#get online tuition help

[pretty-circa006]

Mystery Man

Sugar Daddy! Coach! Negan x Cam girl! F! Reader

summary you finally find out who your mystery man is tags online relationship, meeting up with a stranger you met online, making out, almost sex, dirty talk, male masturbation, age gap

wc 3.7k words

part 1

note here's part 2! also thank you so much to all the people that follow me. it makes me really happy to know that that many people like reading what i write! and extra thank yous to the people that leave comments and repost. comments make me so happy, like kicking my feet and giggling happy!

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

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Ever since her video call a few weeks ago with the man online, they’ve been messaging each other quite frequently. It’s mostly flirtation and nudes, but it has quickly become her favorite part of the day. He even gave her his number so they can communicate outside of the camgirl website, but despite all this, they still haven’t seen each other’s faces. 

“Who’re you texting?” her friend asks as she tries to get a peek of her phone. 

“Nobody,” she snaps, turning her phone away from the other girl’s view. 

“C’mooon, lemme see!” she pushes trying to grab her phone. 

“Britney, stop it!” she urges and she hold her phone away from her nosey friend. Britney glares at her disappointedly, but stops trying to grab her phone. 

“Sorry, it’s just that I wanna keep this relationship kinda private until I know where it’s going, y’know?” she tells her friend half truthfully. 

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go out before Coach Negan starts yelling at us again.” Britney leaves and she can finally resume her texting without any prying eyes. She reopens her messages and sees a picture from the man. He’s shirtless, revealing to her the tattoos on his chest, and palming his erection through his boxers, but of course his face isn’t in it. The text that followed reads Just watched some of your videos. She smiles to herself before typing back maybe one day you’ll get the real thing ;). Before she can get carried away, she shuts off her phone and puts it in her bag before joining the rest of the team out on the field. 

Coach Negan shouts her last name angrily and beckons her over with his hand. She rolls her eyes, feeling irate, and trudges over to him. He stands impatiently with his arms folded over his chest, his hazel eyes glaring down at her. 

“What?” she snaps, coming off a bit ruder than she intended. 

His glare hardens, but he doesn’t say anything about her attitude. “I just thought I’d let you know that this is the third time this week that you’ve been late to practice,” he states the obvious. 

“Okay? I know. Sorry, but things came up. What’s your problem?” she half truths. The things that kept coming up were more messages from her mystery man and she tended to lose track of time when it came to him. 

“It’s actually gonna become your fuckin’ problem because if you keep showing up late, you’re gonna put your track scholarship in jeopardy.” 

“Why is that any of your business‽” she asks defensively. 

“Despite you being my worst student, you are the best on this team, so it does benefit me to keep your rude ass around.” 

She glares up at him, matching the glare he’s already sending her. Shame washes over her, not only from slacking but from having Coach Negan of  all people call her out on it. Her scholarship isn’t something she can afford to lose, literally. Even though it only covers half of her tuition, it still helps a lot. 

“Well if keeping me around benefits you, maybe you should stop being such a dick to me.” 

He laughs sarcastically, exposing the dimples on his face along with his perfect teeth, before his face returns to a deadpan. 

“Or you can just get your shit together. Now go warm up with the others before you piss me off any further.” 

“Ugh!” she screams before leaving to join the others. 

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As soon as she gets to her apartment, she tosses her bag aside and flops down onto her couch. She pulls out her phone and checks her messages with the mystery man to see if she has any new ones. When she sees that she doesn’t, she opens the camgirl website to see if maybe he said anything there. Disappointment swells in her chest when she sees that there’s none there, either. She almost feels dumb for being so hung up on this stranger. The stranger she’s never met in real life and doesn’t know what he looks like. But talking to him makes her feel good, like someone actually cares about her. Even if their conversations were purely flirtatious and sexual, she can’t help but feel something for him. So she sends him a message. 

@ virginesque hey 

@ BigBadWolf Miss me already?

@ virginesque yes actually how was ur day?

@ BigBadWolf It was alright. How about yours baby? 

@ virginesque kinda shitty tbh. school sucks but talking to u makes my day better :)

@ BigBadWolf You must really want another tip, huh lol 

@ BigBadWolf sent $100.00

@ virginesque no, i rlly just wanted to talk to u :( 

@ BigBadWolf Well aren’t you just the cutest. What do you wanna talk about baby?

@ virginesque idk i kinda been wanting to get to know u better. u seem interesting 

@ BigBadWolf Well what do you want to know?

@ virginesque what do you look like???

@ BigBadWolf I don’t even know what you look like haha

@ virginesque fair. how old are u??

@ BigBadWolf 45, you?

@ virginesque 20 but i’ll be 21 soon 

Their conversation strayed away from the usual exchanging of risqué photos and flirtatious banter and instead they got to know each other by taking turns asking questions about one another. It’s almost two in the morning on a week day and their conversation is still going. 

@ BigBadWolf Do you accept gifts? I want to send you a gift

@ virginesque ooooh what is it???

@ BigBadWolf You’ll have to be patient and wait until you get it

@ virginesque fine :( u can send them to my PO box

@ BigBadWolf When you get it, I wanna see it in your next stream 

@ virginesque oh? no private video just for ur eyes?

@ BigBadWolf You can send me a few pictures ;)

@ virginesque cant wait :D

@ BigBadWolf Goodnight babygirl, it was nice chatting with you 

@ virginesque night! ♡♡

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Almost every day since the mystery man said he’s gonna send her a gift, she’s been checking her P.O. box on the way home from school. She’s gotten mail from her subscribers before, but it was usually weird stuff like disgusting fantasies about her, cumsocks, and other depraved things. But she knows her mystery man is nothing like those weirdos, which is why when there’s finally something in her P.O. box, she’s excited. 

As soon as she gets to her apartment she tears open the box and inside is a package from an expensive lingerie company. She tears open the package and inside is a quarter cup bra in a sheer white color with little flowers embroidered on it and a matching g-string. She hurries to the bathroom and changes into it. The bra doesn’t cover anything and even if it did, you could see right through it. What surprises her most is how perfectly each garment fits. She puts on some natural looking makeup before standing before the full length mirror in her bedroom. With her phone, she snaps a few pictures, each one a different pose. 

@ virginesque sent 6 attachments 

@ virginesque u like?

@ BigBadWolf Wow, it fits you perfectly. You look so fuckin sexy

@ virginesque thanks, i love it ♡

@ virginesque im gonna go start my stream now, maybe we can call after ??

@ BigBadWolf Can’t wait :) 

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“You looked so sexy on that stream, doll,” her mystery man compliments. This video call is a lot like their first one. Neither one of them showing their faces with only their bodies in the camera’s frame. 

“Don’t I always?” 

“Of course you fuckin’ do. Every picture you send me tightens my pants.” 

She giggles, smiling like a fool, but luckily he can’t see that. 

“I wish I could be there to help you out. I’d let you fill any hole you wanted.” 

He frees his cock from his sweatpants and from what she can see he doesn’t have any underwear on. 

“What else would you let me do?” he asks, his hardened dick in his large hand. 

“Hmmm, I’d be wearing a cute little dress with nothing underneath…”

“I’d never be able to keep my hands off you.” His hand begins pumping his achingly hard cock. 

“And I wouldn’t want you to. I’d let you take me whenever and wherever you want. Over my kitchen counter, the backseat of a car, the back of a movie theater, anywhere.” 

He lets out a grunt as he urges himself to his peak. “I’d love to fuck you on my motorcycle.” 

“You have a motorcycle? You just got even hotter.” 

“Sure do. I’d be happy to take you for a ride sometime.” He curses as he increases the speed of his hand, successfully making himself cum. 

“I…I know it’s all just dirty talk and fantasies, but would you really wanna take me for a ride?” she shyly asks. 

He pauses for a second, but the anxiety she feels during that pause makes it feel like an eternity. 

“I…I mean, yeah of course, baby, I’d love to,” he stammers. 

“M-maybe if we do…we can make all these fantasies reality,” she seductively suggests. 

“You are getting me hard all over again just thinking about it. I know you live in Virginia since that’s where your P.O. box is and lucky for you, I do, too.”

“I’ll text you my favorite restaurant and we can meet there!”

“How’s this weekend sound?”

“I’ll be there in my little dress with nothing underneath.” 

“And I’ll be there ready to take it off.”

“Five o’clock?” 

They agree on the time before wishing each other a good night and ending the call. 

Saturday felt like it took forever to get here, but when it finally did she started to feel nervous. She stands in front of her closet and looks at the few dresses she has. Deciding on a lavender colored mini sundress, she upholds her promise to her mystery man and wears nothing underneath. She even paints her nails and does her hair and makeup nicely. The reality of the situation dawns on her. She’s really about to meet up with a random man she met online, but for some reason, she trusts him. He’s nothing like the weirdo fans that have sent her weird shit or left creepy, almost threatening comments on her posts and streams. He’s charming, generous, and has a huge dick. What more could she ask for? 

It’s a quarter til five once she gets to the restaurant since she likes to be early. She grabs a table by the window and sends him a message telling him that she’s here and sitting by a window. Someone calling her name causes her to flinch and look up from her phone. 

“Coach Negan? What’re you doing here?” she asks rudely. 

“It’s a goddamn restaurant. I’m obviously here to eat.” 

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, whatever, bye.” she shoos him away with her hand and pulls out her phone to text the mystery man and ask where he is. He texts back that he’s here and asks where she is. She replies by telling him what she’s wearing. Coach Negan comes back over to her table, but this time he looks shocked and pale. He sits at the table, across from her and looks her in the eyes. 

“You…you’re not virginesque…are you?” he asks dryly. 

As she looks into Negan’s hazel eyes, it feels like her entire world came crashing down around her. Her stomach turns into knots and she’s not hungry anymore. 

“Y-you’re big bad wolf!?” she says shakily. Tears prick at her eyes due to the realization that the mystery man she’s been crushing on is her mean track and field coach. 

He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Holy fuckin’ shit.” He holds his head in his hands and refuses to look at her. She can’t look at him, nor can she hold back her tears. At the sound of her sniffling, Negan looks up at her. 

“I can’t believe my coach has seen me naked,” she sobs. 

“This isn’t easy for me either. My student has seen my penis!” 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you!” she asks incredulously. 

“I didn’t know you were you!” he argues. 

“Oh my god, I’ve masturbated in front of you…to you! I…I’ve sent you nudes a-and videos,” she cries into her hands. 

“I’ve sent you dick pics and thousands of fucking dollars!” he bemoans. 

Through their bickering, neither of them notice the waiter approach. “Hi, my name is Tyler and I’ll be your server for tonight,” he places menus, napkins and silverware on their table, “Can I get y’all started with anything to drink?” 

“Not now, Tyler!” she shouts between sobs. He looks at her, offended, before walking off. 

The atmosphere is incredibly and awkwardly tense. Now, Negan has not only seen her naked, but he’s also seen her cry. That man she met on her live stream was nothing like Coach Negan and to see that they’re the same person almost makes her nauseous. Coach Negan is a mean, foul mouthed dick who makes her contemplate dropping out of track and field every time she goes to practice. Her mystery man is caring, charismatic, a gentleman even. 

“Look,” he says, grabbing her attention, “I know this is weird as shit for you because it’s weird for me, too. But the attraction we felt to each other was fuckin’ real.” The more she hears him speak, the stupider she feels for not realizing how similarly he and the mystery man spoke. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, “and I appreciate all the money you’ve sent.” 

He sighs as if he doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say, but says it anyway. “And I do enjoy our late night chats and video calls.” 

“Me too. Talking with you was my favorite part of the day,” she admits, trying not to cry again. 

“I don’t want this to end just because we already knew each other,” he confesses. 

She looks away from him and down at the table, nervously biting her lip. “But you hate me and I’m not the hugest fan of you either. How could we possibly not end this?” 

“I do not hate you. You only know me when I’m your coach. Outside of that, I promise you I am the man you’ve been talking to.” 

She mulls over his words for a moment before taking a chance and letting her worries go. “Good, because I really like him.”

Negan waves the waiter over and they order their food. The atmosphere is less awkward when the food comes and she’s starting to feel comfortable with him being Negan. They finish eating and he covers the bill. 

