#and I genuinely hope you stub your toe every 5 minutes and never find a comfortable sleeping position

[lnkedmyheart]

Kpop stans look at idols that have lived together for nearly a decade being genuinely affectionate with each other and scream queerbait and then declare the most cringey ass fanservice and actual ship bait to be evidence of them being gay and supportive of lgbt rights.

[qitwrites]

|| 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 

Momo is 13 when she gets her first period.

Her parents had talked to her about it of course, told her it was completely natural and normal and healthy, and to come to them when it happens.

What nobody was prepared for was the pain.

She’s in the family garden creating some Lego blocks for herself when a bout of cramps, sharp and intense, roils through her abdomen and up her left leg. It’s so sudden she can barely call for help, and by the time the guards reach her, she’s on the ground sobbing, clutching her stomach and shakily taking in gasps of air.

They tell her it’s a combination of her diet and her genes. The high-fat diet has consequences, no matter how much she uses her quirk to balance it out and her father’s side of the family has a history of debilitating period pains. It’s just really bad luck, or so they tell her.

Of course, this doesn’t deter Momo from her plans of becoming a pro-hero. It’s all she wants. So, it’s what she chases and works for and earns.

The period pains get worse.

Class 1A doesn’t notice for the longest time. Momo is good at hiding it, at hiding how often she uses the loo for the first two days, how much pain she’s biting back in class, how badly she’s performing in training. She practices her smile in the mirror, sits through hours of class and training and socializing with a smile plastered on her face, and screams into her pillow at night. She spends those nights on her bathroom floor, alternating between throwing up and enjoying the cool feeling of the tiles underneath her.

Nobody realizes until Momo doesn’t show up for class one day.

Of course, everyone is immediately concerned- Momo isn’t one to skip. She takes the best notes, has perfect attendance, submits her assignments on time, the works. First period passes like that, and Aizawa even brings it up but nobody knows where she is. She hasn’t messaged a soul or called anyone about anything.

They’re on break after second period when Todoroki finds her on the staircase landing between the first and second floor.

Momo is on the ground, laying on her side. Her hand is in her mouth, blood dripping down her skin as she clenches it tightly between her teeth. Her other hand is wrapped around her abdomen, squeezing tightly. Tears stream down her face continuously, like an endless river. She’s muffling her screams, and it’s almost like she can’t even see Todoroki, her gaze piercing straight through him.

Todoroki is immediately alarmed, getting to his knees in front of her. He looks over her and can’t see any physical injuries, any signs of trauma.

‘Yaoyorozu,’ he says urgently, ‘what’s going on?’

Momo blinks at him, some of the tears dispelling. She finally sees him, recognizes him, and gasps. She pulls her hand away and the tears spill again.

‘I can’t-‘ she starts and sucks in a sharp breath ‘-I can’t breathe. I can’t- there’s too much pain fuck.’ Todoroki raises his brows- Momo never curses. Never. Not even when she stubbed her toe against the dining table and broke it.

‘We have to get you to recovery girl,’ Todoroki says, moving to help her up.

‘Wait,’ she groans. ‘I need- dammit, Todoroki let me borrow your left hand for a moment please.’

Todoroki complies without question, and watches as she takes it and places it on her abdomen above her uniform.

‘As hot as you can go,’ she says, ‘without burning my uniform. Please.’

Todoroki has no idea what’s going on, but he does as she asks. The effect is almost immediate- her breathing evens out, her eyes focus again, her body stops jerking in pain. It’s almost like she’s been sedated.

After nearly 2 minutes of sitting in silence, she gently takes Todoroki’s hand and places it on his own knee. She sits up gingerly and wipes away her tears, smearing some of the blood on her cheeks instead. Todoroki watches her carefully, ready to step in if she asks for help.

‘What happened?’

Momo looks at him with sad eyes. ‘It’s just my period cramps Todoroki. I’m ok, I’ll be alright.’

Todoroki quirks a brow. ‘You’re not ok Yaoyorozu, even I can tell just by looking at you.’

Momo is about to voice another protest when the door to the stairwell bursts open. Bakugou and Kirishima walk through with vending machine drinks in their hands and stop when they spot the pair on the floor.

‘Yaomomo?’ Kirishima shouts, running towards them. Bakugou trails just behind, eyebrows furrowed.

Momo plasters a smile on her face, trying to hide her bloodied hand.

‘What happened?’ Kirishima yells, crouching down with a concerned look in his eyes.

‘I-‘

‘She said it’s period cramps,’ Todoroki interrupts. In all honesty, he never grew up around his mother or his sister, so he has limited knowledge of periods in general. But with that limited knowledge also came the lack of a stigma towards periods in general. He doesn’t think anything of talking about it.

Kirishima’s concerned look melts into one of sad understanding.

‘Oh man,’ he says, ‘that sucks Yaomomo. They’re that bad, huh?’

Momo keeps her smile in place. ‘Really, I’m fine, it’s nothing I cannot handle, I’m ok-‘

A hand, absurdly gentle, pulls her bloodied one away from where she’s hiding it. Momo startles when she sees Bakugou holding her hand, giving her a tight look. He drops it gently and sighs. With a grunt, Bakugou sits down next to her, back leaning into the wall. Kirishima sits cross legged in front of her while Todoroki sits on her other side.

‘My old hag,’ Bakugou grumbles, ‘has period pains. More like period torture, I guess. She threw up every month on the first day. She’d have dark circles from the lack of sleep, and she’d slap hot water bags to her stomach 24/7. She even burned the skin there a few times. Painkillers didn’t do shit, there were no surgical options, not even birth control made much of a dent. She’d just grit her teeth and bare it every month.’

Momo listens silently, her hands slowly unclenching.

‘My moms,’ Kirishima pitches in, ‘are pretty chill with it. Well, Mama’s get really bad sometimes, but mom is usually ok. I’ve seen them bring each other ice-cream or squeeze each other’s shoulders. They sync up a lot too! Mama would always tell me to be nicer to mom, and mom would always tell me to give mama a kiss. They’re both so manly when they battle their periods every month.’ He offers Momo a gentle smile.

