#and being unfair to my classmates who /did/ work hard

[chialattea]

people will be so understanding of mental illnesses/ ND until they spend more time with a person who can’t get rid of the symptoms and suddenly it’s all “I think you could fix it if you just put some alarms” “have you tried doing a todo list” “have you tried simply not thinking those intrusive thoughts” gee thanks man you know who else finds living with this shit annoying? ME.

[rosedpetal]

Workmates

Summary: Ransom Drysdale has been the essence of hell in your life, and now you two are forced to work together.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Authors note: this is a repost, and it was originally a three part fic.

Warnings: smut at the end.

Minors, do not interact.

Masterlist

Ransom was staring at you with a shit-eating grin on his stupid face. The remains of your coffee were sprawled on the cafeteria floor, on the table, and on your - not anymore - white shirt.

"Jesus, Y/N! Are you okay?" Your boss, Emma, the senior partner of the law firm you worked for, asked you while you put your weight on your hands to get balanced enough to get up. You wanted to scream that no, you were not okay. You fell on your fucking knees after being tripped by Ransom. That son of a...

"I'm fine, really." You mumbled, accepting her hand for help. Emma weirdly looked at Ransom. She was probably confused about why he didn't offer you, a lady, his hand. You almost laughed. Ransom Drysdale was no gentleman, and why would he help you when he was the reason you almost broke your kneecaps?

You sighed, trying not to cry. You didn't spare him a second glance, because you knew that if you did, you would end up kicking his groin.

"You don't seem fine, sweetheart." His condescending voice mocked you. "Perhaps we should have this conversation on another day?"

It would be great for him to have this conversation on another day. He and you were fighting for the same promotion in the firm - and you'd been there for the past three years, while the nepo baby had started a few months prior - and it was being a nerve-wracking competition where he would torment you, and you would try not to react.

So much for having some fucking peace.

You spent years studying hard to get a decent-paying job, one that would make your parents' struggle of having a kid in college worth it. You had to be successful. You owed them that.

And while some of your classmates - Ransom Drysdale and his obnoxious rich buddies - partied and failed assignment after assignment, you almost went crazy doing everything you could to get your law degree and pass the bar exam.

You still couldn't get a grasp on how Ransom passed the bar. Back then, he never seemed the studious type, and he never gave you a second glance either - the girl in the front seat, face buried in books, making notes and asking questions all the damn time. You didn't pleasantly catch his eye, either. Most of your female classmates had tans for spending weekends on sunny beaches, had better wardrobes than you, and could have meals without feeling guilty because the money spent on it wouldn't make a difference in their bank accounts.

You envied them. But most of the time, you couldn't be allowed to feel sorry for yourself when there was such a long journey to complete.

It was for the best, in the end. You got into a renowned law firm and paid off your student loans. With your new income, you could finally afford a good apartment, treat your parents and give yourself luxuries you never dreamed about.

And just after you finally started thriving, Ransom fucking Drysdale got a job offer at the same firm, and he dared to look surprised when he saw you working there.

You were the one who should be surprised. Ransom was a total airhead - and that was a compliment. How the fuck a lazy rich man-child passed the fucking bar when he didn't bother even attending classes?

Why is life so fucking unfair?

“You dozed off a little, sweetheart." Ransom stated while you stared at Emma.

"I think we should have this conversation now, I can just put a sweater over my shirt." You tried to put on a calm voice but you cringed at how you sounded distressed.

Damn right you were about to cry.

"Hmm, okay." Emma stared at the two of you back and forth. She was too damn smart to not see through your poor excuse of a friendly façade with Ransom, but she was also kind enough to not say a thing about it.

"I gave it a thought, and while you, Hugh, are way above the expectations for your lack of experience; Y/N's been the top attorney of this firm for years. It's not really a fair comparison."

It's really fucking not, Emma! You wanted to yell at her face but forced a smile at the compliment. 

"So, I had this amazing idea." she continued, and you started to panic. While Emma was brilliant she could be so naive with her ideas. She looked at you. "You get the promotion and take Hugh under your wing. You'll work on your cases together, and he gets more experience... What do you think?

Before you could answer her, Ransom smiled like a kid in a candy shop.

"We're gonna work so well together, Y/N!" The bastard grinned. "Thank you for the opportunity, Emma, it means the world to me."

You wished the earth opened up and swallowed you up.

Your new office was way bigger, just as much as the dread in your veins. It had a nice view of Boston from your giant glass windows, and you couldn't even enjoy it because of your new work buddy.

"Good morning, boss!" His voice chanted behind you, and you turned to face him, angrily. "Why the face? Didn't get your coffee this morning?"

You breathed in, out, in, out. Maybe if you counted to ten, you wouldn't throw him out the window. You pictured the noise his body would make once it hit the ground, and suddenly, you were in a lighter mood.

"No, a little bitch tripped me and I couldn't enjoy it. But I just know you're going to be a sweetheart and get me another one." You pronounced the word 'sweetheart' with vengeance. 

"How do you like your coffee, sweetheart?" He mimicked and smiled at you, unfazed. 

Oh, the realization hit you. He was totally gonna spit on your precious coffee.

"Nevermind, I'm not in the mood for coffee anymore." You answered him quickly, trying to ignore his disturbing existence and adjusting your things. You were an organized person, and all the files of your current cases were organized inside a big archive box.

You sat on your new chair and placed your laptop on your new desk while Ransom was still staring at you like a moron.

"What?" Your voice came out harsher than you intended.

"Just thinking. I should've given you more attention in college. Maybe I would be sitting on your chair and you would be the one fantasizing about spitting on my coffee."

You snorted and he looked at you, amused. You were caught off guard too.

After that little moment, the first day working with him went by surprisingly well. You went over cases, spoke with clients and he took everything in gracefully. You were still mad at him, how couldn't you be? He was a fucking brat, and he was an ass with you for no reason.

Well, he had a reason but it wasn't a good motive. He tried to bully you to quit, how fucked up in the head that could be? If work was high school, Hugh Ransom Drysdale would be the mean cheerleader captain.

When you were about to leave for the day, grabbing your coat and your bag, Ransom stopped you.

"Hey, wanna have a drink tonight?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Absolutely fucking not, Drysdale."

He just shrugged, and you went straight home.

After a few weeks, Ransom started growing on you. On a particularly rough morning, when a client was being a pain on your and Ransom's existences, he brought you coffee after noticing you were on the verge of crying.

"Don't let it get to you, Y/N. God knows I don't." He offered with a tight smile. You were too tired to make a snarky comment about him being an actually decent human being, so you just sipped on your coffee before you went full sobbing.

Those damned female hormones.

Ransom cleared his throat.

"Ok, this is awkward." He clarified. Between crying and sniffing, you weren't really surprised at how emotionally stunted Ransom was. 

It was comical. He stood there, not knowing what to do. And then, he patted your head.

He actually patted your head. Like you were a fucking dog. You were so stunned at the gesture that you didn't even realize it when you started laughing.

You threw your head back, new tears forming on your eyes. You laughed so hard that your tummy hurt.

Ransom laughed with you too. Like genuinely laughing. Who would say such a thing could happen?

You rolled over, grabbing your front and trying to catch your breath.

You didn't notice, but you started growing on him too.

Your work dynamics with Ransom were almost perfect. You finally felt like you could trust him to do some work on his own, so you let him be on some paperwork while you finished others.

The weather began to get chilly by the end of your office hours and Ransom invited you to his place to get over a file again, to which you stupidly agreed. So you followed his car, getting a little anxious.

When he finally pulled over, you were quite surprised at how cozy the two-story house looked. It wasn't something you expected for a single man. 

He even had a white fence!

He smiled at you when you walked through the door, taking in the dim lights, the fireplace in the living room, and his big kitchen. You wondered if he cooked his own meals.

"Wine?" He offered, already pouring a bottle of some expensive delicacy you've never tasted. You only bought cheap drinks, maybe too worried to spend so much money on such a frivolous thing after how you struggled financially growing up.

"Just a glass, I don't wanna get dizzy." You accepted the glass in his extended hand and took a little sip.

You never even read the file you were supposed to.

Ransom started to babble about how he bought this home after passing the bar exam, excited to start a new journey in his life, where he could be his own person and have something he achieved for himself, instead of working with his grandfather for the rest of his life.

Listening to his life story, his fucked up family, and how he self-doubted he could actually succeed without their money and connections made you feel a little more sympathetic toward him.

Because while you resented him for having the life you only dreamed of, his privileges got in his way of flourishing. And despite all of your struggles, you had loving parents that nurtured you into the woman you were now.

"Do you know I used to despise you?" You let the words slip off your mouth before you could stop them. "You infuriated me. I hated how carefree you were in college because you could fail and you would still have new opportunities. It was my only chance. I worked so hard, and then I saw you at the firm and..."

He looked at you, expectantly.

"I doubted you. And after Emma stated that the promotion was for me or you, and you began to make my work hours a living hell, I even contemplated looking for another job."

Ransom scoffed.

"I wasn't that bad."

"Say that to my knees, Ransom."

He chuckled. 

"If it makes it better, I didn't think you were going to get hurt."

You lifted your brown and sipped on your wine, emptying the glass. He reached for the bottle to pour more, but you stopped him by putting your hand over his. His eyes moved to yours, and then to your lips.

He didn't hesitate when your lips reached for his, eager and passionate. Your body began moving to its own accord, straddling his lap on the leather couch, his hands on your waist, groping your ass, on the back of your neck pulling your hair to leave a trail of wet kisses on your jaw, neck, collarbones...

You yelped when he ripped your white blouse, buttons flying everywhere. He cupped your breasts over your bra, savoring your beautiful body over him.

"You have no idea of how much I fantasized about this, Y/N" His breath fanned your ear, and he sucked on your earlobe, almost taking your earring off. You let out a little gasp when his hands reached under your skirt. "I always knew the promotion was yours. But seeing you mad was such a turn-on."

Your eyes shot open. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"I wasn't just mad, Drysdale. I was having the worst time of my life since college! I can't believe you right now" You got off his lap easily, and he didn't try to stop you.

"Don't be like that, Y/N, I already apologized-" He started, but you cut him off quickly:

"And just because you said your sorry words it means everything is fixed, uh?" You scoffed at him, grabbing your bag on the kitchen counter. "See you on Monday, asshole."

You stormed off his house, ready to drown in regret for kissing him. 

Because now that you did, you couldn't get the tingling feeling off your lips and the longing for more.

You were dreading the moment you'd have to get up from your bed and go to work. The weekend went by really quick, but also really slow (the waves of anxiety tormenting your thoughts were responsible for that).

Monday morning, after brushing your teeth angrily, sipping on your tea angrily, and almost tearing the zipper of your favorite pencil skirt, you took a breath and asked yourself why you were so worried. Ransom wasn't really that important (except he was, and not even you could deny it for much longer).

You were angry at yourself. That night you were at his place, drank his wine, and also, you made the first move. When have you become so bold? 

And then, you snapped at him and had to become sexually frustrated too.

It's like I hate myself or something, you thought, grabbing the designer bag Emma gave you on your birthday and putting your belongings in it.

Maybe I should just quit, move to another country and start a new life. Okay, you were being too dramatic, but how could you face him now?

You weren't brazen like Ransom. For all you knew about him, he could kick a puppy on the street and go on with his life like nothing happened later. 

But you? You calculated your life at the smallest details, meticulously navigating through all your milestones and you never strayed. You tried to be the nicest person on the earth, because life was already hard as it was. You couldn't just snap one day and let it all go down to drain.

"Why that face, Y/N?" One of your colleagues asked when you entered the building. You bit the remark on your tongue and just said you had too much to drink the night before.

Jesus. You had a resting bitch face. Should you get botox?

Almost getting lost in your thoughts (you couldn't really ignore the anxiousness at the bottom of your stomach, threatening to spill back the contents of your breakfast), you got in the elevator, pressed the button to your floor, and let your back rest against the metal doors.

The door opened, and your gaze lowered to your black scarpins. Ransom cleared his throat, mouthing a low "good morning". You held your breath when his cologne filled your nostrils. It seemed ten times stronger now, hitting you with vengefulness.

Why did he have to smell so good? You never noticed a man's perfume before, they all seemed pretty much the same to you, and you never noticed Ransom's either until recently.

Until you were straddling his lap, getting intoxicated by it.

"Did someone steal your teddy bear or something?" He asked abruptly, turning to face you. "Can we not be awkward right now?"

"It's too late for that." You replied in a weird voice, shifting the weight of your feet to the other. Ransom rolled his eyes.

"And why the hell are you so pale? When was the last time you ate?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose in your thumb and index finger. You just ate, he's just being an asshole, Y/N, you reminded yourself.

"Are you seriously gonna pretend I'm not talking to you right now? How can you-"

"Ransom, SHUT UP!" You yelled, surprising you both with the tone of your voice. "Sorry, I just- can we not do this right now?"

He sighed. When you reached the floor of your office, Ransom went first, stomping his feet. You almost smiled, he was such a child. 

As he walked in front of you, you couldn't help but notice his peachy bottom.

"Were you checking me out just right now?"

"Yeah, you could use some squats." You stopped daydreaming and replied in a sassy tone, putting your bag on your desk and crossing your arms on your chest. Your eyes reached his and your expression softened. "Look, Ransom, I'm so sorry about that night. I shouldn't have done that, I'm so mortified. That was really uncalled for. And unprofessional. I understand if you want to go to HR and get me a complaint." You word-vomited, speaking so fast that if he wasn't paying attention he wouldn't get a thing of what you just said.

His eyes widened and he gave you a short, humorless laugh.

"Why the hell would I do that to you, woman? I was giving you signs the whole evening. I wanted that for so long, and I'm so fucking mad at you right now for apologizing for the wrong reason!"

"Ransom, I-" You tried to reason, but he cut you off.

"No, you shut your fucking mouth now, Y/N. I even gave you space because I didn't want you to feel pressured or anything. Do you have any idea how many times I tried to text just to never press 'send'? And now you apologize for kissing me? You should apologize for leaving me with a damn boner-"

"Lower your voice!" You half whispered half yelled at him, looking around to see if anyone heard what he said. His jaw clenched, and he got closer to you. When you were face to face, he punctuated in a low tone:

"I'm tired of your bullshit. Do you think having your whole life planned will get you everything you want? I see a frustrated woman who can't let her guard down and can't even get laid".

His breath was mixing with yours, words cruelly spit, and you felt your nostrils flare with anger. He kept going as if he didn't humiliated you enough:

"It's actually for the best. You're probably a bad fuck, anyway."

You turned on your heels with balled fists on your sides and chose to ignore him, otherwise, you would really give him a reason to go to HR.

The two of you were back to square one. He would be a little shit to you, and you would try your best not to punch his face. You were glad he was your protégée and not the other way around - you didn't like to think what he could do to you in a position of power.

On lunch break, you got yourself a salad with grilled chicken, not really hungry. As you sat to eat with one of your work friends at the restaurant across the street from the building, you spotted Ransom talking to a woman from another floor. She was twisting one of her locks in her finger and laughing at something he was saying. You rolled your eyes, scoffing, and went back to eat your salad.

"He's so hot" Lizzie sighed, daydreaming. "How can you work with him and not be head over heels?"

"Just talk to him for a minute and you'll know why." You seethed and chewed on your lettuce.

"That lady over there seems quite fond of him." She went on, not picking on your mood shift. "Look at that nice piece of ass over there! And those muscles under those sweaters? I'd let him choke me to death with those arms".

"Please, shut up." You begged. "I'm about to throw up".

"Stop being a prude." She rolled her eyes at you. "Oh, that bitch is so lucky, she's probably thinking about-"

"Oh my God, Elizabeth, I'm not eating with you anymore." You interrupted her monologue and she eyed you curiously.

