How have you been lately? How has 2018 treated you?
I’ve been pretty well. While some changes I tried to make to improve didn’t stick, others did. I’ve kept up a pretty healthy diet of spinach smoothies for breakfast (tastes so much better than it sounds, kind of like chocolate, but healthy), spring rolls or an apple for lunch, and really anything for dinner. I REALLY miss sugar though, I’m a complete sugar hound. I’ve been keeping up with exercise for my next class after break ends which involves running, but I still absolutely hate it. It’s so boring. I much prefer being inactive all curled up in a blanket with a book :)
I’ve made new friends, lost a few too. The ones I lost I don’t really miss anymore because once that bond is broken, it feels brighter without the extra trouble.
How has it treated you? It felt like a pretty long year, huh?
Sorry I’ve been so inactive. I haven’t had much motivation for writing on this blog lately, it’ll probably come back though
Instead of posting another fic, I figured it might be fun for some of y’all to ask me some questions. I’ll answer them, and you’ll be able to get to know me better. It’s come to my attention some people regard me as a bit of a mystery, which was fun, but I’m willing to be open now.
“You’d be surprised”, said Xaldien, who just lost four followers and received a lovely “men can’t be raped” anon shortly after reblogging this the first time.
Out of 19000+ followers I have, only one of you actually reblogged about this issue, yet a lot of you have reblogged and liked a picture by playboy about catcalling and that how men should never do it.
Additionally, I have received abuse in my ask box (which I will be answering when I can) and threats. In particular death threats and rape threats.
I can see the real problem here already. Male domestic violence and rape is just invisible in our society because we don’t want to talk about this because it just damages the status quo of this fucking website.
If you say they can’t be or this is a lie, then imma throw you into a trashcan, throw the trashcan into a rocket, and make the rocket go to another galaxy or universe.
Doesn’t matter the sex. Abuse is abuse. Pain is pain. We all have emotion. We all breath and live. We all need love. We all need help. Stay strong to those who are still in that situation. You can find a way out. Just keep pushing forward. @pastelsweetheartgirl @lillitheblogger @ihaileysenpai you should really see this post and help me reblog if ya don’t mind ^~^
I have a blog for HxH fanfics. It’s on a different site, but it’s an active blog.
https://www.quotev.com/pipedreamer
I have two stories up at the moment and I plan to add more. Check it out, you won’t be disappointed.
https://angelsquadthings.tumblr.com
I really love the angel characters from SPN. (Castiel, Lucifer, Gabriel, etc… The regulars.) And I want to do a blog for them too. Leave some requests if you want!
OKAY so since I haven’t been active I forgot my email for the https://angelsquadthings.tumblr.com account and moved to https://angelsquadstuff.tumblr.com instead. I have way too many emails so chances are I’ll never find it, so I made a new account instead. Sorry about that.
I have a blog for HxH fanfics. It’s on a different site, but it’s an active blog.
https://www.quotev.com/pipedreamer
I have two stories up at the moment and I plan to add more. Check it out, you won’t be disappointed.
https://angelsquadthings.tumblr.com
I really love the angel characters from SPN. (Castiel, Lucifer, Gabriel, etc... The regulars.) And I want to do a blog for them too. Leave some requests if you want!
Hi honey~, everything alright? I can request a scenario of reader being part of Bakusquad and being touchy with Kacchan, like hugging him or caressing his hair you know dndndnnd and also she follows him like a puppy! And finally she decides to confess to him... I hope you understand~ thanks!
Here you go!
Mina left to get construction paper. Kaminari and Kirishima were both arguing over the colors the presentation posters should be. Sero was looking for art supplies in the large school building, probably asking the support department for help. It was an afterschool project, some groups were in the hallway, some outside, but you were all in the classroom. Bakugou was at his desk, feet up and arms crossed over his chest. His face was set in a deep frown, eyes closed in irritation at the bickering behind him. You were seated next to him, having dragged a chair over to point at the different concepts you had sketched out. Even though his demeanor was shut off, you knew he was listening by the way he would nod at your points.
“And then so once we have the main paragraph and the sources links done, we can add in the decorative stickers so ours stands out more!” You finished, eyes glimmering with a competitive shine. When it came to group presentations, you were always determined to outdo every other group. It made you an asset for any assignment.
Bakugou was silent for a moment, but then he spoke. “What about the title?”
