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Truly such a beautiful day for their majesties the new king and queen may there rule be long and prospero- BLIMEY! ITS PRINCESS DIANA AND SHES GOT A STEEL CHAIR

Teen Wolf Characters Ages

I personally like knowing this information and spent forever trying to figure it out cause I’m probably procrastinating something important and I’m not great with numbers. Derek was the problematic one with age, read on to find out why.

If anything is wrong, please politely, let me know so I can fix it!

I’ll probably cry if something is wrong but hey I knew going into this my brain doesn’t work well with numbers.

It is important to know that in Teen Wolf every calendar year is two seasons.

*Anyone else in their grade unless stated otherwise (Isaac/Erica/Boyd/Malia/Kira etc all born in 1995)

Age Reasonings

Season 1

They start the show as sophomores making them 16 y/o

Stiles points out that Derek is a few years older than them (making him early 20′s)

Allison is a year older, turning 17, in the first season

Season 2

Still sophomores in season 2

Jackson’s birthday is on June 15, 1995 as mentioned in 2x07 - he is the same grade as everyone confirming they are born in 1995 and Allison born in 1994

Season 3

They are starting a new school year as juniors

Enter the “freshman” that Lydia wants to help ‘distract’ her. Being juniors the freshman are two years younger making them born in 1997

Ethan and Aiden appear in the same class as Scott/Stiles/Lydia* so we can clearly assume they “transferred schools” and although not mentioned I’m assuming they’re the same age

The Derek flashbacks are to when he is 15 when Paige dies but we don’t know the exact year. This makes Derek between 16-18 years old during the Hale house fire

Season 4

Liam is transferred in the middle of the year, during his freshman year after rage issues

Scott/Stiles/Lydia* are still juniors - confirming that Liam is a 1997 baby

Season 5

We start the season with Scott/Stiles/Lydia* as seniors

Whilst taking part in the senior scribe we see the initials D.H. allowing us to assume they are Derek’s showing he was [turning] 18 and still attending school

Liam/Mason/Hayden are entering their sophomore year

Season 6

As we haven’t seen them graduate I’m assuming this is going to be the end part of most of the characters senior year so they will be the same ages as they were in Season 5

Derek’s Age Debate I placed his birthday in 1988 like shown on the ID in the show

Derek’s ID shows the birth date Nov 07, 1988 (so a junior?)

Derek’s birthday on the DVD calendar says Dec 25 (doesn’t change much aside from consistency errors)

Derek is 15 when Paige dies but there are no specific dates mentioned

Stiles tells Scott that he wasn’t that much older than them when they first run into Derek

Derek said he and his older sister were still in school at the time of the fire (so not in the senior class?)

Kate would have been in town already with the other hunters and since she last saw him Derek had physically changed a lot. Jeff said he was not a minor when with Kate (so he was in the senior class?)

The seniors put their initials on the bookcase in the school and we are shown D.H. which we can assume is Derek Hale making him [turning] 18 and still in school when the fire happened

It took Peter 6 years to heal after the fire. - If Derek was 16 at the time of the fire in 2011 he would have been 22 - If Derek was 17 at the time of the fire in 2011 he would have been 23 - If Derek was 18 at the time of the fire in 2011 he would have been 24

I placed his birthday in 1988 because it is shown on his ID in the show. It would also allow for his sister to be the grade above him, technically some places state that being older than 16 makes you an “adult” so he wouldn’t have been a minor with Kate (I’m pushing it on that one) and someone (one of his friends) could have easily wrote his initials on the bookcase in their senior year like Scott did for Allison. It’s all very messy though. 

MORE ABOUT DEREK’S AGE HERE

Some helpful tips I used In the USA school grades are typically:

Freshman - Year 9 / Turning 15 y/o

Sophomores - Year 10 / Turning 16 y/o

Juniors - Year 11 / Turning 17 y/o

Seniors - Year 12 (Sixth Form) / Turning 18 y/o

Be kind if you have any corrections!

Into The Multiverse...

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you accidentally get sent to different dimensions and need the help of a Peter variant to get back 

Masterlist

“I can’t believe you.” You grumbled as you stormed away from Peter.

“What’s the matter?” Peter asked as he followed you. “She needed help. I couldn’t just say no.”

“Yes, you could’ve.” You told him. “You know how I feel about her. She is awful to me every chance she gets.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” He apologized. “But Gwen needed my help-“

“Don’t say her name.” You cut him off.

“Sorry. She needed my help on one equation.” He corrected. “So I helped her with it. I don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

Keep reading

Pussy has the power to bleach underwear I think that’s incredible

— Catherynne M. Valente, Deathless

Tips For Top Gun Fanfic from a Military Brat/ Gold Star Kid:

1. Army is not synonymous with Navy- They’re in the navy not the army

2. The glasses that bob wears are called BCGS- military issued glasses that are joking called “birth control goggles” bc they’re ugly af

3. Gold Star Kids, (Rooster, Mac, Ect) will normally be familiar with their dads friends even after he passes- the troop will kinda crowd to protect and help the family

4. You cannot live on base after your service member passes, you’ll almost immediately have to move off

5. If you’re married to a service member you have a military ID and base access

6. Deployment communication between partners is usual e-mail!

7. There are gold star events for kids, siblings, and even parents to help with grief! I honestly just think this would be interesting/ cute to add to a story

8. Bradley most likely got free college and probably ended up going after he didn’t get accepted into the naval academy

9. It’s actually not super common to go around in uniform for no reason and you could get in trouble for it

10. And just a random thing; Bradley definitely remembers his dad even though he was young- and honestly a lot of random things in the military probably trigger him. Likes Ices funeral, being on base and hearing TAPS; things like that.

11. Bradley has a copy of his dads tags, and a flag from his funeral

12. Remember that brad also owns a regular camouflage navy uniform just bc it’s hot

13. He also cannot just give you his dog tags lmao- he can give you an old pair but you can’t just keep his current ones.

14. While deployed a service member may only be able to come back for 2 weeks just for the birth of their child and leave again immediately.

If you have any questions you can either comment or dm me; I’m super open to talking about it- and if you have questions specifically about how military handles gold star kids lemme know:)

Hey I’m once again seeing discourse about PewDiePie (probably because he has been welcomed back into the larger community of youtube personalities playing Among Us like Corpse Husband, JackSepticEye and Cr1tikal) and I just want to remind people of his ugly racist history that he has never properly put behind him and in fact continues to perpetuate.

His fanbase has always been racist. He was one of the first big YouTubers and he has always made racially charged jokes and has said the n-word in videos - notably, targeting somebody else with it. I watched his content when I was a young child, I experienced these things first hand. There were racist jokes, rape jokes, and generally sexual jokes targeted for his younger demographic. He has always been known as problematic, as problematic was used back in 2012.

A preamble to his first exposé: in November 2016 he showed up to a taping of his own series produced by Maker Studios (Disney) wearing a shirt with a swastika on it. Somebody told him to change. He denies this ever happened, but acknowledged that the shirt exists. There are photos of him and a friend wearing it.

The thing he got caught for was when he paid two men $5 to write and hold up a sign with the words “Death To All Jews”. His apology was half-assed. He apologized for the way that it came across and did not acknowledge the reasons that it was wrong. Febuary 2017: he descends into utter alt-right reactionism, harassing the WSJ journalist and sending his fans after the publication to the point where the Journal offered to put the journalist in a safehouse.

September 2017, he called somebody he n-word on stream, just weeks after Charlottesville occurred - where his imagery, jokes, and memes were used as motivation. He went on to say he had no idea that Nazis actually existed, that the Nazi jokes he was making weren’t funny anymore, and that he would not be making them anymore.

In March 2019, a white supremacist livestreamed himself saying “Subscribe to PewDiePie” before committing mass-shootings in two Christchurch mosques, killing dozens and injuring more. He responded with a single tweet, that he felt sickened that his name left the man’s mouth, and that his heart went out to the people affected. Later, he called for an end to the Subscribe to PewDiePie meme and promised $50,000 to the Anti-Defamation League. He then retracted his decision, saying that he did not want to donate to something that he was not passionate about.

Felix Kjellberg has never made a single attempt to rid his fanbase of actual literal Nazis and white supremacist scum because he built his platform around them. He alone has radicalized probably half of the white nationalist/supremacist/Nazi men in America ages 18-25.

I will never forgive him.

This is taken from the Guardian article from above:

You could say that today’s digital economy has spawned a new “bro-nality of evil”. Racist memes serve as in-jokes that help solidify bonds between alienated white men online. The style of these memes, their overblown exaggerated nature, means we often don’t take them seriously. Dismiss them as jokes. But this is how antisemitism creeps into our lives. Not with a bang but with a punchline.

Happy Chanukkah, everyone.

fuck this handmaids tale country.

[call me by blondie playing] THE STEVE HARRINGTON BABYSITTING SERVICE

no quirk au with you and katsuki being counselors for the yuuei summer camp with some others from 1-a. two, three months of no technology in the woods hoarding younger kids about. doing fun activities with them like capture the flag or nighttime hide n seek. ziplining across the lodges. going swimming at the pool or row boating in the lake. water balloon fights. campfire sing alongs. competitions with katsuki over who's the best counselor. pulling pranks on each other and on the head honchos of the camp. pitting your kids against one another to see who's the best; katsuki being so fucking proud of his kids whenever they defeat yours. listening to denki's morning announcements across the camp pa system as everyone gathers for breakfast in the main lodge. counselor hangouts where you drink and have fun. waking up early with katsuki and cooking breakfast together when it's your turn. getting him to kill bugs for you. sitting next to each other at bonfires, roasting marshmallows. sneaking out at night to catch fireflies. the lingering stares. the fleeting touches. sharing a kiss by the lake under the stars.

𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘, 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖙

summary: the king has been struck by never-ending grief when he found out about his wife's infidelity. he has her ordered to be killed, but afterward, he is no longer the same. every night he marries a woman, and every morning he has her killed. the endless cycle continues until the night you're chosen to be his wife. instead of letting him ruin you, you tell him a story. you tell him a story that he just has to know the ending to. and so begins the story of one thousand and one arabian nights.

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, royal au, based off of the story from 1001 arabian nights

word count: 10.7k+

warnings: dark content, mdni, 18+, mentions of killing, mentions of taking virginity, has the gallows and a noose in it, praise!kink, corruption!kink, cunnilingus, fingering, cum eating

note: for those who don't know, baba means dad, and aziz/azizam means my dear in farsi. this story loosely follows 1001 arabian nights, but not completely. i wasn't gonna sit on my ass and write them all out 💀

also a big, big, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, ty sm bby!!

jjk masterlist

---

The palace smelled deeply of rose petals, a scent so distinctly comforting that you couldn’t help but smile giddily as you walked down the vast halls, looking at the different amenities the palace had to offer as you searched for the room you knew your father would be residing in. 

The more you walked, the darker the halls got and the less the smell of rose lingered in the air, a warning to stay away from this part of the palace. Though you had no choice but to ignore the prominent warnings, your posture became more frigid as you hummed a tune you had heard in the bazaar to keep yourself busy. 

You were well aware of the fact that your father resided right next to the king's quarters, so as you slowly opened his door to make sure no noise was heard, entering as you noted your father sitting on the edge of his bed, his wrinkly hands enveloping his tethered face as he could barely bring himself up to look at you.

“Baba,” Your heart dropped, running over to his frail body, your hands checking his forehead as your eyes filled with worry, “What’s wrong? Does your back hurt? Oh,” You noted his worn-out hands, “You have to let the king find another vizier,” You kneaded his hand with yours, “You cannot be his helper forever,” You cracked a gentle smile, but instead of his usual banter, he shook his head, still not looking up from his bed as he sniffled.

“Baba?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. Your father never cried. Never. Not when your mother died, not when the old king died, or even when you had managed to ruin his silken clothing. Despite his hardships, he was the man of the household, and he held himself to that standard.

But here, he looked like the shell of a man. His shoulders were hunched, lips pale as he shuddered, pushing your hands off of his back as he weakly stood up. 

“Y/n,” He stared at the door, eyes quite dead as he refused to look your way, terrified that if he did he would crumble to his knees and beg for an apology. Even worse, if he looked at you, his resolve would shatter and he’d leave the room as fast as he could, “Azizam,” You watched as a singular tear rolled down his cheek, “You will have to forgive me.”

You shakily rose, brows scrunched up in confusion as you let out a question laugh, walking over to him to see what he was talking about, what had gotten him so shaken up that he used such an endearing nickname he had never used before this day.

“The king has asked for you to spend the evening with him,” He muttered, voice hoarse and raspy as he broke down into tears again. 

“He…” Your shaky hands flew to your lips, eyes wide as you stumbled back, “He what?” Your frantic questions went unanswered as your father let more of his endless tears fall, wet lips holding back silent sobs as he turned back.

The king, a dreaded name for those around the palace. You childishly thought that being the daughter of the vizier would somehow spare you of the torture, of the horror that came with going into his quarters at midnight. 

He said nothing as he crumpled down to the floor, hands covering his eyes as you stared at the door, the same one you had entered through, and the same one that seemed to mock you as your hands shook at your side. 

One evening pleasuring the king meant spending the next morning dead.

---

Servants flocked to the room shortly thereafter.

