamaki is on a plane to China for a mission. He’s not going to be back for another week. You stuff your face into the soft blankets, hoping that the smell of home will dampen the heavy caramel still filtering in your mind.

You’ve never even had a real conversation with Bakugou since… ever. With the exception of last week when you inexplicably ran into him, you always saw him in passing from your years at UA. Neither of you had spoken much, maybe paired against each other’s classes for training but other than that…

Today is your day off, you give yourself the luxury of staying in bed for just a little bit longer. The warmth in your chest from your dream is finally lifting, leaving you to breathe once again.

It meant nothing. Just a random dream.

But as your day continues, you can’t get rid of the thought of him.

Why weren’t you guys ever friends? Maybe because he was a major asshole who looked down at everyone like they were a piece of shit.

You snort, shaking the very idea out of your head until a memory springs forth.

Cherry blossoms were floating in the air and the weather just started to turn warmer. It was your third year, the excitement of graduating buzzed through all your classmates and it meant that you all had trouble concentrating on courses. You had gotten in trouble for doodling during the fire quirk safety course, and was forced to stay behind to clean the classroom all by yourself before heading back to your dorms.

You bumped into Katsuki right after, both of you stunned that another student was still around the school so late that neither of you said a word just yet.

“God, Bambi, you’d think that with your stupid quirk you wouldn’t bump into anyone,” he rolls his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry-! Bambi?” You instantly retract your apology, glaring as he brushes you off.

“Yeah, Bambi. Baby deer who can barely fucking walk?” His stupid smirk makes you see red, especially when he starts to step away from you. I nstead of his heavy boot meeting the ground, his face does instead when you activate your quirk. The checkered tiles don’t match now since you’ve switched their spots, but you’re cackling too loudly to care. Just as you try to leave, Katsuki’s hand grabs your ankle and trips you. It’s too quick for you to even think to use your quirk, and the smack of the tile stings.

“What the- fuck you!” You turn and snarl, his annoying little sneering frustrates you more.

“Relax, tit for tat.” Bakugou towers over you, the same hand that tripped you is now offered to help you stand. Reluctantly you take it.

You both help pick up the other’s things, his papers that flew with perfect grades and messy drawings on the tests that you finished early on. It’s quiet between you both. To be honest you were feeling awkward, wondering if maybe you are just a lowly piece of shit as you stare at Bakugou’s perfect marks. You glance at him, not wanting him to catch you marveling at how absolutely genius he is, and find him with one of your essays in his hands. His thumb traces over a messy sketch of a face, the angles harsh and the eyes sharp, but the rest was a blur.

“Soulmate?” He grumbles, his red eyes looking up at yours and you feel your insides freeze at being caught.

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. I don’t think I have one,” you mumble and take the essay from him. Morbid curiosity takes over and you ask him the same.

“Yes,” his answer surprises you. Something in your belly flips, not wanting to know why exactly that upsets you.

You didn’t expect him to have one, not with his attitude and ego. It shouldn't be surprising that he has one, it’s rare for someone to be like you: one without a soulmate. Fated to be alone. By the age of five, right around the time a child has gotten their quirk, they start to dream of their soulmate. You’ve heard of soulmates meeting in sleep, talking and laughing and holding each other in dreams. Waking up knowing they’re out there, remembering every detail of them. You didn’t get these dreams. Maybe you saw people, indistinct faces. But everyone did.

“But how do you know they're your soulmate and not just a random person your brain made up? How do you know it’s not just chemicals?”

Your friends shrugged, a dopey smile on their faces as they imagined their future partners, “You just do.”

That wasn’t helpful.

“Oh,” you replied. “Congrats.” You wanted to reach out and fix his tie and a part of you yearned to run your hands through his hair and see if it truly feels as soft as it looks. Instead you stuffed your papers into your bookbag and stood, muttering an apology for tripping him.

Bakugou looks at you and nods, “It’s fine. I was being a dick.” The sun setting outside streamed through the glass wall and washed over his cheeks, his eyes are rubies in the sunlight. “See ya around, Bambi.”

You nodded, turning away before he could first.

Almost immediately, the feeling of warmth in your chest turns to guilt. A chill runs down your spine, prickling your skin with discomfort. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.

