#teen angst

[shakaprio]

girls just wanna blog, play dress to impress, and giggle over edits

[foldingfittedsheets]

A basic human skill that people usually lock down around the age of three or four is impulse control. To conceptualize an action and it’s consequences before taking it. Maybe considering how that action affects other people. We then refine it through most of our childhood.

When I was a teenager my hold on this ability became… tenuous. I became a volatile and dangerous creature.

It’s probably not unique to me, but I had a perfect storm in terms of mental upsets. I had just mastered enough basic social skills, so I finally had a strong group of friends when my dad suddenly needed to move for work. Ripped away from my support network, blooming with hormones, I was dragged to Arizona. I was always a child of forests and mist and suddenly everything was hot, dry, and extremely pointy and aggressive.

Additionally to being abruptly transplanted I found myself an object of affection in a way I’d never been before. Lonely and desperate to make friends the only people who wanted to spend time with me had romantic designs. I just wanted to figure out my shit but I had a baby lesbian flirting with increasing aggression in art, a soft boy making heart eyes at me in biology, a senior nerd asking if I wanted to play Halo at his house and could he hold my hand?

Reader, I snapped. I didn’t want this romantic attention but I also didn’t want to be alone. My brain coped the only way it knew how, by simply cutting out decision making. Any action was the right action to take.

It started with the boy in biology. I’d stolen his pencil out of mischief and to my overwhelming fury instead of trying to steal it back he just softened his eyes and chucked me gently under my chin, a gesture so overtly sweet and romantic that I saw red.

I stabbed him with his own pencil.

I honestly and truly have no memory of it. It happened as fast as a snake striking and I was instantly filled with terrified remorse. Unfortunately that manifested as psychotic giggling.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I don’t know why- I’m so sorry!” I said, while hysterically laughing. I ended up having lodged some graphite in his palm and had to tweeze it out with my nails while apologizing furiously. (It’s very important to note here that he forgave me and we’re still friends)

That was weird, I thought. Why didn’t I think before I stabbed someone?

The next event was equally catastrophic, and I had even less reason to do it. In gym with two girls I was tentatively befriending, we were warming up running laps. I started racing one of them. At breakneck speed we were sprinting around the gym.

This time, there was a blip of thought before I fucked up. I should get the other girl! I have no idea why or what the plan was but I turned on a swivel and body checked the other girl. We both fell down in immense pain. I think that’s the moment I broke my tailbone. Her knees were horribly bruised and she looked at me in bewildered pain. “Why did you do that?!”

I had no idea. I apologized and helped her up, both of us hobbling like newborn horses, bruised and hurting.

By this time there’d been enough social upheavals that I was reduced to spending time with some girls I had nothing in common with and low key disliked. Sat at a table listening to this girl talk about how she wanted to be a stripper when she grew up I thought, You’d better put the cap on before you throw it.

I then chucked my empty water bottle directly at her face. It bounced off her forehead with a bop! that would have made a sound mixer weep at its perfection.

All eyes turned to me is startlement. I stared back at her, stunned by my own action, just as confused as everyone else at the table as to why I’d done that. One of the girls to my right said, “Were you trying to hit that fly?”

“Yes!” I lied, “I’m sorry, I thought I could hit the fly!”

Everyone laughed at my antics and I joined in rather than admit I had just chucked something at her for no reason.

Things did start to improve after that. I solidified a friendship with the girl I’d raced (who I developed a massive crush on and ten years later would go on to date). My outbursts turned more whimsical rather than aggressive. Like accosting a girl leaving the cafeteria to look deeply into her eyes and say with great compassion, “It’s going to be alright.”

My new friend and I snuck into the van that delivered our cafeterias baked goods and lay giggling in the back. When I’d impulsively hopped in she’d joined me and made it a game.

After a year in Arizona I broke down crying to my mother, an act of great desperation, and we ended up moving back home. My impulse control returned to normal teenage levels and life resumed in a happier state of mind.

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.5  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.7

p.6

AN: Have you eaten yet? this guys an angsy lil shit

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

the talk

When Toji came home, Megumi’s protectiveness magnified tenfold.

His usual quiet demeanor gave way to something more intense, almost territorial. Without realizing it, he’d position himself between you and his father, his sharp eyes narrowing every time Toji stood too close or made an offhand remark. It was subtle at first, but it grew harder to ignore.

“Why’re you standing so close to her like that?” Megumi’s voice would cut through the air, low and firm, laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Toji, never one to miss an opportunity to provoke, would sport his usual smirk. “Relax, kid. She’s my wife, you know.”

That word—wife—hit Megumi like a sucker punch, sending something bitter and ugly twisting inside him. He hated it. Hated the way Toji said it with that smug tone, as if it were a brand.

Hated the way you responded so nonchalantly, as though it didn’t faze you at all. Toji calling you wife felt deliberate, like his father was staking a claim on something Megumi didn’t fully understand—but desperately wanted for himself.

It set his teeth on edge, made his chest tight with emotions he couldn’t name—most definitely couldn’t ignore. The feeling so abstract, something that had been building up in the months spent at your side. Learning everything he could about you.

“It’s not like it’s real,” Megumi snapped suddenly, his fists clenched at his sides, his voice harsher than he intended. “She’s just your arranged wife. Stop acting like it’s anything more than that. She doesn’t even want you that close in the first place. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

The room went still, a suffocating tension settling between the three of you. Even you froze, caught off guard by the venom in Megumi’s tone. Toji’s smirk faltered slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied his son.

You braced yourself, worried another fight might erupt to completely sour the evening.

But then something shifted. Toji seemed to catch onto something—something even you hadn’t fully noticed. You've caught yourself a little lovesick puppy. His laugh came low and mocking. And his signature smirk returned, sharper than before, as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms.

“Man, you’re so protective,” he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension, every word a deliberate jab. “You do know I’m the reason she’s here in the first place, right? Gotta admit, it’s kinda weird, though—acting all territorial over your mom.’” He practically spat the word mom—a taunt rather than anything sincere. Megumi was sure to say that out loud around him. So why the hell was he hurling it like an insult?

And yet the jab had hit Megumi harder than he expected—not because it was wrong, but because of how disgusting it felt coming from Toji.

So what if he called you “Mom”. He'd always said it quietly, in moments where it felt safe—where he knew he wouldn’t be called out for it.

So what if he liked how you smiled when you heard it, the warmth in your voice when you responded, the way your gaze lingered on him like he was the most important person in the room. In the world. It had made him feel... secure, like you wouldn’t leave him no matter what.

But hearing it from Toji’s mouth, laced with mockery, made it feel almost...invasive. Like he was twisting it into some kind of fucked up joke.

It boiled under his skin, consuming and unbearable, a flame that refused to die out. Why did it piss him off so much? Why did it matter what Toji said? And why did it feel like Toji was seeing right through him—exposing the feelings that even Megumi himself didn’t fully understand? And right in front of you—

“Shut up! She’s not my mom,” Megumi hissed back, much sharper than he intended, unable to keep the vitriol out of his tone. He didn’t even know why he felt the need to clarify. Why those words spilled out like a defense.

But the moment they left his lips, guilt crashed over him like a wave. His gaze darted to you, instinctively, catching the flicker of hurt in your eyes before you quickly masked it—taking a deep breath. His chest tightened painfully, shame coiling in his gut.

He hated that he’d made you feel that way, hated that he’d let Toji push him into lashing out. Hated that he needed to hide it. Toji shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. He wanted to say something to fix it, to reassure you, but the words stuck in his throat, refusing to come.

You sighed, stepping in before the tension could spiral further out of control. Toji’s taunt had struck a nerve in you as well. His oh-so casual reminder of your arranged marriage—of why you were here. Your arrangement bound by duty more than choice—just why the hell was he bringing it up? Like an unspoken warning that you couldn’t place. It stirred something uncomfortable in your chest, but you pushed it aside.

This wasn’t about you.

Right now, it was about defusing the storm brewing in the room.

“Alright, that’s enough,” you said firmly, your gaze cutting to Toji with a sharpness that immediately silenced his smirk. Surprisingly, he left little argument for when you bothered to step into their fights.

“Toji, stop teasing him.” You turned to Megumi, your expression softening—if not just a little, your tone gentler but no less firm.

