#so i am going to insist on making myself miserable just so you can't have the satisfaction of making me happy again'

[raayllum]

—Richard Siken

[hellfirexhoe]

Death of Me: Chapter 15 - A Very Special Meeting of the Hellfire Club

Chapter 15 | Series Masterlist

3,794 words

Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, pregnancy, childbirth, fluff.

October 31st 1986.

If you thought you were miserable during your first trimester, boy were you unprepared for going a week past your due date. 

You're fairly certain that raspberries may go extinct at the rate you're chugging cups of raspberry leaf tea. Not that you care. Stupid raspberries. 

Eddie had taken you on miles long meanders in the woods around Hawkins, trying to hold a conversation with you that wouldn't end in you frustrated. You appreciate the effort but still, stupid walks.

Your mother had said castor oil was a great way to get things moving. You didn't have time to find out before the oily substance on your tongue made you vomit. Stupid oil.

You woke up this morning particularly irritable, stomping around the house until Eddie finally dared to ask what was bothering you so. You'd shot him a death glare and then pointed at your stomach,

"He's supposed to be here. We were told the 23rd."

"I know sweetheart, but maybe he's just super cosy in there and isn't ready to leave yet. But we'll get to meet him soon." Eddie gives you a soft smile and you groan,

"Spare me that crap. I just want him off my bladder." You growl the last words as your son helpfully pushes down on your bladder as though to illustrate your point.

Eddie tries to give you a sympathetic smile but it doesn't win you over, you're uncomfortable and sore and you feel like you haven't slept in months. 

"You don't have to come with me tonight, I really don't mind if you want to stay home and get some rest, maybe a bubble bath."

"Two things," You hold up your fingers, "One, I can't drive myself to the hospital if your son decides he wants to make an appearance. Two, there is no way on God's green earth I'm going to be able to fit into that tub right now." You rummage through the cupboard, locating your coffee mug with ease. Eddie learned the hard way that your caffeine intake was not his to police while you were sleeping so poorly. A tiny foot in the ribs doesn't exactly send you off into a dreamless sleep.

Eddie comes over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, the other rubbing your stomach soothingly. 

"Ugh you smell like water." You grumble and wrinkle your nose while Eddie stands baffled,

"What the hell does water smell like?"

"I don't know but you just do!" Eddie bites back a chuckle, knowing you'll bite his head off if he does. 

"Okay I'm going to go shower and see if that somehow makes me smell less like water. Do you want me to help you with your costume when I'm done?"

"You're going to have to squeeze me into it, I feel like I've swallowed a planet."

The zip glides smoothly up your back as Eddie finishes helping you get dressed, mercifully you’d picked a much larger size, meaning Eddie did not have to “grease you up” as he kindly offered. You sit on the edge of the bed and he kneels down to help you slip your feet into your shoes, a small frown crossing his face, placing the shoes back down beside him and switching to rubbing your feet, a quiet tut leaving his mouth,

"You're been on your feet too much again." He gently chides, it's coming from a place of concern, not control. 

"Well how else am I going to walk this baby out?" You lean back onto a pillow you hastily shove behind you, sighing as Eddie’s hands work over your sore feet, relaxing the muscles and helping the painful swelling on your feet reduce. You shut your eyes and let another long sigh go,

“Better?” 

“Don’t be smug about it.” Eddie laughs and you smile, “Alright if you don’t stop now I’m going to have to insist you cancel tonight and carry on.” 

“Sorry guys, no game tonight. Fiancee’s feet hurt so I’m spending the evening taking care of her? Yeah what an asshole I’d be.” Eddie places your shoes onto your feet gently and stands up, holding out a hand to help you up.

“Five more minutes.” You pout and Eddie lets his hand drop, shrugging,

“Fine but then you miss out on watching me stab myself in the eye multiple times.” Eddie ducks into the bathroom as he calls out to you. 

“It’s just not that difficult to do Eddie, how many times do I have to do your makeup for you?” You eventually manage to pull yourself off the bed and waddle into the bathroom watching as he immediately pulls his lower lid down,

“Absolutely not. Put the pencil down Munson.” You had explained so many times that doing that was going to cause premature aging around his eyes but he just doesn’t listen, insisting this was the only way he could put eyeliner on. You take the pencil from his hand and turn his head to yours, rolling your eyes at the satisfied grin on his face. To his credit, Eddie keeps still as he squats down so you can reach his eyes with ease, and is able to fight the instinct to back away from the invading black pencil rimming his eyes.

“Okay, there. Not difficult.” You step back and let Eddie admire his lined eyes in the mirror, grinning at your handiwork as he inspects it.

“Thank you sweetheart.” Eddie smooches the top of your head, “Now where are those fangs?” 

He rummages through the bag he’s haphazardly thrown onto the counter and produces a plastic pack of fangs.

“Eddie, those are going to shred your gums to pieces, what happened to the caps I found?”

“The caps were cool, but these glow in the dark.” Eddie switches the light off as he speaks and produces another pack of faintly green teeth and offers them to you.

“Nope, I’m sticking with my caps, have fun wrecking your gums though.” 

“Your losh.” Eddie struggles with the plastic encasing his teeth, but you can see he’s grinning in the dark thanks to the glow of the teeth.

You switch the light back on and gently bump him aside so you can better see the mirror for placing the fang caps over your teeth. The putty tastes vile but secures them comfortably and means you can still talk without sounding insane. You spot Eddie rummaging in the bag once more and he produces a frankly ridiculous amount of fake blood.

“I thought we were both going as vampires? You going as Carrie or something?” Eddie laughs as you watch him with a raised eyebrow,

“I got a good deal.”

“I’d hope so, that jug is getting passed down to our grandkids.” 

Eddie dips a q-tip into the jug and dabs two marks on your neck, dragging the soaked cotton along your skin to emulate a trickle of blood. You shudder at the sticky sensation but in the mirror you have to admit it looks realistic.

“Okay now do me.” 

“Eddie… we have plans.” You joke, it takes him a split second to grasp your meaning but he does,

“I meant the fake blood, idiot.” Eddie teases as he presents you with a q tip and tilts his neck for you.

“What if I just draw a dick on your neck right now?” 

“You’re a menace. I’m trusting you to behave.” 

You’re the first to the Wheeler’s house, aside from the Wheeler’s of course. Nancy answers the door, dressed as a witch, complete with pointy hat and broomstick. As you head into the basement you see Mike, with an alarming amount of gel through his hair, slicking it back. You tilt your head on the side unable to place the costume inspiration, he notices your stare,

“It will make sense when El gets here.” 

“You’re gonna die when you realise.” Nancy laughs as she moves more chairs around the table and then beckons you upstairs with her. “No baby yet then?” 

“Shit, we left him at home.” You deadpan and then laugh,

“Sorry, stupid question huh?” 

“It’s okay, but if he doesn’t come soon I am sending him to a bad school.” 

A doorbell interrupts you and you see a sliver of orange and white in the gap between Nancy and the door, Nancy is nearly on the floor with giggles and steps aside to allow Dustin in, Dustin who is wearing a gigantic grin, and a traffic cone costume.

“Points for originality.” You manage between laughs. He tries to bow and nearly takes Eddie out with the tip of the cone on his head. 

“Shit Henderson, you were right. I’d never have guessed.” 

“Thank you, thank you.” Dustin holds out his hand and Eddie places a bill into the hand, shaking his head and laughing. 

Eleven arrives alongside Will and Jonathon, and immediately you twig the costume as Mike goes in to hug her,

“Oh my god you guys are Danny and Sandy! That is beyond cute!” Dustin pretends to gag from behind their back but you can see he thinks the costume is cute too. Will and Jonathon have both dressed as wizards, Will’s costume is one that is well loved, you can see from the adjustments made to the costume to fit a growing body. Will immediately attaches himself to Eddie and is asking a million questions a minute about the campaign, and Eddie matches his energy immediately, gesturing with his hands in a manner that is bound to result in someone being accidentally hit. 

Robin is next to arrive, with her designated driver dressed in a blue boiler suit and raybans. 

“Maverick from Top Gun?” Steve nods, grinning, clearly thrilled with his costume. Robin’s is harder to place, a mustard yellow sweater and pale blue jeans.

“Any clues?” She shakes her head, looking like she might explode at any given minute into raucous laughter,

“She won’t even give me any clues. It’s driving me crazy! Like, I know this sweater from somewhere!”

“Robin!” Dustin hollers from across the room, “Nice Steve costume!” 

Robin collapses into laughter as Steve’s jaw drops, not sure whether to be offended or flattered.

“Is this why you were asking me about my hair care routine??”

Erica, Lucas and Max are dropped off by the basement door so that Max can be easily wheeled into the basement, Max is dressed as Freddie Krueger, with Lucas dressed as Nancy Thompson, complete with a beautifully styled wig. Erica has on a cowboy hat, with an apple mark on her cheek, and is wearing pale orange clothes, you have to ask Dustin who immediately twigs and compliments the cleverness of the costume. 

“She’s Applejack.”

“Apple who?”

“My Little Pony.” 

“Ooh, that is clever.” 

You notice the absence of the original Hellfire club, you know Eddie had invited them but it had been a terse call, two had moved away from Hawkins in the aftermath of the “earthquake” and weren’t thrilled about coming back and Gareth had politely declined as he apparently had a date, which Eddie wasn’t entirely sure he believed. You’d done your best not to eavesdrop but the phone was on the wall in the kitchen, and you were trying to make dinner, so it’s not entirely your fault that you’d overheard the conversations. Eddie had insisted it didn’t bother him that they were seemingly avoiding him, but eventually you’d pointed out that it’s okay if it did bother him, and you were always happy to listen if he wanted to talk about it, and that was enough for Eddie, to know he had a supportive partner, and friends who weren’t dodging his calls for a Halloween-themed D&D afternoon/evening.

Eddie starts the session and immediately is met with confused stares at his slurred speech. Eddie sighs heavily and spits out his vampire teeth and tries again to speak, this time everyone understanding. 