They paid no attention to the old man as they ushered you outside, their nimble fingers working swiftly as they led you to a completely different room, stripping you bare as you worked mindlessly.

You fell into the large basin, cold water splashing across your body as they worked in silence, some here and there whispering words of pity to one another as they gossiped about your father's weakened state.

You knew that deep down, sooner or later, this day would come. That one night they will take you to get clean and pretty so that the king can spend his lonely night with a virgin to bed, and by morning have her dead so that she may not betray him.

You could guess why you were giving off no emotions as their hands scraped your body rid of the dirt and dust, rubbing rose petals across your flesh, running water through your hair as they worked quickly and effortlessly. 

At this point, you knew they had done this many times to know to be quick with the king's impatient temper.

You seemed to be like a mindless doll as they carried you out of the tub, staying quiet as one lady braided your hair, gentle as she wove flowers into the crown of your head. 

You watched as the other carefully dotted the roses across your cheeks, dipping her finger into the jar of honey as she brought it up, careful not to let any of it to waste as she swiped it across your lips, her eyes filled with deep sorrow as you stared out the windows and into the dark veil of night.

“You look very beautiful, azizam,” The old lady behind you muttered, her kind hands letting go of your hair as she gave your shoulder a gentle pat, “I’m sure your father would be proud of his daughter for serving the nation. 

Serving the nation in your one day demise.

“You have not been…” The old lady sighed, looking away as her hands fell to her side, “You have not been bedded yet, yes?”

You slowly shook your head, muttering out a quiet no as she nodded, ushering out all the other ladies as she came to your view, dropping down so that she was level with your knees.

“You are the vizier's daughter, so you must know,” She stated, her hands holding your cold ones as she pressed a soft kiss to the backside of it, “After you go into his room, he will tell you what he wants. When morning comes, he will have you killed.”

“I have heard it’s quick and painless, " She sighed, giving you a sad smile, “Yet those who have experienced it cannot tell the tale, and so I don’t want you to weigh too deeply on my words, okay aziz?”

The old lady looked down at your hands as she took in a shaky breath, lifting your chin as she patted your cheek carefully. 

“The time is almost midnight,” She said and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, “He should be expecting us soon.”

---

His quarters were cold, that was the first thing you noticed. 

You expected frost to be on the windows, and your breath to be visible in the moonlight, but you could only shudder as you looked around the candle-lit room, wondering when the apparent king was going to make his appearance. 

Your shoulders were covered by the robes they had given you, but you still shivered as you took a slow step forward, expecting an echo to follow suit. 

You jumped when the door behind you clicked opened, and you looked behind to see his looming shadow behind you, growing slowly as he took steps forward, and you could feel his icy gaze taking you in.

His white hair matched the surroundings, and his eyes, oh his eyes. So blue, such a color seemed to be unknown to humankind. You wanted to reach in and hold his face so you could see if he had diamonds in his sockets, but you knew to restrain yourself, straining your spine as you matched his stare.

You had heard of the king's attractive outward appearance. Even when he had ordered for his old wife and her concubines to be executed, many of the women of the nation volunteered to fill her place as they never thought a man with such grace could be so cruel. 

“My king,” You said with a deep bow, the shawl that loosely covered your shoulders almost slipping off your skin at the movement. 

“Are you Y/n?” He asked, his voice deep and rich as he circled you, taking in your hair, the way your face seemed to shine brightly with the help of the candles, and how the robe around your shoulder hung snuggly around your body. 

“Yes,” You bit out, swallowing your fear as you turned with him, not wanting the man to see your true emotions. 

“You’re the oldest daughter of Ja’far?” His gaze traveled across your frame, settling seconds longer on your lips until they left as they glanced at the window. 

“Yes,” You said through clenched teeth, the unsettling blue in his eyes reminding you that you were simply a lamb in the lion's den. 

You watched as he slowly nodded, his jaw set in place as he glanced around the room, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering rose scent that lingered in your neck and wrists. 

“I’m Satoru,” He said, though you already knew that, “And I can assure you that these next hours aren’t as you’ve heard,” He mentioned with a tilt in his voice, but that only made your heartbeat more erratically, most likely the opposite of how he wanted you to react.

He worked by taking his gloves off, slender finger after slender finger, and he dropped them somewhere to the side, running a hand through his hair as he turned his back towards you, sighing deeply as he pinched his nose.

He moved to get something behind you, a drink the servants had laid out for him as he took in a heavy sip, his lips tainted red with the wine as he stared at the back of your head. 

His hands were slow yet delicate as they found their way up to your hips, and you let out a quiet yelp as you felt his cold fingers tracing the patterns that adorned your robes. 

“You’re pretty,” He muttered, his breath fanning over the skin of your neck, making you shiver, almost making you forget where you were as you felt your knees wobble from the weight of your body, “Haven’t seen you before, have I?” And you weakly shook your head, your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage as you felt his lips land on the skin beneath your ear, surprisingly gentle and warm as they kissed and nipped.

“You’re sweet, too,” He observed, and you could have sworn that have only lined your lips with honey, but he seemed intent on his statement, his lips moving more quickly as his hands reached up to the strings that tie your robes together.

And you froze, knowing that if he were to proceed, he’d surely kill you in the morning. And wouldn’t allow yourself to die tomorrow. You could not die to a man who wanted nothing more than to take your humanity and then dispose of you as if you were stale rice. You had a life planned outside of the palace walls, and you knew that deep down, this king could be manipulated in his fragile state of mind.

Your eyes darted around the room, trying to find anything to secure yourself until they landed on a jeweled knife, its handle crusted in rubies and emeralds and your eyes widened slightly with a mad, certainly mad, idea.

It was sharp and cleaned with precision. Sharp and versatile, and you didn’t doubt he had used it in the act of killing. 

“That knife!” You sputtered out, stuttering as you stumbled forward out of his grasp, almost hoping you could swallow the words back at the way he snapped his head towards you.

“What?” 

“A man once used that exact knife to get through the mountains of Zagros,” You quickly regained yourself, mind running quickly, two sides of yourself debating between doing this or sleeping with the king to quicken your eventual death.

The king stared at the knife for a couple of seconds before looking at you once again, his brows furrowed. 

“Excuse me?”

You straightened your shoulders once again, clearing your throat as you tried to regain your confidence. 

“A man that went by the name Aghā Ali,” You said, voice barely coming out of your throat as you tried to think of something as quickly as you could in your messed state, “When his daughter fell ill to the plague, he became desperate to find a cure. The village apothecary told him to go to the Zagros mountains and cut the red flowers he’d find in a field,” You nodded your head in the direction of the knife, “And he used a knife just like that one to cut the stem of the flowers when he found them…”

Silence fell in the space between the two of you, and you could see the rise and fall of his chest as millions of ideas running through his crystalline eyes.

“Are you telling me a story?” He asked incredulously, almost as if he couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth.

You cleared your throat, trying to shrug it off as you stared back at the knife.

“I’m simply stating that a man once used that knife before to save his daughter.”

“How do you know he used my knife?” He was testing you now, you could easily tell. His lips had curved into an evil smile, a cat's grin as he took a step closer to you, sensing the fear that still radiated off from your body. 

“W-well, not your knife, but one that looked much like that,” You explained, swallowing dryly as you tried for a sweet smile, one that he might like, as you continued.

“His late wife had given it to him as a present, and so he used it wherever he went, for whatever that he could.”

The king didn’t say anything, so you took it as a sign that he wasn’t angry yet.

So you moved, putting on the facade of somebody confident in their story as you slyly moved behind him, causing him to follow your quick feet as you walked over to the table, careful as you picked up the heavy dagger.

It was strange in your hand, and you could tell how uneasy he felt with the weapon in your hand. 

So you set it down, nodding as you swallowed your spit once again.

“Ali didn’t know his way around the mountains, so he got lost frequently in search of the flower,” Your fingers traced the rubies, shaking as you turned the knife over, running a pinger across the blade as you winced when it slit your skin, your blood staining it a bright red as you felt his eyes follow you. 

“And because he had no map he went off of instinct alone,” You moved around the table, eyes darting to the slick pillows and shawls fit for a king. 

“At night, he would lay under the moon and use his knife as a way to cut the animals open so that he could eat them for dinner. The mountains didn’t have anything big such as deer or goat, but he could hunt the occasional rabbits, even duck if he were lucky enough to pass by a lake.” You looked up at him from your lashes to see what he was doing, and much to your surprise he was staring back just as intently. 

“The man knew that with each passing day his daughter would be getting sick and sicker, and though she was stronger than his wife in terms of physical strength, the plague took no longer than a month to kill even the strongest of the king's soldiers, according to the village apothecary.”

Your robes felt heavy on your sides as you moved around the room, feeling the weight of everything slow you down as you tried to quickly think of more things to drag the story on. 

“So he continued the track across the mountain, getting weaker by the hour, more tired by the minute and he still could not find the flowers he needed to heal his daughter.”

“Why go through so much?” The king interrupted, clearly annoyed with the way your story was going. 

You stammered at the question, brows furrowing as you tried to make sense of it. 

“Go through so much?” You repeated, shaking your head, forgetting who you were and where you were as you tilted your head to the side, “ I’m not sure I understand,”

He shook his head, looking at the dagger as he simply shrugged. 

“The old man must be withering away in these conditions. If the girl would die in a matter of weeks, why should he push himself to such an extent?”

“Because it’s his daughter,” You quickly argued back, eyes narrowing as the king moved forward, taking off his heavy coats as he sighed in relief at the release of the material. 

“And?” 

“Well…” You sighed; realizing this must be difficult to explain to this particular man, “He cares for her and he doesn’t like to see his daughter in pain. He’s going through all this hard to make sure that she’ll be alright.” He scoffed as his hands found their way to a bowl, taking out one of the dates as he chewed on it before he spits the seed out. 

“That seems like a figment of the imagination,” The king chewed and then swallowed, his blue eyes never leaving yours as he explained, “Fathers don’t care much for their daughters.”

A part of you boiled in outrage at the statement. 

“Perhaps some don’t, my king, but that doesn’t mean all fathers carry no ounce of care for their daughters,” He could see your tremor fade off as it soon got replaced with fiery anger. 

“No?” He asked coyly, talking out another date as he repeated the same actions. 

“No,” You said without letting your voice waver. 

“Then why did your father offer you up tonight? Surely he could have picked your other sister if he cared for you that much. Or the servant that’s standing right outside my door. Or maybe even the girl who cleans up the horse shit in the stables. Surely a fathers love my reach beyond that point, no?”

You could feel your resolve crumble as you listened to his words, your heart heavy isn’t the small expanse of your chest as you refused to breathe properly. 

Did he simply offer you up as easily as the king was saying? Just like a lamb for slaughter?

“Just as I was saying,” He continued, happy with your obvious shock, “I find it rather hard to believe that Ali would go through the mountains of Zagros to find a flower for his dying daughter.”

He looked pleased with your silent state, watching keenly as you swallowed the thick lump accumulating in your throat. You took in a deep breath, controlling the shake in your voice as you stared at something behind him. 

“The old man was relentless,” You continued the story, pretending that your conversation with the king was nothing, and missed the way his face fell for a second, taken back by the way you could compose yourself with clear tears making their way into your waterline, “But the flower was hard to find.”

“One night as the man was cleaning out his rabbit, he stopped when he noticed the rabbit had red petals lining the fur near its lips.”

“And so he cut the stomach to find it full of red petals, the same color as the flower he was so desperately trying to find.”

“The next day he went in search of rabbits with the same fur, and that night he was able to catch another one with the same petals in its stomach.”

“And so the old man followed the trail of rabbits until he one day, miraculously stumbled across a field full of the red flowers.”

“He was eager as he stuffed them in his satchel, memorizing the path he had taken as he passed by the old streams and lines of trees, his bad bursting at the seam with red relates and green stems.”

You stopped, tilting your head to the side as you gave out another yawn, oblivious to the fact that in the minutes you had spent thinking of more to tell, and in the hours you had spent explaining the complexity of the story to the king, the sun had begun peeking its way through the mountains. 

“So when he got back home, his daughter told him that she only had a couple of days left to live before the plague got to her,” You didn’t notice how the king had risen from his satin seat, walking slowly over to you as his impatience got the best of him. 

“And then?”

You whipped your head around at the sound, heart beating wildly in your chest at his unexpected voice. 

“He cut the flowers up and mixed them in with tea, and each day he’d double the amount of the flowers he would use,” Your bodies were close to each other, so close that despite his tall stance you could feel his breath hitting your cheek, his eyes following the rise and fall do your chest. 

“Did she not like the tea?” His voice was taunting and you shook your head, trying for the same menacing smile he was giving you. 

“No,” You moved away from him, your robes swaying behind you as his gaze traveled across your swift movements, “She loved it. Each day she’d ask for triple the number of flowers instead of double,” Your eyes were trained on the window that pointed to the east. 

“But,” You gnawed on your lip, “Ali didn’t realize that what he was doing was wrong,” You could hear him moving from behind you, his feet padded on the ground. 

“And why is that?”

Your eyes darted to the window, the way the sun amazingly shone through the stained glass and colored his snow hair a mix of blues and yellows, something that your somber mind never thought you’d see again. 

“The sun is coming up, my king,” You noted, your voice catching in the back of your throat as if you couldn’t believe what you were saying. It seemed that he too, couldn’t believe such a thing as he looked behind himself in doubt. 