"What's your deal with him? You two slept together or something?" You didn't dignify her with an answer and her eyes widened. "Oh God! You totally did-"

"Shush!" You pressed your index finger on her lips. "We didn't, but we kissed. And this conversation is over. I refuse to talk about it ever again."

You must've sound really serious, because she actually dropped the subject.

With a blink of your eye, the week was over. Your interactions with Ransom were getting more mechanical and since you showed no interest in engaging with his childish games he stopped disturbing your peace.

Lizzie respected your wish to not talk about Ransom for longer than you expected, just bringing the topic once to coerce you to go out with her Friday night.

And that was the reason you were wearing a shiny pink bodycon dress with thin straps and white high heels, in a long ass line to get inside a shady dance club. Lizzie was talking nonstop in your ear, and you just listened, bored and in need of a drink.

When you finally got in, she dragged you to a booth and ordered cocktails for you two.

"Let's get you loosened up to drop the constipated face!" She yelled over the music and you glared at her angrily, sipping on your glass and probably making a face.

"What the hell?" You weren't drinking that. God, that was so disgusting, whatever that drink was made of it was fucking terrible. You got up to the bar to get something else, and then, you saw him.

Ransom was sitting with his friends and with a pretty brunette stuck on his side, almost on his lap. He must've felt your gaze on him, because he turned his head and he locked eyes with you.

Fuck.

Okay, you weren't a coward. You could play it cool. Breaking eye contact, you went to the bar and ordered a piña colada, and as you were waiting for your drink, you felt someone's hand touching your arm.

Sighing, you looked back, ready to fight the asshole who was touching you without your permission.

Your jaw almost dropped when you saw Ransom with a smirk on his face.

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah, haven't you heard? I'm a terrible fuck." You grinned and he laughed, his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink, probably from drinking.

"One of my buddies over there asked if you were single."

"Oh. I'm not interested" you stated.

"Don't worry, I told him that you have gonorrhea."

Your blood boiled.

"What? Are you insane, Drysdale? I'm going to fucking sue you, you stupid son of a bitch!" You index finger were on his face and he broke in a fit of laughter, his hand resting on his stomach.

"I'm just kidding, god, your face!" He managed to say between his stupid giggles. You rolled your eyes and went to the booth to find Lizzie.

How could someone be so insufferable? It was like a gift.

"I'm offended that you didn't like my drink." Lizzie pouted at you, already drunk. Yeah, you could see how the night was going to end. You holding her hair while she emptied her stomach on the toilet.

"Girl, take it easy." You rolled your eyes. "You won't believe who I just saw".

"Mr. Drysdale?"

"Yeah, how did you know? Oh." You barely finished your sentence and she moved her head, pointing to him, sitting in front of you in your booth. "You don't fucking give up, do you?"

"Can we talk?"

"No!"

"Yes."

You looked at Lizzie, feeling betrayed. She got up and left you alone with him, that little bitch.

"Okay, Drysdale, humor me."

"I miss you?"

"It sounds like a question, not an statement." You shook your head to him. "And don't you have an arm candy waiting for you over there?"

The girl he was with minutes ago stared at you with bitterness, her crimson red lips curled in a thin line.

His eyebrow rose. "Am I detecting a hint of jealousy?"

"In your dreams, Drysdale. Just thought you'd like to go back to her, since she's marching over here looking royally pissed."

When Ransom turned his head to look, she was already throwing her drink on his face.

"You are the worst date ever!" She screamed and left, stomping her feet like she was throwing a tantrum.

Serves him right for going out with a girl that barely looked old enough to drink.

You folded your arms over your chest and smiled at him. His hair was wet, and the drink was dripping from his chin, also wetting his shirt.

You were wrong, going out tonight was totally worth it.

Somehow, you, Lizzie and Ransom left the club together.

Well, more like he was helping you carry the woman and get her taken care of.

Without complaining (for your surprise), Ransom secured Lizzie in his arms while she threw up on the street outside of the club whilst you held her hair; got an Uber for you guys and helped you put her in the backseat; picked her up bridal style while you searched for her keys on her JW Pei bag; tuck her in bed gently while you got a glass of water and aspirin for her and left them on her nightstand.

You two mumbled good night to Lizzie, and she replied in drunk gibberish. 

When you left her apartment, you locked the door on the outside and slipped the key back inside under it. 

And just like that, you two were alone, and you suddenly became aware of that and the silence.

Ransom's hair was a little messy, but you never thought of him so handsome as he was in that moment. His blue eyes bored into yours like a silent plead.

You wondered if you two would ever understand each other.

It seemed like hours, but only seconds have passed. His body got closer to yours, and he grabbed your middle, pulling you into him. You let out a little whimper when his forehead rested into yours, noses touching.

"Please, don't run away now." He begged, his voice hoarse. His skin was a little sticky, probably from the sugary drink thrown on him earlier.

You answered by claiming his lips with yours.

You moaned softly, feeling your lips swollen. Ransom kissed you breathless, unlocking his front door and dragging you inside with him. He pulled you by the back of your thighs to straddle his hips and squeezed your ass cheeks roughly. The hem of your mini dress was already rolled up to your stomach, giving him free access.

You knew you wouldn't be able to get to his bedroom.

He lowered you into his leather couch, taking his shirt off the next second. You bit your lip while taking him in - he looked like a damn god. 

Fuck my life, you thought.

Driven by lust, you grabbed him by his belt and clumsily unbuckled it, cussing at it. He chuckled lowly and helped you, lowering his jeans of his toned legs along with his boxers. You felt your mouth water at the sight of his cock: long, thick, hard and leaking for you.

You looked at him through your eyelashes and moistened him with your saliva, rolling your tongue sinfully on the red tip while he watched you with a clenched jaw, using his hands to put your hair on a ponytail.

"You did not learn how to suck dick like a pro until after college, that's for sure." He mocked you, and you pinched the inside of his thigh. Ransom hissed at you, and completed: "''Cause you were too busy studying to practice thiiiiis-" He moaned, curling his toes when you finally took him in your mouth the best you could. 

You felt your panties getting wetter and your jaw ache. You bobbed your head, slowly at first, getting used to his thickness. Your dominant hand jerked the rest of him off, and the other grabbed his butt to force him deeper into your throat.

You drooled all over your chin, feeling tears prick on your eyes when he picked up the pace and face-fucked you. You gagged and tried your best to breathe through your nose, while Ransom let the dirtiest sequence of curses leave his mouth.

He stopped the assault on your throat abruptly, and lift your body up by your hair slowly.

"I'm gonna cum on that sweet mouth some other time, I need to be inside of you now." He sat you on the couch and pulled your dress off your body.

He kissed you again, impatient this time, lowering his hand to your panties and ripping them. He threw the destroyed lace on the floor and rubbed his fingers on your slickness, lubricating his fingers. He slipped one inside of you and you moaned at the entrance, massaging his tongue with yours.

He added another finger and curled them inside of you, earning a gasp from you. You screamed when Ransom started scissoring you in a fast pace, unprepared for it. Your high was building fast, and you came on his fingers, getting his hand wet with your juices.

"Fuck fuck fuck" You cried out when he didn't stop, convulsing again and sobbing on his mouth. He retreated his fingers from you and laid you on the couch, then stroked his cock with his hand, rubbing the tip on your clit. You moaned and he sank on you, making you tense with the intrusion.

Slowly, he bottomed you out. He grabbed your hips, and your legs wrapped around him, urging him to move.

He moved back.

And slammed back in.

You cried out in surprise, while he fastened his pace and fucked you good. 

"Yes baby, this fucking cunt is mine now." He groaned and rubbed your clit with his thumb, snapping his hips into yours. "Say it".

"It's yours-oh God-" You cried out. Ransom showed you no mercy while he fucked you, making your insides burn and build that familiar coil again. His hips snapped into yours with vengeance, making your eyes roll back on your skull. No sound left your mouth when you came again, shaking. Ransom pulled out and came on your stomach, making the sexiest sounds you've ever heard from a man before.

He fell on your side, calming his breathing. Ransom threw his arm around you and kissed your temple gently.

"We're gonna take a bath and find out a way to tell Emma that we're a thing now". 

You smiled, closing your eyes and hoping he would carry you to that bath, because there's no way you could walk now.

[girlishwhimsies]

SODAS SCHOOL YEARS YALL BUCKLE UP

he would LOVEEEEEEE pre k and kindergarten!!! idk if he would actually get to go to pre k since yknow. 60s. but he would be so excited like wdym he gets to go to school with all of his friends and they get to do crafts and get read stories! highlight of his school year.

thennnnnnnnn it all starts to go downhill. 1st grade. when they are all expected to really start reading and writing and they keep telling him to write with his right hand and his handwriting is too messy even with his left hand and all the letters just feel wrong and no one gets it. he would keep getting in trouble for just refusing to do his work and “acting out” and he would always be taking off his shoes cause they just feel too weird and he doesn’t get how everyone else can adjust so easily!!! although whenever he gets in trouble or has a meltdown he gets sent to darry’s classroom since he is in 5th grade (@damthosefandoms my absolute angel has an entire timeline for what grades all the greasers would be and it is my saving grace) and he loves that. just ough he is not doing well

2nd grade is even worse!! darry is in middle school so he doesn’t have him anymore and now they are doing even more reading and writing and math and he just doesn’t get it. he thinks it’s so unfair that his brother was able to do well and since he is darry’s brother they are so confused on why he isn’t doing as well as darry. he can’t focus on any of it and he just has so so much energy and so all the teachers label him as a trouble maker (read undiagnosed adhd) soda legir SOBS in the morning begging not to have to go. his teacher is mean and he doesn’t like his classmates and he feels so alone. mrs curtis’ heart breaks every time she has to get soda to the bus cause he just looks so sad

the rest of elementary goes about the same and suddenly he has homework and mr curtis tries to help him every evening but soda is just crying and can’t focus and just wants to go to bed and not worry about school anymore. he asks his parents if he can drop out but bro is legit like 10 he cannot drop out lmao. pony does so well in school too like darry and soda doesn’t get what he is doing wrong. why is he the dumb brother

middle school he just fully commits to being the class clown. if you can’t be smart then you gotta be funny in order to distract from the fact you flunk every single test and all of these new subjects are so stressful that you can’t even think half the time. he is counting down the days til school ends. he doesn’t cry before school anymore but he is so nauseous every morning and can’t even eat breakfast cause he knows it’ll just be another day of teachers look at him disappointedly and he has to act like he doesn’t care!!!! he doesn’t even do the work half the time anymore what’s the point. they force pass him.

high school is more of the same, he really starts giving up at that point. he can feel his parents worry and disappointment radiating off of them, and every time he sees darry and pony get honor roll he secretly breaks a bit more inside. why can’t he be like that. so he keeps making people laugh, starts skipping when class gets too hard, and plans to drop out. another drop out in a long line of greasers who did the same. he can’t face telling his parents the fact he is going to drop out so he keeps going. after their death he finally does it, it’s not like they are around to hold him after he fails another test or wipe his tears away after a hard day anymore. so he drops out

but he does Not tell darry. he keeps going and just sneaks back home after he goes to work. he can’t admit it to him yet but ofc he finds out. darry doesn’t even know what to say, but he has to let soda make his own choices. but he won’t let pony end up the same so he constantly makes sure pony does his homework

soda with adhd and dyslexia i love you so much you deserved SO much better

[bebe-writes-stuff]

"I hate my life, but I'll never admit it. I guess shame plays a role, but mostly I keep quiet for their sake. Life's unfair; I accepted that a long time ago. But I can't keep blaming everything on that unfairness; it's just part of my life now."

It was a daily routine she had forced herself to accept and get used to. Every morning, she woke up early to make breakfast for her two younger siblings. She would get them up, dressed, and ready for school, then walk them there. After returning home, she cooked a simple breakfast for herself, the last meal before facing her own day. She prepared for her own challenges, getting dressed and ready for school, and finally locked up their small, one-bedroom apartment before leaving.

"Hey, Y/N-chan!" Her friend, who walked the same path to school every day, called out. This caused her to stop, turn, and greet her with a forced smile.

Despite being Hina's upperclassman and older by two years, she found herself running into Hina quite often.

"Hey, Hina," she quietly said with a nod, noticing the concern that quickly clouded Hina's face.

"Did you get enough sleep last night, Y/N? You look tired. I have some water here. Drink up." Hina handed her a water bottle, which she raised her hand to refuse.

"It's alright, I'm fine. I was just working extra late yesterday. I'll manage," she politely declined, not used to accepting anything from anyone, even something as simple as a bottle of water.

"Wow, you're working really hard, Y/N. I've always admired that about you. You're so cool!" Hina chirped.

"Yeah, I guess I do," she muttered, before hearing a distant yell.

"Hinata!"

They both stopped in their tracks and turned to see a breathless boy, probably having run to catch up with them. He had messy yellow-blonde hair and a disheveled school uniform. Y/N took it as her chance to continue her walk to school alone.

"I'll let you be with your boyfriend now. It was good talking to you, though," she quickly said before walking a little faster, leaving them behind.

She let out a sigh of relief as she arrived early to class, immediately taking out her math textbook to review the day's lesson. This was her routine before class started and before any of her classmates arrived. Since she didn't have time to study after school because of her job, she used every morning to teach herself the material and complete her homework.

"Wow, already getting to work, L/N. You really are a hard worker. That's a good trait to have, especially rare to see in someone so young," her teacher remarked, accustomed to seeing her as the first one in class as always.

Day after day seemed to pass quickly. The school day was almost over, and there was little she looked forward to��except for seeing her siblings, of course. That was the highlight of her day. She would walk from her school to pick them up, make sure they got home safely, then head to her job and finish the day as usual.

"Well, that's the bell. You guys have a great rest of your day." The teacher finally said as the school bell rang signaling it was time to go. 

She was always the first to pack her things and head out before the hallways got crowded. She quickly sprinted, heading for her younger brother's school first. Being a third-year student herself, he was still a first-year being 14, and her youngest sister, who was in elementary school. 

The sky was overcast as she arrived at her brother's school gates, a slight chill in the air hinting at the approaching evening. She waited... and waited... until impatience began to gnaw at her. She called out to one of the kids leaving.

"Hey, um, do you know where Kenji is?" she asked, sounding a bit awkward.

The kid looked up from his iPod. "Huh, Kenji? Oh, I saw him earlier. Some upperclassmen dragged him off somewhere. I'm not really sure though. Who are you?"

Panic gripped her heart. She left the kid confused and quickly started searching for her brother. She knew all too well that when upperclassmen dragged a younger kid away, it usually ended badly. She had to find him before it was too late, before he got hurt.

"Dammit, dammit, GODDAMMIT," she muttered, her mind racing as she began running around the nearby parks and alleys by the school. "They couldn't have gotten that far."

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves around her and adding to her sense of urgency. Every shadow seemed threatening as she scanned the area, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of Kenji before anything terrible happened.

As she rounded a corner, she heard the unmistakable sounds of kids bullying someone. Her heart pounded as she hurried closer, the voices becoming clearer. She realized with a sinking feeling that it was her brother, Kenji, who was getting beat up.

"You think you're tough, huh? Hand over the money!" one of the bullies demanded.

Kenji's voice was shaky. "I don't have any more. Please, just leave me alone."

Fury surged through her as she got closer and saw the scene: three upperclassmen surrounding Kenji, forcing him to buy them drinks and physically beating on him. She recognized her own hard-earned money being stolen from her brother.

"Hey! Get away from him, fucking dickheads!" she yelled, her voice filled with malice.

The bullies turned, startled. Their matching jackets bore the emblem of the "Tokyo Manji Gang." They seemed taken aback by her fierce glare and the anger radiating from her.

One of the bullies sneered, "And who are you?"

"I'm his sister. Now get lost before I bust all of your asses right now," she threatened, her voice dripping with venom.

The bullies hesitated, clearly intimidated by her presence.

"Let's go," one of them muttered, and they began to back off.