Todoroki hums. ‘I admit, I don’t know much beyond the biological part of it. But from what I can see, Yaoyorozu, this isn’t very normal, is it? This level of pain?’

Momo sighs, brushing away the fresh tears welling up in her eyes.

‘I, between my quirk and my genes, I have received the shorter end of the stick. Of course, I have looked into treatments. There’s nothing I can fix with surgery, and painkillers are usually ineffective. I have tried birth control measures, but they interfere with my quirk.’

Momo looks up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t think we talk about this enough, about heroes that menstruate. I can’t stop being a hero on the days I have my period, but sometimes, I’m in so much pain I can’t see straight. I-‘ she sucks in a stuttering breath ‘-I don’t know what to do sometimes. I want to stand on equal footing with my peers.’

Bakugou scoffs. ‘You shitting me? You’re top of the class, your quirk can make fucking canons, you tutored our fuckwit classmates into not failing miserably, and you did it all through this shit? What part of that is not equal with your peers?’

Kirishima nods in agreement. ‘I mean, Mina has some cramps too, so I usually bring her hot water bags when she asks. I read somewhere that spinach is great for period health, so I make us both protein shakes with spinach and banana! She says it helps.’

‘The iron in spinach must be beneficial,’ Momo muses, her face breaking into the first genuine smile of the day. ‘I usually up my iron intake as well. It does help.’

‘You’re right though,’ Todoroki adds, eyebrows furrowed, ‘we don’t talk enough about heroes that menstruate. Plus, the fact that you can’t seem to find a way to manage your pain without it affecting your life is proof that they haven’t put much thought into it, isn’t it?’

Bakugou grunts in agreement. ‘My hag volunteers at women’s shelters and tries to raise funds for pain meds and hygiene supplies and shit. It’s ridiculous. All of that shit should be free. No one asks to have a period every month.’

‘We can change that though,’ Kirishima pipes in, always the voice of positivity. ‘Look at the four of us, talking about it! Yaomomo, I’m sorry.’

Momo blinks, ‘What for Kirishima?’

‘For not noticing! You must’ve been in so much pain all this time, huh? I’m sorry for not noticing and doing more.’

Momo feels something cold press against her arm. She looks down to see Bakugou pushing his unopened drink into her elbow.

‘Take it, staying hydrated helps with the cramps.’ He stands up and brushes his pants. ‘Think you can stand?’

Momo takes a sip of the drink, relishing the cold fizzy burn as it slides down her throat. She takes a deep breath and stands, stumbling a little before catching herself. Todoroki steadies her around the elbow.

‘Can we take you to recovery girl?’

Momo smiles warmly. ‘I’ve been already. We’ve been working together on some remedies. It’ll take time, but I hope we can come up with something.’ Momo hums. ‘I should put more work into this. I can’t be the only hero that faces such bad period pains.’

‘That’s so manly Yaomomo!’ Kirishima beams. ‘I’m kinda dumb so I don’t think I can help with the research but let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

Momo giggles into the back of her hand and they start moving towards class together. As they reach the top of the stairs another bout of cramps settles into her gut, and she clenches the railing with a white knuckled grip.

The boys stand around, guarding her, supporting her, giving her small smiles and reassuring nods. Todoroki offers her his hand again, and she quickly makes a heating pad and hands it to him, so she can continue to use it during class. Bakugou urges her to drink more water, and Kirishima keeps telling her how manly she is.

When they get to class, everyone crowds around her and she laughs softly, promising to explain everything later. The rest of the day passes by with little incident, and throughout it all, Todoroki takes the heating pad from her, heats it up and hands it back, hour after hour.

They talk about it in the dorms after class, and recounting her episode opens the floodgates for all the girls.

‘I get really bad migraines,’ Uraraka sighs, rubbing at her temples as if in anticipation. ‘It makes the nausea from my quirk even more unbearable.’

Jirou nods. ‘I get you. I have leg cramps, makes it impossible to use my legs during heartbeat surround. The speakers are too painful to use, and I’m never as stable as I’d like to be.’ She gives Kirishima a pointed look. ‘I’ll join you at the gym next time, teach me some leg moves. I want to get stronger.’ Kirishima gives her a huge thumbs up and a blinding grin.

‘My back gives out sometimes,’ Mina says. ‘I have this pain that burns in my lower back on a few occasions, it’s the worst.’

‘I don’t have a lot of physical symptoms,’ Hagakure pipes in, ‘but I do have PMS and depressive episodes. I’ve been trying to figure out a good med balance to fix it.’ All the girls nod at that, squeezing her arms and shoulders in silent support.

The teachers are brought into the loop too, and Aizawa gently berates Momo for not coming to him sooner.

‘We’re here to help,’ he says, eyes the gentlest she’s ever seen. ‘Learn to rely on your teachers more, will you? Such troublemakers , the lot of you.’

Momo makes hot packs for the girls after that, and the teachers don’t blink when one of them passes it to Todoroki in the middle of class as the boy just heats it the appropriate amount before passing it back without so much as a hiccup in his work.

Bakugou sends Momo articles and tips from his mom about pain management and dealing with cramps. He says it’s because he wants her to be in top condition when he beats her for #1, otherwise it won’t, in his eloquent words, mean jack shit. Momo tries some stuff out, happily surprised when her symptoms are even the slightest bit reduced. Kirishima offers to make them all spinach shakes, and they take him up on that every so often, complimenting his limited cooking abilities.

And on the days Momo is back on the bathroom floor heaving into the toilet, Jirou holds her hair back. Mina cuddles her on the couch when her hands are clenched as she bites back tears, and Ojiro sits by her feet, a reassuring presence to depend on if she ever needs something.

They’ve still got a long way to go as a society, but it’s a start. And a damn good one at that.