It’s about an hour in when you stand to pick up the dice Eddie is helpfully gesturing to, you feel a slight cramp in your belly, you brush it off. You’d been dealing with braxton hicks for the last 3 weeks and this did not feel any different to those, so you take a sip of water and grab a handful of pretzels when your turn is over, knowing these usually help to alleviate the symptoms. 

Eddie catches Mike gawking at your bump and puts his head in front of his face to intercept the gaze,

“She’s not going to explode, you know. Quit your staring.” Mike averts his gaze but you do catch him glancing a few times, and you’re fairly sure Eddie’s statement was right on the money because the boy is looking at you like he expects an Alien chestburster situation is going to happen any second.

Another hour passes and your snacking hasn’t stopped the discomfort, and as another cramp hits you curse under your breath and kick Eddie’s foot under the table, Eddie’s eyes flick to you and he notices the beads of sweat on your head,

“You okay?” He whispers, you shake your head and gesture for him to lean in closer, the second the phrase,

“I think I’m having contractions.” Leaves your lips he is on his feet, 

“Right, someone take a note of where we’re at, we’re gonna head to the hospital and go have us a baby.” Eddie grabs your hand and guides you out of the house without a moment’s hesitation.

Will shuts his eyes and closes Eddie’s notebooks without peeking, before Dustin or Mike think to hop up and have a rummage. 

“Eddie, they're going to tell us to go home and wait until my contractions are more frequent.” 

“That’s fine, but I want you to get checked out first.” Eddie’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

“We don’t even have my hospital bag in the van, we need to go home first. We can call my parents and Wayne too and let them know.” Eddie takes the next turn reluctantly, clearly not happy with the diversion back to your house but knowing you’re making sense.

You’re helped down from the van and as another contraction hits so does a wave of nausea and you proceed to vomit on Eddie’s shoes. Mercifully they’re not his usual white reeboks, they’re black so the staining isn’t visible, because that would probably make you vomit again.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I need new shoes anyway.” He shuffles out of them and dumps them into the trashcan as you head to the front door. You call your parents as Eddie hops up the stairs, taking about 4 at a time by the sound alone. He's coming back down the stairs just as you tell your parents what’s happening, a bag slung over one shoulder and trying to hop into a new shoe.

“You can call Wayne, I desperately need to sit down.” You struggle over to a chair as Eddie dials, phone pressed into his shoulder as he puts the other shoe on.

“Hey Wayne -”

You hear a small pop and feel fluid trickling down your leg, for a split second you wonder if you might have pissed yourself but then it dawns on you.

“SHIT BABY COMING GOTTA GO BYE.” Eddie manages to garble out before he slams the receiver down and all but fireman carries you out of the house.

Without the cushioning of liquid your contractions are suddenly infinitely worse, to the point that when you arrive at the hospital the first thing you say to a member of staff is,

“Drugs. Get me drugs.” 

You’re helped into a wheelchair and wheeled into an examination room where a midwife checks you over and confirms you’re in labour, to which you snarkily reply,

“I could have told you that!” Eddie mouths an apology to her and is waved off,

“If you think that’s the worst anyone has said to me mid-labour you are mistaken. Let me take you guys to a room and you can get settled in there.”

Eddie settles you on the bed, making sure you have enough pillows to be comfortable and fussing around until you ask him to just sit down because he’s making you anxious with his pacing. You receive pain relief and are able to relax between exams, and countless members of staff walking in and out to check on you. You have gas and air available to you and of course Eddie asks to try it as soon as you’re on your own.

“Oooh I feel all dizzy.” Eddie laughs as he hands the mouthpiece back to you,

“I’m more enjoying it for the pain relief, but I’m glad you’re having fun.” You stick your tongue out at him.

It’s around 9pm when you first start feeling the urge to push, you alert Eddie and he presses the call button behind your head. Your midwife confirms that you can start to push and Eddie pales for a second but shakes his head, regaining himself and comes to stand by your side taking your hand in his.

It takes two hours of pushing, your whole body wracked with pain and covered in sweat. Eddie tried to distract you from the pain by slipping his fangs in when you weren’t looking and then flashing you a cheesy grin, that did make you laugh until you realised that laughing hurt just as bad as a contraction at the minute. Eddie didn’t have time to remove the fangs before you had to push once more, and this time you were told to hold the push, because the baby's head was so close. You held until you were fairly sure you were about to pass out and then managed one more push.

“Okay heads out! Now let's get these shoulders out and get this guy out!” You could only give a half hearted thumbs up to the midwife as you huffed on the gas and air as though it might hold the secret to getting the baby out with one painless push. 

“You got thish.” Eddie rubs your back, “My shtrong girl, you can do it.” 

You listen to your body and your midwife’s instructions and eventually, after a lot of pushing, swearing and sweating, you feel a small foot kick your thigh and an almost instant relief of pressure.

The cry comes moments later, a beautiful sound to yours and Eddie’s ears. Your son is placed on your chest and Eddie perches on the bed, putting his arm around you to cradle you gently as you look down at the small person laying on you. 

Wayne was absolutely right about the Munson nose, and dark tufts on his slightly bloodied head indicate he’s got Eddie’s hair. The shape of his lips is similar to your own and it makes you smile to see your own features in this perfect being in your arms. Your midwife helps you finish delivery then takes your son away briefly to check him over and clean him up a bit, eventually handing you a bundle of blue blankets surrounding his face. 

“11.59pm, he just made the cut for a Halloween birthday.” The midwife jokes,

“Hell yeah he did.” Eddie grins, then practically melts into a puddle when his finger is grabbed so tightly. You rest the back of your head on Eddie’s chest and he rests his chin on the top of your head as you both stare in absolute wonder.

“Can’t believe we made him.” You say quietly,

“Me neither. He’s just so perfect.” You nod at Eddie’s words, stroking the top of your son’s head. 

“You should probably call our families, let them know.” 

“You sure? They can wait till tomorrow.” You nod reassuring him you are happy for him to step out for a second.

Eddie keeps the door open, and stretches the phone cord to its absolute limit so that he never has to take his eyes off of the two of you while he makes the calls. Your parents cry, but Wayne? Wayne wails down the phone at the news, utterly unintelligible noise. 

“Okay… Well, visiting hours are from 9am so you can come meet him if you want.” More loud sobbing, that sounds like an agreement.

After a night of not really sleeping because you don’t want to take your eyes off of your new baby, and also doing your best impression of a human cow, as you described it to Eddie, 9am rolls around and your parents and Wayne, who had carpooled and being sitting in the car in the parking lot since 7.30am don’t wait a second before they’re practically running to meet their first grandchild.

Wayne is allowed first cuddles and then proceeds to make the strange, strangled wailing noise from last night when Eddie whispers the name to him. Your parents busy themselves with checking on you, trying to wait their turn to see their grandson. Wayne passes the baby to your mother who wells up when the soft weight is placed in her arms, your father similarly chokes up, looking between the baby, you, and Eddie.

“He’s a perfect mix of the pair of you.” 

Eddie peers over your mother’s shoulder, “Yeah, sorry about the nose kid.” Everyone softly chuckles and your father awkwardly places a hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Do we get to know the name then?” Your mother asks, gesturing at a quiet sniffling Wayne, you nod and gesture to Eddie.

“His name is Oscar Wayne Munson.” The loud sobbing from Wayne starts up again and your parents smile,

“Or, Ozzy.” You speak up and your mother glances at you, confused,

“Like Osbourne?” You nod, Eddie’s a little too stunned to speak that your mother knows who Ozzy Osbourne is.

“It actually fits, really well.” Your mother laughs looking down at the baby in her arms, “Little Ozzy.” Eventually she is convinced to pass him to your father for cuddles, and then Oscar is placed back in your arms, where you hold him close to you, inhaling that fresh new baby smell that Eddie was convinced was a myth until he’d sniffed Oscar’s head and declared they needed to make that smell a car air freshener. Your family stay for a while, but they notice you getting tired and politely excuse themselves, leaving you and Eddie to cuddle up with your child.

“Hey, did you ever think, all those times you were glaring at me from across the canteen that we’d get to this point?”

“Eddie, I love you so much. But if anyone had told me back then this was how my ‘86 was going to go I would have personally driven them to Pennhurst myself.”

“‘86 was definitely our year though, right?”

“Absolutely.” 

Taglist: @hellomothermoon @tlclick73 @likedovesinthewnd @bebe0701 @wheaty-melon @thegirlwhohides @munsonsgirl71 @sammararaven @joejoequinnquinn @hellfire-puppet @micheledawn1975 @averagemisfit03 @edsforehead @thehuntresswolf @a-hopeless-fan @sister-cirice @boomhauer @quinndjarin @tayhar811 @sidthedollface2 @callmeloverr @manda-panda-monium @3rriberri @eddiesbabe95 @trashmouth-richie @ches-86

[luveline]

do you know why the ao3 reader praised you and at the same time charged for a continuation? because at least here on tumblr that's what you do: come back answering some questions and posting some fics, then you get a bad comment and you insist on replying giving even more visibility to the person (pretending that what they said doesn't affect you when it really does), people stick up for you and you say thank you and always apologize, you slowly stop posting and disappear for a few days and then come back saying you had a hard time even though you said those comments wouldn't ruin your day. You're not under contract and you post and write whatever you want and what makes you happy, you're a human being and you have the right to have hobbies and do whatever you want, but I can't deny that it's frustrating for you to post something, then post countless fics of other characters and after a while say “I intend to continue that story, I just don't know when”. Do you know why people even praise and charge you? because your writing is good, and some people only follow you for that, for your writing. It's no use for you to think you're the best and say to stop following you because that's not what will happen. I repeat again that you are in a cycle and that your writing is the only thing that saves you. And you can come as many people as you want to defend you or say that I hide behind the anonymous, I don't care, these people should stop being hypocrites because when you come back after a long time away one of the first things they ask is when will you post again

— do you know why the ao3 reader praised you and at the same time charged for a continuation?