You’re engaged. He has a soulmate.

None of it matters. You’re happy.

You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy. You’re happy.

You mutter this to yourself all day. You tap the words onto your lips with your pen as you fill out endless paperwork. Today you avoid going out on patrol, not wanting to bump into him again. Nearly every time you’ve gone on patrol, you see Katsuki,- Bakugou,- Dynamite . The screams of children as they swarm towards him would catch your attention, and of course the moment you glance towards the commotion you meet his gaze. Time stands still for just a millisecond, and the vague feeling you woke up with that moment would come back like dejavu. Or you’re getting lunch, rushing towards the food stand with the older auntie who loves to squeeze your cheeks and demand you eat more, when the smell of sugar lingers for a moment before disappearing. You hate how your heart races at the smell of sugar burning, you hate that you think of his soft blond hair and his eyes, only to see the treats being sold to the families passing through. All of your shifts are so sleepy, so goddamn boring, that you never noticed the stands selling sweets like American brittle or caramel dipped apples until now.

Caramel follows you everywhere now. Or maybe it’s always been there and you just haven’t noticed. So you decide to stay inside the office, at least until Tamaki gets back from his mission and you can feel like yourself again.

I’m happy. I’m happy. I’m happy.

You stare at the photo of Tamaki and you on your desk, doing everything you can to ignore the ghost smell of caramel determined to linger around you.

-(-)-

You train harder at night. You do everything to avoid sleeping and if you do pass out, you hope to not dream. You can’t take it, seeing him instead of Tamaki. As you go through the motions of hitting the punching bag, ignoring the way your body screams for you to take a break, you nearly miss Tamaki’s call.

“I haven’t heard from you,” his voice makes your chest tighten with guilt. “How was your day?”

The same. It’s always the same. You walk and catch the occasional kid who tries to steal a phone. You sit in your office and do the mind numbing paperwork that follows. Rinse. Repeat.

It’s always the same. You hardly use your quirk, you hardly use the special moves you worked so hard on back in your high school days.

You go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed, left wondering why the hell you aren’t doing more. You go home and eat a dinner you always make for yourself and wish for once that someone else can just do it for you. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, still brimming with energy and pent up rage, wondering why you are here. Longing for a home that doesn’t exist.

“It was fine,” you chug water in between breaths, the muscles in your arms quivering as you finally take a break.

“That’s nice,” his voice is sweet. You hate how annoyed you’re starting to feel about how compliant he is. There’s a long silence and you wonder when you both got so comfortable.

When did you get so comfortable? When did you stop trying? Why did you decide to settle for less?

That thought stops you cold. Settle for less? Did you mean your career or… Tamaki wasn’t less. He’s a good man, a brave hero, a loving partner. He took care of you. He takes care of you.

He’s never pushed you.

You both never fought, you were both so compliant.

But he loves you.

“I love you,” you say.

Tamaki keens out a shy noise, still not used to your affection even after all your years together and you smile. “I love you too.”

“I want to leave my agency,” you blurt out. “I hate it. It’s so boring.” Everything spills, the way you feel so useless each day, your dreams of being the best being swept away by his shadow, you tell Tamaki everything. Leaving out the smell of caramel that haunts you each morning.

Tamaki is quiet for a moment before responding, “We have a position.”

“You do?” You sit on the gym mat, wondering why you ever doubted your faithful fiancé, your ecstatic laughter rings through the training center.

“Yes,” Tamaki joins in on your laughter. “You’d have to start as a sidekick, really just think of it as the transition period before we get you to debut as a pro hero. But-,”

You can hear your blood rushing through your ear drums, flooding out whatever else Tamaki is saying. Start over? Can you do that, start from the beginning and rise up?

“We can even work together, it’d be- God, that’d be fantastic. I can see you more-,” Tamaki is getting excited, but all you can think of is how once again, you’ll just be overshadowed by the Suneater himself. You wonder if he can hear how hollow your voice sounds, when you tell him how great that’ll be.

A few days after the phone call at the training center, Tamaki tells you that his mission was extended and he won’t be home until the end of the month. You can’t sleep hours later after you told him goodnight, and decide to go on a run. The sound of your feet hitting the pavement helps drown out your thoughts. Lately you’ve been so preoccupied with transferring agencies as soon as Tamaki gets home, that you’ve almost forgotten your soulmate dilemma.

