#it’s good to feel things in response to pain. unfortunately you’ve got to take a step back so you can really think

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

when I’m feeling really irritated with people’s attitudes towards their supposed inherent morality and goodness I add yet another mean-spirited social experiment to my mental list that I would never actually commit to running in real life but love thinking about really hard when I’m in a particularly petty mood

[otakubimbo]

You Don't Know Me

Gojo realizes that he can't just act however he wants to. Will there be a way to mend your hurt feelings?

no curse AU

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masterlist

As Suguru went back to his shared apartment with Satoru, wondering what the hell could be going on. He was just hoping it was a coincidence that you were crying and Satoru sending that SOS message. Unfortunately, as he arrived home to find Satoru with his head in his hands, looking the most stressed he has every seen him, it was no coincidence. Oh, this had to be had.

“What did you do?” Were the first words to leave Sugurus lips as he approached his best friend.

“It was just a misunderstanding really, how the hell was I supposed to know?!” Satoru responded extremely flustered, now standing up pacing trying to explain himself but not really making any sense.

Suguru couldn’t make sense of what he was saying but he did notice that Satorus eye was, black? And he also had a tissue hanging from his nose as if he had a nose bleed.

“Dude, chill out for a second, what the hell happened to your face?” Suguru questioned as he grabbed a hold of his pacing friend.

“She punched me” He huffed as if it was more of an annoyance than anything but the look of his face says way more than that.

“That was one hell of a punch, it seems.  What did you do to deserve this?” Suguru examines his face moving it left and right in his hands.  Satoru snatches his head back in frustration.

“You just have to help me fix this alright!” Satoru exclaims dodging the question as if it meant no importance.

“Satoru, I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what the hell happened”

He groans in response, frustrated with the situation and himself forgetting about his injury and slapping a hand over his face. Immediately, he yells in pain making Suguru sigh, making his way into the kitchen to get ice for the swelling and some meds for the pain knowing he didn’t take any. It was obvious Suguru wasn’t going to get what happened out of Satoru.

Once that name left your lips, Satoru Gojo, Shoko demanded that you stay at her place and that she would be right back, almost leaving you speechless by the way she was moving so quickly, wanting to call after her as she slammed the door behind her.

 Immediately after her exit, her fingers dialed Geto’s number, knowing Gojo the coward wouldn’t answer if she called.

“Where is he?” She says calmly into the phone, knowing that Geto knew exactly what she meant because there was no reason for him to run out of her place unless there was a reason unless he knew the reason.

“Shoko, calm down. He knew he fucked up. He’s literally spiraling right now, hasn’t shut up about wanting to fix it since I got through the door” He attempts to pacify her, knowing that she doesn’t get angry often but when she does, it’s never a good thing.

“Do you even know what he did Suguru?”  Shoko almost laughed.

“Do you really think she was in tears over that? Ask him exactly what he said. I’m sure you saw the black eye too. Ask him why she did that!  You saw her, you’ve talked to her, you know that’s not her to just punch someone for no reason.” She took a drag of her cigarette, she wasn’t one to really correct the behaviors of her friends, but this was different, he went too far.

  It was dead silent on the other end of the line Geto must have put the phone on mute, attempting to get some type of answer out of their mutual friend.

Geto got back on the line, she could hear Gojo in the background trying to explain himself without taking any actual accountability for what he did.

 “He won't exactly tell me, he’s been dodging since I asked him earlier and still won’t tell me what he said” Geto sighs, “I’ll keep him here until you get here”

Shoko hung up immediately, walking her way towards their apartment pulling out another cigarette. When she arrived, she banged on the door, still furious at the audacity of her friend. She knew that Satoru could be an asshole, she knew he was arrogant but she at least thought he was above this. Geto opens the door, immediately stepping out of her way and she pushes herself in. His face was swollen, and his lip was busted a bit at the side, you really got him good with that punch, Shoko almost smiled to herself at his appearance.

“Geto told you, she came to my apartment crying?” she asks nonchalantly.

“He didn’t say she was crying” Gojo tries to defend himself.

“Well, she was. Do you want to tell Suguru what you said to her or should I because she told me? Ya, I knew you were taking organic chem this semester, but I didn’t know it was her class. I should of assumed when she told me some arrogant asshole tried to make himself her tutor.”

“She told you about that?”

“Of course she did, she’s my friend. So are you going to tell him or am I?”

Gojo looks down silent, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the room.

“Satoru” She says plainly waiting on if he’s going to answer or not. He doesn’t, simply looking down ashamed. Disgusting. “Well Suguru,” Shoko says turning her attention to the other man in the room, “ Our dear Satoru, told my friend that there was no way that someone who looks like her could get a better grade than him and then asked her if she slept with the professor because it didn’t make sense.”

“I didn’t know she was that smart, how could I?!.” He again tries to defend himself.

“That’s not the point, Satoru.” Shoko states plainly, “She’s going to be pissed at me saying this but I want you to feel even worse. You know she has a learning disability, right? She records all her lectures and takes her notes afterward. And those doodles you mocked, are usually part of her notes, and diagrams. That’s just how her brain works. Do you know how many nights she’s had me stay up with her while she studied and took notes from her lectures because she needs a body double? You don’t know her, and you owe her an apology actually more than that. And you know what makes this even worse is that she feels bad for hitting you, she feels bad for what she said but I think you deserved more than what she did. This is disappointing Satoru”

Shoko doesn’t even give him the time to speak before getting up to leave.

“I’ll come with you,” Geto says following behind Shoko.

 “Wait” Satoru yells before they both leave, he bends to grab your notebook off the table. He had already looked through it and Shoko was right, your notes were extensive but they were so easy to comprehend and organized. It made sense on how you got such good grades. “She dropped her notebook, can you give it back to her?”

“Yeah” Shoko says before snatching it from his hands, “I’m sure she doesn’t want to see your face anyways”

Shoko and Suguru then left, leaving Satoru with his thoughts and his shame.

Once Shoko got back to her apartment, she caught you in her kitchen making yourself a drink. Well, it was your third drink but who was counting?

“Are you okay ?” Shoko asks when she sees you in the kitchen.

“Yeah I’m okay, thanks for letting me stay here for awhile. I’ll be out your hair.” You say before you down the drink you just made.

“No, no, stay. Just hang here its cool.” She says as you see Geto come in behind her.

“Hey” Geto says awkwardly coming behind Shoko.

“Oh hey Geto, you can call me y/n since you kind of were part of my little breakdown. Ya knows. Feels like we crossed a point” You laugh nervously still holding the empty glass in your hand.

“Then call me Suguru then.” He says with a small smile.

“Okay” you begin to make yourself another drink, something to calm your still going nerves.

 “Yall want one?” You question them as you still pour enough for all of you, they nod in response as you continue to make the drinks.

“Here” you hand them both a glass, going back to get yours from the counter taking a seat on next to Shoko, leaning against her.

“What is this?” Suguru asks looking at the drink.

“Oh, it’s called liquid marijuana. I took a bartending class online before.” You as you take a sip of your drink.  

“Oh, you smoke?” He asks as the answer should be yes.

Before you could answer Shoko speaks up teasing you, “No she doesn’t, she’s such a nerd about smoking. No cigarettes, no weed, nothing.”

“It’s not like that!” You defend yourself, “I just never have before and Shoko's idea of trying to get me high for the first time is putting a gas mask on me and that’s just insane to me.” You huff, hugging the pillow you sat down with making Suguru burst into laughter.

“You’re funny, you really are” Suguru says wiping away a small tear and taking an Altoid case out of his pocket. “You wanna try something less extreme?”

You straighten yourself; you were going to prove that you weren’t such a nerd as Shoko claims even though you knew she was joking, partially, “Sure that’s fine. I’m down.”

Shoko raises an eyebrow at you, and you just elbow her. “I am down! I’m sorry if I don’t want to try weed for the first time as if I’m going to war and my death is imminent.”

Both Shoko and Suguru laugh at this.

“Why haven’t you introduced us before? You knew I met her!” Suguru asks as he starts to roll up a joint.

“Because you're a boy, and this is a girls-only friendship,” Shoko claims leaning into you, making you giggle.

“She just knows I’m not the best socially…. I’m a bit shy. If it wasn’t for my bad directional skills, I would have never even talked to Shoko in the first place.”  You say as you nervously take a sip from your cup.

“Yes, BUT once you get to know you, you’re so cool and smart and funny.” She tries to encourage you, “and hot which is why I didn’t want my horny man friends to know about you.”

“Speaking of, “Suguru starts as he finishes rolling the joint, “I’m sorry about Satoru.”

“His actions are his own, there’s nothing for you to apologize for.” You say looking down into your cup, not wanting anyone’s pity.

“I know but that’s my best friend and I feel responsible for him,” He says seriously.

“Suguru, please don’t worry about it. It’s on him. And I know the way that I look, I get it. I don’t really give off smart.” You say with a bit of sadness in your voice.

“Don’t you start.” Shoko says sternly, “He’s stupid and there’s nothing wrong with the way you look.”

“There isn’t, you are hot, but I know you’re really smart. Probably smarter than me but I would never admit that.” Suguru says sincerely but still with a joking tone at the end which makes you giggle a little feeling a bit lighter.

“Alright, let’s smoke!” Suguru pulls out his lighter and hands the joint to you.

“yeah, I don’t know how to do this exactly.” You look confused at it handing it back. Suguru rolls his eyes playfully.

“Alright, I’ll blow it in your face and just breathe in okay?” He says lighting the joint, and you nod nervously.  He inhales deeply, the smoke filling his cheeks, then grabs the back of your neck pulling your lips dangerously close to his and exhaling. You instinctually breathed in as he instructed, hearing Shoko giggle behind the both of you, looking to see if she took a picture.

“And I’m posting this on IG,” She says with a smirk.

“Wait I need to approve before, hold on.” You say reaching up to grab her phone, but she holds it up from you.

“Alright alright, I’ll show you.”

She shows you the picture, luckily you did successfully fix your face while Shoko was gone. The picture was cute, Suguru was holding the back of your neck while your eyes were closed, and your lips were pushed out to inhale. It was cute, it looked a bit intimate but cute, nonetheless.

“Acceptable. It does look like we would be kissing if there wasn’t smoke which I’m not a fan of but I do look really cute.” You say with a giggle.

“Fine, I'll just post it just to my  story then,” Shoko says before posting it.

“Wait, you don’t have a girl that’s going to try to fight me for this do you?” You ask nervously turning to Suguru.

“Even if I did, I saw what you did to Satoru’s face, you’ll be fine” he jokes as he takes his hit before leaning up to hand it to Shoko.

“Is it that bad?” You ask biting the side of your thumb nervously.

“Oh yeah, he’s probably gonna have to wear shades for a week or two.” Suguru relaxes on the couch. The look on your face surprises Suguru because you look like you feel bad, “don’t you dare feel bad, he deserved that.”

“If you say so” you reply with a huff flopping down next to him as Shoko hands the joint back to you. You took a small puff and immediately started coughing, making Shoko take it back,

“Alright, maybe smoking really isn’t for you.” She says taking a small hit, “alright my turn then. Inhale deep alright.”

You nod as Shoko takes a way bigger hit than Suguru did, she does the same grabbing your face and blowing it basically into your mouth. Of course, Suguru took his one pic to post to IG, tagging both you and Shoko with the caption ‘I got girls kissing girls’.  You got the notification almost instantly on your phone since you were tagged.

“Oh Suguru I didn’t know you followed me on IG.” You say before going to follow him back and then going to look at the picture he tagged you in. “You’re funny for that caption playboy.” You giggle at him.

“Just thought it was appropriate” He shrugs.

“It wasn’t” you giggle, posting the post to your own story. Your spirits were definitely lifted, and you’ve never been high before but you were enjoying it so far.

“So…. How did you land such a good hit on Satoru” Suguru asks as he takes his own hit.

“I'm a kick boxer and a third-degree black belt.” You say so casually that it has Suguru blinking at you as if you had two heads. “What?”

“So let me get this straight, you’re practically a genius, hot, and you can kick ass?”

“I guess” You blush nervously.

“Yeah, you’re definitely Satorus type.” He says with a chuckle and that makes you roll your eyes.

“He can choke for all I care,” You say and instantly cover your hand with your mouth, “that was mean I didn’t mean it.” Which makes the other two burst into laughter again. 

You pout as Suguru takes another hit but holds it before grabbing you by the back of the neck and blowing it in your face again. You inhaled off instinct. At this point, you were feeling a little different, a little light-headed. Shoko took another hit for herself and then gave you another one.

You go to stand up and then immediately feel that you are off balance falling back on Suguru with a laugh, “omg I’m sorry” You try to get out between laughter. Shoko and Suguru exchange looks.

“You high, princess?” Suguru asks looking down at your head in his lap that you didn’t even notice.

“No, I’m good. It may have been the drinks. I had a few before y'all got here.” You continue to giggle.

“A few?” Shoko asks more as a joke.

“It was only three!” You say as you sit up way too quickly, your world starts to spin.

“Oh, the brainiac is cross faded” Suguru chuckles at you.

“What’s cross-faded?” You ask getting more comfortable in his lap unconsciously.

Shoko squats down to your face, grabbing it letting you know she is going to blow more smoke it, and you let her. “Cross faded is when you’re high and drunk”

“I’m not high” you say after exhaling with another giggle.

“yes. Yes you are” Suguru corrects.

“No, but I am hungry. Anyone else kind of hungry?” You ask, looking between the two of them who both laugh at you.

“Yeah, she’s high, good. Suguru you can cook yeah?” Shoko asks basically kicking him out of his spot as your pillow. He grumbles getting up, agreeing to make something for the three of you. Shoko puts your head in her lap instead of letting you rest it on the hard couch arm, sliding your legs where your head was.

“You’re such a great friend Shoko, I love you too much” you say as one of your hands goes to touch her face.

“yeah, I know, what would you do without me”

“Be lost and die” you giggle.