[scriptaed]

his side, her side | 5:13 P.M.

genre: angst/fluff/implied smut; (bold = genre for this particular drabble)

pairing: reader x jungkook;

length: 2.5k;

synopsis: a collective snapshots in time shared between two, whose fates were undeniably intertwined and futures would never come to be.

a/n: this is not a chronological series; more so, his side her side is a collection of drabbles in which each drabble helps paint the overall picture. each drabble can be read separately without having read the others. // alternatively: his side, her side pt. 3;

her side;

You [5:13 P.M.] hey… you coming? 

The peering stares and deafening whispers scream at you in the confined space of your state of mind. Retreating into your seat, crouched and enclosed, you wait for their eyes to find another form of fleeting entertainment, but in reality, no one is staring and no one is whispering. The gossip that flies amongst your colleagues are nothing but your mind casting cruel spells upon your evident insecurity. So, instead, you sit there and you wait, knowing full well you are but an invisible individual with a gaping gap in the seat beside you. 

You wait and you wait. Sometimes you even pretend to scan through the room of your paired colleagues hard at work, in a desperate hope that no one would catch glimpsing at a door that just never seems to swing wide open like the way he would always burst through.You can just envision him now with his gray water bottle and his arms bare of sleeves as he comes striding into the room fresh out of the gym, eyes swiftly landing on his target—you—with utter ease, as if it’s an innate reflex akin to that of two magnets. The night would proceed as it always has for the countless past weeks: you would tease him and he would chortle with that swoon-worthy half-grin of his, asking you “do you like teasing me that much?” 

Sure, he’s always been fashionably late; but if anything these few months of collaborations have taught you of this peculiar enigma, Jungkook has always been a man of his words… or at least you thought. 

Fate seems to have taken a drastic detour tonight in return for one you could not have foreseen with that tunnel vision of yours; because tonight, the absence of his quirky jokes and curt profanities that had you cackling amidst the relatively serious work environment and the rest of your colleagues pondering over your true relations are reverberating in the disappointment that settles in your chest. Have you been too hopeful of things just working themselves out? The worst part of it is, you’ve always been wary of the baring of your heart and boys has never been an exception; but somehow, through the elaborate works of fate that had ensured you of the end game time after time again, you had become reliant on the fragile red string that would bring him to you and you to him. 

The both of you have made made it evident just how painful these overtime workshops were, but it was a heavy commitment alleviated by the thought that at least you two had each other in a room full of strangers. It was a mutual sense of relief, right? He was always a hard one to decipher, but you know he wouldn’t leave you here. Not on purpose. Would he…?

And maybe you aren’t the only one noticing the hole in tonight’s workshop, because even your supervisor begins counting every minute that passes by without his and your usual rambunctious chattering. 

“Did you text Jungkook yet?” he asks with a pitiful look peering down at you, seeing how the two hours of workshop has nearly made its full course. 

Jungkook had never been the type to text, so you two had always kept your messages short and to the point, with him unknowingly leaving you on read and you making sure to repay the favor; so you, being the prideful person yourself, texting Jungkook would have been your last resort. 

“I did,” you reply, biting your bottom lip. “He hasn’t replied yet.” 

That’s how desperate you are. 

And as if on cue, your phone vibrates and your hands scramble for the pocketed device. 

Jeon Jungkook [6:59 P.M.] Fuck 

Jeon Jungkook [6:59 P.M.] I totally forgot we had workshop today

Jeon Jungkook [6:59 P.M.] I’m sorry 

Jeon Jungkook [7:00 P.M.] Are you still there?

Forgot you two had workshop today? The thought strikes you with a breath of disbelief leaving your lips, laughing not at his delayed response and stupid question but rather at you and your pathetic self. You had always looked forward to Tuesday nights with him. It was the highlight of your week. Every night at the strike of 7:00 P.M., after a short albeit electric conversation under the starry night sky and along the lit lamp posts along the brick sidewalks, you would wait longingly for the next excuse of an opportunity to speak with him again. 

You had always feared this outcome, but it had never occurred to you until his texts that it must have been one-sided after all. 

You had waited an entire two hours for him, pathetically waiting and hoping he would come bursting through the doors and all you receive in return is a lack of an effort to conjure an excuse—because, really, you knew you would have accepted even the most unbelievable of excuses. 

He could have said he had overslept, in fact, you would have much rather preferred to believe that; but instead, the sirens that go off as your heart armors itself with a familiar cold sheath tell your very guts to believe otherwise. 

Because more likely than not, he’s spent the last two hours on things—or rather, a woman—much higher on his priority than you; and as much as you had braced your heart to face this seemingly inevitable dead end, the thought of him breaking an unspoken albeit undeniable promise in exchange for a woman elsewhere evokes a wrenching pain that far exceeds your estimates. 

“What did he say?” your supervisor continues, even as the rest of your colleagues collect their things for the day. 

“Oh,” you mutter under your breath as you gather your purse and stand to your feet, lifting your sights off the desk and meeting that of your supervisor’s head-on, “he said he isn’t feeling well and meant to call in sick.”

Why did you lie to cover his irresponsible self that had burdened you so? The answer sits by your chair and in his, abandoned and stilling the air as you left the room along with the night that remains buried into a distant memory with no map for recovery. 

Even so, the lie of that one fateful night unravels the red string until the two fated souls were tethered no more and you choose to answer his texts with silence. 

-

his side;

Partner [5:13 P.M.] hey… you coming? 

Her text has his eyes popping and heart shooting bullets against his chest with each second that passes in baffled silence; and before he knows it, a string of curses fly through the air at a world record speed that even he could never exceed, kicking the blankets to the floor and nearly rolling off the bed and stumbling onto his feet. His knees almost buckle onto the wooden floor of his apartment, but his legs propel himself forward as he staggers into the jet-black kitchen. 

The sun and its golden radiance earlier today had completely set, just like the horrifying realization that dawns upon him. Whirling aimlessly around in his kitchen and finally snapping around to sprint toward the glowing green digits of his microwave that shines through the dark, something drops in him along with his lips. 

6:56 P.M. 

What the fuck happened to his alarm? 