Almost.

You run faster to avoid thinking about it, about him. You’re totally not thinking about him, and you’re doing an excellent job not thinking about him that you run into the asshole.

“Fuck,” you barely feel the scrape on your knee before activating your quirk to save yourself. “Sorry, I-”

“You’d think that with your quirk, you wouldn’t bump into anyone, Bambi.” This time, it’s amusement and not annoyance that he says this sentence to you for a second time in your life. Kat- Dynamite holds out his hand, looking down at you with a faint smirk as you graciously take it. You activate it again, switching places so that you’re looking down at him instead.

“You’d think that with your attitude you’d be at the bottom of the popularity poll.” There’s no malice in your tone, and instead you find yourselves smiling at the other. You help him up easily before cleaning off yourself.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Bakugou compliments. Many thought that, and even had said that to you, and while most times it irks you, this time you feel pride.

“I’ve been training.” You stand taller.

“I’ve noticed.” It’s dark, but you swear the tips of his ears start to go red.

“Yeah?” You smile, and if anyone would’ve called it out, they might call it flirty. “Didn’t realize you’ve been watching.”

“Shaddup,” He laughs and crosses his arms, one still clad in the compression sleeve, the ropes of muscle more prominent in his chest and biceps. “Everyone has been noticing.”

“Really,” you cross your arms and grin. “Everyone?”

“Ever since Elf Ears fucked off on his mission, everyone has noticed you been trolling for night shifts.” He’s right of course, not that you’d freely admit to him. Your restless energy has boiled over and you’ve been picking up more shifts. Shamefully you’ve felt free.

“Not tonight, though.” Tap your shoes against the sidewalk, ready to run. Whatever confidence you had in front of him is fading quickly, and your head is dizzy with the scent of caramel and musk wafting from him.

“No.” Bakugou agrees, watching you carefully. “Not tonight.”

Electricity pulses through the space between you both, and you decide it’s time to end this interaction.

“You okay?” He asks again. The familiar pangs of distress and love floods into your chest and guilt starts to sting you at your core.

Yes. “No.”

“My shift just ended,” Bakugou says nonchalantly, shrugging. “Want to get a drink?”

No . “Yes.”

-(-)-

Drinks didn’t mean what you thought. You and Bakugou walked down the lamp lit streets in silence. A third person could walk between you both, you thought to yourself. You made sure to not pay any attention to his frame, you tried your best to not compare him to your fiancé. All day you haven’t heard from Tamaki, not that you expected him to contact you during a mission. But as you and Katsuki walk to get drinks, you realize it’s the first time in months that you haven’t been riddled with anxiety over your partner.

“This isn’t a bar,” you step through the tea shop and give Katsuki a passing look.

“Never said it was, Bambi.” Your heart flutters at the nickname, yet you don’t give any of it away as you look around the tea shop. His eyes watch you taking it in, the decor that’s been outdated for about thirty years already and the countless porcelain tea cups being reflected by the hanging lights. “Pick a cup, then pick a tea.” Katsuki grabs a ceramic yunomi painted with the colors of a sunset. You bite back a smile, remembering how much he favored the color orange back in school. Not much has changed.

“Hōchija, please.” He sets his cup down and gives a polite nod to the younger boy behind the wooden counter.

Your eyes scan across the once white now faded yellow menu, “May I get the sencha please?”

It’s quiet aside from the music playing the top 100 over the speakers, and then both of you take a seat at the bar. The younger barista hums while measuring out the dried tea leaves, the two of you doing your best to ignore the warmth from your shoulders touching lightly. A few minutes pass and your yunomi is handed back filled with hot tea, it’s heat spreads across the palm of your hand and you ignore the way it stings. It’s delicious.

“This is amazing,” you give a smile to your barista and he bows his head with a shy smile. “How did you hear about this place?”