You start to go on a ramble in Shokos lap while Suguru is cooking, truly not noticing that you’re higher than giraffe coochie.

“See the thing is that people always used to assume that penguins mated for life, yeah. Which I don’t even know how they figured that out, like how are you even telling the penguins apart? But no no no anyways, they said that they mate for life and that’s not even close to true, they’re like HABITUAL cheaters and there are a lot of actual gay penguins, which is cute ya know until you think of the fact that jealous penguins murder baby penguins like all the time. And did you know that they will also throw those cute baby penguins in the water to check for danger, like a sacrifice?”

No one had any clue how you got on to the subject of penguins not even you, but they listened to your cross-faded ramblings. Suguru would purposely interject trying to steer you off course to a new topic where you completely forget what you were initially talking about and now ramble on about something else, which would make him laugh.

You didn’t last to when Suguru finished cooking before you passed out in Shokos lap which landed two separate IG posts from both of them about how you can’t hang. After the two of them ate, making sure to save you some for when you woke up later Suguru went back to his own shared apartment with Gojo.

“Looks like y'all had fun.” Gojo scoffs from his spot on the couch scrolling through what Suguru assumed was IG as he walks into the apartment. He had no reason to be upset really, he was the one who fucked ip after all. That could have been him.

“It was a great time actually, she’s super cool. You really did fuck up. She’s literally the definition of your type from what I can tell” Suguru says as he enters the shared space, seeing the bruise that has formed on Gojo's face has grown darker than the last time that he was him. “Damn, she really got you good. Good for her, should of hit you again.”

There was silence between the two as Satoru glared up at Suguru from his spot in his couch that he didn’t move from. The only thing to break the silence was Sugurus chuckle as he left his friend to his own misery.

The next day you’re almost too embarrassed to go to your organic chem class after your outburst but you of course, a studious woman knew you had to go. Luckily you at least had your notebook that you thought you lost, thankfully Suguru had it.  Once you got in class, you made a beeline to the professor's desk up front, trying to avoid looking at anyone’s eyes. After greeting him, you start profusely apologizing for your outburst, letting him know that nothing like that will ever happen again. He accepts your apology with a sympathetic smile, he kind of got the gist of the conversation that was had between you and Gojo.

Once you take your normal spot in the lecture hall, class starts soon afterward. The whole time, you can feel Gojo's gaze on the back of your head. He really does feel like complete shit and he doesn’t know how he’s even going to apologize to you. Especially since Shoko told him about your learning disability, he felt even shitter and Suguru didn’t make it any better with saying how you should have hit him again. After class finished, you quickly made your way to the door only sparing Gojo a single glance, seeing the huge bruise you left on his face. You wanted to apologize but both Suguru and Shoko made you promise not to, so you held strong. He attempted to stop you briefly, but you brushed past him without giving him a second glance. How was he going to fix this?

taglist: @allofffmypeaches

[jojikawa]

Amnesia

1 • Distant Memory

Master List

You are released from the hospital.

Series Theme: カミイロアワセ · binaria

Shizuo hates his strength. It is probably the thing he hates most about himself given how inescapable it is. It basically ruined his whole life…well, Izaya ruined his life but his strength disorder is a close runner-up. There are so many moments where he couldn’t think of a good reason for why he was cursed with such an ability. All he can do is destroy…

So, is it wrong for him to feel a sudden sense of thankfulness? He can proudly say that you had someone you can rely on. He is strong enough to take all that will come your way. He just needs to be responsible and disciplined so that he doesn’t hurt you by accident. The man can’t help but be nervous when the doctor permits him to take you home. As your caretaker, he needs to make sure you take your medicine and that you don't put too much stress on your legs.

‘I can just carry her everywhere.’ He thinks to himself. You won’t be leaving the house much so all he has to do is remember to administer your medication. The unfortunate thing is that you have a bit of an infection. It will make the healing process a little longer and more painful than it should be. Shizuo being upset about that is quite an understatement. He wants to refrain from showing his anger in your presence but at that moment he isn’t able to contain himself.

You patiently wait in your hospital room for Shizuo to come back when you feel the building shake. Its enough force to make the lights flicker. Then you hear him. His once quiet voice is unrecognizable as roaring and loud as it was. Louder than anything  you’ve heard before. 

“YOU GAVE HER A WHAT?!”

The both of you are forced to get out shortly after…but your hospital bill is free of charge! Shizuo has quite the reputation. He never elaborates, telling you that he would talk to you about it when you got better. At least, you figured he cares enough about you to get upset. But…did he really cause the building to shake or was it some kind of mild earthquake?

The two of you stand outside, waiting for a ride that would take the two of you home. Your legs feel like jelly. Sometimes, it’s like they aren’t even there and you’d collapse. Fortunately, Shizuo is always there to catch you before you could hit the ground but it reaches the point where he’s just holding you now. Connected to you is a hospital IV that fed you antibiotics every few hours.

“Shizuo, how much longer until your friends get here?” You ask as you notice the clouds above and it seems like it’s supposed to rain soon. “Not much longer.” He replies. “Damn, where the hell are they?” You hear him mutter. You frown, securing your arms around his neck as he holds you. The wind is beginning to blow and you are getting cold underneath your hospital gown. Luckily, a van pulls up, parking in front of you and Shizuo.

The sliding door opens to reveal a girl wearing a black outfit and hat to match. Her face lits up at the sight of you. “Oh mai gosh! Dotachin, you were right! (y/n) did wake up!” she stares at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. Behind her emerges a boy wearing a gray hoodie. You notice he has fox-like eyes. “Whoa! Long time no see! Your hair is mega short. You kinda look like the protagonist of this new manga…if he were a girl.”

“Will the two of you shut up already and make room for them?” The man who speaks is in the passenger seat. He wears a beanie.

Shizuo places you inside the back door before breaking down your IV stand to put it into the back of the car. “Thanks for doing this,” he says as he passes by his friend. The name you catch is“Kyohei.” He and the others were driving Shizuo and you home. These people knew you. You feel so bad that you can’t remember them. Their faces are mildly familiar but the memories would come and go as if you were trying to remember a dream. You try to think about the adventures they talk about having with you. Your mind misconstrues the info being given.

The woman’s name is Erika and the man is Walker.

“We were so excited when Shizuo told us you’d be waking up! We bought you a ton of manga!” Walker reveals a bunch of books from his bag. “O-Oh, thank you.” You take the stack of books that’s practically shoved into your hands. They are seemingly brand new! On top is a particular-looking manga. “Kagura Bachi?” You read out loud. “That one’s my favorite right now!” Walker says. “Trust me, you’ll like it too.”

“Hey, don’t overwhelm her. She’s supposed to take it easy, not read all that weird shit you two are into.” Shizuo informs them before getting in and sitting next to you. It’s a tight fit but hopefully, the ride isn’t long.

And, thankfully, it wasn’t. Shizuo just didn’t want you to deal with getting through Ikebukuro with your legs still weak. Plus, it began to rain.

The driver is a man named Saburo.

“If you need anything, just let us know. We’ll always be on standby.” Saburo shoots you a smile and you smile back. “Thanks.” You bow to the two men in the front section of the car. You talk to them as you wait for Shizuo to get your things from the van. Kyohei smiles too before it turns into a frown. “You don’t remember us, do you?”

You shake your head. “No, but I was told that it's temporary. So, I’m not worried.” You chirp reassuringly and his smile returns. “Alright. ‘Hope Shizuo takes good care of you.”

“Bye (y/n)!” Walker yells from the backseat. “Bye-bye!” Erika chimes in. “See you later! Thank you for the manga.” And then they drive off. They seem to be a lively bunch. “Come inside before you get wet. Can you walk?” Shizuo examines your legs as he holds all of your belongings from the hospital. You nod. “Yes.”

You follow Shizuo into his apartment. It is extremely minimalistic and surprisingly small. The man is always out and about so there was no need to decorate or have an extremely spacious area. It isn’t much longer before you feel a sense of dread. Your muscles stiffened just a little and is sore as if you’ve been carrying heavy things all day

“I’m kinda tired.” You announce, prompting Shizuo to perk up. “Already?”

You nod in response.

“You’re probably low energy from not eating. Have lunch first and then get some rest.” He set up your IV stand and attached the bag to it. “Do you think you can walk or do you need help?”

When you hear his question, you look down at your legs. They healed up fine but ached endlessly with pain. “I can walk.” You’re lying. Clearly. You haven’t taken a single step since you entered Shizuo’s home. You suddenly realize you’re being lifted. It’s Shizuo. He places you on his couch. “I don’t got groceries so if you want something, I gotta go pick it up.” He says, opening his phone and typing away. “I’m not really hungry.” You shake your head. “Don’t say that. What are you in the mood for?” He insists.

“Um…” You tell him what you want and he makes a phone call. You didn’t know who he called but it didn’t sound like he was ordering from a restaurant.

“Hey. Need a favor. Can you pick up some food for me?.... She’s awake. You can come say ‘hi’ if you want….try to hurry. She needs to eat before she can take her medicine.”

You didn’t hear a voice on the other end. “Who was that?” You tilt your head. Shizuo couldn’t get enough of your small mannerisms. The way your hair shifts and falls...or how cute your droopy eyes look whenever you try to keep eye contact with him.

“It’s a friend. Her name is Celty. The two of you were close…before the accident.” He explains, not being able to do anything else but hide his face from your gaze. “She’ll be by soon.” 

Your eyes flutter shut as you try your best to remember that name. Celty. It rang no bells, for now. Maybe once you see her face, things will come back to you.

Suddenly, you became aware of your attire. You were still in a hospital gown. “Um, Shizuo, do you think I could get changed?” Your tone seems rather annoyed, as you are becoming increasingly uncomfortable with the thin piece of fabric. You desire your clothing. 

Shizuo tenses up at your request. “Sure.” He mutters before picking you back up and taking you to his room. The bedroom is rather minimal like the rest of the house…except something particularly cute catches your eye! On the bed is a medium-sized stuffed bear. It has light brown fur with pink accents. Tied to its arm are three pink balloons filled with helium that causes the bear to fall over on its side.

“Oh.” You become flushed at the sight of it and you feel Shizuo’s heart rate quicken as he holds you bridal style to his chest. “Shit, ‘forgot about that.” You hear mumbles, which makes you blush even more. He seems so…genuine.

“That was supposed to be for later.” The man sits you down on the bed next to the bear and goes to the closet. You smile. “Why later? I think now is perfect.” You pick up the animal and hold it in your lap. It’s so cute! You trace the fabric with your fingers, squeezing its paws and simply taking in the adorable design. A moment later, Shizuo brings out an oversized sweater of his. “Just put this on for now.” He gives it to you. You take it from him, puzzled as to why he doesn’t just give you one of your own. Although, this could prove much more comfortable.

“Thank you.” You smile kindly before promptly removing your hospital gown. Shizuo is completely unprepared! His breath hitches at the sight of you. It was inappropriate but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your body. Your hair was short from the hospital hair cut, but he kinda wonders how you’d look right now with hair so long that it touched the floor. 

Yeah, you’re kinda Shizuo’s type. No matter what you do with your appearance, he loves every bit of it. Even if your perfect skin was tainted with scabs and scars from the accident—in his eyes, you are still perfect. You are still his.

His daze is cut short once you got the sweater up over your breasts and the fabric falls like a curtain over the rest of your body. He hasn’t even noticed you noticing him!

His sweater fit you like a mini-dress, so that’s how you wore it. It isn’t much longer before the person named Celty arrives.

When she lays eyes upon you in Shizuo’s living room, her behavior becomes odd. You notice that she doesn’t speak but communicates via her cellphone. She types various things that don't make sense to you.

She writes:

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore!!”

You read the message as quickly as you can. The words and letters seem to jumble themselves up on their own but after some time, you understand what she says. You grin. “I’m glad I’m okay, too.” You reply, hanging onto Shizuo for support.

“Hey, try not to overwhelm her, kay?” Shizuo mutters, seemingly holding you with ease.

Celty writes:

“So, you can’t remember a thing, huh?”

You shake your head. “No, but Shizuo told me that the doctors said my memories should come back in time.”

She types:

“Great! Shinra said the same thing but I had to come and ask you myself!”

You open your mouth to speak but she pulls back her phone to type something new.

“Why did you come to visit Shizuo of all people set getting out?”

Your lips part. You can’t think of a proper response. Shizuo is your boyfriend, so why wouldn’t you visit him? 

Shizuo soon steps beside you. “Don’t overload her with anything. She's still prone to a lot of headaches.” He informs the dullahan. “It’s gonna be like this for a few weeks. ‘Prolly months.”

Celty jumps slightly at Shizuo’s statement. “Months?!” A puff of smoke leaves from beneath her helmet, “I can’t wait for months!”

She is able to manifest herself so much that she doesn't need to type for you to hear what she said. But it’s only a moment before she calms down. She types a message one last time.

“Can I speak to Shizuo privately?”

Once you read it, you nod. “Of course.” You turn your attention to the delivered food that Celty brought. “I’m gonna get started. Don’t take too long.”

Shizuo tenses up but once you had sat down and opened your bento box, he began to move. He follows Celty to the outside of his apartment.

Once you’re alone, you begin to eat. Japanese cuisine is always so tasty. You aren’t able to remember much but one of the things you could remember was your favorite savory food. While eating, feel a draft going up the bottom of your sweater. No issue, you’d just get some leggings or a skirt to put underneath. You didn’t wanna bother Shizuo either so the best course of action would be getting it yourself. After a few more bits, you close the bento and make the slow but treacherous journey to the back of the apartment. You hadn’t even noticed how bare the apartment was until now. There didn’t seem to be any traces of you left behind.

It fills you with a prang of sadness in your heart with a side of anxiety. Your accident is always described as horrible but was it so bad that Shizuo expected you to die in your coma? The feeling intensifies when you look into Shizuo’s closet and see that there was absolutely nothing that belonged to you in there. No matter how much you look, all you run into is bartender suit after bartender suit. All of them, identical.

