#I needed a break from my exam stuff. I'm forcing my way through

[callme-holly]

Can you please do Darrel Curtis x Wife reader, like they got married shortly before the Curtis parents death and it’s just the reader staying by Darrel throughout the grieving process and Bob’s murder and Pony and Johnny going on the lamb. And he’s like ‘why did you stay with me with all the stuff going on?’ And the reader is like ‘because I love you and I made a vow’?♥️♥️

𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 - 𝐃.𝐂

a/n: im done with exams which means im back to my usual schedule!!!

The glow from the lamp in the corner does very little to diminish the shadows looming in the corners of the room, making them all the more intimidating than usual. The silence that hangs over the house is unbearable, and everything feels as if it’s been tipped on its axis and forced to cope. 

Nobody is themselves, especially not Darry; he’s been on his way to burning out for weeks, like a candle burning down to the last few centimetres of the wick, and now the flame has finally reached the bottom. He’s sat at the table, head in his hands, glaring down at the bills spread across the surface, but you can tell he's not taking in an ounce of what’s printed on the paper. There are dark shadows under his eyes, his skin is drawn and pale, and he looks so tired that it pains you.  

“Darry,” you call out, voice cutting through the stillness in the kitchen. He doesn’t look up, simply shaking his head, brushing you   and keeping his gaze downwards. “Darrel.” You try again, the finality in your tone more insistent this time, and he lifts his eyes slightly.

"Not right now, sweetheart."  His voice sounds raw from lack of use, and your heart breaks just a bit for him. You push off of the doorframe where you were leaning, stepping towards him slowly and resting your hands on his shoulders, chin on top of his head. You don't miss the way he relaxes under you, his whole body slumping  , an exhausted sigh leaving him.

"Take a break. I'll make us dinner," you offer, giving him a squeeze. He nods slowly, swallowing  , and you finally see through the mask he's been wearing ever since the boys ran off, since Bob's face landed in the papers, "MURDERED," written in bold above. Beneath that stoic facade is a man, a kid, who's been through too much too fast, and it causes something in you to tighten.

A gentle sigh leaves you, and you move round to sit yourself in his lap, not saying anything when his arms wind around your middle immediately, clutching onto you as though there might be nothing left in this world for him to cling too tight too. Your fingers trail idly through his hair, stroking it lightly. 

"They'll come back."  Your voice is soft, calm, reassuring. "They're both smart boys. They wont be gone much longer."   His only response is a nod against your chest. You know how difficult this has been for him; losing both parents, and now his little brother is something no one should ever have to go through. It's a miracle he isn't completely breaking apart by now. 

"Soda called. He's staying with Steve tonight." You don't mention why; don't tell him that it's because he can't take the silence, the emptiness, much longer.  He doesn't need to know.

"Okay," Darry whispers into your shirt before pulling back just enough to look up at you. There's something in his eyes, an almost apologetic look that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably, and your heart ache. You wish he'd just stop for a moment, lie down, sleep, rest... But asking him to do so would be futile.  No amount of begging or pleading will change his mind, especially not now.

You lean forward and catch his lips in a gentle kiss,  cupping the side of his face, thumb tracing along his jawline in a manner that's nothing but comforting. He lingers for a moment before pulling back, leaning his forehead against yours, letting out a long breath.

"I'm sorry," he mutters finally, squeezing his eyes shut. "You deserve more than this shit." You reach out and gently pull his head away, forcing his attention onto you instead of whatever he sees in his own mind.

"No. You have nothing to be sorry for," you begin, but he cuts you off sharply.

"No, hon.... I just, I don't get why you stay with me through all of this. It's just..." You watch his expression shift, becoming pensive, and your heart squeezes painfully, knowing exactly what's bothering him. 

You run your fingers through his hair again, pulling his head down so that his face is tucked in your neck once more as you rock back and forth gently.

"I'm with you because I love you, Darrel Curtis. I made a promise, a vow, to stick by you through thick and thin, and I don't break my promises."

Darry only hums in response, but you know he heard you. You know from the way he takes your hand in his rougher one, fingers lacing together, wedding rings glinting in the dim lamplight.  He squeezes softly; you're gonna be okay. Both of you. 

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm moving out of the city and I'm going to have to learn to drive. Any advice for someone (reluctantly) looking into cars for the first time?

Sorry for the late response, but I really wanted to answer this because I think I have some relevant advice.

I started driving the very day I was allowed to get my learner's permit. I took it very seriously. My dad was a mechanic, my brother literally built a car when he was 16. They were car guys and I was the goofy comedian they didn't really understand. So I wanted to be a really good driver to impress them.

I practiced every chance I got. I took driver's ed in school and got a 100% in the class. And I got a perfect score on my written driver's test and only got dinged for 1 thing on the main exam (it was bullshit, but apparently there is no way to protest a near perfect score).

But then I got sick and it didn't make sense to pay for car insurance and maintain a vehicle. So I didn't drive for roughly 15 years.

Then both my parents got sick and they became dangerous drivers and so I had to figure out how to drive again. And at first I was nervous, but after about a week of driving, I was nearly as good of a driver as when I was younger.

The reason?

Muscle memory.

Muscle memory will save your life over just about anything. The less you have to concentrate on the physical actions and habits required to drive, the more you can concentrate on situational awareness. If you don't have to think about turning the wheel, or braking, or even activating the turn signals, you can use all of that brain power to pay attention to all of the dumb fucks they let drive cars.

So my biggest piece of advice would be to break down all of the physical actions required to operate a vehicle. Even the tiny stuff like switching the station on the radio or turning down the fan on the A/C. Then find a way to practice these things over and over and over until you have that muscle memory embedded into your brain. My muscle memory was so deeply ingrained that it lasted through 15 years of not driving and a batch of mind-wiping electroshock treatments.

Find a safe place to practice and just repeat things until they feel like second nature. Especially checking your blind spots. If you can get checking blind spots to the point where you do it without even thinking about it, you will increase your safety substantially.

Other tips...

Small cheap cars are best first cars. Big cars can make you feel disconnected from the road. Almost like you are piloting the vehicle in a video game. I started on my grandma's 1987 Chevy Cavalier. It was tiny. It had no power. It was free. But I could feel everything I was doing. I could feel the turns. I could feel the road. I could feel braking and acceleration. And it really helped me understand the relationship between driver and vehicle. It was like a big go-kart but I think having that as my first car really helped me develop my driving skills.

And my last tip is to learn gradient braking and acceleration. It's mostly for the comfort of your passengers. It gives them a smoother experience but it also makes them feel safer driving with you. Basically you want to figure out how to apply pressure to the pedals in such a way that almost no G-force is felt. So you start with very light pressure and gradually transition into the max pressure you need. And you need to do it quick enough to stop and accelerate at the proper rate. If you don't transition fast enough you might not stop in time or be able to merge onto the highway. And if you transition too fast people will be lurching back and forth in their seat. But, again, practice makes perfect.

My brother is horrible at this, though mostly on purpose. He likes driving like everything is a race. And with his muscle cars, that can be fun at times. But when you are just going to the store it can make one a little nauseous. I find myself just grabbing the "oh shit" handles and never letting go.

But if you can smooth out your acceleration and braking to the point it is barely felt, all of your passengers will thank you for it.

Hopefully that helps. And maybe other folks can reply with additional advice. And if you have any more specific concerns feel free to ask. I wasn't sure if you were more worried about driving or picking out a car, so hopefully we can collectively cover both.

I wish you luck and hope you learn to love driving. It is pretty cool once you get the hang of it.

[breederking]

I was never one for the spotlight, so when the two pink lines on the pregnancy test confirmed what I already knew deep down, I felt like I had been thrust into the center of a very unwelcome stage. I had worked hard to build a life where I could live as the man I am, free from the scrutinizing eyes of those who didn't understand. Now, my body was about to betray me in the most visible way possible.

The doctor's office was cold and sterile, the kind of place where secrets were meant to be kept. As I sat on the exam table, I rehearsed the words I would say to break the news to Dr. Patel. But when she entered the room with her usual warm smile, my resolve wavered. I didn't want to explain, didn't want to be a cautionary tale or a puzzle for her to solve. I just wanted her to confirm what I already knew and help me through this without making me feel like a freak of nature.

"Congratulations," she said, her voice full of genuine excitement. "You're expecting."

The words hung in the air like a thick fog, heavy with the weight of my unspoken truth. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the avalanche of questions I assumed would follow. But Dr. Patel simply nodded, waiting for me to speak first. I searched her eyes for a hint of judgment, but all I saw was kindness.

"Thank you," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm... I'm not sure what to do next."

Her smile never wavered. "Well, the first step is to make sure you and your baby are healthy. We'll start with a series of prenatal tests and checkups."

I nodded, trying to keep my face neutral, but inside, a storm was brewing. How could she be so calm? Didn't she understand the gravity of the situation? "What about... the other stuff?"

"Other stuff?" she prompted, her pen hovering over my chart.

I swallowed hard. "You know, the... the things that might be different for me. Because I'm..."

"Because you're a trans man," she finished for me, her gaze never leaving mine. "Yes, I understand. It's not much different experience wise. A healthy pregnancy is a healthy pregnancy."

My heart raced with both relief and anxiety. It was out. She knew. But she treated it like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like I was any other patient. "But the hormones..."

"Ah, yes," she said, nodding. "You're currently still on testosterone, correct?"

I nodded, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

"Well," she said gently, "the research is still developing, but there's no definitive evidence that continuing hormone therapy while carrying a baby poses significant risks to either you or your child. However, for safety reasons and to ensure the best possible outcome for your pregnancy, it's generally recommended that you stop taking them for now."

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. The thought of stopping testosterone, of my body reverting back to a state that didn't feel like home, was terrifying. But I knew she was right. This wasn't about me anymore; it was about the life growing inside me.

"Okay," I managed to croak out. "I'll do whatever I need to do."

"That's the spirit," Dr. Patel said, patting my hand reassuringly. "Now, I know this wasn't planned, so let's talk about your support system. Are you in a relationship?"

My cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment. "No, I'm not," I admitted, looking down at my hands. "The pregnancy was... it was an accident."

Dr. Patel nodded understandingly. "Well, then it's even more important that you have someone to lean on during this time. Whether it's a friend, family member, or support group, it's crucial to have people around you who understand and can help."

I tell her I understand but my mind is blank. The words "I don't have a support system" hover on the tip of my tongue, but I can't bring myself to say them. I don't want her to think I'm incapable or that she should be concerned about my mental health. So, I force a smile and say, "I'll figure it out."

As I leave the office, clutching the stack of pamphlets and appointment dates, I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. The sun seems to have disappeared behind a wall of clouds, and the air is thick with the scent of rain. It's as if the world outside is mirroring the turmoil inside of me.

The days become a blur of nausea and exhaustion. I'm up at all hours of the night, trying to keep down the blandest of foods. The smell of coffee, something I once found comforting, now turns my stomach. And the tiredness, oh the tiredness. It's like my body is fighting a never-ending battle against an invisible enemy.

First came the dizzy spell, the sudden rush of bile to the back of my throat. I'm at work, in the middle of a meeting, and all I can think about is making it to the bathroom. I stand up, my chair scraping against the floor, and mumble an apology to my confused colleagues before sprinting out of the room. I barely make it to the toilet, retching violently into the bowl. The sound echoes off the tiles, and I can feel the eyes of the other bathroom patrons burning into my back.

When the nausea passes, I lean against the cold porcelain, my head spinning. How am I going to keep this a secret? My job is demanding, and my boss has a zero-tolerance policy for sick days. I can't just start calling out because of "morning sickness." The irony isn't lost on me. I've spent so much time and effort building a life where I could blend in, and now my body is going to give me away in the most stereotypically feminine way possible.

As the weeks pass, the whispers start. People at work are noticing my frequent bathroom trips and my sudden aversion to the office coffee. I overhear them talking about me, their voices a mix of concern and speculation. I plaster on a smile and shrug it off, telling them it's just a stomach bug that won't quit. But the lies feel thick and sticky on my tongue.

I start wearing looser clothes, hoping to hide the slight bulge that's beginning to form. I've always been a bit of a loner at work, keeping my personal life to myself, but now I feel like a secret agent under deep cover, fearful of being found out. The thought of someone discovering my pregnancy fills me with dread, but I know I can't keep it hidden forever.

One morning, as I sit at my desk with my head in my hands, trying to ignore the whispers and the knowing glances, I decide enough is enough. I send an email to my boss, requesting to work from home due to a "health condition." I don't go into detail, just enough to get the message across. To my surprise, the reply is swift and understanding. My request is accepted, and I'm granted the flexibility I need.

The moment I close my laptop and step into my apartment, the relief washes over me like a cool wave. The walls of my home are the only ones that have never judged me, never questioned my identity. The solitude is a welcome reprieve from the prying eyes of the office.

But it's not long before the loneliness sets in. Without the distraction of work, my mind is free to wander to the baby growing inside me, to the fears and uncertainties that come with being a parent, especially a trans parent. The internet becomes both a lifeline and a minefield of unanswered questions. I find myself lost in forums and blogs, reading about the experiences of others like me, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in a situation that feels anything but.

I develop a system, a routine that revolves around my appointments and the necessities of life. I only leave the house for shopping and my doctors appointments. I time my grocery runs for when the stores are least crowded, avoiding the weekends and the harsh florescent lighting that seems to amplify my nausea. I become a master of the online checkout, my fridge and pantry stocked with food that won't make me sick. I learn to navigate the aisles quickly and efficiently, my eyes always on the lookout for judgmental stares or curious glances.

But as my belly starts to show around the five-month mark, the whispers of my anxieties turn into a cacophony. My chest swells with milk that I'm not ready to admit is there. The binders that once held me in place now feel like a prison, a constant reminder of the body I'm trying to hide. I know I can't keep up the charade much longer. The system I've so meticulously built is about to collapse under the weight of my growing secret. It's becoming obvious that I've been knocked up.

The first time it happens, it's at the grocery store. A stranger smiles at my burgeoning stomach and says, "When are you due?" My heart skips a beat, and I stumble over my words, trying to explain that it's not what they think. But the truth is too complicated for a supermarket aisle, so I just smile back and tell her I am not pregnant. The lie feels like a betrayal, a harmful denial of the child inside me, but I'm too tired to fight.

As the months wear on, my need to go out becomes increasingly more frequent. The child inside me demands more food, more often, and the cravings are intense. I find myself wandering the streets at odd hours, searching for the one thing that might settle my stomach. The quiet solitude of the night becomes my sanctuary, a time when I can be both pregnant and stealth without the fear of being discovered.

But the world doesn't stay quiet forever. At 7 months pregnant, my body is undeniably pregnant. My belly sits in front of me, heavy with child. My shirts cling to my belly, accentuating the bump. I've tried to hide it with layers and loose clothes, but now even my baggy sweatshirts are giving me away. The stares are more frequent, and the questions I've been dreading are now inescapable.

One evening, as I venture into the baby aisle of the local store, my heart racing and my face hot with fear, I feel like every person in the world can see right through me. The bright lights shine down on the tiny onesies and the soft, pastel blankets, illuminating my secret for all to see. The other shoppers, mostly mothers with their own young children, give me knowing smiles and nods. They don't know me, but they know my situation. I can see the pity in their eyes, the assumption that I've somehow failed as a man.

My belly is a beacon, drawing stares from every direction. I want to shrink away, to crawl into a hole and hide from the world. But instead, I force myself to push the cart down the aisle, my hand hovering over the miniature clothes, feeling the soft fabric between my fingers. Each item I place in the cart feels like a declaration of my truth, a shout to the world that says, "Yes, I'm pregnant!" I keep my eyes down, avoiding any potential interactions that might lead to uncomfortable questions.

As if on cue, my baby moves within me, causing my belly to change shape under my shirt. I can see other patrons watching in confusion, awe, maybe disgust, as my belly shifts shapes beneath my shirt. A young child points, their mother quickly ushering them away with a sharp look. An older woman's smile fades into a frown as she looks me up and down, her eyes lingering on the stubble on my chin and the broadness of my shoulders. I want to scream, to explain that I'm still a man, that this is just a temporary condition, but the words won't come.

Instead, I grab the essentials and hurry to the checkout, my face burning with a mix of anger and embarrassment. The cashier, a young man with a piercing in his eyebrow, scans my items with a look of curiosity. He says nothing, but I can see the question in his gaze. I hand over my card, avoiding eye contact, and rush out of the store. The cool night air hits me like a slap in the face, a stark contrast to the warm, stuffy air inside.

Back in my apartment, I sit on the couch with my hands resting on my belly, feeling the steady rhythm of my baby's movements. It's a strange sensation, one that both grounds me and sends me spiraling into panic. The reality of what's happening is becoming more apparent with each passing day.

The email notification pops up on my laptop, jolting me out of my thoughts. It's a reminder for the annual company meeting, which is only a week away. I groan, realizing that I'd forgotten about it entirely. Working from home has been a godsend, allowing me to keep my pregnancy hidden from my colleagues, but this... this is a hurdle I can't avoid.

I stare at the calendar invite, the words "Mandatory Video Conference" glaring back at me. The thought of sitting upright in front of my computer for two hours, pretending to be my usual self, sends a fresh wave of anxiety crashing over me. How do I explain my exhaustion, the way my body feels like it's being stretched to its limits?

I spend the next few days lost in a fog of worry and planning. What can I wear that's professional but won't highlight my changing figure? Can I angle the camera just right to obscure my midsection? Maybe I can blame a recent weight gain on a newfound love for home cooking.

The day of the conference arrives with a sense of dread that settles like a lead weight in my stomach. I put on my best poker face, a button up shirt that I've had to leave partially unbuttoned and a binder that's feeling tighter by the minute. It's a delicate balance, hiding my growing chest while keeping my stomach concealed. I take a deep breath and adjust the camera angle, making sure my background is neutral and my belly is tucked out of sight.

As the call starts, the faces of my colleagues pop up on the screen, their tiny video squares a stark reminder of the world I've been avoiding. The room goes quiet as our CEO starts speaking, and I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe, I can get through this without incident.

But as the minutes tick by, the pressure in my bladder becomes more insistent. The baby inside me seems to sense my discomfort and decides to make its presence known with a series of kicks and rolls that have me squirming in my seat. I clench my thighs together, hoping the urgency will subside, but it only grows stronger with every word the CEO says.

