#Like I should ideally graduate by the end of the year and I need to plan my summer semester and internship etc accordingly

[yugiohz]

slowly realizing that this is probably a big year for me and I should take it seriously

[uzurimisery]

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / part 1

Warnings: MDNI, happy ending, angst, cheating (not really this is explained in part 2), unhealthy relationships/coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, depression, smut, no sorcery au, unedited

A/N: I started thinking about Gojo with anxiety and nihilist Geto and then what that looks like in a poly relationship with someone as flawed as they are

“We’re sorry but we’ve decided to go with another candidate now. We will retain your information on file should a more suitable role open up.” 

The email stared back at you, the words on your phone screen blurring as droplets of rain hit it as you read it over for the hundredth time. Today was just another shitty fucked up day in the endless string of shitty fucked up days that had become your life. The third consecutive month of unemployment in a row. At least previously you could get temp jobs but now each day that passed just ate away at you with how useless you felt. 

Pocketing your phone, you pull out a 100 yen coin and put it in the vending machine.

You didn’t even like your old job but Jesus it was like no one was actually hiring. And when you did get an interview, you’d get ghosted afterward. On the rare occasion they didn’t ghost you, you’d receive a rejection letter like this one. It was preferable, you supposed, that your existence and effort were at least acknowledged, no matter how much it stung. Still hurt like a bitch to be told you weren’t good enough. 

Anything would be better than this, fuck you’d take being overworked and underpaid if it felt like you were doing something. This endless cycle of gnawing uncertainty and applications, interviews, followed by rejections. Worse than that you were out of deodorant and trying to find some in Japan was a Herculean effort. 

Yeah, it’s been a shit go and you’re fucking exhausted.

Maybe you’d go be an English teacher like everyone else who moves to Japan. You wouldn’t need a co-teacher so the pay would be better if you were just starting out. Not that you wanted to teach again dear god that was less than ideal. Thank god you had settled status. The thought of having to deal with visa issues at the same time made you feel sick. 

Maybe you could work at a host club. You turned, staring at your reflection in the glass. Your boobs weren’t half bad as you pushed them up from the underside like a push-up bra would. Or sell feet pictures. The market was probably oversaturated at this point but maybe there would be some interest.

Wait Jesus had your hair looked like that all day? Fuck. No wonder that girl kept staring at you on the train she thought you were a lunatic.

Sighing you press the button for 4H. It wasn’t like you’d always been this way, sort of drifting in a sea of uncertainty abroad your boat of doubt with no wind to guide your sails. There was a period of time, maybe a five-year stretch after you had graduated from university where your life was on track. An entry-level job in your degree field, a long-term boyfriend turned fiance, wedding planning, and a great group of friends. Shit, you had it all. 

The fiance was the first to go. 

As it turns out, finding your fiance in bed with the girl he swore you didn’t have to worry about, his tongue halfway down her throat like he’s trying to do an endoscopy, is a terrible way to find out you’re being cheated on. When he noticed you standing in the doorway he had the gall to sputter some bullshit about how it was your fault it happened. You were too focused on your work, you didn’t give him attention, blah, blah, blah. It was you who broke the relationship up by working so much and being married to your job. And as he paid for the overpriced four-bedroom apartment in an area of Tokyo that you didn’t even like, you lost the apartment in the breakup. 

You couldn’t slum dog millionaire your life away on Shoko and Utahime’s couch forever eating tubs of ice cream and binging TV after that, so everyone told you, or rather forced you, to move in with Suguru and Satoru. Bouncing around from couple to couple. It did give you some stability and just as things go up so must they come down. 

The company you were working for was liquidated after an investigation by the federal government found years of tax fraud. Luckily they got bought out, and you thought maybe if you put in work you could still climb the ladder. But all those late nights in the office, conbini dinners, and unpaid overtime, you were just another name on a severance list.

It felt like waves were crashing over you, each one larger than the rest. Almost like you were tied to a dock during a hurricane, a tsunami, or some fucking natural disaster that threatened to drown you if you didn’t hold onto something but there wasn’t much to hold on to. You could hold onto the minuscule amount of friendships that you had at least. It was far too awkward and messy to keep up with anyone else other than your main four since the rest were so tied to your ex-fiance and his life. Stupid fucking lawyer. 

The four of you were close-ish. Less close since Shoko had gone on rotation at a university on the other side of Tokyo. It meant she and Utahime had moved nearer to it since Utahime was willing to commute. But Suguru and Satoru were still close with you and still dating.  Biting as that felt at times. 

You met Geto first in a shared philosophy lecture. One of those run-of-the-mill ones, but the content that really got the two of you talking was nihilism. It was the seminar groups after class you shared where he really saw you. Stripped away of pretenses and your nerves laid bare. Not just another face in a lecture hall but something more, something human. The deep indents of nails in your palms and the rubbing of your hands together under the table. He had seen right through you, recognized the darker parts of himself in you- it made you feel understood.

The machine made a mechanical noise and the lights flickered. Sighing you kick the machine lightly to see if anything happens, if life could give you this one thing today that you so desperately needed. Just like everything else, nothing goes your way and your stupid drink stays logged on the shelf. So like every reasonable person you kick the machine again. 

“Stupid fucking piece of shit machine,” you murmur a growing string of profanities under your breath as you repeatedly kick the machine

.

All you wanted was one of those ¥100 coffee drinks that were loaded with caffeine to keep going through your slog of a day was that so hard? Maybe it would be best if you just packed it up and called it quits. Move back home with your parents and be berated daily. Why aren’t you married? Why did you and Kosuke break up? When are they going to get some grandchildren? They aren’t getting any younger you know. Face the cutting shame of fucking up another opportunity, another chance. 

What was the point in trying anymore when you couldn’t even get a stupid drink that you don't honestly even want at this point out of a vending machine so you can go home and masturbate to audio porn before you cry yourself to fucking sleep? 

Suguru’s voice cut through the spiral of thoughts, your name on his lips. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an interview and you’d be home late?” 

Of course, he’d catch you like this. 

“Hey Sugs,” it came out as a groan as you kicked the machine again, a loud clang following as your drink hit the bottom of the dispenser. Bending down, you grab the can before turning and facing him. “I did.” 

“How’d it go?”

“Like shit.” Maybe you should work on your delivery. This flat effect is really making you should like a bitch. Are you a bitch? 

Geto’s eyes raked over you, infuriatingly calm and measured. He was always so carefully disheveled, the type of person to look effortlessly put together no matter the occasion. Stupid name-brand black sweater over a white button-down half tucked into chinos with a chain on the belt. His hair, shiny and perfect, was neatly tucked into his signature half-up-hald-down look to keep the strand out of his eyes, minus the one for style. Notably, he was wearing his glasses for once, sleek frames perks on a tall nose. Oh, he smelt nice too, his sandalwood and bergamot cologne hitting you as he stepped closer, extending his umbrella to cover the two of you. Fuck he was so handsome it wasn’t fair.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Geto replied softly.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “ It is what it is.”

But the reality of it clung to you and drug you down, down, down into the depths of your psyche. That small, scared feeling you tried so hard to suppress started bubbling up again, twisting your insides into knots. It made you feel sick, so much like a lost little child in a world that had grown far too big and complex. Here it was, rearing its ugly head, in front of one of the top ten people you never wanted to see in such a shit state.

But that's all Gojo and Geto do at this point. They pick up the broken, crumbling pieces of yourself that slip between your fingers. You feel like a cracked vase leaking water all over the place no matter how desperately they try and patch up the ceramic. Each day the gap between you and them grows more apparent. They were both soaring and you were falling to the ground and rolling around in the mud. 

Geto had just done a four-page spread in Architects Digest, even though he was a pretentious motherfucker who hated the magazine. And Gojo… God, he’d just opened for Prada at Paris Fashion Week. They went viral on every social media platform a while back for how hot and gay they were. You’d been caught in the crossfire of your accounts being tagged and gained a social media boost, but that also meant a bunch of people DMing you telling you to take pictures of them. 

The most fucked up thing about it all was the gnawing feeling that chewing on your bones that you were being dragged around like an accessory to remind them how good they had it. A permanent third wheel they’ve been stuck with since university. Two talented lovers on the brink of permanent importance and their weird little friend who follows them along like a lost puppy. It wasn’t even true and that's why it hurt so much. You knew they believed in you, thought that you could be a successful artist, and supported you in it even, but the jealousy rotted inside you like a festering wound. You weren’t even jealous of their success, only just partial, but it was like you weren’t good enough to be around them. 

Maybe you were better off as wall decor in the life they were building together. Something quiet and serene that didn’t demand anything from them. Better that than the bitter, jealous mess you were every time you saw them succeed.

He starts, the same spiel he goes to when you get like this. “You can always-”

“No.” your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. 

“I don’t know why you act like it’s such a bad off,” Suguru presses, his calm demeanor only pissing you off more.  

“I don’t want to work for you.” 

“Why not.” 

You snap. “Because I don’t want to, Suguru! Is that so hard to understand?”

Fuck, you wanted to storm off, go back to the house, and slam the door behind you as you went. But it didn’t matter if you stormed off, you lived in one of his guest bedrooms. Both of you were just headed to the same place. Sad little rescue that you were.

Suguru assessed, his eyes softened, breaking you down. He picked out every one of your insecurities as he stared at you. Microscopic inspection, each of your cells was being assessed for your state of being. Have you eaten? Was it enough? Had you slept? Are you even capable of taking care of yourself in this state? 

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and before you could control it, try and reel it back in, tears welled up in your eyes. Blinking them back, you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat bobbing as you did. You hated this. Hated the way his care, his pity, felt like a knife twisting in the last remaining shred of pride you clung to. 

Pity was the killy of pride and you should accept that your pride was already decomposing in the septic tank in the backyard. 

Fuck up, fuck up, fuck up. All you ever were, all you’d ever be. Every loose thread of your shirt feels like it's cutting against your skin. The hem of your trousers drowns your feet like you're wearing your parents' clothes. Shabby. Uncouth. Inept. 

Wordlessly, you turned on your heel and fled, rushing out of the side street as the tears spilled past your lash line. You couldn’t do this anymore--no more questions, no more pity. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you struggled, clawed your way through the fucking dirt, you could never be like them. Never be good like theme, never right like them, never fit like them. They had these perfect little lives that they could boast to everyone about. When they spoke, people listened. People cared what they had to say. The world parted for them, it was the Red Sea and they were Moses, making space. There’d always be room for them to shine. 

But you were screaming into a void, your throat raw, bloody, and you were aching from the endless effort to be seen, to be heard. You wanted to be looked at like your own person, your own successes. Hard to be noticed for something that rarely happened. No matter how loud you screamed, how much you begged, your voice was just lost in the noise. 

You knew Suguru would follow. He always did. Even if you didn’t live in the same house, he’d have followed you. His voice was muffled by the pressure in your ears but you could hear him trying to talk to you. He let you get all the way home and inside the gate of the house before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you backward. 

Trying to pull away, your shoulder wrenched painfully as you trashed in his grip. 

“Calm down,” Suguru spoke firmly, pulling you into his chest. His sweater was soft, and your face smushed against the fabric as sobs wrecked your body, trembling like the earth in an earthquake.

It was hard to speak through the tears, so all you could do was try and slip out of his hold as you sobbed. You didn’t want this comfort. You wanted to run from your failure. From how suffocating life felt and that no matter what you'd never be enough. Worse than that, the sweet sickly feeling that trickled down your throat that when he held your life this, it made the world feel just a little bit more bearable. As if somewhere you could survive another day if he kept touching you. It wasn’t yours to feel and he wasn’t yours to hold. 

Suguru lets you wiggle around. You hit his torso a few times, your strength fading as you cry. When your sobs turned to hiccups and gasps for breaths, he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that still spilled from your eyes. 

“Talk to me,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. The songs of a city nearly eclipsing it. 

What could you say? How could you explain this feeling? This horrible guilt, pain, and jealousy ate away at you every single day. The tears came harder now, speeding up as if to help drown you in your misery and take you out of it for good. Hiccuping you drew breath, sharp and quick, hoping to speak but nothing comes out. Words claw at your throat, digging it with sharpened points. It hurts the way they hang onto you.

“Is it all too much again?” His voice is so soft, warm like fleece pajamas fresh out of the dryer as he holds you so delicately.

This wasn’t the first time that one of the three of you had been so consumed by dread, suffocated by the weight of life itself. Suguru knew it all too well himself, from high school to know he held it tightly in his hands. It never went away from him, he just learned to live with it, let it fade into the background, and let a constant hum of despair serve as the baseline for the day-to-day. 

His thumbs brush over the apex of your cheekbones again and the tenderness shatters you, another wave of sobs tearing through you. They pull you under, out into the open ocean, and through their rip current.

“I just..” you start, it scratches your throat, thick with phlegm. “ I can’t do this anymore.” 

His voice remained steady. “Do what?” 

“Any of it. I can’t do it.” 

“You’re capable of it. You can do it.” 

Jarring, rough, whipping across your skin as the rubber band pulls too tight and snaps. You lash out, and it stings where it hits. The anger cuts through your skin like your fingernails leave crescent moons in your palms. 