“Y’know I wasn’t kidding about takin’ you out on my motorcycle,” he tells her with a smirk on his face as they walk out the restaurant. She follows beside him as he takes her to his motorcycle.  

“Wow, it’s nice,” she comments unsurely. 

“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to take you for a ride?”

“I do, it’s just that I also wasn’t kidding about wearing a little dress with nothing underneath…” 

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at her. His hazel eyes scan her body and a smirk spreads across his face, bringing attention to his dimples. 

“You are way sexier in person,” he compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. He takes off his leather jacket and ties it around her waist. 

“We won’t go too far, so that should hold you over.” He puts a helmet on her head before putting one on himself. She gets on the bike behind him and he grabs her arms and wraps them around his waist. 

“Hold on tight, baby.” 

He takes off, causing her to hold him even tighter. She watches the scenery pass by as he drives by the coast. The full moon shines beautifully over the ocean as the waves crash along the sandy shore and it soothes her. He stops at an overlook that has an even better view of the beach and climbs off the bike and takes off his helmet before helping her off. She unties his jacket from around her waist and hands it to him, but instead of putting it on, he drapes it over her shoulders, which she's grateful for considering the cool weather. 

"Wow, you really are different when you're not coaching," she teases. He lets out a laugh and wraps his arm around her shoulders and guides her to overpass' railing so they can get a better look at the view. She watches the waves and Negan stands behind her, watching the scenery too. He hugs her around her shoulders, holding her close to his chest. It's an oddly intimate position for people who just met, but when she's not thinking of him as Coach Negan, it feels right. 

"Any other fantasies you wanted to live out tonight?" he whispers in her ear. The feeling of his facial hair and soft lips brushing against the shell of her ear sends tingles down her spine. With his teeth, he gently nips at her ear before pulling away. She turns around to face him and smiles seductively. 

“If I remember correctly,” she bites her lip and slides her hands up his chest before holding onto his broad shoulders, “you said you wanted to fuck me on your motorcycle.” His tongue seductively swipes across his bottom lip before a smirk grows across his face. His big hands slide down her body before cupping her ass. 

“Oh, baby, I was hopin’ you’d say that.”

“Really? Even after you found out I’m the girl you were talking to?” 

“Doll, even before I found your cam girl account, I always thought you were undeniably sexy.”

Warmth spreads across her face at his admission, even though it contradicts the way he treated her during games and practices. 

"Yeah? Well, I can't say I'm disappointed to find out someone as good looking as you is my mystery man," she flirts back. 

He grabs her by the back of her head and pulls her in for a kiss. Having been caught off guard, she gasps, but wraps her arms around his neck and deepens the kiss. His tongue forces its way through her soft lips and she welcomes the intrusion. He picks her up by the backs of her thighs and she reflexively wraps her legs around his waist. She can feel his hard-on through his jeans against her bare pussy, causing her to moan into his mouth. The need to breathe forces her to pull away from him. 

“Negan,” she pants, “I want you to touch me, please!” 

“Patience, baby,” he urges. She pouts and grips his shoulders tightly as she grinds against his clothed erection. Negan lets out a repressed grunt, suddenly regretting asking her to be patient. He carries her back over to his motorcycle and sets her down. He pulls his jacket off of her and hangs it on the handlebars. 

“You look so goddamn delicious in that little dress,” he states as he ogles her. 

“Wore it just for you.”

“I can’t wait to unwrap my present.” A cheeky, dimpled smile lights up across his face as he unzips the back of her dress and peels it off of her body, revealing her naked body to him. Eagerly, she undoes his belt, then his jeans, then pulls his hard cock from his boxers. 

“Wow, it looks bigger than it did on video call.” 

“Just wait til you feel it filling that pretty little pussy.” He sits on the seat of the bike and pats his lap. 

“Wanna ride me on my motorcycle,” he jokes. Her eyes drop to his cock before smiling up at him and eagerly nodding. 

“Go grab a condom out of my jacket pocket.”  She does as he says and hands the condom to him to which he rolls it on. Excitement had filled her mind up until this very moment because now nervousness is taking over. He helps her climb onto his lap and positions her over his dick. He teases her slick folds with his tip, causing her to tighten her grip on his shoulders. Her heart pounds wildly in her chest once she feels him line his tip up with her entrance. 

“You okay?” he asks, his hazel eyes filled with concern. The tense look on her face didn't go unnoticed by him.

“Y-yeah.” 

“Baby, we don’t have to do this.” 

“No! No, I want to. It…It’s just that this is my first time.”

He pauses and rubs a hand over his face. She can’t read his expression as he stares into her eyes. 

“You’re a fuckin’ virgin?” 

“Uh, yeah? It’s kinda in my username on the cam girl site.”

“Yeah, but it’s virginesque, which kinda implies that you’re not really a virgin,” he explains. 

“I know, that’s the point.” 

“I don’t get it…” 

“Well, I’ve never had sex before, but with all the toys I’ve used and stuff I’ve done as a cam girl, I don’t really feel like a virgin." 

“Oh my fuckin god,” he sighs as he urges her to get up. She grabs her dress from off the ground and puts it back on as Negan fixes his pants. Her heart’s still racing, but this time, instead of awaiting Negan’s dick, she’s waiting for his next words. 

“I-is that a problem‽”

“Kinda, yeah. I can’t fuck a virgin on my bike at an overpass in the middle of the fuckin night. Isn’t your first time supposed to be special and with someone you love or some shit like that?” 

“Well what if this is how I wanna have my first time?” 

“There’s better ways!” He argues. 

“Like what?”

The look in his eyes is dark as a smirk spreads across his face. He steps closer to her, his tongue salaciously gliding across his bottom lip. He leans down to whisper in her ear, his lips gently brushing against the shell. 

“What if I fucked you on your livestream. Showed all those pathetic excuses of men you have for viewers that their tiny little cocks could never please you the way I can. Show them that I’m the first man to ever fuck you.” 

Her face blooms with heat and her stomach flutters at his words. She was afraid he was going to completely turn her away, but instead he embraced it. 

part 3 ➢

[phantoms-world-and-more]

Danny was in school to become an astronaut and an engineer. Gotham University was the only school that accepted him since being a teen vigilante kinda messed his grades and attendance up enough that everywhere else rejected his application. Granted his parents over eagerness to talk about ghosts didn't help during interviews. Thankfully the Gotham University interview actually went ok and he got a scholarship to cover Tuition. Danny didn't really have time to get a part time job to cover expenses so he bought a lot of his stuff pre-owned for cheap or used the internet. He could easily pay for everything with his funds from the vault in his keep but knowing the bats he'd rather not be a target of their investigations. So Danny takes up plush making and sets up an online shop to get some money. He unintentionally catches the bats attention when he restocks merchandise a little too fast and they end up thinking that Danny is running some sort of sweat shop. In reality he uses duplicates and a bit of intangiblity to make sure his plushies have both good quality and quantity.

.

[intheholler]

so @indiestarlight was tellin me about a conversation they were having with an international friend, trying to explain generational poverty in the south and why it feels so impossible to break out of. they asked if they could share with me what they said, and upon readin it i found it so on the nose that i asked for permission to share it here.

of course, education or a lack thereof is only one path we get stuck on when trying to get out of poverty, but i think it does a good job of illuminating a very common appalachian multigenerational experience, in a very human way, and is something interesting to consider if you ain't from here and wanna get a better understanding.

and i think this part in particular here...

and yep alright now even though great-granddaddy was a union organizer your daddy is a republican—and maybe you aren't, and maybe you try to reason with him, but it's hard to get through to him when the objective truth is that yeah, liberal politicians HAVE failed him, and yeah, liberal politicians DO ignore the south.

...deserves an entire fucking post on its own. anyway, enough of me. read their full thoughts under the cut

for many people in the south it's just an endless cycle of. your great-granddaddy was never able to graduate school. so he worked in the mines, or in a factory, or in any other job he could get without a degree. he didn't make enough money to send your granddaddy to college, either. maybe your granddaddy graduated high school, maybe he even got a scholarship and managed to enroll in college—but then his daddy broke his leg and couldn't work anymore, or his ma got sick and couldn't take care of his little siblings, or or or a thousand other issues that could've been solved with money or better access to healthcare or better access to education, but he didn't have any of those things so instead he came home to take care of family and he never got a degree and then he also worked whatever job he could get without a degree. and your granddaddy didn't have enough money to send your daddy to college, and anyway when your granddaddy went to college for a semester everyone treated him like dirt and all the professors acted like he was stupid, so why would your daddy wanna go to college, anyway? and then your daddy thinks that colleges are full of stuck-up snobs, and ohh now fox news is telling him that's because colleges are full of pansy liberals who've never worked a day in their lives, not like him, not like his family who've been fighting just to scrape by for generations, and yep alright now even though great-granddaddy was a union organizer your daddy is a republican—and maybe you aren't, and maybe you try to reason with him, but it's hard to get through to him when the objective truth is that yeah, liberal politicians HAVE failed him, and yeah, liberal politicians DO ignore the south. and now maybe you do want to go to college, but… with what money? with what opportunities? you can't get academic scholarships because the educational barriers you've faced mean that even though you graduated high school, your grades aren't near good enough to get any kind of scholarship on them. income-based scholarships exist, but they can be hard to get, and they'll cover maybe 40% of the cost of attending school, and there's no way in hell you can cover the other 60% yourself. your great-granddaddy worked in the mines, 'cuz he didn't have a degree. you work in mcdonald's, 'cuz you don't have a degree. and one day your own kids are gonna ask about going to college, and you're gonna have to tell them that mcdonalds doesn't pay you enough to pay their tuition. and the cycle continues, and every time you go to online leftist spaces and try to get people to help you organize and make things better, instead everyone just mocks you for your accent, for your "bad" grammar, and they make jokes about how stupid and uneducated everyone in your hometown is, and you realize they are never going to take you seriously and they are never gonna help you

[ms-demeanor]

On the topic of passwords managers, comparatively to the security of using Bitwarden, what are your thoughts about using your regular repeated pattern (maybe with some changes here and there) as passwords but adding 2FA on top of it?

2FA on top of a bad password system is better than just a bad password system, but I promise you things are so, so, so much easier if you just use a password manager to generate and store complex, unique passwords. And using 2FA on top of that is great!

Also a secure password manager is just great. It's just nice to have. I have two bank cards saved in mine, and one of my cards expired a couple months ago so I went through and updated all the accounts to my new card and as I was doing that I was able to use the notes section of the password manager to list all the services I changed that on and the date I changed it. I've got an entry for my car insurance that I also use to store my VIN and my license plate so that if I need to have that info for something like updating my address through the DMV I don't have to walk out to my car and get that info every time. It makes it super, super easy to switch between logged-in accounts on the various email services I use or to switch between the five tumblr accounts that I've got (fwiw, firefox account containers makes this even easier and I recommend using that too)

If you've got a scheme for passwords, what's your scheme for security questions? Do you have one? You should! Security questions are a liability these days, and you shouldn't answer them accurately. I answer them with gibberish and store the question and the associated gibberish in the notes of my password manager.

Do you have tasks that you have to do online occasionally that are kind of a pain in the ass and you forget how to do them? I've got stuff like that - one of them is paying my tuition. I only have to do that a couple times a year so I forget the process, so I've got a set of instructions stored in my password manager.

Plus there are other security features with a password manager like site recognition to fill in passwords. This helps to mitigate phishing if you're using it properly because the password manager won't fill on sites that don't match the domain it has stored for your password.

[thedailydescent]

Whether or not my raffle will end up helping anybody, I would like to focus on a few select individuals from my list who have not reached 5K yet and are not getting enough attention:

From lowest to highest:

Mohammed Eid Matar- @mohammedmatat and @matarmoh2024 (€1,175)

Mohammed's fundraiser has been vetted by @/el-shab-hussein @/nabulsi and @/moayesh. Sadly, Tumblr had unfairly deactivated his blog for four months, leaving him unable to campaign for his family. He is now back on Tumblr and asking you all for help.

Mohammed has a little brother and sister, both left critically injured by occupier bombardment and currently needs your help getting them medical treatment! I have chatted with Mohammed a few times and he seems like a wonderful and protective brother, who just wants to do everything he can to help his family. Will you respond to his call?