I realize I need to get up, but I might be in trouble if I turn off the camera. How am I supposed to excuse myself without them all seeing my belly? Panic sets in, and I frantically look around my living room for something, anything, to use as a prop. My eyes land on a stack of files on the coffee table. It's not perfect, but it's better than nothing. I lean over, pretending to search for something important, and awkwardly place the files over my midsection, hoping the angle is just right.

My heart races as the meeting goes on. The CEO drones on about quarterly earnings, and I try to focus on the words, willing the baby inside me to calm down. But my bladder isn't listening. The pain is now a steady throb, demanding attention. The room feels like it's spinning, and my palms are slick with sweat. I send a silent apology to the files for what I'm about to do. With trembling hands, I stand up, the files still clutched to my stomach.

"I'm so sorry," I interrupt, my voice shakier than I intended. "But I need to... step away for a moment. Something's come up."

The CEO's eyes widen slightly before she nods, understanding. "Of course, take all the time you need," she says, her tone professional yet concerned.

As I make a beeline for the bathroom, I can feel the collective gaze of my colleagues burning into my back. The waddle in my step is a dead giveaway. Did they all see? Did they put two and two together?

The bathroom door shuts behind me with a thud, and I lean against it, taking deep, calming breaths. The cold porcelain feels good against my forehead as I try to compose myself. I've been so careful, so meticulous, and now this.

When I emerge from the bathroom, the call is still going, and no one has mentioned my sudden disappearance. Maybe they were too busy listening to the CEO to notice. I sit back down, placing the files in my lap as a makeshift shield, and try to tune back into the conversation. But my mind keeps replaying the moment when I stood up, the way the files wobbled in my grasp. Did anyone see? Did they notice anything off?

I spend the rest of the meeting in a state of heightened alertness, my every movement calculated to avoid drawing attention to my stomach. When it's finally over, I let out a sigh of relief so deep it's almost a groan. My hand shoots to my mouth to stifle the sound, and I realize with a jolt that my colleagues might still be online. I hastily log off, the sound of my own breathing echoing in the suddenly quiet room.

The silence is deafening as I sit there, the files forgotten in my lap. I can't help but wonder if this is the moment my world starts to unravel. Will I get a call from HR tomorrow, asking for a meeting? Will someone at work start a rumor, turning me into office gossip?

But I couldn't worry about it. I was dealing with enough between preparing for the baby, managing my body pains and the mental aspect. The fear of being outed was a constant shadow, but it was overshadowed by the need to protect the little life growing inside me. The doctor's appointments, the cravings, the endless trips to the bathroom - all of it was a part of the journey now. I had to focus on what was important: keeping my baby healthy and happy.

At over 9 months pregnant, my once-agile body now felt like a clumsy, overstuffed burden. Getting out of bed in the morning required a strategy worthy of a military operation, and climbing the stairs to my apartment left me breathless. The world outside had become a minefield of potential hazards and awkward situations. Each step was a test of balance and endurance, with the added weight of my secret pressing down on me like a physical force.

The final store trip before the baby arrived was more of an odyssey than a simple errand. I had been waiting for the perfect moment to get the last few essentials, hoping my burgeoning stomach wouldn't be quite so obvious. But the baby had other plans, dropping lower and making it impossible to ignore the truth of my condition. The trip to the store felt like it took an eternity, my waddling gait earning me more than a few concerned glances from passersby.

The aisles stretched before me like a gauntlet of judgment, each step a battle to maintain my dignity. My belly had dropped in the last week, giving me a pronounced waddle that was impossible to hide. I felt like a beacon, drawing the gazes of every person in the store. The whispers followed me like a shadow, and I could almost hear the unspoken questions hanging in the air: What kind of man is he? Who did that to him? Is that a him?

My hands trembled as I placed the baby items into the cart, each one feeling heavier than the last. Diapers, baby wipes, formula – the mundane necessities of parenthood that suddenly felt like a declaration of my true identity. I took deep breaths, trying to ignore the pain that shot through my lower back with every movement. The baby was moving lower now, eager to make its presence known.

As I rounded the corner into the baby clothes section, a mother with a young toddler in tow caught my eye. She looked at me with a mix of curiosity and pity, and for a brief moment, I considered telling her. Maybe she'd understand, maybe she'd offer a kind word or some sage advice. But the fear of her reaction, of her telling others, kept me silent. I just gave her a tight smile and moved on, my eyes fixed on the prize of checkout.

My list grew longer with each aisle, the weight of my secret pressing down on me like a physical burden. The candy bars and chips I usually indulged in for comfort called out to me, but I knew better than to give in to my cravings now. The baby was due any day, and I needed to be strong. So, I filled the cart with healthy foods, baby supplies, and the few items I hadn't been able to get online.

At the checkout, the cashier, a young girl with a bright smile, chatted away about her weekend plans, seemingly oblivious to my discomfort. She looked at me with kind eyes and said, "You must be so excited to meet your baby!" The words stung, a painful reminder that I couldn't share in the joy she assumed was mine. I nodded, forcing a smile, and hoped she wouldn't see the fear in my eyes.

The drive home was a blur, my thoughts racing faster than the car's engine. The baby was due in a matter of days, and I hadn't told anyone. My apartment, once a fortress of solitude, now felt like a prison. The walls closed in around me, suffocating me with the weight of my secret.

My belly pushed against the steering wheel, a constant reminder of the life inside me. The car seat, installed in the back, stared at me accusingly, a silent testament to the lie I had been living. I was grotesquely pregnant, a term I never thought would apply to me. But here I was, navigating the world in a body that was both foreign and familiar.

The next few days, I took vacation days from work, using the time to focus on my most basic needs and preparations. Movement was a challenge, but I had to be ready for the baby. I spent hours organizing the nursery, a room that had once been a guest room, now painted in soft blues and greens. The crib stood in the corner, untouched and gleaming, a symbol of the life-altering event that was about to happen.

My belly hung low, stretched taut and covered in a web of marks that told the story of my journey. At home, I didn't bother with shirts. It was liberating in a strange way, to let my body be what it was without the constraints of society's expectations. I'd sit for hours, my hand tracing the patterns on my stomach, feeling the baby kick and squirm. It was my little rebellion, a declaration that I was the master of my own identity, not the whispers of the outside world.

But my breasts were another story. They had started to leak weeks ago, a constant reminder that no matter how much I tried to ignore it, my body was preparing to nurture a child. I'd wake up to find my shirt soaked, the bed a testament to the milk my body was producing. The pump became my unwelcome companion, a necessary evil that allowed me to keep up with the flow. I'd sit in the quiet of the nursery, the mechanical whirring the only sound, as I expressed the milk into bottles that I stored in the freezer. The coldness of the plastic against my skin was a stark contrast to the warmth of the milk that filled the containers.

In those moments, I felt the most exposed. Sitting in a rocking chair in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, my chest swollen and tender, the pumps a constant reminder of the parts of myself I had tried so hard to hide. It was humiliating, yet natural, a bizarre paradox that was the epitome of my existence as a trans man facing parenthood. I'd rub my belly gently, feeling the baby's movements, trying to connect with the life inside me despite the overwhelming sense of disconnect from the body that housed it.

The nursery, once a bastion of hope and excitement, now felt like a prison cell of expectations and societal norms. The soft, pastel colors I had chosen now seemed to mock me, a stark reminder of the feminine role I had been thrust into despite my identity. The rocking chair creaked back and forth, a soothing rhythm that seemed to echo the steady beat of my racing heart. The pumps hummed in the quiet room, a constant background noise that served as a grim reminder of my reality.

My breasts felt swollen and foreign, the sensation of milk filling them against my will was both humiliating and powerful. I gritted my teeth and focused on the task at hand, the plastic tubes leading from the pumps to my chest. The suction was uncomfortable, a painful reminder of the body I had worked so hard to hide. But as the bags filled with milk, a strange sense of pride filled me. I was providing for my baby, doing what a mother's body is meant to do.

The final day of my secret arrived with a startling suddenness. The contractions began in the early morning, waking me from a fitful sleep. I lay in bed, my hand pressed to my stomach, willing them to stop. But the baby was insistent, the pain growing with each passing minute.

I waddle to the living room, where I had already set up a birthing pool. I fill it with water, swaying my hips and holding my belly as I watch the water level rise. The soft light of dawn filters through the blinds, casting a gentle glow on the plastic walls of the pool. The room is a sanctuary, the only place where I've allowed myself to be fully pregnant without fear of judgment.

The contractions come closer together now, stealing my breath. I've read all the books, watched all the videos, but the reality of labor is so much more intense than I ever could have imagined. The pain is a living entity, a force that consumes me and then retreats, only to return with a ferocity that leaves me trembling.

But as I sink into the pool, the warm water envelops me like a comforting embrace. It's an instant relief, the tension in my belly easing slightly as I float. I've read about the wonders of water birth, how it can help ease the pain and allow for a more natural experience. Now, as I feel the first waves of real contractions, I'm grateful for this small mercy.

With my eyes closed, I rub my belly in gentle circles, focusing on the baby inside me. The sensation of my hand on my skin feels like a whispered promise, a silent reassurance that we're in this together. The water laps against the sides of the pool, a soothing rhythm that matches the steady beat of my heart. I take deep, calming breaths, trying to remember the techniques I've learned in my online birthing classes.

The pain is a beast that refuses to be tamed. It builds, a crescendo of agony that feels like it will never end. And then, as suddenly as it began, it subsides, leaving me panting and gasping for air. I check my watch, timing the contractions. They're coming closer together now, the breaks between them growing shorter.

I put my hand to my crotch to feel, but no head yet. I can feel the baby in my birth canal, but they haven't fully descended to my opening. It's a strange sensation, one that fills me with both dread and excitement. My dialed vagina serves as a reminder that this is really happening. This is it. The moment I've both feared and anticipated for months.

The contractions come again, harder this time, and with them, a sudden gush of fluid. I feel a warm rush between my legs and look down to see the water in the pool has turned a faint shade of pink. My water has broken. The reality of the situation hits me like a sledgehammer. I'm not just having a baby; I'm in labor. The room feels like it's spinning, and for a brief moment, I think I might pass out. But the baby inside me, the life that I've been carrying for so long, gives me the strength to push through the pain.

I lean against the side of the pool, my arms shaking with the effort of supporting my weight. The water is my lifeline, my sanctuary in this moment of chaos. I take a deep breath, feeling the contraction start to build again. I've read that changing positions can help manage the pain, so I turn so my arms are holding the side of the pool, my belly pressed against the side. The cool plastic is a stark contrast to the warm water, and the pressure feels like a balm against my stretched skin.

As I adjust, my breasts push against the pool's edge, the milk that has been steadily accumulating since my pregnancy began to dribble out of my nipples. It's a strange, almost alien sensation, but also a powerful one. I'm reminded of the life that I'm about to bring into the world, the life that has been so fiercely fighting to exist despite the odds. The water around me starts to look like a miniature sea of whitecaps as my milk mixes with the chlorinated water.

The contractions come harder and closer now, a relentless wave that crashes over me. I moan and pant, my body taking over in a way that's both terrifying and liberating. I'm not a man or a woman, not a trans man or a pregnant person; I'm just a being bringing forth new life. The pain is no longer something to be feared but rather a guide, leading me through the most primal experience of all.

I feel the head begin to part my lips, a sensation so intense that it takes my breath away. It's a strange mix of pressure and burning, a final barrier that must be breached. I grit my teeth, pushing with everything I have, my body straining as the baby starts to crown. The pain is a living entity, consuming me in its fiery embrace, but I don't fight it. Instead, I lean into it, letting it guide me through the storm.

The head emerges, slowly, so slowly that it feels like an eternity. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the room spinning around me. The water in the pool is a murky red now, a testament to the battle we're fighting together. I can't see and don't dare look, but I can feel the top of my baby's head, and I run my fingers through a soft cap of hair, and I feel a surge of love so strong it's like nothing I've ever felt before. This little being, so fiercely determined to live, is a part of me in a way that defies logic and reason.

The head is fully out now, and with trembling hands, I reach down to cradle it, whispering sweet nothings that are everything to me. "You can do it," I murmur, my voice thick with emotion. "You're almost here." It's a strange dance, this delicate balancing act between the pain and the joy, the fear and the love.

With one final, powerful push, my baby's shoulders follow, and then the rest of its body slides into my waiting hands. The world around me fades away as I bring the child to the surface, breaking the water's tension. It's a boy, and he's perfect. His tiny face is scrunched up in a silent scream, his eyes tightly shut, and he's covered in a thick layer of vernix that makes him look like he's been dipped in butter.

I pull him to my chest, my heart racing as I check for signs of life. He's blue, not the rosy pink I had hoped for, but I remember my classes and I rub his back, whispering words of encouragement. His chest rises with a shudder, and then he lets out the most beautiful sound I've ever heard—his first cry. It's a wail of protest at being thrust into the world, a declaration of his existence, and I feel a tear slip down my cheek.

The moment is bittersweet. I'm elated to meet the child I've carried for so long, but the fear of what comes next is a heavy shadow looming over us. How will the world treat him? How will they treat me, his trans father? I've spent so much time worrying about the pregnancy that I haven't allowed myself to think beyond this point. But now, with my son in my arms, the future seems both incredibly bright and unbearably daunting.

As I hold him in the pool, my belly deflated but still large, I bring his newly pink lips to my nipple, where he latches on, suckling the milk that my body has been preparing for him. The sensation is strange, almost alien, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world. He's hungry, and my body responds, releasing the milk he needs. The act is a bonding one, a silent pact between us that says, "I've got you. No matter what, I'll always be here."

I stroke his soft hair, marveling at the life I've created. He's so small, so helpless, and yet so powerful. He's changed everything, and as I cradle him in the water, I realize that I've never felt more like a man than I do right now. This little being is a testament to my strength, my resilience, and my determination to live my truth.

The hours pass in a blur of pain and elation. The placenta comes out with surprising ease, and I tie it off with the umbilical cord, following the instructions I've read in books and watched online. I'm a man, yes, but I've given birth, and somehow, that makes me feel more connected to the universe than I ever have. It's a paradox that I never thought I'd experience, but here I am, floating in a pool of my own making, with my baby boy attached to me in the most primal way.

I gaze down at him, his tiny features coming into focus. He's perfect, with a head full of dark hair that's already drying into little curls. His eyes open, and he looks up at me, unfocused but full of life. And in that moment, I know what I have to do. I name him Sol, a name that means light. He's brought light into my life, a beacon of hope and love in a world that often feels so dark.

[mistytarot0919]

Hi, Misty! I hope this message finds you well and safe 🌼. I'd like to request for a free reading please, if slots are still open.

I'm MINP (she/her/hers), born on 11/11/01, a new follower. For a recent event, I've been preparing for a board exam that I'll be taking this December.

Question: Can I please get some channeled messages from my future husband?

Thank you so much for this opportunity! Have a lovely week ahead ✨.

Hello, dear angel @attymi! ♕˚ʚ♡ɞ˚👼🏻Misty - your tarot reader here✨🔮🌠🃏🌟!

I will start by thanking you again for being part of my community. It brings me a lot of joy to see that you guys are here and supporting my blog. Providing clarity and guidance is my mission so I hope my reading will bring that to you. Thank you again for your patience and support as it means everything to me! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡Also, every donation is welcomed (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡(ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

Count of questions/requests 03/20 For more details about the reading you can find here ˋ°•⁀➷👉🏻 and ˋ°•⁀➷👉🏻.

Without wasting any time, let's get into your reading!💕⃝🕊️ 💕⃝🕊️🥀

Crystal for your reading: Moonstone

Angel message: Heightened intuition - Be extra aware of your inner knowingness, as it's trustworthy. Affirmation: I am committed to my vision. Keyword: Commitment- Angels remind you that when you aim for a vision without doubt or deviation, it must succeed. Your guidance is to persevere towards your vision. Let every thought, word, and action be directed toward your desired outcome. Nothing is more powerful than focused energy and the angels will see the pure light of your commitment, whether it is to a relationship, a piece of work, a journey, or anything else in your life.

I can see that there is a possibility that you will meet this person in the next 6 weeks, months, or on a date that has something to do with the number 6. They can be an Aquarius and they can be someone who uses logic to find solutions. By being with this person, there is a chance that you might relocate. There is a period of calmness ahead and you will live through difficult times. Because of this person, you will successfully navigate a difficult period. Peace and harmony are ahead. You even can get the opportunity to rest and recharge and this can force you to spend some time apart (and it's up to you if you are dealing with waiting for them and if this is going to make your connection more powerful or force you to break up). I think that's why there are signs of relocation, someone can relocate due to work and this will put your connection in difficulty. But from what I can see I think that this connection won't resist. The good news is that this breakup will be without any conflict or ugly stuff to say to each other and this can lead to a new door opening. So if you are going to move or start something new you can find love in your new environment. Putting your past behind you is going to a whole world of new opportunities(meeting new people, having new jobs, or learning opportunities). You will feel that everything is sparkling and that there will be someone who is going to sparkle their way right into your world. There is a new relationship with calmer waters on the horizon. So if you were sad that the other relationship didn't work up, this one is going to give you exactly what you need. The sadness or trauma that has taken place in love will vanish and you will move on from a difficult past to a bright future. The good news is that this new person is loyal, responsible, hard-working, practical, persistent, and trustworthy. They are someone under 40 years old with dark hair and eyes. This person is going to be responsible, and overprotective and can have a successful job. You can even go with them when they need to have a business trip. They are down to earth and care about the future. This person might come into your life to rescue you and want you to become excited about life. Also, they bring romantic stability and nurturing energy even though they can be sometimes boring in love. This connection has power and long-term prospects but of course, a lot of patience is needed. They care about others and want to provide a stable environment but they can hide the fact that they can be a little shy. By being with this person you will draw a lot of attention to yourself(maybe you can start to work with them). A thing that you must know is that they become bored so easily so they need constant something new to attract them or make them feel comfortable. This will be an experience that will make you feel as though you have never experienced it before. This connection will make you feel young again and force you to learn new stuff about love, and yourself. So my dear, even if things aren't starting pretty well, you must take every connection as it is and try to learn from it. Those connections are all forcing you to grow up and have better and better experiences as time passes by. So enjoy both the good and bad in your life because, in the end, everything will be fine. Wish you only the best!