The two of you said nothing as his eyes widened for a second, lips parted in a shock as he looked at you in relative incredulity. 

“My king…” You whispered, voice hoarse as you swallowed thickly, praying that your devious plan was working its way to the man, “What should I do?”

The king could only stare at you in somewhat disbelief, eyes narrowing as he rubbed tiredly at his eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as his kind ran with millions of thoughts about what he should do with you. 

Never had somebody stalled him for the entirety of the night, let alone made him want to know more about the woman before he had her ordered to be killed. And despite him deep down knowing that this would surely ruin everything he had done to barricade his lonely heart, he shook his head slowly, brows scrunched up in confusion as he admitted to himself that he wanted to know the rest of your story. 

“No,” He muttered out to himself, shaking his head as he glanced over at you, but it weighed heavily in the expanse of his room, “Come tonight and finish the story.”

And he didn’t need to say it to know that you had managed to get the king hooked. 

---

When the door creaked open with the maids once again lamentable at the fact that they’d be leading you to your death, they were surprised to still find your robes adjourning your shoulders, and the look of both dissatisfaction and something more lining the king's face.

They all stared at him, waiting for the same orders that would tumble out of his mouth every morning, but he just waved them aside, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered out a quiet, “I expect you to finish tonight,” Before he shrugged his coat back on as he stalked out of the room.

As he moved past the servants, all the ladies stared back at you, mouths hanging open in shock, their hearts pounding in their ears, mirroring yours as the old lady who had bathed you the night before took a tentative step into the bedroom. 

“Y/n…?” She asked slowly, testing to see how you would react, to see if he had done anything that could have broken both you and the cruel king to such a point, “Is everything alright?”

You stared at her, giving her a slow nod of your head as you couldn’t believe you were able to see the sun rising and hear the laughs of bewilderment that came from the servants behind the old lady.

“Did he say he wants to see her again?” One of the younger girls peeped up, and everyone snapped their heads over to her, the question everybody was wondering finally spoken out loud.

“I think he did,” One of the girls behind her answered, still not believing what they were hearing.

“What did you do?” Another one asked, testing gazes all focused on you, curious, begging to know just what you had done to break the streak of killings.

“I,” You sighed, rubbing your throat as you pushed some hair behind your ears, letting out a skeptical laugh, “I just told him a story.”

---

That night, they did the same thing as the previous one.

They stripped you down, this time a bit more gentle as they weren't much grime to scrub off, but still generous in the amount of fragrance they dabbed all over your body. 

“Tonight,” The old lady who you had come to learn was named Nasreen, muttered softly, quiet enough for only you to hear, “Draw out your stories. Make them more interesting than the last,” She whispered into your ear as she led you back towards the king's quarters, “I have never seen the king so,” She paused looking for the right word, “Forgiving as he was last night. You must have made an impact on him,” Her voice was laced with pride yet worried, “Don’t forget to make him more enthralled tonight than the last, alright?”

You merely nodded, tongue heavy in your mouth as you thought of all the stories you had come up with in the hours leading up to now, that in the hassle of the palace trying to get you prepared for the king you came up with the most fantastical stories you could think of. 

“Y/n,” She stopped you right behind the familiar door, “I wish you all the luck,” She pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, scuffling away as the clock near midnight once again, fearful that if she stayed long enough she’d get too attached to you. And she had learned her lesson before.

Your eyes were trained on the door handle, hands filled with heavy lead as you raised them to the gold knob, giving it a slow twist as it opened easily into the freezing room.

It was dark, just as you remembered it being the previous night. The chilly air wrapped itself unwillingly across your frame, and with each heavy step, you took forward, the more dread-filled itself inside your head.

“Close the door,” His voice called out from the bundle of blankets and pillows that were laid out on the floor. You jumped when you noticed he had been there the entire time, shutting the wood quickly behind you as you shuffled inside.

“My king,” You gave him the customary bow, your heart pounding roughly in your ears as you heard some noise come from his side of the room, the ruffling of fabrics as he stood up, walking his distance towards you.

He said nothing as you lifted your head, his sapphirine eyes meeting yours as they stared boredly ahead, as if he could be more amused, and grunted, muttering something to himself as he walked away, picking up a date from the bowl as he pitted it and munched on it slowly.

“You seem displeased,” He noted, looking at your frigid body, “Are you not comfortable?” His white hair moved as he tilted his head to the side, trying to figure out why you seemed so reserved.

You chuckled a bit in surprise, not thinking him to be of the right mind to ask such a question.

“My king,” You started, thinking of the nicest way to phrase what you were going to say next, “Forgive my outward appearance but…” You laughed again, almost to yourself that he could even be confused, “I must admit, I have reason to be drawn away.”

He looked back at you, eyebrow cocked as your fingers picked at each other, your mouth brought in a thin line as you looked around the room, anywhere to escape his heavy gaze.

“If you are not comfortable standing,” He gestured to the space to his side, “There is ample room for you to reside as you finish your story,”

You swallowed thickly, thinking of what would happen if you agreed to his offer. Sitting next to him, in such proximity, could insinuate things that you were trying to hold off for as long as you could.

But your feet were already tired from standing for so long last night, and with the hecticness of the day that followed, you found your body disobeying your rational mind as it slowly brought you over to his residing area.

You could see his sly grin growing at your willingness to come over, and you watched as he moved his slender legs to the side, letting you almost break to the ground as you let out a small groan of pleasure at how soft the fabric lay beneath you.

His eyes widened slightly at the sound, his heart beating rapidly as your lids shut for a second, your face momentarily blissed out as you craved for such relaxation until they snapped back open, remembering just where you were.

“S-so,” You cleared your throat, moving away as far as you could as you rest your back on the wall, “If you so please, I can continue with the story of Aghā Ali.” You paused to see his reaction, and he gave a little nod of his head, allowing for you to continue.

“The flowers he had been told to get from the mountain were useless, and even worse, doing more damage than good. The apothecary who told him to find the flowers was a greedy man who had been in love with Ali’s wife, and now daughter, and could only see them as his own or as dead.” You peeked over to see what the king was doing and was somewhat surprised to see him staring back intently at you.

“In a jealous and insane rage, the apothecary had been poisoning the bread that Ali and his daughter ate, and despite all his best tries, Ali seemed immune to the lethal dosages he was receiving. So, in hopes of trying to get rid of him, he told Ali that the flowers found in the Zagros mountains would be the only cure,” He sat up, supporting his head in his hands as his eyes narrowed.

“Why not kill him?” He asked and you paused, licking your lips as you smiled, glad to have anticipated his question beforehand.

“Because killing Ali would mean that he would no longer be allowed to go to Jannah, and the apothecary was weary of the sins he committed.” His eyes shined a darker shade of blue at your statement. 

“Unfortunately for the apothecary, Ali was a bright man and could pick up on the flowers' dangerous properties. Ali was also aware of the apothecary’s jealous fit and quickly put the two and two together. So, instead of wasting time spending his rage on the apothecary, he decided to wait.” You crossed your ankles together, adjusting your robe as you shivered, the air still cold no matter how much you adjusted your shawl.

“To wait?” He interrupted, lips pursed and brows furrowed in confusion. You got worried that he was losing his interest in your story, but he sat up, his white hair falling as curls on his face, eyes still shimmering blue as he tilted his head, “He decided to wait?” 

His childish demeanor not only made you startled, but you could help but let your lips tug into a smile, and you tried to cover it up with a cough as you nodded.

“Ali was a very observant man. He could tell that whenever his daughter ate the bread, the sicker she got. So he waited, feeding her only bone broth and tea, without the flowers, of course,”

“And just as Ali had suspected after he stopped feeding her the bread and the flowers, she got healthier with each passing day. When the apothecary realized that Ali had once again won over his devious plan, he gave up,” You looked over to the jewel-encrusted knife, “And the apothecary slit his throat as a final testimony to his dying will.”

You could see how the king's eyes widened, his lips parting as he became even more confused. 

“That's it?” He interjected, “He dies?” Bile rose to your throat, terrified that you had only upset the king until you tried to calm yourself down, your plan steady in your head as you raised your hands in a gesture to calm him down.

“For that story, yes, my king, but I also happen to know another story that you might enjoy,” It was a sudden change, but you wanted him to forget who he was for a second, to look past everything so that you could continue.

You could see something happening behind his stoic gaze, how his eyes narrowed once again, trying to sniff out your ingenuity, but you offered him a tender smile, one that held more behind it than he could tell, and the king only sighed, laced with annoyance and anger because of your stranglehold on his curiosity, and he glanced out the window.

“Well, hurry on with it,” He muttered, falling back down as he picked up another date to chew on. 

And you grinned widely and didn’t care if he could see.

“My king, I doubt you’ve heard the story of the seven voyages of Sinbad…”

---

And so, the cycle continued.

You found yourself in his quarters night after night, evading death by ending on a cliffhanger that the king could only hear if he extended your death by one more day. Every night, you’d finish the story and start on another, prompting the king to a circle of never-ending stories.

The palace, stalked by your boldness to make the king enamored by your storytelling, began working like clockwork, giving you time to yourself to sleep during the day, as well as time to think up new and enticing stories the king may like.

You could tell he had a knack for adventures, and so you tried to make each one more exciting than the last. He was fond of poems of love and war, though he seemed to prefer stories of erotica more.

He was cruel, and even in the daytime, when you didn’t see much of him, you heard of his doings. While he seemed to be keen on not killing you until you run dry of things to tell, he still ruled with an iron fist, and the woes of the nation were only going unheard.

“Y/n,” The king interrupted you one night, pushing himself up by the elbows as he looked at you in your bundled-up corner, “What do you see?”

Your brows scrunched up in confusion at his question, and you squint to see what he was looking at.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not sure I understand,” Your fingers fidgeted with one another as the king scoffed and he licked his teeth, weaving his hand through his hair as he motioned for you to come closer to him.

You slowly obliged, crawling over to where he was sitting as you gave yourself some space from his side.

You could notice his features more clearly here when the candle could illuminate his features better. His hair was arctic white, white than the snow that would litter the ground in the colder months. And his skin was pale and easily flushed red, almost as if the man refused to go outside in the summer. And his eyes, you could recall just how entranced they made you when you saw them at first. They seemed so hypnotizing, so surreal, that had this man not sent a chill through your bones, they might have put you under his charms spell.

“In the paintings, what do you see?” His eyes were trained on the wall, and you looked ahead, your mind reeling as you took in the different men and women painted in the photo, and what the artist could have meant when they drew it.

“I see…” You looked a bit longer, tilting your head to the right to get a better view, “A man being seduced by a woman,” You inspected the painting longer, “She seems like a witch of some sorts, maybe an enchantress,” You gnawed on your lip as you took in the background of the mural, “And she’s been able to lure him to his demise, judging by the red on her robes.”

You looked to the side to see what the king was thinking, only to him glancing at you, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you quickly looked away.

“I don’t see where you got the seducing aspect,” He admitted, and he shifted his weight onto his other hand.

Your brows furrowed at how he could miss such an obvious message. You raised your hand, pointing out to the woman as he followed the direction, “You see how her wrist is turned as she’s greeting him? Normally, you’d see people who try to romance one another have opening gestures, but she'd be more closed off and alluring. She dressed in red with minimal jewelry, which can mean that the man prefers somebody dressed down rather than inviting.” You explain and the king let out a small chuckle.

“You got all that from how her wrists were turned?” Your cheeks heated up once again as his eyes twinkle at your obvious embarrassment, and you looked away, shrugging as his smile only grew.

“Many of the artists I know explain the little details to me,” You muttered, “And you asked how I interpreted the piece. You got my answer,” He wanted to coo at the way your lips pouted, at how much less tense you seemed to be over time, and just how alluring you seemed to be when you childishly scooted away from him.

“You know artists?” He asked, perplexed by the outside life you shared and he knew little of it.

“Of course,” You nodded, “The bazaar is full of them. If I have time I walk around aimlessly, for the fun of it. You meet many interesting people where you’d least expect them,” You rubbed your nose, your eyelids growing heavier as the night continued.

“The bazaar,” He repeated to himself, and you glanced over to see him looking longingly at the painting, “I used to be quite the fanatic of the bustling streets.”

“You don’t go anymore?” You asked and he shook his head. Had he not been adorned in royal clothing and his title so glaringly obvious, you would have felt as though you were having a simple conversation with a friend, not the tyrant king everybody had come to fear.

“They’ve become a rather dark staple for me,” He admitted, “I can’t say I’m most eager to go back.”

You scoffed, your shoulder shoving his as his eyes widened in surprise by your out-of-character move.

“Everything has become a dark staple for you, my king. You cannot expect to outlive your past if everything you see reminds you of it,” Even sitting, he towered over you, and he had to crane his neck to stare at you in the eyes.

“There are some things I prefer to remember,” He gritted out, his lips turned into an unpleasant snarl as his eyes darkened, clouded by memories.

“I’m not saying you should forget, my king,” You toned your voice down in hopes of calming him down, “I’m saying that you move on.”

He scoffed, cheeks tinted a fiery red as he puffed his cheeks out, his stance now defensive as he turned his head away from you.