“And Megumi…” a voice with such warmth you reserved for him. How would you phrase this? “Toji is my husband. It’d be weirder if he avoided me. But I’m here for both of you, okay? Not just him, not just you. Both of you. We’re family. So let’s try to get along, yeah?”

Megumi didn’t respond immediately, his jaw clenching as he stared at the floor, his emotions a tangled mess he couldn’t even begin to unravel. 

Family. 

He despises that word, loathes the way it forced Toji into something that, in his mind, should have been just you and him.

The warmth in your voice, the way you said it with such sincerity, made his chest tighten painfully. It stirred something deeper than anger or frustration—something vulnerable and raw that he didn’t know how to name. Disgust. Jealousy. Delirium.

Before Megumi could even begin to piece together the scattered fragments cutting him mind, you gently shooed both of them out of the kitchen.

Your calm words was stern, your smile soft but unyielding as you set the boundary. Pushing him by his shoulders towards the doorway. “Go, Megumi. Relax for once, okay? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He wanted to argue—he always helped with dinner—but the way you smiled at him left him unable to make an excuse. He didn’t want to upset you. Didn’t want you to hate him.

Reluctantly, he left, the loss of your presence settling over him like an ache.

Toji, watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow, smirked as he pushed off the counter. “Got him well trained already, huh?” he quipped, but his tone lacked its usual bite, almost as though he were trying to gauge your reaction. He had picked up on something. Something he didn’t exactly like.

You didn’t spare him a glance, your attention focused on the meal in front of you. “It’s called building trust,” you replied smoothly, your voice easygoing. But with a subtle edge. That warning telling him not to pester you.

Toji chuckled softly, a low, thoughtful sound, before turning and following Megumi out of the kitchen.

Outside the kitchen, Toji followed Megumi to the living room, leaning lazily against the wall, his smirk as irritating as ever.

It was the kind of expression that always set Megumi’s nerves on edge, a reminder of just how easily his father could get under his skin. They fought constantly these days. Even when Megumi tried to ignore him.

The silence between them stretched, heavy and loaded, before Toji finally spoke, his tone dripping with a hint of mockery. He was always the first to provoke.

“What’s got you so riled up lately, huh? Acting all high and mighty—like you’re the man of the house.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, as he shot his father a glare. “I’m not acting like anything,” his voice taut. Ready for the oncoming argument.

Toji snorted, pushing off the wall lazily, his smirk widening with amusement. Strolling closer to where Megumi sat on the couch. He made it so easy to stir the pot.

“Sure, sure. That’s why you’re always hovering around her, huh? You like calling her ‘Mom,’ don’t you? Only I’ve noticed you only do it when you think I’m not around, yeah?”

Megumi’s face burned, heat rushing to his cheeks at the way Toji phrased it. “Shut up,”—a sentiment he always spat at least once when interacting with his father.

Toji’s grin only deepened, clearly feeding off his reaction. But he needed to get to the bottom of this.

“What’s this—huh? Some kinda mommy fetish? You’re a weird kid, you know that? But don’t forget—she is my wife. She needs this marriage a hell of a lot more than I do, so keep that in mind. Wouldn’t want word getting out that my boy’s been drooling all over her, yeah?”

“Shut up!” Megumi’s voice rose, drowning out the faint sounds from the kitchen. Striking another on the counter. He kept himself taunt, fully prepared to throw punches, no matter the outcome.

And if he’s honest—he didn’t care about the mocking tone, the smug smirk, the bait Toji was throwing.

No. All he cared about was you—the person Toji dared to talk about so casually, so possessively, like you belonged to him.

Like he knew you.

Like he deserved you.

Toji chuckled, shaking his head as he straightened up.

"Relax, Megs. I’m just messing with you," his voice drawling out the words. Though there was a slight edge to his voice that felt more probing. More insistent. He wasn’t getting anywhere like this.

He forced his voice low, conspiratorially, the humor draining away. More serious than he’s ever been with the kid.

"But seriously, what’s with you lately? Always stuck to her like glue—damn near biting my head off if I so much as breathe near her. So what is it? You think she needs you or somethin’?”

“What’s your point?” barely masking the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

That look in his eyes—he’s confirmed it. Megumi was an open book by this point. How you hadn’t even noticed it was astounding. Maybe too swept up in your role in their world. In being the perfect little housewife.

But he couldn’t let this go. Not that he really cared whether Megumi liked you—no.

That wasn’t the issue.

Toji watched—his sharp gaze piercing right through Megumi. “My point? You’re playing with fire, kid. You’re gettin’ too close to her, and you don’t even realize it. Her clan’s no joke—they’re a problem waiting to happen. And trust me, it won’t look good if someone thinks you’re trying to....I dunno, play house or somethin’.”

Megumi froze, his breath catching in his throat. Playing house with her? The insinuation made his stomach twist, though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

“What are you talking about?” he said sharply, not able to keep his confusion from bleeding into defensiveness. “She’s my…she’s family.”

Toji raised a brow, his smirk growing more condescending by the second. “Family, huh? Is that what you’re telling yourself? That why you’re lookin ready to throttle me every time I get close to her?”

He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to something—a warning. The only true warning he’s ever given Megumi. “You’re a kid. You don’t even know what you’re feeling yet, so let me make it simple. Her clan’s trouble. Big trouble. And if they catch even a whiff of you trying to get closer to her—closer than you should—they won’t just make it your problem. They’ll make it hers, too."

Megumi’s fists remain clenched, his glare unwavering. But he can’t deny it—Toji’s words hit like a bucket of ice water, freezing something deep inside him. His mind raced, still trying to process the implications of his words. Still reeling at the thoughts of playing house with you. Of what he was really feeling here.

Toji didn’t let up, his tone growing heavier with meaning. “You know they’ve got their eyes on you, right? Them and the Zenin clan? They’re not the kind of people you want to be messing with. You so much as breathe wrong, and they’ll have you tangled up in their bullshit before you even know what hit you.”

Her clan. His father’s clan. Two powerful entities with enough influence to manipulate countless minds—meddling in affairs where they had no place. The thought made Megumi’s stomach twist uncomfortably, a heavy knot of unease forming within him.

He’d known about your clans visits, their persistence, the weight they seemed to hold over you. But hearing Toji say it like this, with an edge of warning, unsettled him.

Were they really that dangerous? Were you in more trouble than you let on? What did they mean to you? You hadn’t ever hinted at the possibility that they could be a threat. His mind raced, questions colliding with emotions he couldn’t quite untangle. Just what was Toji implying? He felt crazy—not able to form a rationale sentiment.

His judgment clouded.

“I can handle it,” Megumi said stiffly, his voice cold, though his chest remained tight. Not fully believing his own words. “Whatever it is, I’ll take care of it.”

Toji’s smirk widened, his sharp eyes boring into Megumi like he was dissecting him, pulling apart his defenses with ease.

The kid never had much experience with the clan life either way. So how else was he gonna know what they were really after? Toji may not be a great father. But he did his job well. Megumi hadn’t any clue what this could mean for him.

There was no humor in Toji’s expression, only a bitter edge that made Megumi’s skin crawl. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about, do you?” His tone almost pitying, the mockery cutting deep. “Like I said before—you’re a kid. You think you can protect her? Keep her safe from that world? You can’t even tell how bad you’ve got it.”

Megumi stayed silent, unwilling to give Toji the satisfaction of a reaction. But Toji wasn’t finished. Wanting the warning to stick. Needing it to.

“The Zenin clan…” he drawled, bitterness coating the words. His gaze grew distant for a moment, as if dredging up something unpleasant.  “They’d love to get their hands on you. You’re already on their radar.”

Though his voice remained calm, the weight of his words settled heavily in the room, the faint clang of dishes sounding in the background. A running sink.

A constant reminder of your presence.

“Y’know that’s why she’s here, right?” Toji stalled, looking back as if making sure you weren’t overhearing this. Nearly debating on if was worth telling Megumi about this in the first place.

He didn’t like the idea of placing more pressure in his son’s only relationship—if he could call it that. That bond was still a type of relationship, after all. No—he didn’t like the alternative. Didn’t like where any of this was headed. At the very least, he wanted Megumi to know the full truth—have all the facts, and make an informed decision for himself.