The boy makes a beeline for his bedroom, nearly colliding into his drawer and stubbing a toe on his bed-frame before hastily rummaging through the sheets on the floor. Frantically tossing and turning through the mess, his dart-like eyes somehow manage to spot his treacherous phone through the curly curtains that were his bangs. His hands snatch the phone into a grip that turns his skin pale, as if to accuse the device for his own wrongdoings—because the second he fails to find the alarm he had sworn to have set up before his nap, his knees collapse onto the floor and a petrified look replaces his doe-like eyes akin to that of a deer caught in the headlights. 

He would put his life on the line to swear he had set up an alarm. Fuck that, what has his chest stirring in further panic isn’t his lack of care but, rather, his naive belief in himself and his supposed ability to “power nap” just an hour before workshop. And now look at him, he shakes his head in utter disappointment, he had abandoned his partner to fend for herself in the past two hours while he was napping away. 

He could just picture it now—her delicate self, cold, crouched and closed off from the rest of her colleagues just as he had found her on the first day of the workshop. Something stirs in him enough for the usually stoic boy to clutch at his chest, wincing at the pain evoked by the thought of her waiting patiently for his arrival, glancing at the doorway every so often only to be met with utter disappointed by now.

How the hell is he supposed to explain to her now? 

It doesn’t really matter what she thinks of him at this point, because to the boy who is genuinely remorseful for having broken the unspoken trust between him and her, the first thing he’s set out to do is to let her know she is no longer alone. 

You [6:59 P.M.] Fuck

He doesn’t really know how to continue from there. Should he make up some shitty excuse? It’s odd, he’s usually never been the type to contemplate over things like this nor had he ever cared about what others thought of him enough to falter his own integrity… so why is he holding his phone and staring at the glaring screen as if his very life depends on his next text? It isn’t that an excuse is difficult to conjure, but it’s the thought of lying to her that has him scratching his head, especially when he recalls her outspoken annoyance for lazy partners. 

You [6:59 P.M.] I totally forgot we had workshop today

Shit, he curses to himself, that’s dumb. 

You [6:59 P.M.] I’m sorry 

He really is. The gut-wrenching regret is enough proof, even for an apathetic man like him. Now the problem is: what can he do to make it up? 

You [7:00 P.M.] Are you still there?

It’s a pathetic question and he knows it. Anyone could tell how he would follow-up such a question, but only a fool would accept his long-expired offer. The workshop had just ended and there was no point in him speeding through the roads just to meet her empty-handed. He has absolutely nothing to offer her. Plus, knowing someone as diligent albeit impatient as Y/N, he knows for certain she would have left at least an hour ago. 

She wouldn’t wait for someone like him, would she? 

Tossing his arms wide open and collapsing backward onto the floor, he stares blankly upward at his ceiling with a chest heaving and heart racing that gradually settles into the terrifying abyss of the unknown. 

What now?

A series of texts interrupts his daze and his once-slowing heart rate skyrockets once again as he clutches his phone and almost pulls a muscle to crane his neck. 

Jennie [7:14 P.M.] Hey 😊😊 you free tonight? 💕

He doesn’t care to lie, really. 

You [7:14 P.M.] Yeah. 

His hands plopped back onto the floor when another vibration sets off in his grip. 

Jennie [7:15 P.M.] Wanna come over? My roommate is gone for tonight 😜💦

Strangely, his reply comes to him without hesitation. 

You [7:15 P.M.] No. Not really.

Jennie [7:15 P.M.] Why not?😣😣

Jennie [7:15 P.M.] I can come over if you want

Unbeknownst to him, a groan escaped his lips as he sends his final text and tosses his phone to the side before retreating to his lengthy daze. 

You [7:16 P.M.] Not feeling it. Sorry.

Strange. Whether it be sex or Fortnite, the boy would usually indulge himself in whatever forms of leisure during stressful moments like these; so why does Jennie’s usually tempting offer irk him tonight? It isn’t her fault, but the constant vibrations of his phone across the floor has him just one text away from blocking her number. He wants to bury his concerns and confusion somewhere far away, yet he just can’t seem to get rid of it… he can’t seem to get rid of these thoughts… he just can’t rid himself of her. 

And the dreadful hours that seem to pass by in the blink of an eye are enough proof to him that these thoughts are an irrevocable force that is here to stay; because despite how irritating it was to constantly check his phone every few vibrations and groan at the sight of a name other than the only one on his mind, he still does it in hopes of hearing from her. 

But he doesn’t. She never returns his messages, leaving him on read since the very minute he had sent her his apology. Jungkook had become accustomed to the “left on read” pattern between the two, accepting it as something that most normal colleagues would do, but this time things are different. As prompt and to the point her replies have always been, he could always sense the tint of excitement that exudes from her quick responses and occasional emojis. She had never left him hanging on his question, however. 

Therefore, this time, Jungkook knows with certainty that her silence is her answer.

Her irritation over his negligence and betrayal of a pact between the girl and boy who had promised to have each other’s backs amidst a room of strangers was radiating from the mere checkmark next to his text. And the worst part of it? He can’t even blame her. This is entirely his fault and he’s never felt so regretful before. In fact, such fervent feelings come so rarely to Jungkook that he doesn’t even know what to do next or how to express himself and this dreadful remorse to his partner. 

The two of them had started off on rocky terms, somewhere on the borderline of acquaintances that occasionally acknowledged each other’s existence and strangers that passed by one another without a single glance over the shoulder. Even to Jungkook, a boy completely indifferent to the journeys that life has taken him on, it seemed like fate had planned their pairing at work since the moment they had locked eyes. They were gradually becoming friends that would tease each other’s hobbies, dislikes, and private life—and now, he’s ruined everything.  

So, in a desperate attempt to salvage whatever this relationship or friendship—if he can even call it that—he sends a final text that, to him, is a spillage of his heart. 

You [11:57 P.M.] Fuck I’m really so sorry I promise it won’t happen again

Her silence that ensues is enough of an answer to him and he can practically see it all falling apart in front of his eyes. 