“No, I fucking can’t!” It's ripped out of you as you stalk away like a wounded animal. “I can’t okay. I can’t do shit. I can’t keep a relationship without being cheated on. I can’t manage to get my own place. I can’t get a fucking job. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking wasting away in my own misery watching you and Gojo and Shoko all succeed and be the only one of us still shooting for the stars and coming crashing down to earth every single fucking time. You and Gojo with your perfect little lives look at me like a charity case to be fixed.”

“We have never looked at you like a charity case.” His tone was firm.

“Really? Then what the fuck do you look at me like, huh?” You press the question circling back around. “Is it pity? Did the two of you see some poor stray that you wanted to take in and keep like a pet when we met at university? Is that it?” 

His eyes were hard, unreadable.

“It is that. You pity me.”

“Jesus, no! We don’t pity you- I don’t pity you! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?”

“Yes, it is! There’s no reason for you to care,” 

“What the hell wouldn’t I care?” Suguru’s voice raised to a shout, frustration cracking his facade. 

“Because I’m just like everyone you hate!” Your chest heaves as you let out a flood of emotions. “ No ambitions, contributing nothing to society, just leeching off others.” 

“You’re not like them.” 

“I am. On paper, I’m exactly like them. The only reason that you’d keep me around is because it makes you feel good to watch me suffer or you pity me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t pity you?” His voice cracked with emotion, but you didn’t stop.

“Then tell me why you care!” It comes out so desperately. You're begging him for understanding, to know why he stays. To know why he lets you in.

For once he looked uncertain. His mask slipped, revealing the cracks in his facade. It’s been so long since you’ve seen underneath it you’d almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t pretending to be happy. 

“Or is it that you don’t care?” 

Something flashed in his eyes, flickerings of things you only saw when he looked at Gojo. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. There's a fear in his eyes, like if he acts in this moment something may crack and crumble like the foundation of a house that leaves him crumpled in a pile of wood. He doesn’t, or won’t, give you an answer. 

So you turn on your heel, the conversation over in your mind, and head to the front door. You’ll go up and pack a bag before heading across town and crashing on Shoko and Utahime’s couch before calling your parents and groveling to them. 

But as you reach the door, Suguru reaches you. His arm wraps around your waist and he spins you around and pushes your back against it. He’s got you pinned. 

“It’s because I love you.” It’s the faintest breeze that passes from his lips, like a car driving past on a hot day, sweat making your shirt stick to you. “I care because I love you.”

Everything is frozen in a still frame. Neither one of you moves, neither one of you breathes. A still moment that holds you tight, threatens to squeeze you so tightly your heart bursts. 

“What do you mean by that?” You swallow as you speak, like pebbles in your throat. 

Suguru blinks back tears, looking up and then back at you. “That I love you. Fuck! I’m in love with you.” 

Disbelief makes your voice shake. “No, you’re not not. You’re with Satoru.” 

“And? I can’t love both of you?” 

“No, you can’t,” Hypocrisy tastes acrid on your tongue. You know damn well you could never pick between the two of them, that this blighted jealousy you feel towards them is more the fact they have the other rather than their success. It’s something you don’t admit but it’s there. “Besides, you’re lying to me.”

“No.” His response was firm and immediate. The whole time you’d known them, their worlds had revolved around each other. They’d been the only thing for each other for so long. It was an unspoken truth that they were made for each other in a way that could only be sewn by the fabric of the universe itself. Something so profoundly and divinely created it had been written in the fabric of life at the moment of the Big Bang. 

“I’ve seen you watching.” Suguru’s tone is low, cutting, it vibrates through you as he has you pinned. 

A sick, icy dread wraps around your spine. It starts in your toes and crawls up your body. Your muscles lock in place as it climbs up until it's all the way in your head. Paralyzing fear grips you.

“I don't…” The lie is transparent before it comes to fruition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s brittle, cracking on your teeth as it passes through them.

“Don’t play innocent.” Suguru’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The tension between you tightens and winds up to pitch, but there's a current that punctuates it. One that feels heady and warm. One that excites you in the same way it embarrasses you. “I’ve seen you watching. I’ve seen you for years. The first time, maybe it was a mistake. But last week? Three weeks before that?”

Your mouth went dry, choking on the excuse that tried to bubble up. Like finely ground chalk powder coasted every surface of it. “I—”

He cuts you off before you can even try to defend yourself. “I know you get off on it too. Leave your curtains open while you touch yourself. Saying his name, my name.”

Horror twists inside you like a knife, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. You’d always been so careful, never acting when you thought they were home. Never want to risk exactly this happening. Your face burned like you drank half a liter of vodka in a go. Maybe you’d wake up and realize this was a nightmare. The humiliation was unbearable. 

“Imagine my surprise,” Suguru continues in a low chuckle, left hand slotting perfectly against your waist, “when I came home early one day and saw that.” 

The tears that had stopped in your flash of anger spill hot and fast down your cheeks. The raw, hot shame and embarrassment muddle you. It makes you want a sinkhole to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You can’t meet his gaze, your vision blurry. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll move out.” you stammer out, the words falling in a chopping spiccato, desperate to create space between the two of you. You’d never be able to face him again. 

“Who said anything about moving out?” Suguru comes, pulling you closer to him till you're flush against his chest. He bends down, breath tickling your ear. You feel the sharp pressure of his teeth grazing the shell of it, a jolt going through your body. “You don’t get to leave now.” Pulling back, he meets your eyes in a half-lidded gaze. 

Both of you are playing the game again. Looking for something unspoken, some cryptic clue you need to decipher. He was searching for discomfort, disgust, anything to make him draw back and stop. You searched for understanding, dissecting how it got to this point. Every moment, every glance, every touch from him that you had ever overlooked. 

He always held a soft glint in his eyes when he looked at you. Something subtle, normally reserved for Satoru. It warmed the edge of his voice when he spoke and crinkled the corners of his eyes when he smiled. There was that softness for Shoko, but it was different. The one he had for you was a more reserved, pulled-back, and dialled-down version of what gripped him when he looked at Satoru. He had always viewed you this way.

The times you sat sandwiched between him and Gojo, your legs brushing against him, his arm slung around your shoulders to reach Satoru. Pulling you against him on the train, in clubs, at parties, the bump of your hips against his own. Compliments when you wore flattering, his pushing Satoru to dress you up. He liked it best when you were in shorter dresses and skirts with tights. 

Suguru had always wanted you, but you had failed to notice. 

Instinct took over before reason could temper it. You pushed off the door, your hands flying to the loose part of his hair at the nape of his neck. The strands feelt just as silky an shiny as they look between your fingers. Without hesitation, the space between you two diminishes. You aren’t sure who closes the distance first, but your lips lock hungry. Teeth knocking against each other as you both desperately cling to the other. It's rough and aggressive, both of you starved animals feasting on flesh. The taste of copper spreading in your mouth as he bit down on your lip making you whine. His breathing becomes your own, heady mix of desire and dark, primal urge..

His tongue pushes against yours, taking advantage of your now open mouth, wet and warm brushing against the back of your teeth, laying claim to your mouth. Geto was dominating in all aspects of his life so it was unsurprising that he set the pace and led you to where he wanted to be. He moved your legs up, patting your ass to jump, to then wrap around his waist as he pressed you against the door. You grind your hips against his growing erection as he holds you there, and you can feel the heat of him even through his pants.

Suguru pulls away panting. His eyes are half closed, lips blushed a beautiful red and damp with saliva. He moves in again, this time to your neck, where he bites down hard. You squirm as he sucks a dark and angry mark, his mark, on your skin. The bite of his teeth against your skin feels right. It eats away at the jealous monster inside you every second he’s latched onto you.

Fed up with the door, Suguru opens it and carries you through the threshold. He moves the two of you through the genkan, toeing off his shoes while you kick your own off, and into the living room where he drops you on the couch. There’s an air about him, so intense it’s nearly oppressive, as his fingers inch up underneath your sweater, sliding it off of you. It’s a predator circling their prey, the success of a hunt now that he’s got you on your back against the soft fabric of the couch. He’d been waiting for this far longer than you thought and it spurs you on.

Suguru moves in tandem with you, tugging off his sweater and button-up shirt, exposing his happy trail. The dark dusting of hair makes your mouth water. Once his shirt is off, his hands cover your chest through your bra, palming your tits like stress balls. It's unpadded and lacey, and it lets him feel as if your nipples get hard. He pushes the cups down, leaving them to rest under your breasts, and pushes them up slightly, accentuated by your being on your back.

His fingertips close around your nipples as he pinches and pulls at them. You knew how much of a sadist he could be. One night you watched him edge Satoru for an hour straight. Seen how hot he looked with Gojo in his mouth as he writhed around. A sweet moan escaped you as he played with your nipples and rolled his hips against yours. It makes your head feel fuzzy, thoughts focusing purely on him. His weight presses down on you, so heavy and right it makes you ache.

You lunge forward, propping yourself up on your elbows to kiss him again. It’s just as messy and hungry as before, years of built-up desire between the two of you saturating your every pore. It settles in your bones that pulses in time with your heart. 

Suguru doesn’t separate from you, but he slides your trousers and underwear off in one go as you kick your socks off. He tugs his own off hastily, boxer briefs following in turn. His public hair is trimmed, a close crop like you’ve seen it before. Like every other aspect of him, it’s neatly maintained, put into its place, and kept there. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your hips up by his head. Your back is half off the sofa as he places your legs over his shoulders and parts your core with his fingers. He blows cold air onto your clit that makes you squirm before he licks your clit. Moaning, you try to grind yourself against his face but his hands tighten on your hips, holding them firm. You’d get what he wanted to give you. Fight against it and get nothing, or accept it. 

He was slow to start. His tongue lazily explores you, getting familiar with your taste. It pushed against your clit, wide and flat, before swirling his tongue around it. The ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against the most sensitive part of you. Your hips jerk forward and he looks up, a warning in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop. Suguru curls his tongue again, this time moving it side to side, letting his piercing catch on your clit purposefully.  Every action he takes is measured as he picks up speed while latching his lips around it to add delicious suction. Two of his fingers slide inside you, reaching far deeper than your own ever could. He pumps them in and out of you, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt your pussy drooling, liquid gushing out and covering his chin. The muscles in your abdomen tightened with each passing second until you swore they'd cramp. It was all too much as you came, jerking and contracting in on yourself. Black spots dot your vision as your world shakes on this axis. 

Sugru watched as you came, pulling back from your pussy to stare at your face. His eyes never left yours as he rubbed soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He could cover nearly all of you with how big his hands were, warm and calloused. Minus a cold spot on his left hand. 

His engagement ring. 

The silver felt like it burned your skin as he smiled at you and planted a kiss on your inner thigh. It glimmers in the low light, bouncing light off like a homing beacon. Bubbling sickness, bile rising in your throat, disgust palming at your skin. What had you just done? You’ve just violated a boundary so gigantic with Suguru. Let your own selfish need for intimacy lead you to this. He was engaged to your best friend. They were getting married next year.

You rushed to grab your clothes, panic surging through you. The world spins around you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you buttoned up your trousers, throwing your sweater on. Your hair is a mess and your skin feels clammy and flushed. The need to vomit is overwhelming. “This was a mistake.”

Suguru’s rising from the couch, trying to grab you, stopping you from moving but you dodge his hand. “A mistake?” 

Your left hand meets your mouth as you bite the nail of your thumb. It clicks against your front teeth. 

“Satoru won’t mind-” 

“A mistake Suguru,” You shake your head, bending down and grabbing the rest of your stuff. “Please. Just forget this.” Without waiting for his reply, you run up the stairs and slam the door behind you. 

You really are a bitch.

©️ uzuzrimisery

[lustrousims]

🌇👨‍👨‍👧‍👦 Save File Progress - Newcrest

Newcrest is almost done! Here's some of the current households:

 1. The Greene Family: It's always 'wheres da DILF' and never 'how's the DILF.' smh. Marco is quite the ladies man, and while attention is nice, everyone treats his beloved wife Margaret less than ideal. Everyone thinks Marco should be with someone 'his own speed' and not an 'old hag' like Margaret. Marco does not stand for any kind of verbal abuse towards his wife, who gave him three wonderful children and a beautiful home. Marco adores Margaret, and anyone chasing after his heart can go look elsewhere; his heart belongs with her!

2. The Li Family: After losing her husband to old age, Chu-Hua was living alone with her cat, Bao. Sue-Ann asked her mother to move in with her so she can care for her as she gets older. Chu-Hua doesnt expect much, but Sue spoils her to no end! All she wants are grandkids, but Sue doesn't know if she's ready for that yet, She's so focused on her careers that she hardly ever thinks about dating. Chu-Hua is confident, however, and has even begun knitting baby clothes in hopes she gets a grandchild before she passes

3. College Buds: Alina + Dee [bottom row] started dating their senior year of college. After graduation, they decided to move in together and have Alina's other friends Dustin and Liv join them to help offset living costs. Things have been going pretty well so far, except for some of Dee's recent behavior. Alina has been finding her way too jealous and controlling, and now she's started constantly writing stuff in a little notebook that's quite off putting...