Misty🧚🏻‍♂️✨🤍

[yhrkcnrk]

Tainted Hearts

Chapter 97: Surprise Valentine

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59749615/chapters/169834396

The classroom was filled with the usual chatter as Riko, You, and Chika took their seats. Chika slumped onto her desk dramatically, stretching out her arms.

"Ahh… Finally done with the entrance exams! I can finally stop thinking!" she sighed in relief.

You smirked. "You do know we still have a final exam before we graduate, right?"

Chika’s eyes snapped open in horror. "No!! Not another exam!" she whined, covering her ears like a child.

You chuckled. "Looks like you still need to use that brain of yours."

Riko laughed softly. "How did the two of you do?"

You leaned back with a confident grin. "I think I did well. Well, I hope so. I really want to get into that school."

Riko nodded reassuringly. "I'm sure you did great." She then turned to Chika. "How about you, Chika-chan?"

Chika gave them a thumbs-up, her usual enthusiasm back in full force. "I did awesome!"

You raised an eyebrow. "I bet you didn’t." She burst out laughing before Chika playfully smacked her arm.

"You-chan, you bully!" Chika pouted.

Riko giggled at their antics. "How about you, Riko-chan? How did yours go?" You asked.

Chika added, "Yeah, especially with the performance part and your original composition!"

Riko took a moment before answering. "For the written exam, I think I did okay. And for the performance… I can confidently say I did my best." She smiled softly. "Because all of you believed in me, I decided to believe in myself too, even though I was nervous."

You smiled. "I'm glad to hear that."

Chika suddenly tackled Riko into a hug. "Wahh, Riko-chan! You’re gonna make me cry!"

Just then, an all-too-familiar voice interrupted the moment.

"And you’re gonna make me puke."

Chika pulled back as the bully leader and her group passed by, smirking.

"Can you stop this sappy stuff and let us through?" she sneered, her group laughing as they walked past.

Chika stuck out her tongue at them.

You crossed her arms. "Way to ruin the good mood."

Riko shook her head. "Don't mind them, you two. Let’s just focus on the fact that we finished the entrance exams."

Chika perked up immediately. "Oh, right! Yay, we’re done!"

Before they could continue, the classroom door swung open, and Dia walked in.

"Good morning, class," she greeted, her serious tone making everyone sit up straighter.

"Good morning, Kurosawa-sensei," the students responded.

Dia folded her arms. "I know it’s early, but I want to remind all of you that graduation is approaching. That means your final exams are as well."

A collective groan rippled through the room.

"I want all of you to study properly and pass. Now, let’s begin class."

------------------

Later, during lunch break, Riko sat alone on a bench in the quiet school courtyard, waiting for You and Chika. There weren’t many students around yet, making it the perfect peaceful spot.

With nothing to do, she pulled out her phone and opened her photo gallery, stopping at the picture—a baby Yoshiko with short hair, fake mustache drawn on her face, swallowed up in an oversized business suit.

Riko giggled to herself. "Yocchan was such a cute baby."

"Shiny! What a cute baby!"

Riko flinched, nearly dropping her phone, and quickly hid the screen. She turned around to see a grinning Mari standing behind her.

"Oh, it was just you, Mari-chan," Riko exhaled in relief.

Mari dramatically flipped her hair. "Yes! It’s your one and only Mari!" She plopped down next to Riko, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Sooo… who’s that baby you were giggling about?~"

Riko tensed.

Mari gasped dramatically. "Wait! Did you and Yoshiko already have a baby together!?"

Riko’s face turned completely red. "W-WHAT!? N-No! I mean—it’s not even possible—I mean… uuuu…" she stuttered, covering her face with her hands.

Mari burst into laughter. "That was your best reaction yet, Riko! I love it! I should have recorded that!"

Riko whined, still flustered.

Mari wiped a fake tear from her eye, still giggling. "I’m joking, I’m joking. But~ judging by the hair color, I think I know who that baby is." She smirked. "How did you get that photo? No way Yoshiko sent it to you—she’d rather die from embarrassment."

Riko finally calmed down enough to answer. "I got it from her mom…"

Mari gasped even louder. "FROM HER MOM!? Already bonding with the mother-in-law? Wow, I’m impressed!"

Riko blushed and fidgeted. "W-Well… yeah…"

Mari smirked. "Sooo… can I have a copy?"

Riko’s eyes widened. "What!? No! Yocchan would get angry if I shared it…"

Mari pouted. "Aww, no fair! You’re gatekeeping the cuteness and keeping it all to yourself!" She placed a dramatic hand over her heart. "But oh well, such is life… or rather, such is love." She shrugged, making Riko chuckle.

Mari grinned. "Besides, you know she wouldn’t actually get mad at you. That girl spoils you like crazy."

Riko smiled to herself, nodding. "I know."

Mari stretched, standing up. "Well, I better go before students start showing up and eavesdropping on our very important conversation."

"Bye, Mari-chan," Riko said with a smile.

Mari took a step away, then suddenly spun around, pointing at Riko with a teasing smirk. "Oh, and you do know science babies exist, right?~"

She cackled as she walked off.

Riko sat there, her face completely red.

"That Mari-chan…"

------------------

Lunch was peaceful as always in Yoshiko’s classroom, just the two of them sharing Riko’s homemade bento. Yoshiko had been savoring every bite when she suddenly spoke up.

"Oh, Riri, since this weekend is Valentine’s Day, I have something planned for us."

Riko, mid-bite, blinked in curiosity. "Really? Where?"

Yoshiko smirked. "I can't say. It’s a surprise~."

Riko pouted, setting her chopsticks down dramatically. "No fair."

Yoshiko chuckled at her fake sulking. "But hey, at least I remembered it this year—unlike last year." She looked smug, as if she deserved an award.

Riko giggled. "You did."

Yoshiko sighed, scratching the back of her neck. "I felt bad last year, so I wanted to make it up to you with something special."

Riko shook her head with a soft smile. "Don’t feel bad, Yocchan. Even if you didn’t plan anything last year, I still had the best Valentine’s Day. You took me to that concert, remember?"

Yoshiko laughed. "I think you should thank Mari for that. It was her ticket."

Riko just shook her head, placing a gentle hand on Yoshiko’s arm. "Even without the concert, I would’ve still had the best Valentine’s. Just being with you is more than enough."

Yoshiko blushed slightly, looking away for a moment before glancing back at Riko with a small smirk. "Me too, you know." She cleared her throat before adding, "But this year, I wanted to plan something special, just for us."

Riko smiled warmly. "I’m looking forward to it."

------------------

The weekend finally arrived. It was Valentine’s Day.

At 5 AM, while the sky was still dark, Yoshiko stood outside Riko’s house, hands tucked into the pockets of the pastel blue sweatshirt Riko had bought her on their first date. A soft winter breeze ruffled her hair as she waited. She didn’t ring the doorbell, not wanting to wake Riko’s mom, so she had simply sent a text.

As Yoshiko looked up at the fading stars, she suddenly heard the front door open. She turned around and froze for a moment.

Riko stepped out, smiling sleepily but beautifully, dressed in a light pink knee-length dress with a pastel blue cardigan over it. A small sling bag was draped across her shoulder.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Riko said, stepping closer.

Yoshiko shook her head, smiling. "It’s okay, Riri. And… you look beautiful today."

Riko blushed lightly. "Thank you, Yocchan."

Her eyes then landed on Yoshiko’s sweatshirt, her fingers brushing the fabric. "Is this the one I bought you?"

Yoshiko nodded. "Yeah. Since it’s Valentine’s, I thought I’d wear something my girlfriend gave me."

Riko blushed again, looking down shyly. That was when Yoshiko noticed something in Riko’s hair—the sakura hairclip she had bought for her a while back.

Yoshiko gently touched it, tilting her head. "You’re wearing it."

Riko brought her hand up, touching Yoshiko’s fingers as they rested on the clip. "I figured this was the perfect time to wear it too."

They shared a quiet moment, staring at each other with soft smiles.

Yoshiko took Riko’s hand in hers. "Shall we go? There’s a lot of places I want to take you today."

Riko tilted her head. "Where are we going exactly?"

Yoshiko smirked playfully. "You’ll find out later."

Riko pouted but giggled as they began walking hand in hand.

------------------

The surprise quickly became apparent as they arrived at the airport. And soon enough, they were sitting side by side on a plane—Riko by the window, Yoshiko in the aisle seat.

As the plane started taxiing, Riko turned to Yoshiko with a puzzled look. "Why are we going to Okinawa?"

Yoshiko smirked, leaning back into her seat. "Secret, my dear Riri." She winked.

Riko giggled. "All this mystery is making me even more excited."

Yoshiko grinned. "Well, you better be. I just hope you’ll like it."

Riko leaned onto Yoshiko’s shoulder, hugging her arm. "Since the moment I saw you earlier, I already liked it."

Yoshiko chuckled, resting her head against Riko’s. "Me too."

As the plane lifted off, they stayed like that—warm, comfortable, and completely in love.

------------------

Hand in hand, Yoshiko and Riko walked out of the airport into the warm Okinawan air. The sky was clear, the gentle sea breeze carrying the scent of salt and adventure.

Yoshiko’s eyes scanned the area before locking onto a man holding a sign with her name on it. With a slight tug, she led Riko forward. “Come, Riri.”

The man greeted them with a polite nod. “Tsushima Yoshiko?”

Yoshiko nodded. “Yup, that’s me.”

The man gestured behind him, revealing a small white rental car. “Here’s the car you reserved for today.” He handed Yoshiko the keys. “Just make sure to return it before the day ends, and you’re all set.”

Yoshiko took the keys and grinned. “Got it. Thanks.”

The man bowed slightly. “Enjoy your time in Okinawa!”

Yoshiko and Riko bowed back, thanking him before he walked away. Turning to Riko, Yoshiko opened the passenger door with a playful smirk. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

Riko giggled as she slid into the seat. “You even rented a car for today?”

Yoshiko shrugged as she closed the door for her, walking around to the driver’s side. “Of course. We’ve got a lot of places to visit, and we can’t exactly do that by walking everywhere.”

Riko smiled at Yoshiko’s thoughtfulness, watching as she started the car.

“Alright, first stop—breakfast,” Yoshiko announced, pulling onto the road. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Riko giggled. “I always have an appetite when I’m with you.”

Yoshiko smirked as she focused on the road. “Good. Because I plan to spoil you today.”

------------------

Their first stop was Kokusai Dori, a lively international street in Naha, known for its blend of traditional and modern Okinawan culture. Yoshiko skillfully parked the car near a charming local café, the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filling the air.

She quickly got out and opened the door for Riko, taking her hand as they walked inside.

“Such a gentleman today, aren’t you?” Riko teased as Yoshiko led her to a table.

“Only for you,” Yoshiko replied with a grin.

After browsing the menu, they placed their orders and chatted while waiting. Soon, a waitress arrived with their breakfast.

“Okinawan sweet potato toast, served warm with a side of miso soup and tofu, along with iced Okinawan tea,” she said as she placed Riko’s order in front of her.

Turning to Yoshiko, she continued, “Avocado toast with soft-boiled eggs, freshly made. I’ve also brought sata andagi (Okinawan donuts) and a fruit parfait to share. And, of course, your coffee—just the way you like it, strong and dark.”

Yoshiko and Riko thanked the waitress before Yoshiko rubbed her hands together in excitement. “Let’s dig in?”

Riko nodded and took a bite of her sweet potato toast. “Mmm! This is delicious!”

Yoshiko took a bite of her avocado toast, nodding in approval. “This too!”

Riko reached for one of the sata andagi, taking a bite. Her eyes widened in delight. “It’s so crispy on the outside but soft inside… It’s really good.”

Yoshiko picked one up as well, popping it into her mouth. “Sweet, crispy, and deep-fried? This is exactly my type of food.”

Riko smirked slightly. “I thought I was your type?”

Yoshiko paused mid-bite, blinking in surprise before grinning. “Oh, you are. You’re sweet, soft, and perfect—especially on the inside.” She winked.

Riko turned bright red and quickly focused on her food, avoiding Yoshiko’s gaze.

Yoshiko chuckled, sipping her coffee. “I love how easy it is to make you flustered.”

Riko huffed, still red. “You just love teasing me, that’s all.”

Yoshiko leaned closer, resting her chin on her palm. “Well, I do love you.”

Riko shyly glanced at her, then smiled, taking a sip of her tea. “I love you too, Yocchan.”

Their hands found each other’s under the table, fingers gently intertwining as they enjoyed their breakfast, soaking in the warm, easy atmosphere of their first Valentine’s Day trip together.

------------------

After breakfast, Yoshiko drove them further into the island, a playful smirk on her lips as she stole glances at Riko, who sat curiously in the passenger seat.

“Where are we going now, Yocchan?” Riko asked, excitement lacing her voice.

Yoshiko simply grinned. “It’s a surprise. Just trust me.”

When they finally arrived, Yoshiko quickly got out and ran over to Riko’s side, opening the door for her. As Riko stepped out, Yoshiko moved behind her, gently covering her eyes with both hands.

“No peeking yet,” Yoshiko teased.

Riko giggled. “Is it still far?”

“Just a few more steps.” Yoshiko carefully guided her forward, making sure she didn’t trip over anything. Then, stopping at just the right spot, she finally removed her hands.

“Surprise!”

Riko slowly opened her eyes, and her breath hitched. Before her stretched a breathtaking path lined with fully bloomed sakura trees, their delicate pink petals drifting through the air like a soft snowfall. Some of the trees arched over the stone pathway, forming a natural tunnel of pink blossoms.

“Sakura trees… this early?” Riko gasped in amazement. “This is incredible, Yocchan! How did you find this place?”

Yoshiko grinned. “Did a little research. I wanted to take you somewhere special for Valentine’s Day, and this place came up. Thought it’d be perfect.”

Riko turned to Yoshiko, her eyes shining. “I love it. Thank you, Yocchan!” Without hesitation, she threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly.

Yoshiko hugged her back, pressing a soft kiss to Riko’s lips before pulling away slightly. “It even matches your hair clip.”

Riko’s hand instinctively went to touch the sakura-shaped clip in her hair. “Oh, right! Good thing I wore it today.”

Yoshiko chuckled. “It’s like destiny or something.”

Riko giggled before grabbing Yoshiko’s hand. “Come on, let’s take some pictures together!”

She pulled out her phone, and the two posed beneath the falling petals, taking selfies with their cheeks pressed together. In one photo, Riko held the phone while Yoshiko leaned down slightly, hugging Riko from the side and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

After scrolling through their pictures, Riko giggled. “These turned out so cute!”

Yoshiko peeked over her shoulder. “Maybe we should send one to our moms?”

Riko smiled. “Good idea.”

They each selected a sweet, non-kissing photo and sent it off. It wasn’t long before Riko received a reply from her mom:

“You two look adorable! Tell Yoshiko thank you for the flowers and chocolates.”

Riko blinked at the message, then turned to Yoshiko. “Mom said thanks for the flowers and chocolates… what did she mean by that?”

Yoshiko scratched her cheek sheepishly. “Oh, that. I had some flowers and chocolates delivered to your mom this morning. You know, since it’s Valentine’s Day.”

Riko’s heart warmed at the thought. “That’s so sweet of you, Yocchan.”

Yoshiko smirked. “I also ordered some for my mom, don’t worry. But as for you, I figured… why give you flowers when I can take you to the flowers instead?”

Riko giggled, feeling so full of love she thought she might melt. “Thank you, Yocchan.”

As they strolled along the path, Riko reached out to touch a delicate pink petal, watching as a few fluttered down onto her palm. “They’re beautiful.”

Yoshiko took a step back, pretending to evaluate something. “Hmm… You know, they’re not the most beautiful thing here, though.”

Riko tilted her head. “Oh? Then what is?”

Yoshiko smirked, her magenta eyes twinkling. “You. You’re more beautiful than any of this.”

Riko’s entire face turned red as she quickly covered her cheeks with her hands. “Yocchan! Stop, that’s so embarrassing!”

Yoshiko laughed before gently taking Riko’s hands away from her face. “It’s true, you know.”

Holding Riko’s hands, Yoshiko softened her voice. “You’re always beautiful, but today… you look extra stunning.”

Riko’s heart skipped a beat. Flustered, she playfully punched Yoshiko’s chest before immediately hiding her face against it. “Your words are just too much.”

Yoshiko chuckled, wrapping her arms around Riko in a warm hug. “And you love it.”

Still blushing, Riko muttered against her chest, “… I do.”

Yoshiko grinned, resting her chin on top of Riko’s head. “Good. Because I love you.”

Riko peeked up at her, eyes filled with affection. “I love you too, Yocchan.”

With the soft rustling of cherry blossoms around them, the two stood there, soaking in the magic of the moment—wrapped in each other’s warmth, hearts full, and love blooming just like the petals drifting through the air.

------------------

Later in the afternoon, Yoshiko and Riko drove to Sefa Utaki, an ancient sacred site shrouded in history and mystery. Towering rock formations created natural passageways, and the dense forest surrounding them cast dappled shadows on the ground as they walked.

Riko’s voice dropped to a whisper as she took in the serene beauty of the place. “It’s so quiet here.”

Yoshiko nodded, instinctively lowering her voice as well. “It feels… special. Like the whole place is alive.”

They continued walking in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. Eventually, they stopped at a secluded spot where sunlight filtered through the trees, illuminating a small sacred shrine nestled between the rocks.

Yoshiko turned to Riko, her expression thoughtful. “Hey… let’s make a wish.”

Riko blinked. “A wish?”

Yoshiko nodded toward the shrine. “It feels right. A wish for our future, maybe.”

Riko hesitated for a moment before smiling. “Alright.”

Side by side, they closed their eyes, each silently making their own wish. Neither spoke their wish aloud, but as they reopened their eyes and met each other’s gaze, they both knew.

They wished for the same thing.

For this love, this happiness, to last forever.

------------------

By late afternoon, they arrived at Naminoue Beach, where the golden hues of the setting sun reflected off the calm waters. The ocean breeze was gentle, carrying the scent of salt and warmth.

Yoshiko slipped off her shoes, stepping onto the soft sand. “It’s warmer than I expected.”

Riko did the same, holding Yoshiko’s hand while carrying her shoes in the other. They walked along the shoreline, their fingers intertwined, the waves gently lapping at their feet.

Riko sighed contentedly. “This is nice.”