Hashim & Laila- @hashimsafadi (€1,219)

Laila and Hashim's fundraiser has been vetted by Pali Pals. @victoriawhimsey and others have trying to get them to their short-term goal of €5,000 for months now, but has so far been unsuccessful. Before Oct 7, Hashim was previously NGO coordinator, and Laila a lab specialist in the agriculture ministry. They were happy and had plans of starting a family together. Now their home is destroyed, their careers lost, and their dreams halted. They have already been displaced several times due to orders from occupiers.

Laila and Hashim have already done everything they've needed to do. They've made themselves known online. They're vetted. They put photos and videos of their situation up. They come on frequently to campaign for themselves. What more do you need from them? What will it take for you to finally respond?

Mohammed- @mohamedabushaban06 (€3,079)

Mohammed's fundraiser has been vetted by Pali Pals. Mohammed is an 18 year-old medical student who is studying in Qatar. He previously needed €3,000 in tuition fees to start his semester. He reached his goal, but his journey is far from over.

Mohammed is at risk everyday of being deported back to Gaza if he does not meet his school's financial requirements. This cannot happen. He needs €20,000 to make it through the school year. He has not received a donation in 2 days, despite being spotlighted by @/victoriawhimsey and @/dlxxv-vetted-donations. Please don't forget about Mohammed!

Ruba Abushahan- @rubashsblog and @iyadsobhegaza ($4,210 + CHF166)

Ruba is listed at #90 on the Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List, and perhaps is one of the most heartbreaking and frustrating cases I've read about. Ruba had previously raised 27K on her old gofundme (which is listed in the link verification), but the funds were placed on hold with gofundme still slowly processing her appeal to release them. Two other fundraisers have luckily been set up, so people have been requesting refunds from her old gofundme to donate to her new ones, but still, the process has been going depressingly slowly. She has also been spotlighted by @neptunerings and @heliopixels, but it has not been enough.

Ruba is currently in hospital, recovering from an injury she got while being forced to move again. Iyad suffers from a weak heart and needs medical care now. Can people please help them out?

Tagging: @khanger @neptunerings @heliopixels @brutaliakhoa @determinate-negation

@heritageposts @ana-bananya @a-shade-of-blue @underthejollyroger @schoolhater

@dlxxv-vetted-donations @dykesbat @transmutationisms

[thebunnednun]

LOYALTY [Chapter 3]

Katsuki Bakugou x Sugar Baby! Reader

Summary: Fuck a breakup, you ever have your fiance and partner of 8 years dump you during his promotion party in front of your bosses and the whole office with the girl he told you, “Don’t worry about,” on his arm?

The man you moved continents to support and move in with while you worked from home and helped promote his hero career because you thought he loved you and he called it an investment in your future together while you just did it out of love?

Welp, now he’s kicked you out in a strange land and you’ve gotta make it on your own. When you can't get a new job or apartment and tuition is almost due: you’ve got two options: Strip it or lose.

And I guess the angry blond that keeps coming back to your club wants to help you too.

Chapter summary: You and Katsuki share a intimate moment before meeting face to face for the first time when you return his wallet after he tips you $$$$$ for a dance.

This chapters song is: Kendrick Lamar - LOYALTY. ft. Rihanna

Put that shit on loop.

------------------Chapter 3: Unexpected encounter-------------------

The club was a hive of activity tonight, the buzz of payday energy pulsing through every corner. You walked through the throng of people with a sense of purpose, a slight smile tugging at your lips as you considered just how much had changed in the last few weeks. Thanks to the generous donations from your online followers, particularly that mystery guy, you’d managed to pay off your tuition and even order some new furniture for your “room.” You’d been shocked when the items in your shopping cart had been checked off before you even had the chance to think twice about them.

Your landlord, Mr. Muhammad, had been helpful, going with you to scout out potential apartments and vouching for you as a reliable tenant. As a thank-you, you’d been buying groceries here and there, trying to show your appreciation. They were becoming your family in this. The fact that you were finally on the path to securing your future, both financially and academically, felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

But tonight, you were back at the club, ready to earn what you could from the crowd that had gathered.

You emerged from the dressing rooms, adjusting the straps of your outfit as you made your way towards the main floor. The girls—Marshmallow and the others—were already in their usual spot, laughing and chatting excitedly. When they saw you, they waved you over with wide grins.

“You should totally join us on stage today!” Ruby said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

You felt your face redden at the suggestion, the idea of being out there in the spotlight making your heart race. But before you could respond, Marshmallow chimed in, her tone reassuring. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. It’s just an offer.”

You looked around the club, taking in the sea of faces, the noise, the energy. It was busier than usual—payday always brought in the crowds. Your usual spot, the private section where you danced behind glass, seemed quiet in comparison. 

“I’ll do a little walk around and head to my usual spot,” you finally said, your voice thoughtful. “If no one shows up after twenty minutes, I’ll join you all on stage.”

The girls cheered at your decision, and Marshmallow blew you a kiss, her expression playful. You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you turned to head to the back of the club.

But as you began to walk, the path ahead of you suddenly became blocked. A group of men had gathered near the entrance to the private sections, their loud laughter and boisterous behavior catching your attention. One of them—a tall, muscular guy with a cocky grin—stepped forward, his eyes locking onto you.

“Well, what do we have here?” he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogance. He looked you up and down, clearly assessing you like you were some kind of prize. “You look like you’d be a fun time.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your expression sweet as you tried to sidestep him. “I’m just heading to my section,” you said, your tone polite but firm. “You can’t touch me but you can enjoy the show.”

The guy wasn’t having it. He stepped in front of you again, blocking your path. “Aw, c’mon. Don’t be like that. How about you come hang out with us instead?” Nope, nope, nope. You knew a cokehead when you saw one. 

You felt your patience thinning, but you kept your composure. “Sorry, but I’ve got work to do,” you replied, trying to move around him once more.

This time, one of the bouncers noticed the interaction and started making his way over, his expression stern. Before the guy could say anything else, the bouncer stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Let her through,” he said in a no-nonsense tone.

The guy looked like he was about to argue, but the bouncer’s glare shut him up quickly. With a huff, he stepped aside, allowing you to pass.

You nodded your thanks to the bouncer before continuing on your way, your heart pounding slightly from the encounter. As you walked towards your usual spot, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of determination. This place could be tough, but you’d gotten this far, and you weren’t about to let some jerk ruin your night.

Finally reaching your private section, you stepped inside, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. The room was quiet, the familiar setting helping to calm your nerves. You were about to slip behind the glass, ready to begin your routine, but as you looked out into the club, you realized something.

Tonight felt different. The energy, the crowds, even the encounters—it all seemed to be leading to something. You weren’t sure what it was, but there was a feeling in the air, an undercurrent that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

As you started your routine, moving to the music that pulsed through the club, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was going to be significant. Whether it was joining the girls on stage or something else entirely, you had the sense that you were standing on the edge of something new, something that could change everything.

The club’s usual hum of activity had faded into the background as you settled into your private section. The room was dimly lit, the low, sultry glow casting long shadows across the floor. You adjusted your costume—a tight, sheer two piece set that clung to your curves, accentuating every dip and swell. The fabric was soft against your skin, shimmering slightly under the dim lights, and you checked to make sure it was sitting just right. 

Suddenly, you heard them—the footsteps. Heavy, deliberate, and echoing out across the club floor like a metronome. The sound was unmistakable, a slow, steady rhythm that seemed to announce his arrival long before you could see him. A strange sense of familiarity washed over you, as you knew this client just by the way he walked.

You quickly straightened up, pulling the straps of your top taut against your shoulders and making sure every inch of the material hugged you just right. This client wasn’t like the others; he only watched you dance without asking you for anything lewd or to see your face. He didn’t even make song requests, you didn’t know why, and you weren’t going to ask. 

You watched as he approached the sofa, his tall frame casting a shadow that stretched across the floor. He moved with a kind of confidence that made the air feel heavy, charged. You couldn’t see much of his face, just the outline of his spiky hair and the broadness of his shoulders, but something about his presence sent a shiver down your spine. He sat down, his large boots making a final thud against the floor as he settled in, the sound resonating through the room.

Deciding it was time to begin, you turned to the console and selected a song that fit the mood—Kendrick Lamar and Rihanna’s “Loyalty.” The deep bassline filled the room, vibrating through the floor and into your bones, the rhythm perfectly matching the sensuality you intended to convey. You let the music guide you, your body moving in time with the beat, every step deliberate, every motion slow and controlled.

“It's a secret society

  All we ask is trust

 (All we ask is trust)

  All we got is us

Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty

Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,”

As Kendrick and Rihanna’s voices flowed through the speakers, you began to sway, your hips rolling in time with the lyrics, the movements deliberate and teasing. You ran your hands down your sides, feeling the soft fabric glide over your skin before slipping them to the hem of your skirt. The lights caught the subtle shimmer of the material, highlighting your silhouette as you slowly peeled it away from your body, revealing the smooth curve of your ass.

“I’m a savage, I’m an asshole I’m a King,” 

Kendrick’s voice echoed, and you turned your back to the glass, arching as you pushed the skirt down over your hips. You caught a glimpse of the client in the reflection, his figure still and silent, but you could feel his eyes on you, watching your every move. The intensity of his gaze made your heart race, adding to the thrill of the performance.

“Tell me who you loyal to

Do it start with your woman or your man?”

You continued, rolling the fabric down your legs, bending at the waist to give him a full view of your body. The costume pooled around your ankles, and you stepped out of it, kicking it to the side. Now you were down to your matching bikini top and bottoms, the fabric clinging to you, highlighting the curves you knew he was watching intently. 

“Do it end with your family and friends? 

Or you're loyal to yourself in advance?”

You turned to face him again, your fingers trailing down your body, over your thighs, teasing the edges of your bottoms as Rihanna’s voice took over.

“I said, tell me who you loyal to

Is it anybody that you would lie for?”

She sang, and you mirrored the confidence in her voice, sliding your hands up your torso, arching your back as you thrust your chest forward. You let the straps of your bikini top slip down your shoulders, giving him just a hint of what lay beneath before pulling them back up again. The anticipation built, the heat between you and the client almost tangible, thickening the air in the small room.

“Anybody you would slide for?

 Anybody you would die for?

 That's what God for,”

As the song neared its end, you dropped to your knees, spreading them slightly as you swayed your hips from side to side, your hands running through your hair, then down your neck, and across your chest. You gave one last slow, deliberate roll of your hips, letting the music guide you as you finished with a final arch of your back, the movement accentuating every curve.

The song ended, and you stilled, catching your breath, expecting him to get up and leave as most clients did once the performance was over. But when you glanced up, he was still sitting there, unmoving, his figure dark against the dim light of the room.

Puzzled, you slipped through the side door that led to the backroom where one of the bouncers stood. “Hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “why isn’t the guy leaving?”

The bouncer gave you a once-over before turning to check on the client. When he came back, there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “He wants to know if he could buy an hour with you.”

You tried to mask the surprise on your face, forcing yourself to appear cool and composed. You paused for a moment, pretending to think it over, before nodding. “Tell him yes.”

The bouncer nodded and left to relay the message, leaving you with your thoughts. You pressed your nose against the glass, trying to get a better look at the man who had asked for the extra time. His hair was spiky, sticking out in a way that seemed almost familiar. His boots, large and sturdy, suggested a man who was used to being on his feet, and his broad frame hinted at strength, power. He exuded an aura of control, but there was something else, something that intrigued you.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck it was. 

As the bouncer returned, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or curiosity. "The customer wants the same song," he said, his voice gruff yet tinged with the faintest hint of a smile. "He wants to see you dance to it again. You can switch up the routine, but he specifically asked for the same track." You nodded, a surge of anticipation bubbling up within you. The thought of performing the same song for the same man, knowing he was still captivated by your movements, sent a thrill down your spine. 

You watched the bouncer close the door behind him, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room with only the frosted glass between you and your mysterious client.

With a quick decision, you moved to the corner where your outfits were kept. You stripped off your bikini, reaching for something a bit more daring—a lacy, black two-piece that left just enough to the imagination while hugging your curves in all the right places. The sheer stockings and garter belt added a touch of vintage allure, making you feel powerful and sensual as you adjusted them, ensuring every strap was perfectly aligned.