As I said in my post, I'm unsure! I think perhaps they hadn't stopped to think about why I may not have updated, though the answer to that was that I hadn't posted them on ao3.

—because at least here on tumblr that's what you do: come back answering some questions and posting some fics, then you get a bad comment

Unsure why this matters, like you say a little further down, I have a life, hobbies, responsibilities, and autonomy.

—you get a bad comment and you insist on replying giving even more visibility to the person

The majority of mean or abusive asks I receive go unanswered and blocked, but when I do share them, it isn't to insist on visibility, but to give myself an opportunity to share my thoughts. The anon passed judgement, I used my voice and my space to give my own opinion. Also, there isn't any shame in wanting comfort from others. I'm sorry if that doesn't seem fair to you, or maybe I look like an attention seeker! But I'm in a privileged situation to be comforted and reassured, so sometimes I do want to be comforted, hence sharing the ask!!

—(pretending that what they said doesn't affect you when it really does)

was this supposed to be like a GOTCHA moment where you humbled me, or is this just an observation you didn't think anyone else made? Yeah, half the time I lie and say hate comments don't bother me, because I don't want the person who sent it to know they made me miserable, and I don't want people here worrying about me. It is a very normal human thing to do

—people stick up for you and you say thank you and always apologize

True!

—you slowly stop posting and disappear for a few days and then come back saying you had a hard time even though you said those comments wouldn't ruin your day

Another GOTCHA! Although I'd like to stick up for myself here, considering how breathtakingly observational you are, you seem to have completely ignored the multiple instances where they did in fact not ruin my day, as well as other reasons I might take time away, like my underlying health problems that I've mentioned, which are often the root of the problem. I'm not saying you're totally wrong though, of course you aren't, people say mean shit to me and I don't want to write anymore and I'm not gonna villanise myself for that nor am I going to berate anyone else who feels discouraged at their hobby. Feedback affects the way you look at your craft, it always has, so I don't feel bad for taking time to myself.

—You're not under contract and you post and write whatever you want and what makes you happy, you're a human being and you have the right to have hobbies and do whatever you want, but

I'm definitely being unfair to you in saying this but I literally could've made money betting on the 'but' at the end of this sentence. You're right though!! I do post and write whatever makes me happy

—but I can't deny that it's frustrating for you to post something, then post countless fics of other characters and after a while say “I intend to continue that story, I just don't know when”.

Sub points. 1. I genuinely do not think that it is my responsibility to control how frustrated you become, because like you said, I can write whatever I want. I am so, so grateful that people read my work, that they enjoy it, that they continue to support me while what I want to write changes and goes back and forth, but I won't force myself to only post that one thing because it might mitigate frustration. 2. You say it's okay for me to write whatever I want, but when you mention my posting countless other fics of other characters, I get the sense that you don't truly think it's okay. 3. I do say that! It's actually in my FAQ and has been for months and months and months, because it's true, and I don't see a problem with that answer.

If it is frustrating to you to begin a story that may not have a guaranteed ending, or further installments, don't read it. I don't see why I get the blame here for your actions, why your frustration becomes my fault. My actions are my own, and all I can read from your sentence here is that you're frustrated that I'm doing what I want and writing what I want, which doesn't make much sense, because only a few lines before that, you say I'm a human being with the right... to do whatever I want. So would you like me to do what I want, or would you like me to do what I want only if it coincides with what you want?

—Do you know why people even praise and charge you? because your writing is good, and some people only follow you for that, for your writing

'Charge' I'm sorry genuinely that I don't know what you mean by that, I'm not poking fun here I really just don't know, apologies. I'm glad my writing is good in your eyes! Some people praise me because they think that the writing I post is good, it's entertaining, and because they have genuinely good hearts. And I know that some people only follow me for my writing, but... [see next point (section 2.)]

—It's no use for you to think you're the best and say to stop following you because that's not what will happen.

1.I do not think I'm the best, and I'm not sure what that has to do with it. 2. It's no use to say to stop following you because that's not what will happen— what would you have me do? My writing and my life aren't two separate things, and I'll keep saying it when others try to separate them. I actually think this is where you're getting tripped up. I'm a person, and I'm affected by the way people treat me, how they percieve me, and their expectations. So yes, some people follow me solely for my writing (which is kind of my entire appeal to be fair), and I'm glad they do despite if they might like me or not, but I'm not going to say Yes, please, keep enjoying my hard work, my passion projects, while simultaneously resenting me for the emotions and life experiences that so heavily influence that very writing!

—I repeat again that you are in a cycle and that your writing is the only thing that saves you

Like, my writing is the only good thing about me because my taking breaks from tumblr when hate asks pile on is embarrassing, or makes me a write off? Or that my writing actually saves me? Is it fair to be mad at me for being in that 'cycle', which consists of me getting a bad message and then me doing what ever it is I need to digest or cope with it?

—And you can come as many people as you want to defend you or say that I hide behind the anonymous, I don't care, these people should stop being hypocrites because when you come back after a long time away one of the first things they ask is when will you post again

You seem kind of self aware but not really 😭 you arguments against my– what? Against my not understanding why people complain? I definitely understand why people complain, even if I don't agree, and it is a mixture of a lack of self awareness, parasocial closeness, and genuine critique. Your arguments against me are extremely odd (at least in my opinion). I think that you have complained before about fics not being updated fast enough for your liking, or you've had those thoughts, and that my post has struck a nerve and you've come to set things right in your eyes, because how could you be wrong?

But the dreaded E word, entitlement! It's easy when a writer says the word entitled for you to scoff or roll your eyes. You're not entitled!! You want something, sorry to say this, but free, something free that you personally had little hand in creating, and when you don't get it you feel frustrated and leave a message explaining why– well, I'm not sure what you were trying to explain. That I'm a huge loser or something 😭 but that's not entitlement or anything. I'm not sure if you were under the impression that I didn't know lots of this stuff about myself and that by telling me I was going to change my rotten ways and give you the new chapter of fanfic you deserve because I tricked you into reading and enjoying the first one, but I'm going to keep doing things how I'm doing them! Like you said, like I've said, I write because I really fucking love doing it, the one and only downside is when people like you start to think you know everything about me from the single facet of my life you see online, and decide that's grounds to talk down at me, or attempt to dictate how I am.

And yeah some people are hypocrites like that, but so is literally everyone on the entire planet, me and you included 😭 you're literally a hypocrite in this message as I pointed out, explaining that I'm a person with rights to do as I want to, but also that to some I'm like a sophisticated chatGPT bot who should sit down, shut up, and write what others want, lest they become upset with me, and I should be okay with that.

I try not to attach malicious intentions to anonymous messages even when I know they're cruel on purpose, but this just couldn't be abided by. You've embarrassed yourself by assuming multiple things about me, and you've outed yourself as a dick — your precursory and oh so generous paragraph about how I'm not under contract didn't really work when you couldn't resist your 'countless other fics' comment afterward. It's obvious that you expect things from me, and it's obvious you look down on me.

I realise that nothing I could've said here would satisfy you. You have me figured out, and this will just seem like a defensive and hostile message to your well-meaning advice or something, but I really don't care anymore. I'm not solely a 'content maker' or a fanfic writer, and I don't owe you things just because you've decided you want more.

If anyone has sat here reading this all the way to the end, I just want to say that although I stand by everything I've said, this is in NO WAY meant to be a dig at people who ask me when the next part of something or other is coming out, nor is it a brand on every follower of entitlement. I KNOW that it can be frustrating when you grow used to the things you enjoy, but I genuinely cannot help being affected by things in my life, and I also won't put what other people want over my own happiness on a regular basis, and while I regret that you're frustrated by wanting something and not getting it I really think that this life is about doing what you love when you love it. Writing is my escape, and I'm so privileged, so thankful, and so grateful to be able to share it with people who are so amazingly kind hearted, patient, and loving. So so happy that the vast majority of you are okay with me writing what I'm in the mood for and what's fun for me. I really mean this without malice, anyone who doesn't like the way that I operate is more than allowed to continue reading in silence and resenting me, but please do it quietly, cos I won't be answering a message like this again, or to unfollow me, block me, whatever makes you feel better.

I may not owe anyone certain pieces of writing, but I do owe my kindness and understanding to the people who have shown it to me. Thank you so much if you're someone who has reassured me after a mean anon, or who's defended me, or who's waited between those long gaps of my posting chapters just as eager as when they started. Writing is so much more fun when I get to share it with people like you!! I don't like letting people down, I don't like knowing that someone who's sent me a long kind anon message or reblogged the first chapter of a fic is upset that there isn't more, I doubt the person who sent this ask has ever done either, I promise I don’t relish in disappointing you.

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for helping send my colleague off to Russia to be tortured? I can explain

I (18 at the time, you can call me N) used to be on a team with a group of other people, we were all superheroes with our own powers and skills working together to save people.

The leader of our team, who I'll be referring to as S, was a real piece of work. He was the most famous out of all of us, so he had a massive ego. Which would have been fine, annoying but not a big deal, if he actually had morals.

During training I and his child sidekick were often left bruised and bloodied. He never felt remorse for this, either insisting he was just playing around or telling us to 'man up' and learn how to take a punch. The kid basically worshiped the ground S walked on, so he rarely saw a problem with this and definitely wasn't going to try talking back to S.

His girlfriend was also part of the team. He was very unfaithful, hitting on other women every chance he got, sometimes right in front of her.

The company we worked under always ignored us any time we filed a complaint. They refused to do anything about him, he was their biggest asset.