“Funny how they work—arranged marriages. The clan heads can decide whatever they want. They’ve got so much control, especially over people like her—Women, y’know. It’s just another move to pull you in. Sent her here to watch…to get information—on you, on me. See if you’re all talk.”

Megumi’s eyes dart to his father’s, surprise painting his features. And for all intents and purposes, Toji met his gaze—piercing and unreadable, pinning him down. His tone so shamelessly casual, as if he were discussing the weather.

Megumi’s felt his head spin at the statement. He didn’t want to believe him. Didn’t want to think you could do that to them—to him. But worst of all—his didn’t want your affection to be fake.

Was it was true?—because why would Toji lie here? What would he get out of this?

He didn’t want to ask the question that burned at the back of his mind—didn’t want to hear his answer—not yet. But it slammed against his thoughts like stones pelting a wall. 

Why had Toji let someone like you into their lives in the first place?

“What do they want with me?” Megumi avoided the glaring question. The disbelief still strung across his face. Ensuring his voice didn’t carry to the next room.

“Your Ten Shadows Technique. That’s what they’re after. That’s the prize. They want to see if you’re worth the trouble. Investments and all that. And if you are, they’ll come for you.”  

Toji spoke it like he was telling a scary bedtime story. An unimaginable boogeyman lurking in the shadows, just waiting to snatch him up. It was almost comedic in a way.

“She hasn’t even asked about that,” he shot back, defensive. His mind still racing. He couldn't stand the pounding in his ears. The possibility that you might not be the person he thought you were. That you didn't actually care about him. Was this all a performance?

“She isn’t stupid,” Toji replied smoothly, his tone unnervingly calm. Feeling somewhat sympathetic for whatever the fuck you two shared.

“She’s sharper than they give her credit for, playing their game better than most of them realize. But don’t fool yourself, kid—she’s still here for a reason. She might care about you, but don’t pretend she’s not tied to a leash. And she will always be tied to it. Don’t forget this.”

Reeling. Turning. Spinning.

“Even she knows what’s at stake,”

Megumi’s glare faltered, feeling drained. Confusion was a constant these days. And it laced his tone as he pressed further. "If she’s not with them anymore, then why would she still be reporting to them? Why is she even talking to them at all?”

Toji sighed, moving to lean back against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. “You think it’s that simple?” he said. “Clan heads don’t just let go of what they think is theirs. You don’t just walk away clean, kid. They’ve got ways to drag her back if they want to. Dissolve the marriage, make up some bullshit reason. Hell, if it’s anything like I remember, they don’t even need a reason. They’ll just take her.”

Megumi’s face contorted into a grimace.

“You think her life before this was sunshine and rainbows?” his voice dropping lower. “If it was anything like the shit I saw growing up, they probably already beat the defiance out of her a long time ago. I got out lucky, but not everyone does. You don’t survive in a clan like that by fighting back too much."

Toji reiterated—quite mercifully if he might add, "She’s not reporting because she wants to. She’s doing it because she has to.”

The silence stretched. Megumi’s mind replaying every moment he’d seen you quietly brushing off the clan’s calls, every forced smile, every dismissive excuse. The idea of you being under someone else’s control, in a way you couldn’t escape, twisted something inside him. A protective, feral instinct. A need to act. He knew you weren’t faking it. All of those moments—he couldn’t—no—wouldn’t believe it.

His unrelenting white hot anger surfacing at the thought of you enduring that kind of life. What else did he not know? The questions, the veiled threats, your nervousness—all of it had been happening right in front of him. The disgusting thought of someone beating you into submission—

“Let me be perfectly clear, kid—I don’t want you getting dragged into this clan bullshit. I’ve spent years keeping you out of it for a reason. I don’t like where this is headed, not one damn bit. But if you keep acting like this, keep pushing the way you are, they’re gonna notice. And when they do...”

He trailed off, the silence heavy and foreboding, as though Toji himself didn’t want to say it outright. But the implications were clear.

What could they do? Snatch you back? Use you as leverage? Dangle you over their heads like bait in their endless struggle for power and control? Force Megumi into a spot he didn’t want to be in?

Toji leaned in slightly, his voice cold and clipped. “They’ll use her. They’ll use you. And trust me, they won’t give a shit about what either of you wants. They’ll make it messy, and they won’t think twice about it. This isn’t some game you can play without consequences, Megumi.”

For once, there was no mockery in his tone, no smirk playing at his lips. He was dead serious.

Consequences.

What consequences would Megumi endure for you?

“I can handle it.”

Toji’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t change his mind, but he could correct the stupid. He didn’t want to see this. Didn’t want to see Megumi succumbing to those old fuckers.

“You don’t have the luxury of playing the fool here. If you’re serious about this—about her—then you better start thinking ahead. Because the way you are now? You’re weak. A burden at best. And a danger to her. Weak doesn’t stand a chance against people like them.”

The words rung like a bell, straight through him. It’s true. He’s right.

“If this is the hill you wanna die on, then you better do something about it,” Toji fixed Megumi with a small glare of his own. Something Megumi surprisingly saw rarely. “You’re not gonna get anywhere sitting around, sulking like a brat. You want to step up? Fine. Do it. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect your decision. Just know what you’re getting yourself into. Do it for the right reason. And make sure you aren't dragging her behind you along the way.”

Once again bathed in silence, they stared at each other. Opposite ends of the spectrum yet so similar in so many ways.

With a shrug that seemed too casual for the tension he’d left behind, Toji retreated back to the kitchen. Following your soft humming still drifting through the air. Oblivious to the fight that’d just take place.

Fight?

Maybe more like a warning.

To Megumi, your soft hums sounded almost mocking, a reminder of how you were so close, yet so far away. The warmth you brought into their lives was there, just out of reach, always at risk. And it only made the ache in his chest more unbearable.

Later that night, Megumi lay sprawled on his bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as his father’s taunting words played in his mind on an endless loop. 

Weak. Burden. Danger. 

He grit his teeth, the finality of it settling.

Distance—that’s what he needed. He needed to put some space between you and him, for your sake.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, his chest clenched painfully. The idea of pulling away, of losing the comfort of your presence, felt like a knife twisting in his gut. He hated this feeling.

Hated how much he relied on his father for protection, how Toji’s words exposed every insecurity he fought to ignore.

What made it worse was the truth behind them. If your clan really was as dangerous as Toji claimed, if they were determined to drag you back—or worse—what could he do to stop them?

Right now, he was nothing than a danger to your safety. The way his thoughts spiraled whenever he was around you, the way his heart twisted and burned with feelings he didn’t fully understand—it made him reckless. Possessive. Irrational.

He'd act on impulse, clinging to you like his life depended on it. His feelings still so jumbled, he tried to sort them out.

Why did his chest tighten every time you smiled at him?

Why did it matter so much when you called him family?

Why did he feel this gnawing need to keep you close, to make sure no one—not his father, not your clan, not anyone—could take you away?

Why were these feelings still present when he knew they weren’t dedicated to a mother?

It was raw and confusing, messy in ways he couldn’t yet fix.

But one thing burned through the haze of uncertainty: whatever this was, whatever you’d become to him, he couldn’t let it go.

He wouldn’t let it go.

You were the most important person in his life—that was for sure—and you were trapped in a problem he couldn’t resolve. Yet.

For so long, he’d stayed on the outskirts of jujutsu society, avoiding the weighty politics of clan life despite his continued development of the Ten Shadows technique.

But now he had to answer the question he’d been dodging: 

What was he willing to do for you?

His jaw was sore from all the clenching he did, he knew he couldn’t let things stay like this. Couldn’t keep standing idly by while Toji spoke about you like you were just his possession—his wife. While the higher ups—the clans threw around your life like it meant nothing.

Megumi’s feelings for you ran deeper than even he wanted to admit.

You weren’t just his stepmother.

You weren’t just someone who cooked and cleaned and made his life softer in ways he hadn’t known he needed.

You were…something else.

Something more. Someone who mattered in a way he couldn’t—wouldn’t—put into words. Something beyond words.

And if he wanted to prove that—to protect you the way you deserved—he couldn’t afford to hesitate. He needed to change. To get stronger. To become someone capable of standing by your side, someone who could protect you without relying on his father. He needed to grow up.