 4. The Puente Family: My boyfriend made this family and now I feel obligated to keep them bc he spent hours on them... I promised him they'd live a great life so please be nice to them if you run into them, thank u.

 5. The Chamberlain Family: Katy never thought she'd be a grandmother at this age, but her teen daughter Bella got pregnant too soon. Katy was furious and upset, but what could she do? Kick her daughter out and risk something happening to her? That wasnt an option. Bella already hates herself, her body and her life enough, Katy doesn't need to add onto it. Bella is attending school, working, and is soon going to start taking college classes. She needs Katy's support now more than ever, and while Katy still can't look at the baby in the eyes yet, she's sure she'll come around soon enough... She just feels like she failed her teenage daughter.

 6. The Fraziers: Rumor has it that Famous Musician Nathanial and his wife Julianne were going to get divorced, but that got put on hold when she showed up with a positive pregnancy test. Nathanial never had a father growing up, and he sure as hell wasnt going to put his baby through the same thing. Against his better judgement, he decided to try and work on his marriage with Julianne, for the baby's sake. although, people are starting to get suspicious of her 'conveniently timed' pregnancy...

[ichigoromi]

𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 | 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐨

my writing have become rusty but i was getting into emotional...and yeah i wanted to write an angst piece for a long time~

Pairing: Miya Atsumu (timeskip) x fem reader! (she/her)

Genre(s): angst

Warning(s): emotional cheating, lots of sad stuff.

Please proceed with caution.

Miya Atsumu 宮 侑

Realizing the person that you have loved for your whole life was just using you as a replacement hurts like pieces of sharp glass shards scraping all over your scarred heart. Constantly stabbing on all the broken pieces until you just became numb to the pain. By the time he realized that he hurt you so deeply, it was far too late to salvage the pieces and repair the wounded heart. 

It was not even that difficult to notice the minute details that Atsumu keeps in his life to remind himself of her. Their past, the present without her, and the future were left unknown by numerous factors. 

You were the factor X, the outlier in his life. The outlier that was not supposed to have any relations with the compatible factors. 

But…with that confident and cocky personality of Atsumu, you instantly got attracted to him. An outlier should have stayed from afar and observed, not mixed in with the main group. 

Hana and Atsumu were the ultimate couple. They grew up together, have been each other's support system since young and she was Atsumu’s ideal girlfriend. Hana was everything that Atsumu needed. Their love for each other was the sweetest and perfect, everyone thought they would last together.

However, life has its own way of telling a story. 

After high school, Hana moved to Tokyo to become a model and broke up with Atsumu. 

That was when you decided to take the chance and pursue your first love. 

It was not easy but after two years of traveling back and forth from Tokyo to Osaka, you got the title of ‘Atsumu’s Girlfriend’ and the privileges of becoming his girlfriend. You thought life would be easier if you become his girlfriend. 

Life has a bitter way of saying ‘fxxk you’ in your face. 

On the first year of your anniversary, you were going to surprise Atsumu by turning up at one of his games after he announced that you two were dating publicly. You even got his jersey and got all dolled up for the sake of surprising him. 

The first shard. 

You spotted Hana in the VIP first row, in Atsumu’s personal jersey. Even after dating for a year, Atsumu  still did not allow you to even take one shirt from his closet. But, his ex-girlfriend could wear it for a public event. 

Instead of staying to watch the game, you decided to head back to Tokyo. 

Not one single call nor a message. 

The second shard. 

Their old couple rings, past love letters and their old photos still lingered at their new apartment that they got together. It was slowly suffocating you but you believed that you two had a chance and even moved in together. 

The third shard. 

Endless comparison between Hana and you. It was always ‘Hana used to do this for me…’ or ‘If Hana could, why can’t you?’ but never a thank you for trying or just trying to be there for your girlfriend of four years. 

But Hana was his best friend and you were just some random stranger that decided to barge in their life eight years ago. 

The fourth shard. 

Birthdays, graduations, job celebrations, important dates, he was never there. One call from Hana, he was out of the door. 

And, the cycle repeats. 

Till you become mentally and physically drained. 

“Atsumu, is it me or Hana?” 

You saw how he hesitated and struggled to answer you, but deep down…you knew his response. 

It will always be Hana for him. 

Without even waiting for his reply, you head to your room to pack your stuff. Five years together, and this was how it ended. 

“Are you leaving?” Your hand tightens around the one and only gift that he remembered to buy in your five year relationship. 

You threw the necklace into the bin and nodded your head at him. He grabbed your hand to stop you from packing your clothes into your suitcase. 

“Atsumu, why are you stopping me? Isn’t it time for us to end? You never let go of Hana and never will. I tried to…I tried very hard but all you did was to break my heart into a million pieces. If I don’t leave you, we are just making our lives difficult. So, Atsumu, please let me go. I can’t do this anymore.” You begged him, tears streaming down your pale cheeks. His grip loosened and you swiftly got out of the apartment before you regret it. 

Atsumu was scared to be alone. When he and Hana first broke up, he was a wreck but only you stayed by his side. And soon, you became familiar and constantly pursued him so he gave it a try. 

But everything that he did together with you, reminds him of Hana. 

She never left his mind. Hana could never be replaced. 

Then he hurt you in the process of his own healing process. 

Everything was too late. 

Nothing can’t be fixed anymore. 

Atsumu was left alone again. 

You were left with a broken heart that can’t be pieced together again. 

A short and impromptu piece written, and I hope you guys enjoyed this!

Stay safe and healthy:)

With lots of love,

Roro🍓

©️ ICHIGOROMI — Please do not plagiarise my work or re-edit and repost as your own.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[azreactstowormtheserial]

Overboard [8.1-11.8]

SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR THE SCROLL WHEN YOU HIT KEEP READING

--Yeah... Sorry for not keeping to that 'one arc at a time' promise. But whilst I'm in medical-recovery mode I have nothing better to do than Worm [The Serial] my afternoons away.

And look at that! I'm 1/3 through all of the main story. At least, by Arc-No. ? My friend said come the end of Arc 8, I'd graduated from 'Early Worm'. Should I be scared or happy to be gradually approaching 'Late Worm'?

Speaking of.

ARC 8 -- EXTERMINATION

Title Accurate.

ARC 9 -- SE

Okay, okay. I'll talk about Arc 8. It's a little weird to talk about as a whole. Way easier in the moment, reacting to things as they happen.

"1 in 4 of you (at least) will die."

Tattletale "down".

Aegis, Gallant, Iron Falcon, Mr. G,

Taylor -breaking her spine -- she could have died!

And I thought I couldn't handle the stress of the inter-group dynamic potentially crumbling at the end of Arc 7. Don't worry, we'll get to that.

The endbringers are a terrifying concept. Like, what do you do? Wear it down, hundreds dying to prevent hundreds of thousands from dying, only for it to recover for a few years, months, who knows-- before it attacks somewhere else, almost unprompted?

Almost. I have no idea what it was doing, edging slowly towards Coil's base like a fucking NGE Angel. That's almost as scary.

It just, picked people off. Indiscriminantly.

Kaiser. A powerful, influential-- horrible excuse for a human being, but still, a major player-- he's just dead! Just like that!

I'd started to like a few of The Wards towards the the end of Arc 6, I think. At first it was easy to group them into a 'haha these kids don't know any better, they're really snot-nosed about being heroes'-- which feels a lot nicer a label than what's actually happening.

They're just kids! 15, 16, Vista is 13. 13! Kids that've had a traumatic past, in one way or another. Up against, and dying to, an existential threat. Sentinel really helped put this into perspective.

I'd love to talk about individual moments that I thought were cool; Tattletale's analysis of Leviathan, The truce between heroes and villains, Clockblocker absolutely stepping the fuck up and pretty much clutching the entire fight. But I need to talk about Armsmaster.

(These few lines saved me.)

ARMSMASTER. You horrific excuse for a human being. Jeopardizing CHILDREN'S LIVES, YOUR COMRADES LIVES, PEOPLE'S LIVES-- AND FOR WHAT!?!?!?!?

WAIT NO STOP NO

I absolutely hate this fucking guy. How do you ruin everything in the middle of a natural(?) disaster killing thousands.

(Did I mention Shadow Stalker is Sophia. Huh. That's interesting! I'm sure it won't come up again.)

The arc ends really bittersweet.

I'm really sorry, Bitch. Showing up and saving Taylor was an amazing moment, but that's over half of your closest family, just gone.

But, I totally called it.

I know I wanted to take a break after all that, but I couldn't just leave it at "I told her my answer." -- I had to find out what it was!! So, after a few hours of psyching myself up, I got straight into the Interlude.

ARC 8 -- INTERLUDE [COIL]

How do you beat Coil? What -happened- to Coil to give him this power? Applied perfectly, his power makes him practically invulnerable. One of his only weak points being the immediacy after closing his second universe.

I still don't know how to feel about Coil. He's said in vague terms that his plan for Brockton Bay was to improve. Taylor, I think, took this to mean that people's livelihoods would be better. People would have food, shelter, water. But it's so difficult to tell, even with a direct view into his mind like this interlude gave. All I know is that this is a plan he's put a considerable amount of time and his life towards-- it has to mean a lot to him and he has to be strong in his ideals. I only hope that he isn't utterly insane.

Because if he is? If his motives are 'evil', unjust-- if you can even say they have the potential to be just, with how he operates-- I don't know if anyone can beat him.

...

Shit.

ARC 9 -- SENTINEL

This arc was nice. The breather I needed, and was worried I wouldn't get, after Arc 8's Interlude.

I mentioned that I'd started to like The Wards a little earlier in the story, so the emotional beats really worked here for me. And even if I didn't, this arc'd easily have been a turning point.

\=====

[Az.Interlude: Obligatory Wards (And Co.) Tier List]

Bold means #1 in each thing if there's more than 1.

S [Super :)] - Flechette, Glory Girl, ****Shadow Stalker****, Vista

A [A cool character] - *Clockblocker, Gallant, Kid Win, Panacea, ****Weld***

B [Baegis Tier] - Aegis

C [Cant Remember] - Browbeat

(Sorry Browbeat, who apparently died offscreen in Arc 8.)

\====

I say it's nice, but really we're just seeing a few kids grieve the deaths of their friends. Is that what 'nice' is, in Worm?

Sophia/Shadow Stalker is growing into a more and more interesting character. Though everyone got their fair share of attention, I found her scenes, like the one with Flechette in 9.2, quite interesting.

I* think something really awful happened to Shadow Stalker. *

A lot of my thoughts on Arc 9 I think are just snippets at characters I like. I really liked Weld, and felt 'kinda bad for him. He's trying his best! He's just walking into all this mess.

Vista's chapter made me cry. She's so strong for standing up to Shadow Stalker like that! And the story's tackling on trying to 'fill in' somebody's role after they've passed really hit me like a freight train.

\====

[Az.Interlude 2: Now Obligatory Protectorate (and Dragon) Tier List]

S [This is actually based off of the arc 10 interlude, wait for that.] - Dragon

A [Assault- Oh] - Miss Militia

B [Battery] - Battery

C [Cool? I think?] - Assault, Triumph, Velocity

D ['Dunno] - [Anyone who I haven't remembered. I don't know that many...]

F [Fucking Armsmaster] - Guess who

\====

9.3 was a nifty chapter, too. It's probably the only instance of a 'character are bored in an exposition-lecture' that I've actually thought was pretty well done?

Also, it's nice to get some Clockblocker characterisation. He gets a pass for his flaws because of his context. I do hope his dad ends up getting healed-- but the scenario as a whole really makes me feel for Amy/Panacea. There's so much suffering in the world, and it's -technically- preventable. Just through her. How much of a weight on her shoulders is that?

\====

[Az.Interlude 3: Favorite Arcs]

S - [Super Good Arc] [4. Shell] [8. Extermination] [9. Sentinel] [10. Parasite.]

A [A really good Arc] - [11. Infestation] [6. Tangle] [7. Buzz]

B [Breally good] - [1. Gestation] [2. Insinuation] [3. Agitation]

\====

(See what I'm doing there, by the way? Interlude Arc? Load of Interlude Tier lists? Whatever.) KID WIN ADHD TINKER REP!!!!

I think that's my cue to hop on over to

ARC 10 -- PARASITE

Okay, sure, sure-- Taylor's back, but on uneasy terms, swallowing her pride, sure--

ALEC. ALEC! I THOUGHT YOU JUST MADE PEOPLE TRIP! And I thought even how -that- power was utilized was a little horrifying. This is just... I mean. I'll talk about it some more in the interlude.

Hi Imp! It's nice to meet you! Where'd you come from? Or maybe she was here the whole time, and that's her power--

Imp's neat. I like her power, and I'm hoping we see more of her! She doesn't quite live up to the rest of the gang just yet, but, I mean-- they've been around 9 more arcs. I was wondering if The Undersiders were going to recruit some more members...

This Arc's short but sweet. An infiltration à la the bank robbery, some fights with some superheroes-- and, Dragon!!! Dragon is so cool!!! I love Dragon!!!! We'll get there!!!!