Bakugou sets his tea back down and you catch the smell of charcoal, vaguely you wonder if it’s the remnants of his shift and you inch closer. “My pops would take me here,” Katsuki’s voice is low and you lean in to catch his words. “It’s the only damned place that we went to that didn’t involve someone screaming at each other. He told me once, ‘Katsuki-chan every cup you drink is one drink closer, I hope, to calming the fuck down.’” Your snort is sudden and loud, and while you struggle to keep your laughter down, you miss the way Katsuki smiles at you before taking another sip of his tea.

“Did it work?” You smile at him, not wanting to think about your chest warming and deciding it’s from the tea.

“I think so.” He answers truthfully, this time he glares when you laugh. “What?” Bakugou sets his tea cup down almost too roughly on the wooden counter, and you notice the same compression band on his left arm still.

Shaking your head and holding your hands up to your defense, you giggle. “The amount of articles I’ve read of the ‘Great Dynamite Hero’-,” your fingers mine the air quotes, “-having his blowouts. It’s hilarious.”

“Didn’t realize you were keeping track of me.” Your eyes look up and find that his are already tracing your features, the curve of your jaw and the tip of your nose. How long have you been this close to him? Close enough to see that he hasn’t slept in a while and close enough to briefly wonder if his lips would taste like burned sugar too.

“I haven’t been. You’re usually on the front page,” your voice wobbles and you shift farther from him. “Tamaki and I like to read the paper together.” At the sound of your fiancé’s name, Bakugou gives a slight nod and shifts back too. Your fingers ghost over your ring. You catch him looking at the silver band briefly. Subconsciously you wish you haven’t said anything at all, and you swipe your thumb over your ring.

The conversation dies, and when Bakugou pays, you go home to try and sleep.

-(-)-

“What happened to your soulmate?” You ask Tamaki, who has gotten back from his trip now, over breakfast. You watch his face wince, the pain of her loss still stinging even after decades. Shame takes its place quickly over the jealousy you feel for him, to have someone you love so much that every piece of you belongs to them and them you.

“She… died. In a car accident.” Tamaki picks at his pancakes, doused in maple syrup. “When we were five.”

Shame burns hotter for you now. “That young?” Tamaki nods, taking a bite of the breakfast he made for you both. “You must’ve barely met her by that point.”

He smiles sadly, “She used to be in my class with Mirio and I. At first, I thought I was just having dreams about school. I used to beg my parents to not send me to bed, I would get hives just thinking about school being in my dreams again.”

“How did you know she was your soulmate?” You think back to all the times in your life that you’ve asked this question. To your partners over the years who didn’t have their soulmates anymore or tried to cheat the system. The friends you had who swore to be single but fate gave them an emptiness to be filled by their love.

And now him. When you and Tamaki started dating, you had the talk with him. The talk you had with everyone. You don’t have a soulmate. You won’t be fatefully theirs, they won’t be yours. If you have an assigned soulmate, please don’t waste my time. The way he looked when you said this, the immensable sadness that washed over his features before giving you a small smile. His words were simple, enough to end the topic and enough to scare you from asking more. Well, good thing I don’t have a soulmate anymore.

“We talked for hours in our dreams,” he sighs at the memory. “I learned things about her that I couldn’t have known if I didn't actually talk to her, so it was pretty much solid. Mirio didn’t meet his soulmate in real life until after high school, they both decided to wait and then exchange numbers. He couldn’t stop jumping and cheering when he heard their voice on the receiver,” Tamaki laughs and looks back at you with a melancholy smile. “You also just know. It’s like suddenly, your body just isn’t yours. It feels like you’re being pulled to them and as much as you want to escape, you can’t run. You don’t want to.”

“What was her name?”

He pauses. “Shinju.” There’s a softness in his voice you haven’t heard before, and you wonder what Tamaki’s life would’ve been like if his soulmate hadn’t died. Maybe they’d even be heroes together, fighting villains side by side with an unspeakable bond that no one could penetrate. He wouldn’t have a partner who would settle for less out of fear of being let go for someone else. He wouldn’t have someone who is a shell of who they are, destined to-

Destined for what?

You don’t know what destiny has for you anymore. Before you were destined to be alone. But now Katuski appears in your dreams, sitting under fruit trees that you always wanted to have in your backyard, never facing you. Or he's by the ocean with waves softly crashing in front of him, warm sand underneath you both.

