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#this whole year at work has just been like how much extra bullshit can we heap on employees and not give them the things they need

mariacallous · 16 days

Text

I plan on voting for Biden in November. But it’s terrible. A vote for him is still a vote that will not significantly improve our deepest and most troubling social problems. He won’t give us Medicare for All or any other badly needed boosts to social programs. He will probably continue to support policies that actively oppress BIPOC. He will not help us. He’s also a sexual predator. Truly, I do not want to vote for this man. This is not the man I wanted to vote for. I don’t want him in office. He is simply not good enough. This man doesn’t represent what I want at all.

But if I don’t vote for Biden in November, I feel like I’m making it that much easier for Trump to win another election. And I want that even less than I want a Biden presidency. I don’t want another 4 years of what we have now. No fucking way. No.

I’m so conflicted. I feel like there is blood on my hands. I feel like I’m casting a vote for death and misery if I’m not voting for a progressive candidate with a progressive platform. I feel like I’m committing nothing short of an atrocity no matter what I choose to do. I don’t want to harm people, and yet, won’t I essentially be doing exactly that? I just want to do the right thing. I don’t want to bring harm, or perpetuate harm towards anyone.

Trump will probably win anyway. He’s doing all he can to ensure that, and it will probably work. The impending climate disaster will kill us all because we will clearly continue to do nothing. Our bodies will be riddled with micro and nanoplastics. America will become an even more of an inhospitable police state.

Nobody will hold Biden accountable for anything if he wins, and he’ll never give us the public policies we desperately need.

“Is this what hope feels like? I’d forgotten,” you tweeted recently. How? And for what? I see nothing but bad things to come. I feel a deep sense of hopelessness and despair.

There are plenty of reasons to feel hopelessness and despair right now, but with regard to Joe Biden, you are wasting a whole bunch of negative emotions on a giant pile of shitty beliefs that just aren’t true.

First, and let me be very clear on this one, Joe Biden is not a sexual predator. He’s just not. Believe me, I would be shouting it from the rooftops if I thought he were. When Tara Reade went public, I took her allegations very seriously. I gave her extra helpings of the benefit of the doubt, but it turned out there was a mountain of evidence suggesting that Reade has always been a lying, manipulative grifter (which I didn’t want to be true), and there was another mountain of evidence suggesting that the predatory behavior alleged by Reade is simply not in Biden’s character (which I was very reluctant to trust). There was a time when I was hopeful that Reade’s accusations might even knock Biden out of the race, but I’m not the kind of person who believes a thing merely because I want it to be true. It’s fine if you want to criticize Biden for what appears to be a history of awkward or retrospectively inappropriate behavior. Hell, you can even buy into all that “Creepy Uncle Joe” bullshit, but you’re just plain wrong if you insist that Joe Biden is a sexual predator. (Obviously, the same cannot be said of Donald Trump, who is a straight-up serial rapist with a list of at least twenty-five women who have publicly and credibly accused him of sexual assault.)

As for your policy concerns, I understand your frustration. I would love to be voting for a far-left ultra-progressive firebrand of a candidate in the upcoming general election. That would feel wonderful, right up until the moment that she loses in a landslide, and I guarantee you, a far-left ultra-progressive candidate would get her ass handed to her by Trump. That’s not an outcome we can afford as a species, much less as a nation. You understand this, which is why you still plan on voting for Biden. Good. I’m really glad you’re not being a purist asshole about this. The evil garbage monsters in the GOP just love a left-wing purist who refuses to vote responsibly. Republicans are desperately praying to their imaginary white Jesus that all the Green Party crunch bars will fuck it up for the rest of us like they did back in 2016. We cannot let that happen again.

Listen, I’m not gonna try and convince you to like Joe Biden. You’re already gonna vote for him, so I’m perfectly fine if you hate his breathing guts. What I do want from you is a little maturity, some vision, and a realistic sense of scale. No one candidate will ever be the solution to our problems — not Bernie, not Liz, and certainly not Joe. At best, a candidate is a vector, a course correction, a desperately needed step in the right direction. That’s all we can expect from Biden, and he is bringing it. He’s bringing it every single day with a list of policy positions that are more progressive than any President’s in the history of the United States, and he most certainly brought it with the selection of Kamala Harris as his running mate.

Biden recognizes his place in history. He knows he is little more than a national stop-gap, a post-Trump tourniquet to stanch the bleeding. His Vice-Presidency and eventual Presidency will be a line of demarcation between two very distinct chapters of American history. This is more than just bridging the Boomer/Millennial generational divide. In the distant future (if we have one), it is my sincerest hope that Biden will be remembered as “The Last of the Old White Men,” a happy warrior who marked the end of a certain kind of Modern America and who helped usher in a new kind of Postmodern America. Those terms are clunky and loaded and absolutely will not stand the test of time, but we’re not the ones who get to name what we’re about to become. We’re the ones who have to keep doing the hard work to finally get us there, and that’s why I really need you to change your whole fucking attitude.

This shit is going to be grueling. The fight will be brutal if not bloody, and there is absolutely no room for whiners and layabouts. You want to improve our deepest and most troubling social problems? Great. Quit moaning about doing harm with your vote and go do some actual good with your own two fucking hands. Pulling a lever in a voting booth every couple years is the bare minimum. In terms of civic duty, it is the absolute least you can do. Of course Biden won’t give us Medicare for All. Neither would Sanders or Warren. That’s not how any of this works. Presidents don’t give us shit. We do it ourselves. We demand it, loudly and with force, and over long stretches of time, with enough solidarity and sustained action, laws are enacted and policies change.

I was around when the Clintons tried deadlifting their universal health care plan off the ground back in 1993. Maybe you remember it, maybe you weren’t even born yet, but that’s how long this shit takes. It’ll have been three fucking decades and two fucking generations of Democrats trying desperately to kick that gutbucket up Capitol Hill by the time we finally get around to some semblance of a single payer healthcare system. Thirty fucking years, my friend. That’s the kind of patience and perseverance the American experiment demands of us, so quit your fucking whining. Enough with all the pearl-clutching and hand-wringing. Take all your conflicted navel gazing bullshit and toughen the fuck up, buttercup.

You are on the right side of history. You are with the good guys. Quit your fucking bitching, and get out there and help us win.

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thefallennightmare · 2 months

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For headcannon Monday, can you please do Noah with someone on the thicker side? Maybe a mom-bod if you get what I mean. He loves the mom pooch but reader is super insecure about it, especially now that the nicer weather is coming and there's skinny/hot girl stuff all over social media...she just feels like he would prefer that instead of bike shorts, oversized t (usually his), no makeup, mom bun and flip flops.

I'm feeling a little insecure lately if you couldn't tell 😞🤦🏼‍♀️

As someone who has a mom pouch, I relate to this so so much.

"This is bullshit," you grumbled under your breath when the pair of jeans that fit you last year didn't fit any longer.

"Angel," Noah sighed while wrapping his arms behind you to run his hands over your stomach. "You don't have to get dressed up for this. The guys are coming over for a barbeque. You can be comfortable."

"I always dress like a bum, Noah. Ever since we had Killian, I can't get rid of this!" You pulled at the extra pouch of fat around your stomach.

It had been difficult to lose the weight you gained when you were pregnant with your son. You've tried everything you could the last two years; diets, working out, juice cleanses. Noah even brought you along with him to his workouts with Ash.

While you lost some weight and were more toned, it was still hard to lose the weight around your stomach. Which made you very self-conscious, especially now that summer was here and everyone was coming over for a barbeque.

You guys had a pool at your house but the last thing you would do was get in a swimsuit around others.

Noah would do whatever he could to make you feel beautiful; kiss all the stretch marks and devour every inch of you. But he knew that it was hard to hush the voices in your head that told you he'd find someone else.

"Hey," he cupped your cheek when he recognized that far-off look in your eyes. "Don't go there, angel. You know that all I want is you. I love you. Your body literally grew our son and birthed him, it may not bounce back as fast as you'd want but you're still gorgeous to me."

Your heart warmed with his words and eventually nodded, tears stinging in your eyes.

The postpartum effects were still hitting you almost two years later but Noah was always there to help any way he could.

"Besides," he pressed a kiss to your lips. "You know I prefer you in a pair of biker shorts and one of my shirts."

"I know, but that still doesn't mean I don't want to get dressed up every once in a while," you sighed while opting to wear your go-to outfit. Biker shorts and Noah's shirt; Naruto eating noodles.

"How about tomorrow we go shopping? You can buy a whole new wardrobe?" Noah suggested while picking up Killian who was lying in your bed watching a cartoon on the television.

Your son with dark curls and almond eyes giggled when Noah attacked his cheek and neck with kisses.

"I'd like that," you stepped into Noah's opened arms. "Killian could use some clothes as well."

Noah playfully rolled his eyes. "Whatever you two need, I'm here for."

#tina talks #noah sebastian #headcannon monday #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian headcannon

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vampirepersay · 1 year

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I love you idiot: Terrance x Philip oneshot. Cw Canon typical Canadian Behavior lots of farting and queefing.

They had been costars for so long. Why couldn't he see it, was he just stupid no he had to know after 20 years Philip had to know that Terrence was hopelessly in love with him. They were more than just friends and he knew that why else would he let Philip suck him off all those times when he was drunk?

Terrence had been subtly flirting with Philip for years, doing so many little things from saving him some extra of his favorite food backstage or making sure to compliment him on everything from how funny his farts were to how handsome he looked.

But that all changed when they came around the queef sisters Katie and Katherine they were so unfunny Terrence truly hated them and he knew Phillip did too but no the network just had to set up a big wedding for the four of them saying it would "bring in the ratings the Canada channel needed". And it did so now Philip was unhappily married to a woman that thought shooting air out of her vagina was comedy gold. He hated it.