I expected Bitch and Taylor to have a proper confrontation about everything, but... She really just sabotaged her mid-mission? Taylor's beatdown of her was unfortunately deserved-- like, c'mon. You're hurt. More than any of the others, really. But you didn't even 'eye for an eye' her, you went ahead and 'eye for a head' or whatever the relevant saying'd be. I

*really

* hope she takes her up on that offer.

Everything was going alright, even if Dragon'd appeared and made the escape a little tricky. And, oh. A meeting with Coil. Maybe Taylor can hash things out, and come up with a deal that reflects her--

So. That's one way to make an impression of a new overarching villain group. What the actual fuck, Jack. The absolute balls of this reveal-- I have no idea what to make of it, and already Jack just in how he's been described in passing, and-- this-- already made me clock him as a huge threat. I can't wait to see how this goes. I'm sure it'll go great. I'm sure.

ARC 10 -- INTERLUDE [ALEC]

Alec, alecalecalec-- What the actual fuck. I really should have thought twice when Lisa clocked you as a sociopath on first sight. This chapter was scary. Even Sophia doesn't deserve that. The "breach of privacy" -- if you can even -call- it that, with how far it went, made me sick to my stomach.

It's 'kinda crazy that this is just something that continued word-for-word from an earlier chapter. What else has happened directly after Taylor's POV left a scene? What has she missed?

I'm sure this won't come back to bite Taylor in the ass.

Or that.

I think something really awful happened to Shadow Stalker. [2]

Even after all that. I still like Alec. I think. In his own, fucked up, twisted way, he's getting payback for Taylor. He just has no limit. And, I mean-- he is still a kid. That had a horrendous, abuse-ridden upbringing. I don't know. I'm allowed to have complicated feelings about the main cast!

ARC 10 -- INTERLUDE [DRAGON]

Dragon, on the other hand, is objectively fucking cool. She's not even human! What?! It's 2011! Or something like that. I'm a bit of a dork for the 'kinda stuff that the opening third of this chapter was. That it was layered with limitations, purposeful, intended ones that dig under Dragon's skin at all times-- that she's keeping this a secret from even her closest co-workers-- only made me root for her character even more. I'm hoping she's, uh. 'One of the good ones'? Is that how you'd put it? Weird considering she's a hero, but--

*Armsmaster. *Come on.

Oh, look. It came back to bite Taylor in the ass.

Taylor in Arc 11 ruminates on how she'd face losing her civillian identity. But I don't think she quite understands the ramification of it just yet. This is the beginning of the end, in that regard-- Dragon found her.

I'll try not to gush about an interlude too much just to get to Arc 11 and wrap up this post before the day's over, so I'll just leave it at:

*The conversation between Lung and Marquis was very interesting. ****I hope Amy is okay.***

Arc 11 -- INFESTATION (I haven't read the interludes yet! I thought the final base-11 was a good place to stop.)

The Merchants are pretty fucked up, huh? 'Might makes Right' as an actual group philosphy never works. And I don't think the leader's are -that- stupid. I wonder what their deal is?

And, yeah. I'll finally bring it up, Worm. You've got me. *I'm interested in whatever the fuck Case 53 is. *And so is Faultine, apparently. Let's hope they stay in touch with Lisa.

Skitter taking over her territory was rad. She'll make a great monarch! (Queen bee? Is there an insect joke you can make here?)

Whatever my views about how things should be handled, Taylor's helping people in the here and now, and keeping groups like The Merchants out. Helping families. I think what she's doing is right.

And, for once, it all works out! Not without a hitch. Or an underlying dread. Taylor being the arbiter of one of the more straight up 'bad' Merchant's fate is a little telling that her moral's have shifted, somewhat. She's more comfortable leaving someone to die than insisting they have the right to a fair trial, etc-- even if the situtation did totally call for it.

Faultline's crew showing up was neat. I don't think I've mentioned Labyrinth, actually. Her and Newter are my favorite of Faultline's crew. I might go back and re-read Gregor's interlude, just for another look at how Faultline runs things.

And, my god. Brian finally picked up some slack, after some nudging via Lisa. Good on her. The dynamic needs some work from the both of them to build up the trust they once had. But they'll be friends in no time. I hope. Everything's working out.

...

*Oh my god, No, Taylor you can't ****say it!***

Everything is going to go to shit, isn't it?

I don't want to read on anymore. Can't it stop right here? Taylor won, got her friends back? Please?

See you all on the other side. Promise it won't take as long.

[dangerously-human]

Still fighting for my life with tuition benefit stuff, in case anyone was wondering. I would like to submit my request for this semester, but we're still duking it out over last semester because of a problem from over a year ago and I don't want to swing at two hornet nests at once, so. Took every single dollar out of my savings account to pay tuition for this semester and am just praying I can get reimbursed before another rent check needs to go out (and Lord willing, my car won't need massive repairs at inspection this year). I'm doing an actual research study for my mixed methods class this semester, and the professor keeps saying she's fine with giving us an incomplete so we have another year to wrap it up in order to actually get something meaningful out of it. I finally talked to her last night to explain that I cannot afford to take another incomplete and ask how I could do a legitimate study on such a condensed timeline. Thankfully she was understanding and came up with an idea I think will work, since it involves basically just doing the quantitative portion under an existing protocol at work and a qualitative portion that doesn't count as human subjects research, so I don't have to deal with an IRB pissing contest between institutions, nor the debatable ethics of collecting data without compensating people for their time, given that it's unfunded research (and I really can't afford to pay people out of pocket when I'm already paying through the nose to be in this class in the first place). I'm still reworking my research plan, but I do feel a lot better about this in comparison to my plan as of last week, which would have required either submitting to both IRBs (and my work IRB is notorious for having different standards than most, and they/the data lawyers that often end up getting involved move slowly in this kind of situation) or submitting twice to my university IRB, once per phase.

Anyway, dealing with all of this today had me looking at what I really have left to do before I graduate. I'm halfway through the program now, though it feels like I've done way more. After I'm done with this class, which meets my advanced methods requirement (although round 2 of statistics probably did too), I have to eventually go back and take the foundations of the program course that was a scheduling conflict my first semester and somehow hasn't been offered since; another research apprenticeship (I'll probably write another manuscript, ideally one that's already been in progress for a bit at work - if I can get a loan, maybe I can do that this summer with my brief report I'm first authoring); plus two electives, which I was hoping to concentrate on measure design but would also happily do more advanced statistics courses if I'm allowed to take them through the school of psychology (I've tapped out the school of ed on that score). I guess I should ask if I'm allowed to say my job counts as an internship, which from the course catalog it looks like it should, but idk. Theoretically that puts me graduating... fall '25? Maybe? I could go so much faster if it weren't for the financial aspect. I do have to meet with an advisor at some point, but I still don't have one at the moment (again), which really seems like a problem for future me to figure out. But future me before May, because I think I'm still recorded as supposed to graduate this semester, even though it's been clear from the beginning that I was not a full-time student. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They really do make this grad school thing as complicated as possible, don't they?

[sirwow]

Oo you like reading oo.. in addition of posting wraiths call intro I give you all the current pikmin character summaries I have with it tehe

Alt text under the cut for those who dont wanna zoom in on the images

Olimar

A Father of 2 and a reserved average man. Grew up in a relatively uneventful life but with a constant want to escape to the stars and see the unknown. His parents, while passable, admittedly instilled early ideals of how a good family should be and often normalized their fighting that seemed a bit more then most families but nothing he couldn’t get through. Jumped jobs after failing to pass biology in college and ended up staying at hocotate freight for 15 years. Eventually quit when pushed to his limits of risking his life.

Louie

A young, quiet and usually estranged guy with dreams of being a cook. Growing up he was immediately dumped with his nana as his father had him by accident and neither him or his GF really wanted to raise a kid as they were busy enjoying the prime of their life after highschool. Nana didn’t mind raising another darling but admittedly had some of her own issues that lead to some strange or sometimes even cruel ways of raising Louie. If he didnt help with something or caused trouble, he’d be locked outside to let off steam but often ended up walking off into the hill side for sometimes days at end. He only saw his father when he came by for more money from his dad. Hocotate freight was his 6th job after dropping out of highschool and the only one he held for awhile till quiting when he actually really did need money and was getting stiffed.

Koppites

Alph

An engineer fresh out of college now working with his best friend to try and make tech to solve the food crisis n help his family. Alph was born the second youngest in his family and though never being close to his parents, was very close with his two eldest siblings and studying under his grandfather Drake w/ Yorke. Upon his recommendation from Yorke and Drake, the capital of Koppai’s top college accepted him to get his bachelors. After 2 years he meets Brittany in a Bioengineering class and become fast friends. He starts to drive her to college and they get each other drinks. After graduating together they’re selected to be the assistants to a possibly world saving mission.

Brittany

A botanist with a hope to solve the world’s food issue with her best friend but finding herself constantly stone walled by officials. Brittany once lived the high life in Koppai with her well off mother, safe from the world’s famine. Unfortunately her mother fell horribly ill when she began college and passed shortly after, leaving Brittany to move in with her Aunt Bea and cousin Nelle. She had to grow used to her new life in a much lower end of the city and deal with her grief, being relatively lonely for the next 2 years. This is until she met Alph in college and found his willingness to push on despite his situation inspiring and became friends with him. Often calling him late at night to vent or meeting up on the beach at 10 pm to hang out. Eventually after graduation she was selected to be a team botanist on an incredibly important adventure

Charlie

A lonesome ranger with lots of fame for his adventures but little to show in friendships or any kind of companionship past his pet duck. Growing up an orphan, Charlie always yearned for love and found it In his orphan mate Don. Growing up they were best friends and the local trouble makers but with time and joining a government program together they turned from friends to something more. Together they became known as an unstoppable duo across koppai and eventually did several odd job government missions with Yorke and Nelle as their crew. Upon their 5th anniversary though, Don proposed to Charlie and his nervousness about their dangerous job got the better of him, saying no. Afterwards he couldn’t bear the broken heart eyes of Don, ghosting him for 2 weeks straight. When Don finally did catch him they had a massive blow out and broke up. Charlie continued his job as a ranger but now was completely alone for most all his missions. This was until he was asked to go on a important mission to a relatively unknown planet to save the world and the government officials wanted him to get to know his crew that would be coming with him.

minor chars

Penelope

A stay at home mother and avid jewelry maker. Though her husband Olimar is always away she does her best to take care of their kids despite feeling a bit neglected herself. As such she usually finds her own solace in small time jewelry making whenever she’s alone at home with nothing else to do. Due to a past with a mother chastising her and saying she’d never get some things in life, Penelope can make very impulsive choices when she feels she has an opportunity. This helped her meet and marry Olimar but also making some much more horrible decisions when finding his hidden stash of money. Olimar raked her across the coals for this once he got home n now she gives all her money she makes from jewelry back to him to repay slowly. She still suffers from impulsive behavior but in a better light like buying their kids nice things or taking olimar out as much as she can.

Terry

The first child of Olimar and a lover of creatures and the unknown. Terry has always had a fascination with creatures since he was 7 (as long as he doesn’t have to touch them) and since his dad’s adventures to pnf-404 he’s been longing to see it for himself. When his dad switched jobs though, their family had to make a move from Hocotate to Giya meaning a new home and new school for Terry. Terry had a friend group on Hocotate but now he’s become the punching bag for his love of biology and science. Things only felt worse after his dad left again for his mission so in a fit of spite (and stupidity) he decides to just sneak out on a taxi to see PNF-404 and surprise his dad. This to say the least did not go to plan

Lebe

The 2nd child of Olimar and princess of the house hold. Lebe being young and quick to please has always being the more social of Olimar’s kids. She was quick to forgive their mother aswell but her need to be perfect still remains after. She never liked hocotate’s small town she grew up in and has been in love with Giya since she set foot on their new home. Lebe became a popular new girl in class in contrast to her bullied brother but she thought it was just a older boy thing. This was until Terry left for school one morning with Lebe and disappeared from school and home after dropping her off. Lebe did her best to act brave in the situation like her mother but she can’t help but be scared for her brother.

Bulbie

Once when Terry and Olimar were walking home from school on Hocotate, a soft whimpering sound caught Terrys attention and dragged his dad to the bushes. Inside was a small pup only a few weeks old who seemed like the runt of the litter. Terry easily convinced his dad (as a dog person) to take the dog home to take care of. Penelope was already tired from having another kid to handle so she was pretty resistant about having a dog to worry about aswell but it slowly grew on her until she agree with Olimar to adopt the dog. Olimar named him Bulbie after the Bulbs (Hocotate version of a mushroom) like pattern on his back n has been a loving part of the family since.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Eliza Mondegreen

Published: Dec 14, 2023

This was no ordinary medical conference. Over the course of three days, I learned a great many things. That eunuchs are one of the world’s oldest gender identities and that doctors should not judge their strange desires for castration but fulfil them. That, “ideally, patients wouldn’t be actively psychotic” when they initiated testosterone, but that psychotic patients consent to take medication like stool softeners and statins all the time and “people don’t pay that much attention”. That it would be “ableist” to question an autistic girl’s insistence on a double mastectomy. That patients who claim to have multiple personalities that disagree about which irreversible steps to take toward transition can find consensus — or at least obtain a quorum — using a smartphone app.