Yoshiko grinned mischievously. “You know what would make it even nicer?”

Riko tilted her head. “What?”

Before she could react, Yoshiko suddenly scooped Riko up by her waist, lifting her effortlessly off the ground.

“YOCCHAN!” Riko yelped, her shoes slipping from her grip as she instinctively clung to Yoshiko’s shoulders for support.

Yoshiko laughed, spinning around with Riko in her arms, feeling the warmth of her girlfriend against her. As she slowed her spin, Yoshiko leaned in, catching Riko’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss before gently lowering her back down.

Just before Riko’s feet touched the ground, they pulled away, their breaths mingling in the cool evening air.

“See?” Yoshiko smirked. “Now it’s perfect.”

Riko gazed at her with wide, love-struck eyes. “That felt… magical.”

She rested her head against Yoshiko’s chest, and Yoshiko’s hands remained on her waist. Without thinking, they began to sway—slow dancing to an unspoken melody, their bodies moving as one. The sky was painted in shades of orange, pink, and violet, the waves shimmering beneath the sunset.

No words were needed. Just the rhythm of their hearts, the quiet crash of the waves, and the warmth of each other’s presence.

For them, this was love.

------------------

As night fell, they arrived at The Steakhouse Hama, a restaurant known for its high-quality Okinawan beef and breathtaking ocean views. They were seated by the window, where they could see the distant waves glistening under the moonlight.

The flickering candlelight on their table added to the romantic atmosphere, casting a soft glow on Riko’s face. Yoshiko found herself staring, completely mesmerized.

Riko, noticing the look, smiled playfully. “What is it?”

Yoshiko smirked. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

Riko giggled. “I was just about to say the same thing.”

They shared a warm glance before digging into their meals, savoring the flavors of the perfectly cooked steak and side dishes. As they ate, Riko reached across the table, gently intertwining her fingers with Yoshiko’s.

“This has been the best Valentine’s Day,” Riko admitted, her golden eyes shining.

Yoshiko raised an eyebrow, teasing. “Because of Okinawa? Or because of me?”

Riko giggled, squeezing Yoshiko’s hand. “You already know the answer to that.”

Yoshiko chuckled before bringing Riko’s hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it. “Good. Because I feel the same way.”

Riko smiled at her lovingly. “Thank you, Yocchan, for today.”

Yoshiko returned the smile, her grip on Riko’s hand tightening slightly. “Anything for you, Riri.”

------------------

As the night came to an end, they made their way back to the airport, Yoshiko driving them through the quiet roads of Okinawa. Riko, feeling drowsy from the long and magical day, rested her head against Yoshiko’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“Let’s do this again,” she murmured sleepily.

Yoshiko glanced at her, a gentle smile forming on her lips. She pressed a light kiss to the top of Riko’s head.

“We will.”

With that, their perfect Valentine’s Day came to a close, leaving behind a memory they would cherish forever.

[dutifullytwisted]

Here are some things I realised that they might have had more of a effect on me than I thought they did:

1. My dad beating me with a book when I told him I wasn't ready to attend an optional exam. (and him laughing about it to my mom and sister. I sounded so funny when I screamed apparently.)

2. Being applauded as a kid for my 'maturity' and my good grades. Being called shit for my grades now.

3. Hearing my parents fight and my mom crying. My sister and mom screaming crying over petty things.

4. My sister venting to me (when I was 11-12yrs old) about her adult problems because I was very mature for my age.

5. knowledge of the fucked up deaths of some of my relatives, and how 80%-95% of my relatives are assholes (cheating, molesting their kids, hitting on other people's wife's etc.)

6. My parents openly discussing about their financial problems and how raising daughters are a burden for them, KNOWING that I'm listening to them. Because ultimately, this would guilty me into not asking for much, because I'm already a burden to them. I don't know if they're aware they made me feel like this.

7. Spending most of my teens (11 to 14,I think) in isolation, as I lived alone with my dad, and, well, he came back home only at around 6 or 8pm

8. Being forced to wear stuff (uncomfortable, heavy, prickly clothing) that other relatives gifted when I got my first period. (Tradition). Being scolded later because I cried in front of said relatives that I didn't want to.

9. Watching my parents forcing my sister to marry. And the fallout that happened as consequence.

10. Having the knowledge that my very own father has some pretty misogynistic views, that he wants me and my sister to abide by. It doesn't affect everyday life, sure, but I now know that he judges every female celebrity be sees everyday, for one reason or the other.

11. Being told that my 80%-90% (B or A grade) is absolutely unacceptable when I was going through a mental block, burn out, and what not.

12. Getting shit on for wearing comfortable black clothes instead of traditional clothes to a friend's birthday (I was 12).

13. Spending a good portion of my day scrolling on my phone.

14. Getting my phone smashed (on the wall, after almost having it thrown on my head) for being unable to pull away from said phone (I had trouble using it responsibly), and getting sweared at and called slurs because I was failing at everything, 'because of that damn phone.

15. Dad making excuses for smashing my phone against and wall and making me cry so much I almost peed myself, his excuse being 'he thought it was the old phone and breaking it didn't matter because I still had my new one'. Did my feeling not matter too? He infact, broke my new phone.

16. My mom saying that I shouldn't have screamed when my dad started beating me with a book (refer point 1), as we were in a foreign country, and if someone called the police on him, we would be done for. It didn't matter that I was screaming out of fear, out of pain. Was i really overreacting or?

17. The fact that they said they would get me profesional help since they thought I needed it, but never did. Is it because they therapy is costly or because my sister was already in therapy and putting their second daughter there too would be a shame on them?

18. My mom confessing (not to me, to my RELATIVES, during A CASUAL CONVERSATION,) that infact, my dad has beaten me before a few times as a child.

I think the recent one had more of an effect (point 1.) because I was old enough to remember it more vividly, even so, i have this one horrible memory from my childhood:

19. That one time my dad got so angry (for whatever reason) at me, a child, 6/7/8 years old, that he chased me around the living room, till I backed into a corner, and started slapping me continuously i was crying, begging to stop till my mom intervened.

20. Being called selfish, entitled and inconsiderate, when I didn't want to move back to my home country, which was WAY, WAAAY more unsafe and unclean and corrupt than the one I was living in, even for the sake of MY own education.

I know that my dad's job was unstable at that time, and staying in this foreign country would actually burden him. But I was 14 and I had just started to make friends and live a normal life after 3yrs of not talking to anyone other than family. I was... I don't know if I was actually being selfish. I just wanted to continue living that normal life. I was afraid that moving to a new country, where I didn't even know the language, would hinder my ability in making friends, and that I would go back into isolation.

I just wanted some validation. But. At that time, I didn't know that. So I refused and the waterworks started. I didn't know how to express myself in words. I had so many insecurities and worries.

"it's all going to be okay" is all I wanted to hear.

Ofcourse, that is not what I got.

I got lectures on top of lectures.

Selfish, entitled, inconsiderate. A brat.

I got called selfish, inconsiderate, for not... Being considerate and listening to my mom's lecture about how ridiculous I was being I just wanted comfort

The lectures lastest hours but ultimately what they said, how they felt about me, boiled down to those words.

I went to my room and put on my headphones because I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to know I knew, which is why I ran what they thought about me.

I got called selfish and inconsiderate for....not listening to my mom going on about how ridiculous I was being to my sister and dad.

Who in their right mind would listen to someone berating them, without ever attempting to know their true feelings?

She opened the door and saw me wearing headphones, "why weren't you listening to me?"

At that moment, i thought to myself "you're the ridiculous one here."

I didn't expect this point to turn into such a big rant.

21. Being ignored the entire day when I cried because I was unable to express myself (with regards to point 20.)

22. The fact that my parents seemed convinced that their way of treating my when my behaviour was less than ideal, was the best way to deal with the situation (beating, silent treatment, dismissing, breaking stuff, false promises, etc.).

At those moments, I thought "you are doing more harm to me than good. One day you will realise it and feel guilty." I thought so out of spite.

Now, i KNOW what they did to me did me more harm than good. They will not realise, they WILL remain ignorant, and they most certainly, never will feel guilty.

To this day my dad justifies him beating me with book.

22. Being unable to let go of my obsessive scrolling , because (recently realised) it was my coping mechanism, a way to escape reality. Being called lazy and irresponsible and having the blame put on me for it. I was told to hand over my phone to them, and, unsurprisingly, I didn't. At that moment I didn't understand why I didn't. Now I know that I just didn't want to let go of my only way of escaping reality, my only coping mechanism. And well. Obviously letting go of it wouldn't be easy.

Didn't it ever cross their minds to help me, to teach me how to use my phone responsibly, rather than taking custody of it and berating me for using it? I will have to use it in the future right? When they don't get to take custody of it anymore?

23. Using my irritation, my anger at anything really, as proof that I was getting addicted to my phone or to the tv. ESPECIALLY if it's induced by if they snatch it out of my hands, turn off the tv, block the screen, make fun of what I'm watching etc.

Getting mad if I do the same to them. The hypocrisy

24. Saying that my behaviour (biting my lips, making weird faces, sitting comfortably i.e, 'not lady-like', SHOWING FREAKING EMOTIONS IN MY FACE) at home, where I am relaxed, comfortable, and really being myself, IS WEIRD.

Also that this behaviour is because I watch anime. Definitely not because I actually feel stuff. Definitely not because I feel comfortable with myself in my own skin.

Them getting mad that i lased out after them saying this to me for WEEKS, because they didn't mean any harm by those comments.

---------------------------------------------------

I'll post more shit when I come up with it. For now this is all I can think of at the top of my head. I didn't expect me to actually start ranting midway.

I also didn't expecting myself to tear up midway. Well, atleast i know now that fucking shit hurt me. immensely.

This is all excluding the struggles I have with academic validation, school, socializing, and generally shitty friendships that made me question myself to this day.

To future me,

I hope you fucking heal from this shit.

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

My Characters as Excerpts from poems I wrote/started

Note: A lot of my poetry is shit I write to vent and to get my thoughts down really quick. So a lot of them are intense and very scattered in thoughts. XD Also some of these excerpts are from the same poem. And the second one under Digits is the whole thing I think? I forgot I wrote it. 

Cosma

Or did that sound a little to manly?

A bit overconfident.

Arrogant?

Who cares about that preconceived notion.

Social constructs are so boring and toxic.

I'm trying to live my life without getting kicked to the side in silence.

I ain't whimpering under some notion

That denies every positive motion

And takes a shit on people's emotions.

Drowning a bitch like it's a bottomless ocean.

and 

I'm like a beat drop

Aggressive and ear shattering

Not everyone's cup of tea

But I fall hard and unexpectedly

Arc

I

I

I

I

Well

I

I'm just a facet to be manipulated and utilized regardless of the will of the land.

Cause everybody else deciding what the land want.

Maybe the land is desiring my demise.

and 

You know that parent thing where they lie to you for years.

Build that lie for years so they can stack that hypocrisy.

Stacking like a mason stacks bricks.

Exceptionally!

Tharion

Make America Great Again

It makes me want to recoil beneath my own skin

Cause those words breathing down my neck

And touching me without consent.

Every time I see a red hat I feel myself shivering at the thought that

That some fool really believe they the hero in this story.

Thinking they a vigilante as they walk over the corpses that defied their warped reality.

Greeter

We could all get into that insta baddie business.

So post all your business.

We seriously mean that shit.

Talking like I'm right beside the vibrating speaker

Filled with base.

Like damn I'm screaming over the longest beat drop I've come to face.

I have to leave them lying there in distaste

Force them to remember my face.

and 

I'm so tired

Tired of trying.

A warmth covers me.

A bit too much to be comforting

It covers me.

I cave.

It was so easy too.

I'm exhausted.

Digits

My clothes have absorbed too many tears

Soaked and dragging me.

Pulling me down gradually.

My knee hit the ground

Then the other.

My stomach reaches my soul that's been lying on the ground since forever.

And my head finally taps the ground.

Bro I've K.O-ed

A little further would've been a fatality.

and 

You in your feelings?

You... 

In your feelings?

Ha been kicking those bitches to the curb

Since they started piling on.

Your a fool for letting them cling on so long.

But go on player.

You get paid to carry this out.

How can you allow such a thing to happen

Without some green on the side.

Makes the job worthwhile.

Damn player

Getting played by your emotions.

Donnie

I sold my soul today

Because I couldn't afford that all too high price of living another day.

I've been settling for far too long

Need to stick my hand into the boiling water and stir the pot.

Because my hand is the best utensil I got.

and 

Getting beat down like Rocky's dumbass in a match.

One two bop.

One two bop bop.

Three four badap.

And bitch I'm collapsing.

Hitting the ground so fucking hard

I've bounced a bit

My body reverberating cause it's a broken machine.

Rumbling and tumbling cause that shit can't keep going.

Hollis

Pull up the social media.

Spread the fucking word.

Even I know social media is absurd.

Spread the fucking word.

I see y'all typing.

Go ahead and get to writing.

We ain't hiding.

We ain't shying away.

I want to be all over your social media page.

Green

I'm one wrong word away from losing it all.

But if another motherfucker tells me to take a deep breath I'll risk it all.

Cock back a fist like every white radical cocks back a gun

Let that bitch go and don't let a motherfucker run.

and 

Guess I've been doing a Rocky.

Letting my head get beat in

Till I go brain dead

Can't tell you what my plan is

Struggling to speak over my incompetence

That's got the speaker on full blast

So strong the windows rattling

And after a while, I take to aggressive actions.

Taking my fucking body and slamming it against.

All those opposing things that discredit.  

Peace

I know my throat is bleeding

But shit!

I'm still going to scream.

A bitch needs a victory!

and 

We

Don't

Think

You

Deserve

The

Things

You're

Asking

For.

Shut up and listen.

Who told you to put your thoughts and feelings into this?

Absolutely disgusting.

You're not good enough to get the full cut!

You're not rich enough

Sorry, I meant valuable enough!

Crap did it again!

Not worthy enough!

Bleeep enough!

Elliot

Fill the silence.

Your voice is stronger than mine.

My voice is feeble

After years of idling

Idling is this weird abyss.

Scream out your feelings little man.

They can't always be forced within.

and 

But you've proven unworthy

Dumb, deaf, and you don't care to listen

I'm--

You're not even good enough to be an honorary mention.

Saz

You ever look into his unblinking eyes?

The purple dinosaur out to steal your kids.

Trying to give the affection their momma wouldn't give.

Run from the big purple dinosaur.

That man gonna steal your kids.

Won't resist giving these kids an unhealthy squeeze.

As he seizes the product of your unwanted accident.

Julie

So I opened my arms wide and screamed up to the sky

"I regret being here. I regret being alive."

Now I'm here.

Soulless, never truly knowing if the breath I'm breathing is mine.

But I kinda like the absence of mind

Cause now all the bad thoughts ain't even mine.

and 

I remember being unabashedly myself and being mocked by family members.

Mocked by strangers.

Mocked by students dragging themselves through the day with superficial grins and words that burned like a snake's venom.  

Mocked enough to take a step back and watch from the outside.

Cause getting mocked enough will twist the mind.

And I hate to admit it but it twisted mine

Ian

I'm tired of diving so deep into my thoughts.

The pressure of the water crushing my bones.

Sending my organs oozing out of orifices I've never even thought of.

I can imagine myself sinking.

Sinking so damn deep there ain't no more light.

And my corpse is a snack to the mysteries beneath.

I'm exhausted.

Damn I'm exhausted.

and 

But I joke about it now.

And like the seagulls that swarm the bay they all laugh with me.

Not acknowledging that they were the same ones laughing at me.

Mocking and excluding me.

Because I only fit one thing in their teen perspectives, far to shallow to conceal my body.

[suguru-getos]

Bby, do you have any hcs about a reader overwhelmed by their studies, with Alhaitham, Cyno and Ayato ? Long story short, I have three major assignments to hands for tomorrow I have barely started, I'm sick, I can't focus on any of my classe and I don't know how I'm supposed to suceed in life if I struggle this much with my studies. I just want to sleep and fuse with my bed at this point. ⚰

This takes me back to uni days (has only graduated a few months ago); I remember giving my final assessments and presentations along with written exams in May 2022; gosh it was beyond hectic. I hope you are taking rest love ❤️ remember to recharge and take enough breaks, you can only do so much and I know you are doing your best! If you are feeling too sick then leave em’ be. Take it easy on yourself, yeah?

Genshin men x overwhelmed reader (w/ studies)

Cyno would probably notice what is bothering you, with the first scrunch of your brows or the first annoyed ‘hmph’ that you’d let out. You have barely spent time with him and he understands that what you are doing must be incredibly urgent/important. Nevertheless, he cannot help but notice that you are not at your best today. He would sit beside you with your favorite snacks, probably crack a joke or two. “Hey sweetheart, why did a broom gets poor grades in school?” You sigh, squinting at him. “Cyno, not now,” he smiles and hugs you from behind, “because it was too busy sweeping, you get it? Sleeping? Sweeping?” Would probably resort to cuddling with you to help you ease your stress.

Ayato wanted to spend quality time okay? As much as his petty little pride would come in the way of directly saying these things, he had time off his schedule and wanted to lay you against his chest, hear you talk about your day while he runs hands through your hair. Unfortunately what he saw was a shitload of tabs opened on your Browser, Microsoft Word opened in the background and barely a few sentences written. Skims through the content and asks you about how he can help. Would give you suggestions about what to do, research for stuff after asking you the topics you need to work on and yeah! Waka sama is the best boyfriend okay? He personally told me that! 😤

Alhaitham 👁️ ALHAITHAM 👁️ He is knowledgeable Mr. Grand Scribe sama he knows everything he probably would do your assignments for you. Only if the submission is too urgent. He would then spend time teaching you and talking to you about the topics allotted. “Don’t force me to add a method of punishment sweetheart,” he raises a brow when you adamantly answer a few questions wrong on purpose, just to probe a reaction out of him. Would probably say things like you need to take care of yourself, you need to take care of what you eat, you need to start working out, you need to eat your greens, ALL OVER AN ASSIGNMENT LMFAO

[ley-med]

Hi!!! I need some advice from you or other doctors/med students. I just have a few exams left till the end of med school but I just. Can’t. Study. Anymore. It’s making me want to throw up. I hate it so much. I open the book and I’m just like 😭😭😭. And the worst thing is that after I’m done with med school I will STILL have to study. Till I die. And I currently just don’t want to study ever again. I feel like it’s sucking all the life out of me. So if someone here ever felt like that, I would greatly appreciate some words of wisdom haha

Oh sweetheart, I feel you! And I assure you, most of us had been here, and still succeeded against all odds. I'm sure others will have some advice too :)

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I passed my last exams, I was also suffering from a very heavy case of "I can't study"-ness (and apparently also undiagnosed ADHD, not helping my case). What worked for me (kinda), I took breaks pretty often. Might seem counterproductive, but it's better if you do something fun/relaxing/anything else for an hour and then study effectively for half an hour, than suffering through that one and a half hour without getting any studying done... Eat well, do sports, and sleep enough! And then, just take a deep breath, and suck it up, force yourself trough the material. Pure force of will. And my favourite motivational pinterest quote: "the quickest way out is trough". (You can't imagine how many times I repeated this sentence like a mantra in my head, instead of actually studying, naturally)

And it's important to remember, you are at the end of med school. You know way more than you believe. If your school is anything like mine, most of these exams will test you on stuff you've already learned once (or twice or thrice etc). You need to freshen it up, definitely, but you already have most of the knowledge you need to pass.

