A CURSE

A CURSE

My mother was given the curse of a child like her. A stubborn, emotional, and thoughtful child came from her. You told me that I’m just like you, then go on in the same breath to tell me how bratty, sassy and how much flack you gave your parents. Pushing me into the narrative you have so desperately tried to escape. Im you. And when you wished upon me that I would have a daughter like me I hoped.

For maybe one day I’ll have a baby girl, she’ll be stubborn, strong and just like me when I was her age. Except instead of pointing out her flaws, instead of tearing her down to keep her humble I’ll build her up. I’ll teach her to love herself. Because maybe, maybe I can prove to myself that I am loveable. That somewhere, someone loves me. That I can be loved. With the right treatment, with the proper care this curse you have called upon me will become my own blessing. I will tell her stories of my childhood and remind her she is not me. That she will forge her own path in the world unlike any other.

I’ve been told having a daughter is a curse, you’ll get the sass and smack thrown right back at you. And I hope I do, because I want to treat her with love this time. I want her to know she is loved, she will always be loved. That she won’t be tossed away at the first sign of imperfection. I’ll tell her how proud I am of her. But most of all. I won’t tell her I was scared to have her, I won’t tell her I didn’t want her. I won’t make her regret her life like you did.

I’ll tell her she’s enough for me. Because you never did.

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

Yippe!! Started this as a joke in hs when I had no clue what I was doing w my life and now I’m in college and becoming a doctor 😭

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

I. Midoriya

I’ve loved him my entire life, from the day we met to the day I die I’ll love him. I loved him even when he confessed he was quirkless. I loved him when we both somehow became hero’s. When he confided that he’d taken All Mights’s quirk. That he would become the last user of it.

I believe he loved me, loved me when I went to his dorm door at two in the morning. Crying through the nightmares, he’d hold me in his arms and rock me back and forth until he felt me relax in his arms. Collapsing into him, “are they back?” He references the nightmares I’ve been plagued with. The ones that keep me from sleep. The ones that make me shoot up and pace.

A feeble nod is all he needs before we lay next to each other. Holding hands as we talk about life. Where we want to intern or work for. Who we want to be.

Im not surprised I ended up here. Laying in his arms. Back against his legs as he holds my hands. Applying pressure against my wounds. Careful at every hiss and wheeze I emit from my cracked and split lips. Looking at the metal rod sticking through my stomach. His eyes are wide, tears messily stick to his cheek and eyelashes. Soft hiccups make me wince as I cry too.

“Just hold on. Just stay with me” he pleads silently as I look up at him, “we have so much to do. So much to live for” he cries out. Hunching over me. Wiping wet tears from my cheeks, “comon.. don’t you wanna work with me one day?”

I smile weakly at him, my body hurts. Pain hasn’t ever felt so raw before. Nothings hurt like this, nothings hurt like being fucking stabbed by a metal pipe. I cough a little as he shakes my head, “comon.. comonnn. Remember what you said when we were little? ‘Birds of a feather? We’re sticking together? No matter what?’ Something like that?” He’s a little frantic trying to remember what I used to talk about.

“Do you love me?” The question spurs, hiding in the back of my mind until it sprouts to my lips. I watch his eyes soften. Green hues that look back into mine. He smiles weakly and my heart lurches.

“Of course I do. How could I not love you?” He says that like it would be stupid of me to think he didn’t, “you’re the love of my life. You have to stay alive for me. Because I want to marry you one day. And grow old with you” he starts talking but I can’t hear him anymore.

All I see is a mouth moving but I can’t hear anything. Just a faint ringing. Like a ping pong ball bouncing off my earlobes. I don’t know what dying feels like. I’ve been surrounded by death my entire life and somehow I don’t know what it feels like.

Maybe it’s different for everyone, “I’m sorry” I apologize, I don’t know if he can hear me. If anyone can. But I feel him. I feel him shift underneath me to support my body, to tug me more into his arms as he rocks me. Slow and gentle. I creep a hand up to his face, feeling at the freckles on his face as light creeps from my eyes.

I’m glad that when I am dying, it’s his face I see. The one I love to look at. The one I’d be happy waking up to in the mornings. Surrounded by our kids. By happiness.

I didn’t want to die like this, but at least im dying in his arms.

I muse a weak smile as he bends down. A soft kiss on my lips as the world leaves me. At least I kept true to my words. I loved him till the day I died.

THE BEFORE, AND THE AFTER

SERIES MASTERLIST

1

Ive spent my entire life wanting to help people, to be a good person in the eyes of my parents. Although I never developed a quirk I did develop a love for medicine, something I’ve studied for and spent the last five years working towards.

There’s been no time for relationships; much to my mother’s disapproval. I’m twenty six and still desperate to have her approval, to be loved in her eyes. It’s four in the morning when I meet him first, a man stuffed onto a stretcher. Blood leaking into his crimson eyes, his skin taught and muscles tensed against the pain of his arm.

Short gasps escape his lips as I walk up to him, listening to the EMTs read me his BP and injuries- although it’s easy to see his arm is broken and he’s concussed. A little woozy as I give him a sedative something other nurses/ doctors used to keep him calm. And knowing his explosive past I’m not surprised, “page neuro and tell them it’s urgent and also ortho” I request from the other nurses as the ER doctors begin taking over and I go back to my station by the desk. It’s how it goes; I step in and observe until they’re wheeled up to the room.