It is hard to shock me these days — but as I moved around the World Professional Association for Transgender Health’s symposium in Montreal in September 2022, I often felt as if I’d slipped sideways into some strange universe that operated in accordance with other laws: where up is down and girls are boys and medicine has left its modest brief — healing — far behind in its breathless pursuit of transcendence.

I wasn’t really supposed to be there. I hadn’t misrepresented myself — I am what I claimed to be: a graduate student researching gender identity — but this was a convocation for believers and I’m a sceptic. When WPATH, the world’s most prestigious and influential gathering in transgender healthcare, came to Montreal, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to see up close the people and ideas I had pursued through so many articles and books.

I wanted to know what gender clinicians were saying behind closed doors. I wanted to see how they understand the work they do, the patients they serve, and the criticism they face. That’s why I began attending WPATH conferences, starting with the symposium in Montreal, followed by the European Professional Association for Transgender Health conference in Killarney, Ireland, in April, and the US Professional Association for Transgender Health conference in Denver, Colorado, just a few weeks ago.

After years of flying under the radar, the field of transgender health care is facing serious questions about whether minors can consent to life-altering interventions; what role factors like autism, sexual orientation, and social influence may play in the explosion of children and young people identifying as trans; and what to make of mounting evidence of medical harm, regret, and detransition. In response, the field of trans healthcare is becoming ever more secretive. There is a sharp demarcation between what gender clinicians say in public and what they say in private.

At these conferences, the big questions confronting transgender health care hardly feature. Instead, these conferences serve a different purpose: to shore up the faithful and cultivate a revolutionary vanguard within medicine. To this end, the proceedings revolve around a strange set of parables: that of the good gender clinician and the bad gender clinician.

In this world, being a good gender clinician means deferring to patients’ self-understandings and having the humility to serve even what one does not understand. The mark of a good gender clinician is her credulity in the face of brave new manifestations of gender.

“People outside this room get hung up on questions like ‘How can we make sure people are really trans and are not going to regret their transition later?’” one gender clinician in Denver mused. “I’m interested in giving the very best possible care to trans young people, the care that they need and deserve… it’s easy to roll down this pathway of ‘how do you know if somebody’s going to change their mind?’ or ‘how do you know if somebody’s really trans or not?’ and that’s not the conversation I’m really participating in.”

It’s difficult to imagine clinicians practising in other areas of medicine not asking such basic questions, especially when the basis for treatment is so murky. But a good gender clinician, looking at a patient, does not see what non-believers like you or I might see. A good clinician falls under the sway of the same fantasy as the patient and conspires with her to bring her transgender self into existence. Under this framework, there is no “really trans” or not. There is only what the patient says and the readiness of the clinician to put herself at the service of the patient’s vision.

A bad gender clinician, by contrast, feels an “entitlement to know” why a patient feels the way she does or why she seeks a particular intervention. She clings to a traditional conception of her role as a “gatekeeper” who evaluates and prescribes. She thinks she can “discern a ‘true’ gender identity beyond what is articulated by the patient”. She may believe she can “identify the ‘root cause’ of a transgender identity”, which is seen as pathologising. She may try to leave the door open to desistance — the most common outcome before gender clinicians started interfering with normal development by deploying puberty-blocking drugs — in which case she is guilty of “valuing cis lives over trans lives”.

A bad gender clinician is easily “intimidated” by complicated patients, while a good gender clinician knows how to secure consent even in the trickiest cases. Mental health difficulties become “mental health differences”. Severe autism or thinking you have multiple personalities living inside your head become empowering forms of “neurodiversity”. When it comes to assessment, “careful” and “comprehensive” have become dirty words: “The answer always seems to be more assessment and more time. That’s gatekeeping.”

During the Denver conference, presenters role-played how to secure informed consent for a hysterectomy and phalloplasty in the case of a schizophrenic, borderline autistic, intellectually disabled “demiboy” with a recent psychiatric hospitalisation. At no point do the role-players encounter any real barriers. Instead, they persevere. At first, the patient struggled to understand why a phalloplasty might require multiple surgeries, but then the clinicians “explained everything” and the patient understood. This is called “lean[ing] into the nuance of capacity”.

The moral of this story is clear: failure to achieve informed consent is a failure on the part of the clinician, a failure of imagination and flexibility, not a recognition that some patients — whether because of age or mental illness or intellectual disability — will simply not be able to consent.

On WPATH’s private forums, clinicians occasionally express reservations about what they’re being expected to do, such as the social worker who wondered whether she should write letters for surgery for “several trans clients with serious mental illness… Even though these clients have a well-established trans gender identity, their likely stability post initiation of HRT [hormone-replacement therapy] or surgery is difficult to predict. What criteria do other people use to determine whether or not they can write a letter supporting surgical transition for this population?”

Her colleagues quickly put her in her place: “My feeling is that, in general, mental illness is not a reason to withhold needed medical care from clients,” an “affirming, anti-oppressive” gender therapist responded. “My assumption is that you’re asking this question because you’re taking seriously your responsibility to care for and guide your clients. Unfortunately, though, I think the broader context in which this question even exists is one in which we, as mental health professionals, have been put inappropriately into gatekeeper roles. I’m not aware of any other medical procedure that requires the approval of a therapist. I think requiring this for trans clients is another way that our healthcare system positions gender-affirming care as ‘optional’ or only for those who can prove they deserve it.”

Another gender clinician referred dismissively to the recommendation that mental illness should be “well controlled” before initiating hormonal and surgical interventions: “I am personally not invested in the ‘well controlled’ criterion phrase unless absolutely necessary… in the last 15 years I had to regrettably decline writing only one letter, mainly [because] the person evaluated was in active psychosis and hallucinated during the assessment session. Other than that, everyone got their assessment letter, insurance approval, and are living [presumably] happily ever after.” Everything hinges on that “presumably”.

For years, gender clinicians have reassured patients and parents that the evidence would eventually bear out the lofty promises of transition: that transition is life-saving; that psychotherapeutic approaches to gender distress don’t work and instead constitute unethical “conversion therapy”. But as the data starts to come in, transition appears unlikely to live up to these high expectations.

During the Ireland conference, researchers bracketed discouraging findings with upbeat statements of belief such as: “We all know gender-affirming care is effective.” A Swedish researcher who found that psychiatric hospitalisation increased after patients initiated puberty blockers or cross-sex hormones told the audience that she was “really concerned”, not about the results themselves, but “about how results will be interpreted” because, “as you all know, there are improved mental health outcomes following puberty blockers and gender-affirming hormones” — even when the research can’t find those benefits.

“There’s an expectation that gender-affirming hormones will improve somebody’s mental health problems,” Johanna Olson-Kennedy, one of the leading US gender clinicians, said on the opening night of the Denver conference. Why? Because “they improve gender congruence”. In other words, if a patient doesn’t want breasts and a surgeon removes her breasts, the treatment was a success, even if her mental health deteriorates and even if she experiences regret down the road. Clinicians dismiss detransition as one of multiple possible “attenuations” of gender identity, alongside “elf”, “fairy”, and “friendly non-intimidating woman”. If a patient changes her mind later, clinicians can simply treat this new manifestation of gender incongruence by the same means: no harm, no foul.

Meanwhile, gender clinicians speak with remarkable frankness about overcoming their reservations, including the plastic surgeon who recounted the alarm he felt the first time a patient requested gender nullification surgery: an intervention that involves removing all external genitalia to create a “smooth” Ken doll-like appearance. But this surgeon soon conquered his hang-ups: he now performs “a lot” of these surgeries and promotes the procedure to his more cautious colleagues. These kinds of stories frame doubt as something to be vanquished, not investigated.

And if doubts persist, there’s always emotional blackmail. In Denver, an obese patient berated the plastic surgeons in the audience, telling them “you wouldn’t be hearing from me today” had the patient not found a surgeon willing to bend the rules and perform a double mastectomy: “I had contacted over a dozen plastic surgeons in the state of Colorado, all of them telling me they refused to do surgery on me. The surgery I so, so desperately needed so as to not kill myself. Only because of my BMI.”

So if a clinician dares to enforce standard medical practices or exercise her professional judgment, she may drive her desperate patients to suicide. The most questionable sessions end with no questions at all.

But what about the rest of us? What are we entitled to know about this bold new frontier in medicine? In Denver, public-relations specialists cautioned clinicians to spare reporters, policymakers, and parents the details of what “gender-affirming care” entails. In fact, even the use of the term “gender-affirming care” is discouraged: “When [people] hear it, they think ‘trans kids in the driver’s seat,’” health policy expert Kellan Baker said. “Many of us here, we all support trans kids in the driver’s seat because it’s their bodies, their lives. But when you think about folks who don’t know trans people, they are very scared by the idea that young people are making irreversible decisions and that nobody else has any oversight over these decisions. The term “medically-necessary care” is better, he said. “Essential medical care. Prescribed medical care.”

Presenters also recommended that gender clinicians avoid specifics. Avoid ages (“this care is highly individualised and age-appropriate”). Avoid giving information about the effects of puberty blockers and hormones. Avoid discussing the ins and outs of surgeries. In practice, “holding [the public’s] hands and helping [them] understand” looks more like covering their eyes and telling them whatever they need to hear to feel at ease. “The dinosaurs are scared,” Baker deadpanned.

This is how an entire field of medical practice became committed to virtuous obscurantism. Gender-affirming clinicians feel misunderstood by their critics. They don’t trust outsiders to put the work they do in the right light. There’s always a risk that someone will look at life-saving reconstructive chest surgeries for transmasculine minors and see the wrong thing: doctors performing breast amputations on troubled teen girls. Therefore, in order to defend the “life-saving” work they do, they must dissemble, obscure, or practise other forms of “heavenly deception”.

Critics of gender-affirming care fall somewhere along the spectrum of transphobia — with dinosaurs at one end, genocidaires at the other. In Ireland, a keynote speaker described “the gender-critical movement [as] a totalitarian and genocidal force that targets not just trans people but all institutions that uphold democracy and individual human rights”. In Denver, a state legislator announced that policymakers passing restrictions on youth gender transition “will kill children. Not with their own hands. But they will.”

The result of this Manichean worldview is that there is no possible dialogue with critics and no room for serious dissent within the movement itself: “If we are fighting amongst ourselves the forces of oppression have won,” as outgoing USPATH president Maddie Deutsch put it. No one, at any conference, discussed the risks and unknowns around puberty blockers and their possible effects on brain development, or the evidence that suggests blockers may change the course of a child’s life by turning what may have been a developmental phase into a permanent condition.

In one of the most extraordinary moments in Ireland, outgoing EPATH president Jan Motmans said: “We respect everyone’s freedom of speech, but we choose not to listen to it.” The auditorium burst into applause. But the speech they’re choosing not to listen to is the mounting evidence that something has gone wrong in the field of gender medicine.

The conviction of being on the right side of history is why criticism doesn’t stick. Clinicians don’t see themselves reflected in critiques. They are, for the most part, decent people, capable of feeling genuine horror when they accidentally say “hey guys” instead of “hey folks”. Their best impulses — their empathy, their humility in the face of what they don’t understand, their sincere desire to help distressed patients — have been hijacked by an ideological movement within medicine. In the process, they have lost sight of what they do.

This blindness sets in more or less the moment a patient sets foot in a gender clinic — when a distressed girl transforms into a “boy” in need of affirmation. Gender clinicians see empowerment in overlooking a patient’s limitations. They have come to believe that medical responsibility to their patients requires them to dismantle the guardrails that stand between vulnerable patients and life-altering interventions.

Nothing illustrates this more clearly than a session on “neurodiversity-affirming gender-affirming care” in Denver, which overflowed with suggestions for clinicians working with autistic patients to achieve their surgical goals. To make autistic patients more comfortable, clinicians should dim the lights, keep an assortment of fidget toys on hand, drop the small talk, don’t try to make eye contact, avoid open-ended questions. If a patient won’t — or can’t — speak, the clinician should ask for a thumbs up or thumbs down. A good gender clinician helps patients anticipate the sensory reactions they might have to injections, surgeries, stitches, blood, and pain.

Over and over again, I’m struck by the realisation that these clinicians have thought of everything. Everything, that is, except: what if they’re wrong?

==

This would be better described as a religious convention.

This is faith, not medicine. And the opposite of science.

[motownfiction]

i'll never leave you

Charlie can’t believe he’s doing this. And it’s not like he’s imminently going to do it. He’s not nineteen and impetuous anymore – far from it. But he’s planning, and planning feels like the right thing to do when you spent your whole life flying by the seat of your pants, following your idealism and heartbeat like there was no difference between them. This is it. This is real and right and exactly where he should be.

There is an engagement ring hidden in his bedroom, and it’s for Elenore, should she ever decide she wants to wear it.

He’s not going to ask soon. Sooner rather than later, sure, but they haven’t even been dating for a year. They’ve never really talked about getting married beyond a few nervous jokes because of how unbelievable everything seemed until the summer and the fall. Cordelia just got on board with their relationship, and Charlie doesn’t want to rock the boat more than he has for as long as Cordelia’s been alive. Cal and Veronica still have a few months before they graduate from high school, and it would be too much too soon for them. But somewhere inside himself, Charlie knows he’s going to ask Elenore to marry him one day. He doesn’t care what people say about it. He doesn’t care if it’s unexpected, and he doesn’t care that people would turn up their noses at the two of them together. Life is different than it was twenty years ago, and thank goodness for that. Charlie would hate to be stuck in grief and obligation.