“What should you know?” He bit out, rolling his eyes at the thought of somebody like you understanding the utter betrayal he had gone through. The feeling of his heart being ripped apart piece by piece until everything in him stopped functioning because his entire world had come crumbling down.

“I don’t know,” You told him, your voice soft as if carrying itself to his fragile mind, “But heartbreak is an unstoppable force, my king, and you cannot stop it from ruining your state of being. But it’s better if you move on and be-”

“I can’t move on!” He instantly roared, his voice shaking as he whipped around towards you, his shadow great in size as it dwarfed you in its presence, “Can’t you see that?” His voice wobbled for a second, and in his shaking glare, you could see his eyes water, how they seemed to dim in their crystalline glow as his lips shook.

You raised a hand to his chest, gently pushing him back as he easily complied, and you sighed, pushing some hair out of your forehead as silent tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Your wife is dead, my king. You had her killed. She cannot haunt you any more than in thoughts,” You could hear his sniffles, how he shook when he took in a breath.

“I can’t move on,” He repeated thickly, “It hurts so much,” 

“The pain is bare, my king,” You said slowly, “But what you have caused in its wake is destruction. You cannot think yourself to be healing in the act of death.”

You had feared you had said too much, but he only looked at you, hiccups leaving his mouth as his head fell onto your shoulder, and felt his tears wetly stain your robes.

“You don’t deserve this,” He said, “They didn’t deserve it,” He groaned into your coat as if realization was finally dawning on him.

“I’m sorry,” He wept out, and at this moment he was no longer a king, but a weak man who had his share of the world. He muttered it out over and over again until his cries and his apologies filled the air in the royal room.

You didn’t know who he was apologizing to. To you, to the women, he had killed, to himself, or to the man he killed when he began his endless cycle of murder.

“Satoru?” You tried for the first time, his name foreign on your tongue you felt his shaking stop, his wet lips breaths away from your skin that was revealed as he accidentally tugged on your robes.

“Stay,” He whispered into your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he moved around, shuffling so that he was off of your body, yet somehow he managed to bring you onto his lap, “I don’t care for a story,” He muttered as he looked up at you, “Sleep here tonight,” His large hands steadied themselves on your hips, gentle as you slowly nodded, his lips wet as they traced the skin near yours, soft and caring, a far cry from how you thought they’d be.

“But…” You were worried that he'd be tired of you by morning, realizing that you’re not what he bargained for, but the king shook his head, almost as if he could read your thoughts.

“I just want you to stay, nothing more,” He muttered against your skin, your fingers subconsciously rubbing his hair as he sighed contently at the feeling.

“Okay,” You muttered out, your lash fluttering against your cheek as you nodded, feeling his lips curl into a small smile as you relaxed into his hold, his arm doing all the work as they held you to his chest, cradling you to his body as if you were his only lifeline.

You knew that it was the king that was holding you as if you were his only support, that without you to hold at this moment he would sink into the floor below your bodies and disappear forever.

---

When morning came you felt a heavy arm wrap itself around your waist, and your eyes groggily opened as you felt little puffs of air hitting your neck, and you turned around to find the king fast asleep.

You moved away a bit, and felt his hand dip from your body, and didn’t see his eyes snap open to see you rising, your hair messed up, eyes groggy but still beautiful as he could only stare at the way the sun illuminated your soft skin.

“Mornin’,” He muttered, not used to waking up to a woman without feeling the ache of the night before, but the way you laughed softly at his tired state brought him back to reality.

“Good morning,” You replied, rubbing your eyes as you yawned, a gentle smile making its way up to your face as you watched him turn onto his back, his eyes still heavy from sleep as you giggled.

“I need some water,” You muttered and he cracked an eye open, getting ready to stand up until you pushed him back down, “I’ll be right back,” You corrected and he grumbled something out, blue eyes shutting anyways as sleep took a hold of the king once again.

You rubbed your eyes one last time before you stood up, groaning quietly as you stretched your legs, making note of the fact that you had never slept so comfortably before as you made your way to the door.

The hallways were lit with candles, and you quietly shut the door behind you as you tiptoed your way out, looking around to find two of the palace guards standing outside, already anticipating you from the way they instantly looked at your frame.

You had never seen them before, and while you were familiar with the guards that usually stood outside, these seemed more menacing than usual.

“Good morning,” You said sheepishly, trying to move past one of them when he blocked the way.

“Um,” You scratched your head, looking around to see if there was anybody familiar, “I’m sorry, but I need a pitcher of water for the king’s room if you’ll let me…” You went to outstep the guard but the second one now blocked your path.

You looked up at them in confusion, your lips pursed together as you laughed uncomfortably.

“May I leave, please?” You tried for another laugh, but their faces remained stoic.

You had never seen them before, and you doubted they knew you judging by the way their faces remained unchanged. Their swords were perched on their hips, and their gazes never altered.

“Come with us, miss,” The first guard said, his voice deep as he took a sudden grip on your elbow, rough as he pulled you away without letting you walk.

“W-wait, excuse me, I just need some water,'' You quickly explained but they said nothing as they led you down the hall, their face never changing as you tried to wrangle out of their tight grips.

“Sirs! Please!” They said nothing as you thrashed around, their hands only holding you with a more bruising force as you tried to break free, “I only need a pitcher, that’s all,” Your eyes were frantic, heart in your throat as you tried to think of anything you had done to warrant such behavior.

“They’re always so fuckin’ rowdy,” One of them muttered to the other, obvious displeasure on his face as his fingers tightened around your arm.

You tried to think of what he was referring to when your eyes widened in understanding.

“The king knows me!” You shouted, “He’s asked for me not to be killed!” You tried to explain but the guards only laughed, and you felt your chest fall as they led you down a passage you had never been through before.

“I’m Y/n!” you explained, but they had no idea who you were, “I’m a friend of the kings!” But you didn’t even know if the king would call you that. You told him stories to keep him entertained and you out of the execution chambers, but these guards snorted at your statement.

With their strength, they had practically lifted you off the ground, and no matter how much you kicked your legs and screamed for them to let you, they seemed intent on leading you to wherever you were headed.

A voice in the back of your head already knew where.

“Please!” You shouted, your eyes tearing up, “Ask the king, he knows me!” And one of the guards behind you decided that he had had enough of your shouting, and used his unused hand to slap it roughly over your mouth, muffling your screams.

Your breathing got shallower and rougher the more you tried to break free, and the darker the hallways got the more your body weakened, and you felt yourself grow limp in their holds as they stopped in front of an iron door.

One reached into his pockets as he brought out some keys, flipping through them until he found the right one. He jammed it in the hole and the door swung open, revealing the horror that you had guessed would be inside.

An array of gallows sat in the middle, the ground littered with dried blood as you screamed again.

“I-I’m his storyteller!” You explain hurriedly, but the guards don’t seem to mind as they bring you closer to the noose, “I tell the king stories!” That got one of the guards to laugh, and you whimpered as the noose came closer into view.

“Ask the king, p-please!” You cried out, tears wetting your eyes as your voice caught in the back of your throat, “I tell him stories! I’m a friend of his!”

It meant nothing to the guards as they heaved you up onto the wooden pedestal, grasping your hands behind your back as they tied it over and over with scratchy rope, their hands rough as they pushed you forward, wrapping some dirtied cloth around your mouth to silence your screams.

You felt your tears collect on the cloth, and you felt lightheaded as one of the men began securing the noose around your throat.

“Stand on the trapdoor,” One of the men gruffed out but you hurriedly shook your head, trying to tell them that you weren’t who they thought you to be.

Tired of your antics, the man shoved your forward, and you stumbled and your eyes widened as the noose tightened around your neck, your breath lodging itself in the little crevices of your lungs.

You watched as the men walked over to the front, their hands outstretched to pull the lever as they stopped when they heard a loud crash happen outside the door.

Three sets of eyes snapped to the iron working as it slammed open, revealing a panting king as he stared widely inside the room, wasting no time as guards poured in, the maids that usually came to collect you in the morning puffing out air as they sighed in relief, relieved to find you alive.

“What the fuck is happening?” Satoru shouted out, his eyes raging as he saw you atop the gallows, cheeks stained with tears, mouth covered, a noose around your neck as he felt his breathing momentarily stop, “Y/n?” His eyes widened in shock as he saw the noose around your neck, your cheeks glistening with tears as your screams were muffled.

His eyes snapped over to the two guards, their expressions comedic had they not been seconds away from killing you.

The king was quick in his movements as he rushed towards you, quick as he climbed the gallow, his slender fingers nimble as they worked the noose off of your neck, and then quick to tug down the tear-stained cloth that covered your mouth.

His eyes were feverish as they searched you, his hands on either side of your face as he checked for injuries.

“Are you,” His voice wavered for a second as you stared back up at him, both of your hearts pounding at the same pace as he tried to catch his breath, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

All of the guards and servants watched in fascination as their ruthless king fell apart, his hands shaking as you smiled gently, shaking your head no to his hurried question.

“I,” Your throat was hoarse, and you realized what had led to this mess in the first place, “I just want some water,” You sheepishly admitted to Gojo’s frantic stare, and could see his resolve crack as he gave you a quick laugh, cradling your head gently as he led you out of the execution chambers and back into the forgiving bright light of the hallways.

---

The following night, the servants were extra careful as they prepared you for the king.

Their hands were more forgiving as they scrubbed the dirt off of your body, and their fingers kind as they slathered lotion upon your neck. Their smiles were caring as they rubbed rose petals across your wrists, and their words were hushed as though not to disturb you.

They could tell without asking questions that you weren’t how you usually were and didn’t doubt that going back into the king's chambers would be more nerve-wracking than ever.

The robes they had dressed you in were softer than usual, and they kept it low with the fragrance as though not to give you a headache after everything you had gone through in the past couple of hours.

“Y/n,” Nasreen gently shook your shoulders to wake you out of your trance, “It’s time to go.”

And so you silently followed her on the familiar path to his room, your head heavy with pain as she knocked once, and then twice on the door.

It swung open after a couple of seconds to reveal the king in a disheveled state, his hair in disarray, eyes darker than usual as he seized you up, opening the door a bit wider so that you could come inside.

It shut quickly behind you, and you didn’t have time to turn around to say goodbye to the old lady before the king, Satoru, had led you inside.

The air was heavy as the two of you refused to look the other in the eye, unsaid guilt present in your stances as you went to open your mouth.

“My king, if you’d so wish, I can contin-” You didn’t have any time to prepare for the way his body threw itself at yours, a heavyweight pushing itself into your chest until you were roughly backed into the wall, his hand the only thing saving your head from bumping harshly into it.

His lips were hungry, ravenous, as they searched yours. They were agile and quick, not giving you time to breathe as his hand cradled your jaw, tilting your head ever so carefully so that he could gain better access to you.

You felt your tongues and teeth clash with one another, and despite your inexperience, you tried to match his quick pace. Any logical reasoning flew out of your head as his soft lips traveled upward, kissing your cheek, your forehead, and anything he could to remind himself that you were alive.

Your eyes opened as you felt him move downwards, his mouth hot against the column of your throat as he nipped at the skin gently, his teeth somehow gentle in their way as though not to hurt the fragile skin.

He’d press chaste kisses anywhere he could, his hands secure on your waist as the king looked up at you, and for the first time since your arrangement, you saw real fear in his sapphire eyes.

“Thought I lost’ya,” He muttered into your skin, his hands grasping onto the fabric of your robes as he tried to tug them off, “Thought I fuckin’ lost’ya forever,” His voice shook with raw emotion as your hands flew to his hair, bringing him back up as his hands worked at the knots that secured your robes together.

“It’s gonna,” You sighed as the cool hair hit your naked skin, your nipples pebbling up as your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, “It’ll take a lot more to get rid of me, my king,” You tired fo a joke but the words died down on your tongue as he latched onto one of your breasts, his hands occupying the other one as he kneaded it.

“Don’t joke about that,” He murmured against you, your nipples glistening with spit as he detached himself from you, “Don’t ever wanna think about it,” He whispered, and your eyes fluttered shut as his slender fingers worked their way down to tracing the skin on your stomach, and you almost sealed as they traveled down dangerously to the apex of your thighs.

He fell to his knees, a true sight to behold as his hair ruffled, your hands clawing into his white locks as you weakly held him in place.

His tongue was hot as it licked at your skin, slow as it neared the area where you were sure was burning up and wasted no time as he slid a finger past your folds, into the slickness of your cunt, and you groaned audibly at the feeling.

It was much different from your fingers, and he was skilled as he added another, your eyes and teeth clenching at the stretch.

“Yer doin’ fuckin’ amazin’,” He muttered in awe at the way you sucked him in, at how wet his fingers became from just a couple of seconds fingering you, “Yer so fuckin’ tight - shit - h-haven't you ever been…” And he trailed off when you looked away in embarrassment, and his lips parted in understanding as you covered your mouth to silence your whines.

“Oh darlin’,” He muttered, moving away from your pussy as he came back up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips as your eyes watched his every move, “Have you never been touched before?” And even he seemed to forget that he only wanted virgins, yet you could weakly nod, your skin flushing as he hungrily looked at it.

He’s going to ruin you.

“Well you’re just fuckin’ drippin’,” He said thickly, showing you his fingers as you looked away in embarrassment, but he quietly cooed, sleeping his fingers down your mouth, your eyes widening as you close your lips around them, brows furrowing at the odd taste.