Out of all of us though, S especially loved tormenting me. I fully believe he had some sort of personal grudge against me. On top of the aforementioned overly rough training, I had to endure a great deal of verbal abuse. He would highlight every flaw of mine, real or not, and make sure I knew about it. He would rub any failures I experienced in my face. And he would dismiss any problems or concerns I had as frivolous. (He was dismissive toward all of us, but it felt more targeted when it came to me)

He also hated the idea of me earning any recognition at all outside of the hero work. While he and the others would star in movies and appear in advertisements, he did all he could to prevent me from doing the same. One incident in particular comes to mind; He had fed the director of a movie I was really excited to be part of a bunch of lies about me, making me sound awful and ruining my chances. When I confronted him about it, he flew completely off the handle. He beat the shit out of me in front of the whole team, threatening to kill me if I tried to make a name for myself again.

We were all miserable for a while, walking on eggshells around him. Until one day one of our bosses (Who I'll call E) contacted me with an offer. E said that if we could incapacitate S, he would have S shipped away and held in a facility where he would never bother us again. Of course, the truth would be covered up. The rest of the world would be told that he'd died a hero.

I accepted, what else was I supposed to do? None of us were strong enough to kill him, even if we all worked together, so this was the only way to get rid of him.

I think I made the right choice, but sometimes I can't help but wonder if there might have been another way. What do you think? Am I the asshole here?

[definitelynotshouting]

Hello again! Im so sorry to hear you feeling well when i sent in my ask the other day :( hoping that the life series drop tmrw will provide a much needed distraction for whatever you need it to :)

-☀️

"I know the, um, this morning didn't go… very well… but… if I could—""

"Good, he thinks, but it's a rote sentiment, not half so vicious as it had been only hours earlier."

- oh??? 👀 i am looking

- Im assuming this is the meeting they had about taking grian back to hermitcraft (and the revelation that grian feeds on emotions to survive)?? Very curious

- Now that metaphor about the childhood coat being stained is a lot more painful

-☀️

"even stolen energy can't make up for that."

"everything he'd never had the first time he— well, when Grian, the real Grian— had died."

- "stolen energy" omg i am biting ankles over this.

- And the "real Grian" thing. Yeah

- This is one of those moments where grian's whole situation is so much more potent and vivid. Imagining living as myself, but knowing im occupying someone elses body, and having my very lifeforce sustained by others?? Its not hard to understand why grian internalises and hates himself for being "a parasite". Idk thats probably very obvious to everyone else but this is the first time ive really thought about all of what that entails

-☀️

"Starving hands reach out from the depths of his mind to pull him back, stumbling, under that dark waterline."

- Love how the word "starving" implies that G falling asleep is more of a survival mechanism forcing him under so that his body can feed rather than only exhaustion

-☀️

"he's pressed a knife to every promise he's ever made since the day he emerged,"

- shaking you

-☀️

"His existence lies in the shadows of these distorted fractures, jagged hopes and dented dreams, forever fated to cut his hands on the fragments."

- AHHHHJSLDHSJSVSN

- Man 🧍

- Dont have any words. Just tears.

AAAAAAAAAA SUN ANON I ALWAYS LOVE SEEING YOU IN MY INBOX!!!! Gods im so glad these lines resonated with and interested you, they were a ton of fun to write

I have a brain today so i can actually expand on some of the things youve pointed out instead of just aiming heart eyes at you for the compliments fjsndjsjejke so for the first point, yes!!! Scar and Xisuma returned to the others post chap 6 and were like "Well that sucked!! Wow!!!!" I wouldnt say theyve given all the information to everybody, because they themselves aren't exactly ready to discuss that beyond the immediately required basics, but everyone else was given the gist: convo went badly, Grian is being taken back to Hermitcraft on Scar and Xisuma's insistence. Both Scar and Xisuma feel fucking horrible for how that conversation went down-- nobody had a good time there. So while the plan is to eventually get everyone up to speed, they're sorta taking this time to be miserable about what was essentially a fight that ended in stripping Grian of his autonomy

There's also a little cross-communication happening here in the background, btw: Scar and Xisuma have a pretty big picture now, but Tango, Mumbo, and Pearl have been fed that false info abt the potions being potentially useful. So, yknow :) just smth to keep in mind there haha

Your point about how it almost feels like Grian falling asleep is a survival mechanism is spot on the money. It's essentially him falling into a state of low power mode, where everything but his most basic of functions is shut down for a brief time in favour of preserving energy-- i would honestly consider it more equivalent to a coma than actual sleep. Hence Tango's concern, and subsequent relief when Grian woke up; the entire time he was unconscious, he was fully unresponsive. So, yknow. Real nerve-wracking to see, especially after that prior full week of unresponsiveness as his body struggled to maintain itself.

Tango's role here is indeed deliberate, both on a watsonian and doylist level!! The reason however is the exact same for both: Tango is a little more removed, personally, from this situation. Grian was-- and is-- his friend, ofc, but he's not as close to whats happening. Meanwhile, Xisuma is in 24/7 server babysitting mode, Pearl is not fit to be a caretaker, and Scar and Mumbo were tearing themselves apart by trying to sit and look after him. So Tango got assigned caretaker duties 😂😂😂😂 it was an effective way to divvy up tasks and keep everybody busy, and somewhat hilariously, so far Tango is the only person Grian isnt supremely upset with for one reason or another. And thats why he's continued to stay in caretaker mode lol he is truly just. The only guy who can rn

I also just sorta think of him as a surprisingly emotionally savvy fixer-type, in terms of personality. Like. I think he just gets what people set down in front of him, yknow? Although hell if he knows what to do with it once he's got em. He fumbles a lot, sure, and he defaults to fix-it mode, but he is getting the message when Grian essentially says "i dont wanna talk anymore" without actually saying it

As for Grian and his headspace, rn, theres definitely a complexity at work here where he wants to die and is very genuine in that, but he IS also grateful he's seeing his friends. He cant deny that. As painful as it is, he still loves them very much, and ultimately he's trying to do this for their own good as much as for his own sense of punishment and relief. I think like... now that he's really creeping up on what he has planned, and the pieces are suddenly becoming a reality, theres a bit of dissonance he's fighting against to stay on course. He wants his friends happy; he also wants to die. He's so overwhelmingly tired; he is, as much as he feels he doesnt deserve it, glad to have his friends close. That sort of hopelessness mixed with a warped sense of comfort that he got to see and interact with them one last time. If that makes any sense. Its a bit of complexity i wanted to make sure i added in, because people are so rarely fully decided on any course of action they choose to take, without even a single flicker of doubt (and especially one so final as this). Im glad youve picked up on that, and that you appreciate what i was trying to set down with it!!! :D

This was such a lovely message, as always-- you are very sweet, sun anon, and i appreciate you lots :] i hope you're having an excellent day!!!

[gayspock]

👍

i can't sleep again & instead had another fucking. stupid ass panic attack that was so fucking bad this time ijust. whatever what am I saying any more. so so fucking Stupid and hopeless. i keep thinking about all the things I could try and how they're neve going to work. i keep thinking about how everything there is just insists that people are there to fucking support you. i can't do it. and ifeel like crawling in to a hole and fucking dying or just fucking screaming my lungs out. i just feel like everything's dead ends and jsut proves time and time again it's so fucking pointless fucking pointless shit again. there's nothing wrong with me there's nothing to talk out there's nothing to love and nothing to fix and you're just fucking miserable because what else can you be when youre so fucking useless and you can't fucking do anything right there's no fucking bullshit that can save your sorry fuckin ass and nothinf can ever make people want you you want to kill yourself because it's the right fucking answer and you're just a sad little bitch that keeps fucking kicking and screaming and crying and for attention I think I'm going nutsi haven't been able to function for the past few days again I can't fucking leave the house i want to really fucking hurt myself this time but it doesn't fucking do anything nothing fucking does anything I keep thinking about how much of a lost fucking cause it alwaysis and it's never fucking worth it even if I coudl fucking dig myself out this holeitsnust not. Fucking worth the time irve never been worth the fucking time not for me not for anyone just do all of what to just fucking struggle through it all and fucking do this for years and years fucking longer when what. Tell me what's at the fucking end but a sad empy fucking existence still. Im fucking telling you even if I woke up tomorrow and felt fucking nothing I would do anything to have had my life fucking end 10, 20 years ago never fucking existence because it's not fucking been worth it a single fuckkng day it never fucking will be andBecause I can't I can't I can't fucking keep being alone I'm always fucking alone and I feel like such a fucking child I just can't do it I can't fucking do it I think I'm going nuts i just I dojtfucking know I want to knowwhy I'm so fucking repulsive to everyone or why I'm just never enough and what's so fucking wrong with me and why im an aftwrthought at best I fucking can't do it I'm not fucking strong or fucking smart or fucking anyrhing and I think that's why I'm so desperate somefimesi just want to feel fucking something and I'm never going to get it from myself but I don't thinkanyones ever going to be able to stomach it and I don't know I JSUT want to feel like imnoy crazy please once before I fucking do it I want to just feel someone's fucking attention on me or like any of this was fucking reallike it meant fucking anything or if I've really jus fucking existed to get in the way and be miserable like fuckmeman I just I can't i can't don't I don't want to go to fucking work I don't want to move any more I don't want any of it I can't manage anyrhong and who will actually fucking care at the end of the day I mean that seriously I fucking mean that so fucking seriously like jot some bullshit awww ofc all life is meaningful will forget who I was in a week in what way am I ever going to dk anything I feellike it's the only fucking thing I can do for myself inusut fuck man

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

I chose 10! Agatha with R! Christmas is close :3

Sky's stolen ask game

I had to guess at which prompt list to use, I hope you enjoy!

"Please. Please just listen to me."

"What is there to listen to?" You can't help the way tears threaten to fall, and you desperately hope Agatha thinks it's just because of the cold wind. "You led me on. You ghosted me for three weeks, and then suddenly I find you on a cute little date with my best friend! Two years, all down the drain, and for what? To ruin a relationship that should have out lasted ours? To make me miserable?"

"No. Never. I never- How could you think I'd ever hurt you?"

You'll give her credit, your ex-girlfriend certainly knows how to act.