Believe me, I know the feeling that you think about the future and you want to throw up because of all the studying you will have to do after med school. Hell, I'm still in my "school? never again" phase. (I might have slight PTSD from med school... But yeah, we are talking about you and not me here. Anyway.) First off, you will most probably have some time off after finishing med school and before starting your first doctor job. Hide all the medical books from view! If you have a few months, by the end of it you might even be able to read more than a page of a non-science-related book you actually enjoy! But joking aside, time off after med school really works wonders. It's absolutely necessary for your sanity and survival, and it will help regain some of your motivation.

Second off, studying after med school is much more fun! If anyone told me this, I definitely wouldn't have believed them, but it's true. Now I have to study things I'm interested in, things I care about. I see it put to work in day to day life, hell, I use it in day to day life. Never thought I would say this, but studying now is (mostly) fun. I'm starting to remember that I used to like studying, that I'm curious about the world around me... So to summarize, it gets better. It's still studying, sometimes it's still an "I don't wanna" chore, but when the difference between studying or not can literally and actually make the difference between a patient's life or death, that terror makes for a pretty fucking great motivation. And when you studied something and then use it in your work the next week? Amazing feeling.

So hang in there. You got this far already, you can do this! It's going to hurt all the way, but you are going to be standing there on the other side victorious, so just puff out you chest and keep going until you get there.

Best of luck with your exams!

[diavolosthots]

Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!

You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things

Warning: uh.... Angst?

Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)

“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess. 

And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help. 

Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed. 

However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!” 

Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”

Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this. 

“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.” 

Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”

“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.” 

You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.” 

[cryptiql]

cherry starbursts

pairing: bakugou/reader (male reader in mind but is gender neutral)

warnings: none, i think?? lots of cussing though, courtesy of lord explosion murder

words: 3.6k

a/n: yuzuya's audios giving me so much brainrot...gonna be thinking about this all week. also the way this started out as god tier writing but gradually turned into shit at the end 🏃 nonetheless, i hope i did this gremlin man justice </3

a contemplative hum tickles your throat as you observe the paragraph laid out before you, the pads of your fingers tingling as you trail them across the pages. on the occasions where you've found your nose nestled deep within them, a muted scent of pears and sawdust would invade your senses, and the urge to rest your head in the plains of your chemistry textbook would become overwhelming. however, the threat of being cuffed over the head by a rolled up magazine makes you think twice about slacking off, so you begrudgingly slump back into your seat with a resigned huff. the clock in your dorm is no doubt ticking away like always; the second hand rounding at great speeds while the minute and hour hands crawl by at a sluggish pace; but you aren't there to hear it.

instead, you reside in bakugou's room, basking in the unencumbered atmosphere created solely by his diligent efforts to keep his space clean and organized. it's just the way he is, you have to remind yourself. not because you stubbed your toe on his dumbbells last week and he felt sufficiently guilty as to make sure nothing was in your path the next time you visited. that would be silly. all that considered, bakugou's room isn't much different from your own—save for the few comfort objects brought from home that give off a hospitable air—but the lack of stimulus it holds is apparent. anything that could disturb your tranquil study date has either been stored away or placed beyond your reach.

damn him, the bastard! he's completely oblivious, you silently muse, bracing your elbows on the desk to plant your face in the palms of your hands. you chastise yourself at the same moment for forgetting your headphones, but in your defense, bakugou screaming for you to hurry up had prompted a hasty departure. if he had the patience to wait two more minutes. . .

rather than finishing the thought, you pull the textbook closer, hoping that somehow the enlarged print will stick to your brain like a temporary tattoo. you only need this information long enough to pass the exam, but once it's over, you swear you'll never mention anything chemistry related unless it's the bond between you and your neighbor. the idle scratching of pencil led against paper erupts from his side of the room, lessening the static in your head by a fraction, but it doesn't last. he mutters something unintelligible under his breath as you spin in your chair to look at him in desperation.

he remains ignorant for the next minute or so, only glancing up at you briefly before returning to his notes. your nostrils flare as you reach down to untangle your laces and pull off your shoe. you chickened out last time this happened, but being ignored has successfully fed the flames of your frustration, and you simply will not stand for it any longer. you blame your sleep-addled mentality for the lack of better aim, but it stokes your pride when bakugou flinches as your shoe hurdles past his shoulder.

"the hell was that for, dumbass!?" he growls, his eyes narrowing into slits. you respond with a high pitched whine; one that would be considered overexaggerated in his opinion, but in yours, was perfectly reasonable when being held against your will to study a subject that has no business being this tedious. "sukiii, i'm booored."

the blonde makes a 'tch' sound, positioning his arm in a warning manner before throwing his pencil at you, which you manage to catch easily. you revel in the deflated expression he wears, twirling the pencil between your fingers and kicking a leg over one arm of the chair. all this, while never breaking eye contact, was sure to break through to him. you're hopeful, what with the way katsuki's gaze—gradually failing to hide his infatuation—travels over your build from head to toe. whether because you giggle at his reaction or decide to kick your feet like a giddy child, he snaps out of his trance with an all too familiar scowl and shuts his own textbook with unnecessary force. his demanding stare is fixated on you as he tosses it haphazardly to the edge of the bed.

"give me back my pencil, idiot." he completely ignores your previous statement and jumps straight into business, as always. "give me back my shoe first, hot stuff." you challenge, smirking in a way that you very well know gets him hot under the collar. the teasing endearment will either put the odds in your favor; earning you your shoe as desired, and perhaps the lovely little blush that often dusts his face whenever you flirt with him; or seal your fate in hell where the everlasting flames may burn similarly, if not just as hotter than bakugou's explosions. it has taken years of practice to uphold your smug attitude in the face of his unyielding rage; nose wrinkled and canines grinding. even now, he is the image of perfection—a powerful god emblazoned in brimstone and baneful inferno—and you, a mere lover of art. after a moment, bakugou's resolve seems to falter. his piecing glare relents only slightly to give way for a pensive expression as he sighs, gently rubbing along the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. he throws you your shoe while standing from the bed, and as you slip it on, he shuffles over to his clothes drawer to pull out his own pair of sneakers. this prompts you to raise a brow inquisitively, but your silent question is left unanswered up until bakugou claps a hand on your shoulder and grumbles.

"c'mon, i'm fucking starving. there's a seven eleven nearby that's got spicy ramen."

and just like that, all thoughts pertaining to the test have been pulverized to dust by katsuki's unrelenting fists. the promise of food after hours of relentless mental abuse has you brushing off the sudden change of inclination in seconds, meanwhile the hothead to your right mulls over it during your trek through the empty hallways, stuffing his arms into the holes of his jacket. he had been able to overlook your constant fidgeting and intermittent noises of vexation, but too soon it became obvious that you weren't getting anywhere with the session. he would have simply offered to help if not for his own inability to concentrate, which had made itself known within the last half hour when he caught himself staring at you between taking notes. so what if he found your pouting cute? just maybe, he had started to fall in love with the way your brows furrowed at the instance of a misunderstood question; the absentminded tugging of your earlobe; the way your eyes looked without seeing, as if the smallest things held the greatest importance. sure, the tapping of your nails against a desk was a bit much, but he could always put a stop to your fretting by lacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand. just maybe, your bashful reactions made him want to hold you closer; to see you lounging across his lap—a throne befitting for a king—with your rose hued cheeks nestled in the crook of his neck.

not that you needed to know any of that. no fucking way would he endow another reason for you to tease him when the list was already so long.

curfew isn't for another hour, but bakugou would rather not waste time dawdling, so he uses this as reasoning for hooking your arm with his and practically hauling you out the exit. he mutters something about you being "too fucking slow" and "leaving you behind if you don't keep up", but the fact that he's dragging you along at all shows that he would have no problem resorting to desperate matters. the right amount of groveling and or compromising might mean a piggyback ride to the store, but regardless of how tempting the idea is, you decide not to further burden your friend with carrying you.

the towering shape of heights alliance becomes more and more like a speck of dust as your journey continues, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your already weary mind. you eye katsuki's side profile, noting the distinct lack of malice upon his handsome features, and smile softly to yourself. friend. it was the first word that occurred to you, albeit the least desirable and in no way comparable to the term that caused your heart to flutter within the confinements of your ribcage.

you aren't together. you don't know if you'll ever be, but when the the milieu; brimming with chaotic screams, booming laughter and disorderly merriment belonging to that of your closest friends; is whisked from the narrative, katsuki looks at you differently. whatever fragments of disdain and spite tend to crumble within the first few seconds and are replaced by an emotion that was unheard of ever having manifested in the depths of his vermillion hues. it holds a semblance to adoration, perhaps even respect, and for as long as you can recall, that is all you've wanted to see from him: to be regarded like no other.

sure, it's not like how you dreamed—he isn't very affectionate in public, though you doubt he would be even if you were together, and it always stings when he shrugs your affections off with a deriding comment—but that's just it. it's not a dream. after every scornful remark; after the day has passed and the dwindling moon takes its place in the evening sky, breaking through the curtains of his dorm; he'll kiss your hand, your blooming cheeks, your lips, all to atone for it. where no one else can see, he treats you like a divine being, and part of you wishes to think that it's because he's selfish. a bit of possessiveness has lead to many nights of a shared bed, ruffled sheets and smothering cuddles, but who are you to complain? everything he gives you is more real than any well-constructed reverie.

he may not be yours, and you may not be his, but no one else will suffice for either of you, and that is the unspoken truth.

the minimal bitterness in the autumn breeze makes for a refreshing atmosphere with the only discontent being the hunger that claws at your stomach. bakugou has never been merciful towards anyone, let alone the self-acclaimed nuisance who interrupts his studying with half-baked plans of adventure, but you're ever so grateful for the rare times where he is.

you know you won't have to wait long now that the smell of milk bread and takoyaki trickles into the air, much like the faint pitter patter of raindrops on the concrete. the shower is horribly ill-timed, but you hardly mind, especially when the droplets cling to bakugou's eyelashes like crystalline gemstones; glimmering faintly with every blink as they catch the suns rays. it settles below the horizon, only a sliver of golden yellow to be seen dancing in the tree boughs above, and the fuck if the way it illuminates your not-boyfriend's visage isn't absolutely breathtaking. the glimpse of honeyed skin and kissable lips—pulled into a pensive pout—draws you in deeper, and deeper, and oh god i've been caught—

"you got a staring problem, dumbass?" he grumbles, a roseal color dusting his ears that he swears is from the cold.

even his offensive nicknames are laced with an abnormal tenderness, and knowing that you're the only one with the privilege to hear it causes your chest to swell with delight. you nibble your bottom lip, hoping that it will somehow hide the fleet of giggles bubbling in your throat, but it does no such thing. "yeah, it's weird. whenever i see something beautiful, i just feel compelled to stare at it."

you don't need to look at him to know you've struck a nerve, but you do anyways, and his face grows redder under the intensity of your teasing leer. he sputters, curses falling from past his lips like a waterfall, and rips his arm from your grasp to cradle it as if you've burned him. any sane person would have backed down the second mini explosions began flaring up from his palms, however, you are perhaps the exact opposite, as to be expected when surrounding yourself with the infamous bakusquad, who (excluding bakugou) procured one braincell to share amongst themselves. years of having to put up with and, by extension, learn how to effectively handle bakugou's fits have proven to be time well spent.

you remain none the wiser to the concerned stares of others as he spouts a line of insults; incomprehensible from behind his curled fist pressed tightly to his mouth.

"you-you can't just say that kinda shit out loud, dumbass!" and although he may seem mad, he's already dragging you down the street. you test your luck by huddling closer and resting your chin on his shoulder, your steady pace never faltering.

"is the katsuki bakugou stumbling over his words from a little compliment?" it almost feels like you've won, but then the blonde proceeds to cover your face with his still damp hand. the little shit had timed it perfectly so that your open mouth would taste the saltiness of his sweat—quite the contrary to its sugary caramel aroma—and if you weren't so preoccupied by the resonance of his cackling laugh, you might have spent the rest of the trip gagging and complaining about the whole ordeal. he hardly seems bothered, wiping your saliva on his trousers and going forth with that customary lumbering strut, which always has you torn between fawning, chortling or questioning if he has fucking weights down his pants.

nonetheless, you can't help but murmur how cute he looks as you swing your free arm in tune with your steps.

by the time you've arrived at the shop, the sun has long since disappeared; welcoming hues of purple, navy blue and hints of orange to dapple the heavens, along with the foretelling of stars. you can't begin to describe how lucky you are to be living in a city with such beautiful scenery, even when the thin clouds of smog from factories often hinder your view of it. the fluorescent lights from the 'open' sign flash sporadically, casting a cobalt glow to dance across your dazed expression. katsuki watches with intent, chuckling at how easily distracted you can get as he tugs you inside by the cloth of your shirt.

the person behind the cash register spares a customary greeting before returning to their magazine, and bakugou makes a beeline for the intended isle, something akin to excitement radiating from him. he wears it much differently, and it resembles is go-to callous guise in almost every way, but you're able to detect the slight shift in demeanor as if its the easiest thing in the world. you hardly register that he's removed himself from you until the distance grows too large to ignore, and you shuffle over to the place beside him with a newfound adrenaline. the crisp air of the corner store heightens your senses as you tap your foot to the pop song playing overhead.

the only other sound is of katsuki examining the ramen and deciding what level of spice he should get, encouraging you to ponder what sort of hellish nightmare he has planned for the rest of the group. it was just last week when he dared kaminari to try some of the noodles, and the poor boy had spent ten minutes weeping in snot-nosed agony that you would have to be insane to put something that hot in your mouth. bakugou had laughed at his misery and carried on eating with vigor, mocking the others for their weak taste buds.

after a beat of silence, you decide to test your luck again by poking is shoulder, as well as batting your eyelashes at him and cocking your head to the side.

"can we get some candy?"

bakugou waves his hand dismissively, which is all the conformation you need before rounding the corner to peruse the variety of sweets on display. you immediately spot the marked parcels of sour gumdrops and assorted licorice and giggle to yourself as you pick them out, unaware of the gentle smile the blonde wears in regards to your child-like glee.

"yeah, just don't eat it all in one sitting. you go through that shit way too fast—it's unhealthy."

you won't bother commenting on his strict, motherly advisement, because you know it's in his best interest. he's grumbled about "stuffing your body with all that garbage" on numerous occasions, and while the hypocrisy might have annoyed you at one point ("and i assume gouging yourself on spicy ramen is completely different?") you realized rationing your candy would benefit both your health and your wallet. you nod, despite knowing he can't see, and idly feel for your back pocket, wondering just how much katsuki plans to stock up. money isn't exactly an issue, so you suppose it doesn't matter, but the amount of packets he normally brings back is downright criminal.

"don't be shy," he eventually says, "i'm buying. you're responsible enough not to buy out the whole store, right?"

your confusion overwhelms the urge to roll your eyes at his sarcasm, but there also lies a hint of elation that he would offer to buy.

"i figured i'd be paying as compensation for messing with you." you stand on the tips of your toes to poke your head over the isle, feeling very tempted to ruffle his hair whilst he gathers the packages of ramen into his basket.

"nah, you can pay me back in some other way." his eyes flick upwards to meet your devilish smirk, and he turns away with an affronted noise, blood rushing to his cheeks.

"oh? i can't wait to see what you have in mind~."

and there go the sparks. they last but a few moments before katsuki composes himself, presumably because he realizes making a scene won't help the situation, but he still throws a glare at you from a distance as he beckons you closer. it seems like he's gotten all he needs, so you hastily grab whatever sweets are left on your mental list and rush back to the counter. a comfortable silence sits between you both as your items are checked out, and in that time, you observe the significant difference between pre-late-night-shopping-run bakugou and food-deprived-study-date bakugou. his shoulders are more relaxed, as is his facial appearance, and you'll be damned if you ever forget the way he smiles when he catches you looking from his peripheral vision.

it's soft and unguarded and leaves you struggling for breath as he waits for the cashier to turn away, then promptly laces your fingers together. what? katsuki takes the bag and pulls you effortlessly; like a ragdoll; a mere toy at his disposal; out into the brisk evening. his thumb brushes the back of your hand, making you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it, and he titters freely. what? the streetlamps glint brightly, flickering at random intervals as you travel onward at a leisurely pace. the roads closest to U.A. aren't as packed as the ones deeper into the city, and thus you are the only two souls to be found, save for the few cars that speed by under the faint luminescence of nearing traffic lights. katsuki squeezes your palm, then slithers his hand out of your hold to replace it at your waist, methodically caressing the skin there in a way that has your knees buckling. you sputter witlessly, attempting to catch the thoughts that flee from your mind like birds to the wind. the blonde is nothing less than ecstatic to be the reason for your flustered state, and he takes full advantage of it by leaning in and hovering his mouth just inches from your own.

"i'll take my payment now." and oh lord, you think. he doesn't have to ask me twice. your lips collide with his, molding together like melted toffee; just as sweet and addictive. you've shared kisses before; ones that left you bruised and scrambling for a coverup the next day; ones that felt like fire but were tinged with honey that soothed your throat; fleeting ones that were never enough. you were sure that your need for affection would never truly be satiated unless it was from the boy you held most dear, and with the moon as your sole witness, katsuki was happy to oblige.