Before turning the lights back on, you glanced at the frosted glass. A mischievous grin played on your lips as you tapped the control to dim the lights further, bathing the room in a sultry, amber glow that cast soft shadows across the space. You wanted this routine to feel intimate, like a secret whispered in the dark between two best friends.

When you were ready, you positioned yourself against the glass, your hands splayed out in front of you, feeling the cool surface beneath your fingertips. You tapped your fingers to the opening beats, letting the music fill the room, its rhythm pulsing through you as you began to move.

“My resume is real enough for two millenniums  

A better way to make a wave, stop defendin' them  

I meditate and moderate all of my wins again  

I'm hangin' on the fence again,”

You changed the pace, slowly rolling your hips to the beat, letting your body melt into the music. This time, your movements were more daring, more deliberate. You pressed your chest against the glass, the coolness a stark contrast to the heat building within you. The fabric of your outfit teased at the edges of your consciousness, reminding you of every inch of skin it covered, and every inch it left exposed.

“I'm always on your mind  

I put my lyric and my lifeline on the line  

And ain't no limit when I might shine, might grind  

You rollin' with it at the right time, right now  

Only for the dollar sign,”

With each word, you leaned into the glass, pressing your body closer, your breath fogging up the surface. You let your fingers trace over the fog, leaving a little heart before stepping away, toying with the barrier between you and him. You didn’t know where all this confidence came from but you weren’t gonna waste it. Your movements were slower, more deliberate, the sway of your hips more pronounced as you turned and arched your back, sliding down the glass as if giving in to the gravity of his gaze.

“Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty  

 Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty  

10-4, no switchin' sides  

            I need  

 Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty  

Loyalty, loyalty, loyalty,”

You dropped to your knees, arching your back as your hands slid down your body, feeling the lace and the softness of your skin beneath your fingertips. You let the music take over, your body moving in perfect sync with the beat. The lyrics spoke of loyalty, a deep and unwavering connection, and you channeled that intensity into every motion. You never had that before, but you knew what it was supposed to feel like. 

“Tell me who you loyal to  

Is it money? Is it fame? Is it weed? Is it drink?  

Is it comin' down with the loud pipes and the rain?  

Big chillin', only for the power in your name,"

As the music reached its peak, you stood up, arching your back as you slowly peeled off one of the sheer stockings, teasing him with every movement. You pressed yourself fully against the glass, your body leaving faint impressions in the fog as you moved. You brought your hand up, drawing a small heart in the condensation, before letting it fade away as you continued to dance, your body a silhouette against the light.

"Tell me who you loyal to  

Is it love for the streets when the lights get dark?  

Is it unconditional when the 'Rari don't start?  

Tell me when your loyalty is comin' from the heart”

With the final beats of the song, you leaned back against the glass, your breath heavy, your body flush with excitement. You slid down to the floor in a split, letting the music carry you as you reached the end of your routine. As the last notes faded, you expected him to gesture for more, but he remained seated, the shadow of his figure unmoving from the red leather sofa.

“It's so hard to be humble  

  It's so hard to be  

 Lord knows is I'm tryin'  

Lord knows is I'm dyin', 

          baby”

On the other side, Bakugou was struggling to keep his composure. His usual mask of indifference was slipping as he watched you, his eyes glued to the screen. The way you danced, the way your body moved in perfect sync with the music— those fucking lyrics — it was driving him crazy. He could feel the heat rising in his face, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to maintain control.

What was it about you that got under his skin? 

He couldn’t figure it out, but he knew one thing for sure—he didn’t want this to end. When you pressed yourself against the glass, leaving that little heart in the fog, it felt like a direct hit, and he was barely keeping it together. His hands clenched into fists, trying to resist the urge to blow off steam. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down the back of his neck, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to regain his composure.

But the truth was, you had him—completely and utterly. And there was no turning back now.

‘Fuck.’

The moment the knock echoed through the room, you nearly jumped out of your skin. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife, and for a split second, you forgot where you were and what you were doing. Your breath hitched as you tore your gaze away from the mysterious man behind the glass. The knock had shattered the strange, intimate spell that had settled over the two of you.

But he was still there, still watching, still touching the glass where your hand met his. The connection between you felt oddly real, almost tangible through the cold, solid barrier that separated you. You could see his fingers, large and rough, tracing the heart you’d drawn earlier. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if he were handling something precious.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to ground yourself in the moment. This was just a performance, just another routine. You’d danced for plenty of clients before, had them watch you, admire you, but none of them had ever done this. None of them had touched the glass like this, as if they were trying to reach through and connect with something deeper. It was… unsettling, in a way that made your heart race for reasons you couldn’t quite name.

His hand dwarfed yours, the size difference almost startling. Even with the platform heels giving you extra height, he still towered over you, his presence almost overwhelming. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through the glass, a warmth that seeped into your bones and made your skin tingle.

You hesitated, unsure of what to do next. The whole situation felt surreal, like something out of a dream. But the show had to go on, and you weren’t about to let a little weirdness throw you off your game.

With a deep breath, you slowly moved closer to the glass, stalking up to the barrier with a predatory grace. Your eyes never left his head, trying to read the expression on his face, but the frosted glass obscured his features, leaving only the shadow of his form visible. The only thing clear was his hand, still pressed against the glass where yours had been.

You stopped just inches away, close enough that you could feel the cold emanating from the glass, a stark contrast to the warmth of your body. Your fingers twitched against the surface, and without really thinking, you tapped them lightly, a soft, almost playful gesture. He hesitated for a moment, as if unsure how to respond, before his fingers mirrored yours, tapping back in a gentle rhythm.

A shiver ran down your spine as you watched his other hand trace over the heart you’d left. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks—he was tracing it because you’d left it there for him. You’d drawn that heart in the fog, almost without thinking, and now he was treating it like it meant something. 

And maybe, in some weird, twisted way, it did.

But this was just a show, you reminded yourself. Just a game. You were here to entertain, to give him what he wanted, and that was all. 

Another knock on the door snapped you out of your thoughts. “I don’t hear any music!” the bouncer’s voice called out, a hint of impatience in his tone.

You blinked, realizing you’d been standing there in silence for too long. You glanced back at the glass, at the man whose hand still rested against yours, and for a moment, you considered pulling away. But something in his stillness, in the way he hadn’t tried to push things further, gave you pause. 

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, and he seemed to do the same. The symmetry of the gesture made your heart skip a beat. You were tiny compared to him, almost fragile, yet you felt a strange sense of power in that moment. You tapped your fingers again, and this time, he didn’t hesitate. He tapped back in sync, as if the two of you were communicating in a silent, shared language.

His fingers drifted over the heart again, and you found yourself wondering why he was treating it with such care. Why was he being so delicate, so gentle? This wasn’t what you were used to, not at all.

The bouncer knocked again, louder this time. “Music, now !”

You sighed, rolling your eyes at the interruption, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. The spell was broken, but you weren’t ready to let go just yet. With a final tap against the glass, you backed away, giving him a soft, almost coy look over your shoulder as you moved to restart the music.

--- You finished out the hour without much problem or anything like the glass touching that happened. Part of you felt a little dissappointed at that and you couldn't tell why. He was quiet throughout the rest of the time and left without a word. You wiped yourself down with a towel and threw on a lacy teddy before opening the secret door that was always locked on the clients side. That way you could collect the money after they left and get back behind the glass without anyone seeing you. He left it in the usual place, the table next to the red leather sofa and your heart almost stopped when counted out at least $5000 dollars.

'Five thousand dollars!!!'

Your mind immediately raced back to the live stream and you tried to calm yourself down. This had to be some sort of coicidence. No way this guy actually knew who you were. Then to make matters worse, he left his phone and wallet in the booth. You decided you had to find out for yourself. You let the bouncer know you were done before running back to the dressing rooms. You knew better than to hand over the stuff to the manager so you would have to find the guy himself. He may he bigger than you, but your shoes were stabbyier. You placed the items in a small purse you sometimes used to help your friends collect tips and stashed your money inside your locker inside your clothes like Marshmellow (Micheal) showed you. You made sure the locker was shut tight and tugged on it for good measure before you rushed back into the floor. You asked the doorman if anyone with large boots and spiky hair had left yet, who actually wasn't bad, and he assured you he that hadn't but that there was a client that came in with that description so he was probably still inside. You thanked him before taking a big gulp of air and making your way to the center floor. 

The center floor was alive with the buzz of chatter, laughter, and music, and the stages were crowded, but your focus was razor-sharp as you scanned the room. The lights were dim, casting long shadows that danced with the movement of bodies. It was payday, so the place was packed with regulars and new faces alike, all looking for a night of fun. But you were only interested in one man.

Your heart raced as you moved through the crowd, your eyes darting from face to face, searching for the telltale signs—spiky hair, broad shoulders, those heavy boots that echoed with each step. You felt a mix of nerves and adrenaline coursing through your veins, making your steps quick and purposeful. You didn’t even notice the usual stares or the catcalls; your mind was locked on the task at hand.

He left his phone and wallet. What kind of person leaves something so important behind, especially after dropping five thousand dollars without blinking? Maybe all rich dudes really are weird. The thought made your stomach twist. Was he testing you? Or maybe it was just an accident. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this.

As you pushed through the crowd, you felt the small purse slung over your shoulder bump against your hip, the weight of it reminding you of what was inside. His belongings were in your hands, and that gave you a strange sense of nerves. He was bigger, stronger, sure, but you had something he needed. And that meant you had to find him. You clung to that thought, letting it bolster your confidence as you pressed forward.

You spotted Marshmallow—Micheal—across the room, chatting with a group of clients. She caught your eye and gave you a small, encouraging nod. She knew what you were up to, even without you having to say a word. That silent support made you feel a little braver as you approached the center floor.

The room was a blur of lights and movement, but then you saw him. He was near the bar, his back to you, broad shoulders hunched slightly as he leaned against the counter. His spiky hair was unmistakable, even in the dim light. The sight of him sent a jolt of adrenaline through you, and you had to force yourself to slow down, to keep your breathing steady. This was it.

You approached cautiously, your heels clicking against the polished floor. He didn’t seem to notice you at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts were running through his head. You paused a few feet away, trying to decide how to play this. Should you tap him on the shoulder? Just hand over the stuff and be done with it? Or maybe you should say something more… calculated, something that would keep him intrigued.

Before you could make up your mind, he turned around, as if sensing your presence. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you felt frozen in place. Up close, he was even more imposing, his sharp features and intense gaze making your heart skip a beat. But you couldn’t back down now. You had a job to do.

“I think you forgot something,” you said, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. You held up the small purse, letting him see that you had his phone and wallet inside.

His eyes flicked to the purse and then back to you. There was a brief flash of something in his expression—surprise? Amusement?—before he reached out to take it. His fingers brushed against yours as he did, and you felt a small spark at the contact, a reminder of the strange connection you’d felt during your routine.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice gruff, but there was a hint of something softer beneath it. “I didn’t even realize.”

You shrugged, playing it cool. “It happens.”

He didn’t say anything else, so you just tucked the purse under your arm as he looked at you with an unreadable expression. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. You could feel your pulse in your throat, the tension from earlier starting to creep back in. 

“So, was it worth it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you tried to read him. “The hour, I mean.”

He raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk that was almost too confident for your liking. “More than worth it.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral, not letting him see how his words affected you. You weren’t about to let him have the upper hand in this conversation.

“Well, if you’re ever in the mood to lose more of your money, you know where to find me,” you said, flashing him a playful smile.

He chuckled, a deep raspy sound that made your stomach flip. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, you turned and started to walk away, leaving him standing there with a mix of emotions swirling inside. You yourself felt something. Relief, curiosity, and another visitor you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He watched you go, wondering if you’d see him again, and if you did, what that would mean?

And as much as you hated to admit it, a part of you was disappointed that the hour was over.

Maybe it was the intensity of the moment, the way your voice lingered in his mind, or the curiosity that gnawed at you. Before you could completely disappear into the crowd, you took a step forward, your voice catching him mid-stride.

“Wait.”

You stopped, his shoulders tensing slightly before you turned back to face him. He hadn’t planned this far ahead, and now that he had your attention again, he felt his pulse quicken. What were you going to say? You opened your mouth, but the words died on your lips as you found yourself staring directly into his eyes for the first time.