"Because you have. Intentionally." You shake your head. "I told you, we're done. It's not very mature of you to knock at my door at this point."

It's not right of her, you mean.

You can see how she swallows, though your ears hurt too much from the temperature to hear such a subtle thing.

"I- I hadn't meant to ignore you."

"But you did mean to take Wanda out for a nice evening out?" You're fighting the voice crack you can feel waiting to happen, fighting to keep your tone even.

"I messed up. I shouldn't have-"

"No. You shouldn't. Can you leave now? I'm going to get sick if you make me stand out here any longer."

"I love you." She blurts out.

You go still with shock.

Not once had she said those three words to you in your two year relationship. Not once.

It had been the root of a lot of your insecurities, these past years.

"Angel..?" Agatha has her hand stretched out, as if she was going to lay it on your arm. She looks concerned as you continue to laugh hysterically.

"What, you think I'll take you back because you decide now is the time to tell me that you love me? After breaking my heart?" You dissolve back into your laughter, only for it to turn into heaving sobs. "I loved you." You cry. "I loved you and you didn't love me back."

"I didn't take Wanda out on a date. I thought she would've told you."

You're confused by Agatha's continued insistance, and it thankfully helps you in preventing the rest of the tears that are waiting from being shed.

"I haven't spoken to Wanda since before I saw her with you." You rub your palms over your eyes in a poor attempt to dry your tears.

"I- I shouldn't have been so distant from you, but darling..." Agatha hesitates, pauses before barreling onwards. "I freaked out." She admits, much quieter than before. "I freaked out because I realized that I truly do love you. That I- I want to marry you. Wanda and I went out so she could help me plan the proposal."

It's like your entire world stops to tilt on its axis.

"I didn't really ghost you. It's unfair for you to keep describing it like that. I'm sorry I kept canceling our plans, and that I barely returned your calls and texts. I really am. And..." Agatha closes her eyes as she lets out a heavy breath. "I'll understand if you still want to remain broken up, but... I had to tell you. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try everything within my ability to win you back. And," she wrly grins. "If I didn't at least fix your friendship with Wanda. That was on me, not her."

It's like your lungs couldn't take in air. You can't- you can't breathe.

"Dear?"

Your knees feel weak.

Agatha says your name urgently as you collapse sideways onto to the doorframe, trying to keep upright.

This isn't fair.

This isn't fair of her.

She can't do this.

She can't just say she loves you and wants to marry you.

She can't say she wants to marry you when she had never previously said she loved you.

Not before.

Not once.

Only just now.

After she had lost you.

You still can't breathe properly.

Your head feels light.

You're... On the couch?

"Sip."

You look up to see Agatha's blue, blue eyes, shadowed with deep worry.

"Go on." She encourages, tapping the mug that's somehow found its way into your hands.

She sits down next to you as you listen.

It's mint tea.

The sharp flavor helps cut through the brain fog.

"Leave. Please." You stare into the liquid.

"No."

You refuse to play her game.

"I said leave, Agatha."

"I'm not leaving until I'm certain you're no longer suffering an attack." She stubbornly refuses.

You huff, and take another sip of the tea.

It's good. The tea is always good when she makes it.

You take more of a gulp than a sip when you bring the mug back up to your lips to drink.

Agatha's hand finds it's way to your back, and she rubs soothing circles on it.

You can't help but relax into her touch, despite yourself.

She may have broken your heart, but she still holds its pieces.

You pull the mug away and set it on the coffee table.

You've drank maybe half of it, and you're starting to feel sleepy.

"Come here." Agatha whispers, gently guiding you to lay against her chest.

You close your eyes as you let her, yawning.

"Let me stay. I'm sorry I screwed up so poorly, but I swear, if you give me this one, single second chance, I'll treat you the way you've deserved to be from day one."

You hum, exhaustion rolling through you.

You're always worn out after you get these attacks.

"Is that a yes?" Her breath tickles the soft hairs against your neck.

"Mhm."

You probably shouldn't have agreed, not when you're so close to being asleep, but you can't help but wanting Agatha. Can't help being foolish enough to grant her her request.

"Thank you, my love." Her voice is stark with relief. "Sleep now. I'll take such good care of you, I swear."

You allow the blackness to overtake everything, feeling warm and safe in the arms of your lover.

It's not like you knew you'd wake up, tied to a strange bed while she read a book in the chair in the corner.

It's not like you knew Agatha was never going to give you the option of leaving her.

[adleryoung]

"Your vengeance sounds like it will be epic indeed," Vernier assured me. "But in the meantime, you need to keep a low profile. Them too," she added, pointing to my coven. "They will somehow need to be evacuated. They can't really stay here in this fairy circle with you forever."

"Is that so?" I asked loudly. "What do you witches think?"

"You can do amazing things with lizards, bugs, and moss, My Lord," Gretchen admitted, "but I don't want to be eating that indefinitely."

"I kinda like having the dustman pick up my nightsoil every morning," Chloe added. "Rather than, like, having to deal with it myself somewhere in the bushes."

"I'm ready to rough it," Petunia grinned, "for as long as it takes to learn how to call up storms and blight crops."

I let out a sigh. Clearly I wasn't getting through to that one.

"You'll probably need to skip town," I informed them. "You should try to find Rebecca. She can lead you. Of course, first we have to figure out a way to get you past the rabbits unharmed."

"What about you, my dear?" I asked as I grasped Vernier's hand and looked longingly into her eyes. "Can you stay?"

"I think I'm in the same predicament they are in," she sighed glumly. "I am probably strongly implicated in all of this, so it may not be safe for me in town. And I also don't really relish the thought of living out here in the woods on a long-term basis."

"You could come to Fae-" I started to offer, but then realized that the Gate might not let her through. Even if it did, what was there for her on the other side? An empty scrying tower, a battlefield strewn with dead elves, and a desolate poisoned city full of Fuma only knew what kind of horrors!

"We've been over this before," she sighed. "I would grow old and become burdensome to you, and eventually die, while you would remain unchanged."

"I've ruined your life," I wailed miserably.

"No, you saved me," she insisted. "When I was at my lowest, you convinced me that I wasn't a failure, and that I had something to live for."

"Say …" I murmured as a thought occurred to me. "If you all have to go, maybe you could travel together and you could all stay where the Martens have settled. Would that be okay?" I directed the last part to Oak.

"That would be fine, I guess," she shrugged. "Assuming we can all get out of here. Seems to me it would be easier for us to slip out one by one, instead of as a large group."

I still needed to tell Oak about all of the dreadful crimes that Ash was guilty of, but her mood and the current situation were probably making her unreceptive. I would have to send her coded messages or something at a later time.

"Well, while I've got your attention," I continued. "Let's figure out what I owe you."

"I want ten pounds of gold and a cloak of invisibility," she blurted.

"Ten pounds??" I exclaimed frantically.

"Are you saying you don't have it?" Oak asked skeptically.

"I don't have it," I declared. "But I can get it. That cloak, on the other hand …"

"Are you gonna say that no such thing exists?" she demanded angrily. "What about the old tales? Can you grant wishes or not? Need I remind you that elves do not lie?"

"I haven't seen a cloak of invisibility in a long time," I stalled. This was true, since I had NEVER seen one. "Not much call for them these days, you know. What do you need it for, anyway?"

"It would be useful to get past the rabbits," she explained. "Among other things. So do you have one or not?"

"I don't have one," I admitted. "But it should be possible to make one. I just need a cloak, and some time to compose the appropriate Gramarye for it."

"Ooh, my Lord!" Gretchen squealed. "Are you granting WISHES??"

I was spared having to answer this awkward question by an Ixie buzzing into the clearing and yelling "SIRE! SIRE! Urgent news!"

"Well, what is it?" I inquired.

"I come at great risk from the rabbits' blockade with a message from Burnside. She sayeth that she cannot get through; the rabbits themselves fall like wheat before the scythe, but their prayers are an impenetrable force to the likes of her. Beating them only maketh it stronger. She wisheth me to tell thee that Ash hath betrayed us. He blew up the courthouse to make his escape, and … I am not sure of this, since Burnside was a bit incoherent, but it is possible that he took Rebecca with him in his flight. Burnside pursueth, and she sweareth both fervently and profanely that she will bring Ash to justice. Whatever that meaneth."

[soft-dyke-omo]

Also, 7 and 10 for Judith Deuteros? (idk if you have any ocs)

7: Do they wear diapers or pullups? (alt. Do they wet the bed?)

So personally I'm just not into ABDL at all, but I am still into some diaper-play, I just bow politely and exit stage left as soon as it gets overly cutesy and childish. (Oh, the woes of someone into omo who does not love term accident, truly the most oppressed of minorities.)

ANYWAY, going off my weak bladder necromancer hc, it would make sense that cohort necromancers get issued absorbent underwear or discreet pullups. But if we're talking a post-ntn scenario (because she WILL survive speaking it into existence) she'll actually have to go out and purchase diapers, which I don't think she will be able to bring herself to do until she has one or two truly devastating public accidents.

As for bedwetting: Yes, absolutely. I think I've talked before about me loving the trope of someone forced to wet the bed while awake and conscious because they are too unwell to get up on their own, but also: she's spent a year in and out of being possessed by the wrathful ghost of an eldritch being, PLUS all the regular horros of war and becoming a prisoner of said war. You can't tell me she doesn't have some bed-wetting nightmares every now and again. You also can't tell me that she wouldn't go near-catatonic with shame when she does.

10: Do they have a spouse or partner that diapers them because of their accidents? (alt: do they have a spouse or partner? How do they feel about Judith's bedwetting?)