As they retreated, one of them tossed a parting comment over his shoulder, "We'll catch you later. Your sister can't protect you forever, punk!"

She ignored the taunt and rushed to Kenji's side, kneeling down to check if he was okay.

"Kenji, are you hurt?" she asked, her voice softening with concern.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, though he looked shaken. "Thanks, sis."

She hugged him tightly, feeling a mix of relief and anger. "Let's get you home. Don't worry, okay? I'll figure something out and patch you up."

As they walked home together, she kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, determined to protect her brother and make sure those gangsters wouldn't bother him again.

With Kenji in tow, Y/N hurried to their youngest sister's elementary school. When they arrived, little Reina was waiting outside, her eyes lighting up when she saw her siblings.

"Hi, Y/N! Hi, Kenji!" Reina chirped, running up to them.

"Hey, Reina," Y/N said with a smile, taking her hand. "Let’s get home."

Once they were home, Y/N set Reina up with a cartoon show on her computer to keep her occupied. Then, she turned her attention to Kenji, gently cleaning and bandaging his cuts and bruises.

"Kenji, what happened today?" she asked softly, trying to keep her voice calm.

Kenji hesitated, looking down. "I've become a slave to the Tokyo Manji Gang. They force me to spend money on them and made me join a fight club. They bet on me and I get beat up so they can win money."

Y/N felt fury boiling inside her, but she kept her expression calm. "How long has this been going on?" she asked, her voice tight.

Kenji shrugged, his eyes welling up with tears. "A few months. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you'd worry."

Y/N clenched her fists, trying to suppress her anger. "You should have told me sooner. We’ll figure this out together. Don't worry about anything anymore, okay? I'll take care of it," she reassured him, trying to sound confident. "Now, let’s eat."

She prepared a meal for both her siblings, setting the table and making sure they had everything they needed. As they ate, she kept an eye on Kenji, noting the bruises and the tired look in his eyes. She felt a surge of protectiveness and determination.

After dinner, Y/N headed to work at a nearby café. The café was bustling with customers when two young guys, about her age, walked in. She overheard their conversation and caught their names—Mikey and Draken.

"Mikey, you think we'll see any action tonight?" Draken asked, leaning against the counter.

"Who knows," Mikey replied, glancing around the café. His eyes landed on Y/N, and he nudged Draken. "Hey, check her out. She's pretty cute."

Y/N, focused on her work, didn’t notice their attention. She served them with a polite smile, not engaging in conversation.

After her long shift, Y/N changed into her simple regular clothes: Just a regular white top with jeans and a pair of flats, not that she had much clothes to begin with. On her way home, she noticed a few guys wearing the same uniform as the gangsters from earlier. Remembering her promise to protect Kenji, she decided to follow them.

They led her to a shrine, where hundreds of gang members were gathered. She sneaked around, looking for the guys who had beaten up her brother. Just as she thought she spotted them, she failed to notice a member who had detected the ruckus in the bushes. He approached her from behind and caught her.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he sneered, gripping her arm tightly.

Y/N’s heart raced, but she met his gaze with defiance. "Let go of me," she demanded, her voice steady.

The guy smirked, tightening his grip. "You think you can just sneak around here without getting caught? Who are you?"

"None of your business," Y/N shot back, trying to yank her arm free.

He leaned closer, his breath hot against her face. "You’ve got guts, but that won't help you here."

Before he could say more, another voice called out, "Hey, what's going on over there?"

Before Y/N could react, the gang member dragged her roughly through the throng of Tokyo Manji Gang members, pushing her all the way to the front. The leader, none other than Mikey—the guy from the café—stood there, a look of confusion on his face. Beside him was another familiar figure: Takemichi, Hina's boyfriend. Y/N's heart sank, recognizing him as someone she never expected to see in a gang.

Eyes narrowing as he took in Y/N, Mikey said, "What brings you here?"

Y/N glanced around, noticing the expectant stares from the gang members. Among them was a strong-looking girl with short hair, her cute appearance at odds with the tough crowd. Y/N took a deep breath, steeling herself.

"I’m here because of my brother," she began, her voice steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Some of your members have been using the gang's name to extort money and torment innocent people. My brother, Kenji, is one of their victims. They forced him to join a fight club where he gets beat up for their bets."

Mikey's eyes widened slightly, a mixture of shock and curiosity on his face. "Is that so?"

Y/N continued, "I won't let it slide. I'll stand against all of you if I have to, to protect my brother."

Mikey raised an eyebrow, impressed by her determination. "Call them out," he ordered.

Y/N pointed to the three boys who had bullied her brother. They reluctantly stepped forward, smirking confidently.

"Is this true?" Mikey asked, his tone dangerously calm.

One of the bullies sneered, "Yeah, it's true. That little pussy deserves everything he gets. He's weak and a loser. If anything, he deserves to die."

Another bully added, "Mikey, you'll side with us any day over some random bitch who interrupted our meeting."

Y/N's blood boiled. She stepped forward, fists clenched. "You think you're so tough? Let's see how you handle someone who fights back."

Without warning, she launched herself at the nearest bully, landing a solid punch to his jaw. She moved with precision and fury, taking down the three boys with a series of well-placed strikes. The fight was swift and brutal, and by the end, the bullies lay on the ground, groaning in pain.

Mikey watched, a mixture of amusement and admiration in his eyes. Some of the other gang members cheered Y/N on, clearly impressed by her courage and skill.

Breathing heavily, Y/N stood over the fallen bullies. "I'm done here. I don't need anything else from you," she declared, turning to leave.

As she walked away, Mikey called out, "Bye, Y/N. I'll see you later."

Y/N paused, glancing back at him with a puzzled expression. Why would she ever see him again? But she didn't have time to ponder. She needed to get home and take care of her brother.

The night was cool, with a light breeze rustling the trees around the Musashi Shrine. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the scene. As Y/N made her way home, she couldn't shake the feeling that her encounter with the Tokyo Manji Gang was far from over.

Back at their small apartment, she found Kenji and Reina waiting for her. Kenji looked up, concern etched on his face. "Are you okay, sis?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, giving him a reassuring smile. "Everything's going to be okay."

She knew she had made an impression on Mikey and the gang, but what that meant for the future remains uncertain. For now, she focused on protecting what's left of her family.

--

should I continue this? part 2? also yall I'm backkk, school is over finallyyy

[persephoneprice]

lily, please elaborate on your clemmie and lyssie post 😔🙏🏽

i know i did this to myself but i’m actually nervous to write this out because i don’t think anyone is going to agree with me but here i go!

before i start- i do want to clarify that i love both characters and this is in no way me hating on clemmie or implying that lysistrata is perfect! clemmie is miles ahead in terms of being caring versus her peers.

however, i do not see clemensia as a truly good, kind person. (again, this is all my personal interpretation and i could be way off!)

a few things stick out to me about clemensia that make me feel this way (pre-snake bite, obviously! def unfair to hold post snake-bite against her).

the first example is when they are discussing how to force people to watch the games.

clemensia says-

“The real problem is, it’s sickening to watch”

lysistrata says-

“Most of us don’t want to watch other people suffer.”

to me, i see this as lysistrata acknowledging and putting focus on the children suffering- where clemmie focuses mainly on how it makes her feel to watch.

clemensia also talks about her first meeting with reaper-

“Mine wouldn’t speak. Not a word”

not horrible by any means- but it still feels lacking in empathy (and not great that she referred to reaper as ‘hers’).

another example that comes to mind is when clemmie and coriolanus are discussing the games after arachne death and she says this-

“Yes, or make them Avoxes, or something,” said Clemensia. “It’s awful, but not as bad as the arena. I mean, I’d rather be alive without a tongue than dead, wouldn’t you?”

this isn’t a bad thing necessarily! but to me, i see it as misguided and failing to actually put herself in the shoes of these children and sort of failing to have genuine empathy.

another example is regarding iphigenia-

“Clemensia had once told Coriolanus it was the only revenge she could take on her father, but refused to give any more details.”

again, miles ahead of most of her peers because she refused to elaborate further but i believe that exposing that to coriolanus at all was a deeply unkind thing to do.

and then here are some examples where i see lysistrata displaying kindness (though i’m aware that it may be unfair to bring up things lysistrata did during the games bc clem didn’t get the same chance to bond with reaper!)

she makes the effort to help jessup even before he protects her in the bombing-

she’d apparently been working hard to connect with Jessup “I brought you some cream for your neck,”

she is grateful to jessup after he protects her instead of just assuming that her life is worth more. she’s also willing to speak out and tell everyone this despite knowing how people view district citizens.

“She’s going around saying that big, ugly boy from District Twelve protected her by throwing his body over her, but who knows? The Vickers family loves the spotlight.”

it’s also worth noting that coriolanus follows this up by saying he’s never seen a vickers trying to claim the spotlight.

she also says this-

“And who wouldn’t rather be the victor than the defeated?”

“I don’t know that I have much interest in being either,” said Lysistrata.”

which i think is very decent considering she lived through the war just as much as her classmates.

she displays empathy and understanding for dill & reaper when her classmates do not-

“Isn’t he the one who promised to kill all the others?” asked Pup.

“Doesn’t look so tough to me,” said Urban.”

“She’s his district partner,” said Lysistrata. “And she’s almost dead now. Tuberculosis, probably.”

she’s also quick to call out her classmates during the games-

“Like musical chairs,” said Domitia with a pleased look.

“But with people dying,” said Lysistrata.”

when jessup has rabies and is chasing lucy gray-

“If Jessup can’t win, I want Lucy Gray to. That’s what he’d want. And she can’t win if he kills her,” she said. “Which might happen anyway.”

to me, this shows that she has been able to empathize and understand who jessup is as a person.

also while other classmates display anger or frustration at losing the prize she says this-

“Coriolanus could barely hear Lysistrata whisper, “Oh, don’t let him die alone.”

because she cares about jessup. she also sends food to lucy gray directly after that.

and of course there’s this interaction which i think speaks for itself-

“I do.” She took a deep breath. “What I’d like people to know about Jessup is that he was a good person. He threw his body over mine to protect me when the bombs started going off in the arena. It wasn’t even conscious. He did it reflexively. That’s who he was at heart. A protector. I don’t think he would’ve ever won the Games, because he’d have died trying to protect Lucy Gray.”

“Oh, like a dog or something.” Lepidus nodded. “A really good one.”

“No, not like a dog. Like a human being,” said Lysistrata.”

but the fact that she firmly and openly asserted his humanity in front of the entire capitol essentially is massive to me.

and of course there’s the fact that she had been nice to sejanus-

“Snow had invited Festus and Lysistrata to join the party, as they’d liked Sejanus better than most of his classmates and could be counted on to say nice things.”

of course this is all rambling that doesn’t actually answer the question but i feel like it was important to try to explain why i saw them as slightly different.

essentially i think my thoughts on kind vs nice can be summed up by this quote-

Niceness, then, is often expressed through words or gestures, while kindness is often expressed through acts.

and lysistrata proved repeatedly that she is willing to act by speaking up consistently despite how taboo it is in the capitol. whereas i don’t view clemensia as someone who would be as willing to directly assert a district citizens humanity so publicly (again, my own personal interpretation.).

because of this- i believe lysistrata is a lot more likely to get herself in trouble quicker by opening her mouth and sticking up for the district citizens, especially after this experience. whereas i do not think clemensia would be as likely to risk her safety to do so.

[patibato]

[Bitter Sweet Sixteen] 002-A19 - Bad Will Hunting

Ushio: …

Nanaki: …

Ushio: You need something? That's one scary look.

Nanaki: We need to talk. …Come on. Everyone's waiting.

Ushio: (Uwah, I've got a bad feeling. This might get tedious…)

I would, but I've got a stomachache. Did Chief-san not say? I just wanna rest today-

Nanaki: That doesn't matter.

Ushio: Ah… hey…! Don't touch me!!

…I'll come.

Nanaki: …

Kiroku: …

Muneuji: …

Akuta: Welcome back, Uuchan!

Ushio: …Don't call me that. Anyway, what? You're all crowding around me imposingly.

Nanaki: The pouch… looks like you still have it.

Akuta: See, he didn't throw it away. My turn next then, thanks for the egg.

…Yep, all good. Properly contained, one egg with legs!

Ushio: Could it be you were suspecting me of throwing it away?

Kiroku: You weren't in… your room… so we thought it was… possible.

Nanaki: …

Ushio: We're not throwing it away. Didn't everyone agree on that?

Nanaki: …Apologies for doubting you. Our bad.

Ushio: Well, it doesn't really matter.

Muneuji: That solves one problem, but-

Akuta: Yeeeah.

Nanaki: …

Kiroku: …

Ushio: Seriously, what's with you guys. If you have something to say, can't you say it clearly?

Muneuji: We want to discuss the matter of assisting the Summer Festival.

There's been concern that you are not making progress with your preparations.

Ushio: (Aah, so it's about complaints being raised. As I thought, this is tedious. So tiring…)

You say there's been concern. Is it just from one person?

Nanaki: Why are you looking at me.

Ushio: No reason in particular? Not like I think Panda's the most likely to say something like that.

Nanaki: Kinugawa-kun's stumbling, but he's doing his best even so. It's only natural to not want someone holding him back.

Kiroku: Huh… m-me…?

Nanaki: I know how hard you're working. We're in the same room, after all.

Kiroku: …

Nanaki: That's why, Kurama-kun should also-

Ushio: Too bad for you, the festival day's getting cancelled.

Akuta: …

Nanaki & Kiroku & Muneuji: …

Akuta: WHAAAT!? WH-WHY!?

Muneuji: For what reason.

Ushio: From the start of that evening, there's an 80% chance of rain. It'll be pouring down right around the time of the festival.

Being all about effort, friendship, youth and stuff is fine and all, but shouldn't you at least check the weather forecast?

Nanaki: What about the JMA's weather control?

Muneuji: No, they'll clear the weather for events in urban areas like Hama, but-

I'm certain that rural areas are not dealt with in the same way.

Akuta: S-s-seriously~~~!!?

I'm a city boy born and raised, so the concept completely slipped my mind…

Nanaki: We could try asking the JMA now or something.

Kiroku: …There's, no way… a single person, could do… that…

Ushio: (Hm…)

Akuta: Should we pray for clear skies!? Like praying for rain around a bonfire!

Kiroku: …Do you have… that kind of… power, Isotake?

Akuta: Nope, not at all!

Ushio: (Absurdities like this are an unavoidable part of life. No matter how hard you try, no matter how noble a life you try to live-)

(All at once, an inescapable absurdity will befall you, and destroy everything.)

(Unlike me, who's understood that since back then, this is probably the first time something like this is happening to these blessed children who were raised with protection, isn't it?)

(Serves them right.)

Hey.

Nanaki: What?

Ushio: It's a shame that it hasn't healed. That broken heart you got at the old school building.

Nanaki: …Is sarcasm the only language you know? That's why you get called a Gentleman.

Ushio: …!

Muneuji: Gentleman?

Nanaki: It's what his classmates call him behind his back. Suitably ironic for a coarse guy like him.

Ushio: …

Muneuji: …I see. That's very well put.

Ushio: …!

Muneuji: Ah, don't misunderstand. I was simply impressed by what a shockingly malicious nickname you were given-

Ushio: (What's with that way of putting it. Muuchan's as unconcerned as ever, while I'm the only one uncomfortable…)

(Isn't this just unfair…!)

…Hey, Muneuji.

You're surprisingly calm, considering the threat of rain. Even though you're the one who knows best how hard everyone's been working.

Muneuji: …

Ushio: Do you think it's someone else's problem, since it doesn't concern your father?

You're on a rail that's already shifted, so it's not like the damage is that great, yeah?

Muneuji: …What are you trying to say?

Ushio: I'm saying, if "that" hadn't happened to your father, things wouldn't be where they are.