And fast.

p.7

AN: Thank you for reading! This is my last one for today, i've gotta go to bed-- to be continued soon. please give a follow and reblog if you want to stay updated - or follow along on my ao3

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

[theartsharki]

I wish I could talk to you, pull my chair right up there next to you and talk to you.

Talk To You - Ricky Montgomery

Spoiler art for the fic I wrote to pair with this: The Week Richie Stopped Talking

[buglover77]

GHOSTBUSTERS FROZEN EMPIRE SPOILERS

if I see one person judge Phoebe for her poor decision making in her gay awakening first sapphic situationship I am going to go rabid… Phoebe ejecting her soul for a pretty girl she met like a week ago is the most realistic teenage gay experience I’ve ever seen in media

[comesatimecomesashadow]

her *ೃ༄

pairing *ೃ༄ carl grimes x gn reader

cw *ೃ༄ teen angst, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, teen romance, semi-slow burn, fluff

fic type *ೃ༄ one shot (?) | part ii

summary *ೃ༄ in which you fall in love with the freckle-filled, blue eyed boy who wears a sheriff's hat.

note *ೃ༄ this is what i do instead of my three week old homework, enjoy !

masterlist *ೃ༄

   Arriving in Alexandria was an odd thing. Here, people tried to build a ‘civilization’, as if the world outside the walls wasn’t gone to shit already. You often ventured outside the walls without anyone knowing — Anyone excluding Enid, of course — because you were afraid of becoming weak. Immersing yourself in Deanna’s delusion would do nothing for your survival, you were sure of it. 

   When Rick and his group were welcomed inside the walls, you noticed their rough demeanors and the rugged way in which they carried themselves. They were a contrast to the people of Alexandria and because of that, their presence alluded you, even when others were weary of them. But you stayed away. Not because you were scared of them too, but because you’d rather not get close to anyone again. Regardless of what your instincts wanted you to do. 

   Enid would sometimes hang out with you alone or go with Ron and the others to fill the time that you all now had. You usually just spent the days in the attic of the empty house down the street. You’d heard a lot about the blue eyed boy with the sheriff’s hat from Enid, he seemed kinda awkward to you but you didn’t fault him. It was probably strange going from having to fight walkers 24/7 to now having the time for video games; You remember feeling that way too. 

   You were no stranger to the crushing weight of loneliness that followed all those who survived. Sometimes, you wonder if you should’ve just let yourself be eaten. But you were afraid you’d be betraying the last thing your dad told you. ‘Live! Fight and Live!’, you remembered his words vividly. You also remembered the screams that came next. 

   The leaves crunched under your boots as you walked towards your secret hangout. 

   No one, not even Enid, knew where it was. It was the place in the forest you went to whenever you felt lonely, it was a comfort to you most of the time. There in the secluded spot, you had a box with a broken lock hidden with leaves and sticks, it was full of your scavenged art supplies. Drawing was something you liked to do ever since you were a kid, it was one of the only things the apocalypse hadn’t taken from you. 

   As you approached your secret hideout, you noticed a familiar boy with the famous sheriff's hat sitting against the log you always sat at. You bit your lip and walked a little faster. ‘What was he doing here?’ You were a little upset at this. 

   “..How did you find this place?” your words were clear and loud enough so he could hear. You didn’t intend for it to come off as mean as it sounded, but then again maybe that was the best choice. You’d met different groups before coming to Alexandria and people always tended to be selfish people. Even in Alexandria, you noticed how most of the kids your age were selfish, hence why you hid your secret space even from Ron and his group. Why would this guy be any different? 

   He got up and met your eyes, seeming like a deer caught in headlights. He left your sketchbook on the ground. “I was just- Uh, I was walking around and found this place. Do you.. Hang around here, or..?” You could tell he was nervous and frankly, it felt awkward. 

   You sat on the ground next to the not-so-hidden box and grabbed the notebook he left on the ground. He opted to sit next to you. “To answer your question, yeah. I hang here by myself- most of the time at least.” You flipped to an empty page and grabbed some of your pens and markers from the chest. 

   The boy glanced down at your drawing, observing you. Then he began to speak again, less nervous this time. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m Carl.” 

   “...” You kept your eyes on the notebook. Should you be friendly with him? After a few moments of silence you told him your name and could see him slightly smile in the corner of your eye. “..Are you gonna stay here?” 

   “Do you mind it?” he asked. You shook your head. He seemed harmless for the most part, maybe he wasn’t like Ron and his friends. “Then.. Could I come here sometimes?” 

   “Why do you wanna?” you asked him, finally meeting his blue eyes. You noticed the freckles on his fair skin and the way his hair fell over his face was kinda funny to you. He was.. Something. Carl looked away from you, contemplating his words. 

   “Just cause.” He said with a small smile. You laughed a little at his words, sometimes it was hard to forget you were just kids. 

   “Alright then.” 

   The next few weeks, your routine began to change. 

   Normally, you’d wake up some time before the afternoon and get ready for the day. Afterwards, you’d help Olivia with the inventory and keeping track of rations. You’d go out on a run if you were asked to and if you weren't, your time was spent at your secret spot or with Enid. 

   However, ever since formally meeting Carl. Your secret hangout spot has become a shared secret hangout spot. He drew comic book characters on one of the notebooks in the chest at the spot, brought you art supplies when he came back from runs and even brought some of his own comic books. You noticed the way his facial expressions changed when he was immersed in his comics, the way he did that awkward side smile of his sometimes, you even caught him stealing glances at you sometimes. 

   But you never addressed it. 

   Not even when you began to find yourself disappointed when he missed a day at the spot. You had to remind yourself that he was just someone you met, it wasn’t like he belonged to you or anything. It wasn’t like you expected him to be there when you knew he had his own life too. 

   You told yourself then that you’d try to distance yourself. 

   Falling for someone, especially in the middle of a damn apocalypse, couldn’t go well. It just couldn’t. But it was hard to distance yourself when he seemed to be everywhere. Whenever you helped Olivia with keeping track of the inventory, he was there with his stupid, dorky smile and innumerous freckles. When you took a usual afternoon walk to clear your head, he waved at you and even joined you with his little sister in tow. 

   He was everywhere and that made it increasingly harder for you to bury your feelings away. 

   “What’re you drawing this time?” Carl asked. Your pencil stopped at the sound of his voice. You looked up and smiled involuntarily. For some reason, ever since you met him, you started to smile more often. Maybe he was just that easy to talk to, but you hated it sometimes. 

   “Walkers.” You gazed back down at your notebook that contained the scribbles and doodles of dismembered walkers and you even drew some of them with funny expressions and speech bubbles. “I know it’s twisted, considering they're the reason the world is ..shit. But I dunno,” you shrugged, wondering what he would think. Carl looked over your notebook, his hair tickling your shoulder. 

   Then he laughed. 

    “Is this one giggling? It looks funny,” A smile graced his features and a warm feeling crept into your heart at the sight of it. 

   “Yeah..!” You giggled and shaded in the drawing with some highlighters. 

   “When did you get into drawing?” 

   You shrugged, “I’ve always been into drawing, ever since I was a kid. I really liked comics n’ stuff, so I guess that’s what motivated me.” You found it endearing that he even asked because it meant that he was interested. You have never known what it felt like to have feelings like these, to feel so close to someone, but it was exciting. ..And scary at the same time of course. 

   It was then that you remembered that you’d forgotten your intentions of distancing yourself. 

   “Yeah? How come?” He picked up the comic book he had meant to continue reading and flipped to the page that had one of its corners dog-eared. 

   You put your pencil down and looked up at the sky peeking through the various green leaves blocking it. “It’s an outlet, I guess. Whenever I got lonely I’d just draw and draw till I forgot the loneliness.” 

   Carl lifted his gaze up to you again. “Do you still feel like that?” 

   You set your notebook down and hugged your knees closer to your chest before letting out a sigh. “Sometimes. Not as much nowadays though.” 

   “I’ve felt that way before too, actually. I thought I was the only one.” Carl admitted. He looked away when your eyes met his.  

   “Yeah?” You asked quietly. 

   He nodded his hands now flat on the ground at his sides and the comic forgotten on his lap. “I feel like it’s too normal sometimes.” Carl said. You agreed with his statement. “A lot of the people here aren’t prepared t’fight. I think that’s the scariest thing outta everything.” 