Further doxxing myself but I will look God in the eye and walk backwards into piss hell: I'm a jodybeth truther. They have my entire heart. I feel Judith wants to be able to take care of herself and therefore insist on taking care of the changing and cleanup process herself, but she definitely needs a bit of encouragement to even consider going out and getting diapers for herself. Coronabeth probably broaches the subject a little less than gracefully, maybe after a public accident, maybe after the third or fourth time Judith wets the bed after a nightmare. Because Coronabeth is a literal Princess, you can not tell me that she ever had to change her own sheets even in dry circumstances before, so even if she wanted to help she'd be more in the way than any actual support, and Judith getting very snappy when she's embarrassed, I think it would be A Whole Thing for them, and an even bigger thing for Judith when she realises that Coronabeth is right and it can't go on like this. In total, Coronabeth makes way less of deal out of Judith's bedwetting than Judith does in her apocalyptic mortification, but she just doesn't want to have to deal with the mess or have to get up in the middle of the night.

As a little bonus, because they did share a living space for a lot of years and Judith did have a horrible, miserable, unwise puppy crush on her, here's a little bit of Marta as a treat: Even though she had her bladder under much better control in the pre-gtn days, every once in a while, like 3-5 times a year, she has a really bad night. Not often enough that she could justify using protection on a regular basis, since it happens infrequently enough that every time could feasibly be the last. She tries so hard not to wake Marta every time it happens, but being a cavalier Marta is a very light sleeper and cottons on to what's going on pretty quickly every single time.

Marta likes Judith a whole lot, sometimes despite herself. But she's just not a particularly nurturing person - she didn't even choose being a cavalier! She was canonically more-or-less pressganged into it by Judith's father! So they usually end up extremely awkwardly cleaning up side-by-side until Marta says something like "Why don't you head to the sonic, and I'll take care of the rest. All the sooner we'll be able to get back to sleep." She tries so hard not to embarrass her necromancer, but that's a task that's close to impossible.

They pointedly do not mention what happened in the morning, or ever.

(thank you so, so much for your asks! they've been burning a hole in my inbox for the last week, but I've been SO exhausted and sleepy I usally crawl into bed straight after coming home from work. 💛)

[motorclit]

Honestly, I wouldn't mind my muž and me living with my parents if the house was 2 stories tall. This way I won't have to hear the westerns/cop shows/Tim Allen sitcoms on full blast or dad deciding to blare faux news.

But more importantly, I wouldn't have to worry about my parents overhearing me trying to use any of my toys on myself.

This farmhouse is one story with hollow doors, the living room is right down the hall, and my dad will sometimes sit in total silence and it makes me wonder if he's trying to listen for anything to validate what faux news tells him about "ppl like me." (Aka not like him)

He blames a LOT of my views being different from his on "that damned school" when he won't tell me if it's the Art Institute or the community college, won't explain, and keeps forgetting that I stopped attending school back in 2014 because I couldn't afford it anymore. He blames college because of "Marxist college professors" or whatever faux news is trying to spin anymore.

My mom doesn't buy into that (despite her being a big cheetoh supporter) and when even she asked him wtf he was talking about, dad couldn't back up what he meant, got up, and quickly said he's gonna go for a drive. And that's all he ever said when we kept asking him what he meant by "its that damned school" when I tried to explain that you can't just have any ol' epipen handy for any and all allergic reactions (and mom backed me up on that!) (The topic was about me possibly going to get tested to see if I'm allergic to yellowjacket/any hymenopteran venom because my jeda (grandfather, dad's side) nearly died from a sting)

So he left and went for maybe a 15 minute or so drive. Because he was picking an argument that wasn't needed because he has faux news brainrot. He LITERALLY RAN AWAY FROM A DISCUSSION when asked to explain what he meant after using a very common r*ght w*ng talking point.

Not the first time he's blamed "that damned school" because one day when he and my muž went to pick up groceries (before my muž could drive yet), they were talking about my health and concerns for my food choices (endometriosis has limited me on what I can eat), but despite how often I've explained to dad based off of VERY PAINFUL TRIAL AND ERROR EXPERIENCES, my dad growls put to my muž "it's that DAMNED SCHOOL!" and when he asks my dad what that had to do with anything, dad wanted to change the subject.

Ppl like my dad will repeat talking points spoonfed to him by faux news, but can NEVER EVER explain the logic behind ANY of it. And they'd rather physically leave or change the subject. (Btw, I'm doing better health-wise.)

So I'm absolutely terrified if being overheard.

But at the same time, my dad does NOT wanna see or hear anything that reminds him that I, his daughter, am an adult woman. The topic of periods bothers him just enough for him to have a fit when I use his bathroom and throw my used pads (wrapped up in the wrapper of the fresh one btw) into the kitchen garbage because someone is showering in the other bathroom.

He complains he doesn't wanna have to see it, can NEVER explain why, and then claims "it STINKS, can't you smell it?" He gets pissed when my muž tells him no. My dad insists used pads stink when he has NEVER said this before. (I dunno if his propaganda channel has caused him to associate menstrual products with "the liberal/communist/democrat/socialist agenda" or what)

Faux news has worked him up just enough to where he sometimes looks for a fight to vent out the manufactured outrage they dish out to him. The guy doesn't socialize unless we have guests and then he'll hog the guests including any of our friends who visit. (Why yes, my dad absolutely is a miserable bastard, cuz he has no hobbies, wears almost colorless clothing, and refuses to wear t-shirts with anything on them because he's "not paid to advertise for them")

So I wonder if he would confront me with whatever lies and bullshit he cooks up in his head if he finds out I have toys, or if he'll be too traumatized to say anything.

I think it could be the latter because my dad once talked about free speech, freedom in this country, and it led to something about how because it's his house, he can barge in on me without knocking, and he got really REALLY embarrassed when I challenged him on that going, "What if you did that one day and I'm knuckle-deep in myself?" Cuz I don't give a shit about mentioning that and basically use the shock of reality that his daughter is an adult with needs now to get the point across.

So now my dad barely enters the hall half the time when he wants to see me/call me out of my room about something, or texts me. It's RARE he approaches my door now.

Because he used to tell me "you're just like your mother" when I'm being difficult, but here's the thing: my mom hardly had much of a sex drive, and my mom says that my dad "doesnt have an off button". I showed I have a strong one, consistently, and without shame through my choice of words, and thus i dont have an "off button" like my mom. So he realizes he's not dealing with a younger version of the woman he married. He's dealing with an adult offspring that has the elements of both his wife AND himself. And I believe that's what scares him---a woman version of himself with the boldness and I'm-not-taking-your-shit attitude of my mom.

To top it off, I not only have some of their elements that they see in one another, yet my views are wildly different from them. They legit *do not* know what to make of me, ESPECIALLY when I remind them of my views and that I'm NOT a liberal or a democrat.

But goddamn, do I wish I had guaranteed privacy. I wish I had a better way of muffling the sound of my damn toys. I can't use music because music is way too distracting.

I just hope that with my mom's new work schedule, she and dad visit her sister on the weekends more. Cuz we really don't need my dad possibly realizing my muž and I are enjoying one another and then dad hollering down the hall that he needs my muž's help. My dad would be petty like that.

Although, if he catches on and then WE catch on, we can tell my dad to wait until I'm done (I take forever 😭). Cuz I got no problem making my dad uncomfortable when the occasion calls for it. I just don't wanna have to. I'm sick of feeling rushed to try and take care of certain needs. Ugh...

[anaalnathrakhs]

auuuurgh

i feel so fucking bad. i want to do things so badly but there's always the looming threat of my parents waking up eventually. they'll be awake and doing stuff when i wake up if i go to sleep. scheduling driving lessons feels so fucking complicated cuz they have to be like a month in advance at least. and i have no idea how i'll be in a month. and things might happen. and it feels scary to plan for the future. i miss sports so bad but everything feels so complicated. the bouldering gym costs money. i went and it was... okay but i started feeling like a goldfish going in circles after like one go. the bike pump is cooked bc we havent used it in many years (cuz we live up a FUCKING HILL i fucking hate you) and both my bike and my dad's are deflated as fuck. the municipal bike rental in my city costs money and it's not covered by the bus subscription. i don't have the roller skills for going down this MOTHERFUCKING HILL with them, nor navigate the MANY hills in my town. i got to swim a couple times recently and it just felt so small. i miss being a kid and actually having fun. enjoying the things i did. i can't do two miserable pullups without my brain screaming at me that my life is worthless and everything is boring and feed me a bottle of vodka and two months of restrictive behavior lest you'll never feel happiness again. school is difficult but rewarding and im doing my best. living with my parents is making me wish i could fucking poison their coffee in the morning. guess which has mandatory breaks and which im obligated to handle as soon as i come home, and on days off, and on holidays, and every fucking time they want to talk to me and do things with me. holy shit. i get it. you were sooooooo vewy sad uwu when i was more solitary, and now you're sooooooo glad i've finally learned to shut the fuck up (most of the time) and participate in your activities! awesome for you! then why do you fucking complain when the very real consequences of catering my life to please you poses you an inconvenience? holy shit i'm doing my best, i'm trying to be what you wanted because i KNOW i was a difficult child all my life and i don't want you to struggle any more than necessary now that i can do what you expect of me. are you not happy. sorry i can't be fucking perfect. sorry i'm so horrible and bitter-hearted that i can't enjoy normal things like family meals and spending time with you.