(You're different from me-)

It sure is nice that you got a little sister to give souvenirs to.

Muneuji: -!

Akuta: Ah, Muneuji's pupils are suddenly huge-

Muneuji: …Kinugawa. Please keep hold of my phone and watch.

Kiroku: Huh? Okay… but…

Ushio: Oh? Did I make you mad?

Muneuji: Put aside anything you don't want to break too, Ushio. If you will not withdraw your previous statement… then a duel it is.

Ushio: Hah! How could I withdraw something that's true? Isn't averting your eyes like that too much?

Muneuji: Enough, shut your mouth. Prepare yourself.

Ushio: -Hmph, don't think I'll be tossed around as easily as before.

Nanaki: He did throw him the other day, didn't he…

Akuta: A-a fight's breaking out~~~! Whoo whoo! Let's gooo~! Don't lose, either of you!

The Isotake Betting Foundation supports this clash of friendship. Which will you bet on, sir?

Nanaki: Obviously, I'll put ¥1,000 on Kaguya-kun… no, why would we do that! We have to stop them!

Oi, calm down! Kaguya-kun!

Muneuji: Intervening is futile! Uuchan incurred my wrath on purpose.

He wants to be thrown. I'm sure of it. …I, too, wish to throw him.

Nanaki: That doesn't make any sense! No other choice…!

Akuta! Help me stop-

Akuta: Nice nice! A breathtaking development! No going easy~~~! You'll kill the picture~~~!

Nanaki: Hey, do you think this is the time to whip out your camera! Kinugawa-kun- has suddenly disappeared!

Aagh, enough already…! Why is this happening…!

Momiji: Let's see… did I manage to properly make the shumai recipe Yuki-nii taught me?

Wow! Look, Sakujiro-san! It came out really well, if I do say so myself!

Sakujiro: Oh my, this is… Such moist skin, reminiscent of shining platinum…!

The fluffy, steaming green peas add a touch of colour akin to spring buds on an expansive snowy mountain…

Your workmanship is impeccable. I'm deeply impressed.

Momiji: The Chinese porridge you made looks delicious! The arrangement's so stylish you could put it on dazzle!

Sakujiro: Much obliged. Now, the soup and sides are done, so let us set the table-

*thumping*

Momiji: …? It sounds noisy upstairs, what's going on?

They are at an age where they're full of energy, I guess they might play wrestle sometimes… ahaha.

Sakujiro: Chief.

Momiji: Yeah?

Sakujiro: It seems a helpless little fawn has gone astray into our castle - the kitchen, that is.

Momiji: Huh? -Oh, Kiroku-kun?

Kiroku: …

Momiji: What's making you tremble so much?

Kiroku: …Chief, and Sensei… there's a… fight.

Momiji: What!?

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Masterlist

[gege-wondering-around]

Hello cariad! I really liked this question and I'm so curious to know your answer!

What's something you're very passionate about? 🩵

And how did you discover this passion?

hi darling @dontcallpanic! sorry it took me so long to answer! hope I'll be able to do justice to the ask and your answer was extremely heart warming and you're such an amazing person for doing that🫂🩵

something I'm very passionate about is:

meritocracy/'getting what you deserve'

I've seen the world being unfair since I was very young, I've seen it first hand in second grade and it got stuck with me.

(little back story moment: a classmate of mine wanted to cheat from me and I tried not to let her but she kept insisting, the teacher noticed and scolded me and put my desk against the wall)

ever since, I've never let anyone cheat off of me, I've tried my hardest to never cheated myself (unless it was necessary, like last year with chemistry because the teacher was the worst and next year we dont have that subject anymore, so the whole class just opted for the best way out, and I honestly don't regret it. but other that this one time, cheating is not for me).

anytime cheating was brought up by one of my friends, I'd be the one going against their methods (sneaking 2 phones so they'd keep one during the exam, hear bugs to listen to audios, long ass cheating sheets under the chair and such) cause the one who did this, were those who could simply study and get a very good grade.

and it was such a common thing to do, to cheat every single time, that they'd brag about it like it was the success of the century. and they never got what they actually deserved and it makes me sick. cause i know people who bust their asses to keep their grades up and have little to no recognition for their efforts, while these other people who cheats just get away with it.

and they don't just cheat on exam... one cheated on her gf as well, one is planning on cheating the driver theory test, and so on.

(another back story moment: math exam, i studid days for it and a friend of mine kept asking me for help. at home, i did an exercise we both struggled on and got the right answer but i knew the method was wrong but found no other way to get to the answer. i send it to my friend, don't remember what she said but i remember she told me it was done wrong and i knew. next day, the day of the exam, 10 minutes before it she went to our math teacher to ask him how it was supposed to be done and showed him the pic with my work, and he obviously told her it was done wrong (and i knew the whole time it was) and she came back fiercely saying 'i told you it was wrong' but i let her me. during the exam, she had photomath doing her exam while the teacher was 1 meter away from her. and he told her nothing.)

but apart from school, I've seen this in my parents' work environment too, cause they are both the most hard workers and they get less than most and have to do everything for others cause, for example my father, is the only one who can this particular machine (which is falling apart) and he had to 'study' the whole thing to understand how to make it work, while others, whenever its their time to work on it, they just give up the second the machine decided to break and those people don't work for the rest of the day.

anyway! (you can already cleary tell my passione about this...)

to make it short, it makes me sick that busting your ass gets you nothing and cheating gives you everything. and I discover it (if you can say you can discover this) because everything is unfair and I want to be fair. I wanna play fairly and get what i deserve, whatever it might be.

it's one of my strongest moral, not to cheat, and it shows not only on test but friendships and relationships too cause I'm extremely loyal and honest and genuine (to the point others take advantage of it) but I'm proud of it regardless. i get what i get and im satisfied by my results cause i know the efforts behind it. but seeing nothing more than the wolrd being unfair takes away from me the enjoyment of being able to do the things i do... yet, I try my hardest to make sure people get treated fairly, i want people to know their efforts aren't wasted on their interests or success (such as grades and others).

but moving on cause i could rant about meritocracy forever...

psychology

ever since i was little it mesmerized me. the human mind, behavior, response based upon past experiences and how one person can be molded by society and the wolrd.

i knew a few things about psychology and it helped me (along with helping me helping others too) to go on with my life and get over certain moments when i was at my lowest.

i wanna understand people deeply (and i can even without psychology, I have a lot of empathy for others) and this helped me a lot to understand their behavior and feelings cause even subtle hints can tell you so much about someone.

i feel that, knowing psychology even a little bit, gives me the ability to make a web of someone mind (even if it'd be so little and insignificant) which is amazing to me. to be able to put something to abstract and complex as someone's identity on paper, to understand them to the point you get the ALMOST completely (in that little aspect, for example why i care so much about meritocracy. psychology can only tell you that much about my passiont towards it) because love makes the understanding complete.

i don't believe that you can understand someone simply based upon psychology because you make them nothing more than a rat lab. i believe you need love to fully get someone's way of being, you need to understand their feelings and reasons and psychology can do only so much about it.

in short. to understand people, i discovered psychology cause i needed to understand myself, why i was depressed and such, and it helped me come to the realization i couldn't help myself until i started loving who i was.

which brings me to...

love

i have a tremendous lack of love in my life and my friends ease that pain without even knowing it. my kindness comes from love, everything i do is based upon love.

someone once told me i can't live a life based upon love, seeing love everywhere, but i don't care. for me love can be anywhere, it can be in a little hobby i picked up simply to do one thing and ended up being useful further on, it can be in putting a can os sode in the fridge knowing you won't be the one drinking it. (and its your fav soda as well). it can be sharing something with those you love, even i simply 'hey i dreamt this tonight...' and have a good laught together.

love is everywhere, i can see it everywhere. it can be anywhere.

i want love to be one of my motivations, to be one of those things i carry with me anywhere i go, something i can share cause everyone can use some love regardless of everything.

i discovered love in a strange way. not through a relationship or my family. but through internet and not by having a relationship online.

it came out of no where, this manga i saw and read without knowing anything about it and it made me sick to my stomach cause it was claimed to be about love but there was no love in it. it all felt forced and that's when i started developing my thought about love, of any kind, and when i understood what love might be for me.

after that, love drove me through my lowest moments, helped me back up again and it showed me my passions. even if they changed with time, everything i did or picked up as an hobby was made with the intention to love.

and this brings me to the last one (at least for this post)...

writing

i write of love and i love writing.

it literally saved since when i was down really bad, i could only write. and i wrote endlessly, i still have some of the things i wrote years ago, the sorrow and pain and agony in those sheets of paper reminds me who i was and how far I've come. and all thanks to writing.

now i write fanfics about love, i pour as much love as i can in my pieces and i try my hardest to leave a lesson in my works (despite the fact i haven't post a single one yet). i started writing fanfics when i wanted love to be tangible in my own way, i started being a fanfic writer when i was touched so deeply by some characters' love (without even being canon) that i couldn't comprehend the cruelty behind taking away something so beautiful from the narration. (or life, if you want).

the day i started writing was when i set down my goal in life: to show love is possible. whether it might be through fanfics, poems, letters, messages, quotes or book dedications (cause the fic I'm working on rn is dedicated to someone really meaningful to me).

and it all started when i was around 7 or 8 and ever since then, I've been writing for a decade now and I'm still going strong on it. it's my way of being, of showing love and understanding, it's my way of be alive despite everything, is my way of fighting.

and anytime someone close to me mention how they'd like to start to write, i cheer them up as much as possible, and when they have doubts and maybe we are having lunch somewhere and they ask me 'hey how do you do it without stressing yourself?' or something similiar i pour my heart out to tell them writing is always about writing for yourself.

i discovered writing paragraphs and poems because i was becoming mute (not like medically speaking, i just never talked) and i needed to get it out and talking with my voice about it only made me feel less and less, like i was tearing away pieces from myself simply because people could be aware of me if i spoke about myself. I didn’t want people to know me, i wanted them to ignore me.

so i wrote.

i kept writing. from my thoughts to little stories, to poems and messages, and finally to fanfics. i kept writing everything down, i write myself down so I'm tangible in a way that doesn't tear anything away from me.

i became tangible in a way where it doesn't matter if I'm a male or a female, if I'm old or young, if I'm this or that.

i made myself tangible and memorable, something you can comprehend and live, something you can notice and not ignore.

I hated and still hate being tangible in the way of a woman. I'm tangible because people can touch me and i hate it, so i wrote. and that's my way of being tangible, without letting people take away anything from, without having them touching me.

and this is all in my writings, in my poems and my fanfics this things always come up somehow, maybe subtly or maybe not but they are always there cause i write for myself. i write to have something to leave behing in this life. i write to be tangible even in the future. i write so maybe someone else will write too and be tangible just the same way. i write to inspire and teach, to myself and others.

i write to be. i write about love.

so...

yeah this is pretty much it, i hope i made justice to the ask somehow and i hope the part about meritocracy wasn't too boring or like a rant (cause i swear it gets animated whenever its brought up and my bestie keeps me shut before i scream at teachers to fo their job, anyway!)

hope it was of your liking and im glad i have a chance to answer this as well. wish you an amazing day and hope your writing journey is lovely and filled with passion! and remember, before anyone else, always write for your own enjoyment and according to your tastes and likings!🫂🩵

[crazyyanderefangirlfan]

Do you know her?

This was supposed to be easy. Get the volleyball team to believe that Teresa is unfit to be a manager because of her cruelty, have her kicked out and be the new manager. 

Easy right?

In her head this was the perfect plan. She was supposed to be manager, not that outsider. It’s not her fault volleyball terms were supper complicated or she didn’t think the other players that weren’t the starting line were just as important.

Teresa has been in top of Shiratorizawa for far too long. It’s time to put her in her place.

She could hear the practice in the distance, and hid herself behind the lockers. She waited until she saw Teresa going with water bottles in hand. She took at least twenty minutes, more enough time to de-throne her.

She marched inside and threw the door open. The sound caught the entire team’s attention. She surveyed the room, no coaches in sight.

“Can we help you?” Semi approached her first. He had a wary look on his face, in fact the entire team did.

She nodded eagerly. “Yes. It’s about Teresa.”

That immediately got their attention. Good.

“What about Teresa?” Ushijima walked up to her. She gulped when he narrowed his eyes to her, he looked more intimidating up close. But she’s on a mission.

She took a deep breath and launched into a tirade about Teresa's supposed cruelty: Teresa  humiliated a girl, Teresa gave an unfair punishment to her group mates, Teresa punched someone and many more.

She began to explain when she’s not with the team she showed her true colors: A two-faced snake who’s only a manager for popularity and the attention for the team. She spoke on how Teresa mistreats her classmates and threatens them to keep silence since she has a reputation to uphold, expecting them to be angry and disappointed at their manager. But as she finished her rant, she was met with silence.

Kawanishi spoke up first, his voice calm and measured. "So... what did they do?" he asked, his tone tinged with curiosity rather than accusation.

She blinked, taken aback by the unexpected question. "E-Excuse me?" she stammered, unsure of how to respond.

Shirabu, who crossed his arms, chimed in next. "Teresa is not cruel unless it's a form of retaliation," he explained, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Then Tendou, with a manic look on his face, leaned in close to the girl's ear, his voice low and conspiratorial. "And besides," he whispered, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "Ter-Teri is so much crueler than that."

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she processed their words. She took a step back, breathing hard as the team was not amused by attempt to slander their manager.

“Uh-um…”

“Let me guess. You were…jealous of Teresa cause she’s the manager and you’re trying to replace her? Is that right.” Tendou started. It wasn’t a question but a statement.

“No!…She really has been a liar! She’s-“

Reon cut her off. “You said Teresa humiliated a girl right? Well, I was there. That girl was taunting Teresa, trying to rile her up. She tried to ignored it but that girl struck a nerve so she retaliated.”

“But-“

“When Teresa gave an ‘unfair’ punish to her group mates.” Yamagata continued, using air quotes at unfair. “Those guys were slacking off and tried to take credit of her work, so of course she gave them their just desserts.”

The girl gulped, this is going way bad.

“That guy Teresa punched was actually one of my classmates and he was an asshole.” Goshiki added. He practically has stars in his eyes as he recounted the event. “She saw how he was acting towards and punched him. She threatened to cut his balls and he never bothered me again.”

By now the girl was trembling where she stood as the team scowling at her. Even more when Ushijima stood in front of her, his face being more severe than usual.

“The reason why she is our manager is her strength, determination, and unwavering support make her an invaluable part of our success.”

Semi then added, “This is especially true to us third years, we know her very well, which obviously you don’t.” There was bite in his tone that made her wince.

Realizing she lost, she quickly turned me ran to  doors. As she opens she collided with someone.

“Whoa! What’s the rush?” A familiar voice asked. There wasn’t any anger but curiosity and concern evident in it. She ignored and kept running.

Teresa watched the girl ignore her and kept running. The corners of her mouth dropped, wondering what happened while she was gone?

‘Well, I hope she’ll be alright.’ She thought as she picked up the water bottles.

“Teresa let me help!” Goshiki was by her side in an instant and quickly helping her.

“Thank you, Goshiki.” She smiled at her junior, who blushed at the praise.

She and self-proclaimed future ace handed the bottles to the team, who mostly thanked Teresa.

“By the way, who was that just now?” She questioned after practice was done. The team glanced at each other, before one of them spoke.

“Eh, another person who wants a manager position. We told them the responsibilities and they chicken out.” Yamagata answered, with a dismissive wave. The albino girl arched her brow at that.

“Are you sure it wasn’t because you guys scared her off?” She teased.

The team shared a look once her back was turned to them. 

Teresa is their manager and friend, they don’t scaring a few snakes off.