"starbursts. . ." he huffs after pulling away, massaging your hip to subdue your dissatisfied hum. "you taste like cherry starbursts."

he doesn't seem to mind by the way he leans in for another kiss, and another, and another, until you're a jittery mess in his arms. you press against his chest, a wistful sigh escaping you when you part once more.

"not that i'm complaining, but where's this coming from? you're usually not so touchy." the last bit of your utterance trails off as bakugou presses his lips to your forehead and keeps them there. moments pass, and when he finally pulls away, its to hide his blush by walking ahead of you. "i should be able to kiss my partner whenever i please, shouldn't i?" he doesn't even give you a chance to catch up, because his words have you rooted to the spot. what urges your feet to move is the haughty smirk he tosses over his shoulder, and even then, the race has only begun; your demands for him to stop echoing down the street as you chase him.

cheeky bastard.

[transmalewife]

like i get where "laziness does not exist" and "what you're doing is already your best" is coming from, it's a good way to make parents and teachers etc empathise with the people they think are just useless, but at some point i think it begins to feel... infantilizing, and can actually make it harder to explain real conditions like executive dysfunction or chronic fatigue to those who don't experience them.

because anyone with adhd has heard at least once that "everyone feels like that sometimes. everyone procrastinates and forgets deadlines, you need to just get your shit together, stop looking for excuses and not medicalize your problems." and I see people countering that with "actually no one is ever lazy, they're all just dealing with some other insurmountable stuff in their life" and that prompts the obvious answer of "well, I have been lazy before" which then requires you to explain someone's own life to them to argue against it, which is both impossible and a dick move

But the truth is. laziness does exist. I've got chronic fatigue, chronic pain, I've got adhd and i've had some pretty unpleasant external life stuff killing my motivation. I know what all of those feel like, and yet sometimes i'm still just lazy. sometimes i sit in a haze of executive dysfunction, starving because i can't force myself to make food. sometimes i lay in bed for hours staring at a wall because my limbs feel to tired and heavy to move and my brain is so foggy i couldn't understand a word if i tried to read or watch something. sometimes i try so hard to do some work but my heart is beating so fast from stress because of a crisis of my life i can barely breathe. sometimes i choose to harness my hyperfocus to clean instead of study bc i know otherwise i won't do anything

but although sometimes i just spend a day in bed because i need the rest, sometimes I do the same for absolutely no reason. sometimes stressing before an exam makes it impossible to study for it, and sometimes going to a party the day before does the same. sometimes i let my dishes rot in the sink because my back hurts too much to stand to wash them, sometimes it's because i just don't want to do them.

I don't really know what the conclusion to this is, other than like. things are never that simple. it's easy to counter "you're just lazy" with "actually, no one is ever lazy," but it's just not true. your experience is not universal, and if you're being honest with yourself, you can probably pinpoint a few moments where you were being lazy. and that's not a bad thing! it's a privilege to be lazy. It's a privilege to not have to dedicate every ounce of energy you get in a week to keeping your life from falling apart. it's lovely to be able to choose to do nothing, and sometimes you should! laying all day in bed because you desperately need the rest is not treating yourself. laying all day in bed occasionally because you can, is. and being able to tell which is happening at any given moment makes you more in tune with your body and helps you track your symptoms and changing needs for rest and leisure

and viewing every single part of your existence exclusively through a medical lens is honestly just a depressing way to live. the point of healing, getting medical help and learning healthier coping mechanisms is to break out of the chokehold your disabilities have on you and be able to make a choice of where you use your energy. if everything you’re doing isn’t already a week late and urgent, you get to choose when to rest and when to push yourself. when to do your best and when to consciously aim lower.

[ambivalent-anarchy]

You've Got Moves (Part 2)

Masterlist

Part 1

Gender: Female

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warning: None

A/N: Better late than never, right?😂😂 (wow 2 fics in one week that's crazyyy) Also I put one of my favorite comedy tiktoks in the dialogue soooooo oops? Also Harry and Ned are wingmen who share one brain cell and I like it that way

I might make one more part to this but idk

---------------------------------------

It took 7 months for Peter to ask you out.

It took the time for MJ and Asher to become a couple, homecoming to go by, MJ and Asher to break up, winter formal, midterm exams, MJ and Asher to get back together, and Christmas to go before Peter Parker gathered the guts to even consider thinking about asking you out.

Scared wasn't even the word for it.

Harry Osborn, the new transfer student, laughed at how nervous Peter was at lunch. "Asking girls out is easy, Peter. I do it all the time!"

"You say it like it's the simplest thing on earth," Peter dreaded, to which Harry shrugged.

"Because it is! You just ask. How is it that I've only been at this school for 2 months and I've had more chicks than both you and Ned combined?"

"Hooking up is not a hobby of mine. That's why," Peter retorted with a pitifully unintimidating glare.

Harry shrugged with his shit-eating grin. "It's not my fault the girls and gays can't resist these lips."

Ned chimed in as he threw a french fry into his mouth. "Peter, this isn't like Liz last year. You and [Y/N] are already really close, dude. I'm sure you can just ask her. Who knows? She might say yes!"

"But what if she says no?," Peter groaned. "Then I'll just be one of those people she avoids and barely talks to out of awkwardness." He shifted in his seat nervously. "I don't want that."

"But if you don't say anything then you'll always regret it," Ned pointed out.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. "Peter, pull out your phone."

Peter raised his eyebrows in confusion, but followed Harry's instructions.

"Go to her in messages and say 'hey let's get dinner'." He smiled. "See? Simple."

Peter opened your messages in his phone and stared at your profile picture.

'You can do this, Peter. You can do this.'

He bit his lip. "Okay but should I say, 'let's get dinner' or 'do you want to get dinner'?" Seeing Harry's impatient face, he explained himself. "I just feel like those two sentences have completely different vibes, y'know?"

Harry glared at him. "Are you really about to have us telling you what to tell your crush like a bunch of girls?"

Peter didn't know how to answer that question seriously. "Uh...yes?"

Harry pondered the question for a small bit before simply shrugging and answering. "Hmm, go with 'let's get dinner', so you'll sound all confident and assertive."

"Okay."

Before Peter could press send without thinking twice, Ned stopped him. "Well, actually now you sound a little aggressive, man."

"Really?," Peter asked with a wince, immediately erasing the message.

"Yeah, I mean the last thing you wanna be like is the guy that's all like 'let's get dinner' like you're some kind of caveman."

Peter groaned. "Oh no, definitely not."

Ned ate another fry. "You want to ask her to dinner, not tell her to dinner."

"I'll go with 'do you want to get dinner' then," Peter said with a nod.

That one didn't sit well with Harry. "No Pete. Cuz now you sound like a pussy."

Peter slammed his phone onto the lunch table. "This stuff is tough!"

Ned turned towards Harry. "No but listen. The last thing Peter wants to do is come off as the overly masculine type that's all like 'let's get dinner cuz I'm the breadwinner, bitch', y'know?"

Harry shook his head. "Yeah but women also love assertiveness. You have to know what you want."

Peter stared at the table, desperately wanting the conversation to be over. Why would he even go to these two for relationship advice? Harry was the king of hookups and Ned's relationships never lasted longer than a few weeks. What was he thinking? For a guy with a 4.5 GPA, he sure did feel stupid.

"I got it!," Ned exclaimed. "Okay. Text her this. 'Dinner would be something that I would enjoy taking you on, but only if YOU were also interested in attending the meal'." He held his hands up for praise.

Harry nodded. "Mhm. Perfect balance. And the more words the better."

Peter just stared back at them, wondering where he'd gone wrong in life. "...no.... I'm not gonna send her that."

Harry shrugged. "Welp,' he sighed. "I guess some people just don't want to be helped."

So close to slamming his head into the table in front of him, Peter felt a tsunami of relief hit when he saw Asher walk into the cafeteria.

Asher was your best friend. If anyone knew the proper way you'd want to be asked out, it'd be him.

The second Asher noticed Peter looking at him, he made his way over. "Hey Peter. What's up?," he asked as he found an empty seat.

Harry spoke up before Peter had the chance. "Hey Ash. Pick one. 'Let's get dinner' or 'do you want to get dinner'."

Asher thought for a second. "Depends on the girl," he said before taking a bite into his apple. "-but 'do you want to get dinner' is nicer. Why?"

Harry slammed his fist on the table. "Damn it!"

"Yes!," Ned cheered.

Asher looked around the table. "Okay, by why?"

Harry and Ned went quiet and looked to Peter, who was staring anywhere to avoid eye contact. He began to mumble pitifully."I....I-i wanna.. I wanna-"

Harry and Ned spoke up, already tired of the conversation not getting anywhere. "He wants to ask-"

"-I wanna ask [Y/N] out!," he blurted, feeling his cheeks start to burn when Asher's smirk turned into a wide grin.

"Well it's about time!," he exclaimed. "She's been crazy about you since you met."

"Really? She has?," Peter asked. That wasn't even in the realm of possibility in his mind.

Asher nodded. "She's always going off to me about how-" he mocked your higher pitched voice. "I've been dropping him hints since, like, foreverrrr!"

"Seriously?! She has?"

Ned laughed. "Well Peter. She has been calling you cute since the day she met you..."

"But I just always thought it was the friendly kind of cute, y'know?," he rambled. "Not the boyfriend type cute!"

"How many girls are out here calling you cute for you to make that assumption, dude?," Harry asked.

Asher sighed. "So this is what it's like to have low confidence." He shook his head and gave Peter a disappointed look. "I can't say I like witnessing this, Pete."

"Just-" Peter groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. "Just tell me what will work, okay? I need to ask her out perfectly."

Asher tilted his head in confusion. "She's a simple girl. You just have to straight up ask her out. What's the confusion there?"

"That's what I said!," Harry yelled.

"You know he's got to make it difficult for himself for no reason," Ned pointed out.

"Okay can we all talk about how terrible I am at this after you help me?," Peter begged.

"...yeah."

"Sure."

"Ugh, fine."

Peter sighed. "Alright. So?"

"What are you going for?," Asher asked. "Like a gift or something?"

"I just want whatever's the absolute best way to ask her out."

Asher pinched the bridge of his nose. If he was gonna set you up with your crush, he wanted it to happen right.

"Okay," he said, staring Peter in the eyes with a new sort of intensity. "Think about your best moments with her. Now pick something special from all those moments and voila! You'll have it!"

Peter nodded and stared at the ground as he thought for a while about everything he'd done with you since the beginning of school. You were truly the most extraordinary, most confident girl he'd ever met.

Every time he'd thought you couldn't get more perfect, you'd just show him another side of you that was better than the rest. He always stayed endlessly impressed and most of all, he felt as if he didn't have to try too hard with you. He could be himself and mess up as many times as he could manage and you still stuck around, showing him that there needn't be any worries.

And your style? Fuck, you could make anything work for him. You were the only one who could get him out of his comfort zone and in front of a camera, for something as frivolous as a TikTok. But he'd always do it, and even find the fun in it, because it made you happy.

"Remember how we freaked out that first time when she called you cute, Pete?," Ned said. "She said that you were cute and that you only had to put it use!"

Harry laughed. "This girl is literally giving you the instructions, Peter. Take them."

"Hmm." Peter looked up with a smile and snapped his fingers. "I got it."

-

You tossed popcorn into your mouth and snuggled yourself further into the blanket. "Ash, how can you even say that? 'It' is a horror movie!"

"Yeah, technically," he retorted. "But there's literally not a single part of the movie that's scary. It's more of a drama than anything else."

"You realize the clown phobia rate skyrocketed when the movie came out right?"

Asher scoffed. "Uh, your point? It's not my fault some pussies couldn't sit through it. Still a drama. The story definitely played with your emotions more than your fears."

"Whateverrrr," you laughed. "I can't deal with you."

"Pennywise literally got up and did this," he said before breaking out into Pennywise's dance. He laughed as he kicked his legs out. "What kind of horror movie has this crap in it?" He stopped when he felt the full force of you throwing a pillow on his face. "Ugh!"

"Sit down and get under the covers, idiot," you hissed. "I wanna keep watching these HORROR films."

"Whateverrrr," he drawled out, mocking you. He sighed and plopped down next to you, grabbing a handful of popcorn after.

When school was getting suffocating, marathoning horror movies with Asher were a must. He had an endless repertoire and all the time in the world for his best friend.

Halfway through 'It: Chapter 2' though, the movie was the least of your focus and instead was TikTok.

What could you say? The app was addictive.

It was a big, entertaining, completely useless collage of everything every no-name had to offer, from stupid debates to cringey POV's to fun dance routines.

You tried to hook every friend you could on it. Asher, of course, already knew about it since it first came out and he, of course, had thousands of followers because most of what he posted was random thirsts traps whenever he was feeling hot, which was always. And thirsts traps are always in high demand for the people on TikTok.

You tried to hook MJ on it, but she'd already decided that she didn't like it before even giving it a chance. Even the messy, political side didn't reel her in.

Of course then there was Peter, who didn't know was TikTok even was before he met you. You made it your sole mission to get him hooked, but you'd since given up on that. It was a lost cause. The only time he probably ever saw TikTok nowadays was when he was doing dances with you before gym started. He let you put the app on his phone but he never used it. You wouldn't even put it past him to have deleted it, but it was whatever. TikTok had started his friendship with you, so needless to say, it'd done an amazing job in your life.

Plus your followers were always asking about him. All of the "omg couple goalssss" and "you guys look so cute together" served as massive confidence boosters. A girl can dream, right?

You shifted over a bit when you felt Ash getting closer and closer to you.

When he moved over again, you scooted away, only for him to get closer again. "Ash, what is your deal?"

"Easy there," he chuckled, backing up a little. "I'm looking at the phone, not you."

"You've been all up in my phone all day, what's up?"

"I can't tell you," he shrugged, a sly smirk stretching across his face. "But," he pointed to your tiny screen. "Some idiot is taking wayyyy too long to shoot his shot."

"Shoot his shot?" You gasped. "Who?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he said with a smirk.

"Nooooo," you whined. "If someone has a crush on me you gotta spill! C'mon, please?"

He laughed and repeated himself. "I'm sorry, but I am not at liberty to say!"

"Bullshit! Who is it? C'mon! C'monnnnnn!"

He shrugged and this time you knew that he was dead set on not giving up the mystery guy.

"Ugh," you pouted. "Fine. Let's just finish the stupid movie."

-

"Kids next door, battle stations!!!!"

And now it was sometime after midnight. The popcorn was all gone. The movie was done and now you were watching old cartoons so that the horror movie wouldn't be the last thing on your mind before bed.

Looking over, you saw that Asher didn't need any cartoons like you did. He was already passed out, snoring as loud as ever.

Grumbling in boredom, you stared at the wall, trying to connect the tiny dots in the designs. It was like something was officially keeping you from being able to fall asleep.

*Ding!*

At the sound of your phone receiving a text, you sat up curiously. Who was texting you at this hour?

You smiled when you saw that it was Peter.

Pete: hey y/n

You were about to send him a quick,"why are you up this late" text, but he kept typing.

Pete: pls dont judge me too hard for this

With that completely vague warning, you furrowed your eyebrows, concerned.

Y/n: whats up r u okay

He sent you a link next, which confused you, but not as much as when you actually pressed it.

It led you to TikTok, and the video was waiting to be pressed to start. Peter was standing in the middle of the screen with one of his typical corny sweatshirts on. The caption at the top read: "For [Y/N] Only". Smiling already, you quickly pressed play.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. "Oh my God."

"So he finally got the guts, huh?," Asher mumbled, having woken up from the loud music on your phone but was still half-asleep.

"Oh I'm sorry, did I wake you?," you asked. You turned down your phone.

"Don't worry about me, you just got a boyfriend," he chuckled, moving to lay down so he could get to sleep again. "Text him back for god's sake."

~~~

Y/n: its been almost a whole year and youre still so cute when you make those

Pete: haha thanks

Pete: uh

Pete: i really like you y/n

Pete: do u think you'd wanna go out with me or get dinner sometime?

~~~

"He asked me out," you gasped. "Ash, he asked me out!"

Asher rolled over and groaned. "I thought that was already established? Jesus, you two couldn't possibly be moving any slower."

You rolled your eyes. "Fuck you."

"Nah, you're with Peter now," he laughed. "You're gonna have to fuck him instead!" That comment earned him another pillow to the face.

You looked back at the messages and sent a tiny cute one. You smirked at the new idea of what was about to happen and turned it off before going to sleep.

~~~

Y/n: kiss me at school tomorrow and find out

~~~

Didn't do a third edit cuz I got lazy but I'm pretty happy with the turnout anyway. Thanks for reading!

Tagging: @allegra-writes, @allegra-soleil, @yumings, @hey-its-grey, @spideyyeet, @sunkissedspidey, @tommyunderoos, @chaoticpete, @snarky--starky, @sovereignparker, @thesherlockianavenger, @bubblebucky, @kelieah, @eridanuswave, @ithoughtthiswastwitterbutfr, @kidney9-9, @gwenvrse

[drshojo]

The World, My Childhood And My Hero Academia: Vigilantes

Hello friends!  

Its Dr. Shojo coming at you with a post that will be divided into three parts!

Part One: The world as we know it! 

The world has changed a lot since we last connected. For starters, TOILET BOUND HANAKO KUN HAS NOT ONLY A PHYSICAL RELEASE BUT A GORGEOUS ANIME! And not only that, but MY NEXT LIFE AS A VILLAINESS: ALL ROUTES LEAD TO DOOM! IS GETTING AN ANIME AS WELL! The last time I wrote about Katerina there wasn’t even an official English translation of that long-ass light-novel-title. And now?

A WHOLE ANIME. A BISEXUAL HAREM AWAITS! I am JAZZED!

Do you think it’s my fault? No matter, I’ll take all the credit. All the manga I talk about are getting anime adaptations. I’LL DO MY DUTY AND TALK ABOUT SOME MORE!

But first. Let us address the Covid-19 shaped elephant in the room

I deeply regret that it took a whole-ass pandemic to get me back to writing. In my defense, I bought an iPad and started drawing like 900 kokichi oumas. I was really busy with that. And then I started reading fanfiction. Then that got me thinking about how fanfiction such an interesting look into how people interpret fandom, use it for wish fulfillment and escapism, and good god is everyone OK cause that bulimia fan fic was super detailed....and I am officially on a tangent. Off track. Ahem.