"our relationship isn't only problem-management" FOR YOU MAYBE IT ISNT. my entire fucking LIFE has been problem-management. why did you have a kid if you weren't prepared for it to struggle? why didn't you take half a look at dad's childhood, or my uncle's childhood, and understand that there was going to be some problem-management to do. i would've liked a little less being dragged to amusement park trips and out of the country vacations, and a little more help for my mental health. maybe it wasn't all problem-management to YOU because you halfassed a quick bandaid on it and then left me to manage it however i could. i know it's a very complicated situation with no breakage-free outcome, and i don't know if i would've done it better had i been in your shoes, but 1st of all THAT'S WHY I NEVER WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN AND IF I EVER THINK ABOUT IT YOU CAN KNOCK ME OUT AND TAKE THE GONADS AWAY, and 2nd of all i wish you would stop insisting i have no reason to not trust your help or ask you for help nowadays. not only you have repeatedly not helped or made it worse in the past, but you have kept doing that recently. which i understand, i am older and you do not owe me massive changes for something i can take actions on myself, but then obviously i'm not going to keep asking you for help with the same problem and asking for the same solutions. stop telling me i need to resolve it I KNOW IM WORKING ON IT. and yeah sorry i don't want to shift the whole blame of communication troubles on you, because god knows i suck at that, but you have to understand that "but you didn't say anything at the time :(" is not an argument. i was barely 13. i didn't voice an anxiety i had about something i hadn't tried yet. then i spent four days calling you on the phone begging you to help me out, the entire weekend from the second you came back for me friday evening to sunday before going to sleep begging you to not make me go back, and you still said "lol no you're not gonna give up this easily". and you tell me that, again, as if i was supposed to have said something earlier (when it was preemptive anxiety that could've ended up being unfounded) and then you'd have been all cool and dandy with it and not made me go?????? just admit i have reasonable reasons to not trust you to offer executive help on my problems it's alright i'm 18 you don't have any obligations anymore.

it's so fucked up i'm so fucked up. i havent been normal a single second of my life. i was kinda going beyond the need to be explicitely invited to everything, cuz i thought that it was kinda irrational of me and that most people would just tell me if i started going to far. but then i act weird anyway and my friends dont say anything at the time and then rib me about it later on, and i just have no fucking idea what i should and shouldn't do anymore. i dont want to put any pressure on my friends because we're all fucked up and full of irrational and raw maladapted behaviors, we're all mentally ill and not even fully young adults, and i want to do my best to extend the olive branch anytime i can, which they also often do for me, but then i don't know what to do, am i validating something that does more harm than good? how do i bring it up without hurting them and making everything worse? i don't know what people expect of me, i don't know what people want out of me, i don't know what i want out of people, i don't know what's good.

i've read that essay about hippie subcultures and drug culture, "mind openness" and ego death and how it could be reached without drugs and how straights who do LSD still won't get it. and i'm gonna be honest, i've never done hallucinogenics, i've never even experienced hallucinations, i don't want to make a faulty comparison, but a lot of it really resonated with what i felt when i was in permanent calories deficit. i felt depressed and anxious sometimes but also so often the world felt beautiful. peaceful. i could fucking sleep. i could enjoy the moment. fucking meditate even. i feel like i'm going mad. i want to go back so badly. god i remember when i started binging/eating a maintenance amount of cals again. it was so bad it felt so fucking painful to feel like nothing was enough AGAIN.

im tired i think im gonna manage going to sleep. every day i hope it's the day i can fall back into restrictive patterns again.

[voirists]

This is the picture I have as my profile on one of my socials.

Just a lot of tired rambling beneath the cut. Descriptions of not so great parenting and insinuated queerphobia, I guess?

Today my mother that I see once a year (and i'm very happy for those circumstances. 7 days a year are torture enough) called me on my dad's phone since she knew I wouldn't pick up if I saw her number to inquire about it. Or rather, interrogate me about it.

Her last update was me insinuating I had a girlfriend (which I didn't. I did say it out of spite though, since I'm afab and my mom is enough of a fucking queerphobe, she insists on disrespecting me in all ways possible and still hasn't managed to call me by the right names or pronouns even once without mocking me off the ends of the earth) and that nearly gave her an aneurysm, so I quite enjoyed not correcting her about that. That was nearly two years ago.

I also have never, never, ever brought up Pedro or anything of the like to her because she will never see any of his things on her own (she's kind of extremist old-fashioned when it comes to electronics and media too, what a shocker) and her favorite pastime is destroying the things I enjoy and making me miserable.

For some reason, she saw this picture today (I've had it for months) and her first thought was that this is a picture I took of my (non-existent) boyfriend. So she called me to complain that

1. Why doesn't she know about him? Clearly, we are best friends and she loves me oh so much and god, I am such a terrible daughter who just wants to make her miserable, what did I ever do to you? She's incredibly upset that I would not share these things with her (gasp) and she wants to meet him. I literally live in a different country. There are over ten hours of a drive between us (and thank fuck for that, physical distance is the only thing stopping her from randomly showing up on my doorstep and ruining my week and instantly making my mental health skyrocket 50 feet beneath the ground).

2. I seem to have fun. He seems to have fun. God forbid I have joy in my life that she can't get a chance to ruin and make about herself.

3. I am terrible with photography. Why is this picture so blurry? Also, he looks older. Have I finally realized the whole queer thing is just to make her suffer and myself special so I don't feel so worthless? Having a man put me in my place is just what I need, because clearly I'm still in my rebellious stage, thinking I don't want to see her every weekend.

4. She's also calling to remind me that it's mother's day, I owe it to her to celebrate her special day and she's so upset I didn't get her a week-long trip to Italy for two (that I wouldn't even be invited to) as a present. It's not like I'm barely paying rent and am lucky to have 20 bucks left at the end of a month.

And every time, she's fucking surprised as if it was big news that I'm not really into spending time with her as her metaphorical and literal punching bag, door mat and therapist. I wonder why that is. For fucks sake.

I am currently very tempted to photoshop myself into pictures with Pedro and putting them as my profile on that social she's apparently now stalking, slowly getting more unhinged until she's so fucking offended by it, she won't try to call me any longer out of pure disgust.

Apparently "Oh god, yes please" is not the right answer to her threat of putting me in therapy and going no contact because I'm so fucking horrible and bullying her by being myself and not giving a shit about her opinion anymore. I would have gotten myself therapy fucking years ago if I could afford it, and this is a very weird attempt to control a full ass adult who lives in a whole other country.

[morlock-holmes]

Like not to be a jerk about it but one of the reasons why you aren't supposed to let people compare themselves to people at the top of the pre-industrial social system is because if I look at, like, a medieval dirt farmer I probably am just strictly better off as long as we confine ourselves purely to material luxuries but if I start comparing myself to Julius Caesar then, like, yeah actually he did have access to some very nice luxuries that I struggle to afford.

There's this blind spot in this kind of discourse that leads to a circular feedback loop and I'm not really sure where to start describing it but it is something that kind of bugs me about a big swathe of people who I otherwise sympathize with politically.

Okay, let's say you live in modern times, and for whatever reason you're psychologically miserable. Could be you make minimum wage, could be you're making lots of money and your life just feels hollow somehow.

And you look to the past and you see people who led lives that you would say are filled with meaning and joie de vivre, whether it's a great leader, an inventor, an artist you admire, a family patriarch of matriarch who led a fullfilling life.

And exactly because they lived in the past they did this while facing more danger, inconvenience and material want then you yourself face.

How to explain this?

Well, maybe the reason is systemic. Maybe, in some way, even though they didn't have as many iPads as we do, society back then supported them in some other way which allowed them to reach their potential and you aren't being supported by... Whatever they did back then (And try your hand at what the alternative hypothesis might be, why it might be less appealing)

I'm not romanticizing this!

Often the conclusion these anxious and, frankly, deeply confused people come to is, "The problem is those damn feminists and this no-fault divorce bullshit. Also we need more prayer in schools."

You get equally obnoxious left-wing degrowth stuff too.

And so, those of us who enjoy access to insulin and don't want the football coach pressuring our kids into a religion we don't share are tempted to reject the whole thing.

No, the past wasn't better, the only meaningful difference was that there was more racism, more smallpox, and more infant mortality, and that is the only difference, and anybody who wants to go back will only be taking us backwards.

But!

Attend to the consequences of this position.

That means that my psychological discomfort is an inherent quality of my character. I have been provided for better than anybody has ever been provided for in all of human history, and I struggle to find any joy or meaning in my life.

What a truly unfixably weak character I must have!

My confusion and misery are not because of any particular context I find myself in, it's not that the illustrious men of the past had some systemic support that I lack, the problem is that they were strong enough to make something of limited circumstances and I am too weak to thrive even when provided for better than anybody ever has been.

Now, I am agnostic about this but I lean towards thinking that this isn't true.

But it can't be a mystery why people would violently reject that idea.

I know that most of the lefties reading this will object that of course they believe in systemic causes and improvements, but the intense rejection of the idea that the past might have been better along *any* dimension makes that insistance kind of hollow.

Right? It's entirely possible, no, *probable* that the members of my family who commanded ships in the US Navy did, in fact, have some kind of support that I don't have.

My Dad constantly talks about how all the training facilities for his job have been shut down and he doesn't know how people break in anymore. The cheap ways he did it aren't around anymore.

There's no inherent reason to believe that human history is a series of completely linear improvements along every axis for every person.

I think @Earlgraytay has me blocked, though I don't specifically remember having any arguments with them, but I wanted to respond to a post of theirs which asserts that I live better than *anybody* who lived in a pre-industrial society, and I will phrase my skepticism like so:

"If Plato or Alexander the Great or Gengis Khan or William the Conqueror or Leonardo Da Vinci had the opportunity to work at a minimum wage job that they didn't really enjoy until they were too tired to do anything except go back to their apartment to drink and jerk off until they fell into a shallow, stressful sleep before waking up to do it again tomorrow they would definitely do it because that's obviously way better than how they actually lived."

I'm going to go ahead and say that I don't think this is actually obvious.

I'll even say that the more names I add to that list the more facially absurd it sounds.

I don't want to go back to the past and the people who idolize the past are often deeply confused individuals.

But the result of this is a counter-movement which, rather than attempting to figure out what *aspect* of a past society might have appeal, instead simply argues that it doesn't matter because whatever it is could not possibly be more important than Spotify.

And the problem becomes massively bigger if you actually allow people to compare themselves to "Kings" rather than the working class clods of a previous time.

Yes, I live a lot better than a medieval serf. I am really, *really* not convinced that I am living a wholly better life than Gengis Khan or Alexander the Great (Let alone Socrates, Confucious or Leonardo Da Vinci) just because I have a flush toilet.

