things you forget

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@cheshirerabit said: Shit, your teacher Bakugou idea is something I never considered but now think would be really cool. Cuz he would not stop being a hero but he wouldn’t half-ass being a teacher so it would be like how All Might attempted to hero and teach but could actually work. Plus, I’m all for Bakugou’s role model switching with time to Aizawa. 10/10 idea.

Anon said: OMG Fran now i want to see Teacher or Older Bakugou or or Bakugou with Aizawa

Bless both of you for giving me a reason to talk about this cause honestly I love this idea way more than striktly necessary - this!!! is how I like to think it would go down:

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About Omegaverse

ALPHAS

·Alphas are the dominant or “masculine” ones in omegaverse

·They are generally large and at least slightly intimidating in appearance

·They possess what is commonly referred to as an “Alpha Voice” which is basically a very commanding tone that Omegas, and sometimes Betas, feel compelled to obey

·Alphas also have a “Croon” which is like a deep rumbling sound (basically a purr) that helps to calm or comfort their Omega or their pups

·"Ruts" are a biological thing that Alphas go through and during a rut they will be easily agitated and extremely horny because their body wants them to knot and breed

·A “Knot” is kind of like a bulb type thing in an Alpha’s penis that swells when they are aroused and keeps them locked inside their Omega during sex to increase chances of getting the Omega pregnant, this is called “Knotting”

·All Alphas are able to impregnate people, but only a female Alpha can get pregnant because male Alphas don’t have a womb

·Female Alphas are often described as having both a penis and a vagina or having a clitoris that extends into one when they are aroused so they can impregnate people

OMEGAS

·Omegas are the submissive or “feminine” ones of the dynamics

·They are generally small, maybe delicate, and feminine in appearance

·Omegas can use their pheromones to effect others, whether it be by calming their child or arousing their Alpha

·"Heats" are a biological thing that Omegas go through and during a heat an Omega will self lubricate (usually referred to as “Slick”) in order to prepare to take an Alphas knot

·Omegas are most fertile during heats and they crave an Alpha’s knot because their body is demanding for them to breed

·When an Omega is in heat is usually the best time for an Alpha to “Bond” with them

·"Bonding" is achieved by biting into a scent gland hard enough to draw blood and eventually scar, it ties two people together mentally, physically, and emotionally. Like, a really extreme marriage

·During heats, pregnancies or any other stressful times, an Omega will “Nest”

·"Nesting" is a process in which an Omega craves warmth and comfort so they will choose a small space, like a closet, and gather blankets, pillows, clothing, anything soft really and especially anything with their Alpha’s scent on it and build a nest to cuddle up in

·"Scenting" is the process of someone spreading their own unique scent onto things or people in an act of comfort or possession

·People in omegaverse usually have four “Scent Glands” two on the neck and one on each wrist. When the glands are stimulated their scent becomes more potent and sticks to whatever or whoever is closest

·Both male and female Omegas can get pregnant and while it is possible for a male Omega to get a female Omega pregnant, a female Omega can’t impregnate anyone

·"Mpreg" male pregnancy, the only males that can pregnant in omegaverse though are Omegas

BETAS

·Betas are basically like normal humans, in omegaverse they are below Alphas but still above Omegas

·Betas can have any kind of appearance, there isn’t really a set expectation for them

·They don’t go through ruts or heats but they can still bond

·They tend to mate with other Betas

·Betas usually have a better sense of smell than the other dynamics

·Like normal humans, male Betas cannot get pregnant and female Betas cannot impregnate anyone

I have a very fragile heart that constantly breaks at the thought of your arms around someone else.
—  Things I realized when I admitted that I’m not over you, part II

- Clean your backpack and organize your books, notebooks, laptop and study materials you will be needing for the week

- Clean your pencil pouch in case you have random things that have ended up there

- Meal prep- if this is something you don’t do at all, maybe see how it works for you for a week. If you are not a meal prepper, try setting aside the food you’ll have for breakfast the next day

- Clean your bedroom and study space- this will help clear your mind. Having a clutter-free space will relax you aswell

- Update your bujo/agenda with the upcoming events of the week- also, remember to re-write any tasks that you haven’t done from the previous week

- Make a to-do-list for Monday- categorize according to priorities. Also, try starting your list with a task you know you will easily accomplish, such as “eat breakfast”, so that you are motivated to keep on crossing tasks

- Work out- maybe go for a walk to breath some fresh air and fuel your brain with oxygen, or do whatever helps you move a little bit more than what you usually do during the weekdays

- Have a set beauty routine- paint your nails if that’s what you like, apply a hair or face mask, exfoliate your skin, have a bubble bath, or do whatever you know that will relax you and set you in a good mood

- Review your goals, short, medium, and long term- if you have not written any, this is a good time. It’s always a good thing to check your accomplishments and remind yourself of your future plans. This will help motivate you and will give you an extra boost of energy for the start of the week to keep yourself focused on working on your dreams