“Sweet as shit, darlin’, better than any of the honey they’ve been rubbin’ on ya,” He muttered, his fingers working quickly as they went in and out quickly, his other thumb rubbing your clit as your eyes rolled back at the heavenly feeling.

“T-toru,” You whined thrashing around in his hold, “F-fuck it feels s-so good,” You hiccupped, your voice weak as you could rarely phrase things together. It was a far cry from how you usually wear, but the man was slowly tearing you apart.

His eyes widened in admiration at how sweetly his name rolled off your tongue, his ministration quickening in pace as he pressed a gentle kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” He muttered against your skin, his fingers wet with your nectar as you cried into your hand, “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening at his relentless movements.

“Ugh, Toru, please,” You cried out, your fat tears rolling down your cheek as you couldn’t contain your wanton moans anymore, “Fa-faster!” You were begging, your fingers curling into his hair as he grinned at your unraveling.

More quickly than not, you felt your vision go white, the not snapping as your climax came, the sweet orgasm washing over you as you almost went limp. Had his arms not been supporting you up, you would have crumbled. You could feel yourself spasm around his fingers, but he was slow as he pulled them away, his tongue flushing outwards as he licked them tentatively, moaning at how sweet your essence was as it coated his mouth.

He watched as you went to pull your robes over your body, naively thinking you were done, but Satoru pushed your hands back, shaking his head as his smile menacingly grew.

“I’m not done yet sweetheart,” He moved up as he kissed your lips, your release flooding your taste buds as his spit mixed with yours, and you moaned into his mouth, not used to such a euphoric feeling, “Gods, Y/n, I’m just gettin’ started.”

---

You woke up to your legs aching and throat hoarse from more than just crying.

Your eyes were blinded momentarily by the sun, but you felt a heavyweight stern across your chest, and you looked down to see Satoru’s long arm covering your bare breasts.

Your cheeks heated up as flashes of last night came to you, and suddenly you could barely think straight, shuffling around so much that it woke the very king up.

He was slow as he tried to remember where he was, but a flash of your hair and your awkward smile made him grin charmingly, his arm tightening around your waist as he pulled you deeper into the warmth of his chest.

“Did I wake you?” You asked quietly into his skin, causing him to shiver as the way your shy hand reached up to hold onto his naked hips, to hold him as if he were a staple into your lifeline.

“I was already awake,” he muttered into your cheek, kissing at the mark he had made the previous night, “You’re a beauty when you sleep,” He admitted and you duke your head deeper into his chest at his words.

“My king,” You blinked, swallowing thickly as you looked up at him, terrified to find a monster but instead finding a devoted man, his eyes deep as they stared back down, caring as his lips pursed at the title.

“Satoru,” he muttered, “Don’t call me king,” His fingers played with your hair, his white hair wild as you giggled softly.

“Alright, Satoru,” Your nose nudged at his bicep, “I have a confession to make.” You saw him glance down at you in momentary worry but your eyes twinkle in a playful, childish manner, and he grinned right back.

“I have no more stories to tell you,” You whispered, “They’re all done.”

Satoru said nothing for a couple of minutes as his soft breathing filled the air around you two, and your heart stopped for a second before he let out a loud laugh, joyful and juvenile as his eyes crinkled, his ars pulling you deeper into his body if possible as he littered your face with kisses, hugging you as though you were going to whisk away at any moment.

“I was wondering when you'd run out darlin',” He exclaimed, pressing a light kiss to your lips as he looked down at you adoringly, “Because it’s time I return that favor,” He moved your hair out of your face as he pressed another kiss to your forehead, “I doubt you’ve heard the wondrous story of the woman who somehow stole my heart."

fantasy!bakugou going into battle with warrior!y/n who has been killing and fighting since they were a child. they didn't want to be a warrior, but was forced into it after displaying a talent for fighting and combat. they were trained against their will and was forced up the ranks until they were pushed into a position of leader against armies and enemies. now, battle is second nature and all they want to do is stop fighting, but they know they cant.

fantasy!bakugo somehow winds up engaged with them- two strong and powerful groups forming an alliance through marriage with the strongest of each. pretty typical, but for once, bakugou doesn't oppose it- or he did until he saw them. immediately he wanted to help, wanted to lift the burden of battle off them and give them nothing but a peaceful life in his country. thats all he wants for them.

but soon they're both dragged into battle against an army who wants to take the land that doesn't belong to them for themselves. the battle is short, quick and bloody. bakugou after getting separated from his betrothed gets so anxious he wants to vomit. he knows they can't get hurt- they're too experienced and too careful. he's worried that they will hurt themself- will push themself too far and their body will give up.

as the battle wains and the enemies wain in number, he finds them quickly among the remaining heads of fighters and quickly comes to their side. grabbing their waist, pulling out of harms way and dragging them out of battle. they're stunned when they finally realize what's happening.

they've never been dragged out of battle before, only pushed into it. this sensation and experience is new. even in the past if they were bloody and beaten and on the thin line of death they were not ever given the freedom to withdraw.

"you've done enough, this fight is ours. please stop," katsuki is literally begging them, begging you, to stop fighting. and to start living for him in the middle of a battlefield where he wanted to bury your enemies and your burdens.

he's going to protect you, he promises on his ring finger and on his name that will soon belong to you.

Reblog if you support Johnny Depp.

As a final goodbye, Blue Sky Studios came together and gave Scrat a send off on their own terms.

He finally got his nut.

broke: Percy and Annabeth move to New Rome and go to college and “retire” there.

woke: Percy “look at what they did to my city” Jackson and Annabeth “CHB is my home” Chase would never leave New York. Momma’s boy would not dare move to the other side of the country away from his family. Annabeth would not stop designing mount Olympus, her literal dream job, to go to New Rome. PJO did not establish chb/New York as percy and annabeth’s home just to have them so easily leave it in the next series.

bespoke: Percy and Annabeth do not leave New York. Eventually, Annabeth designs the “New Rome” equivalent* to CHB. This is the clear and obvious natural progression if following the pjo characterizations of percy and annabeth. It satisfies Annabeth’s desire to build something permanent. Also, by helping to establish a sanctuary for demigods to live safely, it satisfies Percy’s promise to Luke to change the lives of demigods for the better. Percy and Annabeth would never “retire” from what they perceived as their responsibilities to their camp and would pave the way to a better future for demigods.

*It does not function off of a child military.

I know a lot of people characterize satoru as a heartless god complex one dimensional character, and that’s fine and all, it’s just… did you even try to understand him?

Keep reading

There are a bunch of guides for how one dresses in hanfu or hanbok or a kimono, or just about any other cultural clothes that inspired atla. I don't really see much for the Inupiat, so I'll give it my best shot here:

(Obligatory disclaimer: this is not comprehensive, i just slapped this together while procrastinating getting myself food)

As a base layer, women wore shorts, not unlike the kind worn to protect the modesty of cheerleaders and figure skaters. Men would wear a loincloth style garment, or may forgo it.

Leggings were pretty typically worn. We may think of a pair of leggings as footless tights worn as a single garment that covers the hips. These skin leggings were different, closer to what we may think of as leg warmers. These leggings covered all the way down to the ankles and would tie around the thigh to keep them in place. If this full coverage proved too warm, they could be rolled down and tied at the knee instead. Sometimes mukluks and leggings were not seperate garments, and instead you had well insulated boots tied at the thigh or together at the waist.

Pants could be knee-length or full-length and sometimes were made with boots attached. This pants-boots combo was popular enough that the Inupiaq word for barefoot also means naked below the waist. Pants were usually considered more for men as more of their duties to the family involved needing to stay warm outside, but one must remember that just because it's common doesn't make it always the case. Women could have warm pants for being outside in the winter as well as men.

Mukluks, or kamiks, were traditional boots. Like everything else, they were made of skin. In the Kobuk region, low-cut mukluks were for traveling by land so as to not waste material. They would be worn with fur socks for extra warmth. Socks woven of grass provided structure and baleen, the same material used to give shape to Euro-American corsets and hoopskirts, was used to make stiff but flexible soles. Knowing what i know of baleen, these boot soles likely reacted to the warmth and shaped themselves to the wearer's feet, providing a good fit along with the protection sturdy-soled boots offer. Moss and lichen could be added as extra insulation.

The parka, or atigi, would often have two layers. The inner layer would have the fur turned in against the body and the outer layer would have the fur turned in. Parkas came in a variety of shapes and levels of decoration but were always pullover garments. In the Inupiaq language, atigi is also used a a verb, meaning to put something on, not unlike how dress, in English, can mean to put garments on, or refer to a specific garment itself. Post-contact, the parka is always worn strictly as outerwear. Pre-contact, it was worn against bare skin. A well-fitting traditional parka has enough room for the wearer to pull their arms out of the sleeves and into the body. This allows them not only to take off the parka, but also to warm their arms with their own contained body heat and even get comfortble enough to sleep without a blanket. The longet cut of a woman's parka likely had to do with pants being considered masculine

Mittens were typically kept on a sinew rope worn underneath or over the parka. They sometimes had seperated fingers for the articulation needed for outdoor chores and were designed to keep snow out.

JJK Timeline

Birthdays:

1930/1931 - ogami is born

1942 - gakuganji is born

1946/1947 - naobito is born

1956/1957 - awasaka is born

dec 31 1970s - toji is born

1971 - yaga is born

1974/1975 - kuroi is born

early 1980's - yuki is born

1982 - higuruma is born

1982/1983 - takaba is born

mid-1980s - mei mei is born

feb 18 1987 - utahime is born

nov 7 1989 - shoko is born

dec 7 1989 - gojo is born

1990 - naoya is born

1990 - haibara is born

feb 3 1990 - geto is born

jul 3 1990 - nanami is born

april 20 1991 - ijichi is born

1992 - riko is born

1995 - saori is born

1996/1997 - ino is born

late 1990s - takada is born

june 5 2000 - kamo is born

july 7 2000 - momo is born

sep 23 2000 - todo is born

2001 - rika is born

2001 - junpei is born

mar 5 2001 - panda is born

mar 7 2001 - yuta is born

april 4 2001 - miwa is born

autumn 2001  - tsumiki is born

october 4 2001 - mechamaru is born

oct 23 2001 - toge is born

2002 - sasaki is born

2002 - iguchi is born

jan 20 2002 - maki and mai are born

summer 2002 - arata is born

aug 7 2002 - nobara is born

late 2002/early 2003 - fumi is born

late 2002/early 2003 - yuko is born

dec 22 2002 - megumi is born

mar 20 2003 - yuji is born

1990s:

toji leaves the zen'in clan/meets kid gojo

2000's:

after dec 22 2002 - megumi's mom dies, toji is unstable

2004 - toji becomes an unreliable parent (most probably around this time)

megumi is one years old

2005 - shoko, gojo, geto are first-years

gojo and geto are the strongest

early 2006 - toji leaves with mamaguro (most probably)

megumi is three

tsumiki is four

August 2006 - star plasma vessel!!! riko dies :/

gojo, shoko, geto are 16 turning 17

toji is around 30 and dies

2006/2007 - yuki meets with geto

August 2007 - geto defects like a fucking loser

gojo, shoko, geto are 17 turning 18

2008/2009 - yuki meets todo

spring 2009 - nobara and fumi become friends

nobara is six

summer 2009 - nobara meets saori

nobara is seven

saori is 14

summer 2009 - satoru finds megumi and tsumiki

megumi is six turning seven

tsumiki is seven turning eight

gojo, shoko are 19 turning 20

dec 2009 - end of their fifth year at jujutsu tech

shoko, gojo are 20

2010’s

early 2010 (winter) - saori leaves

nobara is seven

2012 - yuta curses rika

sometime 2016 - nanami calls gojo/becomes a sorcerer again (probably)

november 2016 - rika stuffs yuuta's bullies in a locker

spring-summer 2017 - tsumiki is cursed

megumi is 14 turning 15

tsumiki is 15 turning 16

spring/summer 2017 - maki, panda, and inumaki are students at tokyo jujutsu tech (most likely)

sometime later - yuta is recruited (probably)

september 2017 - sister exchange event (probably)

dec 24 2017 - suguru dies/night parade

kenjaku obtains suguru's body

(after parade) kirara and hakari leave

mid-january 2018 - yuta goes overseas (probably)

june 2018 - itadori eats sukuna

two weeks later - nobara becomes a student

leaves fumi and village

nobara is 15

two weeks after that - itadori dies

a little bit after that - itadori meets nanami/junpei arc

august 7 2018 - nobara turns 16

sometime september 2018 - 2018 exchange event

itadori comes back

kyoto tries to assassinate him

a day or two(?) after: baseball!