Time seemed to slow as your gazes locked. You felt like you were seeing him for the first time, really seeing him. His face was sharp, rugged, with a defined jawline and intense crimson eyes that seemed to bore straight into you. He had a look about him that was hard to pin down—confident yet guarded, like someone who didn’t let others in. You noticed the way his hair spiked out in unruly directions, a contrast to the disciplined aura he gave off. And then there was that small, almost imperceptible quirk of his lips, as if he wanted to speak but was struggling to.

For Bakugou, the world seemed to narrow down to just you. He hadn’t expected to turn around and see a face that felt so… familiar, yet completely new. Your eyes caught his first, and they were softer than he’d imagined, but there was a brightness in them that intrigued him. He noticed the way your hair framed your face, accentuating the delicate lines of your features. But what struck him most was the expression you wore—equal parts surprise and determination, as if you hadn’t planned on this moment but weren’t going to run from it either. There was something about you that pulled him in, a magnetism he hadn’t felt in a long time, and it made him forget for a moment where he was.

Neither of you said a word, but the silence between you was charged with something unspoken. You felt your breath catch as you realized he was doing the same thing you were—taking in every detail, committing it to memory. It was strange, surreal even, to see the man who had been on the other side of the glass, to see him so close. His intensity was almost overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but feel a shiver of anticipation, or maybe it was nerves, running down your spine.

You both seemed to realize at the same moment that you were staring, and you quickly averted your eyes, a faint blush creeping up your cheeks. He let out a small huff, not quite a laugh, but close enough, and it drew your gaze back to him. There was a look of curiosity in his eyes now, as if he was trying to figure you out, and maybe himself too.

“Well, goodnight.” 

“Yeah, G’night.”

You turned to head back to Micheal letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in. As you walked, you couldn’t help but replay the encounter in your mind, trying to make sense of it. 

Later that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. You were sitting in front of the mirror, wiping off the remnants of your makeup, but your mind was elsewhere. His face, his eyes, the way he looked at you—it all replayed in your head like a loop you couldn’t turn off. You’d seen plenty of clients before, even locked eyes with a few, but this was different. There was something in the way he looked at you, a connection that felt almost tangible, and it left you feeling unsettled in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

You sighed, tossing the makeup wipe into the trash and leaning back in your chair. 'Why did he leave such an impression?' You tried to push the thoughts away, tried to focus on the money you’d made, the success of the night. You even participated in a dance number with the girls and finally had enough to get that new apartment! But his face kept creeping back into your thoughts, making you wonder if you’d see him again, and what it would mean if you did.

At the same time, Bakugou was sprawled out on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes as he tried to sleep, but he knew it was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you. Your face, the way you looked at him, the intensity of it—it was all too vivid. He’d gone to the club looking for a distraction, something to take his mind off the usual, but instead, he found himself thinking about you.

It pissed him off, if he was being honest.

He wasn’t supposed to see you yet. Looking all soft and cute with your little dress hugging you and a blush he couldn’t decipher from makeup or actual nerves. A moment like that, the memory of you stuck with him, lingering like an itch he couldn’t scratch. The way your eyes had widened slightly when you saw him, the way you hadn’t backed down, it made him wonder who you really were. You were just doing your job, a dancer, nothing more—so why the hell couldn’t he shake you off?

He shifted on the bed, letting out a frustrated breath. Maybe it was nothing, just a fluke, something that would fade by morning. But deep down, he wasn’t so sure. You’d made an impression, and it was going to take a lot more than a sleepless night to get you out of his head. 

But Katsuki knew himself better than that. 

Pulling out his phone, he opened that damned app again and sent you a message. 

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

Taglist: @elarakive, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, If you wanna be added lemme know.

That was the first chapter! So far there are 9 posted on my ao3 account.

I own none of the images or art!!!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. I have a Farmer Bakugou x Gardener Reader here in the master list. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girls just wanna have fun 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

You bite your lip as you look at your reflection. The ribbed top clings to your figure, the razorback cut covers your cleavage but your lack of layers if obvious. If your dad was home, he’d freak out.

What the hell are you wearing? Put a bra on! 

You’re tired of telling him you’re an adult. You’re over his distrust. You’ve always been a good a daughter. What have you ever done to let him down? You kept your GPA high enough and your halfway through college. You're a hot commodity. Yes, that’s exactly what you are. 

You turn and push out your bum, running your hands over the curve. The TikToks might call it a glow up. It’s that classic era of a woman’s life when she comes into her own. When she fills out just enough, when she knows the power she has. Well, you think that’s what it is. You don’t know, it’s all still a bit confusing. 

Hard to be your own woman when you still live at home, but daddy pays tuition so you play by his rules. Well, it’s summertime and you don’t need to turn in a 4.0 to make him happy until Fall. This is going to be your summer. No studying, no lame ass book clubs, you’re breaking free. Well, you’re gnawing on the bars. 

Your phone buzzes and draws you away from your narcissistic revery. Before, you weren’t really into yourself. You wore a school uniform and your hair was always the same style, nails clean and cut, no makeup. Your coming-of-age at least let you take a bit more control over your autonomy. Your dad couldn’t really keep you from spending the money you made at your campus work study. 

Another text from Shelby. You don’t click on the preview. It’s worse to leave her on read than to just ignore the notifications. She’s a good friend but you think you’ve outgrown her. The last time you hung out, she just wanted to play MarioKart. You wanted to go out and do stuff but she hates public places. You’re no more fond of strangers but you wanted a bikini. You ended up staying in and ordering off Amazon. 

You put the phone down as the whir of a weed whacker sounds outside your window. You go to it and look out the pane. You can’t help the curl of your lips. You watch your neighbour trimming the edges of his lawn. He’s overly diligent about his landscaping. While many others hire gardeners, he’s certain to tend to every inch of his lot. 

Mr. Barnes doesn’t seem the type for half-measures. You like that about him. No, you love it. You feel giddy just watching him. 

You spin and lean against the wall with a sigh. You have a terrible crush. On an older man. For all the novels and movies you’ve seen, it’s a common trope, but that’s fiction and this is real life. You can’t lust after your neighbour. Especially not him. 

Just because you feel a certain kind of way, doesn’t mean you need to do anything about it. You can still dream. You can pretend when you’re home alone or at night when you’re lying in bed, unable to sleep. You feel a tingle flow through you and shudder. 

You get a bad idea. Nothing’s going to happen, but you just want him to notice you. Just a little. Just for a moment. 

You turn to the mirror again and touch the sides of your white denim shorts, slightly distressed for effect. You wiggle your hips and clutch onto your courage. You spin and flit out before it can elude you. 

You scramble downstairs and stop to push your feet into your slides. You stop and take a breath, centering yourself on your act. You pull open the front door and flurry through, squealing as you scramble across the porch and nearly tripping down the steps. You throw up your hands, shaking them as you commit to your act. 

“Ew, ew, ew,” you chant shrilly and the whirring trimmer stops. “Oh god!” 

You hear a deep breath and a grunt. You put your hands to your head and cringe, turning to look at Mr. Barnes as he squints in your direction. You turn your grimace to a sheepish smile and drop your arms, rubbing one shyly, certain to push up your chest with the act. 

“Hi,” you poke out the tip of your tongue, “sorry I...” you laugh at yourself, “there’s a spider in my bedroom. I panicked.” 

He nods and squares his jaw, shifting the trimmer as he grips it. He comes towards the low picket fence between your yards. You drop your hands and hook your thumbs in your shorts pockets, rocking back and forth. 

“Sorry, didn’t meant to bother,” you push your shoulders to your ears. His eyes twitch, barely resisting a skim of your figure. Instead, he looks past you to the long drive at the other side of your lot. 

“Dad’s not around?” He asks warily, his voice rocky and deep, just like you hear it in your head. 

You shake your head, batting your lashes at him. Him and your father don’t get along. Maybe you have some daddy issues but you really don’t care. He’s just so hot. His slightly mussed silver hair and his still toned arms. He might have some years on you but there’s no guys your age who look that good. 

“Working,” you pout, “he won’t kill them either. He just puts them out in the yard and they come right back in.” 

“Mm,” he hums and leans the trimmer against the fence, “want me to take care of it?”

Yes, I want you to take care of me. Focus.

You let your eyes round and push your lip out, “if you don’t mind. They give me the heebies.” 

“Heebies,” he repeats the word flatly, “huh.” 

He comes around the fence and lets himself in through the gate. You meet him at the walk and step in front of him, leading him up the front steps. You can’t remember the last time he came over. Not since he moved in. Yeah, his brief acquaintance with your father ended in a city prospector measuring the lots and relaying the property line. Oof, your dad still hasn’t let that go. 

You’re overly aware of him behind you as you climb the steps. You hope he’s looking at your ass. Those shorts hug it in just the right way.  

The front door is still open from your feigned escape. You step inside and habitually leave your slides on the mat. Mr. Barnes pauses and steps out of his workboots. 

“Um, it’s in my room,” you point up the stairs, almost shaking. You didn’t really plan this far. 

“Right,” he follows your direction and you stay a few feet back, keeping up your frightful act. 

He climbs the stairs and you tell him which way to go. He enters your room and looks around. Shoot. Your head is empty. Something about him just makes you dumb. 

“It was in the corner,” you lie, “it must’ve skittered off. Oh no! You think it’s hiding somewhere.” 

“Probably won’t see it again,” he shrugs. “Keep a shoe by your bed.” 

You hum and nod. Your eyes linger on the small vibe on your nightstand. Whoops. You kinda hope he sees it too. He faces you and clears his throat. 

“Eucalyptus or peppermint,” he says, “those will keep them away. Spray a little around your windows and door.” He points around the walls. He looks a little out of place among your purple walls and your fluffy aesthetic, yet not at all. You can just see him on your bed. You gulp as you realise he’s still talking. “All good?” 

“Uh, yes, d—sir,” you smile and clench your teeth tight around your near slip. Had you really almost called him dad? Oh shit. Yeah, that can just be tucked away and never thought of again. “Thanks for trying.” 

“Yeah, no worries,” he shrugs and moves towards you. 

You just stand there. He arches a brow and gesture past you. You blink and giggle, “oh, uh, sorry. Thanks again.” 

“Mm, I’ll let myself out,” he says as he brushes by you. Just the scent of his sweat has you flustered. 

“Sure,” you murmur after him, your heart fluttering. “Bye, Mr. Barnes.” 

You listen to him go and as the front door shuts, you spin and float over to fall onto your bed. You lay face down and groan. Ugh, that only made everything so much worse. You want him! You need him! You lift your head and reach for the vibe on the nightstand. Hopefully the battery in this thing still has some juice. 

[nelkcats]

Bounty hunters and misunderstandings

After Vlad's failure with the million dollar hunt, the GIW and many interested in the "weird ghost boy" decided to give the idea a try and put various bounties on Phantom's capture. Since Amity was a ghost-infested town, most of them didn't go there and sent their own bounty hunters, some were interested on study the creature further, others wanted to prove his existence.

Danny realized that he could capture "Phantom" and escape multiple times to collect the money for all the rewards with his friends help, after all, the prizes seemed to be offered in cash. He had a good idea of ​​where he could spend the money and was so excited about it, he used a box to put the various envelopes and hide it on his room.

Jazz got mad at Danny for getting caught by bounty hunters to repeatedly collect the prize money. She didn't think it was safe and her annoying little brother kept talking about a new video game.

She saw him excited about the new game that had come out but she didn't see the point, he could play online! There was no reason to risk that much. That's why when Danny was very tired, out of ectoplasm and someone finally hold him with no chance of escape, Jazz refused to rescue him from his own mistakes.

But while visiting Danny's room, she noticed that the money was not for a video game but for her college tuition and future life. The box she found was decorated with small drawings of ghosts and a "For my older sister" written with a green marker.

Now Jazz has 24 hours to save Danny from Deathstroke's prison before he hand him over to his contractors. On his side, Deathstroke had successfully captured the strange creature; the inventions of the weird scientists who dragged him to their house had worked, and since he pushed up his deadline he would just wait for his contractor until the next day to collect his payment.

