And nine years on I’m scheduled for meetings on his birthday. This is the way of the world, this is what it means to go on. I am living. I am putting one foot forward, in front of the other. I will not fall back for a step on the calendar. I am continuing the life that did not end.
And I wish it would stop. No morning coffees, close the shops. I say “stop the clocks” and I am held by the stretch of life before me that knows as I do, that the world carries on, that this is what binds us if nothing else. Lives are marked by mortality and this is their power, to hold the fleeting moment and know it may not come again. You will not come again. A short life, a gap on a grave fixed between two dates, and how much can be crammed into the space under a line. There are 9-5s and reports to be finished. I cannot rewrite your life. I miss you in every breath.
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First the gaming channel comes back
Spooky week return
The halloween baking video and just everything that they have posted so far
PHILS TWEET
And now fucking Dan and Phil and Cats guys they’re too powerful im scared
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https://twitter.com/meditorialsx_/status/1630589785134841857?s=46&t=AQSpWJ8lBmkLKALGqmiuQQ
bro.
I innocently come here and open up my asks and I see this
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'omg the saw franchise is so bad they just keep making more and more of the same thing its just a cash grab'
I LITERALLY DON'T CARE!!!!!! I'll be 90 in my nursing home happily watching Saw XLVIII
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Bakugou asks you to join him during one of his photoshoots for a pro hero campaign. he doesn’t understand the point of it, nor why he has to only be in his underwear, but he doesn’t mind it much when he gets to look over to your shy little face.
you’re propped up in a corner on an old couch, laptop perched in your lap, its glare bright despite the way you never really look at it. you’re supposed to be catching up on some work, but you’ve been distracted by the glorious sight that is the love of your life.
when he looks at you, do you duck down, eyes suddenly focused on your screen again. it only makes him smile a little, step away from the assistant of the photographer who comes up to him, calls out your name.
“Huh?” your head whips up with a quickness neither of you expect, goes to show just how invested you really were with your work. but Bakugou only grins at you now, jerking his chin over to you as he grabs the bottle of oil the assistant was trying to pour over him.
“C’mere and gimme a hand, won’t ya?” he asks you, boyish smile gracing his face as he tilts his head at you. immediately, your face warms as you put together the request that’s suddenly dropped in your lap. everyone in the studio looks at you, with both envious and excited gazes, and it only makes you shrink in on yourself.
“I hate you.” you mutter under your breath when you finally rise up from your place on the couch, which he somehow hears. but Bakugou only laughs at you, grabs you by the waist when you’re close enough to kiss you breathless in front of everybody, before he’s handing off the oil to you.
“Such an attention whore,” you whisper when you’re close, the air between the two of you thick. everyone tries to look away, give you guys a bit of privacy, but it’s hard when such a soft and amused look passes over the usually rough and hardened hero’s face.
“Only for your attention.” he grunts back to you, holding his arms out for you to start dripping the oil down his skin. it’s a sensual gesture, the softness between you two sliding into something more, something that you only ever reserve for the bedroom.
you tip the bottle over his shoulders until it drips down his chest, massaging it all in with your hands in crude, circular motions. you can see the way he bites his lip, ignore the way he looks at you down the bridge of his nose lest you two create a scene not meant for the public eye. you gather more oil, warm it between your palms, kneeling in front of him to help massage it into the defined muscles of his stomach.
you ignore the twitch in front of you, swallowing thickly, glancing up to Bakugou who hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet. you mouth at him to behave, but he only grins, something feral.
“We only need it above the waistband.” the photographer suddenly calls out, snapping you back to attention. you stand on shaky knees, nodding with your eyes casted low, ashamed, that your freak of a man had you doing something so…so—
“Go wait in my dressing room, yeah?” Bakugou asks you, pulling you in close to peck at the corner of your mouth. “Gonna wrap this shit up.” he promises you, and you can only nod silently, mind going a mile a minute. but before you go, you remember to grab the oil. just in case.
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