later in september or early october 2018 idk - yasohachi bridge arc

eso and kechizu die

october 19 2018 - mechamaru dies

oct 31 2018, evening - shibuya

nobara "dies"

ijichi is injured by haruta

mei mei and ui ui escape

jogo (by sukuna), hanami (by gojo), and dagon (by toji) are exorcised

sukuna's rampage

megumi releases mahoraga

sukuna exorcises mahoraga

mahito is taken in by kenjaku

choso realises itadori is his brother after almost killing him

todo's hand is cut off

inumaki loses his left arm

nanami dies

maki burns/unconscious

naobito burns

toji is resurrected by ogami

toji kills ogami and her grandson

toji's suicide

gojo is sealed

yuji yells out that gojo is sealed

itafushi vs awasaka

awasaka dies

ino vs ogami and her grandson

nobara vs haruta

maki, naobito, nanami, megumi vs dagon

megumi vs toji

sukuna is awakened

uraume meets sukuna

haruta dies

miminana dies

yuji and todo vs mahito

yuki makes her appearance

jujutsu sorcerers and choso vs kenjaku and uraume

tsumiki wakes up

mechamaru is extra dead

(these events are out of order sorry)

between oct 31 and nov 8 -

naobito dies

yaga dies

nov 8 2018 - itadori is found and killed, wakes up later in the day

nov 9 2018 - they all head to jujutsu tech & meet w tengen

nov 10 2018, afternoon - itafushi meets hakirara

nov 11 2018, ~00:00~ - hakirara are recruited

nov 12 2018, noon - hakari, itafushi, and panda join culling game colonies

itadori meets higuruma

megumi fights reggie

yuuta vs uro takako vs ishigoori riyuu

maki annihilates zen'in clan

nov 19 2018 - culling game officially begins

Currently in Manga:

Itadori is 15

Fushiguro is 15, turning 16

Nobara is 16

Maki is 16

Mai is 16

Tsumiki is 16, turning 17

Miwa is 17

Mechamaru is 17

Inumaki is 17

Okkotsu is 17

Panda is 17

Kamo is 18

Momo is 18

Todo is 18

Saori is 23

Ijichi is 27

Nanami is 28

Geto would’ve been 28

Gojo is 28, turning 29

Shoko is 29

Utahime is 31

Mei Mei is in her mid-30s

Higuruma is 36

Yuki is in her mid/late 30’s

Toji would’ve been in his 40’s

Numerology

Zero (0): Infinite possibility and capability and cycles themselves. The end and beginning of a journey. One (1): Beginnings, opportunities, determination, and independence. The embarking of a new path. Two: (2): Balance, duality, coordination, partnership, polarity, and contrast. Harmony and similarities. Three (3): Delight, expression, communication, enjoyment, and education. Past, present, and future. Four (4): Stability, practicality, core concepts, reality, and finding solutions. The four main elements. Five (5): Embarking on a journey, transformation, positive shifts & changes. The peak of a journey. Six (6): Harmony, collective influence or events, unity, healing, and support, unlocking blockages. Seven (7): Spirituality, intellect, development, progress, sanctuary, & tranquility. Reformation. Eight (8): Authority, leadership, nobility, respect, prosperity & abundance. Infinite possibilities. Nine (9): Wisdom, completion, achievement, closure, healing & growth, reaching the end of voyage.

sobbing. crying. sliding down a wall

A WORLD ALONE

pairing: bakugo katsuki x fem! reader

playlist: i was an island john-allison weiss, little lion man mumford & sons, buzzcut season lorde, a world alone lorde

wc: 6.8k of pain

content: she/her pronouns, cursing, food mention, crying, discussion of bullying, ptsd, katsuki being a tiny bit possessive, spoilers for the fic in cw beyond this point -> morbidity, discussion of death, basically terminal illness, hospitals, ivs and injections, comas

desc: reader and bakugo are doing the whole childhood friends to lovers thing, deku is briefly a little shit, and angst happens, bakugo has awful coping mechanisms. literal years of slow burn. years.

notes: came up with this while running up a hill, wrote it in one day and cried three times during. this is literally made of sweat and tears, but no blood, fortunately. ok have fun i'm gonna go cry again-

you pick a leaf and drop it above katsu-chan; it lands on his head, “well, you shouldn’t have gone to sleep, then. if you hadn’t, i wouldn’t draw on you.”

you pick a leaf and drop it above katsu-chan; it lands on his head, “well, you shouldn’t have gone to sleep, then. if you hadn’t, i wouldn’t draw on you.”

you pick a leaf and drop it above katsu-chan; it lands on his head, “well, you shouldn’t have gone to sleep, then. if you hadn’t, i wouldn’t draw on you.”

katsu-chan fumes and kicks at the roots that break through the dirt. “i didn’t. i didn’t go to sleep. liar.”

izu-chan shifts nervously on the branch next to you - you just ruffle his hair, and he calms down a bit. he starts to tip backwards, and you reach to catch him, and you both are falling through the air. it makes your stomach flip and knocks the air out of you when you land on the ground - your head hurts from hitting the packed dirt.

“you idiot, izuku! you can’t sleep in a tree…” katsu-chan pokes his cheek, in a meaner way then he needed to. izu-chan doesn’t wake up.

izu-chan fell out of the tree, and he isn’t waking up.

you sit up and climb to your feet, sprinting for the house. “auntie mitsuki! auntie mitsuki!”

she yanks the back door open, running out at the sound of your screaming. “what’s the problem, [first name]-chan? what happened?”

you sniffle and grab her hand, leading her over to your friends; your eyes are full of tears and you can’t see anything besides two vague blobs on the ground with different hair colors. “izu-chan fell out of the tree, we were playing, i drew on katsu-chan’s face,” you sob, pointing in the direction of the two blobs.

auntie mitsuki chuckles and sits on the ground next to your friends. “i think he’s fine, [first name]-chan.”

“but he wasn’t awake, he went asleep and he fell out of the tree,” you protest, furiously wiping your eyes, still holding her hand.

“yes, but he’s fine - see? he’s awake, he’s even sitting up, and the fall was only a few feet. you’re not hurt, right sweetie? any cuts that need a bandaid?”

izu-chan, clearer now, shakes his head. “i’m sleepy, though.”

auntie mistuki stops and makes the face she makes before she yells a lot. “you’re sleepy?”

“is that okay?”

“of course, sweetie. here, come with me, i’m going to have your mom pick you up, okay? i’ll have your mom come too, [first name]-chan. let’s all go inside.” she stands up and takes your and izu-chan’s hands, and leads you toward the house. katsu-chan grabs your hand and follows along.

—

izu-chan hands the gang orca plush to you, and one of his all might ones to bakugo. “my mom said that the doctor said that it was a quirk.”

katsu-chan hugs the plush so tightly that it probably wouldn’t be able to breathe. “what was a quirk, dummy?”

“when i fell out of the tree. mom was worried i hit my brain, but it was just a quirk that made me sleepy!”

katsu-chan huffs, “well it’s not my quirk, that’s too lame to be my quirk.”

your mom had taken you to the hospital to be examined, and katsu-chan’s comment kind of hurts, but you wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret anyway. “it’s mine, but yeah, i can only make people go to sleep if i touch them. it’s not very cool.”

he rolls his eyes and shoves the all might plush at you. “well… if it’s yours i guess it’s cool.”

izu-chan smiles and throws his arms out, “yeah! then you can just make all the villains go to sleep and no one would have to fight!”

that makes a laugh bubble up in your chest, and another one at your next thought. “i got my quirk first. before katsu-chan.”

he shoves you in response, and izu-chan scrambles to his feet to run before katsu-chan can get to him, yelling, “kacchan! i didn’t even say it!”

“but you laughed, idiot!”

—

it’s quiet, without izu-chan there; katsu-chan had stopped inviting him to sleepovers a few months ago. it’s also only just after dinner, but you’re so tired, yawning through the movie you’re watching with auntie mitsuki and uncle masaru. you slump against katsu-chan, who huffs - he’s always doing that - but doesn’t move.

the credits roll and uncle masaru turns the tv off as auntie mitsuki picks you up. your head lolls against her shoulder and you’re vaguely aware of katsu-chan grabbing her other hand and looking up at you. “how come [first name] gets to be carried, mom?”

auntie mitsuki shifts her grip on you as she carries you toward katsu-chan’s room. “because i can’t carry you both, kiddo, and she’s sleepier than you. besides, you gotta let other people have a turn, right? being a hero is also about being fair.”

katsu-chan frowns but doesn’t say anything else.

aunty mitsuki sets you down on katsu-chan’s bed, and after he climbs in, she tucks both of you in, kisses you on the forehead, and turns off the light. you sink into the blankets, eyes slipping closed.

“are you awake?” katsu-chan whispers.

“yeah,” you sigh, quite content to go to sleep. “why?”

he grabs your hand and sits up. “sleeping is boring and stupid. wanna read some all might comics?”

you yawn, “mmkay. but we gotta be quiet, otherwise your mom will come in and make us go to sleep.”

“of course, dummy.” he crawls to the edge of the bed and swipes a flashlight off the table, along with the comic at the top of the stack.

you sit up, rubbing your eyes, and he sits next to you, pulling the blanket with him so you can both hide under it. “this way, she won’t know we’re awake.” he flicks the flashlight on.

katsu-chan reads the comic to you, slow and stilting, but you can’t read anyway, so it’s still impressive. you don’t even notice you’re falling asleep until you blink awake, head resting on katsu-chan’s shoulder. he turns the page.

“katsu-chan,” you hiss, lifting your head back up.

“huh?” he glances up at you from the comic.

“can we go to bed? my eyes hurt.” they sting, and your limbs feel really heavy.

he turns off the flashlight and puts it and the comic back on the nightstand, after struggling to get the blanket off of his head. you lay down and he pulls the blanket over both of you. you stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling.

“thanks.”

“don’t thank me, stupid.”

—

the first time it happens, you’re playing heroes. mom is hiding under a blanket fort on the floor as you two burst into the room, capes (towels) tied around your shoulders. “save me!” she calls, voice tipping up with laughter.

“the heroes are here! we’re gonna save you!” katsuki crows, rushing forward. he hears a thump behind him and turns around, ready to get out of the way (catch you) if you’ve tripped. you’re completely limp and already on the ground, arms and legs sprawled out, face down.

katsuki sighs. “did you trip on your cape? now we’re gonna have to go back out and come back again!”

no response.

mom kneels next to you, shaking your shoulder. “[first name], are you hurt? what’s wrong?” you don’t move, and mom picks you up and lays you on the couch. she presses her hand to your neck and relaxes after a few seconds.

“katsuki, you stay right here, watch [first name]. come get me if anything happens. i’m going to go get my phone and call her mom and the doctor.”

she rushes out of the room, and katsuki looks over at your still form. he sits down next to the couch. “what did you do this time, stupid? hah? did you hit your head? why are you asleep?”

normally he’d jab your arm or shove you and tell you to get up, but something feels wrong. mom is worried, and she never gets worried; katsuki is strong enough that she doesn’t have to. he thought you were strong too.

mom rushes back into the room, phone in hand. “okay, seki, i’ll call the hospital. i thought it might be a side effect of her quirk, but if the doctor didn’t say anything about it at the time, i don’t know what to do. i’ll call you as soon as we get there. call me if you think of anything else.”

she hangs up and turns to katsuki. “go grab your backpack, okay, brat? and bring some comics or a coloring book. it might be a while. then come meet me back here.”

katsuki nods and runs for his room. he packs some all might comics, and that gang orca one that [first name] really likes, for whatever dumb reason. and her favorite colored pencils, and the coloring book she brought. he meets mom in the living room, but [first name] isn’t there.

he opens his mouth to ask, but mom beats him to it (he needs to get faster). “she’s in the car. we gotta go, brat.”

they wait in the hospital while the doctors look at [first name], and katsuki doesn’t feel like reading his comics. he tries reading the gang orca one, but it makes him sad for some reason, so he puts it back in his bag and waits with his mom, kicking his legs as he sits on the chair.

“i wanna go see her.”

“sorry, brat, but we have to wait.” she smiles at him and pets his hair, but it’s not the same as usual.

both of them jerk up at the sound of rapidly clicking heels. auntie seki rushes down the hall and past them, throwing a quick “thank you” to mom, and into the hospital room where [first name] is.

katsuki keeps kicking his legs as they wait. it feels like forever, and the hallway is boring - there’s nothing to do.

auntie seki comes back out of the room, crying, hand clapped over her mouth, and katsuki wishes the hallway had stayed boring. she sits down hard in the chair next to mom. “they said she’s reached quirk singularity.”

katsuki pulls a comic out of his backpack and flips through it so he can pretend he’s not listening.

“her quirk is slowly putting her to sleep. she won’t be able to stay awake, it’s like some awful form of narcolepsy, mitsuki. one day she’s just not going to wake up.” auntie seki curls in on herself, sobbing as mom hugs her.

the comic explodes in katsuki’s hands.

katsuki shoves deku harder in the hallways, yells at him louder, makes the explosions in his hands bigger and brighter. you’re not at school anymore, not since you kept falling asleep during the sixth grade and subsequently broke your arm as you fell down the stairs. the extras follow him around, but school is so boring without you, and working with people other than his best friend on projects is annoying as fuck.

still, he can at least hangout with you after school, even if he has to be bored all day. even if some days he just sits in your room for hours, working on homework while you sleep. he knocks on the door to your house, just like he does every day, and auntie seki answers.

“come in, katsuki! [first name] is upstairs.”

he takes his shoes off in the genkan, out of respect for auntie seki and you, and because getting dirt on the floor is pointless. “thanks, auntie seki.”

she just waves at him and goes back to her laptop.

he trudges down the hallway, careful not to hit any of the pictures with his backpack, and sticks his head through the partially open door at the end. “sleepyhead? you awake?”

you smile at him from your floor, where you’re sitting against your bed, working on some assignment. “yup, i’m awake! it’s broad daylight, ya know, and i’ve got homework. i can’t afford to be sleeping.”

you’re awake, and you haven’t been much, lately. something tight in his chest loosens a little bit.