- Check the weather for the next day and prepare the clothes, makeup, perfume, etc, that you’ll be wearing for the week- having some extra time in the morning is always nice, as you don’t end up wasting 30 minutes of your time deciding what to wear (as it has happened to me plenty of times)

- Have a tray dedicated to store all the necessary things you can’t forget before leaving your house- gather all of them, such as your keys, your wallet, a water bottle or anything you know you will be needing and place them on the tray

- Water your plants- if you don’t have a set schedule for watering your plats, Sundays are the perfect days for that

- Empty your binders, notebooks or bag from lose pieces of paper and place them where they should be- this way you’ll make sure you’re not misplacing any important information that you might need in the future

- Check your fridge and pantry, make a grocery list and go shopping- by doing this, you’ll be certain that you won’t be running out of the foods you mostly eat in the middle of the week. If your grocery shop is located at a walking distance, you can take advantage of this and use that opportunity to breath fresh air

- Finally, have some time for yourself!- watch a movie, catch up on your favourite show, watch some youtube videos, read a book, write on your journal, play your favourite instrument, have some tea, or do whatever makes you happy. Taking care of yourself will never not be a productive thing to do.

Hope you have a wonderful week!

                                                                                             -TheLawStudy

here’s a little reminder for those times you mistake your own strength for something that you should not be proud of.
We are so strong, and we should be so proud.

When you get older, you notice your sheets are dirty. Sometimes, you do something about it. And sometimes, you read the front page of the newspaper and sometimes you floss and sometimes you stop biting your nails and sometimes you meet a friend for lunch. You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, 5 years ago. You remember your umbrella, you check up on people to see if they got home, you leave places early to go home and make toast. You stand by the toaster in your underwear and a big t-shirt, wondering if you should just turn in or watch one more hour of television. You laugh at different things. You stop laughing at other things. You think about old loves almost like they are in a museum. The socks, you notice, aren’t organized into pairs and you mentally make a note of it. You cover your mouth when you sneeze, reaching for the box of tissues you bought, contains aloe.

When you get older, you try toner, you experiment with trousers, you experiment with real sexy outfits, you experiment with pin curls and darker hair and orange-toned red lipstick and you date people that look good on paper. You kiss them in public and feel only a little self-conscious. You never like them, although sometimes you really do. you think about safe sex and sometimes, kids. You think about plants, maybe succulents, or maybe even a cat?

When you get older, you try different shampoos. You find one you like. You try sleeping early and spin class and jogging again. You try a book you almost read but couldn’t finish. You wrap yourself in the blankets of: familiar t-shirts, caffe au lait, dim tv light, texts with old friends or new people you really want to like and love you. You lose contact with friends from college, and only sometimes you think about it. When you do, it feels bad and almost bitter. You lose people, and when other people bring them up, you almost pretend like you know what they are doing. You try to stop touching your face and become invested in things like expensive salads and trying parsnips and saving up for a vacation you really want. You keep a spare pen in a drawer. You look at old pictures of yourself and they feel foreign and misleading. You forget things like: purchasing stamps, buying more butter, putting lotion on your elbows, calling your mother back. You learn things like balance: checkbooks, social life, work life, time to work out and time to enjoy yourself.

When you get older, you find things like rejection hurt less and things like nostalgia hurt more. You watch people do things you want to do, and then you do some of those things too. Things start to feel like pins on a map. You watch landmarks pass and almost note them. You eat a taco from a food truck and be careful to dab the corners of your mouth with a napkin. You smooth your shirt down. You think about details, the details of how clean the beer cup is, how you need to put the dishes away, how she smells like a perfume you wore and how his teeth are perfect and aligned. You feel a little less downtrodden by things like routine and security and a little more appreciative of things like doing nothing, finding a friend, stretching on a big couch. You hear old songs and only sometimes do they gut you. You think about your future almost always, in both a thrilling way and a very very panicked way.

When you get older, you find yourself more in control. You find your convictions appealing, you find you like your body more, you learn to take things in stride. You begin to crave respect and comfort and adventure, all at the same time. You lay in your bed, fearing death, just like you did.You pull lint off your shirt. You smile less and feel content more. You think about changing and then often, you do.

When you get older, you barely notice it at all. Then, you are sitting somewhere you’ve been before, staring at the nothingness of the sky, and you feel the wind moving away from you, fast and almost impossible to catch.

—  When You Get Older, thefrenemy

punsbulletsandpointythings  asked:

Your myth retellings are gorgeous. Would you tell another please? Maybe something with Hermes?

Pandora is made from earth, shaped by the hands of Hephaestus and made in the image of his beloved wife. Aphrodite gifts her with grace and charisma. Athena teaches her to weave and bestows cleverness upon her.

She stands in front of Hermes, and the god frowns and touches her with a single fingertip on her chin, moving her head one way than the other. “They’ll eat you alive,” he says, and she doesn’t understand.