[lavender--fairy]

hi, just wanna share a "success story." i'm choosing to stay anonymous because i don't want to be bombarded with questions, because the asker can find answers within themselves.

i'll just cut straight to the chase. throughout high school, especially when we were online during the pandemic, i would cheat on all my exams. i'd say this started mid 8th grade until mid 11th grade. mind you, it wasn't threshold based, so i wasn't really harming anyone. me cheating basically stopped the class average from dropping down 70% lol.

the act of me cheating alone reveals many things; i was unconfident in myself, insecure, and cared what other people thought of me.

11th grade is where people here start to get really anxious. pulling all nighters and getting caffiene addictions. but i was lazing around, and did what i always did. of course, online exams don't last forever, especially not when it comes to an international exam. it really only hit me months before the real tests that cheating wasn't gonna get me anywhere.

how was i supposed to do these exams? ones that people take at least two years to prepare for? that people study their asses off for? with all the high expectations i falsely gained from my peers and parents, i knew that if i failed these tests, not only would i be ashamed, but everyone would begin to doubt me and inevitably find out about my cheating habits. and i didn't want that to happen.

i did everything i could. i tried to study, but i was inefficient because i basically never opened a book on my own before that, then i tried to get tuition, which only worked to some extent. the highest i have everr gotten on a practice paper was a B, and it was a low one.

i took eight subjects. most people here take 6/7, but i didn't wanna drop one because i didn't want to feel the "shame." again, i really cared about what others thought of me.

so, at this point, i thought. well, i'm screwed.

then i came across subliminals while looking up focus music, which lead me to manifestion -> law of assumption -> neville goddard -> the 4D -> the inner man.

started to implement the law. thought i'd pass all my exams because hell, why not? i persisted that i was just gonna pass because i said so.

i gave the inner man good grades because i could. i saw a good report card in my head because i could. i imagined myself happy on results day. despite the fact that i was underprepared by a mile. why? because i could.

i got straight A's for my exams and got an outstanding reward. this truly revealed to me the power of the law, because just a month back, i was pulling my hair out and stressing like crazy. i'm not proud of my old habits. but with the law, i was able to live the lazy life of my dreams (lol) and still be awarded with praise, smiles and trophies.

wanted to share this story because i feel like knowing the law is so important. it's so easy too. all you have to do is give it to yourself, the inner man, the true self.

don't stress about getting those grades, getting that girl, that dream body, clear skin. don't stress about getting. just give it to yourself, because you can.

hope this helps someone out there realise something :)

heyy butterbean!! This is amazingg thank you so much <3

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and worst of both worlds (part 38)

Tw: reminders of the horrors, short chaprer was a little stuck as to how i should progress but i found a way

Part 39

Turns out Yves bought a lot more souvenirs for you. The majority of them had to be refrigerated and because they had high doses of calcium, you couldn't eat them while you're completing your course of antibiotics.

Yves nodded as he peeled a crisp, red apple for you. He initiated another one of your talking marathons, but you're still aware of your surroundings; you're impressed that he could remove the peel using a small fruit knife and in one, long, continuous strip.

You stopped and commented that he has great cutting skills. He chuckled, "Thank you, dear."

Yves cut the fruit into dainty slices. "It takes practice."

He continued while bringing the apple piece to your mouth. You're used to him feeding you now, so you gladly took it without complaint before going back to what you were saying.

It got to the topic of missing classes. You're worried about your grades and you asked him if you could be discharged earlier.

He tilted his head and gave you a pitying smile. "My beloved, (name). You're suffering from a painful infection and a fracture." He pushed another slice to your lips. "Yet, this is still on your mind?"

You said that your parents are paying for your tuition fee. You can't afford to fail anything.

His eyes darted elsewhere in deep thought.

"Have you informed them of your current status?"

You froze. No, you have not. You haven't spoken to them in quite some time, not even texting them. You wonder if they had forgotten you.

You told him you didn't want to burden your parents. They don't have to know what has happened.

He hummed in response. You know Yves has something else to say, but he ultimately decided against it.

Yves cut another apple slice out for you. But you told him you're full, pushing his hand away from you. So he ate it instead, in painfully small nibbles.

__

Yves had to head home early for the day. He told you that he has to work.

You weren't opposed to the idea, because you wanted to be left alone for a while to scroll on your phone in peace before falling asleep for the night. The strange tear holes in your bedsheet didn't bother you, but you did wonder what caused it. In the end, you brushed it off as damages that were already there.

Upon waking up, you thought it was strange that Montgomery hadn't shown himself up in a while. No texts, no calls... it's as if he disappeared from the face of the planet. While that is great, you couldn't help but feel... saddened, that he switched from his usual self to ghosting you.

You sighed and blocked his number again. Yves is here, he probably wouldn't want him around anyways. You definitely wouldn't want Montgomery over either, the police are definitely going to get involved. Well at least if either of them get injured, they're already at a hospital.

After filtering out all the nosy acquaintances and your housemates, and Yves, you have... no friends again.

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. Well, you hope Yves isn't too busy. You're sick of looking at brainrottting content online, you want to chat with Yves again.

So you sent him a text, asking if he is free at the moment, taking note at the time. It's eight in the morning, your hospital wouldn't allow any visitors until 10am.

He answered almost immediately.

"Yes. Good morning, my beloved (name). I am now heading to the hospital. Is there anything I can do for you?"

You did some mental calculations, you estimated that he will be here by 9am, a whole hour before visitors are even allowed in. But he's Yves, he managed to convince the hospital to make him your nurse and doctor, you're sure they will allow him to enter earlier. You replied that you wanted to know how much longer you need to stay in the hospital.

"At least three more days. I will continue to monitor your status."

You asked him if you could leave earlier, you missed a lot of classes.

"You shouldn't have to worry about that for now, my dear. I have sent your lecturers and tutors letters detailing your current situation. They were understanding, providing the appropriate accommodations for you."

You asked him what he meant by "appropriate accommodations".

"They will send you emails to elaborate further. As of now, you must rest."

You let out a breath of relief, glad that you didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of requesting for an extension or your absence to be excused. Which made you wonder, how did he know who to send those memos to?

Before you could ask him that, Yves sent another message.

"Please. Remember their names this time. It would serve you well to know who will be guiding you through your courses."

He gave you a list of names and their respective roles. You thought back at the times where Yves asked you about your studies. Not a single one, you couldn't tell him the name of a single lecturer or tutor.

But it still didn't explain how he knew the names for this semester though, so you asked him about it.

"(Name), I enrolled you in your classes."

Oh. You forgot.

He has your login credentials for your student account too. And he works at the university, he could have just asked around.

And he is Yves, he could have easily deduced their names by searching them up online.

"Talk later. I will drive soon."

You turned your phone off after that, perhaps out of embarrassment.

__

You're pressed up against his chest as the fluids from the bag flows into your bloodstream, he absentmindedly runs his fingers through your hair while watching you for any signs of discomfort. The antibiotics tend to cause nausea in patients from his experience.

Yves smiled upon seeing that your eyes were closed and you were fully relaxing into him. This is wonderful, you're making much needed progress with him in a relatively short period. He can confirm that you're comfortable sharing a bed with him from now on.

Yves kissed you on the top of your head. "(Name)." He whispered.

You responded groggily, lifting up your head to face him. You only opened one eye, wanting to know what he required of you.

Yves pecked you on the forehead and chuckled. You're still waiting for his request, not even registering that he left a very visible lipstick print on you.

Good, good. You're completely settled in with his affection. Past the phase of extreme bashfulness and now into the realm of mundane comfort. This is what Yves wanted to see: you getting used to his affectionate touches.

Though... he knew he was going to miss those days where you couldn't look him in the eye without becoming a tomato. However, in the long run, it is required for you to be nonchalant about him to a certain degree. Or you might simply lose your mind.

"That will be all." He lovingly dismissed you with another kiss on the cheek.

You grunted and turned around, having your back pressed against his front. Once you're done, he rested an arm over your torso, becoming the big spoon.

Yves closed his eyes too and buried his face in your hair. But he isn't going to take a nap.

He is counting the number of breaths that you take and the depth of said inhales. His fingers pressing against your elbow to count your heartbeats without looking at the monitor. Yves is cocky enough to think he is better than a machine.

Lastly, he is counting the seconds elapsed. All of that while calculating your breathing and heart rate.

Eventually, you inhaled slower and the exhales became a bit more forceful. You're calm and unmoving save for the soft rising and falling of your ribcage.

You're asleep. Perfect.

Yves relished in your close presence for a few more minutes before tearing himself away from you.

He frowned at the coldness nipping at him as soon as he departed from your side. Yves fought the urge to cuddle with you again, being frustrated himself because it became exponentially harder to do so after coming back from his lonely trip.

Digging his fingers into his palm, he reluctantly stood up from the edge of the bed. Yves turned around and watched you with adoration-filled emerald eyes. He is so happy to be here.

Yves softly pulled your blanket over your shoulders and brushed your strands neatly over your pillow. This time, he kissed you on the arm before forcefully ripping himself away from your being. If he stayed longer, he would return under your sheets and hold you tight, not getting anything done.

He lets out a quiet sigh as he reaches for his bag. Yves pulled out a hairbrush and fixed his hair, using the reflection of his compact mirror to aid him.

Crossing his legs while sitting on the visitor's chair, he puts on his reading glasses and adjusts them properly. Yves tucked his locks behind his ear so he could read the files that he brought.

Light rustling of papers could be heard throughout the room, adding to its ambience along with the other machines.

His face was blank as he read through your case file. Yves will be a very busy man tomorrow as he has two court hearings to attend, as your attorney, your witness, his own representative and as a plaintiff to both. One to avenge you and enact his revenge, one to eradicate an annoying pest in your life.

He didn't pay much attention to the dossiers against Montgomery. Yves had his eyes focused on the case against Evangeline Jones.

He read through the details, his claims, the evidence; medical and on site and all other information available or supposedly unavailable to him for now.

A page with handwritten words was hidden at the end, where it contained data about the judge, including his address, his family, the all the briberies he took, his numbers, bank account details and many more that shouldn't be in Yves's hands. Evangeline's defence lawyer also wasn't safe from Yves's proficient sleuthing skills.

He scanned through the case. Searing each character, each photograph into his brain.

A stray tear rolled down to his chin, dripping onto the white paper, its wetness dying it grey and slightly smudging some ink. Then another. And another.

Until the sheet was littered with splotches of tears made up of his silent rage, remorse and regret.

Yet, he must read on. No matter how horrific it is.

Yves gracefully flipped the page as his face remained stoney.

But the tears kept falling.

[charzoodle]

I originally turned to reddit about this, but reddit doesn't like trans people, and I just need reassurance/advice. So here's a copy pasted version of my original post, originally posted on r/advice. I really hope this gets to other trans people.

I (ftm 21) have known I wasn't cisgender since I was in 5th grade.

I explored gender a lot thanks to the internet, and in 6th or 7th grade I made a post on Tumblr asking old gender queer people for adivce, as I couldn't find a label for my gender that felt right. I accidentally left the post up on my computer, and my parents saw it. Both my parents are fairly conservative and right winged (they've gotten more conservative over the years), and were pretty upset. They sat me down and told me I would always be their daughter, my name would never be anything other than my deadname, and that this was all a phase. I decided to supress the feelings I felt, and continued to dress/act feminine for them. But there was this looming feeling in my chest that something was wrong about me body.

But as I got older, my transness became less easy for me to ignore. My freshman year of high school I cut off all my hair, and just at school with friends, started going by a different name. I made an alt Instagram where I posted about my transness somewhere my parents wouldn't be able to see. But, eventually, they found the account. Once again, they sat me down and angrily explained to me that I wasn't trans, that I was a girl, and would never be anything else. They once again told me it was a phase, and that the internet was telling me I was trans just because I'm "not like other girls". They told me to start exersizing, and once I lost weight I would stop thinking I was a boy.

That didn't help, though. Once again, I tried to conform to who they wanted me to be. But I was miserable. I forced myself to become hyperfeminine, and during Covid became an "e-girl" to try to conform. But every day I applied make up and put on skirts or put my hair down I'd start sobbing. Everything about my body felt wrong, but I had supressed the idea of me being transgender that I refused to think about it.

However, when I graduated high school, I came out as nonbinary on my TikTok and Instagram, and started going by all pronouns, saying I didn't care. My parents didn't bring it up, and I decided nonbinary was the closest I'd ever get to being myself.