Katie wasn't a bad person but her queefs were just so disgusting, every time he had to hear her laugh to herself after queefing he wanted to gag.

So Terrence decided to start spending more time on set it was the perfect excuse whenever he didn't want to spend time with Katie he could always just say

"I'd love to do that babe but you know I have work and, I don't think the Network would be very happy if I just didn't show up you know?".

Today was one of those days he was tired of having to deal with Katie's shit first she burns breakfast then she cries because she brunt breakfast all while queefing the whole fucking time he had to get out of the house so he did, he used the same excuse that worked every time.

and just like that he was out of the house and on the set of the Terrance and Phillip show walking around just trying to kill time before he had to go back and deal with Katie's

shit, he noticed someone out of the corner of his eye smoking a cigarette as he got closer he realized it was a blond that he would have recognized anywhere

"Philp, why are you here?".

The blond was caught off guard dropping his cigarette onto the ground

"Oh, no reason, friend just getting some work done".

The blond said nervously.

"That's bull shit and you know it, Philip!"

Terrance yelled at his blond co-star.

"Why is that bullshit Terrance can a man not go get some extra work done."

The blond replied while picking up his dropped cigarette.

You can but I'm pretty sure work doesn't involve you standing here smoking, also I thought you quit why are you smoking again"?

Said the Canadian

"get off my case, you're starting to sound just like her!"

The blond said in a yell.

"Like who, what are you talking about Philp?" said Terrence.

"Katherine, I'm talking about Katherine, I can't stand that nagging bitch"! Philip

started to cry his pretty black eyes begin to leak water all the emotions he had been trying to keep locked up begin to flow out of his eyes

Terrence hated seeing Philip cry and the fact that he had been keeping his true feelings a secret for so long was too much.

Terrence begins to feel tears dripping down his cheeks, he knows what he has to do Terrance closes the distance between himself and Phillip and begins to embrace the male in a hug wiping the tears from his long-time friend's eyes

"It's going to be okay buddy im here for you we can talk or",

before he could finish what he was going to say a noise could be heard, and a smell Terrence was very familiar with filled his nostrils Philip had farted, he couldn't help it all the sadness and anger left his body and he began to laugh and before long Philp joined in and the two male were standing there embraced in each other's arms laughing it felt like heaven.

In the heat of the moment, Terrence got the courage to say what he had wanted to say for the past 20 years.

"I love you, Philp". He said while farting.

#south park #south park fanfiction #crack fanfic #Terrence x Philip #Sp Terrence #Sp Philip #kyle broflovski #Cartman #eric cartman #kenny mccormick

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tabbytabbytabby · 2 years

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11 as thiam please

Thanks so much for prompt! Hope you like it 💜

Also on AO3

Theo’s getting a bit tired of it all, to be honest. All the stares and muttered remarks– whispers saying he’s not acting like himself lately and must be up to something again. As if he’s not allowed to grow as a person and work on being better. That by simply trying to become a good person, he has to have some devious ulterior motive.

It’s exhausting.

And there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Sure, he could glare and tell everyone to shut the hell up and mind their own business. But all that would do would send another round of rumors spreading about how he’s snapped and back to being the old Theo or some shit like that.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be in on it is Liam. He’s the only one who doesn’t give Theo wary looks every time he walks in the room or mutter to the other members of the pack about him. He’s the first one that was willing to give Theo a chance after the dust settled, and they all came out relatively unscathed. So much that he’d all but dragged him home with him one night, introduced him to his parents, and then showed him to their guest room.

“Mom said it’s okay if you stay here,” Liam had said. “I explained everything. Well, not everything. She’s still not in on the whole werewolf thing yet, but I told her you didn’t have anywhere else to go, and she insisted you stay here.”

And that had been that.

Theo’s been staying with the Geyer-Dunbar’s for going on a year now, and it’s been nice. Certainly nicer than anything he ever thought he’d deserve. But they’ve all welcomed him with open arms. And he’s living a life he never dreamed of. He has a bed to sleep in at night, plenty of food in the kitchen, a roof over his head, and a family.

And yet, outside the house is something else. A world that’s still not ready to accept him and might never be. That looks at him with distrust whenever he’s sitting next to Liam, the two of them laughing and talking like they usually do.

And that makes it so much harder. Because inside the Geyer-Dunbar household, it’s safe. It’s okay for him to lean in close to Liam with his arm slung across his shoulder as they talk. But outside? Outside it feels like holes are being drilled into the side of his head from all the eyes on him.

It makes him pull away, putting space between himself and Liam. Liam frowns a bit at that but doesn’t stop his conversation with Mason. He seems oblivious to the tension around them. But then again, he’s not the focus of all the stares. Not really. It’s all Theo.

He excuses himself early that night, just wanting to get away. Liam tries to argue, saying that they rode together, but Theo just waves him off and tosses him the keys to his truck. He can walk home. He needs the air anyway.

That night, he decides that the best thing for Liam is not to drag him into this with him. The pack can distrust him. That’s fine. But Liam doesn’t need that. It hurts, but he knows the best thing for Liam is to put some space between them. At least for now.

It’s not easy since they live under the same roof, but with Liam in college and Theo working, it’s not that hard to conveniently miss him most days. And if Theo happens to pick up an extra shift or two on the days Liam’s home from school, then that’s no one’s business but his own. He can explain it away, saying he just wants some extra money. The holidays are coming up. It’s an easy enough excuse.

But Liam’s stubborn. Always has been. Theo should have known he wasn’t going to let Theo off the hook so easily.

So one night, when they’re both home, Liam corners him in his room. He closes the door behind him and locks it.

Theo raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning to kill me or something?”

“Cut the bullshit,” Liam says. “We need to talk, and I’m making sure you can’t escape.”

“You do know this room has a window,” Theo points out.

“Oh, I know,” Liam says. “But I’m prepared to drag you back in here by your tail if you even think of trying to go through it.”

Theo crosses his arms and leans back against the wall as he watches Liam. He’s standing a few feet away, carefully placed between Theo and the door, with his hands balled into fists at his sides. He’s not happy. That much is clear.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Liam says finally.

And there it is.

Theo sighs. “I have not.”

“You have,” Liam insists. “And I want to know why.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Theo says.

“Like hell, it doesn’t,” Liam snaps. “If I did something….”

“You didn’t do anything, Liam,” Theo cuts in. “It’s me.”

“You?” Liam says, confused. “What did you do?”

Theo laughs bitterly. “That’s the question, isn’t it? It’s always the question. What did Theo do this time? How is he going to screw up and ruin everything?”

Liam frowns. “Theo…”

“I did it for you, Liam,” Theo says. “I’ve been avoiding you to protect you.”

“From what?” Liam questions.

“From me!” Theo says. “From everything! Do you not see the looks everyone gives me– gives us when we hang out? How they’re always muttering about me and just waiting for me to screw up again so they can say how right they’ve been all this time. That I was never really good and….”

Theo’s words are cut off when a hand suddenly covers his mouth. He looks down to see Liam’s bright blue eyes blazing as they look up at him. “Shut up.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“You are good, Theo,” Liam says. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks. I know you. We’ve been living together for the last year. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been trying. Do you really think I would have let you into my home and around my family if I didn’t trust you? Well?”

Theo nods down at the hand still covering his mouth, which Liam removes with a sigh.

“You could have just been keeping an eye on me,” Theo tells him.

“That’s bullshit,” Liam says. “There are other ways to do that that wouldn’t have involved having you move in.”

“So what was it?”

“I wanted you there,” Liam says. “I want you here. By my side. Not just now but every morning when I wake up, even with your bedhead and sleepy frown, and every night when I go to sleep, so I know you’re here, and you’re safe.”

“What are you saying?” Theo asks him. “Because that sounds a little bit like….”

“A declaration of my undying love?” Liam finishes.

Theo shrugs. “You said it, not me.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Because it is.”

“Liam…”

“You’re not going to change how I feel,” Liam says. “So don’t try and give me some bullshit about how I deserve better. I know what I want, and that’s you. I love you, Theo.”

Love. Yet another thing he never thought he could have. And yet here Liam is, offering it to him so openly. Trusting him with his heart like it’s the easiest thing in the world. There’s still part of Theo that’s telling him he doesn’t deserve it. That the world won’t accept them. That they’ll try and tear them apart.

But at the moment, Theo doesn’t give a damn. Not when Liam is looking at him with that hopeful smile of his. Let the world come for them, he thinks as he lowers his head to meet Liam’s lips in a soft kiss. He’s changed, sure. But if there’s one thing he will always fight for, it’s Liam.

#thiam #theo x liam #liam x theo #thiam fanfic #thiam fanfiction #thiam fic #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #my fanfiction #filled prompts

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spinningbuster98 · 4 months

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So...now that the initial hype (and bewilderment?) for the trailer has largely subsided I would like to give my own personal thoughts on Sonic X Shadow Generations

I'm not happy

In fact after the initial feeling of "holy shit they're actually doing this!?" wore off I got pretty goddamn furious if I'm gonna be honest

Putting aside the fact that I am not the biggest fan of Shadow's game, in fact I can quite comfortably say that I hate it, a sentiment that I confirmed for myself after replaying it for a marathon roughly 2 years ago, so much so that, if it weren't for 06 and Secret Rings existing (and maybe Chronicles as well), it would quite easily be the worst Sonic game to me.

Putting aside also the fact that it is very likely to be written by Mr Ian-I can't work with these Shadow mandates man!-Flynn, whose track record on not only the IDW comic but also Frontiers leaves... quite a lot to be desired, especially when referencing past games is concerned

Putting, once again, aside the fact that what little level design we've seen in the trailer seems to be roughly on the same level as Forces', which should make it at least a tiny bit more inspired than Frontiers' though that's not inspiring much confidence in ME

...why?