[arigatouiris]

an unsuspecting matchmaker // kirishima eijiro

Author’s Note: Guess who loves Tamako love story? Me. I really love Mochizou and I personally think he’s the most adorable cutie ever but you know who else is equally adorable? KIRISHIMA EIJIROOOO. I just had to write this because it fits so perfectly! And honestly, angst to fluff is my favorite genre of fanfiction, don’t ya’ll agree?

Word count: 2841

Pairing: Kirisihma Eijiro x Dense! Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, tooth-rotting fluff omg, mutual pining, dense reader

❝

Of all things that Kirishima Eijiro found frustrating, like leaving a tissue in his pockets, which he later finds after laundry day, spread out in tiny paper particles all over his pants, or the minute he got comfortable in bed and his bladder informs him that he really needs to pee, or something good happens in his life and his pinky toe decides to celebrate by violently hugging the corner of the table—you topped the list.

Now, why did someone so soft and courteous as Kirishima find you more frustrating than stubbing the pinky toe?

     “Hey, um, (l/n)-chan,” Kirishima spoke, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to his friends, Mina, Sero, and even Bakugou, who sat at their respective seats, watching intently (although Bakugou pretended not to be too immersed in his best friend’s life, everyone knew he cared). “What are you doing today after school?”

You hummed. Tilting your head to the side, somehow turning Kirishima’s face almost as bright as his hair, you said, “Not sure. Do you have anything in mind, Kirishima-kun?”

Even you noticed the blushing. But, to you, it was just the summer. 

     “Come on, Kiri!” Mina whisper-yelled, unable to hold back.

     “He won’t do it.” Sero said, sadly, turning away.

     “It’s possible, I think she’ll finally get it?” Kaminari joined in, now focused primarily on his red-haired friend.

     “Shut the fuck up.” We all know who said this.

Kirishima cleared his throat once. Come on, he grumbled internally, it’s manly to ask the girl you like out on a date! He turned to you, a soft smile on your face, patiently waiting for him to say whatever he had in mind. Your head tilt didn’t help his heart, he almost felt faint. You always could make Kirishima feel like the exact opposite of his quirk, and that was something.

     “Would you... Would you...” Just say it! “Would you like to go out with me?” 

Your eyes widened and so did Kirishima’s. You put your hands together, a very happy smile on your face and Kirishima’s (including Mina’s, Kaminari’s, Sero’s and Bakugou’s current wide-eyed semi-surprised expression) eyes widened as if something huge was about to happen, but the very next thing you said was,

     “Can we invite Jirou-chan and Momo-chan too?”

Everybody’s expression fell, except yours. Kirishima paused for a second before taking a final look at how happy you looked, before Kaminari came to save his life.

     “Hey, Kirishima! Us boys are having a training night, want to join?” 

Kirishima spotted the look of pity that his blonde friend was giving him, but he wasn’t the sort to turn down a friend’s offer for help. He turned to you, who blinked widely at Kaminari’s suggestion and you nodded vigorously.

     “That sounds fun! We can go out some other time, Kirishima-kun!”

What you didn’t understand was why he gave you such a heartbroken look afterward. You heard him mumble a soft ‘yeah’, before following Kaminari out of the classroom. You bit your lip before wondering if you said something mean or harsh, but that was not the case.

This was why Kirishima found you more frustrating than stubbing your pinky toe. 

*

It wasn’t just that instance either. Kirishima had tried asking you out for exactly 19 times. It took him 19 times to realize that no amount of effort that he put can have any effect and during those 19 times, Kirishima painstakingly and undoubtedly fell more and more for you.

You were everything that inspired him to be better. You were hard-working, there were moments you were shy and insecure—every aspect you disliked about yourself, Kirishima loved; you were soft, and you were also someone people couldn’t mess with. You were technically a badass but were also cute most times. And the worst thing about you was the second you entered Kirishima’s mind, you would never leave.

It took over 5 attempts of asking you out for Mina Ashido to find out something was going on. She initially teased Kirishima and tried to help out (setting up the next 4 attempts) before eventually giving in and claiming that you were perhaps the densest person she knew. Even denser than Todoroki, who Kirishima suspected, also knew about his feelings for her. 

It was terrible and it gave him such heartache, he found it hard to concentrate in class. All he could think of was you—of how you’d smile at him, of how your eyebrows would scrunch up when you were angry, of how you’d offer to share lunch with people, of how you never judged anyone, of how you picked him up when he felt low, all things you and devastatingly you. He even once said ‘I like you’ to you but the way you responded shot his heart to the pits. 

I like you too, Kirishima-kun! You’re a great friend!

Some part of his mind, on his bad days, told him you were doing this on purpose. You were doing this entire dense act to let him know you weren’t interested in the same way, and that you were too kind to shoot him down directly. 

It was after the 19th attempt did Kirishima Eijiro start coming to class like a zombie. He barely responded to people with the usual excitement he normally had, he would nod and reply in one-word answers, and he would go back to his dorm after class, not uttering a single word. He would often look at your back and at you when you weren’t looking, but just as your eyes would meet his, he’d turn away with a sigh—confusing the heck out of you, and that was that.

Days passed like this and Mina and Sero felt terrible for their friend. Kaminari couldn’t utter a word (despite initially planning on letting you know very vividly that Kirishima liked you in a sexual way, but he knew he couldn’t do that to his friend). Bakugou looked like he didn’t care, but with the current predicament in class, Kirishima believed no one did. He burned with desire and had to keep quiet about it, and there was no bigger punishment than that. 

Perhaps, the tipping point arrived when you approached him that evening. He was training with Bakugou, the only time he couldn’t keep you in his mind—and suddenly, there you were. 

Bakugou paused even before Kirishima noticed you were there. Sweaty and covered in grime, Kirishima scoffed.

     “Tired already, Bakubro—”

     “Kirishima-kun?”

His head spun very quickly to you, almost giving him a headache. Bakugou wanted to vomit, but he stood there for a second before quietly walking away, giving his friend space. You approached him, with a worried look on your face, a worried look that shot Kirishima’s heart to the skies. Oh, how badly he wanted to be a minute to you; but you were already his eternity.