“good, because i brought the math homework, and you better have looked at the slides from today’s lesson.” he swings his backpack off and plops down on the floor across from you. (your head on his shoulder isn’t something he wants, not anymore, not after that day).

you put your assignment down, sprawling your legs out across the floor. “you want to study? really? there’s much better things to do, like going to see that new hero exhibit at the museum.”

“we have to study, the UA entrance exam is in two weeks, stupid.” katsuki rolls his eyes and rifles through his math folder so he can give you this week’s problems.

“oh, come on. you’re going to be fine, and i’m not taking it anyways, so let’s just go.” you kick at his leg lightly.

he has to take a deep breath when you say you’re not taking the exam. it’s stupid, he knows you’re not taking it, he knows why - falling asleep during the practical exam could easily get you killed, let alone in the middle of a battle as a pro-hero - but it still feels like he’s just stepped off a ledge and there’s nothing but air underneath him. you were supposed to do this together, and it’s fucking not right that you aren’t coming with him.

katsuki looks up at you, at the bright, hopeful expression on your face, at your stupid, red-rimmed eyes and shitty eyebags the size of jupiter and the way your frame droops, exhausted. he looks at you and thinks about how you look when you’re asleep, and how much he hates it, how dead and silent and cold you look. he looks at you and thinks of the hospital bed with your name on it. he looks at you and thinks she’s awake, and what if that never happens again.

“fine, let’s go.”

—

the museum is interesting, there’s an exhibit on gang orca, and he knows that’s the real reason you wanted to go - he’s always been your favorite. there isn’t one on all might, but that’s fine, because by the time you get through the gang orca one, you’re stumbling on your feet and blinking slowly. he tries not to think about the fact that you probably came here with deku on the weekend - you still talk to that nerd, and he has no idea why.

katsuki just grabs your hand and leads you home.

you’re stopped at a crosswalk, watching the cars rush by, when you feel your eyes start to shut, and the world around you start to blur. “kashki…” you slur, and the only thing that stops you from falling, limp, into oncoming traffic, is how quickly he pulls you close to him.

his heart races, banging against his ribs, panicked and lashing out, and his hands shake as he clutches you against him. you’re complete deadweight in his arms, dead to the world, so close to dead. his chest collapses in on itself, because you don’t normally fall asleep standing up and with people around, the stair incident had been when you were alone and everything is just getting worse.

katsuki holds you, and his legs shake and he can’t breathe and he just hopes to god you wake up. some horrifying, awful part of him, one he wants to tear out and blow to pieces, reminds him that this is practice. this is practice for when his best friend falls asleep forever and leaves him all alone. this is practice.

he growls and shoves the thought away, digging his phone out of his pocket. he needs to call auntie seki.

—

he should never have agreed to go to the museum. if you had both stayed in your room, just worked on the math homework and the stupid fucking powerpoint slides, this wouldn’t have happened. you would’ve just fallen asleep in your room, and he would’ve tucked you the fuck in and sat by your side and did his stupid fucking homework and you wouldn’t be in the stupid fucking hospital.

maybe she would’ve been there anyways, a part of his mind whispers, reminding him that you’d been asleep for three days before you’d woken up. that was too long, and now you were in the hospital, always under watch.

he steps onto the train, heading home after visiting you when you’d woken up, and he sits as far in the back as he can. talking to people sounds awful right now.

it hits him like a tsunami, overwhelming, drowning him. throwing him around like a rag doll.

you, asleep, an iv in your hand, still and cold and asleep and dead, so very close to dead, in that hospital room. the crisp sheets, the hospital gown, the seafoam green privacy curtain, the dull drone of the tv, the smell of bleach.

he put your stupid gang orca comic next to your bed, so that if you woke up in the night and no one was there, you would know that he visited, that it wasn’t just your mother who had shown up.

the get well soon cards, pointless and bright and glittery. the balloons, the flowers, the heroes visiting the children’s ward.

he got gang orca to sign the comic, but you didn’t get to meet him.

the fish tanks in the waiting rooms, the toys scattered on the floor by visiting children, the whiteboard above your bed, covered in dry erase marker.

he wrote your name after the nurse spelled it wrong. he wrote it in orange.

the beeping of the machines, incessant, the texts on your phone from deku and the other extras, their stupid messages and wishes and hopes that are stupid because they’ll never come true. his stupid wishes and hopes that will never come true.

he hates the color white, he hates stainless steel and he hates iv bags and he hates bedsheets and he hates hospital gowns and he hates drugstore cards and he hates the story of sleeping beauty and he hates quirks and he hates that he can’t fix this and he hates that he’s been grieving you since childhood and he hates that he’s grieving you even as you live and he hates and he hates and he hates and he buries his face in his hands and sobs all the way home.

—

after the exam, he confronts deku, nearly blows his face off, slams him into the wall, wants to beat the shit out of him. because it should’ve been you at the exam, it should’ve been you. stupid quirkless deku got a quirk that hurts him and it makes something inside him scream and thrash. it should’ve been you, you were supposed to go to UA with him, not deku. it’s stupid and it doesn’t make any sense and he hates deku regardless. he punches deku. it doesn’t help. he does it anyway.

—

katsuki’s shoulders ache. his palms are burning. he’s been training excessively ever since the entrance exam, just waiting for the results. the hospital air is cool and sterile, and it should soothe his injuries, in theory, but theory really doesn’t apply here. he shoulders his way into your hospital room, a smile tugging at his lips. it threatens to turn into a full-blown grin when he sees that you’re awake.

“hey, sleepyhead.” he sits in the chair next to your bed and sets his bag down. “brought you something.”

“you didn’t have to, katsuki.” you smile at him from where you’re propped up against your pillows, weak and watery like winter sunlight. your skin looks paper thin, and when he takes your hand it feels like a bird’s skeleton, light, like it might fly away at any moment. he absently thinks of the lining of a coffin.

“of course i didn’t, stupid,” he huffs, and he’s glad that you smile a bit more. katsuki pulls a glass container out of his bag and hands it to you. “i figured you could use some actual food, since you have to eat this hospital crap all the time.”

your wrist strains under the weight of the glass and you set it down too quickly. he pretends not to notice. you pry the lid open, and light up at what’s inside. “tamagoyaki? you always did make this better than even my mom could.”

katsuki feels his chest warm, and maybe his face. he hands you a pair of chopsticks and sits in silence as you eat.

“you know,” you say around a mouthful of omelette, “you don’t have to pretend you didn’t come here to tell me that you got in.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, and looks away, like always. “i come here everyday, who says i came here today with an objective.”

“because today is the day they give the results back, and you took longer to get here, so you probably stopped at home to pick the letter up.” you point at him with your chopsticks, which is rude, but he can handle it. “you told me it would be today, so i had to make sure i was awake. that’s why i was asleep the last few times you came. i purposefully went to sleep a few days ago so that i could be awake when you needed me.”

he keeps looking away, out the window, because he doesn’t want you to see the way his stupid, traitorous eyes are watering.

he must’ve been quiet for too long, because you set the container down and give him a pointed look. “you gonna tell me or not, you big crybaby?”

katsuki snaps his head around. “who are you calling a crybaby? you cried when shitty deku fell three feet out of a glorified bush.”

your laugh makes the warmth in his chest glow brighter. “don’t redirect the conversation, just tell me you got in.”

“fine, i got in, happy?”

he realizes his mistake when you relax back against your pillows and just laugh at him. he sits through it, watching as you wipe tears from your eyes and curl in on yourself, apparently absolutely tickled by his reaction. he taps his foot and crosses his arms, “you done?”

the beaming smile you send his way crushes any irritation he feels. “very.”

—

as he stands on the first place podium, growling and snarling into the muzzle, all might placing the medal around his neck, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. it’s you or his parents or your mom, because everyone else is on do not disturb, and he hopes with every bone in his body that it’s not a call he wants to avoid, not one that will send him rushing to the hospital for all the wrong reasons.

the ceremony ends, they release him, and the first thing he does is check his phone. “teenagers,” someone scoffs, and he almost blows up the phone in his hand. but he doesn’t, because he’s calling you back, grateful that it wasn’t his parents or auntie seki.

“katsuki?”

“who else.”

“you won!! they played it in the common room and i watched and you were amazing!”

he’s so glad you didn’t bring up the podium thing, but he knows you’ll want to talk about it when he gets there. he just hopes you can stay awake that long.

“i’m always amazing, sleepyhead.”

“yeah, but even you can admit it’s nice to have it acknowledged, publicly, by your dream school.”

“yeah, by my dream school.” by you.

—

he has two tickets to the i-island convention. he knows you’d want to go more than anything, but you’ve been asleep for a week, and the convention is timed to be when you’ll most likely be asleep again. he has those days marked on his calendars with a blue x. every single one feels like a nail in a coffin - yours or his, he’s not sure.

katsuki holds your hand - he doesn’t have to be careful of the iv anymore, since you have a port in your chest - and kisses the back of it. “sorry, sleeping beauty,” he mutters to himself, bitter. he hates sleeping beauty. she left everyone behind. “you can’t go. just me.”

he leaves the ticket on your bedside table anyway. there are no get well soon cards anymore.

—

katsuki bolts upright, sweating, shaking, panicking as he twists in his sheets and falls out of bed in his attempt to escape. the landing knocks him back to the present, and he just lays there, terrified and exhausted, tangled in his bedding, thinking of summer camp and warping and quirk suppressing handcuffs and villainy and he wishes, he wishes you were there to hold his hand and hide under the blankets.

katsuki curls up and cries into your stupid gang orca plush. he has a lot of reasons to be having nightmares and to be crying on the floor in the middle of the night, but it would be easier, maybe, if he didn’t have to do it without you. if he didn’t have to face the reality that he will be doing this alone for the rest of his life.

this is practice, he reminds himself, trembling. this is practice.

he’s never hated being prepared this much in his life.

—

katsuki skids into your hospital room, bag nearly flying off his shoulder in the process. he sprinted here from the train station; you’re finally awake, the hospital called, it’s been weeks, and even though he visits every day at the same time on the same train, he had to get here faster, just in case. just in case it was the last time.

you’re dazed, blinking at him groggily, lying on your side. “katsuki?”

he sits down and scoots the chair closer to your bed. he has no idea what kind of person could stand to sit that damn far away from you.

“i think ‘m dreaming. it doesn’t feel like time is passing anymore. and you were gone for a few days. saw it on the news. but it was crazy,” you try to gesture, still half asleep, but only succeed in gently shifting the quilt on top of you. “they said you were kidnapped.”

he nods, swallows, mouth suddenly dry. “yeah.” he wonders if you’ll remember this.

you squint, “no. you were supposed to be safe. at camp, mm?”

“it wasn’t fucking safe,” he snaps, and he has no idea why. thankfully, your barely-lucid state insulates you from that, and he doesn’t have to see the hurt look on your face.

“‘m sorry. i should’ve been awake.” nevermind, you do look hurt, you’re practically crying. crybaby, he thinks, without any bite. quite disgustingly fondly, actually.

“what the hell do you mean, stupid?” he pushes your hair back from your forehead. he flicks your forehead, as an afterthought; can’t seem too soft.

“said i’d make sure i was awake when you needed me. wasn’t.”

“that wasn’t scheduled. how the hell would you know?”

you shrug, and it looks ridiculous, since you’re half-asleep and lying on your side. a few seconds later you smile dopiley at him, and reach out to cup his jaw.

katsuki doesn’t dare move, straining his eyes to stare at your hand. your fingers feel frail against his face.

“wanna sleep in the same bed, like when we were kids?”

his cheeks heat up, you can probably feel it with your hand there, but fuck him if he’s going to move. “idiot,” he says, and climbs into bed behind you. you’re warm and solid against his chest, and when he wraps his arms around you he feels his chest tighten, like he’s going to cry. he’s not. he won’t.

you still against him, and he knows your time is up for this time around, that you’re falling asleep. he’s spent so much time around you when you’re asleep, he knows what your breathing sounds like, knows it better than what you sound like when you’re awake. right before you drift off, he hears you murmur, “love you, katsuki.”

he does cry, into the skin between your boney shoulder blades, where the hospital gown doesn’t quite cover, and where there’s only skin and bone because you’re asleep too often to get anything more than iv fluid. he cries, and he cries, and he cries until he falls asleep.

—

he visits after he fails the provisional license exam. you’re asleep. this was when you told him you’d try to be awake, this was why you’d slept for a month, so that he could come back and tell you all about how he crushed the exam.

but you’re still, nothing but your quiet, even breathing, and the beeping of the machines. your iv bag hangs faithfully by your side, a constant companion. you’re slowly being erased from existence. he wants to say he’s proud of you, for fighting so hard. for fighting a losing battle. but it’s too late, and he’s not proud, he just thinks his stomach got left behind on the train. the room smells like disinfectant.

katsuki crawls into bed and spoons you, like that’ll keep him from falling apart. he’s breaking into millions of pieces, because he needs you, and you’re not there, and you’ve been dying for years, and he can feel himself dying with you.

he’s hoarse from crying when he says, to the space between your shoulder blades, lips on your skin, “please, please come back.”

the beeping machines and your soft, lifeless breaths answer him.