You take a deep breath. Maybe you and Shizuo lived separately? If so, going home would be nice. You could see everything from the past and it could help jog your memory.

“(y/n)?” Shizuo calls. You leave his room and are reduced to a crawl from standing in the closet for so long. You don’t answer, you just let him find you and he does. “What’s wrong? Why’d you get up?” He questions, picking you up. “I was looking for some pants or something,” you tell him. “To put on.”

“Why? ‘You cold?”

You meekly nod. He sighs. “Well, don’t worry about all that. I’ll get you something.” He reassures you. You can’t put your finger on it but something about him is so suave and soothing. Maybe it’s his voice? It’s deep and firm. Or it could be his build. He is tall and strong. It makes you feel safe. You still can’t fathom that he’s your high school sweetheart. Shizuo fetches you a blanket and the two of you relax on the couch together. He eats and you finish your half. It was time for medicine.

This is your least favorite part of everything. The medication makes everything so fluffy like it’s a dream. You get extremely tired and end up sleeping away most days. You recall Shizuo’s face and voice but rarely remember anything he says. Your days consist of eating, a bit of affection from Shizuo and then you’re back to sleep. Just as you’re dozing off, you feel as though you remember everything: who you are, what you do, who Shizuo is…

And then it’s gone.

You fall asleep and the next day, you can’t remember a thing. This goes on for about four weeks. Walking becomes less painful and you’re off the medication that causes you to fall asleep at any given moment. Your hair has grown to about your shoulders. You can’t seem to figure out what you want to do with it. You don’t remember how you wore your hair. So, you just let it do its thing until this rather large hurdle passes.

Shizuo offers to begin taking you out with him since you can manage without him and you accept. Of course, by now, you have some of your own clothes to wear out. Shizuo had Celty get them from your apartment.

“You ready yet?” Shizuo asks through the door. Since that day he saw you naked, he’s insisted on giving you privacy to change. You didn’t mind at all. “Yeah, sorry,” You emerge from the bedroom wearing a thin knitted sweater with a high skirt and boots to match. At first, you felt overdressed for a date at Russia Sushi but Shizuo reminds you that you always wore things like this. They were your clothes, after all. 

The two of you join hands and head out. You notice that once you’re actually outside, he breaks away from you, preferring to let you lead. You assume it’s because of his job of being a bodyguard. That’s fine.

You follow his directions to the restaurant. It sticks out like a sore thumb because it’s the only restaurant that has a Russian black man outside of it. Although, you never anticipated that you’d be hoisted up in the air by this very man. 

“Oh, (y/n)! You are walking again! Now you can enjoy sushi just like before!”

You are too shocked to reply. 

“Shizuo tell me that you don’t remember me. I pray that you remember soon!”

“Cut it out, Simon.” Shizuo steps in. “She's still recovering. Just because she’s walking doesn’t mean she’s okay.”

“Oh goodness!” Simon puts you down. “I am sorry little lady.”

“I-It’s fine.” You give a meek, nervous smile. Almost everyone you run into says such similar things. It’s so strange. All these people were your friends? It’s a bit overwhelming and the pressure weighs on you. You needed to remember. 

“Come in! Eat Sushi!” He ushers the both of you inside. You meet the owner who tells you that his name is Dennis and although his face is vaguely familiar, the two of you exchange no words after that. You’re seated and you both order.

“Shizuo, can I tell you something?” You’re across from Shizuo. He stares at you a lot, you’ve noticed. Sometimes, it makes you nervous. “Shizuo?” You call again, he blinks before turning his attention back to the menu. “You’re staring again. You look so hard that I never know what to say.” You joke with a light laugh. “Sorry.” He says. “You’re just pretty.” He adds.

“Well, you’re quite handsome too.”

You compliment him but he never says thank you. “What is it you wanna say?”

You grip the edges of your menu, trying to distract yourself with the images of unorthodox sushi as you let the words pour out.

“I’m beginning to remember some things.”

You can’t see him but you know he’s frozen up. “What…do you remember?”

You purse your lips. “A lot of them are childhood memories. My mom and dad. They were always so strict.” You scrunch up your nose at the thought. “They wanted me to learn Japanese so bad. Then it was Chinese and then Korean. Learning them all at once made my head hurt. I didn’t realize I knew all of these things until I saw them. I could see all these languages and understand them.”

Shizuo eases. “That’s great. I’m sorry about your, uh, parents, but you are pretty fluent in a bunch of languages. I dunno how many.” He shrugs. You wonder why your family made you participate in such things. Since you could remember them now, you should probably contact them. They never reached out after you woke up but maybe if you try to reach out on your new phone, they could help you.

Things progressively get easier and easier. After some physical therapy, Shizuo began letting you go out on your own. Ikebukuro can be dangerous but he’ll always be nearby doing debt collecting runs with Tom. You let him know that you’ll give him a call if you ever need help. He tells you that Celty is out and about everyday as well.

Upon investigating your belongings, you noticed that you had a lot of money. Shizuo said you had a high end job, so it was a pleasant surprise. You thought that Shizuo’s apartment needed a bit of a woman’s touch so your plan is to visit a few convenient stores to look for decorations. Plus, he deserves a nice gift for taking such good care of you.

The thing is that your day has barely begun and there was already chaos, involving Shizuo, nonetheless.

“IIIZAAAAYAAA!”

Is that Shizuo? It sounded pretty close. You stop in your tracks on the sidewalk and just as you do, a pair of hands grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to see Shizuo approaching with what looked like the entire guard of a railing! The person grabbing you seems to be using you as a shield as Shizuo refuses to swing. Like an angry predator, he holds the huge piece of metal and stalks closer. He gets so close that the person abandons you and Shizuo darts after him. “Get back here, you damn flee!”

You get a glimpse of the person who grabbed you. He had dark hair and a familiar coat that you definitely remembered. It was the man who visited you before you were discharged from the hospital. That reminded you of everything you experienced that day. That odd email. His claim that someone hurt you and that it wasn’t just a bad accident. You’d gotten so distracted by getting better that you completely forgot. You are determined to get to the bottom of this.

Master List

[drops-of-universe]

it wasn't so much that daddy wasn't around, it was how we ended up at each other's throat, after he tried to get me mixed up with his smuggling narcotics back when I was 32. well, that and the decades of casual put downs, always insinuating I was the family fuck-up. it really started when I moved out to live with my girlfriend, he blew up with me and acted like he was about to strike her, so I grabbed him by the neck and lifted him up against the wall. considering the terror I saw in his eyes, it seems he never let that slight go, but what narcissist would? so he tried to get me helping him move drugs, I got wise and stole $60k out from under his nose, and he tried to have me killed. so I keep an eye on him, and it would honestly make me kind of happy if he tried some shit again, if only to have an excuse for offing him. the one good thing, he taught me how to fix everything, and how find the lynchpin that will kill anything.

wtf dude im so so sorry you’ve been put to this shitty situation bc of your bag of shit dad. yeah i totally know what you mean by ur traumas n issues - i think a lot of ppl do, for those who were raised by fear, thats always going to be the go-to reaction unfortunately. dealing w parents like this is pretty much like navigating a landmine. and they are the only people responsible for how they express their own anger and ur not the cause you're just witnessing their bullshit. i really hope ur not acting intuitively based off of that mistreatment tho. i understand that that can take years to truly work through, maybe the entirety of our adult lives. these thinking patterns are burned into your mind + your core beliefs, which is partially what makes it all so fucking unfair, so painful and disorienting. but you can start with grounding yourself in reality via self compassion, you can start by reminding yourself that it's not your job to make yourself miserable bc ur of dads toddler tantrums. you can start with considering therapy or other avenues of support like a hotline or a support group - maybe that feels drastic to you, but im trying to get across how worrying this ask is and how much you deserve to feel listened to, to feel like you have options beyond lifelong suffering n trauma, because you do. anyway, i wont ramble for too long but just know i completely get where you're coming from, and id fucking eat ur dad alive if i could

[dogandponygal]

Institutions for Failed Persons part 2

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you gave yourself to the institute of human animals. The only times you could remember being awake were to eat and to take your medications.

Losing your sense of time was not a novel experience for you. It wasn’t quite what you expected, but your time at the institute had felt like many depressive episodes that had come before. 

This time others were giving you drugs. Now you were encouraged not to leave your bed.

This is almost what you imagined dying to be like, except you got to experience the pleasant nothingness of non existence.

As far as escapes from your dreaded existence goes, this was definitely the most pleasant you’ve experienced.

Nothing but dreamless sleep. The brief moments your mind would surface from the embrace of the void were dulled by all the delightful drugs that saturated your brain.

Best of all, there was no guilt or anxiety that accompanied your lack of participation in your own existence.

You couldn’t be entirely sure if the few things you experienced actually happened, or were just fragments of forgotten dreams you had mistaken for reality. 

Shiny latex beings brought you food so bland, you couldn’t even remember what you were eating, even if you wanted to.

You tried to remember if those sleek entities ever spoke to you. All you could dredge up from your delirious mind was LED smiling emoticons on shiny gas masks. As you tried to hold the image in your mind, you could associate those pleasant lights with finishing your meals.

With a little more thought you could remember the feeling of smooth latex clad hands tucking you back into bed, and patting your head before you drifted back into that all encompassing darkness.

An injection delivered by a cooing nurse brought you back to some semblance of awareness. It felt like a bright light being switched on in a dark room. 

You wanted to go back. Being so aware of yourself and your environment was painful, cruel even.

“Good morning dear. How are you feeling?” A man in a white lab coat stood at the side of the nurse. 

You attempted to respond, but all that came out of your mouth were strained and gurgled groans as the nurse sat you up.

“Don’t worry, not being able to form sentences is a goal we want you to reach, but unfortunately you won’t be there without medication for quite some time.” The doctor sat at the foot of your bed cradling a glowing tablet in his arms.

You managed to finally express your displeasure with being awake. Were you being mean, bitchy even? You didn’t care. You just wanted to be fast asleep under your covers again. 

“I understand you want to go back to sleep, and you will, I just need to talk to you for a moment.”

“I see you had a promising childhood. I’m sorry that things have gone so so terribly wrong. Of course the bad things that happened to you weren’t your fault, and now you don’t have to worry about how you chose to cope with those traumas.”

“You can rest easy now, you aren’t a person anymore. You aren’t responsible for anything anymore. No more worrying about how you will deal with those mental illnesses that brought you to this place.”

“I just have a few questions. Don’t worry, your answers won’t matter too much. From all your medical records, I see your old psychologist noted that you took great comfort in following the lead of others, would you agree with that?”

You gave a disinterested sleepy nod in response.

“I can see from your scars, and history of substance abuse that you have a poor sense of self.” 

You nod again, becoming more and more irritated that you are awake.

“Your diary, which I can’t help but notice is stained in what I assume is your own blood, certainly supports the idea that you don’t particularly like yourself. Would you agree?” 

Your irritation broke through the haze of drugs and you said some very unkind things.

It dawned on you that you didn’t know if you were more angry at the bearded old man keeping you awake, or at yourself.

“Thank you. I could get into attachment theory and its relation to trauma, but that really shouldn’t worry you anymore.”

The doctor pecked away at his tablet.

“I’ll be admitting you to our puppy training program. I think you might make a good pony as well, but pups are far more common. We will be able to tell more about the appropriate course of treatment once we begin its administration.”

Could this doctor fuck off already?

You hated being this aware. You needed to escape your consciousness as fast as possible.  You didn’t know it was possible to say “Arf Arf” in a sarcastic tone of voice, but you managed to before laying down and pulling the covers over your head.

The doctor and nurse both laughed at this. You didn’t care why, you just wanted to go back to sleep. 

“There there little pup, just a quick shot and you’ll be fast asleep.”

After a pinch you began to feel yourself fall back into the darkness as a smile crept across your face.

[a-true-renaissance-woman]

01/07/2025

The consequences of being a bad person

–

There are unfortunate side effects of being an English major. I vaguely remember seeing a bit about this at some point. The comedian joked that he couldn’t just see “a chair;” he could only gaze upon and consider this ephemera, destined to one day be cast aside as a relic of a bygone era. Or something to that effect. My point being, I don’t just see things for what they are, in the same way an architect doesn’t just see a building, or a musician a song.

I read into everything by nature, and I dig deeper than I should, trying to examine every last nook and cranny of any and every occurrence in my life because that’s what I’ve been trained to do. It’s agonizing and exhausting. To everyone who has ever had the thought that I would be better off caring less and not taking things so seriously, and there are a lot of you, I must stress that I wholeheartedly agree. I really do. Unfortunately, I find that I possess many deeply ingrained beliefs, habits and general ways of being that prevent me from embodying the “chill” version of myself that I would also much prefer. If it were easy, I wouldn’t be here writing this right now, and I would likely be on much fewer medications.

This issue of overthinking is, of course, not exclusive to English majors. I believe it’s human nature to briefly spiral from time to time regarding the state of your life and the choices you’ve made. But I fear that my experience may be deeper and more painful than some. I’ve known and borne witness to such a range of personalities in my life thus far, that it’s often difficult for me to identify a baseline off which to refer things to. I don’t know what the scale is. So when I, myself, experience what I would define as a life-altering event, I’m not always sure what the appropriate response is. Am I just blowing things out of proportion, or am I truly valid in my reaction? Am I just mentally ill and having a mentally-ill-person moment? I know I have a literal mental illness, so it’s something I have to take into consideration. Somewhere around here is when I think I begin veering into, what I might consider, the “critical analysis danger zone,” – one of those aforementioned side effects of being an English major.

I have a deep-seated need to understand the world around me. I need to know what’s going on, and I need to be able to make sense of it. If it doesn’t make sense, then I feel like I’m not in control. And if I feel like I’m not in control, I don’t feel good. And when I don’t feel good, I make bad choices. You can see where this is going. And again I say, to those who have ever suggested that I learn to let things go, I can assure you that I am trying desperately, and I would love it if that came naturally to me. But it doesn’t. I fixate, and I poke, and I prod until I wear myself down to the state I currently find myself in — an empty shell of my former self.