[lycanfang]

Hey fellow Americans or other people for whom college costs $27,000 or more per year who dropped out of college before finishing (the longer you stayed, the better):

How concerned are you about not being able to pay off your debt and how do you deal with that concern?

And please don't say join the military; if you have, I'm glad that worked out for you, and that's what my dad did after leaving college like 3 credits shy, but I am 98% sure that that is not for me for multiple reasons.

Thank you!

(Venting/Explaining/Emotions below the cut, cw debt, parents/family, profanity, financial struggling)

I'm nearing the end of my fourth year, and mental health has been fucking me over since semester 2, and then I changed majors around semester 4, and am hating life and greatly doubting my ability to finish. I thought I was only going to need one more semester, but then mental health went down the drain at the beginning of this semester and I found out that a course I thought I was going to retake this summer is only offered on campus (and I can't afford to live on campus over the summer and can't commute every single day of the week), so now I'll need at least another year. And that's if I can get my shit together in the fall, which I don't see likely at this point. And I could barely stand the thought of another semester with how my mental state has been, and another year just absolutely terrifies me.

I am terrified to leave though, because I'm 4 years in ($27,000 × 4 = $108,000) and don't know how one manages that without a better-paying degree-requiring job. And it's compounded by the fact that my parents insisted on taking extra federal loans to make up the difference after what I was offered so I wouldn't have to take private loans. (They are also doing the same for my younger brother, and still paying off my mom's loans from when she graduated in the 90s) I already don't want them to be suffocated with that kind of debt for the rest of their lives because of me, and it'd be even worse if 1) it was all for nothing and 2) I can barely handle my own debt and life expenses, much less help them pay like I intended to.

I already feel like I'm disappointing them with this whole situation, and it feels so much worse knowing what I'm condemning them to if I can't get a job or jobs that pay enough to leave enough left to help them.

And even on a smaller level, I really wanted to be able to live comfortably, and travel, and treat my parents to something special sometimes.

I just don't know what awaits if I don't make it through college, and it's terrifying. This country already doesn't value its employees of any kind, and I don't know if I'm condemning myself to a life of struggling to make ends meet if I leave without a degree. I also don't know if pushing on is smart when I know that the next semester could very well be no better than this one, as the pattern seems to be going. I don't want to keep piling on debt, making myself miserable, and continuing to not get anything out of it.

[mangodestroyer]

Gotta love how me being trans continues to be a huge fucking problem for everyone. Not in the sense that it makes people hateful or violent. They literally just cannot believe me or accept it.

As a kid, I insisted constantly that I didn't want to be a girl. That I WASN'T one. That I would much rather be a boy. I would constantly participate in boyish interests and clearly look very happy wearing boy clothes. But of course, if you ask my mother, I was "always very feminine."

And for a while, I started acting super feminine to "fit in" and because I got sick of constantly defending my boyish interests. I never felt happy being femme though. Tbh, wearing things that are feminine and looking in the mirror while doing so makes me want to rip my fucking skin off. Having people emphasize how "girly" and "feminine" I am makes me die inside. And I remember once even my friend, out of nowhere, said, "You're happy being a girl!" and I just lost my shit.

So I finally started to embrace how I always felt inside, and suddenly everyone's all like, "Yeah, no. You're 100% feminine. There's no way you're trans." I'm not even kidding, not a single person seems to believe me about it when I tell them. So yeah... guess I'll just keep doing things to make myself more comfortable with my own identity and continue to accept the fact that I'll never pass. I remember now why I started suppressing this part of myself because I feel pretty miserable about this. I think I forgot just how much people are opposed to me identify as more masc.

It's the same thing with my neurodiversity too. Despite having a diagnosed condition, I'm still just a socially awkward neurotypical looking for excuses and attention ig. Even though there's a lot of evidence to suggest that I'm actually even less NT than previously believed.

Why the fuck is it so hard for people to accept that not everyone is cishet and NT anyway? And why the fuck does everyone act like they know me better than I know myself? Would it really disrupt the balance of the universe if I happen to be neurodivergent and go by "he" or "they?" All I'm asking for is... idk... understanding and acceptance? Yet they act like I'm trying to steal 100,000 dollars from them or something. Like me explaining these things to them is so fucking offensive and disruptive to their very existence.

This is one reason I hate people. It's such a small effort to acknowledge that someone might not identify the way you thought they did. How they thought they did. And would it really hurt to let them try the identity out and see if it works? I'm not even personally going for surgeries or anything. I just want to start dressing, looking, and acting more masculine. Who would I even be hurting? And so what if it turns out I'm wrong? If I'm wrong, I can stop doing it.

Same with the neurodiversity, honestly. So it turns out my brains a little different and I need to live my life a little differently? Big fucking deal. It's really not that disruptive to anyone else's livelihood. God forbid I practice a certain routine and self-care that actually helps me feel more mentally equipped to deal with life. I'm not even asking to be accommodated at my job or school! All I'm asking is for people to understand that I get overstimulated and CAN'T HAVE LOUD NOISES IN MY OWN LITTLE RETREAT! Pretty sure even a NT needs a place to get away when things become overwhelming.

It blows my fucking mind how identifying with anything outside of the norm is such a crime for these people. And how these armchair psychologists think they get to dictate what I am. People who are actually educated in this field are the ones who suggested the neurodiversity thing to me and EVEN DIAGNOSED ME with my communication disorder when I was a kid.

I literally cannot even begin to express how fucking tired of this shit I am. I almost wonder if people are doing this out of malicious intent to trigger my dysphoria and gaslight me over my own life experience to mess with my head.

[tinandabin]

please tumble for the live of God let me give paragroah breaks plsZe

Yandere Mitsuri x Reader

High school AU.

____________________

<senpai kanroji>

hey [name]!! you are coming

to school tmrw right? :))

<[name]>

yes I am! why do u

ask?

<senpai kanroji>

oh, nothing much!! just wanted

to tell u that I will bring a home-

made bento for u! <33

<[name]>

aww ty! u don't

really have to tho.

<senpai kanroji>

no no, I insist!!

<[name]>

aaa, thank u!! I will ttyl <3

senpai kanroji unsent a message

______

To be honest, you always found Kanroji Senpai weird..I mean, she was already pretty affectionate with everyone. But it was clear to see her favouritism over you..She was just always so, so, so, affectionate with you. You feel suffocated everytime you are with her.

You were looking forward to not eating lunch with her tomorrow, but it seems like that can't happen. I mean, you could've refused her offer..and you did so, not as direct, but you tried. Besides, you wouldn't want your reputation to go down in the drains because who would reject such a sweet girl and make her cry? Whosoever will do that is obviously a monster! Senpai Kanroji has everyone wrapped around her finger..thankfully, not you.

Sighing heavily, you pulled the covers over yourself and went to sleep, dreading the next day. Not only because of school but Kanroji Senpai too. Hopefully, you'll live.

_________________

"Hey [name]!!," Senpai Kanroji enthusiastically waved at you, motioning for you to come to sit beside her. "Come, sit beside me!!" She smiled at you, blushing like crazy. Like girl, have some self-control.

Nervously laughing and trying your best to ignore all the eyes staring at you, you sat beside her and tried to smile at her. Keyword: tried. "Ahaha...What's up??" You asked because you don't like awkwardness, the people staring at you also don't, no one likes awkwardness.

"Awww," Kanroji Senpai cooed at your adorableness and hugged you, tightly, and softly muttered into your neck, "You are so cute!!"

Excitedly she got off you and presented you with the bento she made for you, and honestly, the smell of the food was really fucking delicious. Gordon Ramsay approved. And to be honest, you would have snatched the bento box out of her hands had she been someone else. But she isn't. This is so sad, Alexa play despacito. All of a sudden, Alexa starts playing despacito, having somehow found her way into your mind. She starts taking control over your body, and in no time are you the one singing Despacito.

Enough BULLSHITTING.

a/n: THIS IS THE AUTHOR GETTING BACK TO WRITING, BUCKLE UP U ALL. THIS IS A WARNING BECAUSE A LOT OF ANGST IS GONNA BE COMING UP IN NEW FICS. AFTER ALL, I AM MISERABLE AND SO WILL U ALL BE TOO.

"Say aaah, [Name]-Chan!" Mitsuri told you as she held a piece of fish ( cooked, duh ) with her chopsticks.

Awkwardly, you opened your mouth and wished you could just poof out of existence, like, I CAN FEED MYSELF MITSURI. THANK YOU NOT VERY MUCH.

"Good girl!" She chirped as she practically shoved the piece of fish down your throat, too eagerly waiting for you to finish eating. Like, is this shit poisoned? ( BINGO! You guessed it. )

After a good while of Mitsuri happily watching you eat, lunch was finally fucking over. Thank God, didn't think you could bear her anymore... The way she was watching you eat! Creep. She definitely could not ever pass your vibe check.

You headed towards your class, thankful that you and Mitsuri don't share the same class.. Because she's a senior. Atleast you will have some peace.

In no time school was over and all of you were allowed to head home. You had been feeling pretty sleepy after lunch, I mean the food Mitsuri made was pretty bomb, okay? Can't really blame you.

Yawning, you tiredly grabbed your bag, as you lazily started walking towards the exit. Most of the kids were heading towards their clubs, you hadn't really chosen which club to join yet. Besides, it is optional. So, the lesser the work the better for you. Studies are hard enough as they are.

Stopping by your locker, you changed your shoes and exited the school without seeing Senpai Mitsuri, thank God. It's a good thing she is in the cooking club. You wouldn't have to deal with her.

The more you walked, the more tired you got. Your eyes started feeling heavy and your body too. Before you knew it, you couldn't even walk properly. Leaning against a wall, you sat down there. Gradually, black dots started surrounding your vision and you were knocked out cold.

a/n: I'm gonna make a part 2 HAHHAHAHA. I HAVE NO idea what to do now. happy I got this out now 💪 it's been in my drafts for months now

MASTERLIST

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