     “(l/n)-chan? W-What are you doing here?” He was genuinely confused.

     “I was just... I was worried about you, that’s all,” You put her hands in front of you defensively, “You... You didn’t seem yourself these past few days and I... I thought that... Maybe something was wrong?”

Kirishima’s heart was fragile and right then he wondered if it was made of glass. 

     “Nothing’s wrong, really, was just tired these days that’s all," he said calmly, although he felt something else. 

Kirishima felt dejected. Like he’d lost something he never quite had.

You instantly felt relief, trusting Kirishima to his words. And the instant he noticed the relief on your face, he clicked his tongue. Seriously, no one could be that brief. Even if it was a rejection, he deserved to hear it from you! A simple sentence would suffice, but this... This was just brutal.

     “I’m so glad—”

     “Stop it, (l/n).” He dropped the -chan.

Your eyes blinked at his form. His face was lowered, you couldn’t really see his expression clearly. You let out a weak ‘heh’, but in an instant, Kirishima’s hand grasped your wrist, holding you firmly to the spot. Your eyes went to where he held you, before slowly looking up at him. 

     “Kirishima... -kun?”

He looked up at you now with a serious expression. 

     “(l/n). I like you.” 

You were confused. He had said this to you before. You loved how he tried so hard to be good friends with you, and that made you want to make more of an effort with him. Kirishima had a heart of gold, and you adored it with all your being. Why was he suddenly...?

Your eyes widened.

     “You...” You weren’t sure if you had even begun to think of his feelings for you like that.

     “I like you. Not in a friendly way. More than that. Much, much more than that.” He looked almost desperate now, but the second he let go of you, you stumbled backward.

Your face was now rivaling his hair in color and your head felt dizzy. You felt like you were spinning and suddenly, you were on the ground.

     “Oi—”

You got back up in an instant, nodded vigorously before Kirishima noticed your expression. Your face was glowing red, something he had done, and you turned your back on him and ran. He clicked his tongue a second later after the shock settled. His heart no longer felt as if it belonged to him. It now felt as it had been stolen, torn from his chest by someone who wanted no part of it.

*

You woke up and walked to the dorm’s common area early that morning. Or, at least you thought it was early since no one was up yet. It was a Saturday, and you were glad there was no class. You could barely sleep, and you figured that lounging on your bed was worse than lounging on the couch and maybe you could ask someone for help regarding Kirishima.

You won’t lie—you have always had a soft spot for him. Ever since learning of his insecurities, ever since he smiled at you for the very first time, you were intrigued and that made you want to be a whole lot kinder to him. You were kind to everyone in hopes that no one would notice, someone as warm and happy as Kirishima wasn’t for you. So, even before your heart had begun to try, you had given up. You were sure no one had noticed this. You were sure that you were the only one who knew what you felt. 

But, you were wrong.

As soon as you sat on the couch, and let out a sigh, you heard,

     “You look like a fucking zombie.”

You yelped on the spot before turning to find Bakugou to your far left. He was sitting on the couch as well, leaning over it as if he had slept there. It was strange, you had never really seen Bakugou use the couch before. But, it was the common area, anyone could sit on the couch as long as they weren’t vandalizing it.

     “Good morning, Bakugou-kun—”

     “Don’t act so preppy when the day isn’t so great.” 

You paused. You looked at Bakugou with a confused expression. Blushing a bit, you looked for signs of Kirishima (who would always accompany Bakugou in the common area, but was nowhere to be found). However, before you could even ask,

     “Kirishima isn’t here,”

Your eyes widened and a soft gasp escaped your lips. You turn to Bakugou, to ask why, to ask if everything was okay, to ask about—

     “He won’t be either.”

     “Heh?” You felt your heart drop at his words.

What did he mean?

     “He’s going back home. He’s on his way now,”

You didn’t know what to take from Bakugou’s words. Your eyes were wide as Bakugou turned to you, before stating expressionlessly,

     “You can still reach him if you left now.”

You stood up way too fast. You bowed to Bakugou, who didn’t move a muscle.

     “Thank you, Bakugou-kun! The others are wrong, you do have a heart!”

Bakugou felt his cheeks redden with embarrassment before yelling,

     “Get the fuck out of here, dumbass!”

With that, you ran off. You felt your feet take you faster than it ever had before and despite your pounding heart, you knew you had to let Kirishima know the truth. All those times, every single time he had approached you, you had uncharacteristically shot him down like an idiot. Tears filled your eyes as you thought about the pain you had put him through. On how you had made him feel. 

You spotted Kirishima’s form near the gate, he seemed to be heading somewhere. 

Your pace slowed. You took a deep breath before screaming his name.

     “Kirishima-kun!”

He paused but didn’t turn around right away. You screamed before he could.

     “Eijiro-kun!”

Kirishima could identify the voice anywhere. Turning around, he spotted you, not too far away from him, before blinking rapidly at what you were doing there. (l/n)-chan? He thought, narrowing his eyes with confusion. He walked over to you, before noticing you gulp.

     “W-Wait there!” You yelled, forcing Kirishima to halt in his position.

     “(l/n)-chan? What are you... What are you doing here?”

     “Don’t go back home!” You yelled, your eyes shut tightly. 

     “Eh?”

     “Don’t go back! Don’t leave U.A!”

     “I’m just heading to the—”

     “Don’t leave me!”

Kirishima’s eyes widened. He stilled, unsure of how to respond. What did you mean by—

     “Eijiro-kun,” you slowly opened your eyes, “I like you!”

The way you looked at him right then, Kirishima knew. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He was merely heading to the store to buy some ramen since he was out, but he certainly didn’t expect this. He gulped before taking a slow step toward you, wondering if you were going to run like last time. Were you serious?

     “(l/n)-chan, I—”

     “Eijiro-kun, I like you! I like you, I like you, I’ve always, always liked you and I—”

In an instant, you were pressed against Kirishima’s rock hard chest, and you could hear it. His heart was beating rapidly against his ribcages, and you could feel how tense he was. He was almost unsure of the way he held you and before he could even doubt his reaction, your arms went flying around his torso. You grabbed on to him as if you were holding on for dear life, and he could feel himself melting.