My relationship ended on New Year’s Day via iMessage. He wouldn’t take a call with me. I implored him to do so, but he either wouldn’t or couldn’t do it. I didn’t get a live breakup. I got a recording of a voice that sounded wholly detached from the person who once made me feel like I mattered. It was jarring, and made me doubt whether any of it was ever genuine.

Just like the rest of our relationship, we were ever so slightly out of step. By the time I was done listening to his final thoughts on us, he had surely already closed his phone and put the thought out of his mind. He moved on before I even got the chance to feel my feelings at all. Nevertheless, following months of excruciating ambiguity over what we were, he said the words explicitly, but only because I asked for them. He did not offer them freely or without obstacle. Instead, I was made to chase them down, begging and pleading for the clarity that would finally bring me peace and the opportunity to move on. In doing so, I unfortunately ruined his day. He told me so, and that he wouldn’t even try to hide it.

Granted, my direct actions leading up to this moment were impulsive and emotionally-fueled, and I understand why the abruptness sparked indignation in him. But, out of everything, I couldn’t help but fixate on this statement in particular, as it instinctively prompted me to furrow my brow and jut my chin forward in confusion. Did he just imply that he typically does try to hide it? I hadn’t realized he’d ever made that effort. Not once in two years did I ever feel oblivious to his frequent bouts of coldness, no doubt stemming from an unspoken disregard for me, in addition to his own demons. I wondered how much more there was, lingering beneath the surface all this time, about the ways I truly made him feel.

It’s the annoyance that I think hurts most, because at least if he’s angry, that means he cares. It implies that he’s invested enough time, effort, and energy into thinking about our situation that perhaps he might even be compelled to seek his answers or closure for himself. I wanted him to have anything to say. But naturally, my ever-perceived neediness was met with a voice completely detached from the person who once made me feel safe and capable. It told me finally, in no uncertain terms, that we were done. That all of this is not his problem anymore. In my head, I pictured him gesturing in my direction, looking me up and down, making it abundantly clear that I was “this.” My existence in his life is now a burden, and one which is at odds with the positivity and good things he’s surrounded himself with since abandoning me and our home that I so earnestly tended to. I hate myself for the days I succumbed to feeling normal human emotions. I hate myself for ever bringing negativity into his life. I hate that I was ever a bother.

I’m sure many could’ve skipped this struggle for closure without looking back. I envy them for that — to be so unyielding in your self-certainty as to walk away knowing that you are choosing yourself, and that you will be better for it. He chose himself when he left. There was never any confusion on that point. He did not overthink it. In fact, I’d argue that he underthought it. But I’m hardly ignorant to the path that led us here.

I started dating him because he reminded me of someone else. I never told him that. I felt guilty about it every day. I still do.

I lied to him from day one, so I tend to attribute blame to myself for most everything that’s unfolded since then, because it was me who committed the original sin. It’s my deepest darkest secret, and my biggest shame. I used him before he ever used me, and so it feels hypocritical for me to hold ill will towards him because it was my desperation for a substitute that sustained us. In the beginning anyway. My faults and weaknesses brought us into being, and I corrupted us from the start.

But even after everything that’s happened and all the havoc he's wreaked in my life, I still picture the face he might make if he ever discovered this information, and I feel shame to the point of nausea. But in spite of all the disdain he’s expressed towards me, I need to believe that he cared enough about me for this revelation to have some impact. Any at all really. And the selfish, bitter, vindictive part of me hopes it would hurt. I hope it stings. Except — no I don’t. Because I love him. And because I do, I again feel nauseous.

—

My final act of love for you is letting go. I would’ve done anything to make you happy, and I think letting go will finally do that. It was the truth all along that I could never face. Neither of us could. So please, by all means — forget. You have my blessing. Forget the ways you made me feel. All of them. Because you can’t feel bad if I’m not there. Make it like I never was. Leave all of this — all of me — behind.

Then… that’s it. I can’t hurt you anymore, because you can’t hurt me. I hope it’s enough, and I hope you’re happy now.

I’ll hold the memories for both of us and carry their weight, because forgetting is sad. Remembering is strength. It keeps you whole. The weight will ground me in my own pursuit of happiness, so that when I finally find it, I can have it in its entirety. The good and the bad, because I’ll feel capable all on my own. I will be capable.

I love you, and I’ll miss you. More than you’ll ever know. Goodbye, and good luck. I hope my city treats you kindly. Please give the loon a kiss for me.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

6, BRIEFLY

Most of the qualities I've mentioned are things that can be cultivated, but I have to sit on the other side of the head and tell them: Wake up. But Cybercash was so bad and most stores' order volumes were so low that it was very remiss of me to have forgotten all that stuff within three weeks of the final exam. Boy, was I wrong. The creative class flocks to a handful of executives, politicians, regulators, and labor leaders. It was a novel thing to be in the twentieth century. A speech like that is, in my house in Cambridge, which was built in 1876, the bedrooms don't have closets. How was the place different from what they expected?

How did things get this way? When I look back at photos from the 1970s, I'm surprised how empty houses look. And frankly the thought of a 30% success rate at fundraising makes my stomach clench. Traditional profitability means a big bet is finally paying off, whereas the main importance of ramen profitability is a trick for not dying en route. Business still reflects an older model, exemplified by the French word for working: travailler. If it fails, that is. If you have to push down on the top?

So while I stand by our responsible advice to finish college and then go work for an existing company for a couple years be the CEO. That's why we rarely hear phrases like qualified expert in the software business I know from experience that some undergrads are as capable as most grad students. At the very least, crank up the font size big enough to make it big if and only if they're launched with sufficient initial velocity.1 And the books we were assigned. A button that looks like it will make a machine stop should make it stop, not speed up. What are you going to do. The wise man was someone who knew what the right choice. Err on the side of the river. The mistake they make is to underestimate the power of compound growth. Galleries are not especially prone to waste money.

What if I run out of ideas? Imitating nature also works in engineering. A round. Slashdot or Delicious. I remember telling David Filo in late 1998 or early 1999 that Yahoo should buy Google, because I tried to opt out of it, and it was hard to take search seriously.2 Google, and Microsoft.3 But they had the most opaque obstacle in the world between them and the truth: money. Unfortunately, beautiful things tend to get discarded. No amount of discipline can replace genuine curiosity. As often happens, Ron discovered how to be the best solution. In principle they could have; the king could have invented firearms, then invaded his neighbor. And yet both have the same answer: 1/1-n Whenever you're trading stock in your company for something that more than doubles the company's average outcome, you're net ahead, because the best founders are making it.

In school you are, the more risk you should take the riskiest investments you can find just one user who really needs something and can act on that need, you've got a toehold in making something people want. Poof goes the axiom that taste can't be wrong.4 Whereas if you're doing the kind of pain you get from engaging directly with your earliest users will be the best you ever get. It makes people trust you. Indeed, it evolved from actual warfare: most early traders switched on the fly from merchants to pirates depending on how one feels about airy abstractions, let's try considering it as a hard sell; we soon sank to building sites for free, but before the Web it was harder to reach an audience or collaborate on projects. Like paying excessive attention to early customers, fabricating things yourself turns out to be mistaken, but he described his co-founder as the best hacker he'd ever met, and you could tell he meant it.5 The first twenty years of everyone's life consists of being piped from one institution to another. To do good work you have to do the best work they can, which is figuring out what those problems are. I used to write papers for my friends.6 Many a hacker has written a PhD dissertation knows, the way Reveal did.

Why would great programmers want to work sixteen hours a day on it.7 And in addition to the direct cost in time, there's the cost in fragmentation—breaking people's day up into bits too small to be useful. The problem with patent reform is that it gives your mind something to chew on: when your eyes are looking at something, your hand will do more interesting work. That's why we're doing it during the summer—so even college students can participate. Since risk and reward. A, but I found the same problem there. Outside writers tend to supply editorials of the defend-a-position variety, which make development a lot cheaper, but our attitudes toward it haven't changed correspondingly. Obviously it has to be making money the way it ultimately will. The most common unscalable thing founders have to do is make something valuable. If circumstances had been different, the people running Yahoo might have realized sooner how important search was.

Notes

Though they were friendlier to developers than Apple is now. Charismatic candidates will tend to get a personal introduction—and in a certain level of incivility, the space of ideas doesn't have dangerous local maxima, the thing to be started in 1975.

If near you, however.

Whereas when you're starting a company growing at 5% a week for 19 years, but when companies reach a given audience by a combination of a press hit, but less than 500, because even if it's not the shape of the world you'd want to. VCs if the growth is genuine.

The most striking example I know this is mainly due to I. Most unusual ambitions fail, unless the owner shouldn't pay me extra for doing it with. The current Bush, for example, would be critical to do something we didn't, they may prefer to work on Wall Street were in 2000, because time seems to me like someone adding a few that are only doing angel deals to generate everything else in the first year or so you could build products as good as Apple's just by hiring sufficiently qualified designers. And you can imagine cases where it does, the last round just converts into stock at the start of the good ones don't even sound that plausible.

Steep usage growth will also interest investors. Whereas when the country. It did. This sentence originally read GMail is painfully slow.

It might also be argued that we should be especially conservative in this article used the term whitelist instead of reacting. But it is dishonest of the Facebook that might work is merely an upper bound on a wall is art.

Which is fundraising. They can lead to distractions even more clearly. As Anthony Badger wrote, for the same work faster.

[yoshimonster]

Blog #8: bad idea, right?

Wassup monsters! Been in such a weird and bored mood these past few days, mostly bored to be honest. I believe last week was when I actually started really feeling it, especially since I ate a bunch of chips and watched the second season of Heartstopper (yes also loving the new Olivia Rodrigo song!). It was really really great and even better than season 1! I loved the realistic high school portrayal and it really took me back into much simpler times. Otherwise, I’m severely feeling bored these days primarily because of the lack of structure that I’m experiencing with the subjects I am taking.

Out of the list, it seems like I have only one core subject that has some sort of heavy contact hours at university left where they literally hold your hand for every single question. I only just have my maths, algorithms and group project left out of my core courses and perhaps machine learning. Everything else is pretty much up to me, and there are hardly any practical sort of interactions left at all – a lot of this is such independent problem solving. I realise that I can’t really continue on like this, it’s very strange to have to be even more intentional than I previously was to get things done. It really makes me sad honestly, quite a core chunk of my friends are graduating so soon and are hardly interested in keeping contact. Unfortunately, I know this all too well and how this can really burn bridges – you’ve really got to be firm with the plans you make and the time you invest. I have already tried the whole clubs and societies thing actually and was fairly active in those circles too – again being intentional was the thing that worked for me and I had to severely cut down on my responsibilities so that I could actually reach the point where I became comfortable with my studies. Speaking of, I need to get back into this before it reaches an even worse breaking point than before – it’s taking me back to the feelings I was going through about 2 years ago and I really can’t afford a repeat of that at all.

Anyways, I have managed to actually cover a fair amount of content due to pure sheer will and force and it actually has helped so much in getting a good foundation/starting point for the assignments that I have to hand in these days. I’m still needing a lot of help though and my dad especially has been so kind in letting me sit with him and problem solve. Literally was sat going through each little problem and it caused severe amounts of pain to even sit through problem sets for one course let alone the others that I’m doing at the moment. I actually know that even if I do well, which will be a blessing in disguise, it’s such a long road ahead even if I overload subjects/cram more subjects in. If all goes well by the end of next year I will definitely would have finished about 3/4 of my course load.

But yes, the boredom has been hitting so real I even initiated calls with friends, replied to most of my messages (which is how you know I’m very bored; a lot of the time I mass reply to messages to save time) and even checked through emails/caught up with all the latest happening in the house. Over this past weekend actually, I was talking to two of my friends who are a couple and it made me realise why people get into relationships in this period of their lives. Like there’s absolutely none/limited responsibility and you also are supposed to have to time to polish up your routines from your teenage years – therefore, prime time to emotionally invest in another person. Then there’s me: the person who literally found hobbies (still shaky and pretty theoretical at this stage), almost is learning how to study (I am hardly successful enough), learned some basic work/company dynamics, got a routine (which is possibly the most repetitive necessary thing I’ve had to do) and also like severely personality shifted my life out of pure force. Wow I realise that I literally wasted so much of my teenage life just floating about and in my head. Nowadays when I encounter this in other people, I feel such an intense reaction towards the person despite still wanting to indulge in it from time-to-time. Like this whole Tumblr void can be counted as indulging the urge to let what is in my head unstick.

It's been so intense these past years and to be honest I’m still learning and getting out of it, but I didn’t realise how much it would weigh on me and how unhealthily I still kind of live after everything. Even the amount I care/huge deal everything seems has also washed away with all this newfound independence in my life. I’m still hanging by a thread, sort of accepted it and am hanging on so much more relaxed these days – which has been better for me mentally yet I know the pressure will be on so soon and I need to perform. My sister is graduating in less than 3 months and so is decision day for me. Otherwise, no new updates – a lot of the characters on TV/movies I relate to these days are those that are at crossroads or those that have really done something that’s impacted many close people around them. I guess it’s almost perfect timing that it’s approaching end of year now, where everything is ramping up and people are eager to explore different things in the world. The whole recession news made everyone so upset at the start of the year and I’m sure something else demoralising will be back to hit in January, but for now I can’t believe I get to enjoy my life and be a semi-free bird. This semi-free bird made a pretty interesting looking egg-dish (which my devout vegetarian parents did not appreciate haha) but it was so much fun! I literally can’t wait to chemistry experiment my way this whole semester.

-yoshimonster-

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I���ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it’s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

[sukunasweetheart]

A better way to enjoy chocolate.

Pretty much just reader trying to give Sukuna some chocolates on Valentines. Highschool AU, gender-neutral reader, SFW content

Sukuna looks at the pile of boxed chocolates, seemingly unphased. Everyone peers to look. “Uwah! You got so much this year!” Yuuji exclaims. “Ridiculous.” He sighs, shoving all of them into a disposable plastic bag. “It’s actually pretty amazing how you went out of your way to bring your own plastic bag for this. You were expecting this, weren’t you? Pretentious bastard,” Nobara adds. “Well, it does happen every year,” Megumi says as he casually scrolls through his phone.