You flushed. You had completely forgotten about the title! “Right…”
You remained quiet for a moment, disappointed you would have to rearrange the formatting of the paragraph columns and the stickers laid out. Bakugou spoke again, opening his arms and reaching out an arm to point. “If we move the strategies box here, that can fit the title in along with everything else.”
“Oh. You’re right.” You blinked, then smiled. You looked to him cheerily, patting his shoulder. “Thanks!”
He merely tched and looked away.
The blonde stalked down the hall, hands shoved in his pockets and glowering at the passerby. School was out, and even though the crowd was thick, the other students still made sure to give Bakugou a five-foot radius of space. No one wanted to be the center of his rage. His footsteps were deliberate, each stomp making the weaker students flinch. However, mixed in with the fear was the confusion. He was attracting a lot of stares, but he acted as if he didn’t notice. Who were they to stare, anyway? He was obviously superior to them, they shouldn’t even dare glance in his direction. Despite his thought process, the stares kept multiplying. Why?
You had your arms hooked around his left one like a child. You had a bright grin on your face and you were talking to him about [ favorite book ]. Your pace was matched with his, and the thought that he was scary didn’t once cross your mind.
The contrast between the two of you amazed the others. While a threatening aura directed towards the others surrounded Bakugou, flowers seemed to radiate off of you. The other students couldn’t help but wonder how you hadn’t gotten shoved away. This was the third time this week they had seen you clinging to him like a lost puppy.
They did notice that whenever he looked down to see your animated explanations, his glower softened a fraction.
It wasn’t long after that you convinced him to start walking home with you. Sometimes he walked all the way to your gate, too. It became a habit for him to walk out a little later and let his eyes go to the large entrance to see you standing by the stone walls reading something. He even looked forward to it on some days when he was particularly irritated with Deku. You helped to smooth his feathers, so to speak.
This time, he saw you with your arms crossed on your chest, giving the ground a withering look. He raised a brow and noticed a group of boys and two girls walking away from you with smirks decorating their gross faces. His eyes swiveled back to your form, where you looked less pouty but more defeated than before. He briefly wondered why you hadn’t just beat them up using your quirk, but then remembered you were non-confrontational.
What a pain. He sighed.
Bakugou walked over to you. “Go home without me today.”
You blinked at him, some hurt and confusion showing in your eyes. “Alright?”
So you did, feeling rather lonely.
But when you came back the next day, the same students all had busted lips and black eyes. Oddly enough, Bakugou had detention too. You didn’t put the pieces together until later that day, and then you gave him an earful about starting fights.
“Katsuki!” You called, now referring to him by his first name, “Let’s be partners for the rescue scenario!”
Kirishima was about to tell you that he and Bakugou were already working together, but Bakugou shoved a hand in his face to cause Kirishima and Denki to collide. Bakugou gave you a smirk, “Alright. Are you sure you can carry me though? You’re pretty weak.”
You puffed your cheeks out. “My strengths lie in reflexes in speed! So I can just run really quickly with you!”
He shrugged, eager to see how this would play out. He gave you a shrug. “Prove it then.”
…
As soon as the whistle blew, you darted across the field with Bakugou in your arms. You were struggling with his weight, though. It wasn’t that he was fat, his muscle weight was the issue. It also didn’t help that the exercise required hero suits, and his gauntlets were difficult to hold up along with his body. You made it half-way through before meeting an enemy team, your eyes lighting up behind the goggles to paralyze them.
Sorry, class 1-B.
You were the fourth across the finish line, effectively proving you could fight and carry a hothead.
“Bakugou.” You said, giving him a hard look. “I like you a lot.”
Then you dropped him on the ground as your arms finally gave out, to his displeasure.
He never really responded to your declaration, but afterward, he made a point to be near you more often. He would meet you outside earlier, invite to you spar in the park, ask if you wanted to go the latest action movie, and he even managed to get first place in the second combat rescue training. He didn’t say much affection-wise out loud, but his actions were louder than his words could have ever been.
He even gave you piggyback rides in the hallway now, instead of just letting you kidnap his arm all the time.
Add me to the list of people that got emotional after reading "Je T'aime" fic because it was so goooood! Your writing is amazing👌 I'm a big fan🌟
Thank you so much! The support really means a lot. I’ve seen your art and it is extremely well done! I really love the mermaid AU one. I’m a fan of yours too. :)
villain Bakugou? like, the reader is a pro hero and he crashes a party she attends, taking her? idk what would happen from there..