Last year, though, I ranted to one of my friends about how much I craved being a guy. How seeing my chest or hearing my voice made me borderline suicidal, and how when people called me my deadname it just felt... wrong. He's also trans, and we talked about it for a while before I realized I'm actually transgender. Like, fully.

I socially came out as a trans man and started using my new (and current) name at college and with my friends, as well as online. I requested my new name and pronouns through my college, and they changed it in the system. My parents have never mentioned my name change or identity from online. Only three members of my family currently know I'm trans, and they've promised to keep it a secret until I'm ready.

So, basically everyone knows. Except for my parents (and my job, but becauss I work at a daycare I figured I'd be safer being in the closet so my job wouldn't be at risk due to harmful stereotypes and shit like that). After a little over a year of being out to everyone but them, hearing my deadname makes my skin crawl. Knowing my parents don't percive me as their son hurts, and it hurts even more knowing they never will.

But I'm so sick of being in the closet. I'm ready to start testosterone. I love the name I chose, and I'm ready to legally change it. But I don't make enough at my job to move out, and I don't want to risk going homeless or getting beat/killed. I can't pay for college on my own, since my dad pays for my tuition.

All that being said, it physically hurts to be in the closet. I want to rip the bandaid off, and finally feel the freedom of being myself. I'm just scared. But also, after all these years of seeing me be queer and talk about transness, how can they not know? My mom has even admitted to knowing I want chest surgery.

I feel so lost and scared. And I need help, because I don't know what to do and it's really bad on my mental health, especially right now.

[nananarc]

Gonna disclose my income as a freelance artist because I feel like it might give some perspective. And mostly bc I'm feeling a bit burnout and I want pity points ok? Lol.

Context 1: For sake of simplicity, all figures are net income (minused all fees, charges, insurance, benefits, etc)

Context 2: I live in a big city in Việt Nam and the cost of living is relatively low. A salary of 1000$/month is considered really good for someone living alone with one pet, no family or children, no debt or other liabilities. Entry level jobs usually start at around 200-300$/month.

.

Let's start in 2021 because that's when it can be considered when I started doing art professionally.

In 2021 and 2022, I was juggling between art school, a part-time online side gig, building social media for my art, and of course try to get commissions. But coms were few and far between, mainly because I didn't have an online present before and I only hang in relatively small fandoms. So all I earn through side gig and art were only some change, in total avarage to about 40$/ month. Some months made up for no income months.

In 2023, things starts to be a bit better as I get more confident in my skill, but coms are still few and far between and months with no income is still common. Side gig was few and far between too and pay less. Overall I'd say it goes up to about 80$/month.

This year 2024, art school is done, I can finally do art full time. But I was severely burnout because all the accumulated stress since waaaaay before catch up with me and i couldn't cope anymore. I have to spend a lot of time resting instead. Fortunately, I received a decent amount of coms each month, and the new patreon surprisingly got a few supporters (I fully realistically expected it to sit at 0 for at least a year). Overall, I have an 8 hours 4 days work week: 4 hours a day on com and managing social media and other stuff that actually makes money; 4 hours a day on my own projects and personal indulgence that doesn't directly make money. As of now, my income is about 180$/month.

.

You are probably wondering how the fuck do one live like this in this economy.

It's because my family is middle class and can afford a freeloader like me in their house, receive their pocket money and tuition fee. I'm privileged.

But of course my family isn't rich and if just one catastrophic event happens to us, we'd be in bad shit. I'm constantly in anxiety of money, work, and the future. It doesn't help that I'm late 20s and many people around keep reminding of how I'm not making money yet still leeching off parents. It doesn't help that, for years all i hear about art is it will just lead to failure and no money.

.

But still, I am thankful of my family for letting me stay here. And all my friends and supporters for giving me money oc lol, but more importantly, believing in me more than I ever do in myself. I read all of your little tags, your keysmash and compliments, and I keep them all dear to my heart, and I went back to them everytime I need motivation. I can't see where my future as an artist will be, but I cling to your support and love as the will to keep going. Thank you all so, so fucking much. I'd have been literally dead in a ditch somewhere without you guys.

Anyway, idk, I've always been adamant about wage transparency (especially in a corporate setting) but I rarely see this in freelance artists. except to flex, to promote the hustle culture, or to sell some courses they made. Most of us don't want/can't subscribe to the grind and have nothing to flex either. All we have is this shit economy. I'd wish we could have been more open about this and many of us wouldn't have to feel so lonely and despair all the time.

[yellowocaballero]

ORV Characters Ranked by Least to Most Likely to Commit White Collar Crime

You guys said you wanted my ORV takes, and I try not to say things unsolicited, so I'll drop the good meta-analysis and literary criticism that I'm known for. For comedy purposes please pretend that ORV is American.

Omniscent Reader's Viewpoint characters broken down by likelihood to commit white collar crime, least to most:

Lee Hyeonseong: he's convinced that he's never committed a crime in his life. Intentionally, of course not. Unintentionally, he takes shopping for groceries extremely seriously, and is sometimes so wrapped up in the fruit inspection experience that he'll leave without paying. Due to his innocent face, bulk, and sheer confidence, he's never caught. In an economically thrifty maneuver, KDJ always sends him on snack runs for parties and texts him math problems while he's there. He insists it's like couponing. It's not couponing.

Jeong Huiwon: similarly, of course she would never choose to commit a crime. Also similarly, when KDJ says, 'Hey, wanna commit a crime?' she always participates. Since the crime is normally targeted at rich people, KDJ can usually morally justify it to her. She calls this harm reduction. It's not harm reduction.

Lee Jihye: would love to commit a crime in theory, almost never in practice. She has an idealized image in her mind of the ideal high school experience and it involves grand theft auto. However, the worst she ever gets is breaking & entering and trespassing, mostly because she didn't stop to wonder if the building was abandoned or not. She can't even shoplift from Claire's.

Shin Yuseung: the kind of kid who sets the dissection frogs in the school laboratory free. Looks up illegal exotic animal trading on the deepweb and sighs in longing. But exotic pet trading isn't very Animal Rights of her, so she just leaks information to the CIA and busts the rings. Lee Gilyeong convinces her to track down shady sellers on Craigslist and bust their kneecaps. Neither of them view this as significantly different from the dissection frog liberation. KDJ gets her a rescued exotic cat for her birthday as a reward.

Lee Gilyeong: self-explanatory.

Han Suyeong: she's been pirating media since she was eleven and has never stopped. World-class expert in pirating everything. She's the unsung hero who rips the CDs and games and puts them online. Runs the pirating websites. Has never paid for a webnovel or manwha or manga in her life. Despite this, she insists that pirating books is immoral and that people should support small authors. The FBI knows she exists and has been trying to catch her for years. She brags about this constantly.

Yoo Sangah: has committed tax fraud before, will commit tax fraud tomorrow, is currently committing tax fraud. Embezzles her company's embezzlement. Insists that she's only committing victimless crimes, mainly because she doesn't view business executives as people. Her ability to evade the IRS is mythological and it's how KDJ got a crush on her.

Yoo Junghyeok: does not understand adult life well enough to knowingly commit any sort of white collar crime. He is this high on the list because he enables and helps KDJ in literally everything he does, especially using his clout as an influencer. This is because KDJ has convinced him that these things aren't crimes, and he doesn't understand adult life well enough to figure it out.

Kim Dokja: has done every white collar crime under the sun. I can't emphasize enough how much crime he does. He's currently blackmailing SYS's college tuition out of a US Senator. HSY makes the shell companies and launders so much money with him. Alternates between running a pyramid scheme and a ponzi scheme depending on the month. Started a cult that one time but we don't like to talk about that. Runs the betting ring for YJH's esports games. Fixes the games. YJH does not know he does this, but KDJ splits the profits and Yoo Mia also needs a college tuition so he decides not to think about it too hard. Big into crypto and runs every crypto scam you can possibly think of, which is normally where the the ponzi schemes come in. Steals YJH's identity often. Somehow everything he does is technically legal. The only crime he does not commit is pirating. Exclusively targets the wealthy and ultra-wealthy and has never stolen money from a poor person. Sugar daddies all of his friends and pays all college tuitions. Anonymously yet obviously sponsors huge amounts of money to YJH's Twitch streams, mostly in apology for the ID theft. Would really rather be living a quiet life in a big house with all of his friends, but that big house ain't gonna pay for itself.

[seramilla]

I need to write a fic for the human au soon. (Unfortunately my classes are out so I don't even have an excuse for why I don't) But I was thinking since a part of me likes this kind of thing for some background being Sera had a strained with her family who werent great but not overlord au bad when Emily was born while she was in university. Before Emily is a year old both her parents die in car crash and suddenly she is Emily's guardian she could have left Emily in foster care but she didn't want to leave Emily so she took her in but couldn't afford to care for her and do school so she drops out and starts working to support the two of them. She's able to keep her head above water but barely in a position where one accident or sudden expense would he a disaster she couldn't afford. Meanwhile Carmilla is rich she was rich by family and married rich than her husband passed leaving her with a lot of money and a company plus the two girls. They meet at school (Emily got a scholarship thing to go whatevet private school the girls go to and become friends.) Carmilla notices Sera is always stressed about money being one major expense away from disaster and also trying to help her in what way she can. If they get together Carmilla plans to let Sera do whatever go back to school, keep working like she is though hopefully less hours or just stay at home as her sugar baby. Also for ages Carmilla is older than Sera who was 21 when Emily was born and got her at that age Sera is 28 now and Carmilla is currently 32 her late husband passed 4 years ago.

You totally should!

I can see Sera working multiple jobs to take care of Emily, and even if Emily got a scholarship, there'd probably be other expenses like books, uniforms, field trips, or whatever else that she'd have to pay for out of pocket. Maybe Sera tried to go back to school multiple times, took online classes, etc. but she just couldn't keep up with multiple jobs and classes at the same time, so she'd give up after a while. But it's okay, as long as Emily got a good education.

The first time Emily, Odette, and Clara have a play date and Sera comes to pick up Emily, she and Carmilla get into a conversation. Carmilla wants to get to know all the parents of the girls her daughters are friends with. Almost immediately, Carmilla is very attracted to this woman. She's not dressed to the nines or driving a fancy car or wearing really expensive clothes/jewelry like all the other moms and dads Carmilla meets. She's a homely, down-to-earth person probably driving a 20-year-old Honda Civic, wearing a simple blouse and skirt from her day job at some office somewhere, and running really late because traffic was a nightmare.

Carmilla respects her very much for being a single "parent" and trying to raise Emily on her own. She invites her back anytime she wants. Emily is always welcome in her home. Sera starts coming to visit all the time, even though Carmilla orchestrates these encounters very strategically, so she doesn't scare the timid woman away. She wants to make her feel welcome like any of the other parents, but also let her know that she's special and Carmilla fancies her very much.

It takes a while, but when they eventually get together, Carmilla tells Sera she doesn't have to work anymore; she can go back to college full-time if she wants, or just stay home and take care of all the girls. Sera thinks it's very tempting, because she hasn't had the opportunity to think about what she wants for the last 8 years of Emily's life. It's honestly all so overwhelming. She doesn't even know how to be selfish anymore.

Ultimately, Sera decides that she does want to pull her weight and work her way through college. She gets a job on campus part-time, like a work study program, so she can help pay her tuition herself and still have time to take care of the girls in the mornings and afternoons when they get home from school. Eventually she decides she wants to go to graduate school, as well; she gets an assistantship, and by the time Emily is a teenager, Sera's finished with her education and working with Carmilla at her company.