Really: why?

Why celebrate Shadow The Hedgehog of all games?

Generations is a celebratory game, a game that, very optimistically, looks back on Sonic's story, both the highlights and yes, even the lowlights, which is why Crisis City was included

However it's one thing to include a level from an infamous game that ruined your reputation as part of your historical celebration while also making it far better than how it was in its original iteration

It's another thing to create a whole seperate story campaign dedicated to revisiting one of the most embarassing entries of Sonic's history, one of the titles that is most responsible for Sonic's reputation going down the drain over the years. And no: I'm not claiming that Shadow's game is the biggest culprit, even before its release Heroes was getting a lot of flack, and as early as the mid 90s, after S3K's release, people were starting to dunk on Sonic a bit. But I think we can all agree that it's when Shadow first appeared with a gun in his hand while cursing like an edgy teen that people collectively agreed that Sonic was now washed out and unsalvageable.

And you know I don't wanna act like this thing is doomed before it's out: it is technically possible that they can deliver something decent both gameplay and writing wise and if they do then I'll eat my own hat and praise it like it deserves!

But I am very doubtful about this, given Sega's quite frankly abysmal recent track record with this stuff, especially in light of Frontiers

And I know: it's just an extra mode bundled with a preexisting good game. Why are you bitching so much?

I'm bitching because this is but a symptom of a larger issue that's been going on for over a decade now, which is Sonic as a series being absolutely dependent on revisiting its past in often half assed ways in an attempt to pander to nostalgic fans rather than, y'know, genuinely and fully moving forward! The actual attitude hasn't really changed in 10 years, it's just that now instead of pandering to the classic elitists they're pandering to the Adventure fans, who will gladly eat this up despite whining for years about nostalgia pandering themselves because all their rhetoric during the past decade was mostly bullshit that can be summed up as "Yeah but they're not pandering to the REAL Sonic aka the one I grew up with!"

There's a part of me that would almost like to praise Sega for "taking it on the chin" so to speak, for wanting to take their chances by revisiting an old, hated game and doing something potentially good with it

But let's be perfectly clear here: Sega's not digging up Shadow's game or SA2 for that matter because they want to redeem them or anything, there are only 3 reasons why they're making this

For the aforementioned Adventure-era pandering, Sega have no doubt noticed that the kids who played Shth back in 2005 have now grown up and love it, while the older fans who bashed it have now largely left the fandom so this game is now free to be used as nostalgia bait

It's Shadow and not only is he so popular that everything with his name attatched to it is bound to sell but his playstyle is 90% Sonic's anyway, so they'll mostly just have to make new animations for him

Sonic Movie 3 is coming and they obviously want to capitalize on it. This game is very clearly for newer fans to serve as a "who this guy is and what his deal is" history lesson

The last 2 reasons are especially obvious because honestly, if they're so adamant on pandering to the Adventure Era nostalgia, then why don't they draw from other, better and more deserving sources?

Why not recreate levels from SA1 and 2 or even Heroes? You can even recreate story scenes from them if you truly want, it would still be pandering but at least stuff like Tails and Amy's character arcs in SA1 are far better written and more respectful to their characters than anything from Shadow's game is towards its own protagonist! Hell why not do something TRULY cool, something that is ACTUALLY unthrodden ground and maybe give us for the very first time 3D versions of levels from the Advance series? Cyber Base and Chaos Angel in 3D anyone? Or maybe the Rush games? With a playable Blaze for the first time since forever? I mean Shadow already had his own DLC episode in Forces and it was pretty ok, why not give someone else their own Episode?

Look: if you like Shadow's game and you like what you see? Good for you, I honestly, genuinely hope that you have a good time

But as for me? A (former?) Sonic fan who hasn't enjoyed anything Sonic related to come out of this entire franchise since 2013 (with the semi exception of Mania and maybe Superstars though I still haven't gotten around to playing it), and who's been extremely cynical of Sega and Sonic Team's way of handling this series? This is just the latest in a long list of nails in the coffin

#sonic x shadow generations

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thessalian · 10 months

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Thess vs The Longest Week

So, more work updates.

Scruffman hadn't put a Teams meeting in the diary like he said he was going to, so I dropped him an email to ask. He said he'd "give a bell" on Tuesday instead so he'd have a better idea of the shape of the rest of the week. I pray he decides that I don't need to actually go in. This week has been bad enough, and it's not technically over yet.

This week has seen me doing nearly ten hours total overtime over four days, and looks like I'll be putting in some work on Saturday too. Thing is, even with Scruffman in, not a whole lot of typing was getting done by anyone but me. Add to that a whole bunch of long complicated bullshit, not to mention a couple of them who fucked up their dictations beyond all recognition and obliged me to drop them an email going, "You forgot the block key, I couldn't hear this word because you were sitting several feet away from your microphone, you took your foot off the footpedal at an inopportune moment and cut out a whole bunch of measurements, please tell me this was meant to be 5mm or 0.5cm and not 0.5mm because you don't do slices that thin in these things..." and on and on and on... Also the ones who miss things and wind up having to go back to the macro three or four times in the middle of the block key without giving any indication of where in the macro report the new stuff has to go, and the ones whose sentence structure is abominable even when English is their first language (for those who don't have English as their first language, I tend to cut them some slack). In short, I'm having to clean up an awful lot of messes while still trying to do the job of multiple typists.

Part of the problem at this point is that we have so many more junior doctors, and everyone - junior doctors included - are in a massive hurry, and so they kind of foul things up. And of course, we're understaffed. When we had fewer doctors doing dictation and two extra people in, we were just a little bit overstaffed, and that was comfortable because if a lot of unexpected absences happened, we could still carry on well enough. But we had two people leave last year - one having moved on to greener pastures, one just having walked right out - and more doctors, so now we're massively understaffed and can barely keep our heads above water when we have everyone working, never mind when we have so many unexpected absences. Head Honcho really has got to get us a replacement for Sunshine at minimum, but it's been ages and it hasn't happened so I doubt it will.

Anyway, so that's why I've pulled a total of nearly ten hours of overtime this week, and why I'll be doing some work on Saturday as well. Because people come in and report on weekends on top of everything else, and there seems to be literally no one else to type things but me. I am so exhausted I can't even begin to tell you, but despite that, I haven't slept properly for most of the week, given pain and stress. Even my breaks were generally to get essentials done - trip to the corner shop, ordering the monthly grocery shop, stuffing something resembling dinner into my face, bath to hopefully soak out some of the aches, stuff like that.

I guess there's some good news, though. Today was payday, and there were things that required ordering. Like, for instance, a kitchen scale for those annoying times when recipe ingredients lists go by weight. And some cake tins. And some gluten-free self-raising flour that has good reviews and doesn't require me to know how much xanthan gum to put in the damn thing. I mean, bread is definitely on the list of things I want to make, but I also intend to make the absolute most out of Baking Yesteryear. So tomorrow, in between having to go out for a couple of errands and the never-ending overtime, I intend to make Admiral's Gingerbread. I will very much deserve a treat after this clusterfuck.

#Thess has a day job #Thess cooks

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lozzykins · 10 months

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Hades, Poseidon, Zeus <3

Greek Pantheon Asks

Can't you tell I was bored of working and wanting to write? XDDDD Also very much overthinking the first two...like what kind of faery bargains are you trying to pull on me? XDD <3

Thank you for the ask my love <3 Hades: If you could meet a person from history, who would it be and why? That's a tough one. I have a lot of questions before I agree to anything here. How long do I get to meet them for? Do I get to pull them from their time? Do I go back to their time? Is it a brief we both go into a blank room and are in there as long as we want to be? Are they living living or undead? Does it have to be a real person or can it be a fictional one? Does it have to be someone considered more 'known'? Can I keep them? Can I help them to change something that happened? How far back in the past does it have to be?

Poseidon: If you were shipwrecked on a tropical island, what would you want to have with you?

I'm going to say you, because you've thought of the sensible stuff XDD <3 I can't get over the island itself... I have far too many questions about the island to even plan what to take. Like its tropical yes, but where about is it located? What time of year is it? Are there other inhabitants? Are they friendly? What is the wildlife like? What is the weather like? What is the terrain like? How big is the island? Can I see other land nearby? Is there regular traffic going past it? What is the sea life like? How deep is the sea? For that matter what sort of ship was I on in the first place? What has washed up on the shore with me? What am I able to salvage? Does that count as what I have with me? Is what I have with me extra to that?

How does this stuff I have with me appear anyway? I think I'd be quite suspicious of it if it was just there in the middle of the beach, after I'd been tossed about in the sea. Like that screams something weird is going on and I want to speak to whoever is in charge of this Lost bullshit right now.

There's far too many variables for me to make a decision here.

Zeus: If you ruled the world, what would you change?

I'd become a dictator so fast you wouldn't realise what's going on until its too late to stop me. Healthcare would be a basic human right for everyone, so would a safe home, and education, any empty building would be refurbished and repurposed to facilitate that. No one would go hungry, and with a universal basic income, no one would have to worry about an uncertain future. There'd be programmes for everyone to access anything they wanted to and retrain whenever they wished. The environment would be carefully considered and looked after, and repaired.

Globally the whole law enforcement and prison systems would be obliterated and something new, and better put in their place that actually helps people like it should be designed to. Wars would be ended one way or another, and the outcome would always be the one that has the peoples best interests first. I would be willing to hold negotiations with the leaders of the time, to see what they would offer and put in place, but they would be replaceable if they were unwilling to work toward the better world. Yes blood might have to be shed, along the way, however, it is a small price to pay.

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tiikerikani · 1 year

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A crack in the glass

This post is incredibly difficult to write, there's just so much to process. Except for putting on the radio this morning with my alarm, I haven't had any music on since Saturday night...