[whentranslatorscry]

Ikusamonogatari

Full EPUB

Hitagi Honeymoon, by nisioisin

001

There was something odd about the name Araragi Hitagi. No matter how I try, it just doesn’t sit right with me. If I were to trace our acquaintance back to our freshman year at Naoetsu Private High School, where we became classmates, I would find that I have known her for almost a decade. Yet every time I see this name, it feels as unfamiliar as if we had only just met. If you ask me to pinpoint whose responsibility this unshakable strangeness was, I can say with absolute confidence that it was none other than mine, still it felt as though trying to force together two jigsaw pieces that don't fit.

Look at the joints; they're practically crumbling.

It was at the hallowed grounds of North Shirahebi Shrine, in the presence of its very god herself, that we swore an irreplaceable oath to bring each other happiness. But once married, there was a hideous sensation, akin to smudging the most precious aspect of a person I hold most dear in my life, the one and only Senjougahara Hitagi, with cheap paints. It was an indescribably disgusting, unsettling feeling.

The wedding gown and white kimono were meant to symbolize something pure, “a canvas ready to be dyed in the colors of our choosing.” This oft-repeated phrase, while understood, felt old-fashioned, archaic to say the least. Moreover, for reasons unbeknownst to me, I had stripped her of her most precious and fundamental possession: her name. The mere thought of this fact felt like a sharp stab, an eternal reminder to accompany me for the rest of my life. Truthfully, the confidence to create a blissful and harmonious home had eluded me.

How unfair, how unjust.

How utterly tragic.

Under such circumstances, it was simply impossible for me to say that I had no sense of guilt.

“It's not bad at all, Koyomi. I think it sounds even better. Araragi Hitagi, see, it rhymes and rolls off the tongue with such ease it's like it's been my name this whole time.”

Although she claimed not to mind, I couldn't help but be painfully aware of the burden imposed on her that should've been equally shared: we were no longer on equal footing, and the intense sense of immorality did not fade as time went on. If anything, my guilt only intensified.

What I mean by “burden” encompasses the need to reapply for a driver's license, passport, and license plate number, among various other things. The name she had carried for a quarter of a century was forcibly and legally stripped away—wasn’t that an unbelievable, unforgivable act of barbarism?

Just like the domestic violence that suddenly emerges after marriage.¹

The life of Araragi Koyomi had always been one of ceaseless battles against all kinds of unreasonable circumstances. So, even now, he should continue to fight for the sake of his family name. But this time, his opponent was not a monster, nor was it a mystery or tale of supernatural transformation, regrettably—it was the country of Japan itself.

Well, it could be argued that there wasn’t much difference between the country of Japan and its world of supernatural creatures, but I can't simply let that claim go unchallenged. As an experienced public servant, someone who had truly sworn loyalty to both the nation of Japan and its people, it was hard to advocate for the immediate abolition of the antiquated custom of married couples sharing the same surname. After being transferred to the FBI for advanced training and subsequently being headhunted for employment, and after buying my own home there, I found myself questioning my own patriotism.

Naturally, if we were to go by logic alone, rather than Hitagi legally becoming Araragi Hitagi, I would have become Senjougahara Koyomi. In fact, I had secretly been working on this plan behind the scenes. At first, everything was going smoothly, but the surreptitiously obtained written documentation was soon discovered by her. Hitagi, that is.

Well done, I must say.

“From the very moment we met, I felt a sense of harmony with Araragi-kun—like we were meant to be together. Also, I don’t want my father's surname to be combined with ‘Koyomi.’”

Okay.

Setting aside the latter part, even she shared the same sentiment as me in the beginning. No matter how fiercely we fought, it seemed as though we were ultimately conquered by convention.

Although marriage itself is inherently a form of constraint, and whose surname is used is of little consequence, in the end, tradition dictates that the wife takes the husband's last name. This custom has been ingrained in society for ages. Indeed, it may make sense from a logical standpoint, but ultimately, it is not logic that we must bow to in this matter.

As I recall, the family of Hachikuji— the god worshiped within the grounds of North Shirahebi Shrine, where I pledged myself in marriage—all bore the mother's surname, Tsunade. But alas, as the twin-tailed lost god once confessed to me:

“In the end, things didn’t work out well for my family, you see. We’re no longer a family. During my third year in elementary school, my parents divorced and I had to change my name. I wonder what the point of it all was.”

That’s all.

When I first heard her speak of that, I was young and naive, so I played it cool and responded with a smooth and seamless reply. Now that I’ve become a party to the incident myself, I can’t help but ruminate on the workings and procedures of the law.

Even when putting aside the fact that I work in law enforcement, it’s not something that a civil servant should say, but indeed, one might call it quite bureaucratic. I have inherited this occupation of police officer from my parents (albeit reluctantly). I even believe that I don’t need to inherit the family name.

If it were high school Hitagi, especially during her most intense and edgy days, she would have unquestionably shoved a stapler deep into my mouth just to make me Senjougahara Koyomi.

She should have been resolute in not relinquishing her father's name— I guess you could say that she has grown softer over time. Well, whether she’s grown soft or not, I guess she’s grown up, too.

Back in my youth— or rather, in high school, I would have said to myself, “Won’t get married then. We won’t be bound by a little piece of paper. To preserve our names, our identities, we'll live together with two surnames under one roof. Hell, even with Oikura if I have to.”

Though in the end, as usual, it would most likely have led to a not-so-happy but rather bad ending. But inside the mind of twenty-four-year-old Araragi Koyomi, countless unbearable adult rationalizations came rushing in like a storm, saying, “Well, but things don't usually work out that way, do they? When you are a member of society, you must take reputation and position into account, and in the long run, Hitagi might also find it hard to live such a stubborn life. Besides, it's self-evident that various procedures would become troublesome if we don't enter the marriage registry, so, on the contrary, if it's just a matter of a single piece of paper, it would be best not to fuss about it and get it over with.”

But wait, what’s this? Has Araragi-kun suddenly become so enlightened that he begins to admonish all those ordinary families who have married uncomplainingly and blandly, keeping their own surnames? The times have changed. Nowadays, you can even go by your maiden name at work. Don't be so annoying and nitpicky about it. People like that aren’t popular, you know?

In all honesty, the idea of living with Oikura is tolerable, but the notion of taking Hitagi as a common-law wife is rather unsavory. As a career officer of the Japanese police force and an unofficial member of the FBI, it wouldn’t be surprising if I suddenly died in the line of duty, at least to the same extent as that hellish Spring Break. With the chances of an unforeseen accident being about fifty-fifty, I would rather avoid a situation where Hitagi might be kept from witnessing my final moments due to a bureaucratic technicality like a discrepancy in our last names. I'm sure everyone is well aware of how prone I am to life-threatening situations. No insurance company would ever enroll me in a life insurance policy.

On the other hand, the reverse was also a possibility.

Hitagi worked in the Japanese branch of a foreign financial firm, and you might think her life wouldn't be in any real danger. But she once confided that because she deals with massive amounts of money within the company daily, when she’s seriously out and about, she needs the accompaniment of bodyguards who cling to her like stalkers. I’m not sure if she was pulling my leg, but every time she leaves her home, she carries the latest version of her will with her.

“How strange, I was once swindled out of all my possessions, and now my job is akin to that of a swindler, treating strangers' money as my own and making it multiply incessantly—through stocks, foreign exchange, and cryptocurrencies that I'm not even sure really exist. It's all an enigmatic, ethereal mystery.”

Though her words carried a hint of self-mockery, it was because she had been both a pampered heiress in a mansion and a penniless tenant in a wooden box that she had managed to acquire certain skills. Good or bad, she believed that money was but an illusory thing.

Of course, that's not to say that she could approve of the person she was when she lost her weight and her mother… no, that too was a cherished memory and a cherished trauma.

It could never be forgotten.

Right.

These were the life experiences of Senjougahara Hitagi. Could they really be covered up with just my surname? As if erasing her individuality.

“I think the name change is fun, like a game. But why do you care so much, Koyomi? Is it because you're thinking of another person?”

“Another person?”

It's hard to ignore the seemingly lighthearted remark that it's like a fun game, it feels all the more like an attempt to escape reality. But for now, let’s let it slide. So, who could this other person be?

“Shinobu. Although I’m not sure if I can call her a human person. Come to think of it, Koyokoyo, wasn't it during that Spring Break that you cruelly stole her name?”

Koyokoyo.

The endearing nickname I miss so much…

I also used to call her by the nickname “Gahara-san,” but after she changed her surname, I could no longer address her in this way. It’s embarrassing for adults like us to use such nicknames, but hearing that I could never use it again made me feel as if I had been deprived of a basic human right, leaving me in a state of distress.

It was true, no matter how you put it: the King of Aberrations, the iron-blooded, hot-blooded, cold-blooded Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade— the name of the vampire who has lived for six hundred years.

But it was taken from her, just like life itself.

After losing her prestigious title, the oddity specialist Oshino Meme gave her a new name— Oshino Shinobu.

The man in a Hawaiian shirt said, employing his specialist's surname as a constraint, he would seal her away, deeply and securely.

Which, to be honest, was contradictory and riddled with double standards. Yet, for me, calling her Oshino Shinobu resonated truer and felt more befitting for her as I have known her by that name for longer.

Of course, nobody refers to her as Kiss-Shot Acerola-Orion Heart-Under-Blade nowadays, but there seems to be a faction of specialists who still call her the “Old Heart-Under-Blade.”

Old Heart-Under-Blade.

What an antiquated name.

“When you think about it, it's a strange and wonderful thing to have the word 'old' added to your name. Don’t you think so, Old Gahara-san?”

“Indeed, if you are going to keep calling me that, I don't want to continue this conversation.”

“I have already experienced the guilt of taking away someone's name… What's going on with this marriage, it's like I'm making the same mistakes over again.”

“It's almost like a de facto remarriage.”

“No, it's a first marriage, actually.”

Although this example exposed the depths of my subconscious, it didn’t entirely resolve the issue which had already taken deep root. It seemed that because I had done it once before, I no longer cared about doing it again now, as if to say that killing one person was the same as killing two. This frightening thought was something that neither Japan nor America would endorse.

Rather, should we not learn from our mistakes?

That had been an emergency measure taken out of necessity for Shinobu, so it couldn’t be said that it was entirely wrong… In this day and age, I can't help but think there might have been another way to do it. It's hard not to question whether my decision to barely keep alive by turning the vampire— the King of Aberrations— that otherwise faced certain death, into my slave, was an immature one, driven by a child's desire for simplicity.

Even as the former Heart-Under-Blade happily gobbles on Mister Donuts in my shadow… And since it's acceptable to use your original family name in the workplace, why then must we discriminate and not apply the same rule to other situations?

With this in mind, I might as well create a business card featuring my Senjougahara pseudonym while at work. I wonder if it's possible to mark your former name on the police officer's guidebook. I'd have to ask Chief Kouga about that next time.

“A seemingly insignificant battle, huh? Ah, yes, an infinitesimally small skirmish indeed.”

“Sounds like you're saying ‘overmorrow's tomorrow.’”

“Even if you were to take the name Senjougahara, it wouldn't make any difference. It won't even make you feel better. It's like we share the same hardships, but it's not the same at all, it's not. The constant labeling of hardships might be painful as well.”

“Do we have no choice but to fight against the state?”

“That’d be quite the unexpected turn of events. Just imagine your high school supporters, they would be flabbergasted as they watch Araragi Koyomi take on the world of politics in a sequel.”

“But I can't overlook those die-hard fans' support. So, should I run for office under the name Senjougahara Koyomi?”

“In that case, to ease the voter process, it might be best to simplify the complex kanji in 'Senjougahara,’ say, using hiragana instead.”

“Must I change my name even if I run for office? Just because it's hard to write. What a troublesome thing, follows me everywhere. But revolutionaries didn't use their real names either.”

“Are we talking about starting a revolution now, like Hanekawa-san?”

“I can't use my real name to run a campaign and cause trouble for my parents. I'm not that unfilial.”

“I wonder about that. It may not be limited to revolutionaries. Nowadays, it seems that a pseudonym one can choose themselves is more valued.”

The conversation had delved into the complicated topic of real names versus pseudonyms… In such an era when anonymity is held in high regard, aren't real names becoming more important than ever? Apparently, in the past, one could not reveal their real name to anyone other than their parents.

“I'm not sure if I can let such a thing be erased on a whim.”

“Was marrying me also on a whim, Koyomi?”

“I retract my previous statement and apologize under the name of Senjougahara Koyomi.”

“You are apologizing under a pseudonym.”

“I apologize under the name of Sen jou ga ha ra Koyomi.”

“Please stop apologizing like a politician. I don't want such a person to be the future chief of the National Police Agency.”

“Your demands are too high for a husband.”

“Philosophy and thought do warrant contemplation, but let's think more about the pressing needs of life, Koyomi. Weren't we supposed to be excitedly discussing our honeymoon destination?”

Right, we were.

Having completed the wedding ceremony, with a god as our witness, and the tedious paperwork, we had finally settled down and arranged a meeting, albeit belatedly, to discuss our long-awaited honeymoon plans.

Although the novel coronavirus could be said to have been eradicated from the earth, given that I currently have a foothold in the FBI and Hitagi is a young leader at the Japanese branch of a foreign firm, we were communicating remotely more often than not. Nevertheless, we both understand the importance of a meaningful face-to-face conversation. After all, it would be impolite not to attend to such a significant matter in person.

Our wedding had narrowly avoided taking place entirely remotely, but fortunately, it was held with only family members present, regardless of any infectious disease-related concerns. It was charming and intimate.

“The only thing I regret is not getting to drag empty cans behind the car; I wanted to try it.”²

“Back in the old days, you would've tied me to the car and dragged me around the city as a public execution. But a honeymoon, huh?”

To begin with, neither Hitagi nor I were particularly fond of traveling; in fact, we both frequently shuttled across the Pacific Ocean. So, the word “travel” doesn't strike a deep chord in me. It's merely a transfer through different places, and it's difficult to attribute more significance to it.

I'd much prefer leisurely chats at home like this—without having to specifically go somewhere.

“I agree. Why not take a short trip then? How about the supermarket?”

“That’s too close.”

“But it sounds so super.”

“Well, you have a point. Supermarket is a pretty bold name.”

“But then, if the honeymoon has no significance, we’d better have not had a wedding at all, since it wouldn't be significant anyway.”

This statement sounds like something the old Hitagi would say—not Araragi Hitagi, but Senjougahara Hitagi.

In fact, many people these days consider weddings to be a grand waste of money, and couples often quarrel during their honeymoon, that’s why “Narita Divorce” gets thrown around as a phrase.³

Nowadays, you might also hear “Haneda Divorce” or “Kanku Divorce.”⁴

“Traveling has a way of revealing a couple's true nature, for better or worse. That's why I think it's a necessary ceremony.”

“A ceremony, huh?”

Surprisingly, Oshino was a man who valued such customs.

We can't take this lightly, then… considering our relationship.

“Speaking of which, that plan to go to Hokkaido to eat crab still hasn't come to fruition.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go?”

“It’s tempting to tie up loose ends like a completed achievement, but it might not be the best season for that. I'd rather enjoy the best crab in wintertime anyway, that's what I really want.”

It's a tough one. Hokkaido, seemingly near but further than Washington D.C., has gradually taken on the nuance of being saved for our enjoyment during our twilight years. However, since we have refrained from indulging up until this point, it is only natural to savor the finest crab in the ideal setting of Hokkaido.

Yet as we speak, the warming of Hokkaido progresses at a steady pace. By the time we reached our retirement years, would it still be a snowy landscape?

“If we were to travel overseas, I think we should consider Europe or Africa. Including South America, both of us travel to the Americans for work often. Or what do you think about crossing the Atlantic Ocean?”

“There is also Oceania. Why not eat crab in Australia? I think you can't climb Ayers Rock anymore… Maybe New Zealand?”

“Apparently the stars there are beautiful. It's famed as a World Heritage of starry skies, they're even working to register it as an actual World Heritage site or something.”