   “Why so?” you drew circles on the dirt. 

   “If someone, or something, from outside the walls wanted to take this place, they could.” Carl spoke as if it was fact. Maybe he was right. The wind whistled throughout the forest, a signal to return inside the walls now that the sun was also beginning to disappear. You put your notebook and his comic back inside the hidden box and closed it. 

   “We should get back, your dad’s probably wondering where you are.” You lent him a hand to help him up and he took it. His hand was a little calloused — but warm. 

   “Yeah, I guess so.” 

   He got up, but he didn’t let go of your hand. 

.

.

.

   The day the walkers came in through the walls was the day you returned to reality. You had to admit, being in Alexandria had indeed dulled your fighting skills — but it did not deter you. Plunging your knife into the skull of the walker in front of you, you headed toward the infirmary. Gunshots could be heard which only called in more from the swarm, you had to hurry.

   After a sprinting to the infirmary, you met Denise and began to help treat some of the patients that had gotten hurt. Your hands were quick at cleaning wounds and wrapping bandages, you’d picked up a lot of things before coming to Alexandria and you’d made it a habit to learn from Denise as a precaution. Luckily, it was paying off.

   ..Until Rick brought Carl to the infirmary with a grave injury to his right eye. 

   Your hands came to a sudden stop and trembled and you couldn't stop staring at him in utter shock of what had been done to him.  “What-..” 

   Denise helped Rick lay Carl down on the patient bed. “Get me the bandages, we need to stop the bleeding,” Denise ordered. Your mind went blank but you moved in a flash, handing her all the materials she needed to help him as if you were on autopilot. You didn’t ask Michonne nor Rick how it happened and you couldn’t either way since Rick decided to take his anger out on the walkers swarming outside. 

   Your eyes were laser-focused on the numbers reading Carl’s heart rate. 

   It was then that you realized just how much you cared about the freckled boy with the blue eyes, the sheriff’s hat he never took off and his stupid smile. 

   ..It was then that you realized how far you'd fallen for Carl. 

   “Is he..” your voice was shaky but Denise cut you off. 

   “He’s going to live. He will.” Her words were spoken in a strong tone but you didn’t know if she was trying to convince herself o..r you. In the meantime, you busied yourself with the other patients, most of the people huddling up inside the infirmary had left now and were beginning to go join Rick in his fight against the walkers currently swarming the inside of the walls. You couldn’t afford to think about him living or dying when other people were on patient beds fighting for their lives too. 

   But it was hard to not think about him. 

   You could only hope he would be alright. 

   The day seeped into the night sky and soon enough, Rick and the other Alexandrians had succeeded in massacring all the walkers inside the walls. Now, they were focused on making sure the walls would hold up while you still were tending to the patients in the infirmary with Denise. Luckily, some of the patients were recovering from their injuries now and waking up. From what Denise told you, Carl was unconscious but he was stable- He was alive.  That’s all that mattered to you. 

   You wanted to talk to someone, tell someone about all the feelings you were bottling up- but Enid was nowhere to be found. Neither was Ron or the other kids, and you couldn’t tell Denise because you knew how stressed she must have been. You left the infirmary and went outside to take in some air. The woman with the sword.. Michonne, you think her name was; She was outside of the infirmary as well. Carl’s dad, Rick, was there too. 

   “How is he?” Rick asked, you could hear the anxiousness in his voice. 

   You tried to give him a smile, “He’s doing better than when you brought him in, thankfully.” A few tears escaped Rick’s eyes but a small smile crept onto his lips. “..There was nothing we could do about his eye. But, ..He’ll live. You can go see him right now, he’s uhm.. He’s unconscious though.” Rick nodded and Michonne seemed relieved, but Rick was the only one who went in. Michonne stayed out on the steps with you. 

   You sighed and leaned against the wooden railing, your arms crossed and your heart full. 

   “Are you okay?” Michonne asked you genuinely.

   If it were in another time, any other time, you probably would have lied. But as soon as one tear strayed from your eye, a multitude of others seemed to follow. Michonne’s expression softened and she offered a hug, embracing your shaking body racked with emotions you couldn’t name. You didn’t know if you should be relieved, or worried- or both! 

   “It’ll be okay, [Name].” 

   You took a shaky breath in, “How..- How do you know that?” You looked up at her, your vision blurry. 

   She wiped your tears carefully, “Because we’re the ones who live.” 

   The words she spoke to you that day gave you hope. Luckily for you and his family he woke up a few weeks after the whole ordeal. However, you tried to avoid him as much as you could, like you had done before you met him. 

   You couldn’t look at him, not because of how he looked.. 

   ..but because you knew that the next time you saw him face to face, the dam of feelings you held inside would burst open instantly.

[angelofalls]

When in doubt (tryna get my groove going), I draw some random lions.

[meg-noel-art]

A second generation adventure Caitvi Moms fankid fic that fell out of my brain if anyone is interested! 'echoes across time'

[eunokid]

all i do is try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and try to forget and

[wisecura]

Sheets

megumi fushiguro x fem-reader

p.1

p.4  ( ⸝⸝꩜ ᯅ ꩜⸝⸝;) p.6

p.5

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, possessiveness, mommy kinks, mommy issues, arranged marriages, forced marriages, angst, eventual smut, clan politics, age gap (5 years from meg, and a little over 10 with toji), toji aint the best dad, mentions of child abuse, slowww build.

Short summary: Your arranged marriage to Toji Fushiguro had been sudden and unexpected, but now you found yourself living under his roof alongside his moody stepson. Your only directive from your clan head before moving in was clear: keep a close eye on Toji, the notorious Sorcerer Killer, and his son, a potential sorcerer prodigy.

mrs. fushiguro

You were deep into cleaning the fridge when the sharp ring of the landline broke the quiet.

Wiping your hands on a nearby dish towel, you approached it cautiously.

Thankfully, calls from your clan had become less and less frequent once they realized you weren’t so forthcoming with their visits. Though the unease they left behind always lingered.

This time, however, the voice on the other end was unfamiliar. 

“Mrs. Fushiguro?” the voice rung out, polite but firm. An unsettling weight rested in your chest.

“Hello?” you replied, a bit wary.

“Hello, I’m calling from Saitama Junior High. We need you to come in regarding Megumi. There’s been an incident.”

And just like that, your heart sank. The words cutting across the receiver, crisp and clear. You thought back to the last time Toji had warned Megumi about fighting, but you didn’t think about again. You held back from jumping to conclusions.

“What happened?” keeping your tone steady despite the unease clawing in your throat. Was he hurt?

“There was an altercation involving Megumi and a few other students,” the administrator sighed into the phone. “He’s unharmed, but we need to discuss the matter in person. Please come as soon as you’re able.”

The line went silent for a moment as you processed the information, your mind already racing through the possibilities. You nodded, as if the person on the other end could see you.

“I’ll be there shortly,”

You hung up, staring at the phone in your hand for a beat longer before setting it down.

You arrived at the school not long after, worry pressing heavily on your chest, though your steps remained brisk. Whatever had happened, you couldn’t afford another situation like the last time. Megumi had been so defensive when Toji had brought it up. You could only hope his mood hadn’t already been completely soured—otherwise, it was shaping up to be a very long day.

At the front desk, the receptionist gave you a questioning stare. Her eyes lingering just a second too long, trailing up and down your form.

“I’m here for Megumi,” your tone polite but firm. You could practically feel her judgment, her unspoken questions about your age and your role in Megumi’s life. Wondering what exactly were you doing here. It stung, but you brushed it off. Whatever. She sighed, motioning for you to follow.

The walk to the office felt longer than it should have, tension growing with each step. When you finally stepped inside, you noticed Megumi was already there. He was seated in a stiff chair, arms crossed, posture leaned back, yet rigid.

His usual scowl was firmly in place. Yet what really drew your attention were the telltale signs of a fight—the bruised knuckles, scrapes, the faint smear of dirt on his cheek. His eyes widened marginally at the sight of you in the doorway. Otherwise, his face remained blank, unreadable.

This was his last year of Junior High. Did he really need to be getting into trouble now?