We are all staying inside a whole lot more which means y’all probably need some reading material and Dr. Shojo has your back! Go read “Horimiya”! It’s amazing! Ahhhh, my work here is done! I'm serious, if you’re here for a Shojo rec, that’s it! There's also like 8 million more Otome Isekais to check out now. It’s like they’re multiplying like rabbits..............

As a Doctor, I must advise you to stay inside and read some manga and practice social distancing. Embrace your inner hikikomori. 

Allright? All good? Okay now one final disclaimer:

This post is going to be talking about something a little different than usual and I want to start by giving you some context about who Dr. Shojo is in real life. 

Part Two: Dr. Shojo Exposed 

You see, when I was little I was obsessed with Japanese media. This doesn't surprise you at all I can tell. Probably because I walk around calling myself Dr. Shojo and shout about manga that you should read.

Anyways, the reason why I was obsessed wasn’t because of the big eyes or the spikey hair or the interesting new culture. It was because it tended to have more character development and overarching plotlines than the media I was used to in Canada. Dexter’s Lab, Magic School Bus, pretty much everything I saw on TV was episodic in nature, so imagine how much my mind was blown when I saw Naruto and Card Captor Sakura, heck, even Pokémon had the Indigo Plateau! Here were kids that were learning more and more each day and got to see enemies become friends and vice versa. They lived and grew older just like me. Except they were cooler than me. And had more interesting lives than me. I gotta tell you, I was so sad when I was 12 and Kero didn’t tell me I had latent magical powers. But there was magic in my life and it was the magic of a complex narrative story. And not only that, it had a sense of movement and had cool costumes. I was hooked immediately.

Also, fun fact, at that age I happened to be a complete and utter tomboy! I loved pretending to fight my friends in the playground and was really worried that puberty would ruin my life because being a girl sounded so CUMBERSOME.

Which leads me up to my confession. Before I became Dr. Shojo, I was in fact......Dr. Shonen.

Bleach? Naruto? One Piece? I've read every single chapter there is.  

Hundreds of hours of watching fight sequences. Another fun fact, I only got into shojo because my aunt bought me volume 7 and 8 of Fruits Basket thinking “all mangas like the same right? Kids love comics?” It’s a tribute to how episodic western media was back then that she thought buying volume SEVEN and EIGHT was a REASONABLE PLACE TO START READING.

Now you might also say, Hey! Dr Shojo! Cardcaptors was a shojo! And you are right! but back then the anime was marketed to boys over here in the west and they actualy like, edited out episodes that they thought wouldn't interest boys?! Second fun fact, Once when I was in Grade 3 I was told I was not allowed to join a club under the stairs cause I was a girl and it was BOYS ONLY. The point of the club? To talk about how great Cardcaptors was! I Kid you not!

So anyways, your pall Dr. Shojo loves Shonen manga to this day!

The only reason I made this Dr. Shojo blog specifically about shojo is because, being a tomboy with no female friends, reading shojo manga was the first time I really thought about what it meant to be a girl and fall in love. And y i k e s. Shojo manga, like most media, fails miserably most of the time in displaying real world relationships. Or at least, it  doesn't prepare you for how disappointing everything can be. When I had my first kiss, I was thinking about how it didn’t feel at all like how I felt reading Zen and Shirayukis kiss in Akagame No Shirayuki Hime. Those were formative years, and shojo was one of the only places I saw romance being talked about for younger audiences. I liked reading romances where no one had any sexual experiences and were figuring out what love meant to them. But let’s shelve this topic for now.

The point is that gender roles are dumb and if you have an open mind there's a world of stories out there for you. Take this time inside to read something you wouldn’t normally. Critically think about the ways that the worlds you see in stories and how you experience the world differ. What are the messages a story is trying to tell you? And why do you like the stories you do? Reflect on how the stories you tell yourself color your view of the world. Even mindless entertainment leaves an impression on us. Anyways.

Whilst you're doing that, I'm going to absolutely lose my hecking mind over the Shonen Jump series MY HERO ACADEMIA: Vigilantes!

WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!

Part Three: I downloaded the one month free trial of the Shonen Jump app and made you read all that, so I can tell you that today Dr. Shojo is going to rant about a spin-off of a shonen manga

THAT’S RIGHT, OF COURSE I READ HERO ACA AND YES I DID PICK UP THE SPIN OFF SERIES. SHONEN JUMP LETS YOU READ ALL THE NEW CHAPTERS FOR FREE ON THEIR APP. KIDS, IF YOU LIKE SHONEN AND YOU’RE PIRATING ON A SCANLATION SITE STILL GET OUT BECAUSE YOU DON’T NEED TO SEE THOSE WEIRD PLASTIC SURGERY AND DENTISTRY ADDS ANY MORE.

SHONEN IS HERE AND ITS LEGAL AND ITS FREE FOR YOU. GET OFF MANGA FOX OR MANGA ROCK OR WHATEVER THE KIDS ARE USING THESE DAYS.

OK, so by this point in the article you have learned two very important things about me: 1) I love Shonen manga and 2) I read a lot of fanfiction.

Specifically, I read an absolutely biblical amount of My Hero Academia fan fiction and let me tell you, A solid chunk of it is vigilante/ Deadpool / criminal with a heart of gold themed.

So when I saw Hero Aca had a spin off, and it was about vigilantes, I was NOT SURPRISED IN THE SLIGHTEST. Ao3 sure is powerful.

Now, if you will permit me a tangent in a post full of tangents—HOLY CRAP, THERE ARE TOO MANY VIGILANTE AUS. I CAN'T KEEP TRACK OF EM. IT’S THE ISEKAI PROBLEM ALL OVER AGAIN. I GET AN EMAIL A FIC HAS UPDATED AND I’M LIKE IS THIS THE FIC WHERE DEKU HAS AN ABUSIVE MOM OR THE ONE WHERE HE HAS SPLIT PERSONALITY DISORDER OR THE ONE WHERE HE’S VIGILANTES WITH HITOSHI. OH WAIT, nvm, it’s the one where deku has a healing quirk.

OH WAIT WHICH OF THE 6 DEKU WITH HEALING QUIRK VIGILATE AU FICS IS THIS ONE?! ARGH WHY DIDN’T I WRITE A DESCRIPTION IN THE BOOKMARK FOR THIS!

My gripes aside, there's a reason why there's such an abundance of vigilante story telling—

Deadpool made like an absolute buttload of money and people love sass and memes.

People have a desire for a story in which they see themselves. Or, how they think of themselves.They like a story about someone who maybe came from nothing. Someone who has less money, maybe someone who is unlucky and had some bad breaks. Someone who never learned they had magic, never got their Hogwarts letter, never saw Kero, someone who never got that God-level quirk from All Might. And if your on Ao3 They want someone who also has seen a lot of memes and kind of wants taco bell and is also questioning their sexuality a bit?

Enter our new hero VIGILANTE DEKU.  

But the cannon can't do this, cause hey, Deku is the chosen one. Albeit, chosen by All Might, He’s got his own thing to do. But how can we still cash in on a vigilante story?

And thus enter our New-New hero KOICHI HAIMAWARI—code name Nice Guy and then later The Crawler. True to his relatable roots. He’s just a dude in an hoodie who can go about as fast as a bike.

First off, I love Koichi. He wants to be a hero and fight crime, but most of the time he has to run away because at the end of the day he's just a dude.

He’s cute but not wildly good-looking, A bit of a nerd but not like an extreme okaku. He’s got a part time job and hates violence.

And this is where Koichi really shines—in every day stuff. He helps out wherever he can. Often, that just means listening to people complain and maybe helping his friends out with whatever they’re going through. He’s the kind of guy who smiles, not because he's especially brave, but because he just takes things one at a time and doesn't sweat the past. I think it’s really telling that he missed getting into hero high-school because he skipped the entrance exam to help someone. He’s the kind of person who lets us experience the superpower of human decency and empathy. And you know what? That’s something the world need desperately.  

This theme of human decency is really the driving force of Vigilantes—it’s a manga about how the laws are there for a reason but sometimes they unfairly impact the poor and vulnerable. It's about how a lot of criminals are just people who fell into bad social circles or on bad times. People have the capacity for cruelty and violence but that’s never all they are.  

Now, speaking of crime, the entirety of Hero Aca falls into some murky water when it comes to its evil doers. Much of the fandom has a huuuuuge problem with how much the franchise is willing to sweep under the rug in the name of redeeming their baddies. RE: people getting mad about forgiving Endeavor’s child abuse, or Bakugo’s suicide baiting. Or Mineta’s blatant sexual harassment.

But this theme is in Vigilantes even more than it ever was in the main series. To start off with, there’s this guy who tries to rape Pop Step early on, and the later he later winds up befriending everybody. It becomes a running gag that each new villain winds up befriending the other villain guys and then they all open a cat café together.

Using jobs as a way to lift people out of lives of crime is great and all but in the story there is no nuance or consequences for past wrong and well.....it feels very weird.  It's like Vigilantes plays at having an opinion about moral ambiguity and the complexity of human existence and then just.......lets everyone get along because who has time to get into all that. Make of that what you will but it sits weird for me personally.

Anyway, let's move on and talk about POP STEP our main girl!

I love pop stars and I love vigilantes and a guerrilla performer is defiantly a character I could get behind. And I think they do a good job with Pop. She is actually kind of shy, but has this secret edgy persona she puts on when she performs. She is every girl on tumbler in the early 2000s. I also looooove that they make her not that great a singer. SHE’S GOT PASSION AND CHARISMA and maybe not born talent but like why should that stop you! Talent can be earned through practice and this is a great lesson to show people.

Unfortunately, Pop is also a great example of everything wrong with romance in Shonen.

It’s established early on that Pop loves Koichi because she is the girl he rescued all those years ago and yada yada yikes we’ve heard this one before. Many times before.

Sure, it's fine that they’ve met before, but gosh am I sick of damsels in distress. It's like she can't love him just because she respects what a great guy he is in her life and in the community at large, no no, she just needs to be rescued on top of that. And LOLOLOL isn't it funny he never noticed she was a girl because she was a child with short hair?! Once he realizes she has boobs now they will for sure fall in love! That’s how love works!

She's just with him all the time—nothing romantic ever happens she just gets a little tsundere.

I am never ever going to believe Koichi likes Pop because he spends like sooooo much time with her and they never have like, a moment. The first time he considers her is when Makoto is like, ‘hey I would love to get together with you, but have you thought about if you are crushing on Pop’. (Also this entire plot point is suspect—she's arbitrarily falling for Koichi cause he.......is the protagonist?)  

Say what you will about shojo, they give you the emotional conversations, the moments where you think.....ahhh I can see why she is falling for him. They give you context! Shonen likes to just say HERE’S A GIRL YOUR AGE. YOU CAN DATE LATER WHEN THE ADVENTURE IS DONE.

Just when they might get together, Pop suddenly turns evilllllll. The evilllll beeeees made her eeeevilllll (and more sexy).

*Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*

Because why on earth would they get together if Koichi didn’t get to rescue Pop one more time?

I’m tired. These troupes are tired. I’m sure you are too. HOWEVER! If your still with me, Let’s move into why I'm really writing this post. Let’s get to the part that got me screaming to my friends, who by the way, don’t even care bout Hero Aca….but listened anyways. May you all find nakama like these my friends.

Anyways,

HOLY FUCK ERASERHEAD’S ENTIRE BACK STORY IS IN THIS AROUND CHAPTER 60 AND IT IS WONDERFUL AND ABSOLUTLY HEARTBREAKING AND IS ONE OF THE BEST CHARACTER BACKSTORIES I HAVE EVER SEEN AND IS THE REASON WHY THIS SERIES IS A MUST-READ FOR MAIN SERIES FANS.

AND BY ALMIGHT.  

WHY. IS. IT HERE.  

I present to you my late night text messages to my friends

ALSO, AIZAWAS TEACHER IS PRINCE?!?!?!

AHEM, so as you can see, I kinda lost my shit.

And now, I would like to formally defend my claim that DESPITE HOW AMAZING IT WAS, ERASERHEAD’S BACKSTORY HAD NO BUISSNESS BEING IN THE VIGILANTES SPIN-OFF MANGA.

Eraserhead, aka Aizawa Shouta, is a side character who is working with the police on some crime stuff. He is not a main cast member in this spin off. He’s a guest character that fans of the main series will be like OH COOL. GRUMPY CAT MAN LIKES CATS ON HIS OFF HOURS TOO. LOVE THAT FOR HIM.

So, my imagine my absolute surprise when Aizawa runs into Koichi and the following happens:

It starts to rain, so, like in any good manga, this means some great FORCED BONDING TIME

Except no. It doesn't because rather than start talking, Aizawa JUST STARTS REMEMBERING—ABSOLUTLY SILENTLY TO HIS OWN PRIVETE SELF—HIS ENTIRE TRAGIC BACKSTORY.

AND THIS GOES ON FOR CHAPTERS.

THIS GOES ON LONGER THEN ARC ONE IT FEELS LIKE.

I LOVE IT, BUT KOICHI IS ABOUT TO JOIN ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA IN THE DUBIOUS CATEGORY OF “PROTAGONISTS THE SERIES FORGOT ABOUT IN LIEU OF COOLER SIDE CHARACTERS”.

AND LO IT HAS NO BEARING ON THE REST OF THE PLOT, CHARACTERS, OR STORY

What the ever-loving-just WHY?

WHY?

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?

SURE, IT’S A COOL TIE-IN.

YES, OF COURSE I LOVED IT. I SHIP ERASER MIC, I DREW THIS FOR HECK’S SAKE:

AND YET I AM ANGRY.

I AM ANGRY BECAUSE MY FRIDAY WAS RUINED BECAUSE VIGILATES SUCKER PUNCHED ME WITH AN AMAZING STORY THAT REALLY WASN’T PLOT RELEVANT AND PROBABLY SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THERE.  

IS THIS WHY THEY TOOK LIKE NEXT-TO-NO CARE WITH POPS ARC?!?

I mean its ongoing, so it’s too early to say but—

In conclusion—

Excuse me one more,

AIZAWA WAS TAUGHT BY PRINCE!?!??!?!?!?!? PURPLE RAIN PRINCE!?!??!?!?!? WHAT!??!?!?!

It’s so ABSURD that I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT. I HAD TO WRITE PARAGRAPHS TO JUSTIFY YELLING ABOUT THIS ONE THING. WHAT THE ABSOLUTE—

Ahem,

Anyways, I hope you liked this weird rant/personal-story/random-diatribe in three parts.

If you’re reading this, thank you, stay safe, and I’ll be back with more shojo manga next time.  

Ciao!

Dr. Shojo

(aka Dr. Shonen)

[iammarylastar]

1. Alone amongst brothers.

"Cal! Hey mate where are you?" Snowballs clicked his fingers under his nose, startling him.

Bad idea. Never startle an ex cop ex Marine who hadn't slept for years.

Chris -his real name was Chris- came out of his reverie and offered a poor smile to his brothers. Obviously missing his goal to reassure his squad.

Who was he kidding?

He hadn't been here for years. For 3 years. 3 fucking years.

He hadn't been the same since he came out of prison. Since his brother, his real brother fled to Canada, to never return.

Since Oyster, his little brother killed that asshole in a bar.

Thinking about it, all this shit had started after their mother died.

Big, huge mess she had left behind.

He reluctantly came back to the world, that world without his mom nor his brother, that world where he's a useless piece of shit, forbidden to serve his country in any way.

Reverie couldn't have been more inappropriate. Living nightmare would have fit better.

"Next round on me." Jaeger announced with too much enthusiasm.

"Same?" He quirked an eyebrow at Cal, who just nodded, not bothering to say a word.

He didn't need another beer. Alcohol free. Taste free too. He'd been nursing the same bottle since he settled his ass in the bar, mind absently scratching the corner of the label with his nail.

He had been sentenced to 6 years and spent 3 at Pittsburgh Correctional Institution. He got a release, good behaviour. He'd been lucky, somehow, half of the prisoners were there because of him. Death had waited for him at every corner, but freedom hadn't tasted better.

A lot had happened in 3 years. Life had gone on whilst his had stopped behind the bars.

Snowball found his soulmate Carlo, Jaeger finally got Claire back, they married last year and were expecting their first child. Milk spawned two boys, fuck he'd been out for a long time.

Brotherhood meant leave no one behind. He had Oyster's back, he did what had to be done to save his brother from jail. Sentencing himself, ruining his own life.

He got nothing left. No wife, no family. Sure, his bros had always cared, hanging out, working out, having him in for all their kids birthdays, family barbecues, even last Christmas when Claire and Jaeger announced the good news.

They all exploded, hugging Claire and clapping Jaeger's shoulder, whooping and cheering like madmen.

He was genuinely happy for both of them and tried to ignore the stab in his guts.

For once he wanted and was in the mood to celebrate. Till his eyes landed on the blessed couple's wedding pic pinned on the wall, then spotted another showing his brothers in uniform, proudly posing with the groom.

Stab.

He wasn't there and it killed him.

Claire told him they got a seat settled in his honor and it hurt more deeply.

He had missed so many events, so many people.

Oyster.

He had spent most of his miserable life to raise his little brother -half brother but who cares?- kicked his ass every morning to have him secured at school, kicking his own ass to quit both grief and booze and pass his exams to assure them a future.

Look what future both fucked up.

If only he could have the slightest news of him, knowing his brother was fine and safe somewhere in Canada, a letter, a call, an emoji on whatever social media... but no. The cops were still looking for Oyster for Ben Daley's murder and as a cop -ex cop- he knew he and his mates have been under surveillance since day one.

Oyster had been MIA for 3 years with no chance of brightest days.

And he was left alone with nobody to care for and nobody to love.

His sentence had him kicked out from the police department, along with his staff sergeant status. No job. No rules to give rhythm to his days. No incomes but a few light works here and there in the neighborhood. The people he knew always put in a good word about him and hopefully people didn't ask for his criminal record before hiring him for fixing their roof, painting their fronts or uprooting a tree stump.

Yeah he had a lot to add to his resume: by-the-book cop, dauntless staff sergeant in the Marine corps, 2 rounds in Iraq, baby sitter and groundskeeper. Impressive.

"Man, look at this chick over there." Milk nudged him. "She's been eyeing you like she's willing to drop her panties for you."