A bit vague, but hmm.

Come to think of it, ever since high school—no, even before that during her sheltered upbringing, Hitagi has had a profound love for the starry skies. An unapologetic adoration.

If I recall, our first date was also at an observatory.

“In that case, what about revisiting that observatory nearby? It's only a few hours' drive.”

“Might take a bit longer if we dragged a heap of cans behind.”

“We probably shouldn't try that on Japanese roads, you know.”

As a cop, I couldn't pardon this.

The idea of revisiting a dating spot from our youth was not a bad one, but Hitagi didn't seem too keen on it, and she exaggeratedly tilted her head—a gesture straight out of the anime.

"What's up. If there are no lodging facilities, we could rent a camper van or something. The state should…"

"There's no need to bring up the state for that. You should be able to rent a car by yourself, right? Anyway, over there, I go pretty often, usually with my dad and Kanbaru."

"Really?"

While I was training as an FBI investigator, Senjougahara and Kanbaru rekindled their relationship… It's good that she's getting along with her family, which was delicate for a time, but still.

Whether that's how she truly feels or not, at least Hitagi says it's fine with her, but what does her father—and my in-law—think about it?

To have the surname he gave his daughter smeared by some random guy's…

Whoops, gotta stop thinking about it. If I'm not careful, my thoughts get pulled in that direction. The gravity of the issue is too strong.

I'm sure the meaning is just as precious either way, but the name Senjougahara is quite rare, so I can't help but contemplate the loss…

"Rather than somewhere you always go, like the supermarket, it should be somewhere special for the ceremony. If it's too familiar, the memories don't stick as strongly. Shouldn't you make memories of going somewhere you've wanted to, like an observatory? Or New Zealand is good, but wasn't there an amazing one in Hawaii or something?"

“Hmm. Electronic telescopes on that scale exceed my realm of expertise. But in the end, it seems we come back to America. Another idea is to go all the way to the Arctic Circle to see the auroras.”

“The Arctic. Mm, I wonder if Kagenui-san is doing all right.”

She doesn't live at the North Pole year-round of course, but when I hear “Arctic” she’s the first thing I think of—her and her shikigami. With that shikigami we could go anywhere in an instant... But the days of merrily living with a corpse doll under the same roof ended quite some time ago. Fraternizing with corpses is strictly forbidden nowadays.

The auroras. Not an uninteresting prospect.

I believe they can be observed either in Canada or the Nordic countries. If given a choice between the two, I would lean towards the latter in this case.

How about Finland, often said to be the closest to Europe? Who wouldn't want to taste the cinnamon rolls straight from their birthplace? The progress of women's social advancement in the Nordic countries is also noteworthy, and I assume, with a vague image in mind, that there wouldn't be any stipulation requiring spouses to share the same surname.

“Aha!”

And then it struck me.

It struck me like a shooting star.

As I've grown older, my brain has lost its freshness, and such instant inspirations have become all too rare these days. But at this moment, I felt that I had truly been hit by inspiration.

Not merely a shooting star, it could be likened to the brilliance of the Aurora itself.

Too bad about the Finnish licorice, but there was no need to cross the ocean for one. Couldn't there be an equally fantastic location in our very own country for our honeymoon? Although we wouldn’t be able to see any auroras for sure, the destination would more than compensate for it. We could call it a return to our roots.

Nay, there's no other way to describe it other than our roots.

“Senjougahara.”

“What? Do you still intend to rebel against our nation?”

“No, no, it's my love for our country! And our honeymoon destination.”

“……”

“Let's go to Senjougahara. According to our class president who knows everything, it's one of Japan's most beautiful marshlands for stargazing.”

Next Chapter

Originally: "DV". Refers to domestic violence in Japan, where men who were previously reserved but become violent after marriage are called "DV Men".

Dragging empty cans behind a car is a couple activity, the loud clatter they produce being a symbol of auspiciousness.

Tokyo Narita Airport is the largest international airport in Japan, and a necessary stop for many newlywed couples traveling abroad. However, because some shortcomings or habits of each person are exposed during the trip, many couples choose to divorce after leaving Narita Airport when their honeymoon comes to an end.

Haneda: Tokyo Haneda Airport. Kanku: Kansai International Airport. 

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to establish a better social system via a war?

I (F23) am the Emperor of a land rife with political corruption. I have inherited an absolute nightmare thanks to the men who betrayed my father and left him a shell of his former self. I was imprisoned underneath the palace as a child and subjected to cruel experiments at the whim of these men. All ten of my siblings perished. The experiments done on me embued me with a magical power in addition to the one I was born with-- however, the human body is not meant to hold two of them, and my lifespan has been greatly reduced. The man in charge of the experiments (M1,100+) took the guise of my uncle, the Lord Regent, and has been using me as his puppet to take the continent back from the dragons that took it from his people over a thousand years ago. Only a few of these dragons remain, one of whom (F1,100+) established the current social order in an attempt to control humanity. I despise the system she has created, as not only has it lead to my current situation, but the unfair treatment of countless people over a millenia. I believe that it is not right for people to inherit power because of their bloodline. I want to establish a system where anyone can make a change as long as they work hard. No longer shall people be treated like prized livestock, nor shall the "unblessed" be looked over in favor of their inept peers.

I have done some unfortunate things in trying to free my people from the unjust system. My "uncle" manipulated me into starting a war that has waged on for five years. I knew war was inevitable, yet I did not wish for it to be under his hand. My right hand man (M26) is hard at work trying to undermine him, and while we are successful, if we make too many mistakes, my "uncle" has threatened to take away my free will with his magic.

I recently have received Intel that the Prince of the Northern Kingdom, my estranged step-brother (M23), escaped his supposed execution and has been wandering the wilderness for the last few years clamoring on about killing me. I also found out a former teacher at my school (NB???) was recently found alive and has joined up with the Duke of the Eastern Alliance (M23). My former classmates have joined up with them, and my heart breaks at the thought of killing them. Yet they do not truly understand what I am fighting for. I wish it were easy, that I could convince them to join my side, but it is likely I will have to drive them down. AITA for trying to make the world a better place by force?

Edit: No, I am not the Emperor of Flame who submitted a post last week. I do, however, feel pity for him being in such a similar situation, even if the "showing a man his amnesiac wife before setting him ablaze" part was definitely overkill.

[munsoninthedark86]

Country Girl(Eddie Munson x Fem!Country!Reader)

word count: 1.1k

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Country!reader

warnings: bullying, mentions of blood, some swearing, fluffiness

a/n: I cannot tell you how happy I am that you enjoy my content! Thank you so much for requesting!!! I also understand what it is to have an accent that people make fun of me for. This isn't so much Eddie with a country girl, but more of a fic about Eddie defending the cute new girl with a sweet accent. I hope you enjoy! Send in more requests if you'd like!

Your first day at Hawkins’ high was a disaster. You dreaded the fact that you had to move because of your father’s work. It wasn’t fair that you wouldn’t be graduating with your best friends. Instead, you had to graduate with a bunch of strangers. How were you supposed to make any good connections during your senior year? It wasn’t a good first day; no, not one bit.

It didn’t help that everyone stared at you, and lots of people gave you funny looks. You barely could find your way around the school. Nobody wanted to sit with you at lunch. Your classmates would all make fun of your accent too. You tried to conceal it a little bit, but it wasn’t hard for them to tease it out of you. You felt like crying and just running away. It was becoming so fucking tough to even just cope with this being your first day.

But it’s when Jason and his goons come around at the end of the day, that’s when it all hits you. You are different from these kids. They don’t care about you and none of them will.

“Hey there, darlin’.” Jason mocks your accent, and you look down at your feet.

“Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything to anyone.”

His goons laugh, and soon Jason is continuing to mock your accent. You wish you could just disappear. It’s so unfair to have to deal with this. You figured that someone who was of so much importance to this school would try to be nice to the new kid. Tears stung your eyes and you fought back the rage that was building up in your gut. It really kills you inside to know that you’ll never have any more connections.

“Hey, dickhead! Don’t you have anything better to do?” A voice calls from down the hall. You all turn to see who’s calling out.

You weren’t sure if this man was an angel, but all you know is that he saved you. Jason backs off and immediately goes up to the guy in question. You can’t take your eyes off the guy, who has such big hair and big eyes. He eyes you for a moment, then he smirks when Jason comes over to him.

“Ahhh, you two would make a perfect couple. The freak and the country bumpkin.”

“Why don’t you just piss off and go throw your dumb balls? She didn’t do anything to you, and neither did I.”

Jason frowns at the guy’s words. He thinks about it for a moment before deciding that neither of you are worth his time. He calls to his goons and they all walk off. You get up from the bench and decide to leave the school, but your name is being called. You turn to see that it’s the guy who stood up for you.

“What do you want? You want to lay in on me now too?”

He smirks, “Of course not. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He walks over to you and he places his hand on yours. There’s immediately an electric feeling between the two of you.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

“No problem. You’re in a few of my classes, right? I’m Eddie Munson.” His smile was so infectious.

From that moment on, you and Eddie became inseparable. He would take you everywhere in Hawkins and show you the best places to hang out. He even showed you how to play D&D and you became a member of the Hellfire club. But you never expected to fall for Eddie. He had just been a kind soul to stand up for you, but the more you spent time with him, the more you found yourself falling for him.

Today was hard. It reminded you of your first day. You were trying so hard to hold it all together when Jason stopped you in the hall. His goons are all around the two of you, and you wonder if this time Jason will actually hit you. You’re a little scared considering he had been leaving you alone for the most part.

“Look guys, it’s our little country bumpkin. I guess you lost your accent, didn’t you?” His tone is teasing and mean.

“Get bent, Jason! I’m so sick and tired of you!” You shout, pushing him away from you. Jason scowls and soon he’s pressing you up against the wall.

“I’m not done with you. You think just because that freak is your friend that you’re safe. Well you’re not,” Jason explains, his hot breath hitting you in the face. He couldn’t be any closer if he even tried.

“Get off of me!” You cry out, hoping to catch someone’s attention. It’s no use, Jason is going to have his little fun right here.

It’s not long before he’s slamming you harder against the wall, and his hand comes out to slap you. But before it even hits you, you feel the weight of Jason being pulled off of you. His goons are all howling at the scene unfolding before all of you. Eddie is on top of Jason, and he’s laying into him. Your eyes grow wide as you realize that Eddie is beating up Jason just for you. Your heart swells at the bravery.

“Just get lost, Jason. Leave us both the fuck alone!” Eddie finally spits out, his knuckles a little bloody. Jason looks shocked.

“Whatever. You’re both freaks! You deserve each other!”

Jason’s goons help him up, and they all leave. You’re left there, speechless at what’s going on. You never thought that Eddie would hit Jason, but you’re happy he was here to save you once more.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asks, and he comes up to you. His hand cups your cheek and he’s inspecting your face.

“He didn’t hit me. I’m okay.”

Eddie smiles so sweetly, “Good. I’m glad. If he would have hit your pretty face, I would have killed him.”

You blush, “Come on, Eddie. It’s no big deal. You know Jason hates me because I’m a country girl. These kids don’t understand me.”

Eddie’s eyes are so filled with different emotions. But you can tell there’s a lot of pain there. He sighs softly before cupping your face and pulling you closer.

“You have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?” You try to protest, but he only quiets you with a simple, sweet kiss.

Your knees feel weak and your mind is swirling with all kinds of thoughts. You swear your heart is about to burst out of your chest. You try to steady yourself, but Eddie wraps an arm around your waist to pull you forward.

“Baby, you drive me crazy.” Eddie breathes when he finally pulls away.

“Don’t tease me like that,”

He chuckles, “I am not teasing you. You drive me crazy, my little cowgirl.”

And with that, Eddie takes your hand in his and he walks you out of the school. It doesn’t matter what happens next, you think to yourself, because you’ll always have Eddie there with you.

[mha-grievances]

I wanted to say that Izuku attainting OFA was a good idea, because Izuku's quirkless nature should have helped him understand Hero society in a different light unlike his classmates with few exceptions (Shouji, Shoto, etc.) who take the status quo for granted. But Hori can't stop whitewashing Bakugo's actions towards Izuku, this never gets explored to Izuku's detriment. Not to mention AM past being quirkless, how much did OFA warp his perspective before Izuku reminded him again about the true meaning of being a hero.

If I had my way, I would have Izuku have little to no struggle mastering OFA, of course build up his strength overtime. But Izuku would be the OverDog, someone powerless thrusted with an immense power. Kind of like One Punch Man only more dramatic because a teenager with mental issues and heroic nature effectively has the power of Superman. Now Izuku would have to ask himself some serious questions about what kind of hero he wants to be and why. Does fighting as a hero mean upholding hero society for all its flaws or does it need to be teared down for something better. How much is a hero still a hero before he is a vigilante or even a revolutionary? Which should be a good lesson for kids and young adults reading this story, because it's not enough to covet an important position of power like Naruto wanting to be Hokage, Luffy being the Pirate King or being Number 1 hero but what are you going to do after attainting this position? They need to understand the burden of responsibility rather then putting a fancy title on their resume.

But Hori wasted this opportunity by having Izuku as the fake underdog, struggling with mastering OFA as his main focus in the story. Izuku spent his time worried about mastering OFA rather then thinking about the flaws and ways to fix things. Its also a waste of world building potential because if Izuku is self-reflective like he supposed to be, then he could have been sympathizing with villains or view certain heroes as no different than bullies like at his middle school. Suddenly what was once black and white has become grey, even All-Might can't give him any good answers because the Hero Society he has built is the legacy that he fought so hard for and doesn't see anything wrong with it yet. We could have disagreements between Izuku and All-Might about these issues and what kind of purpose should OFA be about before and after AFO was revealed to be alive and ready for revenge.

This is why I hate the Quirkless Hero Izuku stories because the way Hero society is structured, it would never have allowed for Izuku to succeed in the first place. Eraserhead would have expelled him, schools would firmly reject him and people would just laugh at him for being arrogant to think he could provide any value in the field besides his smarts which could be suited elsewhere.

A quirkless Izuku would require a change of personality and plot armor for him to prevail. These stories become all about the Struggle rather then how twisted and unfair the system. Even compensating with technology devalues Izuku's character because he loves studying quirks! It makes him a great leader helping him bulid teams for the right scenario and placing value in everyone's quirk no matter how useless or villainous it may be. Having technology to compete with quirks would become impossible without changing the setting entirely.

A quirkless Izuku would also seem self-centered at this point because yes he wants to be a hero, but he could be a Police officer or firefighter to satisfy his heroic impulses. It could even be a point in the original story, which is partly why i think many people still feel that frustrated about this subject because Hori failed or was reluctant to explore this topic with Izuku and covers for Bakugo's BS. Man I sound like a broken record, it always leads back to Bakugo lol.

I definitely agree with the first half.

With the second half, I think a quirkless hero would definitely work, but you’d also have to place limits on what can be achieved. As a hero, Izuku would be street level. Think Batman, DareDevil, and Punisher. He wouldn’t go after people that can shatter buildings with a punch. He’d go after people running drug cartels and involved with gang activity. About 85% of people in the MHA world would die to some bloke with a gun, so have him fight those people instead of the ones that can’t. He doesn’t have to be a line light hero because that was never his goal to begin with. He just wanted to help people. He can also use technology to fight people since the tech in MHA is extremely advanced, but keep in mind that Izuku doesn’t have the funds to create all the things he might want to, so he’d have to stick with some more basic stuff until he can afford the materials to build something better.

[chaoticgeminate]

Love and Red

Summary: Teagan had always seen the little red strings, never her own for some reason, but always everyone else's.

Rating: General Audiences (Dedication Fanfic is Explicit)

Notes: This is a fanfiction of a fanfiction, which I feel is becoming my thing to be honest. This is dedicated to the lovely @leslie-lyman and Stranger at my Gate. Glimpses of Pero and Tessa's story through the eyes of an outsider. This is posted with her permission!