She tilts her head to the side and smiles a vacant smile. All of the cleverness in the world will do her no good without any context. “We are the same,” she says, pressing a hand to Hermes’s chest. She is made from earth and has the skin to mach. He is a celestial god, and his skin is the same rich shade of brown.

He did not ask to be born any more than his mother asked to bare him. His creation, just like hers, is at the whims of Zeus. All for some little lost fire, all because Prometheus wanted his people to be warm, and, well, he is the god of the thieves after all –

So he gifts her with deceit, with selfishness, with cunning. Her smile leaves her face all at once as she’s filled with self-awareness. “He’ll be angry with you,” she says, “I am not what you were supposed to make.”

“Gods have short memories,” he says, and doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “Do not worry about me, gifted child. You have larger problems than my fate.”

He has turned her from something pure into – something more like him. Her face darkens even further as her perfectly crafted mind slots all the pieces together, and he can’t help but find her lovely. It’s how she was made, after all. “I can’t stop it, can I? Whatever they’re planning for me to do?”

“No,” Hermes says, “but now you might be able to survive it.”

“Will I want to?” she asks, and he doesn’t answer. She doesn’t expect him too.

~

She hides from everyone, lives in a cave at the edge of the city. The gods had called her the first woman, but that’s not true, she can see.

There are women. They smile and laugh have work roughened hands. She aches to join them, but she has the beauty of a goddess. They will know. If she joins them, they will know she is not of them, and it will set into motion whatever trap Zeus has planned.

She is not human, not in the same way, molded from clay by a god’s hands. But she is of humans, and not eager to bestow upon them the harm she’s destined to bring them. She bathes in streams where only nymphs reside, steals into the city in the cloak of night and pilfers from the baker’s trash.

“When they said they sent my brother a wife,” a low, amused voice says too close behind her one night, “I had not expected a begger.”

She whirls around, hard bread clenched tight in front of her, an incredibly inefficient shield. Her breath catches in her throat when she sees him, dark and tall and eyes like the night sky. He looks like Hermes. Like her. “Who are you?” she demands. They’re in an alley corner, and of her gifts flight is not among them. She’ll have to fight him to get away.

She’s not afraid of him. Maybe another mortal would be, cornered in the middle of the night by a man she doesn’t know. But she’s no normal mortal woman, and besides – he has something comforting about him, like the hearthfire attended by Hestia. Something warm.

“I am Prometheus,” says the man, and no wonder he reminds her of fire. “What do they call you?”

“You are meant to be in the deepest pits of Hades’s realm,” she snaps, and shifts her grip on the stale bread so that she can throw it at him. He’s the whole reason she’s here to begin with, him and his thievery.

He shrugs and walks closer to her, watching her like one would watch a wild animal. Good. Here, in this dark alley where no one would find a cooling body until morning, it is he that should be afraid. “Gods forget,” he says, “and Hades had grown cold in his place beneath the earth.”

She pauses, considers. “You stole fire for Hades?”

“No,” he corrects, “I stole fire for the people. But Hades benefited as well. Enough that he was willing to forget the terms of my punishment.”

“What do you want?” she asks for the second time. “Why are you here?”

He stops, too close to her, “The question is why are you here?”

She steps into his space now, following him as he backs away from her, “I am here because of you, fire-stealer, because gods may forget but they do not forgive, and I am the punishment they have unleashed upon the world.”

“What a punishment you are,” he says, looking at her lips, and she forgets to hate him only long enough to kiss him.

~

Hermes watches her, watches them. He doesn’t know Zeus’s plan, if this is part of it or not, but he watches her, and he worries. He thinks it is, he can see Aphrodite’s magic clinging to Pandora, but he doesn’t know why.

He would go to his mother, but she’s always difficult to find, Gaea preferring to live in streams and rivers rather than face the man she bore a son for. But his mother’s father, on the other hand, is always in the same place.

“Grandfather,” Hermes greets, touching lightly down onto the earth, “How are you?”

“How am I always, boy?” Atlas grunts out, legs and arms straining as he holds up the sky above the earth. “Tired.”

Hermes lips quirk up the corners. Some days, he thinks he’s more Atlas’s grandson than he’s Zeus’s son. “I need some advice, Grandfather.”

Atlas raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”

So Hermes tells him everything, from beginning to end, because he can’t figure out what his father’s plan is, but Atlas might. He’s known the man for longer, at least.

Atlas nods, slow, and says, “A bride of gods, a gifted child. I can think of only one reason to create such a child.” Hermes waits. Atlas sighs and says, “There is a jar, within Olympus, that becomes sealed when it leaves the realm of the gods. After that, only a being neither mortal nor celestial may open it.”

“What are they planning to put inside?” Hermes demands, heart spiking. What are they planning to unleash upon the unsuspecting earth?

His grandfather smirks, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is this – what are you going to put inside?”

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