I didn't even make coffee this morning. Today I worked while putting together the Lego I got for my birthday and making some paintings. (You already saw one in the previous post, there's another I'll post after this one, after which this title will make more sense.)

2023.05.06 Logomo-sali, Turku

I guess we can start with some nice stuff.

The Viking look is kind of my thing now? All of the pieces of random medieval/Viking garb stuff I'd ordered arrived just in time for this magnificent outfit inspired by the album cover colors.

(I also had a blue bandana over my hair which isn't in this picture, and it was cold so I ditched the hand fan.)

The gaggle (again)

I noticed the gaggle almost right away upon getting my stuff dropped off at the coat check, so, as had been suggested, went over to say hi. So who are they really? The gaggle consists of a Finnish couple and a German couple. They were suuuuuuper wasted that other time in Tampere (which explains a LOT, really) and yeah they seem the party type (which isn't MY type, but I've had a lot of practice awkwardly bullshitting along in undergrad).

The Finnish woman was like "yeah we've spoken crappy English with each other for 10 years"; at least she has not found that to be a barrier to making friends... The German guy was going on about how they've gotten sometimes to hang out and get drinks and other goodies with the band after shows and I'm thinking what if I glommed myself onto these people but I really can't do the party personality thing.

The number of chairs in this room is too damn high

That is, way over 1000 seats. I was close to the middle, so you're seeing only like half the width of the room here. Kinda sucked that the floor was just folding chairs but at least there's more elbow room than if we were jammed into a crowd.

Fanclub Founder was next to me (again! what are the chances?? she's local though).

Before I forget, the music stuff

The performance was being taped for their next live album (yay!). They didn't mention this until a number of songs in, but it had the effect of emboldening people to sing along more loudly.

I hope they don't use this take of Samaan mutkaan kaatunut though, because there were some things I didn't like about it. (For one, there's a minor goof in the intro and for two, they kinda went straight into the preprogrammed transition track rather than letting the song end on the piano motif.)

Fanclub Founder doesn't know this (and I think she may have thought my reaction interesting) but Senpai can REALLY STOP MOTIONING AT ME ON THE ONE LINE ANY TIME NOW

Exodus got the backing vocals, well, back (all 4 of them)

I am still not entirely convinced about the extra brass parts but ok

I'd already pointed this out on my Instagram last time but Markus has fun 🍄 socks that you can only see when he's on the cello :P He's also got a cheat sheet on the floor in front of him for this song, for whatever reason.

(Been a while since I last took pictures of the acrobatics routine.)

Fanclub Founder handed up a wholesale box of mints before they lined up for bows, which made Very Serious Security Staff a little nervous (it's not the first time I have seen somebody make this offering).

Hey this wide-angle thing on my phone is great, I can actually get all 18 of them into the picture from the first row. (Also, that is TOO MANY!!)

The aftermath

The gaggle went almost immediately to the adjoining bar after the performance. At some point a gaggle guy popped out to ask me whether I'd seen any of the band members yet. I hadn't, so he went back to the bar.

The bathroom queue was easing up—and as I returned to the lobby after, I heard the final strains (again!) of Happy Birthday from one corner and it turned out the whole ladies' quartet was there with somebody, who was shedding tears of joy. [1]

I should probably further point out here that at least Heini and Jepa have also solo careers independent of the band so they have a bit of their own cult followings. (They are also incredibly friendly, so there's that.)

So yeah I missed my chance there... but I did catch the two of them to get their playing card pictures signed.

Blonde fangirl appears to attended alone (minus second blonde fangirl), and tells me I'm not the first person to collect signatures on the cards, but how would I know, I don't come from the kind of background that would enable me to go to art school AND for all intents and purposes LITERALLY follow them around to EVERY show. But in the interest of fairness I asked her to sign the card with her dedication note on it too.

I managed to flag down a couple more people for their signatures, but after that, the whole place was pretty much cleared out and the folks working the merch table even put everything away already before Pate showed up to take the stuff out back. He offered to take my stack of cards and get them signed by whoever was still around. The building is absolutely massive so it took a while and I'm loitering awkwardly waiting for him to come back because by this point the place was deserted and it was just Very Serious Security Staff watching me impatiently wondering when I was gonna get the heck out of there.

Anyway, he suggested I could talk to merch lady next time before the show and she could help get the last two signatures sorted. [2]

__________

[1] Incidentally it was also the birthday for one of the "regular" pair of ladies who, well, at least the one of them, is friendly and invites me to have a coffee or drink with them before we're let into the room.

[2] He had forgotten that Jukka-Pekka is even on a card and as a roadie of course he was still there but it didn't make sense to run all the way back again just for one card.

The after-aftermath

I'm sad I didn't get to talk to Senpai, especially since it was (almost) my birthday. I know it's just life and I'm nothing more than just one random fangirl and I shouldn't intrude on their (professional) lives nor expect anything special.

But on the other hand... some of the other groupies HAVE had special treatment? Like blonde fangirl and her illustrations on the cards? And the gaggle have had the privilege of partying with them? How do I earn this?? Is it like a five-year groupie privilege or something (I'm making this up)??

They weren't going straight home either; I'd asked Pate and got a little clingy about it and was politely told to go away. The rest of the players had left after he got the signatures for me, and it was just him and the roadies who were still there packing stuff. The gaggle reappeared from the bar and he also sent them away after a few words. Next time I'm around it will be the end of the spring tour so if it were me, I certainly wouldn't want any outsiders crashing THAT party (and it wouldn't be my birthday anymore anyway).

So I went back to my lodgings and cried for half an hour, left an apology on his Instagram, and ate Hesburger on the floor while crying for another half hour:

...I know I'm being a little unreasonable. I desperately want to be around people who care that I'm having fun, who value my presence and enthusiasm, and who kind of see me as an individual on some level (however superficially), and those rare occasions when I am, I never want them to end.

Because I can feel it:

This fire is going to die if I keep just feeling so bitter and alone after these shows. The whole run this spring of what will be 5 shows in 3 months is a bit…mentally taxing, tbh. Especially so because of this. But for now seeing Senpai is still worth it for its own sake, and I would lose even more if I stopped going and just stayed home. [3]

As a small consolation (OK it was not actually the intention but let's call it that) I had organized a small birthday meetup for geocachers Sunday afternoon (which was my birthday proper anyway). I don't even geocache all that much anymore, and I was hoping I'd have cool "shenanigans with Senpai" stories to tell, but at least it was 45 minutes of things actually being "officially" about me. (Also, there were Swedish-speakers!)

__________

[3] Incidentally the Fall tour schedule was published today and the only date I kinda even feel like going to is in December. They're Kind of a Big Deal enough now that they're booking a lot of arena and resort shows and I'm just trying to avoid those for as long as I can, because like this one felt like way too many people. even if I didn't need to look at them from the first row.

Fanclub stuff

From last time: Very Serious Security Staff walked over to get somebody to put their (small) paper sign away (and at another point mistook somebody's white phone case as one) Turns out the latter was actually Very Serious Security Staff being (mistakenly) Very Serious against people filming the performance. They were either misinformed or simply didn't ask the band whether this was allowed, because they have never forbidden it, and have even encouraged it, so people who weren't there can enjoy it too. (But OK be reasonable and don't just film the whole thing???) I mean heck, even boyfriend and I both filmed a few clips.

There was some debate over whether it was appropriate that people sang along and stood and danced (at an ostensibly sit-down show), especially for those on the floor level where we were just chairs instead of tiered seating. This is a bit of a tough one, since they were also kind of encouraging this (considering you usually want crowd noises on a live recording). I don't (really) dance but I certainly sing/shout to everything I'm confident to the words for and dramatically gesticulate (what I lack in vocal technique I compensate with body language), and it was nice to learn that Fanclub Founder actually appreciates the latter. (Feelings seemed a bit ... cold the last time we met.)

In my latest bid to try to be relevant, I decided to follow a few of the regular groupies on Instagram, or at least some of those who seem to tend to go through the tags.

#music #concerts #vesterinen yhtyeineen #i swear to god fangirling is such a dang rollercoaster #sad fangirling #forever alone #this post is too damn long #but the outfit IS hecking magnificent

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stopfunkinwmyheart · 1 year

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so beyond like the normal bullshit I deal with with dirty ass lying women. my own sister is a fat ass dope fiend. she is lazy as fuck, so stupid, so psychotic. just listens to her kid cry. leaves him on the bed and goes into the bathroom with the door shut to do her makeup for literally an hour at a time. she will be sitting next to him just listening to him scream while she scrolls facebook. this bitch will literally just do anything to annoy me. steals shit out of my room just for the chaos. does retarded shit just so I’ll “get mad”, as if it proves that I’m the psycho that she’s playing games with me. this is really the logic of you stupid ass bitches. you all really got me bro, I’m the one who is retarded. meanwhile she’s spoiled as fuck and anything my family doesn’t give her she just goes out and sucks dick for. she has this dude who has been good as shit to her since she was pregnant. I literally thought dude was her baby daddy. she drives him nuts just for fun and he’s always good to her until he’s had enough and leaves. she hides his phone and just does retarded shit. argues about literally anything. there is literally no helping her. you offer advice when she does dumb shit and if you don’t get ignored then she’s screaming. literally just ignores me as much as possible to try and get a rise out of me. u got me, so salty that a retarded fiend won’t say thank you or answer basic questions with human decency. she fuckin got me. and like at the end of the day the only thing I can assume is either my family is hating that I’m not smoking crack or doing dope, or I’m designated babysitter. like it really makes no fucking sense to me at all. I’ve been asking for normal ass help that literally every single person in my whole family has gotten, for 10+ years. I’m the fucking retard because I’m not smoking crack. like that’s deadass how they treat me. my mom is a bipolar crackhead and if I ask literally anything at all, like “do u know when x..” “did u talk to x...” “RERERERE THE DISHES” meanwhile our tub has been clogged for like 2 fucking weeks. you need to pull our door extra hard to open and slam it to close it. the toilet overflows every few days. I would bet my life right now that my sister clogged the tub and broke the door. she also broke a 44~ inch tv that my mom bought just months earlier. just for the chaos, because she’s a girlfiend. literally for the first year or more that we lived here I did do dishes and was the only one taking the trash out. after a while why the fuck am I going to keep doing what you ask of me when you don’t do one thing that I ask of you. my mom will work all day for like 7 dollars an hour at a place that she’s close to the dope set, then come home like 4 hours after she gets off. when she gets home the maintenance guys are gone already, tough luck, guess we’re beat on anything getting done around here. I better sprinkle comet all over, wipe the counter, and sweep the floor. then I’ll bitch like nobody is doing anything. fuck the tub, the toilet, the door. I swear to god her logic is like “look im doin shit ur not” “forget that I smoke the rent money and you can’t take a shower without using a bucket to drain the tub” “forget that I’m sleeping, out of my mind high, or not here 24/7, look at me sprinkle this comet”