Please check out her stories (if you're over 18, minors are not allowed) and send her some love!

Teagan had always seen the little red strings, never her own for some reason, but always everyone else’s. Connecting pinkies with little red bows, sometimes they went on for miles and miles with no end in sight and sometimes they were right beside each other. A husband and wife, a pair of brothers, grandparent and grandchild. In the past it was said to be the red string of fate that bound lovers’ souls, but now she knew that it wasn’t just romantic love that the strings would show.

Platonic love between two best friends, familial love between old and new generations, all of it was love and all of it was beautiful. But romantic love when reciprocated glowed like Christmas lights, glittering like something precious, and sometimes Teagan would just watch the people in town who found their string mate. 

Wonder why she didn’t have one, or if she did why she couldn’t see it.

This made growing up difficult in a different way than just small-town popularity contests, seeing her classmates with their strings and people around town with theirs; she’d always been called absent-minded or stupid because of the distractions with the colorful shades of red that invaded her life. But there was one girl who had a string that was dull, present but so very faint, and Teagan had thought it unfair that someone as kind as Tessa Walsh had a string that she couldn’t see the end of.

Most people had strings that traveled miles across rooms, across streets and lakes and oceans, whenever theirs wasn’t close by; but Tessa’s string looked like it led to the woods but it never moved to indicate there was someone on the other end. Teagan had tried following it once when her parents had been busy at work and left her on her own, back in middle school, but the string vanished in the middle of the woods near the strangest trees she’d ever seen.

Teagan had no explanation, not that she even knew how she saw the strings to begin with, and after that she could only hope that one day Tessa’s string mate would appear. Taking advantage of the fact that she was as good as invisible to everyone, hiding her eyes -such a pale blue, are we sure she isn’t blind, her mother had once remarked- behind the long strands of mousy brown hair that she allowed to fall over her face when she turned her head down to do her work in school was how she managed to get through her youth.

Learning and observing more and more about the strings while her father taught her all manner of hobbies, it had been his attempt to encourage something to keep her wandering attention and to a degree it had worked, she was sort of an all-around artist. Pottery, ceramics, blown glass, painting… it was things she had done with her dad and things that she did when the loneliness was a little too loud.

University had been the largest factor that stopped her from focusing on the strings as hard as she usually did, there were too many and her schoolwork was so much more challenging, but that behavior carried over even after she graduated. Even as she watched people pair off, meet their string mates, as she watched some strings thin out as friendships faded or break when loved ones were lost.

Teagan’s career practically stumbled into her, if she were being honest, she’d always sold things she made as a small side hustle. Blown glass charm bracelets, beads, and figurines; wooden figurines or beads carved and painted as well as pottery and small paintings. All custom made, all handcrafted, and all of them well loved by the recipients.

One such recipient had been writing a romance novel, had plans to try and sell it, but wanted the cover art style that was practically gone now. Instead of Canva style images she’d wanted an oil painting picture, the classic look, and paid two other students to be the models for it while Teagan had painted it.

Never had she imagined becoming the next Elaine Duillo but it had happened after Time Lost hit the shelves and novelists began blowing up her professional email for requests to paint covers for their books too.

Moving back to her childhood home was done quietly, her parents retired and moved South so she’d bought their place from them since she had no siblings, and the entire ground floor was turned into a storefront and studio. Being as busy as she was with getting her new store situated, her painting studio ready, had meant that she hadn’t been paying attention until one day she went to go shopping and saw something she thought impossible.

Tessa Walsh was walking beside a man at the grocery store, he was tall and imposing but when she wasn’t looking he watched her with the softest expressions, and between their hands the red string was vibrant with the faintest of a glow. Romantic love, not yet requited, but there; Teagan felt like an idiot standing in the produce section with a head of cabbage in her hand gaping but it was beautiful.

The glow of it was red with the faintest glimmers of gold, something she’d never seen before really, and Teagan abruptly snapped her mouth closed to turn around. Unaware that Tessa’s new companion had actually noticed her, more because of her sudden movement than anything, she returned to grabbing her groceries and thanking whatever powers that be for Tessa’s good fortune.

Teagan was hard at work, with Thanksgiving around the corner the ornaments and handcrafted figurines were all selling out so fast, her pottery wheel felt like a slave driver and sleep was hard to manage with the stress of keeping everything on the shelves. Just like last year she’d known this time of the year was going to be a warzone on her sanity, a lonely Thanksgiving coupled with a lonely Christmas had led to her spending more and more time in her studio or in the store for the span of the last three months of the year.

The backlog of book covers to paint was growing, even though they weren’t actually due for at least a few months -as she specifically told people that October through December were dates she would not be painting covers- but they were still there. Thom stopped by to pick up the bulk order of ornaments that they sold at the tree farm for her, after he’d stumbled in looking for a gift for Amie the first year Teagan had her studio open she’d offered to sell them to the Walshes at production cost in exchange for word of mouth advertisement, and he ended up staying long enough to help clear the room out when he saw how frazzled she was. 

“You could come to ours for Thanksgiving, you know, not a single Walsh would turn you away. We’ll also cut your tree before the official opening, since your ornaments always do well.”

“I could never impose, Thom, but thank you. Tell the others I said Happy Thanksgiving. I’ll be around for my tree after the farm opens. It’s crazy busy this time of the year, you know?”

He left while reminding her that if she came by she wouldn’t be turned away if she changed her mind, making her grin slightly, and Teagan took the brief respite of an empty shop to restock what she could on the actual shelves before working to paint some of the dried pottery pieces waiting to be finished.

What she hadn’t counted on was Henry making an appearance a few days later, also extending an invitation to Thanksgiving at the Walsh residence, and Teagan laughed at the man before sending him on his way with a painting he’d commissioned of a whimsical forest scene at night with fairies hidden in the shadows of fireflies and a sleeping family of foxes just barely visible in their den.

Teagan spent Thanksgiving with a microwave meal and her pottery wheel, her paintings didn’t sell as fast as the other things she sold so those were fine, and she had a surplus of pre-made pieces that would last at least four days. Which meant that the Saturday after Thanksgiving she could join the others in town and watch the lighting of the tree, spotting Amie and Thom and the other Walshes watching proudly.

But Teagan was drawn to the golden glow that had nearly engulfed all the red in Tessa’s string connecting her to Pero, it was new and strange for her. It made her think of hope and fear and change, like Pero and Tessa were on the precipice of something and unsure of what they were going to do.

“Hey Teagan, didn’t see you for Thanksgiving?”

Henry and Martin’s greeting made her jump nearly out of her boots.

“Oh, uh, I was trying to catch up on stock. It’s uh, I wasn’t expecting so many people to come actually find my studio. Figured they’d just buy what they needed from the tree farm since its all in one place, you know?”

Martin pulled her into a tight hug.

“Hey, don’t you dare downplay your work. People love what you make, Amie and Thom said they give out your business cards to nearly everyone that comes to pay for their tree because they ask about what else you make. You thinking about hiring anyone to help?”

“I mean, I should but right now I just need to find my footing first. So, uh, Tessa’s… boyfriend? He from Chicago too?”

Henry and Martin both chuckled and you peered around them to see Tessa leading Pero away down toward the rest of town.

“Pero and Tessa aren’t dating, not yet at least.”

“Oh, I just- I thought that they were. They love each other so-”

“I knew we weren’t the only ones to see it! Tessa is being stubborn about it, even the kids know..”

“Their string is so bright, it’s obvious.”

“String?”

Panic seized Teagan momentarily, a reminder why she didn’t really go out of her way to converse with too many people on the topic of love, she’d never really been good at stopping herself.

“Red string of fate, you know? They love each other so much that anyone can see it.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed only a little but Martin laughed softly, accepting it as a playful sort of answer, and Teagan could have kissed Miss Moira when she called for Henry and Martin. Sneaking away so they wouldn’t find her, cowardly as it was, led to Teagan nearly stumbling on a lightshow that only she could see.

Pero and Tessa were kissing and the glow of red and gold around them was radiant, in a way that made Teagan’s eyes water, it was a love that was so beautiful but there was something sad about it too. She hadn’t really ever felt the emotions that came from a string, not until she touched it, but their love was so strong that even from so far away she could feel it like a summer bonfire.

They didn’t see her when they left, thankfully, but as Teagan watched them leave she was struck with the realization that the string had lost the golden tint now that they’d evidently figured it out. But that didn’t explain why they had gold in theirs to begin with and she was suddenly wondering who, or what, Pero Tovar was.

Henry cornered her in her own store not long before the Solstice, Teagan suspected he’d put aside time after work before going home for the day, and she gave up the fight and instead let him stay as she flipped the closed sign over and let him sit down in one of the wooden rocking chairs that she’d inherited with the house. He cast a major judging expression over her microwavable dinner that was half-eaten and cold, hidden behind the counter, but she could care less about that.

“What is it, Henry?”

“You weren’t lying or joking, were you, about seeing the red strings of fate.”

“No, and I promise you I’m not crazy-”

He stopped her before she could work herself up, the shaking in her hands as she sat on her counter turned register table stopped as he held them still, and tapped her nose gently.

“Teagan, I come from a family of magic too. Can you tell me about Pero and Tessa’s string?”

“Well… it’s different. I mean, it’s a romantic love so it glitters like red Christmas lights now that it’s reciprocated but there’s gold in it and I’ve never seen it before. It’s also kind of… sad? Like it feels like the two of them have a powerful choice to make and they’re both hesitating.”

“You’re not wrong about that, is the string thing why you don’t really branch out and come to anything smaller than a town size event?”

Teagan felt her throat tighten.

“I just get overwhelmed-”

“Can you see your own string?”

The fact that he figured her out so quickly should have felt painful, it should have made her angry, but instead she felt defeated.

“No, I can’t. I can see all of it, the romantic strings and familial strings and platonic ones but I can’t see my own.”

Henry was quiet for a long moment before he wrapped her into a tight hug.

“If you feel alone you should stop running from us, I won’t tell anyone else about this except Martin -he is my husband- but I promise you that everyone in my family would understand.”

“Thank you, Henry.”

“You should really eat some actual food and not… those.”

“The last time I tried to cook I nearly blew up the oven, so if I do have a soulmate out there they better be able to cook.”

Henry stared at her for a long time before he shook his head and left, the insanity of the solstice had almost made her forget about her Christmas tree but Teagan remembered when she walked into the upstairs living room and stared at the empty corner of the room. Tomorrow she’d have to venture over to the farm, before the shop got busy, and Teagan nearly jumped down the stairs when she remembered she’d left the half eaten microwave meal down there.

Maybe Henry was right to be worried but she was fine.

What Teagan hadn’t realized was that she’d meet Pero the next day, pulling up to see the tree farm busy as ever, and after choosing a small tree -one that was easier to heft up the stairs- she nearly stumbled into the taller man before he caught her so she didn’t fall backward into someone else. 

“I’m so sorry-!”

“Apologies, did you need something?”

“Oh uh, I was going to find Thom so I could get my tree-”

“I can assist you, I am Pero Tovar, which tree?”

He looked at the tree that was only a little taller than she was with a faint smile and Teagan couldn’t help but let her hand brush through the golden and red string, it was back to being gold with only flashes of red for some reason, but the overwhelming sense of hope and pleading cut through her like lightning.

They had a big choice to make indeed but she didn’t know what it could be or why it was gold other than magic being the answer. When in doubt just blame magic, after all, since she had nothing else to go on.

“If you are anything like Tessa with her decorations this will be buried in lights and baubles.”

“Oh, uh, I only really put lights on my tree. I sell ornaments, I made all the wood and glass ones that Thom brought back before Thanksgiving-”

“You are Teagan? That is very fine, delicate, work. Very impressive.”

“Thank you.”

“What else is it that you make?”

“Paintings, pottery, ceramics, bracelet charms, jewelry, wooden figures… just about anything really.”

Pero hummed as he carried her tree to be wrapped up, the size of it and his strength making it easy to carry, and Teagan noticed the abrupt way the string seemed to begin moving and imagined Tessa had her own things to handle this season.

“I will have to come by your store then, to find a present for Tessa.”

“Of course, and I make things custom as well so if you don’t see something you like then just let me know. It’ll take a little longer to make if its brand new to me but it shouldn’t be that long of a wait.”

Pero tucked her tree into the bed of her pick up and after she paid for her purchase, along with a light scolding from Amie about missing Thanksgiving, Teagan was on her way home and asking the fates again to be kind to Tessa. They weren’t exactly friends but Tessa had always been kind and Teagan still believed that if anyone deserved a powerful love like what she had with Pero that it was Tessa.

It was sometime after Christmas that she found herself at peace, finally, the shop was less hectic and things were quiet. Teagan had her easel out in the storefront today and was working on the first of many backlog book covers, the likelihood of anyone actually coming in was basically slim except she heard the cheerful bell and looked up to see Pero looking around curiously.

“Pero!”

His string was red, pure glittering red and pulsing like a heartbeat, radiating joy and happiness and serenity at long last.

“This is far more than I expected. Where is it you live if this is your store?”

“Oh, uh, upstairs. I remodeled the downstairs into a large open concept store and studio, so upstairs I took down non-support walls to make a living room area since I live alone and don’t really need all the extra bedrooms.”

The house was an old Victorian anyway, three floors with a basement, though the interior had long-since been remodeled to something much more modern; she still had a lot of space she wasn’t exactly using here.

“Practical.”

He was perusing the pottery and ceramics, the plates and serving trays and bowls, the sets of brightly colored and patterned pieces were always eye-catching. He looked at each plate, each small serving bowl, and each little part of one of the more vibrant tapas sets she’d put together after seeing a few online that she really liked.

“Is this sold as a set?”

“Yep!”

“Tessa does love to cook, this would look good when she hosts dinners.” His face fell when he saw the price tag and Teagan knew that he wouldn’t just take a handout, he didn’t seem like the type.

“I don’t make a lot of pottery because I can’t really afford to keep buying the firewood for the kiln unless I have large batch orders, and I’m not anywhere near strong enough to chop my own.” He perked up, instantly, and Teagan was relieved.

She wanted him to be able to give Tessa the lovely tapas set, the vibrant colors and patterns deserved to be used for lively parties, but she hadn’t really had any other way to justify giving him a discount of any kind.

“I could chop your firewood, if you would allow me to purchase this set.”

“How about I draw up an agreement, I’ll put a sold tag on the set, and once you’ve signed it then we can get it wrapped up?”

“This is acceptable, Teagan.”

The whole set was over $600 but included a lot of pieces. Two jugs in 1 liter volume, one butter dish, two spoon rests, three oil dispensers, 40 shallow plates ranging from a two inch diameter up to a 10 inch diameter, 24 bowls ranging from a 4 inch diameter up to a 16 inch diameter, and three utensil holders to match.

It had taken weeks to get everything made, painted, and glazed but the colorful end result had been well worth it. Nobody wanted to buy individual pieces but the price tag deterred even the most longing of potential customers.

One short call to Amie, so that she knew Pero was going to be doing contracted labor and work out a price for his time, and Pero signed the agreement before helping Teagan box the set up to take home to Tessa.

“You will allow me to take these before I work?”

“I trust you Pero. I hope Tessa likes it.”

When he stared at her for a long, quiet, moment she wondered just what he was thinking until he hummed thoughtfully.

“You remind me of someone I knew, a bastard of an Irishman.”

“Oh, well, my grandmother immigrated over here from Ireland. It’s why my parents named me Teagan, to honor her.”

Pero made a soft sound, not affectionate so much as it was understanding, and she realized belatedly he’d come here with Thom and the kids. The other Walsh let her give him hell for staying in the car, it now made sense why Amie was so confused about her call, but she didn’t keep them long after that.