He pulled away from you slowly, before looking into your eyes. You looked so shy, he couldn’t bear it.

     “I like you too, (y/n).” He dropped the suffixes all of a sudden and your eyes widened.

You liked it. “I... I like you more!” You fought back, fighting back tears.

     “This is a dream come true. I’ve always wanted one of these ‘I like you more’ debates. I’ll start,” You looked up at him as he was saying it, blinking your tears away, “I like you more. You go.” He said finally.

Kirishima chuckled before leaning down, breath fanning your nose. He noticed from the corner of his eye how red your cheeks got. Suddenly, he pictured you running away from him after his 19th confession. Suddenly, that image was hilarious and adorable at the same time. It was strange, how life worked.

     “I’ve taken debate classes,” You whispered now, your eyes slowly closing. “There’s no way I’d lose.”

And when he kissed you, he was thinking of one final thing. Kirishima Eijiro confessed to you a total of 19 times. You confessed once. Clearly, someone had an upper hand. 

*

Bakugou was woken up from the couch when Todoroki entered the common room. It seemed like everyone else was still lounging in their own dorm rooms. He cussed before shutting his eyes, ignoring Todoroki’s presence. However, Shoto had noticed something Bakugou had hoped no one had.

     “I came down to make myself some breakfast a while ago,” Todoroki’s voice was calm. “And I thought no one would be here. But I was wrong.”

     “Get the fuck out of this room, half and half bastard.”

Todoroki looked at Bakugou, attempting to shut his eye and get some shut-eye. It seemed so out of character for Bakugou to be in the common room without Kirishima. Todoroki smiled softly.

     “What happened with (l/n)?” Shoto asked.

Bakugou didn’t answer right away. He knew what Todoroki was asking about. 

     “A while ago, she was running out very fast.” 

Bakugou sat up before sending a death glare toward Todoroki, which he ignored gracefully. 

     “Just... a lie.” Bakugou said, feeling his eyebrow twitch with annoyance.

     “Hm?”

     “Told her that the ugly hair douche was leaving. She ran after him like a fucking idiot. He was only going to the store to get some ramen.”

     “A really evil lie, Bakugou,” Todoroki said, amused.

Bakugou scoffed, now getting up to head back to his dorm.

     “But, it’s nice. Considering they’re holding each other in the middle of the school grounds.” Todoroki said, plainly.

He heard Bakugou ‘tch’ once before leaving. Todoroki made sure to turn to the fiery blond before saying,

     “So, you really do care about your friends.”

Well, there was no hiding it.

❞

[pamphletstoinspire]

6 Spiritual Lessons I Learned From the Book of Job

Written by Sebastian Campos

If you haven’t read this Old Testament book, you’ve missed out on a major part of the Jewish spiritual understanding of pain and suffering. I won’t narrate the complete story, but in summary Job had to go through tremendous calamities. He lost his possessions, his servants, and his whole family… and he even suffered a wound that stretched from his head to his feet. The explanation the bible gives of what happens to Job is that the “enemy” tempts him through trials and suffering in attempt to make him deny and curse God.

The narrative explains that Job tried to look for answers that allowed him to resist the devil’s temptations, since he knew God is good. Amidst his pain, desolation, confusion and anger, he fired in every direction without hitting on any consolation, any logical idea to fill his heart. A couple of friends even went to him to comfort him, but there was nothing they could say to appease his sorrow or to explain all that was happening to him. The confusion caused by all the things he lived through was so great that even his friends were at a loss. As the scriptures say:

“And when they lifted up their eyes afar off, and knew him not, they lifted up their voice, and wept; and they rent every one his mantle, and sprinkled dust upon their heads toward heaven. So they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great” (Job 2, 12-13).

I suppose you’ve probably been through an inexplicable suffering that just knocks on the door of your life, leaving wordless even your closest friends. Nobody, not your friends, nor you, nor your faith are capable of giving any explanation to what happened, and hopelessness and anguish start to grow in your heart. In the face of these situations, the foundations of faith, life, what we believe in and what we do, start to falter.

The first chapters of the story are unsettling, above all because apparently, and justly, Job didn’t deserve any of what was happening to him. On the contrary, what Job really deserved were blessings and prosperity, which come hand in hand with God. I personally have sometimes felt challenged by the story of suffering Job, especially on those occasions in which I have given all of myself, I have persevered in my work, my faith and in my love for others in service; and I have kept my heart clean and right; and even then, things have turned out awful: I’ve experienced pain, brokenness, loneliness, poverty, suffering. Surely you too have felt this way at some point and know there isn’t much to find comfort on.

I know I haven’t suffered as deeply other people have, but the study of the Book of Job during the painful and hard times of my life has helped me bring out some ideas that could be of use to you. Better yet, it may help you to accompany others in their tribulations and sustain them in hope.

1. Look at Job from a new perspective, the one of Jesus

I personally liked to look at the book of Job and validate feeling sorry for myself and sitting down on the ashes without doing anything but suffering… dwelling there, aching, looking at my wounds, feeling pain and waiting for it to magically pass or, even worse, until the end of my days. This is the Christian depression, selfless and resigned, which many of us believe is holy for the sole fact of accepting it without complaint. We forget that Job is a book from the Old Covenant, and that Jesus came later to make all things new, that He came to give us life in abundance, that for His merits we are saved, and that His love restores our friendship with God. We forget that every battle, test, tribulation and suffering was nailed at the Cross and exiled from our lives forever.

We often live as if Jesus had not saved us definitely, or even worse, as if his salvation were only to happen at the end of our days or as if it only affected the spiritual dimension of our lives. Job didn’t have a Jesus to look at. We do. Let us never forget that our every aching was suffered by Jesus at the Cross of the Calvary and his blood paid for us to be saved. This doesn’t make our lives free from pain and suffering, but it makes them temporary. Our life doesn’t end there, all of our battles are won hand in hand with Jesus. Don’t let any pain steal your hope.

