Think I can squeeze a few more drops of comedy out of this horrible fucking life experience..
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I just found out that some national parks require that you get a permit to go backpacking on their trails, and some of them sell out within minutes, much to the chagrin of the locals.
Apparently, if you're caught backpacking without a pass, park rangers will escort you out of the park (and you know, fines and court dates or whatever) but I'm stuck on the idea of getting busted and treating your escort out of the park like a trail guide. Like what if you got caught ten miles into the middle of the woods.
"Oh, is that a birch tree? Do you guys have trouble with birch bark beetles?"
"Is that bear scat or elk scat? Do you ever worry about bears?"
"Ooh what kind of bird is that?"
And the park ranger is more or less like, "Shut the fuck up, criminal, this is not supposed to be fun. But yes we have a serious problem with birch bark beetles."
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“I won’t let you take him,” he said. “I’m gonna save my twin, y’know? No matter what.”
Another image that has been in my head for ages that I absolutely had to get out of my system.
The Lemonade Leak by @turtleinsoup is one of those fics that leaves me emotionally devastated with every chapter. Utterly wrecks me. Destroys me. Breaks into my house and beats me up and leaves me bleeding on the floor. I love it.
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Bakugou comes home and finds you burrowed under your favorite blankets, clad in only your underwear. He’s concerned at first, with the distant look in your eyes and how stiff your body is. But that’s when he takes you in—you’re under your comfort blanket, wearing the only undergarments that don’t upset you, playing the tunes that you always play whenever the world becomes too much. He blinks at you, before signing softly,
“Sensory overload?” He whispers, finds himself to be so small in this huge apartment, in front of you. He makes himself tiny, defenseless, quiet and reserved, and it’s what makes your eyes finally shift over to him. You sniffle once and nod stiffly, but that’s all he needs.
Bakugou makes quick use of discarding his clothing, vowing to shower later and wash the sheets before bed. He turns off the overhead light and puts on the ambience lighting for the room, turns the fan on low, closes the windows. Then he crawls under the sheets, doesn’t invade inside your blanket, and lays close. He doesn’t say anything, but you hear him loud snd clear.
I’m here for you when you’re ready.
It takes only a few minutes before you shift and turn, crawling on top of him without a word. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other smoothing down your hair. He pulls your phone closer so that the noise doesn’t sound so hallow where it tangles in the sheets, and kisses your temple once. You’re quiet for a long while before you whisper into the juncture of his neck,
“I’m sorry I’m like this. I’ll get better.” And it makes his heart ache more than he cares to admit. He knows he might overwhelm you with his words, his attitude to your apology for just being you. So he settles for squeezing you briefly, kissing your temples again.
“Don’t apologize, and don’t rush getting better. I’ll be there for you every step, no matter what. You hear me?” He tries to keep the scolding from his tone, especially when he feels you curling in on yourself more. But you nod, pressing your lips softly to his warm flesh.
“I love you. Don’t forget that.” He tells you, eyes closing as he feels the long day starting to catch up to him. You nod again, lids falling heavy as you can finally let go of the stressors that plague you, even if only for a moment.
“I love you.”
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