Before my shift ends I stroll past my section one last time, popping in to see if the hero had awoken, which he had. Groggily staring me down as I tinker around with his IV now that he’s awake, “the hell?” He grunts stiffly trying to sit up, “get off me ya damn loser”

“You were in an accident, broken arm and a mild concussion.. uh nurse Hadley said your mother was on her way” I explain; very typical standard things in this section of the hospital. Celebrity recover area. And it’s common in any area where emergency contacts are called in.

“Damn witch is gonna blow this place up” he scoffs, sitting up with a heavy groan and I walk out; only coming back with a pillow in hand.

“I’m sure she’s not that bad” I say sympathetically as I tuck the pillow behind his head, “she’s probably a very sweet lady”

“Yeah for a woman in her seventies still trying to beat the shit out of me” he swears closing his eyes and using his free hand to rub his eyes and scratch at the stubble on his chin. I can’t help but laugh, “im not joking, sometimes she’s crazy”

I nod, listening to him as I check his chart, “so are you a doctor or somethin?” He asks looking over at me.

“No, I wish.. I went into nursing” I explain, I pick my bag up from where I’d set it down.

“You should’ve been a doctor.. are you leaving?” He asks, looking over at me to where I’m nodding.

“I’ve been here for 24 hours” I remark, still eager to get out of this place, "but I'm back after tomorrow"

He nods slowly, a thin line of sweat creasing his forehead. As I walk out I set the aircon on for him.

“I’ll see you then” he smiles, which is strange coming from the most hotheaded hero in Japan.

THE BEFORE, AND THE AFTER

3

series Masterlist

(Og draft got deleted I’m sorry pookies)

It takes Bakugo three months before he winds up in my ER once again. This time less injured, with a large gash on his abdomen. I’ve just worked a twelve hour shift and am dying to get home. But alas I get called in to the trauma room where he’s just sitting, “called for you” He smiles weakly but lifts his shirt to show a semi-deep cut just at his ribcage, “hoped you weren’t off”

I groan a little as I slip my sterile gown and gloves on, grabbing a suture kit and bringing it near where I’m sitting, “uh-huh, can I take a listen to your lungs?” I ask taking my stethoscope from my pockets.

“Yeah. Can I get more of the pain killers?” He asks, crimson eyes flick over my figure and how I’m hunched listening to his lungs. Which sound fine.

“No, I’m just gonna numb you a little bit and then stitch you up” I clarify, gentling numbing the area and slowly pulling the sutures tight.

I hear him wince and inhale sharply, “you do not have gentle hands”

“Uh huh” I nod, “I just wanna get home. I’ve promised my roommate that I’d be there for dinner. And I’ve broken my promises more than enough” I murmur; dumping my gloves and gown into the trash.

“You have a roommate?” He asks; sitting up and pulling his mask off- allowing stray blonde hair to fall into his eyes. Which he quickly brushes out of his face.

“Yeah.. not all of us make almost two mil every year. But shes great I love her” I murmur, “uh yeah you’re good”

“Why don’t I take you out to dinner” he asks and now I know the morphine is talking.

“Ha-ha” I joke a dry laugh, “I’ll see you around. Just take it easy for a while”

I’m tired and burnt out when I slink through the door, listening to some jazz pop as I unlock the door. I’m not surprised to see Suki asleep on the couch. Stove off and food in the oven. I don’t bother waking her. She has a job interview with this tech company in the morning.

I open my door, clothes on the ground. A messy room, with makeup on my desk and medical books holding up the uneven legs. The little trinkets on my windowsill.

I’ve been working the past 48 hours, non stop— doctors are working less hours, which means the nurses have to step up. I’m working harder than I ever have. For the same pay.

I have the feeble energy to put the remaining clean laundry I have away before I stuff my laundry basket full of dirty clothes.

I flop into bed and am grateful I won’t have to work until tomorrow night.

Halfway through my shift I go for coffee. Mostly because this is my favorite coffee spot but also because hospital coffee sucks. There’s a shorter line than usual, people know this place but not very well. The nurses know it best, but I’m still a little astonished to see him there. Hair a little damp and eyes red with irritation. In the bareness of his hero costume, no gauntlets. Still those dumb boots.

I pick up my iced coffee, relishing in that first sip. The sip doesn’t cure my exhaustion; or the fact I’m walking a little under a mile back to the hospital.

But Bakugo never misses, eyes keen he spots me. Murmuring my name against the crowd, sliding next to me as I walk out. Light green scrubs and black clogs. The ugliest shoes but also the comfiest, “dynamight I haven’t seen you in a while” I tease gently as he smiles. Not even bothering to get his coffee.

“I’m almost due for my next visit then? Aren’t I?” He asks. A faint smile of that softened jaw-line. He’s not much taller than I am, 6’2 to my 5’7.

“God no, we’re so understaffed.. I’m working 80 hours a week and I’m still struggling on grocery and car and just everything.” I murmur a little, looking over at him.

“I’ve heard about the strikes, everyone says hero’s are the foundation of society but it’s carried by medicine” he speaks, a soft voice against the few cars that pass the streets.

“I know.. I’m just exhausted.. y’know?” I’m still quiet, “how has the stitches been healing?”

“All healed. Just a little sore.”

“And the wrist?”

“Because we’re out of your work place.. what’s it gonna take for me to take you out to dinner?”

I shrug back a laugh, but smile at him, “a lot more than that”

Now more than ever it’s important to vote. MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD!

As someone who lost their father to cancer I feel this is very important to share. Please vote in 2024, and vote for those who care more about the people rather than bullshit politics.

(I don’t typically talk politics or world affairs but this hit me hard.)