2. God doesn’t test anyone

The story of Job is from the Old Testament. Keep this in mind when you read it. Because the dynamic used by Jews (who didn’t know Jesus yet) to explain God’s way of acting is different from what the New Testament shows us. The text says that one day Satan approached God to talk about Job, boasting that his temptations could induce Job to blaspheme against Him. God permits it in order to strengthen Job’s faith. It’s important to read this story from a spiritual perspective. God doesn’t play games, He doesn’t experiment on us like a child playing with ants.

As the Apostle James says: “When tempted, no one should say, ‘God is tempting me’. For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does He tempt anyone” (James 1, 13); because, in fact, the last thing God wants is to test how strong we are to know whether or not we are worth it. That would be despising Jesus’ sacrifice. If we believe that God wants what happens to us, then within the possibilities we would find that God wants us to fail, to not pass, and to be incapable. Do you think God would want something like that? Of course not! God permits things to happen in our life, always to show us something better.

3. God doesn’t revolve around me

This idea could be confusing to us, in fact many people through history have been puzzled since they’ve had the impression that God is there to help them in their self-fulfillment and they pretend to use Him for it. This is to put backwards the nature of creation, and unfortunately it is destined to fail. I’ve seen myself fabricating complicated and detailed plans and afterwards presenting them to God so that He blesses them without changing anything I’ve so intelligently prepared. It’s different when I, alongside of God, take the time to discern what His plans are, and to carry them out myself, that way His blessing will always be with me.

It’s us who help God’s “great plan.” Our participation and the discovery of our purpose helps in the fulfillment of His will, not the other way around. We were made for God, not the opposite.

The Catechism, paragraph 27 says: “The desire for God is written in the human heart, because man is created by God and for God; and God never ceases to draw man to himself. Only in God will he find the truth and happiness he never stops searching for.”

4. Not everything has an explanation, but everything has a purpose

“God would never allow any evil whatsoever to exist in his works if he were not so all-powerful and good as to cause good to emerge from evil itself” (St. Augustine).

There are two questions we could ask when faced with a situation that shatters our lives. Why? Or… for what? It sounds like pop psychology… empty, especially in the case of terrible sufferings, like death or a serious disease. But these kinds of questions should be made with a peaceful heart. First, you have to process everything with a sense of calm. Discovering God’s purpose is not a matter for a couple of minutes of prayer and then it’s done. God knows this and is waiting for you to get closer to Him and ask the necessary questions, to ask, to doubt, so that you finally accept, even without completely understanding. His will, although often indecipherable is amazing for our lives, and everything that happens to us, although hard to comprehend, makes sense in His bigger plan.

“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (Peter 1, 6-7).

He obviously doesn’t want your suffering, He’s not mad at you, your life or your story. God wants what’s best for you! This is a truth you can’t doubt of for one second. The thing is, God knows that in order to do that which He has in mind, you often have to go through a desert.

“Tribulation is a gift from God, one that He gives his special friends” (St. Thomas More).

5. Do not numb the pain

It’s a part of our modern culture, we anesthetize ourselves. It makes us uncomfortable to see people suffer. So we marginalize them, we try to erase the pain, we cover it up. And we ourselves hide our pains with the excuse that “the procession is carried inside”.

Job sits down on the ground, shaves his head and covers himself in ashes as a sign that he doesn’t understand anything, that his battle doesn’t seem to make any sense. He sits down to suffer, to mourn over himself. We instead try to rapidly pass over our pains and, if after 3 or 6 months of mourning someone is still sad, we tell them “come on, it’s time to move on,” or “you have to be strong and move forward.” But, in truth, each of us has his own time and we have to respect it.

Embracing the one who mourns and crying with him instead of making him stop, letting him soak our shoulders with his tears instead of offering a tissue. Aching with the one who’s suffering, anguishing with the vulnerable, filling your face and heart with the other’s passion… that is to feel compassion, that your own heart turns, not for mere masochism, not as penance, but as an exercise of communion, as the Church’s body. It’s like when you stub your little toe and your whole body contorts, the whole body suffers the pain of a single toe. This should be our way of accompanying.

Job teaches us to suffer with dignity, to live the pain while allowing others to be there for us, to not hide the sufferings, to ask for help, and to get frustrated when answers are not easy to find, but accepting that losing, getting sick, dying, not having explanations, is terrible and has to be lived, not hidden nor covered.

6. Trust that you will be restored

The first time I read the book of Job all the way through was when my younger sister died, a little three-month-old girl with a diagnosis of an untreatable genetic condition.

Sorry about the spoiler if you haven’t read the book, but the story ends with God restoring Job to life, seeing that after suffering and accepting it, Job never denies nor curses Him. Job goes on to form a new family, much more fruitful that the first one. He prospers economically more than before, and his fame as a blessed man extends everywhere. In other words, the idea that the biblical author wants to express is that if you live your pain like you ought and without rebelling from God, He Himself will bless you and give you back even more than what you had before. Yes and no. That is to say, it’s not a spiritual trade in which God gives you back more than what He has taken. In the spiritual economy of Christians, there is no meritocracy; it’s all Jesus merits and even when we do things right, we don’t deserve a thing from God. He gives us everything for love, not because we are good or bad. Despite this, God comforts us, gives us relief, and accompanies us just like the Angels accompanied Jesus through His passion in Gethsemane.

Therefore, it is expected from God to show Himself, to bless you, to act in your favor, but don’t expect it to be a “quantitatively superior” manifestation, compared to whatever good or easy situation you were in prior to your suffering.

As an anecdote, I remember a time when I went on a retreat of spiritual exercises. I arrived with a dry heart, without wanting anything. My spiritual guide sent me to sit in front of the Blessed Sacrament, told me to sleep if I felt like it, but to spend time there, “sun-bathing under His light.” I have no idea what happened, but I got out of there bronzed, with a robust heart. Although I didn’t get any explanation that I can put into words, I did find answers, sense, and hope just by being there, before Him.