Here you go!
Cool air rushed to meet your face as you stepped inside the kitchen to fetch more marshmallows. You brushed some loose hair behind your ear, grinning softly. It was a beautiful night to be celebrating the six month anniversary of becoming Pro Heroes. The moon was full, ivory, and glowing just as bright as your reflective [ color ] orbs. The catlike slits of your pupils filled out your irises as your gaze locked on the plump bag of marshmallows. The music outside was audible from inside, and you vaguely recognized it as Crooked Still’s cover of Little Sadie. You liked the interpretation of it, and your foot tapped to the beat as you used your nails to tear open the bag. You inhaled silently as the scent of powdery sugar reached your nose, thrilled to make s’mores with your comrades.
You grabbed some extra chocolate bars too and turned around just in time to see a bright flashlight up the yard. The sound was soft, like a car driving by, but the shockwave was like the recoil of a gun. It wisped by like a whisper by your ear as your senses were disoriented. You lost your balance as your ears oddly filled with the sensation of ringing. Your vision wouldn’t focus, and you had to blindly feel for the countertop to stand again. You felt nausea flood you and then drain away like a summer rainstorm.
Your quirk activated as you were finally recovered enough to process that this was a planned attack. Your hair lifted to the air, defying gravity as your reflective eyes lit up like a flashlight. You wished you had your specialized goggles, they helped regulate the glow of your eyes, thus giving you better opportunity to stay hidden. You would have to make do.
You were almost out the door when an explosion rocketed through the air, dirt, and embers spraying up into the haze of smoke. You covered your face as warmth and wind swept past, holding your breath. It smelled like fireworks and burnt plastic.
You heard your friends screaming and cussing.
You rushed out, eyes darting about wildly. Within the haze, you were quite the fearsome sight. Your fingers were clenched like claws, and your eyes burned like the gaze of a reptilian demon. “Where is the attacker?”
“[Y/N]!” You heard Uraraka cry out, and deactivated your quirk as you looked at her. A rough looking boy around your and your friends’ age had her with his smoldering palm at her temple. The split second of deactivation was all it took for him to detonate another explosion and punch you across the face.
You were falling before a hot hand grabbed you by the hair and pulled you back up. Another hand held up from under the arm and across your eyes, the fingers digging into your skin achingly. You winced as you heard a gritty chuckle by your ear, disappointed you were incapacitated that simply.
“I’m glad I got you out of the way first, Shutdown.” His tone was pleased. “With that quirk, you would give me a bit of trouble.”
“Let them go!” You heard Deku shout, his voice hoarse.
“Or what?” The ambusher asked coyly, “You’ll make me? Bring it.”
There was a second where you were released, and another whoosh rushed by you. This boy must have a quirk similar to grenades. This move he has, must be like stun grenades, except those are excruciating and deafening. Luckily, this flash was weaker, and you were able to recover after a few blinks and stumbles. There were multiple explosions as his shadow darted around, creating a cover with the smoke and flying dirt. The fire was long put out by the wind, but some embers still nestled in the ruined grass.
You reactivate your quirk, taking a defensive stand. You felt your back and Deku’s brush against each other lightly as you both teamed up. Everybody was out or groaning from injuries. You let your eyes shoot around, hoping to make accidental eye contact.
There were several moments of silence, just you and Deku breathing, waiting.
A darkness overtook the space at your face, and you looked up in time to move out of the way as another thunderous burst sent you and Deku flying. Deku was the first to stand, able to land a hit with his unique quirk. You tackled the attacker from behind, glancing down at his face but-
His eyes were closed.
How is he fighting with his eyes closed? You thought, a chill running down your spine at the villain’s preparation and combat skill.
In your moment of doubt and shock, he smirked deviously and threw himself back into the brick wall of the house. You grunted as your head smacked into the hard concrete, biting your cheek to deal with the pain. As vengeance, you kicked the back of his knee, causing him to stumble as he blocked blows and exchanged hits with Deku.
Deku was doing amazingly well, but you expected no less from All Might’s protege.
I wish my quirk was more combative. You thought desperately and you kicked again, catching the villain in the temple. He hissed and whipped around to catch your other leg, swinging you around to collide with Deku’s airborne body.
You both landed in a tangle of limbs, and you both locked eyes, both expressing fear to each other.
Oh shit, you realized too late, I just immobilized our only chance of winning.