Sometimes, when he knows Elenore isn’t going to drop by, he takes out the ring and looks at it. It’s a diamond that sparkles in the sun, and Elenore would love it. She pretends not to like diamonds, but she can Marilyn with the best of them. He likes to think about what she’ll look like, showing off her new to ring to her loved ones, friends, strangers. He likes to think about even when he can’t see her show it off, he’ll know. He’s proud of her in more ways than he can explain, even to himself. Just the thought of her makes his heart race like he’s a wallflower at the sock hop.

Charlie knows exactly what he’ll do and say. He’ll get down on one knee, like tradition. And then he’ll say something like, Elenore, I love you. You’re the most perfect woman in the world, and you’re the most perfect woman for me. You’re a miracle, and I’m not in the business of letting a miracle go for a second time. I love you. I’ll never leave you, and I hope you never want to leave me. So, I have to ask. Will you marry me?

He thinks about it before he falls asleep at night.

It might be a little while before Charlie feels like it’s the right time to propose to Elenore. She’s beautiful, and if he had his way, he’d marry her now. But her heart needs to heal, and his heart needs to heal just as badly. Elenore is beautiful and well worth devoting his entire life to. But he can wait. If it’s Elenore at the end, he can wait.

She’ll be just as beautiful on the other side, and he’ll be even more in love with her.

(part of @nosebleedclub february challenge -- day 9!)

[bluujae]

Ｏmega Centauri, an Original Skit

bc i'm on a roll with these

Also based on a dream I had. Got a lot of those...

Omega Centauri, aptly named after the biggest and brightest cluster of stars, is a secret society that hand picks the children of old blood families to be taught the occult ways of the world. Like Hogwarts if it was low-key a cult and a lot darker. About 100 students are picked from all over the world. Ages range between 19-21. This sect specializes in the root of magical branches, which might leave their teachings outdated but incredibly powerful and equally dangerous. The kind of people who argue human sacrifice had a real kick to it. . .

Students are kept on campus grounds for the entire time they're enrolled. It's large and surrounded by acres upon acres of forest on one side, but also somewhat near a coast line. No one is quite sure where they are due to the fact that upon acceptance you're whisked away via teleportation to campus grounds. You are not allowed to leave for the next four years, assuming you survive. No one is guaranteed to graduate and most of the students here were raised strictly for this, likely children of alumni. Good news is that all the supplies you'll need are provided to you.

Upon acceptance and after the welcome ceremony, the first month will be spent learning bare basics and testing where each student's magical aptitude lies. This is the only time where students are not allowed 'friendly fire'. At the end of the first month, the students will be run through a series of tests and trials. By the end of this, ideally, each student will be picked by a Patron. There are technically 5.

The Night Mother The Sphinx The Reverent One The Baneful Dread The Last Disciple

Notably, none of these titles are the entities' actual names except for The Sphinx

Being chosen will inevitably shape a student, literally and metaphorically, along the next four years as each Patron has different cores and values. Not being chosen is a possibility, but it makes survival much harder. Faculty is not responsible for keeping students alive, killing each other is not a punishable offence, and there is little that could actually land someone in trouble here. I mean, aside from maybe annihilating your entire graduating class.

If that sounds insane, it should.

The catch to this skit is that I was never meant to be picked. In a pit of jealousy, someone who hadn't been chosen accosted someone who had before they could properly open their invitation in an attempt to steal it. This resulted in the death of both parties and I accidentally find and open the invitation instead. which is kind of realistic bc I pick up shit off the ground all the time, like a gremlin

As a result, I instead take the original student's spot by being teleported and essentially magically kidnapped. I basically unintentionally steal their identity. Good news, it wasn't a particularly influential nor big family name, so no one immediately knows I'm not said student. Bad news, for that exact reason no one is entirely sure whether I'm a threat or not bc they've never heard of me.

I'm basically put in survival mode for the next four years unless I can somehow either figure out a way to escape or burn this place to the ground from the inside out. Or, alternative to all that, I ride the lightning for the next four years and see where it gets me.

This skit is meant to be a wild ride and most of the plot has been put purely in the hand of The System rather than myself. It's supposed to be giving 'Never let them know your next move'. Additionally, as you can imagine, this skit will probably often be 18+ and any posts in relation to it will be appropriately labeled when necessary.

Lastly, I design update posts for each skit. This one was too pretty not to share ahead of time. Here's the sample:

I don't know if I plan on using my actual name here or if I really do plan on using a fake one for the sake of the skit. . . I'll get back to y'all on that.

[mr-entj]

i am an intj and 18, it's my second year in uni and my major is overall promising (engineering with focus on nano, 3d and powder technologies (not going in depth with this one)). after graduating i'll be able to work in various fields, from medicine to metallurgy. anyways, the problem is that the way most my subject are being taught is unbelievably boring (not good for my adhd) plus i missed out on some of them (high math and physics mostly) due to stress and overall depressed mood (war in my country + no friends + really tough family situation abuse etc). now, even though i missed out, i know that lots of people did the same and still graduated and now have high paying jobs, and therefore i can too, but i am really anxious about not understanding some of new material due to lacunas in my knowledge. i plan to catch up on some of it during summer but i am pretty sure that till june all my determination will evaporate, and i will continue resenting my choice of major (originally wanted to choose linguistics but didn't work out). another thing is that i don't want to be doing one thing my whole life, i want to be well versed in multiple unrelated fields (from writing and acting and art to history social studies linguistics and architecture). my question is, how to find that spark/motivation again? how to combine all the things i am interested in so i learn a bit of each and when should i do that, now or later in life? i suppose if i graduate and get a good job i can go back to learning again in free time. i also want to get out of this house as soon as possible, so i need to either really put efforts into successfully graduating or start looking for part time jobs to save up money (i doubt i will be able to do both at once). one idea i had for part time is to start an etsy shop as i have original ideas and means to execute them (but there is a risk of failing which i am perhaps more afraid of than i should be).

may you please give me an advice on my situation? sorry if this ask is too messy and thank you for reading it

For starters, I'd rethink your MBTI type. I'm confident you're not an INTJ and I wouldn't use any INTJ descriptions to guide your thought process. Based on your writing style, I'd look closer at descriptions of INTPs and INFPs.

Next, there's a framework I use to break down problems and solve them. It can be applied to basically everything in life. For your situation, it looks something like this:

Step 1: Define. What are the goals you want to achieve? Do you want to move out? Do you want to graduate college? Do you want to study something that interests you? What are the end goals? What does your ideal life look like in a few years at the point where you can breathe easily?

Step 2: Prioritize. Of the goals you've defined, which are most important? Example: #1 priority is to graduate college, #2 priority is to be financially independent and move out, #3 is to study something that interests you.

Step 3: Plan. For priority #1, what are all the things you need to do to graduate college? Are there faster ways to graduate and get a great paying job? Do research on which classes to take, community college credits, etc. Attach timelines to them.

Step 4: Execute. Do it. Self-explanatory. What did you learn from carrying out your plan? What worked and didn't work? Are there any new and exciting insights you know now that you didn't know before?

Step 5: Measure. Are you happy? Did achieving your goals bring you the life you wanted? If not, go back to step 1 and restart the process. Iterate until you get it right.

Unless your family is rich, I'd argue that college isn't for learning, college is a financial commitment in exchange for skills training, credential gathering, and network building to get a job with a positive return on investment (ROI). If you want to learn-- go to a library. You can learn without college. Go on YouTube, go on Google, go on ChatGPT, etc. and learn for free.

Know your priorities and execute based on the most important ones.

[skwpr]

7 IMPORTANT ITEMS TO DO ON DAY 1 OF CLASSES

Whether this is your first day of college classes EVER or the first day of your last semester it is seriously never too late to make the most of your classes.

You need to use your first day to get control of the semester because falling behind leads to a stressful and unnecessarily difficult semester.

1) Read the syllabus before class

This is, of course, only an option if the syllabus is available before the class starts. At a lot of schools you can access your online school system a week or so before the classes start and professors frequently have it on there! I also had a lot of professors email the syllabus out before as well.

This is so important because you can start the first day ready to ask any questions and set yourself up for success.

Get a binder or folder to keep the printed syllabi. They were one of the only things I ever printed in college but it was so worth it to be able to write any updates and changes on!

2) Sit where you can hear

I am not going to tell you to sit in the front row (unless that’s what you like and in that case you go!!). But I am going to tell you to make sure you can see and hear on the first class. Sometimes by the end of the semester you realize that being super visible in certain classes isn’t overly helpful.. but make sure you give yourself time to figure that out. Usually the first class of semester is the most helpful because the professor goes over what the class will cover, what the exams are like, what you should study, when things are due, etc. So make sure you can hear the professor and see the board.

3) Take notes

Start taking notes right away. Professors frequently add more information and details than the syllabus has on it and sometimes will make changes to the syllabus. I try to have the syllabus printed out and with me so I can make any updates on it as well as having my laptop out to take any additional notes. Make sure to save the notes (if digital) as something you can easily identify as the first day in the class folder. Also if you don’t already have the folders set up on your laptop for each class then GO DO THAT NOW. If you are taking physical notes then the first day should be the first page of the notebook or first page of the divider.

4) Introduce yourself to classmates

Make a friend in the class before you need a friend in the class. Introduce yourself and ideally swap phone numbers so you can give each other notes if one of you miss a lecture. It’s also nice to already have one or a couple people to team up with for projects! And of course college is a great time to make new friends in general so don’t be afraid to try and strike up conversations with people.

This is especially important in your major specific classes. You will take a lot of classes with these other students and quite possibly end up working with some of them at some point after graduation so make the connections now! Also- if someone tries to introduce them self to you then be nice. Never burn a bridge just because you didn’t know it was a potential connection.

5) Leave early

Please do not show up to the first day of class late! Give yourself plenty of time to get to the building especially if you haven’t been to the specific building before. For larger schools you would be amazed at how even during your senior year it can be time consuming to try and find a new building. Also, those huge old academic buildings can have classrooms tucked in weird places so give yourself time for once you are inside the classroom too.

Walking in after the professor has started class is not only rude to the professor and your classmates but it also will make you feel rushed and hectic on a day you should be trying to set your semester up for success.

6) Ask questions

Do NOT be afraid to ask questions. The sooner you clarify an assignment or due date from the syllabus the better. Chances are if you are wondering about something then so are some of your classmates and they will be thankful that you asked. The first day of classes is largely meant to explain the class so make sure you fully understand what is being explained and what the expectations are. If you think of questions after class do not be afraid to stop into office hours or send your professor or T.A an email. Just make sure to read the syllabus regarding any guidelines- some professors like you to include certain course information in the email subject line.

7) Figure out your day routines

Getting into a routine earlier in the semester will help you stay on top of your academic work BEFORE it starts to get overwhelming. Make sure that your routine includes time for eating and studying to help you make the most of your day. I liked to use the first week to find the best library or study space in comparison to where my classes were located.

Never let it haunt you, but always let it remind you.

"All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us".

Gandalf

[yuna-writes]

Creating new friendships

I’ve been considering moving out of my current location somewhere I can feel more connected to the people around me but I’m still unsure where I want to move. I tried to make friendship with my local neighbors but it has been unsuccessful...the only new friend I made was with someone who had very similar interests. 

This is a topic I’ve observed for a while about friendships in general. I can’t speak for everyone but I notice friendships don’t last very long. Maybe a few people have close friends they still keep in touch for years, but I notice many people don’t have a close friend they knew for over ten or twenty years. It’s not just the duration either, sometimes I notice life happens and people get busy with work and family so they don’t have the time or energy to keep up in maintaining friends. I met this one person who told me she only has her boyfriend and have no friends. She works long hours, and during the weekend, she stays home with her boyfriend and don’t really socialize outside. I also have relatives who work long hours as well and they come home around 8pm, eat dinner, and go to sleep. They don’t really spend much time making new friends. They only have a couple of friends they meet once in a while. 

It’s really shocking too. When I was younger, I thought adulthood would mean I would be meeting friends often and they would be available whenever we want to hang. Kind of like school, but no, I notice people are tired and busy with their own lives. I don’t take it personally, but they only spend that energy with other people they feel close with. It’s usually not me. It gets worse when they get married, have children, and then I realize we have nothing in common. Often times, their life completely changes so they only talk about their family and kids. Since their family life takes up so much of their time, I also notice their interests changes. Therefore, we also drift apart. 

I’m still trying to make effort into creating new friends but then feel defeated at the idea that many of them don’t last. Then I come to ask myself on the purpose of creating friendships. I think it’s easier to make friends and sustain it long-term if the friend and yourself have very similar life goals, interests and aspirations. That’s why I notice people tend to feel close with their friends in school but after they graduate from college and go their separate lives, they start to drift apart and become completely different people with different needs in a relationship. I’m aware of this so I’m thinking about whether I should adapt to my environment or change my environment to fit my needs. My area is good for raising children, but not very ideal for a young adult with no kids. There’s nothing much to do besides going to bars and walking in the park. I’m not into sports or crafty things either. I would love to move closer to NYC, but insanely expensive to afford living there. I feel like there would be more interesting things to see everyday if I moved to the city, but it’s really for wealthy people to live comfortably there. 