“Megumi,” you try softly, your voice calm but wrapped with concern. You attempt to gauge his mood, but he wouldn’t look up, his eyes locked on some invisible point on the floor. His brow furrowing all the deeper.

God what a moody kid.

The administrator cleared her throat, breaking your focus as she gestured for you to take a seat. You did so, your gaze shifting briefly between the two of them before settling back on Megumi.

“Thank you for coming…Mrs….Fushiguro?” the administrators gaze locked onto you—words more like a question than any kind of greeting. Another subtle once-over that you didn’t appreciate. “It seems Megumi, here, was involved in a physical altercation with three other students.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you turned to look back at her. “Three?” The word slipped out before you could stop it. A flicker of something—pride? crossed your mind, but you quickly pushed it aside, schooling your expression. Professional. Composed. Respectable.

“Yes, three,” her voice more exasperated by the thought. Her disapproving eyes bore down on Megumi, and something about the way she addressed him rubbed you the wrong way. Irritation prickling under your skin. 'Maternal' instincts, you supposed. Were you being irrational?

“According to a few other students nearby, Megumi intervened when these students were picking on another boy. While his intentions may have been…commendable, violence is not an acceptable response.”

You turned back to Megumi, your voice still gentle but firm. “Is that true?”

He finally looked up and away, his expression cold and unreadable. “Yeah,” his tone bored and matter-of-fact. “They had him cornered, shoving him around. I told them to stop. They didn’t.”

“So? You fought them?” you pressed, searching for confirmation.

“They threw the first punch,” his eyes finally met yours. “I made sure they wouldn’t do it again.”

You sport a frown. Well you suppose it was righteous in a way. Admirable, even. The administrator sighed, her disapproval clear.

“While we understand Megumi’s intentions, we cannot overlook the severity of this incident. The other boys have injuries that required medical attention. As such, Megumi will be suspended for the next week.”

You head swung back at a breakneck speed.

Suspended. For a week?

Was that even fair? Sure, fighting wasn’t the right answer, but you knew Megumi wouldn’t have stepped in without a good reason.

He did what he felt he needed to do. It frustrated you to no end how she painted him as the sole aggressor. You’re looking back and forth between the two, unbelieving. Trying to gauge a reaction similar to yours. But you couldn’t find it.

You opened your mouth to argue, but before the words could form, Megumi gave a small shake of his head, barely perceptible. He could read you so well, already anticipating what you were about to do. He just wanted to leave.

He sat there stiffly, his gaze fixed on the table, his knuckles still bruised and his jaw aching, set in a sort of defiance. You hesitated for a moment, swallowing the retort building in your throat. The situation was frustrating, the punishment not suiting the crime. But what choice did you have here?

You watch Megumi, your expression softening as you stand. You heard tilted to meet his eye. When you spoke again, your voice was quiet. Gentle, but you’ll admit, you strained to get it that way. You were furious.

“Let’s go."

Megumi hated this. Hated the office ladies. Hated the fact that they actually called you. How did they even get the house landline? Embarrassed at you actually showing up. The small looks you got from these nasty two-faced women. He’d never seen you so upset.

But without much fuss, he followed you. His eyes lingering on you, catching the way your shoulders heaved just a little faster with your breathing. He hated that he felt terrible.

The walk home was silent, Megumi keeping a steady pace beside you. His hands were shoved in his pockets, his face as unreadable as ever. Once inside the apartment, you gestured for him to sit at the table.

You cooled yourself off, the walk home helping tremendously. One of you would needed to be cool headed here. And he seemed to tense up by the second. Your eyes glanced at his bruised and bloody knuckles. You took a deep breath, counting slowly. You nodded at the chair, signaling him to sit.

He complied without a word, his eyes flickering briefly to you as you grabbed a first-aid kit and an ice pack from the fridge. Even now you were caring for him. He almost couldn't believe it. You were angry. But you were still here. But then again. It was you.

You sat across from him, gently taking one of his hands to inspect the bruises. His heart hammered at the contact. Though he wasn't entirely sure why.

He had a few cuts scattered across his knuckles, and you frowned at the sight. "Megumi," your voice barely a whisper above the hum of the fridge. Even and clam. "I’m not angry. Not at you."

The silence that followed sat on him, your words the most comforting thing in that moment. Megumi sat there, his hands still resting in yours on the table. You were inspecting them carefully, eyes not meeting his. And he didn’t pull away.

His expression was unreadable as you scanned his face—so crabby, so closed off. Yet you could feel the tension radiating from him—the tightness in his shoulders, the way his gaze flicked toward the door like he was debating whether to run.

He hadn’t expected you to come. Hadn’t expected you to care this much.

He hadn’t wanted you to get involved in the first place. This was just another fight, another mess he’d clean up on his own. That’s how it always went, right? Toji wasn’t here, and no one else ever had been either.

But now you were. You’d sat across from him, tending to his bruises like it mattered. Like he mattered.

“You really didn’t have to come,” Megumi muttered after a moment, his tone sharp but fraying just slightly at the edges. He wasn’t trying to be mean—it was just what he was thinking. “It wasn’t that big a deal.”

You eyes finally flit up, meeting his gaze with your own. He found his breath catching. The look in your eyes was so soft. “It is a big deal, Megumi, you’re a kid. You shouldn’t have to handle this kind of thing on your own.”

His jaw tightened as though your words had struck a nerve. He didn’t want to get mad, but there was that word again. “I’m not a kid, I can handle it. I have been handling it.”

His words weren’t just defensive—they were determined. There was a flicker of desperation in his tone, as if he needed you to believe the truth he was trying so hard to convey.

Of all the people he didn’t want to see him as a child, you were at the very top of the list. The thought of you viewing him as small, fragile, or in need of constant care was—in this moment—unbearable.

He couldn’t pinpoint when exactly it started to matter, but somewhere along the way, he’d come to realize just how much your opinion meant to him. His thoughts were conflicting. Wanting your affection. Not wanting you to view him as weak. Not wanting you to see him as a burden. Not wanting you to leave.

That realization left him uncomfortably self-conscious, turning every interaction into a mental minefield. He hated how it made him second-guess himself, how it tied his tongue and made him overthink even the smallest gestures.

Caring about what someone thought of him was unfamiliar territory, and it unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. He told himself he couldn’t grow attached, couldn’t fully trust you—not yet. You could leave at any second. And yet, despite all that, he couldn’t deny how much you really meant to him.

“Maybe you have,” you admitted gently, leaning forward. “But you don’t have to anymore. You’ve got me now.”

There was something unreadable in his eyes—something caught between distrust and apprehension. “For now,” he said flatly, forcing his tone to remain detached. Your hands still holding—inspecting one oh his own. “But you’ll leave too. Just like everyone else.”

The resigned way he said them, like he’d already made peace with the idea. You thought about the clan calls, the way they’d been pestering you for months, interrogating you for information. Megumi wasn’t stupid. But how did he perceive it all? What had he overheard?

His eyes flicked away, his voice quieter now, tinged with bitterness. “You’re probably just waiting for the right time to leave.”

Your breath hitched at the accusation. “Megumi, that’s not—”

"Look, you don’t have to lie about it," his tone sharper, refusing his gaze to meet yours. Voice, low but carried an edge of bitterness. "I know they’ve been calling you. I know they must be wanting you back. You must have friends back home. You’re probably sick of us. The fights. The arguing. Of me,"

His voice dipped at his last words, a defeated look flashing his face. "You don’t have to explain. Just… don’t pretend."

The weight of his words hit you square in the chest, heavier than you could have anticipated.

How he got that idea in his head, you'll never know. For all he knows, this is a solid marriage. Arranged-yes. But something that was established. What lead him to think they'd pull you back so easily? Maybe he's thinking you'll divorce Toji if things got to be too much? Surely not that you missed your clan estate?

You leaned forward instinctively, gently gripping his hands in yours.

"I’m not leaving," you said firmly, gripping his hand tighter, willing him to understand. Sincerity staining your very being. "This is my home now. You’re my family now."

And yet, even as the words left your lips, a quiet, unwelcome voice in the back of your mind whispered the truth you didn’t want to acknowledge. You couldn’t fully guarantee it.

If your clan wanted to, they could come for you. You aren’t certain you could stop them. You pushed it aside, focusing on him. Focused on calming him down. It was a bridge that didn’t need to be crossed yet.