like yeah. after literally over 10 years of me doing everything for all the fiends I’m not doing anything until I get some help. if that somehow turned me into the crackhead then so be it. I’ve literally tried breaking it down too. like listen. why the fuck am I going to keep mopping the floor every day if it gets us nowhere. we need our priorities in order. I can help you a lot more if I had a license. “u did the dishes 15 times”

#just to be clear I have literally been asking for a ride to the dmv since I was 17 #I'm not asking for a used car like literally everyone else got #or the money that all the fiends siphoned #just drop me off

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self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2 · 2 years

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Beautiful Spouse Rewatches SPN 01x05

Bloody Mary

“Oh fuck this episode”

“NO. WE CAN’T SKIP IT.”

“I missed the episode because I missed the intro; the intro is basically the whole episode at this point.”

“I like how it’s the Family Business but there’s no paycheck. Or is the Life Expectancy that bad they don’t plan to retire?”

“Hell yeah you do.”

“Bloody Mary is your mother.”

“I feel like I would also say how stupid this is and then just leave as soon as I said Blood Mary 3x”

“Daddy gonna die…probably. He probably deserves it though. Idk”

“Does Padalecki like Pad Thai? I wonder how many jokes he’s made over the years. Wait…JarPad is his self-owned userid for social media? It’s his own joke? You didn’t make that up?”

THE OHIO STATE UNIVERSITY SUCKS ASS. YOU CAN FIGHT ME. I HAVE SWORN AN OATH OF HATRED.

“Smooth”

Laughed at them arguing about the money from the poker game

Look at Jensen’s stupid face. It’s so pretty 👀

“They care about money that little? I know they keep scamming credit cards but still.”

“If they wrote this today, they would have to be crypto-bros or something; it’s harder to get away with stealing credit information nowadays. It’s an interesting thought”

“I worked with your dad. He was a porn star. Did they ever say what their dad did? How do they that it’s ok to say they worked with their dad?”

“Who is the blonde extra? She looks super interested but is very involved with her eyes.”

Look at Jensen’s stupid lips. 👄

“It’s hilarious how much you joke with Old Ladies how pretty I am, because Grandma did it all the time. Nobody my age ever said that to me, but Grandma said it so she’s saying it to be nice.”

“Why does it always sound like Jared is trying to whisper at your face?” Then heavy breathing

“We had to go to the bathroom…together.”

Laughed at the lady asking if the Winchesters are cops

“Some creepy kid gives you their phone number…”

You know what this episode needs? A gay angel 😇

“She’s just joking, right?”

“DEAD”

“Way to summon the devil, yo. Or whatever”

“That would be so freaky for your reflection to turn like that”

“What boy? Maybe she did something bad?”

“I’m already over Sam’s dreams.”

“HEAVY BREATHING”

Laughing at the way Sam says that he’s sorry followed by heavy breathing and a breathy “I’m sorry”

“He shook his head and everything! He almost smiled too”

“Honestly I don’t think I could see anyone else in the role. You have to hate someone though, but maybe it just adds to the campiness.”

For the record, I don’t hate Sam.

“Fkn typical - Dean’s stupid joke and smirk.”

“How is this even effective? I remember the super gimmicky feature on those camcorders”

“How is this girl not protesting?”

“Oh nice”

🎶my butthole had a first name. It was Gary Bryman🎶 to the Oscar Mayer Weiner song

“OH WAIT NEVER MIND”

We both laughed at Dean’s face in the blue light of the laptop screen.

“He looks almost cross-eyed; he is way too close to that computer. They could have used a different lens. Idk the film school term.”

“Jared just played that whole line with a straight face. It was the face of when you fart, but when someone asks if it was you, you say it wasn’t”

Laughed at the girls in the bathroom “I agree with both of them”

“That’s a lot of mushrooms dude.”

“Is this the mirror heist one? Was that a different piece of art? I don’t exactly remember since there have been a few heisty ones”

“Back when there were million types of phone charging cords. Couldn’t standardize for shit.”

Laughing at Sam whispering and breathing

“But I can whisper at you”

“No” said very breathy and with heavy breathing

🎶murdered the boyfriend🎶

“I would have left his abusive ass dude. It’s fine.”

“Oh my god”

“Such sacrificial bullshit dude. If you were smart, you’d use the girl as bait”

SPN started out with Jared’s love interest dying and ended with Dean’s love interest dying

“If she’s going to die anyway, you might as well use her as bait. She has her secret; that’s why the thing is going after her”

“Just walking through the goodwill looking for the mirror. Or antique shop. Or whatever it is”

“Creepy ass fkn statues everywhere”

“Gotta blow a little bit of that fog to have that white cast haze everywhere for the flashlights to pick up”

I was saying Bloody Mary 3x and Spouse asked me not to do it since there are reflective screens are around

“What if there were a mirror nearby the viewer? Would it still work? If it was actually real then watching the show could have killed you”

“No officer. It was just a mistake. SMASH”

“GOTCHA BITCH”

“It would be fun to have a kill-ratio. Like if Dean has to save Sam then that’s a loss for Sam and vice versa. It would be interesting to know if that ratio was equivalent. So the kill-death ratio - which one kills in that episode? Which ones gets possessed ratio? Which monster kill? It would be interesting to see who is most successful on what Is portrayed”

“Ballsy. Idk if that would ever happen. That’s like the first thing that you realize in the show that this wouldn’t have happened”

FUCK THE POLICE

“This scene would count as an L for Sam”

“AND A WIN FOR DEAN”

What a bitchy thing to say, Sam

“OH! THAT”S NOT A WIN FOR DEAN! So you gotta evaluate it at the end of each episode. Or is it 2 Ls? Can they both win?”

“There goes the budget. AND SPLOOSH”

“See that’s an L for Sam and a W for Dean, because Dean did the saving and winning”

“Why is it bad luck? Oh.”

Me gushing over babygirl

“Way to be a fucking dick, Sam.”

“I can’t see Sam being the main character this early on. If he was supposed to be, then idk. I can see how Dean was supposed to be the comic relief, but they hired Jensen.”

#beautifulspouserewatchesspn #supernatural #supernatural s1 #supernatural rewatch

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princess-pill-enjoyer · 2 years

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Takin a break for the first time in a while

It feels weird to be saying that again. It's been prolly.. 2ish months since I've cared how much I take. Let alone not having any at all lmao. I didn't forget that I'm mean to explain myself and I have been working on a draft for that.. tho it wont be posted for a little while.

tldr: temp break for a week. possibly still dosing but much lower and only taken where needed to prevent adverse effects to not get in the way of a massive project I'll be working on. At most probably 2-3 for the week vs 1-3 a day. No posts of any kind til at least the 14th. Even if I dose, no documenting as I'll strictly be sleeping and working to have any possibility of get this shit done in time

Reason being R's birthday is coming up. She's been in a slump since her breakup. Course I mean. Losing someone that you had that much history plans with is awful. Even if it was only a year. I couldn't imagine how she feels rn. Whiich is why I'm bothering to do all this..

I promised I'd make her some bracelets months ago since it's a longtime hobby of mine. Been making rubber band bracelets since middle school. Wayyy past the rainbow loom craze tho.. smh. I still get so salty about that. COULD YOU IMAGINE THE MONEY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL ME COULDA MADE??? Even if I only knew half the patterns I knew now I woulda made BANK bruh.. but nah. 5 years after the fact I finally learn it

Then during quarantine I picked up friendship bracelets and kandi, with friendship bracelets being my preferred type. Made sooooo many... only to never wear em. I never wore any of my bracelets if I'm being real. It's so backwards

Ah but anyway. Yeah. I'm gonna give her pretty much all of the bracelets that're worth a damn and I have probably... 40ish patterns saved on top of that

....and like 10 keychains.....

Kinda overboard I know. I was originally content with just sending all the bracelets I've made through this year with a few extra but.. then i went and caught the fr feels (the actual term for that feels cheesy 🙃) so didn't feel like it was enough for her. So I started casually making a list of shit I wanted to make which got massive sooooo quickly

Thennn shit happened and my progress pretty much halted. During the time we were on the phone all the time I made a good 20% of my list which was pretty good for 2ish months of heavily interrupted work so I thought I'd have this all done wayyy before her birthday

Did not expect half the shit that went on in the time since.

I've BARELY made progress since. I've maybe made... 5 bracelets in the time since. I get kinda cold/shaky when I'm high + a good majority of the time I'm either salty/crying/thinking up a storm or dancing around my room/listening to music/playing a game tryna act like dph is pink dopamine. Basically, I'm not too productive when I'm gone. HA ofc unless I want the shit when I'm doing something I need to be productive for. Then I'll bullshit til I get some..