“Deku!” You shouted, shaking his stiff shoulders in terror. “Deku!”
He tried to reply, but the guttural noise was caught in his throat. His eyes weren’t looking at you. They were looking behind-
A hand smacked you to the side, and you were pinned down with a knee. Your face was buried in the dirt, and it was near impossible to breathe.
“You know, [Y/N], I might just keep you around for shits and giggles.” The villain said, sounding rather pleased with the idea. “Who knows. Maybe you’ll come in handy one day.”
Hii can you do headcanons for Bakugou's s/o calling him "Kachaan" in a cute way and seductively ? Also the Je T'aime fic I c.r.i.e.d 😭♥️
Mixed feelings? Initially. Only Deku had ever called him that, and when it comes out of that obnoxious, fanboy mouth of his… It makes his blood boil.
But hearing from you, oh man, his heart skipped a beat. Or ten. He could feel the blood stop and rush in his temples, pulse at his neck.
“Kacchan.” You said it with a wink and a smile. Only you could look so cute like that, especially while calling him that blasted nickname.
HOLD ON WERE YOU MAKING FUN OF H-
No. You wouldn’t do that.
….right?
Anyways, at this point, his face is flushed. Why did you have to do this in public? It’s soooo gonna ruin his rep. King Explosion Murder doesn’t blush for anyone. Except you. Somehow, you give him those butterflies.
I’m probably not going to be writing soon. My grandpa passed away among other things and I’ve been studying up so I can fly up for the funeral while also maintaining grades. When it’s all said and done I’ll get writing again. Thanks.
hey hey hey!! can i please have Bakugou listening to his s/o singing (he can either catch s/o or them just singing to him) Je t'aime by Kelly Sweet? I just found the song and im in love :) thanks!!! (also, check out the song! its so peaceful~)
A/N: Here you go! Nice and angsty.
He’d been graduated for a few years now, aged some, and his heart had hardened. Since the first year at U.A., the entire class had experienced danger after danger, effectively shaping them into trained rescuers and merciless fighters. He had spent the past few years moving around the country, spot to spot, disaster to disaster, hotel to hotel, empty apartment to empty apartment, but nothing really seemed to completely occupy him anymore. His mom still called from time to time, her voice gentler than it had ever been. Sometimes he liked to pretend it was because they were both maturing, tempers finally reigning into a controlled heat, but other times he thought it was because she was afraid of what she had almost lost. After all, not every mother’s son goes through the worst graduation in all of Japan’s fine history.
His calloused hand set down his medium sized, worn black suitcase with the explosion iron-on stickers. The wheels had scratches from each flight, which always made them scrape along the floor instead of turning. Because of that, he had resorted to simply carrying it single armed. It only contained the bare essentials. Clothes, costume, hygienics, cellphone. He didn’t need much to survive, and that was all he was doing with his life. Survive, survive, survive.
His crimson eyes glances to the mirror lining the outdated room of the familiar apartment. It must have been built sometime in the seventies, he thought, he always thought that when entering this sacred space.
He looked worse for wear, with small scars boasting about his victories and battles. His hair was still the same pale lion’s fur hue, spikey and bristled. He was a little more tan from so much time spent outside training or patrolling. His shoulders were defined, broad, and rounded at the joints where his deltoid bulged. He had the body of a warrior, no fat, no softness. He had only hardened muscle and skin that had bled and healed countless times. His sleeping schedule was less organized than his junior high years, and the result was slightly pronounced darkened circles resting under his red gaze. His face, it had that same scowl on it, his teeth no longer bared in a ferocious smile.
[Y/N] would laugh at me if she could see me now. He grimaced, glancing away with a stinging feeling in his heart. She would tell me to go take a shower, and let her cook dinner. Then she would make me wash the dishes.
Instinctively, he glanced over to the tiny kitchen area, immaculately clean from the last time it had been entered. Then he noticed the thinnest layer of dust over everything. He would have to dust it, but the thought made his stomach clench, because he knew there would be no extra help. Not that he needed it. Perhaps it more due to the fact it was so… dead in here.
Like her.
“Je t’aime, je t’aime.”
Wryly, he smiled to himself. If he focused hard enough, he could still hear her soft singing. With a voice of a nightingale, [Y/N] was always able to make anything sound sweet. She had been sweet to him, and he always liked to reminiscence about those old, golden days of being a kid.