Cal finally lifted his eyes and glanced at the girl in question. Thin, sexy, a blouse full of goodies, gaudy red lipstick, prying eyes.

Maybe he needed to get laid. He hadn't had sex since he came out of prison. His mates planned a party to celebrate his freedom and got him a working girl for the occasion but he wasn't in the mood.

He hadn't been interested in sex, not after what has happened in prison, not even a quick handjob while watching a porn. No. Scratch that. He's been forced into lame and painful wankings when his balls threatened to explode, but it was no fun at all. Far, far from it.

A slight nausea invaded his throat of the reminder and he forced the thought out.

Double sentence. If he hadn't suffered PTSD after what he did and witnessed in Iraq, then he got his trauma.

He might never use his cock again. Playground out of order. Broken.

"Nahhh... She looks cheap. Guys I don't need another blind date, you know. Your Tracy girl was crazy, she scared the shit out of me with her earlobe-licking... fetishism." Cal rubbed his earlob with a disgusting frown on his face, having all his skwad laughing out loud, wiggling all tongues out.

"Listen Cal. You need to get laid. You need a good fuck to come back to life. You're hot stuff still, you just need to pick up some gorgeous chick and have some fun! Before your dick just deceases from dehydration." Jaeger joked, hilarity ensued.

He looked around the crowded bar, tired. Tired to pretend he could be interested in that kind of date.

He didn't need a one night stand. He didn't need some cunt to fuck. He needed someone to love. And be loved in return.

Like the ol'time when he lived with his mom. Or with Oyster. He needed someone who cared.

"Thank you guys but I'm tired. I better go home and get some sleep. Need to wake up early and..."

His lame excuses got cut off by an angry Milk.

"Oh yeah, because you do have so much to do tomorrow, don't you? Cleaning up the house and walk Mrs Riley's pet? That's why you're leaving your brothers now? Cal, when are you going to get rid of this shit and be alive again? It's been 3 years already, move on for fuck sake!"

Cal didn't blink. He deserved to be scolded by his gang. He's been no fun, nothing more than a burden for them. A big piece of shit, whining about all he'd lost. Poor thing. Soon he'd lose them.

He was whining again. He's got the best friends he could dream of, people he could call his brothers, who were totally devoted to him, heart and soul.

His family. His home.

Those guys made it all easy for him while his time in prison. Paying him a visit each week, twice a week when they were off. They paid for his lawyer, his loan for the house so he wouldn't be homeless when he got out of prison. So he didn't have to break into his savings and get ruined in 6 months.

They did it in a heartbeat, without thinking nor asking for his permission. They told him it was the right thing to do. The same way Cal had them home, safe and sound after their tour in Iraq. Beside Jaeger's leg, abandoned there. How guilty he had felt, and still.

He owed them... everything.

He leant on his elbows and rubbed his face. He considered staying and trying to relax and have some fun, but his mood was definitely shitty.

Time to shake his thoughts and his big ass. He survived the war, survived in jail, he could survive this night.

"OK fuckers. But I don't want to bury my future here." He emptied his drink, slammed it loudly on the table.

"Let's get home and shake the walls!"

He grabbed his other beer and clinked glasses with his mates, and chugged it whilst his bros cheered and downed their own drinks.

"Last one at my mailbox is a loser!" Cal jumped on his feet and started running through the door.

"Ohhhh, you bastard!" Milk shouted, running after him, quickly followed by an enthusiast Snowball.

Jeager rolled his eyes and took out his wallet to pay the bill. He wouldn't win anyway, his fucking metal leg was no match for those big machines.

The three guys were messing around by the front door, playfully wrestling to pass first.

Cal jammed Milk's head in between his bulging biceps and disheveled his neat hairstyle, having him struggling even more for his freedom, grunting with rage. Snowball was stuck against the wall, the two heavy guys struggling were keeping him to head towards the door.

In a joint effort to get free, Snowball and Milk pushed Cal with all their strength until he popped out like a Champagne cork, sent flying against the wall. Just as the door opened on someone coming in.

Cal ended up glued to them, pinned on the wall, crushed against his broad chest.

"Whoah, whoah, whoah! What the hell?" A muffled voice came from underneath Cal's body.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" He apologized, peeling his body from a smaller and thinner one.

His hands flat against the wall, each side of a face. A beautiful face. Still blurry, he was too close to focus.

Never too close... he thought. Her smell itself made him stop.

"I'm sorry!" He uttered, forcing a step back. Finally able to focus on delicate features.

"I'm fine, I'm fine...uh, hey... I'm Jessica. " She said in a big grin as she rearranged the strands of hair away from her face.

"Nice to meet you..." She started, inviting him to introduce himself.

"Milk, nice to meet you gorgeous." The bastard spoke first, getting on Cal's business, more than happy to embarrass his mate.

"And this is Snowball" he continued, shamelessly stepping on Cal's toes and bluntly pushing him to the side.

"Ma'am!" Snowball bowed before an amused Jessica, glancing at the three boys with a smirk. "Please, accept our sincere apologies. I hope this giant idiot didn't hurt you when so roughly trying to get your attention."

Jessica let her eyes wander at the big stud's body and face, making sure it didn't turn into a stare. The man was built like a brick house, huge arms, solid chest, his short hair suggested he was a cop or a soldier, his handsome face obviously annoyed by his friends' demeanour. His gorgeous self nodding his head while pressing his so soft looking lips together. She felt her heart stop and her inside melt when they locked stares. His blue eyes were captivating and something slapped her in the face. Through his hilarious expression and attractive features, he looked so... sad and lonely. So much she wanted to pull him in in a hug and never let him go.

She forced her eyes back at the two dummies still making the show for her.

"And this!" Milk nudged his pal, "this is Chris Callahan, the man you need.

The thoughtfulness itself, well, when it's not nearly killing you, this guy is not only strong, courageous and handsome, thanks God he's also single."

Cal wanted nothing more than vanish from embarrassment after getting rid of that motherfucker of a so called best friend. On a definitive way.

But the more Milk was blurting his shit out, the more Jessica looked amused and kind of interested in him.

Eyeing him. The cutest smile on her lips. Which she bit when she finally was caught staring.

"This big sweet heart is to take darling, and you'd be a fool not to try your luck with him."

Milk got a little closer and lowered his voice "I heard he's got amazing skills, like... look at the size of his feet!"

The 2 guys barked a laugh, clunching at each other while Cam just chuckled and sighed, more uncomfortable than ever. Jessica shared the guys big laugh then winked at Cal, before glancing down to judge their size by herself.

Milk wiped the tears from his face, oh Lord he loved making fun of his mate so very much. Calming down his panting, he stepped back, still hooked to an exhilarated Snowball.

"If you want to excuse us mylady, we're up for a male race contest, where the loser will have to walk butt naked the entire week." He said, bowing out at Jessica, then stepping out of the bar with renewed loud laughs.

Cal just shifted uneasily on his spot, figuring out a way to stop looking like the dumbest guy on Earth.

"Sorry... That was... pretty awkward, wasn't it?" He shyly tried, mentally kicking in own ass to not have found something clever to say.

"Found it very funny actually, you guys made my day!" Her genuine smile cheered him up a little.

"Those guys are total weirdoes, please do not believe a single word of what they say." Cal flashed one of his best smile, pretty sure it would work for him.

"Seems your friends think very highly of you. The resume they made of you is quite appealing, you know." She made it sounds like a joke but couldn't help wondering about that nice guy, nice looking guy all in embarrassment in front of her.

And the size of his... feet.

"Yeah... Well, wait to meet them once they're not drunk and you might hear a different story." Cal shoved his hands deep in his pockets. Looking so cute.

"So... Cal, I'm looking forward to hang out with your smartass group of friends, and hear all kind of stories about you, I bet each more embarrassing than the last!" Jessica's fingers were playing with a strand of her hair against her will, flirting.

And it seemed this didn't get unnoticed, by the way Cal's stare lingered on her delicate features.

"I... I've got to go and look after those drunken asses before they get into more trouble. I won't stop hearing of it if I don't beat them tonight. It was so nice to meet you and again, apologies for so rudely bumping into you."

Chris scratched the back of his neck, torn between two options. Stay and risk to embarrass himself more and more, or leave and risk to never see her again.

"It's OK, Chris I'm fine. We would find a way to make it up for nearly knocking me down earlier. Go get them, we could meet another time. I'm new in town but I'm here for some time, let's catch up later!"

Chris chuckled, mumbled a cocky "sure!" through an enormous grin, dared to throw a wink at her before turning heels and walked out of the bar.

"I hope you lose!" She shouted at him as he reluctantly started to jog towards his mates.

"Thank you...?" Chris turned to face her again, walking backward, wearing an astonished expression. That was not the kind of support he expected.

"I may not know much about you, but I figured seeing you walk up the streets butt naked could be fun!"

Chris couldn't help the large grin taped on his face to turn into a big smile, that charismatic pant-dropping smile that had been MIA for years was finally back.

As he jogged back to his drunken brothers, in absolute no hurry, a light in heart, he felt like that stupid smile wouldn't leave his face for quite a while.

[lancetuckershairgel]

Summary: Chris and Lucy are reunited.

Words: 1,977

Warnings: Stealing, language, emotions, slight mention of former drug use

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Tag List: @book-dragon-13 @jobean12-blog @marvelgirl7 @southernbell91 @buckysforeverprincess @anxiousamandapanda @buckysteveloki-me @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety

AN: Cant do a read more. Also it was brought to my attention that several people didnt get notifications for Chaoter Four that was posted early last week so if you get the notification on this one let me know.

Chris climbed into his truck with a groan, his back stiff and head mildly aching. He rested his head back against the headrest of his seat and closed his eyes, no longer having to rush anywhere. The day had been long and he thanked God that it was Friday. Chris had taught three safety courses to the different fifth grade classes and had two meetings with disgruntled parents about a bullying situation and then he went straight to the college after work. School greeted him with an essay presentation, which he hated, and two exams that he really should have prepared better for. 

Chris rubbed his weary eyes and ran his hand over his beard before finally sitting straight and turning on the ignition. The red Ford came to life with a grumble and he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway. Normally he would have gone straight home after class, especially with how tired he was, but not only was it a Friday night it was also a three day weekend and he was looking forward to an extended weekend and day off.  

"You can't take care of others if you others take care of yourself." Chris' psychology professor would say at the end of every lecture.

"You need a break Chris, you always put too much on yourself." Erin often told him during one of their phone conversations or occasional meet ups at the bar. 

"Yolo." 

Chris never quite understood that one but the teens at the middle school seemed to use it as a personal mantra. After driving for a few miles he took a right and pulled into a gas station lot and parked. Reed's Gas Mart had been around for a long time. One of the oldest businesses in town, owned by a simple old man, had been around since 1958. The place had quite the reputation built around it. From the late fifties to the early eighties it was a place all the kids came to for an after school milkshake and a handful of candy and to listen to Jerry tale his stories. Unfortunately times changed and things became less simple. Teenagers still frequented the store but not for the shakes.  Early in Chris' career as a police officer he'd made a few drug busts in the parking lot but well before that he himself had done a few things he wasn't proud of out back behind the dumpsters. Old man Jerry had caught Chris and a few buddies of his with a crack pipe once and chased them off with a broom, giving Chris a few good whacks across the back of the head all the while hollering about telling his mother. All had been forgiven though and Jerry was a good man, hard worker, and he wasn't going to let a few punk kids ruin his business. Chris gave a slight smile at the memories and entered the store, the ding of the bell overhead indicating that he had arrived. 

"Hey Jerry." Chris greeted the hunched over, white haired man 

"Hey Chris." 

Jerry's reply was short and he didn't look up at the off duty officer. His eyes were focused across the room, narrowed toward the candy aisle. 

"I got one. Just stuffed a chocolate bar in the back of 'er pants."

Chris rolled his eyes. Jerry used to love having kids come into his store, he'd even given Chris and his siblings free ice cream cones on the really hot summer cones when they were younger, but over time as Jerry aged and more and more people used his store as their personal sinning grounds the less excited the man became to see a youngster enter his store. He was always suspicious of anyone under the age of twenty five, convinced they were all up to no good. 

"I'll keep an eye out." Chris chuckled lightly as he walked over to a rack of snacks. 

Chris grabbed a bag of beef jerky and peered across the shelves at the suspected thief. To his dismay he indeed witnessed a crime. What was even more disheart was the fact that he recognized the beg being used to stuff merchandise inside. Blue, faded, torn. Rainbow pin and sharpie "artwork". Even with her hood pulled tight over her head, a classic move to avoid facial recognition on the security tapes, Chris knew that it was Lucy. He watched for a few seconds as she grabbed another item and quickly shoved it into her bag. 

"Come on kid, what are you doing?" Chris thought to himself

Lucy made her way to the back of the store, near the personal care items and Chris ducked down and watched through the large circular mirror on the wall as she stuffed another box into her backpack. He sighed and made his way to the counter. 

"You're right." Chris ssigh to Jerry with a sigh

"Goddamn kids." Jerry muttered under his breath

"Let me handle it, alright?" 

"Fine but I want her out of here and if I catch her anywhere near my store I'll give her the whooping she deserves, you hear me Christopher?" Jerry wagged his crooked finger in Chris' face

"You'll do no such thing old man." Chris rolled his eyes "Put that thing away and go back to  watching the game. I'll take care of this."

Lucy's head was down low as she quickly grabbed the items she had came for. Headphones were plugged into her ears and heavy metal played loudly to calm her nerves. her heart pounded in her chest as she rounded the corner to make her exit and she froze in her tracks. 

"Shit." She muttered when she saw Chris standing at the counter staring at her with disappointment, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Hey Luce." Chris finally said after a prolonged stare down 

Chris could easily read body language thanks to his training in the academy. He knew how to spot suspicious behavior or signs of an abuse victim and he learned to read people by how their left eye twitched or how they shifted from foot to foot. Lucy may have looked defiant, shoulders back and head high, eyes glaring death rays in a dare to interfere with her mission but Chris could see behind that. Her fingers tightened around the strap of her bookbag until her knuckles were white. Her bottom lip quivered slightly. Her pupils were wide and pleading. Lucy was scared. 

"Whatcha got there?" Chris took a step forward and relaxed his arms as he gestured toward her bag

"None of your business." Lucy snarled as she stared down Chris

"Come on, hand it over." Chris sighed. He Judy wanted to go home, get a nice buzz off a few beers, watch Game of Thrones, and go to bed. 

Lucy mentally walked herself through her options. Would she be able to get out the back door before Chris caught her? What if he called backup and her name ended up on a wanted list and cops showed up at the school? 

"I'm fucked." Lucy said to herself and decided to comply. Maybe Chris would go easy on her. 

Slowly she handed over the incriminating bag and Chris took it. He eyed Lucy disapprovingly  as he looked inside and her face blushed furiously with humiliation and anger as piece after piece of the stolen merchandise was pulled out and placed on the counter. A box of tampons, a box of bandaids, a few cans of soup, a roll of half used toilet paper, and a bottle of equally used hand soap lined the counter. Chris furrowed his brow as studied the items. 

"And the candy bar Missy." Jerry gruffed out with a glare

Chris glanced at Lucy and she hesitated. The chocolate was the one thing she was really hoping to get out with. Chris held out his hand impatiently and Lucy reached behind her back and pulled the Hershey bar out of her pocket. She slammed it into Chris' palm with such force that the pieces broke apart. With a sigh Chris put it on the counter with the other items. 

"What do you have to say for yourself girl? Stealing from a hardworking old man, none of you have any respect for your elders anymore! Need a good ass whoopin is what you need. Even stole from the bathroom." Jerry ranted and Lucy visibly cringed

"That's enough, Mr Reed." Chris interrupted 

"I want her dealt with Christopher. Arrest her."

Lucy tensed and Chris held up his hand 

"Just wait a minute Jerry. Look at what she's got here. This looks like necessary stuff, doesn't it? Luce? Is everything okay at home?"

"That's not your business." Lucy held back the tears, letting anger overcome the sadness 

"Is your dad not buying things you need?" 

"Stay out of it!" Lucy hissed through her teeth, shaking

"I can't help if you don't talk to me, kiddo." Chris tried "Lucy I ca-"

"You're not in charge anymore. You don't work for my school because you left." Lucy spit the word out like it left a bad taste in her mouth and she stepped closer to Chris "You're not even on duty, you can't do shit. What are you even wearing?" 

Chris looked down at his red plaid button up shirt and frowned. 

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing" Chris asked, slightly offended 

 The realization that Lucy had never seen him without of his uniform came too late. Lucy had snatched the Hershey bar and bolted, the door slamming shut behind her. 

"Lucy!" Chris shouted but there was no use. The girl was gone. Chris groaned and buried his face in his hands as he leaned against the counter. 

"She left the property. I'm calling the police." Jerry stated as he picked up the landline phone

"For christ sake old man it's a candy bar. Puts you back what? A buck twenty five?" Chris took the phone and put it back on the receiver and slammed a couple dollars on the counter "In fact…"

He walked back to the cooler to grab his sought after beer then grabbed a proper back of bathroom tissue and a bottle of soap. 

"How much for all of it?"

Jerry shook his head but began to ring up the groceries. 

"You keep coddling these kids, Christopher, and none of them will learn their lesson. It'll be $48.62. "

"No wonder people steal from you." Chris jokes as he ran his credit card through the machine. He knew Jerry couldn't control the inflation and prices of goods these days. The old man swatted at him but did crack a toothless grin. 

Chris bid farewell to Jerry and took the bags out to his truck. He placed them in the front seat and drove off, keeping an eye out for Lucy the whole way home. He had no idea where she lived and with it being a holiday weekend it'd be Tuesday before he could get Erin to get her address out of the file. 

"Hang in there kid." Chris muttered as he parked the truck in his driveway. 

Lucy ran until her lungs burned. Tears streamed down her face and she collapsed to her knees, sobbing. She shouldn't have to steal to provide for her family. She cursed herself for not telling Chris what was going on but she couldn't. He wouldn't help her, he'd just call the social services and they'd ruin everything. She caught her breath and wiped her eyes angrily before standing up and brushing the dirt off her jeans, cursing herself again for getting them dirty knowing it'd be a few days before she could wash them. She clutched the broken candy bar and made her way back home not ready to face the fact that she was going to turn up empty handed.