Before, you accepted that you would be alone. You refused for anyone to tell you that you must feel empty inside, for how else can anyone live without a beloved fucking soulmate? You told them to go fuck themselves, you proved them wrong by becoming a pro-hero despite having no natural goddamn cheerleader and you did it with a beaming ass smile and the ego that weighed more than what All Might could bench.

You were fine. You were happy.

Until you made yourself small.

You aren’t empty inside. You’ve made yourself small.

Tamaki was dreamy, he was shy and dreamy and sweet and romantic in all of his awkward ways. You allowed your light to be diminished under his shadow.

Because eventually, all those people pitying you for being so alone, got to you. You’re human after all, isn’t it normal to feel melancholy when you see a couple laughing and holding hands? Isn’t it normal to wish to have someone love all of you, imperfections included? Isn’t it normal to want to have somebody be there for you? Isn’t it normal to not want to go to bed and wonder what it is like to have someone hold you? You weren’t as tough as you thought. You felt like you let down those people you met in forums for those without soulmates, the civilians and heroes who never was bestowed a soulmate who said “Fuck them, I’m my own person” and never even wanted to date. They were complete because they had family, friends, a career, sexy one night stands. They could rely on themselves and no one else.

You don’t know where you fall anymore.

-(-)-

[plaguedpriest]

Saw Gabe in a fruity little outfit and just knew i had to draw it myself :] (Based on @bedrock-to-buildheight's design)

+ nakey ver under the cut idk (sfw)

[soupmanspeaks]

Michael Ao3 author AU walk with me here

"hey guys sorry I havent posted much on the Immortal and the Restless fic, I had to do this one errand my father sent me on, its actually a funny story; my dead sister actually possesed this big robot clown that killed her, and I had to like, put her scattered parts back together again, it was a whole thing, but yeah, her murder AI kind of just took over and she tricked me into being a meat suit, so that kind of sucked, and im actually organless atm, so sorry for slower updates, but it is what it is yk"

And then wayyyy later "heyyyyy what's up superstars, sorry for the long hiatus, my soul got put into a robot bear, but that's all taken care of, so chapter 27 soon :3"

[stellamancer]

was talking to sel last night as she was writing her sugu, and an idea i mentioned to ari popped back into mind despite me banishing it away. i don't have much else to say except don't let me write late at night guys. context for this fic can be found here.

contains: gn! reader, questionable characterization of suguru in my opinion, character death, necrophilia, possibly dead dove do not eat just to be safe. unedited.

It's been two weeks since you died but Suguru just can't get you out of his mind.

He doesn't quite know why, you were just a non-sorcerer after all, just a monkey. But the curses he took from you, the seemingly endless supply of foul and spiteful curses, were nothing short of exquisite. Terrible and powerful things born of a twisted love that you never wanted.

A love that cost you your life.

Something about that makes Suguru's blood boil. Perhaps it's anger at the one who ended your life in a fit of possessive rage. It's ridiculous, Suguru thinks, that that monkey thought you would ever belong to him when you were always—

Suguru heads to a room tucked into a far corner of the temple he calls his home, no one is allowed in this area except him, it's his own private quarters where he can sit and meditate. His family is kind and respectful so naturally they give him that space.

(No one wants to know what will happen to them if they violate it.)

The room is chilly, noticeably colder than the rest of his home. Some of his curses reside here, peaceful and obedient as they linger at the edges of the room, surrounding a singular futon. The futon's occupant lays there, unaware of Suguru's entrance. Quietly, he slides the door shut and takes a seat beside the futon, but still the figure doesn't stir.

He reaches down and gently touches their face, smiling slightly as he touches the soft, cool skin of their cheek. His fingers travel down, tracing their jaw before resting on the column of their throat. His hand lingers there for a moment and he thinks of what would happen if he were to squeeze hard enough.

He frowns and pulls his hand away.

And then his thoughts drift to you. Your wonderful curses, your terrible death. The memory is vivid in his mind— your body slumped against the wall, your bloodstained clothes, the light as it left your eyes. But thing Suguru remembers most of all was how not a single curse was born from you as you lay there dying. It was surprising, he thinks, given the circumstances of your death. It's not uncommon for violent murders to give birth to spectacular curses— the final form of the victims' terror and anguish lingering around their corpses.

But you bore no curses.