He could easily recall when they’d be sparring, and the sweat on her skin would make her look angelic in the sun. She wasn’t a student in the heroics course, but she always wanted to make a difference in the world. Her talent had lain in designing gear, and she was the one who came up with the concept of his refined grenade gauntlets. She would always ask to spar as an excuse to spend more time with him, under the pretense of wanting to see his costume in action. He knew she hated taking the hits, and once he felt like he knew her enough, he had started to go easier on her. Eventually, the sparring sessions devolved into just easy chatter, walking her home.
And every time she left the opportunity for him to make the move, the courage he always held in his chest, the eternal flame of his youth, died before he could make the move. The words of affection died before they fell from his lips, a curse of his rough nature.
“Thank you for walking me home, Bakugou.” You said softly, untangling the both of your hands, secretly relishing the feeling of his rough hands against your own.
“It was along the way.” He grunted, looking away from your peaceful gaze. He hated how you would look at him like that. So calm, unafraid of him. It always made him feel like you understood, maybe you did. It always left allure, like you knew things he never would, like you saw the world differently from everyone.
“I know.” Was your reply. It was the 34th time he had walked you home. You counted each time, and dreamt of these conversations. You had fallen hard for this unyielding, stubborn, and aggressive boy from the class 1-A.
You leaned up/down and gently, briefly, pressed your lips to his cheek, and ran inside the safety of your apartment before you saw his reaction.
Unbeknownst to you, he was staring bewildered at your fleeing form, hand touching his cheek. He couldn’t even yell expletives, he was speechless.
Even now, thinking about it, he felt your warm touch.
He was laying down on your bed now, technically his now, having bought the place. He couldn’t think of it as anything but yours though.
He closed his eyes, immediately plagued with the everlasting vision of the last hour of your life.
“Je t'aime, je t'aime toujour
I am forever yours.”
Your head was laying in his lap, blood leaking from your lip. Your eye was swollen, burnt, and tears were freely flowing from your glassy [eye color] gaze. They were locked on the grief-stricken crimson gaze of your best friend. Your voice, now wobbly, came out softly to him. It wasn’t the first time you sang to him, always this song, but you knew it was the last.
“Sweet dreams, sweet dreams mon cher
You’re always in my prayer.”
“Stop, [Y/N]. The paramedics are on their way.” He said roughly, squeezing unwanted tears from his eyes. The raw feeling of grief was hitting hard, knowing you weren’t going to make it. Everything he wanted to say was in his gaze, translated through the desperation, horror, and abandon in his watery stare. “Just hold on, please.”
Please, he begged.
“Softly, sweetly
Wrapped up in heaven’s arms.”
His hand cupped your cheek, his nose falling to touch yours.
All around you were flames, bodies, and pools of blood. His classmates were watching from the distance in sorrow for him, sympathetic, pitying. Some were even just as hurt as the civilian students they tried to save. There were so many casualties. The stadium was utterly destroyed. Beams had fallen, the ground was cracked, dust hung in the air. The flames cast a silvery gray orange light all around. In your stomach, a large shard of metal stuck through.
“Sailing, soaring over the moon
Gathering stardust.”
Don’t leave me. I need you.
“Be still, be safe, be sure
Je t'aime, je t'aime toujour.”
His lips wobbled with unsaid words, everything he’d been holding back threatening to break through.
“Wishing, praying, all of your dreams come true.” Your hands shakily reached up to his face, wiping away his tears. You found his hard to focus, but he strangely stayed clear in the middle of your fading vision. “Please remember, where'er you are my heart is with you.”
“[Y/N]!”
“Sweet dreams, sweet dreams mon cher
Always in my prayer.”
“Stay with me!”
“I am forever yours.” You paused to kiss him softly, then falling back. Your energy was fading fast. “Je t'aime… je t'aime….
…toujour.”
And by then, it was too late. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you. How much he loved the way your hair looked in the sun, under the moon. How bright you looked when you were focused, or laughing. How much he still wanted to walk you home, down the aisle.
“FUCK!” He screamed, his grip white on your hand.
The day he had always dreamed of, becoming a real hero, became his worst nightmare.
His hand slowly slid across the wetness on his cheeks. It was morning now. He felt heavy, but his lips felt lighter than ever.
To no one in particular, he murmured, “Hey [Y/N], I never got to say this ‘cause you made like a bitch and died, but.” He had to swallow. “I think I love you.”
Though he was alone, he could have sworn he heard your laughter, and that same, sweet, knowing:
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