Tangent mb mb. Two other things happened. Uh one I just realized I misremembered her birthday. It is in fact NOT the 28th as I thought it was.. it's the 18th. Only recently checked and saw so that was fun. Then she got broken up with and went pretty much silent ever since. I think we were otp damn near everyday before we went to bed during that period of them being together but not speaking. Then like 2-3 days after her partner left she said the whole I don't know if you can help shit so I haven't really talked to her since. I tried checking in one other time but it was still pretty obvious she didn't really wanna talk so I've been giving her her space. I know it'd probably be the smart/right thing to keep reaching out even if it'd annoy her but she'll turn off notifs in a heartbeat. i think she only recently turned em back on actually I asked her about something and it didn't take hours.. its a pathetic that is something I'm genuinely happy about..

Ah but yeah us not really talking plus her being so sad is kinda pushing me to make her present as grandiose as I can. She's not that sort of person anyway I'm sure even if I made her one she'd wear that shit til it fucking disintegrates but I'm hoping a bigger selection will make her feel less obligated to do all that. Plus I wanna show her that friendships/relationships shouldn't be so transactional you know? It'd be hella easy for me to just send the few I've already made and just say fuck it. We aren't talking rn and I didn't get a gift. I didn't even get a happy birthday period til the next day off of some fight with her and her partner that had her crying and sulking the day away. But even with that, she's a good friend to me period. I don't need her to be there for me every single time for her to reap the rewards from that. It sounds kinda stupid just saying it. Ah yes, you've sat there and helped me plenty of rough times and have made a strong friendship with me even with me CONSTANTLY trying to push you away but you forgot my birthday and been quiet for the last week so therefore fuck your present. Like ?? stupid. I'm sure she's gonna see it that way though smh. I'm already writting a gentle stfu letter to put in there so she'll hopefully ease up on herself a bit

Ah anyway. Long story short I can't risk the nonsense of benadryl rn. Shit makes getting out of bed hella hard and I can't have anything effecting my hands as I gotta to be able to make knots quick quick if I have any chance of getting the entire list done. So unless some life shit happens, I'm going 110% on that. Ideally, as little sleep as needed to not make too many mistakes as its a hassle to untie. I would say no sleep but I'm sure a week of that aint possible so I'm aiming for 2 hours a day. 30 mins of naps when needed though I really need to have it all right the first time to not waste time. It takes me a good minute or 2 to untie a single wrong knot so it's not even worth. The time I waste sleeping'll pay for itself in accuracy.

I'm assuming this all means no dph til at least next week. Works out honestly I'm running low on pills anyway. That's been weird to think on. I calculated it all out and it's kinda shocking. It's the most real feeling evidence of my addiction. If I were taking the proper dose, I could take it every single day and it'd still last roughly 3 years. I've only had mine since Feb 23rd and I have probably 100ish pills left. Shit honestly felt unlimited for a while..

Well, ig if the week goes to plan I'd be killing two birds with one stone, tho i doubt. If I have any issues with nightmares, I'm taking some no questions asked. I never get the hallucinations benadryl is so infamous for but when I'm withdrawing bad enough allll that horrible shit gets crammed in my dreams. God.. I remember the first few I like they happened recently. Had one where an end of the world paradise suddenly went dire and everyone just started killing themselves to save themselves from dying of starvation/thirst and I had to listen to every single sound from that. Another where I was accidentally drugged tryna help a friend and spent the entire dream running while going in and out of consciousness which made getting back to their house/evading the police terrifying. Most recently I had to help/defend a family with various deformities while trying to hold it together to not make them feel like I was upset because of their looks when in reality it was from having to scream and yell at people gawking at the kids I was helping. That and having about 40 people to take care of and it all being sprung on me out of nowhere. Which after was said and done took a seemingly casual turn to a free dinner in the lobby with the rest apartments residents being in there. I naively sat and picked something I knew would be good not thinking anything of it, only for the random people I sat with all being replaced with these older women yelling at me for picking so casually. Ah then all grabbed me and forced me to watch my dad cut some dude's head off with these giant shears. Ah. That was the first time I've actually cried in my sleep. Well... ish I clearly was sobbing from the way my face/chest was feeling but none of the tears. Shit I almost fell out of bed. I was pulling back trying to turn my head away from the whole beheading but they were all holding me in place. So ig I was doing that as I slept too. Woulda been.. not fun to say the least. I have concrete floors as my room is the basement sooooo I'm sure my fatass full deadweighting onto the floor would prolly cause a few issues lmfao

ah god sorry sorry I did not mean to go that in depth. That is genuinely the only thing that keeps me dosing some days. I've gotten used to a lot of the various withdrawal effects but nightmares + heart pain are really the only things that actually bother me nowadays. I was only going to do a brief retelling to emphasize why it's such a non-option for me but I got carried away.

anyway. temporary goodbye for now. i wont be posting so i can focus on her present. dont know if i also mentioned it but im also using paper stars/flowers/hearts as the like.. gift paper shit. like the thin strands you'd put in a gift bag so you can't immediately see everything inside? yep. uh. had the bright idea of filling that with little mini origami... dont know why th I would as that shit is literally worthless in the way I'm using it but... I already bought the paper and I have all the tutorials bookmarked... 🙃

i must be a special breed of stupid honestly.. within the week I'm supposedly making 50 bracelets/keychains of varying sizes/patterns/difficulties + learning how to do origami so I can fill a fucking box. we'll see how that goes lmao

#update #dph addiction #dph #benadryl #diphenhydramine

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years

Text

Kara returns home and immediately flinches when Lena slams the dishwasher closed, and then slams the cupboard after putting the last dish away.

"You're angry with me," Kara says quietly.

"No, I'm not," Lena mutters.

Kara sighs. "Lena..."

"I'm NOT angry with you," Lena insists, not turning around. She busies herself with drying the dishes from the rack, snapping the towel off its rack before running it roughly over a mixing bowl.

"But you're angry."

"Yes! At the situation-- at myself."

Kara sputters. "Wait-- what?"

Lena slams the bowl to the counter and finally turns. "If I had better handle on this magic bullshit, I could actually contribute, and if I actually contributed, you wouldn't feel like we couldn't fucking handle a goddamn nightmare monster--"

"What? Lena, my decision has nothing to do with that--"

"Doesn't it? We told you we had it handled. But you didn't trust that we did, and you ditched your interview anyway--"

"You guys needed my help!"

"Of course we did!" Lena scrubs a hand over her face, squeezing her eyes shut in frustration before opening them and looking at Kara. "But that doesn't mean we wouldn't have made it work."

Confusion washes over Kara, and suddenly she feels just as helpless as she did in Andrea's office. "I don't understand."

Lena takes a deep breath, making a visible effort to relax the tension that had clenched her hands around her biceps.

"Look," she says carefully, "while you were gone, Alex told me what it was like when you first started. How you walked up to a bank robbery in a hoodie and red high tops. But look at what you have now! You have a whole team of people who are ready and able to help you, but today... today you weren't able to trust us to get the job done."

Kara ducks her head. Shame floods her, scorching hot and all encompassing. Lena reaches across the kitchen island and takes Kara's hand in hers.

"You have been National City's easy way out for six years, Kara. There will always be a need for Supergirl to help mitigate damage, and harm, but... that doesn't mean we can't get the job done without you. Maybe it'll be a little messier, maybe it'll take us a little longer, but we can manage without you when you're busy."

Chewing on her lip, Kara hesitantly glances up. "You think I shouldn't have quit?"

"You haven't had a break in six years," Lena returns smoothly. "Honestly I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."

Kara huffs a laugh, wiping her eyes. Her hand comes away damp.

"I just-- I didn't know what else to do... I've just been so overwhelmed, and--"

"Hey," Lena offers. "It's okay. I just-- I know how important the interview was to you. When you were talking about it at the Tower, you were so excited for it, and... it had been a while since I'd seen you so enthusiastic about your job. And I hate that I wasn't able to help more to let you do what you wanted."

Shaking her head, Kara clings to Lena's hand. "It wasn't that. I just-- I don't know--"

Lena circles the island, not releasing Kara's hand until she was close enough to wrap her arms around Kara in a bracing hug. Kara hugs her back, tucking her nose against Lena's shoulder.

"I know you've been struggling," Lena says softly. "And it's okay that you are. But I'm here for you. Always. Whatever you need."

Kara nods, inhaling deeply. The scent of her Lena's shampoo fills her senses, grounding her.

"Thank you."

Then...

"I'm sorry I got upset." Lena gives her an extra squeeze. "I know how much you love CatCo, and it hurts that I can't be more help."

Kara smiles softly into the fabric of Lena's sweater.

"You're doing more than you know."

#supercorp #sg spoilers #lena says some things that need to be said #episode tag #just saying

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writerofshit · 3 years

Text

For almost 3 years the crew doesn't know when Matt's birthday is. This is solely because he never brought it up and sometimes the crew thinks he might have sprouted, fully formed, in front of a computer monitor roughly ten years ago. He didn't. He does in fact have a birthday.

When the crew finally realizes this, Trevor takes one for the team in trying to figure it out. He makes a point to bring it up all nonchalantly, 'yeah, Lindsay says you do that because you're a Virg-....Aquari-... Gemini?' complete with arched eyebrows and wide eyes.

And Matt's an observant guy, yeah, but more so when it comes to patterns in bank transactions or when the local donut shop has his favorite donuts available. People, even friends, are another story entirely. So he just shrugs. 'what does me being a Gemini have to do with liking mustard on a hot dog?'

But Trevor doesn't have an answer for that, of course, because it was bullshit to begin with. Instead he mumbles something about stars and time and relish, scurries off to tell Jeremy what he's learned. Which isn't much, sure, but at least they've got a window now.