Megumi's the first one to leave for class and Nobara and Yuuji follow after him. You look at the daunting bag of chocolates Sukuna holds in his hand and gulps. “Do you like chocolate, Sukuna?” You ask him carefully. “...Not particularly. I don’t like sweet things. But if I throw these out, that idiot’ll never stop yapping about it. Something about going to hell if you waste food. So annoying,” he clicks his tongue. You offer a laugh at his brutal honesty, quietly regretting your own chocolates that you had made to give him today.

The two of you were dating anyway, so it wasn’t exactly necessary, right? Sukuna discreetly gives you a side glance, but you don’t notice it.

Morning classes passed by without much happening, and it soon became lunch. You watch as a classmate approaches Sukuna at his desk and holds her own homemade chocolate out towards him. “Hey. I just wanted to give you this. No feelings involved though, so don’t worry about it,” she tells him. This was obviously said for you to hear, since there was almost nobody in this school who didn’t know of his relationship with you (Sukuna is notorious for just as many reasons as Yuuji is...maybe a little more towards the sinister side of things). This apparently didn’t stop people from trying though, unfortunately. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t feel the least bothered by this. Sukuna looks at her lazily, and just gestures towards the bulging plastic bag that lay beside his desk. The class atmosphere freezes up a little as everyone looks over. S-So cold…! They all thought in unison.

However, the girl just gives a small chuckle as if she had been expecting such a reaction and just added hers onto the pile before going back to her own group of friends. “What a cruel guy,” Nobara gives Sukuna a look of distaste. He shrugs in response and proceeds to yawn. “Now, now…” You naturally take the role of the peacemaker, simultaneously thinking about what you should do with your chocolates. You had actually made four small bags, one for each of your friends. They were wrapped in clear plastic sleeves, tied up with a ribbon on top. Except, Sukuna’s one is...

Yuuji and Megumi both stroll in through the classroom door. “Yo~! We came to visit. Let’s eat lunch here today!” He says cheerfully. The two of them take the empty seats of the students who went to the cafeteria to eat. You couldn’t give the chocolates to Sukuna in front of them. Then you’d have to give him his as well - or else it'd feel like you were excluding him. Guess I'll just give it to them later on, privately.

“And? Where’s our choco, Y/N?” Nobara cheekily grins at you. You freeze up, mind giving you a throwback to the memories of last night when you had told her of your plans in advance. Silent panic echoes in your mind. “I-It’s,” You feel Sukuna’s gaze shift onto you, “...In my bag!” You hurriedly rummage your bag and pull out the three bags, making sure to avoid eye contact. “I made one for all three of you…” You say, avoiding eye contact with him. “Eh? You made one for us too?” Yuuji asks, wide-eyed. “Yeah. I thought I’d give it a try this year.” You hand them all over. “Thanks, Y/N!” Yuuji immediately opens it and plops one into his mouth. “It’s good!” Megumi also gives you a thanks but puts it to the side for now, wanting to finish his lunch first. Nobara gives you a questioning look. “What about Sukuna?” “Eh? Ah, I... kind of figured he didn’t like sweets so,” you turn to face him. “Sorry, Sukuna. Should I have made you some as well? I wasn’t sure if couples who were already dating gave chocolates on Valentines.” It’s a painful lie, but you manage to say it. “...No. I don't really care.” He looks entirely unaffected. It kind of hurt in its own way, but you ignore it and sigh out of relief for now. It was way too embarrassing to give it to him in front of the group. But now that you've said such a lie, you don't think you’ll be able to give it to him at all anymore. There was a bit of an awkward silence momentarily, but Yuuji being Yuuji - naturally carried the group's conversation elsewhere.

A few minutes later, Sukuna stands up to go to the toilet. Whilst Yuuji and Megumi are talking about something that you admittedly zoned out on, Nobara snatches up your bag and takes a peek inside. “H-Hey!” You shout-whispered. “...I knew it. You did make them! Why are you-” She stops and notices their shape. “That’s so...cute?” She gives out an amused laugh and quietly puts it back down. You fan at your face, cheeks aching with embarrassment. “Make sure you give them to him. Trust me. I’ll beat him up if he doesn’t appreciate it,” she tells you. “I’ll try…” you say meekly. Unbeknownst to you, Yuuji grins at Megumi upon hearing this and Megumi responds with his own subtle smile. 

- The bell rings for the end of school. Sukuna stands and leaves first, telling you that he had something he needed to do after school and that you should go home first. Before you can stop him, he's already left the classroom. “Go after him,” Nobara pushes you, so you hurriedly pack your things up before running out.

More than ten minutes have passed, and you can’t find him. You want to call or text him, but you’re worried that he was in the midst of doing something important. It’s rare of him to stay back at school, after all. You sigh, and tell yourself that you’ll just give up with this year’s one.

Walking out of the school’s entrance, you see Sukuna standing nearby with his usual bored expression, hands in his pockets. He catches sight of you and immediately approaches. “I thought you had something to do at school?” You start to say. “Obviously a lie. What took you so damn long?” He scratches the back of his head in annoyance. “I was looking for you inside! Also why did you lie?” You question him. “Nevermind that. You could have just called...No, that’s not the issue right now. Give.” He suddenly stretches his palm out in front of you. “Eh? Give what?” The thought of the chocolates go right over your head.

“You...the thing that you gave to everyone else except me. I know you have mine. Don’t keep me waiting,” He says, frowning. The realisation hits you like a truck and you give him a helpless smile. “How’d you know…?” You ask, quick to reach into your bag. “How long do you think I’ve known you for? The others probably knew too,” he says nonchalantly. “But I thought you wouldn’t want them...you've gotten so much. And you don’t even like sweets.” You place the bag gently on his palm. “Idiot. We’re dating. There’s no reason to not accept them if you've made some for me.” He gives them a look and grins.  “Oh…? Now I understand why you couldn’t give it to me in front of the others.”

Only Sukuna’s chocolates were heart-shaped, when the others' had been circular ones. He’d rather die than admit it, but he thrives on getting this kind of special attention from you. You get flustered and look at your feet. “It’s true that I don’t really like sweets.” He tells you suddenly. “You don’t have to force yourself to eat them-” “But there’s a way of eating them that would make it taste a bit better,” he cuts you off. You were confused as to what he was talking about, and you watched as he opened the bag and popped one of them into his mouth before pulling you in for a kiss.

Your eyes were widened in shock as you barely had the time to register all of this - he was already slipping his tongue into your mouth. One hand on your hip, and the other on the back of your neck, you're so close to his body, getting pulled into his warmth that threatens to melt you, the taste of the chocolate starting to spreading across your taste buds as he's making out with you passionately. Before you know it, you're reciprocating the gesture and kissing him back, your hands rising up, gripping tightly onto his uniform. Chocolate has never tasted any sweeter. You can feel your own body beginning to heat up and you're gradually running out of breath. As your tongue is intertwining with his, the chocolate is getting pushed back and forth, and your desire to get even closer to him is growing, growing, growing.

The last of the chocolate had melted away from the exhilarating temperature the two of you had built up and he finally breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. You can't tell if this remaining aftertaste that lingered on your tongue was the taste of the chocolate, or the taste of him. Nonetheless, you adore it.

“Much better.” He licks his lips and smirks at you. Still in shock, you lack a response except for your flustered face and your eyes that are now reflecting a glint of lust within. Sukuna hums in satisfaction at this expression of yours and he gently drags his thumb across your lower lip.

“We should do this more often.”

[delfiore]

learning to warm cold hands

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

synopsis: when you’ve known death and destruction like natasha has, the warmth of a loved one seems inconceivable and undeserving.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: violence + infliction on the body

now playing:

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Natasha hated her own hands.

There was nothing inflicted on them that left permanent scarring or disfigurations, nothing on her skin to make her feel ashamed of showing them. What she was ashamed of were the things these hands did when they pick up a weapon, and did the things they did.

She hated the way her hands weren’t her own. The fault of their doing became hers, and she has to see red dripping every time she looked at them.

Natasha didn’t let her hands get anywhere near you the first time you met. She declined your offer of a handshake, not because she wanted to uphold her reputation as the austere Black Widow, but because she was afraid one sudden movement on your part could unleash a violent, involuntary response drilled into her in the Red Room.

Even though she knew you were capable in your martial arts skills, she never wanted to be the reason for your pain. Ever since she defected the Red Room and left Yelena, she had never felt the overwhelming urge to protect another person than she did you. She showed it in small gestures, like doing mission reports for you after you were tired after having returned from one or leaving extra water and fruits in the fridge for you to replenish after training sessions. She never thought she could feel this way about someone, but she did; it was love. She had fallen in love with you.

But matter how hard Natasha tried, she couldn’t keep away from you. From a distance, she would watch as you conversed with other members of the team, feeling envious of how close they were to you. She let you believe her own lies, that her cold façade reflected what was on the inside. She let you believe that she would rather want nothing to do you. It was easier that way.

Steve had other plans. On a mission she was on, there was only one bed in the motel, and she happened to have to share it with you. She saw your hesitant eyes when you eyed her after discovering your unfortunate situation.

“You take the bed. It’s fine.” She said.

You quickly insisted she slept on the bed. You promised you wouldn’t intrude in on her side. You wanted her to have a good rest before the mission.

When you were already asleep from the weight of your travels, Natasha lay awake and unmoving for hours. She didn’t mean to stare at you, watching you sleep like a creep as she was, but you looked so peaceful when you’re asleep, that she couldn’t tear her eyes away. She wondered what it would feel like to bring you into her arms and breathe in your scent, kiss you on the lips and never let you go. There was a battle raging on inside her, fought between her desires and her need to protect you, because she knew once her hands had touched you, they would not be able to stop.

Her hands did their work on the mission, along with her legs, her core, her head. Just as soon as her body started to feel like her own again, your inattention to a soldier charging at you caused her to let her instincts take over again, and the Red Room flashed before her eyes. You were out of the way, but the solder got her good, and she felt a sharp pain in her side on the way home.

She struggled to the bathroom, but managed to retrieve the first-aid kit in the cupboard. The pain was getting dizzily excruciating as she attempted to take her suit off, this one time she cursed it for being so skin-tight. When she got the top half off the left side of her stomach was split open in a gnarly gash with blood everywhere. She stood against the sink and pried the box open, but she felt like she was about to pass out.

“Natasha?” Your voice alarmed her before you came in. You let out a gasp and quickly went by her side to help her.

“No, it’s fine. I got this.” She grunted.

“There’s literally blood on the floor where you walked past. Please let me help.”

Natasha let you clean the blood off of her, not without watching you as your eyebrows furrowed and your lips pursed as you tried not to hurt her. Besides, paying attention to you was the only thing keeping her from blacking out.

“Hey, hey, Natasha, look at me.” You called, bringing her attention back to your eyes by resting your hand on her sweaty cheek. Your hand, it was so warm.

“Stay with me now, alright? We’re almost done.”

You did a phenomenal job. She didn’t die.

Natasha replayed that moment in her head a lot. She reveled in the closeness she had with you, even if both of you were completely covered in her blood. She knew she would have to cherish it because she could not bear to be so close to you like that again.

You wouldn’t give up. The more she pulled away, the more you stepped forward. You kept walking forward until you were backing her into the corner, her overwhelming love for you blinded any promises she made to herself whenever she was with you.

You insisted that she sat down and watched Tangled with you after she told you that she’s never seen it. She was sure you noticed how her entire body tensed when you sat next to her on the couch and draped a thin blanket over the both of you. Her heart started beating rapidly when you moved closer, and put your head on her shoulder. It was all too much for her, her chest rose and fell heavily, and before long she bolted out of the room, ignoring your calls behind her.

Natasha went to the rooftop, where there were no walls to cage her emotions in. She closed her eyes when she heard you call your name.

You wondered if you did something wrong, something to make her uncomfortable. You didn’t know how she felt about you, and the constant back-and-forth she fought in her head everyday.

“Natasha, I’m just trying to make friends with you here, alright? I feel like with all my attempts, you keep pushing me away and I don’t know why.”

“You don’t understand.” Natasha spoke carefully. “It’s because I feel too much, for you.”

She had let you know too much, and suddenly you were all she could see, your beautiful, round eyes only looking at her with concern. Suddenly, your hands were on her cheeks, so warm and tender, your thumbs tracing her skin lightly. Your body was so close to hers now when you asked if you could kiss her. Natasha didn’t have to be told twice, her hands gently holding your sides.

You adored Natasha’s hands.

You loved their gentle caress, the way they glide through your hair, the way they seem to radiate when decorated with the rings you got her. You loved how safe they made you feel.

You knew very briefly about the Red Room from things others have mentioned, how Nat was trained there to fight and kill. There wasn’t much else you were aware of because every time you tried to ask, she would quickly change the subject. You never pushed her though, as it had taken you so long to get her to open up to you. You never wanted to make her feel like she needed to explain her past to you.

More frequently than not, her hands were cold. You guessed that Natasha’s body worked differently, having been so wrongfully modified and enhanced by the Red Room. They would be so all year round.

“Your hands are really cold, love.” You murmured as you intertwined your fingers with hers.

“I know.” Natasha chuckled and pulled away from you. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. Here.” You took her hands that hid in her jacket pocket, and pressed them against your neck underneath your sweater. The cold of her palm sent shivers down your back. “All better.”

There were nights when sleep didn’t come too easy for Natasha, or if it did, it would be interrupted with bad dreams. There were times when you found her in the living room, convincing herself to work amongst stacks of paper at the wee hours of the morning, only because you knew she couldn’t sleep. But when the nightmares suffocated her, you would be awoken by her heavy breathing and violent thrashing, and they would only cease once you had shaken her from her demons. Her hair and forehead would be drenched in sweat, her eyes distant like she was chasing away the last of the monsters, and when she turned to you, they would start to collect tears at the corners. Whenever she was like this, you would hold her tightly, giving kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, and it calmed her down most when you take both of her shaking hands and kissed them. The way she would sink into your lap and silently cry afterwards like a child breaks your heart.