If you’re not wealthy, then you’ll always be hustling and working crazy hours to make ends meet in the city. There won’t be time leftover to enjoy the city and make meaningful friendships. Otherwise, I think I realize the people in my current location don’t really feel interested in me as person and I’m not very interested in them either. It’s surprising to meet people who actually don’t ever make effort into creating new friends. They just either spend time with their friends from their school days and their family or relatives. Investing your time and energy to a stranger might be risky, and it might not go anywhere meaningful. I can see why some people don’t make effort to make new friends as adults. It just doesn’t seem to be beneficial to them.  

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

The Kids Are Alright

(This is a prequel to my already existing fic Metropolitan Family Life. This fic is not an x reader and takes place in Suguru Geto's teen years. This will be leading into an x reader concept but if you're not into that you can read it as a one shot. Thank you.

Warnings: Smoking, drinking, swearing, crude behavior/language, 90s teen/young people cynicism (total teenage dirtbags), bad parenting, narcissist parent

The Kids Are Alright

Prequel to Metropolitan Family Life (Suguru in his early years- pre reader, late 90s au)

Suguru leaned back in his chair and shook his long hair out. He yanked the elastic hair tie off his wrist and used it to pull his hair up into a messy bun. 

Next to him, Ieiri let out a groan and buried her face into her folded arms. She didn’t have the willpower to lift her head up from her desk. 

“Shit, I’m so hungover.”

“Really? Satoru asked. “Here let me get you something.”

In an act of cruel playfulness he rolled up his magazine and slammed it down on the edge of her desk. Ieiri shot up in excruciating pain, clutching her head for dear life. 

“Satoru you fucking asshole.”

He keeled over in laughter. 

Suguru, who had secured his hair, reached into his backpack and pulled out a water bottle. He leaned forward and handed it to Ieiri. 

“Here,” he offered. “Just take a few sips.”

She grabbed the water from him and took a gulp. 

“How are you not hungover? You drank more than me last night.”

Suguru just shrugged. “Sheer willpower.”

She kissed her teeth and stood up. “C’mon let’s go. I need a cigarette.”

Satoru checked the clock on the classroom wall. “But lunch ends in five minutes.”

Suguru rolled his eyes and grabbed his backpack. “Then we should get out of here before the teacher comes back. 

~

With the three of them ditching gym class, something they occasionally did, they managed to secure something of a secret hideout. 

That was what Satoru insisted on calling it anyway. 

On the far end of the campus was an abandoned greenhouse that once was used for botany classes. It was in an ideal location where they never got caught. 

Suguru retrieved his lighter from his backpack and lit the cigarette that Ieiri had impatiently placed between her lips. She offered him one which he took. Suguru didn’t smoke as often as she did, but he’d occasionally indulge himself. He’d indulged himself in a few things since entering into this friendship. 

When Suguru had met Satoru and Ieiri, he was timid as hell. His shaved head and scrawny build made him an easy target for bullies. But his friends helped him grow more confident in himself, as corny as it sounded.

“How do your ears feel?” Satoru asked him.

“Fine,” he nodded. 

Suguru brushed his fingers over one of the studs. Last night, he pierced them on a dare. Granted the bathroom of a club with a heated sewing needle wasn’t exactly safe, but he liked the way it turned out. Of course, that meant he’d have to show his Dad later. He’d definitely be pissed he skipped class again, but he didn’t care. He never cared anymore. He was done hoping one day his old man would give a damn about him.

Suguru pulled out his sketchbook and a charcoal pencil, determined to finish his sketch before they left campus. He planned on painting it this weekend. 

Ieiri leaned forward to see. “It’s the ocean.”

Satoru sighed and leaned against the young artist, Ieiri followed suit and did the same, sandwiching Suguru in the middle. 

“Shit,” Satoru mumbled. “I can’t believe we only have another three weeks left.”

“I won’t miss this place,” Ieiri mumbled. 

The three of them would be graduating soon. With college exams already taken, and finals coming up. The time was quickly approaching to say goodbye. 

Suguru put his cigarette out and let it sit beside him. “I don’t hate this place.”

The three of them sat there in silence. The only noise to be heard was the scratching of the charcoal pencil.

~

Suguru was a curse on his parents. That’s how he saw it. His mother died in childbirth leaving his father to raise him by himself. 

His father didn’t like him. 

He was too sensitive for a boy. His head was always in the clouds. He was ungrateful. He was lazy. 

He existed. 

Suguru Sr., his dad, was the phys ed. teacher at his school. He took the job because it came with a coaching position for the school’s soccer team, one of the best in the country. 

The players on the team had a fair shot of going pro, something Suguru’s dad had initially hoped for in his youth. But a busted knee had cut his dreams short. 

Since he was faculty his son could get free tuition, and fulfill unaccomplished dreams. 

But Suguru was far from the ideal son who had been given his father’s name.

They argued practically everyday, and it only got worse the older Suguru got. His dad was a textbook narcissist who would bend over backwards for any random stranger, but couldn’t lift a pinky to help his son.

 Suguru was charged with doing all things domestic, from cooking the meals to cleaning the apartment. He also couldn’t blink without his father having an opinion. So he began to avoid him more and more. 

He couldn’t even remember the last time the two of them had spoken. 

Suguru pushed against his father whenever he could. 

He didn’t really like to drink or smoke but he knew his father detested it. So he did it whenever he could, just to defy him. He liked to pissed off his dad, so he stayed out until the early morning out of pure spite. He’d sneak into clubs he had no business in and allow eardrum shattering levels of music to swallow him up and carry him away. 

~

When Suguru got home he was more than displeased to find his dad parked on the couch in front of the television. A soccer game was on, and he couldn’t care less. He detested sports. Did his dad ever imagine himself as one of those players? In a completely different life with a family that made him happy?

“Suguru,” his father barked. “Get in here!”

He stood at the door for a moment, debating if he should just turn around and spend the night at Satoru’s. He decided against it, knowing he’d just have to come home eventually. 

He shut the door and dragged himself to where his father stood, standing beside him and waiting for a lecture. 

“Why weren’t you in class today?” he asked. 

His father’s attempt to look threatening was laughable. Suguru was almost an entire foot taller, another one of the many things the old man resented about him. 

“I wasn’t feeling well,” he cooly responded. “So I went to the nurse’s office.”

His father snorted. 

“So you’re not man enough to power through it? You’re so weak. But with that stupid haircut you look like a girl so you might as well act like it.”

Suguru clenched his jaw. “Can I go now? I have things to do.”

His father turned away from the television to face his son. He stood up when something caught his eye. “What the hell is that?”

“What?”

“That shit in your ear.”

Suguru smirked. “Do you like it?”

His father’s face started to turn red. “Are you trying to get kicked out? What will the neighbors say? You look like some effeminate punk!”

“It’s better than looking like you,” he shot back. “And maybe you should learn how to cook for yourself before you threaten to kick me out.” 

He turned to leave, much to his father’s annoyance. 

“Where the hell do you think you're going?” 

“To work at my shit job that you like to pretend you’re so proud of.”

When his father threw away all his art supplies a few years ago he’d gotten a job at the convenience store down the street to fund the recovery of everything he’d lost. 

His father scoffed. “Your mother would be so disappointed in you.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing she’s not here,” Suguru spat.

He went to his room to change for his shift. 

~

“Wow,” Satoru marveled. “That’s such a low blow to use your dead mom like that.”

He stood next to Suguru as he restocked the chips, speaking in between the mouthfuls of Doritos  he was eating. He was currently on his second bag. 

“Classic Coach Geto bullshit,” he muttered. “And are you planning on paying for those?”

Satoru pondered it for a moment. “I don’t know, wouldn’t I fall into the friends and family discount?”

Suguru stood up and snatched the bag out of his hands. “Sorry, but that only applies to people that don’t have American Express cards.”

Satoru pouted as he followed Suguru to the back where Ieiri was looking at the mini toiletries. 

“How much mouthwash should I bring? One of these is enough for two days right?”

“With how much you smoke?” Satoru snorted. 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Stop stuffing your face and start buying some snacks. Will you Captain Dickhead?”

“Excuse me,” a man called from the front of the store. “Can you ring me up?”

“Right away sir,” Suguru replied. 

“Speaking of Captain Dickhead,” Satoru snorted under his breath. 

He and Ieiri trailed behind their friend to the register. The man handed Suguru his card and looked over to find Satoru, who instantly caught his attention. 

“Pardon me, but are those your real eyes?”

“Yeah,” Satoru answered. 

“They glow in the dark,” Ieiri added. 

The man tilted his head, examining Satoru’s features like he was a pomeranian in a dog show. 

“Have you ever considered modeling?”

“You know you’re not the first person who asked me that,” Satoru gloated.

Suguru rolled his eyes as he bagged up the man’s items. “Here you are sir.”

The man took his card back and stuck it into his wallet, then he retrieved another card out of it. “I work for the Vogue offices here, in Tokyo, but I have some contacts in Paris as well. If you're interested you should give us a call. I think you’d make a great fit in our fall lineup.”

After Satoru took the card the man took his shopping bag and left. 

“Well look who’s on his way to being the next Kate Moss.” Ieiri mused.

“Charles Bernard,” he read aloud. “That can’t be his real name.”

“Probably not,” Suguru jested. “He definitely just wants to harvest your organs.”

Satoru chuckled and stuck the business card in his wallet. “So do you need to do any shopping for the trip Suguru?”

In two weeks the third years would be taking their class trip to Okinawa, which had brought Satoru and Ieiri into the store in search of supplies. 

Suguru sighed. “I don’t know. It’s not like I want to hang out with strangers and I don’t know how to swim.”

“Stop making excuses asshat,” Satoru ordered. “Who said we’re spending time with the class?”

“Well I think the whole concept of a class trip would be lost without the class part,” Ieiri deadpanned. 

“Listen,” Satoru proposed. “I think we should fly down with the class. Then when we get there we’ll get a rental car and just do our own thing.”

“Okay now I know you’re completely insane,” Ieiri groaned. “We’ll get in trouble.”

“Only if we get caught,” Satoru argued. “We’ll check in when we get there, and then again when we leave.”

“But seriously, what if we do get caught?” Suguru asked. 

“Please my family just gave the school a new library, nothing’s going to happen. Plus if they get really mad we’ll just say we got kidnapped or whatever.”

This was a dumb idea on practically every level, Suguru was incredibly aware of that. But he had stuck with Satoru and Ieiri for a few years now and everything had managed to work out so far. 

One last adventure before they’d be pressured into pretending to be adults. 

“Fine,” Suguru agreed.

“Whatever,” Ieiri added.

~

The morning Suguru left he and his dad got into another fight. 

“You know,” he started. “When I was your age I didn’t get to go anywhere.”

Whenever his father spoke Suguru had gotten into the habit of holding his breath. He hoped if he’d stopped breathing the old man would stop speaking, but that unfortunately was never the case. 

Suguru just grunted as he tied his shoelaces. 

“You should be grateful you’ve been given this opportunity.”

Suguru said nothing, he hated it when his dad tried to make him feel guilty for just living his life. 

“Okay,” he said as he stood up. “I’m heading out.”

His father scoffed. “I knew it. You get to go have fun and you still have a bad attitude. I’d kill to be your age again.”

“Uh huh.”

Suguru walked towards the front door. His duffel bag felt like a million pounds, but nothing could stop him from getting the hell out of here. 

“You don’t like me do you?” his dad asked with an unwarranted exhaustion. 

The tone of his delivery made the teen stop in his tracks and turn around. 

“Huh?” he asked.

“You don’t appreciate anything I do.”

Suguru said nothing, even if he wanted to scream until his lungs shriveled up. 

“Bye Dad.”

He stormed out of the apartment and slammed the door behind him.

~

Satoru and Ieiri knew when Suguru was going through it. He slipped in and out of his bad moods like he was speeding through a winding road. They let him sit in silence. This should have been a positive experience for Suguru. He’d never been on a plane before. But of course the old fuck had to rob him of any of the joy he should have been feeling. 

“These seats are so cramped.” Satoru whined.

Ieiri rolled her eyes and shoveled peanuts into her mouth. 

“We get it, you’ve never traveled in coach before.”

“It must be so hard being you,” Suguru griped next to him.

Satoru exchanged a glance with Ieiri. 

“Um Suguru, do you want to switch places? Satoru offered. “You can look out the window and see the ocean.”

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“But you’ve never been on a plane before and-”

Suguru shot him a look that made him stop. 

“I’m fine. I’m not an idiot I know what a fucking cloud looks like,” he spat.

Ieiri narrowed her eyes on him. 

“Suguru, I know you're in a bad mood, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be an asshole.”

He scoffed and put his walkman headphones over his ears. He was pissed but he wasn’t suicidal. Ieiri wouldn’t hesitate to kick his ass off the plane and send him plummeting back down to Earth.

