Todoritos



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    By December, Megumi's figured out that he's dying.

     
    (Or: in the summer of 2069, Fushiguro Megumi's shikigami begin to disappear.)

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    02 Feb 2026

  2. Public Bookmark 77

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    "You know I'm cursed?" Satoru's mouth replies before his brain can catch up, and then he snaps it shut, embarrassed to say something so stupid because, obviously, he's in a magic shop, and this man must be the proprietor—the witch Suguru had recommended.

    He's not one of the polished pretty boys that usually catch Satoru's eye, the arm candy that looks good in tabloid headlines and online spreads, but even as the nausea settles, Satoru's heart keeps right on racing, heat sparking in his belly that has nothing to do with the curse on him and everything to do with honey-sweet eyes and the sharp line of the man's jaw.

    "I've seen a Dizzy Spell once or twice," the guy says, answering the question Satoru can't remember asking. "This one is pretty nasty. Ex-girlfriend?"

    "Boyfriend," Satoru is quick to correct, leaning in a little bit closer, looking the man up and down. "But we weren't dating."

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    23 Jan 2026

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    "Talk to me already," Izuku begs, voice weighed with exhaustion like he had just run a marathon. "Just what exactly are you achieving by keeping this up? Right now and right here of all places?" he half-yells through the cacophonous gusts of wind.

    A white-hot flash of anger pulses in Katsuki's vision.

    He storms up to Izuku to jab a finger into his coat. "Don't you dare talk about appropriate time and places when your ass is lugging a dead fucking body with us while we're stranded in the middle of goddamn nowhere!"

    As if on cue, his eyes are dragged to the rope held in Izuku's gloved hand, leading to the motionless figure hidden beneath a black sleeping bag, concealed and tied with rope.

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    20 Jan 2026

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    By the time she stops the Jeep in front of Derek's house Stiles can't remember driving there. She’s pretty sure she stopped at red lights.

    "Derek," she says, not yelling but not really in control either. Nothing happens, there’s no movement visible through the half-melted and broken windows. No sound.

    "Derek!" she shouts up at the collapsed second floor. "You need to come down here so I can claw your eyes out."

    "Yeah," Derek says from the front doorway, "I can see how that's incentive."

    --

     Or: Miss Stiles Stilinski vs. Season Two

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    06 Jan 2026

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    “What are you doing to my cute little student, Mum?” says a semi-familiar, impossible voice. “And why are you wearing Suguru-kun?”

    The parasite’s face is frozen in an expression that’s half shock, half rapture. “Oh? What is this?”

    Why is the wrong question, I guess,” the newcomer says, and it’s there again, a pervasive sense of wrongness at the sound of that familiar–unfamiliar voice. “How? When, maybe.”

    “Not quite.” The parasite’s grin widens, exposing a revolting amount of teeth. It’s an expression of pure delight, utterly deranged. “When isn’t enough either. Gojou Satoru is your student, you said? That doesn’t sound right to me.”

    “That so?” the newcomer says mildly. One of the hands on Satoru’s shoulder slides along the slope of it, gently skimming up the side of his neck to fist tightly in his hair. His head is yanked back, the world briefly a blur. “He has grown a bit. What have you gotten yourself into now, Satoru?”

    Just as the Prison Realm ensnares Satoru, Yuuji switches places with his older self from an alternate dimension—one where he’s Satoru’s teacher.

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    30 Dec 2025