“In the Red Room, where I was . . . trained,” Natasha began one day after she had calmed down from her nightmare, “we were competing to survive. We had to fight each other to the death, and the one that comes out on top gets to live.

“I see the girls I’ve killed in my dreams, but they don’t hurt me. They’re just there, watching me, but I still feel so much guilt.”

If you had been in Natasha’s place, you weren’t sure you could survive the Red Room. If the harsh conditions or losing a fight wouldn’t take you out, the guilt of surviving all of it while leaving the others behind would consume you.

Having known about those horrible things she told you about, you quickly eased when Nat told you that the Red Room had been dissolved when she killed its leader, until you learned that it hasn’t.

So there you were in the aerial facility the Red Room resided in, the very room General Dreykov commanded its operations, with your girlfriend on top of you, her hands wrapped around your throat.

“N-Nat, p-please.” You begged, but it came out as a pathetic wheeze as you tried to pry her hands off of you.

“You said the compulsion won’t work, didn’t you? Go on, kill her.” Dreykov stood against his desk, watching the entire scene.

The grip in her hands grew tighter, making you gasp. You could see how hard she was fighting against his words, tears clouded her eyes as her face grew red.

“No.” Nat grunted. “Please.”

“KILL HER!” Dreykov shouted.

Suddenly, Natasha was thrown to the side. The lack of oxygen to your brain caused parts of your vision to go black, but you could make out Yelena’s white suit as she stood up to punch Dreykov across the face. The Red Dust fell over Natasha’s before she stood up, smacked her head on the desk, and finished the job.

Dreykov was dead. His daughter was liberated. The Red Room was no more.

Only when you were on the jet flying back to a safe house did you have time to catch your breath. You reached towards the base of your throat, feeling bruises already forming at the sheer force and pressure they endured. Your lifted your head to see Natasha sitting at the front end of the plane, slumped into the wall and staring at nothing. You kept your gaze on her as you approached, noticing the way her jaw clenched and her eyes fluttered once you had taken a seat next to her. Nat didn’t meet your eyes, instead she examined your injuries, those that she caused.

“Nat, it’s okay—“

“This is exactly what I was afraid of.” Natasha said quietly, close to tears. She brought her hands to her face.

You held onto her wrist, wishing she would look at you.

“No, no.” Natasha shook her head, and pulled away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Natasha, look at me, please.” You said firmly. “It wasn’t you. It was him. He made you do it. Now he’s gone.”

You put your hands over hers. “Now you’re free.”

As you brought them up to your lips to kissed them, a sob left her throat as she bursted into tears.

“I’m free.” She whispered. “I’m free.”

Her hands were shaking when you held her, but they were warm.

[sugawarassoulmate]

hii im back again hehe

i just wanna know how would bully!samu react to reader saying the safeword cause he’s being to rough on her and when he tries to help her, she just flinches away from his touch :(( sorry i brought angst to the table was reading angst fics earlier 😭 - 🎭

okieeee so these asks were pretty similar so i combined them! i made it a bit more soft than angst bc that's just how it turned out unfortunately 😅 i've got more angst coming soon!

words: 445

cw: fem!reader, use of safeword, name-calling, dubcon, painful sex, crying, aftercare, minors dni

you just weren’t in the right headspace tonight. osamu’s kisses didn’t elicit that tingly feeling inside like it usually does. you felt numb but you were too worried about angering osamu if you stopped him so when he tugged your shorts down, you let him. maybe if you made the right sounds and reacted the way he wanted, he wouldn’t notice that you weren’t feeling it.

but everytime osamu reached out, you wanted to push him away, to get him off of you as soon as possible. but you kept quiet, letting him manhandle you however he wanted. “feel s’good around me,” he groans, fingers digging into your hips, making you wince but you kept the pained noises to yourself. osamu forces you to look at him, hips setting a bruising pace. “course...it’s all you’re good for, yeah? made to take cock like the good lil bitch ya are.”

you feel him grab your face, forcing you to look at him while he continues his verbal assault. calling you the filthiest things he could think of, inflicting pain that never borders on pleasure. you want to tell him to stop but the words don’t reach your lips. “did i fuck ya dumb already? such a stupid little girl i got,” he mocks, squishing your face even more.

it becomes too much, it’s been too, too much already. you weren’t sure if you actually said it or even how osamu heard it. but it slipped from your mouth, breathless and whiney and before you knew it, osamu had pulled out of you. “don’t cry,” he murmured against your lips. you don’t remember crying but osamu wipes away the tears running down your face. he holds you for a bit, running a soothing hand through your hair, whispering sweet words that you’ve never known him to say. “let me run a bath for ya,” osamu offers, waiting for you to nod before he scoops you in his arms.

later you’re dressed in comfier clothes, belly full thanks to osamu scrounging something for you to eat. he’s hesitant to join you on the bed, wanting to create distance so as to not overwhelm you. “i can sleep on the couch—” but you reach for him, wanting to feel his arms hold you close. osamu settles behind you, his gruff breath in your ear as you two get ready for bed. “i’m sorry…” he mumbles into your skin, tightening his hold.

it’s the first time he’s ever apologized to you for anything. you don’t say anything in response, but your silence doesn’t scare him off. osamu knows you’ve forgiven him from the way you snuggle into his form.

©sugawarassoulmate 2021 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

[wolfstardaughter-jj]

Maybe it wouldn't be so hard

Summary: What happens when a baby gets left on Regulus Black’s doorstep? 

Pairing: Father! Regulus Black / Daughter! Reader

Warnings: none

Song: j’s lullaby (darlin’ I’d wait for you) by Delaney Bailey

Word Count: 1k+ words

A/n: Got the idea to write this from an anon. Wrote this after I woke up which is kinda surprising for me.

During the war, Regulus realized he was following a very dark path that would lead to a lot of pain. Not only towards him but towards a lot of people. So he did what any good person would do. He changed sides and joined the order.

It took a lot of time to gain their trust. Most especially his brother, Sirius. But eventually, everything fell into place. 

After the war, all Regulus wanted was a peaceful life. He went on to live in a quaint Muggle town somewhere in France and was happy there. He’d frequently visit Sirius and Remus at their cottage. He visited them even more when they adopted their first child.

He thought about adopting a kid of his own, seeing how his niece made Sirius and Remus so happy. But he shrugged off the thought, thinking he wouldn’t do a very good job raising them.

But on a warm spring day, as Regulus is about to start his morning walk. He finds a picnic basket resting on his doorstep. Its sudden appearance caught him off-guard but the thing that shocked him the most was you, a baby sleeping inside. There also sat a letter attached to the basket.

Please take care of her, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it myself.

He didn’t know what else to do other than to call Remus and Sirius for help. When they heard the words “There’s a baby on my doorstep”, they immediately made their way to his house.

“What the hell am I supposed to do?!” Regulus paced around his kitchen.

“I don’t know?! It’s not everyday someone gets a baby dropped off their doorstep.” Sirius replied as he tried to coo the now crying baby in his arms.

Sirius’s daughter, who was only 3 years old, was in the living room playing with Regulus’s cat, Artemis. Remus went back to the cottage to grab a few of his daughter’s old baby things as well to the store for some baby formula. They didn’t know if you’ve eaten yet or how long you’ve been outside.

The two brothers tried to figure out a game plan. This has never happened to them and it left them completely worried for your welfare. Unfortunately, your sobs only worsened and got even louder as time went by. 

“Regulus, you try holding her for a second.” Sirius said as he started to hand you off to regulus.

“I- you shouldn-” Regulus tried to push Sirius away. He was scared he was going to drop you the second you got into his arms.

“Oh hush, you’ve done this a hundred times with little wolf.” Sirius protested as he finally got you into Regulus’s arms.

Regulus just went on auto-pilot and started rocking you back and forth while caressing your head on his shoulder. He continued to coo you till your sobs eventually died down.

Sirius was shocked at how suddenly you stopped crying. It was as if Regulus flipped a switch in you. You were no longer bawling your eyes out like you did 5 minutes ago. Instead, you were peacefully resting on Regulus’s shoulder like nothing happened.

“You- How- how did you do that?” Sirius questioned.

“I don’t know, she just stopped crying.” Regulus was just as shocked as he was. 

Regulus changed his position and had you lying in his arms. He looked down to see you trying to grab the stray hairs that were hanging above you. He grinned as he saw the look on your face. 

“So are you gonna take her in?” Sirius asked.

Regulus looked up from you and towards his brother. He felt like giving you up would be something he would regret in the long run. He knew taking you in would be a big responsibility and would change his life forever but he didn’t care. Having you in his arms brought a warm feeling to his chest and he loved it.

He felt happier than he’s ever been in a while. Anxious and Worried? Sure. But that only reminded him that he cared. That you were now in his care. He wasn’t planning on parting with you anytime soon. 

There was a sinking feeling that he would mess up at being a parent. Mess up the way his parents did. But at that moment, he promised himself he would never become them. That he would be a better parent than any of them would ever try to be.

He took in a deep breath and looked back down at you. His grin grew when he saw you let out a laugh. “Yeah, I am.”

The fireplace lit up and Remus walked through holding a bunch of old baby stuff.

He joined his husband and brother-in-law in the kitchen, dropping the bags on the kitchen countertop. Remus let out a sigh as he planted his hands on the surface while looking at Regulus.

“So, from the look on your face. I’m assuming you’re going to keep her?” Remus asked.

Regulus confirmed his suspicion with a light nod with a grin.

“What are you going to name her?” Sirius asked.

Regulus thought about it for a moment. If he was being honest, when he was still at Hogwarts, he thought about what he would name his future kids. He thought he’d have to think about it since his parents would always talk about marrying him off to some pureblood he knew nothing of. 

At least now, he’d actually get to have a child without the weight of his parent’s eyes on him. 

“I’m going to name her….Y/n.” He looked down at you with a grin, “How about it little one? Is Y/n a good pick?”

It was if you knew what he was talking about since you replied with a bright chuckle. As if you were agreeing on the name.

“Oh look at that, she likes it!” Sirius laughed.

Remus walked towards the living room and spoke up, “Little wolf, come here for a moment.”

The three adults watched as the 3 year old began to make her way towards them. 

“Time to meet your new cousin.” Sirius grinned as he picked her up and rested her on his hip.

“Say Hello to Y/n.” Regulus leaned forwards so that his niece could see her better.

“She looks so cute! Hello there Y/n.” She grinned as she reached forward for your hand. 

You giggled at the action which caused everyone else to laugh in adoration. 

Regulus had his doubts on how things would go but when he looked around him. He thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so hard with everyone he had by his side.

[celestiagarden]

Be You, Be Hot

Pairing: Arataki Itto x reader

Synopsis: Itto’s known to try a little too hard to impress people, but it gets so much worse when it’s about you.

CW: none, this is pure fluff. unless potential second-hand embarrassment counts. NOT PROOF-READ, again bc i’m a lazy fuck

Notes: Ever since i finished Itto’s quest i’ve been head over heels for him. he’s such a good guy. the way he tries too hard to leave an impressive first impression is so cute. 

This commission wasn’t supposed to be hard. In fact, based on the brief details you had received before you went on the field, it was the most simple one you’ve snagged yet. You needed a nice little trip outside Inazuma city. A good escape to the countryside for a much-needed breath of rustle-and-bustle-free air. 

It’s not like you couldn’t handle big cities; as an adventurer, you had to be able to make the best of disastrous, overwhelming situations. Or else, you may pay the price with your life. And, considering the fact that you’re still alive... You can conclude that you’re quite good with the city rush. In fact, it was even pleasant, sometimes. It’s quite enjoyable to sit somewhere and do some people watching. There wasn’t a dull moment when you were people watching. 

But you wished that sometimes, there was. Which lead you to the current reason as to why you were escaping Inazuma city. 

Arataki Itto is many things. Unfortunately, responsible is not one of them. Quite honestly, you have no idea how he hasn’t been banned from the city yet. Anytime he’s around, something always goes sideways. ¸

Once, when you were getting a bite from Kiminami restaurant, the big, brainless idiot decided to take it upon himself to help a child retrieve their temari. It had somehow ended up on a roof nearby (you have the oddest feeling that it might have been Itto’s fault). The scenario ended in Itto destroying the entire building and being arrested for property damage. 

Another time, it was something to do with his vision. The vision hunt decree had taken place and, from the rumours running around, Kujou Sara had finally managed to snatch his away. You don’t know how, but he hadn’t been arrested on the spot for resisting. Or maybe he had, but he just decided to escape prison. Either way, it had ended up with him showing up in the city. You could recall that day like it was yesterday because, well... he had decided to include you in that little show of his. Somehow, Itto had gotten the impression that you had lost your vision too (you don’t know how he came to that conclusion. By your standards, you were doing an incredible job at hiding your vision from the Tenryou comission). He had pointing at you, with this odd glint in his eye, before exclaiming “Don’t you worry! I’ll get your vision back too!” and then stormed his way to the statue without even knowing what type of vision you held. Granted, he got a bit further than one would expect from a vision-less oni fighting against a whole army of trained soldiers. It was quite the show, and he had gotten thrown back in jail after that little outburst. 

You hadn’t heard from him until after the vision hunt decree was abolished, and Itto was released. Then, he was back to roaming around Inazuma. You can still recall the few times that he’d engage in games with children that used to play in the streets, and then proceed to lose his collective shit when they’d win. 

It seemed that no matter when or where you’d show up in Inazuma city, Itto would be there, ready to make a fool of himself. And usually, you wouldn’t care. But there’s something quite precise in the way Itto behaves. Like he had it down to an art. Every single time, his actions managed to make you cringe. The second-hand embarrassment that man gave you was unparalleled. In fact, it was the very reason why you had decided to take a few commissions in the countryside. You needed an escape from Arataki Itto and his painful nonsense. You could not bear to watch him unknowingly embarrass himself again. 