[campbyler]

if i may ask, i am v curious when the party got their cars/how long theyve had them

ella i hope you don't hate me from harboring this ask since the end of august bc i really did mean to answer it sooner. i love u mwah.

mike: some of the lore surrounding the mustang has now been revealed through chapter 9.1, but to reiterate for the purpose of this ask: mike really wanted to get a car with manual transmission, and wanted something used so it could be a purchase he made himself. he did a lot of research online and in person before finding the mustang, which he did think was a little gaudy, but to me he's also a pretty big car buff and likes a lot of classic models -- no matter anyone's feelings on mustangs as a whole, it is a very iconic car with a lot of history, so mike definitely appreciates that a lot. he had nancy co-sign but he paid for everything himself! as of acswy, he's had it for just over a year!

will: will's car is also used, and also something he (mostly) paid for by himself! originally he was going to inherit jonathan's car but like in the show, it died. rip. but hopper Knows A Guy who works on and then sells a lot of used cars and that's who they ended up buying will's car from. he got it when he turned 17 for around ~$2500 since hop's friend cut them a deal, and he paid for Most of that himself (using money he's saved up from camp and the part-time job he had during the school year when he was in hs) and hop and joyce covered the rest. that said, will does pay them back on a monthly basis and pays for his own gas and insurance, so to him they didn't help at all (even tho they helped more than mike's parents did lol). by the start of acswy, he's paid his parents back in full and now just worries about the insurance payments.

lucas: lucas's parents and smart and invest and told their beautiful talented son that if he worked hard and got good grades they would buy him a car for graduation. so he did. and then also got a full ride scholarship to uconn to play basketball and his parents said oh ok slay boy. thanks so much. so since they are saving on a LOOOT of tuition and room and board fees they said we will get you a nice car. and lucas said bet, hellcat? and his mom said ABSOLUTELY NOT and his dad said ABSOLUTELY. mike was fuming btw. if you care.

max: tbh we haven't so super fleshed out a lot of max's family lore so i'd have to consult w suni re: current arrangements BUT 2 me max shares her car w her mom. i think her mom works from home and when she needs to go somewhere uses max's step dad's car just so that max can have some extra freedom. it's also my headcanon that max is the oldest in the friend group so she got her license first and was will and el's designated chauffeur for a while <3

el: el Just got her car and license before the start of acswy! i think she's the youngest in the party and she had will and max to drive her places so there was truly no need to get her license or car until now, plus i think she had some driving anxiety. she also got her car thru hop's friend but it was a little more expensive than will's since it's a bit newer and a nicer model, but she's had more time to save up for it! she mostly got one because she wanted to be able to have something to drive back at school, and also because she's more willing to admit than will is that the cobalt is not going to last super long, so one of them needs to have a car lol.

dustin: dustin got his car from his mom when she upgraded to a new one and while most people would complain dustin said FUCK YEAH because he loves his mom's car and also didn't have to spend a single dime on it lol. i think he got it when he was 17 as well so he also drove lucas and mike around for a bit before they got their cars as part of the indy crew!

AND THAT IS IT. THAT IS ALL. I HOPE THIS WAS WORTH IT AT ALL

[sterekchub]

Jock Derek decides to get into the competitive eating game. Starts a YouTube channel. Gets some fans, who suggest crazy eating challenges. Derek keeps pushing himself to fulfill all the ridiculous challenges, but his stomach is so stretched out that he’s hungry all the time. Starts gaining weight. Slowly, his eating challenges videos just become mukbangs as Derek goes from jock to exjock to chub…and eventually Derek starts showing off his growing belly as he goes from chub to just huge fatty.

"W-Welcome ...*BBBRRRpp*... to Eatin' ...*blurrrRPPP*... w-with ...*BRRRPPpp*... Derek

10 Viewers "Hey...I'm Derek. I twisted my ankle during practice so the Coach benched me for the semester and if I don't play, I don't get money towards my tuition. So umm....I'm not sure how this works but my friend makes money gaming on his channel so I thought maybe....I'd start reviewing local restaurants or campus food or something."

You turn off the chat, disinterested. There's enough bad food ASMR and mukbangers online, he's attractive, but nothing special. You have better things to do than watch him fumble his way to unwrapping a Chipotle takeout bag like it was something special.

50 Viewers You find yourself back on Derek's channel a week later. He still looks uncomfortable in front of a camera. His room isn't even set up to stream, a bunch of random lights behind him and his dinner clearly on the desk next to him, 2 liter of soda and some Pop-Tart boxes. You're about to click away when the otherwise dead-chat pings:

Try the 2L soda challenge!

Derek nods and brings the soda bottle up to his lips. "Easy," he brags, suddenly much more confident and you get the aura of a cocky, self-assured jock. He chugs the entire bottle down within 2 minutes, waving the empty bottle in front of the screen and letting out a long burp. "Done. Damn, I need some pizza after that..."

He goes back to sitting there in mostly awkward silence as he scrolls on his phone, clearly ordering food. You leave the stream again. 200 Viewers You can't help it - you check back into Derek's stream. He's gained more followers in the last few weeks since you saw him and you see the last few videos he's posted all see to have a theme - Eating Challenges with Derek.

Looks like he's been eating well. There's more softness to his jaw and cheeks and the sports T-shirt he's wearing looks stretched a little tight.

"Tonight I'm trying the milk chugging challenge - one gallon in one hour."

The chat is more active than usual.

Got Oreos to go with that?

Derek holds up 3 boxes "not going to get through all that milk without them."

Gotta love jocks who eat like they're still training

if he pukes, I'm leaving

Bet he's done this before

Derek finishes 2 boxes of oreos and the entire gallon of milk, ending the stream reclining in his chair looking satisfied, hands rubbing his milk-swollen gut.

500 Viewers Derek has become your new favorite streamer. You're not sure if he knows the chat is entirely full of feeders egging him on, but he clearly loves the attention and is willing to do almost anything for donations.

"Thank you to *feedemup72* for the donation, tonight's challenge is $100 at Taco Bell." He points at several bags sitting next to him. "Actually $108 because I got 3 sodas, hope you don't mind."

Only his top half is visible as his streams, but in the last few months he's developed a curve to his belly that presses into his computer desk.

damn he's gotten fat in a few months

ii hope he does the donut challenge next

Derek slows down when he's three quarters of the way through. He shoves the last bite of a burrito into his mouth and groans. "Don't think I can do this one." He's got rice spilled onto the front of his shirt, and a few inches of bare, furry belly are visible where his bloated stomach is pushing his shirt upwards.

You're feeling reckless and type into the chat '$20 if you can finish 3 more burritos." You can see the determination as he leans forward to grab another from the pile, like it's the winning point his team needs. "Uggh I might burst..."

1000 Viewers "I'm getting a little chunky," Derek laughs, standing up in front of his computer with both hands lifting up his pudgy middle. It's not only his middle that has gotten thicker. His jeans look painted on and his shirt is so tight you can see the lovehandles just starting to poke out over his jeans. "Hope the coach doesn't mind. Got my clear bill of health for my leg so practice starts again tomorrow." are you still going to stream? Sure the coach won't mind you waddling on the field? forget sports, fatboy, you were made to eat! "This might be my last one in a while, practice keeps me busy. But for my last challenge- I got a cake to celebrate!" It's just a plain cheesecake, but Derek looks at it like it's better than sex. The little groans of pleasure he makes when he takes a bite somehow feel dirtier than watching him devour the entire thing in under 45 minutes. 3,000 Viewers It's been almost 6 months since Derek's last stream and you've almost forgotten about his channel entirely when you see he's gone live again. His follower count has almost triple and the chat is swarming with excitement at his return. OMG finally he's got to be 300 by now has he said anything no he's been eating for almost an hour! Think he knows he's live? Are you okay? You can't take your eyes off the screen. Derek has Chinese takeout containers in front of the screen and is digging into them like he hasn't eaten for months. The arms on his gamer chair are no longer visible under hefty love handles and his belly is fully resting into his lap by several inches. Derek keeps eating, double chin wobbling with each fast-paced bite, until he finally stops to reach for a can of soda. He drains it in one go and then looks at the chat, still shoveling food in his mouth as he talks "c-coach ...*mnfgghhhulp*... kicked ...*mmnnch*... me ...*chew... o-off ...*nibble*... de ...*gnaw*... team." I'm sorry too fat for the team? Look at him- he's not running anywhere! He hasn't stop eating What a fucking pig You have to know, typing in the chat. "$50 if you tell us what you're weighing in at." You watch as Derek scans the chat and reads your message. He finally puts down the food and stands up to show himself off to he chat. "Three-twenty-seven." From the size of his hips and ass as he turns, you would have guessed closer to 350. He looks upset, pinching and grabbing at the excess blubber that's thickened him up everywhere, but when he sits back down and grabs another soda, he almost looks relieved. "So.. guess I'm back to streaming. Any suggestions for another *gulp* *swallow* food challenge? 5,000 Viewers Doesn't look like a jock anymore he's a fucking blimp any ideas how to blow him up more bet he'd eat straight lard if we paid him fuck look at that gut Did he really just fall asleep? bet he wakes up and starts eating again You're $500 poorer- but looking at the size of Derek, it seems like money well spent. In the last three months, you've paid Derek to do the ice cream gallon challenge, the milkshake challenge, the donuts-burger challenge, and the carbo-load challenge. And you were also to blame for the current stream. Tonight had proven too much even for his monstrous appetite and he had needed a break, too full to even speak, just sitting in front of the computer groaning and grunting and burping, rubbing his boulder of a belly until his overstuffed moans had turned into tree-splitting levels of snoring. The last quarter of his fifth footlong cheesesteak (With extra cheese and meat of course), fell out of a pudgy hand and onto the floor. Derek had weighed in at 398 last night, and you impatiently wait for him to wake up rounding out the scales at over 400lbs of blubber. 10,000 Viewers

This stream was a special one. Derek had tipped the scales at a whopping 500lbs, reluctantly heaving himself out of his bench-sized seat to show off for the chat just where all of those pounds had piled on to. Face swollen with fat, his jawline completely obscured by chins and a tire-sized neck. Thighs wider than his former waist, and of course, the unmistakable belly which was not so round and lard-filled it rested on his knees when he was sitting. "Finally hit a follower milestone," Derek wheezed proudly, wiping sweat off his forehead from the exertion of just standing for several minutes and then collapsing back down into his seat. It creaked ominously. On instinct, you check his Amazon wishlist. Candy, funnel, XXXXXXXXL shorts, more candy, bariatric scale...huh. No bench. Guess he thought the one hw as currently straining was going to last longer than it sounded like. "So someone sponsored to me to eat a hundred-thousand calories, one for each follower!" You thought you misheard. 100,000? That can't possible be right. And Derek was popular sure, but with a niche group. You double-check and his follower count was sitting at 10,002. Confused, you check the chat. did he say 100,000!!? looking and thinking like a pig no one said jocks were smart That's going to take days think he'll realize? too late to back out, he took the money That's like 30 pounds of calories. No way is he going to do it! Derek was reading the chat and checking his phone in confusion. "I did...misread a bit there." Do it eat it 100,000 blimp he's gonna pop come on fatty, EAT EAT EAT! Derek still looks confused, but puts his phone away and smacks a hand to his belly. "I can handle it. Better start now..." You can't watch the entire stream, having to pull yourself away at some point to go to bed and go to work. You haven't missed much - Derek sits at his computer, struggling to his feet every few hours to get his latest food delivery he doesn't bother to turn off the livestream and everyone gets' a perfect view of Derek's swinging, wobbling obese frame as he slowly shuffles in and out of view. Even at night, he waddles out of view to go to bed but leaves the stream running, his snores rattling around the empty room and the only view the staggering amount of fast food containers thrown haphazardly everywhere. Think he'll reach 600? he's too fat to stop now he should eat like this all the time It takes Derek 2 days to eat it all. Even for someone used to all the eating challenges, Derek was eating with a frenzy and a determination you'd never seen. The chat kept his calorie counter for him, and he was absolutely struggling to keep on pace, looking like every bite was a Herculean effort. You tune back in, the afternoon when Derek is down to his last 2,000 calories in a bag of greasy burgers and fries and milkshakes. He looks bloated and fat in a way you've never seen, like at any minute he was going to just start expanding and become a fat filled-balloon the size of the room. His body was clearly protesting, Derek had to keep taking longer and longer breaks inbetween to massage his belly, although he couldn't fully reach around it. Gurgling farts and thunderous belches that chat kept telling him meant he had room for more. 100,000 calories. Almost done. Just a few more... Derek guzzled down the rest of his milkshake and looked triumphantly at his camera, eyes glazed over and face smeared with food.

T-Told ...*puff*... ...*BRRPFFBLTTT*... you ...*uhhnngh*... ...*thbbbt*... I ...*hmphhh*... ...*Brrbllpfft*... c-could ...*blurrRRPPP*... ...*Splrrpffrtbtlt*... do ...*BRRRPPphh*... ...*Frrrpffltbtt*... it.