The entire crew spends a ridiculous amount of time dropping opinions on May and June dates. 'yeah I'd hate to be born on June 2nd. Wouldn't you, Matt?' and 'May 27th is my favorite date for sure. What's yours, Matt?' and 'i've never met someone with the same birthday as me, May 23rd. Have you, Matt?'

And again, yeah, Matt's an observant guy. Most people, in fact, are probably observant enough to notice when an entire group of criminals act really fucking weird about the calendar. But again, Matt's observant about things like tiny movements on camera feeds or that there's not extra onion on this burger, actually. So he shrugs and says 'yeah I knew someone growing up who was June 6th. We used to argue about who could have a party. I always lost.' like this isn't information the entire crew has been fishing for over the last month. They probably could have asked outright and Matt wouldn't have cared.

It's honestly kind of annoying.

The week his birthday rolls around again, they go all out. Big ass fucking party, invite everyone they can think of. Every old friend not turned enemy, crews they've talked about working with but never got around to, minor celebrities they know Matt will get a kick out of toasting in his honor. It might actually be the biggest party or event or goddamn crowd Los Santos has ever seen. All there for Matt. All celebrating this guy most people have never seen.

It's a kickass time. Matt gets hoisted up and sung to, then Michael, then Fiona, then someone Matt is sure he's never met. 'It's a cover.' Jeremy drunkenly yells in his ear. 'So no one knows who's really you.' It's a sentence that's not quite right, but Matt appreciates the sentiment. It's also probably not even accurate, given that he was the first up and they've made him cut a cake on a stage, for some godforsaken reason. It's the thought that counts, though.

All in all, Matt thinks it might be the most fun he has ever had.

Two days later, on his actual birthday, it's almost the complete opposite. In terms of scale, at least. It's just the crew, up in the old penthouse Geoff swore he'd sold. He hadn't, of course. Never could bring himself to pull the trigger on it.

It's pizza and beer and donuts and cupcakes. It's Mario Kart and Ultimate Chicken Horse and a game of Monopoly that's played in teams, somehow. It's stories that reach all the way back to an alleyway, three idiots pointing guns at each other because they had no idea what they would become, what they'd join into. Jeremy says they were 'pretty sure Matt had never held a fucking gun before that' and Trevor agrees wholeheartedly.

They try to pick their favorite 'Matt's playing music over the loud speakers during a fucking bank robbery' song. It's a tie between Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go ('because i knocked out that fuckin' guard and he thought it was funny!' Michael yells. 'who the fuck thinks of that?' and Call Me Maybe ('because god forbid i take one breath before I answer him. I wasn't even in the bank, i was across the fucking street playing lookout! I only heard it through somebody's earpiece.' Alfredo says, rolling his eyes.)

When the night winds down, and it's no longer Matt's birthday but they're still pretending it is, Jack brings out an apple with a candle stuck in it and Geoff cries with laughter. 'you're getting older, Matt, you gotta eat more fruit.' she says. Matt argues that he does eat fruit, he had a lemon lime flavored cupcake at the party.

There's one whole serious moment during all of it. Things get quiet, Geoff not quite meeting anyone's eyes. 'y'know, Matt, we all make a lot of jokes. We call you an asshole, tell you we hate the plans you make. I don't know how many times I've said I regret hiring you, or any of you, really. And, uh, yeah, sometimes it's true.' It earns him a chuckle from around the room, and he clears his throat. 'but seriously, you're, uh, you're one of the best fuckin people I know. All of you are. And we're lucky to have you. We love you, man.'

Nobody cries, because this is a group of hardened criminals who rob banks and blow up buildings and kill people, sometimes, so of course they don't fucking cry. They do, however, somehow all find themselves with a serious case of the sniffles, all wipe totally non existent tears from their cheeks.

No one says anything, for a long moment, not even Matt. He should be saying thank you, or telling them how much he loves them too, or hell, even cracking a joke. He can't seem to find the words, though.

Jack holds up her beer. 'to Matt.' she says. Around the room, various drinks go up almost immediately, and there's a not even close to in sync chorus of 'to Matt.'

No, tonight is not nearly as grand or extravagant as the party two days ago. There are no expensive cars being raced, no crowds of people shouting 'Axial!', no stages or celebrities or fireworks. This is just his family, together.

It is the best birthday he's ever had.

#this fic? head canon? mini fic?#this whatever brought to you by: it being my birthday and this being all i really want.#fahc #fake ah crew #ks writes

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

Text

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence.

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return.

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks.

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo.

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.”

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew:

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious.

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him.

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…”

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat.

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove.

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.”

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—”

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.”

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.”

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—”

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.”

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs.

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk.

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did.

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue.

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—”

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.”

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—”

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.”

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses.

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.”

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot.

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him.

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.”

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached.

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.”

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore.

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure.

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.”

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head.

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do.

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations?

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability.

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position.

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.”

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.”

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!”

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova.

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.”

You’re hearing will never be as it was.

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current.

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out.

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies.

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight.

He needed a fucking drink.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs.

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy.

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets.

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb.

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again.

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more.

Except… he’d been standing still that time.

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet.

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving.

“What the fu—”

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later.

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs.

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face.

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots.

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth.

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight.

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue.

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky.

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way.

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them.

Dynamight was here to get the job done.

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head.

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc.

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him.

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet.

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god.

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch.

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him.

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought.

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze.

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar.

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals.

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again.

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air.

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window.

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then…

Nothing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time.

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes.

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop.

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat.

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place.

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way.

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to.

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled.

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business.

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia.

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite.

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least.

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers.

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst.

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things.

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself.

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps.

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself.

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good.

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet.

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help.

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful.

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful.

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own.

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone.

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train.

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you.

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.”

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief.

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.”

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts.

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking.

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away.

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out.

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments.

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes.

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass.

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms.

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms.

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash?

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs.

That sounded… closer.

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky.

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals.

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person.

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth.

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack.

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down.

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air.

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air.

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached.

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street.

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill.

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed.

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it.

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later.

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames.

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene.

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him.

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped.

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window.

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki/reader #bakugo/reader #bakugo katsuki/you #bakugo katsuki x you #my hero academia #mha spoilers #boku no hero academia #bnha #anime #fanfic #my writings #katsuki bakugo

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severelytalentless · 3 years

Text

Chemistry Part 1

FlirtyFuckboy!Gojo x VirginLabPartner!Reader

I have the fattest crush on this idiot. This is mostly me fantasizing about interacting with him in college. I'm obsessed.

Probably going to keep this going. Maybe get Suguru involved later.

18+ Content: sexual scenarios and strong language, sexual harassment?, exhibitionism, teasing, dirty talk, dubcon, fingering

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(swoon - beach weather)

"Gojo, please. We have to focus." you plead with him, exhausted, as he plays around on his phone. The stick of his lollipop rolls around to the other side of his mouth. He shoots you a sideways glance over those trendy shades and smirks.

"Do you have a mouse in your pocket?" his eyes track down the scrolling screen in his hands.

"What?" you furrow your brow in confusion. You don't have the energy for his games right now. What is he on about?

"You said WE need to focus," he leans the chair back onto two legs, kicking his feet up on the table, "who is we? You and the mouse?" his nose wrinkles as he snickers to himself. His snarky grin is giving you a headache.

You huff and fix your glasses back on your nose.

This is absolutely pointless.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your chemistry professor pulled you aside after class, you expected to chat about your senior thesis. Instead, he all but got down on his knees and begged you to work with Gojo on the midterm lab.

"I have no one else for him." You groaned and turned away.

"That's not my headache." You stuffed books into your bag, ready to leave this conversation.

"Listen, I know he's a bit troublesome but if you just-"

"Troublesome? A bit troublesome? Really, professor?" he sighed at the look you gave him.

"Y/N, can you please just do me this favor? You owe me for pushing that late submission through last trimester." he's still holding that over your head?

"Oh come on! That's nowhere close to a fair trade." You have too much going on right now to have Satoru Gojo dropped onto your plate.

He crossed his arms, "I've already paired everyone up."

You scowled at him and threw your bag over your shoulder.

"He's yours."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You look at your watch. 8:30pm. Jesus.

"That's it." You drop your pen into the spine of your textbook. He raises his eyebrows as you push back your chair and stand up.

"Wai-wait, where are you going?" He watches you let your hair fall out of the bun on top of your head and you walk out of the library study room without another word.

You run your fingers through your hair and sigh, releasing your frustration. You have a long list of problems in your life and he will not be making that list tonight.

"Not so fast tiger" he strides up beside you out of nowhere. You roll your eyes and keep walking.

"Where we goin'?"

"I need coffee."

"Oh, when did this become a date?" he straightens the collar of his button-down and puffs out his chest.

'Insufferable' you keep your mouth shut. You refuse to react, turning the corner towards the library cafe.

"Slow down babe" he pops the sucker out of his mouth and takes a couple big steps with those freakishly long legs to catch up to you.

"Not your babe." Your face feels hot.

"You could be.." he leans forward and flashes you a flirty grin as you walk side by side up to the counter.

"Ugh" you scoff and shoo him away, stepping up to order. He clears his throat and nudges in front of you.

"Yes! Good evening, I'll have a large hot chocolate with extra whip," he gestures to you, "and for the pretty lady?" you glare at him.

"...macchiatto, double shot, please." You turn and spit fire at him, "this is not a date, jackass."

He smugly whips his card from his wallet, "And yet, I'm paying for your coffee.." The wink he throws at you is lethal.

There's no way he isn't pleased by the blush in your cheeks. You try to convince yourself that it's the rage...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You just cannot stand him. Always disrupting class with stupid jokes. Erupting into obnoxious laughter out of nowhere in the back with his buddies. His whole devil-may-care attitude might pull other girls, but there's no way you have any feelings for this idiot other than irritation.