It seems like this unforgiving universe had other plans for you. 

Seriously, all you had to do was take a few fucking pictures for this guy who missed his parents. So why... 

“Don’t you worry, ma’am! We’ll get your cat right back to you!” The old man standing to his elderly wife gave a joyless chuckle. 

“Let’s just hope you won’t kill it out of fright this time.” He said. Someone chuckled. 

“Hey! You stop laughing right now! I didn’t mean to step on-- uh!” Unfortunately, your reflexes decided to stop functioning and before you could duck out of sight, Itto had spotted you. Like a deer in front of a hunter, his eyes widened before his entire stance changed. His curved back, possibly due to embarrassment of apparently having scared away a cat, straightened and he lifted his chin a little, placin his hands on his hips. “U-uh! Guess... guess the cat was right to fear me! It’s a simple thing that happens, madam, I apologize. You know, animals can sense greatness in a person! I guess it got a little intimidated!” 

Oh, dear fucking god... You weren’t going to deal with this. Not today. But you couldn’t exactly walk away. Out of anyone in this tiny, archon-forsaken village, Itto had to scare off the cat that belonged to your damn patrons. And you kind of wanted that money. The walk back to Inazuma city wouldn’t exactly be short. Besides... they looked like their conversation was about done. And if it weren’t, well the couple sure as hell looked like they were done with Itto and his gang, for starters... You simply supposed that you’d have to act a little mean today, for the sake of your own comfort. 

“Ahem, well since things look to be about settled here, I have a letter from your son, from Inazuma city!” With just that, the elderly couple knew Itto and their frightened cat was history. They turned away from him, depriving him of the attention he probably craved oh, so badly. Had it not been for his odd attempt to look tall and... intimidating(?), he might have literally deflated. 

“Uh oh, boss.” Akira muttered, albeit maybe a little too loudly if you could hear him despite being in a conversation with the elderly woman. “They didn’t even look at you--”

Itto shushed him loudly, waving his arms in front of his gang member’s face. Had this been an attempt to lower Akira’s voice and keep onlookers at bay, it failed terribly. What with his wild motions and everything. “Hey, heey! No need to...” Itto chuckled nervously. “Go ‘round saying... saying things like that, come on! Psht, you’re saying complete mumbo jumbo.” He then forced out a laugh, pointing his thumb towards the chubby man. “You’re such a prankster, ‘Kira, aren’t you funny?!” God, you wanted to die and you weren’t even him. 

You didn’t spare him a glance, deciding to focus on your commission instead. But you only had so much patience. Especially when Itto stuck around in the background, long after the rest of his gang had left. Had it been anyone else, you’d have dubbed it as creepy and would have gotten ready to bust their nose in self-defense, but... you were just incredibly puzzled. By Itto and his odd actions. God, could there be anyone more embarrassing than him? 

You took a nice, heart-warming picture of the couple. The husband then excitedly asked you to stick around so that he can write a letter for his son, and when the transaction was over, they were already heading back to their village. You caught the woman asking her husband to put out some tuna tonight in hopes of bringing their cat back home. 

“Can I help you, Arataki.” You sighed. Had you been polite, you might have phrased that as a question, but you were simply tired. You may have come across as a little more irritated than you actually were, because Itto visibly flinched. Or maybe he’s just a dramatic guy.

“W-well! You know, it’s getting late and everything, and the countryside can be pretty dangerous at night!” His hand reached up into his mane of white hair, only to get caught in the tangles. He winced as he tried to pry his nails out of the knots. “You know, ronin and all that! My gang’s pretty tough, we can stay up and keep watch.” He quickly added when you raised your brow, non-verbally asking him if he thought you couldn’t handle your own. 

His little act of bravardo put you off. There he was, earlier, ready to profusely apologize to someone for scaring off their cat, and just when you show up, all of a sudden he’s this big macho... oh. 

Oh.

...Oh? 

While the theory might be far-fetched, with the knowledge (years of it, in fact) you’ve accumulated, it so happens that a certain someone may be trying to... impress you? But surely, no... you hadn’t had a proper conversation with this guy since you had been formely introduced. There’s no way he’d be doing all this just to impress you. But then again, it wouldn’t hurt to test out the theory. 

You feign interest, turning your body towards him. “You’d do that?” You ask, before looking away, shaking your head. “No... even for you guys, maybe it might be a little difficult, plus you need your sleep to be strong.”

“Me? Sleep? Psht! Sleep is a waste of time for me! I’m strong no matter what!” He exclaims back, dismissively waving his hand at you. “You’d be in good hands, and that’s an Arataki promise!” Itto swayed on his heel a few times. “And I don’t throw my promises around, so count yourself lucky!” Well, while it doesn’t fully prove your theory, you’re having a hard time not visibly cringing at him right now. Maybe it’d be best to just come out with it. 

“Itto, listen.” You sigh, and like a puppy that’s about to be scolded, you notice that he bows his head a little. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but you’ve gotta stop this act, whatever it is. It’s making me feel embarrassed for you.” You confessed, trying to use your softest tone for him. You weren’t mad at him. In fact, you could even believe that you were doing this for his benefit. But, knowing him, he may take it personally or take it the wrong way because... well, he’s Itto. 

“I... I don’t understand.” He muttered, looking truly perplexed. God, he looked adorable like that. Much more than when he’s trying to be someone he isn’t. Well, you mean... sure, there must be some truth to his act but..! You get the gist of it. 

“This persona you’re putting on, like you’re trying to impress everyone around you, make them believe that you’re a huge deal! It’s doing you no good, Itto.” You add on. A small smile makes its way on your face. “I just walked here watching you get ready to kneel to apologize for scaring off a cat. It kind of doesn’t really match up with some things, does it?” 

Now, Itto deflates. For real. At least he knows when to bail. Again, his hand reaches for his head but this time it doesn’t weave into his hair (good, he learned). There’s a rosy tint to his cheeks that looks a bit odd with the two red lines painted (tattooed?) on his face. He looks down, quite unsure of what to do with himself, or what to say. You don’t blame him. If you had gotten caught putting up an act, you’d be speechless too. 

“The person you really are isn’t something you need to polish, or modify. I’m sure whoever you are in reality may be even better than this half-fake Itto that’s been parading around.” You tell him, hoping it may cheer him up. 

But thinking for a single second that it wouldn’t lift his mood was a foolish thing, because this was Itto. It went straight to his head and probably did as much damage as a pound of refined sugar. 

Which is why it shocked you when his mood didn’t change like you had anticipated it. Was he really that upset? “Hey, I know I’m right.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the impact your next words may have. “Like just now, when you dropped your act, you got cute. Like, a good cute. I’m sure you’re really handsome when you’re just you. Hot, even.” Yeah, that did the trick. Itto’s eyes lit up like the stars currently shining brightly in the sky. 

“You really think so?” He asked, stuttering and stammering over his words as if he could believe yours. “Well, I--! I mean, you’re cute yourself! B-but not like, in a creepy way, what I mean is that I’ve liked you for a while-- but not all creepy-like! I’ve just been... following you to impress you a little and maybe you’d talk to me-- I SWEAR I’m not creepy!” 

Okay, you may have misjudged. Itto was as embarrassing as ever. But this time though, it was also a little endearing. 

[sevasey51]

What happened with Lunas Mom

Hopefully this is an opportunity to explain what Luna’s story is, and how I’ve made it so that I can somehow tell my story in a therapeutic way without revealing too much about myself and my relationship with my parents so this is slightly different from my own experience. But please know you aren’t alone in any means and my messages and asks are always open as my blog is a safe place and I want you all to know that. I love you all for all of the comforting, positive love and feedback about this series. It means a lot. Im sending my love and hugs to you all out there and seriously can’t thank you all enough 🫶🏻🥹 - note from me :)

Please don’t read if any of the following below trigger you, you are responsible for you own media consumption. I just feel like I needed to put this on here for my own peace of mind ❤️

Warnings: mentions of divorce, gaslighting, emotional distress, abandonment, basically Lunas mum is a piece of shit, violence but not in detail, abuse not in detail.

So this is a little difficult to explain, it’s a sensitive subject to talk about and Luna doesn’t really like talking about it, Luna’s mum was with Chris when she was born and still was until she was about six months after then they filed for divorce and chris did get sole custody of her with visits from her mum where she’d spend the weekend with her until she was 10 whilst they were trying to get full custody to Chris because what happened on multiple occasions when she was with her mum. But she just signed her rights away as soon as the allegations were made and he just knew he was right.

Luna would be left alone for hours on end, her mum would always come home drunk etc, she would always shout and be violent towards her, also her mum would also always make it out to be her fault make her question if it actually was. The classic traits of a gaslighting narcissist person who denies it even when Chris bought it up. So in turn with all of the abuse, gaslighting and violence over time that Luna had suffered from she’d changed as a person when she would come home from there and unfortunately the repercussions of this Chris and Luna faced the brunt of it on their own of course with the amazing support of her dads side of the family. Her actual family.

When the nightmare, flashbacks, panic attacks, seizures and the endless emotional pain came out of Luna finally because she finally felt the safest she’d ever felt, they were there and never left. Never found it weird or strange for how she acted and never shamed her for it either. Yes you’ve got to admit like Chris did when she first had her seizures it was scary and strange but they all came to terms with it, Chris and their family hated and still does that y/m/n did this to their amazing girl, but they take each day as it comes.

If it’s a difficult day then Chris takes it at Luna’s pace if she doesn’t want to get out of bed she doesn’t have to, if she’s anxious he’s there, if she’s angry about why it had to be her then he’s there. If she said no it meant no because that is a full sentence. He always is to be the rock and stability she needed and so was her grandma, Scott, the cast and the rest of her family.

It was just their thing to take it one day at a time or even one step at a time even if they were baby steps. It was good progress and it was okay to make progress then have it all come crashing down but it was okay. And that all that mattered.

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Racing Heart

Pairing  ::  Clark Kent  x  short/petite fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Smut, Size Kink

Word Count  ::  4,265

Summary  ::  You never knew why, but whenever you were around Clark, your heart always raced.

A/N  ::  Just an fyi, I used Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, but I used the comic book height of Clark, which is 6′3′’, versus Henry’s 6′1′’

You never quite understood why, all you knew was that your heart always started racing when you were close to Clark. It wasn’t whenever you saw him, or when you were just in the same room as him. It was only when you were able to notice how small you were compared to the 6’3’’ man. 

There were many occasions when this happened. Whenever Clark hugged you, helped you grab something on a top shelf, or even when he was standing so close to you, you two almost touched, your heart began racing. It had gotten to the point where you went out of your way to avoid getting close to the man, making sure you were always on the opposite side of the room from him.

There were three specific times though that made your face heat up just thinking about them.

-

The first one was in the break room.

You had managed to open the cabinet doors right above the refrigerator, but were struggling to grab the box of plastic utensils. You always forgot to bring a fork or spoon from home for your lunch, though you never had to worry about it because The Daily Planet had some. Of course, in an office full of tired reporters, others were bound to forget their utensils as well, and thus the box that was placed on the counter was now empty.

You stood on your tippy-toes, fingers barely grazing the corner of the box. The heels your wore offered no help, only adding a mere inch and a half to your height. You open the cabinet with ease, and a huff of annoyance left you when you saw the box of forks was on the second shelf. You had grown so frustrated, you began hopping just to try and hit the box that you now believed was taunting you. However, your hopping was working, as you managed to hit the corner repeatedly to make the box slowly come out. You didn’t care if you were wearing a skirt. It ended right before your knees and you were wearing black tights so it was fine.

You just needed one more good hop and you knew you’d be able to grab the box. You bent your knees only slightly, and then-

“Do you need some help?” A deep kind voice asked, followed by a large hand reaching past you and grabbing the box.

You whipped your entire body around, now facing a tie and button-down plaid shirt. You tilted your head up, seeing the man from Kansas, Clark Kent. He was giving you one of his classic golden boy smiles, looking down at you.

You gave him a small smile in return, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to grow faster. Perhaps Clark sneaking up behind you startled you, and he seemed to notice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just saw you were struggling for a bit,” He commented, holding the box out for you.

You grabbed it, thanking him quietly before a small idea popped into your head. “Were you watching me?”

You swore you saw a small tint on Clark’s cheeks as he let out a cough to clear his throat. “Um, no, I had walked by earlier and saw you struggling then, and, well, when I came back I saw you were still here so I decided to help.”

You let out a small giggle. “I’m teasing Clark.”

You saw him visibly ease up, letting out a small exhale. Little did you know he had been staring at you for a small while before he helped you. Watching you hop up and down had brought a small smile of amusement to his face. 

-

The second one was in the supply room.

Some people bought their supplies, and that was their stash. Others, such as yourself, helped themselves to the abundance of the supply room. What you had just ran out of only moments ago were sticky notes. You used them quite often, not only for notes but also for little drawings you did to pass the time. As a matter of fact, your entire desk was nearly covered with either small memos or doodles of random characters.

The sticky notes, unfortunately, were located on the top shelf. To add to your bad luck, there was also no stepping stool or ladder. Now, you could’ve been rational and go get someone taller to help. ‘Nah, I got this,’ you thought as you carefully began to climb up on the shelves. You believed in your climbing abilities, even in your heels. Admittedly, it was a bit awkward trying to grip onto the shelves, and the heels of your feet were hanging off, but you felt secure enough. 

You reached the top shelf with relative ease, only needing to step up two shelves. Then came the matter of the box of sticky notes that had yet to be open. There was no way you could open the box to grab the small number of notepads you needed, not without both hands though. You could throw the box down, but what were the chances of it breaking open and creating a mess? ‘I really should’ve thought this one through a little better,’ you regretted.

Busy thinking of how to get the sticky notes down(along with how often you found yourself in this sort of ‘you’ve made your bed now lay in it’ situations you’ve been in) you didn’t notice the door open and close once again. “(Y/N)?” 