~

By the time the plane had touched down everyone was in desperate need of a little cooling off period. Satoru collected everyone’s baggage with the rest of the class while Ieiri snuck off to the airport smoking lounge with Suguru. Without saying a word, he pulled his lighter out of his coat pocket and she leaned in to light her cigarette. They sat there in silence among the rest of the nicotine addicted individuals. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he finally mumbled.

She didn’t look at him when she spoke.

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

He thought back to how Satoru had flinched when he rejected his offer for the window seat.

“Look Suguru,” she continued. “Satoru really wants to have a good time while we’re here. Can’t we just give him?”

He nodded. 

“Yeah.”

“I know what it’s like to want to tear everything down but just fake it okay? For him.”

He grinned. “So is this you faking it?”

“Another word and I’ll shove this cigarette up your nose,” she threatened. 

He stood up. 

“Let’s go. The teachers are going to wonder where we are.”

~

They met Satoru in front of the shuttle bus their classmates were gathered around. Despite everything that happened on the plane his eyes lit up when he saw them. 

“There you guys are!”

“Hey,” Suguru started. “I’m sorry I was being such a dick earlier.”

Satoru just smiled. “You’re always a dick, dick.”

Ieiri snorted. 

“So are we all set?” she asked. 

He nodded. 

“We’re almost in the clear.”

Their homeroom teacher, Mr. Yaga, came up to the group of three with his clipboard. 

“Mr. Geto and Ms. Shoko, so good of you to join us.”

He turned to Suguru and handed him a small medication bottle of stool softener. 

“Mr. Gojo informed me you were having bathroom issues, so let me know if you need more.”

“I will sir.”

He clenched his teeth as Satoru and Ieiri giggled behind him.

“Alright class,” he announced as he turned to face the others. “Everyone on the bus.”

The three of them waited for the right moment to bolt. Once Mr. Yaga and the others were all safely on the bus they walked back into the airport and went to the rental car station. 

The woman behind the desk handed Satoru a pair of keys not even bothering to ask how old he was.

“Have it back on Sunday.”

~

Once the three of them had loaded their bags into the trunk they were off. They spent the first ten minutes arguing what type of music to listen to. 

“Come on,” Satoru groaned. “No one wants to listen to Alanis Morrissette.”

Ieiri guffawed.

“Typical guy response. Worship anything related to Nirvana or Oasis and turn your nose down at anything written by a woman.”

“Are you seriously comparing Nirvana to Alanis Morrissette?”

“If you read the lyrics to ‘You Oughta Know’ even your pea sized brain could figure out how inspired that song is!”

“Inspired my ass!”

Suguru made a vain attempt to break in from his spot in the back seat. 

“Can we listen to Queen?”

Ieiri scoffed from the passenger seat. “Suguru, take your old man music on your old man cassette tape and shove it up your ass.”

“Maybe it’ll help with my chronic constipation,” he mused as he read the label on the stool softener. “Thanks again for that Satoru.”

He turned around to glare at him. 

“Well you were acting like you were constipated!”

“Satoru!” Ieiri shrieked. “You’re driving! Keep your fucking eyes on the fucking road!”

Suguru smiled to himself. 

So much for faking it.

~

They miraculously arrived at the hotel in one piece. Satoru had driven them further up the coast and found a place right on the beach. 

When they got to their room Ieiri collapsed on the bed. 

“Okay chuckleheads. I call the bed, you two can bunk on the floor.”

“What do you guys want to do first?” Suguru asked.

“Recover from my near death experience,” Ieiri deadpanned.

Satoru just rolled his eyes. “I got us here alive. And I didn’t even hit that frog.”

He set his bag down and pulled some papers out.

“We should probably leave the room now. I have an entire itinerary planned out.”

~

They spent Friday just walking around the local shops and sampling all the different foods there were to try. They had dinner at a soba place where Satoru nearly scalded his tongue trying to eat too fast. 

“Eat slowly,” Suguru jested. “Or you’ll need these tomorrow morning.”

He pulled the stool softener out of his pocket and placed it next to his friend. Then he flagged down the waitress. 

“Excuse me, where’s the nearest pharmacy? My friend needs to stock up on this.”

Instead of getting angry Satoru just started laughing after the waitress left. 

“You stupid dick,” he wheezed.

Suguru snorted and tossed the medicine in the trash. Ieiri smiled despite herself and continued to eat her meal. 

~

On Saturday they woke up and drove to The Churaumi Aquarium and worked their way through all three floors. Suguru sat in front of a massive tank that contained a whale shark, stingrays, and a plethora of different fish.  

He sketched it so he could paint later. He was getting excited thinking of different techniques to emphasize the light that highlighted the magnificent patterns that decorated the shark's skin. He flipped back a few pages to look at his sketch of the ocean he’d done two weeks ago. It made him a little sad but he couldn’t say why. 

When he looked up he spotted a girl in front of him strolling alongside the whale shark. Her braid swung back and forth as she walked. Before he knew it she’d worked her way into his sketch. 

“Miss Amanai!” a voice called. 

A woman came racing towards her. 

“What’s wrong Misato?” she asked. 

“What’s wrong?” she asked in an incredulous tone. “ You don’t wander off by yourself. Your parents have been worried sick.”

The girl scoffed. “I’m not a child Misato, I’m fourteen.”

Misato gave the girl a look and she quickly sprinted back the way she came. Her caretaker chased after her, nearly knocking Satoru over in the process. 

He and Ieiri walked towards Suguru and sat down beside him. 

“Are you almost done? We were gonna hit the beach.”

He nodded. “Yeah let’s go.”

~

The beach was rejuvenating. Suguru sat in the sand and watched as Satoru tried to chase Ieiri with a sea cucumber. It backfired when a wave knocked him on his ass and the sea cucumber went flying back into the ocean. 

~

While the three of them attempted to build a sandcastle a group of girls approached them. Satoru stood up almost expectantly. 

“Can we help you beautiful ladies?” he smoothly asked.

Ieiri made a gagging noise and Suguru chuckled.

“Um,” one of the girls spoke up. “Actually I was wondering if your friend was single.”

Satoru looked over to Suguru with a flabbergasted expression, entirely unfamiliar with not being the center of attention when it came to these types of things.

“Yes,” Suguru answered. 

The girl held out a piece of paper. “Here’s my email address. You can send me a message if you want or whatever.”

He smiled and took the paper.

“Thank you.”

~

“Are you a freaking idiot!” Satoru howled. “What do you mean you’re not going to email her?”

Suguru shrugged. “What’s the point? We’ll never see eachother again.”

“She even saw through that hideous shirt you’re wearing,” Ieiri joked.

“Maybe she’s into Magnum, P.I.,” he snorted.

Apparently girls liked old man hawaiian shirts. 

~

Later that night the three of them shared a small bottle of scotch Satoru had swiped from his dad’s personal collection. 

They sat on the beach and passed the bottle around, mindful not to drink too much. In the morning they’d have to drive back to the airport to meet their class.

“Well I think we can mark this trip as a success,” Satoru gloated.

“Yes Satoru, you and your genius brain put this entire plan in motion. Is that what you want to hear?” Ieiri teased. 

“Well I had fun,” Suguru admitted. 

“Ha! Two against one. You lose!”

“Shut up and pass the scotch dumbass,” Ieiri ordered.

“I’ll miss you guys,” Suguru murmured. 

His friends stopped their lively banter and turned their attention to their friend. 

“What do you mean? Are you going somewhere?” Satoru asked.

He sighed.

“Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Suguru,” Ieiri prodded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s just that sometimes I have a difficult time seeing my own future. Shit that sounds so fucking stupid. I guess…I’m just anxious about the future. Will there ever be a time I don’t feel like shit?”

“Everyone feels like shit sometimes. Especially if they're around bad people,” Satoru said with a knowing look. 

They all knew who he was alluding to. 

“Yeah,” Suguru cleared his throat. “I guess you’re right.”

“Suguru, you're a stupidly talented artist and you’re a good person,” Ieiri admitted.

“And you’ll never have to face the future alone. We’re best friends,” Satoru assured him. 

“But you need to live your own life,” Ieiri reminded him. “Don’t run away from the unknown.”

He smiled and covered his face. “I don’t hate you guys.”

~

In the early hours of the morning, Suguru woke up shoulder to shoulder between Satoru and Ieiri on the hotel bed. The room was still dark and the only noise was his friend's shallow breathing. 

Outside the ocean waves crawled onto the sand, creating a soothing lullaby when gently tapped down. 

He took a deep and closed his eyes, imagining his future and discovering a light. 

~

The End.

[mxrainbownoodle]

Tumblr I am so sorry

You have been forgotten and updated the least and for that I apologize I wouldn't be the artist I am today without you. This is a doozy but long over due and my first step in returning back to falling in love with art again

The bottom pictures are a small "series" I did it started in mid 2017 when I returned back to Savannah to pursue art

And right before I started therapy

My therapy application had a line that said "what do you want to get out of this" and when I went in I didn't know, but when I saw that question much like when I wrote in Rain into a name bar without thinking I wrote " I want to know who I am"

2017-2019 those pieces on the bottom were done.

These would be done 3-4 YEARS before top surgery or even starting T. I literally came back to school indirectly changing my name subconsciously and now was asking who am I to myself, over and over.

Up until this point I'd been living the way I thought I should, the way I thought would please the most people, what was most acceptable, but when I went into therapy and I saw that box, I realized I had not a damn clue who I was under all I thought I had to be, I needed to, I should try to be.

I didn't know Rain yet and they very much was who was trying to form at that time. I had their name, OUR name, but I didn't know what Rain should look like. Everything I liked or thought I liked was all things I learned I should like or was okay with in reason to like or if I were to be weird or gay or trans then I had to look that sort of way to, but I wasn't fitting the perfect (fake as fuck) androgynous mold either

I never envisioned an ideal of myself that wasn't influenced by what I thought would be acceptable enough of family or friends to honestly leave me alone and not ask any questions above bare minimum, because I'd learn in therapy I never felt safe to explore myself nor had the chance with all the trauma with sperm donor and more. I paused.

I paused a long LONG part of my development and finding myself that most people do in their late teens that lay the foundation.

That who am I series was for the first time in my life I was in healthier environments where people were asking me my interest, what I like, what I did for fun and I struggled to answer any of those simple questions and that's because I was with people that genuinely were asking about my core and I didn't need to super mask anymore, but I unfortunately didn't know and cause I didn't need to mask I wasn't saying practices responses or things I know I needed for approval instead it left me with a lot of questions for myself.

The picture on the top is from 2022 I did it for my graduation photo and when paired beside these "who am I series" it makes for a beautiful complete story of where I started finding me nodding to whom I even was in 2017-2019 and where we ended up by 2022

Which is: We're neither one thing or another. We don't need to look any kind of way. We don't have to ever recognize a reflection that's gonna change with age what we needed has always been inner peace a sense of control of our own body with choices that only survey to make us feel good. Cause we aren't chasing what pleases others anymore we are chasing what feels good to us and in that is where broken pre me has had the journey of becoming whole and grounded and confident in who we are as a person. We found ourself at the end of the day or years and it was never in the reflection because it's been buried so deep within

You know how you hold a prism to the light and all the colors show through? I was looking at a prism reflection without ever shedding any light inside to get to the RAINbow I've had to shine light on myself in order to come through

This has just extremely humbled me and my own existence and happy art coming full circle unknowingly and I wanted to share it with you all

[nyaitsu-writes]

✧ (future) comeback !

it sounds like i became an idol group but i didn't know how to put it any better oops so hi! nya here! for those who don't know i'm about to graduate from university this year in less than a month! so i am, have been and will probably be swamped in work until i'm finished with it... by the end of july. you don't know just how excited i am to be finally done with uni (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

so i'm just annoucing i will (probably) (hopefully) be making a comeback as soon as i'm done with all the official stuff because i miss writing so much. i have a couple of wips that are almost there but i need to revise. as a bit of a roadmap:

i want to revamp the blog or at least the post layout to make it a bit cuter but graphic design is not. my passion. i actually suck at it a lot. i am also insanely attached to my current pfp... leooo

i will be changing the rules a bit! nothing extreme, just to make it easier for me and everyone who wants to request. i think i should mention the looong waiting times, right? yeah ;;

i will prooobably grow a bit more picky with requests. i've been lucky enough not to get any mean messages about my characterization but i find it really lacking sometimes. and it gets more obvious when it comes to characters i don't know as much,,

ideally, i want to make a little enstars writers rec list to try and promo some other writers in the fandom, whether active or not. i will make another post or a gform so keep an eye for that ^^

i also want to grow a bit more self-indulgent in this blog (but nya, you are self-indulgent enough look at your masterlist— i know. i know) and make more posts about things i like that aren't necessarily requests. there's a couple of aus based on old e! cards that are running around my head like crazy and i should do something about that!

also! last thing! i will probably run a few polls to ask about blog management things so i would really really appreciate if you could answer those! it'll help making the blog a bit more active <3

thank you for listening to the writer wannabe who never shuts up!! ♪(´▽｀)

—ᓚᘏᗢ