It was a few days later that Tessa showed up with Pero for his first shift chopping wood, thanking her profusely for the tapas set, and Teagan couldn’t help but grin as Tessa looked at all of the other items she had on display.

“I wasn’t going to let him walk here without it, it’s beautiful… how much you love one another.”

Tessa’s face gained some color but she smiled so softly, so affectionately, that Teagan felt peace knowing that whatever choice had kept them tumbling was finally made and it was very clear they’d made the right one.

The way Tessa’s string gleamed and glittered was proof enough that their love truly was magic.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

[qzwrites]

Do you ever think about suicide?

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp; Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp. Guns aren’t lawful; Nooses give; Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

I was four or five the first time I heard my father recite Dorothy Parker's Resume. You might say that's too young to be joking about suicide around a child, and I don't think I can disagree. It upset me a lot as a kid, to hear my dad talk so glibly about suicide and his personal suicidal ideation.

On the other hand, I was four or five when I decided how I would kill myself, if I ever felt like I needed to.

These might seem like contradictory ideas. Maybe they are. I don't really know if this is an autism thing or a family thing or a mentally ill-since-childhood thing. Some combination of the three, perhaps, since certainly my autism and mental illness come from my family.

It wasn't something I thought about a lot, as a child. Mostly I thought about suicide when my dad talked about it, which was more often than I wanted or was comfortable thinking about, but I understood pretty quickly that it wasn't about me and he didn't seem to understand how upsetting it was.

It wasn't until after he died (not suicide, thanks for asking) that I really understood why my dad talked about it so freely and, it seemed to me, glibly.

I was not depressed as a child. Maybe I should have been, but I wasn't. I was extremely anxious and heavily bullied, but my family was loving and accepting, and the ways in which I was different did not particularly trouble me. It was mostly the callous ways other people acted that troubled me, but my family made sure I always knew there was nothing I could--or should!--do about other people being assholes.

The first serious depressive episode I had was in middle school. Despite the fact that I had friends for the first time in a long time, despite the fact that I got to stay in one school for nearly two entire years (a record!), I was depressed. I was sad and had trouble sleeping; I ate too many sweets and ruined my teeth. I thought about self-harming, which in my eleven-year-old brain was limited to cutting, and decided it wouldn't help. Honestly, the fact that so many people made fun of cutters for being pathetic probably made more of the decision for me than I would like to admit.

At the time I thought I was depressed because I had moved away from my best friend and first love, and missed the friends and family I had left behind. Probably that was part of it, but part of it was also definitely puberty and the dysphoria it hit me with; I'm sure part of it was also the fact that both bipolar and unipolar depression run in my family, and those often start presenting during puberty.

And maybe part of it was, now that I had friends who treated me like someone who mattered, it occurred to me that the way I had been treated in the past (and to be fair, was still treated by a large chunk of my classmates) was unfair and unjust.

I don't know.

I remember resisting suicidal thoughts, that first episode. I was young, I had reasons to be sad, but I didn't think I would be better off dead. The only times I even skirted around the thoughts were those interminable nights when I couldn't sleep, no matter how much I tried, and I knew I would feel awful in the morning. Lying in bed for hours, until I was bored of my own insomnia, did sometimes make me think, Surely even dying would be better than this. But I knew it wouldn't, and I never even had to work that hard at shunting those thoughts aside.

I had occasional smaller bouts of depression. I was a teenager, I was mentally ill, of course I had upswings and downswings, but high school was mostly a relief. My anxiety was at an all-time low. I had friends. We managed to stay in one place for the entirety of high school, so I got four glorious years to actually get to know people and be known in return. I had small manic episodes that I was more concerned with, because even if they weren't harmful, I knew only sleeping five or six hours a night and compulsively writing entire novellas in the space of a month was not especially healthy. It didn't occur to me that I could be depressed again some day, that it might be worse than it had been when I was a middle schooler pining for some theoretical better life.

My dad only sometimes talked about suicide when I was in high school, and it still made me uncomfortable, but in a different way. It feels more selfish to me, even though my discomfort as a small child was very literally selfish--I didn't want to think about a world in which my dad was dead. In high school, I thought more along the lines of, jeez, why can't he get over it the way I did? But it was also easier as a teenager to know my dad as a person, and he was the kind of person who had to talk about the things that were on his mind, and had to joke about the things that worried him, or else he'd let them eat away at him on the inside and fester. Another thing we have in common.

But as I said, it didn't get really bad again until my dad died. I was twenty-three. It was unexpected. I was a thousand miles away, and it had been more than a year since I had seen him in person.

Moving across the country is hard. I didn't really understand how hard it would be, mentally, until after I had done it. After all, I'd done it so many times as a child! I didn't think about the fact that one of those times had been the trigger of my first major depressive episode. I didn't think about the fact that moving to a more northern latitude in January might be a bad idea.

My father died the day after I signed my first long job contract.

I did not stay at that job for the entire term of the contract.

Much of the next several years is a blur to me. I was freelancing, which would not have been good for my mental health regardless. We had to move several times. My grandmother also died, within months of my father. I slipped on some ice and broke my ribs. I can piece together timelines through jobs I worked, through memories of which apartment we lived in, what my family's hairstyles were, but it's not especially clear. I'd say the first year was the hardest, but I'm not sure it was only a year. It was hardest immediately after he died, but it stayed hard for a long time.

You know, I never actually had my antidepressant dose adjusted. Bipolar sometimes responds badly to traditional antidepressants, and I was put on the antidepressant initially for anxiety. I don't know if it would have helped or not. I don't know how much adjustments to brain chemistry can actually help with grief and feeling useless. I mean, I know that's what they're for, but....

It didn't really feel that bad at the time. Or, it felt bad, but it always felt like a reasonable response to the comically-worsening series of events that was my life. Of course I would feel like shit after losing three family members in the space of a year; of course I would feel like shit after blowing my first real job by poorly-managing my depression. Of course I would feel like shit with cracked ribs, the only treatment for which is "time" and "not doing things that hurt".

It didn't stop me from thinking, more and more frequently, how nice it would be to stop for a while. To just cease existing.

And unfortunately, when you think something for long enough, it becomes an easy thought to have. I've read some neuroscience about it, not really understanding enough to say whether or not it's true, but it feels true, and after all, so much of human skill is made up of repetition. In the wake of my father's death, I got very good at thinking about how I would like to die.

I got the blues so bad Kinda wish I was dead Maybe I'll blow my brains out, mama Or maybe I'll, yeah maybe I'll just go bowlin' instead

I think it would have been a lot harder for me if I hadn't had my dad's example. I didn't understand, when I was a little kid, or even a teenager, how he could joke about his suicidal thoughts. But at some point in the years after he died, I listened to Weird Al's "Generic Blues", a song Dad quoted constantly when we went bowling, and I realized I got it. Because after a while, it just becomes the background noise of your brain. Something bad happens, and your brain says, "Oh God, I want to die," and whether or not that's true, you're kind of...tired of it. Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before. But I got through it then, and I guess I have to get through it now. The other option isn't actually appealing most of the time. The only option is to acknowledge it and move on. Sometimes that means making jokes about it, quoting poems and songs that are kind of glib about the subject, because there's no other way to deal with it.

Maybe I'll kill myself, or maybe I'll go bowling instead.

Here's the thing I don't know that I can adequately explain to anyone who hasn't been through something similar: I don't want to kill myself. I never really did. Maybe on the worst days it would have been nice to sink into oblivion for a while, but that's not really the same thing. And I certainly don't want to now. Although to be frank, that has less to do with my mental fortitude, or even my appreciation for how much worse that would make things for my family, than it has to do with this:

My father was chronically depressed and at least passively suicidal since he was twelve, and he made it to 59. He made it to 59, and died of something else.

Yeah, maybe things are worse for me than they were for him. He never lived through a global pandemic. He never, as far as I know, spent a month sick with a brain-eating virus making it impossible to breathe. On the other hand, he did live through most of the Cold War, the AIDS crisis, and the growing awareness that climate change was happening and getting worse. He lived through three divorces. He lived through the death of his father. He lived through one of his children going to prison.

Obviously I can't directly compare our lives. Even if he was alive, life is so subjective it would be pointless. Shit was hard for him, and it's hard for me.

He made it to 59, and died of something else.

So it doesn't really matter how bad it gets for me. It doesn't really matter how shitty I feel. It is simply not an option for me to do a worse job than my dad. I'm not even allowed to think about killing myself until I'm 60. That's all there is to it.

I mean, I'll think about it. I have thought about it. I will continue to think about it. It's hard, some days, to tell myself, "No you don't," when something goes wrong and my first thought in response is, "I want to die." But there's thinking about it, and there's thinking about it. Considering it. Planning.

Considering the chunk of my life I have spent depressed, I doubt I am ever going to be far from idle thoughts of suicide. Especially with the world looking like it's not in any mood to get better any time soon. I feel like I'm lying any time any mental health professional asks if I've thought about suicide or harming myself and I say no, but I'm pretty sure the question isn't meant for the idle thoughts about something that exists in the world and affects me.

Dad made it to 59. If he could do it, I can do it.

Dad made it to 59; I might as well live.

[lemoncheesecakecoffeecrumble]

ISOLATED STRIFE

Have you ever experienced planning a simple catch up, hangout with your friends but by the time you see and get to talk to them, you feel like going home already? Because I did, most of the time.

I wasn’t the type of person who talks and engages during family gatherings, not even with my cousins of the same age. I am used to receiving gifts during christmas and playing with it alone. Going inside my room after eating from a table full of people with different ages. By that, you may assume I am not a fan of birthday parties and get really shy when groups of kids try to approach me to play with them. I suck at “asking what’s your name” during socialization.

As a person with social awkwardness it's tough to be around a lot of people for a long time. In short, I was alone most of the time but a different type of alone. I was alone but not lonely, not until the pandemic.The pandemic was a different kind of alone for me. Even though I personally liked the thought of being alone I felt being left alone.

The over dramatic scenes that we usually watch in the movies where an outcast eats inside the comfort room was real for me. I don't usually have someone’s back when I have problems. I am used to solving my own problems, trying to figure out what decision to make and not ask or consider second opinions. The hard part of being like this is when it starts to occupy me suddenly. One thing I know is that I am enjoying and the next thing would be, me being perfectly out of my mood. Being put through these kinds of situations are very hard to handle because a helping hand can be no good to a person who is in control of everything that's happening to him/her.

According to a lot of research, social anxiety is caused by environmental influences and stressful life experiences, which I have many. Growing up from a broken family could be anyone’s worst nightmare. I have always thought of living my life the normal way, in a normal household. Maybe if my family was a lot more complete than what I had growing up, then maybe my problems wouldn’t be this complicated.

I have experienced traumatic things in my childhood, growing and up until this day I carry those with me. Every step that I take, I take part in it with fear and different negative assumptions. And the saddest part about it, I have nobody, not even one genuine soul to tell about it. I have to keep myself composed and act like everything is fine even if I wanted to quit already. I have to make sure that everything can still fall into place because I got me, I got me because nobody else does.

And that is how my life worked every now and then. I've had friends, or should I say people who took advantage of me for their own gain. In my shoes, it was obvious that I needed someone to be with, so they acted really good to get me, Since i wasn’t used to getting supervision from elders or my parents. I immediately dig into those excuses and let them use me, without me noticing. You can tell that I may have asked anyone or anything I could possibly ask of how life is so unfair, how unfortunate of me carrying all my burdens everywhere I go. And those questions are still kept as questions up until the present days.

My life dilemma’s are really different from what I hear my classmates say. Sometimes, in my mind, I invalidate their tiny problems because it was literally nothing compared to mine. Social anxiety has taken all over me and my life so much. It affects all aspects of my social stability that leads to affecting my studies and relationships with people. It's hard to keep in the company of different friend groups who don't understand situations and circumstances that I have to go through. In other people’s stories. I was always indecisive and hard to please. In others, I was easy to get and persuade, gets carried away with just one snap. But I couldn't blame them. Their perception of me is not my top priority, never.

Most of the time, I spent my time crying because I couldn't do anything about the anxiety i am experiencing, having breakdowns became normal. It also affected my confidence, every now and then I was afraid of speaking up about what I know and feel. It's hard to express myself in front of people. Most of all, my biggest fear I should say is the fear of rejection or being humiliated in public. We all are, but for me it’s a different type of fear that I personally know would cause me so much struggle to deal with. That is why I don’t join conversations about life experiences. Though, I tried seeking help from professionals and it just led me to be more scared of opening up and remembering all the traumatic experiences in my life.

It's been a lot for me, a lot for a teenager to experience. And being here, at this point is what gets me through everyday. A day that I survive is a enough reason for me to keep going no matter how deep it cuts through. A good day from a bad week is enough to hold on, I am here and trying because I was raised by myself to do so. And for those people who genuinely cared for me, they’re the ones whom I do this for. If they had the courage to believe in me, I myself should also be. Because it’s not yet done, It’s just about to start.

There are no points in living life the linear way, such as our emotions and situations. It may be hard and never ending but someday and somehow, it’ll get better.

[serenelysimple]

I'm convinced that everybody hates me.

An update for the past two years since I stopped posting here in 2022.

2022 - Intense relationship and personal doubts.

2023 - My job since 2020 started to do a face-to-face setup. It was actually fun and comfortable. I am anxious and have self-doubts to begin with. But I didn't realize how heavy it would feel to be talked about behind my back, and be called selfish. I was criticized for the way I managed the studio, and for taking my time to conceptualize and produce marketing assets. They said my designs were ugly. They said I spoke too slowly. I was called selfish for reflecting and expressing my feelings — about how my colleagues looked and treated me. I still managed to lead the scholars and produce a recital.

2024 - It was the same as 2023 but heavier since I needed to lead interns and new employees. My boss wanted me to focus on administrative work and was willing to replace me the day before my art classes, without orienting my lesson plan to the person who would replace me. I also managed to handle and lead another recital and art gallery and created the lesson plans. The teacher who replaced me earned twice more because she was assigned to teach the classes I planned, even though she did not follow most of them and didn't execute the techniques properly. I also resigned due to the unfair treatment during the summer classes and the days leading to it. They doubted and stepped on me. They didn't even raise my salary after the promotion. Now, they are thinking that I am just after the money, when in reality, I sacrificed a good freelancing career, and the possibility to try corporate jobs because I believed in their vision. I have been blinded by good words, despite being treated like shit.

Still, 2024 - After quitting my job at the studio, I got hired to a corporate work-from-home job. I'm still under probation until February 2025, which makes me anxious about the possibility that I will not be regularized because of how slowly I work on the marketing materials. Back in the studio, it was a bit easy but now, I have the skills but don't have enough speed to finish them.

I feel like I wasted four years. During those years, my classmates were already married, comfortable, traveling, receiving multiple awards, and so much more. At 29, I am still just beginning. And just when I thought I would be more independent and comfortable now that I had a new job, I suddenly got the responsibility of feeding 3 (my aunt, and two cousins) people passed on to me. They told me "help would be given", but I am the only person working my ass off to feed them and give them school materials. While I can't disclose why the responsibility of caring for them was passed on to me, I did not ask for it and was not ready.

I asked God many times, "Why do these things happen to me at times when I want to fix myself?"

I'm just trying to have a good day and have peaceful meals. I don't want to entertain traumatic stories daily because I wasn't involved in their problems and I have no idea who they are talking about anyway. Am I selfish for trying to protect myself, because absorbing someone's words and negative energy causes me stress? I'm feeling stressed because I have to step out of my comfort zone, deal with debts that I didn't cause, and ensure I stay composed for my new job.

And what if I really am not talented enough? Maybe I am not getting what I thought I deserved, because I am not really meant for it. Because I am just an average person. I don't work twice as hard as my classmates, so I don't have to expect that I would receive the same recognition that they are getting.

I'm convinced that everybody hates me from the people who blocked me to protect their peace, to being uninvited and not being considered. I understand that. I don't like myself either.