You've seen him in action all over campus. Tickling some little freshman under the chin outside the dining hall, making her giggle and flip her hair. Another poor clueless girl falling headfirst into his trap. You roll your eyes and go about your business. You don’t need any of that from him. You have purposely kept your distance for the last 3 years, doing your best to stay off his radar.

That didn't stop him from trying to peek under your skirt last week in lab. You were leaning over the table, reaching up for a beaker. You didn't notice him tilting back in his chair to lift the fabric with his finger until Suguru snorted out a squashed laugh. You whipped around and swatted at his hand. He shook his fingers and sucked his teeth,

"Ouch..I was just lookin’ honey..wasn't gonna touch.." that nasty little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"GOJO. GETO. Knock it off!" Your professor barked from his desk, hearing the laughter.

"Sorry teach! She just looks so cute in this skirt today." He called out with absolutely no shame, eyes trained on your flustered face,

"GOJO! That's enough."

“really fuckin’ cute..” he added under his breath, rolling his lollipop on his tongue.

You'd never been so embarrassed. You flipped back around and snatched the beaker, holding the back of your skirt down, before rushing to the other side of the lab bench. Your cheeks burned through the rest of class. You will not be wearing that skirt to lab again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stares after you. Your hair sways back and forth as you strut down the hall away from him. It brushes just shy of your belt loop. He bites down on his lollipop watching the way your hips swing.

You’re so fucking hot when you're mad...

He hums a groan under his breath and jogs to catch up.

"Okay stop.." He grabs your icy shoulder to try and slow your roll. You sip your coffee and shrug his hand off, you don’t even look at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know I tease you too much.” You’re not buying it. Gojo is many things, but sincere isn’t one of them.

“Hey! I was just messing with you, you don’t have to be so-“ he trips a few steps past you when you stop dead, leaving him to spin back around.

“SO WHAT? So serious? So mean? Do you think I’m a bitch? How would you like me to act Gojo? HUH? What would please you? I’m not a little freshman play toy. I’ve had ENOUGH of your bullshit! We need to get back and get this fucking midterm done because I will NOT let you drag my grade down! Is that clear?!”

Your shoulders heave and your hands feel shaky from the cathartic release. That felt good. You’ve never raised your voice at someone like that. You tend to avoid confrontation, but he just brings the fire out of you. You glare at the open-mouthed dumbstruck look on his face.

Silence fills the hallway. He’s stunned. You’ve never seen him so still, or quiet. He finally shuts his mouth and you see his eyes flick to your left.

He moves toward you with a stern look on his face. Your stomach flips.

Is he mad? He’s never mad.

“Come with me.” He takes your arm.

“No, why?” You yank away and furrow your brows. He takes his hand off you and raises both in surrender. He lets out a heavy sigh, walks over, and opens the door to your left.

“Just come on.”

You stay put and examine him, weary of his change in demeanor. It’s not anger. Almost smells like defeat. You relent and pass through the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(drew barrymore - bryce vine)

You look around to find yourself in an unfamiliar, dimly lit area of the stacks. The school library is a labyrinth and you’ve never been in through this door before. The nearest light sits on a desk by the windows about 6 or 7 rows down.

You turn to see him placing his coffee cup in a gap on the shelf. You swallow hard, suddenly nervous and regretting the way you shouted at him. He doesn’t seem like himself. He steps forward and you step back, maintaining distance. You try to step back again but the shelves block you. You clutch your coffee as he gets closer than you’d like him to be.

“I’ve never heard you swear before.” His remark surprises you. He takes the cup from your hands and sets it on a shelf. His voice is hushed and you're not sure you like the way he's looking at you.

“Well you were pissing me off..” he’s in your personal space and you’re suddenly conscious of your breathing.

“Mm, that’s fair. Just didn’t know you used those kinds of words.” He gently teases you again and your face grows hot. You roll your eyes at him for the millionth time, trying to shake off this weird tension between you.

“Gojo, what are we doing in here?”

“You were making a scene.”

“I wasn’t, you just wouldn’t-“

“Have you ever been fucked?”

Your heart dives into your stomach.

His eyes flick down to your lips.

“I bet you haven’t.”

Is he messing with you again? This is outrageous.

“That’s none of your business.”

He clicks his tongue and drops his chin, leaning forward just a little more.

“Nah, I can tell. No one’s ever touched you.”

You hold your breath as his fingers ghost over the goosebumps on your arm. Sparks fly off your skin and your heart races around in your chest. His words tie a dirty little knot into your guts.

“Have you ever touched yourself?”

You huff at his audacity. Now he’s just being rude. He hums back and lightly bumps his hips into yours. You bump back into the stacks.

“Mhm, I bet you do it all the time. Does it make you feel good?”

Your eyes dart away to escape the intensity of his eye contact. He really has no shame. You see his grin widen out of the corner of your eye.

"D'you make yourself cum?"

Heat surges up into your face and down between your legs in the same instant. You try to hide it but you're completely flustered. He can see it all over your face. His cock throbs against his zipper, picturing you touching your own body.

His hand comes up by your head and he leans against the shelves, caging you in.

“Wonder what kind of pretty sounds you can make.” He just keeps going, you shift your weight, and flinch when his hand lands on your waist.

“What d'you think about with your fingers in your cunt?” Your eyes jump back to him at the vulgar words. He squeezes your waist and the little knot twists again. You pull a quick breath when he leans in next to your ear.

“D'you think about me?” He whispers too close, it triggers a wash of chills over your skin. Your walls tighten inside you. His hand starts sliding up the curve of your waist and slips under your shirt. Your exhale catches his ear as he cups your bra.

“Is that a yes?” He squeezes and his other hand moves to skate around your shoulder and under your hair. He blindly unclasps your bra through your shirt like he’s done it a thousand times. His fingers then quickly find their way to your nipples and start to play.

You bite hard into your lip to stifle your moan but he hears it in your throat. He smirks. This is your first time and it fucking shows.

“Your imagination ain’t enough, is it?”

His impish sneer wrinkles his nose and he bites down on the stick of his sucker before pulling it out of his mouth. Your mouth falls open with a sigh when he pinches a little harder and he drops it on your tongue. It’s cherry-flavored and you don’t think twice as you fold your lips around it.

Gojo likes what he sees.

“Pretty girl, I can think of so many things to do with that mouth.”

His knee nudges between your thighs and pushes up against your heat. You hum and your tongue curls around the lollipop. His hands leave your breasts to squeeze your hips and rock you on his thigh. You crunch down on the candy and grasp at his shirt at the sudden friction. Your breath comes out hot and you look up at him with big puppy eyes.

“You like that, hm?”

You nod automatically. Waves of pleasure radiate from your clit, and tug on the knot in your core. You drop your weight down onto him against your will.

What has gotten into you?

"D'you want me to play with you? Want me to show you how good this can feel?"

"Hng..ah.." he pushes into you, pressing you against the stacks. You paw at his shoulders to steady yourself as he adds even more pressure between your legs.

"There we go.." he sweeps your hair off your neck and his lips hit your skin. Electricity hums through your nerves.

"Ohh.." a hushed little moan rolls off your tongue. His hands slide back up under your shirt and continue groping your breasts.

"Such a frustrated little virgin.."

"Mmmh.." that moan came out a little louder, your whole body feels like it's resonating. He drags his tongue up your neck.

"I can fix that.."

It's just too much. Your head thumps back into the books.

"Oh my god.."

You've never felt anything this hot. It's similar to the times you've laid in bed exploring your own body, but this just feels so much better. You don't even care that it's him.

Maybe it's better because it is.

Gojo can’t believe the sounds you’re making for him. He’s finally caught his mouse and you aren’t even putting up a fight.

Little do you know, he's been simping over you since freshman year.

There’s something about you. The sweet innocence is there, but you also have this sharp little attitude that he just can't resist. The combination has always intrigued him.

And you don’t even realize what you do to him. You don't know how much you turn him on. He can't stand it when you walk into class wearing those overall shorts that hug your ass just right. That headband you wear is ridiculously sexy. And you’re so damn smart.

He daydreams in class about fucking you on every surface in the lab.

You’ve deflected every one of his advances, yet you always storm off with a flush in your cheeks. You’re the one thing he’s not allowed to touch. The toy on the shelf that he hasn’t been able to reach.

Until now.

"Don't play coy with me anymore," he whispers in your ear.

"Be honest. You liked it when I lifted your skirt last week, didn't you?"

You hum as he squeezes your ass.

"I saw those lacey little panties, y'know.."

He moves his thigh out from between your legs and you're embarrassed by the needy feeling that hits you. He looks at your desperate blushy face and grins.

"Are you wearing them right now?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You blink and he's already unzipped your fly. Your heart punches at your ribs when you feel his hand slide down inside. His fingers start rubbing into your slit through your panties and your entire body shudders. Your hands fly onto his forearm when he bumps into your clit. He pauses there and eats up the fervent arousal painted on your cute face.

“You can tell me to stop..” He knows you won’t. He keeps rubbing.

The sexual frustration is radiating off you like a heater.

He's so right. You’re dying to be touched like this.

Your mind is running in a hundred different directions, trying to decide what to do, but the way he's massaging your throbbing clit is melting your focus and dismantling your will.

He pushes in on your sensitive bud and you gasp, gripping his arm and shaking your head.

“Use your words, what d'you want me to do?” He rolls it around under his finger, pulsing pleasure through you like you've never felt before.

He bites the end of the stick hanging from your lips and takes it back. He rolls it to the corner of his smirk and waits for you to give in and answer him.

You know what you should do but the aching twist in your core won't let you.

“Mmph...don’t stop..”

“That's what I thought..”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2

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