His eyes snapped back to yours, sharp and searching, and you could practically see his defenses cracking for a moment. For the first time, you saw something raw in his expression, something aside from his typical ire—surprise, a flicker of hope, and something deeper, something unspoken. Vulnerability.

He didn’t say anything, but his grip on your hands tightened back, as if he were trying to hold onto your words, to hold onto you.

"I’m not going anywhere," Deep down, you knew it was a fragile—nearly impossible—promise, but you clung to it, as if saying it enough times could make it true.

"You’re stuck with me, okay?"

Megumi visibly swallowed, his gaze dropped to your hands still holding his. No—he wouldn’t pull away. You could see the wariness in his eyes, the weight of his doubts.

He wanted to believe you—needed to—but something in him held back. Probably the years of negligence from Toji. The years lacking a mother. The years alone. He fought with his thoughts for a moment. His expressed was guarded.

He really, really wanted to believe you. Really really wanted to believe you cared.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet and hesitant, almost like he was afraid of your answer.

"Why?" His voice cracking under the weight it carried.

"Why would you want to stay here? With him? With me?"

The way he said it—like he couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose this life, choose him—made your throat tighten.

You try. Try to find the right words. Words that might ease the storm in his eyes. Try to put your conviction into your body language. Your mind flashed back to your mother's words again before you shut your mind off.

You think about how his life must’ve been before this moment. How he also may not have had anyone to lean on. What a lonely existence.

“Because I care about you, Megumi. I’m not going to walk away just because things get hard. I won’t be chased away that easily.”

You felt as his fists unclenched, ever so slightly, his fingers beginning to loosen. The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction, a small but significant shift. You could feel it—maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to truly understand your words. Beginning to believe you. Beginning to trust you.

But Megumi was struggling, the weight of his doubts and fears etched into every microexpression on his face. Your chest tightened at the sight of it, at the silent war he seemed to fight with himself.

You didn’t want him to feel this way—before you could stop yourself, you let go of his hands and leaned forward, pulling him into a hug.

The movement was instinctive and you felt him go stiff immediately, his entire body rigid. You were sure if you saw his face, he’d be surprised.

“W-what are you doing?” he asked, his voice muffled against your shoulder. There was an edge to his voice, defensive, but wavering.

“Hugging you,”your grip on him tightening. “You seemed like you needed it.”

For a long, tense moment, he didn’t move, his arms hovering awkwardly at his sides. The seconds dragged on, and you wondered if you’d misstepped, if you’d pushed too far. But then, slowly, he relaxed—just a little. The rigidity in his posture eased, and you felt his breathing slow, though it was still uneven.

He still didn’t hug you back, but his head tilted slightly against your shoulder, like he was trying to make sense of the moment, trying to figure out just how this worked.

It dawned on you that he might not have been hugged like this before. Were you making him uncomfortable? Man you weren't good at this.

When you finally let go and pulled back, Megumi’s face was flushed with an emotion that he couldn’t quite mask—a mix of surprise, vulnerability, and something you couldn’t name. This experience was drawing more emotion from him than you’d witnessed in the entire past year. You couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out, soft and genuine, catching even you by surprise.

His heart gave an uncomfortable thud, and he glanced away quickly, scowling. “You’re…weird,” he muttered, the sharpness blunted by a thread of undeniable fondness he couldn’t hide.

His cheeks were warmer than they should have been, and he shifted in his chair uncomfortably, muttering something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch.

No matter how hard he tried to brush it off, he couldn’t ignore the warmth your words and actions left behind—or the growing admiration that stirred every time he looked at you.

You laughed again, and before you could stop yourself, you reached over to ruffle his hair, earning a grumbled protest and a half-hearted swat at your hand.

“Get used to it,” your tone light, affection dripping into each syllable. “You’re part of my family now, so you’re stuck with me.”

It wasn’t the first time Megumi had noticed the way your warmth reached him, breaking past walls he’d carefully constructed. But this time, it left him feeling…different. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression still guarded but undeniably softer.

“Fine,” he muttered, crossing his arms in a weak attempt to appear unaffected. Yet there was no real bite in his tone, and you didn’t miss the faint smile that tugged at the corner of his lips.

From that day forward, you became Megumi’s most cherished person.

Something shifted within him—his dynamic with you no longer felt so simple. There was an urge he couldn’t fully understand, something instinctual and…new.

It wasn’t just admiration or gratitude—it ran deeper. It was a fierce need to shield your kindness from the world, to ensure that nothing dimmed the warmth you brought into his life. To keep it to himself. And it only grew the longer he stayed next to you. He would ensure your happiness even if it killed him. 

He wanted to be the one you leaned on, the one who supported you when you needed it most. It was a strange, unfamiliar feeling, but it settled into him like a seed, quietly growing. Natural.

He’d never felt this way before about anyone, and though he couldn’t name it, he couldn’t deny it either. You mattered to him in a way he hadn’t expected, and that realization changed everything. 

What you hadn’t expected was how quickly your relationship with Megumi began to improve. He was still the same stoic, sharp-tongued teenager. Only now, he lingered. Far more than before.

He stayed close while you cooked, followed you from room to room as you cleaned. Offered small, almost shy gestures of help around the house—dusting an area you hadn’t gotten to or cooking a side dish.

Instead of retreating to his room, hed spend his free time sitting beside you on the couch, listening quietly as you talked about your day or read aloud. You’d watch your favorite shows and he’d grumble about how stupid a particular character was.

All while feigning nonchalance. Acting as if it didn’t matter—as if it were the most natural thing he could be doing. But you caught the subtle ways he betrayed himself—the way his eyes tracked your every move or how he absorbed your words like gospel. Never ignoring.

Then came the day he surprised you completely.

You were in the kitchen, humming softly as you prepared dinner. The familiar rhythm of cooking easing your thoughts. Megumi had come home from school and wandered in like he often did, standing quietly at your side.

You’d asked him about his day, mentioning with a hint of pride that you’d made a new dish for the night. Something you’d found in an add. He mumbled something about a school project as you handed him his plate, but he hesitated. You watched his curiously as his fingers curling slightly around the edges of his plate.

“Thanks, Mom,” so casually, it almost felt intentional—then you saw the faint flush creeping up his cheeks.

You hadn’t processed his words, but the second you did you paused. The spoon in your hand hovering over the pot as your brain scrambled to process what you’d just heard. The word echoed in your mind, sweet and unexpected, warming you to your core.

“What… did you just call me?” you asked softly, disbelief coloring your tone. Your heart was already swelling, and you knew you’d remember this moment forever, no matter what he said next.

Megumi shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting at his sides. “I said thanks,” quieter now. Almost embarrassed to have said it.

You couldn’t stop the smile that came across your face. You wanted to tease him a little, but you couldn’t keep the happiness out of your voice. “You called me Mom,”

Megumi had never shown such blatant affection before. This was definitely surprising and you sure as hell weren’t about to complain about it. Sure—you were only about five years older than him. But you also knew this meant he was accepting you. Accepting your place in his life. In his family.

On Megumi’s end, the moment was less than heartwarming. More practical than anything. He knew saying these words would undoubtedly make you happy, but it wasn’t entirely selfless.

A small part of him—a part he hated to acknowledge—still worried you might leave. That you’d vanish like everyone else had in his life. The thought chewed away at him, situated in a deep corner in his mind. He hated how much it mattered to him, hated the vulnerability it exposed. And this… this was his way of anchoring you. Of keeping you close.

If calling you "Mom" made you happy, if it gave you a reason to stay just a little longer—he’d swallow his pride and play his hand. Sure you said you wouldn’t leave, but what about several years from now? He’d do anything if it kept you close to him.

“…Yeah,” he admitted at last, with a thinly veiled shyness. He leaned into the discomfort, knowing it would tug at your heartstrings. He'd always hated seeming pitiful. But...His gaze dropped to the floor, his posture stiff, every movement carefully measured to sell the vulnerability. “I mean… you kind of are.”

And oh did you cling onto that. He knew it’d work. You pulled him into a hug, gushing at how adorable he was. And how you were so happy that he trusted you so much. Stay, his tone seemed to say. Don’t leave me. He was so fucking pitiful. But it really really helped.