—

katsuki folds omelette in half, re-greases the pan with an oiled paper towel on the end of his chopsticks, and pours more of the egg mixture into the pan.

“yeah, it was wild, man, one of the other interns got shot, apparently. he lived though, don’t worry!” kirishima waves his hands, like katsuki has the capacity to worry right now. he feels numb, everything is just echoing around him.

“hmm.” he says, poking the omelette with his spatula. he’s making your favorite. even if you can’t eat it. even if he won’t eat it. even if he’ll just give it to the extras, even if it feels like giving a piece of you away.

“he lost his quirk, though. sucks, cause he was going to be an amazing hero.” he bumps katsuki’s shoulder, obviously realizing he’s a bit out of it and trying to get him to respond. “not as good as you though, bro!”

katsuki watches the omelette bubble and solidify. almost time to flip it again. he just wants to lie in your hospital bed with you and sleep forever.

wait. lost his quirk. katsuki nearly flings the spatula into the ceiling tiles. “he what?”

“lost his quirk,” denki helpfully supplies from his seat at the kitchen counter, scribbling furiously at his math homework. “gone. zilp. zich. nada. completely disappeared. terrifying if you ask me.”

jiro wacks him with an earphone jack. “don’t be rude, denki.”

katsuki starts the next layer of the omelette, and he’s not paying attention, but it’s fine. he could do this in his sleep. he’s made hundreds of tamagoyaki for you and your stupid breakfast food sweet tooth. “he lost his quirk. permanently.”

“yes,” kirishima confirms, looking at him weird, like he’s a loose canon or something.

“how.”

“he got shot with a quirk-removing bullet. there was some kind of needle in it.”

“does anyone here know how to make tamagoyaki.”

all of them shake their heads.

fuck the omelette. katsuki sprints for the door, racing across campus, feet pounding against the gravel path as he tears toward the teachers’ dorms. he’s running so hard that he forgets he could’ve used his quirk to get there faster until he’s standing in front of aizawa’s apartment door, banging on it.

“aizawa-sensei! open up, right the fuck now! i don’t care if you’re sleeping, this is a goddamn emergency!”

the door swings open, and present mic is standing there. “jeez, you yell louder than i do, little listener.”

“i need to talk to aizawa sensei. it’s an emergency,” he pauses, “please.”

present mic steps back, ushering him in, and katsuki dashes inside, fuck taking his shoes off, and makes a beeline for the couch that aizawa is napping on. “aizawa-sensei. it’s an emergency.”

“so you keep saying, problem child.” he cracks an eye open. “what’s on fire?”

katsuki bulldozes through aizawa’s banter. “the quirk-removing bullets. are there more.”

aizawa sighs and opens his other eye. “yes, but why do you want them?”

“could they be used on someone who has reached the point of quirk singularity?” he doesn’t care about what aizawa’s asking.

aizawa sits up. “you know someone whose quirk is killing them?”

katsuki nods, hope unfurling its wings in his chest. maybe. just maybe.

“you can talk to the police about it - they’ve confiscated the bullets. but logically, using them on people who actually need them… is better than allowing them to continue to exist and potentially fall into the hands of villains.”

he cries in the middle of aizawa and present mic’s living room, thinking of hospital beds turned coffins, pulling the plug, the mausoleum of your hospital room, a crypt from the very beginning; thinking of you, awake; thinking of you, just you.

mic offers him tea. he accepts it, and prays he’ll have to make another tamagoyaki.

—

it takes a year and a half to get it approved, and he’s made so many tamagoyaki in the past week that his classmates are starting to wonder if he can still make anything else. he can’t focus in class, mind floating off into the clouds, into his childhood with you, heroes “daydream” and “dynamight,” all might comics and gang orca plushes.

he runs to the train station after class, even though it won’t make the train he’s taking arrive sooner or go any faster.

katsuki hurtles into your hospital room at breakneck speed, and they’re all there. his parents, your mom. deku crashes into his back. katsuki ignores that - he’ll talk to stupid shitty deku later. he sits in his usual spot - they left the chair open for him, and he holds your hand. it’s so frail that he’s half afraid it’ll disintegrate when he laces his fingers between yours. it doesn’t.

the nurse is holding a syringe full of whatever they extracted from the bullet, and there’s a clipboard on the bedside table with your mom’s signature. there’s a gang orca keychain next to it - probably deku’s doing. whatever.

the nurse uses the port in your chest - another thing katsuki hates, if only because it reminds him of your stupid, haunting iv bag - to inject the fluid. “based on what we saw with others who have had this done to them, unwillingly, her quirk should be removed instantly. she may not wake up for a few days, though. we’ll be monitoring her closely.” she leaves.

katsuki stays, deku stays, they all stay.

—

he brought the tamagoyaki, but he’s not going to eat it, no way, even if he has to eat terrible, bland, flavorless hospital food, he’s keeping that omelette safe for you if it’s the last thing he does. deku slides onto the hospital cafeteria bench across from him, looking at his rather dismal katsudon bowl.

“i visited her too, you know.”

katsuki grunts.

“i only came when you weren’t here, though. i didn’t want to intrude.” deku’s looking at his plate, flipping a piece of pork around with his chopsticks.

“good,” is all he can think to say. good that you visited her, deku. good that you stayed away when i was there. good that you know she’s mine.

“you look like you’re having an aneurysm, kacchan.”

“fuck you.” thank you, for caring about her. she needs it. even if you suck.

“aw, you too kacchan.”

—

he’s reading howl’s moving castle by your bedside when it happens. it’s been two days, and he can’t stand the idea that it didn’t work. that you might as well be dead. he’s staring at the book’s pages - it’s good, and he can see why you liked it so much, why you wanted him to read it. but he’s been staring at the same page for the last ten minutes, thinking in circles. maybe it’s time for a walk.

he puts his bookmark back and sets the book on your bedside table. his legs are restless as he stretches and puts his jacket on, ready for a walk around the hospital campus. the autumn colors should be nice. just a quick walk, though. he needs to be back soon, since everyone else went home to eat while he stayed - he’ll leave later, when they get back - and he can’t think of anything worse than you waking up alone. he takes your ratty, old, tear-stained gang orca plush, and tucks it in next to you, so you’ll know that he’s not far off.

satisfied, katsuki steps out the door, and trips over himself trying to turn around when he hears a groggy “leaving so soon, katsu-chan?”

it takes every ounce of self-control in his body not to launch himself at you and hug you until your ribs crack. he settles for helping you sit up.

“so, what day is it? what did i miss?”

katsuki’s self control buckles, and he crawls into bed with you and buries his face in your shoulder, arms shaking as they wrap around you.

“you were asleep for over a year and a half,” he chokes out, muffled by the awful, terrible, funeral-pyre hospital gown, as you hug him back. “and we had to take your quirk away to wake you up.”

you’re silent for a few seconds. he figures he wouldn’t know how to respond to that either.

“i’m glad that you found a way. i was getting scared for a second there, scared i might leave you alone.” your hands fist in his sweatshirt, and your voice clips at the end.

“but you didn’t. you’re here, right now, when i need you, like you said you would be,” katsuki grits his teeth and does his best not to cry on you while you’re awake. you’re the crybaby, that’s your job.

you sniffle, and he can feel your tears tickling his neck. “do you think,” you half-sob, half-laugh, sounding a bit hysterical, “do you think they have a new hero exhibit at the museum?”

“it’s gonna be a while before you can do anything again, all your muscle has atrophied the fuck off.” he feels you laugh against him, and he wants to feel that every day for the rest of his life, no more even breathing, just that volatility, a sign of life, that you’re not loitering on death’s doorstep. “but i can take you as soon as you’re clear to leave. i’ll wheel you around.”

you throw a curveball at him, like you always do. “is that a date, katsuki?”

“it’s always been a date, stupid. you just didn’t know it.” he throws the curveball back.

you run your hand through his hair, your arm shaking with the effort of holding your own bones up; it haunts him, this isn’t over yet. “and it took you this long and me nearly dying for you to ask me on a real one, huh?”

“shut up,” he growls, but it comes out feeble and useless against your laugh. you sit in silence for a few moments, just holding each other.

you clear your throat, and he can see in his mind the way you’re probably blinking back tears. “you know, i love you, katsuki.”

he hugs you crushingly tight and kisses you lightly, gently, because he’s afraid you’re going to disappear again. “i love you too,” his mind races for some kind of qualifier, “and you’d be stupid not to know it.”

“i know it, crybaby. i know it.” your hand on his jaw again, so much better when you don’t think he’s some piece of a dream.

“you can drop the cry.” it flies out of his mouth before he even realizes it.

you laugh again, then cough, and he hands you some water from the table. there are get well soon cards there, and this time they actually mean something. he doesn’t want to burn them quite as much.

you set the paper cup down and kiss him on the cheek. “thanks, baby.”

he doesn’t care what you call him. you’re crybaby, you’re sleepyhead, you’re stupid, you’re idiot, and you’re awake and you’re his. everything else can go to hell.

Life cycle of our Sun, from beginning to end~

“i’m going to kill you” gf and “ok kiss me” bf

vitiligo notes for artists

I’ve noticed that vitiligo has been becoming more common in art, and I think that’s really cool! But as a person with vitiligo, and an artist, there are few mistakes I’ve noticed in people’s portrayal of the condition that I wanna address. 

1. It’s not random. Vitiligo tends to appear more often in specific places, like around the mouth or eyes, the belly button, as well as on the hands and feet. It also tends to be at least a little bit symmetrical.

2. It doesn’t change your eye color. However in some cases it can cause patches of hair to turn white or blonde. 

3. It changes over time. As a kid I had tons of vitiligo spots on my feet and legs, but they eventually faded. For a long time I didn’t have any until I developed a spot above my right eye about a year ago. So if you’re portraying a character at different points in their life, their vitiligo should change too. 

4. All skin colors can have vitiligo. I’ve noticed on Picrew and other character maker games vitiligo will sometimes only be an option for characters with dark skin. Obviously it won’t be as obvious on light skin, but unless your character is a person with albinism it should still show up. 

that’s all I’ve got for now, if I think of more I might make another post :)

‘ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨 𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐟 ? ’

a/n : drabble post and an attempt on a new format !! hope you all enjoy this one and are doing well in general !! take care of yourself !!

characters : megumi // yuji // satoru

word count : 620

tags // warnings : fluff, so much fluff, angst if you squint, but overall short and sweet // suggestive themes, slight cussing

nobara, maki, inumaki & yuuta - nanami, geto & toji

{ 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 }

dude,,,,this boy has a whole playlist with songs that remind him of you

he listens to it when he misses you or just thinks of you

it’s honestly just so many slow love songs

but only one song in that playlist reminded him of you instantly at the first listen

wasteland, baby! by hozier

‘really, why?’

‘i don’t know. i found the song around the time that i was…falling in love with you. it’s just- it’s everything i ever felt when falling for you. and i guess the song reminds me of you cause it reminds me of the feeling when i’m with you...’

please just let him ramble on it’s so endearing and he could literally go on for hours

the way the song compares love to a apocalyptic earth is the exact way he feels about love

it’s scary, but it’s you

it’s you who he’s with in that apocalypse

and god, he’s so in love with you

lyric that he loves the most : All the things yet to come are the things that have passed // Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass

{ 𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢 𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢 }

another boy that has an entire playlist for you

a lot of cheesy shit, but there is one that stands out within the genres

lovesong by the cure

‘wait, what? really?’

‘yup.’

‘out of all these cheesy songs, this one reminds you of me?’

‘yeah. because i love you. wherever i may go, however far we’re apart. i love you, so much. i…i know my time- our time together is so limited and short, but that will only motivate me to love you the most i possibly can. because you mean the world to me.’

he’s so pure, i give up

it’s so cute and so genuine, you’ll probably cry

lots and lots and lots of kisses afterwards!!!

lyric that he loves the most : However long I stay I will always love you // Whatever words I say I will always love you

{ 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 }

he told you he doesn’t have a playlist and he’s technically not lying

he just likes songs on his spotify and listens to the liked songs playlist

i’m serious

this man doesn’t save albums or artists

his spotify is such a mess it’s embarrassing

if you asked this question on the spot he would say sky by playboi carti just to fuck with you

‘get the fuck out of here, satoru!’

‘hey! you should take it as a compliment, y/n! you’re not just a sex symbol, you’re my only-’

yeah no that was a well deserved punch in the face and laughing it off

but if you were serious about the question he’d say dark red by steve lacy

‘hm, didn’t see that one coming..’

‘why?’

‘isn’t that song about a guy overthinking shit about him and his girl? i just never thought you’d feel that way with me.’

oh honey, how you were so very much mistaken

he always wondered what the enchantment behind this song was

it was the person who he never wanted to lose, who he hoped would never leave, you

he would always think about you when listening to this song

‘i don’t know, my way of thinking, especially about you, just fits in it. because i don’t care how far i will have to travel, i will always come back to you. i just hope you do the same. out of everyone, i would want you to stay the most. and i hope for that every day.’

hug him. HUG. HIM.

lyric that he loves the most : Don't you give me up, please don't give up // On me Honey, I belong, with you, only you, baby