Meaning you didn't die cursing this world.

Suguru clicks his tongue. What a shame. He's sure you could have produced a marvelous curse. Perhaps if that monkey hadn't killed you. Perhaps if it has been something else instead. Perhaps.... If it had been him.

He thinks about it, if he had been the one to kill you, if he were the one to take your life.

(Though, it was already—)

Would you have struggled? Would you have cried? Would you have begged him for him to spare you? Now that he thinks of it, Suguru had never seen you show fear, even when you came week after week, haunted by curses from an unworthy suitor, curses that were wrecking your insipid little life, you never seemed scared of them.

(Suguru is well aware you only came to see him.)

It's unfortunate, he thinks, as he absentmindedly reaches for the person in the futon one more, fingers brushing against their cheek as he brushes the hair from their face. He wishes he'd seen your face contort with fear.

He wishes he could have seen the full range of your emotions.

Suguru reaches around and gently cupping the person's cheek, he tilts their face toward his. He looks down at them, but they are devoid of expression— of emotion— devoid of life.

And, it will never return to them— never return to you.

Suguru stares down at your body, his dark eyes unreadable as he gently caresses the swell of your cheek with his thumb. He doesn't know why he keeps you, why he has his curses keep your body fresh, when you no longer have any curses to offer, no love to give.

Suguru has never really considered himself to be the sentimental type, but he can't stop himself as he leans down toward you. As he closes in, he wonders what kind of expression you would have if you were to see. A joyous one? A bashful one? Or would you even be sad?

He supposes it doesn't matter in the end as his lips brush against yours, cold and unmoving.

It's been two weeks since you died but Suguru just can't let you go. 

[youngchronicpain]

lmao, I saw a tiktok from a disabled creator that didn't have anything to do with her disability

and someone asked "what happened" because there was a photo of her using a wheelchair

I commented and said "friendly reminder it is weird to ask strangers on the internet about their medical history"

because there were quite a few comments along the same vein and the creator hadn't responded to them in any way

I then had some random dude tell me "friendly reminder Nobody Cares"

and then had them ask me "what happened to you?"

and another person commented saying that because the creator posted on the internet that she was welcoming questions

I explained that I get those questions from strangers just for existing in public as a wheelchair user. my existence is not an invitation.

and y'all

the creator liked both of the first person's comments (nobody cares and what happened to you)

and then commented back (only to him mind you) telling him he was funny

wild stuff

[rysttle]

Slaps this here

Posting an oc animatic on public yt for once yeaghhhh

Cw creepy stuff and body horror a bit and maybe scopo also a bit!

[unironicallytes]

so my partner works at renaissance faires sometimes

well so this is fairly common, but they get approached and are handed a tiny scroll, first the one on the right

so they open it up and go "...OH."

"my partner would love this!!! thank you random Dark Brotherhood recruiters." and the people giving out the scrolls go "ah. I see. your partner will be needing this then..." and just

I love these so much. they put em on the NICE paper, pulled out the yellowed, smooth parchment for what amounts to a one-off joke, and frankly, I respect the hell out of it LOL. my dumbass gonna put these in tiny frames they're so fun.

"hey Shea btw whats with the bones as paperweights?" my sibling in Sithis don't worry about it (they are ethically-sourced salvage that I happen to have laying around for craft purposes)

[snowangeldotmp3]

hoh nancy wheeler

(tagging @netflixnormalthings for their awesome research and screenshots and @lumaxramblings bc we had Many discussions abt hoh nancy)

so a few weeks ago i made this post, about nancy not wearing earplugs and using the shotgun (and guns in general over the seasons) and how this affected her hearing. but then it really did get me thinking: why don't we see more content about hard of hearing nancy wheeler?

i see hoh steve all the time, which is fair! steve has gotten his fair share of head trauma and no doubt has problems from this. (and i do love hoh steve! don't get me wrong!) but i rarely see anything about hoh nancy, even though she has consistently dealt with firearms since season 1 without the proper ear protection.

just for reference: whispering is around 30 decibels, normal speaking voices around 60 db, and anything above 70 db for extended amounts of time will start to damage the ear, and anything over 120 db will cause immediate damage to the ears.