“That means a lot to me, Megumi,” pure affection. “Really.”

He glanced up at you, and could see himself reflected in your eyes. You were all he needed. And he hoped it would be the same for you.

From that moment on, everything shifted between you. Megumi called you "Mom" sparingly at first, as if he were still testing the waters. He never used it in front of Toji or anyone else, keeping it just between the two of you. And every time he said it, it warmed you to your core, a quiet word of affection slipped between the two of you.

Megumi would start bringing you small gifts—things he thought you’d like or need. A new dishcloth, your favorite snack, a trinket he’d found at the store. He even offered to cook meals for the both of you, saying you needed a break. It wasn’t just about helping around the house anymore—he wanted to contribute, to make things easier for you in his own way. In any way really.

Megumi asked you often if you needed anything. He looked ready to bring home the Eiffel Tower if you so asked him. It made you tease him a little more, but he took it in strides. Loving the fact that you felt so close with him to joke.

Megumi also grew more comfortable with physical affection. Something that once seemed completely foreign to him. It started small—a brush of his fingers when handing you something, a light touch on your arm in passing.

But over time, his gestures grew bolder. He began to seek you out when you were busy, quietly wrapping his arms around your waist from behind in a wordless hug.

He reminded you of a cat in the way he moved—subtle yet deliberate, always seeking your warmth in quiet, understated ways. It amazed you how open he was being, but it didn’t take long to realize this was his way of showing trust, of finding comfort in your presence. And considering his more restricted childhood—you wouldn’t refuse.

It was endearing how often he sought you out—draping his head in your lap while you watched TV, holding your hand in crowded places with a firm, almost protective grip, or following you from room to room like he couldn’t stand to be apart. Though you’d never say it aloud, he was almost unbearably clingy, and it made your heart ache in the best way. 

But as sweet as it was, something was shifting in your dynamic, and you couldn’t quite narrow down why.

p.6?

AN: Thank you for reading! Please reblog and like if you enjoy this series!

I will also be posting updates here:

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/obsessedjjk

come home

[just-a-girl-07]

[wildlife4life]

Seven (+) Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the super amazing @disasterbuckdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @tizniz (whole new fic!) and @wikiangela (who also dropped a new fic!) Thank you all so much!

Have to make up for the lack of football games today with another snippet from NFL Buck. And to go along with the today's drop of BTS photos with Buck and Christ, here is a scene with them. (All things NFL Buck)

"Do you want to go back to Houston? Live there?" Buck asks, his voice slightly downcast. It takes Christopher a back. Did he really upset his dad and Buck that much with his outburst? Are they going to break up? Are Christopher and his dad going to be sent away? Panic makes his chest go tight and his breaths come a little faster. Buck instantly catches on and drops to the floor kneeling in front of Chris. Strong, warm hands press into Christopher's shoulders and Buck makes him meet wide blue eyes, filled with concern and a hint of fear. "Hey, hey, hey. Take a deep breath bud." Buck tells him, but he can't. He can't. All the air is being clutched in the tight fist of his earlier words. You chose Buck over me. I'm failing because of you. Buck chose football over us. Every horrible inaccurate accusation Chris threw at his father is lashing back at him, taking away his life. Buck doesn't waver. The grip on Chris's shoulders tightens, "Christopher you need to take deep breath. Just like this." He tells the kid firmly and his broad chest expands with a deep inhale through his nose. Buck holds it for a short three seconds, then slowly releases the breath, making Chris's hair flutter. "Just like that buddy okay?" Christopher gives a weak nod in return. "Alright. Suck all the air you can in through your nose." Buck instructs and Chris tries his best. He contracts the muscles in his aching chest, pulling in as much air as he can into his lungs through nasal cavity. "Thats good kid. Now, hold it for three seconds. Then push it all out of your mouth." Holding the air hurts a little and it seems to just add to pressure that had mounted there in his panic, but its just three seconds. He's hurt a lot worse for much more time. Buck helps with counting to three and when Christopher hears the final second, he blows out all the air in his lungs along with a little of the panic. The gripping ache lessens slightly. The sting of tears begin.

I promise Buck and Eddie are not breaking up, and the Diaz boys are not going back to Texas. Teen anxiety gets the best of us, and Buck is just trying to figure out what Christopher needs/wants. Hope you enjoyed!

Tagging (no pressure!): @watchyourbuck @theotherbuckley @lover-of-mine @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @devirnis @buddierights @cal-daisies-and-briars @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33 @jeeyuns @exhuastedpigeon @diazsdimples @aroeddiediaz @giddyupbuck @rainbow-nerdss @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @bekkachaos @eddiescowboy @eddiebabygirldiaz @spaceprincessem @athenagranted @evanbegins @elvensorceress @malewifediaz @911onabc @911-on-abc @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @bigfootsmom @thekristen999 @spagheddiediaz @rogerzsteven @honestlydarkprincess @bitchfacediaz @buck-coded @prosperdemeter2 @lemonzestywrites @gayedmundodiaz @transboybuckley

[thenerdyalien]

My new merthur fic just dropped! This one has been on my drafts for a LONG time, but I think I like how it turned out. Hope you enjoy! <3

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Merlin/Arthur, Morgana & Arthur Pendragon Aditional tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Arthur Pendragon Knows About Merlin's Magic, Merlin's Magic Loves Arthur Pendragon, Domestic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Sharing Clothes, Age Regression/De-Aging, Teen Angst, Sassy Merlin, Insecure Arthur Pendragon, Pining Arthur Pendragon, Idiots in Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, but not really cause they already are they're just realising it now

Summary:

When Arthur said he wished to feel like a young prince again this wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but alas Merlin’s magic seemed to have a mind of its own.

Or: Merlin's magic accidentally turns them both into helpless pining teenagers with a lot of childhood trauma and unresolved tension. Featuring: mutual pining, pendragon family trauma and heavy amounts of teenage angst on Arthur's part.

[b1gb0y3000]

this action will have consequences

[stevxiee]

𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 - 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗽𝗼𝗽

✿༺ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 ༻✿

➵ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗌. 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌 𝗑 𝗌. 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾

➵ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌. 𝗁𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒.

➵ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗀𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎

➵ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 𝟩𝟪𝟦

✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿

𝖲𝗈𝖽𝖺𝗉𝗈𝗉'𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗏

“𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗒, 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌.”

𝖬𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽. 𝖱𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗆 - 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾. 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾-𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾. 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖨 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖨 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽. 𝖬𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨’𝗆 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗋; 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇'𝗍 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗍. 𝖲𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗍.

𝖠𝗌 𝖨 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽, 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗉𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝖨’𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝖼𝗁𝖾 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁. 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆. 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽, 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅. 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖶𝗁𝗈 𝖺𝗆 𝖨 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁? 𝖦𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖺𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗍, 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 ��𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖨𝖿 𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝗈 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌.

𝖯𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄, 𝖨 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗇𝖾, 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗌. 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 - 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗅𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅. 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 “𝗁𝗆𝗆” 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 ‘𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀’. 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇. 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗎𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖽𝗈 - 𝖻𝖾 “𝗍𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖺𝗂𝗅𝗌” 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗒. 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖧𝖾 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍.

“𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.” 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗈𝖽.

“𝖨 𝖺𝗂𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗋𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌,” 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾, “𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝗃 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖽𝗀𝖾?”

𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿 𝖺 𝗀𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾. 𝖭𝗈 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗂𝗍. 𝖫𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗐𝗈-𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗎𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗇 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝗒. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖽. 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾'𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅?” 𝖥𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖨’𝖽 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖨 𝗍𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿𝖿.

“𝖦𝗈𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖩𝗈𝗁𝗇𝗇𝗒.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽.

𝖨 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾, 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗂𝗅. 𝖭𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝖾𝗐 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗐 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗀-𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋. ‘𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀’ 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗌𝗈 𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖯𝗈𝗇𝗒𝖻𝗈𝗒.

𝖯𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆. 𝖨 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖽𝗂𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗋𝗒. 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺 𝗐𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍. 𝖠𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖲𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖠 𝗅𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾, 𝖨 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗎𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖲𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗈. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖡𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻���𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗅, 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖺 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉.

𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀.

✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༺ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿ ༻ ✿

𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 | 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍

[cinnamonwhore]

I never have any fun, i don’t get along with anyone. I don;t know if i’ll make it out alive, i might be another virgin suicide

(not actually, there just song lyrics i wrote)