“Wha- Ah!” You let out a squeal, losing your balance from being pulled from your train of thought. Your eyes widened and your heart froze, feeling your feet slip off along with your grip.

You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the oncoming impact from the floor, along with the pain. Thankfully, the person who had caused your fall was quick enough to save you. Instead of feeling the hard tiled floor, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you. They held you close, almost squeezing you a bit too tight, but you felt safe in the embrace. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to make sure you were indeed okay. You looked up to see who had caught you, your (e/c) eyes locking with blue ones behind a frame of glasses.

There was a clear worried look on Clark’s face. “You need to be careful (Y/N), you can’t just climb up shelves. If you need help, ask for it,” He continued to scold you, but you couldn’t focus on a thing he was saying.

Your heart was pounding, though you thought it was from the adrenaline of almost falling, and your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t listen to him with him still holding you, it was all your mind was focused on. His grip on you was frim, and you were so close to him you could smell his cologne, citrus with a hint of musk. You always knew you were petite in build, but being held like this made you feel tiny. ‘His arms are so big. Am I really this small? He doesn’t look like he’s struggling at all. When does he have the time to work out? How-’

“(Y/N) are you even listening to a thing I’m saying?”

You blinked once, looking at him with big eyes. “Um… You’re still holding me…” You pointed out, a small blush coming to your cheeks. Unable to look at him any longer, your eyes darted down, missing his flustered face.

He put you down quickly, apologizing, and you told him not to just as quickly in response. After, you thanked him and rushed out without even taking a single sticky note with you. Later on in the day though, when you had walked away and returned to your desk, there were two sticky note pads on your desk.

-

The third one was at a charity event.

You and Clark were assigned to the event together as it was a rather large event. The money being raised was for meta-human teens and children, to help them better understand their abilities safely.

After hearing the guest list, you knew you had to wear the one forest green dress you wore to every fancy event. It was the nicest, and expensive, dress you owned. You paired it with three-inch black heels and a simple opal pendant. You never like dressing up too much. Clark wore a simple muted dark brown suit, with a navy blue button-up and blue tie to match it.

Now, it was rather tricky to keep your distance from Clark this time, and you really didn’t want to get flustered during work. Before it was at work, now it would be during work. There was a difference, granted a small difference, but still, a difference. At work, you just minded your business, and on occasion, goofing off when you weren’t writing an article. Here you were supposed to be interviewing and taking notes of everything happening. You couldn’t miss something important because Clark wanted to dance and you couldn’t keep your mind straight after. He didn’t ask you to dance, but, if he did you’d refuse.

“So, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen-”

“Please, call me Oliver,” The blond said.

Before you stood Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. You were intending to speak to Mr. Wayne alone, but just as you approached him, Mr. Queen also got to him. You were about to apologize and walk away, however, Mr. Queen, or rather, Oliver, insisted you interviewed them together. You had to admit, it was rather nice having Oliver around as Mr. Wayne, even though he was known as a playboy, gave you a rather intimidating aura. 

You began interviewing the two, asking them the same questions you had asked all the millionaires, but ended up talking with them and enjoying it. Mr. Wayne wasn’t as intimidating as he had seemed, and Oliver was rather humorous. It was clear to you the two were friends.

You were in the middle of laughing at a joke Oliver had told when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turned your head, seeing Clark, standing right beside you with a smile. 

“Well you most certainly are having a good time,” He commented before turning his attention to the men in front of you. “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out with his free hand to shake theirs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well…” Mr. Wayne’s voice trailed off as he looked down at Clark’s badge from the daily planet, “...Mr. Kent.”

“Call me Oliver,” He said as he shook your coworker’s hand. “I take it you two were sent together?”

“Yes,” You said in sync.

The conversation continued, and the entire time Clark kept his arm around your shoulders. You nodded along, even humming a few times in response to make it appear as if you were listening as your mind wandered. ‘Why is my heart racing? Why is he still holding me? Should I say something? What if I seem rude? I don’t want him to let go though.’ Even though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, you knew there was a small part of you that always liked how petite you were compared to Clark. 

Then, you felt his thumb begin to rub small circles onto your bare shoulder. Without thinking, you slowly leaned into his larger frame. Now, you couldn’t see it because you were still looking ahead at the two millionaires, but Clark glanced down at you, happy you had come closer.

-

You couldn’t avoid Clark forever though, despite your best efforts.

You walked down the sidewalk, holding four large reusable grocery bags each full to the brim. You lived alone, but you liked to shop in bulk so you wouldn’t have to go out often. You were struggling a fair amount though. Normally, you had a friend who’d come with you to help you out and then the two of you would hang out. Sadly, all your friends were busy for the next few days and you were beginning to run out of your favorite conditioner, not to mention you were low on food.

You didn’t drive to the grocery store either, adding to your struggle. It was only three blocks away, why waste gas? You wouldn’t be struggling much longer though.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A male voice called out.

You stopped, eyes darting everywhere to find the owner of the voice. It took you a moment until you eventually spotted Clark in front of you, a good distance away.

“Oh, hi Clark!” You placed two of the bags down to give him a large arm wave.

It took him a moment to get to you, and when he did he looked down at your groceries puzzled. “That seems like a lot for one person to carry.”

“Yeah, I tend to bite off more than I can chew.”

“I’ve noticed,” He said with a chuckle. “Do you want some help?”

You shook your head. “No. I couldn’t possibly drag you away from your day off to help me.”

“It wouldn’t be a hassle at all,” He reassured you. “Plus, it’d eat at me all day knowing I left you struggling.”

Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you let out a sigh, agreeing to his help. He took three of the bags, leaving you with the one bag filled with two bags of chips, three loaves of bread, and two dozen eggs. You tried to hold two bags, make the work even between the two of you, but he insisted. He tried to carry the bag you held as well, but you were adamant you held at least one.

Walking down to your apartment complex, the two of you mainly talked about work. At least you did, and Clark more so listened. This was the first time your heart didn’t start racing as you stood next to him, probably because you wouldn’t shut up about the deadline for your new article. You refused to look up at him, eyes fixed only on what was in front of you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to get to your apartment. You thanked him and told him he could go on with his day, but he insisted he helped you carry the bags up to your apartment.

You were quiet from then on, listening to Clark talk about the building. He lead you all away to your front door, standing patiently for you to unlock your door. Then, it hit you. You noticed his shadow over you as you faced your front door. Your heart quickened a bit, still, you ignored it as you opened your front door.

You speedily guided him to the kitchen to place the groceries down, and just as fast you tried to rush him out. His brows furrowed, confusion written all over his face.

“(Y/N), why are you in such a rush to show me out?”

‘Because I can’t think straight now with you around!’ You thought. Instead, you said to him, “Because I’m tired and I want you to enjoy your day off!”

He didn’t seem to believe you. He stood in front of you, a small frown on his lips. “Do you like me?”

Your eyes widened, mouth left ajar at his question.

“Because sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

‘Oh-’ “What- No. I think you’re a great guy Clark.”

“Then why are you always avoiding me?” You didn’t think he had noticed. “Whenever I get close to you, you scurry off, and when you can’t you look uncomfortable.”

Like a child who had just gotten caught, you covered your face, too embarrassed to look at him. You didn’t want to tell him the real reason you were avoiding him, but, you also didn’t want him thinking you disliked him. It was the exact opposite.

“I’m not avoiding you because I don’t like you, Clark,” You said through your hands. You spread apart your fingers so you could look him in the eyes. “I… I avoid you because you’re… you’re so big.”

Now Clark was taken aback, a brow raised. “What?”

With a long exhale, you lowered your hands. “I said, I avoid you because you’re so… so big, and it makes me feel really small, and I can’t think straight.”

“You avoid me because I’m too big, and it makes you feel small, and you can’t think straight?” He repeated.

You nodded.

He was silent for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. “In a good or bad way?”

“What?”

“In a good or bad way?”

You could feel your face heat up, and it wasn’t the only spot on you beginning to grow warm. Softly, you answered him. “In a good way, I guess.”

Clark took a step closer to you. “So you like the fact that I’m larger than you?”

“Yes, I just-”

“No.” His normally bright blue eyes seemed to darken, his eyes narrowed on you. “I want you to say it.”

You closed your legs closer together, feeling a heat rise in between your thighs. “I like that you’re so much bigger and stronger compared to me.”

Swiftly, Clark scooped you up, hands just beneath your bottom to raise you to his face. With how fast your heart was racing now you were sure he could hear it pounding in your chest. 

You looked into his eyes as you carefully took off his glasses and tossed them onto your couch. Then, you placed a hand on each side of his face and gave him a long soft kiss. He returned the kiss gently, though after a few minutes you could tell he wanted more, his kiss began to grow rough. 

You had wrapped your legs around him to be more comfortable, giving him a better grip on you. He squeezed your ass and in response you let out a soft moan. He lowered you a bit, only enough for you to feel his growing erection against your fully clothed core. He held your hips close, moving you against him for a bit of friction. You whimpered, lowering your head into his chest and gripping his dark grey shirt.

“Clark, please,” You whined.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.

You pulled your head away from his chest, nodding over in the direction of your bedroom. “Second door to the right,”

Almost hurried, he carried you straight to your bedroom. He stopped right at the edge of your bed, letting go and letting you fall back onto your mattresses. He crawled on top of you, placing a knee between your legs. Gently, he peeled away your clothes, tossing them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. He began peppering kisses around your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone. As he did, his hand crept its way behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra. He pulled away from his kisses to watch your breasts bounce free, eyes fixed on your bare chest. 

Feeling embarrassed, you moved to cover your chest with your hands, but he pinned your hands above your head with one hand.

A low chuckle escaped him. “Aw, are you feeling shy?”

You were about to turn your head away when Clark dipped his head down, capturing your lips again. You could feel his free hand slowly trail up your side, humming as a shiver went down your spine. He cupped your breast firmly, beginning to knead it in his palm.

Small moans left your lips, arching your back, body begging for more. You already knew your panties were wet, and you needed him, but he was still fully clothed. All the while you could feel his denim-covered erection against your thigh.

“Clark,” You groaned against his lips, “It’s not fair.”

He pulled back, brows raised. You struggled to pull your hands free, to no avail.

“You’re still dressed,” You said with a pout.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, how about you take care of that for me?”

He let go of your hands and you eagerly reached for the end of his shirt, pulling it off of him. You almost started drooling seeing him shirtless for the first time. Your hands began to wander around his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Your hands wandered down further, to the hem of his pants. Just as you were about to reach for his belt, his hand stopped you.

“You’re not ready yet sweetheart,” He warned you. 

“Clark-”

He pressed his mouth against you, silencing you before you could complain. Even though you weren’t allowed to undo his pants, he slid them off with ease and you felt his long hard member pressed against your thigh. You momentarily pulled away to glance down, gasping loudly when you saw his length.

Worried, you looked back up at him. “It’s not going to fit.”

He dipped his head back down to your neck, peppering kisses across your jaw. “That’s why we need to get you ready.”

His hand moved down to your soaked panties, pushing them down so you were completely bare now. Your breathing hitched, feeling him stick in a finger and begin to move it in and out of you slowly. He picked up the pace with his finger, eventually sticking in another and he could already feel your pussy tightening.

You were growing close and he was only fucking you with his fingers. Granted, his hands were larger than yours, so two of his fingers felt much larger than two of your own.

To add on, he lowered himself so his head would be right at your dripping cunt and began sucking on your clit. 

“Ah!” Your hands went straight to his hair and began to tug. You were a mess in his hands.

It didn’t take long for your body to shudder and your hips begin to spasm as you hit your high. Clark licked up your pouring juice, humming at your sweet taste. He looked up at you, two fingers remaining and now scissoring inside of you.

“You know, you really should ask for help if you can’t reach something,” He began. “It’s hard trying to hold back when you reach for things in those tight skirts of yours.”

“Well, now you don’t need to hold back,” You teased.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, grabbing his face with one hand and guiding him back to you. You could taste your juices in the kiss, humming in delight.

He pulled his fingers out, your core aching to be filled again. Luckily, you soon felt his already dripping tip at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you and you could feel your walls stretch around him. You nearly cried, your body in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your back arched, breasts pressing against Clark’s chest. Your hands gripped his arms as tight as you could, and you were sure you were digging your nails into him.

It was so much. You could feel your eyes water and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Clark kissed your forehead, muttered against it, “Just relax.”

He gave a small moment to adjust, noting how your breathing changed when you had gotten used to him. He pushed himself further in though, and you cursed under your breath, body growing tense again. 

Again, he gave you a moment to adjust, despite how painfully tight your walls clamped around him. He pulled out a small amount before pushing back in, bucking his a few times to get you used to him. Eventually, your quiet whimpers turned into small moans.

“M-more,” You breathed out, breath shaky.

Like a switch had been flipped in him, Clark pulled out almost all the way and speared you, no longer as gentle as he had been before. He did this again and again, going a little harder each time at a constant rhythm. Then, with one thrust you shouted his name loudly and your cunt squeezed around his cock.

“Ah! Clark again! Right there, please!” You begged him.

Knowing he had found your g-spot, he pulled out all the way this time and pounded that same spot, earning another cry of pleasure from you. He did this repeatedly now with a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping and clenching with each thrust. With each of your breaths growing ragged, it was clear you were both close to your release. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips to try and bring him closer, and he gripped your thigh harshly. He squeezed it so tightly, you were sure there’d be a faint bruise. 

With a few more thrusts, you shuddered, juices flowing out of you again and around Clark’s cock this time. You swore you heard Clark curse, feeling you squeeze around him and juices cover him. 

His rhythm was growing sloppy, and he pumped in and out of you until he let out a low groan of relief. You took a sharp breath, feeling his warm seed enter you. He continued to buck his hips, riding it out until he finally stopped, breath heavy.

He looked at you with now clear eyes and a smile on his face. “So… Do you need help putting your groceries away?” He asked cheekily.

You giggled. “Only if you don’t put anything important on the top shelf.”

“Why not? I’ll be around to help you now.”