for reference: in season 4, nancy fires the shotgun four times while blasting vecna out of the window. in season 3, she fires hoppers shotgun a few times during the fight at the cabin, and this doesn't include firing at billy or the fireworks they all set off inside starcourt (which, should've given them all a little hearing damage, if we're honest).(fireworks decibels + info under the cut!) nor does it account for the times she shot at the demogorgon in season 1.

anyway, the point is: there is no way that nancy is not hard of hearing. firing a shotgun once without protection is enough to blow your hearing out, but four times? and it's not even the first time she's dealt with firearms. she's shown to be one of the most, if not the most, proficient with guns. noise induced hearing loss is a very real thing, it damages the hair cells within the ear--these cannot grow back. and shotguns breach the threshold where just one close and sudden exposure can cause instant and permanent hearing loss.

there isn't much else for me to say here, this was really just a comprehensive guide, or even "proof" that nancy should be hard of hearing, or at least a wider accepted headcanon than it is. give me nancy, who, after even season 1, starts to have a hard time hearing what other people are saying, and learns to read lips instead. give me stubborn nancy who won't admit that there's anything wrong, that she can hear just fine, thank you, and she doesn't need help. i know nancy typically has the best hearing out of the main cast, usually the one who hears the danger first, but i don't know...it just seems more plausible to me for nancy to be hard of hearing.

[favorite-lie]

hey guys check out my minecraft gang

translation: explorer - Milo builder - K/J?? (I desperately need name suggestions lol) collector - Barnes competitor - Trish redstoner - Preston

it's a bit of a long story of why i came up w them so uhh just look at them for now!!!

+++ bonus thingsngsngnsgn

[scribbyizhere]

carcass of a carnival but I turn him into a pony AND a human AND finish a drawing??? woah. I kinda like Sun. perchance.

[breadtheend]

*sees tactical bread* may i huge the armoured loaf of wheat?

ok

*puts you on the vest*

[theaustralianginger]

ITS THE 10TH ANNIVERSARY FOR THESE SILLY GOOBERS YAYYYYYY

[neonsbian]

happy birthday @duovxq !

[soupmanspeaks]

Has anyone made a FNAF PJO AU yet? no? okay well then I'll do it okay so basically William is a hades kid, and the Afton sibs are all hades legacy but are children of nemesis, and Lizzy is the Oracle ("you wont die, you wont die" yk yk) Charlie is a child of Hecate (and can control the mist) and CHB in this au is the pizzeria, and the concealment/mist is the smell of days old pizza masking the smell of demigod, and I'm gonna be real honest I don't reaaaally know how the robo-possession and such would function but like see Michael's weapon is an enchanted baseball bat he calls "helpy" and because I'm cringe, he too is cringe, and says a terrible catch phrase when he's wielding it like "You look like you could use some *help!*" Maybe William learnt about the existence of mythological concepts like the underworld, Tartarus, Elysium, asphodel, etc. and he kinda wanted to cheat all that like the coward he is and that's why he started going killing crazy?? Maybe he kills Charlie because he wants to somehow glean her mist-controlling powers??? idk lol

I just love the hc(?) That the Afton's just have this.....presence to them when they enter a room, they each have an air of mystery or somberness or just plain fear around them LIKE OKAY IMAGINE KIDS HAVING FUN AND PLAYING IN THE ARCADE, RUNNING AROUND AND HAVING FUN, AND THEN PJO!MICHAEL FIRST SHOWS UP AND STEPS AT THE ENTRANCE, AND THE ROOM JUST GOES (heh, pun) DEAD SILENT AND FAINT WHISPERS ARE HEARD FROM THE AUDIENCE LIKE YOU PICK UP WHAT IM PUTTING DOWN

[enter-the-phantom]

Like my doodles? Consider commissioning me!

I’m a disabled student who likes to draw and also would like to buy a treat now and then. To accomplish this, I will draw for you! I’ll draw pretty much anything, and if I don’t know how, I’ll learn!

Feel free to message me with questions or for more examples!

I also have an Etsy store where I sell tshirts, mugs, stickers, jewelry, and anything else I happen to make, mostly based on obscure fandoms! All views help!

Reblogs loved and appreciated!

[domokunrainbowkinz]

Uh oh!!!!